Kpop Smut And Lemons

Age: 22 y/o | Since I suck at writing I only reblog amazing smuts from amazing writers. I will also reblog gifs, and videos. Enjoy!

[jjungkookislife]

hewwo :3 can I get cowboy jin :3

And It All Falls Down

pairing: sah!seokjin x cowgirl!reader

warnings: oral sex (f. giving)

Summer rolled around sooner than you thought. The sun was blistering as you sat on a blanket on Seokjin's truck bed.

"Are you sure about this?" Seokjin asks as he fixes his cowboy hat.

You shrug as you lean back. "Why not? I'm the future Mrs. Kim."

Seokjin ignores the throb of his cock.

"Can't take it back," He reminds you as he holds the pliers between his fingers.

"Who says I want to?" You tease as you part your legs and your jean cut offs ride up your thighs.

"Tease," He scoffs as he forces himself to face the wired fence.

"The sooner you join our lands, the sooner you can get between my thighs, Mr. Kim," you remind him as you suck on your lolipop.

"Fuck," Seokjin curses as he snips one wire, then a second.

"Don't tell me you're having second thoughts," you pout, and Seokjin meets your gaze as he cuts the third and fourth wire.

"Never," he responds as he tucks the pliers into his back pocket. You slurp on the watermelon lollipop.

"Good, because I'd hate to see you go. Though your ass in those jeans is enough to give chase," you smirk as you reach for his belt buckle.

"Eager?" Seokjin laughs as you tug him closer.

"You have no idea," you mutter as you stick your lolipop in his mouth. You get down on your knees, ignoring the way your cowboy boots dig into your skin, to needy for your fiance as you release his cock and it slaps you in the face.

"Fuck," you moan as you stroke him, soon wrapping yourl ips around him before you bob up and down on his cock. Seokjin grips a handful of your hair, cursing as you swallow around him, taking him deep until you take him down your throat and he sees stars.

[taerotic]

Midnight curfew | kth

Taehyung x reader

Police officer!Taehyung x drunk!reader

synopsis : One drink too many leads to a midnight halt under the neon of a patrol car, where Officer Kim Taehyung’s icy professional resolve is no match for your bratty, drunk flirting. He tries to play the hero, but the second the handcuffs click shut, the tension snaps—and suddenly you’re in the backseat for a punishing, breathless lesson in resisting arrest. Between the frantic static of the police radio and the heavy, rhythmic thud of his body against yours, he abandons his badge to claim every inch of you, burying himself deep and leaving you a wrecked, screaming mess on the leather seats while he risks his entire career for one filthy taste of you.

Genre/ Warning : Drunk driving (don't do it irl), speeding, arrest, police officer taehyung, uniform kink, power imbalance, public sex (patrol car), light bondage (handcuffs), car sex, rough sex, dirty talk, size difference, praise/degradation, mark/bite marks, breeding/ Cum kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, unprofessional behavior lol, 18+ MDNI, begging overstimulation, bratty sub vibes, taehyung is literally losing his mind — he’s so far past professional it’s a joke (i regret nothing), risking it all on the police radio, taehyung is feral — i went way too deep into the back seat of that cruiser i’m so sorry (im really not).

word count : 4.2k words ( oh my god )

Divider credits | cross posted on Instagram under the username "kkthsmutz" --- I'm always active on Instagram!!

The air in the car feels too thick, and no matter how high I crank the AC, I can’t shake that fuzzy feeling behind my eyes. I’m gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles ache, trying to force the car to stay between the lines that keep wanting to slide apart. I keep telling myself I’m ‘on’, that I’m more focused than ever, but then a stop sign jumps out of the dark and I realize I’ve been staring at the dashboard for way too long.

The music is a dull thud in my ears, and for a second, I forget where I’m actually turning. Everything is a beat behind—I see the brake lights ahead of me, but there’s this weird, terrifying lag between my brain saying stop and my leg actually moving. It’s like I’m watching a movie of myself driving instead of actually doing it, and that little voice in the back of my head—the one that was laughing at the bar—is suddenly very, very quiet.

The first thing I see after turning isn't the car, it's a sudden, violent pulse of red and blue dancing across my rearview mirror. They’re so bright they feel loud, like they're thumping against the glass. My heart drops into my stomach. That "foggy" feeling I had a second ago turns into a cold, sharp spike of adrenaline that doesn't actually make me sober—it just makes me panic. The lights turn the road ahead into a dizzying light show—the whole interior of the car looks like a crime scene before I’ve even pulled over.

The worst part is the realization. You see those colors and you know the "game" is over. The lights are aggressive, and they expose everything. I’m squinting, trying to find the curb. Trapped in that rhythmic, neon glow, waiting for the siren to give that short, sharp "whoop" that tells me there’s no walking away from this.

The tires halt over the gravel, a sound that feels deafening in the suddenly quiet car. I kill the engine, and the silence that follows is heavy, broken only by my own shaky, uneven breathing. I lean my head back against the headrest and let out a long, nervous sigh, my chest tight with a mix of adrenaline and the dull ache of the alcohol in my throat. My hands are trembling so hard I have to tuck them under my thighs just to keep them still.

Then comes the heavy thud-thud of boots on the pavement.

When he reaches the window, the glow from the patrol car catches him perfectly. He’s tall, with a broad, muscular frame that seems to block out the rest of the world. He leans down, his uniform fits perfectly, and the silver badge pinned to his chest catches the light. I squint, my vision blurry but clear enough to read the name there—Kim Taehyung.

"Miss, do you know why I pulled you over?" His voice is deep—yet honey-like, that vibrates right through the glass. I roll the window down, the cool night air hitting my face, and I try to play it off. I lean a bit closer, batting my eyelashes in what I think is a charming way, hoping a little flattery might blur the lines of the night.

He doesn't flinch. He just sighs, his expression hardening as he checks his radar. "You were doing 50 in a 30 zone," he says, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. He pauses, his nose scrunching slightly as the scent of the drinks drifts out of the car. His gaze drops to my fluttering eyelids, then back to my dilated pupils.

"You're not just speeding," he says, his voice losing its softness. "You're intoxicated. Step out of the vehicle."

I shift in my seat, letting my hair fall over one shoulder as I look up at him. The red and blue lights are still pulsing, painting his sharp jawline in neon, and honestly, he's the most handsome man I've ever seen. I know I’m in trouble, but the alcohol makes me feel like I’m in a rom-com instead of a traffic stop and a few minutes away from a fine or jail. I let out a soft giggle and lean my chin on my hand, resting my elbow on the window frame.

"Officer Taehyung," I purr, dragging out the syllables of his name. "Is that really what your radar says? Maybe it's just my heart racing because you walked up." I bat my lashes again, slower this time, trying to hold his gaze. My head is spinning, but I’m convinced I’m being irresistible. "I didn't realize I was going that fast... I guess I was just in a hurry to get somewhere as beautiful as you."

I reach out, my fingers hovering just an inch away from the sleeve of his uniform, tracing the air near his muscular arm. I can smell his cologne, something clean and expensive, cutting through the haze in my brain. "Do we really have to do the whole 'step out' thing? Can't we just... talk about it? I'm much better at talking."

His expression doesn't shift, but I see his grip tighten slightly on his breathalyzer. He looks down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Ma'am," he says, his voice dropping an octave, sounding even steadier and more serious than before. "Your eyes are glassy, your speech is slurred, and you’re currently leaning out of a vehicle you were driving dangerously. The flirting isn't going to change the breathalyzer. Now, one more time—step out of the car, or I will have to assist you out.”

I stumble out of the car, my heels hitting the gravel with a shaky thud. I don't even try to act serious. I just throw my hands up in the air like I'm at a party and let out a loud, long giggle. The world tilts a little, so I lean back against the car door, trying to look cute while I find my balance.

"Okay, okay, you caught me," I say, my voice trailing off into a playful hum. I let my eyes wander over him—from his broad chest down to the way his belt sits on his hips. "But honestly, Taehyung... you look so much better out here in the light. Is the uniform always this tight, or are you just happy to see me?"

He stays perfectly still, rooted to the spot like a statue. He doesn’t say a word, and his face stays like stone, but I see it—the way his eyes flicker for a split second and how his shoulders go completely stiff. He’s trying so hard to be the ‘serious cop’ but I can tell I’m getting to him. The air between us feels heavy, and it’s not just 36°C.

I take a tiny step closer, invading his personal space just enough to see the muscle in his jaw clench. "You're so quiet," I whisper, tilting my head and pouting my lips just a little. "Is it against the rules to tell a girl she looks pretty before you ruin her night?"

He finally moves, but only to reach for the handcuffs at his belt. The metallic clink is sharp, cutting right through my flirting. "Turn around," he says, his voice low and strained, like he's forcing himself to stay professional. "Hands behind your back. Now.”

I let out another dizzy giggle and lean forward, bending over the hood of the car with a dramatic sigh. I can feel the cool metal against my palms as I look back at him over my shoulder, a messy, playful grin on my face. "You know, everybody knows I’m a good girl, Officer," I drawl, my voice dropping into a low, suggestive tease. "Are you sure you really want to put these on me?"

“I can behave just fine without them.” I said drawing the ends of each word out. He steps closer to do his job, I don't make it easy. I shift my weight, purposefully brushing back against him, grinding as he reaches for my wrists. I can feel the heat radiating off him and the solid, unyielding line of his chest against my back. He’s so close I can hear his breathing hitch for just a fraction of a second, but he doesn't pull away.

His hands are large and firm as they grab my wrists, and he moves with a practiced, steady grip. Even with me moving against him and making every little comment I can think of, he stays focused. The metal of the handcuffs feels freezing against my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his touch.

"Stay still," he mutters right by my ear. His breath tickles my neck, and for a moment, his professional mask slips just enough for me to see the tension in his jaw. He’s definitely not as unaffected as he’s pretending to be, but he still clicks the cuffs shut with a definitive snap.

"You're not acting like a 'good girl' right now," he says, his voice rougher than before as he straightens up, pulling me back from the hood. "You're acting like a liability. Let's go." He opens the back door and guides me in, his hand firm on the top of my head so I don't hit the frame—a total gentleman, even if he is arresting me. The backseat is cramped and smells like lime fresheners, but I just lean forward as much as the seatbelt and cuffs allow, pressing my chest toward the plastic partition separating us.

As he climbs into the driver’s seat and the engine hums to life, I watch the way his muscles move under that dark fabric while he steers. I can’t help myself anymore. I was drunk as fuck and he was fucking hot. "You know, Taehyung," I start, my voice dropping into a honey-sweet tone, "these cuffs are a bit tight... but I think I like the way you take charge. Makes me wonder what else you’re this firm with."

I catch his eyes in the rearview mirror. They’re narrowed, locked on the road. I swipe my tongue across my bottom lip, leaning my head back against the seat and looking at him through my lashes. "It’s a long drive to the station, isn't it? Such a waste to have me locked back here when I could be showing you exactly how 'bad' a good girl can get. I bet you’re even more impressive without the badge and the belt in the way."

His grip tightens on the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. He doesn't look back this time, but his voice is strained. "Be quiet," he growls, and it’s the first time he hasn't sounded like a cop. "Unless you want me to pull over and give you a real reason to keep that mouth busy, you’ll sit back and stay silent."

I let out a low, shaky laugh, leaning as far forward as the seatbelt will let me. My heart is thumping against my ribs now. "Oh, really?" I whisper, my voice sounding way more wrecked and breathy than I intended. "And what exactly are you gonna use to shut me up, Taehyung? You gonna use your hands? Or do you have something else in mind?"

I’m staring at the back of his head, watching as his ears heat up red. I can tell I’m pushing him to a breaking point. "Because I’m not really feeling like being quiet," I tease, my eyes dropping to his shoulders. "Actually, I think I’d like to see just how 'unprofessional' you can get when there aren't any witnesses around."

The silence in the car suddenly feels electric, like a wire about to snap. He doesn't say a word for a long three seconds, his eyes fixed on the dark road ahead, but I see his chest rise and fall in a heavy, frustrated breath.

Suddenly, he whips the steering wheel to the left, tires screeching as he jerks the car onto dirt under the shadow of some trees. The engine is still idling, but the car is dead. He unbuckles his seatbelt with a violent click and turns around in his seat, leaning over the console so his face is just inches from mine through the gap in the partition.

His eyes aren't "professional" anymore—they’re dark, blown out, and dangerous. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?" he mutters, his voice so low it’s almost a vibration.The car door next to me swings open, and the cool night air rushes in, but I barely feel it because Taehyung is suddenly right there, looming over me. The backseat feels a hundred times smaller with him taking up all the space. I don't even flinch. I just sink back into the seat and look him up and down, a slow, messy smirk spreading across my face.

"Finally," I breathe out, my voice thick and heavy. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to stop playing hero and come back here with me." I shift my legs, letting my knees fall open a bit, my eyes locked onto his. "You look even hotter when you’re angry, you know. It’s kind of a turn-on."

I lean my head back against the seat, exposing my neck to him, my pulse jumping under my skin. "So, are you gonna keep scolding me, or are you actually gonna do something about this 'mouth' of mine? I’ve been thinking about what those hands would feel like since you first touched my wrists... and I’m pretty sure you’ve been thinking about it too."

I can feel the heat coming off him, and the way he’s looking at me—it’s not like a cop looking at a suspect anymore. It’s way more intense. I let my voice drop to a whisper, almost a dare. "Go ahead, Taehyung. Show me how you handle a girl who won't follow the rules. I promise I won't tell anyone you were bad."

The professional wall he’s been holding up doesn't just crack—it shatters. Taehyung lets out a low, guttural sound, halfway between a growl and a sigh, as he lunges forward. One of his large, warm hands hooks firmly under my jaw, tilting my head back so far I have to look him right in those dark, blown-out eyes.

"You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you to shut up," he says, his voice vibrating against my lips. He doesn't wait for an answer. He crushes his mouth against mine in a kiss that’s messy, hungry, and completely opposite of his "officer" etiquette. It tastes like strawberries and the faint, sweetness of the drinks I had earlier. My cuffed hands are trapped behind my back, leaving me completely at his mercy, which only makes the heat flooding my body feel ten times more intense. I moan into his mouth, arching my back against the seat to get closer to the solid, muscular weight of him.

His other hand slides down my neck, his thumb grazing my pulse point before his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of my thigh, bunching up my skirt. The contrast of his rough, calloused palms against my skin makes my head spin faster than the alcohol ever could. He pulls back just an inch, his breathing heavy and ragged, his forehead resting against mine.

"If I do this," he mutters, his voice thick and dangerous, "there’s no going back to being a 'good girl.' I'm going to make sure you're too breathless to say another word." He shifts, his heavy frame pressing me flat against the seat, and I can feel the hard metal of his badge pressing into my chest. He starts to trail hot, biting kisses down my throat, finding that one spot that makes my toes curl. I’m completely pinned under him, feeling every bit of his strength as he abandons the rules entirely.

He groans, a low, desperate sound, as he shoves his hands under my top, his rough palms scraping over my breasts. He’s done being gentle. He fumbles with my clothes undressing me, his breathing heavy and hot against my ear, until he’s finally stripping himself down. In the dim, strobing light of the police car, his body is even more insane than I imagined—broad, wide shoulders and a chest that’s all lean, rippling muscle with scars here and there

When he finally frees himself, he’s think and heavy—the tip of his cock purple, veins following down his hard cock till the base, and I can't help but let out a shaky breath at the sight of him. He doesn't give me a second to process it before he’s back on top of me, his skin hot against mine. He uses his weight to pin me into the seat, his hands sliding under my hips to tilt me up, his fingers digging into my skin. His eyes take time to admire every inch of my body—especially at the pool between my legs. I was a mess. My wetness dripping onto the leather seat. My nipples hard at the touch of air, begging for attention. His tip rubs against me, dragging from the clit down to the hole, applying a bit pressure yet not entering.

I whine at the sensation of it—the feeling of his cocks tip press against my hole. “Please taehyu—” The thrust of his hip cuts me off. He pushes whole in one go, bottoming out. I’m a mess, my head lolling back against the window, my cuffed hands twitching behind me as he starts a rhythm that’s fast and punishing.

Every time he hits deep, I feel the strength of his thighs against mine—bare and strong. He’s biting at my shoulder, leaving marks I know won't fade for a week—marking his visit. His voice a low, filthy mumble about how much he wanted to do this the moment he saw me—fuck me like the needy bitch I was being, rearranging my guts.

His tip hits my cervix with each thrust—abusing even the deepest spot of mine. My eyes shut close as the sensation—it felt surreal. But just as my pussy clenches feeling my orgasm nearing and clawing at the seat for some kind of grip, the radio on his shoulder explodes with static.

"Unit 7, we have a situation nearby, do you copy? Taehyung, what’s your location?". He freezes, his muscles locking up like stone. He’s still deep inside me, his heart hammering against my chest, but that professional, cold reality is bleeding back in. He shuts his eyes tight, his jaw clenched so hard I can see the muscle jumping, as he realizes he has to answer.

The radio crackles again, the dispatcher’s voice loud in the cramped space, but all I can focus on is the heat of him filling me. Taehyung reaches up, his large hand shaking slightly as he keys the mic.

"Unit 7," he rasps, his voice sounding like gravel. He’s trying so hard to keep that cold, professional tone, but his eyes are fixed on mine, blown out and dark with pure lust. "I'm...still on the scene. Suspect is being... uncooperative. I’ll be clear in ten."

He tries to stay perfectly still to keep his voice steady, but I won’t let him. I hook my legs around his waist as much as I can in the tight seat and start to move. I grind down onto his cock, slow and heavy, feeling every vein and the sheer, throbbing size of him stretching me out. His tip rubs against my sensitive spot ever so sweetly. I watch his face crumble—the "officer" mask slipping as I tilt my pelvis, finding the exact angle that makes him gasp.

I could feel him twitch into me as he groans. He lets go of the mic, the cord swinging as he grabs my hips with both hands, his fingers bruising my skin. He’s still supposed to be listening to the radio, but he’s lost. I’m moving faster now, my wetness making a slick, wet sound that echoes in the quiet car. I lean in, licking a stripe up his neck, my voice a filthy whisper.

"You sound so professional on the radio, Taehyung. Why don't you tell them what I'm doing to you right now?" He doesn't answer with words. He just snaps, his hips suddenly bucking upward to meet mine in a hard, desperate surge.

He stops caring about the noise or the radio or the rules. He just reaches back, clicks the radio off, and buries his face in my shoulder, his thrusts becoming deep, rhythmic, and completely unchecked. The car is rocking now, creaking under the weight of his heavy thrusts. He’s completely abandoned the radio, his hands locked onto my waist like he’s trying to snap me in half. Every time he hammers into me, I feel his thick, pulsing length hitting my back wall, stretching me so wide it’s all I can feel.

"You like this, don't you?" he growls, his voice a raw, filthy mess of a whisper against my ear. "You wanted the big, bad cop to lose it? Well, you got him. You’re taking every inch of me, you little brat." I’m a wreck, my head thrashing against the leather seat as I grind back against him, chasing that peak. "Fill me up, Taehyung," I sob out, my voice wrecked and dripping with desperate need. "I want to feel you everywhere. Don't you dare pull out. I want to be a mess for you."

His rhythm gets even more violent, his breath coming in jagged, animalistic hitches. He’s vibrating against me, his muscles trembling as he reaches his orgasm. He lets out a low, guttural roar, burying his face in my neck and biting down hard as he finally snaps. I feel the sudden, intense warmth of his cum flooding deep inside me—heavy, thick, and seemingly endless. I'm shaking, my pussy clenching around him as he pumps into me over and over, emptying himself completely.

The feeling of being filled to the brim is overwhelming, making my vision go blurry as my own orgasm crashes over me in waves. He stays buried inside for a long minute, both of us panting, the only sound the ticking of the engine and the distant, ignored static of the radio. He pulls back just a fraction, and I can feel the slick, warm mess of him starting to drip down my thighs and onto the leather seat. He looks down at the puddle of him on the seat and the way I'm shivering under him, his eyes finally clearing as the reality of what he just did.

"Look at you," he mutters, his voice dark and satisfied, tracing the wetness with a thumb. "Now you’re really going to have a hard time explaining this at the station." He pulls back, the cool air hitting where we were just pressed together, and I can't help but let out a disappointed little whimper. Taehyung doesn't say much at first; he just reaches for a pack of wipes from the front and starts cleaning me up. His touch is surprisingly soft, his large hand moving between my thighs to wipe away the slick, warm mess of him.

"Can't have you walking into a cell looking like this," he mutters, his eyes flicking up to mine with a dark, lingering heat. "The smell of me alone would give us both away." Once I'm somewhat presentable, he helps me back into the passenger seat of the squad car, leaning over me to buckle the belt. He lingers there for a second, his face inches from mine, his thumb tracing over the fresh, dark hickey he left on my collarbone.

"I'm letting you go," he whispers, his voice dropping into that dangerous tone. "Consider this your one and only warning. But I'm going to need your number... for, you know, authority purposes. I need to make sure you're 'supervised' properly from now on." I giggle, leaning in to nip at his earlobe one last time. "Oh, I’m sure I’ll need a lot of supervising, Officer."

He lets out a short laugh and pulls out his phone, watching as I type in my digits. He tucks it away with a smirk that tells me he’s already thinking about his next "patrol" at my house. The drive to my place is quiet, but the air is thick with the scent of what we just did. When he pulls up to my curb, he doesn't just let me out. He reaches over, his hand gripping the back of my neck to pull me into one last, bruising kiss that tastes like a promise.

"Get inside," he growls, his eyes roaming over my messy hair and swollen lips. "And stay off the road. I’ll be calling you once I’m off shift to finish what I started. You better be ready to be a 'good girl' for me then."

I blow him a kiss as I hop out, watching the red and blue lights fade into the distance as he drives away. I think I might start speeding a lot more often.

Tags ahead : @kooluvlyy

[cbeargyu]

altar boy sins

summary: the pastor’s son fucks you in the back room of the church, promising god’s forgiveness while ruining your last shred of purity.

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

genre: smut, religious corruption, dark romance.

warnings: explicit sexual content, anal virginity, church setting, religious guilt, oral (m receiving), squirting, degradation, sacreligious language, coercion under trust, creampie, overstimulation, power imbalance, aftercare (light), public risk, no vaginal penetration.

part. ii - part. iii

MDNI 🔞

you had always been the image of virtue. ever since you were little, your life had revolved around the church—every sunday service, every youth retreat, every choir practice and prayer circle. your mother made sure you were dressed modestly, always with your bible tucked in your bag and your heart turned toward god. everyone in town knew your name, whispered it in admiration—such a good girl, they said. so devoted. so pure.

and mark lee... well, he was supposed to be the same. the pastor's son, golden and clean, always sitting in the front pew with his father’s bible open on his lap, eyes closed in pretend prayer. he smiled with soft dimples and spoke in warm, respectful tones that made your mother adore him instantly. she liked to say god had placed him in your path for a reason. and maybe that was true. maybe god had placed him there—to test you.

you hadn’t meant for anything to happen. it started so small, just conversations after service, long looks shared across the chapel, the brush of fingers when you passed him a hymnal. he was gentle at first, careful not to cross a line, but each moment alone with him felt like gravity pulling you closer. and when he kissed you the first time—behind the fellowship hall after bible study—you felt like the world stopped. his lips were warm and soft and sinful.

when you first started sneaking around with mark, things were softer. more innocent. you’d meet behind the church after evening mass, hiding between the tall hedges where no one could see you. he’d press gentle kisses to your lips, hold your hand tightly, whisper sweet nothings against your ear as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

he never rushed you—not at first. he’d just touch you over your clothes, his hands resting respectfully on your waist, sliding up under your blouse only when you let him. and each time you let him go a little further, his praise would melt you. you’re so good for me, baby. so sweet. so perfect.

the first time he touched you under your skirt, you thought your heart would stop. his fingers were warm, slow, exploring the damp heat between your thighs through your panties while he kissed your neck. you were shaking the whole time, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline as he whispered filth in your ear in that low, reverent voice of his.

god made this body just for me, didn’t he? you were meant to be mine.

the day you got on your knees for him was the day something shifted between you.

it was in the church parking lot, late at night, both of you hidden behind the youth ministry van. you’d been making out for too long, your thighs pressed together from the ache building inside you. his cock was hard against his jeans, and when he asked do you wanna try something new, baby?, you nodded without thinking.

he guided your hands to his zipper, helped you pull him out—long, thick, flushed at the tip. your breath caught when you saw it, your mouth already watering.

“just lick it for me,” he said softly, brushing your hair behind your ears. “just a little. just the tip.”

but it wasn’t just a little. not when you saw how much he wanted it, how his jaw clenched and his hands trembled when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock. you took him deeper, his praises growing filthier with every inch you swallowed. the taste of him was salt and skin, musky and intimate, and you moaned around him without meaning to.

he came down your throat that night, holding your head with both hands, whispering you’re so fucking perfect while you swallowed every drop. and afterward, he kissed you so gently you almost cried.

but still—you never let him go all the way.

you’d told him you were saving yourself for your husband. that you’d only give yourself completely after standing before god, in white, with a ring on your finger.

mark didn’t push. not exactly. but his hands got more confident, his touches more persuasive. and every time he left you trembling, wet, begging quietly into his mouth—he’d whisper:

“god will forgive you. he made you to want me”

now you were here, months later, hidden away in the church’s back room. it was where the choir robes were stored, a little room behind the altar with old wooden shelves and a dusty piano no one used anymore. you weren’t supposed to be here, not alone with a boy, not with him. but your hands were already shaking as he kissed down your neck, one of his palms pressed to the small of your back, keeping you pinned to the edge of the table.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your ear, “so perfect, baby. you know how crazy you make me?”

you whimpered, fingers curling in the sleeves of his shirt. “mark... we shouldn’t. not here... not like this.”

his hands slid lower, gripping your hips. “why not? no one’s gonna find us. besides... god will forgive us. he always forgives. he sees love in our hearts. don’t you love me?”

you bit your lip, your whole body trembling with guilt and want. “i do... but i want to wait until we’re married. i want to give myself to my husband. i want god to bless it.”

his eyes darkened, not with anger but with something deeper—desire. temptation. “then marry me. i swear i will. you’re the only girl i want. but i want you now... please. just let me have a little more.”

“mark, i can’t...” your voice cracked, shame pooling in your chest. “it’s a sin.”

“he’ll cleanse us,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw, “he knows your heart. you’re doing this out of love. and he knows you’re still pure... if we don’t—if i don’t take you like that.”

you blinked at him, confused. “like what?”

he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. “i’ll still leave your virginity intact,” he murmured, hand slipping down between your thighs, pressing over your clothes, “you’ll still be untouched. we won’t do it the usual way. i’ll just take you here—” he kissed your cheek, “from behind.”

your breath caught.

“it won’t count,” he whispered, voice sweet like a prayer, “you’ll still be a virgin. still god’s perfect girl.”

you hesitated. the weight of every sermon you’d ever heard sat heavy on your shoulders. but his hands were on your body, and his mouth was on your throat, and your skin was burning. and deep down, there was something dark inside you that wanted it. something that pulsed every time he touched you, something that made your knees weak and your mind hazy.

“promise me,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “promise me you’ll marry me.”

he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “i promise. i’ll take you to the altar myself.”

and that was all it took.

your heart was pounding in your chest as he turned you around gently, his hands never leaving your body. the room was dim, lit only by the soft amber light that spilled through the stained glass near the door. you could hear your own breathing, shallow and fast, as mark guided you to lean over the wooden table. the old surface creaked under your weight, the air cool against your thighs as he slowly lifted the hem of your white sunday dress.

“look at you,” he murmured, voice husky now, more raw, more real. “so innocent. so ready to sin for me.”

his fingers trailed up the back of your thighs, calloused and warm, until he reached the soft curve of your ass. your panties were white, lace-trimmed—modest, sweet, something your mother had bought for you. but they were soaked through, and mark saw it right away.

“jesus,” he breathed, a smirk forming on his lips. “you’re dripping already, baby.”

you whimpered as he tugged them down, the delicate fabric catching around your knees before sliding all the way to your ankles. your cheeks burned with shame and arousal, both twisting deep in your belly as you felt the cool air kiss your now-bare skin.

“bend down for me,” he whispered, pressing between your shoulders until you were fully bent over the table, your elbows resting on the worn wood, your ass presented to him like an offering.

you felt him drop to his knees behind you, felt his hands spread you open, exposing every trembling inch. he kissed along the inside of your thighs, soft and slow, his tongue flicking dangerously close to where you ached. you gasped when you felt him spit between your cheeks, fingers guiding the wetness to your tight entrance.

“it’ll hurt a little,” he murmured, voice lower now, more dangerous. “but you can take it. you’re a good girl, right? you want to make me feel good?”

you nodded, your eyes closing, your hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles went white. “yes… i want to be good.”

“then stay just like that for me.”

he stood again, one hand gripping your waist as you heard the rustle of his belt, the soft clink of the buckle as he undid his pants. then his cock was pressing against you, thick and hot, the head teasing at your tightest spot.

you tensed.

“nghh—ahhh, too much—!”

“shh,” he said softly, kissing your shoulder. “relax for me, baby. let me in.”

he pushed slowly at first, and your breath caught in your throat as the stretch began—hot and burning, unfamiliar and intense. tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you whimpered, body trembling as he pushed further, inch by inch.

“m-mark—! it hurts—”

“shh, quiet, baby. you don’t want anyone hearing how much of a filthy little thing you are, do you?” once he was buried inside, he paused, letting you adjust, his fingers caressing your hips, your waist, whispering soft praises against your ear.

you could barely breathe as you felt every inch of him inside you, thick and pulsing, stretching you open in a way that made your entire body tense. your hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly that your wrists ached, your forehead pressed against the wood as your mouth hung open, panting through the pressure, through the sting. his hands were firm on your hips, thumbs digging into your skin as he stayed buried inside you, letting you feel the full weight of what you’d just done.

“fuck,” he whispered, voice reverent, almost in awe. “you’re squeezing me so tight. you feel like fucking heaven.”

you whimpered, a mix of pain and pleasure blooming in your belly like a wildfire. his hips rolled just slightly, testing how much you could take, and the slow friction made your knees shake. it wasn’t like anything you’d imagined. it wasn’t sweet or soft—it was raw and thick and full. your body fought to accommodate him, fluttering around the intrusion as he began to move in earnest.

“this is what you wanted. i’m just giving you what that virgin pussy of yours was too scared to handle.”

“mmph—! nghh—ahh—!”

“what was that? you like being stuffed full of my cock? like being my dirty little church whore?”

each thrust came a little deeper, a little harder, his pace increasing as the tightness began to melt into something warmer, wetter. you bit down on your lip, trying to stay quiet, but the sounds spilling from you betrayed how good it started to feel. shame pooled hot in your stomach, because it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. you weren’t supposed to like it.

“look at you,” he groaned, slamming into you harder now, one hand sliding up your back to grab a fistful of your hair. “moaning like a little slut while i fuck your virgin ass. does it feel good, baby? you gonna come for me like this?”

your mouth opened in a raw scream, half agony, half ecstasy, unable to hold back the flood of sound escaping you.

“oh my god, oh my god, it’s stretching me too much—!”

“jesus, you’re so fucking loud—shut up, baby, shut up.” he shoved your face down against the table, hand over your mouth again, his hips snapping harder.

“if anyone hears you, they’ll know how desperate you are to get fucked like this.”

you cried out as he pulled your head back, forcing your spine into a deep arch, making you feel every brutal thrust more sharply. the pain burned, yes, but under it was something more intense—your body trembling as a deep heat began to coil between your legs. your thighs were slick, your clit aching from how empty it felt, untouched but throbbing.

his balls slapped against you with each thrust, obscene sounds echoing in the small, sacred space of the church storage room. the smell of sweat and sex filled the air, mixing with the faint trace of incense that lingered on the choir robes stacked beside you. it was filthy. wrong. holy.

he let go of your hair and reached between your thighs, fingers finding your clit without hesitation. you sobbed as he rubbed fast, circles tight and relentless, and your hips started to jerk back against him on instinct, chasing something you didn’t fully understand.

“you’re gonna come,” he grunted, almost laughing, breath hot against your ear. “you’re gonna come like this, with my cock in your ass, right here in god’s house. fuck, baby... you’re perfect.”

“m-mark—i… i feel like i’m gonna pee—”

your vision blurred as your body locked up, tension snapping all at once in a flash of heat and shame and unbearable pleasure. your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, a violent gush exploding between your legs, spraying down your thighs and onto the floor with a loud, wet sound that shocked even you.

“jesus fucking christ—” he gasped, faltering for the first time as your body clenched around him like a vice, milking him deeper.

mark’s hips stuttered the moment he felt the rush of wetness pour out of you, his breath catching in his throat like he couldn’t believe what just happened. your body was shaking beneath him, trembling and spasming uncontrollably as your release coated your thighs, dripping messily down onto the floor. he pulled back just slightly to look, to see the way you squirted for him, your slick glistening under the dim church light.

“fuck, baby…” he groaned, sounding half-wrecked, half-awestruck. “you just—fuck—i made you do that?”

he grabbed your hips tighter, almost possessively, and slammed back into you, still deep in the grip of his own rising climax. your body was so sensitive now, every thrust making you jolt forward, your muscles twitching from the overstimulation. but he didn’t stop—not yet. he was chasing something now, something hot and desperate.

“you came so fucking hard,” he growled against your neck, his thrusts getting sloppier, deeper. “your little virgin body just squirted all over my cock… and you were so scared of sinning.”

you moaned weakly, your voice raw and broken, drool slipping from your lips as your cheek pressed flat against the table. your body felt like it was floating, skin hot and damp with sweat, your hole still stretched tight around him, sucking him in greedily every time he pulled back.

“mine,” he whispered like a prayer, fucking into you with final, brutal thrusts. “you’re mine. god can’t have you anymore. you belong to me.”

and then he came.

with a deep, guttural moan, mark buried himself inside you one last time and spilled everything into your ass—hot and thick, ropes of cum filling you until you could feel it dripping back out around his cock. his hips jerked as he emptied himself, one hand sliding up to hold your waist while the other rubbed your lower back in shaky, soothing circles.

he stayed inside you for a moment, breathing hard, chest rising and falling against your back, sweat clinging to both your skins. the room was quiet except for the sound of your combined breaths and the faint ticking of an old wall clock above the door.

you blinked slowly, still dazed, still trembling. and for a brief second, you felt completely hollow and completely full at the same time—ruined, marked, and claimed.

he pulled out slowly, and you whimpered at the emptiness, at the sticky warmth leaking down the back of your thighs. your body sagged against the table, weak and used, your legs barely holding you up. you could feel his release slipping from your hole, thick and hot, a constant reminder of what you’d let him do—what you’d begged him to do.

“stay still,” he murmured softly, voice gentler now, almost sweet. he reached for a folded choir robe from the shelf beside him, one of the ones no one ever used, and knelt behind you again. with quiet, careful hands, he cleaned the mess dripping down your thighs, the backs of your knees, and finally between your cheeks. he wiped away the cum from your entrance, his touch slow and reverent, like he was cleaning something sacred.

you flinched slightly, still too sensitive, and he pressed a kiss to your lower back. “i’ve got you,” he whispered. “you were perfect for me.”

when he was done, he helped you step back into your panties, tugging them up gently over your sore, sticky skin. he straightened your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles like he was tucking you back into your illusion of purity. then he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips—slow and soft and careful, like he hadn’t just broken something inside you.

you both stood in silence for a moment, breathing slowly, the air still thick with the scent of sin and sweat.

and then he reached for his bible.

he tucked it under one arm and held out his other hand to you. you took it, fingers lacing with his, still trembling slightly. and together, you walked out of that little storage room, out into the bright white hallway of the church.

the front doors were open. sunlight poured in. a breeze moved through the sanctuary like nothing had happened.

as you stepped into the entryway, mark dipped his fingers into the small bowl of holy water near the door. he touched his forehead, chest, and shoulders, murmuring the sign of the cross with practiced grace. you followed suit, mimicking the motion, your fingers wet and cool against your burning skin.

no one would ever know.

you were still god’s children, still his favorites.

only now, he wasn’t the only one watching you.

[lovexjeno]

Been gone for five years and this is the first mark fic I come across… I am going to hell🧎🏼‍♀️‍➡️

[gr-hnd]

EJ??????

Explodes into confetti and dies

[silly-little-pal]

[jisvnng]

pairing : bangchan x reader warnings : pooooornnnnn porn porn !!notes : be logged into twitter to view .

requested by @ivpriv14

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

riding chans big dick !! , pt.2 , pt.3

channie fingering you is the best (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

his favorite thing to do after a concert is fuck you in his hotel bed .

punishing you after seeing you a little too close to the other members ᢉ𐭩

chan likes to tease you before fucking you sometimes because it gets you to beg !!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

lmk if anything is misspelled or if any of the links dont work !

[yankpop-deactivated20260120]

Hard Love (Haegeum! Suga Drabble)

Summary: Gang leader Yoongi is someone you wish you've never met before.

DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes that includes yandere/dark. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. 

Check more: Masterlist.

Female reader

WARNINGS: NON-CON.

AN: Let me know what you think of this, I'm kinda scared for the feedback I'll receive, this is a bit heavy.

--

“Shh, don’t cry, pretty girl.”

He murmurs, lips pressed against your cheek, even as you try to pull away from him.

His tongue licks away some of your tears, a low hum coming from him. Your stomach churns with disgust upon hearing him, the need to get away from him almost overwhelming you. 

“Even your tears taste delicious.”

It only makes you whimper, fat tears sliding down your face and onto your neck. His thrusts are harsh, fucking you deep and fast, hips pistoning upwards with a speed that you doesn’t make you feel any pleasure.

You’re just there to be used by him. Like a rag doll. Used at his will. Not even your hysterical screams and cries make him stop. He simply manhandled you into whatever he wanted. 

He’s a monster. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Fitting me like a glove.” he hisses, punctuating his opinion as he jackhammers into you, hips slamming against yours with force.

A whimper escapes your lips and you weakly try to push your palms against his chest, hoping to create some distance between you but your pathetic attempt quickly comes to an end as he grabs your wrists with one hand, twisting them behind your back as if it’s nothing. 

“Please…” you sob, lips trembling as you beg. He doesn’t stop, maintaining his brutal pace. 

His lips curl into a sleazy smile, one that makes you lose any hope. His hair falls to his face, strands attaching themselves to the sweaty skin, giving him a deranged look. 

“Can’t stop now, princess. Gotta fuck you nice and good, make sure they get the message, right?” 

You widen your eyes at that, the painful reminder that your family is in the room next to yours, forced to listen to this. His armed gang members surrounding your parents and siblings, making sure they know the consequences of disrespecting him.

All of this because your dad - a good and respectful cop - had led a raid to one of his warehouses, leading to the seizure of a large sum of money and drugs. 

Big mistake. 

His free hand finds your face, fingers digging into your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. The scar is prominent, looking frightening up close and you look away to his good eye. 

“Your daddy needs to learn that he needs to stay the fuck away from my business. Too bad you’re the one paying for his mistakes.” he smiles at you, drinking in your features.

“But you’re such an angel, aren’t you? Taking my cock like a pro.”

His complement makes you choke on your spit. 

Yoongi keeps fucking you, the bed loudly squeaking and you shut your eyes, imaging how scared your family must be. Your pussy feels sore from the assault and it only worsens as he speeds up, frantically thrusting as a string of curses falls out of his mouth.

His body tenses up beneath you and his hold on your wrists tightens uncomfortably. 

A loud growl erupts from his throat upon reaching his selfish orgasm, hips finally stilling with a final thrust and he closes his eyes, resting his head back with a satisfied sigh. 

You whimper, uncomfortable as his cum leaks from your pussy, dripping down to your thighs and you attempt to raise yourself to pull him out of you but his hand tightens around you, eyes snapping open. 

“None of that, princess. I’m not done with you yet.” his voice huskier, face glistening with sweat but his eyes hold that shine of madness that makes you quiet in a second. He tilts his hips, pushing all of his length back inside you.

“Daddy’s lesson isn’t over yet. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

[thewatcher727]

Writing Description Notes:

Updated 17th July 2024 More writing tips, review tips & writing description notes

Facial Expressions

Masking Emotions

Smiles/Smirks/Grins

Eye Contact/Eye Movements

Blushing

Voice/Tone

Body Language/Idle Movement

Thoughts/Thinking/Focusing/Distracted

Silence

Memories

Happy/Content/Comforted

Love/Romance

Sadness/Crying/Hurt

Confidence/Determination/Hopeful

Surprised/Shocked

Guilt/Regret

Disgusted/Jealous

Uncertain/Doubtful/Worried

Anger/Rage

Laughter

Confused

Speechless/Tongue Tied

Fear/Terrified

Mental Pain

Physical Pain

Tired/Drowsy/Exhausted

Eating

Drinking

[shrewsburysworld]

Mad Doctor (part II)

Pair :- Yandere seokjin × Female reader

Summary :- Dr. Seokjin is adored by all, yet bound to a possessive wife who marks him as hers. His colleagues pity him, thinking he’s trapped. But behind closed doors, the truth is far more complicated.

Warnings :- Yandere themes, toxic relationship, manupilative behaviour, domestic violence, jealous reader, possessive reader, dubious consent (mild), smut (it's bit edgy), oral (f. receiving), jealous seokjin, possessive seokjin.

"This is a work of fiction and does not promote or romanticize toxic relationships in real life."

They had been newlyweds, still learning each other's habits, still adjusting to their life together. Seokjin had noticed Yn’s possessiveness early on—the way she’d stiffen when another woman got too close, how her hand would tighten around his wrist when someone complimented him.

But she had never crossed a line. Not until that night.

It had started at a family gathering.

Yn’s mother had laughed over dinner, sipping on her wine, recounting stories from Yn’s childhood. "Yn has always been like this," she had said. "She never liked sharing her toys. I still remember when she scratched her little friend’s face just because she took her doll. Poor girl had scars for weeks."

Seokjin had chuckled politely, but a strange feeling crept up his spine. He glanced at Yn, expecting her to laugh it off, but she was staring at her plate, lips pressed into a thin line.

Seokjin's cousin sister was always friendly but he felt yn's eyes on him and he tensed, her mother previous words didn't do anything better.

Jin had tried to let go of that topic, he wasn't disloyal and he wasn't an object but why did it feel like it. Why did he get nervous while talking to another woman. He didn't see but he knew yn was watching and he knew what was going to happen tonight.

That night, when they got home, the tension followed them inside.

It started small—Yn’s arms crossed, eyes dark as she questioned him. "That woman was too close to you today."

Seokjin sighed, rubbing his temple. "She was just making conversation, Yn."

"She touched your arm."

"It was just for a moment."

"She was laughing."

"She can't laugh now?"

"She was flirting."

"She was just being friendly."

"Yn—"

*smack*

The slap came so suddenly, neither of them registered it at first.

A sharp sting on Seokjin’s cheek. A heavy silence in the air.

Yn gasped, stepping back as if she had burned herself. Her hand trembled. "Jin—" Her voice cracked. "I—"

She looked terrified. Like she had just realized what she had done.

Seokjin’s mind was blank. The pain barely registered, but the shock did. His wife—his soft, shy, lovesick wife—had hit him.

Yn clutched her hands together. "I didn’t mean to. I swear. I just—" Her breath came out shaky. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jin."

A long, suffocating silence stretched between them.

Seokjin forced himself to breathe. He swallowed, the weight of the moment settling in. And then, despite everything, he gave her a small, tired smile. "It’s okay."

But Yn knew it wasn’t. She knew she fucked up.

That night, they both lay awake in bed. Neither spoke. The space between them felt like an ocean. Yn wanted to apologise but she knew her sorrys are waste if she doesn't control her possessiveness. She never found it as a trait. Growing up she was proud of her selfishness and possesiveness, but now she wasn't sure.

Jin had been avoiding her for days. Yn felt like shit even though they slept in same bed he felt miles away and guilt for the first time was eating her away. Her Jin must be upset on her, she must correct her mistake.

Yn was determined. If her behavior hurt Seokjin—if it put a crack in their marriage—she would change. She isn't ready to give up on seokjin, never.

The next morning, she reached out to her friend, asking for recommendations for yoga and meditation classes.

"I need to control my anger," she admitted, voice heavy with shame.

And when she told Seokjin about it, he had smiled, relief flickering in his eyes.

"I’m proud of you, Yn."

For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.

If he likes it then I'll do it.

❀｡･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ❀

It started slow. Days passed.

Yn meditated in the mornings as instructed by teacher. She learned to breathe before reacting. When Seokjin’s female colleagues laughed a little too much at his jokes, she clenched her fists but said nothing. When she felt the surge of jealousy creeping up, she forced herself to calm down, to breathe, to not punch her in the face.

Seokjin noticed the difference immediately.

She no longer clung to him with bruising grips. She no longer tightened her arms around his waist whenever she got insecure.

She still loved him—he knew that. But something was different.

She was different.

And at first, it was good.

Healthy.

They were happy.

Seokjin was happy.

Until he wasn’t.

___

It was subtle at first.

Seokjin would flirt playfully, and instead of blushing furiously and gripping his arm, Yn would just smile and shake her head.

He would tease her about another woman talking to him, expecting that usual fire in her eyes, but she only kissed his cheek and said, "I trust you."

She didn’t get jealous anymore.

She didn’t throw her arms around him at random moments, burying her face in his chest.

She still held him, still kissed him, still loved him—but it wasn’t the same.

And Seokjin—he didn’t understand why that bothered him.

It was better this way, wasn’t it?

But then, why did he feel restless?

Why did he miss the way she used to grip him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat?

Why did it feel like he was losing something?

___

One evening, Seokjin decided to surprise Yn.

He had finished early at work and drove to her yoga class, waiting in the parking lot with a small bouquet in hand.

When he saw her step out of the building, he smiled.

He was about to call her name, stepping forward—

But then he froze.

Yn wasn’t alone.

She was talking to someone—a man.

Seokjin’s stomach dropped.

She was smiling. Laughing. Her posture was relaxed, her face open and warm.

She didn’t smile at men like that before.

And then it hit him.

Is this how Yn felt?

That suffocating weight in his chest. That rush of jealousy clawing up his throat. That deep, irrational fear that someone was trying to take what was his.

His fingers clenched around the bouquet, heart pounding in his ears.

For the first time, Seokjin understood.

And he hated it.

𓆩♡𓆪.｡.✿.｡.𓆩♡𓆪.｡.✿.｡.𓆩♡𓆪

The drive home that night was quiet. Too quiet.

Seokjin gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as his mind replayed the image over and over again.

Yn. Laughing. Smiling. With another man.

She had never done that before.

At home, Yn hummed as she set the table for dinner. She looked… peaceful.

Seokjin should have been happy. She was finally in control of her emotions, finally at ease. But something wasn’t right.

He couldn’t stop staring at her.

She was still his Yn, still his wife, but she wasn’t the same.

She wasn’t his in the way she used to be.

She didn’t cling to him the second he walked through the door. She didn’t demand to know how many women had tried to talk to him today.

She didn’t grip his arm too tight, didn’t press possessive kisses onto his skin.

She didn’t need to.

Because she was fine.

Without him.

"How was work?" Yn asked, taking a bite of her food.

Seokjin swallowed hard.

"It was okay," he murmured, watching her carefully.

Yn smiled. "That’s good. I had a great class today. We focused on breathing techniques."

Breathing techniques.

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek.

"Who else was there?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay light.

Yn blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "The usual group."

"The usual group."

That man was part of the "usual group," wasn’t he?

Seokjin forced himself to nod.

"That’s nice."

Yn beamed.

But Seokjin felt sick.

The days that followed were a battle he hadn’t prepared for.

Seokjin was used to being the good one in their relationship. The patient one. The reasonable one.

But now… he was the one holding back his emotions.

He would wake up to find Yn already meditating in the living room, eyes closed, face serene. She looked untouchable—like something sacred.

She used to wake him up first.

She used to press lazy, desperate kisses to his lips in the mornings, refusing to let him leave the bed.

Now?

She was slipping away.

And he hated it.

At the hospital, Seokjin became distracted.

"Dr. Kim, are you alright?" a nurse asked when he nearly prescribed the wrong dosage for a patient.

He nodded stiffly. "Just a little tired."

Junho, his closest friend, noticed too.

"You don’t seem yourself lately," Junho remarked as they walked to the cafeteria. "Is everything okay with Yn?"

Seokjin clenched his jaw.

"She’s… changing."

Junho brightened. "That’s good, right? She’s working on herself."

Seokjin should have nodded. Should have smiled and said, Yes. It’s good.

But the words stuck in his throat.

Was it good?

Because it didn’t feel that way.

That night, when Seokjin got home, Yn was on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

She didn’t rush to the door when she heard him.

She didn’t even look up immediately.

It was like a knife to the chest.

"Hey," she finally greeted, glancing up.

That’s it?

Just ‘hey’?

"Hey," he echoed, his voice colder than intended.

Yn frowned. "Something wrong?"

Everything.

Everything was wrong.

"No," he said flatly, dropping his bag and walking past her.

Yn didn’t chase after him.

She used to.

She used to always chase after him.

❀｡･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ❀

Seokjin tried to ignore the growing unease in his chest.

He told himself he was being irrational.

That he should be proud of Yn for controlling herself.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Especially when, a few days later, he picked her up from class early.

He saw her before she saw him.

And there he was again.

The man from before.

Standing next to Yn.

Smiling.

And worse—she was smiling back.

Seokjin saw red.

He had never hated anyone before.

But in that moment, he hated him.

His feet moved on their own, carrying him forward.

"Yn," he called, voice tight.

She turned, surprised. "Jin! You’re here early."

Seokjin barely glanced at the man before pulling Yn closer. His arm wrapped around her waist, his grip firm.

"Let’s go," he said.

Yn blinked but nodded, giving a small smile to the man. "See you later."

See you later.

See you later.

Seokjin gritted his teeth.

The second they got home, Seokjin pulled Yn against him, burying his face in her neck.

Yn laughed softly, carding her fingers through his hair. "What’s gotten into you?"

Seokjin didn’t answer.

He gripped her hips tighter, as if afraid she’d slip through his fingers.

"You don’t hold me like this anymore."

"You don’t need me like before."

"You’re slipping away."

Yn sighed, pulling back to cup his face. "Jin, you know I love you, right?"

"Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?"

Seokjin forced a smile. "Of course."

Yn smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

He kissed her back.

But this time, he didn’t let her pull away.

His lips moved urgently, possessively.

Yn let out a surprised sound, but he didn’t stop.

He needed to remind her.

Needed her to feel it.

Needed to brand himself onto her skin again.

His hands gripped her waist, his mouth trailing lower.

Yn gasped as he kissed along her collarbone, her neck. "Jin—"

But he didn’t stop.

He sucked and bit down, leaving marks.

Dark. Visible.

Possessive.

Yn let out a breathy laugh, tugging at his hair. "You’re acting jealous."

Seokjin smirked against her skin.

"Maybe I am."

Yn rolled her eyes but let him do whatever he wanted.

Just like she used to.

And for the first time in weeks, Seokjin felt at peace.

His kisses lingered further on body, his hands now pulling on her yoga pants. It was overwhelming for yn, they haven't had sex since their fight and she missed this so much.

Her panties were soaked and seokjin started moving her to bedroom. After pulling her panties down he put his one digit in, not really needed lube seeing how much horny yn was.

"You're my wife, Mine!"

Seokjin hurried himself out of his clothes, going down on her. Oh how he loves pleasuring yn. Hearing her break and whimper just by his mouth. Starting by sucking on her clitoris and to licking her folds, seokjin tried to prove that no one can please her better than him. His fingers joining and opening her up. Yn was mess, fuck she was a total mess. Her stomach bubbling with hotness and she knew she was close.

Seokjin however didn't rush - he enjoyed, licking her vagina clean he moved forward. Lubing up his dick, he was ready to insert - until.

"What about condom?"

Seokjin forgot and weirdly didn't want to remember about it. Surely he would pull out and even if he doesn't they were mature to be parents, right?

She could just leave that stupid class and would carry his child, her bump showing proudly but Jin still put on the condom. He can't go against her wishes but he does show his frustration with rough thrusts.

Hitting her on right spots, her hole swallowing him, adjusting his whole length as if it was made for it.

Jin sweet talked throughout the whole sex, he praised which elevated his sweet wife more. And for the first time in while seokjin was at peace.

❀｡･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ❀

Seokjin woke up alone.

His arms reached out instinctively, searching for Yn’s warmth. But the bed was empty. Cold.

His heart sank.

Last night, she had been there—under him, around him, his.

But now…

Seokjin sat up, rubbing his face before his eyes landed on the living room.

There she was.

Sitting on the floor, back straight, eyes closed in deep meditation.

Her lips, the same ones he had kissed raw last night, were slightly parted in a peaceful sigh.

His jaw clenched.

She was slipping away again.

Slowly.

So slowly that if he wasn’t careful, he would lose her completely.

But Seokjin wasn’t going to let that happen.

He had made up his mind.

"Yn."

His voice was soft but firm.

Yn slowly opened her eyes, blinking as she turned to face him. "Jin?"

He smiled, tilting his head. "Come have breakfast with me."

Yn hesitated.

Seokjin never interrupted her meditation.

Her routine had been sacred ever since she started this journey of self-control.

But now, his eyes held something she couldn’t quite place.

Something desperate.

"I just… want to have breakfast with my wife," he added, voice almost pleading.

Yn hesitated again, then nodded slowly.

"Just for today."

"Just this once."

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know what she had just agreed to.

Because Seokjin never planned to let her go back.

It started small.

Little things that Yn didn’t notice at first.

Like how her alarm mysteriously stopped ringing in the mornings.

"Oh, did you forget to set it?" Seokjin would ask, feigning innocence.

Or how, every time she wanted to meditate, he would suddenly need her.

"Can you help me with this?"

"Let’s go for a walk together."

"I made tea for us, come sit with me."

He never forced her.

No, Seokjin was too smart for that.

Instead, he made her choose him.

Made her feel guilty for wanting to spend time alone.

And when she did try to insist on her routine, his face would fall ever so slightly, just enough for her to see.

"I just… miss you, that’s all."

Yn would pause, chew her lip, then sigh.

"Okay, just for today."

Just for today.

But today became tomorrow.

Tomorrow became the next week.

And soon, Yn’s carefully built routine began to crumble.

Just like Seokjin planned.

___

It wasn’t enough.

Seokjin needed to try more.

So he let the jealousy creep back in.

He made her see it. Feel it.

One evening, while they were at a dinner party, he spoke a little too kindly to a female colleague.

He smiled a little too warmly.

And from the corner of his eye, he watched Yn’s fingers curl into fists.

Perfect.

She had been so calm lately. So rational.

But Seokjin didn’t want rational.

He wanted her to burn for him.

So when the woman laughed at his joke and placed a hand on his arm, he didn’t move away immediately.

Yn saw.

And just like that, the fire was back.

Her nails dug into his wrist under the table, a warning. A claim.

And Seokjin nearly smiled.

When they got home, she was seething.

"You enjoyed that, didn’t you?" she accused, arms crossed.

Seokjin blinked, innocent. "What are you talking about?"

Yn stepped closer, eyes blazing. "She was all over you, and you let her."

Seokjin sighed dramatically. "Yn, you know I only love you."

"Then prove it."

She grabbed his collar, yanking him into a bruising kiss.

Seokjin let her.

Let her pull. Let her mark him.

Let her claim him all over again.

His fingers curled into her waist, holding her close as she pressed hickeys into his skin like she owned him.

She did. She always would.

And in that moment, Seokjin knew.

He had won.

___

Yn stopped going to meditation classes.

Not all at once. No, it was gradual.

Slow.

Seokjin made sure of that.

"Come with me to the hospital, I have a long shift, and I miss you."

"Let’s take a trip, just us."

"I don’t want to sleep alone tonight, stay with me."

One by one, her excuses piled up.

And one day, she simply stopped going altogether.

Seokjin held her tighter than ever.

And when she clung back, possessive, needy, desperate—he knew.

His Yn was back.

She thought she had won.

That she had chosen to let go of meditation on her own.

But Seokjin knew better. Every step. Every moment.

His sweet, jealous wife. His obsessive, possessive wife.

His perfect wife.

And she would never even realize.

Seokjin had always been a patient man. It was a necessary trait in his profession—steady hands, steady mind, unwavering control. He knew how to wait. How to watch. How to manipulate the smallest changes in a person’s body to lead them to recovery.

But this wasn’t about healing.

It was about undoing.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.♡・。.・゜

The hospital was quieter in the mornings, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air as the early shifts began. Dr. Junho leaned against Seokjin’s desk, arms crossed, his face laced with concern. His eyes flickered toward Seokjin’s sleeve, barely hiding the faint bruises on his wrist—remnants of last night’s possessive grip.

“She’s getting worse, Jin,” Junho muttered, keeping his voice low so no nurses would overhear.

Seokjin merely sighed, adjusting his tie in the reflection of his computer screen. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Junho scoffed. "Jin, people saw what happened last night. The way she held onto you, the way she stormed out. And now—" He gestured toward the bruises. "She’s leaving marks on you. This isn’t normal.”

A pause stretched between them.

“She loves me,” Seokjin finally said, voice calm, unwavering. "That’s all there is to it."

Junho pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling in frustration. "Jin, love shouldn’t be like this. You know that, right?"

But Seokjin only smiled, an expression so gentle, so convincing that anyone else would have believed him. "You don’t understand, Junho. She just… loves me differently."

And that was the end of the conversation. Junho knew pushing further would be pointless—Seokjin always denied it, always dismissed it. With one last wary glance, Junho left, leaving Seokjin alone in his office, staring at his reflection.

A love like theirs wasn’t for others to understand.

---

When Seokjin stepped inside his home that evening, the air felt different. It was warm, charged, filled with something possessive and intoxicating. Yn was in the kitchen, back turned to him, humming softly as she prepared dinner. His heart swelled at the sight.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps, her lips curling into a smirk. "You’re late."

Seokjin simply walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a lingering kiss to her neck. "You missed me?"

Yn huffed but didn’t pull away. "Of course I did. Who else am I supposed to keep in check?"

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Of course."

As they sat down for dinner, Yn eyed the faint bruises on his wrist, her fingers tracing them lightly. "I didn't mean to grip you that hard," she muttered.

Seokjin took her hand in his, squeezing gently. "I know, darling!."

She didn’t notice the way his grip lingered, possessive in its own way. She didn’t notice how his eyes darkened ever so slightly as he watched her across the table, how his mind swirled with satisfaction.

Because she was his. And he was hers.

And as long as the world thought he was the victim, no one would ever suspect who the real yandere in their marriage was.

Heya!! Sorry for being lazy in posting the second part 😩

Thanks Y'all for patiently waiting and giving love to this series (mwah mwah), if anyone has any ideas on next part or epilogue do not hesitate to share with me. And do comment if you liked the plot.

Taglist :- @aaclariww , @taekritimin123 , @bebabido , @demonshauntingthedoves , @kpopsmutty69 , @11thenightwemet11 , @margaretro23 , @yoontaethings .

[yankpop-deactivated20260120]

Yandere BTS: You want to become an idol - Hyung Line

DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes that includes yandere/dark. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. 

Check more: Masterlist.

Female reader

WARNINGS: Toxic/Unhealthy Relations; Emotional manipulation. 

AN: Hope you guys like it 💖 Let me know!

--

Jin

The table is awfully quiet, only the sounds of the plates and the cutlery being heard as you and Jin eat dinner in complete silence. 

You don’t dare to pronounce a single word, too intimidated by Jin’s cold aura.

He hasn’t even properly looked at you ever since you happily revealed to him that you got casted  in the street by a random lady to become a trainee. 

When he starts eating dessert, that’s when you finally build the courage to talk. 

“Jin, I really want to try this.” your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s still heard by Jin, who flashes you an icy glance. 

“And I really don’t want you to. That simple.” he shortly says, his attention back to the food.

The uncomfortable knot in your stomach tightens, you’re not used to fighting back Jin. He’s the one who usually makes all the decisions and you obediently follow him, trusting his judgment. 

This time, you’re risking into unknown territory all for  a mere desire to be a trainee. 

“I just want to try it, maybe I could like it, you know?” you tentatively try.

Jin’s hand flexes hard around the fork, before he pushes the plate away.  

“We had a plan, Y/N, didn’t we? I'll work and make the money while you take care of the house.” he sharply reminds you. You open your mouth to say something but Jin notices it and puts his index finger in front of his lips, indicating you to stay silent. 

“We are going to get married. We are going to have kids and you are going to stay home to take care of them. This is what we agreed on, isn’t it? And now you want to change our perfect plans because of a selfish whim of yours.” he says, livid with cold anger as he crosses his arms in his chest.

“If I wanted to be with someone who’s unreliable, then I’d be with another girl. I’m dating you cause I thought I could trust you. Maybe I was wrong.” his eyes send daggers your way and you bite your lip, suddenly feeling guilty for almost ruining your future plans together.

Jin often talked about them with so much love and passion that you couldn’t stop yourself from agreeing with whatever he said. And now you can’t break his dreams because of something that may not work.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you weakly nod.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll back down from it.” 

Words never sounded so good to Jin.  

Suga

You excitedly watch as Yoongi opens the box. You want him to be the first person to find out that you got casted by one of the Big 3 for a 6-month trainee contract. 

But you clearly weren’t expecting his face to turn completely sour, the realization hitting him as his eyes run over the written contract.

He pushes the papers away, giving you a serious look.

“What’s this shit? Are you really considering going through with this? Without even talking to me?” he throws, raising his eyebrows. 

“Hum? W-What do you mean?” you confusedly stutter and then stop, too intimidated by the strict gaze Yoongi gives you.

He stands up and starts pacing around the living room.

“Then you thought completely wrong. Fuck, what did I tell you about making decisions on your own? Stop using your brain and leave the important stuff up to me since you obviously don’t know anything about this.” he furiously snaps, giving you an angry look that makes you shrink back into the couch. 

He grabs back the contract papers and gives them a quick verification. 

“At least you didn’t sign it. You’re not completely dumb, after all.” he sighs. “Where’s your phone?”

You raise your head, confusedly looking at him. Yoongi loses his patience and snaps his fingers in front of your face. 

“Your phone, now!” the small shake he gives you is enough to wake you from your lethargy and you immediately hand him your phone.

He practically snatches it from your hold, dialing the number he finds on the contract papers.

“Hello? This is Yoongi, Y/N’s boyfriend. Yes, about the trainee thing…,” Yoongi pauses, giving you a dirty look, “... actually she’s unable to do so because of some personal incompatibilities. Sorry for wasting your time. Bye.”

He hangs up the call before the other person can even reply. You can’t even utter a single word from how embarrassed you are.

You hold out your hand to receive your phone back but Yoongi ignores you and puts the device in his back pocket.

“Since you pulled so much trouble, you don’t deserve to have your phone back until you start behaving accordingly.” 

J-Hope

Hoseok forces back a witty smile as he tries to console you. It does create a bit of a turmoil in his heart to see you so shaken up, practically traumatized, but it’s all for a good cause.

He puts his hand on top of yours, faking a concerned expression, like a good boyfriend would. 

“And you’re sure you found it in the manager’s bag?” he asks again, like he was trying to understand it. 

You shakily nod, a shiver making your body tremble. 

“I- Yes, I’m sure of it. My lost panties were literally in his bag.” you sniff, shaking your head.

“I just can’t believe my manager would steal my panties! God, Hoseok, I really thought he was a good person, he never acted weird around me or anything so I don’t understand why..” You trail off, too shaken up to continue as Hoseok involves your shoulders with his arm. 

“That’s really awful. Disgusting. And…” he strategically pauses, waiting for you to ask him.

A second later you look at him, taking in his worried expression.

“What is it, Hoseok ?” 

He shrugs off his shoulders, pretending to be confused.

“I just… I mean, who tells you that he’s going to stop there, you know. He’s the manager while you’re just a trainee. Who knows if he doesn’t get bold with his actions and instead of just stealing panties he doesn't… you know.” 

Hoseok is clever enough to not finish the sentence, leaving the implicit meaning of his words hanging in the air.

Needless to say that you quickly drop the idea of pursuing an idol career. 

RM

“Again.” 

Your heart drops at the sound of that word. You’re sick and tired of it. Your muscles are completely sore, the white top you’re wearing drenched in sweat.

The result of practicing the exact same choreography for hours and hours to no end. 

“But I did everything right this time!” you try to argue only to be shut down by your boyfriend, who gives you a stern look.

“No, that’s what you think. I’ve been training and performing for years so trust me when I say this is far from perfect. No one will debut you if you keep up this poor excuse of dancing.”

The words are crude and they hit you in the wrong spot. 

Tears start rising to your eyes and your shoulders slump forward with defeat. 

Namjoon notices the impact of his words, his expression immediately softening as he comes forwards to embrace you. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, you know that. It’s just…. you asked me to help you practice and no matter how demanding you think i’m being right now, the truth is I’m nothing compared to professional choreographers level. They are going to be even more strict.” he tries explaining, offering you a bottle of water.

Drinking a greedy sip of water, you feel your whole body in fire, unable to do anything else. 

It’s too much for you. You can’t do it.

“Namjoon… don’t think I want to do this anymore.” you slowly whisper, your face falling into your hands in defeat. “I can’t be an idol.”

“It’s okay, babe. It’s fine, really. Hey, look at me.” he gently grasps your hands away from your face, and you look at him with a miserably sad expression.

“Everyone has their own calling in life and maybe being an idol isn’t for you. It’s for the best, I’m sure of it.” 

His words do little to console you and he still hugs you, even with your sweaty clothes. 

Hiding his face in the crook of your neck, Namjoon hides a relieved sigh.

He was never gonna allow you to become an idol and now that you rejected an idol career, he was off the hook. 

-> Maknae Line

[yankpop-deactivated20260120]

Hard Love (Haegeum! Suga Drabble)

Summary: Gang leader Yoongi is someone you wish you've never met before.

DISCLAIMER: This is a FICTION work only made for entertainment purposes that includes yandere/dark. I do not support or encourage any type of abusive behaviour. 

Check more: Masterlist.

Female reader

WARNINGS: NON-CON.

AN: Let me know what you think of this, I'm kinda scared for the feedback I'll receive, this is a bit heavy.

--

“Shh, don’t cry, pretty girl.”

He murmurs, lips pressed against your cheek, even as you try to pull away from him.

His tongue licks away some of your tears, a low hum coming from him. Your stomach churns with disgust upon hearing him, the need to get away from him almost overwhelming you. 

“Even your tears taste delicious.”

It only makes you whimper, fat tears sliding down your face and onto your neck. His thrusts are harsh, fucking you deep and fast, hips pistoning upwards with a speed that you doesn’t make you feel any pleasure.

You’re just there to be used by him. Like a rag doll. Used at his will. Not even your hysterical screams and cries make him stop. He simply manhandled you into whatever he wanted. 

He’s a monster. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Fitting me like a glove.” he hisses, punctuating his opinion as he jackhammers into you, hips slamming against yours with force.

A whimper escapes your lips and you weakly try to push your palms against his chest, hoping to create some distance between you but your pathetic attempt quickly comes to an end as he grabs your wrists with one hand, twisting them behind your back as if it’s nothing. 

“Please…” you sob, lips trembling as you beg. He doesn’t stop, maintaining his brutal pace. 

His lips curl into a sleazy smile, one that makes you lose any hope. His hair falls to his face, strands attaching themselves to the sweaty skin, giving him a deranged look. 

“Can’t stop now, princess. Gotta fuck you nice and good, make sure they get the message, right?” 

You widen your eyes at that, the painful reminder that your family is in the room next to yours, forced to listen to this. His armed gang members surrounding your parents and siblings, making sure they know the consequences of disrespecting him.

All of this because your dad - a good and respectful cop - had led a raid to one of his warehouses, leading to the seizure of a large sum of money and drugs. 

Big mistake. 

His free hand finds your face, fingers digging into your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. The scar is prominent, looking frightening up close and you look away to his good eye. 

“Your daddy needs to learn that he needs to stay the fuck away from my business. Too bad you’re the one paying for his mistakes.” he smiles at you, drinking in your features.

“But you’re such an angel, aren’t you? Taking my cock like a pro.”

His complement makes you choke on your spit. 

Yoongi keeps fucking you, the bed loudly squeaking and you shut your eyes, imaging how scared your family must be. Your pussy feels sore from the assault and it only worsens as he speeds up, frantically thrusting as a string of curses falls out of his mouth.

His body tenses up beneath you and his hold on your wrists tightens uncomfortably. 

A loud growl erupts from his throat upon reaching his selfish orgasm, hips finally stilling with a final thrust and he closes his eyes, resting his head back with a satisfied sigh. 

You whimper, uncomfortable as his cum leaks from your pussy, dripping down to your thighs and you attempt to raise yourself to pull him out of you but his hand tightens around you, eyes snapping open. 

“None of that, princess. I’m not done with you yet.” his voice huskier, face glistening with sweat but his eyes hold that shine of madness that makes you quiet in a second. He tilts his hips, pushing all of his length back inside you.

“Daddy’s lesson isn’t over yet. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

[jincapableoflove]

House of Cards | Moodboard

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: yandere! jungkook, psychological thriller, dark romance, unreliable narrator, toxic relationships, angst, slight fluff

Summary: Your life with Jungkook is perfect—until the cracks begin to show. A photo with the wrong date. A diary filled with memories you don’t recall. A door that vanishes overnight. And Jungkook—always there, always watching, always pulling you back when you start to question too much. You know something is wrong. But the real question is: Have you forgotten… or were you made to?

Read the teaser here

taglist: @whothefuckisthishoe @nuh-uhs-stuff @rg2108 @haru-jiminn @mimi1097 @erisuna @jjk174 @mochi13 @xovkhnxo @jmstoesblog @lachimolalajeon @elmariajinn @sebastianlover @dna-black-and-blue @bamieeee03 @apriljoon @mellyyyyyyx

[seokiie]

Hi all! I’m back! Just wanted to drop a little peak of an idea im working on! Thoughts ? 🤭

I’ve missed writing like this sm !!

[s4svnn-deactivated20250517]

Embrace - Out of bounds drabbles

Summary: You had always hated going to bed—it felt like wasted time, lying in the dark with nothing but your thoughts. But being in his arms made it different. His warmth, his touch, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world—it made every night something to look forward to. Because no matter how long the day had been, falling asleep wrapped in his embrace made it all worth it.

Pairing: F1 racer Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff, lovers

Content tags: spooning, kisses, cuddling, boyfriend and girlfriend, night time routine, massages, soft jungkook, sleepy reader, affection, long day, skin to skin, touches

Word count: 1k

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on me as I lay curled on my side, my body sinking into the warmth of the blankets. My eyelids fluttered shut, sleep tugging me under, when the quiet creak of the bedroom door made my senses stir.

Jungkook was home.

I knew it was him before my mind could fully process it, the familiar rhythm of his movements filling the room. The soft rustling of fabric, the muffled thud of his bag being set down. But I was too tired to move, too wrapped up in the haze of sleep to even let him know I was awake. So I stayed still, breathing slow and steady, pretending I had already drifted off.

For a moment, all I could hear was him moving around, the occasional sigh leaving his lips. Then, the mattress dipped beneath his weight. The blankets shifted, and warmth enveloped me as he slid under the covers, his body pressing in close until his chest was flush against my back.

His heat was immediate and comforting, his breath tickling the back of my neck. I felt his arm drape over my waist, his fingers ghosting up and down my side, almost as if he were searching for something. The slow movements confused me—what was he looking for? My breathing remained even, my body unmoving as I waited to see what he would do.

Then, his fingers found the hem of my shirt.

A shiver ran through me as he gently lifted it, his warm palm slipping underneath to press against my bare skin. His touch was soft yet possessive as his hand splayed across my waist, his thumb grazing my skin in slow circles.

A quiet sigh left him as he nestled in closer, his face pressing into the space right behind my neck. I could feel his lips ghost against my skin, his breath warm and steady as he pulled me even closer, his arm tightening around me.

A lazy smile almost tugged at my lips, but I held it back, keeping my breathing slow and steady. Maybe if I stayed still long enough, he’d fall asleep first, and I could keep pretending just a little longer.

But then, in a voice thick with exhaustion and amusement, he murmured against my skin, “I know you’re awake.”

Heat bloomed in my cheeks.

I kept my eyes shut, still refusing to move, but I felt his lips curve into a small smile against my neck. His grip around my waist tightened, his fingers pressing just a little firmer into my skin as if daring me to keep up the act.

“You gonna keep pretending?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with quiet laughter.

I bit the inside of my cheek, stubbornly staying silent.

Jungkook huffed out a soft chuckle, and before I could react, he dipped his head and nuzzled further into my neck, his nose brushing against my skin. His lips pressed there next, barely a kiss, just enough to make my breath hitch.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more tired.

My resolve cracked.

With a sleepy sigh, I finally turned in his arms, my face just inches from his. His dark eyes met mine, heavy with exhaustion but filled with something warm, something that made my heart clench.

“I missed you too,” I whispered, voice thick with sleep.

Jungkook’s lips twitched, his fingers slipping under my shirt again, tracing slow, absentminded circles against my bare skin. He stared at me for a moment longer, like he was memorizing every detail, then pulled me in so close there was no space left between us.

For a few minutes, we just lay there in comfortable silence, wrapped up in each other. Jungkook’s fingers kept moving up and down my waist, his touch so light. Every time I thought he was about to stop, he’d trace another soft pattern, like he wasn’t even thinking about it—just instinctively keeping me close.

I hummed softly, barely aware of the way my body melted into his. “You’re supposed to be tired,” I mumbled, eyes still closed.

Jungkook chuckled, his breath warm against my cheek. “I am,” he admitted. “But I haven’t seen my girl all day.”

His voice was soft, almost sleepy, but there was something about the way he said it—like he’d been waiting for this moment since the second he left. My chest tightened, warmth blooming in my heart.

I shifted slightly, pressing my forehead against his. “You see me now,” I whispered.

“Mm,” he hummed, his nose brushing against mine. “Not enough.”

Before I could tease him for being clingy, he dipped his head and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my cheek. His lips barely left my skin before he moved lower, leaving another kiss just under my jaw, then one at the curve of my neck.

I squirmed, biting my lip to stop the smile that threatened to take over my face. “Jungkook,” I murmured, my voice caught between a laugh and a sigh.

“Mm?” he hummed against my skin, pretending to be innocent.

I sighed dramatically. “You’re distracting me from sleeping.”

Jungkook grinned, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark and laced with exhaustion, but that mischievous spark was still there. “You weren’t really sleeping anyway,” he pointed out.

I pouted, but before I could protest, he tightened his arms around me, pressing his forehead against mine again. “Just a few more minutes,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then we’ll sleep, I promise.”

I sighed, but it was useless—I was already giving in. “Fine,” I mumbled, snuggling impossibly closer.

Jungkook let out a content hum, his hands moving up my back, slow and soothing.

As warmth settled between us, I let my fingers slip into his hair, threading through the soft, slightly tousled strands. Jungkook let out a quiet sigh at the feeling, his body melting into mine like he had been waiting for this all day.

His eyes fluttered shut, his forehead still resting against mine, and I smiled at how quickly he relaxed under my touch. I dragged my nails gently against his scalp, feeling the way his grip on my waist loosened slightly as he exhaled a deep, contented breath.

“That feels nice,” he murmured, his voice low and drowsy.

I hummed in response, continuing my slow movements, loving the way his body softened with each pass of my fingers. His hair was still slightly damp from a shower, and I twisted a few strands absentmindedly, my fingertips grazing the nape of his neck.

Jungkook shivered slightly, tucking himself closer into me, his nose brushing against my cheek. “You’re gonna put me to sleep,” he mumbled, sounding half-gone already.

“That’s the point,” I teased, echoing his words from earlier.

He chuckled softly, but it faded quickly, his breathing growing steadier as I kept running my fingers through his hair. His arms tightened around me for a brief moment, as if making sure I was still there, then relaxed again.

“Love you,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

My heart melted.

I pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, letting my lips linger there. “Love you more.”

Jungkook didn’t argue this time. He just sighed, his hold on me gentle but firm, and let himself drift off completely. And soon, with my fingers still tangled in his hair and his warmth wrapped around me, I followed.

[littlelunababi]

Dating Yoongi 🐱

Hand holding. All the time. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, he’s holding your hand. You take your hand away? Sad kitty eyes. You deny him the world (holding hands) he’s sad for sure.

It would also be quiet nights and listening to him play the piano. It would be chilly, rainy night. The lights are dim and you sit in your nook, enjoying a cup of tea as you look out at the city. The soft notes of whatever song he played, filling the silence.

He also likes when you sit next to him as he plays, having you close gives him energy and puts him in that creative space because let’s be honest, he loves creating for you.

Your cutting board broke? Well now you have a brand new, handmade one with your his initials. Your pot for your favorite bonsai broke? Guess what? Now you have a handmade one with stars because he knows you love looking at the constellations at night.

He would be the full embodiment of love and you can’t convince me otherwise.

[mygz-deactivated20260321]

pervy yandere!jungkook. age gap (20/27). smut. fem!8th!au

y!jungkook who wasn’t necessarily fond of you to begin with. didn’t really want a new member— not in the big year of twenty twenty three, anyway. their careers had been on the rise for a long time.

jungkook didn’t care for you much at all.

he wasn’t entirely sure when his ways changed, his views changed, maybe it was your smile. your eyes that shined when you enjoyed something. your smile that curled at the edges. your outfits. your—

maybe he just realised how he felt about you.

it was late in seoul and you were all exhausted from dance practising, hobi enjoyed a dance more than anybody, when you walked into the apartment elevator.

all he remembers from that moment on was your mouth on his, smaller hands gripping at his sweaty shirt. the way you moaned into his mouth.

-

while yoongi was a sick fuck, jungkook was a whole different level.

he enjoyed being your daddy, much more than the others who were proud enough to wear it on their sleeves, the one you’d go to when you were soaking and needy.

y!jungkook loved how you’d push down onto his fingers, nudge his palm against your clit enough for your head to go fuzzy.

but he loved it the most when you’d cum, head tilted back with your pretty lips parted. it became a routine, in the blacked out van you’d be sat next to him, a leg lazy drooped over his own, with his hand up your skirt.

every bump of the road pushed his fingers deeper until you were gripping at his arm and begging for him to move.

y!jungkook didn’t necessarily like it when you begged. you were spoilt enough that you didn’t need that. you didn’t need to beg, you didn’t even have to pout for anything.

“anything you want, baby.” he’d purr into your ear and you’d soon find his thumb toying with your clit until you soaked his hand.

armies loved the show you all put on — for jungkook, this was his after show.

[sluttygukk-deactivated20250307]

Would you ever do namjoon twt links? 🩷

namjoon smut pov (twitter links)

tutorial for issues

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon stretching his bbg out (sounds like him)

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon fucking you from behind

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon watching his cum spill out of you

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon playing with your pussy with his hand over your mouth

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon teasing you through your panties

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon loves to fuck u from behind

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon railing you til you shake

⋆. 𐙚 joonie fucking you while your cuffed

⋆. 𐙚 bouncing on namjoons cock when he comes home from work

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon is just too much for you

⋆. 𐙚 namjoon making you film while you ride him

compilation by @sluttygukk <3