Summary: You meet Jungkook for the first time when he comes to your piercing studio for some new ear jewelry. Something about getting pierced (and you) gives him the rush of his life that makes him want to come back. Not to get his ears pierced though.
Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, short descriptions of getting ears and nipples pierced, bisexual JK (referenced), mentions of Taekook (Tae is a sadist as a background character), JK has a pain kink and is a massive flirt but also a total cutie, he's down bad, JK whimpering!!, semi-public make out sesh, fingering, oral (both receiving and it's sloppy af), PiV, unprotected sex (don't do this!), bit of dirty talk
Wordcount: 8.3k
Masterlist
You glance at your phone to check the time; there’s one more appointment left until you close for today, and it’s in a few minutes. Quickly wiping down the bench and chair with disinfectant spray and preparing new disposable needles, you set everything up for your next client.
When you hear the door open, you swivel around on your rolling chair. Since it’s a Saturday, your receptionist is not at the studio, so you get up to check them in yourself.
“Is one of you my 3 pm appointment?” you ask after a quick greeting, as there are two guys standing in front of you.
One of them lifts his tattooed hand. “That would be me, yeah,” he says, “Jungkook.”
You let your eyes roam over him for a second. There’s a messy mop of dark hair on his head; it’s a bit wavy and looks like an overgrown mullet with the bangs almost reaching down to his big brown eyes. He’s wearing black clothes from head to toe and he’s still holding a motorcycle helmet in his hand, just like the other guy. You peek over his shoulder and see the ride parked in front of your shop. You wonder for a second if he’s the one driving or if he’s just the passenger princess.
“Yours?” you ask him, nodding towards the bike outside.
“Yeah, drove us here,” he lets you know, running a hand through his hair to brush the strands out of his face.
His ears are adorned with multiple silver hoops on both sides and he’s sporting two lip piercings, one ring to the side and a stud in the center. He’s also quite ripped, the muscles in his arm and chest contracting as he hands over the helmet to his friend, who puts it aside. When he shrugs off his jacket, leaving him in a simple black tank top, a whole-ass sleeve tattoo is revealed, stretching all the way from his ring-clad fingers over his shoulder to his clavicle.
Great, a buff tattooed biker. Just your type. You reprimand yourself for checking out your customer - what the fuck is wrong with you? You haven’t been on a date in ages, always focusing on your work, being self-employed turning out to be harder than you thought originally. And in the meager free time you get, you try to spend as much of it as you can with your friends. Maybe that’s catching up with you now. Damn. Keep it together. Be professional.
You inhale deeply while bending down over the desk, trying to regain your composure that you hope to god no one realized you lost for a moment.
“2 helixes, right?” you confirm, checking the appointment details on your computer. He nods.
“Brought your mate for support?” you tease, considering the guy is heavily tattooed and already pierced. It’s usually first-timers who bring friends along, but you’re not really judging as long as they don’t get in your way.
“Just didn’t have anything better to do,” his companion explains with a shrug of his shoulders. He’s pretty, kind of boyish looking, but his voice is deep and his exposed arms show that he’s probably spending a good amount of time at the gym as well. The corners of his mouth are upturned into a little smirk.
“Don’t lie, you enjoy seeing me suffer,” Jungkook retorts, chuckling at his friend.
Quite the good-looking pair, standing there in your studio. What a sight for sore eyes. You clear your throat, stopping yourself from staring at them for too long, and usher Jungkook towards the back, where you have your piercing station set up.
His friend sends him off with an encouraging slap to his ass and sits down in the waiting area, crossing his legs. The piercing station is still in line of sight, just slightly obscured by a side table. You like to be able to keep an eye on the entry to your studio, especially when you’re working alone, like today.
Jungkook sits down on the tattoo bed after you pat it, signaling him to take a seat.
“He can come back here to hold your hand, if you want,” you suggest, suppressing the laughter threatening to rise when you see him nervously tapping his fingers on his thighs as he waits for you to prepare your tools, rolling around on your little chair.
How did this guy survive getting his whole arm and shoulder decked out in tattoos? What a softie. But it’s kind of cute.
He laughs, apparently not taking offense to your playful digs, thankfully.
You’re a shit talker; you just can’t help it. No matter how hot the victim of your teasing might be, there’s always a stupid joke right on the tip of your tongue. Sometimes you wonder how it hasn’t cost you any customers yet. Quite the opposite - most of them usually seem to enjoy the banter. Maybe your clientele’s just made up of weirdos like yourself. Which you love, as you’ve always got along the best with outcasts and freaks; just people with some edge to them. And you’ve got the feeling the two men currently in your studio might fit the bill too.
Having stopped his fidgeting, he leans back on his hands, spreading his legs in the process, and lets his eyes wander over you as you pull on some black latex gloves. His gaze feels like lasers on your skin, sending a rush of heat to your cheeks.
When you make eye contact, you drop the marker you just picked up. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Why’s he got to be so hot? He huffs out a little laugh as you roll back on your swivel chair and lean down to pick it back up.
Straightening your back, you scold yourself mentally and try to keep a relaxed face.
“Gonna mark you up, alright? Two on the same ear?”
He nods and you scoot closer with the cap of the pen between your teeth now. Once you’ve closed the distance, he’s looking down at you with a crooked smirk. You bite down on the plastic and decidedly avoid his eyes while you mark two dots on the upper part of his ear after disinfecting it first.
You roll back to let him stand up and check the placement out in the mirror. He hums in approval and plops back down in front of you.
“Not nervous anymore, huh?” you ask him, wondering a bit about his shift in demeanor.
“Never was. Just excited,” he says with an unnecessarily attractive wink. Oh, fuck you.
You scoff, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible. You’re not going to embarrass yourself any further, you decide.
You stand up to get the right angle for the piercing, the fresh needle in arm’s reach on the side table.
“Hold still now,” you demand as you step into his space.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he says with amusement written all over his face, straightening his shoulders to sit up.
Deciding to ignore his flirty remark – was it even flirty or are you just imagining things now? - you grab the packaged single-use needle and rip open the plastic.
You hear him take a sharp breath as you close in on his ear, his tattooed hand fisting the fabric of his baggy pants on his thigh as if bracing himself. You glance down and can’t hold back the smirk pulling up the corners of your lips.
With practiced precision, you shove the needle through the cartilage. He winces as the sharp metal pushes through and he’s gnawing on his bottom lip mercilessly while you insert the stud and screw it shut.
“You’ll draw blood if you bite down this hard,” you reprimand him with a soft voice and a reassuring smile. Baby.
A pink blush creeps up his neck as he looks up at you through his lashes, finally plopping his lip out from between his teeth. He clears his throat and adjusts his position, shifting on the bench, hands straightening out his pants. His lip is all puffy and red now, positively kissable if this were any other situation than your workplace. Bitch, calm down. The way you are switching between emotions with this guy can’t be healthy or sane.
“One down, another one to go,” you announce, struggling to keep a neutral expression and voice. “You ready?”
“Yeah, just go for it,” he nods with the cockiness from earlier already seeping back into his attitude.
You line up a fresh needle after disposing of the first one, and when you pierce his ear this time, a small whimper escapes his mouth before he can catch it. The sound goes straight to your head. Trying not to show the effect it has on you, you steady your hands with a deep breath and work the second stud in as well. Jungkook’s eyebrows are drawn together now, little huffs of breath leaving his slightly agape lips.
Stepping back out of his personal space to throw away the needle, you catch sight of his friend in the waiting area. He’s watching intently, grinning from ear to ear, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head. Maybe he does actually enjoy seeing Jungkook suffer.
After you put your tools aside and slide off your gloves, you turn back to check on him.
His shoulders are sagging back to a more relaxed position, but his pupils look somewhat blown. You have your cartilage pierced too, yeah, it’s not pleasant, but it does not hurt that bad. You try never to judge someone's pain threshold, but it's hard when it's a smug, buff guy in front of you, whining.
“You okay?” you ask him because he’s squirming on the tattoo bed again, in the process of composing himself.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he scoots forward to the edge of the seat.
“More than okay,” he sighs with a content slur in his voice. “Thank you.”
He pushes himself up to stand and suddenly, he’s very close to you. You cough to cover up the way you just briefly choked on your own spit and walk around him to the front of the studio with overly determined steps.
“Let me ring you up then,” you try to sound extra casual.
From the corner of your eye, you can see him adjust his pants, pulling them down a bit lower on his hips, before he steps out to the front desk as well. His mate now also comes up to the desk, putting his head on Jungkook’s shoulder from behind him.
“All done?” he asks, resting his chin in the dip between his neck and his arm, smiling.
Huh. Maybe you got this whole thing wrong, and he was in fact not being flirtatious at all and it was nothing but wishful thinking.
“Get Jungkook a reward on the way home, he was really brave back there,” you can’t stop yourself from joking, making him groan in response. “And I don’t keep any lollipops here.”
“I’ll make sure he’s taken care of,” the guy replies with a wink and extends his hand after stepping around Jungkook. “Taehyung, by the way. Roommate.”
When you turn back to Jungkook to check him out at the register, his cheeks are flushed again.
A few days go by and after a shit ton of clients, you have almost completely forgotten about the hot guy on a motorcycle. That is, until you see that you have a new follower on Instagram. Your mind immediately goes to Jungkook when you see the profile pic, even though it’s just a head obscured by a helmet in black and white and the profile is set to private. The name’s also not giving away anything, but you have a feeling it’s him.
Since you are curious and never cared much for playing games or appearing disinterested, you just send him a request back right away. Well, his phone must also currently be in his hand as you get the notification that he’s accepted your request only a few seconds later.
After a minute of you scrolling through his feed, you are interrupted by a message.
-ding- The notification pops up.
Wow, this dude really went straight back to talking shit. After swiping away the chat, you go back to check out his profile. Well, he definitely knows he’s hot. There are loads of pictures and videos of him on his bike, but also some dancing content. Okay, so he’s not only crazy attractive but also knows how to move his body. That’s so not fair. Ticking all your boxes.
Over the next 3 weeks, Jungkook and you keep on interacting, liking each other’s stories and posts. He’s popping up in your messages regularly too and you can’t deny the flutters you get every time he does, because your conversations have turned flirty insanely fast. It’s still mostly banter, but dear god, this guy is a menace, and you love it.
When you check your work schedule for the upcoming week, you almost miss his name, as he’s once again booked the last appointment on Saturday. You click on the booking to find he’s chosen two nipple piercings. Yeah, that’s going to look good on him. You’ve seen him topless in some of his insta posts, and a small burst of excitement buzzes up your neck at the prospect of getting to see him half-naked in real life. God, you’re so thirsty - you blame him at least partially though, for being such a flirt.
Jungkook’s unrelenting flirting just keeps coming until it’s finally Saturday and you feel like an idiot for being so giddy all day, just waiting for that last appointment. You are glad that you're alone at the studio; your receptionist would have definitely been able to tell that something’s up. You’ve known each other for a few years at this point after all.
Your phone vibrates while you’re wiping down your station.
Putting the phone back down without texting anything back, you go to check the soil of your potted plant for its level of moistness, just to have something to do, before sitting down behind the desk at the front. You’re fidgeting, so you pick up your water bottle and gulp down the cool liquid. Apparently it's you who needs watering. Just to pass the time until he arrives, you click through your pre-made playlists on the PC to find something that appeases you. And, just maybe, you are considering what Jungkook might like while choosing. But no one could torture that confession out of you.
You are ripped out of your thoughts when you hear the stutter of a motorcycle just outside your shop and you see Jungkook park his bike through the glass front of the studio. Unconsciously, you straighten up in your seat as he approaches the door, helmet in hand, dressed in black once again. As he enters, he runs his free hand through his messy hair before his gaze settles on you and his mouth pulls up into a smile.
You step around the desk to greet him, but before you can even start to overthink the interaction, he pulls you close and plants a small peck on your cheek. His hand on your shoulder lingers for a moment and makes your face heat up, so you clear your throat and move out from under him.
Admittedly, you might be a bit more courageous when it comes to flirting through a screen than you are face-to-face. Jungkook though - this man is a walking tease. Not an ounce of shame or shyness. And you’re absolutely eating it up. He’s not even been in the studio for 5 minutes and you’re already having all kinds of physical reactions to him.
For once, you are thankful for your ability of bottomless shit-talk. It helps you keep your nerves and hormones under control for the most part - and keeps you from embarrassing yourself by covering up the way you’re into him so fucking bad. You are kind of envious because it seems like he’s not even wasting a single thought on how he comes across; he’s exuding confidence, just going for what he wants.
“Coming in without emotional support today?” you joke. “Brave.”
“I think I’m in good hands,” he laughs. “Maybe you’ll have to hold my hand though.”
You shake your head at his shenanigans. “Wish I could, but I kinda need both of mine to stab your nipples.”
Suddenly, he holds out his palm towards you, making you raise your eyebrow in question.
“Go ahead, you can hold it now,” he says with a crooked smile, wiggling his fingers in invitation.
You groan but still grab it and entangle your fingers with his. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you love it,” he grins.
There’s nothing you can counter as he’s spot on.
You lead him towards the back of the studio, to the piercing station. Once there, you slip your hand out of his so you can set up your equipment. While rummaging around your drawers, picking out needles and the appropriate piercing bars, lining stuff up, inspecting tools, you can feel his gaze on you. When you turn around, he’s leaning against the tattoo bed with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.
“What?” you ask him, playfully rolling your eyes.
“Nothing, you just look sexy working.”
You shake your head laughing, “Come on, let’s get this done. Take your shirt off.”
“Oh, forward, are we?” he wiggles his eyebrows but does as he’d told and shrugs off his tank top, leaving him in his black sweatpants slung low on his hips and his boxers peeking out at the top.
With your eyes roaming over his toned body, which he can for sure tell, you step closer, bending down a little so you can use your pen to mark his nipples for the piercings. Just as your face is only inches away, he flexes his chest muscles. It catches you by surprise and you swat at his arm, which just makes him giggle.
“Hold still, will you,” you scold him and put down little dots, so you know where to push through the needle. Moving back a bit, you inspect the placement, making sure they’re even. You let him check it out in the mirror too and when he seems satisfied, you instruct him to lie down on the cling-film-wrapped bench.
You plop down onto your rolling chair and tug on a pair of gloves before grabbing the disinfectant solution to put on a piece of gauze. Somewhat hovering, you lean over his torso. Damn this stupid tattoo bench, it’s not height-adjustable and it’s making it hard to reach, so you have to kind of get on your toes to swipe the wet gauze over his nipple on the side further away from you.
“Sorry, the angle is a bit shit to work,” you apologize to Jungkook after almost elbowing him in the chin. You should invest in a stepping stool at least until you replace the stupid bed. Since it’s pushed up against the wall, you can’t move around to the other side either.
“Would it be easier if you got up here too?” he asks you with a lopsided smile.
“I mean, yeah, but I can’t really go and straddle my clients. I’ll manage.”
“I don’t mind,” he shrugs and leans up on his elbows, patting the padded bench next to his thigh.
When he sees you hesitate, he leans over and reaches for your hand again. “Come on, hop on.”
Your body moves to comply before you can think about work ethic or professionalism, and you let yourself be pulled closer and you climb up. You end up with your knees on either side of his thighs.
You shake your head, laughing. “You are crazy.”
“And you are easy to convince,” he smirks at you, still propped up on his elbows.
You grab the prepared needles and sit back on his thighs. “They’re gonna hurt way more than your other piercings, just a warning.”
“Speaking from experience?” he says and when you lower your head to look at the front of your top, you see his gaze follow yours. You always wear thin and comfortable bras to work. There’s really no reason for being stabbed by wires or being constricted by padding if you can avoid it. Your nipples, including the two silver bars through them, are totally visible through the fabric. When you look back at Jungkook’s face, he’s still eyeing your tits and runs the tip of his tongue over his pierced lower lip. His gaze feels scorching, just like last time, but now it’s even worse because you are literally in his lap.
You cannot believe the position you are currently in. In your studio. On your client. Your super hot client as well. The situation is so insane, you’d laugh if it didn’t make your head spin slightly. Well, professionalism is out the window then. You pray to all the gods that no customer walks in on this.
His palm has snuck up to your thigh, resting there with a gentle but firm grip, as if to keep you in place. With one hand between his chest muscles, you push him down to get him to lie back.
“C’mere,” he breathes out. His free hand catches your wrist before you can lean back again, making you come down with him. Your faces only a breath apart, he moves his fingers to your jaw, caressing the skin there for a moment before he closes the distance between you and his lips land on yours.
Soft at first, he catches your lower lip between his and just rests against you. When you basically melt into the kiss, he opens up to let his tongue run over your lips. Your mouth is already slightly agape since you didn’t anticipate the kiss. You sigh into him, lips slotting together properly now and you only break apart when you both need to come up for air. He places one last peck on you before smiling up at you, his hand still on your face, now playing a little with the hair at the nape of your neck.
“Wanted to do that since I walked in.”
Your face feels hot and so does the rest of your body, but you remind yourself that you still have some piercing to do, so you sit back on his thighs again.
“Um, your nipples have to be like, hard, for the piercing,” you mumble, suddenly feeling a bit awkward to request this from the comfort of his lap.
He chuckles at your sudden shyness and grabs your gloved hand to place it on his pecks. “You can help me out there, right?”
You bite your lip, but start to move your splayed fingers over his chest in a tentative way, softly brushing over his nipples. When his breath hitches a little at your touch, you forget what you are doing here for a second and swipe over his buds with a firmer hand, making him arch up into the caress.
“Mh, sensitive, huh?” you mutter before remembering the job you’re supposed to do.
Jungkook seems to have a moment of clarity as well, since it’s him this time clearing his throat. “Hey, I should probably let you know, just so I don’t surprise you with it - I’ll definitely get hard when you pierce my nipples.”
Oh? Your eyes widen at his unexpected confession, but you’ve been confronted with weirder things in your life.
When you don’t respond immediately, he keeps talking. “I just wanted to tell you, cause if it makes you uncomfortable or anything, we can just not go through with it. That’s totally fine. But it’s 100 percent going to happen.”
He relaxes visibly when you start giggling.
“I’m in your lap rubbing your chest, you think a boner is going to weird me out?” you ask him incredulously. “Is it about the nipples or about the piercing?”
His hand rubs up and down your thigh when he explains, “It’s the pain. Gives me a such a rush. Every piercing. And it really doesn’t help that you’re fucking hot. I thought you might have figured that out last time already, but I guess I hid it well enough.”
“So, what, you hook up with your piercers every time you get one?” you ask, genuinely curious.
Jungkook laughs. “Oh, no. I’ve never fucked any of them.” The corners of his mouth pull up into a mischievous grin now. “If you really want to know…”
“I do,” you interrupt him, unconsciously shifting around on his thighs a bit.
“Tae usually takes care of it after. I didn’t lie when I said he likes to see me suffer. He figured out I get hard from the pain after the second piercing I ever got, when I arrived back home still rock hard. And we found out he’s a bit of a sadist, so he gets off on it too.”
That is not even in the same realm of what you expected him to tell you. Really casual too. But oh my god, does the thought turn you on. You catch the groan threatening to escape you at the last second by biting your lip. You’ve only kissed, but something about this situation is making a familiar longing spread between your legs already.
“Ready?” you ask Jungkook somewhat breathless and adjust your seat on his lap.
One hand still on you, the other now behind his head, he nods with that annoyingly sexy smirk of his.
You finally unwrap a needle and scoot upwards on his legs to get a good angle. You didn’t think about it, but you are now no longer sitting on his thighs, instead you feel his dick press into you. You can tell he’s girthy even though he’s only semi-hard at this point. Saliva is collecting in your mouth and you have to swallow so you don’t have drool dripping down your chin because of the mere thought of his cock. Oh lord, get a fucking grip.
Taking a steadying breath, you pinch one of his nipples between your fingers and you can already feel him tense up under you in anticipation. When you push the needle through, the first thing you feel is his dick reacting to the pain. Jungkook’s eyes are closed, mouth agape and he actually whimpers while his hand on your thigh grips you harder, digging into the flesh. Maybe you shove the needle through his nipple a bit slower than you usually would to prolong his writhing and panting under your touch, because the sounds he’s making are going straight to your pussy. At this rate you’re going to leave a wet spot in his lap, but you don’t find even a single cell in your body to care about it. Not when he’s coming apart by your hands like this.
His hips buck up into you when you pull the silver bar through after the needle and screw the piercing shut, his breathing coming out in huffs.
“Are you doing okay?” you ask. As horny as you are, you still want to make sure. If his dick is any indication, he’s doing fine though.
“I’m fucking great actually,” he manages to answer you between heavy breaths. He opens his eyes and holds your gaze when he’s somewhat calmed down and he flashes you a big smile. His palm wanders a bit further back to your ass to press you into him harder, making you rub your crotch over his now fully hard cock. Your sigh comes at the same time as his low groan. Gosh, you’re really craving more friction, but there’s still one more piercing to go.
You’re starting to get impatient. Your heated body is taking over control, usurping the space rationality held in your brain slowly but surely, replacing it with the need for more touches, closeness, more skin on skin.
The needle goes through faster this time but Jungkook’s reaction to it isn’t any less crazy than before. You can’t believe how much his whiny voice turns you on. It’s in stark contrast to his hard body and the masculine vibe that usually surrounds him. Hastily, you dispose of the needles and your gloves after finishing the piercing and the ball is screwed onto the bar. You finally want to touch him without the latex separating your skin from his.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice sounding rough now, already ruined. You splay your fingers on his stomach, running them up and down, feeling every ridge as if you’re trying to memorize them. Jungkook bucks his hips up into you, making you fall forward. Your hands are planted on either side of his head and you can’t resist kissing him when you look down at his blissed out face, forehead a bit sweaty, strands of his dark hair sticking to it. He immediately opens his mouth, his tongue licking into you with his palms now holding you in place by your hips. One of them sneaks up and under your top, caressing your lower back while your lips move against each other.
When you lift your head again, a thin string of saliva follows you until he breaks it with his tongue, swiping it over his bottom lip. “Fuck,” you repeat his words from before and huff out a laugh. When you go to brush some of his hair out of his face, you catch sight of the helix piercings you gave him a few weeks back. Taken aback by the state of them, angry red, you move back a bit further. By this point, they shouldn’t look like that at all, all irritated and inflamed.
“What the hell happened to those?” you inquire, your finger softly touching his ear.
Jungkook chuckles quietly. “Tae happened to them.”
“You know as a professional I can’t fucking condone this,” you scold him, half joking since, well, he’s an adult and if he wants to walk around with his ear hurting, that’s his prerogative. “What does he even do to them?”
“Curious?” he grins. “Tugging, biting. Whatever hurts.”
“Those are so getting infected. Maybe I should have given you the aftercare talk after all,” you say, shaking your head.
“Not my first piercing, remember?” Jungkook runs a finger along the silver hoops all over his lobe. “And not my first rodeo with Taehyung either,” he adds with a wink.
“You really like it that much, huh?” you more so state than ask and brush your finger over his chest just next to his areola.
This absolutely goes against your work ethic, but curiosity gets the better of you.
Scooting back, you reposition yourself on his thighs again rather than his crotch. You swipe harshly over his freshly stabbed nipple, drawing a hiss from Jungkook that is immediately followed by a visible twitch of his dick. Spurred on by his reaction, you repeat the action, making him whimper in a high-pitched tone.
Oh. Now you get why his roommate is into it. It’s delightful, the way he reacts.
“Save the drooling for when you suck my dick,” Jungkook teases you, although in a broken voice, when you just stare at him for a moment, eyes moving between his dick and his face.
Your breath hitches at his words because you realize that you’ve never wanted anything more in your life than to get your mouth on this guy’s cock.
You scramble to get off of him and the tattoo bed and he leans up on his elbows again, looking at you questioningly.
“Get up, I got a back room,” you tell him and extend your hand towards him in invitation.
He lets you pull him up and as soon as he’s on his feet, he wraps his arms around you from the back, nuzzling against your neck.
“I.. let’s lock the door first,” you stutter when his tongue licks over the sensitive skin behind your ear.
All entangled, you make your way through the studio to the entrance, Jungkook not letting even an inch of space get in between your bodies.
Once you’ve twisted the lock, you spin around and crash your lips into his, making out like a carefree horny teenager, not wasting a single thought on the fact that you’re standing right by the glass front of the shop. You really haven’t felt like this in a while. His hands are roaming your body while you kiss, rubbing up your sides under your top before his palm lands on your ass and squeezes, making you groan into his mouth.
Reluctantly, you break away, grabbing his hand again and start moving past the piercing station to a door that reads “Private” on it. You push through and as soon as the hinges click, Jungkook is pressing you up against it and his mouth latches on to your neck again, sucking harshly before running his tongue over the bruises he’s surely leaving. Good thing you don’t have to work until Tuesday.
Your hips roll against him on their own accord, searching for any kind of friction. When he removes his body from yours, you stumble forward and he catches you, chuckling. He grips the bottom of your top and pulls it over your head, leaving you in thin lace barely covering your tits.
Suddenly, his mouth is back on you and you start pushing him in the direction of the big couch at the far end of the room. When the backs of his knees hit the seat, he plops down. He’s leaning back into the cushions, arms laid out on the backrest, his legs spread wide while you fumble with the button of your pants before shrugging them down your legs. He licks his lips once at the sight of you in your underwear, then pats his thigh, urging you to climb on.
You don’t need to be told twice, you actually probably never moved faster. Once in his lap, you clasp your hands behind his neck and immediately grind down into his crotch.
“So desperate,” he coos and you don’t even care because, yes, you are.
With one palm on your chest he makes you lean back and his fingers travel down your front until they reach the waistband of your panties. You almost rut up against him, eager to be touched where you’re already burning up from longing.
His digits ghost along the fabric for a moment, driving you insane.
“Please,” you whisper helplessly.
He smirks at your plea and his movement pauses. “What do you need, huh? Tell me.”
“Please, just, touch me,” you beg.
Thankfully, he doesn’t tease you any further and just complies with your wish, his hand immediately reaching further down to move the fabric to the side to reveal your pussy. With one finger, he glides in between your folds before he halts.
“Shit,” he groans, his eyes going wide. “You’re so fucking wet for me already.”
His pelvis bucks up against his hand at the realization, making his finger press into you harder. You gasp, falling forward against his shoulder, while he keeps brushing against your core.
Panting, with your face rested against him, you reach your own palm down to grip his cock beneath you through his sweats. With urgency, you tug at his waistband and with his help and a lift of his hips, you pull his sweats and boxers down just far enough for his hard dick to spring free and slap against his stomach.
He removes his fingers from you and unclasps your bra, one-handed and routinely. You let it fall down your arms, your bare tits directly in front of his face. He palms them, kneading them with a low groan before scooting down further into the couch to a reclined position. His hands on your ass now, he guides you down until your soaked pussy makes contact with his shaft that’s lying flat against him.
Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you start moving your lower body, your cunt gliding over his length without resistance, your arousal spreading all over him. You tilt your hips to get a better angle and when your clit finally gets the stimulation you’ve been craving, you almost crumble in his lap. His fingers dig hard into your ass cheeks, spurring you on to keep moving. When you catch on the head of his dick on a forward grind, his head falls back with his mouth open.
You feel the tension in you build up faster than you’re used to and you’re caught by surprise when you are pushed over the edge after only a few more passes over his cock. Your body trembles, your lips part and you let out a stuttering, desperate moan. Holding on for dear life, you clutch his shoulders while you ride out your high with your head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. Your pussy clenches around nothing and your clit throbs throughout your orgasm. When it’s over, you slump against him, your face in the crook of his neck.
“Shit,” you pant against his skin. “I’ve never come this fast in my life.”
“Fuck, that was so hot. Coming apart so easily in my lap,” he swears and you feel his dick twitching under you.
Once you’ve gathered some strength after Jungkook soothingly rubs your back, as if praising you, you slide off him and lower yourself to the floor in front of the couch.
You reach for his cock, slathered in your slick, when Jungkook leans forward and takes hold of the back of your head. He looks straight into your eyes when he runs two fingers through the wetness next to his dick. “Look at the mess you made,” he mutters before putting his glistening fingers up to your mouth. Obediently, you part your lips, letting him put his digits in your mouth. You suck on his fingers, tasting yourself on them. At the same time, you start stroking his cock and he moans lowly, still holding eye contact with you before finally releasing your head and pulling his fingers back out.
He leans back again and brushes some hair out of his face, his gaze never leaving you.
You close in on him, the drool that’s been collecting in your mouth at the sight of his dick finally being put to use, and you let the spit drip on the head of his cock where it’s mixing with the pre cum that’s already been pooling in his slit. With your fist closed around him, you let your thumb swipe through it once with an upwards stroke before putting your lips around him. When you look up at him through your lashes, he’s staring at you open-mouthed with his pupils blown wide.
You smile around his dick, knowing you give great head and the fact that he already looks so ruined makes joy ignite inside you.
You start taking him in inch by inch, going down lower with each bob of your head, accompanied by firm strokes of your fist. Once he’s buried in you down to your throat, you hum around him. His reaction is immediate, a broken moan. His hands fist the fabric of the couch next to his thighs. When his hips twitch, you breathe through your nose, suppressing the urge to gag. He’s bigger than you thought, but you love how stretched your lips are around his cock. As you can’t fit any more of him down your throat, you work the remaining length with your hand, twisting your wrist with each stroke.
You rise up on your knees so that you can reach your free hand up to his torso. Snaking your fingers over his defined abs, you finally find what you were looking for. Your palm rubs over his newly pierced nipple and a whimper immediately echoes through the room.
“Shit,” Jungkook curses under heavy breaths when you keep rubbing over the nub while running your tongue over his cock.
He’s writhing beneath your touch, his hips lifting up with each pass, almost choking you.
“Fuck, stop,” he presses out, his hand gripping yours on his nipple. You plop out his dick and look at him with innocent eyes.
“Hm?” you ask.
“If you want me to fuck you, you gotta stop or I’ll come down your throat.”
You chuckle but comply because, dear god, do you want him to fuck you.
He moves around on the couch and pulls his knees up under him. “Lie down,” he orders you. “I need to get my mouth on your pussy.”
Once you’re on your back with your legs spread around him, he leans over you, his necklaces dangling above you, grazing your tits. While he kisses you, his fingers wander to your cunt, where he swipes deftly between your soaked folds. He finds your entrance and pushes one digit in at an agonizingly slow pace. This time it’s you who whimpers, finally feeling something inside you.
His finger curls at just the right spot every time he pumps it inside, making your toes curl on each pass. His lips leave yours just as he adds his middle finger, increasing the pleasure even further.
Jungkook scoots back and down until his face is just in front of your core. When his mouth finally closes around your clit, it feels like electricity is coursing through your body and you tremble. With his fingers still stroking your insides, he alternates between sucking on your sensitive spot and licking across it with a flat tongue. This is what heaven must be like. You are in absolute bliss at how he feels all over you. With his free hand he grabs yours and places it into his hair. Guessing what he’s trying to get you to do, you pull on the strands, testing. You definitely guessed correctly. He groans against your pussy, mouth falling slack for a second before he’s back to licking between your labia and back up to your clit, now increasing the speed at which he’s flicking his tongue.
You can feel the familiar tension in your lower body creeping up again and the fingers on his scalp tighten. It’s crazy how he’s already working you up to another orgasm so fast, but you pull on his hair and basically peel him off you. His lips wet with your arousal and spit, he looks up at you confused, his eyes unfocused, fingers still buried inside you but now stilling.
“I wanna come on your cock,” you tell him, surprised by the bluntness of your own words once they slip out. Your cheeks heat up in shame but when you see his eyes grow dark with lust, all embarrassment is quickly shoved to the back of your mind.
His fingers slipping out of you, leaving you feeling empty, he crawls up your body and catches one of your breasts in his mouth on the way up. He swirls his tongue around your nipple, making you arch up from the couch into his body.
“Your wish is my command,” he grins once his lips have left your tit.
He reaches for his dick between you when he suddenly halts. “You got a condom?”
Shit. You didn’t even think about this.
“Not in the studio. You didn’t bring one?” Did he really come here unprepared? You almost can’t imagine it.
“I did, but they’re out front in my bag.”
Your head falls back in defeat and you groan. You really don’t want to interrupt this, you feel like your body is on fire and you’re so fucking impatient already.
“Fuck it, I’m clean and on birth control. What about you?”
He raises his eyebrows, surprised. “Clean, recently tested. You sure?”
Without answering, you sit up, pushing him back into the couch into a sitting position. Crashing your lips into his, you climb back on him, fist closing around his cock. “Shit, alright then,” he pants, laughing, after breaking away from your mouth.
You lift your hips and line his dick up to your entrance before slowly lowering yourself onto him. Your stuttering gasps and his low groans are melting together into a nasty symphony until you are fully seated on him. His arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. After catching your breath for a moment, adjusting to the absolutely heavenly stretch, you tentatively start rising up a bit and move back down, finding a good rhythm. With your hands on his shoulders, you’re bouncing on his cock, rolling your hips so that he’s brushing against your g-spot on each grind downwards, making your fingers dig into his flesh.
Jungkook counters your movement with a snap of his hips each time, making your ass cheeks shake and dousing the room in a dirty euphony of skin slapping against skin, moans and whimpers.
His mouth finds your ear and when he whispers, the fan of his hot breath makes you erupt into goosebumps. “Taking me so well, fuck, riding me like you’re made for it.”
He slams up into you hard, making you yelp, before grabbing your waist harder and flipping you over on your back. Wasting no time, he pushes his cock back into you, rolling his hips. His elbows are resting next to your head while he’s rocking into you.
You can feel his breath ghost over you with each pump as he’s gasping in sync while the metal of his necklaces sways against you. You already feel like you’re about to lose the last thread of sanity you’ve been holding on to, when he sits back and places his hand on your pubic mound. He shakes his head to move the hair sticking to his sweaty skin away before two of his fingers run down between your folds to find your clit.
You can’t do anything but grip the cushion of the couch while he keeps fucking into you at an unrelenting pace while circling your clit with the pads of his fingers. The heat in your core is fired up even more when he increases the pressure of his fingers, and you’re barely holding on when he slightly changes the angle of his hips. With another slam into you, you’re falling apart on his cock.
You’re screaming out when the earth-shattering orgasm washes over you, your cunt clenching helplessly around his cock. Your body is thrashing around under him as your loud and unabashed moans echo through the air, unable to hold them back. You rock your pelvis into him, chasing the feeling with trembling legs. When the high finally wavers, you go limp as he removes his fingers from you. He keeps fucking you, his movements getting more uncoordinated with each stroke, your body trying to keep up through the overstimulation. Your hand finds one of his thighs, digging your nails into him, probably scratching him bloody. You can tell he’s close when the volume of his grunts increases, and his thrusts get more sloppy. Then his body stills for a second before he pulls out of you. He falls forward on to one hand, his other wrapped around his rock-hard dick. Quickly, you reach your own hand between your bodies and find his nipple, pinching it. Trembling and groaning at your touch, he strokes his cock, once, twice, before he shoots his hot load over your stomach, some droplets even landing on your throat. His mouth hangs slack and his arm shakes next to your face, struggling to hold himself up. With one last moan, his twitching cock stops spurting cum and his hand releases it before he collapses onto you, smearing the mess between your bodies.
He's panting into your neck, exhausted, before he rolls off you, still squeezed to your side, as the couch doesn’t allow for any space between you. Your skin is sweat slick and covered in cum, but you couldn’t care less and apparently, neither does he. He’s cuddled up against you, one arm thrown over your middle, eyes closed and a lazy smile tugs on his lips.
“You’re okay?” he asks with a slurred voice.
“More than,” you giggle and place a peck on his forehead.
You lust lay there for a few minutes, slowly regaining your ability to think.
“We should probably get cleaned up,” you sigh into the stillness of the moment.
He pouts and pulls you closer, not ready to get up. “Gimme a few more minutes.”
You roll your eyes but nuzzle into him anyway. Your head starts to go fuzzy and before you can fight it, you doze off in Jungkook’s arms.
When your eyes snap open again, he’s smirking at you.
“Hello again,” he giggles.
You shimmy out from his hold, stretching your arms above your head.
“So, is Taehyung not gonna be jealous?” you ask, still not sure about what kind of relationship those two have.
“Nah,” Jungkook shrugs with a smile. “He’ll get to play tomorrow.”
After a short pause and you snorting in response to his shamelessness, he continues with a wiggle of his brows, “But maybe I’ll just bring him along next time.”
Your initial reaction is to scoff but then you consider it for a second.
“You know what, yeah.”
“Oh?” Jungkook laughs.
“But before you ask - I’m not going to pierce your dick.”
Masterlist
A/N: Thank you so much for reading :] Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed, or if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask! <3
summary: you make jungkook proud by practicing what he taught you.
warnings: jungkook smiling and being all dominant!!!, also manly as fuck, use of his korean name cuz it's hot, masturbation, reader is horny and just a girl!!, biker mask (gasp), edging, orgasm denial, oral sex (f. receiving), dom/sub dynamics, squirting, desperation, porn, use of a sex toy, brief nipple play, spanking, bratty behavior <3, degradation, praise, the beauty of cumming together, mentions of sex, aftercare
note: it's entirely jungkook's fault that i wrote this bc he made me h word. i hope you enjoy the very first of the many smutty one shots i'm planning to write!! i had the time of my life writing this, imagining 3D!jungkook cuz he's just so delicious there. my weakness. fuck my life!! pls let me know what you think <3 like and comment (reblogs r very useful but i won't pressure u angel). love you!!
side note: i rly fucking miss jungkook. that's all. byebye
Stars fill your vision as your hand works wonders between the softness of your legs. You are fucked. Oh so deliciously, majestically and colossally fucked. And you whimper once the wave of that pleasure you burn for unfolds within your body. Arch your back. Roll your hips. Huff and puff until you near your breaking point. Then you lift your hand.
The surge ebbs away and you sink your teeth into your puffy bottom lip, desperation scorching each and every perimeter of your skin.
You enjoy this. The smug on your face couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried. You've been going at this for a dozen of minutes, sitting on your dark green couch with your legs spread, one hand rubbing circles on your needy bundle of nerves, the other gripping your phone with all its might, how it hasn’t cramped yet is beyond you, as it plays a dirty porn that does very little to quench your thirst. Your closest friend for the time being, have been ‘for the time being’ for much longer than you care to admit, a small pink vibrator Pinkie, keeps you company beside you while you swallow every grunt and whimper the couple in the video makes. It's turned off, however. Resting in the shadow of the threatening calamite that your shaking thighs are. You can't edge yourself with it when you're this fucked, so deeply lost in the rosy maze of lust. You would have to keep the head on your clit for merely a second, otherwise you'd be coming, and you'd be coming fast but not very hard. And where’s the fun in that? It still keeps you thirsty, your insides begging you again and again for another hit of dopamine, for just one drop of cum. Well, your pussy mainly.
It’s a persistent problem for you. You get horny, you touch yourself and you come under two minutes or less. The hit so small in quantity, so weak in quality that you inescapably need more than one round to be satisfied. The situation is even more problematic when you get down to it with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter much when you’re on the receiving end; you enjoy yourself, you look forward to his dick splitting you open, so it just cuts time. Although it does matter when he fucks you like the man he is. You clamp down on him, and he comes as fast as you do. You can’t help it. You’re so enamored with him, with his masculinity and his dominance, it burns your body alive. Who are you to tell your body no? It’s impossible. He’s impossible, and absolutely irresistible. Though you wish you could get lost in the pleasure, and you truly do each time you have sex, and it gets unfairly swept away from you. You’re just a thirsty girl. This unjust treatment pisses you off.
You opened up to your boyfriend about this and he laughed in your face, stroking your cheek. Told you it’s what he loves about you and you just rolled your eyes, dismissing it. Then he took your hand and sat you down again, offering you a solution that changed your life. For the worst at first, for the better the more you did it.
He suggested you try edging yourself when you play with your pussy. He showed you the ropes the first time, guiding you through a long process of denied orgasms, and you wanted to strangle him. You had to lift your hand when he said so, otherwise you were getting spanked. The joke was on him because you enjoyed the harsh sting, the roughness of his palm on your skin. But then it was him who was laughing when he pinned your arms above your head and confiscated your pleasure. You squirmed. Whined. Waited. Then he fingered you and you came so hard you saw stars, the orgasm just kept going and going. You were satisfied after one round. Problem fixed.
“Practice it until your body learns,” he had told you and you almost came again.
What a man.
The memory of this teaching lesson is what got you thirsty right now, actually.
You pay attention to the way the guy in the video squishes the tits of the lucky girl in the video and fucks them with his cock. You moan, lowering your fingers to your clit again and starting a series of slow circles. Your fingers are slippery from your leaking essence and the sweat on your folds from your marvelous torment, and it turns you on even more. You feel your orgasm coming, despite your pace, and you eat your fist in exasperation. Should you say fuck it and finally make yourself come? You hear the order uttered by your boyfriend in the back of your head, remember how long he told you to edge for that one time, and you want to make him proud (you do!), but then the girl licks at the slit of his cock and you clench around nothing. You want that so bad and you groan, anger and desperation creating something so sinful, so unhinged inside of you.
Resuming your movement on your bud, you pick up the pace because fuck it, you can’t take it anymore. The pressure, the anticipation of chasing after what you desire is so sweet and it fills you with energy and giddiness. Fuck jogging, now you're sprinting, clenching your muscles, nearing closer and closer to the finish line. You lift your knees, riding your hand, moans spilling from your mouth. You'd come right on the spot if it wasn't for the ding of a sudden text message snapping you out of your daze.
Your heart thuds in your chest. Fuck, did you not turn on 'do not disturb'?
koo: I'm here
You stare at the notification in disbelief. Beneath it, the guy is fucking the girl's throat. You screech, burying your face in your hands. What is your boyfriend doing here so early? You aren't supposed to see each other until later tonight, or are you forgetting something? Your mind is spinning, another denied orgasm taking a toll on you. Sighing, you slip your legs into your panties and your plush pajama pants, your feet finding their comfort in your fluffy slippers. Since he's here, he's gonna make himself extremely useful, you decide, putting on your warm bathrobe with Mickey Mouse on it and grabbing your keys.
As you descend the stairs from your apartment, the sticky wetness between your legs makes you uncomfortable. Your eyebrows furrow in anger. Does a girl really have to suffer in order to reach a mind-blowing orgasm these days? You scoff to yourself, sinking your key into the lock of the door to the main building. The key doesn't budge, though, and it almost makes you punch that fucking door. The lock has been sporadically working and not working for months, hence why the door needs to stay locked properly at all times, and nobody has so far taken the time to call someone to repair it. You kick the door with your knee and you hear a laugh behind it. You recognize it belongs to your boyfriend and you smile to yourself, finding the sweet sound stupidly cute. Your hand reaches for the key again and you turn it. To your surprise, the lock doesn't fuck around and actually lets you see your boyfriend.
Jeongguk is standing beside his motorcycle, black helmet under his armpit. Your eyes widen when they discover his face is hidden under a biker mask of the same color. You haven’t seen him with his bike in quite some while. He prefers to drive you around in his car lately. It’s winter after all. He keeps you warm, sneaks his fingers between your legs, rubs your pussy through your jeans to tease you because he likes it when you’re needy for the rest of the evening. Oh, and you eat there so icicles don’t hang from your hands. Food, that is. You get it.
It’s a wonderful surprise, nonetheless. Only his orbs and eyebrows are visible, his pouty mouth creates shapes on the mask that almost causes you to see stars again. Yeah, you think you could come like this, staring at his tall figure dressed in a puffer jacket and gray baggy jeans laying dangerously low on his hips. Even though you know how big his dick is, the size of them makes him appear even bigger and you salivate. Your pussy drools, too. You're about to get on your knees right now, you don't care.
"Looks like I'm gonna have to fix that fucking lock myself," Jeongguk remarks.
Oh, fuck. He's so manly.
Just one suck. Fuck, please. Just one.
You're going to scrape your fucking knees on the ground for everyone to see, you genuinely don't care. He deserves it for looking like that, for acting like such a man.
Your clit gains a heartbeat (again) and you blink up at him, desperation once again unfurling its flames under your skin. You smile behind the pain, finding the whole situation completely ridiculous now.
"I'd be grateful," you purr and Jeongguk walks towards you, smiling like the little shit he is, helmet still under his armpit. You lift the hem of his mask to reveal his delicious lips, piercing-less. You kiss him, moonstruck. "I'm tired of this shitty lock."
Jeongguk nods. "Noted." Then he kisses you again. "It was funny how you kicked it."
You laugh. He takes off the mask entirely and you both walk up the stairs to your apartment, though a pang of disappointment hangs onto your heart. You wish he kept the mask on. It was nonsensically hot to you. A lightbulb flares to life in your mind abruptly and you hide your smirk beneath the curtain of your hair.
Yeah, you’re going to make him wear it as you suck him dry.
Your giddiness extends to another level and you hurriedly walk up the rest of the stairs to your apartment, your butt jiggling under your thick robe.
Jeongguk walks in like he owns the place. He sets his helmet on the kitchen island and his mask right beside it. You watch as he empties out his pockets. Wallet, phone, keys, a pack of cigarettes and a purple lighter. Leaning over, he hangs his winter jacket on one of the barstools. His back muscles ripple under his oversized black T-shirt with each movement of his arms. What steals your attention, however, is the sliver of skin that he unwittingly lets you see as he fixes his jeans to rest a little higher on his hips.
White Calvins.
Oh, yes.
The dip of his spine on his lower back.
You lick your lips.
The smallness of his waist that grows into such a vulgar broadness of his shoulders.
Fuck, you do everything you can to not bite onto your finger; instead you opt to hide your drool beneath your hand as you continue to wait behind him, tracing your lower lip with the acrylic nail on your thumb, diabolical with your stand and your plan. Crossed arms, needy pussy and all.
What a man.
What a fucking man.
You squeeze your thighs together.
When he turns away from the kitchen, you leap to the counter. You snatch the mask and gaze at it lovingly. Such an innocent thing, and it made you this hot and bothered. You shake your head at the bizarreness of it all, but your smile remains.
"What the fuck were you doing here?"
You gasp at the sternness in his tone, hiding the mask under your armpit similarly like he did with his helmet downstairs. You don't understand where his abrupt austerity stems from, but it makes your legs wobbly, so much that you bump into him as you hurry to see what he sees, grabbing his arm as if to say sorry. And then your heart drops.
A round wet spot adorns your dark green couch, where you sat and pleasured yourself before he came. Your best friend Pinkie, sticky and lifeless, almost beams at you in mischief. A smile of your own begins to quiver on your lips before you burst into giggles, a tiny amount of shyness painting your cheeks with rosiness.
“I was practicing?” you answer truthfully, lilting your voice a little bit.
Jeongguk closes his eyes at your words, his lips forming a thin line. Hangs his head. Slouches in your grip. It is a stark contrast to how he entered your apartment. His breath quickens and you watch the raise and the fall of his chest. You realize this means only one thing.
"Are you crazy?" Jeongguk says, eyes still closed. "Do you even realize what you've just done to me?"
He finally looks at you and your heart drops further down your belly. Fire splashes around in his eyes, akin to yours. He straightens his posture, turning his body to face you. Feet spread apart, he crosses his arms across his chest. Veins prominent, muscles like strings oscillating on his forearm as he taps his fingers on his elbow.
Your weakness.
Fuck.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
"And what's this?" He points to what you stole from him. He doesn't take it from you.
You suddenly remember your plan. Being so absorbed in his masculine energy, you forgot everything. Even your own name.
"Well, I had this idea," you start.
He hums in interest. Butterflies break havoc in your stomach.
"And what idea was that?" He cocks his head to the side, studying you.
You started, but you don't think you can finish. Not when you're so wet that you can feel your slick trickle out of the confines of your thin panties. Not when his stance makes you feel like you did something very bad and the next word that comes out of your mouth decides your punishment. Not when it thrills you this much.
Swallowing dryly, you avert your gaze. Do you say it or do you play dumb? Sweat prickles at the back of your neck, eyes falling to his crotch. Those cursed fucking jeans do a poor job of hiding his growing member and you tremble, itching to sink onto the hardwood floor, itching to palm him through the harsh fabric just to hear him hiss through his teeth. The impulse to do it, to simply be a brat and do what you want while he stares you down, fills your every vein, but you know better. Once you hit a nerve, Jeongguk doesn’t let you cum (at all) and you can’t sit on your bottom for a week. You can’t afford that right now.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You need your relief, and you need it desperately. You will behave if it means you’ll receive it from him.
"I was thinking," you mutter, fluttering your eyelashes open. “You could put this on while I make you feel good."
Nodding once, Jeongguk hums again. You feel the deep vibrations of his voice coursing down your body, starting from your cheeks. They warm them and paint them in pink, then they continue over the swell of your chest, leaving behind little pearls of sweat, until they reach your cunt. There they strengthen the pulse of your needy bud and you can’t take it anymore. You sigh audibly, hoping it prompts your boyfriend to do something.
“Make me feel good how?” he questions you.
You look up at him. His eyes are lowered into slits, woozy from arousal. You truly did turn him on with the mere evidence of your self-indulgence. You buzz from this achievement, a puckish smirk appearing on your mouth.
Jeongguk pries the mask away from your hold, keeps it in his grasp and with his other hand, he unravels the knot of your robe with his fingers, sliding it off your shoulders. He cocks his eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer.
Fuck it, you’re giving it your all. Anything to get fucked in the way you want, in the way you know he can give it to you.
“I get on my knees for you. Play with your tip, take you as far as I can until I choke on it, then I suck on your—“
He grabs your chin harshly and raises it to his level. That’s enough, he said with that gesture and you leak down your thighs. No matter how strongly the words, ‘can I finish my fucking sentence’ hangs off the top of your tongue, you remain quiet. Obedient.
He cups your pussy through your pajama pants with his other hand, inching closer to you until his figure swallows you. His soft moan reaches your ear once he discovers how slippery your pussy is against your silky underwear and your stomach flips. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much where you need him due to the thickness of the material. It adds to your frustration quite plenty, though. This what you get for being good?
Inhaling deeply, he levels his eyesight with yours. “How many times did you come, hm?”
Your breath hitches and you lower your eyes, shyness caused from his dominance taking every bit of confidence you had left. His words blaze your insides—he knows you so well. He knows how obsessed you’ve become with playing with yourself ever since he told you to practice. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The latter being more frequent, hence why you exerted yourself today. He knows this. For some reason it makes this moment even more intimate and stimulating for you. But you don’t let him know that.
“What makes you think I lost this time?” you retort, the brattiness slipping through before you could control it.
His fingers aren’t doing nearly enough to give you the relief you seek and you whine, grinding your hips against his curious fingers. Much to your dismay, he still keeps his pressure light. Pretends to be blind to your desperation. You let out a huff of air, hooking your thumbs beneath the waistband of your pants, anger fueling you on.
You barely manage to pull it down before Jeongguk turns you around. He locks your arms in his grasp from behind, tugs the pants beneath the swell of your ass and smacks your cheek, leaving a rippling effect in its wake. He then grabs your face from behind to make you look at him.
“Did I fucking ask you to take ‘em off?”
You’d come on the spot if you could. But you’re still angry.
“No, I asked you a simple question,” Jeongguk continues. “And I expect you to answer.”
You bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows. “Jeongguk, I’m so wet there’s a fucking puddle in my panties. I can’t take it anymore. Please, I need to come.”
Jeongguk raises his at your answer and hums lowly, grinding his hips into your ass and arching your back even further in this position. You moan distinctly at the feeling of his member, engorged and hard.
Jeongguk lets go of your arms and presses you against him fully, lowering his hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, the other around your middle. You love it like this the most, cocooned in his embrace from behind—you can’t see him, but you can feel him, you can feel the firmness of his touch, the solidness of his body, and you know he’s there.
“How many times?” he asks once again, more gently this time, lips tracing the shape of your ear. He rubs your belly to soothe you and you close your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. A smile, a mischievous one, much like the one your best friend Pinkie had, threatens to appear on your lips. He has turned into a soft dom for you and it makes you weak. So much that all you want to do right now is give him pleasure.
You begin to rotate your hips against him and he hisses, cursing under his breath. Yes, that’s precisely what you wanted to hear. You put more pressure into your movement and he slides your hand down your mound to stop you, his tongue coming to play with your ear. Fuck, okay. You listen, transferring your teasing elsewhere.
“Zero,” you finally answer, figuring he deserves the reward.
Jeongguk grabs your shoulders and turns you around, pinching his eyebrows together. “Don’t believe you. There’s no fucking way you’d leave it wet like that without coming at least three—“
“I was about to come before you so rudely interrupted me.”
His eyes darken and you realize you fucked up.
He takes his hands off of you and starts walking, causing you to walk backwards to your couch.
“My apologies.” He pushes you to sit down on the soiled spot, taking a seat right in front of you on the coffee table. “Don’t let me interrupt you any further. Please“—He hooks his fingers under your pajama pants along with your underwear and takes it off in one go—“continue. Make yourself come.”
You gulp. Fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing you ever heard.
He scoots closer to you on the coffee table and extends your legs over his. You ogle him. The manspread, the tent in his pants, the serious look on his face. You slip your hand to your clit and start rubbing, your eyes closing as pleasure floods you. Finally. You moan, and you moan loudly.
“Nuh-uh.”
You sigh before you open your eyes. There he goes, interrupting you again. A familiar buzzing fills your ears.
You startle as the highest setting tickles your hand in an uncomfortable way. Jeongguk, wearing the mask now, wraps your hand around the vibrator and guides it to your clit, interlacing his fingers with yours in the process. Fuck, he did not just do that. You’re moaning before it even reaches you, your walls clenching around nothing.
“There you go,” he lifts his intense gaze from your pussy to your eyes. “Now come.”
And you do.
You squirt all over your intertwined hands, squirming uncontrollably while holding eye contact with him until he controls you, sliding his other free hand to your waist to hold you down. He moves the vibrator to your slit to give your puffy clit a break, collecting your juices. Then, another wave comes: Jeongguk slips the head back to your clit and presses down hard before quickly fixing a steady rhythm of going up and down. You’re just holding it, holding his hand. Taking the pleasure he gives you. Convulsing, clenching and screaming, coming so hard your eyes roll back—stars finally coming to stay.
Then, you’re pushing him away when overstimulation perfuses your body with a blunt pain. You close your legs. You thrash with yourself. But he’s stronger. The hand that was on your waist lifts up your bralette and uncovers your tits. The same fingers plunge into your mouth and you suck on them, calming down, earning an appreciative hum from him. He flicks your nipple, touches your breast, the nub deliciously rubbing against his rough palm. Pushes your other one to the mix so he can focus on both of your nipples at once, holds them like that as they bounce in his grip. You lift your pelvis, furiously riding the wave of an upcoming orgasm that will probably take you out.
You lose the sense of time and space when you come for the third time.
You’re gushing, leaking, bursting, both hands—yours and his—dripping wet with your dewiness. You think you’re levitating, but his firm touch grounds you, and when you open your eyes, Jeongguk is breathing hard. He’s watching you thoroughly; you can’t tell what he’s thinking, features still hidden by that mask. Your mind is empty, incapable of forming one coherent thought. You’re completely brainless. Fucked out.
Jeongguk gets on his knees and leans towards you. He tears his mask off, sweat pooling at his hairline.
“How pitiful,” he smiles. “So much for practicing.”
He gives you a filthy kiss full of tongue and you roll your body against his. His chest rubs against your nipples and it sends sparks of electricity through you.
“You wouldn’t last. Not a chance.”
You groan into his mouth. He’s so close that his musky scent is intoxicating you, his T-shirt is wet and your core is pressed against the one part of his stomach that the cloth exposed. It’s so warm and soul-stirring to you. You whine from the overstimulation of it all, especially the degradation.
“Jeongguk, I came so hard,” you tell him, coming up for some air.
He kisses your jaw. “I know. So fucking hot.” Takes his groans and presses them in the form of kisses into all the sensitive spots of your neck. “You made yourself come this hard, I’m proud.”
You moan. So moonstruck. So enamored. So satisfied.
Jeongguk lifts his head from the crook of your neck and grins at you. You reciprocate.
“That was so good,” you whisper and bite your lip, stroking his hair back. You find you’ve broken the skin already, but you don’t mind. “So, so good.”
His eyes drop to your mouth, then at the pearls of your pleasure on your chest.
“So filthy. Need to clean you up.”
Your stomach flips.
He laps them up, collecting them with his tongue. One at the top of your sternum, the middle of your breasts, the long dip on your stomach. Pearl after pearl, butterfly after butterly breaking havoc again in you. You’re swaying your hips before he even gets to your mound.
“Needy again? I haven’t finished here yet.”
A little, but not as desperately as before. You’re enjoying it. Feels as though you’re allowed to. And you tell him.
He smiles. Starts a series of open-mouthed kisses on your inner thigh. Sighs against your skin when you play with his hair, gently scratch his scalp with your manicured nails. Rubs your wet thighs, sucking the skin and biting it. Hard and soft, the blend of it. You’re on cloud nine.
“Gonna reward you,” he announces. You suck in your stomach, biting your lip. He touches your cunt and the digits just glide. Straight to your hole that needs his cum. “For doing such a good job. Fuck, you’re so wet.”
He rubs it in circles, teasing you. Watches your reaction. You throw your head back, moving your hips in tandem with the pads of his fingers. Soaked enough, he slips them into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You mewl. Sense his hot breath on your pussy. Sense him shifting in his spot erratically and you figure he’s grinding his hard cock against the couch.
“My turn now.”
He closes his puffy lips around your clit. Swirls the tip of his tongue around it. Merry go round, you throw your head back, enjoying the sensation. Then he puts pressure around the muscle and goes counterclockwise. Now you’re spinning, unable to stop the sounds, inter-threaded with his name, from slipping out of your mouth. Then he decides to tease you. Widens his laps of circles. Reaches your folds, makes them wetter. And it makes you feral, the waiting for the pleasure. You grip his hair, grinding into his face. His moans reach your ears again, and suddenly it’s too much. He sucks on your clit, and he sucks hard. Lifts your hips in the air and just ravages your cunt, licking up and swallowing all that you’re offering to him as he fucks his cock into the couch.
He’s grunting, rapidly shaking his head from side to side. You’re obscenely loud. His thrusts quicken as do the skilled flicks of his tongue. It’s way too fucking much and you’re screaming, but you let him. You let him until he rams his hips for the last time, until he sucks so hard that your hearing sense leaves you for a moment, and you’re coming. And so is he.
You don’t even know how long it takes before you fully come down, but you know one thing for sure. That when he stands up and you’re blessed with the sight of his unbuttoned jeans, his cock dripping with last drops of cum through his white (almost see-through) underwear, he deserves to be cleaned up by you just the same.
You make grabby hands at him when he returns with wet wipes.
“What is it, baby?” He sinks to his knees in front of you, taking out the wipe to clean you properly.
“Need you in my mouth. Please.”
He laughs softly and you think that sound will be your demise.
“You’re exhausted,” he tells you, wiping down your folds. “What you need is sleep.”
You don’t have the strength to prove him wrong. You’re spent.
He picks you up in his arms and takes you to your bed. He covers you in your fluffy blanket, knowing full well you hate to be under the duvet when you’re just napping. Tucks you in. Sits beside you. Brushes your hair back. Fixes the blanket so it rests under your chin, and not over your mouth. You watch him with droopy eyes as he does it all.
“Did so well today,” he murmurs. “But no overworking yourself so much next time, arasseo?”
You nod. “We came together again.”
He traces the dimple on your cheek caused by your contended smile. Finds himself smiling too. “That’s just how our bodies work together,” he tells you, hovering his thumb over your bloodied lip so as to not hurt you. “Can’t be helped.”
You nod again, warmth swarming in your chest. “I love it,” you admit. “I love you.”
Jeongguk presses a kiss into your hair. “No, I love you.”
“No.”
He shushes you. “Sleep well, baby,” he strokes you. Kisses you. Pets you. Can’t get enough. Hates to leave you. “My baby, my love, my girl.”
You hum. Sleep slinks you away to its land, smile remaining on your mouth.
Jeongguk returns to your living room and gets some cleaning supplies ready. Breaks a sweat making your dark green couch spotless. Takes a shower. Settles beside you on the bed. Cocoons you in his arms. Looks for you in dreamland.
The most intuitive, most versatile, most adaptive, and greatest artists of our time are using their skills to create discomforting, high-concept abstractions of analog horror characters and Pack Of 500 Cigarettes in Tomodachi Life
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