── Happy Birthday ⋮ Jk
On your twentieth birthday - two of your friends drag you to a stripper bar. They choose a male stripper named Jungkook to have you to himself for one hour… and he sure does makes that one hour unforgettable.
[ 𓏵 ] --- 전정국 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw | dom!jungkook • sub!reader • explicit content • birthday girl • unprotected s3x • goes at it against a wall • throat fucking • doggy • creampire (wrap it up) • pet names • he chokes her • he is hot • degradation kink • praise kink • uh... etc
⧽ word count ⋮ 3.5k Average reading time ⋮ 15 minutes
┈ [ ✉️ ] Hi angels !! This is for my wifey @divakoo !! It’s her birthday so make sure to send her some wishes !!! I love her so so much !!! And I decided to make this for her so maybe she can be wet and happy !! Hehe 😉 Any-whom !! I hope you all enjoy this (it is not proofread) !! Happy reading !! <333
The bass thrums through your body as your friends drag you past the velvet ropes and into the dimly lit club. The air is thick with cologne, sweat, and something electric. You're still protesting when they push you into a plush booth near the center stage, giggling and whispering about how this is the best birthday gift ever.
Before you can catch your breath, the neon lights shift to a deep crimson, and the crowd around you parts like water.
He's already walking toward you.
Jungkook moves like he owns the place—like he owns every breath you're about to take. Slicked-back black hair, a silver chain resting against his collarbone, and nothing but tight black leather pants riding obscenely low on his hips. His skin glistens under the lights, tattoos peeking out from his arms, and when his dark eyes lock onto yours, you feel your throat go dry.
The other girls melt away. Your friends nudge you forward, and suddenly it's just you and him.
He doesn't ask permission. He just straddles your lap.
His thighs are thick, warm, and powerful as they cage you against the booth. You can feel the heat radiating off his body as he settles his weight onto you, letting his hard-on press against your stomach through the thin leather. He's not shy. He grinds once, slow and deliberate, and your hands fly up to grip his waist instinctively.
"I heard it's someone's birthday," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates straight through you. His lips ghost over your ear, barely touching. "Let me give you your first gift."
Then he moves.
He rolls his hips in a slow, punishing grind, the friction of his leather-clad cock dragging against the thin fabric of your dress right where you're already wet. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you gasp, fingers digging into the taut muscles of his back. The booth creaks as he picks up the pace, thighs flexing as he rocks against you like he's fucking you through your clothes right here in front of everyone.
"Look at you," he breathes, tilting your chin up with a rough thumb. "Eyes already glassy. Is this what you wanted for your birthday, pretty girl? A stranger's cock grinding against your cunt in public?"
His words should make you flinch, but all they do is soak your panties further. You nod, mouth open, unable to form words.
"Good," he growls. "Then take it."
He drops his weight harder onto you, grinding in tight circles that press his clothed shaft directly against your clit through the damp fabric. Your legs fall open wider on instinct, and he chuckles darkly, one hand sliding up to tangle in your hair and yank your head back.
"That's it. Open up for me. Let everyone see how fucking desperate you are."
He's so close now that you can taste the mint on his breath, feel every ridge of muscle tensing under your palms. He grinds against you harder, faster, his breathing turning ragged as he rocks his hips in a rhythm that's all primal need. The leather of his pants rubs against your sensitive flesh through your soaked underwear, and you're dimly aware of the wet spot spreading, of the way your hips buck up to meet his.
"Fuck, you're leaking through your clothes for me," he hisses, releasing your hair to palm your breast roughly through your dress, pinching your nipple until you whimper. "I bet this little cunt is dripping. All because a stranger sat on your lap.
You can't answer. You just cling to him as he rides you through the booth, the leather creaking, the bass thrumming, the whole world reduced to the heat of his body and the relentless press of his cock against your aching core.
The bass fades into a low, throbbing pulse as Jungkook’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you out of the booth. Your legs are shaky, your dress clinging to your damp thighs, and you’re acutely aware of the eyes on you—your friends’ wolf whistles, the other patrons’ smirks—but he doesn’t let you look back.
He drags you through a beaded curtain, down a narrow hallway lit by red sconces, until he shoves open a door and pushes you inside.
The room is small. A leather couch against one wall, a mirror on the ceiling above a low bed, and a single dim lamp casting amber shadows. The door clicks shut, locking automatically, and the sound of the club becomes a muffled heartbeat.
You turn, breathless, and he’s already on you.
His body pins you against the door before you can speak, one hand slamming it shut by your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. His mouth crashes into yours—not a kiss, a claim. Teeth and tongue and the taste of salt and desire. He bites your lower lip, pulls it, then soothes it with a wet lick.
“You think that little show was it?” he rasps against your mouth, grinding his leather-clad cock against your soaked core through your dress. “No, birthday girl. That was just the appetizer. Now I’m gonna take what you owe me for making me wait all night.”
You whimper as his hand yanks the hem of your dress up over your hips. Cool air hits your bare cunt—your panties are soaked through, almost translucent. He looks down and lets out a low, dark laugh.
“Fuck. You’re dripping like a slut in heat. Didn’t even bother wearing decent panties, did you? Just came here ready to be used.”
“Please—” you start, but he shoves two fingers past your lips, cutting you off.
“Shut up and suck.”
You obey, wrapping your tongue around his digits, tasting yourself on them. He groans, thumb pressing down on your tongue as he watches you with hooded eyes. When he pulls them out, they’re slick with spit. He drags them down your chin, along your throat, until they dip between your legs and slide through your wet folds with a lewd squelch.
“This cunt is begging,” he mutters, pushing one finger inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, walls clenching around him. “So tight. You don’t get fucked often, do you? Or maybe you save it for special occasions—like your birthday.”
He adds a second finger, curling them deep against that spongy spot that makes your vision blur. Your knees buckle, but he holds you up with his body, his palm pressed flat against your lower belly.
“That’s it. Get nice and loose for what’s coming.”
He works you open with ruthless efficiency, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit until you’re shaking, so close to coming on his fingers. He feels it—your walls fluttering, your breath hitching—and stops. Pulls his fingers out. Licks them clean while you whine.
“Nuh-uh. You come on my cock or not at all.”
He steps back, hands going to the button of his leather pants. The zipper hisses down, and his cock springs free—thick, flushed, the head already glistening with precum. He strokes himself lazily, holding your gaze.
“Get on your knees. Show me how grateful you are.”
You drop without hesitation, the cold floor biting into your knees. You take him in your mouth, eyes watering as he hits the back of your throat. He groans, fingers tangling in your hair, and he doesn’t let you set the pace. He fucks your face—deep, ruthless thrusts that make you gag, spit running down your chin. Every time you try to breathe, he pulls you back onto his cock, holding you there until your throat convulses around him.
“Look at you. Choking on my dick and still taking more. Fuck, you’re such a good little cocksleeve.”
Tears streak your makeup as he fucks your throat, his balls slapping your chin, his grip bruising in your scalp. Just when black spots dance at the edges of your vision, he yanks you off, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his crown.
“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”
You scramble up, palms flat against the cold plaster. He doesn’t give you time to brace—just lines up and slams into you from behind in one brutal thrust.
You scream. He’s bigger than you expected, stretching you wide, filling you completely. He bottoms out with a guttural moan, hips flush against your ass, and stays there for a moment, letting you feel every inch.
“Fuck, this pussy is—ah—perfect. Squeezing me so tight, like it never wants to let go.”
He starts moving, slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, his balls slapping against your clit on every stroke. Your fingers scrape the wall as he builds a rhythm, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your spine to wrap around your throat.
“You feel that?” he rasps, squeezing just enough to make your head swim. “I own this cunt tonight. Every drop of cum in these balls belongs inside you.”
He picks up the pace, fucking you harder, the sound of skin slapping wet and sharp in the small room. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, your moans broken into gasps as his hand tightens on your throat, cutting off air in pulses.
“Look at us in the mirror,” he commands, nodding toward the mirrored wall. You force your eyes open, see the reflection—him towering over you, muscles straining, your ass bouncing against his hips, your face flushed and ruined. He watches you watch yourselves, a feral grin spreading across his lips.
“See how good you take it? How your body just—fuck—surrenders to me?”
He pulls out abruptly, spins you around, and lifts you against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. His cock finds your entrance again, sinking in deep as he braces your weight. He fucks you up against the plaster, your back scraping, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin.
“Whose present is it?” he pants.
“Mine—”
“Wrong answer.” He pounds harder, driving you up the wall with every thrust. “It’s mine. I’m the one getting this tight little present. Say it.”
“Yours—fuck—yours!”
His pace turns frantic, animalistic. He chases his release, and you’re right there with him, your walls clenching, your nails digging into his shoulders. He drops a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit roughly, and that’s all it takes—you shatter, crying out as your orgasm pulses around him, squeezing him like a fist.
He follows immediately, with a guttural roar, burying his face in your neck as he spills deep inside you, hot and thick, painting your walls with pulse after pulse of cum. You feel every drop, leaking out as he stays buried, both of you panting, slick with sweat.
He holds you against the wall for a long moment, his forehead pressed to yours. When he finally pulls out, his cum dribbles down your thigh, mixed with your own slick.
He smirks at the sight, “Happy birthday, pretty girl. But we aren’t done yet.”
He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. His smirk widens as he watches his own cum dribble down your inner thigh, a glistening trail of ownership. One hand still tangled in your hair, he uses the other to scoop up a thick drop from your skin, then brings it to your lips.
“Lick,” he commands, voice low and dripping with authority.
You obey, tongue darting out to taste the mix of him and you. Salty, bitter, utterly his. He watches with dark satisfaction, then pushes two fingers past your lips, making you suck them clean.
“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling out slowly. “But I’m far from done with you.”
Without warning, he spins you around, pressing your front against the cold mirror. Your breath fogs the glass as you see your own reflection—hair a mess, mascara smudged, lips swollen, and his cum still wet on your skin. Behind you, Jungkook stands tall, leather pants still unbuttoned, his cock half-hard, glistening with your arousal and his release.
He leans in, his chest pressing against your back, mouth hot against your ear. “You think one orgasm is enough for a birthday girl?” His hand snakes down, fingers sliding through the mess between your legs, collecting his cum and your slick. “I want you dripping with me all night.”
He pushes his fingers back inside you, not gently this time—a sharp, deliberate stretch that makes you gasp. He fucks you with them while his other hand grips your hip, holding you steady against the mirror. Your legs tremble, but he doesn’t let up.
“Look at yourself,” he hisses. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are like this. Ruined. Used. My little birthday present.”
Your eyes meet your own reflection—you’re a mess, and you love it. His fingers curl, hitting that spot again, and a moan escapes your lips.
“Please…” you whimper.
“Please what?” He slows, teasing the edge of your clit with his thumb.
“Please fuck me again.”
He laughs, low and dark. “That’s my girl.”
He pulls his fingers out and uses his cum-slicked hand to stroke himself a few times, coating his shaft. Then he lines up at your entrance, not pushing in yet—just pressing, the head teasing your folds.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demands.
“I’m yours.”
“Tell me this pussy belongs to me.”
“It’s yours. All yours.”
He slams into you in one brutal thrust. The mirror rattles. Your forehead presses against the cold glass as he fills you completely, his balls slapping against your wet skin. He doesn’t wait—starts pounding into you immediately, a punishing rhythm that steals your breath.
“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “Like you were made for my cock.”
His pace quickens, animalistic, each thrust driving you deeper into the mirror. Your moans are loud, obscene, mixing with the distant thump of bass from the club. He reaches around and grabs your throat, not choking, just holding, a possessive claim.
“Look,” he orders, turning your face toward the reflection. “Watch yourself get fucked.”
You see everything—his muscular body behind you, his tattoos rippling with each thrust, your tits bouncing, the way your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. It’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever witnessed.
“I’m gonna cum again,” you gasp.
“Not yet.” He slows, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in with agonizing slowness. “I want to feel you squeeze me when I say.”
He fucks you like that—deep, measured strokes, each one hitting your cervix, making your toes curl. His hand leaves your throat, sliding down to rub tight circles on your clit.
“Now,” he growls. “Cum for me.”
The orgasm crashes through you, violent and blinding. Your pussy clenches around his cock, milking him as you cry out, your whole body shuddering against the glass. He keeps thrusting through it, drawing out every wave of pleasure, his own breathing ragged.
“That’s it,” he praises. “That’s my good girl.”
When you finally come down, he pulls out abruptly. Before you can collapse, he scoops you up and throws you onto the bed, landing on your back. He crawls over you, hovering, his cock still hard and slick with your combined juices.
“Turn around,” he says, voice rough but commanding. “I want to taste you while you suck me off.”
Your breath hitches. The idea sends a fresh pulse of arousal through your already soaked core. He doesn’t wait for you to comply—he grips your hips and flips you over with effortless strength. You land on your stomach, face buried in the rumpled sheets, ass still in the air.
“On your back,” he corrects with a low chuckle, slapping your ass hard enough to make you yelp. “I said wanna 69, baby. I want your pussy in my face while my cock’s down your throat.”
You scramble to obey, turning over and shifting up the bed until your head is near the pillows. He crawls over you, positioning himself with his knees on either side of your head, his thick, half-hard cock hanging right above your lips. Below, his face hovers over your spread thighs, his breath warm against your slick folds.
“Look at that,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “Already dripping for me. You love this, don’t you?”
You nod, unable to speak as he lowers himself. The first touch of his tongue against your clit makes you gasp, and without thinking, you open your mouth and take the head of his cock between your lips. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates against your cunt.
“Fuck, yeah. Just like that.”
He starts to eat you out with hungry, methodical strokes—his tongue flat and broad, lapping up your juices before flicking sharply at your clit. You moan around his shaft, the vibration making him buck into your mouth. You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, letting him feel the wet heat of your mouth.
He doesn’t hold back. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, pulling you harder against his face. He alternates between sucking your clit into his mouth and fucking you with his tongue, curling it inside you, tasting every inch of your cunt. Meanwhile, you work his cock with equal fervor, bobbing your head, hollowing your cheeks, letting saliva drip down his shaft.
“Shit, you’re good at that,” he pants, his words muffled against your wet pussy. “Suck it deeper. Take it all.”
You obey, letting him slide to the back of your throat, holding there until your eyes water. He thrusts upward once, twice, fucking your mouth while his own mouth continues its assault on your clit. The dual sensations—his cock filling your throat, his tongue devouring your cunt—makes you dizzy with pleasure.
Your hips start to buck against his face, chasing more friction. He responds by pressing his thumb against your perineum, rubbing in tight circles while his tongue flicks your clit fast and light. You cry out around his cock, a muffled scream that drives him wild.
“You close?” he asks, pulling his mouth away just long enough to speak, then diving back in, sucking hard on your clit.
You can’t answer—your throat is full of his cock. You just moan and nod, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him deeper into your pussy. He hums against you, the vibration sending you over the edge.
Your orgasm hits like a freight train. Your whole body tenses, your pussy clenching around nothing as you cum hard against his tongue, a gush of wetness flooding his mouth. He drinks it greedily, moaning at your taste, and in response, his own hips jerk. You feel his cock pulse against your tongue, then a thick, hot shot of cum hits the back of your throat.
He groans long and loud into your cunt as he comes, his release spilling down your throat in heavy bursts. You swallow every drop, milking him with your throat muscles, not letting go until he’s completely spent.
When he finally pulls out, his cock slips from your lips with a wet pop. He lifts his head from between your thighs, his chin glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Happy birthday to you,” he says, crawling up to kiss you hard, letting you taste your own cum on his lips.
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