nervous-moon - Tumblr blog

nervous-moon · 2 years ago

Text

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours.

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone.

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat.

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery.

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram.

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth.

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see.

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way.

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world.

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance.

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why.

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest.

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now.

“I'm coming home.” You repeat.

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.”

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment.

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend.

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers.

“Candy?”

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call.

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in.

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen.

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower.

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be.

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?”

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more.

“Candy, love.”

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours?

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"?

Who is this man?

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy?

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you.

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish.

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with.

“Candy—” He starts.

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.”

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist.

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass.

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous.

“I reckon you saw the commercial.”

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic.

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?”

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone.

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.”

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade.

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum.

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated.

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.”

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too.

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.”

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other.

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.”

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem.

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone.

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over.

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you.

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod.

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin.

“Pick me up,” you say softly.

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom.

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him.

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day.

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back.

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better.

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him.

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin.

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place.

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.”

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed.

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it.

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so.

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.”

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel.

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow.

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.”

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys.

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein.

“Do you want—”

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.”

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.”

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it.

“Okay.”

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly.

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure.

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass.

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly.

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk.

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already.

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered.

And you close the door on him.

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work.

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights.

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you.

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”.

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does.

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him.

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet.

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest.

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief.

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him.

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show.

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head.

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut.

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see.

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts.

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles.

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face.

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.”

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you.

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes.

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds.

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him.

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly.

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail.

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating.

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb.

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him.

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin.

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need.

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic.

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him.

“I do,” you admit.

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion.

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious.

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions.

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap.

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown.

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts.

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state.

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped.

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea.

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.”

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact.

“Guk?” You ask, worried.

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout.

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch.

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated.

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you.

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him.

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand.

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him.

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth.

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on.

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.”

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you.

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway.

You don’t oppose.

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs.

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy.

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion.

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious.

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again.

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know.

“Please,” you manage to say.

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance.

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells.

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back.

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take.

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you.

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths.

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even.

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice.

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?”

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf.

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly.

You press your lips to his to distract him.

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his.

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment.

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest.

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms.

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you.

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them.

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you.

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?”

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment.

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?”

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you.

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused.

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat.

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot.

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk.

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down.

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully.

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think.

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face.

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers.

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly.

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around.

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him.

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface.

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone.

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge.

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first.

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches.

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to.

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting.

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him.

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure.

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided.

“What— Where—?” He’s confused.

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for.

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him.

“Please,” he whines.

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress.

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines.

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats.

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head.

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?”

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react.

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him.

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen.

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh.

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?”

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless.

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently.

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry.

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?”

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop.

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle.

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables.

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either.

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?”

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.”

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation.

“I'm sure,” you comfort him.

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you.

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath.

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.”

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars.

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?”

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does.

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick.

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.”

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.”

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them.

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you.

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you.

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you.

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face.

His expression is lazy and satisfied.

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours.

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue.

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May.

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up.

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.”

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone.

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more.

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back.

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that.

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him.

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now.

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek.

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass.

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom.

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery.

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young.

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet.

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving.

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably.

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult.

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again.

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x yn

2K notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 3 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (Mia)

Wordcount: 11.5k

Genre: smut, bdsm!au, strangers to… fwb? !au

Rating: 18+ Minors, please do not read or interact.

Synopsis: Mia has always been an observer at The Rabbit Hole, mostly because she felt a bit too cautious about getting her hands dirty. But once curiosity starts nipping at her she starts wondering, what would it be like to actually try all the things she’s been studying? Well, someone is willing to help her through it.

Warnings: obviously, BDSM themes, procede with caution. Negotiation of a BDSM scene, pleasure dom!Joon, sub!reader, brat!reader, camgirl!reader, mentions of sex work, voyeurism, exhibitionism, strip tease (sort of), making out, masturbation (mutual m.), unprotected oral sex (male and female receiving), cumplay, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, post sex blues (dom drop). General emotional vulnerability, beware. Also, watch out for Jeonggukie HEHE (*collar and leash enter the convo*)

Thanking @joheunsaram and @nervous-moon for always tolerating my emotional sh!t lol 💖

Here you can find my masterlist!

Enjoy ✨💜

It wasn’t your first time at the Rabbit Hole, but it wasn’t like you’d been there that often. You’d been an observer, but always a shy one, always hidden behind a strategically placed one-way glass: the people performing behind it knew they had an audience, but maybe weren’t that comfortable with it being too overt. Or maybe it was meant for people who liked the idea of watching without being watched in return.

Now you were standing in the middle of the foyer, filling in your papers for the first time beyond that “voyeurism only” box.

Your hands were sweaty and you kept nervously pushing your hair back as you tried to understand whether any of the boxes you were ticking could actually be pleasant to you.

Your entire paper was a list of “maybe”, with the only exceptions being those related to voyeurism and exhibitionism. You knew you liked being watched, but you weren’t yet comfortable about performing in front of real people.

You twirled a lock of your hair between your fingers, going back and forth over it.

Orgasm control?

Orgasm denial?

Overstimulation?

You frowned. What if what you’d tried by yourself wasn’t half as pleasant with someone else in the equation?

Your perplexities grew until you just crossed all the maybes left and slipped the papers into the box.

As you went back to the garden you grabbed a flûte of champagne and found a comfortable corner to stand in. You looked around, a few eyes meeting yours and nodding in acknowledgement.

You nodded in return, always polite. You tried not to think if they’d ever seen you — without knowing, of course.

You recognised a couple faces from a few scenes you’d watched, smiling at a bubbly brunette man with a heart shaped grin.

He bowed his head at you before winking.

You shook your head and looked away. Kim Taehyung, you mused, remembering how he’d been a voyeur together with you during one scene.

Two men followed him, one on an elegant leash, the other wearing a leather corset that cinched his waist and left his chest bare.

You met both their gazes and bowed your head, the pet averting his eyes and his owner tugging at the leash gently, pulling him to a stop.

They walked towards you and you noticed the pet’s silver bell hanging from his collar. You also noticed how insanely pretty he looked.

“Good evening, miss,” the dark haired man said. “Such a shame to see someone left all alone over here.”

Your smile was a little tight. “Oh, it’s fine. I was just going through a quick assessment of the crowd.” You shrugged and tried not to let all your embarrassment and discomfort show. “It’s my first time being an active participant tonight, so I’m having a bit of cold feet.” Your giggle showed perfectly how nervous you were.

The pet looked at his owner for a quick second, apparently waiting for permission to speak. The man gave him a curt nod and the smaller, angelic-looking creature spoke. His voice was the most soothing sound you ever heard. “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous. I’m sure you’ll be assigned to someone who can diligently care for you.” The smile he offered his partner showed just how much trust ran between them. “I was assigned to Jeongguk months ago and the match was tailored to my needs so thoroughly that all the nerves melted away once I was with him.”

Jeongguk smiled at his partner with the most gentle gleam in his eyes. “It’s because it feels natural to take care of you. You make it too easy, my love.” He skimmed his lover’s cheek with the back of his hand and the pet closed his eyes and leaned in in gratitude.

You softened at the exchange, hoping that just like them you’d be eased into a caring person’s arms. You hoped they had all the abilities to slither in your mind and untangle all the years of doubts and uncertainties and curiosities. You hoped for firm hands and tender guidance, for open-mindedness and intelligence — in its most etymological sense, that of being able to read inside things.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be assigned to someone patient and trained to work with newbies,” Jeongguk’s smile reminded you of hot chocolate and marshmallows.

“I hope so. I would feel so disappointed if I ruined someone’s night.” You averted your gaze as you overtly spoke your sharpest fear.

“There’s no chance of that happening. Anyone would feel honoured to have you in their bed, or wherever you enjoy your endeavours best.” Jeongguk’s tentative innuendo made your insides flutter a little as heat pleasantly crept to your cheeks.

“Trust me, I’ll do anything in my power to please them.” Your eyes were steady as you stated your intent with surety. That was the only thing you were one hundred percent adamant about.

“And that is why you’ll be fine,” Jeongguk reassured you, bowing a little as he noticed the so-called master of the revels come out of his rooms. “I believe the time for doubts is over, miss. We’re getting started.”

The silver bell announced the assignments being completed. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, nodding at the two men before you. “I guess so. Enjoy your debauchery, dears.”

“You as well, darling,” the blonde replied, his face so soft and perfect, his eyes so sultry and sweet at the same time.

Jeongguk looked at his partner before tugging at the leash suggestively. “Let’s go, kitty.”

And they left.

You had to wait a couple minutes before your number was called and you were informed about your room. Nervous didn’t even begin to cover how you felt as you knocked at the door, waiting expectantly.

Nobody answered for a very long minute.

You grew even more tense as you knocked harder — maybe they hadn’t heard?

A few steps came from the opposite side of the door and it opened. “Yes?”

You were frozen there.

And the man in front of you froze too. He blinked rapidly twice. “Hello.”

“Hi, I’m Mia, I think I was assigned to you.”

“Mia, yes. Hello.” He smiled and dammit, a dimple appeared at his cheek. “I’m Namjoon. Lovely to meet you.” He stretched his hand forward and you stared at it for a couple — very rapid — heartbeats. Then you caught his palm in yours.

His hand was warm, just a little bit sweaty — which was reassuring because he had to be nervous too, after all — and his grip was solid but not aggressive or painful.

It was just perfectly tight. He seemed steady and reliable. The fact that his attire also gave him a grown-up, mature look contributed to you smiling at him shyly as you said, “Likewise.”

He let go of your hand and took a step aside, his body language inviting you in the room as he spread his arm and drew a half circle before him. “Sorry if I made you wait, I was reading your papers.”

His face looked relaxed as he got comfortable on a chaise far from the feet of the bed.

“I’m having a cup of tea, would you like me to order some for you, something to drink?” His stare was aimed at you, waiting for your reply.

“No, I’m fine, thank you.” You sat at the chair matching his on the opposite side of a low table.

He put down the paper and took hold of his mug. “Would you like some time to read my paper or would you rather we get to know each other in a… chattier, more spontaneous way?”

You were caught just slightly off guard by his proposition, so you needed a few seconds to catch up. “Uhm, I don’t know, it’s my first time.” God, you felt so dumb.

“That’s okay, sweetheart.” He chuckled warmly before he startled. “Oh, are you okay with that nickname?”

Your chest felt a shy heat climb to the surface. “It’s lovely.”

You watched a fraction of tension leave his body. “Excellent. Would you like me to take the lead? I sort of assumed you’d prefer so.” He sucked his lips, probably referring to you being on the less dominant side — or so you thought you were.

“Sure. I’m pretty much exploring, therefore I think it would be more efficient if we headed where you’re more interested to go.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, staring straight ahead before he made eye contact with you and you felt the gaze of a professional inquirer starting to rummage through your cues, both physical and verbal. “Well… You mentioned having several experiences as a voyeur. What brought you to enter the games as a participant?”

He observed your fingers as you fiddled with them on your lap.

“I’ve seen many, many things in the last few months. They look nice on other people, but I’m wondering whether they would work on me.” You shrugged with one shoulder. “I guess I’m a quintessentially curious being.”

He nodded appreciatively. “I’m certain this trait of yours will be greatly rewarded throughout your life.” The way his eyes were once more piercing through your face got you on edge again. You felt electric. “And why explore now, why here?”

Your embarrassed giggle gave away too much for you to lie or omit and save some crumbs of dignity. “I’ve never had someone I was free to experiment with. None of my previous partners made me feel safe enough for me to… unravel, I guess. And here I feel like I’m doing things for myself, rather than for the other person — or people. Also, the fact that we’re matched because the other person has similar interests to our own makes it more… I don’t know. It makes me feel like I don’t have to be the person my partner has imagined me to be.”

Namjoon nodded again, looked away and stayed silent as he had one more sip of tea. You could tell he was thinking, but the silence made you nervous anyway. What if he thought you were strange, or difficult or messed up or—

“Expectations can sadly form a cage that makes us uncomfortable even around those who should make us the most at ease.” He arched an eyebrow and pointed his sharp gaze on your eyes. “And before we start forming cages ourselves, I guess I must tell you something, Mia.”

Your eyebrows arched in surprise. “Sure.”

“I believe I’ve seen you before.” He blinked slowly. “I’m quite the voyeur myself,” he said, shifting in the chair to make himself more comfortable. The shift in position also managed to make him look bigger and more authoritative in the process. “Please, correct me if I’m mistaken, but is it possible that you own a channel for adult content called White Lies?”

You froze. There had been a couple stares that made you wonder whether you’d ever been recognised, but you rarely showing your face on your videos and always wearing a mask when there could be slip-ups had to have protected you in most occasions. Still… “How did you…?”

When you didn’t finish your question and let the silence linger, Namjoon realised you were going to let it hang like that. So he stepped in. “Your voice and the moles on the side of your neck.” He hesitated. “The shape of your lips, too.”

You knew your entire body and to be glowing with heat. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m the sorry one.” He stood up. “I’m genuinely appalled I put you in this position. You can leave, if you’d like. Or I can. Whatever suits you best.” He took several steps away from you, making sure he wasn’t even possibly remotely invading your personal space.

“It’s… Why would you leave?” You asked, perplexed.

“You seemed uncomfortable and I realised that some people might prefer these kinds of affairs to stay unspoken. I know nothing of you and your preferences and I should have approached the matter more tactfully.”

You shook your head. You had managed to make the sweet man before you panic and you felt so uncomfortable with yourself. You huffed out a stressed breath and tried to explain how you were feeling. “That’s… That’s not… I don’t really care about that, Namjoon. It’s just that it’s the first time someone has addressed the topic with me. If I’ve ever been recognised, no one ever confronted me about it.” You stood and took a step toward him, showing through your body language that he needn’t be so formal around you.

“It’s the first time I’m one hundred percent sure the person in front of me had watched me—” you searched for the right wording, “engage in sexual acts.”

His eyes met yours fugaciously. It was brief and shameful. “I wanted you to know this. I felt like the field was uneven. Like you were fighting up from downhill while I sat on top of the hill.”

You found the analogy amusing, but you left that for later. “Then thank you for evening the field.” Your smile was kind, hopefully reassuring. “You watch my content?”

He nodded, arching an eyebrow and sucking his cheek. “I do.”

“And you’re here,” you mused, scrutinising his frame. He looked solid, large, well-built. And he oozed a specific brand of charisma that must have made plenty of people swoon around him, eager to throw themselves at him.

“As you said, it’s not easy to deal with expectations.” His eyes held something sardonically ironic, but also charmingly dark. “I quite project the Prince Charming, but I reckon my tastes greatly differ.”

Your eyebrows arched upwards. You were immensely interested, but firstly you replied, “You’ve seen what I do. It’s not something my partners would have been expecting either.” You cocked your head to the side, now being your turn to ask questions. “Now I’m curious, what is it that your tastes request?”

His eyes skated down your curves. “Plenty of things you’ve shown enjoying.”

“Which entails…?”

“Which entails watching someone put on a show for me. Lingerie. Lap dances. Jewel toys. A thoroughly tailor-made eye candy with the brain of a nympho. Someone willing to explore. Someone playfully obedient. Someone who can discuss the history of visual design while a vibrator is making them cum non stop — yes, that one is a personal favourite, Doll.”

You licked your lips and undid the first button of your dress.

Namjoon stared at the small triangle of skin that emerged, then he focused on your face again.

“Did we ever interact through video?”

“No.” His reply was brief but not rude, probably cut short by the fact that one more button had come undone.

“That’s a shame.” You didn’t know what you were doing. It’s not like you usually were the initiator. “I believe we would have had plenty of fun together. I’m eager to please and it seems like you’re pleased by unspeakably erotic acts.”

“If only you knew, Mia.” He followed the movements of your hands with hawk eyes as you moved to the third button.

He stepped forward harshly and caught your hands. “I believe that’s my job, Doll.”

You licked your lips, suddenly void of moisture. “Then you should see to it getting done.” His hands weren’t clammy this time, they were steady and inescapable.

“Are you sure, Mia?”

“Never been surer.” And it was true. He had seen you behind closed doors. He had read your papers, he’d been considerate and he’d been open. Maybe you were the worst judge of character, but from his looks and the twenty minutes or so you had spent together, you were sure you wouldn’t regret baring yourself to him.

He undid one more button, the lace of your bra starting to emerge.

“Do you like what you usually do for the camera?” He asked, looking at the row of buttons in a way that made it easier for you to speak.

“There are some things I like more.”

“I want to know all of them.” And once more his intense gaze was pinning your own. “Tell me.”

“I liked the thing you mentioned earlier, with the vibrator.”

“You do have a bunch of videos like that.” He lowered himself, kneeling before you as he reached the buttons on your pelvis. “What else?”

You shook your head, one more button coming undone, Namjoon focused on the tiny bead before he realised you had been silent for too long. He angled his face towards you, scrutinising your visage. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head and smiled sweetly, endeared by the way he was so careful with you. “Not at all.” You felt your lips curl into a pout. “It's just that… I guess I know what I like when I'm alone, but with another person, a man… I'm not experienced enough.”

His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the button before your navel. He hesitantly let his digits trace the shape of your waist, his touch so light it caused goosebumps to erupt on your skin, making you shudder.

He removed his hands quickly, but you caught his wrists and brought his hands back to your waistline, this time making his palms fully connect with your body.

“How much experience do you have, precisely?” His voice was so delicate, so quiet, and so deep.

You wanted to feel it against your neck. You also wished your dress was already on the floor, you wished his hands were bare on your bare skin, but the viscose was still opposing a smooth barrier between the two of you.

“I did some foreplay once, when I was in college.” You shrugged. “And then I dated mostly girls. I'm not… Let's say it's been a while since I've interacted with a penis in real life, and then again, I only touched one, maybe three times, that's all.”

Namjoon inhaled and held his breath. “That's all? Are you sure?” He asked, realising how it sounded only once he read the look on your face. “God, that sounded rude. It just feels bizarre that someone… That what you did— What you do… With White Lies… And then you don't—” He rose to his feet, eager to have this conversation face to face.

“I'm not celibate, Namjoon. I'm familiar with silicone and glass dicks, it's just that the flesh ones attached to human beings are usually too confusing. Too many emotions, sensations, too much subtext. Intimacy is complex, and I focus on it too much to enjoy the sex. Not to mention it usually sucks to find a good personality, an open mind and an understanding soul attached to the dick.”

He arched an eyebrow and nodded to himself. His palms shifted to the small of your back. “It makes sense.” He lifted his hands off, leaving only the fingertips of his middle fingers tracing patterns so light it almost felt like you were imagining them. “So you know what you like by yourself, but you wouldn't know what you enjoy with a man, since you've never tried anything, except from what you did three times in college — which is around five years ago, if I'm assuming correctly.”

“Four,” you corrected him. “But yes, you're correct.”

“What did you do? Did you like it?”

“Uhm… A couple handjobs, maybe a blowjob, sort of. It was all very… I was too focused on trying to do it right to understand whether I was enjoying it.” You took a step closer to him, Namjoon inhaling sharply as you did so, taking in your perfume.

You did so too, his cologne invading your senses. It smelled clean and light, just right. “I just want to try everything I cannot do by myself. I want to know how different a real dick feels, I want to feel how it's really like to be fucked by a man. I want to feel a man orgasm in my hands, if it feels as powerful as it seems when you watch it happen. I want to trace my nails against a man's strong torso while I ride his dick. I want to feel hands that are not my own gripping my boobs, grabbing my ass, sinking into my thighs.”

His eyes burned into yours. “You want to feel a real dick, you say,” he mused. “Can do.” And he lowered himself once more to his knees.

You expected a different reaction and he seemed to read the confusion on your face.

“Patience, Doll. I'll give it to you, just not yet. There's no fun in skipping bases.” You would have defined his expression as gluttonous as he pulled you closer and pressed his lips to your stomach.

Tentatively, he pressed his wrists to the small of your back, slowly lowering his hands to touch the upper curve of your glutes. “You can stop me at any time, Doll. I'll slow down and check in on you at 'yellow', stop at 'red'.”

“I know how it works, don't worry,” you spoke calmly, reassuring him.

“Good.” His hands moved back to your front, finally addressing the last few buttons left.

The first uncovered the waistband of your panties, the following one exposed the lace-clad skin of your mound to his warm breath, which trembled softly as Namjoon exhaled.

He looked up at you, his lips agape, then traced the little bow on the front of your panties with the tip of his nose, his mouth skimming skin that no one had touched in so long.

“I bet you can't touch yourself like this, mh?” He murmured, his tone so dark and lush it felt like diving in molten chocolate. “I bet you're too impatient to touch yourself like this.” He undid another button while his face still lingered one breath away from your navel. “Feel it, Doll.”

And suddenly your dress was open, agape on your lingerie-clad figure.

“Focus on it,” he teased.

His hands landed like butterflies on the side of your knees, below the hem of your dress, then traced your calves, all the way to your ankles. “As lovely as you look in these heels, I don't think you're gonna need them in a long while, Mia. You need to go anywhere, you'll do so in my arms. Lean on me, sweetheart,” he invited you kindly, with a type of surety that didn't make you doubt his intentions. He was okay with you doing so, and that's why he had told you to do it. You were fine with it.

Your hand landed on his shoulder and that was it: your entire being was pervaded by the utter power he exuded. He felt as solid as he seemed.

You lifted your foot to help him take off your shoe, then you did the same with the other side.

His hand went back to your knee, his eye studying it until he traced a little scar there with his thumb. He kissed it next. “What happened there, sweetheart?”

You wiggled your toes, suddenly nervous at the way he was seducing you with little touches and the kind of attention you'd never received before. It was like he was learning you. In maybe forty minutes he had done a better job at understanding you than most people in your everyday life.

“I fell while ice skating. Back in high school.”

He kissed it again, this time more sensually, his lips softer and wetter. “It must have been a nasty cut for it to leave such a scar.”

“It was.” You reached for his hair, touching it lightly, almost scared to startle him.

He looked up at you.

You smiled at him and his face lit up in what looked like wonder before he smiled back at you.

“Come here,” you instructed him, tracing the slopes of his shoulders on the way to his neck, your fingers touching his nape, pulling up a little as a cue.

Instead he just closed his eyes and sighed. “I like my neck being touched,” he said, letting the muscles relax as his head tipped back, exposing the glorious column of his throat.

You studied it with your eyes before feeling it with the tips of your thumbs. “So convenient that it looks so sexy.” He purred at the compliment and you felt the sound vibrate beneath your digits. “And it feels pretty amazing that you're kneeling, but if you come up here I could kiss your neck and that sounds even more amazing in my humble opinion.”

He opened his eyes lazily, smiled and stood slowly. “It's nice having a neck to kiss, mh?”

“It's nice having someone to kiss it, mh?” You teased in return.

His little chuckle made your inside flutters, especially as now he was towering over you and his hands were once more resting on your butt. “I can't see why you're still talking and not kissing.” He argued back cockily.

You stretched to your tiptoes and managed to reach his collarbone.

And then you felt it. He arched his hips forward, his pelvis suddenly pressed against your belly. It stole your breath.

He had to be damn hung if you could feel his erection so blatantly against you. “You wanted to feel a real dick, right?” His voice rumbled so close to your ear.

“Yeah… Yes, I did. I do.” Words weren't easy to find. You were stuttering, distracted, your mind so frail.

He cackled, half mocking, half pleased. His hands shamelessly pressed you further into him, cupping your ass harshly needily. “I remember a request for your butt to be grabbed, or something along that line. Do you like it harder?”

There was only one hard thing you could possibly be focusing on.

Actually two, since breathing wasn't exactly an easy task either at the moment.

“You're hard enough, I guess.”

“I could go harder,” he said, lowering his mouth to your ear. “But let's focus on your butt and the grabbing for now. Am I too rough, Mia?”

“No,” you exhaled. “You're just perfect.” And it was bloody true.

“Excellent.” He took half a minuscule step back, giving your backside a final squeeze before he removed the tension altogether, his hands just resting there. “I think it's my turn to be undressed. What do you say, Doll?”

You licked your lips, realising you were both tiptoeing around the way your mouth and his felt like magnets, gravitating closer and closer to each other, feeling that dangerous, numbing pull that made it too easy to forget you were technically strangers.

Your hands found the button at his collar and you gave him a little reprieve by focusing on his shirt rather than on his face — or on the undeniable, unforgettable bulge below his belt.

On your tiptoes, you kissed the sliver of newly uncovered skin. It was hesitant, and you didn’t know if it affected him just as much as his kisses had affected you. His hum however was an effective cue, and you repeated the gesture as the following button came undone, all the way down until the garment rested open on his torso and you could slip your hand inside the lapels to touch his sturdy abdomen.

It had a little give against your hands, but it was undeniable the muscles underneath were trained and strong, even though they rested under a layer of soft flesh.

You were ready to push the shirt off when he stopped you and offered his cuff. “Undo this one, please.”

You frowned but undid the button there too, looking into his eyes as he offered the other wrist. One more button undone.

“Any more buttons to undo?”

He turned his back to you and walked to his chaise. “Don’t give me sass, Mia.” And he sat. Rolled up his sleeves — the left one first, the right one second.

Good lord, his forearms were corded in muscles.

He caught you gawking and chuckled at you, shaking his head. “Come stand in front of me, sweetheart.”

You tried to bring some moisture to your mouth, following his request and finding yourself once more under his meticulous scrutiny.

He let his torso fill the back of the chair, almost flaring as he grabbed his cup of tea and took a sip. He looked so… large, just large. Massive. And you knew he wasn’t all that muscular or tall or bulky compared to some of the guys you had seen, but his demeanour managed to make up for what he lacked — if he could ever be considered lacking, that is — in sheer confidence. It was true dominance, the one that comes from knowledge and honed skills and talent. Nature had gifted him prodigally and he’d worked on his gift diligently.

So when he said, “Put on a pretty show for me, sweetheart”, it came natural for you to drop your dress to the floor and stand before him in your sage coloured lingerie.

“I love the colour, Mia. It compliments you deliciously.”

You felt heat creep to your cheeks and at the same time spread to your inner thighs. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” He grinned. “You have no idea how much.”

You licked your lips and stared at his lap. “I guess I do.”

If you weren’t a grown up woman with an extended porn library, you would have dropped your panties at the smirk he threw you.

“Be patient, doll.” He put down his cup and leaned with his elbows to his knees, his chin propped on his laced fingers. “Show me how much it pleases you, then.”

Was that… Was it…?

He noticed your confusion and cocked his head to the side. “Did I say something wrong? Was I inappropriate?”

You shook your head, eager to reassure him he was being fine — by far the finest experience you’d had ever, actually. “No, I was just confused. I don’t know what you’re expecting, that’s all.”

He stared transfixed at the sweet smile on your face, blinked at it as if you were an unsolvable equation. “I’m not expecting anything, Mia.” He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index before pinching the bridge of his nose. He exhaled and relaxed once more against the chair.

Had you stressed him? God, you were being impossible. Men came here to bring their basest fantasies to reality while you were being a vanilla little prude and he was paying all that money to deal with nothing but a disappointment. He just wanted to unwind and yet you were making him frown and get blue balls.

Your arms furled before you, your body suddenly too exposed.

“Mia,” he called, watching your forearm cover your chest, your wrist resting protectively over your lap. “Oh, god, Mia.” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, sweetheart. Come here, please.” He stretched his arms forward and you took an hesitant step toward him. “Come, doll. Sit on my lap, would you like that?”

You thought about it, blinking repeatedly, biting your lip in an expression which must have recalled something of a scolded puppy. “I’m sorry I’m disappointing you,” you said, your voice betraying all your insecurities.

“You aren’t, doll.” His voice was so calm and tender. “I’m trying to play your game, here, Mia. I want to make you comfortable, I want to watch you do everything you like.” He shook his head. “I just realised I have no idea about it, I’m biased by what I watched on your channel. I want to be your fantasy, Mia, but I have no idea what you would like that to be.”

You realised that, at that point, sitting on his lap was as soothing to you as it was to him, so you walked the last step to him and got comfortable in his arms. “I don’t think I have a fantasy either. I just focus on the camera half the time. The other half I watch myself and ask if I’m similar enough to what men want to see.”

“Fuck it, doll. That sounds awful, Mia.” His arms wrapped around you. “What about your own pleasure, sweetheart? What about what you want?”

You shook your head and frowned. “I guess I’ve never thought about it, really. It doesn’t feel like a priority.”

“Well, we’ll make it the priority tonight.” Namjoon cupped your cheek and pressed his forehead to yours. “That’s my priority, now.”

“But what about your fantasies?”

He smiled and shook his head, his nose rubbing against yours in the process. “I guess we’ll have to postpone that to our next encounter, what do you think? Would you like it so, sweetheart?”

Next encounter? “You haven’t done anything with me and you already want to see me again? What if we don’t click or… I don’t know, maybe you don’t like me?”

“I wouldn’t have undressed you if I didn’t like you, Mia.” His thumb rubbed your cheek in comfort. “And the last hour or so would have never happened, doll.”

You were caught off guard entirely. “My pleasure this time, your pleasure next time, you were saying.” You tried to bring your brain to recap.

“Yes sweetheart, but if you don’t want a next time—”

“I do,” you clarified abruptly. “As long as it works, for both of us, this time.” You nodded, trying to form an overall thought of the entire situation.

His eyes were diving into yours. “I’ve got you, Mia. My kink is giving pleasure to my partner until they can’t stand it anymore.”

You stilled at his admission.

“When I saw your papers all I saw in those 'maybes' was how many ways I could try to make you come undone until tears streamed down your face and your body was so exhausted it needed me to pamper it back into functioning.” He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to control himself, apparently. “When I tell you to put up a show for me, doll, I’m trying to bring you to your most familiar scenario. I’m trying to enjoy you feeling yourself.”

Where did this man come from? How did the universe, and society shape such a treat to womankind?

Your face formed a helpless expression as you found no possible answer. You just leaned forward and placed your lips against his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

He looked at you as you leaned back, his hand still holding your face. “No biggie, doll. But please, don’t ever cover up in front of me. It broke my heart to see you close off.”

You pouted your lips and nodded. “I won’t.”

“Good.” He simply stared at you in silence and you could feel a faint bond form between the two of you.

“Can I please put on a show for you now?” You asked in a voice so tiny you doubted it had actually come from you.

He eyed you suspiciously, as if assessing your well-being. “Is that what pleases you, doll?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what we’re doing, lovely.” His hand steadied you on your feet and you took some steps back, reaching the feet of the bed and climbing it, plopping your ass down on the balls of your feet as your arm reached back, to the clasp of your bra.

You felt the pressure ease as you snapped it open and slipped it off.

You allowed yourself a quick glance at Namjoon, finding him once more leaning forward, studying your every move.

You grinned and threw your bra at him.

His dark chuckle made your insides feel like uncorked champagne.

You rose to your knees and let your hands trace the back of your thighs before grabbing your ass, kneading it slowly and thoroughly before you gave it a playful slap that made him hiss and groan.

“That sounded pretty good on you, mh?” You teased him.

“The noise was amazing. And that jiggle… Looks exquisite, doll.”

“Don’t you wanna feel it under your hands?”

He tutted. “Later.” He waited for half a second. What were you going to do? Were you going to touch yourself? He hoped so. He was aching for you to do so.

You turned around and this time you weren’t afraid to bare yourself to him. Your boobs looked tender and full even three feet away from where you were sitting, Namjoon praying he would someday get to sink his face between them.

“What do you want to do now?” You asked him, your hands cupping your breasts, your thumbs massaging your nipples, a chill crossing the room and causing them to peak almost painfully.

“Watch you.”

“You can watch me while you spank me, you know.” Your eyes twinkled. “But maybe you don’t want to.”

“I want to, doll.” He wanted you to command yourself, but at this point he assumed from your requests you needed to be directed. And before acting on his assumption, he asked, “Do you need me to tell you what to do, Mia? Do you need guidance, sweetheart?”

No hesitation. “Please,” you replied as soon as the question left his lips.

“I’ll leave you room to act around my requests, okay? I don’t want you to feel forced into things that make you uncomfortable, yes?” His tone would have been patronising if it weren’t for the way he empowered you constantly, leaving you ins and outs of things.

“Okay. And I’ll tell you if anything makes me uncomfortable, if that makes you more at ease.”

“You’re such a sweetheart. Thank you, doll.” His grin was thankful and playful at the same time. “Would you like to touch yourself for me, Mia? Make yourself come for me?”

You nodded. That you could do, that you would do. That you knew you could manage. “In which position?”

He shook his head with an incredulous smile. “Whichever you like best, lovely.”

“Can I look at you while I do it?”

“I really hope you do, baby.”

God, his voice was like honey and you were a restless busy bee trying to get as much as you could. “Panties off?”

“You want them off, they’re off, doll. Anything you like. I’m here to watch, everything is up to you.”

So you grabbed some pillows, fluffed them up in the middle of the bed, then laid down, your torso propped on the pillow, your legs bent as you lifted your hips and slipped off your panties. And spread your legs.

Namjoons felt ravenous “Closer, doll.”

You bent your legs further and brought your ass closer to the edge of the bed. “Like this?”

You heard the chair scrape against the floor, but he didn’t come too close, some respectable two feet left between the two of you.

You looked into his eyes as you brought your middle and ring finger to your mouth and soaked them in your saliva. And then moved them to your folds.

You immediately realised the extra lubrication was useful but unnecessary. You were soaked.

“Is it wet, Mia?”

You grinned. “Dripping.”

“Would you taste yourself for me, pet?” His saccharine smile made him undeniable.

You sunk your digits inside your hole, stretched yourself and purred — just for his hearing pleasure — before extracting your fingers, teasing your clitoris with sadistic intent, making him wait, and then bringing your hand to your mouth, delivering a kitten lick to the moisture coating your fingertips.

“Fucking sin you are, Mia,” he groaned, palming his crotch as he fixed his erection inside his pants.

“Can you believe it? I’m the sweetest,” you provoked him with a coquettish look.

He bit his lip. “Never doubted it, doll.”

“Am I making you hard?” You asked, a bit needy.

“You’re hitting all the right spots, sweetheart. You don’t realise the effect you have on people, Mia. The effect you have on me.” His hands rubbed his thighs as he tried to focus, but your fingers were drawing torturous circles on your core and the fact that your pussy was perfectly shaved and he could see how pink it was, how wet, the fact that he could hear the sound of it squelching as it welcomed your fingers — just two girly, lithe fingers, a ridicule comparison to his dick…

He was pretty sure the world could end and his only regret was not meeting you sooner enough to have a taste of you — and maybe fuck you for at least five years or so.

“Can I come?” The question came naturally, like it always did whenever you live streamed for your audience. But this time the audience was just one person, who happened to be very sure about the answer.

“Of course you can, anytime you want for however many times you fancy, doll.” He forced himself to lean back, only because the pressure gathered at his lap was hurting him. He needed more room.

“Can I ask for a… an encouragement, so to say? Visual aid…”

Namjoon’s eyes darted to yours like arrows. “Anything.”

“Your shirt. Off.”

He grinned. “That’s easy.” And off it went. And then, there was his chest, all of it. And there were his hands touching it, rubbing it, stroking it. There were his fingers wrapping around the base of his neck as you got louder, as your hips started rocking back and forth, as they lifted off the mattress and suddenly you were riding your high, eager, hungry, desperate, calling his name just once.

“Yes, baby. It’s me. It’s all for me,” he growled possessively, his eyes never leaving your wrecked body while his hand headed south and cupped his crotch, his own hips rocking against his hand as suddenly he couldn’t postpone his release anymore. “You look so beautiful, Mia. You’re an erotic epiphany, doll. A fucking revelation.”And he said it with such wonder in his voice you wanted to give him more, you wanted to give him everything. You wanted to show him everything you could and would do for him.

With your fingers still inside you, you rose to your knees, feeling your breast starting to bounce as you moved your digits to your clitoris and started working your hips in tandem to the rhythm of your hand. You sat on your heels and spread your thighs as far as they could go before you lightly tapped your breast with your free hand. “Touch yourself, Namjoon. I want to see you jerk yourself off. I want to see how easy you come while watching me.”

With his shirt off it was even easier to notice his breathing catch in his throat before he drew out a shuddering exhale. “Sure?”

“Yes.” And as a further eye candy you wrapped your forearm around your chest to squish up your breasts, their plumpness emphasised just as their wiggling. “I want to see your dick, Namjoon. And I know it’s big, which makes me even more needy.”

“It’s regular sized,” he said, trying to defend himself sheepishly.

“I don’t wanna fight about the size of your dick, just take it out and let me see it.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Pretty demanding, don’t you think?”

“Pick your poison, handsome,” you replied sassily.

He looked pleasantly surprised but he didn’t complain as he quickly undid his belt, his button and the zipper, pushing his hand inside his underwear and helping his erection out of its restraints.

It was thick. That was the first thing you thought. So thick it would probably take you four fingers to get ready for that. Probably fucking yourself with a dildo first and then ambitiously try to take him was the only way for it to work.

“How the hell do you fuck with that?” You asked, slowing down as you watched him move his hand on himself.

He shrugged. “Plenty of lube, plenty of patience, and plenty of foreplay. Nothing I would complain about, but I would prefer having a smaller one.”

It was so… The length was manageable, but the width… Dammit, you could see the veins pulsating from two feet away.

He frowned at the dryness of his hand and tucked himself back in quickly as he stood up.

“No, why!” You cried, watching him walk to the bedside drawer and fish out a bottle. He showed it to you. “Oh. Sorry, that’s okay,” you commented, trying not to show how much the sight of him had been a delight to you.

Once back to the comfort of his chair, he unwrapped himself again and poured some lube on his palm, closing the bottle and putting it down before warming the liquid by rubbing his hands together.

You didn’t know where to look as his palms went separate ways, one landing on his chest, the other wrapping around the tip of his erection.

You moaned at the sight: his chest bare and now glistening with lubrication, his fingers wrapped around his throat, rubbing there, his hips starting to push into his hands as he fucked his fist slowly, intentfully, and his head thrown back as he growled in pleasure, the sound so raw it made your toes curl.

Once he managed enough self control to re-establish eye contact with you, you were both so feral with pleasure that each movement caused the other to one up their game, in a ceaseless attempt to overdo each other.

You crumbled first, your palm propping yourself up on the mattress as you snapped forward, fucking yourself with three fingers, your thumb attempting to stay on your clit for however long you managed.

And his name came out of your lips like a litany of gasps and sighs, desperate to finally feel him below you, to feel how a real man can fuck you.

“Mia,” he called, his voice sounding breathier, more urgent. His chest looked so powerful as it followed his respiration, expanding majestically and deflating slowly. “I’m close.”

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

His eyes went wide.

“I haven’t made a man come in years. Not with my hands, not with my mouth.” You stared at him, hell-bent on experiencing the very thing that had convinced you to go from voyeur to actual participant. “It’s mine.”

Namjoon felt the words tug at his stomach, ten million butterflies soaring through his overcrowded lungs. He removed his hands entirely — the message was clear: it wasn’t his orgasm to conjure, his body wasn’t his to touch. It was yours now.

You crawled off the bed and covered the two steps dividing you before you settled between his conveniently spread thighs. Stretching to the table, you grabbed the lube, covered both your hands in it and wrapped them confidently around his shaft, half an inch impeding your fingertips from meeting around the circumference of him.

“This is gonna feel so good inside me,” you mused, not even looking at Namjoon as he prepared for his soul to leave his body.

It happened way faster than he had expected, especially as you didn’t start pumping him with both your fists like he had anticipated, but you wrapped your mouth around the tip and started bobbing your head in tandem with your hands.

“Holy fucking shit, Mia.” He gripped the sides of the chair to keep himself from grabbing your hair and possibly causing you to gag on him or panic. “What are you… shit!”

Your tongue toyed with his frenulum and the happy look on your face as you slapped his leaking tip to the flat of your tongue made him snap his head back, his hips jerking up.

You were high on power. It had taken maybe ten seconds for handsome, polished, smooth Namjoon to swear three times and forget the Oxford dictionary he had probably installed in his brain. Well-spoken, well-dressed and well-educated, he was now a babbling, sweaty, dripping mess crying for your mouth, for his pleasure, for relief. You offered it to him selflessly.

Not caring about his messy hands, you found his wrist and led one to your head. “Gently,” you requested, and as he found the strength to meet your eyes, he caressed your hair, not trusting himself to linger too long and dig his fingers into your locks, cup the back of your head and just… thrust in.

Once you went all out with a swirling tongue, with drenched palms and fingers, combining squeezing and sliding and twisting, he lasted maybe a minute. Words left his mind and all he did was call your name, or sigh, or moan, or growl when you pressed the tip of your tongue to the slit of his tip.

“Gonna cum,” he growled in warning, but you just kept going, until he was filling your mouth with his release.

Nobody had ever come in your mouth before and your eyes shot open, the sensation bizarre but not unpleasant. And he tasted… It tasted interesting. A bit sour and salty, but not outright bad.

You slipped him out of your mouth and before you could swallow you noticed he was still dripping and a solitary droplet had landed on your breast.

You stared at it, curious and amused, looking up at Namjoon to see if he was as fascinated as you were with it.

His gaze met yours with a blissful smile, but once he noticed you avert your eyes, once he saw what you were seeing and your stares met again, both of your expressions turned ravenous.

His excitement encouraged you to open your mouth and show him the reward for your hard work, his orgasm pooling on your tongue.

“Mia, sweetheart,” he rasped.

Your eyes stayed fixed on his as you selected three fingers from your hand and stuck them in your mouth, scooping up as much of his release as you could. And then your attention shifted downwards following your digits as you smeared Namjoon’s semen over your breast, tracing a line all the way down to your sodden, oversensitive folds.

Namjoon breathed through his mouth before he managed to say, “Bloody hell, you’re perfect”, then proceeded to bend down and smash his mouth to yours.

There was never a pretence of a kiss. It was making out from the start — though probably mouth-fucking would have been a more accurate word choice.

His tongue twined with yours, with swirls and thrusts and dives. It felt like sparring with swords. You both breathed through your noses as you kept kissing, his hands grabbing you by the back of your legs as he picked you up and managed to set you astride his thighs. Once your chest was glued to his, your fingers burrowed deep into his hair and your arms crossed behind his neck, he fixed his grip and pulled himself to his feet, carrying you in the process.

“I’m gonna fuck you so filthy, Mia.” He kissed your neck, nibbling on it before adding, “I knew you would be the fuck of my life, but this… This is insane. You’re gonna drive me insane, sweetheart.” He placed you in the middle of the bed and removed his trousers and underwear.

You awaited him with spread legs, waiting to be covered by his scorching flesh, by the weight of his body. Instead, he crawled and licked your chest, his tongue tracing the path your fingers had drawn with his orgasm, making a detour only to suck your nipple in his mouth, which was open so wide he managed to swallow a portion of your breast too. And once he started pumping it in his mouth… Well, your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his head and you feared for his well-being as you realised you had to be neutralised for him to ever be released from you. Both your and his pelvises were grinding against anything they could find, looking for friction.

“If you ever mark yourself with my cum again, I’m gonna have to make you mine permanently, sweetheart.”

The thought made you shudder in pleasure. The idea of belonging to someone… It felt great, even though you should remember Namjoon was still mostly a stranger to you. He could be a horrible person, really.

But it was hard to believe when every small gesture gave away so much of the amazing, considerate, empathetic human being he had to be.

You caressed his head as he dedicated himself to your other nipple, your nails purring against the skin of his shoulder-blades in a way that made him hum deliciously against your suckled flesh.

“Are you gonna make me beg to have you inside me?”

“There are other items before that one on the list.”

You chuckled and arched your chest off the bed as you commented, “There’s a list? Next time I would appreciate it being forwarded to me via email, possibly two to four working days in advance, so I can formally approve it.”

Namjoon gloated at the thought of a next time. “Next time I’m gonna stuff your mouth with your panties so I don’t have to deal with your sass.”

“Come on, the sass makes up for half the fun.”

He bit your breast — not harshly, but enough for it to sting. “You know, if you pulled another blowjob like that one, you could convince me to keep your mouth always free and available.”

He crawled further down, peppering little bites and hickeys down your stomach and navel, until he concluded the path your fingers had traced all the way to your clit. “Now let’s see if I can stop you bitching around like this.”

And he went all out. Right on your sensitive, overstimulated clitoris.

His tongue was all over the place, his cheeks sucking at your labia, at every bit of skin that could flush and blush and flutter, until your whole being was melting and another orgasm possessed you so viciously Namjoon had to hold you down to keep you from thrashing around and potentially hurting him.

Truth was that him not stopping after the third caused the fourth one to be triggered mere seconds after the previous one, your legs wrapping around his head and squeezing him almost painfully.

He moaned, pressing his hips to the mattress, grinding against it, until he was pleased by the fact that he was hardening again.

He could do so much to you, and yet, he just wanted his face covered in your cum, his dick covered in your cum, all of him marked in something yours.

“Mia, sweetheart…” He cooed, his fingers deep inside you while he took his time to rest his tongue, which was about to cramp.

“You're so good at this. Why are you so good at this,” you rambled, lost, your eyes shut tight, your heels digging in the mattress as your hips buckled up, almost hitting his chin.

“Mia, easy,” he said, his tone just barely chastising, most surely amused.

“I can't anymore…” you whined, your knees shutting together.

Namjoon managed to slither away from you, kissing your leg, your navel, your hands after he caught them in his own, untangling them from his hair and bringing your palms to his lips. “Breathe, Mia.”

You forced your lungs to go from shallow gasps to full, round inhales.

“Just like that, sweetheart.” His smile was reassuring and calm, but you couldn’t focus, not with the wetness covering his chin, with the way he grinned like a drunken predator.

You cupped his jaw and pulled him up to you, parting your legs so he could nestle in between them. And as he tried to descend with his face on yours, you blocked him, looking into his eyes intently as you licked the slickness covering his chin and lips.

His mouth opened and he released a heavy, hot exhale. It was erotic to say the least. As was the following grin. “You want to taste everything, don’t you, Mia?” His dimples, the lopsided smile, the knowing look in his eyes, and that hungry gleam in his irises were completely overpowering your will.

He was darkly wild, ready to pounce, willing to push and keep pushing until he got you as filthy as he could, until he saw every particle of your body go from untainted to downright unredeemable.

He stole the taste of you from your tongue with a searing kiss — or rather, with reckless licks of his own tongue into your mouth. His saliva dripped all over your lips and he sucked at them, wrapping his plush mouth against your bottom lip, then against the tip of your tongue, suctioning at the skin, so slippery and hot and tender. All that flesh, and your hot breath spilling from your open mouth and right against his nose. He could feel you the way one does with the smell of lush, humid soil in a torrid summer. He could experience you, with closed eyes, unseeing, and feeling, feeling it all.

The smooth, supple skin of your thighs against his, the cushiony feel of your breasts under his chest, the tickling touch of your hair against his arm.

“Mia…” he sighed, his eyes opening slowly as your hand found his wrist and led his stained fingers to your mouth. “Oh, Mia.”

He just shook his head, longing clawing at his lineaments as his digits rested on your tongue, your lips curled around them as you sucked them, twirling your tongue until nothing was left of your taste.

“I like this a lot,” you confessed breathlessly. “I didn’t know I wanted this. And now I need it so much, Namjoon.”

He was painfully hard and he could only blame you. “Take it, then. Take everything, Mia.”

Your hand slid down his side, till it reached the small of his back. “Everything?” You asked.

He nodded, hazed, eyes glossy and unseeing as he ground against your hip. “Everything, Mia.”

You cupped his ass, gripping it with both hands, sinking your nails just a fraction past gently, bathing in the feel of his raspy breath against your throat.

“Devil,” he hissed before grinding square against your core, heat against heat, your slickness easing the friction.

Your hand ventured to his front and gripped his erection, pointing it to your entrance.

His eyes looked glassy when he muttered, “Hold on.”

It took you a second to process and then you stopped right there, suddenly petrified. “Are you sure of this, Mia?” His voice was strained and dark and he had to blink four times to focus.

You frowned and smiled at him, as if to say 'silly boy'. “Of course!?”

“I find enthusiastic, explicit spoken consent extremely sexy.” He kissed your neck, tipping his hips back before stroking himself inside your fist. “I find it delicious when someone eagerly consents to their own undoing.”

You let your fingers slither into the hair at his nape before you tugged at it, forcing him to move back and look you in the eye. “Then please, Namjoon. Undo me. You've made me wait so much that now I don't just want it. I need it.” Your eyes softened with a plea. “Please, ruin me.”

“You're perfect,” he whispered before he kissed you, using your mouth to muffle his groan as he slid inside you.

“Fuck, this is heaven,” he gasped.

“Wait till I…” and you completed your sentence with the flat of your tongue against his hypersensitive neck.

The way he bucked in made you set your legs wider apart and arch into him. “I’m gonna die in this cunt, Mia. Fuck, I’ve never dared to dream this, doll.” He stretched his neck to give you better access. “I’m going to go feral on you, Mia. You might need your safewords, doll. Please use them if you need them, okay? I would never mean to hurt you.” He thrusted in again and dammit, you squealed. He was so deep inside, and so thick. Everytime he pulled out, a burning feeling made you shut your eyes and fist the sheets. But when he moved back in…

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure. “It’s okay. I can take it. I’m a good girl,” you reassured him — or maybe yourself.

“Of course you are, Mia. You’re the filthiest, most perfect woman I’ve ever pleased. You’re a sex wonderland, doll.” He grunted and wrapped his arms around you. “Pull your knees to your chest, it’s gonna help you take it better.” He kissed your brow. “Don’t force yourself, okay?”

You nodded and shuddered when he licked his thumb and helped his hand down between your bodies.

“Like this?” He asked, his plump digit tracing circles over your sensitive nub.

“Like that,” you exhaled, your insides clenching in agreement.

“Like that,” he rumbled, feeling you tighten around him, and growing wetter at the same time. It was exactly what he needed.

“Can you put your legs on my shoulders, doll?”

God, he was so hot, so sweaty on top of you. He looked glorious in the dimly golden lights of the room. You followed his advice and found yourself spread for him, aroused, breathless and at his mercy.

Once you arched up, trying to conjunct your mouth with his, he obliged you, helping you cover the sound that left your throat once you finally tipped over the edge.

You were falling, no safety net except for Namjoon’s large body.

He felt like a boulder.

You curled up against him and trusted him to lead you through your high — which he did, impeccably.

“Mia, sweetheart,” he cooed once your eyes opened for him. His smile was obliterating. “There she is,” he said fondly and proudly at the same time. “Do you think you can give me a last one, doll? Just one, for me.” He kissed the side of your head. “Would you like to, sweetheart?”

And heavens, you would never deny him, not when he was melting inside you and you could have it all, really have it all. “I want to feel you cum inside me. I want it dripping down my cunt. I want to feel it, hot, all over my sex. Is it as hot as it looks? Is it as wild as it seems?”

Namjoon tipped his head back, clenching his jaw before he aggressively plunged forward. “Keep talking, Mia.”

You licked your lips. “How does it feel for you? Is it wet enough? Tight enough?”

“It’s tighter now,” he said through gritted teeth. “And it’s soaking wet, love. It’s like swimming, so smooth. Perfect.”

“Are you going to ruin me for everyone else? Will you mark me up?” You were batting your eyelashes, eyes chasing the droplets of sweat glistening across his chest. His wide, strong, bulky chest.

“I’m gonna fucking own you, Mia,” he snarled. “You wanna be covered in my cum, love?”

You nodded eagerly before tipping your head down and wrapping your lips around his neck, sucking viciously. You let your lips smack as you released his skin. “I want it all. Wreck me.”

“Wreck you?” He chuckled coarsely. “How, Mia?” He was breathless and so hot, both in temperature and in attitude.

“However you want. I want to get dirty just for you.” Your fingers gripped his hair, tipping his head just so you could mark the other side of his neck. “I don’t care about anyone else. I want to make every deranged dream of yours come true.” Your nails ground into his shoulder and he moaned in pleasure.

“You want to get dirty? Just for me?”

“I’ve been good my whole life.” You shook your head. “I’ve never done this with anyone. Not this wild. Not this needy.”

He grinned and sunk his knees in the mattress, sliding his hands below you and cupping your ass. “Spread them wide for me, love.”

You let your legs stretch to your sides and dropped them as low as they would go, Namjoon rising to his hands, arching his back and hitting all the right angles. “Touch yourself, Mia. Let me see those sinful fingers of yours.”

He grinned as you followed his command. “Dirty little animal. Is this wild enough for you, Mia?”

“Harder,” you snapped without mercy.

And he obeyed, looking at you as your gaze moved down, staring at where your bodies joined so crudely and yet so magically at the same time.

And with this sight of you when he spoke next, he didn't hold back. “You like getting wild for this dick, mh?” His sardonic expression made it even better. “You will only get dirty for it. I will get you through so much pleasure I will drill your body into getting wet on the mere sight of me, doll.” He lowered his face to yours. “I’ll teach you how to give me every ounce of pleasure you own. And you’ll get used to leaning on me after I’m done with you. You’ll love it so much you won’t do it by yourself anymore.” Every sentence was slow, full of intent, gasps and pants punctuating them. “You’ll prefer my touch over your own.” He pressed his forehead to yours, gently brushing his nose to yours. “And you won’t cum unless I’m there to hold you afterwards. What do you say, Mia?”

You shook your head, looking for the words. To be owned. Possessed, like that. “I—” you gasped. “I want it,” you managed to utter with great effort.

That’s when Namjoon let himself go.

It was feral, harsh, unforgiving hard thrusts into you and out of you, almost out, then deep inside until you couldn’t take it anymore and abandoned yourself to him. You sank into your orgasm, caught in the tide, eyes closed and Namjoon’s mouth desperately searching for yours until he could roar your name in peace, the sound muffled under some semblance of control thanks to your lips against his.

It took minutes for either of you to speak.

“I came inside…” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “You wanted me outs—”

“It’s perfect, stay where you are.” You wound your arms tight around him. “Don't go anywhere. Stay here.” You wrapped your legs around his waist. “Right here.”

“Sorry I got possessive, I didn’t mean those things. I might have overdone it, we barely know each other.” He was already tormenting himself, he knew he had ruined it. Saying that stuff to a stranger… You had to think he was an obsessive maniac.

You simply kissed his head. “It was a bit strong, yes. But it was also very hot. You were very hot. Everything was.”

“Also the degrading part, the corruption kink, the—”

“All of it.” One more kiss to his hair. “Don’t trip, Namjoon.”

“I must have overstepped. I’m sure I—”

You tutted and held him, grabbing his face and making him look at you, not without him trying to resist you for a bunch of seconds. “Why are you overthinking this?” You asked.

“Because this is the part where everyone gets out of bed and wraps themselves in a towel and asks for space.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, those are my traumas, not you.”

You nodded, “True. But it’s also my duty to make sure your traumas are taken care of, just like you took care of mine.”

He stiffened in your arms.

“What is it, handsome?”

He looked insecure. “I just didn’t expect this. It feels nice.”

“I’m not taking this from you. You can relax here.” You smiled sweetly, reassuringly. “I’m staying here. This is your safe place, Namjoon.”

You didn’t expect Namjoon to drop so quickly and drastically afterwards, but apparently he was sensitive like that. And it made you even more eager to keep him close. The pleasure, the open minded experimenting, the touching, the kissing, the fucking, it was all topped by a vulnerable man wrecking you first, and then melting like balm on your soul, pulling the two of you together by sharing delicate, soft moments of bare intimacy.

He was offering you his most vulnerable side and you just held it and toughened yourself to a shield for him.

“You should clean up,” he tried to argue.

“In a minute, once you’re feeling better.” You rubbed circles into his back.

“I’m the one supposed to give you aftercare.” His tone was dull, disappointed.

You rolled your eyes. “We’re giving each other aftercare,” you argued back.

He pulled out, not without you protesting. “Then allow me,” he spoke tentatively against your ear.

Within a minute he was back with a wet towel. “Let me clean you up,” he murmured gently.

You parted your legs slightly, a bit shy now, but he kissed the inside of your knee and that made you confident enough to spread further, Namjoon getting enough space to clean you up properly. He abandoned the rag on the floor and grabbed the blankets from a pile on a drawer. “Would you like some cuddles?”

You assumed he needed them more than you did, but you didn’t care. You just smiled and gestured for him to scorch over. And he smiled. And he climbed in, close to you, pulling your head onto his chest.

“Do you like this?” You asked.

He grinned as he looked at you. “I really, really do. Thank you.”

“You pleased me, I please you, Namjoon. It’s easy like that,” you said, flicking his nose.

And there, again. Dimples.

“Now relax, Joon. I’ve got you.”

Please, like, comment or reblog to keep a writer encouraged 🥰🤣💜✨

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x y/n #namjoon scenario #kim namjoon x reader

262 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 3 years ago

Text

Teach You Pt. 2 (2/2)

Summary: Jungkook asks Namjoon for help with a delicate subject. Once you find out what it is, you have to offer your help.

Genre: Smut. Idol!AU. Established relationship(with Namjoon).

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: Jungkook x reader. Namjoon x reader.

Warnings: Oral sex( m. and f. Receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cumshots, name calling (use of the word slut), Namjoon is a touch aggressive, kind of choking?, voyeurism, fingering, internal cumshots.

Notes: this is part two of two. There may or may not be a separate series…I hope everyone likes this! Thank you for the notes and the followers, it makes my heart happy. I would love feedback as well cause I crave internet stranger validation lol.

Here is Part One if you haven’t read it (recommended)

A couple of days later, Jungkook reached out and asked to meet for dinner. You and Namjoon had talked after Jungkook had left that day. You both decided that at this point, it wasn’t really about helping Jungkook out, it was about how much you both liked it. You got off on the thrill of having someone else while Namjoon got off on watching you. You never saw yourself as this kind of person. Lately though, all you could get off to was the thought of Jungkook writhing underneath you while Namjoon touched himself as he watched the scene unfold before him.

“Everything looks so good, baby.” Namjoon praised you as he looked over your shoulder at what you made for dinner. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him. You hummed in appreciation as you leaned your head back against his shoulder, sighing with content.

“Thanks. I worked so hard on it.” You looked up at him and with a proud smile on your face. He smiled back as he squeezed your waist and kissed your temple.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his kiss. He began kissing down your neck, sucking on the delicate skin right where you liked it most. You pushed your hips back against his as a small moan escaped your lips. You felt heat rushing down to your core as he pushed his growing erection against your ass. He kept kissing your neck as his hands wandered up to caress your breasts over your shirt.

Ever since that night, Namjoon had a hard time keeping his hands off you. It was as if seeing you with someone else had ignited a new desire in him.

Keep reading

#jungkook smut #namjoon smut #jungkook x reader x namjoon

541 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 3 years ago

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (Harper)

Wordcount: 9.1k

Genre: smut, bdsm!au, coworkers!au

Rating: 18+ Minors, please do not read or interact.

Synopsis: Harper is proud of being an esteemed professional and recruiter in the field she works, however her roles comes with many responsibilities she would be happy to set aside just once. When her friend Daisy accompanies her to a risqué soirée at The Rabbit Hole, she’s willing to stop teaching and start learning. But she didn’t expect for her trainer to be someone she know so well.

Warnings: coworkers getting a bit too spicy with each other, discussion of bdsm themes (suspension play, hardcore pet play, latex fetish, knife play and caging genitalia are mentioned as hard limits), negotiation of a bdsm scene, soft(ish) dom!Yoongi (Sir), sub!reader, praise kink, restraint (sub must keep her hands on the headboard), disobedience and punishment (overstimulation), making out, blindfolding, breast worship, breast slapping, safe wording from overstimulation, unprotected oral sex (female receiving), protected vaginal sex, cock ring, sensory overload, cock warming.

Thanking @joheunsaram and @nervous-moon for all the feedback, the beta reading and the making my life a better, easier experience. I love you 💖

Here you can find my masterlist!

Enjoy ✨💜 (Lemme know in the comments who you’re dying to read 😉✨)

Life can be stressful. Being the manager of an entire department was stressful.

What was even more stressful was how often you had to train new personnel, people rushing in and out of your office all the time, and working extra hours to fit in all the work you couldn’t do while tutoring and consulting had ran you down.

You needed a distraction. Something fun. Something unusual.

You needed to stop caring and start having fun.

That’s where Daisy came into play.

She was bright, lively. She knew what having fun means, unlike you. All work and no play, blah blah…

You had earned a night of reckless, unconventional, unreasonable debauchery and The Rabbit Hole was precisely that. A place of altered morals, a suspension of normality.

“We’re almost there,” Daisy chirped, looking around. Her Toyota was small, and you could barely fit your legs in the tiny car. “It’s over… There!” She pressed down her foot on the gas, barely perceivable, but quite confirmed by the excitement in her voice. “You’re gonna love it.”

You tensed your lips in a thin line, hoping that you weren’t getting yourself into something too big for your likings. “This place looks scary.”

The manor looked like an historical palace on the outside, artistically lit, a few people walking down the path leading from the parking spot to the entry door. Lanterns floated on the pond under the path, and some more hung from the trees. The atmosphere was inviting, seducing. If the goal was setting a sultry, classy mood, it had definitely worked.

“It’s just the vibe. You’ll love it.” Daisy parked her mouse of a car in an exceedingly large spot, both of you getting out comfortably. “You’re not used to pretty things. You’re too pragmatic for those. But you can enjoy them every now and then, you know?” She fixed her pixie cut and her dress. You felt awkward in your silk blouse and trousers, but at least you were wearing heels. Daisy instead – quite matching her nickname – was dressed in flowers, the skirt hitting just above her knee. And the green flats seemed to look extremely comfortable – other than complimenting her charms.

You didn’t know how she had ended up in a club like this, you were simply grateful of her knowing about it and being your sponsor for the night. You wouldn’t be able to access unless someone vouched for you. “Are you nervous?” she asked, her voice fairy-like.

“Just a bit,” you conceded.

She led the way as she chuckled. “We all are, at the beginning. It gets better once the mood settles in. My first time I ran out of the front door covering my eyes.”

You almost laughed. Almost being the key word.

The security guard at the entrance checked your and Daisy’s identity card. “You know it’s just procedure, miss,” he said, looking at your friend.

“Don’t worry, Minho. I know the drill. Wish you a smooth shift.” Daisy moved ahead and you followed her, bowing your head to the bulky man.

Inside there were several types of people already. Men. Women. Actually, more women than men, you could notice. “I’m vouching for you. It means that if you break the rules, we both get kicked out. Permanently.” Daisy’s stare was particularly poignant. “Don’t get me kicked out.”

You nodded. “I promise.”

“Once you hand in your papers, you will get a blue stamp on your hand. It means you’re a first-timer. The person you’ll be matched with will be prone to teaching you the Rabbit’s etiquette, don’t worry. Teachers are specifically trained and selected. They’re few, so you might have to wait a little until things get sorted out. Most of the times, teachers outnumber newbies, but not always. Let’s get to the papers.”

The idea of being trained instead of training someone yourself seemed to be an interesting switch. You could really use that. At a large table, you were given a pen and a set of sheets.

“This is your comprehensive paper. You will find questions about yourself and the ideal partner you would like to match with.” Daisy started writing quickly. “Everyone needs to fill it in, no matter how many times they’ve come. Boundaries and kinks evolve, so they prefer staying updated.”

The first sheet was easy. It mostly requested personal information and general health questions. Next, of course, a non-disclosure agreement. The third sheet, however, started getting trickier. “What does suspension play entail, exactly?”

“Tied up and lifted off the ground,” Daisy replied with quick efficiency.

You ticked the ‘no’ box and moved on. As you did with the question about cages and slurping food from a bowl. And the one about latex wear. And the one about knife play. And the one about the idea of caging someone’s genitalia.

Five sheets later, you were done, Daisy patiently waiting for you. You handed in the papers together and received a blue stamp on your right hand, – just as Daisy had anticipated – a Chinese character spelling ‘beginner’. Meanwhile, on Daisy’s hand, a bright green spelled ‘teacher’.

“Oh.” You blinked rapidly. “Does that mean that we could get paired up?”

“No. I specified in my paper that I prefer male partners.” She shrugged. “And only people I’ve already worked with. The fact that I’m a teacher doesn’t mean that I teach only first timers. Sometimes I take intermediate members into stuff they’re not skilled at.”

That seemed interesting. Through the night, you made small talk, meeting new people, listening, mostly. You used your words in few circumstances, sharing work experiences and nuisances from everyday life.

And then the jazz music playing in the courtyard stopped, a silver bell echoing through the silence.

It was some sort of signal.

Teachers were called out of the central courtyard, venturing into the rooms. Another category – unnamed – came next. It was like they already knew, group after group leaving towards the main corridor. Only you and a couple more people were left. A member of staff – you assumed – came to you. “The newbies last. You’ll be given room numbers, and inside you’ll find your match. You have the right to refuse to continue if you find your partner unsuitable, however I suggest you don’t base yourself on looks and negotiate in terms of limits and kinks. If we matched you, there’s a reason. Quite surely more than one.”

You signalled you understood, as did the tall, muscular man at your side. As did a lithe, fashionable man across the small crescent you had formed around the staff member. Two women beside you were the first to receive their notes, heading towards the corridor and taking opposite directions. Next was you.

“Number seven, miss.” You didn’t know what it meant except you were headed there. You reached the corridor and noticed a sign, ‘rooms 1-10’.

Room Seven was a few metres ahead.

You lingered at the doorstep, staring at the dark wood before taking a deep breath and knocking.

“Come in.”

You felt tense, almost too weak to lower the handle. And once you did and took a step in.

Oh Lord.

“Welcome to The Rabbit Hole–” The man comfortably seated on the bed lifted his eyes. “Miss Harper?”

Why the hell not even once you could get rid of your fucking job!?

“Hi…” you responded shyly. “That’s me, yes. And you’re Min Yoongi.” My trainee, Min Yoongi.

He looked at you, vaguely shocked before shaking himself off his stupor. “I surely didn’t expect to meet you here.”

“The feeling is mutual.” You chuckled embarrassedly, ready to duck and dive for the door. “I’m sorry–”

Yoongi stood, almost ready to reach for your wrist before regaining his composure. “Wait, Harper.”

You were conflicted but you straightened your spine and forced yourself to face the situation. “Yes?”

“I know you want to run, but don’t do it. Unless you think this is deeply unprofessional and we should not discuss what we like and dislike sexually.” Yoongi realised just how wrong that sentence sounded. Of course, it was wrong to talk kinks out with your boss, especially if you had been attracted to her since day one. “I mean… Does our job policy prohibit this?”

You knew it by heart. “It doesn’t.” And the fact that you had thought about it repeatedly since the day you first saw Yoongi spoke volumes about how you felt about him.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing in your opinion, Harper?”

Was he asking if you were attracted to him or not? “I…” You hesitated.

“Don't go quiet on me. It's not a hard question, is it?” Yoongi looked into your eyes and you quite didn't know how the diligent assistant turned into a demanding interviewer.

“I think it's— It's convenient. Sometimes.” Don't let him win.

“Did you happen to take this chance in the past?” Yoongi was ice cold. It was amusing and terrifying.

“No. I'm… I'm not interested. I mean, I never found— I always focused on my job.” You were stuttering. It was absurd.

He hummed and nodded. “That's very curious. And why is that? I'm sure you must have attracted many people with the energy you emanate. You're incredibly magnetic when you teach.”

You felt your face burn with embarrassment. “Uhm… I… thank you, I guess.”

He smiled. For goodness sake, how could someone like you, so professional and composed turn into a puddle just like that. “Do my compliments unsettle you?” He grabbed the papers from the small table by the bed. He stood up and chose neutral ground, sitting on an elegant chair in a corner. You noticed the papers on the opposite side and took them with you before sitting on the matching chair in front of him. A round coffee table was in the middle.

As he consulted what you knew had to be your survey, he stretched a hand toward you, moving his fingers in a back and forth motion. “Hand it over, Harper. You don't need that.”

You offered it, slightly reluctant; still, he didn't look like the type who would take no for an answer.

“I see you like being praised. Is that why you're so prodigal with compliments and rewards with your trainees? You liked receiving praise when you were a student?” He stared deep into your eyes and waited for your reply.

“I—” There was no way to answer that. You shook your head and stayed quiet, staring at your feet.

Yoongi studied your face for a minute before speaking again. “You're an incredibly restrained person, Harper. Why is that?” He licked his lips. “Am I intimidating you?”

“Yes.” That was easy to say.

He chuckled and you looked at him, noticing a faint flush on his cheeks. That made him look slightly less alarming. “I'm sorry. I've been told that endless times, but I keep making the same mistake.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Okay, let's start over. You take the lead.”

“Good. Ehm… I'm— I really don't know what I'm doing here. I was just looking for some fun since, well, I'm very invested in my job and it's been a while since I last relaxed and lived in the moment.” You fixed your hair and toyed with your bracelet.

Yoongi noticed your silence prolonging and decided to take over briefly. “You need someone to have fun with?”

You nodded. “So to say. My friend Daisy brought me here after I complained about my life being boring and all of that.”

His eyebrows arched and he smirked. “Interesting friend you have. Quite your opposite.”

You blinked. “The… Opposite? Did you sleep with her?”

He shook his head. “She's not my cup of tea. I just watched. We trained together.”

You nodded. As 'opposite' did he mean… “Wait, she isn't… a sub?”.

Yoongi laughed at that. “A sub?! Oh no, darling. But let's keep the focus on you. You said you want something fun, what is that?”

You pouted as you thought. “Well, not having to think about anything. Everything's already planned out for me, I don't need to worry, plan, decide. I just follow the rules.”

Yoongi smiled softly. “That's what I'm here for. But that means I need to be sure I'm making the right decisions for you and that I'm doing things that you like.” He grabbed a pen and sat down again. “Praise kink? Yes?”

You nodded. “Good.”

He placed a tick by it. “There are some more risqué topics, but I say we should keep them for when you're more experienced. No bondage yet, maybe when you're trained into full obedience. Maybe we could use soft restraints. Would you be interested in me blocking your hands?”

You nodded. “You would tie my wrists?”

He blinked, thinking about it before deciding. “No, not yet. Just hold them above your head with my hands. Or pin them behind your back. Nothing that can't be undone as soon as you dissent. It would just ensure soft obedience. Maybe have you grip the headboard or restrain you from touching me.”

You agreed. “That's okay with me. I mean, I think I'm obedient enough to handle restraints. I would stay still and—”

“Harper, darling. I can tell you're obedient. That doesn't mean you're trained, unfortunately.” He pinned you with his gaze. “I don't know how you're going to respond to me and I much prefer taking things gradually.”

You bit your lip, betraying slight disappointment.

“We'll do that next time. If you decide you want a next time, that is,” Yoongi reassured you.

You looked at him, mouth agape, causing him to chuckle. “It's okay. I see you're doubtful about impact play. Let's skip all of that. Oh, this… This, I want.” He circled it enthusiastically.

“What is that?” You stretched to read it, but he covered it quickly.

“I know it. It's nothing you need to worry about.” He stretched a hand towards you looking into your eyes. You hesitated before letting your fingers tiptoe closer to his palm. “May I?”

“Uhm… yes. Yes, Sir, I mean.” You looked away, your cheeks on fire.

He looked at you with curiosity. “You don't need to call me Sir unless you want to, Harper.” His fingers moved slowly, sensually on your hand. “It's alright, sweetheart.”

Your whole body tensed as his touch seemed to echo through your entire body. “Will this have any repercussions on our dynamics at work?”

He shook his head. “I can separate who I am in public and who I am here. Nothing will change on my behalf, but only you can tell whether you will feel awkward or embarrassed when we meet again in the office.”

You hummed, your brain working ten thousand miles a second as you tried to process the idea.

“Okay, here's what I would like to happen now. If you are uncomfortable, you can stop me at any time.” Yoongi cleared his voice and licked his lip. When he spoke again, his tone was deeper and more relaxing. Hypnotic, even.

“I would like to dim the lights, loosen up your blouse a little, since it looks very uncomfortable. Next, I would like to slow dance with you, earn your trust. See how our bodies work together on a more platonic level. And then we'll reassess things from there. Would you like that, Harper?”

“Yes, I would, Sir— Sorry, Yoongi.” You giggled, still confused, covering your face with your hands.

That was endearing, and Yoongi couldn't help but look at you with fondness. “Just settle with one, Harper,” he offered his hand again, and you grasped it, watching him grab his phone from his jacket and select a song. Once the first notes started, he stood up.

He had incredibly nice hands. You had noticed them so many times during his traineeship, how elegant and strong they looked. They could do so much damage, but still they always managed to look so gentle. There was something erotic and strangely reassuring about them.

Your arms bent at your side, hands joined together, he accompanied your other arm around his neck by drawing its underside with the very tip of his middle finger, the electric feeling leading you through the motion. The hand not holding yours settled around your waist, then on the small of your back.

You propped your chin on his shoulder.

“Does this feel good, Harper?” he asked, his mouth at your ear in a way that made your insides quiver.

You didn't realise your eyes were closed. You kept them like that. You could almost forget that the man currently awakening your libido was the sweet angel who was a little grumpy before finishing his coffee in the morning and that always handed in his assignments two days in advance so you wouldn't find all your papers handed in at the last minute and spend the weekend correcting them.

“It feels great.” You felt your shoulders relax.

“Let's scooch over to the light so we can lower them. Would you like that?”

You hummed. Could he keep talking just that way? Close to your ear… With that slightly raspy purr…

His hand left your spine for half a second, your eyes opening only to observe his thumb and forefinger pinch the dimmer and roll it.

It was unreal. Your entire body responded to the gesture — and you felt ridiculous about it, from the way you could physically perceive wetness dripping out of you and glazing your folds, your breathing interrupting only to come back quicker, shallower.

“Feedback, Harper,” he requested, his hand reaching your tailbone only to start sliding up your spine. It felt too good. It felt too fast — not in a way that made you want to slow down, but in one that made you feel like a needy, deprived, horny mess.

“I'm feeling very affected,” you replied pragmatically, making him hum.

“Good-affected or bad-affected?”

“Conflicted affected.” You replied, incapable of withholding a moan as his fingers started teasing your nape.

“Why are you conflicted?” He hoped you wouldn't hold back. After all, his only goal was taking care of you. Showing the kind of paradise he knew he could lead you to, and eventually get to see you again. Your paper was so interesting and he could see so much potential in unravelling you and initiating you to all the dark cravings you had confessed with pen and paper.

“You're a coworker. You're my trainee. I shouldn't— It's not right that you make me feel like this.”

“Like what, Harper?”

You hid your face. “Aroused.” You nuzzled into him. “Wet.”

He oh-ed in understanding. “There's nothing wrong with that. It's just your body responding to stimuli. You're just conflicted about associating them with the person making you feel that way.” He swayed some more on his feet, the song changing to something even slower. He slipped into the rhythm seamlessly. “It's okay to feel conflicted. You feel an ethical hurdle.”

Why did he have to be so understanding? “Exactly.”

“Do you feel like it's a hurdle that is keeping you safe or keeping you out?” He arched his head away, trying to look you in the eye.

“I'm not sure.” You had to look away. He was too much for you to handle. “I only know I'm tired of feeling so left out.”

He touched your face. “I have something that could help you, but it's a bit daring. Before we discuss that, I want to cover the safeword discourse.”

“Sure.” What was he about to ask you? “In the past I've used the traffic light system. I think it's the most convenient, right?”

Yoongi agreed. “Yes. It's the standard. For future reference, all teachers here are trained with the traffic light system, so that's the safest option to achieve the shortest time between you calling a safeword and your partner reacting.”

“That's very considerate,” you mused nodding to yourself.

“The experience can be pleasurable only if truly safe. That's the bare minimum. Which reminds me; what do you say if you're not feeling okay?”

You blinked. “Uhm… 'I'm not feeling okay, can we slow down or stop?' I guess?”

Yoongi frowned. “That's fine too, but I meant I need to hear your safewords.”

“Oh. Red to stop, yellow to slow down, green to go?”

He nodded. “Yeah, more like that.”

You chuckled and hid your face against his neck. “I'm so dumb.”

Yoongi helped your head back on his shoulder. “You're just learning. I'm here to talk things through and help you understand. Now, going back to our earlier talk, I could suggest a solution to the dichotomy between our institutional and private roles, but it could be very intense, physically and emotionally.”

You hummed, inviting him to go on.

“I don't usually do this on a first encounter since I tend to cover mostly chill stuff. Do mild things without really testing any limits, but this is really tiptoeing around the line.”

“Just tell me what it is already!” you complained, stepping back and looking at him.

“Okay. I would like to suggest a blindfold.” He gave a small tug at your wrist, inviting you back against him.

You followed his lead. His chest was beating like crazy against you, but it was very hard to believe. Yoongi didn't look like a person whose body could betray nerves or excitement.

“It's okay. I've done that before.” You stared at him. “I can handle that.”

He stared at you. He knew that different people meant different experiences, and that he would probably make you feel sensations that would overwhelm you and test your limits; still, he trusted your judgements and your ability to use the safewords.

He would just remind himself to check in more than usual.

“So you agree to being blindfolded?”

“Yes, Yoongi.” Your reply was followed by him making you take a step away.

“No “Sir” this time?” He cocked an eyebrow, amused. After he opened a drawer, he extracted a black silk blindfold, showing it to you. “Come here, Harper.”

You moved closer and lowered your eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured distractedly, slipping the fabric over your eyes.

Your knees were weak, your ears alert. You heard him move with stealth, a sudden burst of cold air rushing down your spine. “I'm here, darling.”

You clenched your core. More wetness oozed out.

“Now I'm here,” he spoke at your other ear, voice otherworldly. “Does this get you wet, Harper?”

You nodded wordlessly. Your eyes were useless. The blindfold was thick and the lights were too low.

And then his hands appeared at your waist, guiding you. “A few steps forward, sweets.” You did as you were told. “Undress.” He whispered.

You felt him leave.

Your hands went to the buttons of your blouse, undoing them slowly, tentatively. Yoongi took it all in. “You look magnificent, darling. Look at all that skin.”

You smiled and continued, wiggling off your shirt. “Like this?”

“Exactly like that, sugar. You must be so sweet, mh? Calling your partner 'sir', lowering your eyes, speaking when talked to. That's a good girl.”

Your smile grew brighter, Yoongi's ego inflating as he found the way to crack you. You weren't all that elegant when you took off your trousers, but he was too busy taking in the sight of your chest.

“Did I say anything you didn't like?” He checked in, shaking himself out of his stupor. Stop staring at her chest. Stop thinking she wants it fucked and marked.

“No, it's okay. I'm doing fine.” You felt awkward standing in the middle of the room in your best matching set.

You already knew it had to look boring to him, your breasts too large for underwear brands to match comfort and sensuality. The mere thought of it got you even more tense.

“Perfect. Would you like to keep your bra on?” He hoped you would remove it, but this wasn't about what he wanted, no matter how much he wanted to tie you up and cover your boobs in his cum until he was dry.

Comfortably, you reached behind you, huffing out in relief as soon as your bra unclasped. You did realise the sight of you had to be profoundly unsexy.

“For fuck's sake.” He needed to touch himself. He needed to find some release before making a mess of himself. His demure, practical teacher. His shy and composed coworker. Here. Naked. In front of him. With her breasts out offered to his eyes alone, waiting to be fucked and pleased. Controlled. Cherished. “Can I touch them?”

“Please.”

He stood up, crossing the distance quickly. The idea of not knowing where exactly he was made you a little nervous, but Yoongi seemed very thoughtful about it. “I'm right in front of you, Harper. Remember your safewords.”

You nodded, but still reached out before you, stopping midway. “Can I touch you?”

He startled a little. “Of course.” He took a step forward, letting your palms connect with his chest, still clad in a black button down. “Do what you want, darling.”

You traced his frame till your hands met his wrists, next you brought his hands on your chest, gasping just barely once his palms started shifting, lifting the heavy weight of your flesh, his fingers tweaking your nipples.

“How is your relationship with your body?” he asked, massaging your breasts, feeling the skin react with goosebumps.

“I like it. It's a bit plain but not too bad.” Your shiver was visible. It made him chuckle.

“It's not even remotely plain, darling.” He let his hands roam further down before bringing you closer to him. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” you confessed, trying to feel him with your hands.

“Can I guide you to the bed?” He asked with a purr that made you question whether you would ever stop feeling so aroused by his voice.

You nodded, taking a step back only for him to grip your waist. His fingers sank in your flesh, feeling the tenderness of your figure. It was something you thought no man would find attractive.

“So soft,” he breathed out, his voice betraying some excitement. “You were going to step on your clothes,” he explained before guiding you. The back of your thighs met the mattress and you climbed comfortably, a bit confused when you didn't feel his body follow yours.

“Yoongi,” you whined, panicking.

“I'm here.” You heard the ruffling of fabric. “I'm just taking off my shirt. Would you like me to switch off the music?”

It was a bit too romantic anyway. “Yes, please.” You would also hear him better like that.

Silence came shortly after. And then his command. “Sit up, beautiful.”

You pushed yourself onto your elbows.

“Give me your left arm,” he said, kindly.

You blinked under the blindfold. “What's going on? What's—”

“I'm just putting a warm robe on you. You said you were cold and your blouse was too flimsy.” He kissed your brow. “Normally we use this for aftercare, but I'll just wrap you up in a blanket.”

He watched your lips stretch into a smile as you thanked him. You could see his kind expression with your eyes closed.

“It's all good. You can lay back down,” he explained with a calm tone. This time you did feel his body following yours, his hand on your cheek. “Would you like to kiss me, Harper?”

You hesitated only for a millisecond. “Yes.”

It was tentative, slow, seductive. His lips were rougher than you had imagined, dryer. Smaller. You parted your lips, trying to chase the sensation. Then you felt a hard edge.

Yoongi smirked. “That's my fingertip, darling.” Your lips closed in a pout.

“Oh, don't be grumpy.” This time it felt hotter. Your entire face felt the pressure of something closer. And then something skimmed your lips. “There you go.”

And there you went, his mouth hot and demanding against your own, your lips chasing him, your tongue searching for him until he finally complied, letting his slippery flesh slide against your own, conquering every inch you had to offer.

His hand appeared on your stomach, teasing you between moving higher or lower.

“My chest, please,” you gasped in between kisses.

“Your chest what?” he taunted back.

“T— Oh… Touch it, please.”

He did as you told him.

“Harder.”

He gripped it.

“Harder.”

He squeezed it.

You moaned and arched off the bed. That was truly hard. Almost painful. Just the way you like it. And then it stopped.

“Did I give you the impression that you can call the shots?” His voice was minacious.

And then the slap came.

It stole your breath. If he kept up like that, you would cum untouched.

And then another. “Answer me.”

“No, Yoongi.” You felt sorry. You really did. But horny felt more powerful than sorry.

“Just because I ask for feedback, doesn't mean you choose what goes on here.” Yoongi pressed his mouth to your ear. “I choose what you feel. How you feel it. You only need to take it and stop me when you can't take it anymore. Understood?”

You squeezed your legs together. “Understood.”

“Did you like your tits getting spanked?” he said, his voice thunderous.

“Yes,” you mewled out, intimidated.

“Great. Cause I loved doing that too.” He did it again before soothing the skin with his palms pressed to the curve of your breast. “I'm not happy to admit you're making it difficult to stay chill.” He kissed around your neck, going from side to side before tracing the path again with the tip of his tongue. “Hands on the headboard.”

You obeyed.

And next all hell broke loose. You felt his teeth sink on your left breast, pinching the skin in a way you knew would bruise. His hip was placed between your legs and you were trying, really trying, not to move in ways that would make him stop and punish you.

He placed his mouth around your nipple, sucking it intensely. You moaned.

He chuckled and nodded, moving his hips suggestively.

He watched you struggle, chest arching off the sheets to push into his mouth, but at the same time sobbing about the loss of pressure between your legs. Your body was on fire, your robe laying open and forgotten around you.

“Come on, rub yourself on me, I know you want it, Harper.” The way he called your name was a crime. Too sexy for you to handle it. You were just an instrument of pleasure in his hands. Or rather a victim of it.

He watched you grind on him, finally, moving to the other nipple to make sure both received equal attention. “If you manage to cum like this, I promise I'm gonna suck your clit too, sweets. Come on. Let me see you cum.”

You were aroused, agitated, restless underneath him, the pins of pleasure torturing you until all you could feel was the hot coil in your core tightening and tightening.

Your hands left the headboard, locking him into place, making him suck harder. He smirked and took more of your skin, using not only his mouth, but his head too to tug at the skin he was suctioning.

A scream tore through you. You don't remember the following minute or so, you can only recall the scorching heat of your orgasm, the way your glutes burned as you threw yourself at him with the most selfish need.

Yoongi appreciated your sounds. He reckoned the memory of them would be useful on nights he was left alone with his hand. The little gasps, the moans, the sobs and whimpers.

He was done for.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, please Yoongi, fuck me.”

You were there, blindfolded, chest glistening with his saliva, still trying to recover, and you had the audacity to ask to be fucked?

“What did I tell you about your hands?” He tutted. You could hear disappointment in his voice. You brought them back to the headboard. “What did I tell you about your hands, Harper?” he remarked.

“To keep them on the headboard,” you replied, obedient and apologetic.

“Correct. And what did you do?”

You felt like a child being scolded. “I moved them off the headboard.”

“That is a large mistake on your behalf, Harper. If I give you an order, I do it for your own good.” He slapped your sensitive breast, once. “There will be times when disobedience could compromise your well-being.”

You were too busy processing everything to figure out the implications of that. 'There will be times…'

He slapped your other breast, once, twice before pinching your nipple. “We can't have that.” The other one. “I can't have that.” He paused for a second and then he stopped all stimulation. “Gimmie a colour, Harper.”

You inhaled at the small moment of reprieve. “Green. Very green.”

He nodded — not that you could see that. And then a new thrill of glorious pain slashed through you. “Are you gonna keep your hands on the headboard?”

You nodded madly. He grinned at your eagerness. “Are you going to obey me?”

“Yes, Yoongi,” you replied right before you felt his body slide down against yours, a hot burst of air meeting your navel.

“You're so wet it's a crime.” He patted your legs further, settling in right between them, taking in the salty, coppery scent of you. To think some men don't even appreciate it…

He shook his head and reminded himself he wasn't like that. He grinned and pressed his lips to the drenched spot on your panties. He nuzzled closer, until he got you to gasp and grind against him. “All this goodness wasted on your panties.” He hummed in complaint. “I should have eaten you out first.”

You knew that not watching him do that would be a crime. The sight of Yoongi's head in between your legs was something that would torment you and arouse you for the rest of your life, though.

“I'm gonna take them off, Harper.” He exhaled against your inner thigh before hooking his fingers through the sides of your underwear. “I want you creaming all over my tongue, sweets.” His voice was nothing like the diligent intern you trained everyday. He was almost as if possessed by a demon. You felt the fabric slide down your skin, unhook from your ankles. And then his hands. So smooth and hot. Slightly sweaty. He ran them up the sides of your legs, truly feeling your skin. “Focus on me.”

As if there were anything else you could do. The moment his hair tickled your navel, it was like electricity. Like static. And what followed was the rest of the storm.

He was hungry, ravenous. If he could have swallowed you, he would have. He was sloppy in the most delicious of ways. You could hear him lapping, licking, slurping. It would be almost embarrassing, if it weren’t from your mind being entirely disconnected from your body. You wished you could be in his shoes just to understand what truly licking someone’s cunt felt like.

However, you weren’t ready to leave the receiving end yet. Your legs were trembling, you were pretty sure of that — not entirely though. Yoongi was making a quite serious job at holding them still.

“You still with me, Harper?” he asked lazily, lewdly. He wasn’t checking — he was teasing you, and gloating too. You hadn’t noticed it, but you were being so vocal he had to slow down to see if he could coax lazier, needier purrs out of you.

The moment you confirmed you were okay, he went all out, until he could no longer control your legs and he let himself enjoy the conquest, your thighs squeezing his head, his arm almost cramping as he tried to slip two fingers inside you and find your cervix, tracing around it, where the puffy ring of flesh met your pelvic muscles.

The way you clenched around him, another squeal leaving your throat announced your third orgasm, Yoongi more than happy that he was doing his job correctly. “Grab my head. You can tug on my hair, sweets.”

Your hands left the headboard immediately as Yoongi allowed a reward for your obedience. He enjoyed his stay as long as he could before you pushed him away. “Too much, Yoongi! Stop! Stop, stop, stop!”

At your insistence he realised you had forgotten about the safeword rule. “Harper.” He touched the outside of your leg, sitting beside you and removing your blindfold. “Hey?”

You turned to your side and clinged to him while your body spasmed in the aftershock. “I’m sorry.” He cupped the back of your head and held you to him, letting you nest into his chest.

“I’ve got you. You know you should have said the safeword, right?” He grabbed your chin and made you look into his eyes.

You nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m sorry.”

He simply rubbed your back with his clean hand, the other one hooked underneath your thigh, propping it up onto his hip. “Tell me what would have happened if I didn’t stop.”

You stared at him, trying to understand whether it was an actual request or not. As his gaze stayed insistent, you replied. “I would have cried and thrashed. I could have hurt you.”

He acquiesced. “A safeword is a suspension of consent, in case of a yellow. A revoking of consent in case of a red. If someone keeps going after your safeword, that is abuse.” He caressed your head. “If you ever come to play here again, and someone doesn’t respect your safeword, you need to report them immediately. Clear?”

You nodded, your eyes still veiled in panic.

He secured the robe around you, tutting and petting you. “‘s all good, sweets. You’ve got it.”

Your fingers were laced at his nape, your legs twitching uncomfortably as you squeezed your thighs together, still vibrating with sensations.

You hid your face against his chest before his hand reached for your hair and he kissed the crown of your head. “I’m here, sweets. You can ask me anything. A bath, candies, chocolate, a massage. You can ask me to leave, too.”

In response, you wrapped your arms around him tighter and pulled him closer, shaking your head. “Stay here, please.”

He nodded and soothed you with little touches against your thigh and your spine, tutting and rubbing his nose against your hair. It smelled way too good. He was getting lost in it when you tipped your head back, your eyes meeting his.

You stretched, your body adhering to his deliriously as your lips landed on his chin. He restrained himself for maybe half a second before he gripped the side of your face and held you still, pressing his lips square on yours. “We’re okay, Harper.”

You shook your head yes.

“We’re alright, darling.” He combed your hair back with a contemplative look in his eyes. “Are you ready for aftercare?” His voice was a midnight purr, a secret.

You shook your head no.

He arched his eyebrows. “More cuddles?”

With your leg hooked around his hip, you pressed him closer to you and blinked a few times before closing your eyes and pushing your pelvis against his.

“Harper, I need you to use your words,” he murmured. He just wanted to hear you say it. He just wanted to make sure he understood correctly — that you wanted him against you or maybe, even better, inside you.

“Fuck me. It feels so empty, I just— I want to squeeze around you as I cum. You must be so hot, so thick, so… So smooth.”

“You want to feel me inside you, darling?” He caressed your face and you nodded.

“Anything you’re willing to give, please.” You found the courage to lay on your back and spread your legs, letting the robe come undone around you. You gripped your breasts and started toying with them. “I want it so bad.”

Yoongi was still alert from his previous wrongdoing and felt like he deserved punishment, but he saved that negative feeling for his own wrap up of the night, when he analysed how he’d felt with you and with himself.

“We’re gonna use a condom, Harper.”

“Please, without.” Your eyes were wide and imploring.

He shook his head and smiled bitterly. “I’d rather we use one, darling, if you don’t mind.” His smile was gentle. “There’s nothing wrong with you, I swear. It’s just my rule to always use one, no matter how many health checks we go through.”

Your mouth formed an o-shape. “Dammit, I’m so sorry. It’s— Of course. We’re gonna use it.”

He smiled as he turned around and undid his belt, taking off his trousers and his underwear in one go. “Don’t worry about it, Harper.” He turned around and your gaze went to his dick caught in his fist. You noticed all its details: the colour, the shape, the fact that it leaned a little, the way his knuckles turned white as he squeezed it, precum oozing from the tip. “Maybe I’ll go bare inside you next time.” He smirked. “A picture will last longer, darling.”

You moved your eyes up, to his face. If you’d seen a picture of his dick you would have never matched it to him. “Your penis is extremely interesting to look at.”

“Even more interesting the moment you put it in your mouth — or so I’ve been told.”

You made to sit up and test that statement, but he blocked you. “Lay there.”

Once he made sure he had worn the condom correctly, he crawled in between your legs and grinned as he showed you something pinched between his fingers.

“What's that?” you asked, not actually recognising the swirls of colours and the purpose of something shaped like… Oh.

He stretched the thick rubber band. “Gonna make it last for you, Harper.” He kept it stretched wide as he slipped it on his dick, all the way to the base before he eased his fingers away, trying not to snap the rubber.

You were still hazy for the arousal as he laid down on top of you. “Hi there,” he purred. “Would you like your blindfold on again?”

You blushed to your ears as you confessed. “No. I want to remember your face when you cum and scream my name.”

He snickered in mischief. “If that’s the case, then.” He aligned his tip with your entrance. “I’ll make sure you call mine at least twice before I scream out yours.” And then he was in.

It was… There aren’t any perfectly fitting adjectives: all you could say is that you had to close your eyes to focus on him, on taking him, on squeezing him, on making his tip rub against your inner walls.

He grunted and went deeper, moving an inch back before impaling you. “Colour, Harper.”

“Very fucking green,” you managed to hiss through your teeth before throwing your head back, exposing the throat he was so eager to take advantage of.

He dove for it, biting, sucking, moving down your chest as you wrapped your legs around his hips and made more room for him.

“Can I touch myself?” You managed to ask, your voice so needy and high pitched.

He looked hazy when he looked up in your eyes, but still he connected enough thoughts to say, “Of course.”

And then your fingers between your legs made everything escalate too quickly, his thrusts becoming more frantic, his grunts and pants getting harsher, more breathless as sweat started beading his forehead.

For a second you thought about closing your eyes before Yoongi grabbed your chin and shook his head at you.

“Keep looking at me. This is my reward.” He slowed down until he stopped. “I worked hard to watch you cum like this, you'd better look in my eyes and show me how grateful you are, darling.”

Your brain was too fuzzy to reply, but from the way he steadied himself before starting to go harder you understood he wasn't expecting a reply.

The only thing he did expect was for you to obey and hold his unapologetic stare.

He broke eye contact only for a quick look down, to where your fingers were working your overheated core, squeezing him, hugging him, so tight right before your body held its maximum tension and snapped.

Yoongi gritted his teeth and smirked. “Like that, darling.” He looked at the way your breasts bounced while you rode your high, eager to get every ounce of pleasure while your eyes crossed, finally disrupting that shameless stare that you'd been sharing with Yoongi.

“You didn't scream my name, darling,” he made you notice once you were taking a brief vacation from existence. You were pretty much boneless at that moment.

You opened your eyes and felt him shift inside you. “You didn't cum,” you commented, disappointed.

He smiled. “Trust me, it was difficult not to. And that's why I wore the ring, sweetheart.” He paused and stared at you for some outstretched seconds. And then as he was still sheathed inside you, he pulled himself up to his knees. “But now it's my turn and I can go wild while you're still limp and exhausted, mh? I bet there's nothing better than feeling like you don't need to do anything.”

He grinned and pulled back before pushing in with all his might. Your legs were spread, thighs resting on top of his, your body abandoned on the mattress while his hands gripped your hips and pulled your naked, wet, open core against his pelvis, onto his awaiting erection.

He was wet, slippery and scorching hot, and you could only wish for the universe to one day reward you with his bare dick, no layers of latex in between.

“Finger yourself, Harper. You wanna make me cum? Then squeeze me with your inner muscles as you cum. I'm not doing it without you.” He made his hips twirl, his spongy tip rubbing against all the right places.

“Yoongi.”

“Yes, darling,” he said before exhaling with a moan.

“This is the best dick I've ever had,” you confessed in a rush of intimacy.

He hummed and changed his movement to a little upward curl that made your feet crunch. “Thank you for the compliment.” He chuckled and grabbed one of your breasts while with the other hand he kept pushing and pulling you on him. “I'll make sure next time is even better.” He smiled at you with mischief and something sweet before he slapped your breast playfully, not hard enough for it to be erotic, but enough to make you giggle at him as you purred.

“Those tits are huge showstoppers,” he murmured, picking up his pace and watching them bounce to his tempo. “Next time I'll fuck them first.” He slapped them again, one first, then the other.

Secretly you were already imagining it happening at your workplace, maybe in an empty storage room during lunch, you bent over a shelf and him fucking you from behind, your blouse open, the cups of your bra pulled down, his fingers tweaking your nipples until they bruised.

“Are you close?” was all that made it past your lips, your body wired too tight to voice anything but monosyllables.

“Almost. Come on, you first,” he gritted.

You held your breath and tried to form a pattern with your kegels, trying to work in tandem with Yoongi until you were overthrown by sensations. “I can't hold it anymore, please cum with me, Yoongi. Please.”

“Just take it, Harper. Take it like a good girl,” he ordered sternly. And you did.

You did so well he got caught in your tide and it overthrew him too as he abandoned his restraint and let his back flop onto the mattress while he pulled you up, your body so taut you found yourself in a position to ride him.

And so you did it, bouncing on him, swirling your hips before he caught hold of your sides and started shoving you up and down.

His name came out of your lips hysterically, with little hiccups due to the impact of your ass against his thighs while he bottomed out and pulled you up again, almost pulling out completely before he slammed you down again.

It was animalistic and frantic, your name leaving his lips over and over again together with the filthiest of praises.

“I want this pussy bruised and used, Harper. Such a good pussy you have,” he gasped and rambled on. “I'm not gonna let anybody use it. I'm gonna fucking serve it. Nobody can taste it, nobody can fuck it. No fingers but mine.”

You nodded and kept going. “Please,” you begged, your orgasm subduing only for another one to rise fast.

“No dick but mine.” He was getting overstimulated, but there was no way he would stop. He'd rather cry. “This is the perfect pump, darling. Fucking perfect.” He stilled and let you ruin him as he brought his fingers to your clit. “Come on, we're not done.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, but he was stronger.

“Be my good girl, Harper. Fuck my cock again. You want someone to give you orders, right? Someone who can fuck your brains out and not make you think, right? Come on then. I tell you to fuck, you fuck. Harper. I tell you to come, you come. Can you do that for me? You're such a diligent, lovely girl after all, aren't you?”

At that, a grunt left your throat and you collapsed on his torso, your inner muscles torturing him as his name tore through your lips and you came once more, finally, a earthquake making your entire spine quiver.

He welcomed you with his arms around you and shut his eyes tight, giving a couple strokes with his hips as he weathered your high. “There you are, darling. That's my good girl,” he praised you, already wondering if this would really ever happen again, if he could ever be your trainee again after this or if he would spend the rest of his month under you thinking of how sweet and mind-blowing it was to be literally under you.

He pushed messy, sweaty locks of hair off your face, kissing your forehead once he felt you relax. “You were so good to me, Harper.” With a fingertip skating down your spine he added, “So, so good to me.” And that same fingertip skated up, his digits burrowing deep into the hair at your nape. “How are you feeling, sweets?”

“I think I'm dead.”

He chuckled and pressed your head to the crook of his neck.

You kissed it absentmindedly.

“Tell me, is death as terrible as everybody thinks?” He fumbled to pull the robe from below the two of you and dragged it over your spent body.

“I'd be happy to die a bunch of times over.” You shifted your arm to pull the robe closer and cover Yoongi too.

“I'll keep that in mind next time,” he mused. “Sensory overload. Multiple orgasms.”

“And cockwarming,” you murmured.

Yoongi blinked, slightly surprised before he smiled softly. “And cockwarming.” He let silence take over for a minute. “Any feedback you'd like to offer?” He asked.

“Uhm… Only that maybe you should fuck my mouth and my tits before you fuck my pussy… Next time, I mean. If you'd like there to be a next time, I mean.” You felt suddenly a bit too naked, a bit too exposed, a bit too forward. “Oh god…” You felt your face heat and you tried to distance yourself.

However, Yoongi tightened his grip on you, his hand on the curve of your spine, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I want a next time, Harper. And a couple more times after that. But I need you to tell me how you want it to be between us at work.”

You shifted to look him in the eye. “Are you sure you want to do this again?”

“Yes, sweets. But I'll start from your tits next time.” He nuzzled his lips close to your ear. “And then I'll go down on you. Again.”

“Don't forget about fucking my mouth. You promised.” You didn't know where this came from, but your shyness faded once confronted with your wants.

“I don't remember promising, but I guess I'll keep it in mind,” he admitted. “The important part is that I get to get milked by your magic cunt.”

Heat coursed down your spine, making you roll your eyes in pleasure. “You can get my cunt whenever you like, however you like.” You caressed his chest with your hand.

“Interesting.” His voice was so reconciling and peaceful. “But you still haven’t told me how we’re gonna deal with this at work.” He let a second pass by before he added, “But we don’t need to discuss it if you don’t know it yet.”

You bit your lip and started tracing the features of his visage with your fingertips. “We’ll have to be strictly professional.” You said plainly.

He nodded.

“But I guess there’s nothing wrong as long as I get to have you here, once a week. After all, I’ll be training you for three more weeks. After that I’ll have you assigned to another department so there won’t be any risk of misconduct.” You shrugged. “Not that there’s any actual misconduct happening, but just in case. I don’t want us to be jeopardised by this.”

“I don’t either.” Yoongi traced the edge of your shoulder-blade, reflecting on the situation while feeling your skin under his fingertips. It was strangely soothing. “So we’re gonna meet here next week, and do it all over again?”

You chuckled. “Hopefully.” You paused. “Here or anywhere else. I mean, here isn’t cheap, so if you wanna meet anywhere else, I wouldn’t be against it, but totally up to you.”

Yoongi hummed. “We’ll see. We can exchange phone numbers and eventually arrange something.”

“Absolutely.”

“Perfect,” he commented. It was time. “Harper, I need to go clean up, sweets.”

You inhaled. “Does that mean you have to go?”

“Only that I need the restroom — you should go too, by the way — and that I can come back and cuddle some more after I’m rid of the condom and the ring.” He tried to speak with a voice that could dull the panicky edge in your words.

“Oh, that. Okay, I guess.” You felt indeed calmer at his explanation. You didn’t know if you could actually sleep next to Yoongi, but the idea of cuddles… Well.

He kept his mouth pressed to your forehead as he slipped out. “Okay, I can do this,” he whispered, motivating himself.

On instinct, you tipped your head back before pressing your lips on his. “Yes, now you can,” you murmured after kissing him.

He stared at you. “What if I don’t want to, though?”

You shook your head and giggled. “I’ll be here when you’re back.”

He eyed you suspiciously. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #yoongi x yn #min yoongi x reader

166 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 3 years ago

Text

Swing It! | Handle With Care

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 8.5k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Candy is back from Australiaafter being gone for two months for work. She's back and well... She has a surprise. But Jeongguk also has a surprise for her.

Warnings: swearing, nipple piercings, sex swing. Lots of spontaneous steamy making out, two whipped suckers. Now the serious ones: nipple sucking, breast worship, masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), soft degradation (female receiving), body worship (male and female receiving), very emotional unprotected sex (kids, be smart about this one). Multiple orgasms. They're whipped for each other an I'm whipped for them. Switch!jk, switch!reader.

A/N: let's see if can still work this magic. Thanking @nervous-moon and @joheunsaram for betaing and checking the overall magic levels. I love you so much babes, I owe you two the most

Masterlist | send ask

Jungkook felt a bit too excited as he watched you drag your suitcase to his car. He was sure that was you. That was your frame, your walk, and those were your shoes and that was your suitcase, the one he had seen by the door the night before you left, before you woke him up at four am for a quick goodbye kiss, forcing him to stay in bed while you got a taxi to the airport. He had wanted to drive you there himself, but you strictly refused.

But now he was here, at the airport, waiting for you, to kiss you and take you home and make love to you because he couldn't stop thinking about feeling your skin sweaty and hot and smelling like him again. He had missed you. And although your communication had improved a lot while you were away, and that it had been nothing — absolutely nothing — compared to how it felt while he was touring, he needed your skin.

He needed to feel you again.

“Candy?” he almost whimpered, tears coming to his eyes as he watched you starting to walk faster until you were jogging, leaving your carry-on only a couple steps away, opening your arms right as he opened his and wrapped them tight around you, going for a little swirl, his face in your neck as he sniffed you up.

“Hello there, bunny.” When he put you down, you lowered his mask just a little, just in time to catch his lip wobble. “Oh, love.”

“I missed you. I love you,” he murmured, voice trembling.

“I love you too, Kookie.” You dried his eyes, standing on your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his nose. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

He nodded, his smile so big your eyes watered a little.

Once home, you forgot everything about your suitcase and just kissed him like he deserves. In that moment you were sure you could give him the world. Both your masks and his hat were discarded, your need to touch his face just a bit too intense.

“I’m so happy to have you back,” he whispered, his hands in your hair, stroking it, his eyes glittering with mirth. “Are you tired?”

“Fell asleep on the plane.” You bit your lip before arching an eyebrow. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He cackled at your clumsy, flirty expression as you bit your lip and arched an eyebrow cockily. He loved when you turned into an in-real-life meme. “I might have done something questionable.”

“Did you pierce your nipples too? Oh my god, fucking finally!”

He started laughing uncontrollably. “Nope.” And then he got serious. Ominously so. “Not yet.”

You rolled your eyes, sucking your lips. “Did your plans involve me shirtless?”

His hands wrapped around your waist, rubbing up and down your sides. “Hopefully, you naked,” he teased, his cheeks blushing.

“Mh… I'm sort of worried about that questionable thing you did. But I also kind of want to jump your bones.” You wrapped your arms behind his neck, his hands growing brave enough to land on your ass and squeeze it, his smile sheepish as he stared at you.

“I can show you the potentially questionable thing and then you can choose if you still want to jump my bones,” he argued, rather reasonably. “It’s just a little… improvement, so to say. For our bedroom.”

You turned your head to the side a little, giving him a curious but also intrigued look. “Surprise me.”

He cackled in that cute, precious way of his and reached for your hand, blushing adorably as he led the way.

You followed him with quick steps, trying to make him go faster, but he kept his own pace. You hadn’t been so excited to make love to him in so long — and although it felt amazing, the anticipation and the pining and the longing and the innocent playfulness of it all, you were starting to grow impatient for the actual act: watching it unfold, see his naked skin and touch it, kiss it, feel his taste in your mouth, the girth of his sex in your hand, your laboured breaths syncing up, his moans echoed by your own, your hips and his pushing and pulling in a tide, the same way the sea plays with the shore in an endless chase of emptying and filling; fighting for air, for space, for— for him. To get more of him, slip underneath his skin, make him yours, wear his body like the best dress for your soul.

You stopped him in front of the door, pushed his back to the wall and rose to your tiptoes to kiss him.

You closed your eyes and opened your mouth and prayed for his tongue to slide across your lips to meet your own. You wanted to be tangled in him.

You wanted to knot yourself with him in a way that would hold the two of you together forever. You had never imagined you would come to crave him in such an all-or-nothing kind of way. It was everything and still nothing could satisfy you.

“I need you to own me,” you whispered as he still recovered from your hungry kiss.

Fervour. Jeongguk had never known such a thing in his life until that kiss. “Tell me how,” he licked your neck before giving the gentlest of nibbles. “You know I won’t disappoint.” Fuck his bedroom improvements — you wanted to be owned, you needed it. He would deliver because no fantasy could ever overpower the actual feeling of being united with you.

“I want to feel you naked. Bare. Inside me, around me, on top of me. I want to be wrapped in you.” As he started to suck at your neck and chest, you combed his hair — a gesture that was led by affection, sure, but also your need to hold on to something as your world started spinning faster, and your need to control him, direct him in his expert unraveling of you. “I want you to be everything around me. I want you to be my whole world.”

Jeongguk offered you his leg to rub against as he moved his arms around you, tightening his hold on your waist.

“I want you to be everything I can feel, hear, touch, taste, smell… Everything I can think of.”

Jeongguk felt insane at the thought. You wanted him to become your everything. And he would do just that.

He started with your sweater, pulling it over your head. Next your tank top — so soft, and slightly loose. Your naked torso was just underneath that.

Although he had grown acquainted with the latest additions to your breasts through the screen, it was nothing compared to the actual sight of them. “They look even hotter now that I can touch them and suck them. Fuck…” His eyes stayed glued there for a couple seconds before he turned the tables and pushed you with your back to the wall. “Do they hurt if I touch them?”

You shook your head. “They’re all healed up.” You placed your hands on his. “Do you need me to help?”

He nodded. He wasn’t shy about accepting help anymore. He had learnt it was a double win: he got to pleasure you and you would reach your high. He would feel an accomplished lover, and you would feel thankful, which would usually translate into you returning the favour in an endless give and take that usually took a couple hours for both of you to get too tired to continue.

He let you lead him, place his hands where you wanted them — specifically, cupping your breasts while his thumbs remained free.

“Touch them,” you whispered, your breathing laboured.

He looked you in the eyes as he laid his thumbs on your pierced nipples, twisting the silver barbells back and forth.

You bumped your head into the wall behind you as pleasure rushed through you, zip lining from your breasts to your core, arousal gushing out, making you feel uncomfortable between your legs.

He smiled worriedly at your reaction. “Did you hurt your head, baby?”

You shook your head. “I’m in heaven, love.”

He grinned at the nickname. “Great. Do you know what would be heaven to me, right now?”

“Sucking my tits?” You teased knowingly.

He nodded with a similarly knowing smile. “Exactly. You’re damn perfect.” He lowered himself just a little, just enough for his mouth to be at level with your chest.

And then you felt it — the scorching hotness of his mouth around your tender skin, blood coursing through it as your nipples hardened. Your breasts felt heavy, just for a second before he pushed them up higher and squeezed.

You felt a shiver, a cascade of fluttery contractions animate the walls of your sex. It made your whole body shiver in return.

“Guk, this… Oh my god, I don’t care if this turns into sex, this is the best you’ve ever made me feel.” You tried to give him something to thank him, your hand reaching between his legs, resting over the waistband of his sweats. “Can I?” You asked, lingering there, waiting for consent.

“Hold on,” he panted. “If you touch me there I’m gonna cum. Just grab my ass. I want my ass grabbed,” he explained before focusing on your other nipple.

As an involuntary reaction, you scratched his abdomen with your nails, your fingers clawing in before you could control yourself. You moved your hand to his butt as soon as you remembered his direction, and then you placed your other hand to the crown of his head, grabbing his hair.

He moaned, and you moaned because his sounds felt good against your sodden breast, your back arched, and he slipped a hand behind you, between your shoulder blades, so he could push you into his mouth.

He sucked harder, the suction turning mind-blowing as he started pulling, the pressure growing as he moved further away, right before your flesh popped out of his mouth.

You gasped at that.

And then you whimpered when his tongue lashed out for your hardened, reddened bud.

“Jeon— Guk,” you managed to breathe out, your brain trying to deal with too many emotions and sensations.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered, almost begging. “Wanna hear you cum. I wanna make you feel good.”

“Enough of making myself cum, please— I want you,” you begged.

He felt it. The need, right there, to feel one with you.

“Ride my face—” he said, just as you spoke, “Fuck me”.

He closed his eyes and laughed, throwing his head back before looking at you pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to fuck you, really, but I wanna save it for last.”

“Who cares first or last, you've got stamina! We can take rounds, doesn't matter,” you whined, complaining so irresistibly that he picked you up and brought you to your room, dumping you on the bed and smirking, pushing your breasts together and diving for the crevasse between them.

“Remove your sweats, mister. I'd like to have a conversation with your dick,” you ordered.

Jeongguk stopped before cackling.

“I'm not joking. Do you know how hard it was to watch you masturbate on a damn screen? Do you know how mind consuming it was not to suck you? Sometimes I zoned out while sketching because I was too busy thinking about your cock in my mouth.” You weren't even exaggerating it. It was all true.

“Were you that needy? I knew it… I should have visited.” He stood up, took off his sweats and— “Oh, what do you think?” He turned around and you didn't really understand what he meant — it's not like you were too busy studying his ass and thighs and thinking just how much you wanted to bite all those muscles.

Then you noticed it. “Is it…? Is it what I think it is?”

He turned to you and nodded.

“Fuuuck.” You stood up and moved towards it. From up close, it looked more complicated than what it had seemed.

Jeongguk got rid of his t-shirt too, wearing only his boxers when he moved behind you, back hugging you, his hands laying on the button of your jeans. “Wanna try?”

“Undress me first,” you told him.

His hands undid the button. Tugged at the zipper. Pushed the waistband down.

Meanwhile, his teeth grazed the curve of your shoulder. “I’ve spent nights wondering what we could with it.” As he lowered your jeans, he bent down, pressing kisses down your spine. “My only worry is that I’m not sure I’ll deliver on it. I’m a novice.” He sunk his front teeth into your glute, taking a large bite of it and making you squeal in delight. “But we have time. To try. To learn.”

He stood up and spun you around, kissing you shallowly but intensely. It was just his lips pressed to yours, his hands pressed to your cheeks, his eyes shut tight as he put all the power of his adoration in that simple, tiny gesture.

“We're going to learn everything, together,” you reassured him, tipping his head down so you could press your forehead to his. “I want to learn everything with you.” You kissed his jaw, down the column of his neck as you continued, “I want to learn how you feel inside my mouth. Inside my body. Between my breasts.” You kissed his chest “I want to learn how my heart plummets when I hear your voice. When I can smell the scent of you near.”

Jeongguk wrapped his arms around you. “I like when you talk about how I make you feel.” He had spent weeks expressing his emotions, talking, analysing, deconstructing his feelings brick by brick. And now that he knew the words, that he knew what it means when his heart does an excited tippity-tap when you smile. Or what it means when his palms get sweaty and his chest feels like a set of drums when your hands wrap around his waist. Or when his mind feels like it's drifting on a canoe on a pacific lake in a sunny autumn day, usually when your hand is combing through his hair.

You had helped him give a name to all the emotions and sensations rushing or lulling through him whenever you were involved.

Right now he felt like he was bouncing on a trampoline.

“Come on, get comfy. You go first,” he said, ever the pleaser. He was dying to feel your scorching, liquid need on his tongue.

You looked at him for half a second, only vaguely distracted, trying to understand what you were going to do. “How should I…?”

Jeongguk stared at the several straps. “Well, first, you sit on the middle one, I guess.”

You approached the swing, grabbing the straps in the middle and stabilising the seat before you squatted and managed to safely sit on the soft padding covering the strap.

Jeongguk nodded. “I guess you put your feet in the stirrups, if you like. And fix the other strap behind your shoulders.”

You did so tentatively, gingerly leaning back and reaching a bizarre position that reminded you of your yearly ob-gyn checkup. Your legs were spread, knees bent, your back laid relatively unstrained against the two straps.

“Interesting.” He shortened the feet straps so that your legs were slightly higher. “Now I guess you're too sprawled out for me not to eat you alive, correct?”

You purred, the fresh air of the room reminding you just how needy and wet you were between your legs.

“I see.”

“Do you think we can sixty-nine on this thing?” you asked, batting your lashes at him while he licked his palm, a string of saliva connecting his tongue to his fingers.

He stopped mid-motion, a deer caught in the headlights.

“You want that?”

“I want your dick in my mouth, then your tongue between my legs, possibly together with your naughty fingers, and then when you get hard again because I taste so, so sweet, I want you to fuck me on this…” you tried to find a way to describe the thing you were on, “On this confusing contraption.”

Jeongguk stared at you some more. “In that precise order, I assume.”

“It's the perfect order. I've been thinking about it all the flight.”

He nodded, humming. “It was a very long flight.”

“Indeed.”

“We could have joined the Mile high club…” Jeongguk made a pensive pout, one completely dissonant with the raging erection leaking against his lower abdomen.

You stared at it, tilting your head to the side as you followed its curve with the touchless brush of your glance. He had apparently zoned out.

“Baby… What are you thinking about?” you found his eyes again.

“You and I fucking in the cramped space of an airplane restroom.”

“Amusing. Would you now stop thinking about fucking me and actually perform your task?” You smirked, a blunt and desperate look on your face.

Jeongguk grinned and grabbed your hips, spreading you before him, grinding against your core.

“I said, your dick in my mouth first,” you corrected him pettily.

“I don’t remember you being so choosy.” He brought his thumb to your clit, trying to distract you for long enough to slip in.

He wanted in. He craved it so badly that he could swear his knees buckled at the faint suggestion of your heat against his shaft.

“Please, Guk,” you moaned, gripping his slim waist with your hands.

“Please what, Candy?” He growled in return, gripping his erection and pressing the tip to your entrance. He knew that if he slid in, he would cum in a couple thrusts.

“Your dick… my mouth…” you mumbled weakly, feeling his free hand venture to your chest, his pointer finger drawing small circles that made your piercing shift deliriously slowly. You felt your nipples harden, even though you would have bet they were fully erect already.

You could feel blood rush through you, your head growing dizzy as you blinked slowly, the gentle lulling motion of the swing making you even more relaxed.

Jeongguk lowered his head to kiss your chest. “You really want to blow me.”

“I’ve been missing it so much.” You lowered your hand to his crotch, his hiss announcing that your touch was incredibly stimulating, maybe as much as his hand cradling your breast.

“Do you want to… I don’t know, lay there and I’ll stand by your head and…” Jeongguk blushed faintly in the gentle late-afternoon light.

“Really? Blushing at me again?” You smiled at him. “You’re so lovely.” It was impossible in the way only real things were. You never thought you would find yourself in a sex swing, in front of a naked and aroused Jeon Jeongguk, blushing at you over how eager he was to fuck you. And yet…

He bent down to kiss you. “You want me to get rough with you?”

You nodded fervently. Your neck almost snapped and your entire body jiggled at the motion — because of your precarious position.

He smirked in a way that let you know he’d hit a switch. “Okay, Candy.” He slapped your breast out of the blue, to surprise you.

A grin flashed on your face and you licked your lips, ready to take whatever he wanted to give you.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

You grinned some more, nodding ecstatically. You’d been dreaming about this for weeks.

“I have. So, so much.”

He shook his head with a disappointed tut. He stood up and stepped back, then he moved around you, till he reached your shoulder. “Lay down some more,” he said, his voice a dark caress.

You shifted your weight tentatively until your head reached more or less his hip.

“Good girl. Now I want you to open your mouth like a greedy, hungry little thing. Will you do that for me, Candy?”

You had already obeyed before he could finish buttering you up, and he was so pleased with it. He enjoyed how you always gave yourself so willingly, how you always made his wishes come true before he could even express them.

He thought you had built a direct link to his brain, materialising his every desire.

He grabbed himself with one hand, the other cupping your cheek, pressing your temple to the sweet spot where his leg joined his torso. He stabilised you and then he slipped his cock in your mouth.

It was soft — rather, smooth. And the head… the head was soft, just as you remembered it, if not softer. It tasted vaguely coppery, salty and… and musky. It was so him, so special to you. You had never enjoyed the taste of it until you had him, and then again, it wasn’t actually enjoying it, it had been more like learning to associate the strange flavour to his pleasured look, his needy gaze, the way his mouth would hang slightly open, his hair growing sweaty as his body got hotter and hotter.

You started sucking him, trying to cover your teeth as best as you could, but the angle was unusual and a bit uncomfortable.

He still stared at you, keeping you as still as he could while his knees buckled. He pressed himself to the soft inside of your cheek, rubbing there, finding relief in a slow, gentle motion. “I’ve been missing this mouth,” he moaned, grabbing the rope above his head for stability. “Holy fuck, Candy…”

You sucked him, rubbing your tongue against his shaft, trying to shift your angle so you could take him deeper, until he positioned himself perfectly behind you, your head tipped back so he could slide in. You closed your eyes — so you could focus, and also because the view wasn’t that worth watching — and you took him. You took him deeper.

Jeongguk shivered and grunted, grabbing both ropes for stability, though only momentarily. He threw his head back, throat exposed majestically.

Your hands found his thighs, so strong, so hard, and you sank your fingers in, using them for leverage as you pushed yourself away, taking a big breath, a couple more, and then sinking back on him, sheathing him in your throat. He growled, speechless before his hands travelled down the ropes, grabbing your shoulders to help you swing back and forth, swallowing him. You tapped him on the leg energetically when you needed air, and he realised he needed to let you go.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, voice hoarse with how hard he had been panting. “Do you think you can keep going like this?”

You nodded weakly. “Just a little. It’s deep. It burns a little.”

He hummed and stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I feel so dirty for liking this. Dirty in a good way, I mean.”

Your smile was warm and reassuring. The Jeongguk you had first slept with would have been too ashamed to confess this. But now you had him talking, confessing, elaborating his feelings, his sensations. “And I’m very pleased to be pleasing you.”

He smirked. “You’re amazing.”

You winked and lolled your tongue out, trying to reach for him as he pulled you closer to his crotch. You managed to lick the base of his shaft, where the skin became so soft around his testicles.

He exhaled loudly. His hands found your breasts and you whined, tracing the back of his thighs with your nails.

His thumbs drew circles around your nipples, slow, tantalising. Your body felt electrified by his touch, and he giggled hoarsely as you traced the curves of his glutes.

“Wait, Candy,” he breathed out before straightening his back, trying to gain at least a sliver of control over himself. “I can’t… I can’t—”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I mean I have to sit. I swear I’m gonna fall to my knees if you keep doing that,” he chuckled and looked at you, tracing your jaw. “I’m not strong enough to handle you right now. I’m… I’m not in the mindset.”

You caressed your hip and used the ropes to help yourself sit up. The padded ledges and stirrups had kept the rope from sinking in your skin and bruising you, still you were grateful for standing up, your balance readjusting to a world that didn’t swing around you. “All yours,” you told Jeongguk, taking a step back from the swing.

He stared at it for a second, then reached your side and sat on the middle ledge, adjusting the back one behind his shoulders before setting his feet on the stirrups.

His legs automatically spread.

He was there. Offered to you.

You literally gawked at him for a second or ten. He was entirely exposed, nothing to hide. HIs abdomen was flexed to keep his balance, his chest was puffed out, his arms stretched above his head, draped around the ropes. And his thighs, flexed, knees bent, and parted. You knelt between his legs.

It felt right. It felt so damn right, like your body didn’t even need your mind to command it.

Tracing his quadriceps with your nails, you ventured closer to his crotch, to where his skin became paperthin, so pale and sensitive that even your shyest touch caused his erection to stir, quiver, shift. And there, the trace of what your hands did to him, a perlaceous droplet resting where his tip had laid.

Ravenous, your mouth flew to him, no noise except for the heavy sigh he emitted, followed by a grunt as you grew more impatient.

Your forearms wrapped around his legs and you unconsciously started swinging him back and forth, just lightly enough to help him in and out of your mouth.

It was instinct, all of it. Shifting, rising, falling, his gasps, your moans, the way his hand tightened around the rope, the way he lifted his leg, just barely, unintentionally trying to go deeper.

You slipped him out of your mouth just for a second. It pleased you to see him so dishevelled, perspiration causing his bangs to stick to his forehead. “Use your hand, mine are busy.”

He smiled slowly, then he grabbed himself and gave his erection a lazy pump.

You lowered your lips to his balls, simply skimming them softly. “I love your skin here. So smooth.”

He hummed, too pleased with the way you spoke about him, about his body, about how in love you were with every small detail of him. He'd never felt so adored.

It made him feel a kind of holy that brought him above shame.

“Keep talking, please,” he said, his whisper bordering on a slightly hoarse murmur.

“What do you want me to talk about, love?”

He hummed at the pet name. “Every thought I give you.”

You smiled and dragged your face against his inner thigh. “You want to know how you fill my brain?” You chuckled fondly. He knows, he knows, he knows, you told yourself, rejoicing at the fact that he's aware, that he understands and remembers that he's your only thought when you're together.

“All I think about is you. Your strong, beautiful body. You make me want to sculpt the shape of you in clay. You make me want to use my hands. You make me want to carve you into marble.”

You didn't know how you managed to be so eloquent while your hands, your face, your body were being so animalistic. You were grabbing and licking and rubbing and…

“If this is how he felt, I know how Michelangelo made those statues. I can feel it.” You abandoned yourself to Jeongguk's touch, his hand caressing your hair, your fingers, your shoulders, your cheek. “This passion… The lust for you… It's not creativity. It's creation.”

Jeongguk traced the seam of your lips with his thumb, fascinated by your words, the way your mouth formed them. “You're magical,” he whispered in awe.

You smiled, suddenly shy regardless of the debauchery you'd been indulging in moments earlier.

“Let me show you bliss,” he spoke gently. “Please.”

You almost caved before you teased his frenulum with a flick of your tongue, reminding yourself what you wanted most. “You first,” you objected before fixing your stance and taking half of him in the warmth of your mouth.

His head fell back, a long, strained moan leaving his throat, perfectly exposed in his position. You wished you had two mouths so you could taste the round of his Adam's apple too.

You bobbed your head slowly at first, then increased your rhythm. Took a quick break, during which he tried to overrule you, but then went back to work, silencing him — but also making him howl in pleasure — with the finest of your techniques. And when he did reach his peak, he stayed there, long and deep. And hot.

Your eyes were fixed on him, on his head thrown back, on his chest, taut and tense, on his abs, shivering, on his legs, trembling with bliss and effort as he tried to keep himself still. You could bet his toes were curled, but you didn't think about checking those, you simply closed your eyes and slid him out of your throat, as gently as possible, trying to preserve the taste of him on your tongue, memorising how it dipped with the weight of him, the size of him, his shape.

It was his hand that ventured in your hair tentatively, removing your mouth from him entirely.

“Love, are you alright? Anything wrong?” Did you forget something? It felt like you did. Maybe you had… Maybe he…

“Hey,” he called gently, getting off the swing to kneel in front of you. He spoke your name with adoration and love and worry on his face, his voice so sweet and perfect, like a flannel shirt on an autumn day. His arms wrapped around you.

“Candy,” he said simply. He felt your body go loose in his arms. “Yes, love. Relax.” He smiled and closed his eyes, so pleased with himself. “I've got you.”

“I'm home,” you exhaled, your arms squeezing him. “I am home.”

“You're home, love.” He kissed the crown of your head, then tipped back just slightly, just enough so he could look into your eyes, and see himself reflected there. See himself through you. “I'm here now. And nothing will ever go wrong.” He pecked your lips with his. “Believe me.”

“I believe you,” you replied, the faith in your voice so firm that he understood why some people died for their beliefs.

He didn't need you to tell him: he knew your love for him was like religion. And maybe he was stupid, but he had always believed in you like a god, so it felt electrocuting to be looked at the same way he usually looked at other people.

He realised how strong he was only once he managed to see his strength in you.

He sat on his heels and pulled you onto his lap,his kiss getting deeper, stopping only once his knees hurt from being pressed to the hard floor.

“Get on the swing, sweet cheeks,” he teased before squeezing your butt eloquently. “I believe I promised my tongue to your clit.”

You were still dizzy from his kisses, so you barely caught the words — 'tongue', 'clit', — enough to send a sex addled smile to your face.

You helped yourself up and he held the straps for you, helping you sit first, then guiding your feet onto the stirrups.

“Lay back,” he suggested, noticing how stiff you were on the seat, barely giving him enough room to access your body.

You fumbled with the back strap, shortening it, adjusting it to your body clumsily after it had held Jeongguk's larger, stronger shoulders.

You managed to relax just barely.

He smiled reassuringly. “It's gonna hold you up, just slide your weight to the back.”

You did as he told you. Your body shifted abruptly, but he had a strong hold of you, keeping you in position and stabilising the straps so that they would hold you safely.

“There,” he murmured kindly, making eye contact with you and shooting you a grin. “How are you feeling?”

“Unsteady,” you confessed with a tense expression.

“I promise you won't notice that once you get used to it. And once I get my mouth on you.”

You chuckled and exhaled, trying to let go of the funny sensation caused by the swing and the drifting midair.

The first thing Jeongguk did was grabbing a plush towel from the drawer, laying it on the ground for him to kneel.

Next he took your left calf and sat beside it, between your legs.

“Look at that… Why didn't you tell me it hurt, mh?” His tone was almost disappointed as he pressed his lips to your bruising knees.

“What?” you asked, a bit too caught up in the moment to understand what he was talking about.

“Your knees on the floor. They're gonna bruise,” he explained, moving his lips to the other knee and peppering kisses there.

How that could feel erotic, you didn't know, the only thing you could focus on were the currents of pleasure pushing you around like tides.

“I didn't notice they hurt,” you tried to say before your entire brain would turn to mush.

“You must have been extremely focused on something else entirely…” he mused with a boyish grin. “I understand. I also get tunnel vision when my beautiful girlfriend is laying right before me… Legs spread… Tits out…” He leaned forward, his hot breath caressing your soaked folds. “Now now, let's see if you taste as sweet as I remember.”

You were twitching on the swing by then, so awfully impatient — so impatient that the first lick, although mind blowing, was barely satisfactory.

“Memory doesn't do you justice, my love.” His second lick was outright sinful. “You're so far damn more delicious.”

He was a hurricane. Unstoppable, unrelenting. A force of nature. He could play you like an instrument, a twist of his tongue and your arms went tense, a flick at your clit and your legs quivered, on plunge inside you had your head thrown back, your hands reaching out, your eyes shutting tight and your breath caught in your lungs.

He kept his tongue straight, taut, and slipped just an inch inside you, grabbing the seat of the swing to push you back and forth on him.

The sensation wasn't as mind-blowing as you thought it would be, probably because your clit stayed uninvolved.

“Guk. Outside, your hands,” you stammered, bringing your own hands to his head, trying to direct him.

He looked up at you, his chin glistening with your cum. His expression looked confused, as if he hadn't totally processed your words.

“I need you on my clit,” you said more clearly, your voice still a bit whiny. “I want— YES!”

Two of his fingers had started curling against your g-spot, while his tongue was flat out, his head moving in a nodding motion, with quick, rough swipes of his tongue.

“Please, keep going,” you breathed out, feeling his hair underneath your fingers, his moans of pleasure as he dove entirely in your taste.

His dick was once more hard, once more glistening and dripping. God, he wanted inside… He wanted it so, so bad.

He wanted to feel your cunt milking him, warm and slippery, with that delicious texture, those trained muscles that always took him so well, squeezing him, then releasing him, on and on with that erotic torture that never failed to drive him insane.

He had to focus on something else, or he would never last long enough. He simply picked up the pace, hoping that the change in pattern would get you to cum faster.

“Guk, I… So close.”

He watched you. He watched your chest blush and your mouth open and your hair tumble back. His gaze returned to your nipples, his fingers almost ready to head up and tweak them before he remembered his task. He stayed focused, he kept the pace. And then your entire body locked before it exploded.

You did not contain a loud, moaning call of his name, which almost made him lose his cool. You tried to say his name again, but the sound died on your tongue as he kept touching you beyond your pleasure, pushing your limits. Your fingers were tugging at his hair, trying to pull him away, but he stayed there, only removing his digits from within you.

Only when he was happy with your state of dishevel, he detached from you and slipped his fingers in his mouth. Three of them.

You didn't remember having three inside…

“Whenever you're ready, flip on your stomach. I know how I wanna do this,” he said, shortly after he popped his fingers out from his mouth with a lewd sucking sound. He was probably savouring every drop of you on his hand.

“Are you still with me, love?” He asked with a fond look on his face. Goodness, he wanted to lay on top of you. Maybe also do you in missionary, just to refresh the memory of your lost expression whenever he was too good at whatever he was doing. He had been masturbating for weeks while propped on his knees and elbow, a towel laid down below his hips, using his hand as if it could even remotely resemble the feel of you, his eyes closed as he evoked the sound of you, the look of you. The feel of your breasts in his mouth, of your ass cupped in his hand as he tried to lift you up, to shift the angle in that way that always had you exhaling so loud a whimper would escape you.

“Sweetheart?” he called you again, only to watch you shake your head.

“I'm too dizzy, I don't want to shift.”

Jeongguk moved a lock of hair that had stuck to your face. “Dizzy? Do you need help? Sugars? Did you skip your meals?”

“No, I'm just… It's the swinging, I think.” You looked up at him and your face immediately bloomed in a beatific expression. “Hi,” you swooned.

“Hello,” he replied, equally love-addled. “You've reached Baby Star Candy's voicemail. Jeongguk is currently unavailable, he's lost in his beautiful girlfriend's eyes,” he said, droning like a recorded voice.

It made you laugh. It made you fall for him ten times harder. “I love you, baby boy.”

He grinned. His dimples appeared, the scar on his cheek turned into a smiley face too. His eyes glittered with something so pure and unexpected, something sharp and hot that cut through you like a knife, but never hurt. You felt impaled by it.

“I love you too, ____.” Your name trotted out of his lips like a golden retriever puppy with a fancy, clumsy fall to its oversized paws, perfectly represented by Jeongguk's little lisp. It was adorable.

It made you want to give him the world.

You haphazardly stood to your feet, reaching with your arms around his neck to hug him. “If only I could show you how you make me feel,” you mused, a pang of disappointment in your gut due to the fact that he would never feel the circus parade that marched through you everytime you were reminded of your unique bond.

“I can feel it.”

“I want to show it. Like if I could tear open my chest and let you see what's going on underneath.”

“That's risky.” He kissed your head. “Kinda gross and dangerous too, so please don't. I can feel it, that's enough to me. You show me everyday.” He held you closer, still careful about not squeezing you. Sometimes he was reminded you could take everything he threw your way only metaphorically, and he softened the strength of his hold. His voice sounded a little worried when he spoke again. “What is it, Candy? Are you okay, love?”

“I never thought being far from you would be so painful and so beautiful. I’m so grateful you gave me this chance.” Your voice was pliant, almost supplicant.

“It wasn’t me conceding you anything. It’s not like you needed my permission.” He held your face and tipped it back so he could look into your eyes. “You earned it, you deserved it. You’re hard-working, and I wouldn’t be a good partner if I tied your wings back and kept you in a golden cage. You need to fly and I need to trust you to come back. I want you to become the best version of yourself, and I need to encourage you on your way to it.”

You kissed him, with tears in your eyes, you kissed him, until your lungs burnt, until he was vibrating with urgency to be inside you.

“Candy,” he panted out, “Candy, sweetheart, I need you.” His cheeks were red because of the temperature in the room, because of his heart thrumming like a war drum in his chest. He lowered himself and pressed his hands to the back of your knees, picking you up effortlessly, grinning at your breasts right in front of his eyes. He almost wanted to say something but he stretched his neck so he could wrap his mouth around your nipple and suck it.

He fixed his grip as you threw your head back, humming. “Bed. We can do whatever with the swing another time. Now make it easy, quick and please, make it so good, Guk. Make it as good as you promised me over and over.”

He nodded. Though he wanted you hanging from the swing, so he could just swing you back and forth onto his cock, make you slide on him. “Just try the swing for a minute. Please.” He splashed little pecks all over your breasts. “If you don’t like it, I’ll just fuck you in bed. But give the swing a try first. Please. I’ll eat you out again if I mess up, just give it a chance. Please, Candy,” he supplicated, his voice whiny and imploring.

You nodded, distracted. “Anything you want, baby.” When he used that voice… Those glittering eyes, so innocent no matter the amount of deranged pleasure he gave you, they always managed to win him whatever he wanted from you.

He asked you to grip the ropes of the swing as he lowered you onto the seat, fixing the height of it so you were perfectly aligned with his pelvis.

He set his legs a bit wider, then grabbed your hips. He looked down just in time to see you spread open, to hear you purr as he used his shaft on your clit, the hard ridge of it pressed right between your labia, rubbing back and forth. We was quiet, taking in the feeling, the sight. He was focusing, tormented by the thought that he'd been too careless each time he'd made love to you, that in the scorching urge of the moment, when you called each other to get rid of tension, he never managed to recall the details that he could never remember where your hands usually touched him, and where his hands usually stayed. He was—

“Baby,” you murmured, your voice breaking the spell of his panic. “Just slip inside, baby boy. I'll make you forget it.”

He pushed in in less than a second, his dick sinking inside you without friction, without resistance.

You were welcoming him inside you, ready for him. He loved it. Tight felt good, sure. But slippery and warm felt incredibly better, especially when too much tightness could make him lose his mind. He preferred when he made you feel so good you started clenching around him, that way he knew it wasn't pain you were feeling.

“What were you thinking of, baby boy?” You cooed fondly. “As long as we're okay, it's nothing we're supposed to worry about right now, okay?”

He nodded and lowered his torso, holding you as best as he could before he kissed your cheek, and let you kiss him in return. He sank deeper and groaned, ready to bottom out. He did so with a final, thorough thrust. “I was just comparing this all to the way I remembered you when we were apart. There are things I never actively noticed I missed until you were away and I was jerking off to the thought of you.”

He pulled out just a fraction of an inch, but from the way you nodded, completely unfazed by his movement, he realised he had the green light to go.

He pulled out half of him and pushed in again with a thrust of his hips, plunging inside you again in a way that made your eyes lock with his, your parted lips mirrored by yours, wonder and pleasure resetting both your and his brain.

“So now I'm trying to notice more actively all the things you do. I want to be able to imagine you as if you were really there with me.” Another thrust, this one ruthless in a way that made your inside shudder with his violence and his devotion, as he spoke: “Not just your body, how it feels, how it moves, but the way you feel on the brain.”

You stretched your hand, cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned in your touch, finally home. The innocence of him, of his face as he got lost in you, destroyed you. Tears pricked just behind your eyes, ready to spill. He was so perfect, he trusted you so fully, vulnerable, abandoned in your presence alone.

All, all of his walls crumbled down when you were alone with him. And it pleased you, it enchanted you, it made you feel so powerful, and yet love, love untainted love, made you never claim that power to yourself.

It was his gift to you. It was him handing you the knife to hold, and you never sinking it in. He had expected it at the beginning, in his fear; he had always been there, wide eyed lamb waiting to be sacrificed, waiting for his heart to be ripped out.

But you had never. You had never abused the power he was bound to hand over, over and over. And that was the reason why, when his eyes opened, and his lip wobbled, and and he slowed down his thrusts, irises glossy with unshed tears, you tried to sit up, stretching your arms to wrap them behind his neck. It was the reason why he gave in, he caved in and let his torso glue to yours, still rocking his hips slowly, back and forth, oh so slowly.

It robbed you of your breath, of your sanity, of your whole world. There was no world. There was only Jeongguk.

“Babyboy,” you cooed meekly, all your tenderness like a cocoon to his rabbit heart. “Give me. I can take it.”

His mouth sucked at your neck. His teeth sank in and his movements quickened. He was holding your hips, and started using his arms to pull you on him, the crude slapping sound of flesh on flesh growing cruel, so explicit it almost hurt your ears, but you found something else to focus on. His little grunts, his mouth detaching from your collarbone to glue itself to your lips, sucking, licking, nibbling too. His digits were digging in your flesh and he was lost, so lost in you. His hands felt like they were setting their roots in you, growing inside you.

It was like he had been living uprooted since you’d left, and now he was finding his home, his habitat. He was grounded again. And he’d never felt so eager to crawl deeper than he’d been before you parted.

Words had been lost, especially when he was reminded of the little addition to the wonderland of your body.

His tongue found your nipple, the steel stud piercing through it. He twirled it with his tongue with wide, strong licks, his eyes glued to yours.

You moaned and he grunted as he slammed you harder on his cock. “Are you close?” he asked, ever the diligent lover.

“Just cum. I’ll follow,” you said through laboured pants.

He shook his head. “No. Together,” he objected grunting.

You stared at him for a moment before a smile spread on your face. You reached down with your hand. “Okay, babyboy.”

He grinned, his bratty, demanding side momentarily subdued. “Quick.”

You arched an eyebrow, expression cocky. “Careful, bunny.”

His lips formed a confused pout, mouth softly agape. He blinked with that cute innocent face of his. “Hold tight,” he said, his hands shifting only a few inches, to cup your butt and lift you up.

You wrapped your arms around his back while he moved to the bed, sitting down, still sheathed inside you. He lowered his back down, you straddling his lap.

“Baby?” You asked, both your hands on his face, thumb tracing his lower lip. “What’s with the switch?”

“You called me bunny. With that voice. I thought…” His expression was once more confused, adorably so.

You nodded, lowered yourself to kiss your lips.

“Tell me you’ve got me,” he said. “Tell me I’m yours. Show me.” He spoke with that light tone he used when he needed to be reassured.

“Where did your head go, bunny. Of course I’ve got you, Guk. You’ve always got me, baby.” You moved on him with the slowest roll of your hips, so eloquently speaking of love, of tenderness, of safety, of reassurance. “There, bunny.”

He pulled you closer, holding you in his arms, leaving room just enough for your middle finger to draw circles on your clitoris, a warm feeling coiling up in your insides. You squeezed on him and he huffed out a heavy breath. “So… so good. Warm. Good. Snug.”

“You were made to be inside me,” you told him. “We were made for this.” You kissed below his jaw and he purred below you, pushing up and goodness gracious…

“Are you there, Guk? Are you…?”

He grabbed your hips and started moving you on him and it felt so damn right, so stupidly, insanely perfect and you were…

Falling into him. It was like his soul and yours crushed together and your body was obliterating into particles together with his. Collapsing like a supermassive binary system, you were melting into each other. You adhered to each other, atom to atom.

No distance. No room whatsoever. No light or heat would ever escape you. You were a million suns each. You were a joke to gravity.

You were hovering far from the Solar system. You were one billion Earths, lands, oceans, mountains, storms, deserts. You were a choir of galaxies and each sang the same song, each sang that answer.

Own, own, own.

And belong, belong, belong.

The next time Jeongguk spoke, you felt it. That Upper Hand that had puppettered you in each other’s life.

His voice was raspy and exhausted as he started moving again. He wanted everything. And he wanted it again. He made you rise on him like a dawning goddess, and then he said, with awe in his voice: “You said this love is creation. Then create galaxies for me.”

#jk x reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook x candy #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic

210 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 3 years ago

Text

On Duty | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 6k

Genre: smut, pwp, slight angst

Rating: 18+, minors, do not interact

Synopsis: We all have needs, and they require to be catered to. When those deeper, darker cravings hit, it is only normal to look for our partner‘s assistance. And as a newly-wed husband, Yoongi doesn‘t cower away from his duties.

Warnings: Breast-slapping. Mild spanking; alcohol consumption, swearing, mention of cheating. Degradation kink (usage of “bitch” as degrading), grinding, pussy slapping, deprivation, oral sex (male and female receiving), face riding, sixty-nine. Brief mention of assplay (rimming), prostate massage, anal fingering (male receiving), ruined orgasm (male receiving), cum play, cum eating, breast worship. Listen, Yoongi calls Kitten ‘mami’ at some point, don’t come at me it felt fucking damn right. Unprotected sex (WRAP IT, KIDS). Multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation. OH AND… yeah, queefing. But it’s absolutely chill, and playful.

A/N: Hello everyone! This took long but apparently my spicy flow has been recovered! I’m writing every moment I have, hoping the juice doesn’t leave me. Sorry for being absent! I can’t wait to finish with the Small Town Swoons updates and the requests so I can move on with a big fat new project which I already know you’ll all go crazy about!

Thanking @nervous-moon and @joheunsaram for helping me with this one 🥰🥰🥰

Here’s my masterlist, and there you go!

When you entered Yoongi’s studio, you placed your glass of whisky on his coffee table, laying down on his chaise longue.

You waited five minutes. Then ten. You checked the internet for interesting corporate news. You played sudoku.

You sipped on the liqueur until the glass was empty. It was your second, and you were considerably tipsy, maybe because you hadn't eaten that much, given that your boyfriend-freshly-turned-husband was giving you the silent treatment and you didn't even know why.

No matter how insistently you looked at him, Yoongi showed no sign of turning around, his eyes focused solely on the monitor right in front of him.

You clicked your tongue before exhaling. You were ready for war. “Do you perhaps know an agency for male escorts?” You started, tapping your foot with annoyance, trying to control the urge to throw your slipper at him. Maybe if you hit the screen hard enough he would actually take your existence into consideration.

At first he ignored your question, only to mumble 'what?' a few minutes later.

“Male escorts. Do you know any?”

“Bachelorette party?” He guessed. You rolled your eyes. That is not the point, Min Yoongi.

“No.” You lounged some more, and he let your question fade from his mind, time flowing by as you grew more and more annoyed. The whisky hadn’t helped at all. You just wanted to fill the glass with icy water, dump it all over him and then smash the delicate crystal piece on the floor.

You stood and shot your last shot. You walked over to him, standing behind his chair and bending over the back of it. You placed your lips half a millimeter away from his neck. The tip of your tongue peaked out, giving a minuscule lick that made his spine straighten.

“What?” he said, still distracted

You placed your open mouth against his skin, making sure you suckled it a bit, just barely, just to increase his blood flow and make him more sensitive. Once you were happy with the small wet patch, you blew your hot breath against it.

Yoongi’s eyes rolled closed. “I gotta finish this.”

“Finish it tomorrow.” You found his weak spot, just over his carotid artery and nipped it with your teeth before licking it lewdly, kissing it repeatedly, teasing him with the soft inside of your lips, moving an inch down his neck before heading up.

“Kitten, please. I really want to finish this layer.” He fake-sobbed and squeezed his eyes shut.

You let go of him. “It’s not for a bachelorette party. The escort, I mean.” You turned around and picked up the glass. “It’s for me. Since I'm already on the single wife shit.” He heard you complain as you walked away. “Fuck this and the stupid underwear.”

He rubbed his eyes. There was no point going on, all he could think of was your mouth on him. He stood and reached you in the kitchen.

You were wearing your honeymoon set.

“Kitten.”

You shook your head. “Go fuck yourself.”

You left him alone in the kitchen, stomping your feet a little as you walked to the bedroom.

“Kitten…” he sighed, chasing after you.

You shook your head and unclasped your bra, throwing it to the ground and heading to the bathroom to grab your sleeping shirt. You slipped it on and got rid of your panties too. “Leave. I’ve got the wand. Go finish your fucking layer or whatever.”

Yoongi looked at you through the mirror. He was a little hurt. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s Saturday! You promised me Saturdays! This is the third one you miss.” You hissed. “Might as well divorce already if we’re doing arranged meetings.”

He grabbed your wrist and turned you around, cupping your nape and kissing you with intention. “I’m your escort for tonight.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when he was pressing you against the wall, his hand lifting your shirt and grabbing your breast.

“Don’t you have a layer to finish?”

He shook his head. “My wife requires to be fucked.” His hand grabbed your ass. “And don’t you ever act passive aggressive with me ever again.” He slapped your butt, not too hard, given the uncomfortable position. “You want sex, you say ‘Yoongi, I wanna fuck’. No biggie.” He parted your legs with his knee. “Damn escort…” He was ready to rip the shirt off you when he stopped and sobered up. “You want this, Kitten?”

You frowned for a second. “Do you want this? Want me?”

“You're the one who's been drinking,” he said, matter of factly.

“Just two glasses. I was angry.” You barely put up a fight before rubbing yourself against his thigh.

Cruelly he moved his leg away. “Naughty,” he hissed. “Do I have your consent, Kitten?”

“You know you fucking have it,” you hissed back, your hands gripping his hips so hard it almost hurt. He stared into your eyes for ten viciously long seconds, then he pushed your shirt all the way up, taking it off before his mouth found your breast instantly, sucking a mark there. Your eyes were crossing, thighs starting to clench right when he stopped. “You still want an escort, mh? Or do you want me?” he questioned minaciously.

You shook your head as pleasure started bubbling all over you. “You.”

He smirked sadistically, the tip of his fingers hitting your breast in a fast and light motion.

He watched your back arch in reply, your naked folds brushing against his clothed thigh. He pressed his wrist right against your mound, pushing you back against the wall and cupping your crotch, grabbing it possessively. “Whose is this?” he snarled, his teeth ruthless as they nipped at your earlobe.

“Yours,” you whimpered, trying to find friction — to no avail.

“Louder. Whose is this?” He inquired again, this time growing peevish and impatient.

“It's yours,” you spoke intelligibly.

He knelt. “True. All mine.” He smiled cunningly. “Now you're gonna turn around, take a step away from the wall, place your hands on the tiles, and bend over for me, your damn husband.”

You started to move, but he stopped you. “I want your back arched so bad you'll need stretching when we're done. And I want your nipples pressed to the cold tiles. If at any point I find out you broke the rule, I'm gonna stop everything, push you to the floor and fuck you like the horny bitch you are.” He took a pause to kiss your navel before nibbling on it too. “Ass up, tits pressed to the floor. You'd love it, wouldn't you? Screaming my name… Reminding the neighbours who fucks you so good.”

You were panting by the time you actually turned around, positioning yourself for him.

He smiled and stood up, washing his hands, scrubbing his nails before deciding he was ready to get started.

The calluses on his fingertips met the back of your knees, raising goosebumps as they travelled up, to your ass.

He grabbed your hips and pushed you closer to the wall. His right hand slid to your front, his middle and ring finger spreading just enough so they would lay on your labia and avoid all the spots you wanted him to touch.

His mouth at your ear, he whispered, “Spread, I said.”

You widened your stance, but apparently he wasn’t satisfied.

“Wider, Kitten,” he growled.

You obeyed – not without a sliver of hesitation.

He pressed himself against the curve of your butt before lifting his hand. And smacking it against your needy cunt. It took you a second to react as you didn’t fully register what had just happened.

He cackled. “You weren’t acting so prudish earlier. Faking surprise doesn’t suit you,” he taunted you.

“I wasn’t faking it,” you replied, honestly confused. “It just took me a second to process.”

Yoongi came back to Earth long enough to make sure he hadn’t overstepped. “Mh. Would you like to try again?”

He was challenging you. But you also caught his question. Do you want this? “Maybe with a second attempt you can actually give it to me right.”

He groaned and hit you with intention this time, irritation growing real.

And this time he hit you just as you exhaled, manifesting a little squeal. “Is this right for you? For a woman with needs?” He asked before mocking you with a dry chuckle. “Were you wearing your little slutty set for me to notice you and fuck you? You should have just asked.” He spanked you again, causing your knees to quiver.

“Maybe I wanted to feel desired. Maybe I wanted you to want me without having to beg for your attention,” you sneered.

“Oh. I see. Poor nympho, deprived by her dumb hubby.”

Nympho. That word used to be weaponised against you, but you had learnt to accept it, to wear it and shrug it off at your own command. “Are you gonna hold it against me?”

He chuckled and licked the side of your neck before grabbing your breast with his free hand, squeezing it. “Your sex drive? Never.” He kissed below your ear. “I love it.”

“You usually also love sliding your fingers inside me, but apparently you’re making me beg for it, uh? You’re making me beg for a lot of things.”

Your dark cackle made him lose his mind, his hand slapping your breast this time around. “You’re so dirty.” He kissed your nape. “It’s amazing.”

“For a second I thought you were really into insulting me.” You placed your hand on top of his, between your legs. “I was getting a bit scared.”

“You usually like it when I go on and on about how much you like sex–”

“I like it even better when it’s my husband actually giving it to me,” you stated matter-of-factly. “But lately he hasn’t been serving his purpose.”

Yoongi was surprised by your statement. “So my purpose is keeping you fucked and fed, mh?”

You laughed and nodded. “Yes, please. That’s the ultimate fantasy.”

Yoongi laughed too before kneeling. “Sorry for making you feel insulted.” He pressed his lips to your left glute, before giggling a little. “I’m literally kissing your ass so I think I should be excused.”

“I might take your apologies into consideration if you actually lick it.” You turned with a cocky grin, looking at him before winking. “You said you love me…”

The tip of Yoongi's tongue poked out, letting you enjoy the pink glistening of it before he pressed it to your skin and drew a thick stripe of drool over your right butt cheek.

He couldn't resist it. He opened his mouth and tightened his teeth around a pinch of your flesh, sucking it, humming as he did so, his hand travelling to his crotch to fix the uncomfortable stitching pressing against his sex. Once he released your skin, he murmured, “I do love you. In fact, I love you so much I still wanna eat you even when you're a bitch to me.” He felt so strangely calm after saying that, like he was finding you again, after weeks of chaos and rampage. “Can I eat you out like this? Do you… is this position uncomfortable?”

You clicked your tongue to deny you were uncomfortable in any way, then you reached for his shoulder, skimming it with your nails in a way that made him purr. “Give it to me, mr. D.”

He licked his lips. “I give you permission to say that each time I forget why I married you.”

You rolled your eyes and snickered. “Yes, fine, great, now stop talking and start licking, thank you.”

He bit your ass in reply, getting you to squeal and straighten your stance. He grabbed your hips and pushed you back, against his awaiting tongue.

Once you processed the tip of his tongue flicking at your entrance, you felt your eyes cross, pleasure finally snapping inside you, hitting you hard and fast. “Fuck, you’ve been teasing for too long.”

He hummed, his tongue finding its happy nook, the tip touching your clit, the rest of it sliding slippery against your labia. He let it glide against your skin, the taste of you sinking in, the precariousness of the position causing his tongue to wiggle continuously as he tried to maintain contact, to find the right spot and keep it.

“Fuck… Too good,” you managed to pant out, arching further, giving him more room, trying to get him more comfortable.

He took in large breaths as his hand slipped to your front and his nimble fingers started teasing your labia and clitoris while he took a pause. The angle of his wrist was so familiar to the one you usually had on yourself, with his palm directly facing your belly, no strange rotations, uncomfortable leverages, strange twists that ended up cutting on the pressure he could apply to your sensitive spot.

“Kitten,” he called, repeating your nickname twice before you actually replied. “You in the mood for…” He hesitated before suggesting, “Assplay?”

You blinked. “Uhm…” you tried to recall some reasons why you avoided it rather often. “Dental dam?”

Yoongi’s hand slowed down before he squeezed his eyes, scrunching his nose. “Fuck. I forgot. Sorry, love.”

You pouted. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m just sorry I turn it down so often—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured.

Of course you were monogamous. Both of you were — and had been for years, at this point. But the chances of Yoongi wanting to use his mouth elsewhere afterwards were far too high for either of you to feel safe without protection. And you usually took your time to clean yourself properly before any activity involving your anus. It just felt dirty, in some way.

“Do you wanna cum like this?” Yoongi asked, distracting you.

“What's on the menu?” you wondered, a cheeky look on your face.

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re my honoured guest tonight. Anything’s on the menu for you.”

You said what always made him grin from ear to ear. “Wanna sit on my throne like a fucking queen.”

Yoongi rewarded you with your favourite laugh before nuzzling his face against the back of your thigh, spreading kisses and nibbles all over the sensitive skin. “You’re extraordinary.” He scooted over to the carpet, taking off his shirt, his pale torso appearing beneath it.

You turned around to look at him better. His nipples looked so pink against his ivory skin. “Off with your underwear too.”

Yoongi cocked his head to the side in amusement. “How curious. Wanna get a mouthful?”

“Wanna remind you who’s the true MVP at this.” You arched an eyebrow and pressed your foot to his stomach, letting your toes draw a line all the way down, to the waistband of his briefs, to the perfect curve of his erection. “Take 'em off,” you whispered, your voice resonating with preternatural persuasion across the bathroom.

Yoongi took off his underwear clumsily, wiggling and shifting out of it until he managed to tug it off his feet, and once he was done, you decided you should, after all, plant your foot against his chest and push him down, on the carpet.

He stared at you with wide eyes, his chest looking so powerful as large and rapid inhales and exhales made it expand and shrink so visibly.

“Are you ready for it?” you murmured, your voice dark and smoky, just the way he liked it most. Just the way it was first thing in the morning, but also late at night when you lulled him back to sleep, but also while murmuring confessions in the dark, flirting during movie night with the squad.

“Do you really think I'm gonna let you call yourself the MVP and not challenge you?” He smirked devilishly. “Come at me.” He laid down and crossed his arms to pillow his head.

He looked so insanely lean, so perfect in the mellow light of the bathroom, his whole body made to be observed like art.

The mere thought of touching it felt like blasphemy. One is not supposed to disturb the white marble statues like the ones he seemed to embody.

“Who makes the other cum first will win… One week of no dishwashing?” he propositioned, giving you true purpose as he named your most hated chore.

You knelt to look him in the eye, smirking and offering your hand. “Deal?”

He snickered. “Deal.” He shook your hand before laying down and patting his chest. “Make yourself at home,” he said coolly. You straddled his chest and got into position backing up and offering Yoongi one of his favourite sights in the world.

Sure, you in your white dress had been a breathtaking view too, but not quite like your spreaded thighs right above his eyes.

Your mouth was already drooling, your saliva falling in thick blobs over his erection.

"Not fair, you got an early start!” Yoongi complained right before you bit back,

“Well, I'm already wet, you're not. I'm just making things even. Not to mention the spanks and the tongue action.” You blew hot breath over his sensitive skin, feeling him with your lips, making love to the texture of his sex, to the veins, the ridges, the soft, bubblegum tip, and the silky skin of his balls. You felt him with your cheeks, with your nose, taking in the heavy scent, together with the clean taste.

Once you took in the first inch, he reckoned he'd given you enough advantage and it was time for him to start the match.

You gasped and stopped as soon as he found your sweet spot with his tongue, his hands grabbing your glutes and spreading them so he could have better access to your sensitive areas. He felt like grinning as you slowed down, his fingers working their magic as his fingers found your entrance and started toying with it. His tongue was already stretched out reaching for your clit, his upper lip skimming your entrance.

You were distracted just for a minute, during which you didn't even notice your hand was subconsciously touching his balls, your index finger tracing his perineum back and forth before you exhaled on him, asking for more of his tongue on you.

But his more didn't reach you as you swallowed him, bobbing your head viciously, causing him to abandon his head on the floor as he arched his back snapping his hips a couple times.

He bit the inside of your thigh, searching for something that could help him control his moans.

You released him just to ask him quickly, “do you want a finger inside?”

“I didn't prepare…” He moaned, whiny, frowning, fussy.

“I can grab a condom,” you said simply, kissing his pelvis, your gentle touch causing him to shiver.

“This was about me giving you head…” he complained weakly, sinking his fingers into your thighs, squeezing them, trying to feel you. He just wanted to feel you.

“It’s up to you, baby. Right now nothing could please me more than pleasing you,” you tried to argue, stretching your persuasive skills.

Yoongi smiled shyly. “Really?”

“Really, babe.”

“Okay,” he surrendered, his skin buzzing at the pleasure he was about to receive. Sixty-nine never worked on him anyway. You and him both always got too distracted to carry things through fully.

He watched you unstraddle him, heaven disappearing from before his eyes as your naked legs danced in his peripherals, his eyelids too heavy for him to watch your body sway deliciously as you reached a drawer, grabbed a small square of foil and ripped it with your teeth, unrolling the condom on your index and middle finger, adding some lube to it before you went back to Yoongi, his pale body so scrawny and sexy at the same time.

His body was your wonderland, you had told him so aplenty. For him, loving it had become easier since you entered his life.

And knelt there, between his legs, you were his proud owner, asking for him to rise onto his elbows, so you could look at his face as you pressed your fingers to his hole and entered with the tips of your digits.

His gasp, his head thrown back, his hair following the movement in a rippling cascade of raven black.

“Yoongi?”

He moaned your name, spreading his legs wider. “Deeper,” he hissed, whining as his cock clenched a little, precum leaking, your tongue diving for it before you started sucking the tip of his dick.

“More. Please, more.” He was desperate. He wanted you inside, and he wanted you so bad. He wanted…

His thoughts shattered, his restraint breaking as he finally spilled. But it did not last enough. Your mouth wasn't on him anymore.

But he was still cumming. It kept spilling outside your mouth, where just the first spurt had ended before you realised you had different plans.

You kept jerking him off with your free hand, the other overstimulating his prostate, causing him to whine and whimper and call your name, begging for compassion while you simply covered your breasts with all the semen he had to offer.

And once he was done and uttered a 'yellow', you removed your fingers from inside him, removed the condom and focused on comforting him, offering gentle words and sweet praises.

But he dragged you up, he grabbed your face and pulled you towards him, until your face hovered over his. Then past it.

He tightened his arms behind your back, behind your shoulder blades.

And he pulled you down.

You watched him sink his face between your breasts, turning it side to side, his mouth open, his tongue lashing at the skin until he found that sweet spot, his favourite, where your skin was thin and tender and he could mark you, he could brand you. You were the only woman — the only person — he'd ever been so desperate to claim, and he didn't care about the taste in his mouth, or his face glistening in a mixture of your moisture and his own cum.

He wanted to get messy for you — or rather, he was too high to care. Too high on you, on the pleasure that always came from you.

You were mesmerised by his frenzy: you let him roam, suck, lick, bite, mark.

And once his fever seemed to cool you backed up a little, just enough for you to be at eye level with him.

“You feasted, uh, honey?” you asked, looking at him as he stared at you with a taunting smile.

“Your tits are damn sweet.”

You smirked. “Do you know what else is sweet?”

Yoongi waited, a confused and expectant look on his face.

You grabbed his jaw, holding his head still as you bent over him, dragging the flat of your tongue across his cheek, his salty taste spreading on your tastebuds. “You,” you whispered in his ear, pinching his earlobe gently with the tip of your teeth. “You are very fucking sweet… You and your uncontrolled love for my boobs.”

His smile was adorable, pink gums exposed as he grinned wide and ecstatic.

He grabbed your face too, smashing his mouth to yours, opening it wide right from the start, aiming at your tongue with his own, wanting to suck at it. When he tried to find the words to describe exactly what he wanted, he faltered a little before pulling back, your mouth chasing him as you refused him a way out.

He had to push your face away, gasping loudly before panting out, “Fuck my mouth. With your tongue, your fingers. Anything.”

You ground your hips against him, Yoongi purring in return, his gaze turning weak and imploring and lust-addled. “Please,” he begged. “Fuck me.”

His words got you high. You stretched a hand down between your bodies, enjoying the way his dick was hardening right beneath your fingers. “Inside? Already?”

“Yes. Yes, Kitten, yes.” He was there, mouth agape, eyes closing, so beautiful and lost and sensitive and you just knew, you had to push just a little, a tiny little bit.

“Yes what, baby? Tell me.”

His eyes opened just a tiny bit, the dark pearls of his pupils appearing and gleaming at you, kindling a fire so deep you thought you would burn until you had only ashes to offer. He spoke through a pout. “Yes, mami…”

You grinned like the cat who got the cream and slipped him inside. “Such a good boy. Does it feel good?”

“Mh, yeah…” he smiled and you chuckled, starting to move on him. You weren’t entirely stretched out, but you were soaking wet, sliding on him perfectly. After all the foreplay and the dirty talking and especially the cocksucking, you just wanted to get your orgasm and get entirely ruined by your husband.

Husband.

Goodness gracious.

The thought blew your mind, especially once Yoongi caught your hand and brought it to his lips, picking your middle and ring finger and sticking them in his mouth.

You smirked and rubbed them against his tongue, in and out, Yoongi getting extremely vocal about his pleasure.

The fact that your wedding ring was there, laying on your husband’s lower lip as he sucked on your fingers enthusiastically, full of bliss and shamelessness and faith and trust got you to chuckle in pride before he hit your sweet spot and got you to moan. You slowed down your movements, at which Yoongi opened his eyes and pulled away from your fingers. You gave him more space to back away.

“Is everything okay, baby?” You asked, just slightly worried.

“I’m fine. Perfect. Are we?” He blinked quickly, trying to get his brain to connect with reality.

You nodded. “I’m doing super fine.” You watched him pull himself up, to his elbows, then to his hands. He spread his legs a little before he wrapped his arms around you. “Babe?” You asked.

He kissed your chest as he laid his head there, resting. He hummed in reply.

“Are you tired, sweetcheeks?” You ran your hands through his hair. You’d have to wash it later.

“You feel like heaven,” he breathed out. He licked his lips. “So fine.” He hesitated, feeling his heartbeat quicken, his mouth dry, his cheeks redden as he tried it again. “Can I fuck you from behind, mami?”

You looked him in the eye. “You like the nickname?”

He looked back at you. “I’m trying how it feels. I don’t dislike it.”

“I don’t either.” You caressed his cheek with your thumb. “It’s very sweet.”

He nodded, skimming your spine with his fingertips. “But I want to be sort of… not sweet… anymore? Now?”

You nodded. “Mhm. And?”

“And I wanna fuck your brains out, face pressed to the floor, possibly with my hand around your neck and your nipples squished against the cold tiles.” Yoongi looked up at you. “Can we do that?”

You pulled his hair and pushed his head back, leaning down to his neck, licking it before you teased his ear. “Why aren't you doing that already?”

He smirked devilishly before smacking his palm against your ass cheek. “I fucking love you.”

You unstraddled him, Yoongi groaning as his dick left your warm, velvety cunt.

You got yourself on all fours, your back to him as you lowered yourself to your elbows, then pushed your sternum further down, until your chest touched the floor.

You hissed, your nipples hardening as the cold stung you. Yoongi lowered his face to your entrance, his hands grabbing your hips and tilting them just right while he gathered some spit in his mouth, letting it fall on your perineum, watching it slide down to your entrance.

He felt so dirty and so aroused as he watched your labia twitch at the sensation.

With impatience devouring him, he got himself to his knees, aligned his sex with your hole and slid in smoothly.

You weren't tight this time. You were slippery and squelching and he was hitting just right, reaching the very bottom of your vagina, where the inner nerve endings of the clitoris are located.

And he knew how to hit them just right. He pushed inside with a circular motion, using his thigh to match the in and out with an up and down motion.

“Yoongi…”

“I know, kitty cat.” He purred.

You turned your face to the side. “Know what?”

He looked a little dumbfounded at the question.

You grinned. “I'm just messing with you, baby. I know you know. I know you know how good you feel to me, sweetcheeks.”

Yoongi started moving again with a little petty look on his face. “That's right.”

“You feel amazing, Yoongi. You know all my spots.”

He nodded to himself. “I do.”

“You're the most perfect babyboy.” You lowered yourself further, arching your back some more. “Wanna fuck mami real good?” You checked his reaction.

His thrust faltered a little before he pulled out.

And rammed right back inside.

You grunted and hissed a 'yes' in reply.

“Like that?” He growled, repeating the movement. “Uh, mami? That your shit?”

You mewled another confirmation before he started going faster. “Then touch yourself. If you like it that much—”

“I'm— so… P-please…” You started pushing back, against him, the smashing of your skin against his echoing lewdly across the room, hitting the walls, coming back muted. And at some point you just lost it.

You heard a beeping sound in your ears, your blood pressure hitting a spike as the orgasm overthrew you.

Yoongi was too busy smashing you to notice the way your cunt made funny air noises as he pushed into you, deeper, stretching you.

He just wrapped a hand around the front of your neck, almost messing up before he remembered to arch his fingers away from your throat, using only his fingertips to pull you up, your back to his chest.

He slapped your breast, “Come on. Another one, Kitten. Give it to me.”

You threw your head back, leaning on his shoulder, “I queefed,” you mumbled with a half embarrassed expression.

“Yeah, it was hot, now cum again, baby. Let me feel how good I fuck you, mami.”

You hummed, his hand returning to your throat, finding the veins there, pressing just a little. His middle finger found your clit, torturing it as he started feeling his end approach.

“Yoongi…” you whined, placing your hands on his thighs, straightening your arms using them for leverage.

“Grab your tits, babe. Squeeze your nipples,” he ordered.

“Please, fill me up, Yoongi please!” You weren't sure about how loud you were being, it was just too much, too everything.

“Not cumming without you, come on, Kitten. Focus,” he hissed.

You held your breath. You pressed his fingers harder against the sides of your neck.

And a few seconds later, you were gone.

The air left your lungs in a loud squeal, Yoongi starting to pulsate inside you sometime after you started gaining sensitivity again — going hypersensitive even.

“Fuck it, Kitten. So fucking high,” he growled against your ear, fucking up from below, his hand slapping your clit and making you whimper, his other hand leaving your neck and squeezing your breast instead.

He stilled, not after making you beg for him to slow down, the giggling in your voice letting him know you meant it for real.

He stayed sheathed inside as you collapsed against his chest.

“How are your knees, baby?” he asked.

Thankfully, while your chest had been pressed to the tiles, your knees had stayed on the carpet, together with Yoongi's.

“I'm fine,” you whispered.

“You were so good, Kitten.”

You grinned. “No more mami for me?”

He chuckled. “You'll never let me hear the end of it, mh?”

“It was so hot. Kind of unexpected but hot.” You rubbed your hand up and down his thigh, comforting him. “I like it. I wouldn't mind using this when you're feeling subby and whiny.” You tried to check his reaction as you added, “When you wanna be a good boy and bounce on my dick. Or suck it.”

Yoongi was caught off guard. Yes, he liked when you pegged him. Yes, he liked when you took control from him. “Really?”

You hummed in confirmation. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. “If we weren't already married, I would have gone buy the ring right in this moment.” You giggled. It felt amazing on his dick.

“You need aftercare first.” You placed your hand on top of his. It was dirty and messy but you brought it to your lips and kissed it anyway. “But I must have made a good impression if tonight made you wanna wife me again. Despite the queefing,” you said before laughing.

“I read that as a compliment. Must have been hitting it real good,” he mumbled to himself, gloating a little. Actually, a lot. “You're the only one embarrassed by it.”

You chuckled some more. “I gotta go pee. And then we're gonna take a bath and I'll take care of you.” You shifted, ready to move on.

“Thank you, mami,” he purred.

“You wanna get started again?” you said, giving him a side eye.

He just curled his lips before shaking his head.

“Then choose your weapons carefully, babyboy.” You winked at him and then lifted yourself from his lap, Yoongi grabbing you and trying to lick you clean.

“No no, sweetie,” you argued with a smile. “Leave some for tomorrow morning.”

When you were back, Yoongi was curled on the carpet, eyes closed, palms joined, hands tucked between his knees.

“Baby, what are you doing there?” You knelt beside him and kissed his forehead. “Let's have a bath. You need some pampering.”

You filled the tub with hot water, poured in some lavender essential oil. Yoongi seemed less reluctant to join you once the smell reached his nostrils.

He sat himself down in the middle of the tub, forcing you to scoot in behind him. You used a loofah to scrub yourself clean, and then you wrapped your arms around him, letting him lay on you.

“Are you okay, Yoongi?” Your voice was soft, tender.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I neglected you. I forgot about the real world for a little. I felt guilty about not working for two full weeks and I wanted to compensate.” He yawned and made himself more comfortable on your chest. You kissed his head and traced his rib cage with your fingers, shivers coursing through him at how sensitive his skin felt.

“I understand. Sorry I acted so mean instead of confronting you more maturely.”

“You said you wanted me to notice you, and I understand. You think it would have felt less genuine.”

“Yes… But it’s still a lame excuse,” you murmured, criticising your own behaviour.

Yoongi started skimming the side of your leg sweetly, cuddling himself to sleep. “But it’s all settled now. We’ll do better next time.”

You nodded. “Next time.” You sunk your nose into his hair. “Are you falling asleep, baby?”

“Mhm.”

You giggled. “Let’s wash your hair. I’ll dry it for you before bed. Then you can sleep.”

“Thank you, mami.” He grinned, waiting for your reaction.

“Can’t wait to wake you up tomorrow morning,” you teased, your nails grazing against his inner thigh.

He chuckled. “Something spicy?”

“Lemme know what you want in the menu.”

He squeezed your leg eloquently. “I fucking love you.”

You grinned. “I know.”

#yoongi smut #yoongi pwp #yoongi x reader #yoongi x yn #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #yoongi x kitten #btswritersclub #52 hertz

379 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 3 years ago

Text

clamor | kth+jjk

summary⇢ “taehyung,” you say faintly. despite your volume, the blond man still manages to hear you, tilting his head curiously as you clear your throat and try again. “i think i left my keys at your apartment.” the entire air around him changes, eyes laser-focused on you, jaw visibly ticking under the streetlamps as he breezily answers, “ah, you know what, i think you did.” pairing⇢ taehyung/jungkook/reader word count⇢ 8.1k rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut warnings⇢ YIKES 😭😭😭ok, here we go!!! sexual content, mmf threesome, dom!tae, switch!guk, unprotected sex, rough sex, cumplay, cum eating, oral (m+f giving/receiving), orgasm denial, forced orgasm, overstimulation, sloppy seconds, creampie, fingering, spanking, dirty talk, hand jobs, masturbation…i hope think that’s everything, this is a mess

a/n⇢ if you’re looking for any semblance of a plot, you need to take yo ass back to part one because this is pure filth!!! clearly i’ve lost my damn mind sooo… lmao i forgot i have somewhere to be right now immediately 👋🏾🏃🏾‍♀️ have fun

two dudes means two moods 💁🏽‍♀️mood 1 + mood 2

part one | part two

Keep reading

#taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #taekook #bts smut

6K notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 4 years ago

Note

JK x Candy 💗

❄️pulling away from a kiss to look at each other, then smiling as you dive in for another kiss

❄️exploring each other's lips

Hello!

Actually I wonder how things turned out when they kissed for the first time, but if you save this story for another time, I understand it darling. Thank you 🌺🌺

Hi nonnie! Thank you for your request 🥰

Answering your question first: their first kiss is in Illicit Affairs (it escalated a lot, I know, but I see JK as someone who doesn't plan things and lets himself get carried away — especially since Candy was so receptive to him voicing his discomfort, and picking up his cues, easing his nerves, all of that. To Jungkook, she really felt like the right person to do it with in that moment. Candy also got carried away, since he fulfilled both her need of babying him and her need to be manhandled. They just lived in the moment and pieces started clicking).

Now, about the request, here you go 🥰 This is set after their Love Talk. Enjoy 💜✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment he entered the room, you were in his arms. Straight away, no hesitation.

“Hello,” he chirped, squeezing you and lifting you for a second.

You giggled and squirmed. “Hello to you. What's with the enthusiasm?”

He shrugged. “I'm greeting my girlfriend,” he boasted, puffing his chest. “Now I want a kiss.”

He made you laugh. He was giggly and giddy and so excited. He was radiating happiness. Just a few days ago you had trembled while telling him you love him, fearing his rejection, but now you were in his arms. You were his. And he was making his way to you, slowly, letting his petals unfurl at their own conditions, with their own timing.

“You want a kiss?” you taunted him, rising to your toes so you could look him in the eye properly.

He nodded. “A good girlfriend always gives kisses.”

Your nose skimmed his. It was so adorable, with its rounded tip, so cute, and his eyes… you could see galaxies in them. “What about a good boyfriend, mh?”

“He earns kisses,” he said before nodding to himself, content with his reply.

You tangled your fingers with his as you mused, “And how does he earn them?”

He looked up, his face frozen in concentration. God, you wanted to eat him like cupcakes. He went eureka and pulled you to him, squeezing you before making you sway from side to side. “With cuddles?”

You were so enchanted by him. You pecked his lips with yours, giving him a ginger kiss. He blinked repeatedly, surprised by your attack. “That's all?” he asked, disappointed.

You grinned and kissed him more firmly. He hummed and warmed up, caved in, parted his lips with a little purr. You nibbled on his lower lip, sucking it a little before pulling back.

He stared at you in awe. “This felt good.”

You smiled at each other, his hands venturing down, pulling you closer by touching the top of your butt. He let his fingers roam up your back, feeling you.

You pecked the mole on his lower lip, the skin so soft and hot. With your hands on his cheeks, you drew the shape of his mouth with your thumb, studying its fullness.

He bit your finger playfully before making you melt into him, your front flush against his body.

This time it was him who initiated the kiss, his tongue slipping inside your mouth to sweep at the taste of you, eliciting a gentle moan that had him moaning in return, his flesh simmering with excitement. “I'm so happy you're here. I'm so happy we have a full weekend,” he whispered after breaking the kiss, pressing his temple against yours.

“I'm happy, too.”

You didn't say it but you knew he felt it. I love you.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x candy #thebtswritersclub #52hertz #bangtansorciere #houseofddaeng #jungkook x reader

58 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)

Wordcount: 5k

Genre: smut, pwp, slightest angst, plenty of fluff, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+, minors scroll away.

Synopsis: Set after the events in Illicit Affairs | MYG, Kitten finds the courage to take that step that always makes her a bit uneasy. She finds out her brave decision was way more than worth it.

Warnings: angst in forms of them needing to part because of Yoongi's schedule, and Kitten's toxic ex, and Yoongi's shoulder (he's still injureed in this one). Swearing, very descriptive unprotected oral sex (female and male receiving) face riding, blindfold, sub!yoongi, breast worship (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), squirting, ofc cumeating, spitting kink (? i guess it's called snowballing technically).

Author's note: This was requested by @dani2008aguilar (tags arent working dumblr, fix that) so thank you Dani and another special mention goes to the wifey @joheunsaram who betaed this lovingly (and hornily LOL)

Here is my masterlist, enjoy!!!

There were many things you had chosen not to say.

First, that you were scared of Yoongi leaving so early in your attempt at a relationship.

Second, that a part of you still feared him finding someone better — more understanding, unproblematic, empathetic.

Third, that you wanted to hide in his bed and stay there, possibly forever, possibly with him.

For now, you were just lounging there, hair wet, body naked and wrapped in a towel.

He was currently in the bathroom, flossing and shaving. He was so neat. Such a maniacal perfectionist.

You snickered at the thought and stood, getting rid of your towel and putting on one of his t-shirts. The glass wall dividing the shower from the bedroom was largely appreciated by Yoongi at that moment. The design that had convinced him and Namjoon both to buy an apartment in that building was definitely worth the money.

Yoongi stared at your frame in one of his signature FG shirts, your breasts and curves making the hem hit a couple inches higher than his usual fit.

Once he entered the room, he laid down on his side of the bed, waiting for you to join. He looked adorable in his light, loose pajamas, so soft and blatantly expensive. It was one of the few items he was willing to spend good money on — with the exception of music equipment.

You found your place on the bed and snuggled up against him.

“Isn't it getting a bit too hot to sleep all cuddled up?”

You blinked at that and scooted away. It was confusing since he was the one who would always stick to you by morning come; still, you let it slide. It would be your last night together before his so-called “cramming-week” and he wanted space. So you gave it to him, no matter how disappointing it felt.

However, it was as if he could sense he had said something wrong. “Kitten?”

“Yes.”

He came closer, spooning you. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Mh mh,” you confirmed drily.

His hand suddenly appearing around your waist almost disturbed you. “Kitten?”

You moved away to shut the light. Yoongi was confused.

“Love?”

“Let's sleep. It will be a long week.” You fluffed up your pillow and found your sleeping position.

On the opposite side of the bed, he switched on his light. “I won't be able to sleep until you tell me what happened.”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“Why are you upset at me? Because of the cuddles? I was being sarcastic and we both know I wanted them!” he complained petulantly.

“Then don't make me feel like shit about them!” you snapped back almost loudly.

Yoongi froze a little at your remark. “I'm sorry about what I said, ____. I was teasing you but it's okay if you're not in the mood. I'd like some cuddles, please.”

You exhaled and opened your arms at him. He immediately threw himself at you, closing his eyes once he felt you starting to pet him affectionately. “I overreacted. The distance thing worries me.”

He nodded and kissed your chest. “I'm sorry I didn't get you. I should have asked.”

“There's also… something else, I guess…” you started vaguely.

“What is it?” He immediately sat up straight, cupping your cheek. “Are you okay? Is this okay? Are you—”

“Everything is fine,” you reassured him quickly. “It's just that there's something I've wanted to ask you the whole day and I kept telling myself I needed to find the right timing and I kept postponing and I feel like I have no time left now.”

“Kitten,” he cooed sympathetically, fondly.

“I want uh… I— Would you like, uhm… to go down on me?” you almost whispered, your words rushing out of your mouth.

He blinked a couple times. “You want it now?” He watched you blush and look away before gripping your chin and making you look at him. “Look at me and tell me if you want it now or not.” As you tried to avert your gaze, he moved like a snake to maintain eye contact.

“Yes, now,” you confirmed shyly.

He placed his lips on yours delicately, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheekbones. “I'm sorry I reacted that way. Did you feel like I was doing what your ex did?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around him, secretly so grateful for his understanding. “I know you're not him, but sometimes I prefer not asking than being denied. And I don't want you to feel forced into saying yes.”

“Trust me, you don't need to convince me,” he started kissing down your jawline, reaching your ear and purring against it as he murmured, “I was born for this.”

You chuckled as your toes curled, his voice working its magic on you, as always. “I bet you are.”

“I can't wait to prove it to you.” He slotted his leg between yours, letting you grind against it as he dedicated some more attention to your neck and chest.

“Do you want me to take the shirt off?” you asked, lost in the feel of him so absorbed by your body.

“As long as you're comfy,” he replied tenderly, his fingers slipping the neckline to the side so he could nibble and suck at your collarbone. “We're just getting started.”

You snickered and threw your head back, giving him more of your naked skin. “What would you say if I asked for a blindfold?”

Yoongi slowed down and parted from you, his expression sultry as he looked into your eyes. “Won't that trigger you?”

You shook your head. “I want to focus on the feeling and… I mean, in the past, not looking helped my mind from wandering.”

With a kiss on your cheek, he rose and stretched to his drawer. “What's our safeword, Kitten?”

“Yellow to slow down, Red to stop. Green to go,” you replied diligently, watching him rummage into his drawer until a gummy smile accompanied him fishing out a black silk blindfold. “I use it for travelling.”

You snorted in a very unimpressed way. “Yeah, sure.”

His petty expression made you laugh as he arched an eyebrow and sat on his heels. “We both know you don't want me to edge you, right?”

His tone made your laugh freeze on your lips, your hands reaching for the hem of your shirt and pulling it off, trying to appease him with the sight of your naked chest. “Sorry,” you mumbled meekly.

He nodded to himself and climbed on top of you. “It's okay. We're good, baby. I just need you to remember you are the one who requested the blindfold, so you're in control of it, okay? You can wear it, take it off, burn it, I don't care. It's your own toy and you're in power. Okay?”

You nodded and settled down, propping yourself up.

“I know you've done this before and just avoided it with your ex, but if anything triggers you, you give me your safeword. You're in charge, yes? I am serving you,” Yoongi stated clearly. “You have all the power. To stop me, to order me around, to use me and move on me however you like.” His gaze was steady as he held your eyes with his. “I'm bottoming for you, are you alright with that?”

You didn't know it was actually contemplated in the picture. And the idea of Yoongi being so adamant in his will to submit was not only enlightening but also arousing. “I don't want to hurt you though.”

“I can set my boundaries. I'll use the safewords too if I need them.”

“Okay then,” you confirmed, trying to relax.

He laid on top of you, propped up on his elbows as he touched his lips to yours. “How are you feeling?” he asked, closing his eyes and feeling your skin with his face. The smoothness of your neck under his lips, the warmth of your chest against his cheek, the light sheen of perspiration between your breasts meeting the tip of his nose, his mouth, and the taste of your sweat on his tongue, salty, an anticipation of the flavour of your wetness.

And then the softness of your breast under his teeth, grazing your flesh before sinking in. And then the rough texture of your nipple.

“I'm doing perfect,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair. “You're so lovely, baby.”

Yoongi smiled and nuzzled up against your chest. “I know,” he teased before turning serious. “You make me like that,” he praised you before sucking your flesh into his mouth.

“You love sucking my boobs, don't you?”

He stayed attached to you and nodded. The motion made your insides clench. He released your skin with a pop, nuzzling it with his nose to dry it — but also to check that it bruised enough to stick around for a week, while he’s gone. And your blood vessels bloomed so close to the surface that not abusing them was a shame. He would have marked your whole body if he could have.

You enjoyed watching him for a minute before grabbing the blindfold and putting it on. You knew that not looking was in large part an excuse to experiment with him. You wanted the trust. And you wanted to feel him, only him. You would have plenty of time to watch him do that in the future. Right then you wanted to dive into sensations — focus on how different it feels rather than looks.

Something wet, soft, hot circled your belly button. His tongue. And then his teeth nibbled at it. You knew you had to be gooey between your legs. You felt the creamy wetness already.

Yoongi’s hands landed on the inside of your knees, spreading you wide.

Yoongi was never one to believe in the motto ‘the world is your oyster’. He preferred willing surrender rather than reckless exploitation.

But now, with your legs spread wide in front of him and that wet, salty scent filling his nostrils, with the way your breasts moved so blatantly in front of him rising and falling with deep breaths, your folds glistening as he parted them with his fingers, he found the small pearl between your legs. He had been offered an oyster, and he was ready to enjoy every single millimetre of it until you were begging for reprieve to gods unknown.

He grabbed two pillows from his side of the bed and slid an arm behind your lower back. “Lift your hips, please, love.”

You did as he asked, lowering yourself only to find out your hips were significantly raised now.

“This way my neck won’t cramp. It will feel good, I promise.” Yoongi’s words hit two inches shy of your mound, his hot breath fanning over your damp skin.

“Just lick me already,” you breathed out, only slightly exasperated.

He chuckled, tempting you. He brushed his lips against your labia. “What did you say, Kitten?”

You felt your cheeks heat up and your voice cracked a little as you complained — with way less outrage now — “Just lick me already.”

He laughed. And then he delivered.

His first lick was glorious, slow, torturing. He pushed his tongue into your entrance, then he slipped it out. And then he licked up.

It was heaven. And the moment he found your clit, you knew you had the longest night of your life right in front of you.

You mewled.

“Just like that, kitty cat,” he taunted you before his tongue turned serpentine, heading back down and drawing a series of tantalising curves with the very tip of it before delivering three short and dainty licks to your very clit — not the hood, not the sides —, each in a different direction.

He closed his mouth, rubbed his lips side to side against your core, covering his lower face in your juices.

“Any requests? Suggestions?” he murmured, stopping for half a second.

“Everything you did but more and harder,” you panted, gasping in disrespect as he grabbed your legs and spread you wider, turning ravenous over you, sucking your nectar out of you and spitting it over your folds. He was literally in heaven. He was feasting, his mind was hazy and his heart was beating old songs of desire and mirth. He watched your skin glisten, he heard it squelch and he tasted it as his spit and your wetness mixed up. It was so beautiful he closed his eyes and dove into it all. He didn’t care. He was just a man, and you were his object of worship.

He knew he would need hours to feel like he had done everything he could and finally give in to exhaustion. But he wasn’t anywhere close to even a mild tiresomeness, so he got into his rightful position and dug in.

You didn’t know what was happening. He had one thousand tongues. One thousand hands.

He touched everything, tickled every spot, licked every inch, turned you inside out. You weren’t sure you were still you by the time your first high came around.

You needed to clench around something but he refused to give you that, no matter how hard you begged, how much you promised, how desperately you bargained. He gave you ten percent of what a true orgasm would have been by denying you fullness.

You ended up sobbing, pushing, pulling, thrusting into him, wriggling like a feral beast underneath him, trying to escape him while he pinned you down with all the strength he had.

You could only feel tongues. Thousands of them.

And then, while oversensitivity possessed you, he had the brilliantly cruel idea of catching your clitoris in his mouth — and sucking. Hard.

Your hands flew to his hair, grabbing it, tugging at it — away — then pressing him back down when you found out that tightened his hold and made it all even more unbearable.

Yoongi had the vague impression you had to be screaming. He didn’t care. He heard a beeping sound in his ears — it usually meant the head was good. He didn’t have the heart to ask you; first, because he didn’t fish for compliments; second, because his mouth was too busy to talk and he was very happy with whatever it was doing at that moment.

He only stopped when you begged for a breath, which he conceded only because he was feeling a bit too breathless himself.

You tugged the blindfold off looking at him just in time to catch him wiping his face with his forearm.

“You’re fucking insane!” you exclaimed, slapping at his hand as he tried to bring it between your legs. “Gimme ten minutes or something!” you joked — while also being pretty serious.

He chuckled. “Feedback?”

You shook your head and threw it back on the pillow. “I’ll ask for this a lot. But you’d better slide those pretty fingers in next time or I swear I’ll never let you eat me out ever again.”

He kissed your belly. “I’ll slide my fingers in the day you’ll look me in the eye while you fuck my face.”

Your face boiled at the thought. It wasn’t ‘oral sex’, or ‘eating out’ or ‘going down’. It’s ‘fucking his face’, with all the rowdiness and dirtiness it entailed. It was feral and forbidden and so extremely naughty, with a pinch of vulgar and unspeakable.

You loved it.

“The blindfold stays off,” you announced, cosying up into your spot, fluffing the pillow behind your head. “I’m ready.”

He grinned. “You want to watch me, kitty cat?” That was his nickname. The one you used to tease him with. It wasn’t the usual ‘Kitten’ he used with you — he was taunting you.

“I want your prodigious fingers inside me, kitty cat.”

He showed you his gummy smile. “You’re a fast learner. Grab my head, I won’t be happy till I’m gasping for air.”

“You know a job well done,” you teased, cupping his crown and pushing him down, till his chin and lips and nose slid down your mound, rubbing against it in a way that made you shiver. “Just do it again but fuck me with your fingers this time.”

He lapped at your entrance three, four times, letting his drool slide all the way to his fingers — two awaiting just below your entrance. He realised he was rubbing himself against the sheets below him. He wanted a pillow.

He didn’t know how but you noticed and passed him one. Call it the perk of sleeping with too many pillows.

His situation fixed, he turned back to work. He was more than grateful to do so, his fingers inside you started rubbing that perfect spot, the one he had learnt so well with all the random fucking you had done in the last week or so. “Which kind of motion do you like?”

You stared at his face. His cheeks were adorably red, his hair curling at the tips with perspiration, and his eyes were so black, flooded with frenzy. “Try a few, I liked more than one.”

He nodded. “Stop me with the right one, okay? I want to please you, Kitten.”

You combed his hair back, trying to get the best view of his tongue lolling out and tentatively flicking it against your clit.

And there he was: the glorious Min Yoongi. Tongue out, bubblegum pink, eyes closed as he took a larger lick, slurping side to side slowly, voluptuously, sucking at the labia diving in to rub his nose to your folds, to smell you, taste you, feel you.

His fingers were relentless while his mouth assaulted your cunt, robbing it of every ounce of pleasure you could offer.

At some point you realised you were flexing your quads, trying to push into him, against him. He seemed to realise it as he took a pause, using his nose to nudge your clit as he spoke. “Fuck my face, Kitten. Just hold my fucking head and rub yourself over my face. I hold my tongue still and you slide on it.”

You tried to imagine it. “You put it inside and I like… in-out—”

“God no, babe.” He hardened his tongue and nodded, the tough muscle rubbing against you.

“Oh fucking— Goodness, yes!” you sobbed, feeling your orgasm crest over you.

He stopped moving once your body responded naturally, your hands grabbing his hair and tugging him into motion while your hips started to fuck up, against his awaiting tongue.

“Yoongs—” you gasped, your glutes flexing faster, till you felt your hips cramp.

You clamped them shut in response, Yoongi continuing unfazed as he recognised the crest of your climax before you started tumbling down the high at breakneck speed — the same speed at which you were pushing yourself against him.

Yoongi was positively surprised. He had been waiting to see you like this for so long, and now your tits were bouncing as you thrusted up, throwing yourself at him with all your might.

You were unbridled and beautiful and in that precise moment he felt like he was fully serving his duty.

He felt accomplished. The fact that he was also on the verge of his own orgasm was a minor inconvenience to him, one that he solved easily.

“Sit on my face,” he spoke once your clit was too sensitive and you forced him away — his fingers still ministering their attentive stroking against your walls, slow, deliciously so.

“Are you sure?”

“Just sit on my damn face, babe. I promise you’ll love it.” He kissed your belly, then looked at you.

You were sweaty, dishevelled, as if you’d ran a marathon in the middle of August. You didn’t look tired, though.

You were glowing and insatiable. “Okay. How?”

He wrapped his arms around your legs, his hands holding the small of your back. “Follow me,” he said before he rolled on his back and dragged you with him.

You huffed at the manoeuvre, using your hands to steady yourself once you found your hips straddling his face.

“Like this. Good Kitten.”

You chuckled, ready to find a remark when he decided to spread your labia with his thumbs and dig in once more.

“You’re hungry, uh?”

“You’d better remember your safeword because I won’t stop till I collapse.” He was rock hard. His pyjamas were stroking him just barely and he could still feel himself pulse. He hoped at some point he would be lucky enough for you to notice him, and kind enough to offer him relief.

You smiled. “Just this last one, okay? I need you alive and well so you can cram all week and I can fuck you dry next weekend.” You touched his hair. “Just for safety, pinch my leg twice if I’m hurting you, okay?”

He nodded meekly. “Okay.” He looked into your eyes. “I love you, Kitten.”

You licked your lips. You were somehow aware that what you felt for Yoongi couldn’t be just love. It had to be something stronger, something superior.

Or maybe no one had ever loved you before. “I love you too, Yoongi.”

All softness was gone after that. He ravished you once more, tapping his tongue three, four times against your nub before lashing it out, mercilessly.

And then he began to suck.

“God no…” You knew what was about to happen. It had never happened like this before though. Maybe it was because of his fingers hitting an unexpected nook. Maybe it was the combination of all the motions. Maybe the position. “I’m gonna—”

Yoongi was alert, but not worried. You would have already punched him in the face if anything was going wrong.

Instead you were moving faster, harder against him.

He was ecstatic.

He let it happen. He watched it happen.

One second he was sucking your clit, the next his entire face was drenched, covered in a transparent liquid without smell or taste.

It was the first time it ever happened to him — and he was fucking glad you were the first to ever reward his hard work like this.

Meanwhile, you were lost someplace between heaven and hell, your confusion long abandoned as you simply basked in the moment.

Min Yoongi had just made you squirt all over his face and chest and he was basking in it like a gladiator in his crowd’s cheers.

You had screamed his name too, most definitely causing misery to all your neighbours, but you were too high to care.

When you came back, Yoongi was still slowly, diligently licking you, this time with tenderness and dedication. If you had fucked his face before, now he was making out with your cunt, with tender kisses and fond caresses of his tongue.

“Quite a show, my love,” he murmured.

He had loved watching your breasts bounce, your head thrown back, your thighs wiggling at the way you were riding him. And your face — sweet mercy, your face…

He was lost in you.

“The neighbours are gonna hate me.”

Yoongi chuckled and shrugged. “They’ll simply be jealous of not having you as theirs.” He helped you lay back on the covers.

“Fuck, look at this mess—” you fussed immediately, noticing the wetness on the grey covers.

“I’ll deal with that. You go clean up,” he said, drying his face with the sheets before turning towards you, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it.

You frowned at how impersonal it felt, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer before planting your lips on his, pushing your tongue to his mouth until he opened it, allowing you to slide into the cave where he was still treasuring the taste of you.

And then you felt it, his crotch against your hip. “I’m gonna blow you,” you whispered, more as a declaration than a request.

He whined, but still he rolled onto his back, fixing his arms behind his head, getting comfortable. “It’ll be the easiest orgasm you’ve claimed from me.”

You giggled and settled between his legs, rolling down his bottoms and underwear just enough to free his dick. “Damn, you’re delicious,” you murmured, staring at him, tracing the pulsating vein crawling up his length.

He hissed and thrusted up.

You wasted no time: you swallowed half of him and grabbed the rest with your hand, drooling aplenty to get some lubrication in your palm.

Three strokes and his hips started gyrating, the salty, bitter flavour of him already hitting your tongue.

“I fucking love you, Kitten,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “I fucking love your sweet cunt on my face and your sweet throat around my cock.” You bobbed your head on him even more enthusiastically. “I love every damn thing about you, baby.”

He was so far gone and you were so helplessly proud of it.

He spilled inside you in a minute, and you took him diligently, not wasting a drop of him.

His orgasm was endless and he was wrecked by the time it ended, oversensitivity making him hiss and fuss.

You simply smeared the last bubble of cum he had to offer and headed back up, at his side.

As he stared into your eyes, his eyelids lowering sultrily into exhaustion, you pressed your dirty fingers to his lower lip, tracing it enticingly before he parted his lips.

Tentatively, letting him understand what was happening, you rolled on top of him, only a couple inches separating your lips from his.

You got closer.

One inch.

Half.

You opened your mouth, letting a lazy dribble of pleasure roll down your tongue and fall into his awaiting one.

He purred at the gesture, showing you how he swallowed it before he arched up, and wrapped his lips around your tongue, sucking it into his mouth.

It became one more sloppy make out session, where he managed to earn out one more lazy, weak climax as he rubbed himself against your hip.

And then you found yourself laying side by side in the disastrous aftermath of an exceedingly sloppy, wet session of oral sex.

Not even in your worst night you had managed to make half the mess you were seeing in that moment.

“We need to shower. Again,” you commented, Yoongi peacefully kissing your chest while he breathed in and out, his eyes closed.

“Just a minute,” he debated before hearing you dissent.

“Come on, kitty cat. You can nap on the tiddies later. Let’s go shower.”

“I want cuddles,” he spoke through a pout.

That made your heart melt. “I’ll cuddle you in the shower.”

“Can we take a bath instead?”

You chuckled. “We can take a bath, baby.” You kissed the top of his head. You had no idea who was the messier between the two of you at the moment. You only knew it was your turn to take care of your kitty cat tonight.

You managed to slide out of bed and get Yoongi’s favourite bath bomb in the tub while some warm water was running. You almost had to princess-carry him to the bathroom, his face nuzzled into your neck while you managed to make him waddle there as he hugged you.

Then he fussed some more when you had to leave him in the tub alone to change the sheets — thanking the waterproof mattress cover while you changed every single item of bedding, frowning at the three out of six pillows that needed to be washed.

It took you maybe ten minutes before you were back in the bathroom, spooning Yoongi in the tub, rubbing his shoulder and neck.

“I want to meet your physiotherapist,” you murmured. “I want to learn how to soothe your shoulder and back muscles. Your neck too. You spend too much time hunched over your desk.”

He nodded absentmindedly. “You don’t need to baby me because of the shoulder.”

“I know.” You proved your point by pressing two specific points at the base of his neck, causing him to groan in pleasure and relief. “This is why I want to learn.”

Yoongi chuckled. “I’ll arrange a meeting.”

He leaned back into your chest, turning his face to the side and rubbing the tip of his nose against your neck. “I like when you take care of me when I’m tired.”

You smiled. He was the one who babied you when you were tired, spoiling you rotten. It was only natural for you to return the favour just as ardently. “I do, too.” You also loved babying him when he was vulnerable and lovely and exhausted.

“I love you a lot. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve for you.”

You felt your eyes water a little. How had someone so delicate and strong and committed ended up in your life? How was he so perfect, so made for you?

“And I’ll protect it from anyone who wants to hurt you.” It was a pact. He would be open to you, and you would never hurt all the gentle, tender sides he showed you, all his unshielded softnesses. “Allow me to protect you,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his temple. “I know I’m difficult, and unfriendly and rough—”

“You’re not. You’re tough and loyal and determined. And you’re so, so loved for it.” You naturally found his hands, speaking that language he knew so well. You wrapped your arms around him. Kissed his forehead. “You’re so, so loved too, Yoongi.”

You felt him relax in your embrace. “I like it when you hold my hands.”

For the first time in years, you felt it.

Peace.

“I like it too.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi one shot #yoongi x kitten #thetruthuntoldnet #thebtswritersclub #bangtansorciere #houseofddaeng

169 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 4 years ago

Text

Edging 101

Meeting the Squad | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy), feat. BTS and their gfs

Wordcount: 4.8k

Genre: crack, fluff, angst

Rating: 18+

So, @scooby-galleta sent me this request a bit ago, and now, here it is!

hi miss Dita! hope you are doing great :) congratulations on reaching your first milestone!🎉 you are a really talented lady, and you deserve the world ❤️ now, I don’t really know how the commissions and prompts works, so bare with me ok? 😅 OK, so you said to ask for something we would like to read, and you know how in jk’s steamy waters it’s mentioned the night he introduced candy to the guys? well, I really want to know more about that moment, like how was it, their thoughts and feelings during the meeting, all of that you know? and was it just the guys or the girls were there too? sorry if it’s a little weird 😬 blame it on my love for your characters, and honestly? I live for the interactions they have with each other :) also, sorry for doing this through a submission, it got super long 😳 have a nice day/night! 💖

Trigger warnings: allusive jokes and comments, alcohol consumption, angst in form of TWO BIG LARGE FOOLS (one of them is actually not that large) REFUSING TO SAY THEY’RE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR EACH OTHER WITH ONE OF THEM BEING A VERY VERY STUPID DUMBASS KEEPING SECRETS. The maknae line is a flock of manaces and there’s another pair of fools who is actually trying to deal with their issues. Guess who’s who. TaexLace are intimidating and YoongixKitten are parental. The Soulmates are two gossips. NamjoonxVixen are full-time honeymooning (tho they aren’t actually on their honeymoon).

almost forgot! This was beta read by my 2 favourite people, @nervous-moon and @joheunsaram. I love you, my bby 💜💜💜💖💖💖

here’s my masterlist! enjoy ✨💜

Keep reading

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x candy #jungkook crack #jungkook fluff #52hertz #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnnet #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction

91 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 4 years ago

Text

Neon High | MYG, JJK

Title: Neon High

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (nicknamed Pepper) x Min Yoongi

Wordcount: 9k

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, non idol!AU, DJ!Jungkook, Rapper!Yoongi, jkxreader established relationship

Rating: 18+ (minors, do not read or interact)

Synopsis: Jungkook and Pepper have been dating for a while, their bond so strong that she decided to leave with him for his tour as an international dj. Finally back in Seoul, she is introduced to a person from Jungkook’s past, of whom she knows a lot about — exclusively through her boyfriend’s words. Once prejudices dissipate, the two get to know each other better. Deeper, too.

Trigger warnings: mentions of alcohol and mental health issues (mostly linked to depression), swearing. Lightly sadistic dom!Jk, switch!reader, switch!yoongi. Unprotected oral and vaginal sex (please be SMART), protected anal sex. Voyeurism and exhibitionism, breast worship, breast slapping, nipple sucking and biting. Creampie, cum eating, light impregnation kink. Oral sex, male and female receiving, male giving. Very graphic, in depth conversation on cum. Degradation and humiliation (“slut”), objectification (“fleshlight”). Plenty of piercings and tattoos. Yoongi is very vulnerable in a few moments, mostly due to past self-hate, insecurity, loneliness and fear of abandonment. Light crying.

A/N: for @ironicarmy becoming my wingwoman and being one of the funniest, most talented people I know, but most importantly for my wifey, @joheunsaram. Happy (late) birthday, sister bride. I know this is awfully late but GOOD FILTH TAKES TIME (I was drugged with hormones when I wrote this, the horny is NOT my fault)

as usual, there goes my masterlist, ENJOY 💜✨

Staying backstage during Jungkook’s sets was always nerve-wracking, especially when you would hear girls screaming for him, throwing bras — and sometimes thongs — on stage.

And now that he was performing with his friend — friend? — Min Yoongi, it seemed even worse. It was a mess. The whole dance floor was packed, you could feel the sweat and the hormones from your spot in the privé, comfortably sipping your whiskey sour and staring at your boyfriend, at his way-too-loose black silk shirt, at the tattoos as they appeared when the light hit him just right, his hair sweaty on his face as he bopped to the music, his whole body feeling the rhythm while the infamous Agust D delivered line after line of girls sitting on his face and making it rain on him, of his cum tasting like sugar and his “tongue technology”. And though you looked ice-cold on the outside, you were melting in between your legs, your inner muscles clenching at the lines, at Jungkook winking in your direction before licking his lips, throwing his head back, and literally riding the rhythm.

The moment he brought his free hand to his chest, climbing up towards his neck, squeezing it suggestively before showing you his tongue, a tiny silver ball saluting you with a glittering.

You could only stare as your black-haired god smirked and let his hand roll down, feeling himself before his eyes met Yoongi’s, the older man taking a sip from his water as the song came to an end, his set finally over. He felt sweaty, messy, desperately needing a shower, and probably ready to pour a whole bottle of water on his white shirt. Just to make the girls drip some more.

Just to tease his dear friend a bit more.

He decided not to, rather bidding everyone goodnight, ready to get out of sight. It took a minute before the guy who had substituted Jungkook as resident took his spot, letting the two men head upstairs from backstage — all the perks of being two of the hottest artists in the scene.

“That was crazy!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing Yoongi by the shoulder and pulling him in a hug. “You did great, hyung!”

You smiled at their camaraderie, waiting to be noticed.

“You did a good job too, kid. That set was on fire.” Yoongi patted the younger’s shoulder before noticing you waiting at a red-lit table. He hoped you would be his after-party.

“Lemme introduce you to a very important person,” Jungkook said, pulling him towards the table he’d kept for you. “This is my Pepper.”

Yoongi stared at you for a minute, at your legs appearing from your black dress, at the abundance of your chest, conveniently displayed by a slit on the front of your turtleneck dress. He licked his lips and looked at Jungkook, his friend’s eyes dashing from you to Yoongi.

You waved at your new acquaintance, no matter how much Jungkook had talked about him to you. “Hi there. Very honoured to meet you,” you spoke, slowly, loudly, your voice already sultry.

Yoongi was mesmerised. He was almost angry he hadn’t found you first.

Jungkook placed a hand on your waist, leaning down to kiss you, your lips parting straight away so he could slip his tongue inside and fuck your mouth with it. He loved doing that. And you loved feeling the wetness ooze out of you as he did so. Leaning close to your ear, he murmured, “Behave,” he warned you, getting you to roll your eyes.

“Come on. I’m not a girl.” You watched Yoongi sit in front of you before arching an eyebrow at him.

He smirked, a gesture so familiar to Jungkook that he felt vaguely afraid of leaving you in his company. Maybe the two of you would bond and… “I’ll see you in one hour, okay? We’ll go home then, yes?”

You nodded and took a sip of your drink, grabbing your phone and opening your reading app straight away. No one who knew you well enough could understand how you and Jungkook met, and then got along, and then ended up falling deeply, solidly in love with each other. How could a deejay and a bookaholic manage to meet? Easy, three AM in the only open cafe doing 24h service, his coffee accidentally splashed over your ugly shirt as he walked into you. From there he had courted you relentlessly, sending you flowers, getting you new pijamas, getting you a coffee gift card, until you had to allow him one date.

And from there it was flawless. Not a chip in the bond between the two of you, not even after he started touring and after a couple weeks convinced you to follow him until the end of it, location after location, country after country.

You thanked your job as an online language teacher, and the flexible schedule, and just followed him without thinking twice.

And now that Yoongi was back in the scene you were quite suspicious of him, vaguely untrusting.

You kept staring at your screen, scrolling until you found your bookmark and started reading again, entirely absorbed by your phone.

Yoongi immediately dismissed you. You had to be one of those self-centered girls who believed only in follower counts, contouring, expensive clothes and ice-cold attitude.

He had nothing against it, of course. He just thought Jungkook was smarter than that.

Yoongi decided to sip his drink calmly and let you be. You clearly were interested in something else, and soon he started receiving visits at the table, men and women alike sitting down beside him, asking him for autographs — or even being bold enough to ask him his number, which he of course typed in their phones, maybe accidentally mixing up the numbers a little. Sometimes going as far as giving them his manager’s number or his favourite restaurant’s.

By the time Jungkook returned, you were ready to head home, standing up as soon as he appeared in the VIP area, the man wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your temple. “You tired, babe? Out of your depth, love?”

You nodded and leaned into him, getting even more cuddles.

Yoongi really couldn’t put two and two together.

“Hyung, you coming along with us? Wanna have a drink at my place?” Jungkook asked before you blinked at him and arched an eyebrow, quite intrigued.

Jungkook subtly winked at you, making you arch both eyebrows in surprise, biting your lower lip.

“Why not. Just don’t get drunk, kid.” Yoongi accepted without putting much thought into it, mostly to get to talk to you and try to understand what it was that Jungkook saw in you. And also to check that you were worthy of his friend.

During the drive, you were quiet but active, Jungkook's hand stroking your hair while he stared at you fondly, his eyes leaving you only when he was replying to Yoongi's questions.

He was quite confused by your attitude. He had to have misjudged you somehow. By the time you reached Jungkook’s apartment, he was sure he had.

“Want me to warm up some snacks for you?” You asked, stopping Jungkook before he headed to the shower, your hand low on his hip. He smiled and nodded, kissing your forehead in gratitude.

“Yoongi, you must crave a shower too, mh? The guest room has a pretty nice bathroom if you’d like. Plus I’m sure you’d like dry, comfier clothes.” Your gaze was incredibly smart and caring when your eyes met his, suddenly taken aback by the way you worried about him. “That’s not a problem, right Kook?”

“Absolutely. I can lend him a t-shirt and some joggers.” Jungkook stared at his hyung, Yoongi looking quite confused, his mouth slightly agape.

“Uhm… Thank you?” He said, a bit doubtful.

You let go of Jungkook and headed to the kitchen while the men walked down the corridor, your boyfriend coming back once his friend was already in the guest room. “Hey.” He kissed you behind your ear. “Thank you for the food.” You smiled and continued with the preparation.

“And… I mean… I’m not sure how to say this, and I’m not sure I misinterpreted your body language before but… Are you potentially interested in… him and… and me and you?” He paused for a second before correcting his statement. “I mean, tonight we could just test the waters and see if you could consider that in the future?”

You bit your lip before heating a grilling pan for the hamburgers. “What would you think of me if I told you I find him really hot and I really want to see the two of you together?”

Jungkook’s grip around your waist tightened. “I would think you’re the smartest, sexiest, and kindest woman I’ve ever met. Which is exactly what I thought of you before you said that.” He drew a path of kisses down your shoulder. “But I don’t want to do this with him and leave you watching. I want— I’d like you to be comfortable with him too.”

You nodded and leaned your head back on his shoulder. “Let’s let it roll.”

He smirked and grazed his lips against your cheekbone. “That worked well for us.” He smiled widely at the memories. He had never been half more in love. He couldn’t even doubt it. “I love you.”

“I know,” you replied cheekily. “Go shower, babe.”

Shaking his head, he sunk his fingers into your side, making you quiver with tickles. “Okay, okay, I love you too!”

He left with a proud grin on his face, getting to his bathroom a few minutes before Yoongi appeared in the living room.

“Over here,” you called as you assembled a mini burger. “You must be hungry.”

Yoongi stared at the large plate of food. “Wow.”

“Jungkook is always starving after work. Do you have any special requests in terms of ingredients?” You checked, making sure you hadn’t put in the burger anything he didn’t like.

“Oh, no, don’t worry… I’m okay, really. I’ll just eat whatever. I’m not that hungry.” Yoongi felt guilty about the way he’d judged you straight off the bat. “So, how did you meet Jungkook?”

“Uhm… We basically crossed paths. He was finishing work, while I had just finished a four AM online lesson with one of my students.” You chuckled. “It was a funny coincidence. My lifestyle is pretty incompatible with the places he usually visits or works in.”

Yoongi blinked. “You’re a teacher?”

“Private language teacher. And I really like computers so I also give lessons on specific software usage. Mostly database and language software.” You finished assembling the last burger and started washing the kitchen tools.

“That’s pretty cool. I don’t know why I wrote you off as one of those club queens.” Yoongi felt embarrassed by his admission, but he also felt like he owed you honesty.

“That’s what happens when Kook dresses me up,” you conceded with a laugh. “I feel a bit out of my habitat when I tag along with him, but I like doing that every now and then.” You turned around and gestured for him to eat.

He felt increasingly confused. Maybe Jungkook had found in you that carer that Yoongi had always struggled to be, too caught up in building his career to pay attention to the actual great things of life.

When Jungkook reappeared, your eyes zeroed in on him immediately, smiling at his happy, thoughtless look. He looked so effortlessly handsome.

From the other end of the table, Yoongi felt old butterflies — supposedly dead ones — reawaken. The man in front of him now looked healthy, balanced, peaceful. The tattoos covering his arm and part of his chest were a story of growth and love — self-love first and foremost. A hymn to life. Yoongi felt very stupid and out of place all of a sudden. He had no right to long for that man. No right to long to be in your shoes only for twenty-four hours.

As Jungkook sat down, you stood behind him, tipping his head back by his chin, removing your hairpins, and placing them on his hair before he dug into his food. He puckered his lips for you, asking for an upside-down kiss.

You gave in with a mischievous expression.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, giving you a wink. “Are you going to get changed?”

You nodded and left the room after caressing his cheek. “Enjoy the meal,” you spoke loudly before heading to Jungkook’s room and grabbing one of his shirts and a comfy pair of silk culottes.

By the time you came back, the plate was empty, the kitchen was spotless and Jungkook and Yoongi were sipping their beers on the white leather sofas.

“Here she comes,” Jungkook murmured, eyes filled with love and wonder as he looked at you.

You smiled and tried to sit beside him before he pulled you onto his lap. “Wow. So much affection!” You teased, melting against him as his hand landed on your thigh.

Yoongi knew that pose well. That had been his spot once.

“So hyung, are you touring soon?” Jungkook asked, watching Yoongi nervously avert his gaze once the hand on your thigh started drawing erotic circles on your skin.

“Not…” Yoongi struggled a little to gather his words. “Maybe in a few months. We are…”

He could help but observe the way Jungkook’s tattooed arm reached around your middle and pulled you flush to his chest, his thumb drawing the heavy curve of your breast, outlining it so clearly. Too clearly for Yoongi not to look — watch — and shy away.

Jungkook noticed the gesture, kissing your temple and moaning lightly as your ass ground against his crotch.

“We are still making a list of the locations,” Yoongi finally managed to conclude.

“That’s very interesting,” you commented, placing your hand on top of Jungkook’s left one, still working your thigh. You led your joined hands higher up.

Yoongi did not look away this time. “Very.” If you were behaving like that in front of him, then maybe you and Jungkook wanted to be watched. And maybe, vicariously, Yoongi would manage to live the passion, the ecstasy he hadn’t felt in so long. Maybe he could look at your desire and perceive it as his own.

As Jungkook felt the fabric of your culottes reach his thumb under your control, he reckoned he could be less subtle. He moved his right hand so he could trace the curve with the side of his pinkie, kneading the flesh gently, teasingly with the rest of his fingers. “It’s gonna be hard,” Jungkook told him, his voice dark and absentminded. “Without Pepper, I would have gone mad.”

You blushed and moved your hips on him, making him exhale against your neck. “Maybe you could use some fun before you go insane, mh?”

Yoongi stared at the two of you. “I think I need an unusual show. Something to relieve the tension.”

Jungkook squeezed your breast and you hummed, throwing your head back, laying it against his shoulder. “We know exactly what you need,” he murmured deeply, intensely.

“Enjoy the show, okay? We’d love to have an audience.” You let your body relax as you started grinding more energetically against Jungkook’s hardening cock, stretching forward to grab a remote and change the led lights of the room into a deep, relaxing blue. “Would you like to watch? You don’t have to, but we’d be very happy if you did,” you explained, looking at Yoongi’s dark gaze as he fixed the crotch of his sweats — or better, Jungkook’s borrowed sweat — by now interestingly tented.

“Can I really watch? I mean, Pepper doesn’t know me that much, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable…” Yoongi looked at you as you shook your head and led Jungkook’s hand underneath your shirt, making him cup your naked breast.

“I’m very comfortable, Yoongi. I’ve heard so many great things about you. It would be an honour to have you watching. Maybe you’ll write a song about this,” you said, before a moan parted from your throat, a second after the dry, nasty slap delivered to your breast.

“Hyung, we like you. We’d like you to watch. And interact too, if you’d like to.”

He nodded. “Do your thing, I want to see what you like and how you like it. And then I’ll consider.”

You nodded. “Fair.”

Jungkook hummed and cupped your mound over your silk loose shorts, the fabric so slippery that he couldn't resist rubbing his hand against it. “I bet you're drenched, mh? Ever since I brought him upstairs at the club.” Shamelessly, he slipped his hand into your waistband, Yoongi staring as you moaned, caressing the outline of his cock very subtly, leaning forward to take a better look as Jungkook slipped the gusset of your underwear to the side, letting Yoongi see just how wet you were.

“What's making you so wet, Pepper?” Jungkook provoked you before slipping a finger inside, stretching you out while his mouth placed kisses over the side of your neck. “Hyung watching?”

At the way your inner walls clenched, Jungkook chuckled sadistically. “You like it, don't you? It turns you on?”

You nodded and closed your eyes, throwing your head back.

“Oh, no. He likes eye contact. I'm sure he'd love it if you looked into his eyes while I sink deep inside you,” Jungkook spoke darkly, sinfully. “Stand up and take off this cute excuse of panties.”

You smiled and did as you were told, turning around and looking at Yoongi over your shoulder as you swayed your hips as you pushed your culottes down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor and stepping out of them.

“She looks amazing, doesn't she, hyung? She's so sexy. And so beautiful. I can't thank the universe enough for placing her in my life.”

Yoongi did not know what was happening. One moment, he was on a stage with his ex, the next he was being dragged into a threesome with his new girlfriend, who looked so damn great that he couldn't help wanting her for himself too, if just for a minute. Yoongi was close to living the best moment of his life. He couldn't help but stare as you placed your ass over Jungkook's lap, leaning with your hands on his knees as you taunted him with your backside just barely grazing his joggers.

“Pepper, stop teasing, for fuck’s sake,” Jungkook hissed before pulling you to him, his hand between your legs. “Spread wide,” he ordered, watching Yoongi’s mouth part in wonder. “You wanna lick her up, don’t you, Yoongi?”

He nodded, so, so focused on the glistening of your labia that he didn’t even realise the motion of his head. He was almost ready to get on his knees and crawl his way to you when Jungkook lifted you slightly and took his dick out of his shorts, pressing the tip to your core. “Wanna see how well she takes me?”

Once more Yoongi nodded, mesmerised. The last time he had been intimate with Jungkook, the boy had been a shy, babbling mess, averting his gaze and hiding his face whenever pleasure overwhelmed him, saying ‘I’m okay with anything you like’ whenever Yoongi asked him what he wanted.

And now, watching a confident, talkative, flirty man turning into a full-fledged sex god with an equally confident woman was something that by far overpowered any of Yoongi’s expectations.

He no longer managed to control himself once you moaned at the feeling of Jungkook’s glans entering you, your gaze focused on the way Yoongi’s hand reached for his own throat, palming at his chest heavily before grazing down his body, touching his sex from over the fabric of the joggers, lightly caressing his thighs in an attempt to reach fuller, more overwhelming sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking tight on me, Pepper. Yoongi would love having you on his cock,” Jungkook murmured, loud enough for the other man to hear. “And I’d bet he’d love seeing your breasts bounce while you ride me,” he added right before your fingers reached for the hem of your shirt and lifted it up exposing just one breast, Yoongi growling at the sight as Jungkook intensified his thrusts, grunting and cackling. “You see his expression? He’s so fucked out. And he’s not even getting his cock sucked yet!”

Yoongi didn’t quite know how, but he was into it. Oh so into it. The way Jungkook’s words hid a sliver of humiliation and degradation. The way he was so aroused, so fucking hard and leaking just from watching.

Jungkook was just twenty the last time he’d been in his bed and now… Well, now the dynamics felt very very different. Yoongi didn’t quite know whether he missed the tightness of his ass or the eagerness of his mouth, or whether, instead, he wanted to be you, and feel just how hard and deep his friend could go inside him.

“Pepper, why don’t you cum so hyung can hear how good you sound, mh?” Jungkook’s request came with a bit of a struggle, his voice strained at the effort of moving and trying to keep himself in check.

“Cum inside,” you mewled, starting to move faster, his thumb on your clit matching the rhythm of your strokes. “I wanna feel you cum, please.”

This cannot be real, Yoongi thought as he watched Jungkook’s face scrunch up in pleasure.

“Do you know how good it feels to keep your cum deep inside me? Filling me up?” You provoked him, needing for him to give you those good thrusts, that fulfilling high that would inevitably trigger your own. “I want your cum to mark me up, to own me.”

Goodness, fuck. Yoongi already knew he was rock hard, but if you kept going like that, he would cum in his pants like a pathetic teenager. He could only imagine the cocky remarks and the sadistic laugh coming from Jungkook’s lips if he ever found out. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t like the humiliation, though.

“Come on, Pepper. I’m so close, baby. Can you handle it?” Jungkook growled before your chest started blushing up, the heat too strong, your breath caught in your throat before you shook your head yes, closer and closer to your high until Jungkook stroked perfectly and furiously against your g-spot, shooting his cum deep inside you, his relieved roar mixing with your soft, harmonious howl, calling his name in tiny gasps, your sounds even more beautiful once they mixed with your boyfriend’s.

Yoongi almost wanted to record your voices, keep them in his phone when he would feel too stuck, sad, angry to cum, when he needed a little help with completing the task. When he needed to feel a bit less lonely in his king-sized — but awfully empty — bed. The three of you would fit perfectly in it.

He didn’t allow himself to dwell on the topic, rather focusing on the way your sex-addled expression spoke about complete, overwhelming bliss, Jungkook smiling at you as your lips met his, his hand touching your cheek as he whispered the sweetest ‘thank you’. Yoongi missed those caring touches almost as much as he missed the sex, the pillowtalks, the breakfasts in bed, that messy head of dark locks in between his legs.

And as Jungkook closed his eyes and rested inside you, you opened your eyes, immediately meeting Yoongi’s questioning, insecure glance. ‘You can come closer,’ you mouthed, trying not to disturb the man currently behind you, inside you.

Shyly, doubtfully, Yoongi knelt to the ground and crawled across the space between the two sofas, blinking confusedly as you caressed his hair and the little curls framing his face.

Tentatively, you brought your middle finger to your folds, gathering some of your juices before offering him your hand.

The way he opened his mouth and licked up your digit had your eyelids rolling shut, your fluttering insides causing Jungkook to awaken just in time to see Yoongi swallow your finger, sucking it until his cheeks hollowed.

“Sweet as a peach, isn’t she?”

Yoongi nodded, his eyes closed, a short hum coming out of him.

Jungkook managed to help you remove your shirt, staring at Yoongi until his hyung’s face lit up in wonder at the sight of your naked torso.

“Can I touch them?” Yoongi asked you, looking at your face and licking his lips, desperately trying not to look too eager or absolutely in love with your breasts.

You smiled, giggling a little before taking his wrists and placing his palms over your chest. “Come on, you can knead them, kitty cat.”

He was so grateful. Immediately, he cupped them, feeling their weight in his hands, testing how puffy they felt, how round and soft and squishable. For a second he even doubted they were real before noticing how naturally they hung, and how the skin looked a bit stretched, how even the texture looked. “Oh my god,” he breathed out, looking at your face once more, noticing your amused expression.

“You can do anything you want with them. Touch them, kiss them, bite them, fuck them,” you explained, Jungkook nodding.

“I do recommend fucking them, Hyung. Or just face-planting in between them. They’re made to keep your ears warm in winter.”

You chuckled at his statement while Yoongi drew your areolae with his thumbs. “Can I use my mouth on them?”

You touched his face, nodding with vague fondness. “Of course, Yoongi.”

He felt so warm as he placed his lips over your breastbone, lingering timidly before you gave him a firm approval, letting him roam freely once you did.

He felt ravenous.

First, he sucked one of your nipples in his mouth, pumping it, tentatively pressing his teeth into it before Jungkook hissed, feeling you clench around him.

“She likes that, hyung. I think you can go harder,” Jungkook directed his ex, Yoongi reacting immediately and sinking his teeth deeper, making you whimper and roll your hips on Jungkook, getting a hiss out of him.

“Wanna go down on her, Yoongi?” Jungkook asked, knowing just how much the man loved performing cunnilingus.

There was something so wildly arousing in watching him do so, and Yoongi, in return, found the act incredibly erotic. Maybe it was the taste of a woman — which he loved with his whole soul, so rich and salty and bitter and just… So eloquent about a woman’s state. He loved the fact that he could understand how aroused a woman was just by the texture of her wetness, or that he could vaguely find out at which part of her cycle she was, which would tell him plenty of how much was too much or not enough. Such a deep understanding of the female body had repaid him generously in terms of satisfaction for his lovers. And he felt so proud of it.

Slowly, after his hands reconnected with your now wet nipples, his mouth started heading down, his tongue toying with your belly button before he kissed just above your hip-line. “Can I go down on you, Pepper?”

Your mind screamed at the prospect, remembering all of Jungkook’s stories that confirmed those oral skills he flaunted so much in his lyrics. Plus, after the way he had treated your nipples, you were sure he wouldn’t disappoint. “Make yourself at home.”

When Yoongi looked up, he had a devilish smirk on his face, something you had seen on Jungkook so many times that now you knew exactly where it came from.

And with that smirk on his face, he stretched his tongue out and delivered a slow, long lick across your clit, watching your hole clench around Jungkook’s length, still hosted inside you, and now newly hardening.

The second lick started from Jungkook’s balls, the surface so tender under Yoongi’s tongue as it slid upwards, touching the base of your boyfriend’s cock before it disappeared inside you, your cunt substituting the smoothness and taste of his sex.

“Yoongi,” you moaned, his hands still taking care of your breasts. Between the fullness inside you and the way he started suckling at your clit, you felt your body rise quickly to a preternatural high. “Yoongi, fuck!”

“He’s good, mh?” Jungkook asked you, just as the other man started humming, shifting to relaxed licks, letting the tide recede as he decided to put the cocky fucker back in place by sucking Kook’s left testicle into his mouth, pumping it energetically and making the boy whimper, his hand immediately reaching Yoongi’s hair and gripping it hard, trying to pull him off as he hissed, “what do you think you’re doing?”

Yoongi released him with a pop. “You used to like that so much.”

Jungkook inhaled and gave a tiny thrust inside you. “Focus on Pepper. I’m keeping that load for you.”

Yoongi exhaled, his cock twitching so hard he felt desperate. “Are you gonna spill it once I’m fucking your tight ass?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and smirked. “We’ll see.”

“Yoongi?” You called, interrupting their little chat since you were quite eager to cum once more, then move everything to the bedroom where you could finally watch them try to take each other down.

“Yes, there you go,” he murmured before moving back to your clit, his serpentine licks turning into hard presses of his tongue to your clit, small strokes bringing you closer and closer to the edge before he stopped, almost making you cry out before he sucked your clit into his mouth, nibbling at it lightly.

“That’s fucking hot,” you whispered, Jungkook immediately asking what he did as he felt you squeeze him torturously. “Please, licks.”

Yoongi obeyed immediately, turning you into a fussing mess as you started once more, finally, possibly definitively approaching your climax, the hard lashes of his tongue finally pushing you headfirst into another orgasm.

“For fuck’s sake!” You muttered out, Jungkook clenching his teeth as your pleasure sent you straight to paradise and back.

You clutched Yoongi’s hair with your fingers, almost clawing at it before realising you were probably hurting him. He pinched your nipples, making you sob a few times before you asked him to let go of you.

“Are you okay, Pepper?” He asked immediately after he was done.

You nodded, speechless. “I get what the hype is all about. You’re so fucking good at it, babe.”

Yoongi felt his flushed face flush even brighter. “Thank you.”

You turned to Jungkook, his lips immediately meeting your cheek. “Did you have fun, love? Is he that much better than me?”

You frowned at his sudden inferiority complex. “You’re good at it too, Kook. And this is not a competition.” You caressed his cheek, reassuring him. “But now let’s move to the bedroom. I want Yoongi to get comfy. He must be so hard and in pain, right kitty?”

Yoongi just wiped his face with the back of his hand before blinking twice, adorably dumbfounded. You simply smiled at him in surprise and endearment. Was that the same boy who had just eaten you out like you were his first meal in years?

Slowly, you used your hands to help yourself up, letting Jungkook’s length slide out of your body, Yoongi’s eyes sparkling with interest as he studied the man’s cock, glistening with your juices and his cum.

He was breathing shallowly, wetting his lips before swallowing quickly, his mouth opening and closing on repeat, as if he were already tasting the wetness coating Jungkook’s sex before his eyes widened, a blob of cum falling from your parted labia and landing on your boyfriend’s stomach.

At that Yoongi gave up on any form of resistance, darting forward and lapping at Jungkook’s dick like a popsicle, eyes closed, purring while your face distorted in a knowing grin. “Good boy. Clean it up for me, mh?”

Jungkook threw his head back as Yoongi finally took his cock in his mouth, suctioning it so hard that he had to hiss and grip your waist in an attempt to control himself. “We should have done this ages ago, Yoongi, fuck,” he muttered, pushing his hips forward with a short jab, Yoongi’s hands gripping Kook’s muscular thighs, squeezing them in an attempt to make the man slow down. He knew his own cock was making a mess with precum in his underwear, and goodness, if he craved some friction, some pressure on his weeping sex.

Yoongi released Jungkook before grabbing your hips, holding you still and opening his mouth wide, his plush lips against your nether ones, by now plump and sensitive, their spongy tissue filled with blood pumping so hard you could feel your heartbeat rushing through them. And then his tongue arched up, the tip slipping into your hole and sucking your and Jungkook’s release out, his satisfied hum making you chuckle at how easy he was to please. You caressed his hair softly, his actions so unfiltered, his expression so grateful that you could barely see anything but innocence in his enthusiastic commitment to the task.

“Let’s move to bed, it’s time you get some attention, baby,” you told him as his eyes connected with yours.

Yoongi reluctantly let go of your cunt before he stood, frowning at the hard-on now clearly pressing against the waistband of the boxers and shorts, a bit too large on him so that the bright red tip of his cock was playing peekaboo from the hem of his shirt.

“Kook.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, helping you stand up before offering a hand to Yoongi, the man landing straight in his arms, Jungkook wrapping them around his hyung’s smaller frame, kissing his head tentatively, questioningly. “You okay with the bedroom?”

Yoongi allowed himself to close his eyes, inhaling Jungkook’s new body wash, mixed with your perfume. He liked it. It was spicier and darker than the sweet candy floss one he used to have back when they were dating, and the way your vanilla and ginger scent mingled with his scent gave it a balanced and mature allure that definitely fit him better at this point of his life. “Let’s go,” Yoongi managed to murmur.

You stared at them, waiting for Jungkook to let go of the hug — a part of you knew Yoongi would never leave Kook’s arms, just like you.

Your boyfriend stretched an arm out for you. He knew you wouldn’t feel jealous or left out, but just in case…

And you joined, because that looked like a bonding moment and it was most definitely the case for Yoongi to feel supported by the both of you. Plus, once he felt your arm around him, rubbing the rich curve of his ass, he gave the tiniest giggle.

“Glad you feel just like Kook about my ass.”

“Yoongi, it’s perfect!” You exclaimed enthusiastically, this time making him erupt in a full blown laugh before he nuzzled into your neck.

Jungkook wasn’t sure about how to feel at that, but he was glad for you grabbing their hands and tugging them to the bedroom. “Come on!” You spurred them on, dragging them. “I want to ride Yoongi.”

Jungkook’s face stopped in marvel, eyes wide. “Oh god, yes.”

You bit your lip and nodded at Yoongi, his expression frozen with his mouth wide, his brows arched up in confusion.

Once you — finally — reached the bedroom, you placed your hands around Yoongi’s waist, Jungkook taking off his shirt comfortably and throwing himself on the large bed, getting ready for the show.

“You wanna keep your clothes on?” You asked Yoongi just as Jungkook temporarily suspended his undressing process.

“No, it’s okay,” Yoongi replied, holding your wrists and pushing your hands up, inviting you to take his shirt off.

Underneath the black cotton, you were surprised by the glittering of two silver barbells hanging from his nipples, a dainty and consumed fairy wings tattooed just below his sternum.

“Those are new,” Jungkook murmured from behind you, Yoongi’s head caught inside the shirt before you finally helped him free.

“Fuck,” you whispered, dropping the shirt to the floor and letting your thumbs linger over his piercings. “Can I?”

Yoongi nodded reassuringly as you toyed with the silver accessories, your expression shifting to a dreamy-eyed one, biting your lip as you barely contained your need to scream. “They’re so fucking pretty.”

Yoongi giggled as you bent down and kissed one gingerly.

“So, so dang pretty, Kook, look at them!” You said, almost painfully, turning around only to see your boyfriend looking at you in amusement.

“I didn’t know you had a thing for those,” he commented with a gentle smile.

“I didn’t either!” You replied enthusiastically before turning back to Yoongi, cupping his cheeks and kissing him out of excitement. “You beautiful, beautiful human.”

Yoongi felt his body freeze.

He hadn’t been kissed in so long, and the fact that you had done so in such a natural, unbridled way, like he was indeed the most beautiful thing in the whole world — in the whole universe — got him petrified in panic, shortly before his eyes watered a little. “Really?”

You nodded, nothing but joy and wonder in your expression. “Really, Yoongi.” The pout on his lips made you melt completely, your quick nods causing one single tear to spill.

You dried it quickly. “Don’t cry, sweetie, you’re gonna make Kook worry.”

He bent down and placed his face against your neck, Jungkook immediately picking up on something being wrong. “Hyung?”

“He’s okay, babe,” you replied. “Come on, let’s lay down, yeah?”

Yoongi blinked and waited. “Could you please finish undressing me? It… It’s a bit… uncomfy?”

Your worried expression turned to an empathetic one. “Of course, darling, sorry.” You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him closer, kissing his stomach as you pulled his shorts and underwear down, chuckling at how easily Jungkook’s large clothes slid off his lithe body. “There you go.”

Yoongi hadn’t felt so cared for in so long. He literally didn’t know what to do except trying to save the memories for the future.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmured, making his hyung lay in between the two of you, Jungkook’s arm naturally wrapping around Yoongi’s waist, slotting him perfectly against his chest while you snuggled closer to Yoongi’s front.

“Condom?” You asked, your hand grazing Yoongi’s side, up and down, so calmly and soothingly that he was ready to give up on arousal just to enjoy your innocent touch.

“He ate the shit out of us, it would be more of a technicality than actual protection,” Jungkook commented. “But, I mean, we can still use it in case you want to,” he conceded, rubbing his hand against Yoongi’s chest.

“Can I do without?” he asked, looking at you, his expression very down-to-earth for a second.

You kissed his nose. “Sure. But we’re all getting tested after this,” you said before looking at Jungkook. “It’s been a while since we got checked and being monogamous is not a good excuse.”

Jungkook hummed in confirmation before kissing Yoongi’s neck. “Guess we’ll have to make an exception for you.” Yoongi’s neck was so smooth, and so sensitive, the man shivering and writhing slightly, your hand spread wide over his asscheek as you pulled him closer, rubbing your tummy over his hard cock.

You lowered your gaze, staring at the thick, curved length, so red, its veins so thick and inviting. From the way he moaned against your jaw, you knew he was painfully aroused, Jungkook sliding his cock between Yoongi’s glutes getting him to whine, his hips ricocheting between your soft body and Jungkook’s hard, taut one.

He loved how he felt so at peace, caught in between the two of you, like the line dividing the ying and the yang. He loved your femininity, your softness, your calming, nurturing presence; he loved Jungkook’s loud masculinity, his hardness, and his steady, humming energy.

It was perfect. You tugged him on top of you, opening your legs so he could rub against your clitoris while you toyed with his piercings, arching up, struggling against the utter rudeness of anatomy as you desperately tried to tease the barbells with your tongue.

From the side, Jungkook looked at the two of you, staring at Yoongi’s arms, spotting new tattoos there, but keeping quiet, observing his scrunched up face as he asked. “Inside, please?”

You took the initiative and moved your hand down, taking his cock in your hand and placing the tip against your entrance. “Just push, baby.”

He groaned as he did so, kissing your collarbone as he sunk in, nipping at your skin as he tried to keep himself from moaning. “Oh fuck. I’m gonna lose it.”

“Go ahead. Ruin me, Yoongi,” you teased him, pushing his hair back. “No need to hold back.”

“I’m gonna last too little.” He pulled out. “I’m not gonna make you cum.”

You grabbed his ass, sinking your nails in and making his hips snap forward powerfully. “I don’t care. Just fuck it all out. Go wild, baby.”

Jungkook snickered. “You heard her, Yoongi. Fuck her like a horny slut,” he instructed, the degrading slur making you purr.

“Like a horny slut?” He asked. “More like a hungry little thing,” he corrected as he pulled all the way out and rammed his way in with a fast, ruthless thrust. “Can I use you like a pretty fleshlight?” He taunted you with a sneer. “You just want to make your owner happy, right?”

You opened your mouth wide in surprise before nodding like he’d just asked if you wanted ten billion wons.

“Such a messy girl,” he snarled before pounding his way in, setting a punishing rhythm that got him right on the edge before he pulled out, studying just how much of your wetness was coating him. “You sure you’re not gonna cum? Stop touching my nipples and touch your dripping, needy cunt.”

You started immediately, aiming straight for the orgasm, refusing to tease yourself when he regained his punishing pace.

“I bet you’re wet like that all the time.” He grunted before he regained his sanity and uttered one more humiliating, objectifying sentence. “Just a wet hole walking around, waiting to be used.”

Jungkook shook his head in disbelief as Yoongi caught up so quickly to your needs. “You could bend her over the breakfast table at six am and she’d be waiting to be fucked first thing in the morning.”

“Eat her out before you leave for work. Breakfast of champions,” Yoongi grunted out, finding difficulties at keeping focused as his cock started throbbing insistently. “Are you gonna cum, Pepper? I’m not letting go if you aren’t.”

You closed your eyes and held your breath, using your kegels to squeeze him, matching up the movements of your diaphragm and your inner walls. “Close, just fucking pound me.”

Jungkook snickered and watched Yoongi chuckled lightly. “That was very forward, sweetie. I bet you are a slut after all. A very shameless, nasty one at that, mh?”

Yoongi sat up and grabbed both your thighs, picking them up before he used his entire body to fuck into you, going so fast you doubted his body could go that hard.

“Just fucking cum, Pepper, don’t make me slap that pussy,” he hissed, your head shaking as your chest filled all of a sudden before an animalistic growl tore through your throat, Yoongi nodding and smiling — the last vision before your eyes closed, your head thrown back, your body shoked at how obliterating he felt inside you.

Yoongi toppled over you once he realised he could finally let go, his lips sucking at your earlobe and neck as he gave a few final thrusts and finally reached his orgasm.

He knew you had to be filled to the brim when he realised he wouldn’t stop cumming, his cock twitching and twitching, until maybe after ten spurts it finally came to a halt.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had fully enjoyed the show, tugging at his length until he realised there was one final thing he craved, stretching to the bedside table, and taking advantage of your and Yoongi’s cathatonic state to wear a condom and pour some lube over it, sitting up and kneeling behind Yoongi.

“Babe, I want inside,” Jungkook murmured, waiting for his hyung to react. “Yoongi?”

“Easy, please. I’m not stretched,” he replied, your eyes opening up in confusion.

“Take care of him, will you, Pepper?” Jungkook asked you, caressing your thigh as you grabbed the lube and passed it to him.

“Pour some on him too, Koo,” you reminded him, and he immediately followed your advice, your hands on Yoongi’s face as Jungkook nodded, grabbing his cock and positioning the tip against Yoongi’s entrance.

“Look at me, baby,” you told him, keeping him inside you focused on you, tugging at his lower lip with your teeth. “It’s okay, kitty.”

He hissed and placed his open mouth around the curve of your neck, muffling his cry.

Jungkook, meanwhile, hummed before groaning, trying to keep still and get Yoongi used to the stretch. “It’ll feel good soon, babe, I promise.”

Yoongi nodded, eyes screwed shut while you soothed him, trying to get him to relax a little. “I know it burns, sweetie,” you cooed, shushing him, his lips trembling as he stared at your eyes, then at your lips, then again at your eyes, looking for your permission.

You cupped his nape, drawing circles in the short hair there, pulling him closer and connecting your lips with his. Jungkook trusted you distracting his hyung to sink slightly deeper, knowing he had reached Yoongi’s prostate the moment he clenched the sheets in his fists, your kiss intensifying as he whimpered, his cock pulsating inside you.

“Good boy,” Jungkook rewarded him, biting his lip to hold himself back, staying for five seconds, counting them before he backed up, looking down, waiting some more and letting himself slide back in, adding one inch, Yoongi by far more grateful than before.

“Deeper,” he whispered, starting to move inside you once more. Jungkook noticed and gave a couple shallow thrusts, his breathing setting the pace for Yoongi too. You were too busy taking in the view: Yoongi, brow furrowed, eyes closed, lips agape before he bit his lower one, letting it snap free as Jungkook gave a louder grunt and pushed harder. He looked magnificent behind Yoongi, his hair slightly wet with perspiration, falling over his face, his mouth open wide as he breathed heavily, the glittering of his tongue piercing catching your attention before you noticed him wink at you, his hands grabbing Yoongi’s hips before he pushed all the way in, the man gasping as in return he was pushed deeper inside you.

“Kook. Fuck!” He snarled, feeling breathless as a new thrust made him pound into you.

“Oh, come on. You love it,” Jungkook replied, smug and absolutely right; still Yoongi refused to let him win, deciding to keep perfectly quiet from there.

As Jungkook kept ramming into Yoongi, harder and harder, you noticed there was something going on with the older of the two.

“Yoongi,” you called, cupping his face, making him look at you. “Don’t be petty, sweetheart. It doesn’t suit you.”

He shook his head with a frown.

“Come on,” you tried to convince him. “I’m sure a praise from Jungkook will fix everything, right?”

And right on cue, your boyfriend bent down to Yoongi’s ear. “Are you upset, babe? Why’s my cute thing upset?” Jungkook slowed down, deciding to smoothen out the issue before going for the final rush. “You don’t want me to be proud of making you feel good?” He kissed the crown of Yoongi’s head. “Of course I’m proud, sweetie. That’s my job.” Jungkook gave a slow, deep roll of his hips, Yoongi finally giving up with the tiniest of mewls. “Doesn’t it feel good to have Pepper on you and me inside you? Aren’t you going to reward us with your pretty sounds?”

You nodded with a sympathetic look on your face, touching his face, begging for him to open up again.

“I’m sorry, Pepper,” Yoongi muttered. “Sorry, Kook.”

“It’s all cool, babe. Do you want me to bring it home?” Jungkook asked, stroking his hyung’s back.

Yoongi nodded. “Please, I’m…”

“I’ve got you,” Jungkook reassured him, his pace increasing. “Let go, Yoongi.”

And he seemed to follow the gentle invitation right away, his weight becoming heavier on you as his arms started failing him, his once shy thrusts becoming quick and harsh, your body too spent to attempt one more orgasm right as a loud cry left Yoongi’s lips, his body arching up before he fell back down, Jungkook giving a few more enthusiastic strokes before letting go, an animalistic roar ripping from his throat before he crashed on top of Yoongi — and you.

You grunted at the added weight before Jungkook dragged all of you on your side, finally at peace.

“I’m so fucking exhausted,” he huffed out, the effort from the gig summing up with the one from the incredible, mindblowing, feral sex.

You kissed Yoongi’s forehead tenderly, his face still peaceful in post-orgasmic bliss. “Baby,” you called, Jungkook looking at you only to notice you meant the older man. “Yoongi, darling. We need to get you cleaned up,” you reminded him.

He nodded and hummed before wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you closer. “One more minute.” His time was over. Now he would be sent home, alone, sleepy, blue, clutching to his chest the shambles of his dignity, the memories and the devastating feeling of lost understanding. He would open a bottle of whiskey and drink until the liquor would get him blurred enough for him to actually fall asleep through the fatigue.

“Let’s shower, kitty. You can nap later,” Jungkook reassured him. “I’ll change the sheets and then you can take the longest nap in history. I promise. I don’t want you to sleep on messy bedding.”

Yoongi snapped his head toward the other man. “You mean I can sleep here?”

“Of course, Yoongi.” Jungkook wrapped his arms around him, inhaling the mix of his sweat and the bodywash in the guest bathroom. Somehow he hoped Yoongi still had his old scent. “I’m sure Pepper would hate sending you home.”

“Aftercare. We’re not sending you away now that you need us the most,” you explained, practical, determined. You wouldn’t let him step out of the room unless he strictly requested it.

“You’re sure I can stay?” Yoongi asked again, incredulous.

You smiled fondly. “We’re sure, kitty.”

He didn’t know how to feel other than grateful. “Thank you, guys,” he murmured, hiding his face, a gummy grin making an appearance.

“Look at that cute smile,” you fondled him, caressing the side of his face before slowly pulling him out of you, trying not to mess the sheets but inevitably doing so after the way Yoongi had filled you up with cum. Jungkook slid out shortly after, getting rid of the condom quickly and efficiently.

“Come, let’s shower, Kook will join in a bit,” you guided your… guest? to the joined bathroom. Under the bright lights, you spotted other tattoos, mostly in white ink, which made him look even more unreal and ethereal. Jungkook joined right as the two of you were almost done, your hands expertly rinsing Yoongi’s smaller frame, massaging his tense shoulders, rubbing his back and kneading the exerted muscles of his glutes. Meanwhile, Jungkook washed off the sweat, briskly soaping himself up before taking care of you, rubbing small circles with his thumbs in your most tender spots — at the base of your nape, below your belly button, on the small of your back… And then massaging your tender bits, washing your breasts and your still oversensitive mound.

Washing up was nothing compared to the three of you brushing your teeth together, applying lotion on your faces before climbing in bed, Yoongi feeling deeply out of place just as you scooted back and Jungkook patted in the small nook between your bodies. “This is all yours,” he clarified, Yoongi crawling in shyly, once more wearing a pair of oversized black boxers.

He laid on his back for a second before turning around. “Can I?” He asked, looking at your chest.

You nodded, waiting for him to settle in, Jungkook scooting closer, sandwiching him between your bodies. “Sleep safe, kitty,” he said lovingly.

“Goodnight, babes,” you whispered as they replied, “‘night, Pepper,” perfectly in unison.

It was almost seven in the morning when the light coming in from the barely agape blinds woke Jungkook up. He immediately noticed there was one extra body in the bed; however, he relaxed once he remembered it was Yoongi’s. He exhaled and smiled. Would he manage to make it work this time?

He really hoped so as he stroked his hyung’s bare spine, noticing the design on the back of his arm, above his elbow, the story behind it so heartbreaking that Jungkook felt tears well up in his eyes.

‘It’s not like it leaves. Depression is always there, lurking. You just learn to handle it, like being haunted but making friends with the ghost.’

And right there, on Yoongi’s arm, bloomed the outline of a shy, friendly ghost, holding a flower, right beside a heart-shaped speech bubble.

Jungkook smiled and kissed Yoongi’s head before standing up and shutting the blind tight. Once he slid back under the covers, he heard your voice, whispering.

“Kook?”

“Go back to sleep, love,” he spoke quietly, finding your hand and holding it in his.

“Kook,” you called again. “Can we please keep him? I want to keep him so, so bad,” you murmured, practically begging.

“It’s only up to him, Pepper.”

#yoonkook smut #yoongi smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonkook x reader #thetruthuntoldnet #52hertz #houseofddaeng #thebtswritersclub

246 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 4 years ago

Text

high end | jjk

→ summary: jungkook is a best-selling erotica novelist living in a lavish neighborhood. He spends his days cruising on yachts, tasting the world’s most expensive wines, and fucking bar-staff. But, as soon as you move in next door with your fruity cocktails, tight bikinis, and odd philosophies, his hobbies shift. To put it plainly; you’re sex on legs and he wants to write about you in his upcoming novel. But first, he has to get to know you inside and out.

→ genre: smut, fluff, angst (erotica-novelist!jk, architect!reader)

→ words: 13,050

→ warnings: unprotected sex, orgy, semi-public sex, semi-public petting, semi-public fingering, ice play, nipple play, bondage, licking, biting, fingering, drooling, spanking, finger sucking, hair pulling, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, use of sex toys, multiple orgasms, pussy eating, dick sucking, throat fucking, crying, gagging, high drug use, drinking, swearing

masterlist || request

Let’s get one thing straightened out; rich people love to do rich people shit. Whether it be deep-throating oysters in the coastal towns of France, raiding designer stores, or pretending to relate to the lower class, they do it and they do it often.

Jeon Jungkook is guilty of most of the above. At 25 years of age, he lives in a multi million-dollar house situated in the privacy and luxury of the Hills. His neighbors live just as lavishly; some actors, some dentists, and some wealthy by marriage. Their problems seem bizarre to the average person, but respectfully, problems are problems. If you’re feeling off about something — even if you’re standing in your ten-acre garden and can’t seem to decide where to build your own personal water park — you still have a problem.

Jungkook has a problem of his own, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

How the fuck did he get so rich and where do I sign up? You might be thinking to yourself. He writes about the intimate and explicit details of sex. Each of his novels revolve around a successful individual dealing with life’s obstacles and ultimately leaving their imprint on the world. The sex scenes are a by-product of the power play. There’s a lot of power in sex, there’s a lot of love in his heart for life and its obstacles, and there’s a lot of money in publishing well-written (debatable), fantasy-driven erotica novels.

To say he was born with a silver spoon sticking out of both of his ears would be a bit of an overstatement, but not too far from the truth. His parents are the masterminds behind a multi billion-dollar tech company that develops security software. From day one, they drove the tech-fantasy into their sons head, and even though they persuaded him to graduate college with a Bachelor of Advanced Computer Science, things took a different turn once he stepped foot into the real world; he grew a little too cocky with his qualifications, social status, and good looks, and so spent his time entertaining a rowdy bunch of people, partying, having insane amounts of sex, drinking whatever was handed to him, snorting blow off bars, and everything else the champagne life entails.

And then, like most young people, he was inspired by a short-lived summer romance. She was an aspiring solicitor, beautiful, confident, and determined, but her determination made her use people like dental floss. She bat her eyelashes a thousand times, said anything to grow her network, and lied like it was a 9-5 job. But, as much as it hurt him, he never grew to hate her. There was something about her — maybe it was the way she could tame every doubt in his mind, or the way she built herself from the ground up — that made it clear that she knew the world was hers. She was the inspiration behind his first novel. Similar to how musicians write an array of emotional lyrics and dedicate music videos to ex-lovers, he too found a way to tell stories. The difference is that he never writes out of spite. No matter how many chapters of heartbreak he could write, he believes it to be wholly unproductive. He sees the good and the fun in others or he doesn’t see at all.

Keep reading

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook smut #author jungkook

5K notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 4 years ago

Text

Encore | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 2.7k

Genre: smut, fluff, idol!AU, established relationship.

Rating: 18+ (very, please)

Synopsis: I was thirsting after SoWooJoo(n), and so I wrote this. Barely any plot. Love all of you, stay safe

Trigger Warnings: Daddy kink/DDLG dynamics, swearing, slight lingerie fetish, oral sex (female receiving), face fucking and hair pulling (female giving), cumplay/cum eating, some adventurous position for good ol’ naughty time, a small bit of impregnation kink, if you like,,,, squint.

Thanking @nervous-moon for encouraging my dirty mind, and @joheunsaram and the super duper @xiaokoo for betareading. The title is all thanks to Mars 🥰

Here is my masterlist, now enjoy 💜✨

You waited by the doorway, pacing back and forth, leaning against the wall, waiting some more. It was stressful.

It was almost as if you could feel the whole city vibrating with excitement, the whole world salivating, pining, for someone who would be coming through that door in a few minutes.

It felt undeniable, like there was no way you’d let the whole world think about it without you acting upon it.

You were living what every single fan of his dreamt to do. And when he came through the door, it was an attack, out of the blue, your whole body thrown at him while he dropped the bag on the floor, both his hands grabbing the back of your thighs as he let you assault his lips.

“Hi, babygirl,” he murmured, grinning as you went for his throat, covering it in kisses, almost biting in before he stopped you. “Concert tomorrow, no marking.”

You growled and dipped your hands into his hair as he pushed your back to the wall, fixing his grip on your ass and squeezing it. “You’re my husband.”

“Yes, I am. Still, I don’t want people staring at your marks on me.” He removed his slip-ons, carrying you to the living-room. “Bed?”

You nodded. “Bed.”

He almost ran there, his steps quick and wide, throwing you on the bed unceremoniously. “I believe I’ve earned my prize.”

You arched your eyebrows, staring at him as he found the tie to your robe, grabbing your hands and twining your fingers together, his wedding band shone in the semi-dark room. It pleased you immensely.

He caught the tie with his teeth, tugging at it and nosing at the lapels of your robe, finding a new set of lingerie underneath.

“Covered in flowers.”

“Just the way you like me,” you murmured back, letting him trace with his tongue the pattern of the lace, where the flesh of your breasts met the frilly fabric.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he breathed out, moving the mesh aside and sucking a mark onto your mound.

“It’s so unfair that you can mark me whenever you want,” you complained, trying to bring him closer to you, hoping he would let you climb on top.

He hummed in reply as he kept kissing down your body, finding the tattoo he loved so much and staying there for a while, leaving tender kisses around the soft, inked skin. He stared into your eyes as he did so, eyelids heavy with lust. “I didn’t say you can’t mark me in places that won’t be seen.”

You rolled your eyes. “As if people backstage aren’t going to see you in only your underwear.”

He squeezed your hands. “Exactly.” He kept kissing his way down, reaching the low waist of your panties. “There are still interesting bits you could claim.” Your slight frown had him giggling, his hot breath fanning over your belly and thighs, between your legs as you opened them for him. “It won’t change the fact that I’m yours till death do us part.”

“Worst idea ever,” you teased, acting indifferent, his hands leaving yours to get rid of all the unnecessary clothing — namely panties and robe. And as soon as he turned you around to undo the clasp of your bra, a rough spank landed on your ass.

“Already regretting marrying me? I thought we could last at least a couple more months.” He spanked you again, knowing he was allowed to. “I thought keeping your appetites sated, coming home at a decent hour, keeping my wedding ring on at all times would keep you good.” He threw in another hit for good measure, enjoying how the redness was already marring your skin.

“Maybe you should give me a reminder,” you mused as you helped him remove your arms from the straps of the bra, turning around quickly and rising to your knees, pushing his tank top up while he shoved his shorts and underwear down. He was naked and on top of you in record time, his large frame swallowed you, his body so big there was nothing you could see except for him.

“If with ‘reminder’ you mean my tongue between your legs, then yes, that’s exactly what you’re getting. Now tell me, do you want to ride my face or are you gonna be daddy’s cute pillow princess?”

You smirked and looked away, Namjoon grinning as he started making his way down, leaving another dark splodge on the tattoo at your hip. “Such a lazy little fox.” His tongue zeroed in on your clit. “You’re so lucky daddy’s got you.”

You nodded and giggled, humming as you felt his fingers linger at your entrance. “Gotta warm you up,”

“I’m smoking hot, come on,” you joked back, wiggling your hips against his face.

“We’re feeling sassy today, uh?” He smirked and slipped two fingers inside, crooking them and beginning to stretch you. “I like that.”

“Does it turn you on?” you asked while he stretched his tongue out, your hips arching up to meet his mouth.

He rolled your clit underneath his thumb as he answered. “Immensely.” With his free hand, he placed your foot on his shoulder, bringing the other one too on the flat of his shoulder blade, feeling your soft thighs against his face. He would be happy to die there.

You hissed as you felt his slight stubble scratch the inner side of your leg, the short hair of his undercut teasing the sensitive skin, your hands flying down to comb his head back. “Everyone out there must be selling their souls in hope they could be in my shoes.”

“Too bad you’re the only little fox made for me,” he replied before once more teasing your clit with his tongue, bringing you straight to the edge with the sucking motion of his cheeks and the hard flexing of his tongue. And then he let go of your tight bundle of nerves, adding one more finger inside you and making you cry out in frustration. “I could eat you out for hours, Vixen.”

“Yes, but I need an orgasm and I need it now so hurry the fuck up,” you replied gripping his hair and pushing his head down just as you grinded your hips up. “Please,” you said, trying to persuade him.

He chuckled and gave you exactly what you needed. He prided himself on pleasing you effectively and frequently enough that you never had to ask for anything. And he did not disappoint — quite the opposite. He knew edging you was a fool’s errand, your will too strong to be toyed with, your patient way way thinner than his. It was even more pointless considering that no matter how long he kept you waiting, once you were there, on the edge, it simply took you the right crook of his fingers and a couple seconds of stimulation to have you tumbling down into your pleasure.

And watching you orgasm was way more pleasing than getting you grumpy and sobbing for him. He by far preferred overstimulating you. Which he did, following the several stages that lead to your demise.

First, you threw your hands to the bed, gripping the sheets. Dissatisfied, you put them back on top of his head, gripping his hair and pulling at it, trying to detach him from your oversensitive cunt — of course, in vain.

Finally, your thighs clamped together, one leg hooked around his head as you rode his face, his fingers exiting your wet heat before both his arms wrapped around your hips and belly, anticipating his next move. He rolled onto his back, your pussy right on top of his face while you kept grinding onto him, claiming him in that way he loved so much, his growl so deep as he felt you cum another time, your cries muffled into the pillow before his fingers moved back inside, teasing that spot that always made you call his name in tiny whimpers, babbling, syllables stumbling out of your mouth confusedly. You rose to your elbows, slowly getting to your knees and leaning back with your hands onto his pecs, riding him thoroughly, his eyes appearing between your thighs as he stared up, at your breasts bouncing, at the arch of your torso and the small glimpses of your neck. And then you fell forward again, panting disastrously, gasping like you hadn’t breathed in minutes — which, maybe, was true.

Namjoon let go of you slowly, pushing you onto your back and climbing up to see your happy and spent expression. With his middle finger, he drew the seam of your lips, licking it before you lashed your tongue out and led him into a mindblowing kiss.

“I love you so much, Vixen, baby,” he murmured, as if he had been the one leaving his body out of pleasure.

You nodded, feeling his wet fingers tracing patterns on your chest before he chased them with his mouth, leaving them with heavy, wet licks. “Love you too.”

He stretched, grabbing his shirt and wiping his face before he cleaned his fingers. What he didn’t expect was for you to straddle his hips while he was sitting against the headboard, waiting for you to feel ready for more. It was too soon, and still it was perfect, your hand searching for his cock, placing the head snug against your entrance. “Love you so much,” you murmured, lowering yourself. “Love your mind, your face, your stupidly large body.” You hummed close to his neck, feeling his incredibly beefy arms swallow you. He squeezed your ass as you got to the last two inches, knowing already that there was no way you could attend to the last one. “I love your perfectly fucking good cock.”

He chuckled, humming at the way you squeezed him, forcing his head to lean back, your eyes studying his face before you brushed his hair back, feeling the shaved sides of his head with your palms. “I love it so insanely much,” you confessed, as if it were the first time, kissing the constellations of moles on his face.

“The feeling is wildly reciprocated,” he murmured, ever the polished talker, even when he spoke the raunchiest words.

“Wanna ride you,” you said, your breathing ragged. “Wanna ride you so bad.”

“Daddy’s pillow princess wants to ride him?” he asked with a chuckle, helping you with his hands on your ass. “You sure you don’t want daddy to take care of you.”

You shook your head. “You tend to forget that time I dommed you, right in this room, right in this position.”

“Now, babylove, you tend to forget I flipped the tables and fucked you into the mattress,” he argued back with a snicker.

With one hand you tugged at his proud mane, forcing him to stretch his neck before your other hand landed there, studying the veins at his throat. “Now, will you shut up?”

He was tempted to push you further, get you riled up enough to fuck him thoroughly, driving him out of his mind, but from the way you started bouncing on his cock, he knew he didn’t need to, throwing his head back and enjoying the ride, looking at your face as your nose scrunched up and your eyes shut tight, your brow creasing. “Give it all to me,” he murmured, “Give it up for daddy.”

You nodded and bit your lip, your hand leaving his throat and sliding down his chest slowly, your mouth open as you laid your head against his neck. “Please…”

“Yes, Vixen. I’m waiting for you, babe. Cum for daddy,” he growled right before he slowed down his fingers and held you still, focusing on the perfect angle to touch your clit and making you squeeze your kegels around him, your orgams rushing though you so quickly that Namjoon clench his teeth not to cum right in that moment. As soon as you started slapping at his hand between your legs, he knew he could move. “Need you to turn around, babyfox, with your back to my chest.”

You nodded and did as he told you, sliding off him and leaning with your hands on his knees. He stopped you immediately. “Arms around my neck,” he ordered, watching as you leaned back and did as you were told. “That’s daddy’s good girl. Look how good your tits look like this,” he teased, his hands, toying with your nipples, feeling your curves. “Now I want inside, babyfox. Will you give me that?”

You nodded and kissed his jaw, whining as you tried to reach his lips. He offered them to you while his hands fixed your left foot on his thigh, knee pressed to your chest.

You mirrored that with your other leg, Namjoon’s hands wrapping around your waist as he lifted your ass and pushed his cock into your tight, dripping cunt. “So good…” he growled as he felt how much tighter you felt, the embrace of your velvety walls making him shove your hips down on him. “Hard and fast, babygirl?”

You grinned and nodded, toying with his mullet as you looked at him adoringly.

He stared right back, kissing your nose. “Love you.”

“Love you,” you replied before all breath was stolen from your lungs.

It lasted maybe a minute, but it didn’t matter, the only thing that did matter instead, was Namjoon, moaning like he’d just tasted his favourite meal, like he’d found heaven in you and was ready to believe in God, in life after death, in all things glorious and perfect.

He used you like his toy and you didn’t care, you couldn’t even feel the pain of him pushing into you, your legs helping him with leverage.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned, his chest like a savage beast behind your back, his mouth open as he breathed out and roared in pleasure.

“I want it. I wanna feel it inside me, please,” you gasped as you felt his rhythm stumble. “I deserve it!”

“You do,” he breathed out.

“Wanna give you so many babies,” you whispered to him, using that little weakness of his to get under his skin. “Want you to fill me up, make my belly huge, my breasts heavy,” you teased him, your hands still toying with his hair. “Don’t you want to give me babies, Joonie?”

He nodded and finally let go, hips pushing up from below as his arms got still, touching your lower tummy, where he could feel the imprint of his own cock, up to your breasts, where he could feel your heart beating underneath his palm, your breathing irregular.

“For fuck’s sake. I love you so much. So damn much.” He laughed as he held you to him, still inside you. “You’re the sexiest thing I could ever dream of,” he said, kissing your face, caressing your cheek as you stared at him, entirely mesmerised. “I love you too, hubby,” you purred back, making him smile so brightly you could feel it with your eyes closed. “But I want your hair back to pink,” you told him, squinting at the bright yellow.

“Gotcha. You love the long mane though,” he teased you, tickling your sides before you nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s perfect,” you replied dreamily.

Namjoon nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind, love. Now, let’s get in the shower, I want to cuddle you to sleep.”

You nodded and beamed at him placing your knees on the mattress and bending forward, ass up in the air as his cum dribbled down your labia and wet your thigh. “No round two?” you teased, pouting as you looked back at him.

He smacked your ass. “No, naughty girl. Shower now and daddy might make you cum on his fingers later.”

You climbed off the bed and made your way to the joined bathroom.

“Coming?” you called, waiting on him with the slightest hesitation.

For a second he just stared at your naked body, already dreaming of the slightest curve on your lower tummy. “Sure.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x yn #idol!namjoon #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnnet #bangtansorciere #houseofddaeng #52hertz

230 notes · View notes

nervous-moon · 4 years ago

Text

hole in one | knj (m)

↣ pairing: single dad!namjoon x waitress!reader

↣ genre: smut, fluff, slight crack

↣ rating: +18

↣ word count: 10k

↣ warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit sex, daddy kink, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), 69, unprotected sex, light spanking, biting

↣ playlist: mushroom chocolate - quin, 6lack // leave the door open - silk sonic // continuum - tanérelle // papi - jennifer lopez // old money - lana del rey // unintended - muse // papi chulo - octavian, skepta // nasty - ariana grande // 34 + 35 - ariana grande

↣ summary: In which Kim Namjoon is a hot, rich single dad that plays golf every Sunday at the country club, and you're the waitress he's hopelessly in love with.

↣ notes: beta read by @dee-ehn and @thejooncrew thank u so much my loves!!

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

“Good shot, sir!” You said, carrying a tray full of drinks. It had taken you at least five minutes to walk from the shaded Juice Hut to hole #1, where Kim Namjoon, successful lawyer, amateur golf player, and total DILF, had just started his weekly game of golf with his buddies. “Here’s your lemonade.”

“I told you to stop calling me sir,” he said with a smile, graciously grabbing the strawberry lemonade he ordered. “Thanks, by the way. You shouldn’t be out here in the sun. It’s hot out here.”

You chuckled, sending him a subtly flirty smile. “One, it’s my job... Two, it’s my job,” you joked, walking towards his two best friends, tennis player Jung Hoseok, and producer Min Yoongi, to hand them their drinks. “Here you go. Is there anything else you need?”

“Not at all, sweetheart, you’re good to go,” said Hoseok while wiping the sweat off his brow and grabbing his beloved mango juice. Yoongi sent you a smile as you handed him his water bottle.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to your game, have fun!” You said, preparing yourself to make the trek back to the Hut, but before you could leave, Namjoon stopped you.

He looked positively hot today, with his white pants, and a lavender Ralph Lauren polo shirt that hugged his thick arms and torso beautifully. His gloved hand subtly grabbed you by the shoulder and he leaned in to mutter into your ear. “Listen, umm, my kids are coming this afternoon, they’ve been pestering me all weekend because they wanna go to the pool…”

You nodded carefully. “Uh-huh, and…?”

Namjoon noticeably blushed. “U-Umm, well, I want them to meet you.”

Your eyes widened. “B-But I’ll be working all day.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, “it won’t take long, anyway. You’ll be working at the restaurant, right?”

You nodded. “Great,” he said, then had the audacity to wink, “we’ll be there at six.”

With that, you shyly muttered your goodbyes and began to walk back to the Hut. Namjoon smiled as he watched you leave, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“So,” Yoongi laughed. “How long until you finally ask her?”

Namjoon turned around, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Pardon?”

“It’s so obvious you like her,” Hoseok said with a grin. “I mean, look at you. You just stand there watching her leave with a stupid grin on your face. You’re in love.”

“Hopelessly so. I gotta write you two a song,” Yoongi said. “Maybe with that you can make her say yes.”

“Yes to what?” Namjoon wondered.

“Please, don’t make it seem like you’re getting her to meet your kids for nothing,” Yoongi said. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You want them to like her.”

Namjoon shrugged. “I mean, what can I do if my kids dislike my future girlfriend?”

“Aha! So you do like her!” Hoseok exclaimed.

“Of course I like her, dipshit, we’ve been seeing each other for months,” Namjoon said.

“If by ‘seeing each other’ you mean ‘secretly banging in the men’s locker room after hours’ then, yeah, I see what you’re trying to do,” Yoongi joked.

Hoseok laughed mischievously. “I wonder what Seulgi will say when she finds out you’ve been dating one of the waitresses from the country club.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Would you shut the hell up? She needs to pay for her master’s degree-”

“Oh, so you wanna be her sugar daddy now?” Yoongi questioned.

“Well, he certainly got the Daddy part down to a T,” Hoseok replied, stuffing one hand in his pocket and shielding his eyes from the sun.

Namjoon rolled his eyes again and sighed. “What Seulgi doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, I don’t need her pompous, classist ass shitting on me right now. I can’t handle another fight. Do you know what she did last Monday? She complained when I gave Ari some hot sauce with her chicken nuggets, and I forgot Ari hates hot sauce.”

“See, this is why I’m not getting married,” Hoseok said. “Statistically speaking, most marriages end in divorce. Like yours, for example.”

“Fuck you,” Namjoon seethed, gripping the handle of his golf club tightly. “Are you done clowning me now?”

“Not even close,” Yoongi said, walking over to the golf cart, “we’ve got seventeen more holes waiting for us.”

Hoseok smiled. “But Namjoon has already scored a hole in one,” he said, then laughed at his own innuendo.

Namjoon shook his head. “I hate you… so much.”

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Your heart raced at a hummingbird’s pace. Namjoon was a punctual man, never going back on his word. You could always trust him to deliver whatever he promised, and if he said he was going to be with his kids at the country club’s restaurant at six sharp, he was going to be there at six sharp.

You were taking another family’s order when he came in with two small children, one on each side, holding their hands tightly. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with the top buttons left open, and grey slacks, while his kids were wearing graphic tees and shorts, sporting wet hair and their respective backpacks. You’d never seen Namjoon’s kids before, though you knew they frequented the country club on the weekends.

You met Namjoon nearly a year ago when your boss sent you to cater to the golf players. So every Sunday you worked at the juice bar, known to everyone as the Juice Hut, that golfers liked to frequent in between their games.

You met Kim Namjoon one morning and were completely blown away by his kindness. He was a tall man, a rich lawyer that offered legal counseling to many famous celebrities, including his best friend Min Yoongi, but more than that, he was a dedicated father.

Every Sunday, for two months, he walked by and ordered a strawberry lemonade before he began his golf session, and just sat there at the bar and chatted with you. It amused you just how many stories he had to tell, and eventually, you began sharing yours as well. You learned that he had divorced his wife about three years ago due to their conflicting personalities, and the only thing that held them together was their two children, for whom they shared custody.

He learned that you were close to finishing your master’s degree in child psychology and that you eventually wanted to establish your own private practice, though money was a bit scarce at the moment, and this job, along with another job as an assistant at one of your professor’s practice, was the only thing that helped you pay the bills.

But then, that’s when things escalated. He began blatantly flirting with you every time he saw you, calling you sweet names, eyeing you like he wanted to devour you whole, or even just riling you up with just his words. You enjoyed every minute of it, how the man would sweep you off your feet with his suave comments or with just a flirty wink. Namjoon knew the effect he had on you and took advantage of it every time he could.

Still, it was just that, flirting. And it was all you planned to do. You knew you would get fired as soon as your boss found out you were banging one of the club’s most prolific members, so you limited yourself to innocent flirtation in the hopes it would remain just that, no matter how much it pained you.

But it all changed after the charity gala. Every year, the country club would organize a charity gala or auction, and the proceeds would go to a children’s charity the club was a patron of. You were tasked with waiting tables, and Namjoon was there along with his friends and business partners. Even though you wore a plain black uniform, much like the rest of your co-workers, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you, and at some point during the night, he told you to meet him in the men’s locker room. So you met, and eventually, you fucked.

That was the beginning of it all.

At first, you thought he was after you for just sex. After all, you met weekly, after hours, to have sex in the locker room like you were teenagers sneaking out of their parents’ house. Sometimes, he would check you into hotel rooms and fuck you until the sun was up, taking the time to know your body and to mold you to his figure until you fit together like puzzle pieces.

This, however, was entirely new to you. It wasn’t exactly a secret that you sported a big, fat crush for the 37-year-old, and it was really clear to you how much the older man cared for you but… it just couldn’t be.

No matter how much you hooked up with him on the down-low, the second your superiors found out that you’d been banging him, then it was game over for you, and you needed this job to pay your bills. And sure, Namjoon was a generous man, as he often liked to buy you gifts and little trinkets he found that reminded him of you, but… you also wanted to provide for yourself, to get out of this on your own, despite how big your college debt was.

Which was why the fact that Namjoon wanted to introduce you to his kids was so fucking scary. It meant that he wanted things between you to become serious, and you weren’t sure if that was the best idea. Still, you weren’t about to stand him up in front of his kids, and if he wanted you to meet them, at least you would give him that.

“Good evening!” You said, putting on a cheery smile as you approached their table. Namjoon and his kids immediately turned to you as you handed them the menu. “How are you doing on this fine day?”

“I saw you this morning, Y/N,” Namjoon sarcastically commented.

“It’s courtesy,” you teased, then turned to look at his children. “And who do we have here?”

“I’m Ari,” the girl beamed, her jet black hair framing her delicate face. She looked like a doll. “And I’m 5 years old!” She said, proudly holding up her outstretched fingers to show you her age.

“Her name is Areum, but we all call her Ari,” Namjoon explained.

“Because Areum sounds boring,” she refuted.

You laughed. “But you know the name Areum stands for beautiful, right? A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

She gave you a once-over, then looked at her dad and slumped in her chair. “Okay, I like her.”

The boy, closer to you, gallantly reached out his hand. “The name is Kim, Jiho Kim. Very pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

You looked at Namjoon weirded out as you accepted the boy’s hand. Namjoon couldn’t hold his laughter. “He’s my eldest. He’s kinda, uhh, obsessed with spies.”

“Dad lets me watch James Bond movies when I come over. But don’t tell mom,” he said, shaking your hand tightly. “Mom is always jealous because Dad is cooler than her.”

“Okay, Jiho, that’s enough,” Namjoon deadpanned.

“What? It’s the truth!”

“Oh, trust me, sweetie, your dad is pretty cool. Everyone here loves him,” you said.

Namjoon gazed at your form with sparkly eyes. “Yeah, well… I am pretty cool.”

“And who are you?” Areum asked. “How does dad know you?”

“Oh,” you said, taken aback by the girl’s boldness, “I’m Y/N, your waitress for the night-”

“And daddy’s special friend,” Namjoon said. “I wanted you to meet her because she’s very special to me.”

Areum’s eyes widened. “Wait, is that the girl you always talk about to Uncle Yoongi?”

“W-What?” You asked, panicked.

Namjoon was shocked at her honesty. “I… uhh…”

“No, it’s true! Every time he’s with Uncle Yoongi or Uncle Hobi, he always talks about you. You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you? I know what girlfriends are, I’m old enough to know,” Jiho said proudly.

Areum gasped. “Does this mean you’re gonna marry daddy?”

You blushed wildly, and Namjoon looked like he was three seconds away from having a heart attack. “A-Alright, kids, that’s enough for now. Why don’t we let poor Y/N breathe for a second?”

You laughed nervously. “No, no, it’s okay. Umm, no, we’re not dating. Your dad and I are just friends. Good friends, actually,” you shot Namjoon a look. “Uhh, I’m gonna leave you for a second because I have other tables waiting for me, so you can check the menu, alright? I’ll see you in a bit.”

You awkwardly walked away from the table, clutching your chest as you tried to regain your breath. Namjoon’s kids seemed friendly enough, albeit a little bold and maybe far too honest for their own good. Still, you managed to shake it off and carried on with your work.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

It was perhaps an hour later that Namjoon called you over. The kids had ordered chicken tenders and were too busy playing with their food to notice how Namjoon beckoned you. You clutched your empty tray nervously and leaned closer to him as he requested.

“I’m sorry if they intimidated you,” he began, “they’re not usually this bold.”

You shook your head. “I understand, it’s okay, they just caught me off-guard.”

He shrugged. “I mean… they weren’t wrong.”

You sighed. “Namjoon, please…”

“Please, what, Y/N? You know how I feel about you.”

“Not here, I’m working, what if someone sees? Or worse, what if someone hears us?”

“Oh, come on, you know I don’t care about what people say-”

“Yeah, but I do, because my job depends on it,” you countered.

Namjoon gave you a look. “I would never let them fire you over something this petty, Y/N. And, besides, if I had a say, you wouldn’t even be working here anymore.”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

His face fell. “W-Wait, no, that came out wrong, uhh… what I was trying to say, is that you wouldn’t have to juggle two jobs and college, because I could help you with all of that.”

You sighed. “I don’t want you to be my sugar daddy, I already told you that.”

“I don’t want to be your sugar daddy, I want to be your boyfriend.”

At that, you stayed silent, eyes widened in surprise. “W-What?”

“Oh, shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that yet,” he muttered to himself, visibly panicking, “I-I mean, uhh, look why don’t we- if you want to, I mean, umm… Y/N, would you go on a date with me?”

You stood there, immobile, brain trying to process what the fuck just happened. Did Namjoon really ask you out on a date? Why were you feeling butterflies in your stomach all of a sudden?

“Daddy?” Areum asked all of a sudden, and the two of you turned to her. “Why is Y/N looking so pale? Is she alright?”

Snapped back to reality, you chuckled nervously and tried to play it off. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay, I’m fine, your dad was asking if I wanted to help him to, uh, sort out his taxes, yes. A-And I said yes, of course.”

Namjoon beamed. “Really?”

You nodded quickly. “Uh-huh, yep, and now I have to go, because I, uhh, I’m needed somewhere else, enjoy the rest of your meal!” And with that, you walked away from the table, once again trying to calm down your emotions.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Later that night, as you approached the staff exit, finally done with your shift, you received a call from none other than Namjoon.

“Need a lift?”

You paused in your tracks and looked around at the empty parking lot. “Where the hell are you?”

“In the front parking lot, the kids got distracted because their cousin was there and I had to sit down for like two hours talking to my brother and his wife. It was pretty boring, lemme tell you. Anyway, your shift is over, right?”

“Uhh, yeah, why?”

“I ask again, do you need a lift? I can take you home.”

“Joon, I can take the subway, it’s okay, I don’t wanna be a bother-”

“You’re not bothering anyone, baby.” He pulled out his secret weapon: pet names. Namjoon certainly knew how to make your knees weak. “I wanna drive you home. And don’t worry about the kids, because I know you’re gonna whine about the what-ifs and whatnot. They fell asleep as soon as I shoved them into the backseat.”

You sighed. “I can’t win with you, huh?”

“Nope, you’re stuck with me, baby. Stop being so stubborn and let me drive you home. I wanna talk to you anyway, it’s been a while since we had a good conversation.”

“Alright, fine, come get me,” you pouted, and within five minutes, Namjoon’s black Bentley pulled up in front of the staff exit. Luckily, no one else was around, so you quickly hopped into the shotgun seat.

The tension inside the car was palpable, and while Namjoon had his eyes on the road, you could feel how he sneakily gazed at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

“Your kids are cute,” you commented as you looked back to see Jiho and Areum sleeping with their cute little mouths hanging open, no doubt feeling tired after an entire day of playing around.

“They’re my little angels,” he said proudly. “I gotta take them back to their mom’s house, though. They got school tomorrow.”

“So they spend one week with you, and then one week with her?” You asked.

“Usually, yeah, exceptions are made for trips and whatnot, but at least the only thing Seulgi and I agree on is who gets what amount of time. It was the easiest part of the divorce, setting up the joint custody.”

“Which was the hardest?”

“Splitting goods,” he said earnestly. “It always comes down to money. I sold her my half of the house and got myself a sweet penthouse downtown. At least she didn’t get my car or I would’ve lost it.”

You grimaced. “Sounds like it was nasty.”

“Oh, please, you know how bitchy Seulgi is. Remember that scene she made last year?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your blood boil at the mere mention of that witch. “Please, don’t remind me. I still get nightmares from that.”

Namjoon chuckled softly. “I never would’ve guessed I would be the dude with the bitchy ex-wife.”

“How so?”

“Well, our marriage was doing okay, at first, and we were pretty happy back then, but as the kids grew older we just kinda… grew apart. You know the story. We just weren’t made for each other.”

“I’ve felt like that before,” you admit. “Every breakup I’ve ever faced, it always left me feeling like I would never find the right one.”

“And did you?”

“What?”

Namjoon smiled. “Find the right one?”

You froze. “Joon, I-”

“I meant what I said, back there,” he said. “I want to date you formally. I wanna be your boyfriend. I want us to be something serious, not just a hookup. I like you, Y/N, I really do, and the reason I wanted to introduce you to my kids today is that I want them to like you too.”

You bit your lip. “You know how I feel about this, Joon.”

He sighed. “Please don’t bring up that same old excuse. Nothing will happen to you, or your job, as long as I get a say in it. I’m not letting anyone take that away from you and you know that.”

“A-And what about your kids, hmm? Or Seulgi-”

“I don’t give a damn about Seulgi, and you know that,” he said immediately.

“Y-Yeah, well, are you sure you want us to become serious? B-Because, y’know, I’m still finishing my masters, you work all the time, you’ve got kids to take care of, and we’re both nearly ten years apart-”

“Are you seriously pulling the age card? Now? You weren’t questioning this age gap when I was balls deep inside-”

“Shhh!” You said. “The kids might hear.”

Namjoon went silent and pulled up in front of a big house, supposedly Seulgi’s home. Namjoon sighed and turned to you. “Listen, I gotta wake up the kids, Seulgi’s waiting for them. But meanwhile, I wanna ask you something: what are you so afraid of, hmm? I want you, period. There’s no catch, no questions asked. I want you. Think about that, alright?” He said, then unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the car.

While Namjoon took care of his sleepy kids and carefully helped them walk towards the front door, you slumped in your seat and fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. What were you so afraid of? Namjoon’s words resonated in your head. Why were you depriving yourself of a shot at happiness? Was it because of what everyone else would think?

The sound of the door shutting startled you, and as Namjoon pulled off the driveway you realized you had been stuck in a trance for a while.

Carefully, you placed your hand atop his thigh and watched him clench his jaw. “I’m… afraid of what people might say.”

“But why?”

“You just don’t see it, Joon,” you said remorsefully, “you’re not the one who’s going to be called a gold digger, or a social climber. You’re not going to be reduced to a piece of meat by everyone else. You’re not going to be called a trophy girlfriend.”

“But you’re not any of those things, Y/N,” Namjoon said. “And if I have to go out there and clear the air all by myself, then I will. I just want to make you happy, and, well, be happy with you.”

You smiled weakly. “At first I wondered how you could even like me,” you confessed, guessing it was now or never when it came to being painfully honest. “How could a man like you, hot, rich, and smart, fall for a waitress.”

Namjoon laughed. “Hey, you’re hot and smart, too.”

“But not rich,” you countered.

“Ah, who fucking cares, you’ll have your private practice soon and then you’ll be super fucking rich, you’ll see.”

“You’re very optimistic.”

He shrugged. “When you got kids, you gotta be. I’ve learned it’s important to look into the bright side of things, y’know?”

You blushed. “Right.”

The car stopped at a red light. “Look, all I’m asking is that you give us a chance. I know you feel the same way I do, just… give yourself the opportunity to be happy, okay? If you really don’t want this, I’ll understand, but…” he trailed off for a moment. “Remember when I said Seulgi and I weren’t made for each other?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes I get the feeling that it was you all along. You are the one made for me, and I for you.”

Heat crawled up your cheeks. “Joon, I- wow,” you laughed, rendered speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

He bit his lip. “Just tell me where you wanna go.”

“Huh? You mean my place or yours?”

Now it was his turn to blush, though the faint street lights didn’t do him any justice. “I meant our relationship, but if you wanna go to my place…”

You took a deep breath. “Then… yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“To both,” you said, then held up a finger before he could say anything else. “But on the condition that we take things slowly, alright?”

With that, Namjoon smiled. “Deal,” he said, then looked at you mischievously. “So, you wanna come to my place, huh?”

You grinned. “If Daddy says so.”

The hand on the steering wheel tightened. “Fuck, it’s gonna be a long night. Buckle up, baby.”

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

You’d never been to Namjoon’s apartment before, but then again, neither had he been to yours. So far, all of your encounters had either been in your workplace or a hotel room, so this was new territory for both of you. His apartment was big -- a luxurious penthouse downtown, somewhat close to his office so he could bike there (Namjoon wasn’t too keen on driving if he could avoid it, ever the environmentalist).

Floor-to-ceiling windows gave you a magnificent view of Seoul, all the high-rises and towers lighting up the night sky. You looked around for a moment, lost in the artwork that covered his walls. You recognized some of the paintings to be from Kim Taehyung, one of his close friends and a renowned artist. Namjoon was an art collector, and he proudly displayed all his paintings and sculptures around his house like it was a museum.

“Do you like it?” Namjoon asked, hand clutching yours tightly as he led you into the open living room, the open, high ceiling making the space feel even bigger than it already was.

“I’m wondering how the hell you let your kids stay here around so much expensive stuff,” you admitted with a chuckle, admiring an abstract painting signed by Taehyung. “Honestly… I’m sure this painting is worth more than my apartment.”

“The kids are well-behaved, they know not to touch this stuff.” Namjoon chuckled, then pointed at the artwork. “This one is Taehyung’s first commission. We go way back, y’know? We were still in college when I asked him to paint one for me. It’s my most valuable painting, and not exactly because of its price.”

You turned to him. “That’s sweet. Back when we first met I didn’t take you for a sentimental guy.”

“And now? Am I sentimental enough?”

You slid a hand around his waist and scooted closer to him. “You’re perfect.”

Namjoon’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. “So, what do you wanna do? I bet you’re feeling tired from standing up all day.”

You nodded. “What do you have in mind?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know… maybe a nice bubble bath, a massage, some wine, candles-”

“You mean going to a spa.”

“Not precisely,” he said, facing you and cupping your face with his large hands. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Hmm, and after the bath?” You asked, leaning into his touch.

“Make love to you again, and again…” He said, and leaned down to capture your lips in his.

He was soft. So soft. Softness all around. Soft, silky lips and soft, silky hair in which you tangled your fingers. And he smelled so good, he could sweep you off your feet with his fragrance alone.

But then he literally swept you off your feet, bending down to scoop you up bridal style, making you drop your purse to the ground, but you didn’t really care, and neither did he. Your mouths were still connected and that was all that mattered, him and those plushy, sweet lips. You held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck for safety, and he had the audacity to smile into the kiss.

“Dork,” you laughed, kissing him even more; desperately, deeply.

“I love you,” he whispered into the kiss, holding you tighter.

You paused for a moment, pulling back from him to meet him eye-to-eye. “Really?” You wondered, cheeks going red.

He smiled, connecting your foreheads together. “There’s no one else I want. Just you.”

Your noses touched briefly, and then you whispered back, “I love you too, Joon.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I’m not letting you go. Ever. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Perfect,” you replied. “Now, about that massage…”

He laughed and turned around, walking towards a hallway which you supposed led to his bedroom. “You’re something else, baby.”

Eventually, you reached his bedroom, just as big as you imagined it to be, with a large king-sized bed right in the middle of it. Like the rest of his apartment, he had floor-to-ceiling windows giving you a mesmerizing view of the city, but the best view of all was the grin Namjoon had on his face as you entered his massive bathroom and then placed you on the floor.

“Okay,” you began, “something tells me this is, maybe, bigger than my bedroom.”

“Oh, please,” Namjoon laughed.

“It’s true! Your bathtub is probably the size of my bed,” you said, pointing at the large bathtub on one corner.

Namjoon walked towards you, wrapping both your hands in his and pulling you closer. “Well… you’re welcome to use my bed whenever you want. It’s there for you. Always. Like me,” he smiled adorably. “Now, pick one: rose or lavender.”

You debated for a moment. “Depends. What’s it for?”

“The bath bomb, of course,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Roses, then,” you said.

“Alright, get undressed, I’ll fill the tub.” He placed a small kiss on your forehead and then turned towards the tub, opening the faucet to allow the strong jet of water fill it up.

You watched for a moment as he adjusted the temperature, entranced by his big, wide torso and how his white shirt strained to contain his muscles. Even from the back, you could tell that Namjoon was ripped, but from the front, his buttons strained even more.

You let your mind wander as Namjoon rolled up the sleeve of his left arm to test the temperature, and your dirty brain began to reminisce of the times he would bend you over his lap just to spank you until your ass was raw and your pussy was so wet not even your-

“Babe?”

You blinked, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Namjoon looked at you weirdly, and then you realized you’d just spent all this time standing there gawking at his marvelous physique when he had explicitly told you to take off your clothes.

“R-Right,” you stuttered, making quick work of your crewneck emblazoned with the country club’s logo (what the higher-ups liked to call the “funky weekend uniform” or whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean) and threw it on the ground. You trembled beneath his gaze. This definitely wasn’t your first time with him, but Namjoon had the innate ability to make you feel like an innocent virgin every time you fucked.

“Need help, baby?” He cooed, rolling up his other sleeve, exposing his strong, thick forearms. He had already unbuttoned two more buttons, showing more of his chest. God, this man knew just how to drive you crazy.

You blushed wildly. “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

Namjoon clicked his tongue, walking over to you. “Silly baby,” he said, pulling you closer by your belt loops. “You can’t even take your clothes off properly, hmm? Want Daddy to do it all for you.”

You let yourself get carried away. “Yes, Daddy.”

He grinned, then unbuttoned your pants and swiftly pulled them down, helping you step out of them. Kneeling in front of you, he caressed the back of your legs gently, then pressed small kisses to your thigh, then the other, sending shivers down your spine. You supported yourself on the white marble counter next to you, as you didn’t trust your legs to keep you upright, not when Namjoon was worshipping your legs like that.

“You must be so tired, baby,” he muttered to your skin, hooking a finger into the elastic of your panties. “Walking and standing all day. Your feet must be killing you, huh?”

You were about to nod, but his other hand grabbed a handful of your ass and he kissed your lower belly, and you swore your legs were about to give out. “Y-Yes.”

He began to slowly pull your panties down. “Good for you, Daddy is here to make the pain go away,” he said, and you watched as his eyes went wide as your panties pooled around your feet. He was so close to your cunt, you ached to have his tongue on you. “So pretty,” he muttered to himself, pressing more kisses to your lower belly, but nowhere close to where you truly needed him.

Before you could even open your mouth, he stood up and quickly stole a kiss from you, snaking his hands around your torso to quickly unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor. You groaned at having your breasts set free from their cages, and he chuckled.

“Now you,” you said, weakly grabbing at the few buttons he had left. “Wanna see you.”

Namjoon smirked. “Then undress me. Come on.”

You made quick work of his shirt buttons, and he helped you take it off completely. His torso hypnotized you with his well-defined muscles, but you tried to push it off in order to take off his pants. With somewhat shaky hands you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, then brought them down along with his underwear. Now that he was completely naked in front of you, you felt the playing ground was a bit more even.

But the thing was that Namjoon always had the upper hand.

He cupped your face tenderly, then looked back at the tub, which was now completely full. Reluctantly, he let you go to close the tap and then gave you a mischievous look. “Behind you, top drawer. Pass me the pink bath bomb.”

You did was told, finding the cabinet full of bath bombs of different colors and scents. “Wow, it’s a lot. Feels like I’m in a Lush store.”

He chuckled. “The kids love using them whenever they come, so I keep them in stock.”

“And you?” You said, handing him the pink bomb.

He smirked. “When the occasion allows it.”

With that said, Namjoon gingerly dropped the bomb onto the water, and the two of you silently watched it fizzle and release blobs of glittery pink into the water, the rosy scent hitting your nostrils.

“Oh!” Namjoon said after a moment, having a moment of lucidity. “I’ll be back in a sec, hold on.”

You tried your best no to ogle, but there was something hypnotizing in Namjoon’s juicy, toned ass as he walked out of the bathroom. He returned less than five minutes later holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses on the other. “I said I’d do candles too, but turns out I don’t have candles, which is weird because I swear I had them stored somewhere.”

You shrugged. “Maybe the kids used them?”

Namjoon paused as he placed the bottle of wine on the counter, next to the sink. He squinted. “I’m so fucking stupid. I forgot Areum used them for a school project.”

You laughed. “Hey, nothing’s going to happen if we don’t have candles here. I’m happy with just getting in the tub with you. It’s already more than I asked for.”

He sighed. “Fine. Get in there, I’ll go put some music on.”

You smiled. “Yes, Daddy.”

The water was perfectly warm. You tentatively dipped a foot inside the large tub, then when you got acclimated, you finally got inside and sat down. Namjoon returned with his phone and a Bluetooth speaker, already playing soft, old R&B to set the relaxing mood. He then uncorked the wine with ease and served it into the glasses.

“Here you go,” he said, handing you your drink. You graciously accepted it and took a sip.

“I don’t know shit about wine, but it’s good,” you laughed.

“Scoot forward,” he ordered whilst carrying his own drink. You gave him enough space to sit down behind you, and when he was done, he pulled you back to rest on his soft, warm, defined chest. “If I’m honest,” he began, swirling the dark red liquid in his cup and then giving it a whiff. “I don’t know shit about wines either.”

You snorted. “And here I was, thinking you were a wine connoisseur.”

“Baby, I order strawberry lemonade from the juice bar, I think that should tell you enough about me,” he laughed, taking a sip from his drink.

“I know enough about your drink orders, mister,” you teased.

“Ah,” he tutted, “you haven’t seen my personal bar.”

“Bet it’s filled with Hennessy,” you joked.

“Wrong, I’m not that big of a cognac fan. I prefer whiskey.”

You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, laying small kisses to his jaw. “I already knew that. Wanna know which is my favorite, though?”

“Hmm? Isn’t it wine?”

You shook your head. “Champagne.”

“Damn, should’ve said that earlier, I have a couple of bottles in there we could’ve used.”

“I’m fine with wine,” you said, “I don’t drink as much as you do, anyway. I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

“Okay, I can confirm that,” he said, pressing a kiss to your head. “Will you stay the night?”

“You’re asking that now? I thought it was a given that I was staying over.”

He grinned. “Good. Just making sure. I’ll drive you to your place tomorrow, okay?”

“Can’t say no to that,” you said and closed your eyes.

You stayed like this for a while, making small talk and joking around while you finished your drinks, eventually placing them on the floor. Namjoon stroked your hair as you talked, the butterflies in your stomach spreading to other parts of your body and making your limbs tingle. Then his hands moved towards your shoulders, where he began to dig in with his thumbs, working out the kinks and the knots on your back.

You leaned forward to give him more space to work with, to which he responded by digging into your shoulder blades and then your lower back.

“You’re tense,” he said.

You fought back a moan. “Work’s been a bitch lately. I need a vacation.”

Namjoon hummed. “Where do you wanna go?”

You groaned as he massaged a particularly tense part of your back. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing, exactly?” Even though you couldn’t see him, you could picture the grin on his face.

“I know how your head works. If I tell you, you’re just going to surprise me one of these days with tickets to my dream destination.”

He laughed. “Okay. I promise not to surprise you and to let you know first-hand when I’m about to buy the tickets. Now spill.”

Your eyes fluttered as your bones turned to jelly. Namjoon had you melting with his touch. “Bali,” you admitted. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

His warm, plushy lips chastely kissed the nape of your neck. “Sounds amazing. I’ve never been there. Maybe we could escape for a week. Or two.”

“I still got my classes, Joon,” you said.

“We’ll wait until the semester ends. Look at it as a reward for being such a good student and an amazing girlfriend.”

“Wow, we’ve been officially dating for less than an hour and you already think I’m the best girlfriend ever. Maybe this dating thing won’t be so hard, after all.”

He laughed and kissed your nape once again. “It’s because I know you so well,” he said, then kissing your shoulder. “All the little crevices of your brain, I know them well.” He returned to your neck, ghosting his lips atop the skin until he took a gentle bite. Goosebumps formed across your entire body. “I know your body, from head to toe.”

His hands snaked down your waist to pull you closer. You craned your head to the side to allow him more access to your neck, and he responded by kissing your jaw and down your neck and shoulders softly, as if you were a delicate piece of porcelain.

At this point, your body was hotter than the water around you, your cunt wet and throbbing, and your nipples hard and aching to be touched, and yet you didn’t dare make a move. Namjoon knew what he was doing, and you were well aware of the games he played, but he wasn’t impervious to getting aroused. His hardening cock behind you was all you needed to know -- he was just as desperate and needy as you were.

His large hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them. “Mine,” he muttered in a low, gravelly voice, nipping at the skin of your shoulder. “All mine.”

His words sent shivers down your spine and straight into your cunt; were it not for the water, you’d be dripping wet right now. You tried slowly crossing your legs to give you some sliver of friction, but Namjoon acted faster than you and opened your thighs before you could close them, holding onto them and squeezing just like he did your breasts.

You placed your hand atop his and guided it closer to your aching pussy. “Please,” you begged, low enough for him to hear.

He seemed to have gotten the memo. “Here?” He asked, his fingertip lightly grazing your folds. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you leaned back to rest on his chest, nodding and humming your approval.

“So needy,” he mused, parting your legs even further. He continued teasing you, gliding his finger over your folds and watching your brows furrow with every passing second. You held onto his hand like your like depended on it, and grasped his thigh to show him that yes, you were needy as hell, and you needed him to touch you properly.

He played with your nipple with his other hand, pinching and rolling the sensitive nub in between his agile fingers. Resting your head on his shoulder, your eyes didn’t dare open for fear that his stare would make you even more aroused.

Instead, Namjoon opted for finally touching your clit, pressing the small bundle of nerves with his index and slowly moving in tiny circles. Your toes curled and you let out a breathy moan.

“You like that?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered.

His lips found the skin of your neck once again, finding a spot he liked and then sucking. It wasn’t often that he sucked hickeys into your neck, but he enjoyed it far too much for his own good. You didn’t exactly complain, and much less now that he was actually yours.

The pace of the music marked the rhythm of his fingers, slow, sensual and sexy. The smell of roses was making your head spin with desire, and you wanted nothing more than Namjoon to rail you into next week. “Daddy,” you whispered, feeling a jolt of pleasure when he pressed his finger a bit tighter, “please fuck me.”

“Isn’t it a bit too early for that, baby?” He hummed, relishing in the way your face contorted with pleasure. “Come on, let Daddy take care of you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You pouted. You needed him inside you now or else you were going to explode. “B-But Daddy-”

“Shh,” he said, placing a calming kiss on your cheek. “Let me take care of you.”

With that said, he didn’t waste any time and began to circle your hole, his short nail dragging across the sensitive skin and giving you goosebumps. Despite the water your cunt was slick, and so, when he slid his finger in, it was almost too easy. You moaned, gripping his thigh tighter, but it was still not enough. “D-Daddy,” you whimpered, “more, please.”

“You want more?” He asked. “I haven’t even started and yet you keep asking for more.”

“Please, Daddy,” you begged. “I need you so bad.”

“Alright,” he said. “Whatever my baby wants.” He slid a second finger almost too easily, and your eyes rolled back at the sensation. You weren’t normally this sensitive, but you supposed it had to do with the sensual setting and Namjoon’s delicate touch. The drag of his thick, long fingers inside your pussy had you panting, gasping for more.

Water slushed around you and fell to the floor from the movements. You bucked your hips slightly to get even more friction as he curled his fingers inside you. The room, and your skin, got hotter -- so much the water couldn’t even refresh you. Heat traveled to your face as Namjoon worshipped your neck in tandem with his hands.

“O-Oh my god,” you moaned, legs already trembling. Just how sensitive were you tonight? “Daddy, right there!”

“Here?” He asked, hitting your sweet spot from the right angle. You mewled, pruney toes curling and legs shaking.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you admitted. Your orgasm was coming embarrassingly fast, and you just couldn’t not tell him. The tension in your lower belly increased, and his hand left your breast in order to touch your clit and give you even more pleasure.

“D-Daddy, fuck,” you whined.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said right into your ear, his low, smooth voice guiding you towards your end. Your orgasm crashed down on you hard, legs shaking wildly, your walls spasming around his fingers as you bucked forward. He held you in place by the shoulder, continuing to thrust his fingers inside you at a slower pace until you finished and turned into a messy, post-orgasmic puddle.

“That was fast,” you said, collapsing onto his chest. He withdrew his fingers from you and patted your thigh affectionately, laughing at your words. “I don’t know why or how that happened. I don’t usually cum that fast.”

“Shit happens,” he said, planting a kiss onto your hair. “Don’t fret about it.”

You craned your neck to look at him properly. “Wanna get out now? The water’s a bit cold.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that because you wanna keep fucking or…?”

“Yes,” you said unabashedly. “You promised me endless lovemaking.”

He chuckled. “Alright, baby, move.”

You did as told and he got up, carefully exiting the tub, water dripping from his godly figure and into the mat. He grabbed a clean towel to pat himself dry, and after tying it to his waist, his prominent erection peeking through and tenting the fabric, he helped you exit the tub without falling. He passed you a towel and helped pat you dry with the dorkiest grin on his face, occasionally giving you tiny, tender kisses that had you blushing like a schoolgirl.

Then, he led you back into his bedroom. Before you reached the bed, the towels came off, hitting the cold floor as his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you close. He giggled and went in for a lovely kiss which you returned with fervor, touching every inch of skin you could reach. His hard, heavy cock was squeezed in between your bodies as you stood on your tip-toes to kiss him, and it only made your pussy throb with greed.

His hands kneaded and squeezed your ass while yours found purchase in his broad shoulders as the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste what remained of the champagne. You let him do as he pleased -- whatever he had in store for you, it was almost a given that you would enjoy it. He knew you that well.

The kiss broke. “Get on the bed,” he panted, trying to regain his breath.

You grinned. “What are you planning?”

He smirked. “Get in there and find out.”

Chuckling to yourself, you climbed on the plush mattress, your hands and knees digging down on the bed as you crawled and then laid down, resting your head on the pillows. Before you could ask, Namjoon climbed after you, lying on his side next to you. He smiled at you, but behind the kindness of his dimples, you could see the wickedness that lied within. He had something planned for you and you were dying to know what.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You said, shifting to lie on your side and face him directly.

It almost seemed like he wanted to laugh from whatever weird thoughts ran through his head. “What are your opinions on face-riding?”

You went still, taken by surprise. “Huh?”

“Wait, no- that’s not the right way to put it,” he chuckled, shutting his eyes in shame. “Umm, do you wanna ride my face?”

“You mean… sit on your face?”

He nodded. “Well… yeah. Pretty much. If you don’t want to, it’s okay, but I kinda have a thing for that-”

“I’ll do you one better,” you said, gaining a bit of confidence. “How about we 69?”

Namjoon paused, then bit his lip. “Fuck, why didn’t I think of that? Never mind, just- just sit on my face, okay?”

“So that’s a yes to the 69?” You inquired.

He laughed. “Yes, baby, come on.”

“Okay, so how do we do this?” You said as you sat up. “Because I’ve never sat on someone’s face before.”

“It’s relatively easy,” he said. “Just put your knees on either side of my chest and let me do the work.”

“Hey, I gotta work too, y’know?” You said as you scooted closer to him. “You’re not the only one doing the pleasuring.”

He grabbed your thigh to help accommodate you as you settled each knee on either side of his torso, facing his cock, which rested hot and heavy on his abdomen. Now fully on top of him, you felt his breath hitting your wet folds, which sent goosebumps all over your body.

Large hands massaged the globes of your ass, and then pulled you down. Careful not to crush him, you tried to settle all your weight on your knees, and bent down to grab a hold of his cock, red and leaking precum.

You took him in your grasp, his girth not allowing your fist to fully close around it. Namjoon was a big man with an even bigger cock. Smearing the glossy liquid from his tip all over his shaft, you took the tentative first lick, from base to tip, and he shuddered.

With your hips angled close to his face, Namjoon said, “Fuck, that’s it, baby, sit on Daddy’s face, will you?” You lowered your hips even further until his lips touched one of your ass cheeks. “Fuck, look at that,” he muttered to himself. “So fucking wet, baby. Is it just for me? Hmm? Just for Daddy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you answered, licking from base to tip once again. His cock was so large you couldn’t even try to deep throat him, but after months of practice, you knew how to get him off without compromising your throat.

He eased his tongue into your pussy, licking a fat stripe from your wet hole to your clit. You moaned as you swirled your tongue over his tip, your cunt sensitive from the previous orgasm.

Namjoon took your moans as a green light, parting your folds with his fingers so he could have better access to your clit. His wicked tongue savored each and every drop of your arousal as he ate you out, while all you could do was pathetically slobber around his cock as you tried to fit into your mouth an inch further than you were accustomed to. Saliva dripped down his length as you suckled on it like a lollipop and his grip on you tightened. He seemed to like that, so you kept on pleasuring him.

It was until, several moments later, that he plunged two fingers back into your hole. Mouth full of cock, you let out a high-pitched whine as your toes curled.

“I’m stretching you out, baby,” he explained as if you didn’t know exactly what he was doing. “Such a tight pussy,” he muttered, then angling his face to lick your clit even better, wrapping his lips around the swollen nub and sucking diligently.

You released him from your grasp in favor of taking a deep breath, but his fingers curling inside you took the air away from your lungs. “Fuck,” you panted, face scrunching as your body tried to process the onslaught of pleasure coursing through it. “F-Fuck, Daddy.”

He didn’t say anything, opting for humming his acknowledgment, ultimately prompting you to keep going. So you bent back down and took him into your hand and jerked him off as best as you could, but the real treat was even further below.

Smirking to yourself, your tongue darted out to lick at his balls, then taking one into your mouth as you pleased his cock with your hand. Namjoon paused his actions to let out a deep moan. “Fuck,” he said, drawing out the word. “Fuck, Y/N, what the fuck, shit, oh my god.”

You smugly continued, thumb pressing right into his slit as you sucked the ever-loving shit out of his nuts. His thigh twitched and his breathing became ragged. “B-Baby, baby please, fuck. I’m gonna- shit, okay, stop. Stop.”

You released him from your grasp, and soon he was pushing you aside, your body falling into the mattress as he desperately regained his breath. Eyes ignited with a ferocity you hadn’t seen before, he sat back up and looked at you. “Hands and knees. Now.”

“D-Daddy?”

“Do as I say,” he warned, gently helping you get in place despite the harshness in his tone. “You almost made me cum right then and there,” he chuckled darkly. “But if I’m gonna cum it’s gonna be inside you. Need to put my cock inside my baby.”

Your cunt clenched at his lewd comment as he settled behind you, kneading your ass cheeks and then landing a slap on each of them. You cried out but pushed your hips closer to him, arching your back until your face was down on the mattress.

“Fuck, look at you,” he mused to himself, landing another blow to your ass. “Like it when Daddy slaps your pretty ass, hmm?”

He slapped you again. “Y-Yes, Daddy,” you said.

“That’s my girl.” He grasped his cock and gave it a few strokes, then gathered as much wetness from your pussy as he could and smeared it all over his shaft. He moaned at the feeling, but the desperation to be inside you was already overwhelming. “You know the drill, baby, talk to me if anything goes wrong, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you reassured him.

“And the safeword is…?”

“Red,” you replied. Although it was a bit basic, the traffic light system was pretty useful, and you weren’t about to crack your head thinking of a new, cool-sounding safeword.

“Good,” he said, gliding the tip of his cock over your entrance. “God, it’s been like, what, two weeks?”

“Too long,” you said. The last time he fucked you he’d taken you to a hotel close to his apartment where he railed the living daylights out of you. “I need you, Daddy.”

“I’m here,” he said, finally sliding his cock inside your wet, hot cunt, inch by inch. “Fucking finally, shit,” he moaned, hands finding purchase on your hips as he went deeper. You cursed, drawing out the words until he finally bottomed out. His cock stretches you out like no other, but you relished the slight burn, the pain that came with the pleasure. He made you feel safe, complete, at home.

“Daddy…” you whined.

“Tight,” he whispered. “So fucking tight. You okay, baby?”

You hummed in agreement. “Fuck me, please.”

He smiled, roaming a hand across your back, soothing the skin. “You’re so impatient sometimes…” He pulled almost all the way back before coming back in slowly, making sure you got used to his massive size. Having him inside you weakened your entire body -- you were so full you couldn’t even think of anything else.

“Can you blame me?” Your joke ended with a moan as he pulled back and pushed back in once again. “Shit.”

He chuckled. “No, I can’t. How are you feeling?”

“Keep going like that and I’ll end up drooling on the sheets.”

“So I take it you’re feeling good?”

“Yes, harder, please,” you said.

“Are you sure?” He said, resisting the urge to spank your ass raw.

“You know how I like it,” you said.

“Alright,” he conceded, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then, without much talking, he began to pick up the pace, going from cautiously slow to harsh, deep strokes. You felt him everywhere, heat spreading across your entire body, the room filled with the lewd sounds of his hips hitting your behind. You buried your head in the pillow, hands fisting the sheets below you as you took each and every thrust he gave you.

Your walls hugged his length like a glove. He was right -- you were made for each other. “Look at you, baby, taking my cock so well,” he breathed heavily, eyes trained on the way your ass jiggled with every snap of his hips. Entranced, he spread your cheeks apart to take a look at how his huge dick split you open. “I could do this every day,” he ranted, “fuck you every day, every morning when we wake up, every night before going to sleep, shit, I wan’- I want you so bad, all the time.”

His words made you gush even more. Namjoon often got possessive whenever you had sex. “My pretty baby, made for me, fuck.” As your toes curled, your cunt clenched around him. He moaned at the sensation, chuckling darkly. “Ugh, you’re such a sucker for compliments, huh? What am I gonna do with you, baby?”

“Fuck me harder, Daddy,” you suggested, out of breath.

“You’re goddamn right, I will,” he panted. “I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re creaming my cock like the good girl you are. Understood? Are you gonna be a good girl for Daddy?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy,” you said.

He drilled his cock into you like his life depended on it, hitting hard and deep. He responded to your submissiveness with another harsh spank to each cheek. You arched your back, searching for a better angle. He shuffled a bit, planting his foot on the bed for more momentum, and it completely changed his angle, resulting in him going deeper.

“Oh my fu- Daddy!” You screamed, his dick hitting your g-spot with every stroke. “Yes, yes, like that, fuck.”

“Like that?”

“Like that,” you confirmed. “You feel so fucking good, shit, I’m close.”

He grinned, satisfied. “Wanna cum on Daddy’s cock, baby?”

“Please, I just-” your voice cracked. “M-Make me cum, daddy, please.” You shakily darted your hand towards your sensitive pussy, looking to pleasure yourself even more. Your fingers reached your clit and quickly rubbed it in tight circles. That familiar tightness within you kept rising; your orgasm was approaching soon.

Namjoon kept his pace, realizing you were getting off on it. His newest goal was to make you cum hard around him, so he focused on hitting your sweet spot as well as he could. “Better, baby?” He said, trying not to blow his load right then and there. Watching you pleasure yourself was hotter than anything else he’d ever seen. He wanted to see more of that.

You cried out. “D-Daddy, I’m- I’m gonna cu- ah!” Your walls spasmed around his girth as your orgasm suddenly washed over you. Your hand fell, and you bit the pillow in a feeble attempt at muffling your screams of pleasure as your whole body trembled. Namjoon slowed down his thrusts to help you ride out your high, soothingly rubbing your back as you came.

Your mind was hazy, but Namjoon’s smooth voice brought you back to reality. “Are you alright, baby?”

“Yes,” you managed to say. He pulled out of you, helping you to lie down completely on the bed. “Wait, but you haven’t-”

“I know, I’m just giving you a moment to breathe, baby,” he said, a tender smile on his face. “Come on, turn around.”

“Oh, so now you’re going for missionary?” You teased.

He chuckled. “I’m a romantic, and I wanna see your tits.”

“Wow, very romantic indeed,” you mocked him, turning onto your back like he wanted. You parted your legs, allowing him to slot himself in between them. He wasted no time now, sliding inside you quickly and placing his hands on each side of you. He leaned down to steal a kiss from you, but you wouldn’t let him leave that fast, so you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He responded by letting his weight fall onto you, lost in the kiss. He moved his hips slowly, but quickly picked up the pace once again. He grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his torso, urging you to do the same with the other one as the kiss deepened. Your fingers got lost in his silky hair, both of you moaning in unison as he pounded into you.

Namjoon broke the kiss to speak. “I’m close,” he warned, pressing your foreheads together.

Even though your cunt was battered raw, you still craved him. “Cum inside me.”

That comment alone nearly made him lose his marbles. “Fuck, really? Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I want you.”

He smiled, quickening his pace a bit more, still hitting deep inside you, though not as deep as before. “Shit, okay.” He buried his face in your neck, lathering it with kisses while a wandering hand of yours grabbed onto his ass and squeezed to drive him even crazier. His pace grew erratic, a sign that he was about to cum. “I’m gonna take you to Bali, baby,” he ranted as he nibbled on the skin. “Take you to Bali and rent a whole fucking bungalow and fuck you on every surface I can find.”

You felt dizzy, but chuckled at his comments. “That sounds amazing.”

“Okay, fuck, I’m- shit,” he growled, fisting the sheets as he stilled, spilling his seed inside you. He came with force, muffling his own sounds of pleasure by biting your neck. You yelped, now having a bite mark to accessorize with your hickey.

He tried to catch his breath as he parted from your neck and looked at you, then planted a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

You beamed. “I love you too, Joon.”

“Sorry for the, uh, bite.”

“It’s okay,” you dismissed. “Nothing I can’t hide with heavy-duty foundation.”

“If you need some, I can buy it for you,” he offered.

“How about we shower instead and get a gel for the bruises I’ll inevitably have on my neck tomorrow?”

He chuckled. “Alright. Are you hungry, by the way? I can whip up something quick in the kitchen, or we can order something. I’m sure it’s not that late, anyway.” He craned his head to look at the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s close to eleven.”

You nodded. “Fried chicken?”

“With beer?”

“Yes,” you smiled.

He kissed your temple. “Alright, baby.” Then, he wrapped his arms around you and lathered even more kisses to your face, reluctant to let you go now that he finally had you.

#house of ddaeng #ficscafe #btscreatorscorner #thebtswritersclub #bangtan university #heartsforbts #ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #bts smut

1K notes · View notes