bloodparfait - Tumblr blog

[bloodparfait]

(｢• ω •)｢Masterlist 乁( • ω •乁)

Kim Namjoon ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

An Idol's Lament

Kim Seokjin (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Min Yoongi (｡・//ε//・｡)

This Can't Be Heatlhy (Part 1)

Jung Hoseok (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ

Park Jimin ↑_(ΦwΦ)Ψ

What You Deserve

Kim Taehyung ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ)

The Glow of The Sunrise

Jeon Jungkook ʕ •̀ ω •́ ʔ

[bloodparfait]

his smile 😭😭 [cr. namuspromised]

[bloodparfait]

What You Deserve | PJM

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: circus AU!, smut, angst

Warnings: blood, bruises, whipping, penetration, manhandling, swearing, cuts and gashes on your back, aggressive behavior, manipulation, character death

Word Count: 2K

                                                               ♥

“Welcome to the Bangtan World Circus.”

You couldn’t contain your smile as the man in front of you held out a job contract and the keys to a locker. After years of training as an acrobat you were finally where you wanted. Working at the biggest circus in the world.

The man who handed you the papers, Park Jimin, leader of the circus and thus your boss, smiled along with you before proclaiming:

“I hope you won’t see me just as your boss, but also as someone who you can come to get advice from.”

How naïve you were to think that any of the venom seeping out of his mouth would be genuine.

“Of course, sir. Thank you again for accepting me. I promise I will not disappoint.”

And disappoint you did not. It turned out the perfection you had for your craft kept drawing more and more people every night. Unfortunately, it also drew the negative attention coming from other workers.

Your mom was right when she said that sometimes you are too nice. Whenever the others threw their sweaty towels and told you to clean them or threw empty water bottles at your head because they “missed” the trash can you just put your head down.

It came to a point where even with people throwing flowers at your feet every night, more and more hatred putrefied in you. You had no friends, trained almost to the point of fainting and even after a year on the job not one of the other peers took you seriously.

Calling parents for advice didn’t help either, having been met with words such as “I thought this is what you wanted.” and “Well what am I supposed to do?”.

And despite his words in the beginning, Jimin also wasn’t of much help either. Whenever you met he was either working, talking to someone or screaming during the general assembly of all the performing acts.

“HOW MANY TIMES MUST I REPEAT MYSELF, YOU IMBECILES?”

The first time you heard him swear his lungs out you didn’t want to believe a face so beautiful and collected to be capable of turning into such a monstrous thing. But they’re just words. Surely you could brush those off and go on with your life. Soon enough it turned out the monster wasn’t just capable of screaming, but also punishing. And the black whip Jimin always had by his side was hungry for flesh.

Although you knew working in this industry would be harsh, this exhibit of leadership is downright diabolical.

Jimin, cracking his whip on one of the clowns while the hopeless one cowers into the circus floor, as if wanting to be swallowed by the earth.

The first time you saw this it felt like you were being transported to the Middle Ages. How could such barbaric methods still be used nowadays? But did you or anyone else do something to stop it? Of course not. The corruption of staying on the sidelines and not intervening crept into your veins. You worked so hard to get here. Why get out now?

The only thing you could do after that horrifying scene is promise that you would never end up in the position of that clown, ever.

How funny fate is sometimes.

                                                            ♥

Another whip cracks on your back as you’re being made an example out of.

“May I remind you that our motto here is “Art first”.”

His cold stare is pinned to your bloody back and your figure that is down on all 4, trembling and crying with teeth harshly grinding.

“Miss Y/N over here was found conspiring with our competition. What would it mean for me to just sit by without intervening?”

Of course you weren’t conspiring. All you did was find the hotel key of some girl from the other circus and were just being nice enough to return it since she stayed the same hotel. A misunderstanding in the eyes of one of your colleagues who quickly ran to tell Jimin. Unfortunately, what came out of her mouth was that you lent her the key to the choreography plans hidden in Jimin’s room.

Jimin knew this whole debacle wasn’t true. After all, he checked. But he wouldn’t pass the opportunity to humiliate. Especially, if it means humiliating the one nicknamed “Million Dollar Rose”. And just like a rose loses it petals so shall you lose all the hope you’ve ever had.

There was palpable seeping hatred that leaked out of his body for you. For your perfection in performance. Who the fuck do you think you are? Not missing a step in your routine while his dreams were stolen because of a leg injury.

“I hope tonight represents another one of my countless examples of what happens when you cross the line. Dismissed, all of you.”

The show might have been over for the others, but between the master and the subjugate the night barely started.

“As for you…” Jimin whispers knelt down to your body. “You’re fired.”

The earth might as well have swallowed you whole and crushed every bone in that moment and it still wouldn’t be as painful as those words. When Jimin gets up you scurry to follow him, but the burning slashes and adrenaline slow your shaky legs down.

Going in his office only humiliated you even more.

You dropped to your knees in front of him clasping your hands together with tears in your eyes.

“No! No! Please!”

“Your words mean nothing to me, miss Y/N. There is nothing I despise more than spies.” He speaks, continuing to walk with his back turned towards you.

“You have to believe me, the other girl can tell-”

“You want me to hear from the competition?!” Your comment indignities the man so much that for a second it makes you think it was better when he wasn’t looking at you. “As if they’d ever tell the truth.”

“Just- Please! I don’t have anywhere else to go! I’ll do anything, just please, let me keep this act!”

“…Anything?” Jimin asked incredulously.

Nothing feels more tragic than when Jimin touches your chin with his cane making you feel like a lost puppy at the mercy of a snake. If painters were to capture this scene what they would see in the small cabin is a man in power turning slowly and placing his boot on the small stool in front his subjugate. Eyes red and hurting,

It doesn’t take long to realize what he wants, so with no drop of self-esteem left in your soul your tongue darts out and swaps across the black leather.

“How funny. I never told you what I wanted. Yet you already thought you knew. And exceeded my expectations.”

His hand grabbed you by the top of your hair, gently enough that it also seemed romantic were it not for these circumstances, and forced both eyes to meet.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Y/N. I have never wanted to shove myself into someone’s body and be them.”

His hand left your head, instead raising you up by the leotard you were wearing and his palms caresses your face almost in a fatherly manner.

“Your eyes, your hair, your body. The way that you move, how you smile when people shout your name.” His hands slithered from your face to your neck and started choking you. “It makes me want crawl under your skin and live inside of you.” Jimin inhales deeply as if your soul was oozing out of the body and he was trying to capture it. “You are so perfect.”

You didn’t dare try to stop his hands from strangling your neck. After all, you’d probably be happy to die right now.

In a fell swoop Jimin turns your body around. You manage to grab onto his desk to not fall, mentally bracing yourself for what would follow: an agonizing throaty scream drips through grinding teeth as an entire bottle of whiskey is being poured on the fresh back cuts.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so glad you are working for me and not for that piece of shit from the other circus. Did you know he sent job requests? You are so lucky that I got to see those letters first and put them on fire.” His hands were now travelling up and down your trembling back while you could only sob and look down at your feet.

“But still…it feels like you’re mocking me.” His tongue swept across your back to take in the alcohol mixed with the blood. Jimin’s face presses to yours and inhales deeply. One of his gloved hands grabs your jaw forcefully.

“Are you?”

Before you could answer his mouth crashed onto yours and you could feel the mix of the metallic taste and the alcohol disgustingly activating your taste buds.

Your mom was right when she said that sometimes you are too nice. But your mom doesn’t know nice people sometimes get the best rewards, because they knew how to work their way around people like Jimin. So instead of pushing the famous circus leader back, you face him and while still into the kiss innocently stroke his cheek. If you couldn’t convince, you might as well confuse.

Wide eyed and trembling, his lips separated from yours before falling onto the ground and clinging onto your waist like a child grabbing onto his mother. Soft sobs and hiccups escape the concealed face that is holding onto your legs with the fervor of a 5-year-old.

Your first instinct, after tearing at the emotional armor and anchoring back to reality, was to caress his hair. The second thing was realizing how much Jimin needed therapy.

You drop halfway down to gently place your palm on the leader’s face. You wouldn’t admit this out loud but seeing the man who tortured you 10 minutes ago ruined and disheveled, looking so disgustingly low made you want to step on his neck until he learned his place. But the opportunity to parasite into his mind was too big to miss.

So instead of choosing piece of mind, you choose violence.

“Jimin-ah…If I had known you needed my help, I would have come to you earlier.” You say while soothingly touching the man’s face with both palms.

“Don’t pity me.” His face turns stubbornly, prompting you to turn the blonde’s chin with a finger.  

“I wasn’t trying to. But you’re so mean to me that I can’t seem to get close as hard as I try.”

Your fingers slip under his black velvet glove trying to intertwine fingers with his “But I need you as much as you need me…so won’t you let me help you with that goal?”.

For a second it seems like his brain short-circuited, now knowing what to believe. No. He was the one running the place around here. But doesn’t it feel good when for once soft hands push you onto a office chair and the object of obsession now sits open legged on your lap, Jimin?

Besides, who is there to judge? The gods surely won’t look down on this manifest of love where with almost true intention the person on top sips out the worries out of your mouth with a gentle kiss. Or when shy fingers unbutton the white shirt and hips rub down on your massive erection.

Tell me, Jimin, do you feel dirty? Disgusted at this display of power? Shouldn’t it be you grabbing the hair and fucking others into walls? Why do you indulge in this person unzipping your pants and sinking down on you? Because your face contorts in pleasure at how tight they are? At how they call out your name making it sound religious? Or maybe because they attach their lips to your neck and their hot breath makes your skin crawl with rapture.

By now you can’t believe how far this has gone. Getting Jimin to pay attention was one thing, but bouncing on his cock? Unimaginable. Besides, you were technically already fired. What is he going to do? Double fire you?

You bury your face into his neck in an attempt to silence the moans, but right then Jimin shoves all the sounds down your throat with his thumb. Your tongue spares no inch of his delicate skin, circling and remembering every crease on his finger. His other arm grabs your entire body up and manhandles it on the mahogany desk. You hiss in pain, the wounds still fresh on the back.

“Does it still hurt?” Jimin plunges deeper and harder, relishing at the lewd sounds coming from between your legs.

“A little.”

“Good.” He says through greeted teeth before biting into your shoulder.

He may feel like you’ve lost your power grip on him so he certainly didn’t expect to feel you biting into his arm AND leave deep scratches onto his back.

“Fuck, you brat!”

“Give me back my fucking act.”

“You don’t get to demand shi-ah!” His words are cut short when you grip his hair so hard you might actually have plucked some.

“I worked fucking hard for it!”

Jimin chuckles, stopping his thrusts to look at your face.

“Is that so? I’ll give you your stupid job back. Hell, I’ll even double your pay. But you best believe that from now on every day you work at this circus is going to be a living hell.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Maybe it’s because of how deeply his gaze pierces yours, but you can’t help but feel like time is suddenly frozen.

“…you are everything I can’t be. And I will not accept that. So…I reached the conclusion that there’s only one way we can both be equal.”

You would say something else, but you your eyebrows knit together as the strong methane smell suddenly reaches your nostrils. The last thing you hear is the distinct sound of a zippo lighter and your partner’s final words:

“See you in hell.”

[bloodparfait]

The Glow of The Sunrise | KTH

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: fluff, a little bit of smut, friends to lovers, drabble

Warnings: Taehyung shoves his head under your shirt, kissing, fondling, reader is shy

Word Count: 444

✄ Small drabble

✄ I’m yearning 

                                                                ♥

Is your friend still your friend if he playfully snuck his head underneath your shirt on a soft Saturday morning?

And should you say anything as you feel his nose softly leaves traces right underneath your bra?

Because even when with heated rosy cheeks you ask “What are you doing?” you’re not sure what you’re doing yourself. You would push him off, but are reminded that Taehyung jokingly demonstrated how to tie someone’s hands above their head with a belt 30 seconds ago. And even if it were not like that, would you bring yourself to push him off and act like nothing happened? The glowing pink light that embalms both of you in secrecy would say no.

This is just a small whisper between two who indulge in small games. Games such as trailing little kisses so shyly that even though his head is covered you can’t help but close your eyes and look away.

Why do you bite your lips? Are you scared that mouthing your feelings is going to make this real?

‘We should stop’ you say, knowing these words hold no meaning to the person who understands so much about you. Taehyung knows you would never give free rein to strong feelings. He doesn’t even bother asking why knowing how moral and strong willed your character was even when drunk. He’s also aware that you’ll thank him for not stopping. Not when he pulls the cotton cloth and kisses your chest so tenderly that it makes you dig yourself even more into the bean bag.

The silent room almost feels mocking when soft whimpers echo from right underneath your blouse. If you wanted to be stubborn, V wouldn’t lose another second and takes the lead. Finally, he ends victorious where after so much pleasure a loud moan escapes your lungs, but even so his satisfaction has not been achieved.

When your eyes meet his it feels like a solemn prayer.

Please…

Please understand what I never showed you and read my mind.

My heart aches with all of the feelings I can’t put into words.

I delay myself in vain and for what?

There is something in your throat that wants to get out and you won’t let it so your lip trembles and he knows exactly what that means.

He chuckles at the paradox in front of him, strong in character, but so frightened in showing emotion.  

Your prayer is finally answered when soft lips attach themselves to yours. Your blood is alive with the choices you’ve made and you’ve never felt safer. For now, this little secret remains between him, you and the soft glow of the sunrise.  

[bloodparfait]

An Idol’s Lament | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Idol!AU, smut

Warnings: manhandling, masturbation, swearing, oral(female), choking, Namjoon needs hearing aids because he doesn’t listen when you ask to slow down, weird positions

Word Count: 3306

✄ I kind of rushed this, so excuse the rough writing in some parts. I might re-edit at some point.

                                                             ♥

Being an idol is stressful work. You know that. Your manager knows that. Your manager’s mother knows that. Which means that nights like these where you’re in a hotel room by 9 PM, in bed, showered, moisturized and with 3 PH tabs open on your laptop are god-sent. And the fact that you don’t have to wake up before 12 tomorrow really means that the planets aligned in your favor.

And after a week of filming for commercials, recording almost non-stop in the studio, dance practices and interviews you don’t know a better person who deserves this.

Thus, you waste no time in indulging this sweet opportunity. The door is locked and lights are off. The phone is on vibrate. You let out a deep sigh before putting on your wireless headphones on and… they don’t work. Maybe you got scammed, otherwise you can’t explain why the faultiness since they are brand new. This is not how your night is supposed to go. Before you let this incident rain on your parade you suddenly remember that you own a second pair of wired headphones in your bags. But they’re so far away. This is such a drag. Maybe just lower the volume on your laptop and it should work?

Your lungs let out another rather frustrated exhale, but you focus on bringing your mind on the right track.

“This is still good” Is repeated in your mind like a mantra. Your eyes are now stuck to the laptop screen where a girl is being held down, chained to the wall and being overstimulated by the most muscular dom you’ve ever seen. But for some reason…the laptop’s sound also doesn’t work. You are now convinced that the Devil’s claws are deeply embedded into your night and are ready to ruin it.

You try one last time to open the links on your phone. The sound works, the video works, the Wi-Fi is good. This is still good. You are still in the mood. You deserve this. You NEED this. And you can do this. Ok, where were we.

You bite your lip as you snake your hand inside your short pajama pants. The first touch is heaven and despite the annoyed state you find yourself to be wet enough judging by the squelching sound your slit makes. Oh, how you wished you were the one overstimulated and tied with red rope right now.

Letting yourself relax into the comfortable mattress you feel the silk sheets slide in sync with your soft skin. Another soft whimper escapes when your fingers finally find the perfect spot to circle. In your head you imagine being stuck in an elevator with someone who has blonde hair, is tall and has defined muscles. Hmm… maybe you shouldn’t involve him in your fantasy. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

Your body rolls into the bed and you try to imagine how it would feel to actually be manhandled and held from behind with your back glued to his chest. His eyes are constantly watching you while his dick pumps harshly into your cunt, cum dripping between your legs and making a mess everywhere. Wearing thigh highs and a skirt was the best decision that day because you know how much he loves that piece of skin that bulges out of the long socks. His left hand is holding your leg, shoring it up on one of the elevator’s beam and his right hand is on your throat, holding it so tight that you turn pale because that’s what you deserve for being a whore who lets herself get fucked in an elevator.

Your fingers fasten the pace and you can feel yourself almost reaching climax. Your legs tremble in anticipation as the scenario goes on. Face planted on the lift’s mirror, he grunts in your ear and it’s too hot, too much, too strong but so good. You know that once he’s finished, he’s just going to leave you on the floor, dirty, ass up, full of cum leaking out of the underwear and on display for the workers who were probably trying to help with the situation and nothing makes the chemicals in your brain run rampant more than this imagery. You’re almost there. So close. Oh God. Oh fuck. You’re

Oh, son of a bitch, who’s knocking at the door.

Your fingers stop abruptly, making you wince in pain from how harsh and sudden the movement was. This is what you deserve for having expectations. With a huff you close your phone and throw it on the bed in anger before hitting the mattress with closed fists and cursing at whatever deity is present in the room. What else could explain this cruel interruption?

You hear a second knock while putting on a black robe to cover your short pajamas.

“Wait! I’m coming!”

You have a feeling that this might be your manager who is here to tell something he forgot and how you have to wake up at 8 tomorrow, actually. Or maybe some weirdo paparazzo who is trying to catch you in an embarrassing moment. Wouldn’t be the first time. Whatever it is you’re going to make sure that the person on the other side is surely going to feel the wrath of 1000 sleepless nights, because who the hell knocks on doors at 9:28 PM to ruin other people’s karma?

The door opens so swiftly that it startles the stranger on the other side.

“What?!”

You soon come to regret answering so hastily and the words die behind your teeth when met with Namjoon’s innocent eyes presenting a confused look.

“Is this a bad time?”

Namjoon, your good friend and studio-recording buddy, is one of the not so many people you can count on in this industry. When first starting out as a rookie idol and you were seated alone at the award’s show table, he was the only one who turned from his seat to spark up conversation. Somewhat of a no-no since, by your knowledge, most groups didn’t talk to each other, having to put on a formal image. Not only did he calm your nerves, but the way he made you smile and forget why you were jittery in the first place made him really important to you. After that not only did he introduce you to the other band members, producers and important people, but he made sure you understood every nook and cranny of the industry as not to repeat his mistakes. His heart was big and every time you saw each other, which was more and more rare these days, it felt like he was the respite where you could retreat in safety.

“Um…sort of? But it’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything important and I’m free now. You wanna come in and hang out for a bit?”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything, instead just choosing to smile and let himself in.

“I didn’t know you were also on tour.” You speak, your back facing him while cleaning up the devices on the bed.

“I’m not, I was just in town visiting some friends.”

“Oh.”

“What were you doing?”

Not cranking my chain while thinking about being stuck in an elevator with you.

“Oh, just my skin care routine.”

“You look really tired. How’s the tour?”

Your face softens when flushed rosy cheeks meet with your palms. A habit you often displayed in your weary state. This childish manner was something unveiled only in intimate moments and with people who could be trusted.

“Exhausting. I hate how easily I get demotivated. And the staff isn’t helpful either, no one takes me seriously even though it’s my project and my ideas and I’m just- I don’t know, drained, I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“What? No, this is good, you need this, go on.”

You’re honestly thankful for Namjoon’s presence. Realizing all is not lost and that maybe there’s still a glimmer of hope for the rest of your night you laugh, smile and miraculously feel re-energized. The conversation spirals into every topic you can think of, something of common occurrence since you and Namjoon clicked so well together since day 1.

“I saw your manager while I was in the gym downstairs and he told me where your room was so I had to visit. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, not at all. Honestly, you’re always welcome.”

You relish at Namjoon’s signature wide smile. You never noticed how much it made him look like a huge plush teddy bear that you’ve always wanted when you were little. Another thing you haven’t noticed is how well-built he got since you last saw each other. Not that you ever cared or thought to care about since most of the time you saw him Namjoon was wearing hoodies. But the hoodie was now off now and the black gym tank-top he’s wearing is so obscenely tight that you feel like a sinner just because your eyes drift down once or twice when he’s not looking.

“Anyways, bro, I gotta tell you something cause while I was in the gym the weirdest things happened to me.”

Oh?

“I was trying to connect my, uh…my headphones back to my phone and for some reason it went to someone’s porn audio? Or whatever, most awkward 5 minutes of my life in public.”

Oh…

“Like yeah, ok, I get it, you’re horny, but check your stuff first.”

Oh God.

“And like I think they were into something- maybe hardcore BDSM because the girl in the audio was so. Loud. Like I feel so embarrassed for that person.”

You want to crawl into a hole, cover yourself with dirt and feel the creatures of the earth eat away at you skin, because how could you be such an idiot and not check your settings first? You swear that you can hear Satan laughing somewhere in the background of the room.

“Oh, wow, what a weirdo.” You try to force out a laugh, but damn your readable face and awkward nature for betraying true emotions. And damn Namjoon for instantly reading your expression and connecting 2 and 2 in his mind. You’re pretty sure that you’re both laughing out of politeness now, because the tension delving in the atmosphere is so thick and palpable that it gets stuck in your throat. Or at least that’s what you feel while looking away from his chiseled face and sharp eyes.

In his mind Namjoon sees an opportunity. You, on the other hand, wish to douse yourself in gasoline right now and meet your creator. Surely, He would forgive you and let you get into heaven still, right?  

“Random question, but you think I’m a good friend, right?” Namjoon inquires innocently, while his index finger starts drawing patterns on the purple sheets.

“Um, yeah, of course. Why would you doubt that?”

“And you trust me to take good decisions… right?”

“Y-yes?”

“And you would tell me anything, correct?”

“…I guess?”

“Hmm…I need something more certain than I guess.”

With every sentence his head and body move almost like a serpent in a fairytale that’s there to trick you with riddles. The tone used feels like he’s knows the answers, but wants to hear the words out loud to satisfy himself. You sigh at the sudden weird questions, but are thankful for the change of topic. But this does not dishearten you so in the next minute you let yourself speak from the heart.

“I… look. Of course, you’re a good friend. No, scratch that, you’re a fantastic friend. And as pathetic and arrogant as it might sound, I honestly think you’re my only friend. I mean I really think I would have imploded if I had no one to bitch and moan to about my life. Cause really you seem to be the only person that’s not complaining about my complaining- which is weird because I know how annoying I can get and I know you have problems of your own and yadda yadda… So… I guess- no, I know, to answer your question, yes, I would probably eat rocks if you told me they were good for digestion…if that makes sense.”

You end your little speech on an unsure note and after locking eyes with the seated man in front of you, they can’t help but dart left and right for some sort of feedback. You can’t read anything on Namjoon’s face, which is a little unsettling because you did just lay your thoughts bare in front of him.  

“Is that answer…satisfac-“

Namjoon doesn’t let you finish your sentence when his hand flies out to grab you by the nape and pull you into a strong kiss.

                                                            ♥

You’re not sure when Namjoon moved his fingers from your jaw inside you and started moving them teasingly unrushed, occasionally curling them. The sopping mess he’s made is now used to circle and rub your clit in circles painstakingly slow. It’s as if he’s trying to send a message. This is how long it took you to realize that I wanted to cream your brains out. Now it’s my turn to become a pain in the ass. You’re not sure when his fist grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed you flat on the bed, either. But either way you’re not complaining with the way that your brain and mouth are preoccupied right now and with your newfound bravery. Because the way you’re rolling your hips into his fingers intensifying the lewd sounds coming from your pussy is something you don’t recognize in yourself. Blame it on the pent-up hormones or on the multiple daydreams of being railed in every place you’ve been in the past months. Right now, that’s not important.

One particularly deep thrust and harsh pull at your hair grinds your entire body to a halt, making you choke on your moan.

“Stop moving, brat.” He whispers in your ear. “God, if I knew you’d be like this…” His lips now kiss unhurried behind your ear. “I would have taken you right on that table at the award’s show…” Under your jaw. “In front of everyone…” Down your neck. “And then on every studio couch, car backseat and restaurant table, possible.”

What is important however is how Namjoon’s palm completely engulfs your neck squeezing at the sides, blissfully making you roll your eyes and head into the silk pillow. His wet fingers are plunged back into your soaked pussy while his lips preoccupy themselves with marking the delicate skin on your abdomen.

Mind you, Namjoon hasn’t taken off a single piece of clothing off his body. Meanwhile all you have on are a pair of white panties, pushed aside for him to work assiduously on the art piece that you are.

Your vision is a bit hazy when the choking stops, but it’s time for the air to be knocked out of the lungs when Namjoon’s lips suck and lap at your drenched folds. He wastes no time in slobbering his tongue all over the place like he’s a frenzy induced drunk 18-year-old at a birthday party and you’re his cake. You run your hand through his hair and relish in the image in front of you: a neon red light sneaks between the blinds and falls onto one side of Namjoon’s face which is buried deep between your thighs.

But do you really think that he’s going to let you finish just like that? Namjoon thinks otherwise. You assumed that he’s just going putting you into missionary. Instead, strong hands grip your body and then carry you, bridal style towards the edge of the bed. You’re even more confused when you’re seated on his lap, back leaning on his abdomen and legs held by him tightly to your chest.

“What are- Shit!”

Your ignorance is soon dispelled when you feel the thickest cock you’ve ever taken entering and stretching you deliciously. Namjoon chuckles at your small whimpers and at the way your frame trembles before him.

“Fucking hell, babe, don’t tell me you’re about to come so soon.”

In an act of defiance, although you’re still shaking, you dare to talk back.

“What…this? Please, I used to last the entire night with my ex bo-OH FUCK.”

You backtrack on your words for the nth time today, a string of incoherent moans which you try to bite down instead replacing the small talk. Why is that? Because Namjoon is now thrusting his shaft at a flying pace filling you to the brim with his long rock-hard erection and making your toes curl in the most unbearable pleasure.

“Can’t even swallow your own words anymore, can you? Tch, how embarrassing.”

That little prick. You make a mental note to give him a piece of your mind after this. That is if you don’t fall into a coma. Your insides are twisting and your consciousness is getting drowsier by the second. When you go to look up at him you notice he’s not even breaking a sweat. Instead, the look that he gives you, a stone-cold dominating grimace replacing his usual teddy bear smile, feels like something that came out of your wet dreams.  

“H-hey…Joon…do you think…m-maybe…we could…slow down…the pace…a little- oH!”

You’re not sure who to thank for Namjoon’s decision to hit the gym, but with the way he easily sat up and is now holding your thighs spread wide open in the air, your back plastered onto his chest and his thick cock hammering into your pussy you’re just thankful that it paid off. You burrow your face into Namjoon’s neck, the smell of his cologne enticing your senses even more.  

To keep you on your toes, when you get most comfortable in his grip Namjoon decides to throw you rather unceremoniously on one side back on the bed. You breathe heavily into the mattress, cursing the horniness that struck in the first place, but then delighting in it again when you feel a long member rubbing on your clit and coating itself on your juices. Soft plump lips soon follow and attach themselves to your neck and jaw and heavy sighs mixed with moans fill the poorly illuminated room. As soon as he’s done teasing your slit he slips right back into you, sliding up and down while holding on leg up. Long drawn-out mewls echo in the hotel room, sensitivity now heightened to the maximum. Having been edged this long makes your body tremble sooner than expected and a desperate, filthy cry catches Namjoon by surprise when you come without saying anything. How could you, anyways? Your brain is empty. Devoid of any connection to even make out a single word.

But Namjoon doesn’t stop.

“Oh, you think we’re done here?”

What, you think he’s going to let you be selfish and let the poor man undone? He won’t tolerate this.      

Soft gasps spring out through your lips and tongue every time Namjoon hits your engorged heat. You bite onto the sheets and bury your head in the mattress only to sense fingers grabbing at the nape.

“Don’t hide, kitten, I want this entire floor to know how good I make you feel.”

You do as he says, albeit cross-eyed, still gritting your teeth onto the bed fittings and confused at how you still understand the English language.

And when you hear that long guttural grunt right into your ear, you quiver with delight. There’s cum spilling on the sides and down his shaft and spilling deep into your wetness. You’re pretty sure you’ve lost 2 cm in height due to spinal compression because of how much Namjoon jackhammered into you.

A strong pair of arms wrap around your torso which you happily accept and a small kiss is planted onto your cheek. The teddy bear is back.

                                                            ♥

[bloodparfait]

This Can’t Be Healthy | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Highschool! AU, smut, enemies to barely tolerable ex-friends, also a lot of tension

Warnings: degradation, manhandling, spitting, occasional gory descriptions, swearing, oral(female), violence, semi-public (school bathroom after hours), Y/N is a glutton for punishment

Word Count: 985

✄ This is part 1 of a 3 part mini-series I have planned

✄ This is also my first writing prompt so I hope you enjoy it 

                                                              ♥

You have to make sure no one sees this mess.

Your eyes are plastered on the principal’s laptop screen, which you stole as if you didn’t have enough problems, and the video in front of you is clearly replicating the memories in your mind. You, in the bathroom of your school, after all classes are over, moaning through your hand while long fingers are holding one of your legs up. The other hand is pushing your body onto the cold tiles, scrunching the navy blue blazer in a tight fist while a face is concealed under your short uniform skirt.

Who even puts cameras in the bathroom?

Your ribs hurt, one leg is beginning to wobble, beads of cold sweat are running down your back and the more you push down on the black bunch of hair to make this stop, the rougher he pushes back up. He senses that your legs aren’t steady anymore so after wiping the arousal mixed with saliva off his lips and nose he violently grabs your arm and throws you into one of the stalls with no regard for whatever happens. The camera can’t capture what continues, but you remember distinctly. And besides, any pea-brained idiot could decipher what follows.

It’s a miracle that your knees land directly onto the closed lid, otherwise you’re sure your face would be planted into the toilet bowl. Not that Yoongi wouldn’t like that. Your suffering is everything to him.

If he could rip you limb from limb, then sew you back together only to do it all over again he would be satisfied for the rest of his life. If he’s your purgatory, then you’re definitely his hell. Because how dare you sleep with other boys and feel pleasant in their company while his only way of showing affection is by shoving you to the floor and relishing at the sound of knuckles cracking under his shoes?

No matter. You’re not with the other boys now. And he’s sure the other boys don’t make you feel the way he does. Because he knows you get bored when the other boys call you pretty and caress your back and cuddle you after sex. You don’t deserve a bed. You deserve whatever grungy eternal damnation this 36-inch square space is. Or so he comes to this conclusion. Because in reality you’ve never been more confused. You think you like this because you’re shaking from the adrenaline and when his hands touch your skin you feel like a 4th grader with a crush. But surely you have more self-respect than to let your bully take you like this and in a disgusting place no less, right?

Right Y/N?

Your train of thoughts is abruptly interrupted when you feel a hand grab at your hair and arch your back in an agonizing bend. An absolute ideal angle where you can see his shit-eating grin and pieces of hair covering his forehead. Yoongi did not look human. From upside-down his features felt almost ethereal and sublime. If only it wasn’t for the venom you had for the rest of his being. 

“Where’s Namjoon now, huh?” He says while he shakes your head from side to side in a mocking manner, your hair still in his ring-decorated hand. “Where’s the rest of the guys who said that they would protect you, huh?”

 His gaze pierces even the last cell in your brain and you have never felt more... little.

You close one eye and open your mouth in shock when he suddenly spits on your face, feeling the liquid drip. You yell when he suddenly pushes your face into the wall and holds it there by the nape. Your balance is fragilely steady, but Yoongi wants you nothing but tensioned, so he grabs your legs almost making you slip. The hand that held your nape is now grabbing tightly at your wrist, arching your back even higher and his other grabs you by the throat so that you’re looking at him. Only him.

A small whimper gets stuck behind your teeth when you meet his now stern look. You might as well be dirt under someone’s nail right now, especially when he slowly bends your arm between your shoulder blades to see how much you scream in pain through gritted teeth. For you showing pain means you’re screwed.

“Why aren’t you fighting back? Don’t tell me you’re scared, you were cussing me out yesterday.”

The hand that was bending your arm is now roughly holding your jaw making you squint your eyes in pain while trying to hold eye contact. His face comes impossibly closer to yours. And the whisper that leaves his lungs makes you shake with fear. You’ve pushed those words so deep into your unconscious and for so long that you dread hearing them come from his mouth.

“Do you maybe enjoy this? God, you’re pathetic.”

And with that he shoves you by the shoulder into the tiled wall one last time before storming out of the girl’s bathroom.

You jump when you hear the door slam shut. It’s silent now and your head is empty. You swear you’ve never felt calmer than now, until you force yourself to think. Do you want to cry, to scream, to swear? What do you want? Where’s your underwear? What time is it?

You slowly get off the toilet seat and open the door. You squint your eyes when the dusking sunlight hits your face and turn your head to look through the window only to see him, walking towards a black car in the empty parking lot, playing with a white piece of fabric in his hands which he then stuffs in his pockets. There’s your underwear. Your head then turns towards the white camera in the corner which records almost scornfully.

“Fucking hell.” You mutter under your breath as you start walking towards the principal’s office.

                                                          ♥