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jungkookjiddies · 2 days ago

Note

i’m loving all your contents but i hope you post a joon fic next (i’m sorry i’m just starved for a joon fic lately i’ve been reading the same fics every other day🫠)

Seduced and Saved

Pairing: Mafia's Right-Hand Namjoon x Kidnapped Reader Genre: Dark Romance | Mafia AU | Smut | Forbidden Lust | Rescue Mission | Seduction Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, violence, kidnapping, non-con elements (coercion), power dynamics, possessive behavior, degradation, praise kink, rough sex, oral sex, wall sex, desk sex, intense make-out sessions, angst, betrayal, gun violence, emotional manipulation, torture (graphic but non-excessive), aftercare. Word Count: ~9k

The world was a blur of chloroform and rough hands when you were taken. Now, the haze had cleared, leaving you in a suffocating underground suite, all velvet and gold but reeking of cigar smoke and bourbon.

Your wrists burned, bound behind your back with coarse rope, but you stood defiant, chin high, refusing to let fear seep into your bones.

Viktor Drae, the mafia lord who’d orchestrated your kidnapping, lounged on a chaise, his tailored suit a mockery of elegance. His eyes, dark and predatory, glinted under the chandelier as he twirled a dagger between his fingers. “On your knees, pet,” he purred, voice smooth as poison.

You spat at his polished shoes, the glob landing with a wet splat. “I’d rather choke.”

His laugh was sharp, a blade slicing the air. “Oh, I like you. You’ll be fun to break.” He waved a hand toward the shadowed corner. “Namjoon, keep an eye on her.”

A figure emerged from the darkness, broad shoulders cutting through the haze like a storm. Kim Namjoon, Viktor’s right-hand, was a paradox—sharp cheekbones, full lips, and eyes colder than a winter grave.

His black suit hugged his frame, every movement precise, lethal. He didn’t spare you a glance, his expression carved from stone.

“Not my job,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, already turning toward the door.

Viktor’s smile faltered, a crack in his facade. “Don’t test me, Joon.”

Namjoon paused, jaw tight, his hand twitching toward the gun at his hip. Then, without a word, he strode out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You smirked despite the ropes cutting into your skin. If Viktor’s attack dog wasn’t interested, maybe you had a chance to claw your way out of this hell.

But deep down, you knew: Namjoon’s indifference was a lie. You’d seen the flicker in his eyes when Viktor called you pet. A spark of something—anger, maybe, or something darker. You filed it away, a weapon for later.

Days bled into nights, the opulent suite a suffocating cage of crimson velvet and gilded mirrors. Viktor’s obsession with you grew sharper, a blade honed with every defiance you threw at him.

He didn’t just want your body—he craved your submission, your spirit shattered at his feet. Each morning, he’d slink into your room, his cologne a sickly prelude to his games.

“You’ll beg for me, pet,” he’d murmur, his fingers bruising your wrists as he pinned you to the wall, his lips grazing your ear. When you spat in his face, he laughed, but his punishments were swift.

The first time, he locked you in a windowless closet for hours, the air stale, your screams swallowed by darkness.

The second, he forced you to kneel on rice grains scattered across the marble floor, your knees bleeding as he watched, sipping bourbon. “Pretty when you hurt,” he said, tilting your chin up with his dagger’s tip, a thin cut blooming on your jaw when you jerked away.

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but your body trembled from the strain.

Later that night, you found a first aid kit on your bedside table—bandages, antiseptic, a small roll of gauze. No note, but you knew. Namjoon. His silent act of care, hidden from Viktor’s eyes, was a crack in his icy facade.

Namjoon was always there, a silent specter in the shadows. Unlike Viktor’s other “toys”—women who’d crumbled under his cruelty, their eyes vacant as they trailed him like broken dolls—Namjoon had never spared them a glance.

You’d overheard the guards whispering about it: how he’d walk past Viktor’s parade of captives, his face a mask of indifference, as if they were furniture. “Kim doesn’t care,” one guard sneered.

“He’s got no heart, just a brain for the boss’s dirty work.”

But with you, it was different. You noticed it first in the security room, where Namjoon monitored the feeds. His eyes lingered on you—not with the lustful hunger of Viktor’s men, but with a quiet intensity, like he was solving a puzzle.

When Viktor pinned you during one of his “lessons,” Namjoon’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening around a glass until it shattered, blood dripping onto the floor. He didn’t flinch, just left, but you saw the storm in his eyes.

Why you? You pieced it together slowly. The other women had begged or bargained, their spirits snuffed out by fear.

But you fought—clawing, spitting, cursing Viktor even as he hurt you. Namjoon, a man who thrived on control, was drawn to your fire, the unyielding spark that refused to dim.

You caught him watching you in the dining hall, where you’d thrown a glass of wine at Viktor’s face, the red staining his shirt. Namjoon’s lips twitched, almost a smirk, before he turned away. It was your defiance, your refusal to break, that unraveled him—a challenge to the cold, calculated world he ruled.

You also learned his power by observing. Viktor was the face of the empire, but Namjoon was its spine. Guards straightened when he passed, their banter dying.

Once, you overheard a phone call through a cracked door—Namjoon barking orders in clipped tones, rerouting shipments, silencing a traitor with a single command.

“Without Kim, Drae’s just a loudmouth with a gun,” a guard muttered later, unaware you were listening. Namjoon held the keys to Viktor’s trafficking networks, his smuggling routes, his blackmail files. He wasn’t just the right-hand; he was the mind that kept the machine running.

Namjoon’s hidden anger at Viktor’s cruelty fueled your plan. You saw it in the way his fists balled when Viktor cut your jaw, the way his eyes darkened when you limped from the rice punishment.

He never intervened, but his silence screamed louder than words. He hated this—hated you being the target. That was your leverage. If you could break through his icy facade, you could use him to escape this hell.

One morning, Namjoon brought your breakfast tray, a rare task he’d taken from the guards. You decided to test him, leaning against the table, your voice low and teasing.

“You know, Joon, you’re not as scary as you think,” you purred, brushing your fingers lightly over his arm, your eyes locked on his. “Bet you’d be fun if you let that ice melt a little.”

His eyes narrowed, cold and unyielding, and he jerked his arm away, his voice sharp with disdain. “Don’t waste your breath. I don’t care about you or your games.”

His words cut, his rudeness a slap to your pride, and you hated him in that moment—his arrogance, his detachment, the way he made you feel small.

“Liar,” you snapped, stepping closer, your voice trembling with anger. “I know you put that med kit in my room every time Viktor hurts me. You’re not as heartless as you pretend.”

He froze, his jaw ticking, but his eyes remained glacial. “You’re delusional,” he muttered, turning away, but the slight hitch in his breath betrayed him.

You smirked, your hatred simmering, but you saw your opening. If he could lie to himself, you’d use that against him.

Later, you stood before the mirror, your hair damp from the shower, clad only in a thin robe.

When Namjoon returned to collect the tray, you let the robe slip, “accidentally” dropping it to the floor, revealing your bare skin.

His eyes widened, pupils swallowing the brown, his throat bobbing as he froze. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, turning sharply, but not before you saw the bulge straining his slacks.

He slammed the door behind him, but you smirked, heart racing. He was affected—deeply. Seduction was your weapon, and Namjoon was your target. You’d play his desire like a blade, cutting your way to freedom.

You needed to push harder, to chip away at Namjoon’s icy control until he shattered. One night, you faked a nightmare, sobbing loud enough for the guards to fetch him.

He stormed into your room, gun drawn, his shirt half-unbuttoned from being roused from sleep, revealing a sliver of toned chest.

His eyes scanned the room, then landed on you—curled on the bed, trembling in a sheer nightgown that clung to your curves, the fabric slipping to reveal the swell of your breast.

“Please… stay,” you whispered, eyes wide and pleading, a tear streaking down your cheek for effect. You sat up, letting the strap of your nightgown slide down your shoulder, your voice soft but teasing. “Unless you’re scared of a girl’s bad dreams, tough guy.”

He sighed, holstering his gun and dragging a chair to the bedside, his jaw tight. “Five minutes,” he grunted, sitting stiffly, his gaze fixed on the wall. But you saw his eyes flicker to your exposed skin, his fingers digging into his thighs.

You shifted, the nightgown riding up your thigh, and leaned closer, your breath warm against his ear. “You don’t strike me as the babysitting type, Namjoon,” you purred, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “What’s it take to get under that cold skin of yours? Or are you just Viktor’s robot?”

His eyes snapped to yours, a storm brewing in their depths. “Don’t play games with fire, girl,” he growled, his voice rough as gravel, but you caught the hitch in his breath, the way his gaze lingered on your lips.

You smirked, tilting your head, letting your hair fall seductively over one eye. “Fire? Oh, I think you’re the one burning, big guy. Your eyes are practically begging to touch me.” You stretched, arching your back just enough to make the nightgown strain against your chest. “Or are you afraid you’ll like it too much?”

His jaw ticked, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the chair. “You talk too much,” he muttered, but his voice was strained, and you saw the bulge in his slacks growing.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his earlobe as you whispered, “Then why are your pupils blown wide? Bet you’re imagining all the ways I could make you lose control.”

He shot to his feet, towering over you, his chest heaving. For a moment, you thought he’d snap—grab you, pin you, do something.

His eyes burned with a mix of anger and desire, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you. “You’re fucking trouble,” he snarled, adjusting his slacks with a curse, and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

You flopped back on the bed, grinning, your heart pounding. The ice wasn’t just cracking—it was melting. You’d seen the hunger in his eyes, the way his control frayed at your teasing.

Namjoon was yours to unravel, and with every taunt, you’d pull him closer to breaking. Soon, he’d be your key out of this cage.

You couldn’t wait anymore. Next night, Victor wasn't there. You slipped into Namjoon’s quarters, the door clicking shut behind you.

He was at his desk, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of toned chest, a glass of whiskey in hand. His eyes snapped to you, narrowing as you stepped into the dim light, your silk robe barely tied, the fabric clinging to your curves.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled, setting the glass down with a clink.

You stepped closer, hips swaying, letting the robe slip open to reveal lace panties and nothing else. “I can’t sleep,” you purred, voice low and sultry. “Thought you could… help.”

He stood, towering over you, and grabbed your throat, pinning you to the wall with a thud. His grip was firm but not cruel, his thumb brushing your racing pulse. “You want me to lose control?” he snarled, his breath hot on your lips. “Fine.”

His mouth crashed into yours, a bruising kiss that tasted of whiskey and rage. You moaned, tugging his hair, and he growled, deepening the kiss, his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth with fierce possession.

You bit his lip, drawing blood, and he hissed, pulling back to glare at you, his eyes black with desire, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his gaze raking over your body as he ripped your robe open, the silk tearing slightly under his urgency.

The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving you bare except for the lace panties, your skin prickling under his intense stare.

He spun you, bending you over the desk, your chest pressing into the cold wood, the edge biting into your hips. You gasped as cold metal grazed your wrists—handcuffs clicking into place, securing your hands behind your back.

“No,” you snapped, twisting against the restraints, your voice sharp with panic, your heart racing. “I hate this thing. I’m not a toy, Namjoon. Don’t make me feel like one.”

His hands froze, his breath ragged, his body tense behind you. For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours over your shoulder, conflict raging in their depths.

“You’re different,” you whispered, voice softening but firm, your gaze pleading. “You’re not him. Don’t do this.”

He cursed under his breath, his fingers trembling as he unlocked the cuffs, tossing them aside with a clatter that echoed in the room.

The moment they fell, something shifted—his gaze softened, his touch gentler as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek with a tenderness that stole your breath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice hoarse, and you both froze.

That apology, that vulnerability—it was more than lust. You meant something to him, and the realization hit you both like a tidal wave, raw and overwhelming.

He kissed you again, slower this time, but no less desperate, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that felt like he was trying to memorize you.

His hands slid to your hips, lifting you onto the desk with ease, the wood cool against your bare thighs. He slid your panties down, leaving them dangling around your thighs, and you felt his fingers tease your entrance, finding you soaked, your arousal coating his fingertips.

“Already dripping?” he taunted, circling your clit with agonizing slowness, his voice a low growl laced with dark amusement.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you snapped, pushing back against his hand, desperate for more, your core throbbing with need.

He chuckled, dark and dangerous, his eyes glinting with a mix of lust and challenge. Then you felt him—thick, hot, stretching you as he thrust in with one brutal stroke, filling you so completely you cried out, your nails scraping the desk, the pain melting into pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, his fingers digging into your flesh like he was anchoring himself to you.

Each thrust was punishing, the desk creaking violently, papers scattering to the floor in a chaotic flurry. His pace was relentless, pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, like this was the last time he’d ever get to claim you like this.

His hips snapped against yours with a ferocity that made your breath hitch, each deep thrust hitting a spot inside you that sent sparks through your veins.

His hands gripped you tighter, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, his cock driving into you with a desperate urgency, as if he was afraid you’d slip away, as if he needed to mark you as his before the world tore you apart.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice raw, almost breaking, his breath hot against your ear. “No one else gets this—fuck, no one else ever will.”

You clenched around him, your walls fluttering, smirking despite the intensity, your voice taunting through gasps. “Harder, Namjoon.”

He snarled, a primal sound that sent a shiver down your spine, and obliged, slamming into you with a force that made you see stars, the desk shuddering beneath you, threatening to collapse.

His rhythm was merciless, each thrust deeper, harder, his cock stretching you to your limits, the pleasure bordering on pain. He fucked you like he was chasing something—redemption, oblivion, you—his hips pistoning with a desperation that made your heart race, your body trembling as you teetered on the edge.

His hand slid up your spine, fisting your hair to pull your head back, exposing your throat, his lips grazing your skin. “Look at you, taking me so fucking well,” he growled, his voice a intoxicating mix of degradation and awe, his breath ragged. “Perfect—made for me.”

The coil in your core tightened, your body quaking as the pleasure built, overwhelming, unstoppable. “Come for me,” he commanded, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight, precise circles that pushed you over the edge.

You shattered, your orgasm ripping through you with a scream, your walls pulsing around him, milking him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your vision blurring, your body shaking.

He fucked you through it, his thrusts erratic, his own release chasing yours. His grip on your hips tightened, bruising, as he pounded into you with a final, desperate frenzy, his cock throbbing inside you.

“Fuck, I’m—,” he groaned, his voice breaking, and he spilled inside you with a guttural moan, his body shuddering, his forehead pressed to your back as he rode out his climax, his breaths harsh and uneven. Each pulse of his release felt like a claim, a vow, his warmth filling you, grounding you in the moment.

For a moment, you both stilled, panting, the air heavy with the scent of sex, whiskey, and sweat. Then, he kissed your temple—a soft, reverent press of lips that made your heart stutter, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before.

He froze, as if realizing the tenderness of his action, and pulled away, his hands shaking as he helped you sit up, his touch now gentle, almost hesitant.

“Get out,” he muttered, voice hoarse, turning his back to you, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched at his sides.

You smirked, pulling your robe on, your legs still trembling, your core aching deliciously from his intensity. “You’ll beg for me again.”

He didn’t respond, but you saw the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed, fighting the urge to reach for you. You’d cracked the beast, and there was no going back.

Namjoon avoided you for days, his presence a ghost in the halls. You didn’t let up. One evening, you snuck into his office, leaning against his desk in a tight skirt that rode up your thighs, revealing lace garters. When he walked in, his eyes darkened, his jaw tight, but he kept his distance, warring with himself.

“Did I feel like a mistake?” you purred, sliding closer, your fingers trailing along the desk’s edge. “Or are you just scared to admit you’re hooked, big guy?”

He growled, stepping closer but stopping short, his hands fisted at his sides. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, voice low, but his eyes betrayed him—hungry, conflicted, desperate to touch you but holding back.

You tilted your head, smirking, your voice teasing. “Dangerous? Oh, I think you like it. Why else do you keep staring like I’m your last meal?” You hopped onto the desk, crossing your legs slowly, letting the skirt ride higher. “Come on, admit it—you’re dying to taste me again.”

His breath hitched, but he turned his head, avoiding your lips, and the rejection stung more than it should have. You were using him, weren’t you? Just a means to escape.

So why did his refusal to kiss you hurt, a sharp ache in your chest? You pushed the feeling down, focusing on the game. “What’s wrong, Joon? Scared you’ll fall for me?” you taunted, poking his chest.

He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but careful. “Stop,” he snapped, but his voice was strained, his eyes flickering with torment. He wanted you—badly—but he was fighting it, and that hurt more than you cared to admit.

He dropped to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs with a possessive strength, pushing them apart with a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath catch. “You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he growled, his voice rough, almost pleading, as he buried his face between your legs.

His lips found your core, hot and insistent, his tongue dragging a slow, torturous stripe through your folds, tasting your arousal with a groan that vibrated against your skin, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your spine.

You gasped, your hips bucking instinctively, but his hands held you firm, fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you spread open for him.

His tongue was relentless, swirling around your clit with precise, teasing flicks that made your toes curl, each movement calculated to drive you wild.

He sucked your clit gently at first, then harder, his lips sealing around the sensitive bud, pulling a cry from your throat as your head fell back, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard.

His moans hummed against you, deep and primal, like he was savoring every drop of you, drinking you in like a man starved for weeks.

His tongue dipped lower, plunging into your entrance, fucking you with slow, deep strokes that had you trembling, your walls clenching around nothing, desperate for more.

He alternated between lapping at your folds and sucking your clit, his pace maddening, building you up only to slow down just as you neared the edge, making you whimper with need.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he rasped against your core, his voice muffled, his breath hot and tickling your oversensitive skin. His lips grazed your inner thigh, nipping lightly before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit with a rhythm that felt like worship, each stroke sending sparks through your body.

Your thighs quaked, trying to close around his head, but he growled, prying them wider, his fingers bruising as he held you open, exposing every inch of you to his relentless assault.

He licked you like he was memorizing your taste, like he’d never get enough, his moans vibrating through you, amplifying every sensation until you were a writhing mess, your hips grinding against his face, chasing the release he kept teasing.

“Namjoon,” you moaned, your voice breaking, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling until he groaned, the sound raw and hungry. He doubled down, sucking your clit with a pressure that made stars burst behind your eyes, his tongue flicking in tight, rapid circles, pushing you closer, closer.

Your body tensed, the coil in your core snapping as pleasure crashed over you, a keening cry ripping from your throat as you came, your thighs trembling, your hips bucking against his mouth.

He didn’t stop, lapping at you through your orgasm, drawing out every shudder, every gasp, until you were oversensitive, whimpering, tugging his hair to pull him away.

He stood, wiping his glistening lips with the back of his hand, his eyes dark and wild, his chest heaving. He freed himself from his slacks, his cock hard and heavy, and fucked you slow, his hands gripping your waist, eyes locked on yours.

“You’re not just a game to me,” he whispered, his voice raw with confession. You both froze, the weight of his words hanging between you.

He avoided your lips, his forehead pressing to your shoulder instead, and the ache in your chest deepened. Why did you care? Why did you want his kiss, his heart, when all you needed was his help to escape?

He pulled out, tucking himself away, his hands shaking. “This can’t happen again,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.

You smirked, adjusting your skirt, hiding the hurt. “Liar.”

Viktor’s suspicions festered, his touches growing bolder, his gaze dissecting. One night, he summoned you and Namjoon to his office, the air thick with cigar smoke and malice.

He leaned back in his chair, a cruel smile curling his lips as he beckoned you closer. “Come here, pet,” he purred, his voice dripping with possession.

You stiffened, your stomach churning, but you didn't move, every muscle tense. Viktor’s hand snaked around your waist, pulling you against his side, and he kissed your cheek, his lips lingering, wet and invasive.

You flinched, a shudder rippling through you, your skin crawling as you fought the urge to shove him away. Your hands clenched at your sides, nails biting into your palms, and you bit your lip hard, tasting blood to keep from gagging.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed under your breath, but Viktor only chuckled, his grip tightening, a silent threat.

Namjoon stood across the room, his posture rigid, but his reaction was a storm barely leashed. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked, veins pulsing in his forearms.

His jaw locked, a muscle twitching furiously, and his eyes—dark, lethal—burned with a rage that could’ve set the room ablaze. When Viktor’s lips lingered on your cheek, Namjoon’s hand jerked toward his gun, his fingers curling around the grip before he forced it away, his breath ragged.

His chest heaved, his gaze locked on you, not Viktor, as if memorizing every flinch, every tremble, every mark of your disgust. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but the air around him vibrated with violence, a promise of retribution he couldn’t yet deliver.

Viktor released you, his eyes flicking to Namjoon, a taunting glint in them. “Loyalty test passed,” he said, waving you both out, but his smile was a blade, cutting deeper than his dagger ever could.

That night, Namjoon didn’t come to your room as a lover. Instead, he slipped in silently, his gun still holstered, and sank to the floor beside your bed, his back against the frame.

He didn’t speak at first, his head tilted back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but you felt his presence like a shield. “Why are you here?” you whispered, sitting up, your voice soft in the dark.

He didn’t look at you, his voice low, rough with exhaustion and guilt. “Because I can’t trust him tonight. Not with you.” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “One more day. Just give me one day more.”

His words were a vow, a cryptic promise. You’d overheard him earlier, arguing with a contact about “finalizing the files”—evidence of Viktor’s crimes, enough to bring him down.

One more day meant he was close to dismantling the empire, to freeing you, but he couldn’t risk Viktor’s wrath until then. Sleeping on the floor was his way of guarding you, of keeping you close while he wrestled with the fear of losing you and the love he couldn’t admit.

You leaned over the edge of the bed, your voice barely a breath, heavy with guilt. “Namjoon… I’m sorry. I seduced you to get out of here. I used you.”

He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light, soft but piercing. “I know,” he said, his voice steady, no trace of anger or betrayal. “I’ve always known.”

The weight of his words hung between you, a quiet acknowledgment of your game and his choice to play it anyway. His gaze held yours, raw and unguarded, revealing a man who saw through your plan but couldn’t walk away.

You reached down, touching his hand. “I’m not afraid of him, when you are beside me,” you said, and for the first time, you meant it.

His fingers curled around yours, a fleeting squeeze, and he stayed there, silent, your protector in the dark.

A guard betrayed Namjoon, a hidden camera catching you slipping into Namjoon’s quarters. Viktor’s rage was apocalyptic, a tempest born of wounded pride and shattered control.

He never knew that the day he brought Namjoon into this hell, a boy barely out of his teens, was the day he began writing his own destruction. Namjoon had been a shadow then, sharp-minded and fiercely loyal, molded by a promise to his father to serve the man whose own father had saved their family from ruin.

But that loyalty was a chain, one that had stolen Namjoon’s childhood, his youth, every dream he might have had, chaining him to Viktor’s cruel empire. Namjoon despised it—the blood, the betrayal, the endless cycle of violence that defined Viktor’s world. Yet he stayed, bound by duty, his hatred simmering beneath a mask of obedience, waiting for the moment to break free.

Viktor dragged you both to a warehouse, the air thick with dust and gasoline, his men tying Namjoon to a chair, ropes biting into his wrists but leaving him largely unharmed—Viktor needed his mind intact, his right-hand functional.

Viktor knew Namjoon was indispensable; without him, the empire would crumble, a truth that made him untouchable, a fact Namjoon wielded like a blade.

You, however, were Viktor’s target, the focus of his wrath. He grabbed you by the hair, yanking your head back with a vicious jerk, his nails scraping your scalp raw, making you cry out as pain seared through your skull.

“You think you can play me?” he snarled, backhanding you across the face. The slap was a bone-rattling crack, your cheek splitting open, blood streaming down your jaw, your vision swimming.

He tore the strap of your dress, the fabric ripping to expose your shoulder and neck, and pressed his knife to your throat, a shallow cut deepening, blood dripping to your collarbone, your body trembling from the pain.

Namjoon’s reaction was a storm unleashed, a raw, primal fury that shook the warehouse. His eyes widened with anguish, his body jerking against the ropes, the chair scraping the concrete as he roared, a guttural sound of pure, helpless rage.

His veins pulsed in his neck, his jaw clenched so tight it trembled, and his eyes—black with fury, glistening with unshed tears—locked onto your bloodied face, every drop of your pain carving into his soul. His hands strained, ropes fraying under his strength, his breaths ragged, as if he could tear the world apart to reach you.

Viktor had never thought Namjoon would betray him, especially not for a woman. Namjoon, who’d never shown interest in any woman his entire life, who’d walked past Viktor’s broken “toys” without a glance, was now unraveling, his loyalty shattered by you—by your fire, your defiance, the way you’d claimed his heart without even trying.

“Since you’re so interested in her,” Viktor sneered, his voice dripping with malice, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement at Namjoon’s torment.

Namjoon’s eyes burned, but he forced his voice to a desperate lie, his voice cracking with the effort. “I don’t care about her. I’m not interested in her.”

His words hit you like a punch, betrayal slicing through your chest. You froze, your eyes locked on his, searching for the man who’d left med kits, who’d kissed your temple, who’d called you more than a game.

Your heart splintered, a silent sob choking you, but you bit it back, your bloodied lips trembling. The pain in your chest rivaled the sting of your wounds, a raw ache of abandonment, as if the fragile trust you’d built had crumbled under his cold denial.

You wanted to scream, to call him a liar again, but the knife at your throat kept you silent, your eyes pleading for the truth he’d buried.

Viktor’s laugh was sharp, cruel, his confidence unshaken.

“Is that so? Let me strip her in front of you. And let all other men enjoy the show too.” He yanked your dress harder, the fabric tearing further, exposing more of your skin, and gestured to his leering men, their eyes hungry, their laughter a sickening chorus that echoed in the warehouse.

Namjoon’s rage exploded, a primal roar ripping from his throat as he surged against the ropes, the chair splintering beneath him, wood cracking under his strength.

“Touch her again, and I’ll rip your fucking heart out!” His gaze locked on Viktor, promising death, then flicked to you, softening for a split second with guilt and desperation, as if begging you to forgive his lie.

His eyes screamed what his words couldn’t: you were everything, the reason he’d endured this hell, the spark that had ignited his rebellion.

Your eyes locked on Namjoon’s, silent, desperate, pleading. Tears welled but didn’t fall, your gaze screaming for him to stop this, to save you, to be the man you’d glimpsed in his tender touches.

Your lips trembled, your body shaking, but you didn’t speak, your eyes conveying every ounce of fear and trust you placed in him.

He snapped, his voice a deadly growl, his eyes blazing with defiance. “Untie me. Let’s see who survives.”

He knew exactly what he was doing, choosing words that stabbed at Viktor’s ego, knowing Viktor’s pride couldn’t resist a challenge to his power. Viktor, predictable in his arrogance, would take the bait, blind to the trap Namjoon was setting.

“You think you’re untouchable, Viktor? Cut these ropes and prove it. Or are you too weak to face me without your little games?”

Viktor’s ego couldn’t resist the challenge, his laughter taunting but his eyes betraying a flicker of unease.

He knew Namjoon’s power, knew that without him, he was nothing—a loudmouth with a gun, as the guards had whispered.

He cut the ropes, sneering as Namjoon lunged, grabbing a gun from the desk with lethal precision. Viktor aimed at you, his finger twitching on the trigger, but Namjoon pressed the barrel to his own temple, his hand steady, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“If she dies, I die with her,” he said, voice deadly calm, a vow that carried the weight of his entire existence. “You know what that means. Even if I die, I have enough ways to ruin you.”

Viktor’s face crumpled, panic flickering in his eyes. Namjoon was his mind, his shield, the architect of his empire.

Without him, Viktor was nothing but a hollow king, his power a facade. “Fine!” he screamed, lowering the gun, his voice shaking with fury and fear. “She walks free.”

You staggered to Namjoon, his arms crushing you to his chest, his heart pounding against yours despite his own minimal injuries. “You're mine now,” he growled, his voice low and fierce, his eyes locked on Viktor, a brazen claim that rang through the warehouse.

He knew Viktor wouldn’t touch him—couldn’t touch him—because Namjoon was the foundation of everything Viktor had built. With you in his arms, he stood taller, his claim a defiant proclamation to Viktor and his men, a vow that he’d burn it all down for you. “I don’t care if I burn the world.”

Viktor laughed, a hollow, bitter sound, his eyes dark with defeat. “You’ll regret this, Joon.”

Namjoon’s grip on you tightened, his voice a low, lethal promise. “Try me.”

After the warehouse showdown, Viktor’s grip on his crumbling empire tightened, his paranoia festering into desperation. In a final bid to keep Namjoon in line, Viktor summoned him to his office, the air thick with the stench of bourbon and cigar smoke.

His eyes, bloodshot and calculating, bore into Namjoon as he leaned back in his chair, twirling his dagger with a smirk that barely masked his fear. “I’ll let your little pet go,” Viktor said, his voice low, dripping with false magnanimity.

“She walks free from this hell, Joon, but only if you swear on your father’s grave you’ll never betray me. No exposing my operations, no playing hero. You keep my secrets buried, and she’s yours to take her away.”

Namjoon stood rigid, his face an unreadable mask, but his mind was a cold fire. He’d had enough of Viktor’s games—the blood-soaked deals, the broken lives, the endless cycle of cruelty that had chained him to this hell since he was a boy.

He’d already decided to expose Viktor, his plan set in motion weeks ago: files copied, evidence of Viktor’s trafficking and smuggling networks ready to leak to Interpol.

But he knew if Viktor even suspected his intentions, you’d be the one to pay—his wrath would hunt you down, no matter where he hid you.

Namjoon had already moved you to a secret safehouse, a quiet apartment he’d bought in the city’s underbelly for both of you, its walls bare but safe, a sanctuary he’d built to shield you from the chaos to come.

He met Viktor’s gaze, his eyes cold, unyielding, and lied with a curt nod. “I swear it,” he said, his voice steady, betraying none of the fire burning inside him.

Viktor’s smirk widened, believing he’d won, but Namjoon’s mind was already on you—safe, alive, waiting for him in the safehouse, your heart the only thing tethering him to this fight.

He left Viktor’s office, his jaw clenched, knowing every word was a step closer to dismantling the empire and keeping you out of Viktor’s reach forever.

Viktor had let you go, but Namjoon knew better than to trust him. Viktor’s pride was wounded, his empire threatened, and men like him didn’t forgive.

To protect you from his inevitable retaliation, Namjoon faked your death—a staged car explosion, a charred body too mangled to identify. The news spread, and Viktor’s men stopped hunting you.

He spent nights hacking Viktor’s files, exposing his trafficking and smuggling networks, his hands flying over the keyboard.

One night, after a close call with Viktor’s men, you found Namjoon in the safehouse’s tiny bathroom, blood and dirt smearing his face, his shirt torn.

You stripped bare, your clothes falling to the floor, and joined him under the shower’s spray, your heart aching at the sight of him—so strong, yet breaking under the weight of keeping you safe. “You’re a mess,” you whispered, grabbing a cloth to clean his wounds.

He caught your wrist, his eyes dark, raw. “I won’t let anything hurt you again,” he vowed, pulling you close. His lips crashed into yours, a desperate, hungry kiss that stole your breath. You moaned, your hands fisting his shirt, tugging it off as he backed you against the wall, the cold tiles biting your skin.

His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming every inch, his kisses fierce, unrelenting, like he was pouring every fear, every promise into you.

You bit his lip, drawing a growl from him, and he deepened the kiss, his hands roaming your waist, your hips, pulling you flush against him.

You felt him hard against your thigh, the evidence of his desire making you dizzy, but he kept it slow, deliberate, savoring every second.

You broke away, gasping, but he didn’t stop, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, sucking gently at your pulse point.

“Namjoon,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body arching into him. He groaned, his lips finding yours again, softer this time, but no less intense, each kiss a confession of everything he couldn’t say.

His hands slid over your wet skin, calloused fingers grazing your curves, sending shivers through you. He lifted you onto the shower ledge, stepping between your thighs, his kisses growing frantic, like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“You’re my everything,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, breaking. You kissed him back, matching his desperation, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

You lost track of time, lost in the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, the way his hands held you like you were his lifeline. He pulled back, panting, his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes searching yours. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You cupped his face, kissing him softly, your lips lingering. “You won’t,” you promised, and he kissed you again, slow and deep, sealing the vow.

After, he wrapped you in a towel, cleaning your face with gentle hands, his touch soft. He kissed your forehead, pulling you to his chest, and you stayed there, listening to his heartbeat, knowing you’d face the world together.

Namjoon sent Viktor’s files to Interpol, every dirty secret laid bare. The final showdown came in a burning warehouse, Viktor’s empire crumbling around him. Flames licked the walls, smoke curling thick and black as Namjoon faced Viktor, gun in hand, his eyes cold, but his heart a furnace of obsession for you.

Viktor stood amidst the chaos, a gun trained on Namjoon, his smirk twisted. “You think you are something different from me, Namjoon. And you can claim one of my pets as yours.”

Namjoon’s grip on the gun tightened, his voice low, lethal, dripping with possessive fury. “She’s mine, Viktor. You touched what’s mine, and that was your first mistake.”

His eyes burned, every word laced with the weight of his devotion, his need to protect you, to claim you. “I’ve spent years cleaning up your messes, hiding your crimes. But you crossed a line when you hurt her.”

Viktor laughed, but it was shaky, his eyes darting to the flames. “You’re nothing without me. You need me as much as I need you.”

Namjoon stepped closer, his gun steady, his voice a growl. “I built your empire. I kept you alive. But I don’t need you anymore.” He glanced at you, standing behind him, your presence fueling his resolve. “She’s my reason now. You’ll never touch her again.”

Viktor’s smirk faltered. “You’re bluffing. You won’t kill me. You can’t.”

Namjoon’s eyes darkened, his voice a whisper of finality. “You shouldn’t have touched her.” He pulled the trigger, the shot echoing as Viktor collapsed, blood pooling beneath him, his eyes wide with shock.

The warehouse burned, and you pulled Namjoon away, his hand tight in yours. “It’s over,” you whispered, your voice trembling with relief.

He looked at you, his face softening, his obsession laid bare in his gaze. “No. We’re just beginning.”

You and Namjoon had carved out a quiet life off-grid, in a cozy safehouse by the sea, the world felt softer, the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting silver glows across the bedroom.

The ocean’s gentle waves whispered outside, a lullaby to your new beginning. You lay curled against Namjoon on the bed, your head nestled in the crook of his neck, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket. His fingers traced idle patterns on your arm, his breath steady, content, a far cry from the cold beast you’d first met.

You tilted your head, your lips brushing his jaw, your voice a soft murmur. “Thank you for freeing me from becoming his pet.”

Namjoon’s eyes sparkled with warmth, his hand sliding to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin with reverence. “You’re not a pet. You’re my queen.” He leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss, his mouth soft and warm, tasting faintly of the peppermint tea you’d shared earlier. The kiss was a promise, a vow of forever, and you melted into it, your heart fluttering.

You pulled back, grinning, your fingers poking his chest playfully. “Queen, huh? So you’re my loyal knight now, ready to fetch my coffee and fluff my pillows?”

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your toes curl, and he rolled you onto your back, hovering over you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Knight? Baby, I’m your hopeless servant, but don’t ask me to cook something. I’d burn the house down trying.”

You giggled, swatting his shoulder, your eyes dancing with delight. “Hopeless is right. Last week, you broke the toaster trying to ‘fix’ it. My queenly standards are slipping with you around.”

“Slipping?” he gasped, feigning offense, his hands sliding to your waist, tickling you lightly until you squirmed, laughing breathlessly. “I’m a masterpiece, Your Majesty. Brains, brawn, and a knack for breaking appliances.”

“Masterpiece, my foot,” you teased, tugging at his shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin of his chest. “Lucky I love you for your cuddles and not your handyman skills.”

“Cuddles?” he purred, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh, my queen, I’m about to give you the royal treatment.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue teasing yours in a slow, languid dance that made your heart race. His hands roamed, gentle but deliberate, slipping under your oversized sleep shirt—a stolen tee of his that smelled faintly of his cologne.

He tugged it off, revealing your bare skin, and his breath hitched, his eyes raking over you with adoration. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone, down to the swell of your breasts.

You blushed, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, pulling his shirt off, your fingers exploring the planes of his chest, the faint scars that told stories of battles fought for you.

You leaned up, kissing his jaw, his neck, nipping playfully at his earlobe, earning a soft groan that made you grin. “Weak for me already?”

“Always,” he whispered, his lips finding yours, the kiss slow and sweet, each brush of his mouth a declaration of love. He trailed kisses down your throat, lingering at your pulse point, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, making you whimper.

His hands caressed your sides, sliding over your hips, your thighs, his touch reverent, like he was worshiping every inch of you. “You’re my everything,” he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing your nipple, teasing it with a gentle suck that sent heat pooling between your legs.

You arched into him, your breath hitching, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Namjoon,” you sighed, your voice a soft plea, and he smiled against your skin, his hands guiding your legs around his waist.

He tugged off his sweatpants, revealing himself, hard and ready, but he didn’t rush, his movements deliberate, savoring the moment. He kissed his way back up, his lips finding yours, his tongue exploring your mouth with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his hands cupping your face, his eyes locked on yours as he positioned himself, his tip brushing your entrance, teasing you with agonizing slowness. “Tell me you want this, my queen.”

“Want you,” you gasped, your hips lifting, urging him closer. “Always, Joon.”

He entered you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you with a delicious fullness that made you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He groaned, his forehead pressed to yours, his breaths ragged as he moved, each thrust slow and deep, a connection that went beyond flesh. “God, you feel like heaven,” he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion, his hands sliding to your hips, guiding you in a gentle rhythm.

You laughed softly, breathless, your lips brushing his. “Heaven? Thought you were the devil.”

“Only for you,” he teased, kissing you deeply, his tongue mimicking the slow, sensual pace of his thrusts. Your bodies moved together, lazy and intimate, the heat building in soft waves, every touch laced with love.

His hands roamed, one sliding to cup your breast, his thumb brushing your nipple, the other tangling in your hair, pulling you closer for a kiss that stole your breath.

“Joon,” you whimpered, your climax building, a warm, pulsing tide that made your toes curl. He sensed it, his movements steady but tender, his lips trailing to your ear, whispering, “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You shattered, your orgasm washing over you in a soft, shuddering wave, your moans muffled against his shoulder as you clung to him.

He followed, his release a low groan, his body trembling as he spilled inside you, his lips finding yours in a messy, perfect kiss. He stayed inside you, rolling you both to your sides, your legs tangled, his arms wrapping you tight against his chest.

You lay there, panting, his fingers tracing lazy hearts on your back, his lips brushing your forehead. “You’re stuck with me now, queen,” he murmured, his voice playful but thick with love.

“Good,” you whispered, snuggling closer, your cheek pressed to his heart. “But you’re doing the dishes tomorrow. Non-negotiable. And don't you dare to break them.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “Deal. But only if you keep stealing my shirts. You look too cute in them.”

You laughed, kissing him hard, your heart full. You’d both survived. You’d both sinned. And you’d do it all again, together.

A/n: Was planning to post it on another account but since I got this Namjoon fic request here, so posting on this main account.

Taglist: @army-geniuslab . @jeonjamiekim . @moonjinniecafe . @minpdrecs . @bontensbabygirl . @this-most-assuredly-counts . @taolucha . @mytaegiheart . @dear-mono . @lilyficrec . @janeluvwonuuuu . @k-fan-fics . @iztrouble . @pikajooni . @namluvili . @alonahh . @paradise172 . @stay-tiny-things . @micdropitlikeitshot . @softhaes . @littlebluhellfire . @niqueesthings . @nocturnalsingularity . @syudoeslove . @namjoonbaby17-blog . @mar-lo-pap . @naesarang07 . @diame93 . @themwordsblog . @crizoosblog . @syudoeslove . @bts-fic-recs-mess . @nocturnalsingularity . @ninisficrecs . @lovingkoalaface . @afgbbf . @hiilovetata . @namjooniverse . @petersasteria .

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jungkookjiddies · 13 days ago

Note

Could be a threesome with Jin and Hobi?

I FORGOT TO POST THIS YESTERDAY I FELL ASLEEP LMAO

All you’ve wanted for the last few days has been to relax. By yourself. You finally have a few minutes to yourself, in your own bed. Your boyfriend Hobi is making dinner in the kitchen with his friend Jin. Jin. God, fucking Kim Seokjin. He’s been unusually touchy today and you can’t for the life of you figure out what has gotten into him, but it certainly isn’t helping the constant swirling in your abdomen the last few days.

Jin’s fucking attractive, okay? Especially since he’s been letting his hair grow out. You asked Hobi not long ago if he would be ever interested in having a threesome, and he said sure, but when you told him you wanted Jin as a third, he just laughed and said “I can try, doubt it though.”

Men are useless sometimes.

You were hoping maybe he’d agree before the rest of their friends return from their military service at the end of the month and your house becomes the usual hangout again. You shrug, if you can’t get what you want, you’ll just have to do it yourself. All you need is five minutes… maybe ten. And with both of them busy, you finally have a chance.

You root through your bedside table drawer searching for your favorite toy. There it is! You take a deep breath and relax back against the pillows, pressing the power button and feeling the vibrator whir to life in your hand. You immediately slide it down your body under the waistband of your shorts and panties, feeling it touch you directly as you purr in delight. You tease yourself for a little bit before finally slipping the toy inside your entrance, relishing in the feeling as you push your shirt and bra up with your free hand and fondle your breast roughly. God it feels so good. It shouldn’t take you long at all at this rate.

“How much longer?” Jin asks from where he checks his phone across the counter.

“I dunno, maybe like five minutes?” Hoseok responds, stirring the food in the pan again. “Not much longer.”

Jin puts his phone back down and sighs. Feeling a bit awkward, but knowing each other so well, Hoseok immediately catches on. “What’s wrong?” He turns to face the older boy.

“Nothing just… can’t stop thinking about what you asked earlier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jin sighs again. “Did Y/N really ask to have a threesome? With me?”

Hoseok snorts. “Hyung, I wouldn't lie to you about something like that.”

“But why me? Why now?”

The younger boy shrugs. “You’d have to ask her. Maybe because she knows the house is going to be busy when the others come home from service?”

“But why me?” Jin repeats.

“Don’t know.” Hoseok takes the pan off the hot burner and places it on a cool one. “She thinks you’re attractive and knows you think she is too, so why not?”

Jin narrows his eyes in suspicion. “She wouldn’t know unless you told her.”

“It’s not like you’re inconspicuous about it.” Hoseok throws his hands up in defense when he sees Jin’s stare. “I’m just saying, it’s kind of obvious sometimes. Is that why you’ve been all over her today?”

“I haven’t been all over her.” Jin scoffs. “I do have respect for your relationship, you know.”

Hoseok just rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying hyung, she’s giving you a in, and it won’t be around for much longer, so do with that information what you will.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“I’m happy when she’s happy.”

“That’s such a bullshit answer.”

“If she wants it, it’s fine with me.” Hoseok assures him with a smile. “Not like I haven’t seen your dick before.”

Jin sighs again, raking his hand through his hair. “I’ll think about it…”

“Whatever you want, hyung.” Hoseok turns away and opens a cabinet to pull out some plates. “Now, can you go tell her that dinner is ready please?”

Jin nods as he stands up. “Where’d she go?”

“I think she went to our room to get something.”

Jin heads out of the kitchen and into the living room, turning down the hallway and walking all the way to the end where your bedroom sits, surprised to see the door is closed. Maybe you went to take a nap? He knocks lightly, but when he doesn’t hear a response he cracks the door open and peeks his head inside.

The room is dim, with only a string of lights above your bed turned on, but that doesn’t stop him from seeing exactly what you’re doing. He hears your heavy breathing, hears the faint buzzing noise; he sees your hands, one down your pants, one gripping your breast, he sees your eyes closed, your head thrown back, chest heaving as your pleasure yourself. He smells the faint smell of sweat and the sweet smell of you in the air. Holy shit. He can’t tear his eyes away from you. He knows he shouldn’t be watching but god you’re so hot like this. He takes one last look before forcing himself to close his eyes, backing away and quietly shutting the door.

Damn. Jin adjusts his suddenly hardening length in his pants. Should he let you finish? No, he doesn’t know how long that could take, and Hoseok might get suspicious. Jin pauses a moment to calm himself down before knocking loudly and purposely on the door again.

“Y/N-ah?”

“Shit.” He hears you curse, your hushed panic on the other side of the door before you respond. “Y-yeah?”

“Dinner’s ready.”

“O-okay! I’ll be out… in a second.”

He hears your heaving breathing and has to choke back a whimper as he walks up the hallway, trying to relax before crossing the living room back into the kitchen. “She said she’ll be out in a second.” Jin states as he joins Hoseok at the table.

“Why is your face so red, did you run back and forth?” Hoseok jokes.

“Hm? Oh, uh no, just got a little hot is all.” Jin states, taking off his sweatshirt for effect. It’s not a lie. He can feel his cheeks burning as the image of you plays over and over in his head.

Hoseok’s eyes go wide at this. “Hyung, your neck is really red. Do you need some ice?”

Jin shakes his head as you walk into the room. “I’ll be fine.”

You’re so close. So very close to your high. It feels amazing, you want nothing else at this moment. Nothing else except-

Knock knock. “Y/N-ah?” It’s Jin.

“Shit.” Your eyes open wide, quickly moving to silence the buzzing of your vibrator before responding. “Y-Yeah?” Your response is breathy.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Damnit. “O-okay! I’ll be out… in a second.” You can hear him walk away and flop back down against the pillows. Fuck… Well. You’ll just have to finish this later.

You sigh, tucking the toy back into your nightstand and slamming the drawer shut in frustration. God you hope Jin didn’t hear you. You check yourself in the mirror, putting all of your clothes back into place before you walk out of the room and down the hall into the kitchen.

“Mm smells delicious.” You state, placing a kiss on Hoseok’s cheek as you walk past him to take your seat between him and Jin. When you sit you smile at Jin only to notice just how red his face is. “Jin, are you alright? You’re really red.”

“So are you, baby.” Hoseok states, looking over you with worry and reaching out to place his hand over yours, feeling how hot your skin is. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” You reach a hand up to feel your cheeks are still flushed from your activities.

“Do you want me to turn the air up? Is it too hot in here?”

You shake your head to reassure him. “No, I’ll be fine in a minute. Not sure what this is.”

The three of you eat in relative silence, which is strange because usually Jin won’t stop talking. You chance a few glances in his direction, but every time your eyes meet he quickly looks away, blushing.

After dinner and dishes, the three of you retire to the living room to watch a movie. You curl up against Hoseok’s side where you sit between him and Jin, who is seated as close to the arm of the couch as he possibly can be. His body language is screaming that he doesn't want to be close to you, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. He wasn’t like this before dinner. About halfway through the movie, Jin gets up to use the bathroom and you pause it for him before laying yourself across Hoseok’s lap, still feeling a bit of your arousal from your unfinished business from earlier.

“Hi gorgeous.” Hoseok coos in your ear as you stretch across him.

“Hi baby~” You smile as his whispers turn into soft kisses behind your ear and down your neck. You sigh softly at the feeling of his lips on you, but when he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, you know these kisses have a purpose. “Hobi,” you warn. “Jin’s still here.”

“So?” Hoseok’s hands slip under your shirt and begin to wander along your abdomen. He tugs on your earlobe with his teeth and your eyes squeeze shut as it takes everything in you not to give in to him.

“So, I’m pretty sure Jin doesn’t want to watch you fuck me on the couch.”

“Well, maybe not just watch.”

You shoot up in surprise for the second time tonight at the sound of Jin’s voice to see him sitting back down in his seat on the couch. “Jin!” You try to push Hoseok off, but he’s insistent. “I didn’t hear you come back. Sorry, Hobi was just stopping.” Hoseok’s lips leave your neck, but he stays close enough that you can feel his breath on the wet spots he made, and it sends a shiver of desire down your spine.

“No, I wasn’t.” Hoseok smirks, placing a hot kiss against your pulse point. “Didn’t you hear what he said?”

You stop fighting Hoseok to look up at Jin, puzzled. “No, I didn’t.”

“He said ‘maybe not just watch’.”

“Wait, really? Hobi asked you?” The room goes quiet as you wait for Jin’s answer; as if everything around you is made of glass, and if any of you move the wrong way, the moment will shatter around you.

Jin’s face flushes bright red. “Yeah, he did and, w-well… I mean.” He glances up at you from beneath his long lashes. “If it’s okay, I think we could t-try.”

You’ve never seen Jin this shy before, usually he’s a little cocky, but this side of him is so soft. You climb back into your seat, sitting on your knees in between the two of them, facing Jin. “Are you sure? Tonight?”

He nods, finally meeting your gaze, a little steadier with his decision. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

You squeal with delight as you throw your arms around his neck, surprising Jin as you hug him tightly. “I’m so excited!” You exclaim as you sit back on your knees. “Can I- Is it okay if I kiss you? Hobi, is that okay?”

“Fine with me.” Your boyfriend chimes in from behind you.

Jin rubs his neck, a tell-tale sign that he’s nervous before he nods. “S-sure.”

“Don’t worry.” You offer him a sweet smile. “We’ll go slow, yeah?”

He lets out a breath, relaxing a little. “Okay.”

You reach a hand out and cup Jin’s cheek before leaning closer to him, feeling his eyes on you which makes you laugh. “Close your eyes, don’t make it weird.” You giggle.

“Oh, right. Sorry it’s been a while.”

He closes his eyes and waits for you. You rub your thumb across his smooth skin, studying his features up close for just a moment before you focus on his lips, his beautiful plump lips. You silently thank Hoseok for being the best boyfriend before closing the gap and pressing your lips against Jin’s. He’s stiff at first, and you chuckle, smiling against his mouth. You slide your hand down to his neck as you repeat the motion and feel him relax this time, responding to the brush of your lips this time with his own. His lips are luxurious. You thought Hoseok’s lips were pillows, Jin’s are deluxe. You can’t help it when you tilt your head, wanting to deepen the kiss, but Jin allows you, following your lead.

All the thoughts float from your mind as you gently push Jin back against the arm of the couch, leaning over him and straddling one of his legs. You feel his hands slide up to your waist as his lips part, his tongue snaking out and asking for access to your mouth. A small moan escapes you as you let him in, feeling his tongue press against yours, the taste of wine still present from dinner.

Jin’s hands squeeze your waist, a few of his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt and rubbing your bare skin. You’re so lost in the feeling of Jin’s hands and mouth against you that the feeling of Hoseok’s hands on your ass makes you jump. You break the kiss with Jin and look over your shoulder at your boyfriend, his hands rubbing your ass over your shorts.

“Your ass looks so damn good in these shorts.” He groans. “But I didn’t realize how hot it would be to watch you make out with Jin hyung.” To emphasize his statement, Hoseok presses his hips against you, and sure enough through his shorts you can feel the beginnings of his erection.

You sit up on your knees, turning your head to capture Hoseok’s lips this time. He responds quickly, hungrily, his hands sliding around to your front and slipping under your shirt, tracing over your stomach before moving up and giving your breasts a squeeze as you gasp into his mouth. Jin sits up, his hands grabbing your waist as he rubs his thumbs over your hips, mesmerized by your reactions to Hoseok’s touches, memorizing every brush of skin that has you keening.

Hoseok’s mouth moves down to your neck as he grabs your shirt, yanking it off over your head and tossing it onto the floor. It takes no time after that for him to unclasp your bra, pushing it off your shoulders so that it falls into Jin’s lap. Hoseok grabs Jin’s hands from where they rest on your waist and drags them up your body, placing them on top of your breasts before his own hands slide back down your stomach.

Jin squeezes you gently, making you whimper for more. His hands grab you roughly a few times before he rubs his thumbs over your nipples, finding out how sensitive they are as you practically melt in his hands, his head dipping down to press kisses along your abdomen as he does. Hoseok’s mouth is working the expanse of your neck and shoulder, distracting you while his fingers pop open the button of your shorts and then slide the zipper down. He wastes no time slipping a hand under the fabric of your underwear and dipping his fingers into your already soaked folds.

“Hobi~” You breathe out his name as he circles your clit with experience. He knows exactly what to do to get you riled up for Jin, and he’s pulling out all the stops tonight.

Jin sits back to see what Hoseok did to get you to make that noise, and is shocked to see his friend's hand already in your pants. This causes him to get up on his knees with the two of you, pinching your nipples repeatedly as he reconnects his lips to yours. You feel Hoseok use his free hand to take off his shirt behind you, and then wrap that arm around your waist, pressing the warmth of his skin against your back and his hard length against your ass as his shirt dangles from his preoccupied forearm.

You quickly tug at the hem of Jin’s shirt, silently begging him to take it off. He smirks against your mouth before removing the fabric from his body, pulling it past your lips as he tosses it to the floor. You quickly pull him against you, wrapping your arms around his neck, as you press your breasts against his chest, his tongue slipping back into your mouth. One of Jin’s hands slides down with Hoseok’s into your shorts, but he moves farther, his long fingers finding your entrance quickly and tracing merciless circles around it before he finally plunges two of them deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck~” You whine, burying your face in Jin’s neck.

“Oh my god you’re wet.” Jin mumbles in amazement, making Hoseok chuckle.

“Told you hyung.” Hoseok finally rubs the pad of his middle finger across your clit and your legs shake from the pleasure as you moan into Jin’s skin. ”Isn’t she tight?”

Jin pumps his fingers inside you a few times as you hold him closer. “Incredibly.”

Hoseok pulls his hand away and you whine in protest, moving to look back at him, but he quickly shushes you. “Let’s move to the bed baby, it’ll be more comfortable for you.”

You nod, allowing Jin to also remove his hand before grabbing it and slipping his fingers into your mouth, cleaning your juices off of him as he watches, awestruck.

“Goddamn.” Is all he says as he watches you stand up. You take his hand and tug him along with you, leading both boys back to the bedroom where you quickly climb onto the bed to wait.

Hoseok sheds his shorts, leaving him in just his boxers before gesturing for Jin to do the same. Jin obeys, sliding out of his jeans before joining you on the bed, watching as Hoseok digs through his nightstand for a few things, giving you a chance to look down at Jin’s lap, seeing how hard he is in his boxers, his length straining against the thin fabric, much like Hoseok’s is. Jin looks thick and your body shivers as you think of what he’ll feel like inside you.

When Hoseok finds what he wants, he jumps on the bed with you both before pushing you onto all fours. He grabs your shorts and tugs them down, depositing them onto the floor before giving your ass a nice smack.

“Hyung, will you do the honors?” Hoseok plays with the waistband of your only remaining garment. “Or would you rather stare at her ass all day.” He jokes when he sees where Jin’s gaze is focused.

Jin’s hands move slowly, but purposefully, grabbing the waistband of your underwear and tugging them down over your ass inch by inch, groaning when they reveal your dripping wet center. He pulls them off the rest of the way, his eyes never leaving you.

“Isn’t she pretty?” Hoseok puts a hand on each cheek and spreads them apart, showing you off to his friend as you arch your back for them.

“So pretty…” Jin breathes.

“Hobi…” You whimper, feeling a little two exposed as both of these boys stare at your most intimate parts.

Hoseok moves back towards your head, cupping your chin so that you’re looking up at him. “Are you okay with Jin hyung feeling how tight your sweet pussy is baby?” He asks softly, a vast difference from how dirty his words are. You can only nod, your core throbbing at the thought. “Good girl. Hyung lay down.” Jin obeys quickly, laying down on the bed next to you as Hoseok moves behind you, whispering in your ear. “Go ahead and ride him, baby.” He punctuates his sentence with a quick kiss on your cheek, watching as you move towards Jin, grabbing the elder boy’s waistband, much like he did to you moments ago, before tugging the fabric down his legs, watching his cock finally spring free against his abdomen.

The sight of it has your mouth watering as Jin’s face and chest flush a bright pink color. You quickly move to straddle his waist, leaning down to press a sweet kiss against his lips before sitting back up and taking hold of his length and lining it up with your entrance. You look down at him one more time and he nods, watching you closely as you sink down onto him.

A moan escapes your lips as Jin slips inside you, guided by your wetness. You shut your eyes as you sink down farther, your face and body rapidly growing hot from the feeling of him inside you as Hoseok whispers words of encouragement from behind you, also enraptured by the sight of Jin’s cock disappearing deep inside you.

“Fuck~” You groan when he’s fully seated inside of you. He feels incredible, stretching your walls so deliciously. Jin isn’t fairing much better than you, his chest already heaving as his hands fall to your waist, squeezing it tightly to beg you to move.

You get the message and begin to move your hips, bouncing yourself up and down on his length, bracing your hands on his chest to help you move. He feels so good inside you, you think you might burst, your skin pricking with an electricity that has you panting already. After a few minutes of bliss, you feel Hoseok’s hand on your lower back, rubbing small circles against your skin before he pushes you forward into Jin’s chest, exposing your ass to him. You sit up enough to look over your shoulder to see Hoseok has his boxers off already as he scoots up to you between Jin’s legs, rubbing his own cock to slicken it for you.

“Couldn't let you two have all the fun.” Hoseok teases before you feel his tip at your puckered rim. “Deep breath baby, just relax for me. You know the drill.”

You nod, giving him the okay before resting your forehead against Jin’s, relaxing the lower half of your body as the younger boy pushes his hips forward. He goes slow, like he always does, but tonight, your ass seems more greedy than usual, taking his length in quickly, with little to no need for adjustment. You groan as he continues to push in, sometimes you forget how long Hoseok is until he does this, but god does it feel good, so good that you have to hold back your orgasm, not wanting to cum just yet. You force all your tension into your hand as it squeezes the sheets next to Jin’s head, and Jin rubs your side soothingly, until he starts moaning with you, able to feel Hoseok push against his own length through the barrier of your body.

Once Hoseok is as deep as he can get inside you, all three of you let out a heavy breath as his hips still for a moment.

“Damn you took me in so well tonight baby.” Hoseok praises, his fingers tracing along your spine. “You look so good with all your holes filled.”

“Hobi, p-please~” You whine. He places a hard smack against your ass before he starts to move his hips, slowly pulling out of you before quickly pushing in again, and under you Jin begins to do the same, fucking up into you as Hoseok pulls out and vice versa. They quickly pick up the pace, both boys gripping your hips, as you whimper between them.

God you’ve never felt so good, so full. With both of their cocks spreading you open relentlessly, it’s no surprise how quickly you’re brought up to the edge of release, especially with how close you were earlier. Just a few more well placed thrusts and then…

“Fuck~” You come undone, your entire body shaking from the pleasure that pulses through you. Your orgasm is quick as the boys continue to fuck you through it, your legs growing weak as it passes.

“Damn that was fast” Hoseok slows his pace to a near stop. “You came already?” You can only nod, burying your face in Jin’s neck. You hear Hoseok chuckle behind you. “You want another one, don’t you baby?”

“Yes~” You whimper against Jin.

“Hyung help me get her on her side.” Hoseok instructs.

Both boys maneuver you onto your side without slipping out of you, sandwiching you between their bodies as Hoseok grabs your right leg and holds it up for you. You wrap your arms around Jin’s neck as they both start up their pace again, their delicious breaths and moans now directly in your ear as they fill you over and over again, now both sliding into you at the same time.

It burns for only a minute before your core decides it feels good again, letting the pleasure back into your senses as your nails dig into Jin’s back. You pull your head out of the crook of his neck before pressing your mouth to his again, sliding your tongue past his lips to taste him for a moment before turning over your shoulder and doing the same to Hoseok, switching between both of them as one of them focuses more on kissing you, and the other focuses more on fucking you.

It isn’t long before Hoseok’s breathing get heavier against your lips, he always gets so worked up when you let him fuck your ass, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum already. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours before squeezing your thigh where he’s holding it, signaling to you that he’s close and to focus on Jin.

You turn to the older boy, your tongues tangling as you squeeze around his length, earning a delightful groan from the back of his throat. His own breathing is ragged, signaling his own impending release in closer than you thought.

“Jinnie~” You whine, using the nickname you only pull out for special occasions. He only grunts in response, too far gone. “Jinnie cum for me, please.” You beg. “I want to feel you cum.”

“Fuck…” The hand that was helping Hoseok hold your thigh up suddenly slides down your body to your center and begins drawing quick, tight circles on your clit, just the way you like, causing you to throw your head back in ecstasy. “You first.”

“J-Jin~ Hobi~!” You cry out as your second orgasm slams into you without warning, your entire body convulsing from the sheer bliss and gratification, panting as your high swirls around and through you.

Hoseok is next, you hear him groan behind you as he slams into you one last time, filling your ass with his hot release as he kisses your cheek, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

With the feeling of your core contracting ruthlessly around him, Jin isn’t far behind, thrusting into your wet heat once, twice, three more times before the pleasure takes hold of him too, and you feel his cum spurting inside you as he moans softly, rutting against you to drag out the sensation.

The three of you lay there tangled together for a long time, reveling in the after-glow euphoria as your breathing returns to normal. Jin is the first one to speak.

“Holy shit… I had no idea it would be like that.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That was…”

“Amazing.” Hoseok finishes for him.

“Really amazing.” Jin nods.

You hum your agreement, absolutely loving the feeling of being sandwiched between their spent bodies. “Can I ask what made you decide?” You turn to face Jin and Hoseok sits up on his elbow, curious to hear the elder boy’s answer.

“H-honestly?” Jin looks away sheepishly. “I kind of saw you earlier…”

“Saw me? What do you mean?”

“Before dinner? When you were, you know… in here… alone.”

You gasp with realization and smack his arm. “You perv!”

“It was an accident! I swear!”

“And you didn’t say anything?” You smack his arm again laughing.

“What am I missing?” Hoseok asks, clearly confused.

“Tell him, Jin.”

Jin sighs. “When you asked me to get Y/N for dinner, I knocked but she didn’t answer and the door was unlocked so I just… you know, peeked my head in. and she was, well…”

“Masturbating!” You squeal.

“I couldn’t see anything!” Jin admits. “Only your boob was out!”

“Was she using her vibrator?” Hoseok giggles, unphased by the situation when he sees that you are too. Jin nods. “Baby I told you not to use that when we have people over. Remember what happened last time? And now this time?”

“I really needed it!” You pout. “And I didn’t even get to finish.”

“Wait, what happened last time?” Jin asks.

“Nothing!” You deny.

“Joon got a bit more of a show than you did.” Hoseok explains.

“Hobi!”

Hoseok shrugs. “What? It’s true.”

“Yeah, but Joon didn’t get to fuck me after.” You point out. “Trust me if you guys used that thing you’d see why I use it so much.”

“Hm, maybe we can do that next time.”

“Next time?” Jin questions again.

“What, we still have a few more days before the boys come back.” You state, rubbing your hand along Jin’s chest. “Was once enough for you?”

Jin looks at you before looking over your shoulder at Hoseok for an answer.

“Don’t look at me.” Hoseok smiles. “She asked you.”

“Fuck, how do you resist her?” Jin smiles back at both of you.

Hoseok shakes his head, placing another smack against your ass. “I don’t.”

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