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here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago

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SOMEBODY HELP ME i’m so obsessed with these twooooo 😭😭😭 this dynamic is so fucking killer and the fact that yoongi is just as caring as he is rough with reader???? oof i’ve got butterflies 🥰

gorgeously written smut AS FUCKING ALWAYS- immersive and beautiful and insanely hothothot 🔥 love the adoration and trust between these two and how safe they clearly feel w one another 🥺 jade i’m DYING!!!! 💜

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader Type: Part Three in the DARKSIDED saga, direct sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! also i am so tired, so i haven't fully proofed this yet - i'll clean it up as i find glaring errors (lol) Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground.

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't.

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be.

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless.

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking.

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete.

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from three years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week.

That counts for something, right?

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste.

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing?

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless.

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you.

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away.

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged.

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection.

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl.

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief.

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened.

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes.

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security.

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?"

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention.

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel."

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand."

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect.

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body:

"Good girl."

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you.

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby."

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you."

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this."

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?"

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down.

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward.

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you.

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag."

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open:

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?"

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom.

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be.

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this.

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it.

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?"

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance.

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning!

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move."

And you didn't.

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you.

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.”

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head.

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.”

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked.

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”

Click.

“Perfect -”

Click.

“Mine”

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor.

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better?

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it.

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?”

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.”

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping.

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?”

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -”

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.”

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.”

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted.

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice.

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.”

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -”

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.”

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin.

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand.

“What color?” he murmured against your skin.

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?”

“Yes, baby?”

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?”

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died.

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile.

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand.

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you.

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop.

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling?

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera.

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?”

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.”

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.”

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural.

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.”

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.”

“Green?”

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.”

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below.

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his.

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?”

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him.

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard?

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.”

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white.

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?”

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.”

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. ��We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.”

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head.

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?”

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress.

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed.

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back.

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?”

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀

#eoieopda #fic rec friday!#sensory deprivation is such an underrated kink tbh !!!!

2K notes · View notes

here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago

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okay wow 🥵🥵🥵 i need a minute..... why is the theme of this week 'wishing i was a virgin again so bangtan could relieve me of it' 💀

i really loved how caring and patient this jiminie was!!! so good at working reader through her insecurities. and honestly i think my favorite part was when they stopped and just ordered food/talked for a while longer until she really felt ready 🫠 SOOOO sweet 😭

and then ofc the smut was hothothot 🔥🔥🔥 omg!!!!! we STAN wall sex in this house 😤 i thoroughly enjoyed this!!!

The Boyfriend Experience | PJM

The Boyfriend Experience: Jimin

The BFE: Masterlist

Pairing: Escort!Jimin x Virgin.Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: sex!work AU; fluff; smut

Warnings: legal sex work (in this AU); sex for hire; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; alcohol consumption; dirty talk; exhibitionism; clit play; breast/nipple play; heavy petting; oral sex (mutual); protected sex; orgasm denial; stamina!; multiple orgasms; (somewhat) rough sex but with aftercare

Word count: 9,132 words

Summary: 💬 By the time he knocked at the door, I was a bottle of wine deep. I answered sheepishly, gripping onto a nearly empty wine glass. He let me know that it’s everyone’s first time once and that there was no need to be nervous. I didn’t need to do anything I didn’t want to.

A/N: This was supposed to be posted by Jimin's birthday but I couldn't get my shit together and RL got in the way so ...here we are! Anyway, I kept flip-flopping on my ideas re: how to write the reader-insert character here so I hope this characterization works out fine.

A/N2: As in my other fics, I listen to a lot of music while I write. For this one in particular, I had my Miguel playlist going--specifically, the song, "Use Me." It also helped that I watched that Run BTS performance multiple times 🤣

A/N3: Also, I want to thank @internetjunkdrawer for beta'ing this, sending me suggestions, and just being my reliable Jimin consultant 😜 Thank you, @itdoesntmatterwhy as well for allowing me to run a couple ideas by you and making sure that this scenario was plausible and that OC wasn't a caricature or silly stereotype! 😘

‼️IMPORTANT: Although the narration will include Jimin's name, OC/Reader will not address him as so because she booked him under an assumed alias. Weird, I know but--let's just go with it 😉

“Crap!” You gasped after picking up the empty bottle of wine. You only intended to have a couple glasses–maybe three–to calm your nerves. Next thing you knew, you’d downed the whole thing.

Before you grab another one out of your kitchen, your apartment’s buzzer goes off making you jump. Even after drinking a whole bottle of wine, you were still edgy. Could anxiety burn off alcohol? Was that even possible?

You stood and attempted to take a step, but you almost lost your footing on wobbly legs. Welp...that certainly answered your question about the alcohol.

You shook your head, refocusing your vision and smoothed the creases on your dress before walking towards the intercom.

“H-hello?” You spoke nervously into the box.

“Hi, YN. It’s me.”

You were expecting a deep, husky, come-hither voice–like one that was made for phone sex. Instead, he sounded like a completely normal guy…a normal guy whom you were paying to have sex with you.

How did you even get to this point?

A couple years back, at an office holiday party, you had drunkenly confessed to your work-wife that you were a virgin. She was incredulous at first and thought that you were pulling her leg. But you told her, absolutely zero experience with dick.

Since then, she’s made it her mission to get you laid. Secretly trying to fix you up during happy hours or random nights out with her.

Once, you came very close to going all the way. You confessed to your date that you had never had sex before. From that point on, the dynamic turned for the worse. He treated it as a fetish and it ultimately put you off.

Needless to say, you stopped dating for a while. Until your friend asked you what you planned to do for your 30th birthday.

You hadn’t really thought about it since it was months away. You figured a nice dinner with your closest friends would suffice.

Why don’t you try this app?

It all started with a damn app. You thought it was another trash trend that she was trying to get you into. But this wasn’t your run-of-the-mill dating app.

An escort service?

There was no way you were paying anyone to have sex with you. It just sounded…wrong?

Out of curiosity, your friend let you browse through her app. She had recently become a member and was raving about her experience, following her most recent breakup with her boyfriend.

As you scrolled through, you had to admit that these guys were hot and promised discretion. But they came at a premium price.

After a week of thinking it through, you asked your friend to officially send a referral to the company. Days later, you heard back and received your own confirmation to access the app.

You browsed through it, then closed out of it. Browsed. Closed out. You did this several times for the next few weeks. It was almost part of your daily routine. There was one profile in particular that kept calling you back and this whole time, you’d been gathering up the courage to actually book him.

Finally, after a particularly difficult week, you opened the app again. You scrolled down to his profile and tapped on it. Unlike in the past where you’ve repeatedly chickened out after ogling at his photos, you finally click on the date-picker icon and zero-in on one particular day. By some stroke of luck, he was free. You took it as a sign–so you clicked on “book,” and a few minutes later, received a confirmation notice.

Your heart raced at the memory. You had many opportunities to cancel–but you didn’t. And tonight was the night. You release a deep breath, calming yourself down.

“Come on up!” You buzzed him right in.

You round the corner to your kitchen and discard your empty bottle then quickly check yourself in the mirror. You look slightly flushed and your pupils dilated…but it didn’t bother you. It was just the alcohol working itself through your veins.

Seconds later, you hear a knock on the door.

“It’s just a guy…calm down,” you mumble to yourself before grabbing the door handle.

“Hi there,” Jimin said with a small smile.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out.

The corners of his mouth quirked into a chuckle.

For a supposed casual night in, he was still dressed to impress. He wore a light gray suit and a white button-up without a tie.

Nope–this was no normal guy. The soft crinkle in his eyes that he had when he smiled was in stark contrast to the rest of his look. His hair was brushed to the side and those plush pink lips were like magnets that you were immediately drawn into.

“Will you invite me in?”

You shook your head. “O-of course,” you stammered. “Oh my god. Where are my manners?” You said in a slightly higher-than-normal octave. “Come on in!”

He walks–no–struts in and takes a quick look at your living room before turning back to face you.

“Can I give you a kiss on the cheek?”

It took you a second to realize that you were the only other person in the room and he was asking if he could kiss you on the cheek!

“Yes,” you answer meekly.

He smiled again, closed in on you and planted a soft kiss on your cheek. You felt a little flutter in your belly and it made you smile.

“You smell nice. What’s that?”

“YSL…Black Opium.” You weren’t sure if it was sensual enough. Although you contemplated getting a Chanel sample or something a bit more spicy-smelling, you ended up going with your everyday perfume. Besides, you couldn’t stand any of those scents anyway.

He hummed. “I can smell the vanilla and coffee notes–sexy.”

You were surprised at his in-depth knowledge of women’s perfumes but your cheeks warmed up at the thought that he found it sexy.

“You can put your stuff over here,” you walked over to your dining area and pointed to one of the chairs.

“Thank you,” he responded politely as he set his bag down.

“Would you like a drink?”

“I’d love one,” he replied.

You smiled and offered him a seat on your couch, urging him to help himself to some food.

“Uh–sorry I didn’t have dinner set up. I figured I’d ask you what you felt like eating rather than making assumptions. I have a charcuterie board, though?”

His eyes drift over to your coffee table where you had refreshments set out. “Wow, that’s nice of you. I’m honestly fine with whatever you like. I’m not picky,” he smiles.

He gestures towards your sofa “After you.” You smile nervously and walk back to the living room, where he follows close behind you.

“Do you prefer red or white?”

“I’ll drink whatever you’re drinking.”

Well…you had just downed a bottle of white before he got here so maybe it would be helpful to retrieve a fresh bottle if you were offering it.

While he settles on your couch, you excuse yourself to go into the kitchen to grab the bottle of white you had chilling in the fridge. After uncorking it, your eyes drift to the plain envelope that you had sitting on your countertop. You presumed it might be rude to have the money in plain sight sitting in the living room.

Cash in-hand, you return to the couch. He sat there with his jacket off, completely relaxed with his legs in a figure-four position, his arm draped across the back cushion.

Reaching for the bottle, he takes it from you and pours two glasses. You mouthed your thanks and proceed to the next order of business.

“Here’s uh–your…” You struggle to find a formal word for it, until you settle on, “Your compensation.”

He reaches out for the envelope. “You mean, my fee?”

You grimaced. You were paying him for sex but you felt that he deserved some respect. “I just didn’t want to be too blunt about it,” you muttered.

“Nothing blunt about getting paid for a job, YN. And thank you,” he says after accepting the envelope and sets it aside. He reaches to pick up the glasses on the coffee table and hands one to you.

He raises his, inviting you to a toast. “Here’s to a night of fun.” You raise yours and clink it against his. “To a night of fun,” you echo before taking another healthy sip.

“Mm…Is that a vintage?” He comments on the wine, holding up his glass to the light.

“It is. It was a good year. I have memberships at a couple different wineries. This one in particular is one of my favorites,” you divulged.

A smile ghosted his lips. “Soon to be mine, too.”

He took another sip and you followed with a longer swig.

An awkward silence falls. A few moments later, you shift in your seat and clear your throat to gather your nerves. “So…d-do we just get into it?”

He smiled warmly at you. “Why don’t we talk a bit more? Get comfortable, get to know each other. We don’t need to rush into it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to come off too eager or anything,” you chuckle nervously. “It’s just that I’ve never done this before, so I don’t really know how this works.”

His tone was sincere and reassuring. “That’s alright. And you have me until the next morning, so we can take our time.”

You blew out a sigh of relief after he reminded you of your booking. “Right.”

You could have booked him for just a couple hours, which was about the average time for an experience. But for your particular case, you thought it would take some more time.

“How was your day today?” The question seemed so mundane but it was casual and you could tell that he wanted to make you feel at ease.

“Fine. Good,” you gave him a small smile.

“And what was good about it?” His gaze was so unnerving. The look in his eyes had this odd combination of calm turbulence. It was a look that said, ‘I want to take good care of you…by nailing you to the mattress.’

You fluttered your eyelashes and giggled nervously. “To be honest with you, I spent half the day getting ready because I was really looking forward to tonight,” you finished with a whisper.

“Well, that makes both of us then,” he smiled before taking another sip of wine. “So tell me, what would you like to get out of this experience?”

You inwardly cringe. You had filled out the intake questionnaire and comments section. Wrote out fantasies and things you’d like to try. You didn’t really want to repeat all of that in front of him. “You read my profile, right,” you ask carefully.

“Yes, I did. But I would still like to hear it from you. Maybe you missed a few details or changed your mind since you filled out your profile.”

You thought about tip-toeing around it but Jimin didn’t seem the type to mince words. He looked like somebody who appreciated honesty.

You’d contemplated this date for weeks…maybe even months! It took you a while to actually pull the trigger on this and it was mostly because your birthday was closing in. Another year older, another year of an unremarkable, nonexistent sex life.

You purse your lips and shrug your shoulders sheepishly. “Nope. Nothing’s changed…I just want to have sex,” you say quietly. “Pretty boring, I know.”

“There’s nothing boring about sex…at least, it shouldn’t be,” he interjects.

You mentally kick yourself for that ‘boring’ comment. Why did you book him if you thought it was going to be boring? You could have just gone to a bar and picked someone up or just slept with the mailroom guy at your office. That guy seemed like he could be really discreet, too.

But no…You did not want the mailroom guy. You wanted this experience to be special and memorable. People can think you were shallow for this but at this stage in your life, you wanted someone who not only knew what they were doing but one who was also far better-looking than any average guy at a bar…or a mailroom.

As soon as you came across his profile, he looked like the perfect guy who ticked all of your boxes.

“So…I hope you don’t mind but I’ve made a list. I’m a huge fan of efficiency and I want to be able to make the most of my time with you.”

His eyebrows lifted, his interest piqued. “Oh, nice. I like that.”

“I’m kind of a Type-A, so…” you trail off apologetically.

“I don’t mind,” he says softly.

After he assures you, you picked up your phone off the coffee table and pulled your notes app up on the screen. You peered up at him as he waited in anticipation.

“Let’s hear it,” he coaxes.

You start to read off your list. “So…oral sex–you go down on me, and then I’ll go down on you. I read on your profile that you’re okay with that. Is that still accurate?”

He smiles and nods politely and urges you to continue rattling off activities you’d like to try during your booking.

“And there’s regular cowgirl and reverse cowgirl…definitely want to see what that’s about,” you muttered. “I also want to try doggy-style if…that’s what they still call it?”

“Last I checked, that still applied,” he smiled.

“Okay, great! And uhm…I also want to try standing sex? I’m a bit of a yoga enthusiast and I heard that’s sort of a must-try position?”

He grinned and nodded in affirmation. “That all sounds very achievable.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay! I was afraid that I didn’t book enough time for this.”

His eyes widened. He was perplexed but he didn't make it obvious to you. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Y-you mean you want to get through all of that…tonight?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer matter-of-factly. “I thought that we might as well knock out as much as we can because let’s face it, you’re a little expensive and I’m not sure if I would like to book another session,” you clarify.

While the overnight rate was cheaper than the hourly rate, what you were paying him still wasn't considered chunk change. You wanted to make the most of your experience and get your money’s worth.

He shifted in his seat. “I understand,” he says with a warm smile. “And we can try all of that but I want to make sure that you’re fully satisfied, not because you’re crossing out a to-do list.”

You sighed. “I just wanted to try a variety of things other than ‘missionary.’”

“There’s nothing wrong with ‘missionary’. If you take your time with foreplay and your partner knows how to position you properly to hit the right spots. You can get some good orgasms out of it.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Oh…” You responded in a slightly higher octave.

“I can show you how good ‘missionary’ could be,” he said with a slight twitch of his brow.

“O-okay,” you stuttered with a voice unrecognizable as your own. “That’s…uh, okay. I can add that to the list,” you say shakily.

Silence falls between you two as you exchange tense gazes. He took another sip of his drink and you watched as his tongue licked off some errant droplets of wine that were on his lower lip.

“Was there more?” He queried with a soft smile.

You blinked furiously as the wine started to settle into your veins, making you speak before you thought about it. “I’m sorry, I was just a little distracted–you’re…really, really good-looking. And I-I just…I didn’t expect–” You halt your babbling. “Sorry. I’m…I’m…I’m just–”

“Hey,” he rests his hand on your knee quelling your anxiety, “Stop apologizing. It’s just us here and I get that you’re nervous but you don’t have to be. You can trust me, okay?”

You nodded at his reassurance.

“And thank you for the compliment. I think you’re beautiful,” he added.

You feel a slight flush on your cheeks, muttering your thanks, then exhale sharply to reset your thoughts. “How long have you been doing this kind of work?”

Really, though, what else would you talk to an escort about?

“A while now,” he answers simply.

“And…do you enjoy it?”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he responded with certainty. “I find it rewarding. A mutual fulfillment of pleasure.”

“Really?” You were skeptical. “You get pleasure from all of your clients?”

“Yes,” he answers confidently.

You found that hard to believe. A normal person can’t possibly be attracted to or get off on just anybody… “And you’ve never met anyone whom…you didn’t want to have sex with?”

He chuckled softly. “So far, that hasn’t happened to me.”

“Huh. That’s pretty unbelievable,” you remark before taking a gulp of your wine.

“You’d be surprised. When you have an innate desire to please your partner…” His fingers subtly brush your arm. “It fuels you…and you experience the same high.”

This piqued your curiosity even further. “And exactly how many–”

He shook his head and tutted. “Tonight should be all about us, YN. Just you and me. Nobody else.”

You nodded wordlessly. It was amazing how he had this silent, soft power to him. From the outset, he sure didn’t look like it at first. He seemed like someone you’d go see a chick-flick with at the movie theater, hold hands or share an ice cream sundae afterwards then he’d walk you home and end the night with a kiss on the cheek.

But the longer you sit here with him, you’re finding that he still looked like the type to go see that chick flick with you…except in this scenario, he’d be finger-fucking you in the back row, while you try your best to muffle your orgasmic moans. Then, he’d take you home and end the night by licking ice cream off your naked body.

Your chest heaved as you took in a deep breath at the thought of this man ravishing your body for the rest of the night.

“Are you alright?”

You gulped audibly. “Uh–y-yeah. Yes!” Your voice is shaky but you try not to make it obvious.

Unfortunately, your efforts fail because he still senses it.

He calmly takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table. You swallow hard when he scoots closer to you. His hands came up and pushed through your hair and brushed your cheeks with a gentleness.

Cupping your jaw and tilting your head up slightly, he asks, “May I?”

Ignoring the fluttering of nerves in your belly, you held his gaze. “Yes.”

He took your breath away with a kiss. His tongue traced the seam, then dipped inside, licking and teasing.

He lowered you against the couch’s headrest, your body flushed with his, moaning when he shifted to lie half over you. Your hands slid up and down his back, your leg lifting to hook over his hip. He caught your lower lip between his teeth and stroked the curve with the tip of his tongue, making you sigh.

He groaned in response…the sound was so erotic it made you wetter.

Your back arched as his hand crept beneath the hem of your dress and snaked upwards to squeeze your thigh under the material.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured against your mouth. He kissed his way following your jawline, then buried his face in your neck. “Do you like when I touch you?”

“Mm, yeah…hmm…” You moaned incoherently in response.

He continues to suckle on your neck, he pulls his hands from underneath your dress. It now traveled up your torso, where he gave your breast a gentle squeeze. He felt your nipple harden under your bra.

Things were escalating quicker than you had expected. If you didn’t take hold of your senses, you’d sooner pop your cherry on your couch. It wasn’t what you had envisioned for your ‘perfect night.’

“Hmm…my bedroom is uh, right around back there,” you utter softly.

He lifted his head. “It doesn’t have to be in the bedroom…” He planted a soft kiss on your chin, “…Or on a bed,” then darted his tongue in that notch at the base of your neck.

“So…you mean…h-here?” You squeaked.

“Yeah. Why not?” You hadn’t thought about having sex on the couch. And though it sounded appealing, you’d rather be comfortable.

“Uhm…I think I’d prefer the bed…if that’s okay with you?” You felt weird that you had to ask him about this. You hoped you hadn’t killed the mood.

“Of course, we can do that. Remember, it’s not about what I want. This night is all about you and I want you to fully enjoy yourself. So if it’s the bed you want, then…” He trails off and holds his hand out to you. You take it and you both walk towards the bedroom.

You weren’t exactly sure whether it was the alcohol, your nerves…him? All of the above? Either way, the path to your room felt much longer than it usually did.

Once in there, he sits you on the mattress and remains standing in front of you.

He slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt. You watched him carefully, his mouth was lax, his eyes hooded. Anticipation has your stomach churning and your thighs clenching shut.

With his final button unfastened, he closes in with his shirt draped open. You suddenly have the urge to run your tongue down his center.

As if reading your mind, he coaxes you. “Go ahead.”

With his permission you reach up and run your finger down his chest. While he looks down to follow your trail, he nudges his way between your thighs. You look up at his face and see his lips quirk at the edges and his eyes sparkle, the slight crinkling in the corners softening the moment’s intensity.

He dips his head down. As your lips brush, only very lightly, your body giving way as he crawls over you. Your hands fly up to his hair making him growl his approval as he moves his hands to the base on your spine and urges your body closer to him.

His tongue licks into your mouth and your heartbeat spikes. His hands drift down your body, gripping your thighs, his hands sliding upward beneath the edges of your dress until his fingertips find the lace of your panties, making you gasp.

“Uh…w-wait.”

He immediately stops. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” you respond quickly. “I…” you exhale sharply. “I’m sorry, I’m just really nervous. I’m in my head about it.”

He brushed your cheek gently. “Listen, if you’re not ready–”

“No, I am, it’s just…ugh,” you shut your eyes and groaned.

At this point, he rolls off you and sits up while you remain lying down, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, come on. Talk to me,” he urges softly. “What are you feeling or thinking?”

“I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.”

His eye brow creases in confusion. “Wasted my time?” he echoed. “H-how?”

You uncover your face and find the strength to sit up and meet his eyes. The beauty of this agreement was that you can terminate the experience at any point. Their business guaranteed satisfaction. And although you knew in your mind that he would no doubt satisfy you, you weren’t sure if you’d exactly satisfy him.

“I mean, you can definitely keep the money. I know that we had a deal and–”

“Is that what you really want? To terminate?”

“W-well…” you sighed with hesitation.

“Aren’t you attracted to me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’m very attracted to you. You’re perfect!”

“Then why?” He asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “I just…felt like doing something crazy,” you mumble.

“And do you do crazy things often?”

You shook your head vehemently. “Oh no, no. Very rarely.”

“So you consider yourself to be rational most of the time?”

You nodded softly.

“You said it yourself, you’re a Type-A so…this means that you thought about this very carefully. This wasn’t a decision that you took lightly. How long did you consider this before you decided to book me?”

You let out a sharp breath. “I don’t know…weeks? Maybe even months after I gained access to the app.”

He regards you intently. “Okay so…that means that you weren’t doing this on a whim. You thought about this carefully and decided that you want this. But…now that you have me, why won’t you take me?”

You shook your head. “It’s not you. It’s…” You let out a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know why this wouldn’t just come naturally to me. I’m a grown woman, not a teenager…this is just embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about being a virgin.”

That was something you’d never added to any of your dating profiles in other apps but somehow, the promise of discretion and professionalism gave you a sense of security to divulge this on your Boyfriend Experience app.

You groan in frustration. “It’s just sex! I don’t know why I’m so torn up about this.”

“If it’s just sex that you want, why go through with this? Why hire me? You’re a beautiful woman and I’m sure at some point, someone’s propositioned you?”

“Yeah,” You sighed. “But…I guess…maybe this whole time, I’ve been searching for something specific. And I think, to make that happen, I probably have to pay for it.”

“Alright, well…you have me right here.”

“Exactly why are you still here? I just offered to pay you for the entire night for practically doing nothing.”

“I’m here because I find you interesting.”

“Interesting?” You chuckle incredulously. “Right…an almost 30-year old virgin is interesting.”

He shook his head softly. “I see that you’re conflicted about this. And to me, that’s interesting. I want to know why you feel this way.”

“Is this the first time you’ve ever met a woman who can’t make up her mind?”

“I’ve met women who can’t decide what entrée to order at a restaurant or what shoes would match their dress perfectly. But if at the end of the night, we end up in a bedroom together? They know what they want at that point.”

You hug your knees to your chest. “Honestly, I never really thought about it much until I realized that my 30th birthday was coming up. I don’t know about you but sometimes, a milestone like that puts things into perspective.”

“Because everyone else in the world has got such an exciting sexual roster?” He asks wryly.

You laughed. “No, it’s not that. I put off sex not because nobody ever caught my interest. It’s just that I’ve heard so many stories from my girlfriends and even a couple of my guy friends where they talk about their first times. Some of them have fond memories of it. Like, how special and romantic it was. And then you get stories of the ones who hated it because either they felt pressured, their partner blew their load too early, or that neither of them had any clue about what the hell they were doing.”

“That pretty much sounds like how most people’s first times are,” He chuckled.

“But that’s just it, right? Why can’t mine be an experience that was completely enjoyable, memorable, and pleasurable? Is that an unrealistic expectation?”

“I think, if anything, that sounds very realistic and practical of you,” he says without a trace of judgment in his voice.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too idealistic? Or delusional?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I feel like everyone has some idealistic vision of how their first time would go. Doesn’t matter if you’re 16 or 36. You want to have good memories about it. You just want everything to go well.”

He wasn’t lying. It’s what you hoped your first time would be like. None of these awkward memories from when you were a teen or whenever your friends had lost their virginity.

Then he inhaled sharply. “I will say that most of us romanticize it too much. Like, the lighting has to be right with some music playing; or that you have to be in love with that person first and when you’re done, you cuddle until the sun comes up and then you’re going to be together forever.”

You laughed because when he came through your door, you had music playing, some candles, wine…You weren’t in love with him but you at least wanted to get the mood right for this moment.

“I’m not trying to be cynical or make fun of people who dream of that. Now that I’m,” he cleared his throat, “A bit more seasoned in that area. I think that as long as you feel some connection with that person and you’re doing it on your own terms, that’s what matters.”

“And you’re able to form a connection with all of your clients?”

“Of course.”

“Because you have to?” You thought you were finishing a sentence for him.

He exhaled quietly and smiled. “In my line of work, it’s all about choices. It’s what you choose to do. And whatever that choice is, you have to be in it, 100% because otherwise, what’s the point?”

“But you have off-days, I’m sure? Like, you wake up feeling like shit, not wanting to be this walking, talking fantasy for someone?”

He chuckled softly. “Who doesn’t have days like that? I’m still human. If I feel the need to take a break, I do. I turn the app off and then nobody can book me on those days. I can’t take care of my clients if I don’t take care of myself first.”

He then adds, “Also, we don’t want to make anybody feel as if they’re obliged to do anything…and in turn, clients can’t and don’t force us to do anything we don’t want to either. This is why we have these conversations, to have that fail-safe.”

“Hm,” you smirked. “That makes sense.”

You hesitate to ask and don’t want him to feel as if he’d wasted his time completely. “Would it be okay if we talked some more?”

“Of course,” he smiled warmly.

“I’ll get the wine then,” you remarked.

“Good idea.”

******

“What do you do when you’re not, you know, working as an escort? Do you have a day job?”

He leaned back against where his head rested–which was on your thighs, while you laid, curled up on your side, your elbow supporting your head. You didn’t mind the position. You were both completely comfortable.

In keeping with the spirit of comfort, you change out of your dress and into an oversized sleep-shirt over your carefully selected lingerie. You figured, in case things escalated again, you’d be prepared. He kept his shirt off–you weren’t exactly sure if he meant it as a way to entice you–which, let’s face it, you were practically drooling. But so far, he hasn’t made a move to pick up where you left off.

He sighed. “I used to have one, during my first couple years doing this. And then ultimately, it became too hard to keep up with all of these different schedules so I quit that and never looked back.”

You couldn’t imagine how challenging it would be for him to meet with clients and try to make it to a nine-to-five. And you figured that with what you were paying him, he certainly can afford it.

“Do you go out when you’re not working?”

“Nah, I’m sort of a recluse,” he laughed.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “No way!”

“I am. It may not seem like it but sometimes I just like chilling at home. I don’t sleep much when I’m working so I try to catch up on that when I’m off.”

“You don’t sleep much because…your clients keep you up?”

His eyes were tickled with amusement. “Not all the time,” he says. “I often have trouble sleeping when I’m working.”

“What do you do when you can’t sleep?” You wondered with curiosity.

“I work out or…watch TV late at night.”

“How much interesting TV could be on at like, 3 in the morning?”

He chuckled. “Oh, you’d be surprised! I’ve developed a habit of watching people dig for gold in this random hole where they find the most random shit except actual gold,” he jested.

You laughed out loud.

“Seriously! They find random doorknobs from, like, the 17th century. Which, by the way, they actually hired and paid an expert to test and confirm the age. And I’m like–who the fuck cares about a rusty old doorknob? Where’s the gold? Seriously, it’s been over five years of this and at no point does anyone think, hmm…maybe there is no gold after all,” he ranted very passionately.

At this point, your elbow gives way while you collapse in giggles.

******

You ended up ordering food to be delivered at your place. He put his shirt back on but left it unbuttoned. It was difficult not to get distracted by his tattoos or his chest, in general but you tried to keep your focus on the conversation.

For the next couple of hours, over takeout containers, you continued talking about the most random things, sharing appetizers and eating off each other’s plates. You laughed and made jokes as if you’d known each other for years. He was a great conversationalist and for the first time since he walked through your door, your nerves had settled.

He looked more relaxed as well and it wasn’t just because of the alcohol. It must be difficult being in his shoes. Trying to keep up your interest in someone’s rambling stories about their life and all the while trying to seduce you into bed.

Now, he didn’t look like somebody intent on seducing you. He just looked like a normal guy. A normal guy whom you enjoyed having a conversation with.

After you put away your leftovers, you move back into the bedroom, and the conversation takes a slightly different turn.

“Seriously though, why haven’t you had sex with anyone? I’m sure there’s no shortage of horny guys out there. Is it a purity thing?”

You laughed heartily. “God, no! No, no…” You shook your head in between giggles.

“And you’ve never had any experience with sex at all? No kissing, touching…what about masturbation?”

“Oh, pfftt,” you blew out a raspberry. “I said I was a virgin, not an innocent! I’ve dated before and it’s gone as far as heavy petting? But no legitimate penetration, so to speak.”

He laughed and nodded at that. “Okay.”

“I’ll also have you know that I’ve invested in a very nice vibrator, since I’m a big girl and I can afford it now,” you both laughed. “And we have a really great relationship. In the end, we both know which of us feels used.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Ahh, so you’ve had an orgasm then?”

“Yes, I have,” you say simply. “Just…not with anybody.”

“I hope we can still rectify that tonight.”

His eyes glistened when they gazed at you. Though, not the same way they did when you both sat on the couch. There was a sincerity to that look–a sincere desire to give you what you need. A desire to please you.

A calm washes over you and you decide to try something.

“Could you please do me a favor?”

“Sure. Since you asked so nicely and if it’s in my power, I’ll do it.”

You hesitate for a beat. You figured he’d make up something on the spot but you needed a little boost of confidence. “Can you tell me…if…if you find me attractive?”

At this point, he sits up on the bed and moves closer to you.

Cupping your cheek, he runs his thumb gently across your lips. “You know, the moment you opened the door, the first thing I noticed was your mouth. When you talk, I just could not take my eyes off it.”

You feel a warm flutter within your chest. Afterwards, his lithe fingers drift lower to your neck, his fingers brushing over a specific spot. “I also noticed your freckle here. When you swallow, it draws my attention to this vein on your throat.” You swallow reflexively, earning you a small smile from him.

“And this here,” his thumb grazed the notch at the base of your neck, right between your clavicle. “Mm…I think it’s just sooo sexy,” he purred.

A shiver ran down your spine, making your breath hitch. You blink slowly, trying to stop your eyes from reflexively rolling to the back of your head.

His hand traveled back up to your face, his finger brushing your ear. He was so close to you that you could hear his ragged breathing. He was as aroused as you were, his cock tenting under the sheets.

“So, to answer your question: yes, I find you very attractive,” he rasped slowly..

With that, you let out a small whine and practically attack his mouth. The sudden onslaught doesn’t seem to take him by surprise as if he had fully expected you to play into his trap. And you didn’t mind it one bit.

You sighed and he took advantage of the opening, dipping his tongue inside. His kiss was confident, skilled, and just the right amount of aggressive.

Pulling back to cradle your jaw, he looked into your eyes. He rubbed the tip of his nose against you, his hands sliding along your bare arms.

“Are you sure about this now?”

“Yes. Absolutely, yes,” you breathed out.

Jimin’s hands slid back up your shoulders and onto your throat, leaving a white-hot trail across your skin. Cradling your head, he tilts it back and seals his mouth over yours again.

He settled over you, his chest hot to the touch. He helps you push his shirt off him, dropping it to the floor. His ardent mouth moved down your throat, his hands pushing your bra up to palm your breasts through the sleep-shirt you put on since taking your dress off hours ago.

You lift off the mattress, struggling to rid yourself of your shirt, which he helps you with. Then, you reach back and unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

In an instant, he was back on you, lips wrapping around your nipple and suckling, his weight supported by one forearm on the mattress, his other hand pushing between your legs.

He cupped your clothed heat, his fingertip gliding over the material, grazing the seam of your cleft. His tongue flicked over your nipple, then sank his teeth into the hardened tip.

His hair tickled your skin as his open mouth slid over your cleavage, his chest expanding as he breathed you in, nuzzling and wallowing in your scent. He captured the tip of your other breast with hard, deep suction. The pleasure shot through you, your walls clenching in reflex.

He moved down your torso, licking and peppering kisses across your stomach. Once he gets past your waist, his shoulders force your legs wider until you feel his hot breath over your cleft. His nose pressed against the wet material, stroking you. He inhaled with a groan.

“You smell intoxicating.”

Jimin fiddled with your panties’ waistband, peering up at you for approval. You lifted your hips and gave a small wriggle. That was all he needed to pull the constricting material off. It was soaked through anyway.

“Did you wax?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Y-yeah. Why?”

“When? Today?”

This is a really odd time to ask about personal hygiene. You blinked a few times, “Uhm…like, three days ago?”

“Hm, good.”

“Okay, but what does waxing have–”

“Because, if it’s only been less than 24 hours, I can’t do this,” He held you open with his thumbs, and dragged his tongue over your clit. Your back arched with a cry, all your senses out the window. Tilting his head, he thrust his tongue into your opening, teasing and fucking it rhythmically.

”Is that good?” He paused to check on you.

“Ohh….ffffuckk…yes, it’s good,” You writhed with pleasure, your core clenching and releasing.

He smiled mischievously. “Alright, guess I’ll continue then.”

His lips were around your clit, sucking, tonguing it. He was eating you with an intensity that you were helpless against. The flesh between your legs was so swollen and sensitive, so vulnerable to his expert mouth.

When you feel yourself tipping close to the edge, you wrench yourself away from his hold.

“Wait, wait–n-not yet,” you breathed out.

He pauses his oral assault on you. “Were you close?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to cum just yet.”

He chuckled in confusion. “Oh-kay…” he dragged out.

You sat up and captured his mouth. You taste traces of you on his lips–it was incredibly arousing.

“I want you,” you moaned.

He gasps as you unfastened his pants, reached inside his boxer briefs and wrapped your hands around him. But he obliges, deepening your kiss further.

You shifted positions, until he was leaning against your headboard. You moved lower, sank to your knees, pulling his pants low enough to give you the access you needed.

He exhaled harshly. “YN, are you sure—”

You cut him off when your lips wrapped around the tip. He reached back, the whites of his knuckles showing how hard he gripped the lip of your headboard.

You held him in your hand and mouthed the plush head, sucking gently. The softness of his skin and his scent made you moan. You felt the vibration ripple through his entire body and heard a rough sound rumble in his chest.

You peered up at him and he touched your cheek. “Lick it.”

Aroused by the command, you fluttered your tongue across the underside and moaned with delight when he oozed with pre-cum. Fisting with one hand, you hollow your cheeks and draw rhythmically.

“Hmm…fuck yes…just like that.”

The erotic sounds he made and the way he slowly bucked his hips into your throat spurred you on. You were so turned on by his pleasure. His hands pushed into your hair, pulling and tugging at the roots, the twinge of pain making you greedier.

Your head bobbed as you pleasured him, his veins pulsing through the length of his cock. You released him with a pop. Tilting your head to the side, you slid the flat of your tongue up his length.

You were in complete awe of him as you watched his head fall back, fighting for breath.

You rested your hands on his hips, frantically working your lips and tongue, desperate for his climax. His balls were tightening, you cupped and tugged on them gently, making him gasp in pleasure.

“Ah, YN…stop.” His voice was a guttural rasp.

“Stop.” He dislodges your jaw from him, pulling you up to his level and gives you a swift kiss. “As much as I really, really want to keep fucking your mouth, I think we should take care of you first.”

You roll off him and he gets up off the bed. He reaches into his back pocket and produces a foil packet before pulling his pants and boxers off. You watch intently as he rolls the condom down his length.

You swallow roughly when he swiftly tugs at your ankles and positions your bottom at the edge of the bed.

“Just so we’re clear, you need to tell me at any point if you feel discomfort or there’s anything that you don’t like. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you respond firmly.

His fingers parted your folds and rubbed your clit in slow circles, making you moan. Finding that you were still soaked for him, he leans in, hooking your legs to his waist and lined himself up to your center.

“Try to relax, okay?” You nod.

“Ready?” he asks urgently. You nod again, because speech has evaded you at this point.

He rips his hand from between your thighs and in one calculated movement, he moves his hands to your bottom and lifts you. Slowly, carefully, he pushed in, making you tense up instinctively.

Ow! Fucking hell!

This was not a vibrator or some other fake dick you’ve been used to. It was the real thing. The sensation was…different.

Sweat misted his brow. “YN?” he pants. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

You inhale sharply. “Just…two seconds. I just need a few seconds.” You slowed your breathing, wrapping your legs around him tighter, adjusting to the mixture of pleasure and pain. You know he’s not even all of the way in.

Your hands slip over his sweat drenched back as he holds still for a few moments, giving you time to adapt to the feeling.

“Okay, keep going,” you assure him. He pants as he slowly withdraws from you, re-entering on a deliberate, steady thrust. This time he’s a little deeper and the fullness is making your head spin.

“Can you take more?” he asks urgently.

More? How much more is there?

You took some calming breaths. When you felt like you had a handle on it, you kiss him slowly, arching your back and pushing your breasts up to his chest. You thrust yourself upward, deepening the connection.

“YN, tell me you’re ready.” he breathes.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

With your prompt, he extracts himself and drives back inside of you. You sigh, tilting your hips forward in acceptance as he moans in appreciation and repeats his swift thrusts, again and again.

The soreness from the stretch slowly fades with his steady rhythm. Before you knew it, you were bucking your hips against him greedily, but in sync with his movements.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes on a deep plunge. Your head lolls back against the mattress, lost in the pleasure of it all.

In one swift move, he pulls back and pounds into you. You cry out but not from the hurt. You’ve taken him to the hilt and loving every bit of it. You reach up behind him and grip his shoulders as he increases his thrusts, slamming into you, repeatedly hitting that sensitive cluster of nerves in you. You yelp in pleasure when he finds your lips, plunging his tongue into your mouth.

Slowly, you feel that familiar buildup of pressure within while he ate you out minutes ago. But right when you feel like you’re about to fall apart, he pauses his assault and pulls out of you.

The feeling of emptiness has left you confused and somewhat hazy. Distantly, you hear him grab a hold of your hand to pull you up off the mattress.

“C’mere,” he beckons you off the bed–which, you weren’t even sure how you managed to support your own weight since your legs felt like jello.

He motions for you to stand in front of the wall.

“Keep your hands there,” he says, propping your hands up. You do as he says and he rewards you by planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. He positions himself behind you, gently urging your legs apart while his hands roam your front. He massages your breasts in his hands, making you gasp when he pinches and pulls on your overly sensitized nipples.

One of his hands slides down your torso and abdomen until it settles between your thighs. His fingers parted your lips, feeling around for your clit.

“Oh my god,” you choked out once he hit the target, making you lean your head back against him.

“Good?” His warm breath tickled the shell of your ear while he nipped at it.

“Hmm...yes,” you drawled while his fingers rubbed and circled your flesh. You couldn’t help but reach your hand back towards his nape to pull him closer to you. If he worked in a couple more circles around your clit, you swear, you could have exploded right then.

“Tell me what you want, YN,” he whispered in your ear.

“You…please,” you whined, grinding your groin to his touch.

“I’m here,” he answers. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you back in, please,” you begged pathetically before that delicious pressure in you deflates.

Lowering your hands from the wall, he adjusts your position while you jut your bottom out for him, pushing your back down slightly. His hands steadied you as he pulled your hips closer to him, opening yourself up so he could slide back in.

A low, broken cry escaped your mouth as he adjusted you at the right angle, taking your breath away when you felt him slide in deeper. The stretching was even more intense this way. It was unbearably arousing. If he ever allows you to cum tonight, you feel as if you’d shatter into a million pieces and never recover.

Your core trembled, clenching desperately around him. He made a rough sound, pulling out just a little before sliding back slowly. The tip of his cock massaged the bundle of nerves deep inside you that no premium-priced vibrator would ever reach.

Palms slipping and sliding restlessly against the walls, you moaned gutturally, repeatedly.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said urgently. “Let me hear how much you like it.”

“Oh, fucckkkk…” Your legs shook violently on a particularly deep, measured stroke, your weight supported only by the wall and his hold on you.

You could do nothing but take what Jimin gave you, the rhythmic push and pull, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room–it was an incredibly dizzying environment.

One of his hands left your hip, and cupped your cheek, turning your face slightly back towards him, seizing your mouth and groaning into it while continuing to pound into you.

Everything in you goes rigid as that same all-too-familiar feeling threatens to spill out of you.

Your breaths become more constricted. “Come on, baby. I know you’re close…” he said gruffly, sliding his other hand down to your center to tease your pulsing clit.

Finally, it became too much. You came with a breathless cry, shaking violently, your hands squeaking over the wall as your sweaty palms slipped. He keeps his firm hold on you and plunged deeper and harder, his fingers still on your clit, driving you insane. One orgasm rolled into another, your cunt rippling around his relentless thrusts.

You held onto him, trembling, tears pooling in your eyes. Raw moans spilled from him, making you so hot and slick that your body offered no resistance and instead welcomed his desperate need for his own climax.

His mouth twisted in a grimace of agonized bliss, his eyes losing their focus as his orgasm built.

He came with a deep, hoarse growl, spurting so hard into the condom, you felt it. His whole body jerked hard, then shuddered. Over and over, heating you from the inside with thick washes.

He collapsed against you, his lungs heaving for breath.

******

“Are you okay?”

He laughed in response as he stood by your bathroom’s doorway. “You’re asking me? Shouldn’t I be asking you?”

“I’m good. Sore but otherwise, good,” you say calmly.

There it was again, that soft crinkle in his eye when he smiled. As if he didn’t just fuck you senselessly moments ago.

You pull the sheets back from the bed, where you sat and patted the empty space next to you, inviting him to get in.

“Are you sure?” He asked with a hint of hesitation. “I told you, I’m fine sleeping on the couch.” He was in a pair of sweats now and not much else.

You roll your eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Now c’mon, get in.”

With your permission, he slid under the sheets and made himself comfortable next to you.

“Do you feel any different?”

You paused and thought carefully before you answered him. “You know what? I don’t,” you laughed. “I thought that some proverbial curtain would lift and things would look or feel differently but…no. I feel the same.”

He hummed noncommittally. “Hm…okay.”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. This isn’t a testament to what we just did. And…that was pretty mind-blowingly euphoric back there.”

He laughed heartily. “Aw, c’mon, YN! Don’t fuck with me.”

“Well…too late for that now,” you countered wryly.

He doubles over as he’s in absolute stitches, making you laugh as much.

“I swear, I had to pick pieces of my brain off the floor. Is that normal for you?”

He sighed heavily after calming down. “I mean…” he shrugged. “You’re giving me too much credit.” Then his expression turns accusatory, “You told me you hadn’t done any sort of sexual activity with anyone. So, where’d you learn to suck dick like that?”

“Porn.” You say flatly.

He threw his head back in laughter. “Seriously?”

You scoffed. “What did I tell you? I’m a virgin, not an innocent.” Not gonna lie, you did do a bit of ‘research’ before tonight. True to your Type-A personality, you needed to know what you were getting yourself into. Unfortunately, you had to use an incognito browser and painfully to wade through dozens of pop-ups of erections and weird-ass shit before finding the more helpful videos.

“Well, shit,” he blew out a puff of air.

After a few beats of silence, he turns to you again. “Look, I know you had a list–”

You giggled. “Ugh, that seems so embarrassing now.”

“Hey, it’s not embarrassing to have goals.”

“Don’t patronize me,” you teased.

“I’m not patronizing you. Just saying, at least you have a good idea of what you want.”

“I guess, yeah.” You relented.

You glance at your phone’s clock then stare back at the ceiling. You had no idea how other partners would compare to him. Did you even want other partners? This would be a very expensive venture if you decide to keep this up with him.

Moments later, as you start to feel the fatigue settle in, you feel him brush your bare arm. You thought it was probably his insomnia keeping him up. “You know, we still have a few hours before our time is up.”

You turn to him, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. “You have the energy to do that again?”

He shrugged. “I brought a few condoms, and…I’d really love to see that ass bounce again. Maybe with a reverse cowgirl?" As soon as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip, you knew you were done for.

You were happy to indulge in Jimin a bit more. He ticked all of the boxes that you had on your list and even added a few more that had your mind melting from multiple orgasms by the end of your experience.

It was the perfect way to ring in your 30th birthday.

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @itdoesntmatterwhy @deepseavibez

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