The cute librarian at Yoongi's local library hosts an adults-only book club. As a fanfiction smut writer himself, Yoongi is intrigued.
Pairing: Librarian Namjoon x Fanfic writer Yoongi
Rating: Explicit
Genre/Trope: Strangers to lovers, smut, humor, crack
Words: 7,150
Content Warning: Yoongi writes BTS fanfic and BTS consists of only the vocal line, they're both idiots lol, super meta, somewhat difficult conversations about sexuality, anal sex, anal fingering, rimming
A/N: This is dedicated to that one time Yoongi highkey implied that he wrote queer fanfic, and to all the fanfic writers in the world doing the devil's work 🙏🏽 god bless. Also, Sunday Smut Book Club is a real thing at a bookstore near where I live. I feel like I should go one day 👀
Disclaimer: Yoong's character is on the ace spectrum. This depiction of asexuality isn't representative of all asexual people's experiences, so please keep that in mind.
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SUNDAY SMUT BOOK CLUB
NAMSAN PUBLIC LIBRARY
SUNDAYS AT 3:30 PM
୨୧┈┈┈୨୧
The flyer is unexpected, to say the least. No frills, yet hardly discreet, it’s a plain sheet of white paper with large bold lettering, underneath which is a tactless cartoon clipart of a half-peeled banana propped up against a plump peach.
Yoongi looks over his shoulder to quickly survey the coffee shop. Satisfied that no one is nearby, he rips off the slip of paper at the bottom of the flyer with the QR code – presumably for details about the club and how to get there.
Yongsan-gu isn’t far, and Yoongi has enjoyed visiting Namson Park, even going to the library a few times in college. It’s scenic and gorgeous in warm weather when the flowers bloom, and it’s nice enough to sit outside on the unique furniture and architectural structures. Yoongi thinks he remembers Hoseok mentioning something about attending a few creative writing workshops there as a teen.
Needless to say, it’s not the type of place Yoongi expects to host a smut book club. He’s intrigued nonetheless. How could he not be? He’s just spent the last two hours working on his newest chaptered fanfiction – if one can call staring at a blank document while trying to decide how to begin the first smut scene of a story “working”.
Yoongi thinks so, and so do his Twitter moots, thank you very much.
Folding the slip of paper, Yoongi tucks it into the pocket on the back of his phone case for safekeeping and steps out of the dimly lit cafe into the sunny spring day.
Tomorrow is Sunday. Yoongi promised himself that he would finish the newest chapter of his fic by the end of the day, but he’s wondering if now he should hold off until he joins this odd book club. Perhaps reading smutty, published novels will help Yoongi find the inspiration he needs to write the smut scene that has been giving him hell for an entire week.
The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t particularly enjoy sex. It’s a bit gross, really, if you think about it. In theory, sweaty bodies smashing together to exchange fluids and possibly love sounds attractive. Yoongi loves reading a good smut scene and has even gotten off on some – who hasn’t? But the moment he’s presented with the opportunity for real sex, he usually thinks he’d rather read about it instead.
Not having sex doesn’t bother Yoongi much, but not being interested in it certainly makes writing about it a lot more difficult.
Yoongi doesn’t bother touching his fic for the rest of the day.
Even once he’s back at his apartment, he puts his restless energy toward tidying up before Hoseok comes over. It doesn’t take long, though Yoongi can feel himself stretching it out, stalling, so he doesn’t have to think about his fic until the very last minute when Hoseok is buzzing to be let in.
“I am so pissed off,” Hoseok huffs as he stomps through the front door and kicks off his shoes.
“I am so pissed off,” Hoseok huffs as he stomps through the front door and kicks off his shoes.
Yoongi grabs Hoseok’s backpack before it slips off his shoulder and holds it until he hangs up his jacket. Hoseok comes with a certain energy that is typically positive, but when stormy, it can sweep through like a tornado.
Today, his complaints are whines rather than the anger he claims he has.
“What happened?” Yoongi asks, following Hoseok into the living room as though he’s the guest and not the other way around.
“Didn’t you see? Taehyung went live for five seconds. Literally five seconds while I was getting off the bus, and I missed it.”
With a roll of his eyes, Yoongi flops onto the couch while Hoseok gets comfortable sitting on pillows on the floor at the coffee table. He’s already pulling his laptop out, only pausing when he notices the Turtle Chips Yoongi put out for a snack.
“You can watch it later,” Yoongi points out, only to be hit with a chip in the middle of his forehead.
“Watching it later doesn’t feel the same!”
“He couldn’t possibly have done anything in five seconds.”
Turning around, Hoseok glares at Yoongi. “He showed his forehead. Which is best when seen live.”
Hoseok isn’t wrong, but Yoongi has tried to force himself not to obsess over consuming BTS content immediately anymore. He’s a working adult; he can barely keep up with watering his plants, let alone knowing when Kim Taehyung is live on Weverse.
Jungkook, though…
Yoongi makes time for Jungkook.
“What are you gonna work on? That Jinkook hockey AU?” Hoseok asks between chomping on chips.
With a loud sigh, Yoongi turns on the couch so he can lie down while watching over Hoseok’s shoulder at his Vmin urban fantasy slow burn. Hoseok is a fic writing machine. He’s already at 30k, and they haven’t even fucked yet.
“I never want to write fic ever again. It’s too hard,” Yoongi laments.
Hoseok leans his head back so he can look Yoongi in the eyes. He’s smiling, of course, because he thinks Yoongi is full of shit.
Yoongi is full of shit.
“You wouldn’t even know what to do with your life if you didn’t write fic. What hobby would you do instead? Hmm? Work out?”
Snorting, Yoongi flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. His Jinkook hockey AU barely has any hits, anyway. Maybe no one would care if he didn’t finish it.
“I wish I could ovulate.”
Hoseok coughs hard enough that Yoongi feels it in his chest.
“Excuse me? You what?”
“If I could ovulate, I’d get horny from my hormones, and then I’d be able to write this smut scene,” Yoongi explains simply.
“So you wish you were an omega. Guess what, friend. You are.”
Hoseok doesn’t even care when Yoongi smacks him in the back of the head, demanding he take the comment back. Undeterred, he cackles and types away on his fic.
“I would be an alpha. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yoongi grumbles, primarily to himself because Hoseok has decided to take control of the Bluetooth speakers to play his favorite fic writing playlist.
Tonight, Yoongi will beta the chapter Hoseok is writing. Tomorrow, he’ll focus on forcing himself to finish the stupid smut scene.
Everything will be fine.
Yoongi is so concerned about his fic as he travels to Sunday Smut Book Club that he forgets he doesn’t even own the book they’re reading, nor has he read it. Honestly, he can barely remember what book the flyer said they’d discuss this month.
In reality, it isn’t an issue. Yoongi is sure plenty of new people have joined the club in the middle of a book. He’s a fast reader, so catching up won’t be much of an issue. Still, he feels weird walking into the meeting room on the third floor of the library empty-handed, aside from his writing journal and a pen tucked behind his ear.
Luckily, Yoongi arrives early, so there’s no one else in the room except one man sitting at a round table with a thick hardcover book and an open notebook. His dark hair falls in his face, obscuring his features, though Yoongi can tell that the man is striking just from what he can see.
As a writer, Yoongi enjoys people-watching, which allows him to create stories and imagine characters for later use. Based on the man's broad frame and how he hunches over with his forearms on the table, Yoongi thinks he must be very tall. He wears a white buttoned shirt with the sleeves folded and pushed to his elbows, exposing tan skin. When the man shifts in his seat, Yoongi catches sight of a library ID badge clipped to a belt loop of his black slacks.
Yoongi should say something. This is clearly one of the librarians and most likely the one leading the book club. Yet he can’t make a sound or move from the doorway. He should have brought Hoseok with him.
Humming to himself, the librarian thumbs at the cap of his ink pen while he reads what’s written in the notebook, flicking the pen repeatedly until the cap breaks off.
“Oh shit,” the librarian curses. The small piece of plastic flies across the room, forever lost to the dark carpet that matches its color.
Standing up, likely to go search for the broken cap, the librarian finally notices Yoongi hovering in the doorway.
“Oh shit,” he repeats, dropping the pen so it clatters on the table next to the notebook. “Sorry, do you need something?”
Put on the spot, Yoongi takes a half-step backward. The librarian looks confused, making Yoongi feel like he shouldn’t be here. Did he get the room number wrong?
“I’m here for the book club?” Yoongi squeaks out and is absolutely appalled by how his voice cracks. How embarrassing. He’s a grown man, and he can’t even say the word smut out loud to a librarian.
The librarian is gorgeous, which doesn’t help Yoongi’s sudden stage fright. His sharp eyes grow and round out in confusion, and his tan cheeks brighten with a dusty rose undertone, though Yoongi doesn’t know what he has to be embarrassed about. It was only a pen cap.
“The book club? Oh! The Sunday Smut Book Club!” The librarian claps his hands together, making Yoongi flinch. “I’m so sorry, but that book club doesn’t start until next week.”
Given how winded he feels, Yoongi might as well be the ink pen cap flung across the room. Of course, he worked himself up to come to this event and skipped out on writing his fic, only to get the date wrong.
“Well, okay,” Yoongi says slowly, avoiding the librarian’s gaze to examine the room instead. He’s not sure what to do now.
“There’s another book club in about two hours if you want to stick around. It’s about queer literature.”
“Are you leading that one?” Yoongi asks and immediately regrets how unintentionally flirtatious the question sounds when the librarian’s face turns pinker.
“I am,” the librarian confirms with a slight bow of his head, “Kim Namjoon. It’s nice to meet you…”
“Min Yoongi.
“It’s nice to meet you, Yoongi-ssi.”
Internally, Yoongi is considering how good a meet-cute fic this would be. A smut book club is creative, he supposes. It's unconventional for a public library, he figures. Meeting a hot librarian is cliche, but cliches are entertaining for a reason. If this was one of Yoongi’s Jinkook fics, he would have written Seokjin immediately laying his charm on a flustered Jungkook who keeps fiddling with his glasses and giggling at Seokjin’s stupid jokes.
It's too bad real life isn’t as charming. Instead, Yoongi sits woodenly beside Namjoon as he shows Yoongi the list of novels he’s considering for the queer book club.
“Some of them aren’t explicitly queer, but there are queer themes or perhaps are written by authors who were presumed to have been straight or in the closet,” Namjoon explains with his chin in his hand. “Sad, really. If I wrote a great novel and historians erased my queerness from it after I died, I’d haunt everyone.”
To be fair, some of the novels do look interesting. Yoongi takes a moment to scribble down the titles and authors in his journal, keenly aware of Namjoon watching him flip through pages filled with story notes before he can find a blank one.
"So, are you a writer?” When Namjoon smiles, his cheeks dimple. Yoongi feels heat creep up his neck like needle pricks.
"Umm... yes?"
"Cool! What stories do you write?"
Yoongi swallows. "I, uh, I write... a lot of different things."
“Oh, you must be a great writer to have a diverse portfolio!” Namjoon eagerly leans toward Yoongi. “What kind of things?”
Do not say fanfiction do not say fanfiction do not say fanfiction do not say–
“I write gay fanfiction!” Yoongi blurts out.
This is not how the story is supposed to go. It’s all wrong. Yoongi's face is hot, and his heart is in his throat, but worst of all, Namjoon is silent.
“I know it’s weird, and I normally don’t–”
“I love that!” Namjoon beams, his warm eyes crinkled at the corners from smiling. “What fandom do you write for?”
Do not say BTS do not say BTS do not say BTS do not say–
“Uh, BTS…”
What the fuck about this guy is making Yoongi spill all his secrets? Most of his closest friends don’t even know he writes fic.
Yoongi expects the judgment that typically comes after admitting to writing real-person fiction, but Namjoon surprises him again.
“That’s really cool,” Namjoon says with another dimpled smile. “I used to read fanfiction, though I haven’t in a long time. I spend most of my time with literature that no one is writing fanfiction about.”
“I don’t know, I’m sure there’s some super gay dead dove based on ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’” Yoongi says with a laugh.
“The MCD warning would be a terrible spoiler.”
“Bury your gays, literally.”
Namjoon barks a laugh at such a terribly accurate joke, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. He seems well-versed in fandom culture, though Yoongi shouldn’t be surprised. Plenty of published novels can barely hold a candle to the fanfiction Yoongi has read over the years.
By the time the first member of the queer book club shows up, Yoongi has already helped Namjoon recover the password to his old AO3 account and sent him a few fics he hopes Namjoon will like. It feels good to share his hobby with someone new, even if Namjoon doesn’t know much about BTS.
“Good fiction is good fiction,” Namjoon had said simply, and it made Yoongi happy to remember that there are cool people in the world. He shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d find such a person at the library.
Most people would enjoy waking up to the love of their lives every morning. Unfortunately, Jungkook doesn’t know that Yoongi exists, so Yoongi has the second best thing to wake up to:
[AO3] Comment on hat trick beauty
namu94 left the following comment on hat trick beauty :
I binged this until 4 AM despite needing to get up at 7 AM. I feel like I’m dying, but it was positively worth it. The tension was so wonderfully unbearable that I chewed through my mattress. Thank you for sharing your secret with me ;)
If Namjoon chewed through his mattress after reading Yoongi’s fic, then Yoongi eats his entire mattress after reading Namjoon's comment on it. He probably rereads the comment fifteen times throughout the duration of getting ready in the morning, holding his phone in one hand while he struggles to put on his clothes and brush his teeth with the other.
Yoongi is pretty sure every AO3 writer obsesses over sweet comments; who wouldn’t?
But perhaps he’s overdoing it when he’s at work and still can’t close out of AO3, now rereading the chapter to imagine what it may have been like for Namjoon to read it for the first time.
“Getting a little Monday morning smut in?” Hoseok’s sudden presence over Yoongi’s shoulder startles him in his seat.
“What!”
Yoongi quickly exits out of the internet browser and deflates when he realizes he didn’t save his progress on the project edits he was working on for his boss.
“Don’t try to hide from me as if I’m not in the fandom trenches with you all the time,” Hoseok chastises.
Finding out that his coworker is Army was probably the coolest thing to happen in Yoongi’s professional life. Finding out that his coworker also writes fanfiction was undoubtedly the greatest thing to happen in Yoongi’s professional life – and maybe in his personal life, too.
Unfortunately, it means Hoseok is always on his case.
“I sent Namjoon ‘hat trick beauty’ after I told him I’m having a hard time with the…” Yoongi looks around the office to see if his coworkers are paying attention to him before whispering, “ Smut .”
Yoongi has managed to delay the smut in his fic and convinced himself that it was so he didn’t sacrifice the plot, rather than the truth that he just doesn’t know what to do about the scene.
It has taken Yoongi over a month to work up the courage to show Namjoon his writing, and now he clings to every piece of feedback Namjoon gives him. Part of him wonders if Namjoon is simply being nice.
However, it’s doubtful that Namjoon’s praise is a lie. His kindness seems to grow exponentially with every book club meeting– for the Queer Book Club and Sunday Smut Book Club, since Yoongi regularly attends both now on alternating weekends, not because of Namjoon, of course. Yoongi attends both because he is passionate about literature and learning smut techniques.
Of course.
“That’s a weird way to woo your librarian crush.”
“That’s, that’s not what I’m doing.” Hoseok raises his eyebrows as Yoongi sputters.
He’s not trying to woo Namjoon, right? Yoongi doesn’t even know how to woo anyone; he’s not sure he’s ever wanted to.
“Maybe it should be what you’re doing. You said writing smut would be easier if you were horny, right?”
“Hobah!” Yoongi hisses, swatting at Hoseok, who nimbly dodges each blow. “We’re at work.”
“Oh, hush. No one is paying attention to us.” Hoseok rests his butt against Yoongi’s desk and waves his hand. "As I was saying, maybe Namjoon can give you a little inspiration, if you get what I mean.”
“This is all very presumptuous. We’re talking as if Namjoon even… likes me or whatever…” Yoongi cringes, scrunching his nose.
With a loud sigh, Hoseok pushes himself off Yoongi’s desk. He claps his hand over Yoongi’s shoulder, giving him a light squeeze.
“You’re adorable. Who wouldn’t like you?”
It sounds easy when Hoseok says it, but Yoongi watches him walk to his desk with a sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s far more complicated than just two people liking each other. Other people may find a crush exciting, but it stresses Yoongi out.
With a sigh, Yoongi returns his focus to his work and tries to push all thoughts of fanfiction and Namjoon to the back of his mind.
The thing is, fanfiction and Namjoon are the two most exciting aspects of Yoongi’s life at the moment, so ignoring both is virtually impossible—especially when, by the end of the week, Yoongi is back on the bus to the Namsan Public Library.
Yoongi feels like he’s quickly descending into madness the closer the bus gets to the dreaded destination. It doesn’t help that Hoseok is in his ears, attempting to give him a pep talk over the phone.
“You just need to remember that most people like to fuck.”
Snorting, Yoongi adjusts his wireless earbuds when the bus hits a bump in the road.
“What? I’m serious! A lot of people don’t get caught up in the logistics, you know? If they want to pursue someone, and it’s consensual, then why not? That’s what PWPs are. Life doesn’t need a plot, hyung. It can be all porn.”
“I know all this. It just sounds fake,” Yoongi says with a huff as he prepares to get off the bus at the next stop.
Yoongi is a plot guy. His life is tagged “Eventual Smut,” and his readers are 50 chapters deep without even a chaste kiss.
He’s positive he could never force himself to hook up with a stranger. This little plan he’s managed to let Hoseok convince him to do with Namjoon, who is hardly more than an acquaintance, is already going against everything that feels natural.
The stuff Yoongi does for his art – and silly crushes, apparently.
Arriving early, Yoongi knows to head to the back of the library on the first floor, where the librarians’ offices are. Namjoon’s is conveniently located at the end of a long hallway Yoongi isn’t supposed to go down. The other librarians recognize him at this point, considering how many Sunday afternoons he has spent distracting Namjoon from his job, so they don’t comment when Yoongi ducks his head and slips through the “Employees Only” door.
Namjoon sits at his desk like Yoongi expects, with at least a dozen books stacked around him. He has to lift his head to peer over a stack when Yoongi slowly closes the door behind him.
“Hi, you’re early!” Namjoon beams with crinkled eyes and dimpled cheeks that make Yoongi’s stomach flutter. Namjoon is handsome and sweet; Yoongi doesn’t need to be a sexual being to know that.
“Is that okay?” Yoongi asks the floor as he pulls the sleeves of his thin sweater over his knuckles. He’s so nervous that sweat accumulates in his armpits.
“Of course, hyung,” Namjoon says softly. “Work is always more enjoyable when you’re around.”
Somewhat comforted by Namjoon’s reassurance, Yoongi takes a deep breath and walks up to Namjoon’s desk. He grips the edge and tries to calm his frantic heart. It’s nearly impossible. There’s Namjoon in his librarian taupe knit cardigan with the sleeves rolled up to show off tan forearms and hair neatly parted to frame his face. He’s scholarly-cute. Yoongi might not experience sexual attraction, but Namjoon can intellectually stimulate him – and that’s even better.
When Yoongi remains silent, Namjoon’s kind smile morphs into a frown.
“Are you okay–”
“Will you fuck me?”
The blush of pink across Namjoon’s cheeks and the bright sheen in his eyes make Yoongi consider that, perhaps, he might not hate this as much as he thought he would. That’s assuming Namjoon accepts his proposition rather than kick him out for being a pervert.
Shit, he sounds like a pervert, doesn’t he? How do other people do this without wanting the ground to open up and swallow them whole from embarrassment?
“Um, for literature’s sake?” Yoongi tacks onto his initial request when Namjoon doesn’t respond. “Actually, this is really stupid, oh god. I’m,” Yoongi looks around the room to keep his eyes away from Namjoon’s face. “I’m… just gonna leave… now…”
Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s forearm when he turns to leave, knocking a stack of books onto the floor. The loud crash makes both men jump, though Namjoon uses the momentum to stand up at his desk.
“I thought you weren’t into… that?” Namjoon asks slowly. He speaks like he’s not sure how to express his thoughts. Yoongi thinks he’s close enough.
“I’m not…”
The thing is, Hoseok was sort of correct, though Yoongi doesn’t want to admit it. Sometimes, Yoongi uses porn to help him write smut scenes when he can’t conjure up the ideas himself. Real sex, he supposes, is the best form of research – even if Yoongi normally avoids it.
“Then why?” There’s another silent question beneath the spoken one: Why me?
Yoongi locks eyes with Namjoon and realizes how endeared he is by the discomfort they’re both holding, each for a different reason. With faces flushed with embarrassment and eyes bright with uncertainty, Yoongi and Namjoon complement each other well.
“Hobi said it could help me get the inspiration I need to write the smut for ‘hat trick beauty,’” Yoongi trails off, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation when laughter bursts from Namjoon.
“Wait, you’re serious? Really?” Namjoon’s fingers slip from Yoongi’s forearm when Yoongi tugs out of his grasp.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
Namjoon’s expression drops. “I’m sorry.”
Yoongi hasn’t ever asked someone to fuck him before. It’s somewhat embarrassing to be laughed in the face over it, and it’s definitely demoralizing.
Yoongi pulls at his sleeves with a sigh, forcing sweater paws as if to cover more of himself from the awkwardness.
“Hyung, really, please talk to me,” Namjoon gently encourages.
Namjoon’s arm falls to his side, but he moves from behind his desk to stand in front of Yoongi on the other side. The distance is respectful, yet Yoongi wants him closer.
“It seems like a bad idea to force yourself to do something you don’t like simply because it might inspire you.”
“I just want to try it,” Yoongi explains, still avoiding Namjoon’s gaze. “Other people can hook up with strangers, so why can’t I? It doesn’t seem like it should be a big deal.”
Namjoon frowns. “That’s not how sexuality works.”
“I don’t care. I think it’s all stupid.”
Yoongi knows he sounds ridiculous without needing to see Namjoon’s amused look. He’s merely being honest; being so different from what most of society thinks people should be like can sometimes be frustrating. It makes life difficult in ways other people just don’t understand.
Namjoon is hot. He’s tall and muscular, with pecs that make his shirts stretch and thighs that threaten to rip his pants. He’s well-read and eloquent. What more could a person want in a man? Yet here is Yoongi, chewing on his bottom lip as he finally forces himself to look Namjoon in the eyes, at war with himself over what he’s doing.
“You seem to be overthinking the scene and this,” Namjoon suggests with a sweep of his hand between their bodies. “This isn’t me saying I wouldn’t enjoy being with you, hyung. My answer would be an easy ‘yes’ if it weren’t for the circumstances.”
Heat floods Yoongi’s face when Namjoon’s voice lowers, his tone making Yoongi’s stomach flip. Yoongi may not experience attraction like most people he knows, but his body will react to the right stimulus.
“I like you,” Yoongi whispers, suddenly aware of how closely he stands next to Namjoon. He can smell Namjoon’s cologne, which is clean and somehow sensual, with notes of vanilla and sandalwood.
“I like you, too,” Namjoon admits his feelings more confidently than Yoongi had.
“So… that’s supposed to be enough, right?”
With a small smile, Namjoon shrugs.
“It’s supposed to be whatever you want it to be, I guess? Sexuality is a spectrum, hyung. It’s okay if sometimes you feel one way and other times you feel differently. If you want to try something new, that’s okay, too.”
If Yoongi were impulsive and more sure of himself than he is, he would have kissed Namjoon for being so smart and reasonable.
“I guess being… intimate is easier when it’s on my own terms.”
Namjoon hums in understanding.
“You have agency. It doesn’t feel like you’re being forced or that it’s an expectation.”
Namjoon’s reassurance gives Yoongi the courage he needs. After this, no one will be able to say that Yoongi isn’t dedicated to his craft.
“Well, let’s get to it,” Yoongi announces with his head held high.
Namjoon’s eyes sparkle with mirth, but he holds his laughter in when he asks, “Would you like a pen and paper to take notes?”
“Shut up; that’s not funny.”
It is, though, and Yoongi can’t help but grin when Namjoon reaches across his desk to grab a little pack of sticky notes and an ink pen. Perhaps if Yoongi’s life was a fic, it would be crack.
Despite Namjoon’s joke, the atmosphere in the room thickens with tension. Yoongi may be the only one who senses it. Namjoon seems relaxed, still smiling, even as his sharp eyes roam over Yoongi’s frame. He and Yoongi have both said so much and so little.
“Can I kiss you?” Namjoon asks as he steps forward, shortening the distance between them and making every hopeless romantic reading the fic Yoongi’s writing in his head swoon.
How could a strange meet-cute have worked in real life?
Yoongi doesn’t think his life would be a cliche fic, but if it could, he’d want it to be just as charming as it is predictable – but in a comforting kind of way, not boring. He’d want his life to be the kind of fic you read when you want something that you know won’t hurt you because every path is already paved, lit up by neon lights that tell you to keep going, that everything is going to be okay.
Yoongi loves fics like those. They feel how Namjoon’s hands feel when he holds the small of Yoongi’s back and cradles the side of his face as he pulls him into a kiss. Namjoon is sure and slow as he eases Yoongi into a deeper kiss so their lips and tongues can move in a familiar dance, even if this is the first time they’ve danced it together.
Maybe their relationship is a fast burn, Yoongi thinks as Namjoon slips his hand beneath his sweater to slide his fingertips across his waist.
For some reason, it doesn’t feel rushed with Namjoon. It isn’t hot and heavy, bodies smashing against bodies. It’s just Namjoon, slow and patient, hooking his arm beneath Yoongi’s thighs and gently lifting him onto the edge of Namjoon’s desk.
“This is where I usually stop writing,” Yoongi whispers against Namjoon’s soft lips. He wishes he could speak things into existence rather than write them. It doesn’t seem fair that there’s a disconnect between his brain and body.
Namjoon doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t even seem disappointed when he asks, “Do you want to stop?”
Yoongi wants, and yet he also doesn’t. It means the same thing both ways.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Yoongi bites Namjoon’s bottom lip, not to be sexy, but to shut him up. It makes Namjoon moan anyway, and Yoongi remembers that even though he doesn’t like sex, he’s always been pretty decent at it.
Funny how life works.
“How do you want to do this?” Namjoon pulls away to monitor Yoongi’s expression.
“I don’t like being naked,” Yoongi states curtly, still expecting judgment that will never come.
Namjoon rubs along Yoongi’s bare waist with his thumbs and firmly nods.
“Clothes on; got it. Anything else?”
The rest is embarrassing, but Yoongi knows he has to communicate his needs if he wants this to be a positive experience. He has very little practice speaking up. No one has ever asked him these questions, and his previous partners certainly weren’t concerned with making sure Yoongi was comfortable. Sex was always a point of contention and typically a means to an end.
“I, um, have a hard time relaxing. And then I get distracted.” Despite how hotly his face burns, Yoongi tries to keep his tone casual and unbothered.
“Proper foreplay; that would have been a given,” Namjoon says with a wink, making Yoongi roll his eyes to hide further embarrassment. “Is that all?”
It’s hard to be self-reflective when Yoongi knows he’s moments away from having sex with his relatively new friend in the library after not letting another person intimately touch him in at least two years.
Likely noticing that Yoongi is quickly tumbling into overthinking, Namjoon gently squeezes his waist and lifts him off the desk.
“I’m sure this might be difficult for you to understand,” Namjoon says as he slowly turns Yoongi around to face his desk, “But I wanted you the moment I saw you, hyung.”
Yoongi is thankful that Namjoon is standing behind him so he doesn’t have to suffer from being too shy to look at him. It is difficult to understand.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” Yoongi admits truthfully. He feels silly saying so, but his heart is light when Namjoon chuckles, and the sound vibrates against his back through Namjoon’s chest.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to express my attraction to you so you know that this isn’t just me doing you a favor.”
Closing his eyes, Yoongi shakily exhales when Namjoon presses him against the desk and rests his chin on his shoulder.
Namjoon tilts his head slightly. When he speaks, his lips brush the side of Yoongi’s neck.
“Can I eat you out?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
Yoongi is breathless already, and it makes him cringe. He doesn’t like how sex makes him feel vulnerable and delicate.
“Cool,” Namjoon responds with a quick kiss to Yoongi’s neck before he gets on his knees behind him.
There’s something about how casual Namjoon is as he reaches up to unbutton Yoongi’s jeans and pulls them down until they rest just below his ass — only removing his clothes enough to make the important parts accessible. Namjoon’s behavior minimizes the severity of the moment. He makes sure Yoongi isn’t more exposed than he needs to be and doesn’t make a fuss over what they’re about to do.
It’s nice. It keeps Yoongi from making this out to be a bigger deal than it needs to be and keeps him out of his own head.
It’s difficult for Yoongi to move since his jeans are pulled to the middle of his thighs. Luckily, Namjoon is fully capable of handling Yoongi on his own. He presses on Yoongi’s back to guide him forward until he’s bent at his waist over the edge of the desk. The position forces Yoongi to put his ass on display.
Satisfied, Namjoon runs his hands up Yoongi’s thighs until he reaches his ass and squeezes each cheek in his hands.
“Did you prep before you came?”
Of course, Yoongi did. He hasn’t had sex in years, and he rarely uses toys when he masturbates, which already isn’t a frequent occurrence. But Yoongi can’t tell Namjoon any of this, though not for a lack of trying. As Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, Namjoon runs his flattened tongue in one quick swipe across Yoongi’s rim.
Being vocal feels vulnerable to Yoongi. He doesn’t like expressing his pleasure during sex; it feels embarrassing, maybe even a bit emasculating, though he doesn’t know why he reacts this way. Rather than curse or moan, Yoongi lets out a quiet hiss through his clamped teeth and grabs onto the edge of the desk to hold himself in place.
When writing fanfic, Yoongi often fluctuates between descriptive smut and smut that glosses over the details for something more vague. It all depends on his mood and how easily he feels like the words come out of him.
Can Yoongi imagine it? Or does he struggle to conjure the image vividly enough to write it down in a way his readers will like?
Can Yoongi write a smut scene that accurately (and sexily) portrays the way Namjoon grips his asscheeks, gently hooking his thumbs in his hole to spread him open as he languidly flicks and swirls his tongue inside of him? Or would Yoongi skip over it, instead focusing on the heat that coils in his stomach when Namjoon worships him with his lips, each moan a quiet declaration of admiration spoken against his wet, flushed skin?
On the verge of overthinking, Yoongi is relieved when Namjoon switches up the foreplay. He hears the smacking sound of Namjoon’s lips and then feels two spit-slicked fingers slip inside him.
“Can you reach the top drawer?” Namjoon’s voice is rough and raw, gravelly in sound, different from the gentle, intentional way he normally speaks.
Nodding and lifting up on his tiptoes, Yoongi reaches forward to fumble with the drawer handle. Namjoon’s fingers follow the movement, slowly easing in and out of Yoongi but never hitting the spot Yoongi knows he needs to hit if he wants this to be worth it.
“There should be a little bottle of lube.”
Yoongi snorts when his fingers bump into the travel-size bottle. How convenient.
“Why do you have this here?”
Namjoon squeezes Yoongi’s thigh and rakes his blunt nails over the soft skin just hard enough to make it tingle.
“I don’t know. Maybe I thought about this happening,” Namjoon offers, probably with a shrug, but Yoongi doesn’t see him, just passes the lube behind him. “Not exactly like this, but…”
Nothing more needs to be said.
Namjoon makes quick work lubing Yoongi up, massaging his rim and walls with confident strokes even after fumbling with the bottle. Yoongi is pretty sure other people like drawn-out sex that optimizes pleasure, but he prefers sex that is straightforward. That’s where all the fluff additions come in. If he gets the main points of sex down, kissing, fingering, and dick-in-ass, then the other stuff can be added later.
So Yoongi is thankful when Namjoon stands up behind him without making a fuss – no declarations of how nice Yoongi’s ass is, how his hole sucks in Namjoon’s fingers with ease, how pretty Yoongi’s dripping, neglected cock is.
It’s all silliness in real life, too porn-y for Yoongi’s liking.
“Are you ready?” Namjoon asks against the curve of Yoongi’s shoulder as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket to retrieve a condom. Again, how convenient. Do sexual people actually carry lube and condoms around? Is it just Yoongi who is perpetually unprepared?
“Yeah,” Yoongi pants, already feeling like he’s tipping over the edge. He can’t remember the last time he had such a thorough prepping, and it’s making him sweat. “Wait – I need to look at your dick. For the literature.”
Namjoon throws his head back in bewildered laughter as Yoongi twists around to get a good look at what is honestly a monster between Namjoon’s legs. Still wearing all his clothes, Namjoon has his pants unzipped and pushed down his hips just enough to pull his cock out. File this away under the “Has a Big Dick” tag on AO3, good lord.
Yoongi must make a face because Namjoon’s laughter starts up again. Namjoon’s cock bobs from the shake that ripples through his body with each chuckle.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Namjoon covers his cock with his hands. “You’re making me feel self-conscious.”
“You have a big dick, okay. I’m just thinking about how uncomfortable it will be to sit at my desk to write later.”
Curling both lips into his mouth and looking up at the ceiling to stop himself from laughing, Namjoon exhales loudly through his nose.
“I must say, I haven’t gotten anything like that before.”
Waving the comment away, Yoongi turns back around and leans forward with his forearms on the desk.
“Come on. Queer Book Club is going to start soon.”
“Of course, Yoongi-ssi.”
Yoongi does his best not to think too hard when Namjoon slowly thrusts inside him. He tries to focus his attention on the sensations he feels: the stretch of Namjoon’s thick cock opening Yoongi up, the press of Namjoon’s fingertips to Yoongi’s skin where Namjoon grips his hip bones to use as leverage when he pulls back and thrusts again, the continuous prodding of his prostate that will eventually turn into a build-up of pleasure.
It’s easier than Yoongi expects. He keeps his eyes closed and lets his body rock against the desk, making himself slack in Namjoon’s hold. There’s no need to do anything more; Namjoon takes over.
“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight,” Namjoon grunts quietly.
Somehow, it feels like Namjoon knows not to drag this out. He goes hard and fast, fucking Yoongi with enough force that more books fall off the desk. Yoongi strongly hopes no one comes in to investigate the racket they’re making. They may as well be tearing the whole library down.
The sex is objectively good; Yoongi knows that. He can feel his orgasm quickly approaching, partially because he hasn’t had sex in so long and also because Namjoon is good at what he does. The thing is, it isn’t mindblowing like Yoongi has always been led to believe sex is. Sometimes he can’t even focus on the literal feeling of sex; he can only tell that it’s doing something to his biology that’s going to make him cum.
Usually, the emotional attachment he has to the person he’s sleeping with is what gives sex meaning to Yoongi – and even then, it isn’t always that important.
Namjoon slides one palm up Yoongi’s back to bunch up his shirt and give himself something to hold onto.
The pull tightens the collar of Yoongi’s t-shirt around his neck. It doesn’t completely cut off his airway, but it applies pressure that makes his breathing shift into shallow gasping. Breathplay isn’t something Yoongi has ever experimented with; strangely, it’s what pushes him over the edge.
Yoongi cums all over the side of the desk with a choking sound that makes Namjoon let go of his shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” Namjoon huffs as he presses one hand on the desk's surface and uses his other to hold Yoongi still. “You should have said something.”
“I’m fine; just hurry up,” Yoongi insists, still winded and trying to catch his breath.
Luckily, Namjoon doesn’t take long to finish. Yoongi nearly squirms away from him by the time Namjoon pulls out, his entire body on edge from the pleasure verging on overstimulation. Overstim is great to write about, but it's annoying to experience in real life, in Yoongi’s opinion.
Writing two orgasms is also annoying, Yoongi thinks as Namjoon throws away the condom, hiding it deep in the trash can, just in case anyone notices it. Simultaneous orgasms are a smut writer’s dream. Yoongi wonders how often it happens in real life. If anyone can accomplish it, he feels like Namjoon could.
Namjoon looks cute with sweaty hair and a pink tint to his tan cheeks. He looks at Yoongi with a strange mix of lust, adoration, and sheepishness when he tucks his cock back in his pants and passes Yoongi a handful of stray napkins to clean up the mess he’s made on the desk.
“This wasn’t well thought-out,” Yoongi mumbles, face burning like a wildfire when he is confronted with his own cum. “I might throw up.”
“It’s natural,” Namjoon laughs.
“It’s gross.”
What’s really gross is the sweet look Namjoon maintains as Yoongi finishes his task and does his best to straighten himself out, double-checking his pants for stains and brushing away his hair from his face. Going to Queer Book Club after this is going to be a disaster. Yoongi considers skipping.
“So, do you feel better?” There’s another question under the surface: Did I do okay?
Kissing isn’t sex, but it’s intimate more often than not and isn’t on Yoongi’s list of his favorite things to do. Despite that, he gets on his tiptoes to kiss Namjoon – a peck that’s quick and easy to back out of and one that grows the grin on Namjoon’s face tenfold.
“It was alright,” Yoongi says with a shrug when he pulls away. “When I have another smut scene to write, I’ll keep you on my list of people to contact for help.”
“Ah, I’m sure you won’t need help anymore. You took notes, didn’t you?”
When Yoongi meets Namjoon’s gaze, he’s met with the dimpled smile he’s become enamored with. This isn’t a good end to a fic, Yoongi thinks as he helps Namjoon clean up his office and prepare for their book club, but that’s okay. This is only the beginning of Yoongi and Namjoon.
bts and how they would react when you fall asleep in their lap
pairing: bf!bts x reader
genre: absolute fluff
warnings: none
masterlist
namjoon and jungkook
feel absolutely blessed that you felt safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep in their lap.
would definitely freeze for a couple seconds once they realize but then would begin to play with your hair, softly running their fingers through it or massaging your scalp.
does whatever they can to keep you asleep.
would shush the other members.
jimin and hoseok
completely enamored with you
would feel compelled to kiss your skin gently, definitely listening to their umpulsive thoughts
would bring you closer or into a more comfortable position.
would try to cover you with a blanket but don't want to move you in anyway.
taehyung and jin
would feel so soft looking at you.
very gentle and would try to wake you thinking how it couldn't possibly be comfortable to sleep on them.
would end up carrying you to their bed and laying next to you, admiring you up close.
yoongi
so in love with you that he just gets that lil gummy smile on his lips before deciding that he is way to comfortable now to move.
would absolutely get comfortable with you, gently moving you both so you were laying down
cuddled together with his arm around your waist possessively.
Warnings: teasing, oral (male receiving), suggestive language. If you’re under 18, please do not read this. 🔞
Rating: Mature (Over 18s only)
WC: 1k
Notes: ah a little something for my dear @xjoonchildx Merry Christmas and a happy you-know-what. Love you!!!!!!!!
Continued from this drabble.
You arch an eyebrow.
“A promise?” you say reaching for the buttons of his shirt and begin undoing each one.
He’s breathing hard now as you move his shirt and blazer off.
“Promises don’t mean anything to me,” you say with airy dismissal. With hands exploring the sinewy expanse of his chest, you lick down his sternum and extend your tongue tantalisingly around his nipple. He pants out a sharp, ragged breath. You add a little teeth, and he’s hissing.
“They mean something to me,” he grits out darkly.
You ignore him. You don’t want to hear about his promises. “You see—-” you kneel back down and grip his hard length in your hands, “—something about your wife that you need to know is—,” Now you’re licking the little slit at the head of his cock, tasting him, teasing him.
“—threats don’t scare me, and promises don’t move me.” Playfully, you blow gently on the wet licks you’ve made. He twitches and you purr with pleasure.
Satisfied with your handiwork, you stand up and trace the hard clench of his jaw with perfectly manicured finger.
“Facts, on the other hand, do.” You say as you take his hand and press it against the meat of your ass before tiptoeing to whisper into his ear.
“Cold. Hard. Facts.” You finish each word with a quick thrust of your hips against his hot bare cock. Each thrust brings a delicious squeeze of his fingers on your ass as he tries to hold himself together.
“So, let me rephrase my question. Is it a fact, Jung Hoseok, that you will —what were those words again—fuck me till I can’t walk?”
Hoseok breaks.
He pulls you roughly into him, both hands on your ass, his cock hot and tight against your belly. “You want facts? I’ll give you facts.
“Fact is I lose lose my shit everyday when you get walk into the office. Fact is I’m damn near to resigning so you can do whatever the hell you want for the company. Fact is I lo—,”
Author’s note: Happy belated birthday @xjoonchildx You’re an amazing person and I’m so so blessed to be counted as a friend. You’re inspiring in your compassion, kindness and hotness! Forever and ever grateful we met in the fandom. as per tradition, this one is for youuuuuuu!
—————————
Jung Hoseok is not usually flustered. Cool, yes. Calm, yes. Some might even say he can be cold at times.
One is hard pressed to think of an occasion where his pulse has ever quickened.
But tonight, it’s safe to say that the indomitable CEO of Jung Media finds his heart racing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally rasps, after finding his voice.
“Nothing,” you say breezily, slipping one thin strap of your ivory lace nightie off your shoulder, “nothing at all.” There, the other strap has slid down too.
“This is an arranged marriage,” he grits out, “one in name only, need I remind you.” He had meant to say it in his usual cold, steely tone, but it came out a little urgent, a little desperate, like he’s about to forget the contract between your fathers.
“Just imagine I’m someone else then,” you say huskily.
Imagine someone else? Not a chance. Not with you standing there in that barely-there scrap of lace hugging your curves; your perfect breasts at the low neckline beckoning to him.
Who could blame him for his racing heart when he spends every fucking night with you in the same bed; forcing himself to maintain the space between the both of you while his mind strays across the bed to touch you, to taste you, to tease you in places deep and delicious.
He has imagined how your lips would wrap so hot and tight around his cock, thought about how warm and wet you would feel when he fucked you over and over into the sheets. In his dreams, you’d gasp and moan and cry out for his cum, you’d forget all those big words you use in the shareholders’ meetings; and you’d only have his name on your lips. Hoseok.
He balls his fists, nails pressing into his palms as he tells himself to get a fucking grip. The first and last time he heard you say his name was when you said your vows. After that it was always CEO Jung this and CEO Jung that.
Like you’re taunting him.
“Our fathers don’t have to know, do they?” you drawl as you saunter towards him across the carpeted floor, barefoot. With an arched eyebrow, you whisper again, “do they?
Hoseok stares at you, his eyes burning with lust. You trail a finger over the valley between your breasts before lifting the hem of the fabric showing off a matching scrap of lace held by more little wisps of lace. Deftly you stroke the inside of your panties before bringing it up to the corner of his mouth and slide it slow and tantalising along the seam of his lips.
He closes his eyes at the scent of your raw arousal. God.
“After all, I happen to have needs, and you—,” you let your fingers trail down his sides before cupping the obvious bulge in his silk trousers with your hands, massaging his hardening cock with long deft strokes “—you happen to have needs too.”
“We Jungs,” he hisses when the softness of your hands meet his bare skin under his shirt you’ve untucked, “we don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Who said anything about pleasure?” you tilt your head in a mock quizzical way.
“No pleasure.” You unbutton his shirt.
“No feelings.” You unbuckle his belt.
“No lo—” you catch yourself.
Over the last few months, you’ve noticed his quiet, tender tone with your ailing mother. Then there’s the way he defended you in the boardroom last week—insisting that your projections for the next financial year are correct. “—no romance.”
True, there’s nothing romantic about the merger between Jung Media and Y/L/N Communications. After decades of intense rivalry, it has been an uneasy alliance—uneasy but necessary—-to survive the giant conglomerate of the Murdoch group.
Accusations from a lack of trust have flown from staff belonging to both sides, disrupting operations so badly that the two founders, your fathers, have insisted on an arranged marriage to project a show of unity.
You slip your fingers between his, entwining yours with his, the metal of your wedding band clicks softly against his.
“We’re—we're just two strangers meeting for a one night stand,” you say, before moving your fingers deftly to ease his ring off his finger.
“Keep it on,” he growls. “The ring stays on.”
“Come now, don’t play games,” you tsk at him, chidingly. “How can we pretend if you don’t take it off? I'm sure you must have done this whenever you visit this girl or that girl on those nights you don’t come home.”
Your accusation stings him.
“Shut up. I’ve never taken it off,” he growls. “Never.”
“Ah, so they like to know they’re fucking my husband? Interesting.”
Nostrils flaring with anger, he glares at you. “You know not of what you speak.”
The intensity of his gaze is too much for you. You prattle on. “Well of course I don’t know,” you say as you lower yourself to the floor, nose brushing his hard length tight against his trousers. “How could I when you’ve never even touched me? Or let me touch you?” you laugh airily, hoping the little twinge of hurt isn’t obvious.
“But tonight, you’ll let me won’t you?” you ask, smirking. “Won’t you?”
When Hoseok closes his eyes and gives a subtle nod, you unzip his pants and push down his underwear.
His cock, already thick and hard, strains towards you.
Jung Hoseok sucks in a deep breath as the cool of your fingers brush against his heated flesh. Shit.
It shouldn’t feel this good. Not from the woman who had caused his family company’s shares to plummet countless times in the last three years before the merger.
“Only business,” he reminds himself as he watches your perfectly manicured nails stroke the length of him, up and down. Up then down. You wrap your fingers round his thick erection, thumb gently swiping the tip of his cock that’s leaking a little pre-cum.
Hoseok lets out an involuntary grunt.
“My, my, who knew that stony-faced CEO Jung who’s such a hard, hard man in the boardroom is so sensitive?”
Hoseok bites his tongue. He must remain composed, or else he might do something he regrets—like confess he wants you so fucking bad right now.
Truth to be told, he has wanted you all these years, ever since you trounced him at the case study competition at business school and won the grand prize . Wanted you when you sent him a note on the day of his IPO with a smiley emoji only to beat his record for the fastest-climbing share price for a media company when you launched yours.
He has wanted you when he heard you laugh, wanted you when he saw you in that white wedding gown.
But your warring fathers have made it profoundly clear—this marriage is for the purposes of smoothing the bumpy merger against Murdoch media. Once you’ve successfully countered Murdoch’s overreach and regained market share, you should both go on with your separate personal lives. The enmity between your two families for generations dictates so.
Thus, Jung Hoseok has never expected this: the softness of your lips right fucking now by the shell of his ear, nor the feeling of your breasts pressing into his chest—nipples taut against him, your clothed core flush tight on his.
He clenches his jaw, steeling himself for the good of the family name.
“You’re always so tense around me. Just relax for once, and let me handle things, hm?” Shaking your head, you cluck at him with concern. “CEO Jung, you work so so hard. You deserve this.”
Taking his hot, hard cock into your mouth, you smirk with satisfaction when you hear him gasp. Working your lips around his girth, you slide down slowly, hands alternately stroking the remaining length and fondling the heavy weight of his balls.
“Oh sh-shit,” he stutters as you slowly take him all the way in until your nose is pressed against the base of his cock. As you bob your head up and down his length, a sticky heat builds in your center. You know he especially likes it when you trace the vein along his shaft with your tongue because his fingers in your hair curl tighter and tighter.
“Fuck,” he mutters, voice tight from the strain of keeping himself from cumming in your hot wet mouth, “you take my cock so well. Fuck!”
You preen at his compliment and swirl your tongue a little faster round the tip of his cockhead. He groans; the low, guttural sound causes you to shiver inwardly.
“You better stop now,” he huffs with effort.
You slide your tongue slowly off him before giving a little squeeze to his balls. “Or else?” you inquire, batting your eyelashes at him.
“Or else,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I would fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk.”
Trailing your nails lightly from down the front of his thighs smattered lightly with hair, you drop your hands to your side, noting with satisfaction how his cock is coated with your saliva.
You get off your knees and stand slowly to face him. “Is that a threat, Hoseok?”
looking for more bts authors who write yandere/dead dove horror?
@joonberriess — multiple beautiful, creepy masterpieces. apart from the usual warnings in such genres, her works also include: non con-dub con, violence, murder.
@gorehsk — evil so wonderfully written you'll get lost in it. their works include: non con, gore, violence and necrophilia.
@cosmostae — makes dark and twisted themes feel like poetry. their works include: non con, pseudo incest and violence.
@imma-hallyucination — (new author! please check them out! ❤️) the forbidden fruit is all for the taking here, and it tastes like heaven (and talent). works include: abuse, torture, non con, incest.
@blueberryarchive — a dark wonderland created with breathtaking prose. if you fall down the rabbit hole, watch out for: monsters, violence, non con.
@demonshauntingthedoves — captures your heart and throat and never lets go. works include: murder, dub con, violence.
bestfriend!jk who lazily strokes his cock in and out of ur pussy while u lay on ur tummy watching the newest episode of JJK. he’s not lookin for a orgasm as he pulls all the way till the tip is left before sliding back in. ur pussy makes cute wet noises till ur basically creaming down ur inner thighs and making it messy.
bestfriend!jk who calls you his pretty girl while u have a mouth full of cock just suckling while he works on his essay, as a reward u get to ride him til ur cumming n shaking.
bestfriend!jk who folds u in half and pounds into u like his life depends on it, ur crying and shaking by the time he finishes using ur pussy, “jk,” you whine, jk just laughs in ur face and squishes ur cheeks, “jk,” he mocks while stroking his dick in and out of ur used cunt, “c’mon take that dick baby,” he’ll say while pushing u past ur limits.
Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, paranormal themes, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance
Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.
UPDATES ON THE 7TH OF EACH MONTH
In a world where hybrids are both the hottest commodity and largely exploited, a recent shortage of hybrids nationwide due to the wealthy adopting for sport hunting dominates the news headlines. More than ever, stray hybrids are whisked off the streets and taken into shelters to meet the demand. Mistreated, neglected, forgotten – in a notoriously disreputable hybrid shelter in a pocket of downtown Boston, seven “aggressive” hybrids await their inevitable fate of being sold for sport.
After years of trying to distance herself from her mystical past and upbringing, Y/N finds herself quitting her emotionally-draining job and is forced to face past mistakes. While accompanying her friends looking to adopt a child hybrid into their newly-formed family, Y/N inadvertently finds herself face-to-face with seven hybrids doomed to die. In a spur of the moment epiphany, Y/N decides to change the course of fate for the better; though bringing seven aggressive hybrids into her life and the darkening spiritual energy of her old home is trickier to navigate than she originally thought.
MAIN STORY;
Chapter One posted 2.7.23; 20.4k words
Chapter Two posted 3.7.23; 20.8k words
Chapter Three posted 3.20.23; 21.5k words
Chapter Four posted 4.7.23; 20.6k words
Chapter Five posted 5.7.23; 20.5k words
Chapter Six posted 6.7.23; 20.9k words
Chapter Seven posted 7.7.23; 22.3k words
Chapter Eight posted 8.7.23; 23.4k words
Chapter Nine posted 9.7.23; 21.8k words
Chapter Ten posted 10.7.23; 21.9k words
Chapter Eleven posted 11.7.23; 20k words
Chapter Twelve posted 12.7.23; 16.6k words
Chapter Thirteen posted 1.9.24; 16.9k words
Chapter Fourteen (M) posted 2.8.24; 22.3k words
DRABBLES;
WIP REQUESTS PAGE
"My boys" posted 9.1.23; 2.2k words
Valentine's Day special posted 2.13.24; 1.4k words
♰tw; dead dove do not eat, drowning, heavy non-con, dacryphilia, oral, penetration, mentions of blood, depiction of religion, gruesome details of death, physical and verbal violence (jk has a serious rage problem), alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of jk wanting to have sex as a teen.
prev//next
"Love. Sweetheart, stay with me a lil' longer, please. Fuck, Jeon, she's dying on me." Jimin bellowed, a halo of violet light outlining his silhouette as dry cornfields passed by the sides of the truck, your body bouncing with the truck's turmoil from side to side.
You looked down and saw your numb leg, the dark hole of burnt skin that Park soaked with a misty liquor. His awake and worried eyes, the dried blood of your lusts on his lips, the new blood that the wound vomited out, covering his hands, becoming thicker and purer.
Your shoulders slumped, your head resting on the back window of the truck. The two men were fighting, but that was just as the murmur of crickets and moths.
The sky was infinite, domed with stars, all subtly arranged in the perfect position. You saw among the sequins of God, all your dresses and the damn heels in which you had to squeeze your growing body. How Miss Texas' adorable smile became a pathetic white plate without emotion.
And oh, you knew that the fall of a star was inevitable, but not even the flame began to die when you were already sunken between the rocks and the soft grass caressing the last spark, your first tears of acceptance. And in the grass, you dozed, feeling sorry for your own useless body, the plastic crowns, the gold, and the memories of the applause.
"No! Stay." A slap brought you back to the hard floor of a barn. The unknown man grabbed your cheeks and choked you with a long, bitter drink of homemade liquor.
The little light came in from a window in the wooden ceiling, the heat emanating from the hay and wool piled in the corner, leaving a strong smell, you groaned before vomiting to the side.
"Fuck, Jungkook. She's not a fucking animal, you're going to make her faint." Jimin pushed his partner. Jungkook swallowed hard. His pale, neat face was dirty with crimson droplets.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Park?" Jungkook pushed him back, and neither of them could believe it, neither the action nor the power in the voice.
"What are you talkin' about?"
"Letting in a bunch of rapist shit-smoking hippies without a fucking cent to pay for their stay."
And then you thought about the rifle the father was carrying, about Sage and the others. A gasp from deep in your chest, the sob reminding you of your pain.
The rifle was pointed at you with anger pooling in his neck that didn't let him breathe. You screamed as you tried to stand up but it was useless, your wounded leg was your cross. Jimin moved as quickly as possible to cover your mouth, squeezing until it hurt.
"What did you do with the others?" Park's voice trembled, and his partner's eyes showed an open, bloody wound that would not close until a couple of demons ran away.
"I shot the boy in the shoulder, the two girls took the car and drove to California. I made them promise not to come back."
"You're a fucking psychopath." Your scream is muffled by the cowboy's fingers.
The rifle flew away in the hay, and the impatient sheep threw themselves to one side when they knew that it was not food they brought but danger.
"Jeon, stop!"
Jungkook was taller and heavier than his partner, so it wasn't difficult to lunge at you, grab your hair, and compress your chin until he felt every tooth. He was sweating with the smell of incense and wine, his thin lips spit in your face.
"It's because of people like you that I want to leave the church and buy a damn truck, pick up every son of a bitch on Route 66 who raises his dirty thumb on the side of the road, and bathe them in acid until they dissolve alive."
You didn't say anything, because you were pure meat in front of him, a mere animal for slaughter if you moved too close…
Two hot tears fell to Jungkook's fingers, and it was as if a flower had opened in his hand. A strange tickling in his throat left him passive, mute. He removed his hat with the respect the pained lady deserved.
"You're the Bell Ranch kid."
"Please tell me you didn't start shooting people in my house." Jimin interrupted, pacing back and forth impatiently.
"Jimin, she's the Bell Ranch kid-"
"I know, it doesn't matter now. You shot her and she's bleeding herself to death, Christ."
"I told you it was just a shot, they'll probably think it was to scare a coyote."
The cowboy crouched down and tucked his head between his legs, the alcohol rising into his veins.
"You're such an idiot, you know?" The father continued, filling the silence.
"What did you just say?"
"You really believe that these people come to enjoy rural life, to feed your chickens and fuck in the mountains."
"I needed the money," Jimin muttered stressed.
"The fuck you needed that money for?"
"To get the hell out of this place." He roared, standing again in front of Jungkook. "I'm sick and tired of Rivermouth and its moribund, corrupt town. It makes me want to throw up just thinking about having to see the fucking faces of the same people at Bee's diner again."
Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows at him, seeing him as if he were a child throwing a tantrum.
"But everyone loves you, you're like a star here."
Jimin laughed, glassy eyes threatening to ooze saline waters.
"Do you know who else was a star in this town? Your dad, little church boy."
"Jimin." He warned you saw how his fists showed through his knuckles.
"And the star decided to have a summer camp for all the children, ended up in a human grill, and everyone thought that your dad fucked children."
It was so fast that you couldn't see Jimin's body fall to the ground, the dust hiding the blows that reverberated from Jimin's skull. The cowboy didn't lift his arms, instead, he let his friend vent until he saw Jimin's silver fang painted red.
Jungkook gasped like a barbarian, his arms trembled before he delivered the next punch and fell next to Jimin, overwhelming moans coming from his chest, stale tears, and babbling that only Jimin understood, but he didn't move.
Jimin closed his eyes, thinking about teenage Jungkook who was trying to get close to the burned body of his father, which Jimin never let him talk about or touch, for the funeral he locked him in his room even after protests and threats. He didn't know if he wanted to protect him, if because he was older than him, he thought about taking the role that that monument of a man had left behind.
He was as attractive as his son, charismatic, and an all-around good man. But his statue began to crack when some young people arrived at the church, a couple who convinced him that he did not need the God for whom he so praised and knelt down. But he was the deity, who with his wings would go far.
He had this idea of encouraging the little ones next to him, elevating them. He closed the doors of the old church, while singing with the children and bathed the edges of the windows in kerosene.
The screams were hellish, no one heard them. No one cried more than the little boy who saw his sister burning on the ground, no one screamed more than the girl whose dress melted into her skin, and no one trusted her father more than the youngest son of Father John I.
Jungkook's younger brother hung from his father's clothes, watching his friends burn with a sense of purpose, that this had to happen for his own good.
And like Icarus, the sun kissed his father's body without Jungkook realizing the changes until very late: the sarcastic laughter in the middle of reading, his constant absence, the misplaced and ambitious gaze.
His mother fell into the abyss. Died sitting in a rocking chair when her body seemed to disintegrate more and more every day. A rosary in hand, a tiresome prayer that licked away her sorrows.
"Come on, we have to think about what we're going to do with her," Jimin murmured, wiping away the trickle that ran down his nose. Jungkook gave him his hand and stood up. Both men hugged each other until the minor stopped sobbing.
The father looked in your direction, determined. You could feel the black socket of his eyes fire just once and not miss.
"We have to chain her before she runs away."
Jimin nodded. There was no time to lose.
A latent pain spread through Jungkook's head until a crown of pure anguish decorated his hair. Two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as the phone rang incessantly on the other line.
One of the things that bothered him about Billie, was the way time seemed to run smoothly and leisurely through her fingers. It took her forever to analyze things, to choose what she was going to eat, even if it would always be chicken pot pie; and in this case, answer the phone.
The telephone booth where he was was dirty, it smelled of urine, and the windows were clouded with dust. He was still wearing his black shirt and pants, his collar pristine white, his old man's ring on his right hand being moved anxiously.
He couldn't believe what he would do in his free time instead of being with the girl he had decided to marry. But a letter arrived at his office at the church that afternoon, one of the children playing in the park had been sent with it. The letter was a simple piece of paper wrapped and tied with an improvised wildflower as a cord.
I'll be busy tonight. The sheep must be tamed and sheared. J.
When he read the words, he almost dropped the paper on the floor and sent the boy out with a dollar in his hand so that he would promise not to tell anyone.
He spent the entire mass having trouble speaking, gave averted glances, and cleared his throat like a sick man. The drops of sweat clinging to his chest, it was hell.
"Hello?"
"Billie, it's John, sweetheart."
"Why are you not here?" His chest sank as he heard the sweet voice of his girl. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.
"I must..." his voice trailed off. The last time he lied was so long ago.
It's not that religion made him feel guilty for telling a lie, sometimes a father must lie to people's faces with such solemnity that the devotee can only let themselves fall into the invisible hands of God and lie down on hope for a miracle.
"I have to take care of one Park's ewe. Poor little one it's havin' some trouble, and he doesn't want her to be alone until his show ends." Terrible, one of the worst lies he's ever made.
Silence.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Billie purred, almost in a plea. He sighed, he could see her pink varnished nail tangled in the phone cord eagerly. Trying not to wake her dad's ears with such questions.
Jungkook had her on the edge because he hadn't even kissed her. He knew he was cruel for that. It's not that he has officially offered either, but sometimes a man doesn't lie through words, but by taking her home, by looking into her eyes for a longer time when he gives her the host, by helping her learn to touch herself inside the confessional.
"It's better not to, pet. I'm sure it'll be an allnighter, the thing'll be crying for hours and I know how sensitive you are with animals."
"It's true, you know me so well, Jungkook."
He smiled. "I know, darling." He clears his throat before continuing. "But tomorrow you can come to the parish, and we will feed the pigeons in the morning. How 'bout that?"
One more lie, this time it was not the hands of God but the calloused and bloody hands of the young father. But she just giggled.
"Goodnight, Billie. Say hi to your mother for me."
"'Night, Johnnie. I love you."
A lump in his throat, and he thanked God because after saying that, she closed the call. His tongue turned to lead to say those three words back. He knew he did, he wanted to protect Billie more than anything and make her happy, but there was no need to say it, right?
Jungkook's shirt was unbuttoned, the shaking in his breathing causing an unusual tremor in the sound of the farm. It was a windy night, there wasn't much moonlight, so Jungkook lit several kerosene lamps on the banks.
The wooden tub was arranged in the center, the horses and chickens raising their heads every time Jungkook grunted, bringing more hot water. The sweat falling down his temples and over his broad chest, the steam had him suffocated in that silence, and you showed no signs of waking up at any time.
He approached the hay in the corner where the sheep surrounded your body curled up like a fetus, you slept with bloody clothes and matted hair. Your breathing is as soft as the wool around you, both hands and feet tied with rope.
You looked like a lost princess. A princess who devoured every man in her land, and now she rests peacefully to reduce her satiety. Your dry mouth and the remains of Jimin's blood fell to your neckline, making Jungkook's face boil, because he couldn't believe that his friend had fallen for such banalities. It made him want to take the same lamp in his fingers and drop it on top of your delicate body.
His boot touched your low heels, but nothing. He crouched down until he had his hand close to your shoulder, your skin tender under the shaking flames, curved and soft under the dress you were wearing.
You were disgusting, angelic, so terribly at peace in your state.
Of course, upon his arrival at Jimin's house, the first thing he did was open your suitcase and touch all your belongings. Because, in the end, a woman is her belongings: she is the compact blush that she has worn since she was 19, she is the old leather necklace with the worn-out heart pendant and the empty perfume bottle.
Women feel this need to keep things that don't work or lose their value over time. Something that may have to do with how Jungkook sees them, how it's the opposite for him. How his father and his uncles also saw the women in his life. The brighter, the better.
Women, instead, have their daughters' teeth in their jewelry like yellowish nacre and love the same man from their fifteenth until the memories fade with their bodies.
Jungkook knew you would like something to remind you of home, where you truly belong. Not California, not New York, not even Austin; but Rivermouth, with its disproportionate mountains, the storm clouds filling the sky at all hours, and the same faces transferring from parents to children to grandchildren.
A place where nothing changed and that was the good thing. Even though things might end up bad.
He was sure your body was not leaving that barn, he had come to that decision the same day he saw you.
To recompensate, he decided to find you the most beautiful dress among your belongings, a delicate bow with which he would decorate your neck and a vermilion lipstick.
His hand squeezed your shoulder until you stood up screaming, his hand went straight to your mouth.
"Don't fucking do that, please." The way you looked around made Jungkook understand that you didn't remember anything, it was sad to see the weight lift your pupils towards his and still try to find an explanation. "You need to shower, your stench is making me sick."
He grabbed your bound wrists and dragged you to the edge of the hot water, a round, yellowish sponge and sulfur soap placed on a stool.
"Don't make a noise, you'll wake up Sweet Pea," Jungkook murmured behind you, the heat of his breath on your back.
Sweet Pea was a sheep separated from the others, sleeping between a bed made of hay and old coats. Her bloated stomach writhed with each ragged breath. She suffered with her mouth open and her woolly paws shivering with every squirm of the babies in her belly, she slept painfully.
"Raise your arms." The man behind you whispered, a sharp Swiss army knife cutting through the fabric of your dress like butter. The cold of his hands removing your dress let a gasp leave your lips. "Easy, there."
His tall, sweaty body leaned into your hands, his eyes evading yours, swallowing hard. Your breasts fell light and exquisite, your exposed stomach curved until it reached the plain of your pussy and Jungkook felt like the edge of his knife would slip from his hands as he finished tearing your clothes.
"Let's see the wound." He cleared his throat, sitting on the bench where he had a clean pair of gauze. "Does it hurt?"
"What do you think?" You interrupted, raising your foot to the top of his knee.
"Have some respect. I'm not one of your little friends."
You rolled your eyes as the slender fingers removed the knot from the dirty yellowed gauze. You hissed, leaning your body forward. As a result, you placed your hands on top of Jungkook's jet-black hair, tightening the strands under your fingers in the last turn of the gauze. Jungkook took a deep breath, his fingers trembling gently as he examined the bruised hole.
"At least the blood stopped."
"Do you plan to heal my wound until I starve to death here?"
Jungkook was already getting tired of your words, of that shrill accent, and your lips always a little parted as if waiting for them to fill your mouth with-
"I plan to heal your wounds until I find a grave big enough to put you and all your things in." Your alert eyes made him laugh. He loved seeing the terror in them. Made you look more adorable.
He grabbed the clear liquor from among the hay and wet a piece of cotton. Your left leg was shaking from the effort, and you were weak, surely Jimin was stupid enough to not leave you something to eat before going to enjoy his fame.
"You're crying." Jungkook saw the tears falling to your breasts, you were quick to remove the ones that were flowing with your tied hands. Inhaling and sobbing like a little girl trying to be brave. You were terrified.
God and men knew why the statues of virgins were always portrayed as suffering. He wanted to run his fingers over your face, lick every salty tear, and say more chilling things to you to make you cry even more.
His hand rested on his lap and patted a couple of times.
"I know it hurts, stop being so stubborn."
You left your buttocks on his lap and placed both arms on your chest, covering your breasts. You were a mess, and you hated that you were crying, rivulets falling to the sockets of your collarbones. Jungkook focused on it, feeling thirsty as he cleaned the wound.
A hand rested on your bare waist to keep you from falling, calloused fingers unconsciously caressing the soft skin. Your back rose and fell with each whimper.
"I was kiddin', kid. For God's sake." He frowned, yet you continued. He grabbed the bottle again and grabbed your chin with his thumbs, long gulps of sheer force passing down your throat. "There ya' go. Stop the whining, now."
You coughed as you felt the alcohol melt your stomach with its heat.
"I hate you both. I wish I was dead."
"Me too, pumpkin."
The next step was to get into the bathtub. You closed your eyes as the heat engulfed your body, the steam cleaning your pits after crying your fill. You moaned softly as you snuggled into the soggy sheet.
On the other side was the father, sitting with both legs open while he slowly scrubbed the sponge with the soap. His hungry eyes were behind the whitish walls of hot steam.
"You're a virgin. Right, Father John?" Your light, sharp tongue asked, moving you closer to the edge of the tub.
His gaze went to yours, bold, fed up. He dropped the soap and poured water on your face and hair with an empty can of chickpeas. The slippery hair was easy to clench in his fist, the sponge in his hand rubbing circles on your back.
You pursed your lips as you felt the pressure you caused on him. Well, it looks like it was true.
"Don't you have a little girlfriend? It must be so lonely in this fucking town."
"I'll make you cry harder if you keep talking bullshit."
The foam was sliding down to your breasts, Jungkook tried to be as stoic as possible cleaning the area.
There was something quite submissive about him that brought out your worst thoughts. The worst part was that the alcohol made you dangerously flirtatious and you couldn't keep yourself in check. Not even when your life hung on it.
Between his long, slender fingers, over his broad back, and his soft, deadly voice.
You couldn't take it any longer as you moved closer to his body, the exact curve between his ear and his neck, and inhaled deeply. His hand under the water cleaning between your legs. You could feel his breathing become sharper.
"She gave it to you, right?" You sniffed closer. "You wear it to go see her, but now you have to bathe some shitty hippie you humiliated once in your teens."
"Shut up."
"Unlike your cowboy friend, you are a gentleman. You don't fuck 'em, then leave with your dick wet."
Jungkook chuckled. Silence.
He put the sponge on the bench and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.
"I think we're done." He smiled.
Your eyebrows furrowed as he kicked off his shoes and stepped into the tub next to you. A heavy hand rested on your face and you could only feel the water entering your lungs, the beat of your screams turning into bubbles among the grayish water.
Out. A gasp, your heart beating a mile an hour searching for air between the hardness of Jungkook's palm.
In. Your body arched, bound hands clawing at Jungkook's arm. The impenetrable darkness consumed you, the sound pressure of the water, the metallic taste in your throat.
Out.
Your purple face, swollen eyes, crimson lips.
"Breathe, breathe." His voice was soft, and his fingers went to your hair to support your weak body. You heard a metallic clinking sound, your eyes burning from the soap in the water. "Open your mouth."
His fingers separated your teeth to make way for his cock, the pulse of his veins massaging your lips. Jungkook hissed loudly, throwing his head back.
"Atta, girl. Open more, I know bitches like you can dislocate their fuckin' jaws."
Your eyelashes fluttered, looking for a way to look into his eyes and ask for mercy. But your eyes burned terribly and the saliva fell in streams from your mouth every time his cock came out and came back in with more force. You could only squeeze his wet pants and clumsily try to shake his thigh to make him realize you were choking.
"Mm."
"Don't trytta "mm" me. This is what you wanted."
For the first time, his cock came completely out of your mouth, drool falling into the water.
His arm supported your body and lifted your top out of the water, revealing how shiny and smooth your ass looked presented to him. The bottle of liquor was right next to you. You heard Jungkook take a gulp and how his forearm chained your neck so you could drink with him. For a few seconds, you resisted until you could do nothing but open your mouth or choke on alcohol.
"Shh, don't cry again." His fingers massaged your wet hair, his face pressed to yours as he slid his cock between your ass cheeks. "Such a crybaby. You're the one popping my cherry tonight, little buckle bunny. Ain't ya' happy?"
"I'm scared, please let me go." Your voice tore through your throat with torture, phlegm building up in your nose.
"No, can't." His cock found your entrance, the sting of the soap lubricating you, and the growl that came from Jungkook's chest made your body tense. "You need me, remember? If it was because of Park, you would have been dead a long time ago."
"I'm scared, please-"
"Shhh."
The lamps were going out little by little, leaving the shadows of Jungkook's body to engulf yours.
When your pussy began to make way and pulse around his cock, he felt sorry for not having done it sooner, for not having taken the first five dollars he stole from his father when he was fifteen and find a whore to fuck, for not having let Mandy, the daughter of his math teacher, suck him last year of school; of not having taken all the divine women in his church and instead of giving them the host, putting his cock in their mouth.
He thought about each and every one of them. He thought about Billie and the confessional, and fuck! How delicious it felt to have all your blood go to one place, leaving you dizzy and stupid like a farm animal in heat.
"Why don't we-" he moaned with tight lips, wetting his face to concentrate. "Why don't we pray, it'll make you feel better, make you less tight."
The lamps went out, leaving only one in the corner outlining Jungkook's profile. From his long oval nose, and swollen lips, from the dying steam.
So what if you said yes? If you intertwined your fingers while that monster attacked you. So what if you closed your eyes and tilted your head to Jungkook's lips to hear his spasmodic voice tell you to repeat after him.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee," he whispered, and you repeated, drowning in tears.
"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus." You continued.
"Keep going."
The water began to splash out of the tub with each crash against your ass, his arm hugged your waist and your chest. Soft, wet kisses from your ear to your back.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” You squealed as Jungkook trembled, his moans creating an ethereal song in the barn.
Between his babbling, he mentioned God, you, and all the curses he could think of. It was the birth of a Mephistopheles among the hay and the horses.
"Now and at the hour of our death. Amen." You sighed as you felt your body fall into the water on top of Jungkook's. Your head on his heaving chest, the pulsing pain inside you withering.
Jungkook's heart sounded like the pastures where your memories lie. The warmth of his hand holding you closer to him.
You were angry with yourself because your chest began to hurt and oh, how stupid you were, how stupid your mother had been for having raised you among pretty things and so many compliments.
"I brought you strawberry jam and milk for the night. Tomorrow I'll bring better things." He muttered, hot and his voice raspy.
And oh, how dumb you were for wanting him to wear the same perfume again when he came back.
i seen you did a request so i as wondering can i request something? 🥹
jk x reader where the reader gets cheated on by her boyfriend and she gets her lick back 💜 love your stories!
I'm sure I can do something quick 💜
Lick Back
Realizing that your boyfriend has become a completely different person & being malicious towards you could only mean that he’s being nice to someone else.
Your mother always told you that if your dog started barking at you that it only meant that someone else was feeding it. A dog would never bite the hand that feeds them.
Your mother wasn’t talking about an actual dog.
However, you had a dog - in a way - and recently, it began doing just that. It became annoyed with you for every little thing you’ve done. It’s tone changed completely when speaking with you; always rushed and not attentive. It started to be mean for no reason, nearly foaming at the mouth when you questioned their sudden change of actions - or questioned it at all. It wanted to be outside longer than usually and would be upset when called back home.
The dog being your boyfriend of nearly 5 years. You noticed the shift a year ago, but you ignored your gut feeling of something being terribly wrong - but now, you are numb and though it hurts in a way, you are also relieved. The love that was one there in your relationship appeared to expire without you realizing it - or maybe you had not wished to accept it.
And yet, here you are in a home the both of you share. He is out, not bothering to tell you just where he’s at - and you don’t ask. You stopped asking a year ago when you grew accustomed to sleeping alone.
But even if the love for your dog is no longer there - and if it was, it was slowly drifting away - that didn’t mean the anger wasn’t. The fact that you allowed the dog to stay with you because you loved him, fed said dog his favorite meals and showered him with love and affections. They were supposed to be loyal - but atlas, someone else had gained its love while you were left in the dark.
But there was someone else who liked what the dog had, you noticed. Someone who appreciated the meals you cooked and ate them with ease, who would come when you called them. They were loyal - even more than your own dog - and it just happened to be the dogs friend.
Jeon Jungkook is an attractive man and he knew it. It showed in the way he struts, shoulders lax and head held high. He almost wore a smirk, but never a cocky one. Jeon Jungkook could be an asshole - a complete fuckboy. He could turn his nose at anyone because he had it like that - but he didn’t.
Jeon Jungkook was a kind individual. He was caring - especially to the ones he was close with. You recall many times when you’d had to call him because your boyfriend had gotten so drunk that you’d need a man's help - and Jungkook was always that man.
And even though Jungkook was a friend of your boyfriend, he was kind to you, as well. He changed your tires on numerous occasions, making sure to give you the speech that “You need to make sure you keep up with your car, Y/N.” or the “Your oil and tire lights are on, how do you even drive this still?” he had good intentions.
“This is so good!” Jungkook says, mouth full of the pork belly. He licks his lips to savor the flavor. Jungkook always wore a disgusted face when something was amazing in taste and even now, his eyebrows are knit together in confusion and he appears utterly disgusted - that was a good sign.
“I’m glad you enjoy it.” you smile at him, washing the dishes you’ve made when cooking.
“I told you I don’t mind washing the dishes, Y/N.” Jungkook says, glancing upwards at you. “It’s the least I can do since you cooked.”
You sigh, smile never ceasing. “It’s alright. You’re a guest after all.”
Your dog wasn’t home and you don’t know when he will be - nor did you truly care. His friend was nicer, more entertaining, as well. He ate your cooking as if it was fine dining, and appreciated it, too. He was kind and good at conversation - he was caring, far more than your dog.
“I enjoy cooking for you, Jungkook. You deserve it the most.” you turn off the water and begin to dry your hands. Your eyes meet his and for a moment, you’re pondering if he’s thinking about your words the way you intend him to.
“Thank you.” Jungkook grins, tiny dimples at the side of his cheek forming.
You lean against the island that he sits at, quiet and content that he’s eating the food you’ve made for him. It wouldn’t be the first time you cooked for Jungkook - you recall the first time without your dog being present was a year prior. You had cooked and waited for his return and was left with nothing. It was hours after when you heard him return - this time not alone or coherent. Jungkook had slung the man onto the couch annoyed with just how drunk he had become and when you emerged - in nothing but a nightgown - he had apologized profusely.
“I cooked.” you had sighed, disappointed but not the least bit surprised by the actions of your dog. “Do you want a plate?”
It has become a tradition now. You’d cook for Jungkook often and each time, he'd come and enjoy what you’ve made him - whatever you made him.
Jungkook was no fool, as well. He knows just how independent you’ve become, especially within the last year. He knows that you know that he knows of your boyfriend's loyalty - or lack of - but you never question him about it, even when he prepares himself to tell you the truth if you had.
Over time, Jungkook noticed that you don’t seem to care about your boyfriend's whereabouts - and around that time, he picks up on just how you begin to dress when around him. It was subtle at first, sure. You showed more skin - more legs with your shorts, more shoulders. He notes that the clothes you wore were tighter but relaxed seeing as you were in the comfort of your own home. You’d wear tanktops that showed your breast with shorts that made your thighs highly appealing for his eyes. Overtime, you ditched the bra and it became harder for him to not gawk at the way your breast looked in them.
Jungkook doesn’t want to assume anything - you were so far removed from your boyfriend that you didn’t care anymore. One drunken wine night when the man was away on a “business trip”, you had told Jungkook that you hadn’t had sex with him in close to a year now - his own drunken response was that if he was your boyfriend, he would fuck you any chance he’d get.
Jungkook isn’t sure if you remember that night and neither of you brought it up after.
“You seem tense.” Jungkook is behind you now - when he has gotten up from his seat, you are unaware, consumed by your own thoughts. “Is everything alright?”
You slowly nod your head, turning it slightly to get a glimpse of him.
Jungkook snorts. “Your shoulders are tense.” he says, gentle hands placing themselves on your shoulders. “Is everything alright with work? The car?”
“Yes, Jungkook. I’m fine.” you giggled. “You worry too much.”
Jungkook’s fingers begin to rub at your shoulders, applying pressure to them. You swallow, your hands gripping the edge of the sink.
“You should relax, Y/N. You’re always doing something and never truly giving yourself a break.”
Jungkook’s hand reaches your neck. They run up slowly, goosebumps left behind in its trail. Your eyes flutter close at how good it felt to be massaged.
“Does it feel good?”
There’s a drop in Jungkook’s voice - it’s deeper. He whispers it, as if only speaking directly to you, even if you and he are already alone in the home.
“Yes.” you murmur back, head falling back against his chest just as he reaches the front of your neck. A tattooed hand wraps around it, thumb caressing your skin in circular motions.
“I’m glad.” Jungkook is subtle when he presses himself against you - so gentle that you don’t notice it at first. You're completely against his body, in blissful relaxation. “You deserve to be taken care of, too.”
Even now, you dressed so comfortably - shorts stopping high above your thighs and a shirt that sculptures your breast so lovingly that he had a difficult time not watching the way they bounced as you walked around the kitchen preparing him the meal.
“I don’t really have anyone to do that.” you whisper back, a slight moan creeping past your parted lips.
“I can take care of you…unless you object.”
You nod your head and instantly, his free hand roams down to grip your clothed breast. He can feel just how hard your nipple was.
You hiss, back slightly arching.
Jungkook engulfs both breasts in the palm of his hands and begins to rub, your light moans enticing him to continue. He can feel your nipples harden in his grasp and he himself begins to hiss lowly to himself on how heavenly they felt in his hands.
There’s no doubt that the two of you wanted this for far too long by the way you completely allow him to touch you without any resistance. He presses himself against you needily, face in your neck as his hands continue to grip and pull at your breast.
“You smell nice.” Jungkook grumbles in your neck, nose inhaling your sweet scent; he’s sure he sounds like a creep, but he wasn’t going to hold himself back . Not now he’s certain you want him just as much as he does you. “I like this scent on you the most. This and the jasmine one.”
You swallow, heat rushing through your body at his words. Jungkook had memorized the perfume’s you’d wear due to the countless times he’d be around you. He recalls the time he even had to help his friend pick out a gift for you on an anniversary and how upset he had been when he chose the cheapest scent he could find - and one you’d never wear. Jungkook had swamped them out and chose the very scent you wore now and you’re none the wiser.
Your arms reach behind you to cup Jungkook’s head just as you feel his teeth sink into the nape of your neck. He’s being more rough; dominant. You don’t remember when the last time a man has touched you with such possessiveness - a sex-toy could only do so much.
“Such pretty skin,” Jungkook’s tongue pokes out of his mouth to lick onto your neck. “just want to mark it all up.”
“Then do it.” you respond. If you and him were going to do this, mind as well go all out. Your dog often comes home smelling like sickly sweet fruit perfume and cigarettes at times - you wanted Jungkook’s scent all over you.
Jungkook does, biting your skin harshly and then suckling on it until your neck is perfectly marked up. He’s then quick to turn you around to finally face him, the both of you now locking eyes.
“Are you upset?” Jungkook questions, eyes dark with lust but a bit concerned.
“With you?” you ask, raising a brow. “Never.”
“Not with me. In general.” Jungkook murmurs, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently traces your lips. “I’m sure you know…what he does.”
You nod your head, leaning into Jungkook’s touch.
“Don’t want you to regret or feel bad afterwards.”
“Are you?” you ponder aloud.
You were so far removed from your boyfriend that you could care less about what he thought. In your mind, he was nothing but a roommate now; the two of you not even sharing a bed.
Jungkook, however, was your boyfriend's friend and maybe he would feel remorseful.
“I told you that I’d never stop fucking you if given the chance.” Jungkook snorts, thumb tapping your lip.
“Then don’t stop.” you murmur, tongue poking out to wrap poke his tongue. “I haven’t been fucked good in so long.”
Jungkook hisses, his hand now gripping your cheek. He shakes his head. “He told me what you like.” he confesses, unsure if you were willing to go down that route with him.
“He was never really into anything.” you shrug your shoulders - this is why you ended up with a vibrator and a dildo; and you were currently looking into a vibrating dildo, how sad your life has become.
Jungkook is aware of his friend's lack of foreplay - he was only ever interested in his own pleasure. Jungkook, however, didn’t mind pleasuring you until you were begging him to stop - but maybe he was just a bad person to think about his friend's girlfriend riding his face until she came.
Then again, you were being cheated on by said friend so maybe this was just his karma; it wasn’t like you were a bad person and deserve such treatment.
“I want to eat you out.” Jungkook declares suddenly that it catches you off guard completely. “Why do you look scared?”
“Just shocked.” you say, body growing even hotter. “Wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“‘I want you to ride my tongue until you’re squirting all over me’ is what I truly wanted to say.” Jungkook deadpans and blinks. “But I didn’t want to scare you away.”
You gulp, eyes widening and thighs clenching.
“And by the way you’re rubbing your thighs together, it didn’t scare you.” Jungkook smirks and instantly, he presses his lips against you. It’s a deep kiss that catches you by surprise, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave more.
“I can kiss you, right?” Jungkook says against your lips - maybe he should’ve asked first. “I know kissing is more intimate-”
You shut him up by kissing him, arms wrapping around his neck to assure that he doesn’t get too far away from you.
Kissing Jungkook came naturally - as if the two of you had done it before. He pries your mouth open and allows his tongue to dance around yours, all the way he holds onto your hips.
“Bed,” you kiss his lips again. “room.”
Jungkook follows behind you, unable to keep his hands off of your body as you lead him to your bedroom. He doesn’t even bother to close the door before he’s already tugging at your clothes.
Your shirt is the first to go, breast pooling out that Jungkook cannot focus on anything else but them. He dives into them, your back hitting your mattress just as he begins to suckle on your left nipple, his thumb and index finger pinching the right.
The noises Jungkook made were just as filthy, wet sucking and groans echoing off of your walls. How long he had craved to see your bare breast - they were always teasing him when he was around. Bouncing whenever you move, nipples always erect for his view.
“So pretty.” Jungkook brings the right nipple into his mouth, showing the same amount of needy lust and love to it as the left. His hand squeezes your left breast in the palm of his hand, the pain shooting pleasure right to your core. “I can suck on them all night. I don’t know why he doesn’t.”
Now, Jungkook brings both nipples into his mouth, needily needing to taste you. He has a crazed look in his eyes that only causes you to squirm beneath him, legs wrapping around his waist to feel him.
“You can suck on them whenever you want.”
Jungkook grunts, teeth grazing against your nipples as they pop from his wet mouth. “Don’t tempt me, Y/N. You’ll never be able to get rid of me.”
You were positive you didn’t want Jungkook to leave.
“I want you naked right now. I wanna see just what that idiot has for me right now.”
There wasn’t much Jungkook had to do to get you naked - in seconds, he had helped you kick off your shorts along with your panties, needy pussy on display for him.
“Need you on my tongue now.” Jungkook hisses, flipping you and him so he is beneath you now. Your pussy is so close to his face that it causes you to yelp in slight humiliation.
“I-I wasn’t really prepared to do this, i-I-”
“Y/N,” Jungkook calls, tone dismissive. “I’m a man. Just fuck yourself against my tongue.”
So you do - and Jungkook’s hands only make you do more. His hands slap your thigh to kick up the pace, his eyes boring into your face as it contorts with pleasure. Your hips just as you grind against his tongue, hands gripping your breast.
Jungkook’s eyes never leave your face. He enjoys watching the stress leave your body as you pleasure yourself, it tells him that this is something you truly needed. His hands begin to rub along your hips, encouraging you to continue until they slide down to your ass. He cups them, his own head swaying side to side to further stimulate your needy clit.
“S-S-Shit!” your body leans back, hands planting against his thighs as he devours your cunt as if it was his last meal. “I-I’m gonna cum…you gotta move.”
That was the last thing Jungkook was going to do - not even as your hands try to pry him away from your pussy, he doesn’t. He continues to suckle onto your clit until you’re visibly shaking above him, but even then he was determined; fully committed to having you cum hard on his tongue.
Your legs begin to quiver and Jungkook soon was going to get what he was looking for - you cum. He licks the arousal up, slurping and suckling loudly as your moans mewl out of your mouth.
“I could eat you all day.” Jungkook speaks beneath you - and you knew he was serious.
You did the wrong thing by looking at him. His mouth and chin was fully coated in you and just the sight causes you to cum even harder - the hardest you have ever had in your life; right onto his tongue like he wanted.
You fall back against the bed with a tired sigh, breathing hitching.
Jeon Jungkook was a dangerous man. No wonder the universe gave you your dog - you couldn’t handle a real man such as Jungkook, surely.
“Can I fuck you?” Jungkook asks, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Unless you’re tired then-”
“I want you to cum in me.”
Jungkook coughs, his cock jumping in his pants. “I-I…really?”
“If you’re going to fuck me, you mind as well go all out.” you pant, widening your legs. “I don’t want you to hold back, either.”
You were going to be the death of him - but if this was what is going to kill him, then he’ll be content.
“Fuck.” Jungkook is in a hurry to remove his clothing, scattering it all around the room without a care. “Fuck you’re so perfect. I would treat you so well, Y/N. Fuck I hate him.”
Jungkook’s words causes you to giggle at the circumstances. He hated your boyfriend - his friend - for allowing you to fall into the arms of another man - him. It’s all comical, truly.
“I would fuck you all day if you’d let me. Come home every night and fill you with my cum. How are you not pregnant yet?”
Jungkook’s babbling to himself, even if you could hear it. It’s questions he has asked himself time and time again - wondering why his friend would rather sleep with other girls when he had someone like you at home. You cooked every day and assured the home stayed just right. He would have put a baby in you - and of course married you; but this wasn’t about him now, was it?
Jungkook positions himself at your center and swallows. You’re clenching, ready to be stuffed.
“I bet you’d like to put a baby in me.” you tease, hips slightly wiggling for him to enter you. “Why don’t you?”
Jungkook growls. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Y/N. You don’t know how many times I imagined you in my home.”
Maybe Jeon Jungkook was a bad friend for imagining said friend's girlfriend in his home cooking for him - or in his bed breeding her. BUT he had since stepped out on the relationship so karma would have to skip him, right? If anything, you being with him would be doing both of you a favor - you wouldn’t be cheated on and he would dote on you every chance he had.
Jungkook begins to enter you, shuddering at the tightness of your pussy. It engulfs him completely, as if shoving him in with whatever powers it held.
Shit.
Instantly, Jungkook begins to pound into you - you casted a spell, surely. Whatever you put in the food had caused him to be highly consumed by you entirely. Maybe a baby would be nice, right?
You weren’t expecting Jungkook to get right into it - neither were you against it. He holds your legs apart in a tight hold, cock pounding into you so heavenly that even you thought about giving the man what he has been imagining.
“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses when his eyes catch the white, creamy ring around his cock. “you haven’t been fucked good in so long. You’re milking my cock already.”
“Maybe if you weren’t such a pussy before you could’ve been fucking me.” you needed Jungkook to fuck you harder if possible. Making him mad and taunting him was an amazing way to start.
Jungkook’s eyes are furious, lust and anger swirling in them. “Maybe if you would’ve asked me to fuck you I would have.” he spits back, his thrust quickening. “You always looked so desperate, too.”
“I was.” your hand slap against his bare chest, but it doesn’t cause him to stop - no, if anything it makes him fuck into you even deeper at your retaliation. “You were desperate to fuck me, too.” you moaned when he hit that sweet spot that has never been touched before. “Like a little teenage boy.”
Neither of you notice the footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, far too entangled with one another's pleasure.
“I know when a bitch needs to be stuffed. Should’ve filled you with my cum years ago.” Jungkook flips you onto your stomach. He yanks your hair back so your back is perfectly arched - and then he takes you just as hard as before. “But tonight will be the night that I do what we both want, huh?”
“Fuck, you’re so deep.” your eyes snap shut, stomach forming knots. Your breast bounces in the rhythm of his powerful thrusts.
One hand in your hair while the other begins to play with your wet clit. Jungkook buries his head at the side of your neck, lips against your ear.
“You’re coming home with me tonight, Y/N. I’m going to breed you here, then you’re leaving with me.” It’s the sex and lust talking that's causing him to be so demanding and possessive, but you and him both go along with it. When the high was down, then maybe the two of you could talk with sense.
But as of right now - he was determined to put a baby in you without thinking of any consequences and stupidly, so were you.
“You’re gonna leave him right?” Jungkook asks, yanking your hair harder as his hips jut into you. “You’re gonna give me that baby you want me to put in you so bad and you’re gonna leave that sad excuse of a man.”
Your pussy clenches around him and your eyes manage to open. You’re shocked to see him at the door, eyes wide and watching his friend fuck you into oblivion all the while bad mouthing him.
“Y-Yes!” your juices leak down your thigh, overstimulated due to Jungkook’s fucking and aggressive rubbing along to your swollen clit. “Want your baby.”
You don’t break eye contact with the man - it’s evident that he’s shocked, but he cannot be angered. Not with you, at least, maybe with his friend.
“He could never fuck me like you. Never give me a baby.”
Now you were purposely taunting him, upset that this is when he decides to come home - but a bit glad that he gets to witness the end of an already crumbled relationship. You wonder how he feels witnessing his friend fuck you better than he ever could; with more passion.
You cum around Jungkook’s cock, juices leaking out of you and onto your bed and Jungkook isn’t far behind you. His thrust began to grow sloppy. He leans away from your neck, eyes glancing up at the figure watching them - the same figure of his former friend; one who had not spoken to him in months unbeknownst to you.
The friendship had ended months prior when Jungkook had suggested that he treat you better, in which he responded angrily that if he wanted you to be treated good so bad that he should have you, declaring that he would have nothing but his sloppy seconds. Never truly imagining that he would witness it happen before his eyes - he was just angry and drunk at the time when he spoke so harshly of you.
Jungkook cums inside of you, so deep and so much. His eyes never leave the shocked ones of his former friend at the door as the both of you allow the high to die down. “You’re coming home with me tonight.” he says, not asking but demanding.
You nod your head, eyes leaving that of your former boyfriend and they close as his (former) friend gently lays you down onto your bed.
no.4 .gynecologist taehyung and innocent oc breast touching, fingering, just putting in his cock to 'check' her
Admin note: Changed to doctor
-
“Hmm… I see.” Your doctor, Taehyung, hummed.
You held in your breath, heat rushing to your cheeks as his fingers pumped in and out of your vagina. His expression was one of deep concentration as he examined you.
You were on the medical chair in his office, legs spread wide apart for him as he checked you.
“I will need a deeper look before I can confirm the diagnosis. Can you pull up your shirt and remove your bra for me please? It will make it easier for me to examine you properly if your chest is exposed. It won't take long.”
You nodded and did as you were told. You unbuttoned the white blouse you wore and slipped the straps of your bra down, exposing your breasts to him. You couldn't help but notice how he seemed to be staring at them a little.
He massaged your breasts and when he was done with that he unbuckled his belt. “Chest is looking great, no problem there.” Taehyung pulled down his pants and briefs, letting them drop to his ankles. He was rock hard, his cock long and thick.
“I need to have a deeper look in your vagina, it might feel uncomfortable but try not to tense up too much. Try and relax, I promise it will be quick, I just need to get a clear view of the cervix and I'll know more then. Okay, darling? It will hurt, but only for a second. Try not to move too much while I do it, alright? And no matter what you do, try not to make any noises. You don't want to disturb the other doctors, right?” He smiled at you. “We don't want to interrupt them, they're very busy and have a lot of patients to see today. Don't worry, I'll be gentle, it'll be over before you know it, okay, darling?”
“Yes, sir.”
Taehyung nodded and positioned his cock at your entrance, rubbing it against your folds. He took his time, coating his length in your wetness, teasing you until you were dripping wet.
And then he was inside you, pushing in deeper and deeper, inch by inch.
You held your breath, trying your best not to make a sound. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest and you felt lightheaded. You bit your lip, trying your best not to moan or gasp. You knew you were not allowed to.
“O-oh, too big…” You gasped as you felt him stretch your tight walls.
Taehyung let out a breathy chuckle. “It will fit, I promise, your body just needs to adjust to it.”
You closed your eyes, taking in the sensation.
After a moment, he began to thrust, moving slowly at first, building up his pace. He moved his hips in a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you, picking up his pace as you started to loosen up.
Your body jerked, involuntarily reacting to the pleasure he was giving you. You tried to control yourself but you were not succeeding, your moans slipping past your lips despite your attempts to muffle them.
It was so good, so, so good. He was filling you up and stretching you so nicely, fucking you deep and hard.
Taehyung noticed this and put a hand over your mouth, covering it and muffling your moans. He fucked you even harder, his cock pounding into you, his hips slamming into yours with each thrust.
Your hands gripped the armrests of the chair. Your eyes were closed tightly, your breathing coming out in sharp, ragged gasps.
Taehyung groaned as he continued to fuck you, his hand still covering your mouth, silencing your moans.
“A-ah!” You weren’t sure what was happening to your body. Your walls began to tighten and contract around him, squeezing him as he drove his cock in and out of you. A warm sensation was building up inside you, starting in your core and spreading throughout your body.
The warmth quickly grew and spread, your whole body beginning to shake as the pleasure intensified. Your legs tensed and shook, your toes curling.
“Everything is looking great, y/n. Get dressed and feel free to leave.” Taehyung told you as he pulled out.
You quickly fixed yourself, putting on your bra and buttoning up your blouse.
You were still feeling a little bit shaky from your orgasm, and you struggled to stand.
Taehyung smiled and patted you on the head. “Let’s have another check up next week, just to double check things.”
You left the office and walked down the corridor, trying to make your way to the exit. You didn’t question any of it, he was a doctor after all.
summary: you make jungkook proud by practicing what he taught you.
warnings: jungkook smiling and being all dominant!!!, also manly as fuck, use of his korean name cuz it's hot, masturbation, reader is horny and just a girl!!, biker mask (gasp), edging, orgasm denial, oral sex (f. receiving), dom/sub dynamics, squirting, desperation, porn, use of a sex toy, brief nipple play, spanking, bratty behavior <3, degradation, praise, the beauty of cumming together, mentions of sex, aftercare
note: it's entirely jungkook's fault that i wrote this bc he made me h word. i hope you enjoy the very first of the many smutty one shots i'm planning to write!! i had the time of my life writing this, imagining 3D!jungkook cuz he's just so delicious there. my weakness. fuck my life!! pls let me know what you think <3 like and comment (reblogs r very useful but i won't pressure u angel). love you!!
side note: i rly fucking miss jungkook. that's all. byebye
Stars fill your vision as your hand works wonders between the softness of your legs. You are fucked. Oh so deliciously, majestically and colossally fucked. And you whimper once the wave of that pleasure you burn for unfolds within your body. Arch your back. Roll your hips. Huff and puff until you near your breaking point. Then you lift your hand.
The surge ebbs away and you sink your teeth into your puffy bottom lip, desperation scorching each and every perimeter of your skin.
You enjoy this. The smug on your face couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried. You've been going at this for a dozen of minutes, sitting on your dark green couch with your legs spread, one hand rubbing circles on your needy bundle of nerves, the other gripping your phone with all its might, how it hasn’t cramped yet is beyond you, as it plays a dirty porn that does very little to quench your thirst. Your closest friend for the time being, have been ‘for the time being’ for much longer than you care to admit, a small pink vibrator Pinkie, keeps you company beside you while you swallow every grunt and whimper the couple in the video makes. It's turned off, however. Resting in the shadow of the threatening calamite that your shaking thighs are. You can't edge yourself with it when you're this fucked, so deeply lost in the rosy maze of lust. You would have to keep the head on your clit for merely a second, otherwise you'd be coming, and you'd be coming fast but not very hard. And where’s the fun in that? It still keeps you thirsty, your insides begging you again and again for another hit of dopamine, for just one drop of cum. Well, your pussy mainly.
It’s a persistent problem for you. You get horny, you touch yourself and you come under two minutes or less. The hit so small in quantity, so weak in quality that you inescapably need more than one round to be satisfied. The situation is even more problematic when you get down to it with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter much when you’re on the receiving end; you enjoy yourself, you look forward to his dick splitting you open, so it just cuts time. Although it does matter when he fucks you like the man he is. You clamp down on him, and he comes as fast as you do. You can’t help it. You’re so enamored with him, with his masculinity and his dominance, it burns your body alive. Who are you to tell your body no? It’s impossible. He’s impossible, and absolutely irresistible. Though you wish you could get lost in the pleasure, and you truly do each time you have sex, and it gets unfairly swept away from you. You’re just a thirsty girl. This unjust treatment pisses you off.
You opened up to your boyfriend about this and he laughed in your face, stroking your cheek. Told you it’s what he loves about you and you just rolled your eyes, dismissing it. Then he took your hand and sat you down again, offering you a solution that changed your life. For the worst at first, for the better the more you did it.
He suggested you try edging yourself when you play with your pussy. He showed you the ropes the first time, guiding you through a long process of denied orgasms, and you wanted to strangle him. You had to lift your hand when he said so, otherwise you were getting spanked. The joke was on him because you enjoyed the harsh sting, the roughness of his palm on your skin. But then it was him who was laughing when he pinned your arms above your head and confiscated your pleasure. You squirmed. Whined. Waited. Then he fingered you and you came so hard you saw stars, the orgasm just kept going and going. You were satisfied after one round. Problem fixed.
“Practice it until your body learns,” he had told you and you almost came again.
What a man.
The memory of this teaching lesson is what got you thirsty right now, actually.
You pay attention to the way the guy in the video squishes the tits of the lucky girl in the video and fucks them with his cock. You moan, lowering your fingers to your clit again and starting a series of slow circles. Your fingers are slippery from your leaking essence and the sweat on your folds from your marvelous torment, and it turns you on even more. You feel your orgasm coming, despite your pace, and you eat your fist in exasperation. Should you say fuck it and finally make yourself come? You hear the order uttered by your boyfriend in the back of your head, remember how long he told you to edge for that one time, and you want to make him proud (you do!), but then the girl licks at the slit of his cock and you clench around nothing. You want that so bad and you groan, anger and desperation creating something so sinful, so unhinged inside of you.
Resuming your movement on your bud, you pick up the pace because fuck it, you can’t take it anymore. The pressure, the anticipation of chasing after what you desire is so sweet and it fills you with energy and giddiness. Fuck jogging, now you're sprinting, clenching your muscles, nearing closer and closer to the finish line. You lift your knees, riding your hand, moans spilling from your mouth. You'd come right on the spot if it wasn't for the ding of a sudden text message snapping you out of your daze.
Your heart thuds in your chest. Fuck, did you not turn on 'do not disturb'?
koo: I'm here
You stare at the notification in disbelief. Beneath it, the guy is fucking the girl's throat. You screech, burying your face in your hands. What is your boyfriend doing here so early? You aren't supposed to see each other until later tonight, or are you forgetting something? Your mind is spinning, another denied orgasm taking a toll on you. Sighing, you slip your legs into your panties and your plush pajama pants, your feet finding their comfort in your fluffy slippers. Since he's here, he's gonna make himself extremely useful, you decide, putting on your warm bathrobe with Mickey Mouse on it and grabbing your keys.
As you descend the stairs from your apartment, the sticky wetness between your legs makes you uncomfortable. Your eyebrows furrow in anger. Does a girl really have to suffer in order to reach a mind-blowing orgasm these days? You scoff to yourself, sinking your key into the lock of the door to the main building. The key doesn't budge, though, and it almost makes you punch that fucking door. The lock has been sporadically working and not working for months, hence why the door needs to stay locked properly at all times, and nobody has so far taken the time to call someone to repair it. You kick the door with your knee and you hear a laugh behind it. You recognize it belongs to your boyfriend and you smile to yourself, finding the sweet sound stupidly cute. Your hand reaches for the key again and you turn it. To your surprise, the lock doesn't fuck around and actually lets you see your boyfriend.
Jeongguk is standing beside his motorcycle, black helmet under his armpit. Your eyes widen when they discover his face is hidden under a biker mask of the same color. You haven’t seen him with his bike in quite some while. He prefers to drive you around in his car lately. It’s winter after all. He keeps you warm, sneaks his fingers between your legs, rubs your pussy through your jeans to tease you because he likes it when you’re needy for the rest of the evening. Oh, and you eat there so icicles don’t hang from your hands. Food, that is. You get it.
It’s a wonderful surprise, nonetheless. Only his orbs and eyebrows are visible, his pouty mouth creates shapes on the mask that almost causes you to see stars again. Yeah, you think you could come like this, staring at his tall figure dressed in a puffer jacket and gray baggy jeans laying dangerously low on his hips. Even though you know how big his dick is, the size of them makes him appear even bigger and you salivate. Your pussy drools, too. You're about to get on your knees right now, you don't care.
"Looks like I'm gonna have to fix that fucking lock myself," Jeongguk remarks.
Oh, fuck. He's so manly.
Just one suck. Fuck, please. Just one.
You're going to scrape your fucking knees on the ground for everyone to see, you genuinely don't care. He deserves it for looking like that, for acting like such a man.
Your clit gains a heartbeat (again) and you blink up at him, desperation once again unfurling its flames under your skin. You smile behind the pain, finding the whole situation completely ridiculous now.
"I'd be grateful," you purr and Jeongguk walks towards you, smiling like the little shit he is, helmet still under his armpit. You lift the hem of his mask to reveal his delicious lips, piercing-less. You kiss him, moonstruck. "I'm tired of this shitty lock."
Jeongguk nods. "Noted." Then he kisses you again. "It was funny how you kicked it."
You laugh. He takes off the mask entirely and you both walk up the stairs to your apartment, though a pang of disappointment hangs onto your heart. You wish he kept the mask on. It was nonsensically hot to you. A lightbulb flares to life in your mind abruptly and you hide your smirk beneath the curtain of your hair.
Yeah, you’re going to make him wear it as you suck him dry.
Your giddiness extends to another level and you hurriedly walk up the rest of the stairs to your apartment, your butt jiggling under your thick robe.
Jeongguk walks in like he owns the place. He sets his helmet on the kitchen island and his mask right beside it. You watch as he empties out his pockets. Wallet, phone, keys, a pack of cigarettes and a purple lighter. Leaning over, he hangs his winter jacket on one of the barstools. His back muscles ripple under his oversized black T-shirt with each movement of his arms. What steals your attention, however, is the sliver of skin that he unwittingly lets you see as he fixes his jeans to rest a little higher on his hips.
White Calvins.
Oh, yes.
The dip of his spine on his lower back.
You lick your lips.
The smallness of his waist that grows into such a vulgar broadness of his shoulders.
Fuck, you do everything you can to not bite onto your finger; instead you opt to hide your drool beneath your hand as you continue to wait behind him, tracing your lower lip with the acrylic nail on your thumb, diabolical with your stand and your plan. Crossed arms, needy pussy and all.
What a man.
What a fucking man.
You squeeze your thighs together.
When he turns away from the kitchen, you leap to the counter. You snatch the mask and gaze at it lovingly. Such an innocent thing, and it made you this hot and bothered. You shake your head at the bizarreness of it all, but your smile remains.
"What the fuck were you doing here?"
You gasp at the sternness in his tone, hiding the mask under your armpit similarly like he did with his helmet downstairs. You don't understand where his abrupt austerity stems from, but it makes your legs wobbly, so much that you bump into him as you hurry to see what he sees, grabbing his arm as if to say sorry. And then your heart drops.
A round wet spot adorns your dark green couch, where you sat and pleasured yourself before he came. Your best friend Pinkie, sticky and lifeless, almost beams at you in mischief. A smile of your own begins to quiver on your lips before you burst into giggles, a tiny amount of shyness painting your cheeks with rosiness.
“I was practicing?” you answer truthfully, lilting your voice a little bit.
Jeongguk closes his eyes at your words, his lips forming a thin line. Hangs his head. Slouches in your grip. It is a stark contrast to how he entered your apartment. His breath quickens and you watch the raise and the fall of his chest. You realize this means only one thing.
"Are you crazy?" Jeongguk says, eyes still closed. "Do you even realize what you've just done to me?"
He finally looks at you and your heart drops further down your belly. Fire splashes around in his eyes, akin to yours. He straightens his posture, turning his body to face you. Feet spread apart, he crosses his arms across his chest. Veins prominent, muscles like strings oscillating on his forearm as he taps his fingers on his elbow.
Your weakness.
Fuck.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
"And what's this?" He points to what you stole from him. He doesn't take it from you.
You suddenly remember your plan. Being so absorbed in his masculine energy, you forgot everything. Even your own name.
"Well, I had this idea," you start.
He hums in interest. Butterflies break havoc in your stomach.
"And what idea was that?" He cocks his head to the side, studying you.
You started, but you don't think you can finish. Not when you're so wet that you can feel your slick trickle out of the confines of your thin panties. Not when his stance makes you feel like you did something very bad and the next word that comes out of your mouth decides your punishment. Not when it thrills you this much.
Swallowing dryly, you avert your gaze. Do you say it or do you play dumb? Sweat prickles at the back of your neck, eyes falling to his crotch. Those cursed fucking jeans do a poor job of hiding his growing member and you tremble, itching to sink onto the hardwood floor, itching to palm him through the harsh fabric just to hear him hiss through his teeth. The impulse to do it, to simply be a brat and do what you want while he stares you down, fills your every vein, but you know better. Once you hit a nerve, Jeongguk doesn’t let you cum (at all) and you can’t sit on your bottom for a week. You can’t afford that right now.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You need your relief, and you need it desperately. You will behave if it means you’ll receive it from him.
"I was thinking," you mutter, fluttering your eyelashes open. “You could put this on while I make you feel good."
Nodding once, Jeongguk hums again. You feel the deep vibrations of his voice coursing down your body, starting from your cheeks. They warm them and paint them in pink, then they continue over the swell of your chest, leaving behind little pearls of sweat, until they reach your cunt. There they strengthen the pulse of your needy bud and you can’t take it anymore. You sigh audibly, hoping it prompts your boyfriend to do something.
“Make me feel good how?” he questions you.
You look up at him. His eyes are lowered into slits, woozy from arousal. You truly did turn him on with the mere evidence of your self-indulgence. You buzz from this achievement, a puckish smirk appearing on your mouth.
Jeongguk pries the mask away from your hold, keeps it in his grasp and with his other hand, he unravels the knot of your robe with his fingers, sliding it off your shoulders. He cocks his eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer.
Fuck it, you’re giving it your all. Anything to get fucked in the way you want, in the way you know he can give it to you.
“I get on my knees for you. Play with your tip, take you as far as I can until I choke on it, then I suck on your—“
He grabs your chin harshly and raises it to his level. That’s enough, he said with that gesture and you leak down your thighs. No matter how strongly the words, ‘can I finish my fucking sentence’ hangs off the top of your tongue, you remain quiet. Obedient.
He cups your pussy through your pajama pants with his other hand, inching closer to you until his figure swallows you. His soft moan reaches your ear once he discovers how slippery your pussy is against your silky underwear and your stomach flips. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much where you need him due to the thickness of the material. It adds to your frustration quite plenty, though. This what you get for being good?
Inhaling deeply, he levels his eyesight with yours. “How many times did you come, hm?”
Your breath hitches and you lower your eyes, shyness caused from his dominance taking every bit of confidence you had left. His words blaze your insides—he knows you so well. He knows how obsessed you’ve become with playing with yourself ever since he told you to practice. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The latter being more frequent, hence why you exerted yourself today. He knows this. For some reason it makes this moment even more intimate and stimulating for you. But you don’t let him know that.
“What makes you think I lost this time?” you retort, the brattiness slipping through before you could control it.
His fingers aren’t doing nearly enough to give you the relief you seek and you whine, grinding your hips against his curious fingers. Much to your dismay, he still keeps his pressure light. Pretends to be blind to your desperation. You let out a huff of air, hooking your thumbs beneath the waistband of your pants, anger fueling you on.
You barely manage to pull it down before Jeongguk turns you around. He locks your arms in his grasp from behind, tugs the pants beneath the swell of your ass and smacks your cheek, leaving a rippling effect in its wake. He then grabs your face from behind to make you look at him.
“Did I fucking ask you to take ‘em off?”
You’d come on the spot if you could. But you’re still angry.
“No, I asked you a simple question,” Jeongguk continues. “And I expect you to answer.”
You bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows. “Jeongguk, I’m so wet there’s a fucking puddle in my panties. I can’t take it anymore. Please, I need to come.”
Jeongguk raises his at your answer and hums lowly, grinding his hips into your ass and arching your back even further in this position. You moan distinctly at the feeling of his member, engorged and hard.
Jeongguk lets go of your arms and presses you against him fully, lowering his hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, the other around your middle. You love it like this the most, cocooned in his embrace from behind—you can’t see him, but you can feel him, you can feel the firmness of his touch, the solidness of his body, and you know he’s there.
“How many times?” he asks once again, more gently this time, lips tracing the shape of your ear. He rubs your belly to soothe you and you close your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. A smile, a mischievous one, much like the one your best friend Pinkie had, threatens to appear on your lips. He has turned into a soft dom for you and it makes you weak. So much that all you want to do right now is give him pleasure.
You begin to rotate your hips against him and he hisses, cursing under his breath. Yes, that’s precisely what you wanted to hear. You put more pressure into your movement and he slides your hand down your mound to stop you, his tongue coming to play with your ear. Fuck, okay. You listen, transferring your teasing elsewhere.
“Zero,” you finally answer, figuring he deserves the reward.
Jeongguk grabs your shoulders and turns you around, pinching his eyebrows together. “Don’t believe you. There’s no fucking way you’d leave it wet like that without coming at least three—“
“I was about to come before you so rudely interrupted me.”
His eyes darken and you realize you fucked up.
He takes his hands off of you and starts walking, causing you to walk backwards to your couch.
“My apologies.” He pushes you to sit down on the soiled spot, taking a seat right in front of you on the coffee table. “Don’t let me interrupt you any further. Please“—He hooks his fingers under your pajama pants along with your underwear and takes it off in one go—“continue. Make yourself come.”
You gulp. Fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing you ever heard.
He scoots closer to you on the coffee table and extends your legs over his. You ogle him. The manspread, the tent in his pants, the serious look on his face. You slip your hand to your clit and start rubbing, your eyes closing as pleasure floods you. Finally. You moan, and you moan loudly.
“Nuh-uh.”
You sigh before you open your eyes. There he goes, interrupting you again. A familiar buzzing fills your ears.
You startle as the highest setting tickles your hand in an uncomfortable way. Jeongguk, wearing the mask now, wraps your hand around the vibrator and guides it to your clit, interlacing his fingers with yours in the process. Fuck, he did not just do that. You’re moaning before it even reaches you, your walls clenching around nothing.
“There you go,” he lifts his intense gaze from your pussy to your eyes. “Now come.”
And you do.
You squirt all over your intertwined hands, squirming uncontrollably while holding eye contact with him until he controls you, sliding his other free hand to your waist to hold you down. He moves the vibrator to your slit to give your puffy clit a break, collecting your juices. Then, another wave comes: Jeongguk slips the head back to your clit and presses down hard before quickly fixing a steady rhythm of going up and down. You’re just holding it, holding his hand. Taking the pleasure he gives you. Convulsing, clenching and screaming, coming so hard your eyes roll back—stars finally coming to stay.
Then, you’re pushing him away when overstimulation perfuses your body with a blunt pain. You close your legs. You thrash with yourself. But he’s stronger. The hand that was on your waist lifts up your bralette and uncovers your tits. The same fingers plunge into your mouth and you suck on them, calming down, earning an appreciative hum from him. He flicks your nipple, touches your breast, the nub deliciously rubbing against his rough palm. Pushes your other one to the mix so he can focus on both of your nipples at once, holds them like that as they bounce in his grip. You lift your pelvis, furiously riding the wave of an upcoming orgasm that will probably take you out.
You lose the sense of time and space when you come for the third time.
You’re gushing, leaking, bursting, both hands—yours and his—dripping wet with your dewiness. You think you’re levitating, but his firm touch grounds you, and when you open your eyes, Jeongguk is breathing hard. He’s watching you thoroughly; you can’t tell what he’s thinking, features still hidden by that mask. Your mind is empty, incapable of forming one coherent thought. You’re completely brainless. Fucked out.
Jeongguk gets on his knees and leans towards you. He tears his mask off, sweat pooling at his hairline.
“How pitiful,” he smiles. “So much for practicing.”
He gives you a filthy kiss full of tongue and you roll your body against his. His chest rubs against your nipples and it sends sparks of electricity through you.
“You wouldn’t last. Not a chance.”
You groan into his mouth. He’s so close that his musky scent is intoxicating you, his T-shirt is wet and your core is pressed against the one part of his stomach that the cloth exposed. It’s so warm and soul-stirring to you. You whine from the overstimulation of it all, especially the degradation.
“Jeongguk, I came so hard,” you tell him, coming up for some air.
He kisses your jaw. “I know. So fucking hot.” Takes his groans and presses them in the form of kisses into all the sensitive spots of your neck. “You made yourself come this hard, I’m proud.”
You moan. So moonstruck. So enamored. So satisfied.
Jeongguk lifts his head from the crook of your neck and grins at you. You reciprocate.
“That was so good,” you whisper and bite your lip, stroking his hair back. You find you’ve broken the skin already, but you don’t mind. “So, so good.”
His eyes drop to your mouth, then at the pearls of your pleasure on your chest.
“So filthy. Need to clean you up.”
Your stomach flips.
He laps them up, collecting them with his tongue. One at the top of your sternum, the middle of your breasts, the long dip on your stomach. Pearl after pearl, butterfly after butterly breaking havoc again in you. You’re swaying your hips before he even gets to your mound.
“Needy again? I haven’t finished here yet.”
A little, but not as desperately as before. You’re enjoying it. Feels as though you’re allowed to. And you tell him.
He smiles. Starts a series of open-mouthed kisses on your inner thigh. Sighs against your skin when you play with his hair, gently scratch his scalp with your manicured nails. Rubs your wet thighs, sucking the skin and biting it. Hard and soft, the blend of it. You’re on cloud nine.
“Gonna reward you,” he announces. You suck in your stomach, biting your lip. He touches your cunt and the digits just glide. Straight to your hole that needs his cum. “For doing such a good job. Fuck, you’re so wet.”
He rubs it in circles, teasing you. Watches your reaction. You throw your head back, moving your hips in tandem with the pads of his fingers. Soaked enough, he slips them into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You mewl. Sense his hot breath on your pussy. Sense him shifting in his spot erratically and you figure he’s grinding his hard cock against the couch.
“My turn now.”
He closes his puffy lips around your clit. Swirls the tip of his tongue around it. Merry go round, you throw your head back, enjoying the sensation. Then he puts pressure around the muscle and goes counterclockwise. Now you’re spinning, unable to stop the sounds, inter-threaded with his name, from slipping out of your mouth. Then he decides to tease you. Widens his laps of circles. Reaches your folds, makes them wetter. And it makes you feral, the waiting for the pleasure. You grip his hair, grinding into his face. His moans reach your ears again, and suddenly it’s too much. He sucks on your clit, and he sucks hard. Lifts your hips in the air and just ravages your cunt, licking up and swallowing all that you’re offering to him as he fucks his cock into the couch.
He’s grunting, rapidly shaking his head from side to side. You’re obscenely loud. His thrusts quicken as do the skilled flicks of his tongue. It’s way too fucking much and you’re screaming, but you let him. You let him until he rams his hips for the last time, until he sucks so hard that your hearing sense leaves you for a moment, and you’re coming. And so is he.
You don’t even know how long it takes before you fully come down, but you know one thing for sure. That when he stands up and you’re blessed with the sight of his unbuttoned jeans, his cock dripping with last drops of cum through his white (almost see-through) underwear, he deserves to be cleaned up by you just the same.
You make grabby hands at him when he returns with wet wipes.
“What is it, baby?” He sinks to his knees in front of you, taking out the wipe to clean you properly.
“Need you in my mouth. Please.”
He laughs softly and you think that sound will be your demise.
“You’re exhausted,” he tells you, wiping down your folds. “What you need is sleep.”
You don’t have the strength to prove him wrong. You’re spent.
He picks you up in his arms and takes you to your bed. He covers you in your fluffy blanket, knowing full well you hate to be under the duvet when you’re just napping. Tucks you in. Sits beside you. Brushes your hair back. Fixes the blanket so it rests under your chin, and not over your mouth. You watch him with droopy eyes as he does it all.
“Did so well today,” he murmurs. “But no overworking yourself so much next time, arasseo?”
You nod. “We came together again.”
He traces the dimple on your cheek caused by your contended smile. Finds himself smiling too. “That’s just how our bodies work together,” he tells you, hovering his thumb over your bloodied lip so as to not hurt you. “Can’t be helped.”
You nod again, warmth swarming in your chest. “I love it,” you admit. “I love you.”
Jeongguk presses a kiss into your hair. “No, I love you.”
“No.”
He shushes you. “Sleep well, baby,” he strokes you. Kisses you. Pets you. Can’t get enough. Hates to leave you. “My baby, my love, my girl.”
You hum. Sleep slinks you away to its land, smile remaining on your mouth.
Jeongguk returns to your living room and gets some cleaning supplies ready. Breaks a sweat making your dark green couch spotless. Takes a shower. Settles beside you on the bed. Cocoons you in his arms. Looks for you in dreamland.
When you shoplift at the store and get caught by the manager, a punishment awaits you in the backroom.
Contains: Reader is being sexually punished for stealing, reader gets fucked in various positions, some degrading, rough sex, overstimulation, powerplay, noncon and dubcon elements, vibrator used, cum in face, upside down fucking
-
Jungkook
“Good, don’t stop sucking until I tell you to stop.” The man ordered, hovering over you, watching you suck his cock. “Should’ve tried stealing from a different shop, might’ve gotten away with it. Dumb little thief.”
You were on your knees in a back room at a store you had just tried to steal from. You had been caught by the owner and dragged into the room. He told you that he was going to call the cops and you panicked, begging him not to. He seemed like he was going to relent but then he said there had to be some form of punishment and that was when he pulled out his cock and demanded that you suck it.
Jungkook groaned. “Keep going.”
You did as he ordered, not that you had much of a choice. You couldn’t afford to have a criminal record and the man had made it clear that if you refused he would call the cops immediately. So you kept sucking his cock, bobbing your head up and down his shaft.
Jungkook pulled away and pulled you up by the arm. He pulled you over to a desk in the corner and placed you on it. He flipped your skirt up and then tugged your panties down.
You hadn’t even realized you were aroused. But the thrill of being caught combined with the fact that you were actually a bit of a slut was enough to turn you on. Your pussy was soaking wet and Jungkook wasted no time lining up and pushing into you.
“A-ah!” You gasped as he pushed all the way into you.
He started thrusting in and out of you, his fingers digging into your hips, using them to pull you back against him, pushing deeper into you.
You gripped the edges of the desk and held on as he fucked you. The wood was uncomfortable but you didn’t dare to speak up.
The door to the room was unlocked, but thankfully no one was out front, otherwise they would hear the sound of his thighs slapping against his thighs, the desk creaking, and the moans and whimpers coming from your lips.
Your pussy felt so full, stuffed with his thick cock. It was throbbing and dripping, clenching around him.
“Sir, I’m sorry…” You whined as he picked up the pace.
”No you’re not.” Jungkook pulled out and flipped you over, the room temporarily spinning.
Jungkook pushed in and started fucking you from behind, the new angle causing him to hit a new spot deep inside of you, a place no other guy had ever managed to reach.
It was overwhelming and you were sure your orgasm was going to come any moment now.
You gasped as the pleasure became too much and you came around his cock, your whole body shaking.
“Not done with you yet, you think just because you had a slutty orgasm, that I’d let you go? That I wouldn't get to fill your slutty cunt with my cum? You think wrong. Your punishment isn't over yet, not until you're stuffed full of cum. You don't want anyone to know that you're a criminal, do you?” He mocked, slapping your ass.
He didn’t stop thrusting, didn't stop pounding into your sensitive hole.
And like that, he kept fucking you until he filled you with his cum.
Taehyung
“Ah!” You cried out as you tried to move away, but you were firmly pulled back by the manager.
“What? You want to steal but not deal with the consequences?” His arm locked in place around your waist as his other pushed the vibrator inside further into your pussy.
You had stolen some items from his store, which led to him catching you in the act. After begging and pleading with him, the manager agreed to not call the cops if you were punished. You weren’t expecting him to demand you suck his cock, but that had only been the start. Now he had you on his lap with your legs spread open and the toy vibrating inside of your pussy.
“Sir, please, I won’t do it again…I swear. Just let me go, please, I promise, I won’t steal anything from your store again. I won't ever come back, I'll even give you back everything I stole…” You whimpered.
Taehyung took the dildo out of you. You felt relieved for a second before you were pulled off his lap and turned around so you were facing him.
He looked you in the eyes as he pushed his cock into you, his gaze unwavering.
“O-oh!” You whimpered, feeling his cock slide into you, your body easily accepting him, your cunt practically sucking him in.
Once he was completely inside of you, the manager started to move. His hips moving quickly, thrusting up into you.
It was a completely different sensation than the toy. It wasn't like anything you had experienced before. He was able to push deep inside of you, and he wasn't holding back.
His movements were almost frantic, a sense of urgency behind each movement.
“You make a better whore than a shoplifter.” Taehyung chuckled. “I'll be taking this as payment for what you've stolen. You owe me. Now, ride me.”
You nodded obediently. You lifted yourself up and began to bounce, the pleasure growing. You could feel his cock throbbing inside of you, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you.
Taehyung leaned back, watching you, a smirk on his face. “Shit, I’m going to fill up that tight pussy. And you're going to take every last drop, aren't you, my little thief?” He mocked.
You could only moan in response.
Taehyung started to buck his hips, matching your rhythm. You could feel your own orgasm approaching, your cunt getting tighter around him.
Your legs started to shake, and you could feel the heat building up in your core, the pleasure building, growing stronger, and Taehyung took over, pounding upwards into you. You cried out as you came around him, your juices dripping out of your cunt and down onto him.
You felt a gush of warmth, the feeling of him filling you up, and he moaned, his eyes falling closed.
“Mm, good girl.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, pushing you off his lap. “Get out of here before I change my mind and decide to call the cops.”
Jimin
“You really thought you could stuff your bag and get away with it? Do you take me for some idiot?” The manager mocked as he bounced you on his cock.
“No… no, sir!” Fuck, you were going to pass out. This man was fucking you just right, you had practically turned into jelly in his arms. Jimin had lifted you off the floor and now he was fucking you mid air, bouncing you on his cock as he stood in the middle of his office.
You had been caught stealing from the shop he worked at and he decided he was going to teach you a lesson. He had ripped your leggings down your thighs and was now plunging his cock in and out of your pussy with an incredible pace. You moaned, clinging to his shoulders for support. You felt so lightheaded.
Jimin looked you up and down, your body limp, a look of pure bliss on your face. He smirked, continuing to fuck you hard. You were such a slut.
You cried out when you felt the pleasure build up, reaching your limit, but just as you were about to cum, Jimin switched positions. He lowered you down, your body upside down, legs hanging in the air. The back of your head and shoulders touched the floor as he held you by the hips, before he started pounding into you again. You cried out. You were so fucking sensitive and he was hitting all the right spots, it was driving you insane.
Jimin was relentless, watching as your body tensed and your face scrunched up. He gripped onto your thighs as he continued to thrust downward, deep into your pussy.
You came, and it was like a million fireworks going off in your head. Your whole body buzzed, and the room began to spin. You felt your legs begin to go numb as your body twitched. Your pussy squeezed around his cock, causing him to moan.
Jimin kept fucking you, even after you came, causing you to moan and squirm. Your legs kicked around, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure, but the manager was holding them down, keeping them spread.
He grunted, feeling his cock twitch. He was close. He fucked you hard, making sure you felt every inch of his dick. You were practically drooling. You were completely dazed.
With one final thrust, he pushed his cock deep into your pussy, unloading his hot cum. You could feel it filling you up, and it made you shudder. You came again.
You whimpered when you felt his cock slip out of you. Your lower body dropped to the floor as he let go of your legs, causing them to land with a thud. You winced.
Jimin stood above you, watching you catch your breath. “Suck me off and we won't have any more problems, got it, thief?” He said.
You nodded slowly, still coming down from the high.
He smirked, leaning down, grabbing a fist full of your hair and pulling you up. You took his cock and started to suck him off, Jimin bobbed you head back and forth, fucking your mouth.
Jimin groaned as his cock hit the back of your throat, feeling your tongue slide against the shaft. He threw his head back, letting out a few moans.
After a while, you were getting tired, but the manager wasn't done with you yet. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied, and when he finally was, he pulled his cock out. “Fuck!” He cussed, jerking himself off until his hot cum splattered onto your face.
A little something to show my appreciation for hitting 1k followers <3
Thinking about sub virgin Jungkook who has yet to see a woman naked in real life, let alone touch her. Even though he’s had many opportunities to, he wanted to save it for someone special. That special someone being you. When you encourage him to feel your breasts does he nervously bite on his lip and look up at you for confirmation. You offer him a small smile and a nod. He shudders out a breath when his large hands cup both breasts, thumbs laying on your protruding nipples that are eager for his touch.
He’s embarrassed because he’s already hard and wet with his precum. And yet you don’t pay his innocence any mind, reaching your own hand to the band of his boxers, pulling him out. His eyes shut and teeth bite down hard on his lip as your hand moves to stroke his throbbing cock. Deep breaths are heard, with a few small whimpers. He’s thought about this moment so many times but he didn’t imagine him cumming so fast. Your stomach and breast are coated with his cum. He moans out a deep breath, with little sorries and an embarrassed look on his face. You tell him it’s okay and that it’s normal, but Jungkook is hard headed and is set to show himself up. “Please let me make it up to you” he almost begs, hands playing at the hem of your underwear. Despite his embarrassment his words are confident when he says, “Let me eat your pussy to show you how sorry I am”.
wanting something you can’t have will only lead to heartbreak… That’s what you should have told yourself when you began to fall for Jung Hoseok. For forbidden fruit tastes sweeter, but spoils faster…
pairing | jung hoseok x reader
genre/warnings | smut, angst, professor! hoseok
words | 19,881
author’s note | as I got into this storyline it grew into something more and more (hence the word count lol). As someone who’s not necessarily a fan of professor aus, I hope I put my own little realistic spin on this. I would imagine these scenarios never play out well in real life, so don’t expect a happy ending…(although, hopefully bittersweet?) Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ~
