#changeswithluv

[inkedtae]

orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq​ (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk​ and @uhgood-dooghu​ (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life. 

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his. 

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you. 

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it. 

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?” 

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly. 

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been. 

“Have you come to watch?”  

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner. 

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched. 

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core. 

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach. 

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp. 

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort. 

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to? 

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should. 

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all. 

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.” 

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can. 

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you. 

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.” 

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer. 

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead. 

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond- 

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone. 

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much. 

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative. 

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs. 

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous. 

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone. 

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention. 

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power. 

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort. 

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher. 

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.” 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time. 

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment. 

Then, in he goes. 

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy. 

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you. 

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion. 

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you. 

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes. 

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He  thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it. 

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out. 

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away. 

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him. 

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy. 

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly. 

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-” 

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair. 

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit. 

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them. 

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, ���But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow. 

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up. 

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him. 

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.” 

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.  

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon. 

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open. 

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride. 

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger. 

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms. 

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung. 

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it. 

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions. 

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.” 

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh. 

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish. 

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine. 

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?” 

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again. 

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit. 

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth. 

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth. 

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy. 

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all. 

Only, you don’t. 

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell. 

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock. 

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again. 

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter. 

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.” 

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea- 

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again. 

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!” 

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts. 

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks. 

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.” 

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself. 

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control. 

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.” 

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot. 

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now. 

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days. 

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes. 

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone. 

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.” 

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars. 

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs. 

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I love oranges.” 

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before. 

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[xjoonchildx]

last call | jjk x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

synopsis: jeon jungkook is the hottest bartender in the city. everyone has their sights set on him, but it seems he has his sights set on you.

warnings: oral (female receiving), protected sex, jungkook thirst, excessive jungkook thirst, hello we’re talking about jungkook here -- there is a jungkook-sized amount of thirst, unsanitary use of a space designated for food and beverage

A/N: this fic is a commission for the @ficswithluv​ special project “Changes with Luv”. The awesome @dee-ehn​ made a donation to BLM for this fic and she asked for sexy times with long-haired JK with tattoos and dammit that’s what she’s gonna get.  Thanks so much for making the donation, this is a cool way for authors like me to pitch in for an important cause!

*********************

Jeon Jungkook is the sexiest man in this city.

That’s not a matter of opinion, that’s an actual fact -- voted into law by you and the rest of the Council of The Thirsty after a night of downing shots at The Black Swan.  The four of you piled into the bar’s single-stall restroom to check lipstick and chat shit and it was decided, that was that.

The Black Swan is open long after the other nearby bars and restaurants have locked up for the night. After the tables have been cleared and the tips have been counted, it’s where just about everyone who works in the service industry in this part of town ends up for a post-shift nightcap. They’re drawn by the late hours and the strong drinks and, well --

Jeon Jungkook.

On any given night, his bar is packed with flirts -- men and women alike -- all hoping for just a taste of his attention.  You can’t blame them, really.  It’s far too easy to get lost in Jungkook’s massive, dark eyes, or that slow, confident smile.  And it’s far too hard to look away when he tucks an errant strand of inky hair behind his ear or when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal those toned forearms covered with tattoos.

Jungkook works his bar with the confidence of a man who understands his magnetism, a man who understands why people get sucked into his orbit and never want to leave. 

Suckers just like you.

*************************

Jägermeister is totally fucking disgusting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

You’ve just bellied up to the bar to grab a drink when Jeon Jungkook drops a shot of the foul shit right in front of you.  The look you give him is equal parts confused and revolted.

“What’s this?” 

“Oh, come on,” he teases with a smile, “You work at a bar.  Don’t tell me you don’t recognize a shot of Jäger.”

“Oh, I recognize it,” you tease back. “I just refuse to acknowledge it.  Who sent this to me?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes playfully, pulls another shot glass from under the bar and pours himself a shot of the dark, thick liqueur.

He holds it up in the air and waits for you to do the same.

“I did.”

Your eyebrows shoot sky-high in surprise.  Jeon Jungkook buying you a shot? 

You’re probably just in the right place at the right time, you reason. The lucky recipient of a free drink because he’s in the mood to get one, too.  

Or unlucky, you correct yourself -- looking down at the glass.  But one more look at Jungkook and you know there’s no way you’re going to refuse the offering.  

You’re picky, but you’re damned sure not stupid.

You raise your shot glass in the air and Jungkook looks pleased.

“Bottoms up,” he says, eyes twinkling.

***********************

Something strange happens a few nights later.  

You’re seated at a high-top near the bar with your girlfriends when you hear Jungkook call something out across the room.  Your friends freeze, wide eyes and shocked stares focused on you for one awkward moment.

He says it again, this time louder -- and there’s no mistaking it.

It’s your name.

You ignore the frantic whispering of your girlfriends and stand up from your seat at the high-top to approach Jungkook’s bar.  He’s leaned over it, hands bracing the dark wood -- pen tucked neatly behind his ear.  His long dark hair is pulled back into a glossy knot, but one lock has fallen into his eyes.  

He looks insanely good -- but honestly, what’s new?

You clear your throat before you approach so you don’t croak your way through whatever comes next.  Spine straight, you get close, slide into a barstool and do your best to appear casual.

“What’s up?” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you with any more shots of Jäger,” he laughs, flashing his million-watt smile.  You smile back, hoping he can’t hear the holy shits and what the fucks flying at the table behind you.  “I’ve got something else for you tonight.”

“Okay,” you breathe, dazzled by the personal attention he’s bestowing on you.  “What’s on the menu?”

Jungkook reaches for two fresh shot glasses and pulls a heavy amber bottle from the well behind his bar.

“Grand Marnier,” you answer for him, watching as he pours you both a shot.  “An upgrade from Jäger, that’s for sure,” you tease.

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most goddamned adorable way possible.  “I figured this might be more your speed.”

Figured how? As far as you know, he doesn’t know a thing about you -- apart from the fact that you usually drink a vodka tonic.

And your name, apparently.  How does he know your name, anyway?

“Cheers,” he says in that low, sexy voice, and you shiver.

“Cheers,” you agree, tongue swiping at the taste of the sweet liqueur on your lips.  

Jungkook’s eyes darken for a split-second and heat creeps up your neck.

“So, um -- how do you know my name?”

You can thank the alcohol for giving you the courage to ask.  Sober you wouldn’t be nearly so forward.

Jungkook shrugs.  “I’ve seen it on your credit card.”

“Ah,” you smile.  “Well, thanks, again.  Next time, I’ll be the one buying, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” he grins.

But as you’re walking back to your table something dawns on you.  

You turn and head back to the bar.

“Hold on a second,” you say, eyes narrowed at Jungkook.  “I’ve never paid with a credit card here.  I always pay my tab in cash.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs -- and fuck if the slow smile that spreads across his features doesn’t make your panties wet right then and there.  

“Is that right?”

**************************

“Jeon Jungkook wants to fuck you.”

“For the love of God, Tifa,” you hiss, ducking your head.  “Keep your voice down.  Jungkook and every last one of his ancestors can hear you when you’re talking that loud.”

Tifa shrugs, unbothered.

“I said what I said,” she sniffs, checking for non-existent dirt under her nails.  “You see any of us getting free shots from The Golden One? Or any of the other women in here, for that matter?”

Well, she’s kind of got a point there, doesn’t she?

You have no idea why you seem to have captured Jeon Jungkook’s attention, but you’re not going to question it, that’s for sure. You’re going to enjoy your good fortune while it lasts.

“He’s being nice,” you argue, and even you aren’t buying it the second the lame deflection comes out of your mouth.  Tifa rolls her eyes.

“You know what else would be nice? Getting dicked down by the hottest man in town.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You sigh.  

It would be, actually.  The part of your brain that entertains such outlandish fantasies has been working overtime these days, imagining exactly what that would be like.  Imagining the body that lies underneath that sinfully fitted shirt and the almost-too-tight-but-not-quite jeans.  

Jungkook certainly walks and talks and moves like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in bed.  You’d love nothing more than to know if there’s any truth to that theory.

You chance a glance over your shoulder, back to the bar -- and Jungkook is deep in conversation with a patron.  She’s leaning over the bar, practically throwing herself at the man, but he looks away from her to catch sight of you.  His picture-perfect face breaks into a wide smile and you break into a sweat.

“See what I mean?” Tifa asks, brow raised when you turn back to face her.  “The man is trying to fuck you.  I’ll be right here after he does, waiting to say I told you so.”

You sputter a laugh into the rim of your glass.

“We’ll see about that, T.”

*************************

Nothing ruins the end of a night of drinking quite like last call.

All the fun screeches to a halt when the house lights come on.  No one looks good under the harsh fluorescents that hum to life as tabs are being paid and drinks are being slammed and tables are being wiped -- no one.

Well, no one except for Jeon Jungkook, of course.

He’s in the weeds tonight -- trying to settle tabs for at least twenty people all trying to cash out at the same time.  He nods in your direction to confirm he’s seen you, that he’ll get to you -- that eventually you’ll get your chance to pay.

So you wait.  And wait.

The crowd starts to thin as Jungkook closes tabs at top speed -- tip jar flush with obscene amounts of cash.  No one tips better than people who make a living on them -- and tonight is no exception.  From what you can tell it’s been a good night for Jungkook.  

Hell, every night is probably a good night when you’re Jeon Jungkook.

You sip what’s left of your vodka tonic and scroll through your phone while you patiently wait for your turn -- then promptly lose track of time.

How long have you been sitting here? 

It’s only when your ears pick up on the echo in this place that you look up from the screen.  Jungkook is cashing some guy out -- and as you take a look around you realize this guy must be the last person in this place. 

Correction -- you are the last person in this place, or at least you will be in about thirty seconds. 

Your pulse picks up as Jungkook wraps the transaction and sends the guy out the door with a friendly wave.  You’re definitely the only two people left in The Black Swan now, no doubt.

“So uh -- ” you drag the sound out on a nervous breath, “ -- I still need to pay my tab.”

Jungkook flips the house lights back off before sauntering to your end of the bar, wearing his most dangerous smile. He dries his hands with the towel at his waist then sets it aside.

“Your tab was paid hours ago.”

Oh.

“Because you paid it,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to drag your eyes from the man’s muscled thighs and trim waist to his flawless face.  Your heart stops a bit at the smirk you find when you finally get there.

“Yup.”

You grab for what’s left of your vodka tonic and slug it down.  

Jungkook laughs.

“You want me,” he says, fingers working the top buttons of his fitted shirt open.  You watch with wide eyes, so distracted by the action that you barely process what he’s said.

“Wait, what?” you ask in a daze.

“You want me,” he repeats casually, like it’s no big deal.  His fingers stop only a few buttons down, the tease -- but he chooses that same moment to pull his hair out of the loose knot he’s been wearing all night.  The dark strands fall into his face and you stare like a moron.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, weakly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jungkook teases.  “My vision is 20/20.  My hearing is pretty good, too -- though it would be pretty hard not to overhear the things you and your friends say about me.”

Dammit, Tifa, I told you to keep your voice down.

“Yikes,” you murmur on a shaky laugh.  “That’s embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he says with no hesitation.  “‘Cause I want you, too.”

You pull back from the bar so far, your stool nearly tips over. Jungkook waits for you to right yourself in amused silence.  Then he waits for you to speak.

“I’m, I  -- “ you sputter, searching for things like words and thoughts.  Jungkook’s brows lift as he awaits whatever is on the other end of that sentence.  “ -- I think I need another drink.”

Jungkook winks before reaching down to pull glasses from under the bar.  He sets a brown bottle with a familiar orange label down beside them.  You hold your breath when you see him walk out from behind the bar to slide into the stool next to yours.

“Fireball,” you say thickly, watching him pour the cinnamon liqueur into the shot glasses.  He nods, handing you your glass.

“Think this will help?” he asks, smiling wickedly.  

“No way to know but to do it,” you smile back.

You clink the glasses together before draining them.

You can almost feel the alcohol working its way through your veins.  The warm burn of it starts in your throat, slides low into your belly and spreads out through your arms and legs.  

“Think that did the trick?” he asks in a low voice, dark eyes fixed on your every move.  He leans closer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. He’s close enough now you can smell the warm cinnamon on his breath.  Between the booze and the hormones, you’re starting to feel a little reckless.  “That depends.  Are you trying to fuck me in this bar?”

“Absolutely,” Jungkook deadpans.  You suck in a breath.

“Then I think we’ll probably need one more.”

Jungkook chuckles as he refills your glasses.  His eyes glint with unconcealed mischief when you knock the second round back.  This time, the warmth that spreads down your throat seems to pool between your thighs.

You dip the pad of one finger into the remnants left in the shotglass, emboldened by the buzz you can feel coming on.  Jungkook watches rapt as you slip it between your lips.  You are weightless and shameless by now, more than prepared for the moment he slips two fingers under your jaw to tip your mouth up towards his.  

He tastes like the pleasant spice in the alcohol and he smells like sweat and bodywash and your senses are overwhelmed.  Your fingers dive right into his hair, desperate to feel the silky strands between your fingertips.

“Fireball was a good idea,” Jungkook groans between kisses, hands going to your back to pull you close.  You stand out of your barstool to position yourself between his thighs.  “I like the way you think.”

He pulls away to tug at the hem of your shirt. 

“Take this off,” he orders with a quiet authority that makes you desperate to comply. His eyes are heavy-lidded; glued to the nipples pebbling underneath the thin cotton.  You cross your arms across your body and lift the shirt over your head.

Jungkook doesn’t bother to take your bra off.  You jolt with surprise when he surges forward, mouth seeking the skin peeking out of the soft cups.  He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses across the heated flesh before leaning low to graze the outline of one nipple.  You jerk at the sensation -- at the way his lips and tongue and teeth make the fabric rub against the straining buds.

“Oh, God,” you hiss, “That feels good.”

Jungkook pushes the straps of your bra off your shoulders, eyes dark and focused when your breasts spill out of the cups and your nipples are exposed to the cool air in the bar.  You shudder.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, touching his tongue to your nipples now without a barrier.  You allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair again, anchoring yourself to him to keep steady in the onslaught.

It’s bad manners that you haven’t pulled yourself together enough to thank him for the compliment, but how can you be expected to think straight when his teeth are scraping against your nipples? 

Jungkook pauses to look up at you -- eyes smoldering, lips swollen with use -- and you squirm in his hold.  “You should take these jeans off,” he whispers, fingers slipping into the belt loops. He tugs at them gently. “I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”

Oh honey -- that ship has sailed.

You nod slowly and Jungkook leans back in his stool, eyes hooded as you unbutton the denim, slide it down your legs and step out of it.  

“You gonna take any clothes off, or am I the only one stripping tonight?” you tease, shivering at the loss of his body heat. 

A slow smile spreads over his face. “We’re getting to that, I promise.”

He reaches across the bar for the bottle of Fireball and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Wait, are you gonna -- “

“Yeah,” he cuts in, dripping the cool liquid onto your breast.  His lips swipe at the liqueur that spills over your nipple and you groan out loud.  “I own this bar,” he teases, his warm tongue a stark contrast to the cold alcohol.  “I can do whatever I want in here.”

You certainly can.

He drips more of the liquid onto a nipple and watches with satisfaction as it slides down your skin.  He laps at the cinnamon taste as his hands roam the sensitive skin of your stomach and down to the band of your panties.  Your breath hitches in your chest.

“I can do whatever I want on here, too,” he smirks, nodding at the bar.  You laugh.

“You’re the boss, right?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook winks, before his hands drop to your waist. His grip is firm as he helps lift you on to the bartop. 

You brace your hands against the wood and watch as he slips his fingers under the satin seam of your panties.  In this position, you have a front-row seat to what is sure to be the hottest sexual experience of your life.  Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration and his tongue swipes across his lips as he pulls your soaking panties away from your legs.  The sight of him preparing to debauch you on top of his bar alone could make you come.

He steadies you with firm hands to either side of your hips before dipping his head down to test your taste with a light flick of his tongue.  You buck in his grasp and he muffles his laughter against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.  “You’re not allowed to fall off of my bar,” he teases.  “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you laugh, fingertips gripping the bartop for dear life.  

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from your aching center and you damned near whine at the loss of his warmth.  But in a split-second he’s back, and so is the Fireball.  

“Just a little,” he rasps, tipping the bottle to the side.  You hiss as the frigid liquid seeps down into the crux of your thighs.  Jungkook purses his lips and blows a puff of air against you, sparking an intense tingling sensation and earning a loud whimper.  He’s satisfied with your response, if the look on his face is any indication  --  but his wicked smile disappears from view when he lowers his mouth to your center again.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head dropping back between your shoulders. “God, that feels good.”

“Tell me what it feels like,” he whispers, slipping one long, calloused finger into your channel.  The added sensation makes you whine when he swipes his tongue against your clit.  

“Like --,” you gasp and try again to formulate a thought. “Like fire and ice.”

He hums his approval of that assessment right into your cunt and you nearly break your promise not to fall off his bar.  Your arms are shaking with the same tension that is building between your legs. Jungkook pulls back to drip more of the Fireball onto your sensitive center and you shudder.

The alcohol burns a bit, a pleasant pain that is somehow heightened by Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth.  He doesn’t rush, seemingly content to take his time as you slowly come undone. 

“I’m so close,” you whimper, elbows threatening to buckle underneath you.  Jungkook finally picks up the pace, tonguing you deep as your thighs tighten in anticipation.

“I can feel how bad you want to come, sweetheart,” he goads, finger crooking inside of you, stimulating that spot that makes you feel like you can’t see straight.  “Do it.”

The moans Jungkook pulls from you in those final seconds are made all the more obscene by the echoing inside this empty bar.  Every muscle in your body tightens and then melts as your orgasm hits with the intensity of a freight train.  Jungkook seals his mouth over your cunt to capture the wetness he’s earned, prolonging the sensations, prolonging your moans. 

It takes a moment for the roar in your ears to subside, for your ability to focus to return.  When you can hear and see and think again, you look back down to the space between your thighs and find Jungkook wearing a look of utter satisfaction.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve eaten pussy on top of my bar,” he teases, dimples emerging as his lips quirk into a smile.  “How has your service been tonight?”

“Pretty good,” you taunt, a lot ballsier with a few shots and an orgasm under your belt.  “Would be a hell of a lot better if my bartender would take his clothes off.”

Jungkook feigns a wounded look as his fingers work the rest of the buttons on his shirt open to reveal a tight white tank underneath.  He pulls that overhead and reveals the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long.  Whatever you’d imagined was lying underneath those clothes pales in comparison to the real thing.  His body looks cut from stone, his smooth skin the perfect canvas for the tattoos that run across his arms and onto his chest.

“Better now?” he chuckles.

“Not yet,” you say, savoring the power of your position on the bar.  You watch his one-woman striptease with the hint of a smile on your lips.  “The jeans have to go.”

“Bossy,” he mocks, fingers unbuttoning the dark denim.  Your jaw drops about the same time the jeans do.

“Well,” you laugh, slipping down off of the bar to stand in front of him.  “Your review has just improved.”

He smiles into the kiss you plant on him as your fingers snake between you to wrap around his cock.  He thrusts firmly into the tight grasp of your fingers as his tongue delves deep into your mouth.  He sucks in a breath when your thumb teases as the moisture gathered at the tip of his cock.

“My cock is gonna explode if I don’t bury it between those thighs,” Jungkook groans and you shudder from head to toe.  “Turn around for me.”

You do as you're told, turning away from him to brace your weight against the bartop.  You can see Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar.  You watch as he grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of rolling it down his thick length.

He presses the length of his warm body against yours, and you tense when the blunt head of his cock teases your entrance.  One hand lines up his cock and the other grips the soft skin of your hip.  He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror and your knees almost give out when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

You arch back just as he sinks inside -- going to the hilt in one firm stroke.  

“Shit,” he groans between gritted teeth. “Fuck, that’s a tight fit.”

“Oh, God --” you gasp as he begins to rock against you.  After a few languid strokes he sets a steady rhythm, hips smacking against your ass with the force of his thrusts.

He leans over you, bracketing you in with one arm braced on the bar while the other helps guide your hip.  Your eyes fall closed and your head drops forward as you push back against him, rendered boneless by the thick slide of his cock.  The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes loud in the empty bar.

Jungkook leans down to take your earlobe between his teeth and you whimper.

“Look at me,” he orders in a whisper.  “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s reflection and the sight nearly makes you come undone for a second time.  His damp hair is falling into his face, body covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth is curled into a dangerous smile.

“That’s it,” he murmurs when your eyes meet in the mirror.  “I want you to see how good you’re getting fucked.”

Your rhythm falters at his provocation but Jungkook refuses to let either of you get off track.  He drops both hands to your hips and begins pounding into you with relentless strokes, huffing a laugh when you squeak in response.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans, thrusts going frantic.  “Can you come for me again?”

You nod -- completely out of words -- reaching one hand down to the aching button between your thighs.  Jungkook pulls your body back against his, angling deeper into your aching cunt at the same time your shaking fingers manage to apply a light pressure to your clit.  

That’s all it takes.

You come apart a second later and Jungkook pulls your hair back to expose the column of your throat as he rides you through it.  His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck as his own orgasm starts to ignite.

His fingers grip your hips so hard you’re certain there will be bruises in the morning.  But it’s worth it -- so damned worth it when you get to watch Jeon Jungkook come undone for you.  You’ve never seen anything sexier than Jungkook with brows knit in utter concentration, mouth slack with pleasure and coming for you.  Inside of you.

 You lean against the bar, legs like noodles as he comes down from his high and seconds later, he’s slumped over you, body lax against yours.

“Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, as you’re catching your breath.  He leans his chin against your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you manage, craning your head to face him.

“Come back tomorrow and we can break open my bottle of Goldschläger.”

*********************

You wake with an ache between your temples and an ache between your legs. 

The pounding in your head is your punishment for drinking way more than you should have last night.  

The pleasant soreness lingering between your thighs is an entirely different story.  That’s the only souvenir you get to keep to commemorate the best sex of your life.  And it’s not going to stick around.

You roll over in bed and reach for your phone.

Tifa picks up on the first ring.

“I’m not even going to play the game with you, girl,” she says, in lieu of a proper greeting. “I just wanna know how it was.”

***********************

[wwilloww]

sugar | ksj

A/N: This story was commissioned by @jamaisjoons​ through @ficswithluv‘s Changes With Luv project. Thank you so much for your donation. I had so much fun writing this Jin and exploring these characters so—I hope you enjoy it! A million thousand hundred THANK YOUS to @unlikelylittlemiss​ and @ot7always​ for beta’ing this! 

After many hours of technical difficulties, I’ve formatted what I hope will be the final version of this story. So far I think it’s the favorite one that I’ve written, so if you like this piece, please let me know! It means the world to me when I hear from you all. 

|| masterlist || moodboard || ao3 ||

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

Seokjin traces the rim of the crystal glass, absentmindedly watching the crowd around him swell and sway like a tide. His eyes sweep over the sea of faces, but he doesn't find what he's looking for.

He swirls the golden liquid around the glass and takes a slow sip, wetting his lips with his tongue as he relishes in the comfortable burn of peaty scotch sliding down his throat.

Finally, his gaze captures what he's been searching for.

You. Dressed in a slim asymmetrical white number, sheer fabric draping delicately over one arm. You're unmistakable.

Above you, thousands of shards of crystal hang as if suspended in midair, the art piece paling in comparison to the presence you command. The venue is dimly lit, but the blend of candlelight and starshine is enough to illuminate your face and paint your features in a dance of shimmering light.

He watches the million-dollar sculpture light your slight smile and curious eyes with a silver radiance. The pinkish light of a neon sign had bounced off of your features in an almost identical fashion the night you met.

ONE YEAR AGO

It was chance. Two strangers, anonymous in your settings, both searching for an escape. After finishing your first ever commission, you were desperate to get out of your cramped, barely-affordable studio, while Jin wanted to slip away from the pressures and strict culture of his high-end gallery. Neither knew who the other was, but you gravitated to each other nonetheless.

He sees you first as you shoulder through the front door of the dive bar, your rain-drenched jacket slung over your back, your eyes bright and intelligent. But you were the one to approach the tall, broad shouldered man first, riding off the high of a completed project. You buy him a drink—and then a second. You don’t talk about work tonight. Don’t talk about your lives. You’re both so absorbed in the other that you’re oblivious to the scent of tobacco smoke drifting over you, or the sounds of a rowdy pool game behind you. After four hours cozied up at that bar as the rain pours down outside, you invite him back to your tiny, paint and plant addled apartment.

Once you arrive back home, your roommate nowhere to be seen, you quickly offer him a drink. You  hurried to the kitchen to dig through the fridge to find something— really, anything—to serve the handsome man standing in your living room and curse yourself for not getting groceries this week.

“Who is this?” Jin asks.

“Huh?”

“The painting. Who is it?”

You turn to find him staring starry-eyed at your most recent project, hanging above your couch.  

“Oh, that. Moi.”

“Who?”

“Me, dummy.”

“You? You paint?” He’s looking at you, eyes wide and curious.

“Yeah, if you can call it that.”

“You can definitely call it that,” he says sternly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He reaches out as if to touch it, but freezes, fingers held an inch away from the canvas.

“You can touch it, if you want,” you offer.

He shoots you a flabbergasted look, as if to say really?, and you nod at him as you pull out plastic cups from your sparse cupboard. You pour two glasses of wine and hold one out to him as he comes back to you.

“I was always told not to touch the works of art,” he says, taking the glasses out of your hand and setting them down on the counter. “But this just makes the experience all the more memorable.”

You hiccup at his attempt at dirty talk, not used to men who know what they want, who are willing to spread their desire so plainly before you.

He kicks apart your legs, pressing a thigh against your heated core. He lowers his lips just enough that they almost brush up against yours.

“May I?” he breathes against you. You nod and suddenly he’s captured you in a kiss, the plush of his lips moving heatedly against you. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs at your touch. When you break apart, his eyes dark with lust and your breath quickening in your chest, you don’t hesitate to take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.

Before you can step inside, he swings you around and picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist and you can feel his length pressed hard against you. He backs you against the doorframe, your spine hitting the wood—but you don’t even notice it. All you can feel is the way his cock is jutting against your clit.

“Look at you, grinding yourself against me.”

You groan as he thrusts his clothed cock against you.

“Bed. Now,” you demand.

He walks towards the bed, still holding you, still kissing you, until his knees hit the mattress. And then his grip is loosening and you’re thrown onto the soft surface of the bed, a gasp rushing through your lungs. You watch as he pulls his shirt off, revealing a toned chest. You didn’t think the man in front of you could get any hotter, but as he crawls up the bed to hover over you, you’re proven wrong.

“Please, god, fuck me,” you groan as he kisses you.

It’s all he needs to hear.

The next morning you wake to an unfamiliar arm wrapped around your waist and morning breath tickling your ear. You smile as the details of last night come flooding back.

“Morning,” you grumble, feeling the man shift behind you.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he replies, a heavenly rasp edging his voice.

His hand comes to trace your waist and you let out a quiet moan, your senses softened by sleep. A smile flickers across your lips as his hand dips lower, casting warmth over your hips, your pelvic bone, and finally, your lower lips as his hands explore your body.

“You’re so wet I could just slip right into you, no problem,” he says as he runs his finger along your slick folds. You twist yourself around so you’re on your back now with Jin pressed against your side. Without breaking eye contact, you reach down with one hand to wrap around his length. With your other hand, you grab his hips, pulling him towards you—he takes the cue and straddles you, his hands coming down on either side of your head. You pull him closer so that the head of his cock is pressed against your entrance. “Now?” he asks.

“Now,” you reply.

Despite your wetness and the stretch from last night, he’s still a tight fit as he slides into you. A delightful ache threads through your belly and you arch your back to better accommodate him.

“God, how are you this perfect?” he groans once he’s buried entirely within your walls. He settles his weight against you, giving you a moment to adjust to his girth. “What would it take to get you like this again?”

“Get me into the Whitney,” you joke.

“Done.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “You’re hysterical.”

“I’m not joking.”

You search his expression for any sign of a joke, but you find none. “Wh-what?” you fumble.

“I’m serious.”

His gaze is calm and collected as if he had just agreed to buy you breakfast—not kickstart your art career.

“Do you not know who I am?”

“Why the fuck would I know who you are?”

His eyes widen for a moment before he breaks out in laughter.

“Oh, well then, don’t worry about it.”

As his chest shakes as he chuckles against you, you’re reminded of your current position. You look down to where your bodies are joined, his cock hard and not even fully sheathed within you.

“You’re not, like, some kind of serial killer right?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay, well then I literally couldn’t care less who you are.” He smirks at you and you pout. “Can you please just fuck me now?”

He chuckles. “It seems you have to keep asking me for that.” He thrusts into you with enough force that your body slides several inches up the mattress and the two of you groan as you adjust to his girth. He relishes in the tight throbbing of your cunt.  and he relishes in the tight throbbing of your cunt.

He fucks you slow and hard, each thrust slamming into your body, making your toes curl and your back arch. You both come quickly, relishing in the feeling of one another and the pleasure rippling across each other’s face.

“I’ll be honest,” you say, as you pull your shirt over your head. “I kinda liked it when you pushed me around last night. We should do that again.”

“After breakfast though?”

“After breakfast.”

A month later, you had been scrolling through your email when you saw a message from an unknown sender.

Subject : Acceptance to Whitney Museum of American Art.

————————————————————-

Thank you so much for your submission to our open call for pieces exploring “identity and landscape.” We are thrilled to inform you that your art has been accepted by our committee and will be displayed in our upcoming exhibit. Your piece explores these themes in a manner that took the committee’s breath away…

Your phone slips out of your grasp and drops to the floor, cracking the screen in the process.

You’d been submitting your art to them for years, and yet why was it that only after that strange comment Jin had made that you got in? Could it be more than just a coincidence?

The rest of the day is filled with half blossoming excitement and half mortification. Had Jin done this for you? You had been frequenting the museum since before you could hold a paintbrush, and trying to get into their gallery since you began painting professionally—but then all of a sudden as soon as you meet this mysterious stranger, your dream was placed right into your hands.

Three days later, you’re standing in front of the biggest art event you’ve ever been invited to, staring at a very large, very expensive banner that features none other than Jin.

CURATOR OF THE YEAR, the text reads.

Oh. Oh.

It all makes sense. Do you not know who I am? he had asked. You should have known. His name was plastered on every major art exhibit in this city. You had heard about him a thousand times before, but never even thought to connect the dots between the Kim Seokjin who visited your apartment several times a week and reorganized your fridge and the Kim Seokjin. He was a curator, but more than that he was a mentor of sorts. His approach to work was one of a kind: he led the artists he took under his wing with a gentle, guiding touch. Instead of shackling them into contracts or monetary and social debt like others in his position did, he gave them the tools they needed and allowed them the space and support they required to flourish on their own. This kind of business structure not only led to artists all over the world adoring him, but came back to repay him a thousand times over.

You never got into the Whitney on your own merit, you think. It was all Jin’s doing.

After you collect your jaw off the floor and enter the building, you almost immediately spot Jin.

Taking a deep breath to calm the swirling emotions in your belly and mustering all the courage you had, you tuck your painting underneath your arm and stomped up to him.

He’s standing, admiring a large mural. His face is painted in contemplation. For whatever reason, it reminds you of the feeling of standing in a spring clearing, in the middle of nowhere, letting a gentle breeze wash over you. You shove that feeling away as you stride up to him, stopping a foot or two behind him.

“Jin?”

“Hm—?” Jin spins on his heel. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise.” His eyes light up. “I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, I was worried something was wrong.”

“I got into the Whitney.”

“Wait, what? That’s amazing!”

“And I figured out who you are.”

His eyes widen.

“Before anything else, I wanted to thank you for your help. I…” You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around what’s just happened. “I’m not really sure how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve been submitting to the Whitney for years and I’ve never even gotten a rejection email from them. And then I met you, and—and then it’s done. I’m in.” You look to him for an explanation.

“Okay, I admit,” Jin says, running a hand through his hair. “I put in a good word for you. But I did nothing more than mention to the board that I had seen your art and that I was very impressed by it.”

“That’s too much,” you frown.

“It’s not. It literally took thirty seconds of my time. And I did it because I genuinely believe in the vision of your projects.”

“If they believed in the vision of my projects, they would have accepted them without your name attached to it,” you snap.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says, looking down. “I didn’t realize it would upset you. I thought it would make you happy.”

You sigh, putting your hand on his arm. You only speak when he looks at you. “I’m upset, but I’m also really excited. I just—I want to do this on my own. I don’t want it to because of someone’s name. I want it to be because of my work. And I know that’s romantic and maybe not super realistic, but I need you to understand that that’s what I want.” You take a deep breath before continuing and he slips his hand into yours. “And more than that, I want to make it clear that I’m not just seeing you because of your status.”

“I understand,” he says softly, squeezing your hand. “So you’re seeing me now?”

You flush at your slip of tongue.

“I-I mean—”

“I’d like to see you,” he says. “If you’ll have me.”

Seokjin quickly became a constant fixture in your life. While he stopped involving himself in your work (and immediately after your conversation in the gallery, had quickly excused himself to make several calls to call off different projects and potential buyers) he did insist on buying your art supplies, moving you into a larger studio, and helping you work through the complicated process of finding grants to apply for. And of course, Jin was always ready to take care of your other, ahem, needs as well.

Your relationship quickly developed. You talked about the ins and outs of sex and your roles in the bedroom, but somehow never seemed to move the conversation about what you were to each other outside of your sheets—or the closet in the gallery, or the bathroom of your now-favorite bar.

PRESENT DAY

Jin sets his half-full glass down to make his way over to you. As he stands from the bar, an arm slides into his elbow, forcing him to turn away from you.

Your heart thrums in your chest as you stood at the top of the marble stairs, looking down into the outdoor amphitheater where tonight’s gala was being hosted.

You had arrived solo on your own instances. Even after a year together, you were still hesitant to show up as Seokjin’s date, knowing you were more likely to garner the title “girlfriend” than “artist.” Still, the thought of seeing Seokjin sent goosebumps chasing down your skin and you smiled softly to yourself as you searched the crowd for the tall man. You had come straight from your studio and there was still paint and paper mache stuck beneath your fingernails, a fact that didn’t quite fit into the posh environment you were in, but one that made you feel grounded nonetheless.

"Hello, darling," a deep voice sings into your ear. "You're looking particularly ravishing tonight."

You turn, expecting to see Seokjin. Instead, a strapping young man, unfamiliar but recognizable to you, stands in his place.

"Jeon Jungkook," you address the famous photographer as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to it. You suppress the urge to grimace as his lips meet your skin. The young man is undoubtedly handsome—there's no denying it—and you shyly look down as his eyes rove over you like you are a piece of art to be appraised.

"I've seen you at these events for quite a while now."

"Have you now?"

"Always on Mr. Kim's arm, too. Don't you think he's a little... maturefor you?"

It’s not like we’re together, you want to respond, but you hold your tongue. There was only a seven year age gap between you and Soekjin. And yet, because he carried himself with such discipline and stature, this was a constant question you had to navigate whether it came up in terms of your relationship with, working or otherwise.

“Speaking of Mr. Kim, have you seen him anywhere?” you ask, smiling tightly.

Jungkook takes your arm and turns you, pointing through the crowd.

There he is. Jin is dressed impeccably in a light-colored suit, the cut accenting his tall frame, broad shoulders, and narrow waist. You smile upon seeing him and wave, but he doesn’t see you.

There’s a flash of blonde hair and suddenly you realize what’s occupying Jin’s attentions.

You frown as you watch the woman's arm snake around Jin's. Tonight was supposed to have been a chance for the two of you to spend some quality time together, surrounded by beautiful art and artists, to see each other without interruption — but then again maybe a gala wasn't the best choice for quality time.

"There's something about you," Jungkook muses, oblivious to your distraction. "A light in your eye. Passion. You know, I would love to photograph you some time."

You glance over Jungkook's shoulder to see the woman with her hand gripping Jin's bicep, obviously trying to capture and hold his attention. And yet Jin's gaze is fixed on you. You meet his eyes, only to let a ghost of a smirk dash across your lips, before returning your focus to Jungkook. Even though you know Jin’s attention is only focused on you, you figure you might have some fun with the current situation.

"Oh really?" you say, blinking up at him flirtatiously. "And how would you have me?"

Jeon Jungkook was known for his abstract and mythological concepts. His photos were stunning, portraying story and eroticism at their most intellectual and beautiful.

"Aphrodite. No doubt."

Original, you think, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Hm," you hum, as if mulling it over. "Tell me more." Your switch from professional to outrightly coquettish startles him and he stumbles over his words for a moment before regaining his composure and leaning in.

"Pink lighting. Texture? Hm, dove wings. I've been playing with fabric lately—" Jungkook falls into the description of his concept, flowing so quickly through the smallest of details, almost as if he's thought this through before, specifically for you. Instead of listening, you watch Jin out of your peripheral vision. "I can almost imagine the magazine spread now."

Your attention snaps back to the young man in front of you and as an idea flashes across your mind, you do your best not to giggle and to remain serious. "You know, I would love to be spread out for you." You smile innocently and Jungkook gulps.

"I, ah—” Jungkook is stopped mid sentence as a hand is clapped on his shoulder.

"Jeon," Seokjin nods at the younger man, a stiff smile painting his face. "I see you've met my—" Your eyebrows shoot up at the slip, but Jin quickly catches himself. "YN. One of the best painters I know."

Jungkook scoffs. “Uh, yeah, obviously.” When he looks up to find you and Jin staring confusedly at him, he clears his throat. “I mean—what I meant to say is her talent is underrated. Which you probably already know.” He smiles sheepishly.

“Alright, then,” Jin says.

“Aw, thanks, Jungkookie,” you say, swatting his shoulder and you watch as the young man flushes while Jin’s brow raises in question at the use of the pet name.

“Drinks?” Jin says, breaking the quickly rising tension between the three of you. Taking your elbow he leads you towards the bar and Jungkook quickly trots behind. He orders another scotch and you shake your head, “Nothing for me.” As Jungkook leans over the bar, Jin steps behind you, his hand coming to rest gently on your waist.

“Behave,” he whispers.

“Hm?” you hum innocently, brushing your hair over your shoulders.

“At this rate, you’re asking to be punished,” Jin growls.

You smile sweetly up at him, pinching his cheek playfully before realizing where you are and who might see. You quickly snatch your hand back, hoping no one saw.

Jungkook turns back with a martini in hand. Interesting choice, you think.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” Jungkook asks you.

“She already said she didn’t want anything.” Jin answers for you.

“I can speak for myself, thank you very much,” you cut in, crossing your arms. “But no, maybe later.”

A long moment of silence hangs between the three of you.

“Well, don’t mind me then. I have a couple of people I need to speak with.” Jin nods at the two of you and turns on his heel. You watch his tall frame, tracking where he’s going. The game is on.

It seems as the night drags on, Jin is purposefully ignoring you, knowing it’ll rile you up just enough. He continues to engage with artists and experts from all over the globe and Jungkook hangs at your side. Beyond the awkward flirtation he keeps throwing your way—which you don’t blame him for, considering you keep egging him on—he’s quite an intelligent young man with a vision.

After half an hour of Jin’s lack of presence, you’re bored and tired. The two of you wander around the gala, looking at the art pieces. When you see Jin hovering near one in the corner, you gently guide Jungkook over. As you approach, you realize why Jin has been spending so much time over here.

The eight by ten piece that you had sold to an anonymous buyer last week is hanging on the wall. The bright oranges and deep blues seem to shimmer and swim within the space compared to the crystal, silver, and gold pieces that pepper the event tonight.

“This is yours, right?” Jungkook asks. “I’d recognize the style anywhere.”

“Uh, yeah, I just didn’t expect it to be here. I sold it to an anonymous buyer last week. I have no idea how it got here.”

Jungkook looks confusedly at you. “Hm. Weird.”

You stare blankly at your own art for a while, puzzling over how it could have gotten to this level of a gala. The buyer from last week had said nothing about the gala. But here it is in front of you, big and commanding—and marked with a $500,000 price tag? The proceeds of tonight’s event were going directly to charity and still your mouth hangs open as you ogle the string of zeros in front of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” Jungkook asks, breaking through your reverie. “I don’t mind getting it for you.”

“That’s so kind of you,” you smile, knowing that tonight’s event hosts an open bar. At that moment you notice Jin’s gaze finally, finallyresting on you. “Actually, your drink is looking pretty good to me right now.” You take a step closer to Jungkook, meeting his gaze and resting one of your hands gently on his elbow. He shudders under your touch.  As much as he puts on a confident front, you know your forwardness unravels him just enough. Without breaking eye contact, you reach into his martini glass and pull out a green olive. Opening your mouth slowly, you purse your lips around the round fruit before sucking it into your mouth. You open your mouth just enough for Jungkook to see how it rests on your tongue.

Jungkook’s jaw is hanging open.

“Oh my god.”

Suddenly, a hand is clasped onto Jungkook’s shoulder. He spins around to see a towering Jin. Jin’s features are relaxed and calm, but you catch the hard edge in his tone, even as it slips past Jungkook’s awareness.

“Jeon, I was just talking to an up-and-coming dancer earlier tonight. He’s looking to partner with a photographer for a project. I mentioned your work to him and he would love to talk to you.” Jin turns Jungkook to point to a handsome man standing across the room, a sun-filled smile dancing across his lips.

“Wait—really?” Jungkook looks flabbergasted.

“Of course, I admire your work,” Jin says.

“Wow, thank you. I really appreciate it.” He reaches out to shake Jin’s hand. “Thank you so much, sir.” A smirk threatens to break Jin’s calm demeanor.

“Anytime.”

Jungkook turns to walk towards the dancer but spins back towards you. “Don’t, uh, don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Once Jungkook is out of range of hearing, Jin steps closer to you. "Upstairs. Now."

Because tonight's gala was in part hosted by Seokjin and his company, it took place in the courtyard of one of Seokjin's highrises.

With the ghost of a smirk playing on your features, you turn on your heel, head held high, and make your way to the elevators.

It’s just like him to make you wait.

Twenty minutes after you arrived in the penthouse apartment, Jin was nowhere to be seen. So you kick your heels off and make your way to the fridge, finding an open bottle of your favorite wine that he kept in stock just for you. You pour yourself a glass and make your way to the gigantic kitchen island, leaning over it and scrolling through your phone. You know Jin would expect you to be waiting ready and in position for him, but tonight you feel like pushing the limits.

A gentle ding echoes through the living room. You click your phone off and look up just in time to see the silver door of the elevator slide shut behind him.

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair, loosening the strands from his perfect slicked-back look. You nearly salivate at the sight of him unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt, even as your heart beats like it is ready to jump straight out of your chest.

You gulp as his eyes land on you. Finally.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” you say.

“Have I?”

“Are you punishing me?”

“You won’t need to ask me if I’m punishing you when I’m punishing you. You’ll know.” Despite the coldness of his words, there’s a playful glint in his eyes. You know his anger is for show and not genuine. The direction you're headed is a space the two of you have carefully mapped out, experimented with, and discussed over the course of your relationship. When he slips into this role, it's for both of your pleasure, and never as an outlet for his anger. "So no, I'm not. At least, not yet."

"Jin—" you say.

"Sir," Jin corrects.

"—Sir," you repeat, standing up from the island and walking slowly towards him. You bat your eyes and saunter over to him, pressing yourself against his chest as you take one of his hands and guide it under your dress. His eyes widen when he realizes you're not wearing any underwear.

"God, you're wet."

"I wanna cum," you state matter of factly. You thought your directness might startle him, but instead, his composure remains unaffected.

"You misbehaved all night long," Jin murmurs in your ear. "But maybe if you're a good girl for me and take your punishment, we can talk about you cumming."

And just like that, his hand is gone.

"Are you gonna be good?"

You don’t respond. Instead, you smile sweetly at him. You meet his gaze but don’t move. He cocks an eyebrow and pulls you tight against him with one hand as he pinches your chin with the other.

"You thought you could use this pretty little costume of innocence,” he says as he plays with the sleeve of your dress, a sneer painting his face. “Dressed all in white, and so elegant too. You thought you could hide the whore you are beneath a dress like this?"

His grip on your hips tightens as he pushes you forward, turning you forcibly. It shocks the breath out of your lungs. He pulls you back, your ass flush against his hard but clothed cock. His hands grab your shoulders, steadying you.

"I'd like to fuck you in one of these cute little outfits sometime. But not tonight. Tonight I want you entirely bare." The next thing you know, the sound of ripping fabric fills the space and your dress falls down in shreds at your feet.

"My-my dress," you gasp.

"A shame.” He feigns a pout. “You looked so good in it. But you look even better like this."

It briefly flashes through your mind that you're not sure how you're going to be able to leave, as you hadn't brought a change of clothes—and then that concern is quickly replaced by the confusion as he bends down to examine you.

"When was the last time you touched yourself?" Jin asks as he runs a finger over your slit. You shudder at the sensation.

"You were the last one to touch me."

“So you’re telling me you’re ready to flirt with any man who approaches you, make him think you’re gonna let him fuck you, but then it’s all for show?” He slips a single finger into your cunt. “What a tease.”

“For you,” you gasp as he hooks his finger and hits a particularly sensitive spot. “I would never.”

“Never what?”

“Never fuck another man.”

“Your actions tonight tell me something else.”

Your brow furrows as Jin adds a second finger.

“I-I just wanted you to pay attention.”

"That’s all you wanted, hm, little one? My attention?"

"Yes, sir," you mumble back.

"Good. You have it." He pulls his fingers from your dripping entrance and stands.

Your brows furrowed in frustration. "I want more," you say.

"And I want you to behave yourself when we're out in public together. It seems like neither of us is getting what we want, hm?" When you pout, he chuckles. "But I bet you can make it up to me. Take your punishment like a good girl. And we'll see if we can't both have what we want." You nod, eagerly. "Go bend over the couch and wait for me."

You quickly lay yourself over the arm of the black leather couch that stretches across the sprawling living room. Jin disappears into one of the back rooms for a moment, but you soon hear his footsteps echoing on the marble, approaching you from behind. He rests a hand on your bare ass, roving over it in slow circles before coming to kneel down beside you.

"Safeword?"

"Peaches."

His eyes search yours—checking, making sure you're really okay with this before he continues, that same awareness never leaving his eyes. "Good. You'll use it if you need to."

You nod.

“You know why I have to do this right?” Jin asks, his voice calm and clear as he stands and steps out of your line of vision. You can hear the clink of a belt buckle as he doubles it up in his hand.

“I disobeyed you.”

“And?”

“I didn’t listen when you asked me to stop.”

“And what exactly did I want you to stop doing?”

“Flirting with him.”

“Who? Say his name.”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

He chuckles. “I want that to be the last time his name leaves your lips tonight. Understood?” You nod, wholeheartedly. “The poor boy. You left him so hard and eager for your pretty little cunt. I bet he thought he was going to get to fuck you after all that teasing. Tell me, is that what you wanted him to think?”

“Yes,” you admit.

“And yet, after all that work and you were so quick to drop him just for me. I’m going to spank you and you’re going to take it like a good girl. Seven hits. Count for me.”

That’s when the first hit lands. The air in your lungs whooshes out of you in shock. After the initial pain, a soft warmth spreads through your cheeks.

“I said, count.”

“One,” you say, your voice strong.

The belt comes down on you a second time, cracking against your other cheek. “Two.” Your nails dig into the leather of the couch and his hand spreads across your ass, soothing over the spots where he’s hit you. The feeling of his fingertips against your skin brings coolness to the surface of your burning skin and the contrast sends arousal spiraling through your core.

“Good girl.”

Smack.

“Three.”

On four, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. The number comes out as a gasp, a puff of air and you realize you’ve been holding something else in. Shame. Guilt. Upset.

On five, you let out a particularly loud yelp, your cry of pain mixing with emotion and cutting through your pronunciation. Jin's hand immediately brushes across your sore ass to smooth over the most recent hit.

"Color?" he says softly.

"Green—green, please, keep going," you pant, tears threatening your eyes.

“Only two left.”

On six, you feel something split within you. You know it isn’t just about tonight, about your disobedience or your flirtations with a strange man. It’s about holding back. It’s about letting your brattiness build a wall between the warm thing that’s been building in your chest and Jin, the man who keeps showing up for you.

“Seven! M’ sorry!” you call out as seven comes down on your ass. The wall splits open within you, sending a flood of emotion and endorphins through your body. All you want is to fall into this sensation. The one where he’s here for you, and you can let him be here for you.

Jin smoothes his hands over your ass one final time. You wince slightly, knowing it’s going to be painful to sit for the next couple of days. And yet all you can feel is a golden glow, pulsing through your veins, tinting your perception. Your body feels lighter, the space around you more spacious, and the look in Jin’s eyes is glowing.

Jin pulls you up to your feet, searching your eyes to make sure you’re alright. He finds a strange, new warmth in them, one that spills out completely for him. And something close to daze.

“No hands.” Still, you can’t help but reach out to him, lacing your fingers into the front of his shirt. “I said, no hands.” You refuse to remove them. He’s suddenly stepping back from you.  "You can't seem to listen, can you, little one? Hands behind your back." You stare blankly at him. "I won't ask you twice."

You bring your hands behind you, clasping one hand around a wrist. He circles around you until he's out of your range of sight. You hear the tearing of fabric and then the cool brush of what you assume must be your dress wrapping around your wrists as Jin expertly ties them together. When the knot is tight and secure, he walks slowly back around you so you're face to face.

"Kneel."

Your knees hit the cold marble floor.

"Suck my cock."

"But—" You attempt to protest, your hands still tied behind your back. Your voice trails off as his eyes harden.

His belt is already open and you take the cold metal in your mouth, leaning your head back as you pull it out of the loops. It's an awkward angle, but you do your best and soon it falls to the floor with a clink. You glance up at him, searching for validation. His gaze is still hard, but there's a glimmer of a smile—pride? delight?—hanging at the corner of his lips.

"Keep going."

Leaning forward, you nudge your nose along the hard length sporting in his pants. His arousal is more than apparent through the fabric of his pants: thick, and long, and impossibly hard. Without breaking eye contact, you stick your tongue out of your mouth and slowly trace it up the length of his covered cock.

His hand tightens in your hair and you yelp as pain shoots into your scalp.

"I asked you to do something. Are you getting distracted?" What was once painful has quickly turned into a delicious pleasure as your face flushes, the hand in your hair teasing tingles down your spine. "Answer me." He grips your hair tighter, forcing your head back even further.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

He releases his grasp just enough that you're able to lean back to the tenting bulge in his pants, but still does not release you fully.

Carefully, you suck the button of his slacks into your mouth, expertly sucking and tonguing the cold metal until you feel it slip through the hole, before moving down to pull the zipper between your teeth and tug it all the way down. You gasp as you realize he's not wearing underwear and your cunt contracts around nothing. You're face to face with his bare cock.

"Sir, may I?"

He nods and you immediately lean forward to lick a broad, wet stripe up from the base of his cock to the tip. Without the use of your hands, you find yourself relying on the movements of your upper body and your mouth to pleasure him.

Slowly, you lick around the angry red head of his cock, teasing a light gasp from him. You continue to do this until you know he’s just on the edge of frustration and before he can say anything, you purse your lips around him.

As you take him into your mouth, you’re particularly aware of the remainder that you’re unable to fit. Usually, you would wrap one or both of your hands around him, stroking him where you couldn’t reach. But now that’s inaccessible to you.

Relaxing your throat, you attempt to take him deeper but choke at the sensation of his thick head hitting the back of your throat.

"You're so good at this, almost as if you were made to have your mouth stuffed with cock."

His praise urges you to take him deeper and press past the urge to gag. Taking a deep breath, you edge forward, allowing him to slip into the tight confines of your throat. He hiss at this and his hands tighten in your hair, this being the first time you’ve deepthroated him. Tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision as you continue to ease him deeper within you.

He begins thrusting into your throat. If you could reach up to wrap your hand around your throat, you would feel the protrusion of his cock pressing forward through the skin of your throat, visible and bulging.

You choke around him and he audibly groans at the sensation.

Jin looks down to find tears streaming out of your face, chin wet with drool. The sight of you, so lost in your actions, strikes something in his chest. As you meet his gaze, your lips so pink and pouted around him, the glaze in your eyes filled with adoration, his hips buck and he thrusts into your throat.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growls. “And I want you to swallow every last drop of it.”

He grabs your head as he fucks up into you one last time, pushing your nose against his pubic bone. You can feel his cum, hot and bitter, sliding down your throat. He doesn’t release you until he’s done. Finally, he pulls you off of him, your lips releasing from his spent cock with a pop.

Air comes rushing back into your lungs, replacing the black spots that had started to pepper your vision with starshine as you look up at Jin clearly. His forehead is shining with sweat and his cheeks are flushed in pleasure. He’s never prettier than he is now, spent with passion.

Jin quickly regains his wits as he pulls you up and takes his thumb to wipe the combination of drool and cum from your chin.

Something gleams in his eye.

“Up against the window,” he orders.

“Wha—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Jin is walking you backward until your back hits the cold glass. You gasp at the sensation of your heated ass cheeks mixed with the cold spark of the smooth surface.

With your back against the glass, hips pushed towards him again, he kisses languidly up your stomach. There is a gentleness in the way his lips whispered against your skin that shoots something through your chest and leaves you wanting more of whatever it is.

You gather yourself enough to look down and see his plump lips pursed around a nipple. As your eyes meet, he bites down around the swollen bud, and you whimper. He continues to bite and suck your breasts, drawing increasingly lewd sounds from you.

But then his lips leave the tender flesh of your breasts and kiss their way upwards to your neck. For a moment you think his gentle side might return, only to squirm beneath him as his teeth graze the delicate skin. Before you know it, his lips are pressed against you and he's sucking the skin in between his teeth.

"You'll leave a mark!" You exclaim, bound hands struggling to escape from where they’re still tied behind your back But he's quicker and stronger than you and he holds you down, stilling your movements, before continuing to suck and bite at your neck.

"Good." He moves his mouth to the hollow of your throat, sucking a bruise to the surface of your skin. "I want everyone to know exactly who you belong to. I want you to wear me, so no one even has a doubt in their mind whose slut you are."

As you look down, you realize he’s hard again. It’s not uncommon for him to be up and ready to go for a second or third round. His cock is red and rock-hard, and as he realizes what you’re looking at he smirks.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes, sir.” You swallow. “Want it—want you.”

“Do you think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You took your punishment well,” he muses languidly. “And you sucked Sir off so well, too.”

He drags a finger through your slit, forcing you to buck up into his touch.

“Please—” you gasp.

“Since you asked so nicely—” abruptly, he spins you around so you’re facing towards the window. “I’ll fuck you. But I want everyone to see exactly the kind of slut you are for this cock.”

“But—”

“Color?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. From this far up, you can see the gala, still in full swing. Even from this height, you can see their individual faces and you know if any of the people in sparkling gowns and tailored suits were to look up and squint, they would see your fucked-out form pressed against the window of the penthouse, your hands bound behind your back thrusting your chest forward obscenely. The thought sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“Green.”

“Good.”

At that, you feel the head of his cock brush against your dripping entrance. Jin looks down to see his huge cock resting against your red cheeks. You look tiny compared to him, and the sight makes him even harder. As he grips the base of his dick, he pushes gently against your entrance, the bulbous head slipping inside. His cock twitches as he hears you moan.

Jin is undoubtedly the biggest cock you’ve ever fucked. Even after months of him filling you, he was still a tight fit. While you often used lube to ease the slide in, tonight you were dripping wet, your arousal coating your swollen lips and beginning to run down your inner thighs. Slowly, he pushes into you. The sensation of being filled, of being stretched by him has you moaning, the sound filling the spacious apartment.

“You’re such a good slut for me, you take this cock so well,” Jin says as he presses the last inch of his length into you.

Kim Seokjin is a man of control. Despite the painful ache in his cock and the burning desire to pound into you, he isn't done drawing out your pleasure. Torturously slow, he slides his cock in and out of your tight cunt, his thick head dragging against your walls. You whine wantonly, pushing back against him.

He stops.

"Please. Sir," you nearly sob. "Need you."

"And I need you to use your words. This is mine." He reaches down to spread his palm over your sore ass, spreading you even further open for him. The sight of you impaled on his thick cock is one he’ll never get used to. "And I'll do what I want with it."

He can feel you shudder at his words, knowing that his possessiveness affected you just as much as it did him.

"You like that?" he growls. "Knowing you're mine? You're stuffed full of cock and still you want more. What a greedy slut."

"Please, Sir. Need you to fuck me," you beg. Still, Jin makes no indication of moving. "Please. Need you to show them who I belong to."

That does it.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, his cock spearing through the tightness of your walls.

“Fuck,” you hiss as he lifts your leg. The head of his cock begins to hit the knot of pleasure that’s tightly wound within your cunt. “Sir, you feel so good.” It’s all you can think about.

“He’s down there, isn’t he?” For a moment you’re not even sure who he’s talking about, so lost in pleasure and the sensations he’s teasing out of your body. “He could look up at any moment and see you like this, tits out, pressed up against the glass, letting me ruin you like this.” You moan at his words. “I bet you would like that, slut.” He punctuates the final word with a particularly hard thrust.

Your pussy clenches around him and he moans as he feels your tight walls grip him tighter.

“I think there’s a part of you that loves the idea of the world watching you get fucked.”

"Gonna—gonna cum," you gasp, your words stuttered out of your mouth by Jin's rough thrusts. "Sir, please, can I come?"

"No."

"Sir, please."

"Did you not hear me?" he growls. "Listen, or I'll stuff that pretty little mouth with something less pleasant than my cock."

You throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your abdominal muscles in an attempt to hold back the waves of euphoria that threaten to wash over you any moment now.

“Please, sir, need to come. I’ll do anything.” The tears that have been threatening to run down your face finally spill over as you’re split in pleasure and discomfort. “Please, anything.”

Jin releases your leg with a grunt and pushes your legs together, making it a tighter fit for both of you. With one hand he pushes down on your lower back, arching it for you. His other hand comes to wrap around your bound wrists, using the grip to power his thrusts into you. Somehow the new angle makes him seem even bigger than he already is and you mewl.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Jin,” you force out, trying to find your words through the pleasure that he’s pounding into you. “Only you.” Too late, you realize that you had used the wrong name for him and you gasp, ready for whatever correction he deems fit for you.

But it seems that’s exactly what he wanted you to say.

“Good girl. Cum. Now.”

As soon as the sound has left his lips your orgasm barrels through you.

“Jin!” you cry. You throw your head back, white overtaking your vision. Your cunt pulses around his hard length, spasming for what feels like minutes. Your breath freezes in your throat as sparks of pleasure flood your body.

Watching you come unraveled around his name is what does it for him. He groans as his orgasm washes over him, sending waves of pleasure throughout his whole body. He shudders against you, releasing ropes of cum into your still-pulsating cunt. You can feel his cock twitch against your oversensitive walls as he empties himself into you. His breath is heavy against your neck as his arms tighten around you. As much as you love the Jin in control, these moments when he releases all pretenses are precious to you.

Even as he stays sheathed within you, you can feel his cum begin to drip out of your cunt, running down your thighs. When he finally pulls out, the mix of your combined orgasms gushes out of you and you frown at the proceeding sensation of emptiness.

As you slump against the window, your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure and exhaustion, you feel Jin’s large hands ghost down your arms, releasing the fabring binding your wrists together. When he’s done, his hands come to rest on your hips, turning you as he kneels down in front of you. You gasp as you feel him swipe two of his fingers through the swollen folds of your cunt, as he collects his own cum. The sensation splits you in overwhelm.

"Open," Jin commands, standing up. You open your mouth and he slides the two cum covered fingers past your lips. "Suck." Dutifully, you press your lips around him, swallowing around him until he pulls out, not a drop of cum left on his fingers. His eyes burn in desire, and if it weren't for the exhaustion apparent in your posture, you know he would be ready to go for a second round. "Good girl."

You smile softly up at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He holds you close and the two of you simply breathe together. You feel comforted against his large frame, his breath flowing easily and freely through him, your own body finding solace in the soft rhythm. He holds you like that for what feels like forever before he tips your weight into his body and leads you to the sleek leather couch. There, he sits down, pulling you into his lap. You curl up against his wide chest, nestling your nose into the crook of his neck.

"How are you?" he asks as he brushes the hair out of your eyes.

"Feel so good," you murmur, eyes fluttering shut in the afterglow that radiates throughout your whole body. Every muscle in your body feels warm and stretched.

"Do you want me to bring you to bed?" After all this time, Jin knows how sleepy you get after a scene like this.

"Mm, surprisingly not sleepy. Just... happy."

He holds you for a while, and you bask in the feeling of his arms wrapped securely around you and the light brush of his steady breath against your hair.

“Earlier,” you begin slowly. “You slipped. You started to call me ‘my’—and then you stopped. What were you going to say?”

Jin is quiet and for a moment you wonder if you misspoke.

“Honestly?” he finally says, his voice brushing over you like a soft breeze.

“Honestly,” you repeat, twisting into him to look him in the eyes. There’s something desperately gentle in his gaze. You could fall into it.

“Honestly, I don’t really know where my mind was going in that moment.” He pauses, chewing over his words. “But, I would like to call you mine—in some way.”

“Yours?”

He nods, shyly. “Mine.”

“Sure, I’ll be yours,” you grin, snuggling into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“But only if you’ll be mine, too.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

Seokjin pulls you tighter and just holds you like that for several minutes before he stands up and disappears into the bedroom for a moment. When he returns, he's holding a slim black box, which he hands to you.

"Put this on," he says.

You open the box to reveal a small black number.

"We're going back?" you ask.

"Only to get our winnings," he grins back to you, pushing his hair back again. "And to show everyone just exactly how much I won tonight."

“What do you mean, winnings?”

“I made a purchase tonight.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “The most colorful piece in the whole building.”

“—You?”

Jin smirks and comes behind you to zip up the beautiful piece of clothing. He traces over the bruises blossoming on your shoulders and neck with a gentle touch before pressing his lips to each and every one of them.

"Only if you're comfortable," he adds softly as you melt against his touch. There's no doubt you're tired. But still, the idea of finally walking into an event with Jin—no pretenses, no questions, no secrets—just together, has a thrill sparking in your core.

“I’m always comfortable with you,” you grin, taking his hand and leading him to the elevators.

|| masterlist || moodboard || ao3 ||

taglist:  @velvetwicebang​​ @spicykoreantatertots​ @usuallynervoussheep​ @dulcaet​ 

[ot7always]

Yes, Sir

Word Count: 4.1k

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU, smut, fluff

Warnings: dom!Yoongi, sub!Reader, sir kink, degradation, choking, hair pulling, spanking (hand and belt), dirty talk, unprotected sex, overstimulation, spit kink, squirting, aftercare

Rating: 18+

Summary:  After being promoted to head of another department, you thought your days of needing to deal with Yoongi were over. As it turns out, you were wrong. He still loves to hold his experience over your head, despite no longer being your boss. Let’s just say, after all the times he’s had your blood pressure through the roof, you really did not expect to end up back under him.

A/N: This fic was commissioned by the lovely @meowxyoong for @ficswithluv’s ChangesWithLuv project to raise money for the Black Lives Matter movement, as well as other movements supporting the Black community. Please check it out if you haven’t already! I hope it lives up to your expectations!

Lastly, huge thank you to @wwilloww who beta-read this for me yesterday and gave me tons of useful feedback!! Also tagging @dee-ehn so we can thirst together.

Masterlist

--

Yoongi, head of Marketing. You, head of Sales.

It’s almost like Romeo and Juliet.

Fitting, because you really wanted nothing more than to throttle him.

That’s how the story goes, right?

--

Min Yoongi had to be the devil incarnate. There was no other explanation for the emotional turmoil he put you through each day. While he’d never been outright mean to you, the perceptive asshole knew exactly what to say to push your buttons, despite having no recollection of ever deserving such a thing. It was torture.

You’d worked closely with him for three years before getting promoted, moving from Marketing to Sales. At first, you enjoyed his presence. He mentored you kindly yet sternly, and who wouldn’t want to be mentored by someone who looked like that? But you should have known it was too good to be true. It only took months before he became a constant thorn in your side.

--

Summoned into his office towards the end of the workday, you shut the door behind you as you moved to stand in front of his desk, hands clasped at your front. You eyed your boss, glasses perched on his nose as he flipped through the analysis you’d submitted that morning. You’d worked hard on it for weeks, determined to set yourself apart from your peers. You were confident that it showed in the completed product.

“Sir?” you called out to him after he failed to raise his eyes from the sheets.

“A little long, don’t you think?” he drawled without looking up. You couldn’t tell whether he was unhappy with that fact.

“I was just trying to be thorough, sir…” your voice trailed off, suddenly insecure about the very thing you were so confident about only hours ago.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were trying to impress me,” he smirked, dark eyes finally meeting your gaze. You balked at the statement, unsure if your blood was boiling out of embarrassment or vexation.

“Just doing my job, sir,” you stated, voice clipped. Why were you here? Just so he could tease you? If you weren’t trying to keep a favourable relationship with the higher-ups you would question him about his professionalism.

He continued staring at you for what felt like a lifetime. You shifted on your feet, face hot but determined not to be the first to look away.

Finally ending this strange pseudo-staredown, Yoongi flipped your report shut and placed it in the corner of his desk. The prolonged silence had you feeling a bit dazed.

“It’s good. Thank you. You can go,” he declared abruptly, spinning around on his chair, effectively cutting short any response you may have had.

Brows furrowing in indignation, you spun around on your heel and made your way out of his office, forgoing any attempt to shut the door quietly.

Asshole.

--

Sitting at your desk after a long day of meetings, you yearned for nothing more than a long, hot shower. Things at work had been crazy lately, the company organizing a large collaborative ad campaign that had you working extra hours everyday. It was extra exhausting considering you always had to sit through senior staff meetings with Yoongi, who loved to ask you questions he already had the answers to as if to trip you up.

Quickly organizing your desk before you planned to leave for the night, loose sheets scattering around had you sighing lightly to yourself. Stapler, stapler, stapler…

No stapler.

Are you serious? You swore you literally saw it on your desk this morning –

Yoongi. That bastard always loved to take your stuff, seemingly enjoying the chase of having you hunt him down and demand he return it to you. Well, you really weren’t in the mood for that today. You’d already been in the office for 10 hours, and you really just wanted to go home. Mouth set in a firm line, you set out to march your way straight into his office, only down the hall from your own.

Bursting into the room, you were startled to see him still sitting at his desk, typing away at something furiously despite your interruption.

“Yes?” he inquired, amusement lacing his tone as he raised a brow at you. He pissed you off, but did he have to look so good doing it?

“You know what I want,” you said bitterly, eyes lighting with barely-concealed anger as you spotted your stapler on his desk. Quickly stepping up to grab it, you were taken aback when his hand reached out to halt your motion, fingers gripping around your wrist.

“Excuse me,” you huffed, appalled at his actions. Sure, he loved to tease you, but he didn’t usually opt to touch you like this. Reaching forward to snatch it with your other hand, your fury grew exponentially as he grasped your other wrist too.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snapped, irritation crystal clear in your voice. Glancing up to meet his gaze, what you saw there was dark, staring into you with unparalleled intensity. That look accompanied by the fact that your wrists were still in his grasp had your breath quickening slightly, butterflies churning in your stomach. You tried to pull away, but he must be stronger than he looks because you couldn’t move an inch.

“Sweetheart,” he pouted, but the hardness in his gaze made it evident that it was definitely for show. “I miss the days when you treated me with a lot more respect.”

Confusion washed over you then. Since when did you not treat him with respect? Sure, you could be a bit brusque, but you couldn’t recall any time where you spoke to him any worse than he spoke to you. Frowning, you opened your mouth to question his statement, but he continued before you could speak.

“’Yes sir,’ ‘no sir,’ ‘yes please.’ You were so adorable back then,” he reminisced, head tipping back to look at the ceiling. “I think about it a lot.” He returned his vision to your face, reading you as he begun stroking the soft skin of your wrists with his thumbs. “You were such a good girl for me before,” he murmured lowly, eyes full of hunger.

Your eyes widened in shock. Surely you misheard. He couldn’t be stood here telling you he fantasized about you, right? …Right? Your heart felt like it was about to leap out of your throat. You couldn’t deny that you’d done the same once or twice… or more… but that was just your horny brain talking. Not your rational one.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he implored, an ounce of insecurity somewhere deep in his voice. You didn’t know what to say. How were you meant to process something like this? This is definitely not how you planned for this encounter to go, and you simply stared at him, disbelief colouring your features. You dropped your gaze to his hands still clasped onto you. Yes, you wanted him, but how would this affect your professional relationship? How could you sit through meetings next to him if all you could think about was him inside you?

Taking your silence as answer, he dropped your hands and backed away as if he had been burned. “Sorry, I thought – I just,” he stuttered out, nervousness and shame evident despite his previous actions. “Sorry, I don’t know what possessed me-”

“Yes,” you blurted out, unthinking, bending forward over his desk to grip at his hands. Curse your horny brain. “I do want it,” you pleaded, searching his eyes for the desire that was present only moments ago. As if a switch was flipped, his expression became ice cold. Yanking you forward by your arms, you gave a surprised yelp as he pulled you as close to him as possible, your hipbones digging painfully into the edge of his desk.

“What was that?” he growled, the animalistic sound sending a wave of arousal through you. You gritted your teeth, determined not to give into him so easily. Not a patient man today, Yoongi’s right hand whipped out to place itself at your neck. At its presence you let out a low moan, leaning your head back to bare your throat to him.

“Thought about this, have you?” he chuckled darkly, thumb stroking up your jaw. You shuddered at the touch, teeth biting into your bottom lip in anticipation.

“I may have,” you mumbled, desire replacing any shame you might have felt at admitting your fantasies. At your words, the grip at either side of your throat tightened, squeezing just enough that you struggled to take in air. The brutal action sent a new rush of wetness to your panties, but you continued to hold his stare.

“You know what I want,” he taunted, mockingly using the exact words you’d so assuredly said to him earlier. His hand tightened its hold slightly, your eyes fluttering shut as you attempted to hold back a moan at the situation you’d gotten yourself into. You could not, however, say you weren’t enjoying it. Realizing there was no way he would let up on you, a minute later you finally relented, desperate for his touch elsewhere.

“I want it, sir,” you gasped out, struggling to catch yourself on the desk as he suddenly released you. Bent almost 90-degrees over his desk, you worked to catch your breath, papers and other supplies digging into your chest. Glancing up, you found Yoongi smirking down at you, hands in his pockets as his eyes swept over the sight of you prone across his workspace.

“Stay just like that, princess,” he uttered lowly, your walls clenching around nothing at the name. He circled around to the other side of the desk until he was no longer visible, standing somewhere behind you. About to stand up so that you could see him properly, your breath huffed out of you in surprise when a hand harshly shoved your chest back into his desk. Your struggle against his strength was fruitless.

He used his other hand to yank your skirt up over your ass, exposing the lacy tops of your stockings and your black thong. Part of you was grateful at the dark colour, hoping the arousal already pooled there wasn’t visible to him behind you. He groaned at the sight.

“You mean to tell me you come to work dressed like this and don’t expect to be fucked like a filthy whore?” he jeered, hand tracing over the curve of your ass. You shivered at the touch, pushing back into it ever-so-slightly. The unexpected harsh sting of that same hand delivering a cruel blow to your left asscheek had you quivering.

“Such a bad girl,” he tutted, rubbing at where he had hit you before delivering an even harder smack to your other asscheek. The sensation burned, but the fire of your heat only grew with each passing moment. Hitting you again and again, your mind became unable to focus on anything besides his actions, moaning out as his next hit was dealt closer to your thigh, the ache heavy but so, so good.

“Say it,” he ordered, tone leaving no room for argument. Though, it felt as though with every blow your ability to argue left you, slowly but surely. Seems like your rational brain left for the night, you thought. Obviously unhappy that your focus was no longer on him, his ruthless hand made contact with your cunt  instead, tears springing to your eyes.

“I won’t ask you again,” he cautioned, and it was at that point you decided to throw your pride away. As you’d already said, you wanted this, and like hell if you were going to ruin it now.

“I’m a bad girl, sir,” you whispered, but thankfully it seemed that was enough to appease him.

“And bad girls get punished, don’t they?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed out, face hot. Despite your embarrassment, you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on. Your panties were pulled down to your thighs, and you resisted the urge to try to hide.

At the sight of your folds glistening with arousal, Yoongi let out a moan as he roughly dragged his thumb across you, spreading the wetness. The touch had you moaning out, desperate to press back into him if not for the hand holding you down.

“This needy little cunt is sopping already. You like it rough, don’t you?” he goaded before abruptly sticking his thumb inside you. You whined at the contact, walls gripping at his finger, wanting more of him to fill you up.

“Please, sir…” you begged, moaning wantonly at his slow, unsatisfying movements.

“What was that?” he chuckled, removing his thumb to replace it with two of his fingers, scissoring apart and thrusting roughly.

“Fuck me,” you pleaded, overcome by pleasure, needing so badly to be stretched by a cock instead of his hands. When he pulled away from you entirely, you whined out.

“Such a needy little slut, aren’t you?” he sneered, “You haven’t even gotten your punishment yet and you think you deserve to get fucked?” He unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of his pants and doubling it within his grasp. You jumped at the feeling of the cool leather stroking your ass gently, swatting lightly as if to test the motion.

“This is for every time you’ve ever talked back to me. Every time you’ve turned me on with your tight ass blouses and tiny skirts. You drive me absolutely insane,” he barbed, “Five on each side and you’ll get rewarded. ‘Red’ if you need to stop, ‘yellow’ if you need me to ease up. Repeat it back to me.”

“Red to stop, yellow to ease up,” you panted, squeaking when a hand came down on your ass.

“Sorry, I don’t know who you’re speaking to,” he berated, part of you cursing your slip-up after doing well for so long.

“I – Sorry, sir,” you stammered, eager to please him so that you could get what came next. At your words, the belt came down on your left asscheek, and though the force behind it was weak, it was the loud noise of leather on skin that startled you. After giving you another of the same intensity, you almost thought he was going soft on you. Boy, were you wrong.

Satisfied with your reactions thus far, the belt came down harder, reaching the same strength as Yoongi’s hand earlier. Compared to his palms, though, the impact of the belt felt so much deeper, the pain radiating from the hit leaving you trembling. Two smacks of the belt hit you mercilessly in quick succession, causing you to cry out, only remaining standing thanks to the desk supporting your upper body. Your ass felt like it was on fire, but you could feel your arousal running along your inner thighs. You were sure if he thrust into you right now you would be more than ready to take him.

When he hit you again in the same spot even harder than before, tears sprung to your eyes. Your breath was coming out in pants, but you knew this would all be worth it in the end. Another two hits on the opposite cheek had you choking out a moan. You went limp, body instinctively wanting to curl away from the source of pain but the edge of the desk digging into your hips reminded you that such a thing wasn’t possible in your position.

“One more. Can you take it?” he inquired, taking in the shaking of your body and your loud gasps for air. One more. Despite the overwhelming sensation of pain radiating through you, you knew you could do it. You knew you wanted nothing more than the pleasure that followed. You nodded frantically.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped out, bracing yourself for a hit that never came. You burrowed your brow. Several more seconds passed, and you wondered whether he changed his mind. You should have known he was too cruel for that.

Just as you had let your guard down, the hit came, hard and unpitying. You let out a squeak, breath catching in your throat. Relief at your punishment being over quickly made its way to anticipation at the sound of the belt hitting the floor.

“You took it so well,” he cooed, “Are you gonna be a good little whore for me and take my cock too?” You moaned at his words, whimpering when you felt three fingers enter your dripping hole.

“I was gonna take the time to stretch you out, but it seems like this needy little cunt is ready for me already,” he snickered before removing his fingers. He sunk other hand into your hair, harshly yanking your head up and shoving his fingers into your mouth when you gasped. You sucked on what you could as he pressed his fingers as far as was possible, smirking when you gagged around him.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight…” he said wistfully, “Maybe next time I’ll stuff this pretty mouth.”

Removing his hand from you, he moved to unzip his pants, pulling them down just enough to remove his cock, slicking himself against your folds. When he started pushing into you slowly, you wanted so badly to thrust yourself back on him, but a firm hand held you down at the hips. His painfully slow pace had you whimpering for more.

“Please, sir, I need it,” you cried, desperate for the friction of him inside you. You couldn’t feel shame anymore, could only feel him fucking you, but you needed more.

“Your little cunt wants to be pounded, huh?” he growled, suddenly shoving himself all the way inside and starting up a brutal pace. “Just remember you asked for it even though I tried to ease you into it,” he said, punctuating his words with cruel, deep thrusts that left you reeling. His roughness left your mind blank, and you swore you could feel him in your stomach. All you could do was lay there open-mouthed, small moans and whines making their way freely from your mouth.

“You don’t seem to be talking back now, do you? I’m going to fuck you so dumb you won’t be able to say anything, you little whore.” True to his words, you couldn’t even form a coherent thought as he was pounding into you, your walls clenching around him as cries left your lips.

Suddenly, hands pulled you up so that your back moulded against his chest, one hand holding you up at the waist, the other wrapped around your throat. He squeezed in time with every thrust of his hips, and you felt utterly boneless in his grasp. Feeling lightheaded, you surrendered yourself entirely to his hands and his cock, mindless except for the feeling of him. After being wound up so long, you were already so close to falling over the edge, walls squeezing tighter and tighter as you approached your end.

“Gonna cum for me already, hm? Do you think I can’t feel this pussy gripping me for all it’s worth? Well, go on, cum for me then,” he commanded, hand around your waist moving to rub mercilessly at your clit. At the sudden onslaught of pleasure, you cried out loudly as the orgasm hit you in waves, Yoongi’s thrusts never pausing. When his strokes continued, your moans became laced with pain, cunt too sore to take the beating he was giving you.

When he pulled out of you abruptly, you thought it was over, but he turned you around quickly, seating you on his desk and sliding back into you without missing a beat. You whined at the stretch to your sore walls, but the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he thrusted against you had you thankful. You were moaning shamelessly, head tilted up to admire his features when his hand reached up to squeeze at your jaw, forcing it to open to relieve the pain.

When he pulled his own face close to yours, you didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t him spitting in your mouth, saliva hitting your tongue. You stared up at him wide-eyed, mouth only closing when he pushed your chin upwards.

“Swallow,” he demanded gruffly, eyes looking like they were going to devour you whole. A shiver went up your spine at possessive action, following his instructions and sticking your tongue out to show him once you were done. The moan you received in return was loud, thrusts quickening to further chase his pleasure.

“Such a good little whore for me, you’re getting better at following instructions,” he grunted out, pulling you forward to change the angle. With each thrust he was rubbing against that spongy spot inside of you, your head falling back as you let the sensation run over you.

The wave snuck up on you again, his thrusts relentless, the grinding of his pelvis against your clit every so often had your eyes rolling back. You were so sore, but it felt too good to stop. As he changed to shallow thrusts that had him only grinding against you, you felt that intense tightness in your abdomen. As he alternated between thrusting shallowly against your g-spot and slamming all the way in to grind against you, you shook in his hold, unable to catch your breath before another rush of pleasure had you weak.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, the release you felt was immaculate. Walls pulsing with seemingly no end, your orgasm left you seeing stars, all the tension in  your body gone in exchange for mind-numbing bliss.

Your heat clenching around him had Yoongi groaning lowly, thrusts shallow and sloppy as he felt his own end approach. When he looked down and spotted the wet spots on the stomach of his button-up shirt, his mind blanked. Shoving himself all the way inside, he muffled his moans into your neck as he came.

You let out a small mewl when he pulled out of you, the day’s exhaustion hitting you all at once. He hushed you, guiding your body down to the floor to rest against his desk, disappearing momentarily as you shut your eyes. Returning with wet paper towels, he dabbed lightly at your inner thighs and between your legs.

Eyelids fluttering open as you felt a hand in your hair, tired eyes met concerned ones as Yoongi inspected you from head to toe. “You okay?” he asked simply, hands moving to fix your misplaced panties and skirt. You nodded despite your fatigue, pausing when you spotted wet spots on Yoongi’s shirt. No way –

“You squirted,” he smirked, looking satisfied with himself, the devil in him returning for just a moment. At the confirmation, your face felt hot, your hands moving to hide as if that would quell your embarrassment.

“Hey,” he called softly, hands pulling your own away, “Don’t be embarrassed. It was hot. I like making you feel good,” he said. His words brought a small smile to your face, though you still couldn’t help but to feel a bit shy.

“Have you done something like this before?” he questioned, any judgment absent from his voice. You assumed he meant the spanking, the belt, the… everything, you guessed. Shaking your head in denial, he smiled gently at you.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, watching you closely to gauge your reaction. His question had you pausing. Home? With him?

“Why?” you responded, wariness clear in your tone. He couldn’t blame you for your disbelief. After all, it wasn’t normal for someone to spend all his time teasing you, then suddenly fuck you into next year, then ask you home.

“I want to make sure you’re okay. And I wanted to cook you dinner. And I was hoping you would stay and talk. Please?” he urged you, gaze imploring. While you were sure this wouldn’t instantly fix the irritation you’d had with him all this time, he really did seem sincere. And you honestly weren’t sure if you could walk on your own anyway. If anything, this seemed like a good first step to repairing your relationship.

Of course, sex would be the thing to fix your despise for this man, you thought. Curse your horny brain once again.

“Okay,” you sighed, relenting. It was the least he could do to make it up to you, right?

[junghelioseok]

rogue.

↳ a night out leads you to exactly where you want to be.

◇ yoongi x reader ◇ smut | bit of angst | strangers!au ◇ 3.9k [1/1]

⇢ for danica aka @dee-ehn, as part of ficswithluv’s changeswithluv project for black lives matter ♡

notes: i told danica this was going to be daechwita!yoongi and boy i was not kidding one bit! i took quite a few creative liberties, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. thank you for your donation to such an important cause!

warnings: dom!yoongi, tatted and pierced!yoongi, like he has a tongue piercing whoOPS my hand slipped 🙈, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected sex (stay safe kids!!!), a very vague sense of the time period in which this is all happening bc it’s an au and i’m a dumbass idk!!! 🙈

It’s impossible to miss the man sitting in the corner of the bar.

He’s surrounded by a raucous group of people you can only assume are his friends, dressed in muted green with a silver chain at his throat. Dark eyes peer out from behind dark hair, ever vigilant as they flit around the room, scanning faces and assessing threats. Some would call it caution—others would call it paranoia—but you have to applaud him nonetheless. One can never be too careful, after all. While this bar does serve as an unofficial headquarters for the resistance, you’ve seen time and time again that the government has eyes and ears everywhere. You’ve watched friends and acquaintances alike get dragged off by uniformed guards, the emperor’s insignia on their chests shining bright as a flame and just as dangerous.

You’re seated at the counter on this particular evening. The bar is crowded, but even the other patrons’ chatter cannot drown out the conversation surrounding the man and his friends. It’s almost as if you’re attuned to them—like a radio set to a single station before the dial broke off. Every word comes through as clear as day, and you lean back in your seat to listen, sipping languidly on your drink.

“I’m telling you, we’re ready,” one of the men is saying. In the firelight, his brown hair glows orange, and the scruff of beard on his chin is rust. “One more week, and everything will be set. Taehyung’s already talked his way into the palace. We won’t have a better shot than this.”

“It’s hard to believe he’s already in,” the man across from him says, his wide doe eyes a stark contrast to the hard set of his jaw. “I thought it’d take him a lot longer, to be honest.”

“Tae’s a good liar,” a third man pipes up, shrugging. “Always has been.”

The second man snickers, his nose scrunching with mirth. “Really? You don’t say. You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about the dumpling incident again, would you, Jimin?”

Through all of this, the dark-haired man stays silent, sipping pensively on his drink. His gaze roves past where you’re seated, and though you can’t be certain, you swear it lingers for a split second before moving on.

“Let’s give credit where credit is due, though.” The first speaker is talking again, giving the dark-haired man a hearty clap on the back that nearly sends his tankard flying. “We wouldn’t have gotten half as far in our plan if it wasn’t for Yoongi here. How about a toast?”

“To Yoongi,” the one named Jimin intones immediately, raising his cup. “He’s always fighting the good fight.”

“To our very own Min Yoongi, finally taking out the asshole emperor for good,” the first man adds. “To one asshole killing another—and with the same last name, nonetheless. You sure there’s no relation between you two? We could be planning a patricide, for all we know.”

Yoongi stiffens. “Don’t even joke about that,” he says, his voice deep and lilting with a pleasant rasp that sends a shiver down the length of your spine. “That bastard isn’t my family. And even if he is—well, he won’t be for much longer.”

The threat lacing his words is unmistakable, and when you shiver again, it’s for a wholly different reason. People who want the cruel emperor dead aren’t difficult to come by, but few have the courage to speak of it so openly. But now, with the resistance’s plan finally coming to fruition, people are getting bolder. Tougher. Happier.

It hadn’t felt real, at first. The initial whispers were hesitant and disbelieving, but gained momentum with each passing day. Have you heard? The resistance is finally making a move. They’re going to kill Emperor Min. But despite the growing excitement amongst the townspeople, your heart remains heavy.

Ever since Emperor Min came into power a decade ago, his cruelty and ruthlessness have been unparalleled. His guards patrol the streets at night under the guise of keeping the peace, but you know as well as anyone that they’re searching for dissenters. Every night, you huddle away in your home with the windows shuttered, listening as the guards loot the bars and beat the helpless, all the while trying to root out rumored members of the resistance.

So far, their efforts have seen mixed success. Last you heard, some lower ranking members had been imprisoned. Several were executed two months back, their severed heads hung from the palace walls as an example to those who dared defy the regime. But the topmost members of the resistance, as well as the leader, have all managed to evade capture. They began a series of weekly raids, sneaking into the palace’s kitchens and coming away with stocks of food to feed the hungry. Next they looted the money vaults, filling their bags with bars of gold for distribution. And then they visited the armory.

Needless to say, the rumors swelled—as did the emperor’s desperation to quash the dissenters. You kept a careful ear close to the ground for any news, and listened in disbelief as each subsequent story grew more outlandish.

The leader of the resistance is the old emperor, who faked his death all those years ago.

The leader is Emperor Min’s bastard son, and he’s avenging his mother’s death.

The leader is—

A fresh wave of laughter draws you out of your thoughts, and your attention immediately goes to the source. The group of men surrounding Yoongi has dissolved into mirth, but the dark-haired man isn’t grinning with the rest of them. His dark eyes are trained on you, sharp and steady, and you wonder at what he could possibly be thinking. Is he even staring at you? You turn to check behind you, just to be sure.

And when you turn around again, he’s standing right in front of you.

“Oh!” you squeak, startled by his sudden proximity.

Yoongi blinks lazily at you, unfazed. He catches the bartender’s attention and buys another drink, and you belatedly notice that the tankard in his hand is empty and instantly feel foolish for assuming that he came over for anything else. Still, you can’t help but zero in on the way he leans against the counter as he waits, his body a hair’s breadth from yours, his elbows propped up on the polished wooden surface. This close to him, you can see the beginnings of an intricate serpentine dragon coiled around his right forearm, the inky black tail looping around his wrist before coming to a stop near the silver ring on his thumb. The rest of the tattoo disappears into the rolled up sleeves of his worn green jacket, and you wonder exactly where it begins.

Then you wonder what it would be like to trace those lines of ink with your fingers—and your tongue, if he permits it. Your throat bobs at the thought, your thighs squeezing together unconsciously, and it’s almost as if he can read your mind because he’s suddenly leaning closer, a crooked smirk playing on his lips.

“You seem tense,” he murmurs. “Why’s that, doll?”

A spark ignites the base of your spine at the term of endearment, flaring up through your veins. He’s so close you can count each individual eyelash, fluttering against his pale cheekbones with every blink. Silver earrings dangle from his ears—a combination of thin chains and hoops that glitter in the dim light. You think you spot another flash of silver between his lips, embedded in his tongue.

“Long week,” you manage at last, thanking your lucky stars that your voice comes out steady. “Trouble at work. But you don’t want to hear about that.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi replies, accepting the fresh drink that the bartender hands him with a nod of thanks. He takes a long sip, and you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on the soft curve of his lips around the rim of the glass. Then he nods at your own glass, which is half-full and mostly ice at this point. “Can I get you another? I hear alcohol makes your troubles go away.”

You raise a brow. “Really? I hear it just causes new, different troubles.”

An amused grin pulls at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “You may be right about that,” he concedes, setting his drink down with a thunk and leaning in close again. “So how exactly do you propose we make your troubles go away?”

Your other brow rises to join the first. “I don’t recall asking for your help.”

That earns you another grin. “And yet, here I am, offering my services nonetheless.”

A beat of silence stretches between you, taut as a tightrope and thick with tension. Yoongi raises his glass to his lips again, but his dark eyes remain fixed on yours over the rim, unblinking and never once wavering. The clamor of the bar fades into the background, slowing until it feels like you’re swimming in molasses. Your heart thuds in your chest, arrhythmic and fluttery as the wings of the butterflies that have made a home in your belly.

You blink first. Your gaze drops to the soft pout of his mouth, and that’s all it takes for the thread to snap—for Yoongi to ditch his drink and grab your hand instead. “You wanna get out of here?” he asks.

And maybe it’s the alcohol swimming in your system, but you nod. Yoongi stands up, tugging you with him, and you relish the way his fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between your own. He leads you through the crowded bar, weaving amongst the scattered tables and their occupants, and you gasp when he suddenly veers to the side and tugs you into a dim corridor. Several closed doors line it, and he doesn’t hesitate to cage you against the nearest one. His mouth descends on yours, slanting fervently across yours in a kiss, and your eyes flutter shut.

Yoongi kisses you with intoxicating ferocity. His palms are hot against the sliver of skin that your shirt has ridden up to reveal, and devious fingers slide beneath the hem to push it up further. You moan into his open mouth, your breaths intermingling, and it turns into a gasp when the doorknob suddenly digs into your back, cool and unyielding.

Your companion pulls back, frowning at the way the knob refuses to give beneath his fingertips. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Locked.”

“What a shame,” you breathe back.

He hums and takes your face in his hands, kissing you until you go weak in the knees. “I’ve got a car out back,” he rasps when he pulls away.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Not two minutes later, you’re stumbling out into the back alleyway, the low drone of traffic and passersby a welcome change from the din inside the bar. As promised, a beat-up black sedan is parked against the brick wall, and Yoongi wastes no time in pressing you down onto the hood, slotting himself between your spread legs and mouthing insistently at your neck until you’re scrabbling at his back, your breathing labored and shaky.

“Come on, doll.” Yoongi straightens up, raking his dark hair out of his eyes and offering you a crooked smirk. “You can do better than that. Be a good girl for me and let me hear you.”

A pulse of heat spikes through you. His hands come down on either side of your body, twin metallic thunks as the rings on his fingers meet steel. One side of his mouth quirks as he looms above you, but he doesn’t touch you just yet. The silvery chains around his neck glint in the dim glow of the streetlamp at the end of the alley, and Yoongi huffs out an amused chuckle when he notices your diverted attention.

“Eyes on me, doll,” he chides, tapping the side of his nose. “Unless you’re looking for an audience?” Thoughtfully, he glances over his shoulder, where the alley opens up into the main street. Despite the late hour, there are still cars and pedestrians ambling past, completely unaware of the obscene way you’re sprawled atop the hood of Yoongi’s car with the man himself between your legs.

Completely unaware of the way your skirt is now slowly riding up, aided by Yoongi’s warm hand sliding along the soft, delicate skin of your inner thigh.

“I think you might like the idea of an audience too much,” Yoongi breathes, leaning down until his breath is fanning against your cheeks. There’s a tinge of alcohol that lingers on him, the barest hint of sweetness, but it’s neither overbearing nor unpleasant. You’ve been with men like that before—men whose drunkenness made them bold and stupid and immune to your desires. Those men were nothing like Yoongi, who’s staring down at you, ravenous, as if you’re a feast just begging for him to partake. Nothing like Yoongi, whose carnal gaze promises that he knows exactly what you need.

“I think,” he continues, so casually he may as well have been talking about the weather, “it turns you on, knowing that anyone might look this way and see you like this.” His voice is casual but his smile is wicked, and the combination is enough to have your core seizing, untouched.

And then he’s grabbing at the material of your skirt, bunching it up and leaving your bottom half fully exposed. Teasing fingertips skim the lacy edge of your panties, and your eyes widen when he snaps the elastic against your skin. “Yoongi!”

“Much better,” he hums approvingly. Your cheeks flush with warmth.

When he touches you again, it’s with much more fervor, the pad of his index finger tracing your clothed slit and molding the dampened fabric to your folds. Distantly, you think that you should be more embarrassed, being this wet from just some kissing and a few calculated touches, but the rest of your brain is too lost in Yoongi to care. Your gaze traces the dark ink blossoming across the skin of his forearms, following the serpentine coils of the dragon around his wrist. And then it drops to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans, straining against the faded denim.

Yoongi spots your new fixation almost instantaneously, his smirk morphing into something mocking. “What is it, doll? Do you want something?”

“I—” you try, but your voice sticks in your throat. Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“That won’t do,” he says. He cups your mound in one warm hand, his middle finger dipping inside you through the lace of your underwear, and you keen at the foreign texture of the sodden material. “Would you like to try again?”

“Yoongi, please,” you breathe shakily. Your thighs clench together unconsciously, and your companion merely chuckles as he pushes them back apart and settles between them, nosing forward until he’s inches from your dripping core.

“Good girls tell me what they want,” he proclaims softly. “Good girls get rewarded. But bad girls, they get punished. Do you want to guess which one you are, doll?”

He leaves you little room to answer—not that you could’ve mustered up anything coherent even if you tried. In the span of a single breath, Yoongi pulls aside your drenched underwear and sinks his tongue inside your pussy, and you belatedly realize that you’d been correct when you thought you saw a silver piercing embedded in his tongue. The metal ball glides smoothly along your walls, hard and unyielding. Each time he pulls back, or darts up to flick at your clit, or laves at your folds with the enthusiasm of a man starved, you feel it rubbing up against your sensitive flesh, the stimulation unlike any other.

If this is his idea of punishment, you would happily take it any day, night, or afternoon.

There’s something beginning to brew in your belly—something coiling tighter and tighter with each movement of Yoongi’s questing tongue. He’s mouthing languidly at your clit now, winding lazy circles around the little nub while two of his fingers stretch you open, and you’re beyond thankful that he’s chosen to wear smooth rings tonight. The pressure grows as he digs deeper, and he must sense your rapidly approaching high because he doubles his efforts to get you there, sliding in a third finger and sucking harder on your clit. You’re so, so close.

And then it all stops.

Yoongi straightens up and withdraws his fingers, licking his lips. His chin is shiny with your juices and his fingers are likewise coated in your sheen, but he seems otherwise unruffled as he adjusts his sleeves and takes in your gaping visage.

“You—!” you splutter, distraught. “How could… I was so close!”

He pins you in place with a look, the corner of his mouth lifting into a wry smirk. “I told you that bad girls get punished, doll. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, do I need to repeat myself again, or do you want to tell me what you w—”

“I want your cock,” you blurt. “Please, Yoongi.”

At your shameless declaration, his expression shifts—turning into something dark and positively predatory. “Then turn around for me,” he commands, his voice soft but no less authoritative. “Hands on the hood of the car. I’m not planning on being gentle.”

A shiver dances down your spine as you comply, bracing yourself against the car. It’s a warm night, but the steel is still cool to the touch, smooth and hard beneath your palms. Behind you, you can hear Yoongi shedding his jacket and unbuckling his belt, a muffled grunt of relief escaping him as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. You want so badly to turn around and look at him—to take in the way his hand grips his cock and memorize every ridge and protruding vein—but you resist the urge. Instead, you wait, your head bowed, for him to make his next move.

Much to your relief, you don’t have to wait long. He’s palming at your hips before you can even draw your next breath, inked arms winding around your body so he can squeeze at your clothed breasts. He takes his time fondling each swell, pinching your nipples until they ache, and you sense the satisfaction radiating off of him when he finally decides to rid you of your shirt entirely.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he rasps, tracing along your spine before splaying a hand at the base so that you’re forced to arch for him. Immediately, you bend to his will, wiggling your hips slightly as you move into position. His sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and neither does the low hum of appreciation that bubbles up from his throat as he smooths a hand along the curve of your ass. You can’t help but preen a bit under his approval, and when Yoongi notices, he chortles and lands a teasing smack on your rear that has you moaning.

“Dirty girl,” he accuses, amusement lacing his tone. “You really want my cock that badly, doll?”

You can only nod, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. He makes quick work of your soiled panties, hooking two thumbs into the waistband and tugging them down to pool around your ankles. Now completely bare, you can feel every inch of Yoongi’s lean torso as he pulls you close and positions himself at your entrance, parting your walls with near-tortuous deliberation.

“Faster,” you gasp, clenching around him in an effort to goad him into picking up his pace. “Yoongi, I want your cock so bad, please—”

The rest of your sentence ends in a garbled, choked moan. Yoongi thrusts forward with no preamble, filling you up to the very brim, and when he simultaneously finds your clit with his thumb, the jolt of pleasure is enough to steal all the oxygen from your lungs. He circles the sensitive nub between his fingertips with expert precision, and you can only whimper out his name as he starts up a steady rhythm, his mouth finding its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder and lingering there.

The tight coil of pressure is growing in your belly once more, and this time you know that Yoongi has no intention of stopping it. He’s so deep you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, and you hear rather than see the strain in his jaw as he grits out your name and commands you to come, his thumb rubbing against your clit in just the right way to send you hurtling off the precipice and into white-hot bliss.

By the time you come back down, he’s getting close too. You can tell from the way his pace gets more and more erratic, and you pretend you don’t hear the I love you intermingled with the filth and praise he whispers into your skin. Instead, you let him palm your hips and tug you closer, sighing out his name and encouraging him to yes, come inside me and I love you too.

It isn’t until your combined juices are beginning to drip down your thigh and his cock is slowly softening inside you, that he huffs out a hoarse laugh. “You ruined the immersion,” he murmurs, pulling out and turning you around so he can kiss you properly. “I don’t think you’d tell a complete stranger that you love them, no matter how good the sex may have been.”

You smack his arm weakly, giggling. “Oh, shut up. You told me you loved me first, you know.”

Yoongi hums and presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Whatever you say, doll.”

Still smiling, you nestle closer to him, burying your face into his bare shoulder. Idly, you trace the scars littered across his chest—each one its own individual constellation, telling the story of just how long he’s fought against the tyrannical regime you live under. At the thought, your smile fades.

“I hope you’re not wrong about the plan,” you murmur, stroking the scar that’s just above his heart before moving to the ones that decorate his ribcage, the puckered flesh intermingling with the inky gladiolus blossoms he’s gotten tattooed there. One flower for each member of the resistance who’s lost their life—a permanent in memoriam. You follow the delicate outlines with a fingertip, committing each and every one to memory, and think back to all the rumors that say the leader of the resistance is the zombified old emperor, or Emperor Min’s bastard son.

Yet none of the rumors are as powerful as the one that you know to be the truth—that the leader of the resistance is just a man. A man with a good heart and a kind soul, who grew tired of living under the emperor’s relentless tyranny and decided to take matters into his own hands. A man who remembered his fallen comrades, and always kept his word, no matter how small or trivial a thing it might be.

“Come back to me when it’s all over,” you whisper.

Yoongi tilts your chin up gently, cradling your face in his hands as if you’re made of glass. “I will,” he whispers back. “I promise.”

[lunar-jimin]

i can be temptation, you can be my sin

Pairing: Jimin x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Genre: smut, tiny side of angst and fluff, office!au (not the TV show), coworkers!au

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dom!Jimin, sub!reader, spanking, fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, degradation, reader sends nudes

Summary: Between bragging about his prolific sex life and his horrific design ideas, Jimin has managed to make your work life a living hell. Then one little accident sends you hurtling towards him, and as hard as you try, you can’t seem to stop yourself. 

A/N: This is a commission for @ppersonna​ for @ficswithluv​‘s ChangesWithLuv project dedicated to raising money for BLM. I’m so sorry this fic took forever to write (I’m not sure why), but I hope that you enjoy it! A huge shout-out to my lovely beta-reader, @jinterlude​. She’s the best!

| m.list |

“Jimin…” a groan tumbles out of you, “that shade of yellow is-“

“Bright and comforting?”

“-awful.”

His thick lips curve into a pout, eyes doing little to conceal his mock hurt. Exasperation runs through your body, grasping your brain in its clutches. Your entire week has been filled with Jimin’s progressively hideous design ideas for a book cover, to the point you’re beginning to wonder how he got hired at all. The piss-yellow mock-up in front of you is just another straw in the stack that is going to break your back.

“What?” he looks confused, “You said you wanted something eye-catching, and I would have to say this is pretty darn, eye-catching.”

“It’s blinding is what it is. Maybe if we toned it back a bit…” your eyes drift over the design, horror twisting in your gut.

You want to cry. A week ago, your boss had enthusiastically paired you with Jimin to design a book cover for an up and coming YA author, claiming the two of you were the best designers she had, even promising the both of you a promotion if things went well. You aren’t sure what designs Jimin had produced in the past, because what he was bringing to the table now wasn’t much better than a shitty college club poster.

Jimin didn’t make for great company either. Sure he had legs that went for miles, and a face that would outshine angels, but his mouth was filthy. If the two of you weren’t bickering over fonts and hex codes, you were stuck listening to him brag about how loud he could make a girl scream. What’s worse is that while your brain was logical enough to know that Jimin was no good for you, your body had other ideas. As a result, you often went home after a long day, frustrated in more ways than one.

With a little luck- and quite a bit of compromising- you manage to make it to five ‘o’clock without murdering anyone. You manage to talk Jimin down off the yellow in exchange for completing the pitch presentation by yourself. Presentations are time-consuming and tedious, but it’s better than being out of a job because Jimin is set on making the cover look like a neon highlighter.

A half an hour later, you're collapsing on your soft couch, ready to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the weekend. A sigh of relief carries an iota of the stress out of your body as you sink back into the welcoming cushions. You grimace as the tension in your neck became apparent, and you feel the growing ball of angst you have for Jimin tighten. You were going to send him the bill if you had to go to a chiropractor.

In an attempt to move on from your hectic week and into your relaxing weekend, you wander to the kitchen, searching for the merlot you have yet to open. The tall green bottle greets you from the counter. You find a glass and watch as the red liquid quickly fills it. You savor a long sip as you let your mind stray away from the thoughts of work and stress and into notions of self-care and relaxation.

An hour later, having eaten a frozen pizza, you find yourself soaking down into the hot bath suds. The heat begins to draw the ache out of your sore muscles. Once again, Jimin flashes through your mind, coupled with resentment. Your eyes prickle at the thought, sick and tired of Jimin living in your mind rent-free. Why is he preoccupying your brain instead of Seokjin, the cute cook you matched with on Tinder?

While you had yet to meet in person, you and Seokjin had hit off right away when he opened with the cheesiest pick-up line you’d ever heard. He worked at a five-star restaurant a few blocks from your office, but you’d never met in person. That didn’t mean that you hadn’t had a few scandalous conversations. You weren’t usually one for sexting, but Seokjin’s way with words left you little choice.

Eager to take Jimin off your mind, you grab your phone from the side of the tub, quickly opening your messages. You’re much too impatient for small talk, so in the interest of sparking some saucy dialogue, you take a few snaps of your bubble-covered nude body. You suck in a breath as you hit send, anxious for your reaction. It wasn’t the first time you had sent him a nude photo, but it didn’t make you any less nervous. Seokjin was one of the most attractive men you had ever had the privilege of laying eyes on, and it was only natural for you to question your appearance in comparison to his. He would always reassure you, though, flattering you with compliments, both sultry and sweet.

When he doesn’t respond fifteen minutes, a knot forms in your stomach. What if he didn’t like them? What if he was seeing someone else? What if he lost interest? You check your messages with hurried concern. What you find on your screen mortifies. In your haste to tease Seokjin, you had accidentally sent the photos to the last person you texted: Jimin. Worse yet, the little grey “read” sits just beneath the last picture. As you stare at the screen with abject horror, a little speech-bubble pops-up. Your stomach twists in knots, anticipating of what he might say striking you with fear.

The Office Brat: if you wanted a piece of me baby girl, all you had to do was ask 20:33

You suck in a breath when he immediately follows the text with a picture of his own. He’s shirtless, lip between his teeth as he grabs his prominent erection through grey sweatpants. You can’t help the whine that slips out of your mouth at the image. You try to ignore the heat that rushes to your core as your legs rub together. When your senses finally return to you, you drop your phone on the bath mat before sinking into the water, leaving only your face out. The photo is still seared into your brain, taunting you with his delicious abs and what turned out to be a healthy sized dick.

You immediately resolve to forget it ever happened. You spend the rest of the weekend attempting to distract yourself through a binge of every cheesy rom-com you can find on Netflix. You sent Jimin a quick text, informing him that the photos weren’t actually for him. He hadn’t responded, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. It certainly didn’t aid the dread building in your stomach at the thought of having to face him again on Monday.

When you walk into the office two days later, you’re relieved to find that Jimin seemed nowhere to be found. You pray that he actually had an iota of shame and quit out of humiliation. Your hopes are crushed when not five minutes later, you notice him prancing toward your cubicle, his ever-present smirk plastered across his face. When he reaches you, he plops down in an extra desk chair, arms crossed across his chest, eyes looking you up and down. You can’t help but shiver at the knowledge that he knows precisely what you look like underneath your work clothes.

“What do you want, Jimin?” you sigh.

“Haven’t I made that obvious, baby?” He grins. “I want you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jimin, what happened this weekend was an accident,” you give him a firm glare, “so no matter how much you claim to want me, I want nothing to do with you.:

He raises his eyebrow, eyes locked on yours, before standing and walking to you. His breath is warm on your neck as he leans over to whisper in your ear. You clench your thighs in an attempt to extinguish the heat beginning to burn in between them.

“We’ll see about that, now won’t we, baby girl?”

He pulls away with a smirk, before turning to head to his desk. Your eyes trail to his ass as he leaves, only worsening the situation in your underwear. You silently vow to yourself not to fall for his tricks. You have more self-respect than to allow yourself to be yet another notch in Park Jimin’s bedpost.

Brushing thoughts of your troublesome coworker from your mind, you turn back to your bright computer screen, determined to lose yourself in your work. Your eyes widen when you find an email from Jimin taunting you in your inbox. Heart pounding fast, you click on it, half afraid to find another nude of his (it wouldn’t be beyond him). Instead of a naked Jimin, a PDF with the details for the cover design presents itself. You’re taken aback. Not only had Jimin swapped the yellow for soft coral, but he practically redesigned the entire thing. Scrolling through, you’re embarrassed to admit that it was nearly as good, if not better, then some of your best works.

You immediately realize that this means he’s been pulling your leg for over a week. A groan escapes you, and your head falls forward, smashing into your keyboard. Of course, he was a fucking amazing graphic artist; you shouldn’t have expected anything less. Fury floods down your spine as it dawns on you that it was all a trick to get out of doing the PowerPoint. Now you were stuck making an entire presentation, just because Jimin had pretended to love piss-yellow.

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to march to his desk and strangle him. White anger flashes in front of your eyes, resentment growing to cover every waking thought in your brain. When you finally calm enough to rationalize that murder isn’t going to get you anywhere, you decide that your best course of action is to avoid him until the day of the two of you are scheduled to present to the board.

The world isn’t being kind to you today, because when you finally head to the break room for lunch, you immediately run into your new worst enemy.

“What’s got your panties in a knot now, love?”

You glare at him, not trusting yourself not to stab him with your salad fork. He smirks in response, before turning to leave. At the last second, he turns back to you.

“Have fun with that PowerPoint.”

You want to scream.

“Jimin, I swear to god, you little shit, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what? Spank me?” His cheeky grin widens. “You know, baby, I’m usually a dom, but if it meant feeling your sweet pussy, I’d definitely be a sub.”

You are lucky that no one else is around to hear his words because you are mortified enough. Red creeps across your face as Jimin winks at you. When he finally leaves, you collapse back onto the counter, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. You swear to high heaven that you’ve never hated someone so much in your life, yet feel so attracted to them at the same time. As infuriated as you are with him, you are even more infuriated with your inability to control your body’s reaction to him.

Why did he have to know exactly what to say to soak your panties? Why was he so hellbent on getting you to sleep with him? Why did you ever have to be assigned to him in the first place? These questions plagued your mind as the week trickled slowly on. Your anger with Jimin was beginning to be diluted with anxiety about your upcoming presentation. No part of you looked forward to standing in front of the company board to make a potential career-changing pitch with the person you hated most in the world. Not to mention public speaking made you want to hide under a rock and never come out.

Thankfully, Jimin is kind enough to offer to do most of the talking- even if his original deal included a blow job- but it also meant you had less control if things started to go south. By the time Friday rolled around, you’re shitting yourself with fear. Jimin does his best to calm you down as you sit in hard plastic chairs outside the boardroom, waiting to be called in.

“Look, we’ll do fine. You made an amazing presentation, and I’m pretty brilliant at charming people if I do say so myself.”

He reaches over and gives your hand a small squeeze. You’re just nervous enough to offer him a small smile. For what it’s worth, he wasn’t terrible at comforting people.

“Thanks, Jimin. I’m sure everything will go great.”

Everything did not go great. In fact, it went very, very badly. Somewhere out there, someone must have hexed you because that’s the only reason you can think of that would explain why you placed Jimin’s original yellow design in the slideshow instead of his new one. You feel terrible. Not only have you fucked up in front of the entire company, but you’ve put both of your jobs on the line.

As soon as the meeting ended, you rushed off to the bathroom. You already embarrassed yourself enough as it is, you don’t need everyone to see you cry too. Tears roll down your face as you sit on the toilet, praying for the sudden end of your existence.

You had one job and somehow you had managed to fuck it up. You managed to ruin your career. You’re going to end up jobless. Broke. Destitute.

You’re jolted out of your thoughts by a knock at the door.

“Doll? Are you in there?”

Jimin’s voice is soft and comforting, and if you weren’t so afraid of humiliating yourself, you would have gladly welcomed his arms around you. But you are, so you try to stifle your sobs in an attempt to make him go away.

“Doll? I know you’re in there. I can hear you crying,” he sighs, “Please just let me in. I just want to talk.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you debate your options. If he already knows you’re crying, what difference will it make if he sees you? You stand up from your seat on the toilet, make a quick attempt at cleaning up your ruined makeup, and hesitantly open the door to let him inside.

He immediately takes you in his arms, closing the door behind him. The feeling of his body wrapped around yours only serves to induce more tears, and you find yourself crying into his shirt collar.

“I’m so, so sorry, Jimin,” you hiccup, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I used that one. I’m so sor-”

“It’s okay, baby.”

You pull away to look at his eyes.

“What? How can you say that? I ruined the presentation, and we’ll be lucky if they want us to come back to work tomorrow.”

“They loved it.”

“What?”

“They loved it. They thought it was bright and innovative and really demonstrated that we understood design enough to push its limits.”

You look at him in shock. They loved it. They thought it was great. Your job was safe. You weren’t going to be fired. You may even receive a promotion.

“Feel better, doll?” He smiles down at you.

For once in your life, you return his smile, while shaking your head in affirmation.

“Well, then…”

You’re still smiling but suddenly unsure of what to do. Jimin’s hands are still on your waist, and you hated how aware of them you’re becoming. He seems to notice at the same time and quickly pulls them away.

“I have a question.” His voice is soft and shaky, and his eyes shift from side to side, seemingly unable to focus on you.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

You’re taken aback. Jimin, who was usually so confident and larger than life, is now standing before you, small and meek, like an underfed puppy begging for scraps.

“I, I don’t hate you, Jimin.”

“But you must,” his voice is curt, “You never flirt back with me, yet I see you tease Hoseok all day long. You never laugh at my jokes. You never praise my work. As soon as I come anywhere near you, you close up. You snap at me, and you have no patience with me. You avoid me at all costs. So let me ask you again: why do you hate me?”

This time, instead of avoiding eye contact, he stares at you like he’s trying to read your soul.

“I really don’t hate you, Jimin.”

He raises his eyebrow.

“I just don’t want you to hurt me.”

He looks genuinely confused at your statement.

“How could I possibly hurt you?”

“The same way you hurt all those other girls.”

“What other girls?” His voice rises with defense.

“You know, the ones you sleep with in bathrooms, only to leave them broken-hearted when you never so much as glance their way again? The one’s you brag about fucking every chance you get until I want to slam my head into a brick wall? The ones that prove you’re nothing but a narcissistic fuckboy whose only goal in life is to get his dick wet? Those are the girls I’m talking about.”

Jimin looks shocked before his face morphs into an angry scowl, eyes heated and alert.

“That’s what you really think about me? That I’m a no-good player who uses girls for their bodies? Do you really think I trick girls into sleeping with me? Because you're wrong. They know what they’re getting into when they agree to restroom rendezvouses, but they always seem to convince themselves that they can convince me that I should be in a relationship with them. That’s not my fault. I would never sleep with someone under false pretenses. And I bragged about them because I wanted you to like me! Do you not get that? I don’t ever try this hard to get anybody to sleep with me, but I like you. I like you a lot, and this whole time you just thought I was a misogynistic fuckboy because you never cared to get to know me better.”

Jimin is seething, like a dog that went feral. His chest rises with heavy breaths as he backs you into the wall, eyes staring down yours. You let out a small whimper when he leans into your ear, hot breath ghosting your neck.

“If you think I’m such a fuckboy, then a fuckboy is what you are going to get.”

Before your brain can properly register his words, his lips are covering yours in a desperate kiss. Despite your lack of cognizance, you respond immediately, lips moving against his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into you. His hands ghost down your side before he grabs your ass with a rough squeeze, eliciting a whine from your mouth.

He flips you around before bending you over the sink, eyes holding yours in the mirror reflection.  

“I think you’ve been a bad girl, don’t you agree? Leaving me with blue balls just because you think you’re better than me.”

Words fail you, so you nod instead. His hand slips under your skirt, softly massaging your ass.

“Don’t you think Daddy needs to punish you?”

You whimper, eyes struggling to hold his in your shared reflection. His gaze was burning with lust and fiery.

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, daddy, I need to be punished.”

He grinned before flipping up your skirt to reveal the supple curve of your ass to his waiting gaze.

“Fuck, baby, do you know how long I’ve stared at this ass walking away from me, trying not to pop a boner in front of the whole office?”

He grabbed a rough handful.

“So long, baby, much too long. I think ten should suffice. Count for me.”

“Okay, daddy.” You whine.

“Say ‘red’ if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes, daddy.”

The first spank sent shocks running through you. While you expected the pain, you hadn’t anticipated how hard he would hit you, or how the contrast of his warm palm and cool rings would send pleasure singing through your body.

“O-one.”

The word barely made it out of your mouth, your brain hazy with lust.

The subsequent slap on the opposite cheek once again jolts you, and you fall forward, bracing your hands on the cold porcelain sink before you.

“Two.”

By the time he made it to five, tears had begun to well in your eyes, and you were sure your ass was painted a nice shade of crimson. By the time he made it to ten, tears had streaked your cheeks as moans and whimpers left your mouth alongside your garbled counting.

Jimin takes a moment to step back to admire his handiwork, his smirk only widening as he takes in his handprint bruised into your ass.

“Holy shit, baby, you’re so hot. You took your punishment so well. Look at how much of a good girl you are.”

Even in your hazy state, you beamed at his praise.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“I think you deserve a reward, baby girl.”

You nod vigorously at that, eager to feel him finally inside you.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

“Your fingers, daddy, please.”

In an attempt to convey your desperation, you grind your hips into his crotch.

“Patience, baby girl. Where do you want them?”

“In my pussy, daddy. Please. I’m so wet for you.” Your sentence ends with a light sob, the need for him overwhelming you.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

With that, he pulls your panties to the side as he cautiously rubs his pointer finger up and down your soaked slit, before slipping inside.

“Fuck, baby, your dripping. Did spanking you turn you on that much? Is my baby girl that much of a pain slut?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m a pain slut just for you.”

He adds a second finger, and your head drops between your shoulders as he begins to move his digits in and out of you at a quick but intentional pace. Moans fall from your lips, and you let out a sharp squeal when he crooks his fingers and brushes against your g-spot.

“Fuck, daddy, right there.”

He quickens his pace, rubbing you perfectly over and over again as he brings you closer to the point of no return.

“Shit, baby, I’m so hard right now. Your pussy is so tight and wet around my fingers; I just want to sink my cock into you.”

“Please, daddy, I want your cock too. I want you to cum inside me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

Words fail you as you are sent hurtling into your orgasm, waves of euphoria crashing down around you. Your body is shaking as you collapse against the sink.

Jimin lets out a groan at your fucked-out state, removing his hand from your pussy and bringing it to his lips to taste you. He lets out a moan as he does, freehand going to the front of his pants to rub his prominent erection through the black fabric.

After you recover enough to stand, you turn around and replace his hand with your own, pussy clenching at how big he was.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?” You look up at him under your lashes, and his head falls back at your mock innocence, a light whimper escaping his lips. He tilts his head back up to look at you, hand coming to grab your waist to pull you to his lips.

You taste yourself on his tongue as your hands come to play with his hair, tugging on the strands. He ruts up into you, desperation getting the better of him. He pulls away, revealing his swollen lips and hazy eyes.

“Fuck yeah, I’ll fuck you now, baby girl.” He makes quick work of his belt zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to let out his cock and balls. The tip is an angry red, beautifully contrasted with the white of his dress shirt. Your mouth waters as you take in its wide girth and slight curve. You’re desperate to taste it, but right now there were more important matters at hand.

You drop your panties, before hopping up on the edge of the sink. Jimin gives his cock a few short tugs before lining up with your dripping entrance. You let out soft moans as he sinks into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him as close as possible. His hands grab your ass, pulling you to the edge of the sink, before slamming back in. He sets a slow but intentional pace, the sound of skin and desperate moans echoing throughout the small bathroom.

You aren’t going to last long, having already come once, and judging by his quickening pace, neither is he. Your lips meet each other in a messy kiss as he pulls you tight against his body. It’s hard to discern what is a part of you and what is a part of him. Your limbs are so intertwined, that it feels like you are one body.

As his cock continues to drill into your g-spot, stars begin to cover your vision. With the force of a freight train, you come unannounced; your mouth opens in a silent scream. Jimin follows right behind you, painting your walls white with his seed. He lets out a groan of your name, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

Both of you silently shake as you take a moment to catch your breath and process what just happened. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, watching as his cum pours out of your cunt.

“Fuckkkk, that’s hot.” He groans, tucking himself back into his pants, before wetting a paper towel to help clean you up.

“I’m sorry I thought so poorly of you.” You give him an apologetic grin, as you pull up your underwear.

“It’s okay. I can see where I might have led you to think that I don’t treat girls well.”

“Well, now I can see that I was wrong. You seem like you would be a fantastic boyfriend.” You move to exit the bathroom, eager to get away so you can process the rampage of emotions flooding through you now that your lust wasn’t getting in the way.

“I can be yours.”

You pause at the door.

“What?”

“I could be your boyfriend.”

“I-“

“I’ve liked you ever since the first time I saw you, and I think that maybe you like me, and I just really, really want to be your boyfriend.”

Your mind is racing at a million miles per hour, trying to process everything that’s happening. One moment he was fucking you like it was your last day on the earth, and now he’s standing in front of you, pleading for you to make him yours. You aren’t sure what to make of it.

“I think I would really like that too, Jimin,” he beams,” “but everything is going so fast, and I just need a little time to take everything in.”

His face falls a little, but he nods understandingly.

“That’s fair. Let me take you on a date, at least.”

You grin.

“Okay.”

“Coffee on Saturday?”

“Sounds great.”

[se0kie]

call it what you want— jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader, [jin x reader for like two seconds]

genre: fluff, angst

high school au, f2l, bestfriends au, unrequited love

tags/warnings: mild pining, mild swearing (y/n says the f word like twice), i love y/n she’s adorable, some jealousy, jungkook is immature and/or clueless, vmin make an appearance, jk’s a killjoy squeeeeeeee!! seokjin being the handsome older man every teenage girl crushes on hehe

summary: you have been best friends with Jungkook since before you can remember. but it’s difficult being a supportive friend he can fall back on when you’re hopelessly in love with him.

word count: 3.5k

this was commissioned for the lovely @dee-ehn through the changeswithluv project by @ficswithluv! i hope you like it <3

a/n: high school au but all characters are of or above age. also this is super unedited yolo lemme know how yall like it thooooo

You’re standing outside the gate to your house, tapping your foot incessantly against the curb as irritation runs through you like a tiny insect. He’s late. Again.

You had somehow gotten yourself out of bed, rushed through your shower and made yourself presentable for school. Your knee high socks only doing so much to keep you shivering from the cold. It was brisk in the mornings, which is exactly why you needed Jungkook to be on time at least for once.

You sighed yet again, your hair flying due to the breeze. You looked down the street, hoping for the familiar toothy grin and curly hair to make an appearance. Jungkook’s whoop of greeting announced his arrival as you finally calmed down enough to stop your tapping. You scowled as he neared you, letting him see the displeasure on your face.

“I’m sorreee, Y/N!” he whined, usually it was all it took for you to stop being mad at him. And today was no different.

You smiled at him, letting him know you weren’t upset as he thrust a notebook into your hands. “Thank you for letting me borrow your notes, I love you,” you blushed at his usual words of gratitude. Although you remind yourself this is how the two of you had been for ever, don’t go looking for meaning in something mundane.

Jungkook intertwines his arm with yours as you start walking towards school. The two of you have been going to school together since you learned to walk.

You’re walking hand in hand when Jungkook looks at you sideways, you raise your eyebrows at him, questioning.

“What?” you say with a half laugh.

“Nothiiiing, how’s my favourite girl this morning?” Jungkook says with a smile.

You look straight ahead as you answer, “I’d be better if you actually ever showed up on time. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I heard from a certain someone...” he begins when you cut him off.

“From a certain Jimin.”

He looks at you with exasperation as you keep walking, “Would you let me finish?!”

“Oh I’m sorry, do continue,” you reply with a small smile. “You were saying?”

“Yeah so a certain someone told me that Kim Seokjin has a crush on you.”

“WHAT?” You sputter and gasp at the unexpected revelation. Never would you have thought you’d get to hear such a sentence.

“Jungkook is this another one of your bad attempts at being funny? Cause it’s really not working and I’m gonna have to ask you to cut it out,” you say as you purse your lips.

“No no! I’m serious, Taehyung heard his older brother talking to some guy on the phone and he was distinctly talking about ‘Y/N that cute senior in Tae’s class’!” Jungkook says it so earnestly with those doe eyes that you can’t help but believe him. Although it does put you in quite a bit of a pickle seeming how your current crush is telling you about boys who in turn are crushing on you.

“I mean, Seokjin is kinda cute—”

“Kinda?? Y/N, honey, that guy has the most perfect face in the whole world. Literally!” You can’t help but doubt if Jungkook himself is in love with the older man, the way he talks about his friend’s hyung is rather suspicious.

“I just don’t know him well enough, y’know?”

“Nobody’s telling you to marry him, just talk to the guy. I saw him shirtless once at Tae’s house and all I’m gonna say is whoo boy, I could grate cheese on his abs!”

You snort at his antics, Jungkook dramatically enacting another one of his encounters with the cheerleader in love with him as you try not to let jealousy tint you green. The familiar grey building appearing in your sight as you advance closer towards it.

The shrill of the school bell rings out through the class. There is a flurry of movement as students scramble to leave the stuffy room, you sit back waiting for the commotion to die down as you gather your notes and stationary to put back in your canvas bag.

You catch a glimpse of Jungkook rushing towards the door when you yell out for him. “Hey, JK! Where do you think you’re going?”

Jungkook stutters while looking back at you, hesitantly making his way towards you with an expression you know far too well.

“Jungkook... Why are you making that face?” you say as you squint your eyes at him. He twiddles his thumbs as his gaze flitters nervously about the room, taking in everything but your face.

“Jungkook.”

“Well... You see I have this little thing to do uh,,, it’s kinda, a little bit important...” he says.

“Oh spit it out, you monkey!” You say, your patience running thin.

“I have a date!” Jungkook says with eyes widened. Your carefully maintained expression slips for just a second and then it’s back on. You look around the room to catch the pretty cheerleader waiting outside the door. She’s standing with her other cheerleader friends and you can tell she’s jittery from the nerves.

Oh, damn it.

You sigh as you decide to let your unnerved friend off the hook, once again. “Fine, just go on your stupid date. But this project is the last one I’ll be covering for you, after this you’re on your own, bud.”

“Oh Y/N, thank you!” Jungkook exclaims as he breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, thankyouthankyou!!” He repeats as he hugs you clumsily, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you hold your breath, trying to act nonchalant.

The joy of being around your best friend drains from your entire being as your heart weighs heavy again in his absence.

You’re the only one left in the quiet classroom.

You’re still in your uniform sitting on the plush carpet of the Kims’ living room, your notes and study material sprawled in front of you as you take in the bickering pair, Jimin and Tae are smushed together in the bright floral armchair.

You cough once to try and get their attention when Jimin glances at you, looking as if he’s just noticed you. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry were you saying something?”

“Yeah just for the last fucking hour but it’s okay, please continue,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jimin narrows his eyes at you, making it known that he doesn’t appreciate the sass.

“Remind me again why that beefed up rabbit isn’t here to help with the project?” Taehyung quips as he gets up to get a bottle of strawberry milk from the refrigerator. It’s always a delight to be at his house, his parents are always away for some obscure book meeting leaving their gorgeous home and kitchen free for their kids and their countless friends. You send a silent prayer of gratitude to Mr. and Mrs. Kim for the years you’ve spent at their home to keep from strangling their younger son.

“He’s on a date,” you say lowly.

“A what now?” Jimin asks, eyebrows raised.

“A date,” you mumble.

“A great what, Y/N will you speak up?!”

“JUNGKOOK IS ON A DATE!” you scream, surprising Tae in the kitchen as he yelps with a small crash following.

Jimin’s mouth hangs open, worry written in the droop scrunch of brows. He strides towards you and wraps his arms around your figure, the scent of his classic Chanel perfume wafting up to your nose.

“Oh you poor thing, it’s gonna be okay. Koo’s an idiot, he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” Jimin coos into your hair as you melt in his embrace, finally letting the heaviness weigh you down as you slag against his frame. He pulls away and holds you back to properly examine your face.

“Are you sad?”

“Just a little, although I know I have no right to be,” you say with an unintentional pout. “Jungkook only sees me as his friend, and he has no reason to put me above potential relationships.”

“Shut up for a minute and give yourself a break, honey,” Tae voices out as he comes back into the living room. He stands behind you and pulls you back into his lap as he lets you sit on him like a child complaining to their mum. Jimin takes his place beside him and faces you head on.

“Next time I see him I’m gonna flick him on the forehead,” you say with mild conviction, knowing you’re making empty promises.

“You do that,” Jimin says.

Taehyung rubs your back as you slouch against him, gathering your thoughts and energy to go through the day without crying. You can’t say this is a new occurrence, Taehyung and Jimin have been your closest friends after Jungkook. You’ve spent a gross amount of time with them, and the coddling and comforting has been something unique to your trio. Every time one of you was upset or sad or frustrated, the other two have comforted and joked and babied them, whatever they needed at that point of time.

You take a deep breath and get up out of Tae’s reassuring hold, you sit back down on the carpet. Silently letting them know that you’ll be fine, for now. “Jimin can you handle the titles and diagrams? I’m gonna get started on the typing, and Tae you gotta start preparing for the presentation,” you get back into work mode, rambling out the designated areas for each of you to overlook.

You’re looking through your notes when the tall, striking Kim Seokjin walks out of his room, he goes straight into the kitchen but you can’t help but follow his movements. Or rather his rear end’s movements.

As he’s walking out, he looks at you from his freakishly tall height and winks at you. You feel your heart do a weird little ballet flip, something you’ve reserved for Jungkook for the longest time. You fluster at the gesture and tuck your hair behind your ear, a shy smile painting your face. You look back up and Seokjin is gone, Taehyung looking at you as if he’s in on your little secret moment.

Jimin groans as he looks up from his work, pouting slightly with his plump lips as he complains about the absentee.

“Jimin, it’s okay! Calm down, he’s saved our asses multiple times. We can do this one thing for him, can’t we?” You try to reason.

“Yeah whatever, of course you’ll say that. You’re the one who’s in loooove with him,” Jimin mumbles to himself.

“I am not in love with Jungkook! It is outrageous of you to suggest that,” you say with a squeal of mild anger.

“Oh admit it Y/N, it’s not just a safe little crush on your best friend anymore, you totally want to snog his face off!” Taehyung accuses you with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. You whine in embarrassment as your press your palms to your face, hoping to cool your heated cheeks.

Taehyung comes up behind you as he hugs you from the back, his head resting your shoulder as he teases you. “Y/N and Kook! Sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!!” You squeal in humiliation as Jimin scuffles over to you as he captures you between him and Taehyung.

He joins in on the embarrassing poem, “First comes looooove! Then comes marriage! Then comes a Taehyung in a baby carriage!!” Tae looks up at the blonde haired boy across from him and yells, “Yah! Park Jimin, I’m not gonna be Jungkook’s baby, how dare you?!”

Jimin is too busy laughing like the gremlin he is to answer Tae’s question, his eyes scrunched up as he releases peals of happy laughter. You’re laughing just as hard, if not harder, alongside him. Your sides are in stitches yet you’re so bubbling with pure joy that you don’t bother with the pain in your stomach.

As the laughter dies down, Tae has a solemn look on his face. One that you don’t particularly like seeing because you know he’s gonna coax you into having the uncomfortable conversations you’re too scared to have yourself.

“Seriously, Y/N. Do you... love Jungkook? You know, like that?”

You sigh, “Yeah, I mean, isn’t it obvious? I really, really love him and it just physically hurts me to know that he may never return the sentiment.”

“Then sweetheart you’re gonna have to talk to him! He might actually even return your feelings but be too scared to tell you himself, and even if he does not you can’t keep hurting like this every time he goes on a date,” Jimin says softly, a gentle hand laying your arm.

“Because right now, Y/N, Jungkook is hurting you. And he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, it’s not fair to you nor is it fair to him.”

You know it makes sense, but you just feel so anxious and confused about how things will go if you actually tell Jungkook about your feelings for him. You take a deep breath as you try hard to let your friends in, “I just— I’m scared of how things will be once I tell him, you know? I don’t want to lose my best friend. If loving him from the sidelines is the only kind of relationship we can have I’m absolutely okay with that. I would never ever want to do something that will chase him out of my life.” You don’t realise the tears running down your cheeks until Jimin is brushing them away.

“If the only dates we can have are ramen and banana milk? Then damn it I will drink that banana milk!” you say with a sniffle. “Loving Koo from the outside is better than not loving him at all,” you manage to say before you choke on a sob. Dropping your head into the crook of Jimin’s neck, Tae rubbing your back from behind you.

And you cry in your friends’ embrace. You cry harder than you ever have before.

It’s the week before the end of the school year, you’re walking across the quad to meet with Jungkook under your favourite tree. It’s a light, breezy afternoon, there’s a bounce in your step as your short school skirt swings on your hips. You feel good and you can tell you look good, the sudden air of confidence is a welcome change from your usual skittish demeanour.

You can make out Jungkook’s big form laying on the grass under the apple tree, his bag under his head and earbuds popped in, you’re sure he’s listening to some My Chemical Romance song once again. You’re about to shout his name when a tall someone blocks your path.

You look up at them to find the startlingly handsome face of Kim Seokjin looking down at you. His hair is slicked back to reveal his forehead and the immaculate eyebrows, his hands are shoved into his bomber jacket as he looks at you intensely.

“Uh,,, h-hi Jin,” you squeak under his gaze.

“Hey Y/N,” he says.

“Um, w-what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to ask you something kind of important,” he says nonchalantly.

“Really? Okay, go ahead,” you attempt to act indifferent to his attention but the butterflies thrumming in your stomach told you otherwise. Seokjin’s hand flits out of his pocket to run through the hair at the back of his neck, his eyes flicker around nervously, “Would you uhm... would you be interested in like, going to the end of year um... dance? W-with me?”

The sudden change in demeanour from cool to nervous is endearing to you, a light giggle spills out of you as you answer with blood red cheeks, “O-of course, I would love to.” You smile up at him shyly. The thought of Jungkook flickering across your mind for a second before you push it away.

You know you can’t be hung up on him for ever, and he’s sure as hell not gonna take you as his date to the dance. And Seokjin is a good person, you like to think you know him pretty well after the years you’ve spent with him and his brother, it also doesn’t hurt his chances that he’s actually the most perfect looking human in the entire world.

“Oh wow, I didn’t think you’d say yes,” he admits, honestly. “Well, great then! I’ll pick you up at your place on the day of?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum as you try to suppress a smile.

“Cool,” he says with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on him, “I gotta go, I’ll see you soon okay?”

You nod at him as he walks away, taking the opportunity to gaze at his broad shoulders. A blissful sigh leaving your lips as you finally let the suppressed smile break across your face.

Shaking your head you continue on your path towards your best friend, who has by now sat up straight and is staring at you with narrowed eyes, a bitter scowl forming on his charming face by the second. You reach his spot and chirp out a greeting, “Hello, what’s up with you face?”

“What did Jin want?”

“Um, I’m good, thanks for asking, how are you?”

He narrowed his eyes even more to the point where he looked like he had slits for eyes, “Answer the question, smart ass.”

“He asked me if I wanted to go to the dance with him? Why?”

“Oh. I didn’t you were taking a date with you to the dance?” He said as he turned his face away from you.

You plopped down beside him, uncaring. “Yeah well it’s really not the coolest to go to a formal school ball all alone. I’m saving for future formal balls where I can embarrass myself to the fullest.” You chuckle at your poor humour.

“Oh you think you’re sooo funny, don’t you? Hilarious Y/N. Well cut it out cause you’re not, and your hair’s dry and you need a new backpack.” Jungkook quite literally huffs as he crosses his arms in a defensive position and leans his back on the apple tree.

You gasp at the sudden jabs, “What is the matter with you?! That’s just mean and my hair is not dry, it is moisturised to it’s best thank you very much!”

“You’re so obtuse,” Jungkook says with a glare.

“What? What did I do?” you ask, only slightly taking offense.

Jungkook moves his body abruptly towards you so that he is facing you head on, you wither under his strong gaze as he huffs again, “You really don’t know?”

“Um if I knew, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?” you retort, equally annoyed by now.

He continues to stare at you as if you’ve stolen his lunch money, slowly starting to feel uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny when he breathes out loud, “If you don’t get it then you don’t get it, I can’t do anything about it,” and he gets up from his spot.

Gathering his bag he starts walking away from you without a word, although you do hear the words ‘stupid’ and ‘oblivious’ under his breath as he moves farther away from your stumped figure.

It had been four solid days that Jungkook ignored you, he avoided you at every meeting and stopped sitting beside you in all the classes you shared. Although four days doesn’t seem like much it was just grossly too long for the amount of time the two of you spent together otherwise, you were annoyed and frustrated but more than anything you felt shunned. Jungkook had never once behaved like this with you and this was an entirely new side of him you were being exposed to.

Two days before the end of school, Jungkook had once again avoided you and sat way over at the other end of the room with his cheerleader groupies. You were dangerously close to tears as he was your only friend in the majority of your classes, you only shared History and Literature with Tae and Jimin and without your best friend you were left completely alone.

The bell rang announcing the end of the period and the school day, you were fed up of this treatment and decided to make things right no matter what. You got up from your desk and walked over to Jungkook’s with what little courage you could gather. You waved timidly at him, he was speaking to the pretty girls who were twirling their curls around their fingers and making eyes at the handsome boy.

“Hey, Kook we should talk,” you said softly.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I don’t want to speak with you.” You felt like he’d just slapped you with the formal smile he was giving you. Anger like fire rushed through your veins as you grabbed his arm and dragged him behind you and out of the classroom, the girls looking on with wide eyes as the centre of their attention was whisked away by the shy girl they never paid attention to.

You storm into the boy’s bathroom at the corner next to your class, swinging around to face your friend as you cross your arms and raise and eyebrow, “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Y/N.”

“What the fuck do you mean there’s nothing to talk about?” you say sharply.

He winces at your usage of the cuss word, “Listen Y/N, I don’t want to fight, please just let it go and let’s move on with our lives.”

“Jungkook?! You won’t even tell me what I did wrong? How do you expect me to move on from something I don’t even know? Please, just tell me why you’re upset and I promise I’ll make it right,” you say pleadingly.

Jungkook chuckles softly, “If only you could.”

You reach forward and place your arms on his thick biceps, you look at him earnestly, “Please Kook, don’t do this to us. Tell me what happened? Please?”

He takes a shaky breath as you notice the tension on his brows, “I just— I thought if you’d ever go to a school dance,”

“What about the school dance?” you whisper.

“I thought if you’d ever go to a school dance... it would be with me...” he says softly.

You feel like your breath has been knocked out of you. Your arms feel suddenly too light, panic wraps its hands around your belly and squeezes.

Somehow you find it in yourself to push through the nerves and ask, “Jungkook... D-do you mean to say what I think you do?”

“If you think I mean to say that I like you then yeah, it’s exactly what you think,” he replies with a slight pout.

You laugh out of relief and realisation, all this while the boy you were in love with had liked you back and you had been to stupid to see it. Everything clicks into place and you piece together all the weird reactions over the years, the sudden bursts of jealousy and possessiveness all make sense now that you know he likes you. He really likes you too.

“Jungkook, you idiot! I like you too, I’ve liked you since fucking forever, oh my god.”

His eyes shine brighter at your words, “Really? Then what was that whole thing with Seokjin and going to the dance as his date?”

“That was just because I was too tired of watching you date girl after girl, I thought I should finally try to move on from you,” you say, “It was tiring to see the boy I love hook up with all these gorgeous girls and know that I’ll never be able to tell him how much I like him.”

Jungkook has the manners to look sheepish as his cheeks grow red, “You love me?”

“I— No of course not I just said it—”

“You love me! Y/N is in love with me!!” He all but whoops. You hide your face in your hands as he announces smugly that you, are in fact in love with him.

“Hey Y/N,” he says suddenly, voice dropping several octaves to send a shiver down your entire body.

You peek out from behind your fingers to sneak a look at him, only to find his face right in front of yours and dangerously close. His big brown eyes are staring into yours as you take in the gorgeous, long lashes; his lips are pink and a cheeky bunny smile shows of his teeth. He whispers and you feel his minty breath on your face, “I love you, too.”

[ditttiii]

Dilectio ♡

▣ Summary: You run your hands across his lower lip as he caresses your cheeks, draws small repetitive circles over the skin, and you relish the moment, the quiet, the space between you two where your breaths mingle until they become one. “Let me buy us a house, somewhere outside the city, where it’s just you, me, Holly maybe a friend for her, a cat for you, and a pond full of fishes, our own little place.”

▣ Warnings: Nothing major except tooth rotting, sickeningly sweet fluff and a make-out session or two. Oh! & Yoongi is called lill meow-meow. Oh 2x! & Yoongi has bread-cheeks. (PG-13)

▣ Genre: fluff, humour, slice of life

▣ Pairing: Yoongi x Plus size Reader

▣ Word Count: 3.1k

This work was commissioned by the lovely @bucksvseverybody for the Changes with Luv  fundraiser project, hosted by @ficswithluv​. All proceedings from this project go to the BLM funds.Thank you so much for your help and kind donation! I hope you like it ❤

You let out a watery giggle as you see your boyfriend give his signature gummy smile to the camera and conclude his part of the commencement speech. 

Said boyfriend, hearing your laugh then proceeds to tighten his arms around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

"Oh, so my advice is funny to you now?" You hear Yoongi grumble, and a shiver runs down your spine at the feel of his lips forming the words on the sensitive skin of your neck. 

Snorting, you sniffle and wipe away the few stray tears that had slipped out, before you twist your torso and look your boyfriend in the eye. 

"If you think I don't see you fishing for compliments, you are dead wrong baby boo." You say as a cheeky grin spreads across your face. He acts like he hates that name, but you know better. The tip of Yoongi's ears turns red, proving you right before he again buries his head in your neck and mutters a quiet, "Smartass."

You burrow your head in the warmth of Yoongi’s sweater and let the soft cloth absorb the few stray tears that had slipped out. Your attention now away from your laptop screen, as you miss the rest of the boys and their speeches. You decide to look them up later as your body protests leaving the warmth of Yoongi’s body heat. 

"Do you really feel alone?" You voice out the question that had been bugging you for some time now. You don't want to assume anything but the thought that your boyfriend has been having a difficult time without you knowing about it doesn't quite sit well with you. 

You feel more than hear Yoongi let out a huff, as his warm breath hits the nape of your neck and you suppress a shudder. 

"Jagiya," He begins before suddenly the hands that were around your waist shift and wrap themselves around your shoulders, pulling you closer to the man in question and tilting your head up.

You hum and shift your gaze up-to meet his eyes, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, his soft black hair, tickling the skin of your fingers as you run your hands over his skin. 

"I didn't mean it how you might think I did. I don't feel alone in the sense that I feel like I have no one. It's more of a....creative feeling, where I feel like my inspiration sometimes runs dry and then I don't know which way I should go next." Yoongi says, and you nod in reply. 

He tilts his head as he tries to catch your gaze, but you shift your eyes away. You don't think Yoongi is lying to you, you know he never would. But you also wonder if he is telling you the full truth or not. You wouldn't put it past him to hold back and keep his feelings to himself if he thinks it might worry you. 

Yoongi might seem rough from the outside, but once he allows a person in, he treasures them more than most do. You know that better than anybody else. 

You see it in the way he brings home your favourite coffee from halfway across the city every time you pull an all-nighter, hear it in the way he whispers goodnight to you every night he comes home late and thinks you are asleep.

More than anything else, you feel it in the way his touch caresses your skin like you are a porcelain doll, glides over your curves leaving you feeling treasured and your heart bursting with love and affection for him. 

"Jagi, I love you." You hear your boyfriend's deep, slight gravely voice say and before you can reply, his hands are snaking from your shoulders to your neck and tipping your head up as his soft lips, dip down and interlock with yours. 

Your surprised squeak is muffled as his lips glide over yours, the feather-soft feel of them leaves you feeling warm as your toes curl and your hands' fist and tug the collar of Yoongi’s sweater, pulling him closer. 

His tongue slips between your lips as it licks a strip over your lower lip and you open your mouth, tongue reaching out and gliding over his in response. A breathy moan slipping out almost unconsciously when you feel his hands slide over your curves, caressing the skin under, and your blush rises, the skin from over your chest to the tip of your ears feeling flushed and warm.

You don't think you are needy, nor are you the jealous, insecure kind, but something about Yoongi’s touch has you aching, craving for more, and the thought of someone else being on the receiving end of it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Huffing, you tug him closer, your nails softly skimming over the sensitive skin of the back of his ears, and he shudders, a grin of your own slipping onto your face when you realise for the billionth time the effect you have on him. 

"Stop grinning," Yoongi grumbles embarrassed, his pale skin, looking red as a sheen of oil gathers over his cheeks and nose, highlighting his soft, curvy features, and you bite your lip, humming back a response before you tilt your head up and drop a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

"I love you too babyboo," You whisper back, your lips ghosting over his as you keep them close, your words dripping with love and your eyes overflowing with affection as they gaze into his.

You watch as Yoongi’s eyes turn soft, their usual cat-like silhouette, melting into something curvier before he's closing the distance between you two and your eyes slip close.  

With Yoongi’s soft and sugar-sweet lips on yours, you lose yourself, until the feel of his silky hair twined around your fingers and his puffs of warm breaths on your face, are all that you are aware of anymore. 

"Dammit, I swear to god, if you do that one more time, I am kicking you where the sun doesn't shine." You playfully growl out loud, only to squeal when another spray of water hits the back of your neck. 

Huffing dramatically you advance towards your boyfriend, who's now trying to act innocent, his back turned away from you, neck slightly hunched as he looks down and continues to wash the vegetables for tonight's celebratory dinner. 

Coming to stand beside him, you lean your hip against the counter top behind you, and turn to look at your boyfriend. His bottom lip under the clutches of his pearly teeth, his gummy grin on full display despite his apparent attempt at trying to hold it in, Yoongi looked like the picture-perfect definition of the word adorable. 

"Mature, Real Mature." You remark wryly and roll your eyes fondly when the laugh he had been trying so hard to hold in, finally tumbles out. Body hunching over the counter, as his hands grip the edge, chuckle after chuckle flow out of him. His usual gravely, raspy, deep voice, raising slightly in pitch as his laugh starts to go squeaky and his cheeks bloom red due to lack of oxygen. 

Huffing you try to move away and go back to your cooking, but his hand snakes out, tugging you closer. 

The softness of your chest collides against the hard, coiled muscles of his torso, and your eyes drift over to his sparkly orbs. His bread cheeks on full display, eyes melted into two crescent moons, the wide gummy smile stretched wide. 

Even if you had been genuinely angry, you'd have melted immediately. 

"You're too cute for your own good little meow-meow." You tease and watch as Yoongi's blush darkens, a groan spilling out of his lips as he pulls you closer and nuzzles against your neck. 

Giggling, you run your hands through his hair, caressing the skin of his nape as Yoongi's hands tighten around your waist, the soft flesh under his grip feeling warmer. 

"For someone who's supposed to be the tough, scary one you're awfully affectionate," You remark when you feel him leaving soft pecks on your neck. 

"Well, little meow-meow is soft for you," Comes his reply, face rising and dropping a kiss on your forehead, his soft, full lips leaving their impression on your skin even after he's pulled away, and gotten back to his washing duty. 

Heart bursting with affection, you take in the man who in a span of a six-month relationship has somehow turned into your entire world. When you had first met Yoongi, you were still in college. 

Stressing over your impending finals and drowning in stress, you had more or less body slammed into him, drenching his coat with your coffee. Bloodshot eyes, a rats nest of hair, you had then proceeded to scold him for standing in the middle of the cafe, your sleep-deprived brain too shot to realise that you could get into a world of trouble for insulting the world-famous musician. 

Not all that unexpectedly, you had left quite an impression on the record-breaking idol, and thus began the wooing. 

Ridiculously expensive flower arrangements with lyrics and small poems written onto the cards, gifts from all over the world—little trinkets he would buy from wherever he was, would arrive at your doorstep; softening you inch by inch, day after day. 

Yoongi never one to a miss a chance, had swooped in like a prince charming, out of his Mercedes Benz with your favourite coffee from halfway across the city, and hook, line and sinker—

You were wooed. 

Six months later, here you are, fresh out of college, celebrating your graduation night with your boyfriend. 

Smiling dopily at your thoughts, you move past and get back to cooking, Yoongi's hand reaching out and gliding against your wrist as you pass by. 

As the fragrance and warmth of the still-hot Bulgogi and Samgyeopsal wafted up to your nose, you break your chopsticks apart, picking a piece of the meat and biting into it. Moaning, in pleasure and satisfaction, when the sweet and savoury flavour hits your taste buds. 

Lightly swinging your feet under the table, you nudge Yoongi's feet and grin, your hand rising up to cover your mouth when he raises his brows, his hand pausing mid-rise. 

"I kill at cooking, admit it, I am better than you baby," Winking, you tease, your feet under the table hooking under the edge of his PJs, sliding against his legs, and you watch amused as the tips of his ears go red, but he doesn't shift. 

"Who taught you to cook, you brat?" He quips back with a wink, and you just giggle, head tilting as you catch his gaze and receive a soft smile in return. 

Fondly you watch as Yoongi picks a piece before his hand extends towards you, and you rise a little from your seat, reaching out and biting into half of the meat piece and chewing. 

Too big for one single bite, you leave half of it in Yoongi's hold, but before you can reach out and eat it, your boyfriend already has it in his mouth. 

His cheeks bulge out with the still too big a piece, and you gape, a wounded whine deep from your chest coming out in response. 

"Hey! That was mine!" You playfully glare, as your hand reaches out to snatch his chopsticks away, but Yoongi leans back and out of your reach. 

Winking, he grins, "What's yours is mine, baby boo." 

Raising your brow, before your boyfriend can blink, your hand reaches out and clutches onto the last piece of meat from his plate. Inside your mouth not a second later, you let out an exaggerated moan, dramatically closing your eyes and throwing your hands over your heart. 

"Whaa! You brat!" He exclaims, his pout coming out in full force as he moans over the loss of his precious meat. 

Winking you reply, "What's mine is yours, meow-meow."

Seeing your boyfriend get up from his chair, you scramble to getaway. Squealing when you feel his hand graze your waist, you push yourself harder, your laughter ringing across the apartment. 

Breathless you fall onto your bed tired, and move to hastily roll over to your corner. 

Yoongi, however, can be fast when he wants to be, and before you can scoot all the way, his arms are caging you in and pulling you closer. 

Squealing you try to push him away, but his hand's sneak under your sweater, and then he's tickling the soft skin under, sending you into peals of laughter. 

You try to wriggle away, but he entangles his legs with yours and refuses to budge. Gasping for breath, you pat his shoulder and squeal out an apology for stealing his meat. 

Finally taking mercy on you, he stops, and you draw in a long breath. Your body feels hot under your sweater, even in Seoul's harsh winter and chest heaving, breathless you turn to your boyfriend. 

Yoongi's body, conditioned after years of dance practices and concerts, is doing a lot better than yours. The only indication that he had even chased you through the hallways of your apartment are his cheeks; tinged pink and glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. 

You drink in the sight of your boyfriend, from his narrow cat-like eyes to his curvy nose, to his fuller lower lip. His body heat seeps into you and warms you from where his legs are still twined around yours.  

Your appreciation of your boyfriend, however, is cut short when said boyfriend rises and snuggles into you. His face nestling over your chest, and between the creases of your soft sweater, cheeks squishing against your chest, and you just look on amused as your boyfriend makes himself comfortable over your chest. 

You want to call him out on how cat-like his behaviour actually is, but you refrain, content to bask in the familiar comfort that Yoongi brings for now.

"You're soft." He mumbles, his voice coming out soft, half-muffled, his nose and mouth still pressed against you, and you snort out a "You're not,"  when you feel his chin slightly dig against your ribs.  

Picking up on your slightly strained voice, he shifts down, until his face is squished against the curves of your stomach. Breathing no longer a stifled process, you just hum and run your hands through his hair, softly scratching the scalp under your tips every now and then. 

Yoongi melts under your touch, a pleased moan slipping out when your hand slides to the back of his ears and lower to his neck. Smiling, you feel him snuggle closer, his face finding purchase between the warmth and softness of your flesh. 

Maybe if it was anybody else you'd have felt a little self-conscious, might have felt the need to change yourself, lose some weight to be like one of those thin, barbie doll-like female idols. But somehow with Yoongi, you have never felt that. Not an iota of self-doubt ever arose when he caressed your skin, your curves, the hills and valleys over the canvas that was your body. 

It wasn't like you were unhealthy, and if you ever feel the need to lose even an inch, it would be on your own accord, and never because you felt like you had to change, to fit into any mould that the society had carved out for you. Your boyfriend had made sure of it, reassuring you early on in your relationship that he loved you in all of your entirety and you don't doubt him. Anybody else you might have, but Yoongi wasn't one to lie, he valued your trust and you as a person too much to do that.

"I love you," His voice flows up to you, deep and dripping with love for you, and you pull him up, hands curling around his neck as your eyes gaze into his before you let slip a smile. 

"I love you too," You say, your voice soft and small, as though you are afraid that if you speak any louder, this moment might shatter, the little bubble that you two are in might pop, and you'd be sent craning into reality. 

But this is your reality. A voice inside your head supplies and you have to stop yourself from tearing up. Even after six months, the surreality of the situation hadn't left, the reality hadn't quite fully sunk in. 

You think of you and Yoongi together, look at his face beside yours on the pillow every night, and it feels like a dream come true. You wonder what you did in your last life to deserve someone as patient, loving and mature as Yoongi, and while you don't know what your past-self did to deserve any of this, you are thankful to her. 

Looking into his dark, onyx eyes, the moonlight from your window brightening his pale face, something inside your chest, tightens. 

You run your hands across his lower lip as he caresses your cheeks, draws small repetitive circles over the skin, and you relish the moment, the quiet, the space between you two where your breaths mingle until they become one. 

"Let me buy us a house, somewhere outside the city, where it's just you, me, Holly maybe a friend for her, a cat for you, and a pond full of fishes, our own little place." Yoongi proposes, taking the chance and asking you the question he had first worded a week ago. You hadn't given him an answer then, a little hesitant to let him spend all that money on you. It wasn't like you two were married, you had only been dating for six months.

But would you ever marry anybody else anyway?

The same voice from before whispers and you already know the answer. Not anymore. Not after Yoongi. 

Looking into his starry eyes, the ones that hold an entire galaxy and all the love he has for you, you nod, say yes to your own little place away from the rest of the world, somewhere you'll one day build your own family. A garden for your plants, a studio for Yoongi's music, and a courtyard for where one day your children will play, run after Yoongi and you, as you all chase each other. 

You can already picture it and looking at the excited, bright grin on Yoongi’s face, you know he can too. 

Giggling, he pulls you closer, and your laughter spills from between sloppy kisses and half intake breaths. 

Ask me again 다시 나에게 되물어봐 Are you happy now 지금 행복한가 The answer has already been decided 그 답은 이미 정해졌어 I am happy 난 행복하다

—Min Yoongi  화양연화 || The Most Beautiful Moment In Life.

A/N: And so its out! I have loved writing soft Yoongi with every cell of my body, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you Grace for commissioning this and helping fund the BLM movement. Black lives did, do and will always matter. 

Leave me your feedback, I genuinely enjoy reading every single word. & Have a good day ahead ❤

[ficswithluv]

ChangesWithLuv - Official Post

In light of recent events that have occurred throughout the U.S., us admins at ficswithluv who created this blog to spread love between content creators wanted to use that same power and spread our love by supporting Black Lives Matter Movement. We stand in solidarity with all of those affected by police brutality and ingrained racism not just in America but worldwide. 

ChangesWithLuv is a project where content creators have teamed up and offered their services in writing fics, designing banners, drawing fanart, and many other types of art. Similar to commissions, we ask that you donate to one of the charities or NGOs we support and apply here. The list of products and prices are under the read more, as well as the links to donate.

Once you send in your request, we’ll put it on a server of all the content creators taking part, so that it can be picked up and made by one of them. Their work will be tagged with #changeswithluv, so keep an eye out!

We understand that not everybody is in a financial position to donate, which is why the FWL admins collectively have donated $100 ourselves. The admins of Suga Network have also donated $60 to support the cause. On a first come, first served basis, you can submit a request for up to $5 of content (again, list below) using the admin relief fund. This is only for people who really can not afford to donate themselves, please be kind and. honest. It will support 20 people each commissioning something worth $5.

Additionally, we ask that if you’re unable to donate, that you take advantage of some of the resources we have below that you can use for free that support the movement. 

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As said above, the admins donated $100 to fund 20 commissions. The screenshots are below. We chose to donate to Miss Majors’ medical care and retirement fund. In case you don’t know, here is some information:

As a Black, formerly incarcerated transgender elder, mother, and grandmother, Miss Major has paved the way for us to be who and where we are today. She is a veteran of the historic Stonewall Rebellion and a survivor of Attica State Prison, a former sex worker, a human rights activist, and simply “Mama” to many in her community. At the center of her activism from the 1960’s to today is her fierce advocacy for her girls, trans women of color who have survived police brutality and incarceration.

[boymeetsweevil]

and then there were finals

Grouping: Reader x College BF!Mark

Word Count: 2000 exactly!!

Warnings/Themes: too many friends too many finals makes for a h*rny couple, graphic but still sweet? penetrative, mentions of oral, creampie...

Prompt: “mark lee from nct! college au and NSFW. finding time in between studying for finals.” this is a sequel to and then there were two

A/N: This commissioned fic is part of the Changes with Luv project, hosted by FicsWithLuv. Here you can find more information about the project, cause, places to donate, and ways to commission a piece or offer your services if you are a content creator. Thank you!

It’s a universal fact that no one likes taking finals. Obviously the tests, the presentations, the papers are the worst part. But the buildup isn’t great either.

Mark grinds his teeth while watching you from across the room. You’re focused on the textbook laid out in front of you where you’re spread out on the floor. All the other available surfaces are taken up by your peers. Lucas and his work are sprawled over half the kitchen island, Taeil on the La-Z boy. Mark, Jungwoo, and Taeyong are sequestered on the sofa.

He turns another page in his music history book without reading a single line. Instead his eyes follow the curve of your spine exposed from your shirt rucking up after you’d settled onto the rug. Your leg is hitched almost lovingly over your discarded backpack. While you do calculations for physics, Mark tries to calculate the last time you two were intimate. He can’t even remember because Taeyong keeps asking questions to fill the holes in his notes about orchestral composition.

Eventually Mark just tosses Taeyong his notes so he can spend a bit more time studying the way you gnaw on a pen thoughtfully. His blood feels like it’s simmering by the time he gets the courage to ask if you want to ‘take a walk’ to his place for a study break. But then—

You check the time and then look up from your scratch paper, “Jungwoo, ready to go?”

“Basically. Let’s get there a little bit early so we can stop and get coffee first before the study group. I really need it, I’m dying.”

“Oh, good idea.”

If it weren’t for the fact that there are still a bunch of people in the room, Mark might have wept a little bit. The preparation for finals has left basically no time for ‘alone time’, and it’s taking its toll on him. He does his best to tamp down on the frustration and convinces Taeyong to quiz him on Tchaikovsky.

Mark pushes you against the brick side wall of his apartment building exterior a few days later. You let out a surprised but pleased sound and let him grind against the curve of your hip. His breath comes out in hot sighs on your neck, interspersed with small grunts. He missed having your skin under his palms and practically purrs when you rake your teeth over his adam’s apple.

“You know you have to be at the studio in 5 minutes, right?”

“Kun can wait,” he huffs. With both hands he fondles your ass slightly rougher than normal. It gives him the leverage he needs to press your clothed hips even closer. “He’s always late anyway. I really have, like, 20 minutes.”

“Is 20 minutes enough?”

He wants it to be enough. He wants it to be enough so bad. But this collaboration is worth 35% of his grade and thanks to Kun’s characteristic tardiness, they’re way behind schedule. Besides that, he’s feeling so pent up that 20 minutes would probably just be a fraction of the foreplay. Mark’s silence is enough of an answer to your question, so you redo the buttons of your shirt that he opened prior and smooth down his hair.

“Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

His forehead hits your shoulder and he lets out a sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “But one of these days, it’ll happen.”

He gives you a look that makes goosebumps break out on your arms. You send him off with a peck and make the trek to the library.

A few days later, you’re back at Mark’s place. You’re cozied up to him on the two person sofa while some of the others work in the other parts of the living room. Mark’s dorm is a one person apartment dorm, so there’s less room than in your suite. One by one though, they start leaving. Johnny ends up leaving because the diorama he’s building for engineering gets too big to continue there. Jungwoo and Doyoung leave for another physics study group. You stick around because the last one wasn’t helpful for you. Yuta mentions something about going back to his and Johnny’s room for a video game break. That leaves you, Mark, and Donghyuck.

Donghyuck doesn’t budge at first and continues to type away at his computer. But when Mark’s hand stops circling your ankle aimlessly and begins making a purposeful trail up your leg, he gets the hint and packs up while cursing under his breath. The door slams shut and Mark gets up to go make sure it’s locked. The sound of his footsteps echoing through the halls and doors opening and closing pulls you out of your focus.

“What are you doing,” you sit up on your arms, peering down the dark hallway. Mark emerges looking like an excited puppy.

“Everyone left.”

“I see that,” you say. He pulls his hoodie and shirt over his head in one swift move, then begins working on the opening of his jeans. “Oh.”

Immediately, you begin shucking off your own bottoms. Mark leads the way to his room with you shedding layers behind him. You laugh at the speed he uses to run to his room and pick up your own pace. Even though the apartment is empty, he still closes the door behind him like you’re being chased. As soon as he locks up, he’s tackling you to the bed.

“Wait, wait,” your breath comes out in amused heaves as he swipes at your shirt. “Don’t you have to meet with Kun again?”

Mark doesn’t look away from where he’s working on unhooking your bra, but he shakes his head. “I stayed up ‘til 4 last time so I could finish it.”

“Mark, that’s not healthy.”

“I’m plenty healthy,” he grins and grinds against you as proof. He definitely feels healthy and ‘awake’.

You pull him in with a matching grin and kiss him until you��re panting. Meanwhile, he takes his time inching your soaked panties down your thighs. You kick them off into some unknown direction and hitch a leg over his hips to pull his groin to yours. The slick that welcomes him has him groaning a curse into your mouth.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mark sneaks a hand down between your bodies and rubs lightly at you. “Every little thing you did drove me crazy this week.”

“I know, me too.” Your moans act as accompaniment for the slick percussion he sets up between your folds.

“As soon as I was too busy to touch you, I had to touch you.”

You let Mark edge you on his fingers for a good while before rolling over so you can take him into your mouth. He’s all soft sighs then, caressing your face with his dry hand and looking down at you with worried brows. When he hits the back of your throat, his hips start to stutter up.

“D-don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Part of you wants to spite him and finish him off right there. After a few months of having sex, you know some good ways to get him off efficiently. But the way you clench around nothing at the sound of his moans tells you that you’d rather he finish inside you. So you let him pull you in by the hips and spend some time kissing his own flavor off your tongue before sinking down on his length. It’s been long enough that there’s a pleasing tightness behind the stretch and you run your nails over his pecs lightly. When you’ve adjusted, you begin to rock fluidly over him.

“Shit.” The curse is so quiet, you nearly miss it.

His head is thrown back and the way his jaw clenches tell you that he’s likely already experiencing some sort of honeyed agony. Judging by the veins protruding in his forearms, he’s resisting the urge to take control of the rhythm and set an athletic pace after all the waiting. You’re grateful for the patience because you’re still gathering your bearings. Leaning down, your chest grazes against his and you leave a kiss on his slack mouth.

Your words come out airy as the gradual up and down becomes easier, slippery.

“I missed this.”

“Tell me,” he whispers.

“I missed the feeling of being full,” you can feel him pulse a bit. “And I miss you coming inside.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he laughs like he can’t believe the current situation.  

Mark plants his feet onto the mattress then to meet you halfway. The extra effort on his part has him hitting deeper inside of you. You feel fuller and that only makes you drip around him more. The sounds are obscene and you might be inclined to slow down out of embarrassment if it were any other time. But you feel parched like you can’t get enough of him. Each thrust forces a wanton moan out of you. The best you can do is bring a hand up to your mouth so you can dull the sounds by biting a knuckle. Mark isn’t having any of it, though.

“Let me hear you. There’s no one else, let me hear you.”

Suudenly he sits up and takes you into his lap. The angle makes stars pop up in the corners of your vision and also gives him the opportunity to lap teasingly at your nipple. It also puts your mouth much closer to his ear. He can’t piston up into you quite as well, but in this position he can grind against the spots that he knows make your breathing hitch. As a music major, perhaps he’s more sensitive to auditory stimulus. Your broken pleas are almost enough to set him over the edge. To make things last, Mark focuses on alternating between gentle, wet kisses to your chest and letting his teeth scrape against you ever so slightly. The sensation changes from smokey to sweet. Your hand tangles in his hair and you let the moans pour out. No better catharsis could have come during finals week, you think.

“Mark. Mark, I’m gonna come.”

“Same, just—wait for me.” He rearranges you quickly. You’re on your back, this time with your feet pointing to the wrong side of bed. Mark hitches one of your legs over his hips and returns to the heavy pace before. You tilt your hips just right and suddenly his thrusts are zeroed in on a spot inside you that has you crying out and arching below him. The orgasm that washes over you makes you grip him like a snug vice. The pleasure surges over him and draws a long whimper from between his lips. He spills into you in spurts of warmth before pulling out and collapsing next to you.

“How was that?” You’re sure you could predict the answer from the contented way he closes his eyes.

“Great.”

His answering grin is sleepy but he still looks handsome. Even with the dark circles from working so hard as of late and covered in a fresh coat of sweat. He looks like he’s fallen asleep, but when you go to plant a kiss on his lips, he moves up to deepen it. A warm palm pulls you in gently by the nape of your neck. You let him kiss you for a few moments before pulling back.

“Where you goin’?”

“Doyoung is studying at the library. I thought I’d get some last minute studying in before the test tomorrow night.”

“No, stay. What do you need me to do? I can test you. Give me your flashcards, I’ll test you.”

You pretend to weigh your options. Leaving the comfort of bed just to go over one topic and then chat with Doyoung before bed or staying in with your naked boyfriend and trading kisses for correct answers.

“Babe, really?” He whines when your decision making takes too long.

“Just kidding. I’ll stay.”

[daemour]

Yet another slightly less late (but only very slightly) commission for the @ficswithluv ChangesWithLuv project in support of BLM! This is a full color illustration of Namjoon, for @jamaisjoons!! I hope you enjoy, I particularly suffered on the clothes.

[inkedtae]

enough games ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ hard dom!taehyung x bratty!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ established relationship, idol au, smut, pwp, filth, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  you’re both playing around, but your games might be more dangerous than you expected.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 4.5k 

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ hard dom!taehyung, massive dicc!taehyung, tattooed!taehyung, sub!reader, bratty!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it folks), rough sex, sir kink, hand kink, a lil exhibitionism (his mic is still on), degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, bondage, multiple orgasms, reader cums in her lingerie, use of gaming controller, pussy slapping, squirting, spanking, hair-pulling, face-licking, choking, thigh-slapping, thigh-riding, a lil dry-humping, edging, teasing, straight up filth

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ this is commissioned by @momoriki​ through ChangesWithLuv to raise funds for the Black Lives Matter movement.

► banner by ⇾ @rkivepacks​

► beta’d by ⇾ @moonmintrails​

The bright glow of the TV screen illuminates Taehyung’s concentrated features. That scowl of his draws a pout out of you. He flicks his tattooed thumbs over the controller and mutters his position into the mic. Arms draped around his inked neck, you nuzzle your nose against his cheek. A satin sapphire lingerie set hugs your curves as you roll your hips over his thigh. Every time he misfires, loses his positions, or collapses in combat, he’d use what little time he has while his avatar is recuperating to guide your hips over his flexed thigh. Momentary free hand on your hip, he’d sometimes even pull up the hem of your panties and tighten the fabric against your needy pussy. 

Of course, his generosity only surfaces when you’re behaving. And given the fact that you’ve wiggled your way into that panty and bra set, and squirmed onto his lap by crawling under his arms, without his permission, Taehyung hasn’t been in a very generous mood. Now, every time something doesn’t go according to plan in his video game, your ass gets it - literally. His hand would smack your round cheeks then grope them for good measure.

“Why are you clapping?” You’d hear Jungkook ask through the headset. Face to face with Taehyung, you can hear every single interaction between him and the guys. “We lost, hyung. Stop playing around.”

Taehyung would drag his disappointed gaze on you, glaring down at you as you continued to selfishly get yourself off. “Trust me, guk,” he’d reply, his satoori accent making a reappearance. You’d shudder, knowing full well that the moment his accent surfaces, his patience is all but nonexistent. “Playing around was never part of the plan.”

A droning beep sounds from the screen, signalling another failed mission. Taehyung growls viciously into your ear. Shivers ignite fires in their wake, rushing through your bloodstream and prickling your skin with goosebumps. A moan draws from your lips only to have you whimpering seconds later. No sounds. He was very clear on that when you first settled yourself on his lap. You bite your lip and hope he hasn't heard, or worse. You hope his frien- 

“What the hell was that?” 

Darkening brown eyes fall on you. Clenching his jaw, Taehyung mutters into his mic, “Nothing, hyung.” 

Gripping onto his tattooed shoulder, the one you usually love to trace and pepper kisses all over, you try to prepare yourself for another spanking. Taehyung senses your apprehension, however, and the sudden hesitance in your hips. You’re close. In fact, by the way your hips are jolting and quiet whines are pouring out of your mouth, he knows just how close you are. Holding onto your chin instead of your hips, he scoffs and pushes your cheeks in, puckering your lips like a little fish. 

“I dare you,” he hisses, satoori accent thick. “I dare you to cum without permission.” 

“I swear to God, if you’re talking to (Y/N) right now, I’m gonna egg your house,” Jin threatens as Taehyung’s avatar finally revives. 

You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep your moans at bay. Had it not been for the mic and the fact that you know his friends can hear every single dirty detail, you would’ve let out the loudest moan you could muster, just to get under his skin. Your pussy, wet and dripping, quivers at the tone of his voice, the way that promise hangs over the both of you, challenging you to further push his buttons. There’s nothing you love more than getting on his nerves, testing his patience beyond comprehension. 

A good challenge is what drew the two of you to each other. Taehyung had wagered your phone number over a game of pool at Hobi’s birthday party. You had wagered the Chanel necklace around his neck, claiming it looks better on you. It was a flatout lie, but your indifference towards him brought out this serious, no nonsense side of him throughout the game. You just knew, from his shift in demeanour alone, that he was everything you didn’t even know you were looking for. That Chanel necklace shifts against your collarbone now as you continue to shamelessly roll your hips over his thigh. 

“Ew, Jin. Don’t be fucking gross,” Yoongi mumbles. 

You ignore the argument you’ve technically started between his friends and focus on the hard look in your boyfriend’s eyes. Continuing to move your hips at a fast pace, you silently let him know that you’re going to ignore his authority. He did challenge you to a dare after all. His statement wasn’t technically an order. 

Taehyung seems to pick up on your intentions quickly. He pushes his headphones down, letting them rest on his shoulders, and whispers, “you really wanna try that?” His tone has lost some of its power, voice slightly wavering. Cheeks flushed, he almost looks as though this entire situation is more humiliating for him than it would be for you.

Your clit’s in a frenzy, the friction of his bare thigh against your satin, arousal drenched panties setting the bundle of nerves on fire. Tight hole pulsing at the temptation of release, you decide to commit to the challenge and purposefully exaggerate a high-pitched moan. Taehyung smashes his lips into yours to silence you, but it’s too late. The damage is already done and the guys are going crazy over the headset. Yoongi threatens to sue, Jin orders eggs online and Jungkook supposedly regrets his entire existence. 

Your boyfriend disregards the headphones, throwing them somewhere on the couch. Large hand around your neck, Taehyung pulls you off his lap and onto your feet. A whine escapes you at the loss of contact, your orgasm instantly dissipating, but he couldn’t care less. You’ve played too much, taken this too far. His friends have heard more than they should’ve and if you’re willing to put on this much of a show, then that’s exactly what he’s going to do too. 

He tosses his controller somewhere near the headphones, neither of you care too much to know exactly where, as he, too, rises to his feet. His gaze is unforgiving. It tears down whatever confidence you believe you had in possessing the upperhand. 

“Enough games, slut,” he all but spits. Scanning your frame, he licks his lips and shakes his head. He swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing, before saying, “you walk out in this little thing and sit on my lap, so I let you. You’re needy and wanna ride my thigh, so I let you. And maybe if you had asked to cum, like I trained you, I would’ve let you.” He tightens his grip on your neck, brushing his nose against yours as his lips tease another kiss. “But you just had to be the little fucking brat you always are, hmm? You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod instantly. 

Taehyung grabs a handful of your ass with his free hand, grunting, “What the fuck did I say about using your words?” 

“Yes, yes sir,” you rasp against the pressure of his large hand around your neck. 

He smirks. A mischievous look swims in his eyes, hints of lust and greed accompanying it. His gaze flickers to your hair, locking in on the matching satin, blue ribbon that holds the majority of your hair back. He pulls an end undone. Your hair falls as he drags the ribbon’s cool fabric against your skin, moving it down your neck and over your shoulder.

His eyes fall to the Chanel necklace, lips tugging into a wider smile. He looks all too calm, too collected. He acts as though he didn’t just grab your throat with one hand and ass with the other. Leaning down, he places a little kiss over the necklace then up your collarbone. 

Throat free of his hold, you inhale a breathful of his suede cinnamon scent. Your skin prickles with excited goosebumps, reveling in his tender affection yet anxious as to why he’s offering it. You’ve just let a majority of his friends know that the two of you were fooling around while they were in the middle of a game.

You read his expression carefully as he looks up at you again. His hands are off your body now, either end of the ribbon pressed between his fingers. “You play these games,” he starts, thumbing your chin tenderly. “But you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. Then, you act all innocent.” His hands fall on your wrists, pulling them behind your back. Using the long ribbon, he tightly bonds your hands together, then lets his fingers graze the curves of your ass. “And then you think you can get away with it.”

Twisting your hands, you try to fight against the ribbon, to test your ability to move and make your disobedience known. Taehyung shoots you a warning glare, holding your chin once more. “But let me tell you a little secret,” he hisses while brushing his nose against yours. For a second, you’re convinced he’s after another kiss but, instead, he presses his face against your cheek and whispers, “I’m tired of your games, babygirl.” 

His hands come down on your ass, the smack echoing in your living room. You cry out a moan but he pays no mind to you or the sounds you make now. You’ve made it all too obvious to his friends what the two of you are up to. He’s done shying away from it. Grabbing handfuls of your ass, Taehyung pushes your body flush against his. You can feel his throbbing hard cock against your stomach, just as desperate for you as you are for him. He looks down at you with a sinister smile, eyes reflecting only unbounded lust that cannot be held back for any longer. 

Turning you around, Taehyung leads you to the side of the couch then bends you over the armrest. Face shoved into the cushions, you can only just breathe. Taehyung delicately rubs the silk, lace trimmed panties. His silence festers an unusual cross of anticipation and arousal in the pit of your stomach, your heart hammering in your chest as a result. Tugging on the side of the panties, Taehyung hums a growl. You shudder from the sound alone and wiggle your hips. He ignores your attempts to entice him, but still falls prey to the shake of your ass, rolling his clothed hips against it. 

“Tae, just fuck me alrea- Ah!” 

A sharp spank cuts you off, jolting your forward. You’re not sure if he even really heard anything you said. Muffled by the cushions, your words could have easily been lost on him. But he didn’t give you permission to speak, and he sure as hell did not authorize the use of his name. Another smack echoes in the room, drawing another moan out of you. 

As Taehyung rubs the stringing area, calloused hands so soft over your sensitive flesh, you can hear a jumble of voices to your right. Shifting in your position, you press your cheek to the pillow of the couch and look to your right. Fallen between the back of the couch and the cushion lies Taehyung’s headset. The red light flashes, letting you know that it’s still on. Their mixed curses and insults are hard to make out, but you know they’re there. 

Still, you can’t find it in you to care too much when Taehyung pulls your panties to the side and cups your dripping heat. You whine at the contact, lips only inches away from the mic. Taehyung notices the headset and bends over you to push it closer to your face. 

“You want them to hear you, right?” he hisses in your ear. His hand retreats from its place on your clit only to return to it with a new degree of force. He slaps you pussy twice more then growls, “Let’em hear you then, baby. Let’em hear you be the bratty slut you are for me.” 

You gasp out moans from the harsh contact, brows furrowed and eyes searching for a way out of this embarrassment. You didn’t care at first, but with their voices so close and the mic pressed against your lips, you can’t help the wave of humiliation that washes over you. 

Parting your lips, you’re prepared to apologize, to take all this back and beg Taehyung to turn the mic off. However, your groveling is immediately replaced by a loud moan. Returning to his previous position, Taehyung pulls out his hard, red-tipped cock and smears his precum between your folds. Pussy lips pulsing, you fist your hands and try not to squeal a moan into the mic. 

“Suddenly so quiet?” 

His large hand clutches onto your tied ones, holding you in place as he slowly pushes himself in. A string of mewls and whines escape you, the sweet burn of the stretch something you never really get tired of. 

While your shame overtakes you, Taehyung’s is nowhere to be found. He lets out a deep groan, slapping your ass just to grab it. “So fucking tight,” he growls, purposefully raising his voice. 

You summon the courage to beg him to turn the mic off once more, ready to play by his rules when he starts to thrust in and out of you. Sharp and fast, he grips onto the fat of your ass and thrusts unforgivingly into you. Frustrated from the humiliation, you decide to call his bluff and give into your sounds. 

“Big, big, big. S-oo big,” you whine. Unashamed, Taehyung continues his actions. He even chuckles at your words, the desperate tone of your voice and the way it breaks with every one of his thrusts. 

High-pitched moan after high-pitched moan leaves you with each of his hard and fast movements. Skin on skin, every clap of his hips meeting your ass mixed with both of your overly loud groans and whines drowns out every one of his friends’ complaints. 

Knots twisting upon each other in the pit of your stomach, you can’t deny that you’re close. Your pussy gripping his huge length, you make it no secret that you’re ready to release. Your legs are already shaking, and whines turn into desperate squeals, shrieking your pleasure to no end.

“You better ask, babygirl,” he warns, voice satoori thick. 

“Yes, sir,” you spit. Sarcasm drips in your tone, frustration in your voice. He lets it slide, convinced you’d follow orders this time. However, you’re dead set on humiliating him as he did you.

 As you feel your orgasm reaching its edge, you clench tightly around his monster of a cock and cry out, “Taehyung.” 

He gasps, gripping your ass to keep himself steady as you gush all over his length. You want to see the look on his face, but your eyes roll back as you lose yourself in your orgasm. Shuddering uncontrollably, crying out his name over and over again into the mic, you adopt his shameless demeanour. 

Taehyung pulls out, not allowing you the privilege of riding out your orgasm. As you huff out a whine, rubbing your legs together to try to regain your high, he pulls you up by your bounded hands and turns you around. One look and you know you’ve done it now. Jaw set, eyes dark, nose flaring, Taehyung has lost all his patience. You should be worried, but he looks too hot when he's angry. 

Pressing your breasts to his chest, you stand on your toes and steal a quick kiss. He gives in for a second or two before pulling you away by a rough grip on your hair. A little whine escapes you and you chew on your lip, watching his eyes swim with confusion. He knows he should be mad, but you can tell he wants to kiss you again. When you lean in for another, his anger sparks back to life. He holds you steady but the grip on your hair then leads you back on the couch.  

“Sit.”

One word orders. You curse under your breath, averting your gaze to the floor as you take a seat. Taehyung lets a smirk play on his lips as he watches you finally behave. His hand, you finally notice, has been working hard on his cock, pumping himself to the same pace of his thrusts in you. 

Rubbing his foot up your calf, he orders, “Open.” You sit back, ignoring the awkward strain of your wrist behind your back and spread your legs. His eyes devour your sweaty, needy body, undressing what little you have on as he continues to get himself off. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you finally say. 

He only groans, running a hand through his blue hair. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but all you taste is his cum. Ropes and ropes of thick white fall over your chin, breasts, and mostly between your legs. He mutters your name as he cums to your submissive state and surprised gasps. Illuminated by the blue screen, Taehyung looks like a sex fiend, ready to take over you once more. As he reaches the end of his high, he doesn’t even take a moment to collect himself. Instead, he pulls up to take your seat and sits you down on his lap. 

Taehyung holds your gaze as he pushes your legs open again. He glances down to your crotch, rolling his eyes and laughing to himself as he examines how his cum perfectly accents the wet mark of your panties. The fabric clings to your folds, drenched in your neediness but covered with his. Your scent hits the both of you and does more for Taehyung than you’ve ever seen. His eyes darken, tongue darts out to lick his lip. He looks ready to devour you, but he knows how much you love his mouth. You both know you’re not getting his lips that easy. 

A sigh escapes him as he pushes your panties aside. You spread your legs wider as the cool air of the living room hits your heat. Taehyung notices your eagerness, you know he does, but he doesn’t meet your desperate gaze with a cocky one. In fact, he doesn’t meet your gaze at all. He continues to stare at your pussy, lips pressed tightly together. While still holding your panties aside, Taehyung uses his thumb to gently scoop some of his cum and rub your clit with it. His hands are so big, the action barely puts any strain on him. 

You gaze down at his fingers, whimpering as he gives you exactly what you want. You love his hands, you’ve told him that countless times. The more he gives into you, the more worried you get. You want to question him, but it feels too good. Hips rolling into his hand, you make no effort to hide your neediness and every effort to ignore the gnawing voice in your head that’s reminding you that all this is supposed to be a punishment. 

Moaning wildly, you lean your forehead against his shoulder, kissing the inked patterns. Taehyung smirks down at you, chuckling to himself as he ups his game. Still using one large hand, he holds back your panties, rubs your clit and now pushes up on your upper pussy fat to get a better hold on your most sensitive part. His thumb works faster, harsher. Growling in your ear, his rough dominance makes a reappearance. 

Body trembling, eyes screwed shut, your hips are moving at a pace you’ve never known they could. You’re desperate to chase this orgasm as fast as you could, worried that he might pull back whenever and leave you edged and semi-satisfied. “S-sir? C-an-”

“Cum.”

Your head snaps up as you return to your previous position. Studying his features carefully, you look for any signs of sarcasm as you try to hold your release back. Meeting your gaze, Taehyung deadpans. Your brows furrow, and desperate squeals return. It’s a clear telltale sign of your nearing oragasm. Having enough of his games, you decide you’re going to cum whether he’s bluffing or not. Throwing your head back, you risk falling off his lap as you scream out your pleasure. Your legs quake, body cultivates as your orgasm rushes through you and your pussy gushes around emptiness. Screwing your eyes tight, you tuck your chin into your chest and press your legs together as his thumb continues it’s blissful rounds around your clit. 

Taehyung watches you rile with pleasure, wrapping his free hand behind you to keep you from falling off the couch. Removing his hand from your pussy, Taehyung pushes your legs apart. You think you’ve snagged yourself a quick breather, but when he slaps your thigh, you find yourself further gushing your arousal and your legs jolting in odd fits of tremors.

Huffing, Taehyung wiggles his hand back into your panties. Without much of a warning, he pushes two long fingers in. There’s not a hint of mercy in his movements. His fingers enter and exit your wet, sensitive hole in fast, hard bouts of force. He cares very little for you squealing moans and pleads for a quick break. 

“I thought you wanted to cum?” He asks. The hand that was once keeping you steady slides up your back and around your throat. He holds you in place by the grip on your neck with light but tightening pressure. “So, cum babygirl.” 

Your legs come together once more and you think that at least he’d let go of your throat to push them apart again, but he doesn’t. Taehyung remains unbothered, unfazed by any of your high-pitched begs and squirming body. The only indication of his pleasure is the occasional grunts of satisfaction at your desperate state and the unmistakable semi-hard yet throbbing cock pressing against the side of your knee. 

Creeping up quickly, you can feel your next orgasm around the corner. Tears prick your eyes as you realize that all his generosity has really been a punishment this entire time. His fingers don’t hesitate to move even faster despite the press of your legs around his hand. 

Taehyung brings your face down to his. He’s smirking fondly at you and your conflicted state of desperately needing to cum and ending all this pleasure at once. He presses a gentle kiss upon your lips, then drags his own across your face. His tongue darts out and swipes up and around your cheeks. He wipes away your tears, staining your face with his spit instead. Dragging his wet, warm tongue over your eyes, Taehyung tightens his grip on your throat. Your moans are mostly muffled now, and raspy against his hold. 

Pussy clamming up around his fingers, squeezing tighter around them, you find yourself on the cusp on your second orgasm. All this from just his fingers. He single handedly unraveled you with very little effort but lots of determination. 

You don’t even bother warning him this time as your second round of arousal gushes all over his fingers. He chuckles darkly against your cheek, only igniting your horny nerves in the form of goosebumps and shaking limbs. Pulling his fingers out of you, Taehyung returns your panties to their place and takes to rubbing your clit over the satin, cum stained fabric. 

As you almost slip off his lap, the hand around your throat shoots back to your hips. Taehyung holds you steady through all your orgasm tremors watching as you squirt all over his thigh and the couch. 

“Ah, shit,” he hisses, rolling his hips against your squirming legs. You fight against the ribbon around your wrists, desperate to push his hand away from your pussy, but you don’t accomplish much besides almost falling off him again. 

“P-pl-ease,” you stutter. The bliss is starting to fade into sparks of pain from the nonstop friction he’s providing. You love it, but you can’t ignore the need for a quick rest, a moment to breathe. “Sir, please!”

Taehyung grunts and finally removes his hand from your crotch. You pull your legs up to your chest, frantically heaving for oxygen. Taehyung dips his head in the crook of your neck, attaching his lips to the most sensitive area and sucking away. Though you feel ruined, completely drained and fucked out, you lean into his touch and let him play around some more. 

Gently, Taehyung holds you close and shifts up. His cum drenched hand reaches behind him and he grabs his phone. You furrow your brows, watching his movements carefully. He peeks a look at the device from under your chin, thumbing his way through the apps until he finds the one he’s looking for. The camera opens up in selfie mode. You stare back at yourself in the TV’s blue glow through the dark screen. You know he loves taking pictures of you like this, a quick keepsake for when he’s on tour and missing you. 

Pushing your breast out, you give him a good shot of your confided tits in the blue lingerie. Taehyung smirks against your jawline as he watches you give your best angles to the camera. He takes a few shots with you then brings the camera down to your cum-stained panties, taking a few photos of your wet slick thighs and ruined lingerie. 

When he’s finally done, he tosses the phone a side and sits you down between his legs. Returning to his gaming stance, Taehyung grabs hold of his headset and puts it on. “Shut up, hyung,” he chuckles into the mic. “You’re just jealous that yours isn’t as hot as mine.” 

Your jaw goes slack as he reaches for his controller. You knew they were listening, and knew he didn’t care, but his response still shocks you all the same. Taehyung pushes the mic down as Yoongi curses him in three different languages and whispers, “Spread’em, baby.”

You furrow your brows. Aflush with anger and humiliation, you question through gritted teeth, “why?”

Taehyung scoffs, rolling his eyes. “They’ll get over it,” he mutters with a new degree of arrogance, as if he himself wasn’t so embarrassed by your moans all those moments ago. “I won’t ask you again.”

You huff and spread your legs, hands still tied behind your back. You can feel his hard cock within your grasp, but don’t dare to make a move for it. Not yet, anyways. 

Pushing your panties aside once more, Taehyung shoves the handle of the controller into your pussy. It’s short but thick. And though it does not fill you as well as his fingers, let alone his huge cock, you still gasp a quiet moan. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers into your ear. “Nice and quiet while I finish up the game. Do you think you can manage that now, babygirl?” Voice as thick and sweet as honey, you can’t help but get lost in it’s trance. 

You nod immediately, quietly mumbling, “yes, sir.”

Taehyung smirks as his tattooed hands make themselves comfortable in the awkward position of the controller. You watch in awe as he plays flawlessly, despite the fact that your pussy is gripping on the other half of the handle. And everytime he loses, his avatar disappears, or misfires, the controller would vibrate, sending sudders up and down your pussy. 

“Sir, please,” you sigh, sounding more desperate than when you started. “Enough games.”

“Just one last round,” he chuckles.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[guccybangtan]

keep going - jung hoseok x reader x park jimin

pairing; hoseok x reader x jimin

genre; smut, college au, frat au;

rating; 18+

disclaimers; threesome (hickies/neck kissing, palming, mxm kissing, penetrative sex, blow job/dick sucking, face fucking (its pretty mild), nipple play, hoseok gives off dom vibes but its subtle, hoseok fucks y/n and she's dating jimin (totally consensual Jimin’s there its a vibe) Let me know if somethings missing;

word count; 2.6k

a/n; this was commissioned by an anonymous donor through ChangesWithLuv in support of the Black Lives Matter movement

listen to: whatever sexy song you want, I listened to daddy issues (slowed w reverb) on repeat solely bc I liked the vibes;

“Just come with me to the party this one time! Please, baby girl,” Jimin begged you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

His words were punctuated by a wiggle of his eyebrows, signature toothy smirk on full display as his eyes formed mini crescents.

You had been in a relationship with Jimin for the better part of two years, having originally met during Intro to Chemistry. It had been the first day of the semester and you, regretfully, were placed in the 8 am class.

You were taken aback when Jimin and all his energy plopped into the seat next to you, slamming his books and coffee onto the table, effectively deeming himself your lab partner for the entirety of the first semester.

While you dreaded attending Intro to Chem in the beginning, you found yourself looking more and more forward to it as time went by, beginning to enjoy the time spent with your new friend.

Jimin may have been a bit strange, but he was actually quite endearing.

He started bringing you coffee from the campus cafe when he stopped for his own, swearing you looked like the walking dead every time he saw you. He also looked at you like you held the stars in your eyes when you explained molar calculations to him, claiming ‘’no matter how hard I try Professor Robertson just doesn’t make any sense!’’

You knew something was up when Jimin walked into class empty-handed one morning, but all of the pieces clicked into place when he held you back after class was dismissed.

“I know things were a little weird in the beginning, but I really enjoy your company,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you maybe, I dunno, wanna come grab a coffee with me? Get to know each other outside of chemistry?”

Of course you’d agreed, and the two of you walked hand in hand down to the cafe, giggling like teenagers as you stared at each other over the lips of your cups.

That one date turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into Jimin asking you to be his girlfriend a few weeks later.

Even though you said yes, you’d had your reservations. Early on in your courtship, you’d learned Jimin was a part of Bangtan, the fraternity known to throw the most crazy rager parties. How this fact had escaped you the first 8 weeks of you knowing him, you weren’t sure why, but now that you did know it made you nervous.

“Why does me being in Bangtan make you nervous?” Jimin asked you over coffee one morning after class.

“It’s just- the reputation your frat holds.” You shrugged like that explained everything.

“Care to enlighten me?” Jimin was perched on the edge of his seat, acting as if you were about to tell him the juiciest bit of drama all year.

“That you all fuck anything with legs just to get your dick wet.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Is that why you think I’m after you?” Tongue in cheek, Jimin cocked his eyebrow, looking almost bored as you threw these accusations at him.

“Well... No. Not you.” You shivered under his intense gaze. You’d never brought this up in conversation before, afraid of the possible repercussions.

“What makes me different, then?” Your only response was to stare at him.

What did make him different? You didn’t really have an answer, but you trusted Jimin.

He hadn’t attended any of the parties since the two of you got together, totally understanding of your apprehension.

This party was a special occasion, though, which is why he wanted you to attend so badly.

Hoseok was one of the members of Bangtan, and the party was for his birthday.

The fraternity was notorious for going all out in regards to their members, so this was expected to be one of the best parties of the year, considering how popular Hoseok was.

This party would be no different. You’d seen the info floating around on Snapchat, meaning anyone and everyone was invited, something unusual for Bangtan, because usually you had to know someone to get in the door.

“You know how I feel about parties, Jimin,” you replied from your seated position on the couch.

Jimin had been persistent on your attendance since he’d heard about the party, but he’d been especially antsy since he returned home from his last class.

“I know, Y/N, but think about it! It’s Hoseok’s birthday!” Jimin made his way around the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of you.

He took the book you were reading out of your hands and set it on the table next to him.

“He’s your friend, Min, not mine.’’ You shook your head, reaching back out for your book.

Jimin was quick to grab your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm as he gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Pleaasseee!’’ he whined.

“Only for like, two hours,’’ you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a deal!” Jimin exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

He quickly scurried off to your shared bedroom, muttering about how he was going to let the others know you would, in fact, be in attendance.

-

The day of the party arrived sooner than you would have liked. Considering the rest of your week following the conversation with Jimin had been filled with tests and essay revisions, it was really no surprise that it was Saturday already.

The weather was warm enough that you opted for a spaghetti-strapped dress with delicate flowers scattered across the white fabric.

It was sheer and silken, like something you’d see in the middle of summer. It rested against the middle of your thighs, providing enough coverage to be modest, but not so much you felt swamped in fabric. It seemed perfect for the occasion (even though it appeared you’d have to prevent Jimin from ripping it from your body).

Even though you and Jimin arrived fairly early, it seemed as if the party was already in full swing.

You made it inside, albeit difficultly, and began the hunt for the birthday boy to offer him your congratulations.

Somewhere along the way you had been handed a solo cup filled with a mysterious liquid that smelled an awful lot like fireball and coke. If you were anywhere else you would have questioned the drink, but considering the fact that Seokjin had been the one to hand it to you, you weren’t too worried.

After searching for Hoseok and not finding him, you and Jimin settled onto the couch with Jimin’s best friends, Jungkook and Taehyung, who were also a part of the frat.

Conversation flowed easily between the four of you, and time was passing by quickly. You found yourself enjoying the party more than you originally thought you would.

“You still wanting to leave?” Jimin’s words were whispered directly into your ear, plush lips gently brushing against the outer shell.

“I don’t mind staying,’’ you shrugged.

“Well, uh- I don’t mind either but, there’s a bit of a problem.’’ He glanced down to his lap where a bulge was beginning to form.

Without even having to look, you rolled your eyes. “What!” Jimin exclaimed, glancing at his friends to make sure they were still oblivious to your conversation, “You look so hot in that dress, baby girl.’’

“So? You can’t wait until we get home?” “Please, Y/N,’’ Jimin purred, “humor me.’’

Sighing again, you stood up, bidding farewell to the others and tugging Jimin down the hall.

“Where to, loverboy?” You asked.

Jimin swung the first door open and pulled you inside, slamming it shut and flicking the lock.

“Where were we?” Jimin turned to you with a smirk.

“My bedroom,’’ another voice rang out.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden sound.

Hoseok was lounging on the bed shirtless, his feet kicked up.

“To what do I owe your lovely presence?”

“We were just-’’

“Gonna fuck in my bed?” Hoseok cocked his eyebrow.

“Well-’’

“I could’ve at least gotten an invite,’’ Hoseok tsked, “it is my birthday, after all.’’

“Invitation sent.’’ you said.

“Bring it on.’’ Jimin smirked.

“Remember you asked for this.’’ Hoseok snickered as he stood up, looking amused at your lover's words.

“Kneel. There,’’ he barked at Jimin, pointing to the patch of carpet near the foot of the bed.

The blond was quick to follow orders without hesitation. Who knew your lovely boyfriend would submit so easily?

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” Jimin rolled his eyes, causing Hoseok to scoff.

“Pretty dress,’’ Hoseok cooed as he sauntered over to you, lips brushing the edge of your jaw, “It’d look better off, though.’’

He wasted no time and ripped the garment from your body, exposing your soft skin to the chill air of his bedroom.

Hoseok smashed his lips to yours, mouths sliding fervently against each other.

He feathered kisses across your jaw, working his way down the column of your neck and down your chest, finally reaching your breasts.

‘’Hoseok,’’ you gasped as his mouth latched onto one of your hardening nipples, fingers winding their way into his soft red locks.

He laved his tongue over the rosy bud, while he massaged the other with his deft fingers.

After a moment he switched, offering equal attention to both mounds.

“Hobi… mm- want more. Please. Touch me,’’ you whined as he sat up.

He stared at you as you squirmed on the bed, lips parted as pants fell from his mouth.

“I won't touch you unless you beg.”

You spared a glance at Jimin.

Seeing him on his knees next to the bed, pupils blown wide as he palmed himself through his jeans was enough to send another gush of wetness into your panties. It was obvious he was just as into this as you were.

“Please, Hoseok!’’ You mewled, ”I’ve been good,’’

“Hm,’’ Hoseok hummed as he caught you staring at Jimin, “not good enough.’’

Your eyes widened, ready to plead more when any words you had died in your throat.

Hoseok had turned his back to you, moving all of his attention towards Jimin.

“Baby boy’s been a bit neglected, hasn’t he?”

You watched on with labored breaths, enthralled by the scene unfolding in front of you.

You couldn’t hear what Hoseok muttered to Jimin over your own breathing, but Hoseok pulled Jimin to his feet and immediately locked his lips with the blond, tongue swiping gently over his lips.

Jimin’s hands gripped the loops on Hoseok’s pants, pulling the older male flush against his body while he began to mouth at his neck, letting his hands move to caress Hoseok’s hardening dick through his shorts.

You were sure your panties were saturated with your arousal by this point, feeling the fabric stick uncomfortably to your dripping cunt.

“Not fair,’’ you whined, sitting up, ”you’re hogging.’’

You nudged Jimin, attaching your lips to the side of Hoseok’s neck, painting blossoms of red and purple across his supple skin, while Jimin made similar moves on the other side.

As you moved more toward the center of his throat, you found yourself knocking heads with Jimin.

“Now who’s hogging?” Jimin mocked you as he nuzzled his nose against your own.

You momentarily turned your attention from Hoseok to Jimin, letting your lips meet. No matter how many times you had kissed Jimin, his hot lips always made you weak in the knees.

You moaned as he pulled away, wanting nothing more than to ravish him right then.

Hoseok’s hand on your waist brought you back to reality, turning your attention back to him.

“It won’t be long before someone comes looking. If we really wanna have fun we should hurry a bit.

You and Jimin both nodded dumbly, entranced by Hoseok.

“How do we wanna do this?” Hoseok asked as he pulled off Jimin’s shirt, nipping at his jaw.

“You can fuck her if you want, long as you’ve got a condom.’’

Hoseok quickly rummaged through his nightstand, proudly whipping out the foiled package.

“You okay with that?” Jimin turned to you, taking his time to run his hands over your curves, fingers sliding against your soaked panties.

“Please. Hurry.’’ You nodded, grinding onto Jimin’s palm.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Hoseok laughed as he stepped out of his shorts, tearing the wrapper open and rolling it down his thick length.

Jimin made his way around the bed, kneeling next to your head.

You reached up and wrapped your hand around his cock, giving him a few strokes while you waited for Hoseok to line up with your entrance.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,’’ Hoseok breathed as he began to push into you. “Wanna taste you next time.’’

“Oh, god.’’ You cried as he bottomed out.

He stilled inside of you, giving you a few moments to adjust to his size before he was pulling out and rocking back into you again.

Hoseok was longer than Jimin, but not as girthy. Still, he managed to reach places inside of you that had your toes curling as you felt the familiar knot already tightening in your stomach.

You felt the tip of Jimin’s cock nudge your lips and without hesitation you opened for him.

Jimin began thrusting into your mouth in tandem with Hoseok.

“Hng- Fuck, Y/N.’’ Jimin moaned, “ 'm close. God, your mouth.’’

You relaxed your throat, allowing Jimin deeper access to fuck into you.

It wasn’t long before you felt his warm cum coating the inside of your throat.

He pulled out gently, and you turned your attention back to Hoseok who had begun working your clit as he continued to thrust into you at a steady pace.

“ 'm not gonna last long,” Hoseok grunted, “wanna feel you milk my cock.’’

Hoseok's words were enough to throw you over the edge into ecstasy, walls clenching around his cock as he stilled inside of you, spilling his seed into the condom.

The two of you laid there, catching your breaths before Hoseok pulled out, discarding the used condom in the wastebin.

“Thank you for that,’’ Hoseok smiled as he pulled his shirt back over his head.

“Not a problem,’’ Jimin said, helping you redress.

“It was fun,’’ you added.

Reaching out, you pulled Hoseok into your arms, trapping him in a hug.

He tensed, but returned the gesture nevertheless.

“You just had your dick in me, a hug won’t kill you.’’ You giggled, releasing the man whose face was now as red as his hair.

He shook his head at you, giving Jimin a bro hug before following you to the door.

“Talk soon?” Jimin said to his frat-mate.

“For sure, let me know when you get home. I’ve got more party things to attend to.’’ He rolled his eyes.

You and Jimin left soon after, beginning the short journey home.

“Is it bad I want to do that again?” Jimin broke the silence.

“No, I want to too.’’

“I never took Hobi as a Dom,’’ Jimin pondered out loud.

“Have you seen the man? He screams dom,’’ you disagreed.

“Maybe we can call him for your birthday.’’

“I’m down.’’ You reached out to Jimin for the door key.

Wordlessly, he handed it over.

The silence remained until the two of you were settled into bed.

“Y/N?” Jimin asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you like Hoseok?”

You looked at Jimin with uncertainty.

“Of course I do, he’s your friend.’’

“Yeah but… nevermind.’’ He shook his head.

“O-okay?” You responded.

“We’ll talk in the morning, baby. Get some rest.’’

Rest didn’t come easy, and when it did, you dreamt of all the possibilities the morning held.

[wwilloww]

unwind - m | knj

Pairing: soft dom Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut. Explicit. 18+.

WC: 5.5k

Summary: You come home after a long, stressful day at work to your boyfriend, who does his best to cheer you up and remind you that you can always rely on him. Sometimes the best form of self-care is simply accepting affection and care from someone else.  

Warnings: softdom!Namjoon. Dom and sub play. Dirty talk. Spanking. Fingering. Oral sex (f receiving). Edging. Orgasm denial. Thigh riding. Begging. Unprotected sex within a committed relationship. Multiple orgasms. Creampie. Aftercare.

A/N: This story is a commission by an anonymous donor through @ficswithluv‘s Changes With Luv project. Thank you so much for your donation—I hope it lives up to your idea! I’m sending my whole heart out to the incredible Luna @moonchild-og​ and Ash @ot7always who beta read this very late last night! Also, shoutout to @meowxyoong @strawbxxymilk @randombtsprincessa @diedinwarofhormones for sharing their thirst for soft doms with me.

|| masterlist || ao3 ||

wwilloww ©️ do not repost, translate, or copy.

The door seems particularly heavy as you close it behind you. You slump against it, dropping your bag on the floor as you close your eyes.

Today has been an absolute shitshow. Not only had the day been long and arduous, but your asshole boss seemed to have some kind of personal vendetta against you.

You take a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

When you open your eyes, you are met with the sight of Namjoon reclined on your couch, a thick book held up to his face. He looks over the tome at you, an eyebrow raised.  

As he takes in your sinking shoulders and tired gaze, his excitement that you’re finally home shifts into concern. Immediately, he hops off the couch to come to you, slipping your coat off of your shoulders before wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” You untuck yourself and press a kiss to his lips. When you pull back you can see a crease forming between his brow, so you reach up to roll your thumb over his forehead, smoothing out the skin for him before bringing your hand down to cradle his cheek. “Everything’s fine.”

Namjoon tightens his grip around your waist, knowing you well enough to spot the tension in your posture.

“Why don’t you go shower and I’ll whip something up for dinner,” he prompts, brushing a strand of hair that has fallen out of your ponytail behind your ear.

“You? Cook?”

He nods eagerly.

“I have a new recipe I’ve been practicing.” He grins, pushing you lightly away from him. “Go. Shower. You’ll feel better.” You throw him a weak smile as you make your way to the back bedroom.

You emerge from the bedroom twenty minutes later, smelling of balsam wood and lavender and wrapped in your softest sweatshirt and a pair of sleep shorts.

You wander into the kitchen, slipping quietly into one of the stools at the breakfast bar where Namjoon has left a glass of your favorite red wine. You sip the wine, pursing your lips together at the swirling bitterness that takes over your mouth. As you relish in the feeling of the cool liquid trickling down your throat, you prop up your head on your hand to watch Namjoon move around the kitchen, stirring noodles and chopping garlic and parsley.

“Babe, you look like you know what you’re doing,” you tease, sending him a wink.

“Of course I know what I’m doing!” he scoffs. He notices your wine glass is empty and makes his way around the bar with the bottle to fill it up. You eagerly offer him the glass. He fills it generously before pressing a quick kiss to your wine-stained lips.

As he turns away to return to the kitchen, you pull him towards you again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and deepening the kiss. He softens against you, letting his hands press into your lower back. However, he quickly remembers himself and pulls you away, a slight smirk on his face.

“First, you need to eat.”

He rounds the counter and proceeds to finish cooking, while you watch on with a slight pout. Your frown cracks into a gentle smile though as you study the care with which he carefully twists the pasta onto a dish and does his best to delicately sprinkle parsley on top.

He brings two identical plates to where you’re sitting. As he slides into the seat next to you, you twist so that you’re facing him, pulling his face to yours and kiss him deeply. Needing more, you tease his lips open with your tongue, sliding one hand up his thigh to squeeze the thick muscle. He kisses you back before tensing and pulling away.

“Babe, come on,” he groans, laughing.

“No, I want this,” you say, pushing your hand up until it meets the junction between hip and thigh. “I want you,” you look up innocently at him, doing your best impression of doe eyes, even as you move your hand to trace his quickly forming bulge.

His gaze hardens from playful to something more serious. He shows no sign of being affected by your increasingly distracting hand and instead picks up your fork and twirls a noodle around it, bringing it to your mouth.

“Eat or nothing else happens tonight.”

You smile sheepishly up at him and open your mouth. He feeds you until you take the fork from him and finish your meal.

“You had a tough day?” Namjoon finally asks as you finish your plate.

“No, everything’s fine.”

Namjoon watches as your brow creases. You always do this. You come home after a difficult day, and think it would be a burden to your boyfriend to share the details. So you keep them to yourself, unsuccessfully pretending that nothing has happened. Namjoon loves that you care so deeply about the way other people feel, but he hates that you do this—that you feel you need to hold back—with him.

So he sighs and puts down the dish he’s currently holding to turn to you.

“Babe, I know something’s wrong. Right?”

You pause, mulling over your options before deciding to tell him.

“Yeah,” you murmur, dropping your gaze.

“I’m not saying you need to tell me the details. I know you need time to process these kinds of things. But I also don’t want you to...to hold back from me simply because you think it’ll burden me in some way.” You meet his eyes. Instead of pity or even frustration, there’s softness there. “I’m an adult. If I can’t handle something, I’ll let you know. I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide from me or lie to me to keep me happy.”

You sigh and put your dish down so you can wrap your arms around his waist.

“I know. Thank you, Joon.” You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “I know I do this a lot. I promise I’ll work on it.”

He smiles at you.

“How can I help?”

“Is it possible to fuck the frustration away?” you tease.

You watch as something dark flashes in his eyes.

“Sure is.” He bends down to kiss you. “Will you let me take care of you?”

“Joonie, that—that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to.”

“Babe, I want to.”

“No, really, this is my shit, it’s my bad day—”

“Get on the bed.”

“What?”

“Leave your clothes at the door and get on the bed.” His voice has dropped, deep and serious, signaling his switch into his more dominating persona. “Let me take care of you.”

You leave your plate where it is and start down the hall, tugging off your sweatshirt. It’s quick work undressing, seeing as you’re only really wearing two items of clothing. As you slide your shorts down your legs you know Namjoon’s eyes are on you. You put an extra ounce of energy into slowing down the process and arching your back slightly—just enough to let his gaze linger. You peek back at him as you stand, now naked, and trail your hand over your bare skin. A soft chuckle echoes from behind you as Namjoon dumps the dishes in the sink, a task for tomorrow.

Knowing he’s shortly behind you, you step into the bedroom completely naked, and plop down on the bed.

“You know what I want, babe. Ass up.”

You smirk at him before flipping over onto your belly, kicking up your legs playfully. You rest your head on your arms as you watch Namjoon lean against the doorframe. He tugs at the top button of his shirt, his gaze roving over you: Roving over the slight valley of your lower back, the waterfall of hair against your neck, the sweet swell of your ass. He could watch you all day but knowing that he gets to touch, too, that knowledge means that just studying your form will never be enough.

He strides towards you, unbuttoning his shirt as he walks without entirely untucking it.

The bed dips under his weight as he comes behind you, swinging one knee over you so that he’s effectively straddling your upper thighs. He smooths a large palm over the smooth swell of your ass, first one cheek then the other. You melt into the sensation, his light but spanning touch raising goosebumps all over your body. He brings a second hand down on your ass, now mirroring his ministrations on each side, roving in large circles.

Slowly, he works his way upwards, palms spreading across your lower back. He’s gentle at first, hands warming you up against the cool air of the bedroom. But then his touch becomes heavier. He uses the heel of his palm to knead into the flesh and muscle of your back. Gradually he works his way up along the curve of your spine, left hand mirroring right, each one delightfully heavy as he digs into the tension you’re holding in your body.

Namjoon hits a particularly tight knot in your shoulder. As he fluctuates between the dancing pads of his fingers and the deep pressure of the heel of his hand, it slowly unravels. You groan at the painful pleasure of the pressure releasing and you know he’s smirking from behind you as he continues to work at it until he’s satisfied that he’s released it.  

“I know you had a hard day, kitten, but you should know that I’m going to take care of you—no matter what. No matter what it is that you need.” His hands come down to smooth over your back, brushing back and forth, redistributing the stagnating energy that he’s dug up. “I keep telling you this. Do you need me to remind you again?”

You nod furiously.

He leans down so that when he speaks his voice feels like it's brushing over your ear.

“You remember your safeword, love?”

You nod and mumble a soft “Mhmm.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Kaleidoscope.”

“Good girl.”

He watches as a faint blush begins to creep up your neck at the use of the pet name. Gently, he unstraddles you and pulls you up to your knees, maneuvering you to his own will. He moves so that he is sitting on the edge of the bed, and pats his lap. As if it’s second nature, you obediently lay yourself across him so your ass is up in the air.

“You know exactly what to do,” Namjoon muses, almost more to himself than to you. He runs his hand over the dip of your lower back and the rounded curve of your ass. “So pretty, just for me.”

You push up into his hand involuntarily at his words.

“Do you know why I’m doing this?”

“To remind me,” you say.

“Yes. And?”

“And?” you twist back to try to gauge his expression, but he pushes your head back down.

“And because you were so greedy earlier. Trying to get me hard at dinner, trying to get me to fuck that needy cunt in the kitchen of all places.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing and Namjoon grins when he sees the subtle movement.

“So eager, already? I haven’t even gotten started with you.”

“Plea—”

You’re cut off as his hand comes down on your ass. It’s a light slap, more of a practice run than what he knows you can take—than what he knows you crave. Still, the smallest of oh’s slips past your lips. As he runs his hand over your backside in a circular motion, you press your ass back into his touch, desperate for more.

“Is that alright?” he asks, knowing that you’re one to lean into the sting of his hand, but still wanting to check in with you.

“Yes, please, more.”

Namjoon doesn’t need any further convincing. His hand comes down on you—hard. Hard enough to elicit a gasp from you. You bite your lip to hold back the sinful sounds that threaten to escape. His hand comes down again—and again—and on the fifth hit you groan, loudly. You can feel him harden beneath you.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well.” Despite his obvious arousal, he does nothing but focus on the sensation of his hand hitting your supple flesh and the sight of you beneath him.

Above you, Namjoon watches as after each spank your body relaxes further in his grasp. Each strike feeds the healthy glow beneath his palm and he smiles because even as your breathing picks up, the tension you’re subconsciously holding in your body begins to slip away, allowing for a new kind of tension to grow between your legs.

His hand comes down a final time and you whimper beneath its strength.

“Okay, love. I think that’s enough for now.” He begins to pull you up, turning so he’s got one leg hanging off the bed and you’re sat upright on your knees between his legs. “You did so well.” He wraps his arms around your waist, coming to gently squeeze your ass, knowing how sensitive you must be. As you sigh into his touch, he leans in to kiss you, his lips moving tenderly over yours. “You always look so pretty for me, bent over my lap.” You flush at the praise, leaning back to push a loose strand of hair out of your mouth.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he helps move the hair out of your face.

“Much better,” you smile sweetly as you bask in the sunlight of the endorphins rushing through you.

“Better than before?”

“Mhmm. Thank you.” You press your lips against his once more before starting to slide off the bed. You move between his legs, fingers running over the leather of his belt. He’s still entirely dressed, although his shirt is hanging obscenely open, his toned chest shining softly with sweat. You tug gently on his belt, eyes looking up through your lashes and pleading.

You look gorgeous like this, on your knees, eyes wide and wet. Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, letting his head fall back just enough to expose his neck to you and groans. He reaches down to stroke your cheek as you fumble with his belt buckle.

“Darling,” he murmurs. “You are so good on your knees for me. I love it when you suck my cock—but not now.”

You pout slightly. “But, Joon, I want to make you feel good.”

“You will,” Namjoon smiles gently. “But nothing feels better than you being a good girl and listening to me.”  

He wants to say that watching the tension unravel itself from your body is what makes him feel good. That watching a smile grow softly on your face feels like heaven, or that seeing you unwind beneath him, underneath his touch, is the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.

“But—”

“No. You heard what I said.”

Your pout deepens. He knows he’s not going to be able to talk you out of this, so instead, he diverts your attention.

“Go lay down.”

“I—”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow and you shut your mouth.

“Go lay down and put your hands above your head.”

You do as he asks, moving slowly until your head is resting on a short stack of pillows. You arrange yourself, knees together and hands twisted above your head. With a smirk, you spread your knees apart, revealing your inner thighs, glistening with sweat and arousal.

He watches you do this and raises an eyebrow.

“Someone’s feeling extra needy tonight, hm?” Still, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl towards you, pushing your knees even farther apart as he settles between them, still dressed.

For a moment you think he’ll stop the teasing and finally press his lips against your clit. As if reading your mind he grins up at you as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“You should know better.”

You groan in frustration, reaching down to pull his chin to where you want him. With a growl, he pins your hand back above your head and sits up slightly.

“You do know better, don’t you?” The threat is implicit in his tone: do as he’s asked or he’ll stop. You nod sheepishly. “Words, baby.”

“Yes, I’ll do what you’ve asked.”

“Good girl. Anything I want?”

You nod. “Whatever you want.”

He slowly lowers himself back to your stomach, kissing up your soft belly until he meets the slope of your breasts. He wraps his lips around your right nipple, teasing it softly, sucking, and rolling it around in his mouth. And then—oh—his teeth graze over the sensitive bud. As he continues to suckle at each nipple, your groans become louder and you squirm up into him.

Namjoon is still fully clothed and your burning skin finds little relief against the rough texture of the fabric. Still, you press up, closer to him.

Namjoon chuckles and you look down to find his lips pursed perfectly around your breast, his tongue flickering out to tease the already-bruising skin and the hard bulb of your nipple.

“God, you look wild right now, babe,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Joonie—” you gasp as he bites down particularly painfully. “I need more.”

Usually, Namjoon would draw things out or scold you for being so vocal. But alongside the dominating personality that he regularly assumes in the bedroom, tonight something softer sings alongside that hard edge. Tonight, he wants to see you unravel for him.  

You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes one long finger into your cunt without warning. Your body tenses as he begins to draw it in and out—and then quickly relaxes as he finds his pace.

He adds a second finger as he lowers his head to wrap his lips around your clitoris. With his other hand, he pushes down on your stomach, quelling the desperate movements of your hips to get more of him, to get closer to him. As he sucks on the delicate bud, it swells, pulsing rhythmically beneath his attentions. You gasp.

Namjoon gazes up at you through the swell of your breasts, watching the way your brow furrows and mouth gapes in pleasure. You can feel his lips spread into a grin against you and you look down to find him drowning in his own intensity, his shirt slipping down his shoulder, only to throw your head back again as he adds a third finger and scissors them apart.

“So obedient. You’re taking everything I give you.”

“Mhmm,” you manage to mumble through clenched teeth. “For you—”

“For me, baby girl? Just for me?” All you can do is nod stiffly as a tremor of pleasure races through you, eliciting the sweetest sounding moan from you. “That’s right, love, moan for me. You sound so gorgeous when you make those pretty little sounds.”

Your back arches as he hits a particularly spongy spot within you. As you do, he sucks extra hard on your clit, sending stars shooting up and down your spine and into your vision.

“Can I come?” you plead, breath coming in short gasps. “I-I’m so close.”

“No, baby. Hold on a little longer for me.”

Still, he doesn’t falter in his punishing pace. If anything, he picks up the speed and force. You whimper beneath him, squirming and twisting the sheets by your head between your fingers.

You do your best to hold on to the pleasure that is coiling so tightly in your belly, to hold it there, just at the edge—but then suddenly his pattern changes and you’re tipping over.

“Joon—I-I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“No,” he growls. And then as quickly as he had begun, his touch, his tongue is gone and all that is left is the cool air of the bedroom.

Tears of frustration well up in your eyes as you lift your head to see Namjoon sitting back, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I told you not to come.”

“I was so close,” you whine as you throw your head back on the pillow.

“When you come, it’ll be around my cock or not at all.”

You sit up again, crawling over to him. You tug on the loose ends of his shirt.

“Then fuck me,” you say, making your eyes big and wide just for him. You know he always goes a little weak when you do this.

His eyes grow large and he pulls you against him to kiss you furiously. He quickly slips his tongue between your lips and swipes it against the roof of your mouth. You groan into him, pressing closer, finding his clothed thigh between your legs. Unabashedly, you grind down on it, your clit rubbing against the rough material.

“Shit,” he murmurs against you, taking one of your lips between his teeth.

You continue to circle your hips against his leg, undoubtedly ruining the pants. Namjoon bites down on your lip, causing you to yelp into his mouth.

“I love to see you this desperate,” he groans. “So worked up that you’re going to use my thigh to cum, huh? Is that enough for you? Are you so fucking desperate for me that you’ll get yourself off on my thigh when you can’t get my fingers or my tongue?”

“Yes, god, yes.” Your movements become erratic as the tension he left broken within you minutes ago quickly rebuilds.

At this point your arousal has soaked entirely through the fabric of his trousers, leaving the skin beneath it wet and sticky. You’re so close, if you could just get a little closer, a little more, a—

“Stop.”

The word cuts through your blissed-out haze. You slow but don’t stop.

“I said, stop.” Namjoon's hands come down on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he halts your movements. “My girl is having trouble listening today, hm?” He takes a finger to tilt your chin up as you whine and continue to try to press against him. His fingers dig deeper into your hips. That’ll definitely leave a mark for tomorrow, and the thought of it has your cunt clenching. “What did I say about cumming?”

“Not to,” you frown.

“Unless?”

“Unless it's on your cock.”

“Good girl.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Joonie, I can’t wait anymore.”

Looking down at you, he can see that. You’re covered in sweat, love bites, and fresh bruises. Your skin is so delightfully flushed and the look in your eyes is desperate. So slowly, he nods his consent and lets you unbutton the remaining button on his shirt and slip if off his shoulders.

He watches as you unbutton his trousers and needily push them down just enough that you can slide the band of his boxers down and slip your hand inside. His cock springs free, the tip an angry red and leaking precome.

“You’re so hard for me.”

You wrap your hand around the base, stroking up once torturously slow. He loves the way your hand looks wrapped around him, and when you look up there’s a new fire in his eyes. He’s held back for about an hour, untouched, and now that your beautiful hand is stroking up and down his length, every sensation feels wildly intense.

You let go of him to reach down in between your legs and slide two fingers into your cunt to collect the slick that has gathered there. Without breaking eye contact, you wrap your hand around his cock again, spreading your wetness onto his length.

“Fuck.”

He freezes for a moment before springing into action.

Before you know what’s happening, Namjoon has wrapped his arms around your torso and is flipping you over onto your belly. The air wooshes out of you as you hit the bed, but he’s done this enough times that he knows exactly how to cradle your fall. You start to twist back to him to see what he’s doing, but he moves quickly, pressing your thighs together and coming to straddle you, similarly to how he had when he massaged you earlier. He leans over you, pushing your shoulder down so you’re facing forward again.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget everything except for this cock. How it feels inside of you, filling you,” he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps over every inch of your skin.  

And then his movements slow. His hands disappear and you’re left touchless, squirming on the bed.  

“I-I want it,” you whine, lifting your hips up just enough that your glistening folds brush back against his cockhead. You do your best to push back onto him, to get him inside, to fill you, but his hand comes down to press on your lower back, his fingers spreading out in a fan against your skin. He pushes your spine into a delightful arch, successfully restraining your movements.

Normally you love his calculated movements: the simplicity and strength that this kind of gesture has to put you exactly in the position that he wants you in usually has goosebumps peppering your skin and a shot of adrenaline heightening all sensation. And that remains true in this moment. However, the coil in your stomach is quickly unwinding and you’re left aching for something more, for him.

“Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Ngh—yes,” you groan, squirming against him.

“Baby, I need more than that. Use your words.” Still, he doesn’t move and instead pushes down on your back so your movements are further limited.

“I want your cock. I want your cum,” you gasp. “I want everything,” you add with a shaky breath, knowing that although you being wordy isn’t going to speed up the process, it will make Namjoon harder.

You can almost hear the smirk that spreads across his face.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, yes, Joonie, please. I need you.”

Namjoon reaches down to grip the base of his cock and slides it against your slick folds.

“Hm, but this feels so good. I could do this all day.”

“KIM NAMJOON. If you don’t put your fucking cock in my cunt right this second I will march into the bathroom, lock the door, and finish this myself.”

Namjoon fucking laughs—a big, hearty, jubilant laugh that echoes around the room—as you wriggle beneath his weight in your best display of anger.

Finally, finally, he slots the head of his cock against your entrance and leans over to whisper against your ear.

“I don’t want you to think that that comment is going to go unpunished,” he whispers. The hair on the back of your neck rises with the promise, but your next comment is quickly silenced by a roll of his hips as he slides the first inch of his cock into you.

This is nothing like his fingers. He’s girthy, filling you to the brim. The slight stretch of his cock against your sensitive walls straddles the delicate line between pain and pleasure and you groan as he slides further into you.

He begins at a slow pace, his hips rolling forward into you. In this position, it feels like your walls are sucking him in.

“God, you look so good taking my cock.” Namjoon moans. He can’t take his eyes off the way your lower lips part around him, the way he seamlessly glides in and out of you. Each time he withdraws, he comes out glistening in a mix of your arousal and his precome.

He comes down to rest on his elbows, in the process shifting his hips slightly up. With this new leverage, he begins to drive into you with a new ferocity. The slight shift has him hitting your g-spot. As he continues to pound against that soft spot within you, you reach out to wrap your fingers around his forearm and press your face into the pillow.

There were times when Namjoon took extreme pleasure in tying you up and refusing to let you touch him. But now he wanted nothing more than to be as pressed as close to you as possible. As he lowers his weight onto you and onto his forearms, he can feel the muscles of your back and hips ripple beneath him as you thrust back in tandem to his own pace.

“You feel so big,” you moan.

You don’t usually cum without direct clitoral stimulation, but after being unwound just to be riled up again and then left on the edge of your orgasm, the repeated pounding against your g-spot is consistently building up a warm pressure at the front of your pelvis. You dig your nails into Namjoon’s skin and feel him press harder into you. Between the comforting weight of his body and his unyielding thrusts, you can feel your orgasm quickly rising within you.

“Joonie—” you gasp.

“I can feel how close you are,” he groans, sweat beading on his forehead.

“I’m so close, Joonie, please, can I—”

“Cum, baby. Cum for me.”

At his command, you press back into him and dig your fingers into his arm. Your vision goes white as pleasure ripples through your pelvis and outwards, into your belly, your limbs. You vaguely understand that Namjoon is still grinding his hips into you, helping you ride out your orgasm as long as possible. You continue to clench around him and he hisses.

“Shit.”

Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut, doing his best to hold back from drilling into you. Instead, he circles his hips against you, grinding into your still-clenching walls as he guides you down from your orgasm. Your breath is coming in pants and huffs now, and you turn your head so that you’re looking up at him. He’s got that precious fold in his brow that appears when he’s close but holding back.

“Babe, I need—” he grunts.

“I know, I know,” you weakly lift your arm to stroke his burning cheek. “It’s okay.”

He finally lets go, allowing his pace to stutter and falter against you, morphing from a circular grind into something more primal. At this point, he’s chasing his own pleasure in a way that you almost never see. He’s still hitting your most sensitive spots and you groan in overstimulation.

All of a sudden, you’re coming again.

“I-” is all you can stutter, a long, silent groan shaping your swollen lips into a perfect O. As you come, you reach up behind you and grab onto his neck, your nails raking down the sensitive skin. All he needs is to feel the blood rise to the surface and see your neck arched back for him to come undone. His hips stutter into you, and with one final, deep thrust, he presses as deep as he can and lets go. His pleasure unravels in his stomach and you can feel him spurt again and again within you.  

Seconds after he’s come, he’s rolling off you, exposing you to the chilled air of the room—but he doesn’t want to crush you. As if reading his mind you say, “I like you on top of me, like the weight.”

He chuckles at the sleepy lilt in your voice.

“I know babe, I just don’t want to crush you.”

“You won’t.”

Namjoon doesn’t argue. He knows you become stubborn when you’re sleepy. Instead, he rolls you gently onto your back and comes to press himself almost chastely against your lips. You smile into the kiss, sliding your hands into his hair.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers into your shoulder, giving you a gentle bite before pulling back to look at you. He wants to spend the rest of the week in bed, tracing the features of your face like this: relaxed, blissful, unquestioning. Instead, he savors your expression for one final moment and brushes a sweaty piece of hair out of your eyes. Namjoon rolls off the bed and walks to the bathroom where he grabs a clean towel and dampens it. He almost doesn’t recognize his reflection in the mirror, hair unkempt, cheeks flushed, skin glistening with sweat—and something unrecognizable in his eyes. He splashes his face with water before returning to the bedroom where he sits gently on the edge of the bed. You’re already starting to fall asleep, but he runs his hand over your forehead and your eyes flutter open.

“You did so well for me baby,” he coos as he first wipes your brow before moving down your body and wiping away the mixed cum from your still-dripping cunt.

“Yes,” you mumble, lids heavy with sleep. “‘M good for you.”

“Yes, good for me. So good for me. I’d even say you earned yourself a reward.”

“Can my reward be you cuddling me?” You reach out, eyes closed at this point, trying to grab at him.

“Sure, baby.”

He reaches up to cup your cheek, running the rough pad of his thumb over your warm flesh. You sigh into his touch, nuzzling closer. He tosses the wet towel in the direction of the bathroom and climbs into bed, pulling you gently into his chest.

“Mm, love you, Joonie.” He feels more than hears you mumble into his neck.

“I love you too.”

|| masterlist || ao3 ||

[ot7always]

Let Go

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Established relationship/College!AU, smut, fluff

Warnings: sub!Seokjin, soft dom!Reader, copious amounts of teasing, oral (m receiving), light bondage, fingering, use of a cock ring, a bit of size kink, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of marking, creampie, overstimulation

Rating: 18+

Summary: Your boyfriend spent so much energy taking care of others. Wasn’t it time for someone to take care of him?

A/N: This fic was commissioned by the lovely @luxekook​ for the ChangesWithLuv project hosted by @ficswithluv​ in support of the Black Lives Matter movement! I hope it lives up to your expectations!

--

Boisterous laughter rang out through your shared apartment. With exams done and out of the way, Seokjin had invited your friends over to celebrate. While you loved them – you really did – they were loud. You’d be afraid to get a noise complaint from a grumpy old man if you didn’t know that your apartment complex was dominated by university students.

“How can you say I’m wrong, huh!? I’ll show you who’s wrong, you little punk-”

“Can you guys be normal for just one second?” Yoongi’s unamused voice called out from the opposite side of the room.

You snickered from your place at the kitchen counter as your boyfriend tackled Jungkook hard enough to shift the entire couch, Jimin squishing himself into the armrest so as not to interfere.

Yes, you loved these boys with your whole heart.

You continued mixing margaritas as you observed the group, chuckling as you heard Seokjin tell Taehyung that “it’s not a competition, but in a battle of faces I think I’d win.” You hadn’t been dating Seokjin long, but you have lived with him for years. The sense of balance he brought to your group was incredible. While at face value one might think he was just a huge goofball, he was so much more than that. He was dependable, observant. He knew when someone needed an ear just as much as he knew when they needed a laugh. It had to be tiring, always looking out for your friends like that. Sometimes you found yourself worrying whether he was happy too.

Finally finished making your pitchers of low-alcohol margaritas, you moved to join the boys in the living room. You’d made Seokjin promise nobody else was ever drinking heavily here again after the atrocity that was last year’s post-exam party. Sometimes you swore you could still smell the aftermath.

Plopping yourself onto Seokjin’s lap uninvited and ignoring the exaggerated oof in response, you started pouring out everyone’s drinks.

“You guys are sickeningly cute,” Hoseok commented from his place on the floor, eyes narrowing on Seokjin’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin tucked over your shoulder.

“Isn’t he the cutest?” you cooed, finishing your task and raising your hands to sandwich Seokjin’s cheeks between your palms, squeezing hard enough for his lips to jut out.

“Ugh, I didn’t mean him,” he responded in mock disgust. But you only giggled, turning to face him and grinning once you took in his reddening ears. For someone who loved to (jokingly) toot his own horn to anyone who’d listen, he got shockingly embarrassed at compliments.

Deciding to spare him the teasing that would normally come from his reaction to you, you simply rested your back against his chest, closing your eyes to bask in his presence.

--

The night went by in a blur, friendships seemingly breaking and reforming over the course of the night. It was clear that Jungkook’s competitiveness carried over even to board games, the look in his eye far too serious for the occasion. It definitely caused no shortage of arguments. Your boyfriend was famous for picking fights with the youngest, but it was hard not to see the affection in his eyes even when he was chastising at a rapid-fire pace.

Once the boys had left for the night, thankfully slightly tipsy at maximum, you made your way back to the living room with Seokjin. Fortunately for the two of you, your friends were much less messy than they seemed, meaning you could put off cleaning until the next day without feeling any guilt.

When Seokjin settled onto the couch once again, you seated yourself in his lap, straddling him. Brushing back the dusty brown hair you’d helped him to achieve the previous week, you gave him a quick peck on the lips before leaning back.

“Can I say something?” you asked, hands reaching to interlace your fingers with his. You tried to quell your nerves at the idea of what you were about to suggest. When the 8 of you were all together, it felt more evident than ever that your boyfriend seemed to be on all the time – cracking jokes, making snarky comments. Sure, maybe it was partly his personality, but you’d love to see him let that go for once. And you had just the idea.

“You can always say something,” he responded sweetly, eyes focused on your own.

“Well...” you pondered your words. While you’d done your fair share of observing over the years, Seokjin’s “role” in your friend group always seemed to go unspoken. “We appreciate it, but I just wanted to say it’s not your responsibility to always be the funny friend, you know?”

His brows furrowed in response. “I don’t-”

“Hang on, let me finish. You’re an amazing friend and you know how to lighten the mood. But isn’t it exhausting? Don’t you want to be spoiled? To not have to think?” you punctuated your words by shifting your hips closer until you were seated right against his crotch.

He only stuttered in response, face and ears turning bright red at your words. “What are you asking me?” he stared, wide-eyed.

“You always put everyone else before yourself... won’t you relax and let me take care of you?” you bit your lip, grinding onto the growing bulge in his pants. Seokjin always took the reins in your sex life, and you always let him, losing yourself in his firm commands and rough treatment. But you really, truly wanted him to experience someone taking care of him for a change – you wanted him to be able to sit back and lose himself.

“What did you have in mind?” he breathed, pupils dilating as the movement of your hips against his only continued. You leaned forward to slot your lips over his, the kiss quickly deepening. You captured Seokjin’s muffled groan in your mouth as you pulled back slightly, pressing your teeth into his plush bottom lip.

“Bed,” you gasped, pulling away abruptly. Rising off him to begin your trek to Seokjin’s bedroom, you didn’t check to see if he was following. Your back to him, you quickly pulled your t-shirt over your head and dropped your shorts to the floor, leaving you clad in a matching navy-blue lace set. The hiss you heard from behind you was all the confirmation you needed to know that he was right on your trail.

Sitting yourself daintily on the end of Seokjin’s bed, you watched as he joined you. As his hand reached out toward your hair, you swiftly caught his wrist in your own hand. “No touching. Lay down,” you smirked, jerking your head toward the pillows. His eyes narrowed in response, but he obeyed your words, laying down on his back, head resting on his hands.

You moved to join him, fingers trailing slowly up his denim-clad thighs. “You’ll listen to me tonight, won’t you, Jinnie?” you blinked up at him, feigning the most innocent stare you could muster. You tried not to crack a smile when you saw him visibly gulp.

“I’ll listen to you, sweetheart,” he replied, desire clear on his face. At his words, you smiled sweetly at him, hands moving to unbutton his jeans.

“No touching. Just lay back and relax,” you instructed, undoing the zipper and tugging the jeans off his legs. You smirked at the sight of his cock straining against his underwear, the waistband pulling away from him his skin. He let out a hiss when you lightly dragged your pointer finger along the outline of his cock, your nail scratching lightly at him.

“Is this all for me?” you cooed, “So big...” You continued your slow ministrations for several minutes until Seokjin wouldn’t stop shifting his hips.

“Touch me,” he all but growled, hips grinding into the air in search of any friction at all.

“But I am.” You tilted your head at him, relishing in his frustrated sigh.

“Please,” he said quietly, the word sounding almost foreign in his mouth. If tonight went the way you intended, you were certain you would be hearing it a lot more.

Taking mercy on him, you tugged his underwear off, his cock springing up once his bottom half was made bare. You laid your head on his thigh, staring toward it wide-eyed, finger raising once again to trace patterns along the shaft.

“So pretty, isn’t it? You’re so big.” Sure, you were exaggerating your words and expression a bit to rile him up, but it was true. He was girthy, veins running up the underside, the head angry and red and begging to be touched.

You took him loosely into your grasp, pumping him slowly with barely enough pressure to be noticeable. When he bucked his hips up to seek more of anything, you brought your other hand to press down on his abdomen. He was more than strong enough to make the movement anyway, but you assumed he would listen to you as he said he would.

You moved to blow a warm stream of air at the head of his cock, and he twitched in your grasp at the sensation, a groan sounding out from above you. As you looked up to his face, you felt a rush of heat in your groin at his appearance, eyes clenched shut and teeth biting into his lower lip.

“Ask for what you want,” you crooned, continuing your languid movements. You had to remind yourself not to break composure at the heavy-lidded look he gave you, sweat starting to cause tendrils of hair to stick to his forehead.

“Suck me off,” he demanded, fingers digging into the pillow beneath his head.

“I see you don’t understand how this works.” Condescension coloured your tone as you cocked your head, eyes narrowing. “Why should I do anything if you’re mean to me?” you pouted, pulling your hands away from him.

It was when you simply stared at each other, neither speaking, that a thread of insecurity wrapped its way around your mind. Was he not enjoying himself? Should you give up? You wrung your hands together, feeling more and more like a fool with each passing moment.

As Seokjin noticed you getting more and more stuck in your head, your eyes unfocused, teeth gnawing at lower your lip, the guilt washed over him in waves. He wasn’t used to things like this, but it really didn’t hurt anyone to try it at least one time, especially when you were looking so happy and confident. For you, he would put his pride away for a couple hours.

“Hey,” he called out softly, smiling sweetly once your eyes met. “I’m sorry.” The look in his eyes was genuine, sincere. You returned a weak smile. “Touch me. Please.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, having been fully prepared to give up your stint. “Really?” Your heart warmed when he nodded encouragingly, relaxing fully back into the pillows.

You reached out to stroke him once again, his hips jumping up at the sudden contact. You slid your thumb up the head, smearing the precum weeping from the slit. When Seokjin tried thrusting his hips up once again, your hand returned to its place, holding him down.

“Ask for it,” you ordered, confidence returning to your voice at his visible desperation for more. You stroked lightly at the underside where the head met the shaft, taking pleasure in his quickening breaths.

“Give me your mouth, please,” he panted, abdomen and thighs tensing as he tried his best not to push his hips up anyway.

The drawn-out moan he let out when you licked a stripe up his cock from base to tip had you shivering. You continued to leave kitten licks up the shaft before wiggling your tongue at the slit, taking in the bitter taste of his precum. The tiny sighs and muffled groans that fell from his lips were music to your ears, one hand moving to cup his balls as you continued the tiny motions of your tongue.

“Please, inside,” he moaned, hand fisting in his own hair. The sight of him so wrecked and at your mercy caused a new gush in your panties, lust consuming you. At his words, you took him into your mouth without pause, sucking lightly at the head. Though it lasted only seconds before you stopped, the sensation of a hand on your head giving you pause.

Pulling off his cock with a pop, you ignored the whine of protest as you roughly shoved the hand off you. “Didn’t I say no touching?” you snapped, mustering the most intimidating expression you could.

He sighed, returning his hold to the pillow beneath him rather than on you. “Sorry, can’t help it,” he mumbled.

When you were certain he’d settled back comfortably, you took him into your mouth once again, eyes closing as you sucked lightly. You let your tongue run along the underside as you closed your lips around the head, hand raising to wrap around the base.

Encouraged by Seokjin’s more and more frequent moans, you took him deeper, cheeks hollowing as you moved your hand from his shaft to his balls. You moaned around him as he arched his back with a loud moan, head tipping back in pleasure. You wished you could capture him like this, head thrown back, mouth agape, a stream of shameless noises and heavy pants escaping him.

Feeling especially generous, you relaxed your throat, taking his sizeable length deeper for just a moment before popping back up to suckle the head.

“Fuck,” he choked out, thighs tensing. After being wound up so long, you were sure he was close. When you took him deep, swallowing around his length, his hand returned to your head, hips grinding up into your mouth.

Pulling up off him, you let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “What did I say about touching?” You smirked as the hand drew back slowly before dropping down onto the mattress. “Do I need to tie you up?” you asked, eyeing his form.

It wasn’t a rhetorical question – you stared at him, waiting for a response. You needed to know how far he was willing to take this.

“Maybe you should,” he replied, want clear in his expression. Interesting.

He let out a groan when you seated your clothed heat right over his cock, your hands reaching up to quickly unbutton his shirt. After getting him out of it, you raised his hands up to the headboard, using his shirt as a makeshift rope. Looping the material messily around his hands, you eventually tied a knot that looked something like what you’d intended.

Backing away, you winced slightly as you took in the jumble of fabric before you. Maybe you didn’t think this through – if you needed to get him out of there quickly, you doubted you could do so without the scissors on the nightstand. Well, hopefully he wasn’t too attached to that shirt.

“Pull and tell me how it feels,” you said firmly, imitating the words Seokjin had told you on the occasions you’d been in his place. He did as you said, the binds holding up much better than you’d expected.

“Good.”

“And if you want me to stop?”

“Red.”

You beamed at him, scooting off his lap, instead spreading his legs so you could seat yourself between them.

“You haven’t been very good for me,” you pouted, reaching behind you to unhook your bra. “So you’re gonna sit right there and watch me touch myself.”

His protests were immediate, but you ignored his indignant cries as you slowly shimmied out of your panties, the fabric soaked with your arousal. Leaning back on your elbows and spreading your legs obscenely wide, you reached down to part your lips, grinning at the deep groan he gave at the sight.

Smearing your wetness messily through your folds, you moaned at the first real touch of the night, having neglected yourself to focus on teasing the man in front of you. “So wet Jinnie, I think I could sit on that fat cock right now.”

When you looked up to observe him, you were displeased to see his head tipped back, vision seemingly focused on the ceiling above. “Look at me,” you barked, gaze sharp as you watched his eyes snap to you.

Happy to receive his attention once again, you moaned as you inserted your index and middle finger inside, other hand spreading your folds wide. Your sopping hole on full display, you thrusted lightly, scissoring your fingers inside you. Part of you mourned that they weren’t Seokjin’s fingers – fingers that could fill you up so much better than your own. But the tortured look on his face was worth it, his pained expression having you clench hard around your digits.

The sensation wasn’t enough. You slipped in a third finger, groaning at the stretch. “I wish they were yours, Jinnie,” you panted, grinding yourself onto your fingers, the moan you gave less exaggerated than you’d like to admit. There was something about the sight of your boyfriend tied up, horny and helpless, that sent endless waves of arousal through your body. You felt powerful, confident.

After several minutes, it no longer felt satisfying. You needed more – you needed him. You pulled your slick fingers from your walls, holding them up for him to see. Licking slowly up each individual finger to clean them, you made eye contact with Seokjin before you. You made a show of it, grinning as you heard the headboard knock against the wall with his attempts to move, his eyes glazed over with desire. As you eyed Seokjin’s cock before you, big and hard and neglected, you were suddenly reminded of something.

Boy, was he in for an interesting night.

Crawling your way over Seokjin’s body, you stretched to be able to reach into the nightstand drawer, fingers closing over something that the two of you had bought, washed, and never used.

“What do you say we try this today?” you grinned, brandishing the silicone cock ring in your hand. He blinked in surprise – he'd probably forgotten about its existence, the toy having sat in its drawer for weeks without use. After a moment of pause, he nodded his assent.

You fiddled with the ring, stretching it in your hands. You’d never used one of these before, but you were pretty sure it was supposed to go on before his cock was already rock hard, head swollen. You’d have to be careful not to hurt him.

Taking the bottle of lube from the same drawer, you squirted a generous amount onto the toy, spreading it with your fingers before sitting in front of Seokjin.

“Tell me right away if it hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

Stretching the ring with your fingers, you brought it down his length until it was snug at the base. You breathed out a laugh when he let out a loud groan at your touch, his cock having been abandoned for so long.

“How does it feel?” you asked, sitting back to admire your handiwork. The sight of him was absolutely enticing. His chest rose and fell quickly with his breaths, his abdomen flexing and relaxing as he searched for any friction at all in the area he needed it most.

“Good,” he hummed, cock twitching. Eager to finally get him inside you, you straddled him, seating your wet folds on his shaft. The moans you both let out at the contact were shamelessly loud, your heat grinding onto his shaft. You let out a sharp cry when you leaned forward to drag your clit along his cock, the much-needed friction such a relief.

Satisfied that he was thoroughly coated with your arousal, you rose up, hand moving to position him at your entrance. Unwilling to tease both of you any longer, you lowered yourself onto him slowly, a small whimper escaping as he entered you. Despite fingering yourself before this, the stretch felt enormous, your walls struggling to take him in.

A strangled groan sounded out from Seokjin, the headboard hitting the wall once again as he tried his hardest to give you the time you needed to adjust.

“You feel so big,” you whimpered, rocking your hips back and forth as you slowly eased him deeper and deeper.

“You take it so well,” he moaned, knuckles white as he fisted his fingers into the fabric holding his hands in place. His praise and laboured breathing had a wave of arousal flowing through you, your juices painting his length with a translucent sheen.

You whined loudly as he bottomed out inside you, reaching to stabilize yourself against his abdomen. The stretch was almost too overwhelming, pants falling from your lips, your head tipping back at the onslaught of pleasure. Seokjin was faring no better, his back arching, face flushed. The feeling of your walls squeezing mercilessly around him after spending so long untouched, the sight of you falling apart on his cock all by yourself...

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding his hips upward into you. His movement caused the ring at the base to rub against your clit, and you cried out, nails digging into the firm muscle under your fingers.

When the burn of the stretch transformed into flames of pleasure, you lifted yourself a couple of inches before slamming yourself back down, the shallow thrust sending shivers up your spine. You continued the motion, punctuating every few thrusts with a slow grind against him, the unusual sensation of the cock ring rubbing against you making you moan out every time.

Seokjin’s mouth remained agape, breathy moans escaping freely as you bounced on top of him. Needing to feel him against you, you shifted to lay your upper body across his, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. The new angle meant friction against your clit with every thrust, and you muffled your moans by biting at the soft skin of Seokjin’s neck, sucking bruises into the unmarked flesh.

It felt almost bizarre to have him inside you without his arms around you, without his firm grip on your ass, without him driving into you relentlessly. But the tradeoff, the sight of him losing himself to pleasure beneath you, unabashed in his moans and cries – you loved seeing him like that. You loved being the reason for it.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he panted, hips raising to meet your every thrust. His movements were sloppy, though you couldn’t blame him. After being wound up so long, he had to feel ready to burst.

“Jinnie,” you whimpered, speeding up your rhythm, moans caught in your throat at the sensation of being so full, so stretched, the friction against your walls divine. The constant pressure against your clit would have had you collapsing if you weren’t already sprawled across your boyfriend’s body.

“I’m gonna cum, shit,” Seokjin whined, hips moving against yours without rhythm, his heavy pants sounding out near your ear, making you shiver.

“Cum then,” you replied, doing your best to move faster to send him over the edge.

Within seconds he was spilling into you with a roar, his cock throbbing inside you, warm spurts decorating your walls. The sensation had you clenching around him, grinding your clit roughly against the ring at the base of his cock. When he was fully spent and you didn’t stop your motions around him, his whines were immediate.

Courtesy of the ring, his cock was still half-hard inside you, and you used that to your advantage. Determined to maybe wreck your boyfriend before you reached your end, you bounced on him, sliding only an inch or two off before coming back down.

Returning to an upright position, you glanced down at where your bodies met, the obscene sight making you whimper, your walls fluttering around Seokjin’s cock. His cum was leaking out of you, what you could see of his cock when you pulled off decorated with white. It was a mess, but fuck, if it wasn’t one of the most erotic things you’d ever seen.

You eyed Seokjin as you heard a strangled groan. His eyes were screwed shut, his teeth biting into his bottom lip so hard you were afraid he would draw blood.

“It’s-” he cut himself off with a choked-out moan, utterly breathless. “It’s so – fuck – so good.”

His whines were gradually increasing in volume with your continued thrusts, and he looked almost as if he was about to cry. Watching him only sent you closer and closer to hurtling off the edge, the sight of your usually-dominant boyfriend below you, whimpering and needy, lighting a barely-contained fire within you.

You were so, so very close, but you just needed that final push. Reaching down, you rubbed frantically at your clit, the added stimulation having you nearly shouting. The increased assault of pleasure sent you careening off the edge, moans caught in your throat as you saw white. You had to catch yourself on Seokjin’s chest as you fell forward, overwhelmed with pleasure, your walls squeezing around him like a vise.

Seokjin let out a low cry, the feeling of you clenched so hard around him making him see stars. The sound of the headboard slamming against the wall was paired with the sensation of his cock twitching and spasming inside you, a much weaker stream of cum being released into you.

You took a moment to sprawl yourself unceremoniously across his upper body, head laid across the firm muscles of his chest. The room was silent except for the heavy pants coming from both of you, your mind still reeling your release. You both hissed when you lifted your hips from him, his spent cock releasing from you along with your mixed fluids.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you rushed upright as you recalled the state your boyfriend was in.

“I’m so sorry, let me untie you,” you said, cursing yourself for not remembering sooner.

“’s fine,” he slurred, the utter exhaustion clear on him – the slow blink of his eyes, the limpness of his body. Despite your previous activities, he looked almost innocent like this. His peaceful expression, the pout of his lips, the love in his gaze – it warmed your heart.

You took a moment to softly brush the sweaty strands of his hair away from his face before reaching up to untie the mess of cotton around his wrists. You were perhaps too excited when you originally tied this, because you honestly could not tell how this contraption came into being.

Several minutes, curse words, and apologies later, he was free, your fingers tenderly rubbing over the faint red marks left on his wrists.

“How does it feel?” you inquired softly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever orgasmed that hard in my life.”

You burst out laughing at his words, warmth and joy spreading through you. “I meant your wrists,” you grinned down at him.

“I’m fine. Come hug me,” he pouted, tugging lightly on your arm to bring you back down to him. You conceded without hesitation – you couldn’t deny him anything when the look on his face was so sweet.

Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, you let your body mould to his. The feeling of his arms settling around you for the first time in what seemed like forever brought a tranquil smile to your face, and you relished in his warmth.

Yes, you were both sweaty. Yes, you should probably clean the mess between your legs. Yes, you could still feel the silicone of the ring pressed against your leg, and you most definitely needed to help Seokjin clean up.

But right now?

Right now, this was perfect.

[randombtsprincessa]

Bold

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jung Hoseok x Kim Seokjin 

Words: 4.1k

Genre/Rating: Smut/fluff (NC - 17)

Prompt: 2seok with bad boy Jin (think tattoos, motorbikes, intimidating af but rescues kittens type) and model student shy and sweet Hoseok.

Warning: Clubbing, social drinking, mentions of drunken sex, tattoed blond Jin, flirting, LGBTQ+ fic, MxM fic, bad father, bad childhood mentions, volunteering work, kissing, blowjob in a garage, unprotected oral (male receiving) [be safe folks].

A/N: The following work is a part of @ficswithluv ‘s amazing project Change With Luv. It was commissioned by the lovely Ducky ( @diedinwarofhormones​ ) Thank you for the commission and let’s hope the donation helps bring about some really needed reforms! It is my very first mxm fic so please be a little lenient in judgement and I kept the smut not very explicit just in case (also because I exceeded the word limit shhh) so yeah. I hope you enjoy! Please do check out the project to help bring some change to the world and art to the world! 

Now, do welcome the gif that brought together the last scene of the fic!

In life, there are three sets of people who go hand in hand.

There are the people who are completely alike, do everything together, share hobbies and end up being the ‘goals’ that are usually portrayed on every hyped up couples instagram.

There are people who seem to just mesh well, go about in their personal bubbles as things either go well or not.

And then…there are the people who are nothing alike. They are poles apart, one league away from each other.

Yet, they are brought closer and closer to each other and gel together in a manner that astounds the people surrounding them.

Or so Jung Hoseok had read somewhere; in a book, maybe in his adolescence, in those past teen years that seem like a dream.

He was grown up now, in college and while he had kept on the rosy tint in his cheeks, he had shed off most of his earlier romantic notions.

After all, college was a step forward towards the future he craved desperately. And he worked hard for it, to graduate and then carry on further into a blissful, stress free life.

So, when he came in touch with the circle in which Kim Seokjin moved, well…

All those ideals and notions came back like a sucker punch.

To be very honest, a club scene where there was too much light but nothing could be seen, where a bass thumped that irritatingly made you feel like you had a second heartbeat, too many sweaty bodies that merged, collided to a rambling beat and alcohol that cost half a days’ worth income – even on a campus ground, was not to Hoseok’s taste.

However, his best friend Namjoon had dragged him out of his room this time, screaming, wailing, and crawling – for once to pry Hoseok away from those chemistry books that still had equations pounding in his cranium.

Many minutes after arriving at the party, Namjoon had disappeared.

Hoseok had no idea where; if there was someone who was more shy, nerdy or awkward than him…it was Kim Namjoon.

He hoped he was getting laid somewhere, that way he’d be much less annoyed when Hoseok inevitably left to go home.

He turned his torso around to the crowd, and although he could see absolutely nothing clearly, he tried, he really did.

He reached up, straightened onto the bar stool so he could look over the multiple heads. Most of the flashing lights glinted against his glasses, blinding him and he sighed. Slumping back, he admitted defeat, looking along the length of the bar.

Maybe he should order another drink?

It wasn’t midnight just yet. He could make it till 12 and then slip away. After all, if Namjoon was around and…not otherwise occupied, he would come over so they could both go back to the dorm.

They both had early and lengthy classes for god’s sake.

As he stretched out a hand, to attract the bartender’s attention, he saw him.

The angle the man sat at made it impossible for him to get a clear look at his face. However, it was easy to discern the hunch of his shoulders, too wide, clad in a smooth leather jacket that exploded rainbows whenever a streak of light bounced off of the man.

Deep blond hair ruffled on top of the head and he could barely make out the hints of a neck tattoo.

The bartender soon came over to take his order and after refilling the drink, Hoseok decided that he could stay a bit more, just to see what the stranger looked like maybe.

“Buddy, take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Hoseok started, the rim of the glass jolting against his teeth at the move as the man turned his head to look at him head on, one dark eyebrow quirked.

Suffice it to say, the man was breathtaking.

The soft blond hair accentuated the poufy lips of the man, glistening wet from the alcohol. The leather jacket showed off a swimmer’s body, a silver clasp at his thin waist.

Hoseok was tempted to think that this man put his last boyfriend to shame.

“I’m sorry; I must’ve just stared at you. I was zoning out.” Hoseok excused himself.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man grinned, leaning forward so he would be audible. “You here with someone?”

“My roommate…he’s disappeared.”

The stranger nodded, taking a swig from his glass. “Yeah, that happens around here. If you wanna zone out a bit more, feel free but only cause you’re cute.”

Hoseok’s mouth fell open at the flirting, gaping like a fish as the man grinned yet again, this time feral.

“I…I wasn’t…”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it, pretty boy.”

The man was taking the final gulp, placing the glass next to Hoseok, along with a couple bills under the glass. “Buy yourself a drink from me, would you?”

Hoseok could only stare at the glass and money, still shocked at the bold advance of a complete stranger.

“Oh and hey pretty boy,”

Hoseok turned to look at the exiting male.

“Next time, I’m gonna start charging.”

He turned after that, not hindered by any of the swirling bodies in his path, leaving Hoseok to wonder if maybe he should’ve gotten the name of the man, or at least given his own.

“You’re, like, not even listening to me.” Namjoon snapped Hoseok’s attention towards himself, a pen tapping insistently against his notebook.

“Yes I am,” Hoseok immediately defended but it was too late.

Namjoon had already shoved the study materials that were strewn across the table to one side, both arms coming up to cradle his head. “Go on, purge.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, I swear.” Hoseok could hear the defensiveness in his own voice and while it was partly true, he knew he would have to cave in the face of his best friend.

“Fine…I met this guy at the club party a couple nights ago.”

Namjoon stared.

“The one you left me alone at.”

That seemed to jog his memory, causing a delicate sheen of plum to spread along his cheeks. “I said I was sorry, I mean...I saw Taehyung and he looked like –,”

“A dream, yes, I got that.” Hoseok stopped himself from rolling his eyes at the slightly…enormous crush that Namjoon harbored towards the popular junior.

“You didn’t tell me about this guy though,” Namjoon continued.

What was there to tell? Yes, he’d conversed briefly with an absolute stranger for not more than five minutes. Yes, he had never felt this wildly attracted to anyone before. At least, not so much that warranted mooning over him for more than a day. He also knew that there was a good chance that he would never run into him again.

He didn’t even know his name. There was nothing tying the both of them.

Unless he wanted to end up like Namjoon, in a puppy love with a guy he was too scared to talk to, he’d have to move on.

After all; Hoseok thought back to the sleek black lines that ran along the man’s skin, the tight leather that clung to him, smelling of liquor that was alluring in its own right; he was someone Hoseok would not usually find himself associated with.

He was probably a patented bad boy, and Hoseok well…he was model student.

“You just flaked on me again, bro.” Namjoon poked his arm.

“Sorry, so, you didn’t get laid that night then? Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I kind of did; but I don’t know if you can call it that. The chick and I both were pretty smashed and all I could think about was Taehyung’s --,”

“No thanks, I don’t need that imagery in my head.” Hoseok interrupted with a sharp flutter of his hands, raising them to cover his ears.

Namjoon broke out laughing, before shaking his head. “So, do you know anything about this mysterious man of yours?”

“No, but I do know, we have a test tomorrow, so let’s get back to work, shall we?”

Yes, he did know one thing. It was to never hold true to ideals about anything. Somehow they always got smashed to pieces.

Hoseok had been right to let go of past ideals as he grew up.

He was sitting in the café, books open as he checked the answers to his test. A smooth cream latte sat near his hand with a plate of the café bakery’s special made chocolate chip cookies. Hoseok and Namjoon being regulars meant the staff knew their preferences and it was a god send when the both of them would stumble in, bleary and hazy from their workload to a ready steaming cup and some desperately needed sugar.

He had attempted to put away thoughts of any blonde men that may have crossed his path to solely worry about how chemistry worked in anatomy and it had somewhat paid off, if only all his answers mirrored the ones in his notes.

So, when he heard that same voice, calling out from the wide open door that had haunted him for the past few days, he had to look up.

In the daylight, if possible The Stranger looked much more beautiful than what the club lights paid homage to. He was awfully tall and broad, the same leather jacket and belt still wrapped around him, only this time, he had a helmet clasped under an arm and his hair was mussed from probably being trapped under it.

Big boots thudded, as Hoseok watched the man make his way to the counter, a hard smile ready for the counter worker who clearly stuttered in talking with him, while boxing up a few things.

Must be another regular; Hoseok thought back if he had ever seen him around but glossed over him. Nothing came to mind, even as the man slid over his payment before grabbing the handles of the bag, laughing at something the barista said.

Sensing that he was about to turn about, Hoseok looked down quickly, nearly burying his face behind the book.

He prayed; eyes closed that he hadn’t been caught. While he had hoped for another sight of his stranger, Hoseok hadn’t accounted for what he would do if it did happen. All the times, he’d imagined meeting up in his daydreams, they always stopped short when it came to a response on his part.

“…hey, it’s you.”

Hoseok gulped, wondering why he wasn’t invisible as he looked up, caught in the dark gaze of The Stranger again.

“It is you. Remember me?” The man tilted his head, shifting the helmet in his arms.

“Oh…yeah, in the club, of course,” Hoseok’s voice shook, hands dropping the book to the table as he worked hard to form coherent sentences.

The man’s eyes flashed to the books, grinning with those teeth flashing. “You’re a student.”

There was no room to deny it even as Hoseok chuckled. “Yeah, what about you?”

“Oh I’m done. I just hang about now.” He lowered his voice as if admitting to a mock crime and after a deep breath, Hoseok let out a much more relaxed grin.

In the light, it was easier to tell how different they really were. He was leather-clad, motorcycle helmet laden. Hoseok was wearing a knit sweater and simple jeans and sneakers, a school bag at his feet and his books strewn about a table.

Worlds apart…

Hoseok was someone easy to approach, to talk to, while this man was obviously not someone who anyone would go to first. However, even with the dark aura that hung about him, the way he talked, to ease Hoseok up, revealed something much softer beneath him.

“Speaking of which, I need to go. I will see you around I guess.” The man said.

Your name - give him your damn name, Hobi.

“My name is Hoseok. I forgot to mention it last time.” He said quickly.

The man paused in opening the door, a quirk to his lips. “I’ll remember that.”

And he was gone, with Hoseok watching his walk to a Harley parked nearby, straddling it as he put on the helmet. The Stranger hadn’t afforded Hoseok his own name…

Maybe they were too different. And maybe Hoseok wasn’t the only one who was aware of that fact.

Even if - Hoseok thought as he stared at the boy sitting opposite him - he wasn’t the only one who knew how different their lives were, neither seemed too intent on cutting their losses just at the moment.

Hoseok hadn’t timed himself, he swore up and down that the reason he was frequenting the café more and more was the increased need for coffee and not the need to catch an elusive Seokjin, whose name he’d caught only accidentally when the barista called for his order.

However, now here they were sitting across from each other.

He was still just as intimidating at first glance, a cold tilt to his head at anyone who he didn’t favor approaching him. A light scoff followed whenever he overheard something particularly obnoxious and rough looking fingers that Hoseok couldn’t help but want to touch.

He was in too deep, he figured. His mind had compartmentalized the raging crush he harbored for the new and exciting addition to his world but he knew that amidst his straight As and glowing recommendations, Jin would not only not sit well, but also appear…unsavory.

And Hoseok absolutely, blissfully, just didn’t care.

He had had a bad childhood, Seokjin had told him. A rich father, who had abandoned his family to ‘fuck about’ as he put it, with packets of money deposited for their upkeep but Jin didn’t touch it.

His mother had paid through the money in a trust after he had graduated in business but instead of putting his degree to use, he’d started working in a garage, now partner in it.

That explained the motorcycle, Hoseok had joked while Jin had only shrugged.

“I also volunteer a lot of my free time. My mom, well, I love her but she’s got her own life now…and she puts all of my father’s money in the trust still so I don’t have to bother her about anything. I don’t think she enjoys having a reminder of my dad around anyway.”

All Hoseok could do was nod his head sadly at him.

So when Seokjin offered to show Hoseok about the volunteering he did, he jumped at the opportunity. He had a chance to see what the man really was like under the façade of the cool bravado and Hoseok could feel intrigue tingling at his fingertips.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Seokjin took him to an animal shelter first, filled with puppies with big eyes, kittens that purred and curled up under their chins, bigger dogs and cats that were soft to touch and clearly abandoned and starved for loved. There were birds too, brightly colored and some wild and a couple of pigs and horses. Each animal that Jin visited seemed to love him, curling under his touch, molding them to him.

The next place they visited was a children’s library. A large group of toddlers shrieked when they saw him, swarming up to him and begging for a story. Hoseok watched with a bemused smile for an hour as Jin made animal and vehicle noises to entertain the spellbound kids.

When finally, they visited a retirement home, it was then that Hoseok saw the brief haunted look behind Seokjin’s eyes. It was just a glance, as he wiped an old woman’s mouth as she chuckled motherly at him, the rice that clung to her chin not fazing Jin in the slightest.

“It’s like having a family of my own.” He whispered as Hoseok put a hand to his shoulder, still hesitant.

“You miss them.”

“I do, but I would rather do this than let them be burdened by my presence again.”

“Maybe, they don’t feel that way.”

Seokjin didn’t reply to that, instead standing with a lovable smile to the lady who waved goodbye. “I’ll drop you off at your dorm.” He said.

His voice scared Hoseok. There was an air of finality there, as if he knew he’d shown Hoseok much more than was necessary. More than he needed to, to a guy who he probably wouldn’t see much of in the future.

“I’m not ready to go just yet.”

Hoseok knew he sounded desperate but there was nothing he could do. He had to accept his reality.

Seokjin turned with a curious look, puzzled at the heaviness in Hoseok’s voice before smirking. “Then there’s one more place I can show you. Let’s grab some dinner first.”

“This is amazing.” Hoseok whispered, awed as Jin flicked on light switches.

When Jin had said he was going to take him to his garage, Hoseok expected something like a shed, greased and metal barred. This was, this was sleek, all black steel and huge lights swinging from the ceiling.

“I spent a good deal of dad’s money on this. Hence, why I got the partnership, I saved the place from sinking. The upscale décor brings in some solid clients so, I guess you could say my sense of style did the job.” Jin kicked at a few strewn crates, turning to throw a wink at Hoseok.

Hoseok looked down at the remnants burger in his hand, biting the piece down into his mouth so as to not answer.

He watched, surreptitiously as Jin undid the jacket, removing his arms from the leather sleeves to reveal an extremely thin white tank top that sent a swoop down Hoseok’s throat, settling somewhere in his gut.

Jin turned; pausing Hoseok’s ogling at his muscled back as he stretched out his arms over his head, a thin strip of his stomach showing.

Hoseok swallowed loudly, the bite of burger going the wrong path and he broke out in coughs.

“Hey, what…” Seokjin laughed, pulling out a water bottle from a mini fridge to pass it to the wheezing boy. “Calm down, pretty boy. I know the burger’s good but eat slowly.”

Hoseok pulled the bottle away, eyes still watering.

This was too much; here he was, Hoseok, a nice kid who tried to steer clear from all sorts of ‘trouble’ and he was here with Kim Seokjin, someone who people would say embodied trouble.

And what was he doing?

Why, all he wanted was Seokjin to ram against him on the surface of one of the cars of course.

He was worse than Namjoon.

“I think…I should go.” Hoseok stuttered, casting his eyes down. This was it, the final time he put himself in the path of such temptations. Jin would never look twice at someone like him. He was in way over his head.

“Hey pretty boy,”

Hoseok looked up at Seokjin, who now stood too close to his face, blond hair hanging in his eyes, lips pulled into his teeth.

“Tell me something, why are you so scared of me?” Jin asked.

Hoseok blinked, all previous concerns evaporating. “Wait, what…? I’m not scared of you.” He said, conviction strengthening his voice.

“Really,” Jin moved in, eyes dropping to the way Hoseok chewed on his bottom lip. “So, why do you keep pulling away? You stare at me, flirt with me, hold on to me on the bike, but when I bring you here and when we’re alone for too long you withdraw.”

Hoseok thudded back against something and Jin took advantage, lifting his hands and putting them on either side of his body, caging him in.

“I’m…I’m not scared of you.” Hoseok sighed, giving in. “I’m scared of well, my feelings, as cliché as it seems.”

“Why?” Seokjin asked smoothly.

“Because we’re so different; I mean you’re a rich kid who acts like a bad boy but is so kind and sweet under all that toughness and I’m…I’m a good sweet boy who would never - never be able to keep up with someone like you. I’m putting myself up for disappointment when you realize it too.”

Seokjin stared at Hoseok, hard and deep. He looked almost angry – dangerous...gorgeous.

“You know what I realized actually?” He asked. There was a pleasant lilt to his tone but Hoseok could feel the undercurrents of a threat to it.

He leaned in, making Hoseok press himself to the wall, his body almost vibrating from the proximity.

“I realized that you’re exactly the kind of person who can keep up with me. I realized that it doesn’t matter if we belong to different circles. I realized that I should probably kiss you right now because you might be a grade-A kid but baby, you’re fucking stupid.

Hoseok had no time to even draw a full breath. Jin had reared back and then slammed Hoseok back again. The hands that Hoseok had dreamed of touching now gripped his cheeks, Jin’s mouth fully on his, swallowing the surprised squeaks he embarrassingly let out.

Seokjin chuckled against his lips, pulling back just enough to nip at his chin. “Fuck, I should’ve done that in the club.”

Hoseok reached forward to tug Jin back, taking over the kiss this time as he delved into the older boy’s mouth, tasting the soda on his tongue.

“Not a complete good boy, then.” Jin commented, reaching back to tug off the tank.

Hoseok lounged against the wall, idly tracing over the tattoos that ran over Jin’s exquisite body. “What do they mean?” He asked as Jin tugged off Hoseok’s shirt too.

Jin paused, glancing down at his torso.

“This,” he raised his arm. “A compass to point me in the right direction,” He moved to his shoulder. “The lion to keep me strong and brave,” he smirked suddenly, grabbing Hoseok’s hand and placing it against the burning skin of his chest. “The tree keeps me kind and nurturing.”

Hoseok met Jin’s gaze, running his hand down to his belt, fiddling with the clasp.

“Wait,” Jin stopped him, shoving his hand away. “This is about you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“What do you mean, oh,” Hoseok’s voice pitched higher as Jin fluidly sank to his knees in front of him. Deft, nimble fingers undid the buttons and zipper on his jeans, pulling the band and the underwear down to free his gorged shaft.

“Fuck,” Jin and Hoseok both let out as Jin swept his hands against the soft skin. He was hard, Hoseok marveled, hard enough to drip over Jin’s palms which he smeared back onto his skin to make the slide easier.

A loud moan escaped Hoseok’s parted lips when Jin engulfed him, first the tip and then most of his length. He jolted, head falling back as his hips pushed forward on their own volition.

Jin kept his eyes on him, a smirk straining his lips at the vulnerable stance of the lithe man. While he would usually be on the receiving end of this, there was something so sexy, so erotic about watching a man lose it over head as he throated as much as he could.

Hoseok meanwhile fumbled with his hands, alternating between fisting his own hair and tugging at Jin’s to further lower himself into the heat of his cavern. If he knew this was what he would be missing out, there would’ve been no way he would have agonized over it for this long.

Seokjin continued moving, squelching sounds echoing throughout the empty garage that sounded so wonderfully taboo, Hoseok nearly came right there. The thrill of it; the way someone could walk right in, catch them with Seokjin sucking him deep into his mouth caused his eyes to roll back.

“That’s it, pretty boy. Come for me.” Jin coaxed from below and before he could catch his breath, his throat closed up, his body hunching when Jin pulled him back, and the tip of his cock brushing the back of his throat, deeper still.

With an almost pornographic groan, Hoseok unloaded himself into Jin’s throat, his lover keeping him in till he was fully empty.

Jin pulled away from him, color flaming high in Hoseok’s cheeks at the wet sound that echoed through the near empty garage.

All he could do was fall into the surprisingly sweet kiss that Jin pressed to lips, the taste of him mingling in his own mouth. Jin handed him his shirt with an impish grin.

“Next time,” he pulled Hoseok in by the waist. “I’m going to make you pay for ‘zoning out’ in the club.”