warnings:rated M (18+) for language; depression; alcohol consumption; self-destructive behavior; mention of experiencing a panic attack; reader is pansexual; angst / fluff / feels; mentions of and alludes to smut; non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers with Yoongi and JK; switches between JK, Yoongi, reader, and omnipresent POV
a–dick–ted au. It is recommended to read all other parts before this one, as it alludes to many moments in all the previous parts.
–
“Why didn’t she want me?”
Day in, day out, skirting responsibilities, making excuses, his life and heart falling apart, promises broken, nothing mattering, friends trying to step in and him pushing them away, everything balancing on a thin, thin line, slowly, gradually, crumbling.
“What did I do wrong?”
Most nights, lost in a haze, playing the game of will he wake up tomorrow or not.
“Jungkook, get up.”
That tired voice, raspy with strain and pain, drifting down. Hands reaching under his armpits and hoisting him up with a grunt of effort, because he was bigger, younger, and stronger than the body trying to carry him, but he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t believe it, couldn’t standit.
He reached out for another beer, but a pale hand covered his, gently pulling his hand away, squeezing his fingers.
“You’ve had enough.”
The thinner body was holding up his fragile self, struggling. He clung onto it, clutching onto the leather and burying his face into the collar. Black hair. Pine, leather, whiskey.
“Hyung…”
That small, weak voice wasn’t his. It wasn’t. In his head, he was confident, happy, playful, holding her hand and dragging her to him, on top of his body once more, rough, wild, passionate kisses, warmth and desire, his forever dream, his never-ending moment.
“I’m here with you.”
He hadn’t even realized how loud the house was, bumping into people and stumbling as Min Yoongi dragged him along, holding him protectively, blurred faces and strange shadows all around, and he couldn’t look at the people around them, judging and scrutinizing, shaking their heads. He chose to stare into black hair instead. The stench of alcohol was so strong. It was disgusting, but he couldn’t avoid it. In his stomach, his mouth, his lungs, threatening him, drowning him from the inside out.
“I still…” he slurred, voice cracking, unable to finish.
“I know,” Yoongi said gruffly, but it was consoling somehow, the way he said it. “I’m right here with you.”
Yoongididknow.
When he closed his eyes, he could see it, her profile, the shape of her eyes, the tilt of her head and her cascading hair. The way she looked at his room, inspecting the music memorabilia, knowing they were all parts of him. The interest, the awe, the…
He would call her name and she would face him, those plush lips parting, looking right at him.
And he could feel it. He swore he could, and he said so that fateful day, slamming his fist to his wall, sliding down, the tears stinging his eyes, he swore that it was real, that look in her eyes.
Like she wanted him.
Like she needed him.
Jungkook swore to Yoongi he saw it in her eyes.
No.
That day didn’t happen.
It wasn’t real.
In his head, Jungkook was still there, in his apartment, clutching the photo behind his back, looking into her eyes and her looking back.
Like she loved him.
-
He had to close his eyes to see her, because she wasn’t there when he opened them.
She would knock on his door and he would open it and pull her in, her voice saying his name, a mixture of indignance and fondness, clutching his shirt, his hands flipping up her skirt, revealing her black panties at his front door before he closed it, pressing her body against it, deep, hungry kisses, her hands holding his face.
“Jungkook… I could have walked in on my own, you psycho.”
Her chastising him, but, somehow, she didn’t seem to mean it at all.
“Sorry, noona. I don’t care.”
And she would click her tongue, but she would pull him closer, his smirk against her inviting lips, already pulling her into the apartment, her hastily kicking off her black boots, him pulling off her jacket, sliding his hands up her thighs, moaning into her mouth at the softness of her ass, the way she filled his hands, perfect, always perfect, lifting her so she had to hold onto him, her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands tangling in his silver hair.
“Jungkook…”
Every second, every moment, so real he could almost taste it, taste the desire in her kiss, taste the lingering artificial sweetness of the gummy bears from her tongue, taste her skin on his lips and the way it vibrated with her moan, her thighs squeezing him, making him hard with that action alone.
His name, floating down to his ears.
“J-Jungkook…”
He couldn’t get enough, never.
He didn’t want anyone else, never.
He would whisper her name against her skin and she would shudder at the feeling of his tongue travelling across her throat, her moan filling his ears, his head, his heart.
“No one else but you.”
Jungkook would dump her on his bed where a large lump would grunt in annoyance, pulling down the blanket, small smile on that disgruntled face once he realized who it was, Jungkook pushing her up against Min Yoongi and her squeak of surprise.
“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”
His hyung pulling up her shirt, humming in response.
“Can’t stand being at mine sometimes.”
Unhooking her bra, tossing it aside, so Jungkook could lean down and scoop her breasts to his face, flickering his tongue over them as Yoongi tipped her head back to look into her eyes.
“More fun for you, right?” that raspy voice would taunt, deft tongue flicking between pink lips.
And he would watch, watch his hyung kiss her and feel her body strain under his teasing touch, her back arching, shoving her tits into his face, his lips closing around one of her hard nipples, so good, so delicious, Yoongi’s tongue playing with her mouth, whines buried in her chest.
The world could tell him no.
The world could tell him to wake up.
The world could tell him right from wrong.
But Jungkook would never believe it. He would never believe this was wrong, her in his hands and in Yoongi’s hands, her pressed up against them at the end of the night, her quiet breathing its own rhythm and song, the dreamlike melody of his days and nights and Jungkook would never want anything else like he wanted these moments.
Never.
In his world, it was just him, his hyung, and his noona.
Then, he would open his eyes and she wasn’t there.
It was him, his hyung, and the alcohol.
Staring into nothing, emptiness in his soul.
“I still want you…” Jungkook mumbled, crumpled in the hallway of some random house, the world around him alive, but he saw none of it, lost in the world in his head.
“Jungkook, get up.”
-
He thought he knew what the worst feeling in the world was.
He really did.
What a joke.
He had seen a lot of shit. He grew up yelling and fighting to create his music, straining relationships, severing ties. He met terrible people, got screwed out of time and money, went to bed hungry, heard of his friends’ arrests or, worse, their deaths. It tore him up, it crippled him from the inside, and it manifested as his darkness, the depths inside him that threatened to swallow him up when there were too many people, too many pressures, too many fears. All these, and he thought he had experienced the worst feeling in the world.
But he was wrong.
The worst feeling in the world was watching Jeon Jungkook throw up on the fucking grass, rubbing his back as he retched out the contents of his stomach, most of it being alcohol tainted with bile.
It was disgusting, pitiful, and it hurt him so, so very much to watch.
“H… Hyung…”
Fuck, his broken, weak voice hurt him even more.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out some paper napkins, handing them to the younger man to wipe his mouth as he looked around. He let Jungkook be for a quick moment as he rushed back into the house, pushing drunk people aside to find a cooler, snatching a water bottle from half-melted ice. The change in temperature shocked him for a moment before he gritted his teeth and strode back out, finding Jungkook walking alone, swaying and stumbling, bumping into cars, his silver hair matted and stuck to his sweaty forehead.
“Yoongi-hyung…?”
He sounded so lost.
Me too.
“Jungkook.”
He had to shake his shoulder for Jungkook to turn around. He had to unscrew the cap and bring the water to the shaking lips, tipping it slowly, letting the younger man drink. He had to tell him to swallow, otherwise it seemed like he wouldn’t.
It hurt him.
It was the worst feeling in the world, shoving Jungkook into a taxi, avoiding the disapproving look of the driver as he handed him the crumpled bills, dragging him back to the apartment building, going to the third floor and Jungkook furiously shaking his head, tears streaming down, please hyung, no,not back there, please, and him agreeing, walking past, up to the fourth floor, his chest tight as he opened his apartment, the corner unit, seeing his still-open bathroom door.
Mocking him.
The flash of memory, absolute panic and yanking the bathroom door closed, locking it, tearing at his skin, his clothes, sinking down into the tile, terror and loathing rolled into one, tormenting his mind and his soul, inner voices telling him he couldn’t do it, couldn’t perform on a stage with that many people and seeing so many eyes on him, telling him that he wasn’t good enough, that he deserved nothing good in this world.
It didn’t matter if they were lies because, in that moment, he couldn’t tell the truth from the lies anyway.
A tentative tap on the door, soft silvery voice cutting through the thoughts.
“Hyung? Are you okay?” Jungkook had asked. The doorknob rattled. “Do you need help?”
“Don’tcome in here,” he had growled, animalistic and in pain.
The rattling stopped.
He heard movement, as if someone had gotten to their knees. He heard weight; palms pressed to the wood. And then, gentleness, like a small light in his darkness.
“It’s okay, hyung. I’ll help you.”
Help? No one could help him. No one. No one did this to him. It was all him. It was all in his head.
“What do you need?” Jungkook had murmured quietly. “You can ask for anything. Anything. I’ll do my best to make it happen. I promise.”
He hadn’t replied.
Athunk, like a forehead to wood.
“Yoongi-hyung. Please. Let me help you.”
Despair.
Silence.
His mouth had opened and her name had drifted out like smoke.
“Okay, hyung. Okay. I’ll get her. I promise.”
We’re not a moment, right?
Now, the heavy weight on his shoulder slid down, almost falling to the floor, but Yoongi caught him, caught Jeon Jungkook’s drunken state and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him inside, leaning him against the wall and taking off his shoes, helping Jungkook out of his, his own self broken inside, but hauling the larger, younger man down the hallway to his bedroom, settling him on the bed and adjusting his head, Jungkook losing consciousness, lost in his dreams once more.
And no matter how much Min Yoongi wanted to fall apart, no matter how much he wanted to drink all of the whiskey inside this apartment and pass out along with Jungkook, hoping and praying that he never woke up, Yoongi did none of that.
He sat and stayed with his dreamer, brushing the silver strands out of his face, not falling asleep so he could be there for him in case anything happened. Because when he was at his lowest point, there were only two people that stuck by him and one of them was gone now.
Yoongi did not want to lose the other.
He reached over and placed his hand on Jungkook’s chest, feeling the firm thud-thud of his heart.
“We’re not a moment, right?” he whispered to the air, pain slicing into his frail voice.
Only now, when Jungkook couldn’t see him, did Yoongi cry.
-
He knew he should give up.
She was just like him, running from the nameless demons in her head. Misery loved company and all that shit. Sure, whatever. He thought she would be upset when he told her he had no interest in relationships, that he didn’t want to be her boyfriend, that he didn’t believe in love.
That was the first sign.
The little sting when he saw her expression after saying that. She seemed relieved. He brushed it off, as he always did. Only playing around, treating it like a high-stakes gamble instead of what it was. He knew he would get tired and give up, eventually. He always did, before her.
He didn’t give up.
Yoongi knew he couldn’t.
The second sign was how easily he remembered her favorite things.
The kiss that made her wet, the moments of daring ‘what-ifs’, the way he held her in his lap and made her grind on him in public, not letting her focus on anything else. People? Yoongi didn’t give a shit about people. It was only him and his girl.
The third sign.
His.
Girl.
The fourth sign.
Jeon Jungkook confronting him, admitting his dream girl he wanted to lose his virginity with. Consequences? Yoongi didn’t care about consequences. He only cared about how aroused he knew this was going to make his naughty girl. He lived his life without thinking about the future. He always had.
The fifth sign.
He liked it. Liked watching Jungkook do things to her, suggesting crazy shit, liked feeling her shiver after Jungkook wrecked her and then doing the wrecking himself, her fingers clutching his shoulders, her desperate kiss, asking for more in breathless whispers. It probably wasn’t right, but Yoongi didn’t give a shit, because when he was with her, it was paradise. When he was with her, there were no nameless demons to run away from.
And when she wasn’t there, when the demons came back, there was Jungkook.
Jungkook pulled him from his nightmares with his dreams, his plans, his ideas. Compelling him, distracting him, redirecting his energy.
The sixth sign.
Yoongi knew, this time, this time was different.
He was the one who took the first picture. He took it himself, on his phone when she wasn’t looking. He stared at that photo for hours, studying that profile, that face, those eyes, and he made a choice.
He told Jungkook.
And Jungkook to his own photo, as Yoongi knew he would, because Jungkook had never hid his desire in the first place. They printed them together. Wrote on the backs of them together. Held them nervously, together, looking into each other’s eyes.
Afraid.
The seventh sign.
The way she said his name.
Her eyes, his paradise, their never-ending moment and their forever dream.
And the shattering of his heart when she dropped the photos and ran. She was just like him. He would have run too. But it was different this time. This time, Yoongi was on the receiving end and he knew how much it hurt.
-
He knew the way people talked about him. That he was a bad boy, A playboy. That he didn’t care about anything. That he was a puny, good-for-nothing, shitty rapper. But he sold out venues, even if they were small.
That was him, Min Yoongi.
He could have walked away. Fuck it. This whole thing was crazy anyway. Didn’t make any fucking sense. It shouldn’t work and he shouldn’t try to make it work.
We’re not a moment, right?
He could have told Jeon Jungkook to get a fucking grip and stop moping, because fuck, he wasn’t moping like him, right?
Right?
Yoongi would tell himself that as he held fistfuls of sheets, soaking them with his eyes, stifling any sound he made, Jungkook snoring loudly above him. He would stop before the sun rose, getting up to wash his face and throw himself onto the bed, the stinging pain of keeping his eyes open finally too much.
Was it always going to be like this? Forever like this, this pain?
He hated it.
Therefore, Yoongi made a choice.
He chose to care.
Yoongi was not going to give up and he was not going to let Jungkook give up either.
-
“Hey, Jungkook.”
“Hey, hyung.”
It was a quiet exchange. Jeon Jungkook straightened out the collar of his black dress shirt and stood up, brushing off his slacks. He paused before unbuttoning the first three, then frowned, and rebuttoned one.
“Need you to come with me.”
“For what, hyung?” He tried to sound as bright as he could, but it was all play-pretend.
“I made a hair appointment for you,” Yoongi replied, sliding his hand under the neckline of his white t-shirt and rubbing his collarbone. He didn’t look at him directly. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t need a hair appointment,” Jungkook chuckled, running a hand through his silvery-blond locks, slightly brassy now from the lack of care, but nothing some water couldn’t fix. No one would notice if he simply pushed it back and away from his face.
“I already paid for it.”
“W… what?”
Yoongi clicked his tongue, shrugging on his black hoodie. “Come on. My friend needed the cash. You like coloring your hair.”
“I only colored it because…” The sentence trailed off and Jungkook gave Yoongi a pained look.
The older male reached over and grabbed his wrist.
“You have to break the cycle,” Yoongi said softly, staring into his eyes. “I really need you with me. Please.”
Jungkook gazed at him helplessly, all dressed up and nowhere to go, because the places he wanted to go were destinations in his dreams, with her.
“Please, Jungkook.”
The grip on his wrist tightened, Yoongi’s dark brown eyes glistening. He turned his head away, but forced himself to look back, holding Jungkook in his resolute stare.
A stare full of thinly veiled pain.
“I can’t do this alone.”
And how, Jungkook remembered. All of his dreams had Yoongi in them too.
For a moment, he had forgotten that. For many nights and many days, he had forgotten Yoongi was always there, holding him up when he was falling down, being his eyes when the world was blurry, hiding his sadness so Jungkook could wallow in his.
He lifted his other hand and placed it over the pale one.
“Okay, hyung. Okay.”
-
“How you seen someone who looks like this?”
The kid took the picture from him, big eyes looking bigger in his round, bug-eyed lenses.
“Yeah. It’s the pretty noona.”
The kid handed it back.
“But I haven’t seen her in a while. I’m sorry.”
Jeon Jungkook smiled soothingly and patted the kid on the head. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen her in a while either. That’s why I’m asking.”
He stood up, tucking his now purple hair behind his ear. The kid looked up at him, mouth slightly open, in awe of Jungkook’s height. The kid was sporting a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it and blue pants that were a little too short for him, a colorful patch on the shin. Jungkook bowed pointedly to him even though he was only a young child. The kid continued to stare. He was about to turn around before the kid spoke up again.
“She seemed really sad.”
Jungkook paused.
“I used my allowance to buy her gummy bears. Did you know? She always buys gummy bears when she comes here.” The kid sniffed, rubbing the back of his nose as Jungkook looked down at him, the words stinging his heart. “But she seemed so sad. Like she was hurting deep inside, but trying to hide it.” He lifted his head, blunt bowl cut bouncing, dashing over to Jungkook and tugging on his jeans.
“Is she okay, hyung?”
The worst part was, Jungkook didn’t know.
The kid bit his lip, shaking the leg of his jeans, his mother behind the counter chastising him, saying not to touch the customers, but Jungkook held his hand up, crouching down. The kid looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. He did not feel brave inside, but he tried to show that he was brave on the outside, smiling warmly, placing a reassuring hand on the kid’s shoulder.
“I’m going to make sure she’s okay. I promise.”
Was he promising this random kid whose mom worked at the gas station?
Or was he promising himself?
-
“Hey, young man.”
Yoongi stopped at the stairs, keys between his knuckles.
He turned around.
A guy in a dirty khaki jacket and torn jeans with a swollen purple eye and a bruised cut on his lip. He was holding an empty bottle of soju and something else. A small, plastic package.
Yoongi’s eyes widened.
“I heard, uh… I heard you were asking around for someone,” the guy mumbled, looking sheepish and out-of-sorts. “I think… I think I’ve seen her so I wanted to catch you and let you know.” He swallowed, sniffing hard and shaking his head, the flaps of his coat opening, revealing the Doraemon tattoo on his chest and many more. All cartoon characters.
The guy held out the gummy bears.
Yoongi lifted his own, speechless as the package fell into his palm.
“She was here… last night? Or the day before.” The guy scooted around, rambling on despite Yoongi not replying, standing at a random spot halfway to the stairs and the parking lot. “Just standing here. Holding the candy and this soju here.” He raised the empty bottle, pointing at the windows of the apartment complex. “Think she wanted to… But she didn’t. She handed these to me and drove away. Asked me to keep them.”
The guy scratched his head. Then he pointed at Yoongi, nodding, more to himself than to him.
“I think she’s a little like me…” the guy was saying, slightly incoherent. “Said… said her and her momma don’t talk anymore. Me neither, you know… she gave me up as a baby before I could even say ‘go ahead, bitch’… heh… hehehe… man… sucks…” He rubbed his lips and sucked in a tight breath, flinching in pain as he touched his bruised lip. “Anyway, I put some feelers out for you.”
Yoongi swallowed, clutching the gummy bears tightly, the crinkle of plastic cutting into his skin.
“W… why?”
The guy looked awkward, shifting his eyes.
“Dunno… I just… people are important, you know?” He winced, jerking his head away. “No… no one wants to look for me, heh. Only for the drugs.”
He shoved his hand into his dirty tan coat and wrenched out a handful of tiny bags, all with colorful pills in them. After a brief moment, he jammed them back into his coat, frowning.
“Don’t want her to end up like me.”
The guy with the Doraemon tattoo raised his head, looking at Yoongi. Underneath his coat, ribs poked out straining against colorful, inked skin. His teeth were crooked, a little yellow, but he smiled anyway, shrugging. A small light inside him, despite his appearance.
“Not when someone’s looking out for her, you know?”
-
You ran.
Ran through the cars, stumbling, searching for yours, chest tight, black hood falling off, black hair suddenly free, wild and tangled around you, dark waves shimmering in the moonlight and streetlight, the only lights you saw these days.
“Noona…?”
A broken voice, once silvery and mischievous.
You turned, seeing violet.
-
“Um…”
You looked up from your head hanging between your legs. The girl beside you smiled, moving the red lollipop between her teeth. You were sitting on the stone steps of the porch. The party inside was dying, everyone falling asleep or falling unconsciousness.
“I don’t want to admit this, but… thanks.”
You wiped her lipstick off your mouth with the back of your head. “What?”
“Well, uh,” she continued sheepishly, her voice flitting between raspy and silvery, a strange mix. “I broke up with my boyfriend earlier this week. Not because he did anything… but I did.” She rubbed the back of her head, white lollipop stick moving between her now pink lips, the red having been kissed off. “And I was gonna get wasted and fuck some dude, but I found you instead.”
You gave her a weird look.
She nervously laughed. “I didn’t bring protection. On purpose.”
You blinked, slowly.
She popped the lollipop out of her lips, tapping it in the air. It glistened with saliva.
“I thought maybe if I had a kid, I’d have some purpose.” She breathed out, heavy. “Stupid, right? Fuck, that’s so fucking stupid.” She scoffed, shaking her head before raising it to look at you. “But I found you and I realized how stupid I almost was. And you’re a better kisser too. You actually paid attention to me when I said it was too rough or that I wanted more. People who come to these parties, they’re not like that normally, you know? Nobody cares here. Everybody seems to forget people are still people when they’re drunk or being stupid.”
Your lips parted.
“So… thanks. You helped me realize that. I could have made a really dumb mistake.”
She scooted closer to you, laying her head on your shoulder.
“I’m gonna sit with you a little longer, okay?”
You looked down at her and she smiled back at you, gently.
-
“Hey, hyung, Jungkook.”
Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, standing in the gas station Jimin worked at, waving the two over.
“Are you two supposed to be hanging out while working?” Min Yoongi muttered, raising an eyebrow at Jimin. Taehyung slid off the stool behind the counter and walked around it, adjusting his olive-green beanie, wispy brown locks sticking out of the bottom.
The blond man shrugged. “Eh, the manager isn’t gonna know. I’m off in an hour anyway.”
Jeon Jungkook ignored the exchange, heading straight for Taehyung, his long, tied-back purple hair giving him a fierce look. “You said you heard something,” he said impatiently.
“Mhm, I asked some old friends, and, mind you, I haven’t talked to these dudes in ages because they’re kinda shitty. But it turns out some people are already keeping an eye out for her, so I guess everyone in the scene was on the lookout. She’s been, er… hanging out on the far, far side of the city.”
Taehyung grimaced, holding up his phone. Blurry pictures, but there was no mistaking who and doing what. Right out in the open, familiar positions. Jungkook grabbed Taehyung’s phone, flipping through them, brows furrowed, intently focused on the screen.
“She has an MO. No dudes. But… yeah.”
Jungkook handed him his phone back, lips pursed.
“You said you might know where she’s going to be next. Where.”
Not a question. A statement.
Taehyung exchanged a look with Jimin. Jimin’s eyes flitted to Yoongi, who gave him an unreadable expression, but there was an intensity there, as if he too was demanding an answer.
“Are you sure, guys?” Jimin asked, his light voice laced with worry. “You might get hurt.”
“Been there, done that.” Yoongi brushed off the comment dismissively, still pointedly staring at Taehyung.
“You sure she’s worth all this?” The concern obvious in the baritone, uncomfortable.
Taehyung frowned. “Neither of you have ever been able to commit to people before. She’s clearly moving on. And besides… two of you and one of her… that’s just–”
Jungkook’s hands flew out, grabbing the front of Taehyung’s shirt, shaking him furiously.
“Tell me where.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to protest, but then he caught the emotion trapped in his dark chocolate eyes, the barely-there waver in his silvery voice.
At any moment, it seemed like Jungkook was going to break down.
Taehyung’s gaze flickered to Yoongi, but the older man simply ticked his chin to Jungkook. Yoongi was better at hiding it or perhaps it was because he wasn’t as close. But there was something in the older man’s stance, heavily guarding the delicate heart inside, invisible strings holding him up, so thin they seemed ready to snap, but Yoongi was holding on, obviously seeing something Taehyung couldn’t.
“Alright,” Taehyung finally said. “Alright, I’ll give you guys the address. It’s at the far side of the city.”
-
Purple hair, flushed cheeks, a lost look in chocolate eyes that were fixed on you, pink lips parted, mole underneath trembling with unease. White t-shirt, black cargo pants, and thick-soled black boots. His tattooed right arm made him stand out, along with his violet-colored hair. He took a hesitant step forward.
Fingers outstretched, trying to touch you.
Your eyes widened and you turned to run, but a firm hand closed around your wrist, yanking you to a mop of black hair and a pale face.
“We didn’t come all the way over here to have you run from us again.”
The anger in his dark brown eyes made you freeze, accusing you.
“Y… Yoongi…”
His name felt foreign to your lips, not having said it in weeks. You tried to pull away but Min Yoongi held on, gritting his teeth. Black and navy bomber jacket, white shirt, and distressed black jeans. How could you have known then – that thisoutfit would be the one that started it all?
“Who… how…?”
Yoongi scoffed, clicking his tongue. “A kid and a dirty guy with a Doraemon tattoo. Jimin, Taehyung. And even then, it took forever to find you.” He shifted, sighing heavily, eyes flickering to the moon, still clutching your wrist, almost painfully. And you saw it.
Pain, glistening behind the gates of his cold demeanor.
All of a sudden, a hard body collided into you, Yoongi letting go, strong hands spinning you around, grip on your upper arms so tight it felt like your flesh was bruising, your head jerking up, eyes wide, looking up to purple hair.
And tears.
Streaming down those high cheekbones, tan skin and quivering lips.
“Why?”
His silvery voice cracked as Jeon Jungkook shook you, harsh sobs racking his chest, drowning in his tears, your name on his lips, still so sweet in his pain, heavy, wheezing breaths as he struggled to speak, barely croaking out the words.
“Why didn’t you want me?”
-
Why didn’t they want me?
A question you asked all the time. To the busy, overworked adults preparing your meals and scolding you to follow their routines, dividing their attention among the unwanted. Then to the others, the same as you, the tossed aside, the other mistakes and secrets, just as lost and confused. No one could ever answer you, because there was no answer other than, they just didn’t.
And then.
Him.
Everybody said, Min Yoongi was a bad boy. Min Yoongi was a playboy. Min Yoongi didn’t care about anything. And neither did you.
There was no.
Reason to take anything seriously.
You couldn’t. And neither could he.
It took a dreamer to pull you and Yoongi out of the endless night.
-
Jungkook pitched forward, crying into your chest, smelling like laundry, the sea, and bitterness, large, hiccupping sniffles, wiping his tears and snot on your hoodie, and, as if by robotic knowledge of proper social etiquette, your arms raised, about to encircle him, but Yoongi slapped your hands down.
“Don’t you daretry to comfort him if you don’t mean it,” he snarled, glaring at you from behind Jungkook’s hunched-over form. “You hurt him enough.”
You froze at his hostile tone, his slap stinging your skin and your heart.
Yoongi clicked his tongue, jaw clenched. “Me, fuck, I don’t fucking matter. But Jungkook? Shit. He’s a fucking mess without you, drinking every night, blacking out sometimes, throwing up liquor and barely eating.” His pale hand came up and ran through his black hair tensely, anger streaked in his expression, tainting his handsome face. He sucked in a deep breath before facing you again.
“I thought you and I weren’t a moment.”
Jungkook’s tears were soaking through the fabric of the hoodie, drenching the space above your left breast.
“I told you I only felt right when I was with you or him.”
The harshness in dark brown eyes faltered, his deep, raspy voice softening, laced with hurt.
“I still feel that way.”
He closed his eyes, pale cheeks coated in moonlight and streetlights.
“Even if I shouldn’t,” Yoongi whispered, almost inaudible.
-
You scoffed.
“I don’t need anything. Or anyone.”
The girl with the lollipop chuckled, nodding lightly. “Yeah, well, maybe someone needs you.”
You said nothing, looking out to the lawn where some idiot yanked open a car door and vomited on the grass. Another guy was leaning against a lamppost, looking out onto the road, staring at his phone, seemingly waiting to be picked up.
“Hard to know, though. You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.”
For a long, long moment, you listened to the sounds. The party, the loud music, the lively yelling, the muddled conversations, glass shattering, vicious swearing, messy kisses. The sound of breathing at your shoulder, steady, rhythmic, beside you.
At this moment, it occurred to you.
This was wrong.
And you remembered a sunset, sitting on the roof of an apartment building, looking over the urban jungle, two heads on your shoulders, a different world.
The right ones.
You lowered your head. All the other times, you were always silent. Alone, staring at the Han River.
But not this time.
“Don’t… don’t know what to do…” you shuddered, collecting your knees in your arms, shoving your face in between your limbs, wetness sliding down your cheeks. “I’m such… a fuckup… so… stupid…”
A stranger’s hand rubbing your back soothingly, her voice a mix of raspy and silvery.
“Don’t cry…”
-
You placed your hands on Jungkook’s arms.
Pulled him towards you.
“Don’t cry,” you murmured softly. “Please don’t cry, Jungkook.”
He pressed his face into your breasts, shoulders shaking, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you so tight that it seemed like he never wanted to let go, wet sobs trapped against your chest. You placed your lips to the top of his purple hair.
“I’m sorry I ran away,” you said softly, lifting your head, seeing Yoongi standing behind Jungkook, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, I… I couldn’t believe it. I was scared. Really scared of those words. And I didn’t know what they really meant, not until…”
You can’t tell you need someone until they’re gone.
“I didn’t understand what it meant to love.”
You looked down, seeing that beautiful face stained with tears, his skin blotchy and flushed. You reached between you and Jungkook to wipe his tears, your fingertips becoming soaked with the river of despair inside him.
“I couldn’t believe that you two were okay with it, this crazy arrangement.”
“I said I wanted it,” Yoongi muttered.
“That’s not the same, Yoongi,” you chuckled wryly, raising your head to look at him, holding Jungkook’s cheek, feeling his larger hand coming up to press your palm against his skin. Your gaze faltered, not really looking at the destroyed lawn of this party house, but somewhere else, in the depths, into the past that haunted you, the only world you thought existed, the one that constantly betrayed you and didn’t want you. “Like how I thought I grew up and changed, but I didn’t change at all.”
Silence except for Jungkook’s sniffling.
“Neither did we,” Yoongi snorted. “He’s went back to being a drunkard and I went back to sulking in the corners of these shitty parties, skirting free alcohol.”
You frowned, clutching the white t-shirt. “He’s not a drunkard.”
Jungkook laughed, moist and hoarse, wiping his nose on your hoodie. You made a face at him, slightly disgusted. Maybe you deserved it. He looked up, chocolate eyes glistening. Your breath caught in your throat, confused how someone like you could make someone like him feel this way. You carefully patted his eyes dry with your sleeve, dabbing at his wet lashes. His lower lip trembled and he leaned in, stopping just above your lips.
Fear.
Him and you.
“I want to know you want it too,” Jungkook shuddered, clearing his throat.
You looked back at him, lips parting, heart thudding in your chest, uncomfortable, oppressive, but this time, this time you didn’t run away.
Because this time, you knew how much it hurt.
You closed the distance.
“I want it. All of it.”
You kissed him, long and deep, your euphoria, your forever dream, and Jungkook kissed you back, desperate, hungry, grabbing your shoulders and kissing you again and again, wet, sloppy kisses, taking your breath away. Every kiss, every touch, familiar, right. Emotion flooded your ribcage, threatening to burst, but you had something to do, someone equally as important, so you placed your hand on his chest, stopping him, exhaling one word in his mouth.
“Yoongi.”
And Jungkook backed off, still sniffing, chewing on his lip and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, nodding in agreement, giving you the space. You faced him now, so used to running away that this felt strange, but you did it anyway, looking into his sharp, cat-like eyes.
Min Yoongi.
Stolen touches, mere moments, becoming bolder and bolder, until the ante was so high it was impossible to cross, and yet Yoongi had crossed it that fateful night when he asked you to take Jungkook’s virginity, and, without you knowing, without him knowing…
This, whatever thiswas between you and him, was no longer a moment.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m still pissed at you.”
You sucked in a breath. “Yeah, well, I do bad things.”
Yoongi curled his lip, narrowing his eyes. “You’re supposed to do them with me. You said you would. Or did you forget?”
You glanced down at the ground, then back up. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Yoongi clicked his tongue and exhaled hard. He looked away from you, but then abruptly jerked his head back, stepping forward, closing the distance, his hand coming up to circle around your head, long fingers burying themselves in your hair, glaring disapprovingly. He held you in place, forcing you to look into his dark brown orbs shadowed by black hair.
“Ah, shut up.”
And then he kissed you hard, brows furrowed, whispering into your lips, I’m sorry too, and you smiled helplessly, one of your hands resting on his waist, pulling him closer, your song, your never-ending moment, pine and leather and Yoongi, him saving you and you saving him, protecting each other from the nameless demons in your respective heads, although neither of you wanted to admit it. He ran his fingers through your hair, familiarity and comfort, letting out a puff of breath. He looked embarrassed, dark eyes shifting brusquely. His other hand touched your right, wrapping his fingers around yours.
“Let’s go home.”
Another took your left, squeezing it tightly. You looked up to see Jungkook’s still-red cheeks and sheepish smile. “You want to come home with us, noona?” he tried to tease, but it sounded more endearing than playful.
You raised an eyebrow, locking your fingers with theirs.
“Is it still called going home with you if I’m the one taking you there?”
-
epilogue:awake
You awoke to soft lips on yours. Tattooed fingers stroked your cheek, long strands brushing your forehead, silvery voice murmuring your name. You opened your eyes to black hair, cat-like, dark brown orbs looking at you under lowered lashes. His lips on yours, the scent of pine, his soft exhale of your name on your skin, making you shudder. Another pair of your lips pressed against your ear, his body hovering over yours and his.
“Yoongi.”
He smiled against your lips.
The bad boy that changed everything.
Your never-ending moment.
Four, eight, six.
“I love you,” you whispered softly, shivers running through you, the words foreign and alien, but you said them anyway, because they were the most special words in the world and you wanted to give them to Min Yoongi.
He chuckled, ears flushing pink, eyes shifting before focusing back on you, repeating it just as quietly, because he, too, wanted to give them to you, not written down, but from his mouth, giving voice to his heart.
“I love you.”
Why did it feel so nice, hearing those words in that raspy, deep voice? Why did it make your heart beat so fast? Why did it hold you and trap you, and why did you want to be trapped, trapped in this melody, these lyrics, this song, this never-ending moment?
Yoongi nudged you, indicating you to look to your left. You turned your head, looking up, seeing dark brown eyes, his purple locks brushing against your cheeks, the mole underneath his lower lip quivering. You reached up and touched his cheek gently, fitting your palm along his chiseled jaw, his own hand still cupping your cheek, naked body on top of yours.
“Jungkook.”
He leaned into your hand, smiling.
The wrong guy who turned out to be the right guy to pick up all along.
Your forever dream.
Four, eight, six.
“I love you,” you breathed, looking into those chocolate orbs, reminded of how much Jeon Jungkook liked you and how he always showed it. For him, you were always his dream and everyone knows that in your dreams, you don’t have to lie or hide. All this time, letting you see him like you, adore you, love you, avoiding the words because he didn’t want to hurt Yoongi, because he wanted his hyung to decide how this was going to go.
Jungkook always knew that Yoongi loved you, maybe even before Yoongi knew it himself.
Now, you finally said the words, giving him what he so very badly wanted to say, and now he could finally, finally say them back to you.
“I love you.”
He leaned down, a delicate kiss on your lips, smelling of laundry and the sea.
For a long, long time, you had wandered, small hands that became big ones, never having another to hold, living on artificial sweetness, missing a safe place, the place to go back to. But Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook changed that.
For you, they were what love really meant in this world.
summary:Kim Taehyung really regrets setting up his best friend with Jeon Jungkook, mostly because instead of dealing with one insufferable asshole, he now has to deal with two. He just wants you to come to his art exhibit and support him, and you show up looking like a pimp with Jungkook looking like your escort, sigh.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; you’re a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook; schemes, please save Taehyung; graphic descriptions of various sex acts, smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping / fingering in a public bathroom, threesome smut, mild restraint, nipple play, m-receiving oral, ass / pussy spanking, double penetration / spit-roast, facial, mild dom/sub themes, somuch kissing); non-idol!BTS; fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung
yup, it’s Butter purple-haired ponytail JK and orange suit Taehyung
–
“You have gotto be kidding me!”
“Oh, hey, Tae. How’s it going?”
“Hey, hyung.”
The voices, one irritated, one pleased, one mischievous, all three looking like the epitome of trouble and the eventual subjects of someone’s wet dream.
Kim Taehyung marched over to you, purely indignant, his previous honey-brown hair now dyed to the color of black coffee, the long curls pushed back to reveal his forehead. One stray lock brushed against his dark, sculpted brows that were currently furrowed in annoyance. He stopped in front of you and your boyfriend, hands on his hips. He looked handsome as hell in a tailored orange creamsicle suit and gold earrings, white dress shirt neatly pressed.
“Why are you dressed like a pimp?” Taehyung hissed, jabbing your left breast through your dress. “Why are you dressed like his pimp?!” he added, pointing at Jungkook’s smirking face.
You blinked innocently at Taehyung, lifting your oversized black fur coat sleeve to place a delicate hand on your chest, completely unbothered by his harsh reaction to your appearance. Your nails were a gradient from black to white, ever-so-slightly pointed, but not too long to be inconvenient.
Just enough to show you meant business.
Oh, and also you were wearing mock-neck, halter-style minidress that faded from black to white, molded to your every curve. It perfectly matched Jungkook’s gradient black-to-white suit. Every step was accented with a sharp click, you in sleek black high-heels and him in glossy black oxfords, dangerous from head-to-toe.
Yes, Jungkook and you were thatcouple.
“Is that a t-shirt?” Taehyung snapped, switching to prodding Jungkook’s pecs, who grinned in response. You shrugged, the shoulders of your fur coat sliding down so that it now rested on your elbows, exposing your shoulders.
“He thought about not coming with one, but I advised him the other visitors would be too distracted by his sexiness to view your art,” you explained, bowing as if you had done a great service.
“And I told her they would be to distracted with her amazing legs, but it’s better not to cover them because I like looking,” Jungkook chuckled, placing an arm around your waist and pulling you to him possessively.
Taehyung facepalmed.
“I regret paying matchmaker to the two biggest egos I know,” he mumbled through his fingers, glaring at the two of you.
“Hey, we kept it low profile. Neutrals.”
Taehyung pointed to your boyfriend’s hair, pulled back into a sleek ponytail. “Hello? His hair is fucking purple.”
You waved his comment away dismissively. “Well, besides that.”
“You’re a class-A asshole.”
“Still makes me high class,” you replied with a wink.
“This is really nice, hyung,” Jungkook cut in between your bickering. “There’s quite a lot of people here already. I didn’t know you were so talented and popular. As expected from my girl’s best friend, eh?”
Taehyung winced, rubbing the back of his neck, ears turning red. “Eh… it’s not a big deal…” he muttered, but you could tell he was enjoying the praise.
“Of course, it is, Tae,” you chuckled, pulling out of Jungkook’s grasp to hug him, squeezing him between your fur-covered arms. “You’ve worked so hard to be able to display your paintings at such a nice venue. I’m proud of you.”
Taehyung laughed shyly, hugging you back. “Ahaha… thanks, as usual.” He planted a light kiss on the top of your head. “I’m happy you guys came.”
You grinned. “Indeed. You needed visitors to match the space,” you drawled, sweeping your arms in a grandiose gesture to the glass cases of Taehyung’s paintings, crisp white walls, and black marble flooring.
Taehyung rolled his eyes, smiling despite being over your antics. “Not sure I need a high-end escort and his pimp sauntering around…”
“When are your parents arriving? I want to introduce them to Jungkook,” you interrupted, tugging on Jungkook’s arm and making his cheeks flush pink.
“Likethis?! Are you serious, my parents are going to have a heart attack once they realize there’s a male version of you!”
“Aw, come on, your dad loves seeing me!”
“That’s because you both are always up to no good… fucking always pulling pranks on me… I’m actually glad they’re stuck in traffic now…”
-
You slid your thumb into his mouth, smirking as you heard his muffled whine. He was trying to stay quiet, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, whimpering as you rubbed his tongue with the pad of your finger. One of your legs was hooked around his waist and he was holding it up with one hand. His other between your legs, fingers hooking underneath your panties.
“Fuck, I love looking at you, Jungkook,” you whispered, leaning forward, shuddering at the feeling of his saliva pooling around your thumb, your own tongue snaking out and tracing the air right between his open lips.
Jungkook moaned softly and shoved two fingers inside your tight, wet pussy.
You pulled your thumb out and crashed your lips to his, letting your satisfied exhale into his throat, your name trapped between his lungs and your hungry mouth, kissing him deeply as he plunged his fingers in and out, pressing your body into the wall of the bathroom stall. Shivers up and down your spine, back arching to feel even more of his chest against yours, frustrated at the clothing between you and him, but still hot and exciting, your hands circling his head and playing with his ponytail, rolling your hips into his rough thrusts.
You tried to break free and moan, but Jungkook captured you with his lips, forcing your noises into his mouth to silence them, rubbing his erection against your hip and thigh, the sound between your legs getting louder because you were getting wetter, closer, your eyes cracking open and seeing his half-open too, staring at you with lust and love, determined to push you over the edge, even in the men’s bathroom where Kim Taehyung’s art exhibit was being held.
Hey, you both waited until you had a nice, long conversation with Taehyung’s parents where his mom drilled Jungkook with questions about what he did and what kind of person he was. His dad, in contrast, seemed to approve of Jungkook and gave him a hearty slap on the arm, telling him trouble and trouble often went well together. Then you and Taehyung’s dad had a praise fest about his son, which made Taehyung turn beet-red in embarrassment. Both of you meant it all, of course.
But, also, both of you enjoyed embarrassing Taehyung in public. It was fun.
Yeah, dads lovedyou.
You couldn’t imagine why that was.
All that aside, after Taehyung’s parents bid their son goodbye, Jungkook dragged you into the men’s bathroom and began to make out with your face.
He contained himself for a few hours. It was a valiant effort, living off only groping your ass a couple times, but a man can only take so much when you’re looking like a five-course meal and he’s aware that you’re willing to let him eat, you know?
No? Oh, well.
Maybe that’s just yourproblem.
Also, yes, maybe you discreetly teased him a couple times by rubbing your ass on his crotch and pressing your tits against his back. Maybe.
You lowered one of your hands, cupping your fingers around his length, sighing in his mouth, feeling how perfectly rock-hard he was, knowing you couldn’t have it and he couldn’t give it to you, not yet, but soon, his deep snarl at your touch, fuck, kisses intensifying, shoving his fingers into you all the way to the knuckle, the wet squish audible and obscene, the adrenaline of danger and satisfaction creeping you closer and closer to your high. His thumb came up and grazed your clit, making you close your eyes and rock your hips into his touch, moaning his name into his own mouth, his force of his fingers pushing his thumb against your throbbing clit hard and fast, the scent of black coffee and lush dragon fruit on his skin and yours, mixing with the sweetness of your orgasm as you wailed in glorious triumph, clutching his head with your hand and his waist with your leg, your other one shaking with strain as each pulse shook you, squeezing his clothed length in your hand, wanting it and pulling back to tell him just that in hot whispers, his soft moan against your mouth, whispering back, your name and his desire, his dark brown eyes nearly black with lust.
“Shit, you know how bad I want to fuck you, right now,” Jungkook panted.
“Please don’t.”
Huh?
You raised an eyebrow at the annoyed baritone voice. “Taehyung?”
“Do you know how long I’ve been standing here, knocking on this bathroom stall, you absolute horndogs?”
You heard him gritting his teeth, his voice nearly a deep growl. You did what any natural person would do.
Reached over and unlocked the door, letting it swing open to reveal your and Jungkook’s grinning faces.
His fingers remained very firmly inside your pussy, barely covered by the hem of your dress. You swept your arm back so your fur coat was out of the way. Always considerate. Taehyung stood at the opening of the door, hands on his hips, orange blazer flaring out with his posture, immediately throwing up his hands and jerking his head away once he realized that, yes, of course, you two would not bother covering up anything.
“Fucking – shit, get your hands off her, man, go home to do that–”
Jungkook began to slide his fingers out, scissoring them with a wet squish and you mewled, slightly exaggerated and performative.
“Oh my God, never mind, stop, leave them in there,” Taehyung snarled, realizing he was facing the mirror and therefore could still see both yours and Jungkook’s smug smirks. He abruptly turned ninety degrees, now facing the wall, giving you both the side eye. “The fuck is wrong with you people? Do you have any decency?”
“Sure, we do,” you chirped.
“Yeah, that’s why we’re in the bathroom,” Jungkook added, softly rubbing your clit and making you bite your lip, enjoying it very, very much.
A muscle in Taehyung’s eyebrow twitched. “Public bathroom,” he snapped, rubbing his forehead. “Fuck, what if it wasn’t me who walked in here? What if It was some goddamn stranger listening to this shit?”
“Speaking of which,” Jungkook mused, cocking a brow. “Normal people would just leave. Why did you stay and listen?”
You didn’t say anything. You were simply happily grinding on his hand, the gentle pressure creating a constant ecstasy that you were completely satisfied with, one hand hooked around Jungkook’s neck, waiting for Taehyung to answer with a huge, amused grin on your face. Taehyung knew everything about you.
It almost meant you knew everything about Taehyung.
He rolled his eyes. “You act like I’ve never heard her orgasm before. Big fucking deal.”
Jungkook gave him a pair of incredibly wide eyeballs that indicated that, yes, that waskind of a big deal.
“Tae was my first kiss.”
“What?’ Jungkook blurted, snapping his head back to you.
You shrugged. “We were, like, eight. Just wanted to know what kissing was.”
Jungkook blinked very rapidly, stunned.
His two fingers were still inside you.
You scrunched up your face, thinking. “We were also each other’s first head and fuck too. Although it wasn’t very good.”
“Youwere a bit shit,” Taehyung interjected.
“It took you five whole minutes to aim. Even a watermelon would be dry at that point.”
Jungkook was still trying to process that you were each other’s first kiss with his fingers knuckle deep in your pussy. “W… What? Why aren’t you guys dating?”
You snorted. “I can’t do that. He’s like my brother.”
Taehyung stuck his tongue out. “And she’s like my sister. That’s weird.”
Jungkook finally yanked his fingers out of you and threw out his hands in disbelief. “And being each other’s first times for – shit, basically everything–isn’tweird?”
Your eyes flickered to Jungkook’s soaked fingers, your cum stuck between them in viscous strings. Ooh, sexy. You licked your lips, breaking out in a pleased smirk. Taehyung spied what you were looking at and facepalmed. Jungkook seemed to notice too and turned to look at it, suddenly forgetting the whole discussion.
And put his cum-covered fingers into his mouth, moaning deliciously around them.
Taehyung made a horrified face in the mirror, making eye contact with you.
“Um,gross!”
“Eh, shut up, Tae, not like you haven’t done it in front of me before.”
“Well, I don’t wanna watch Jungkook do it,” he shot back, spinning around to glare at you. “He’s your boyfriend!”
You quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve seen other guys do it before when we’ve had threesomes. Plus, you’ve watched me open my mouth with other men’s cum in it so you could cum in my mouth too.”
Jungkook choked on his own fingers.
“WHAT?” he roared.
“You weren’t serious about them!” Taehyung flicked his hand, completely ignoring Jungkook. “And you’re my go-to when the girls I’m seeing want to experience a threesome, so I was just doing you a favor!”
Your boyfriend was having a mild heart attack and neither you nor Taehyung seemed to notice, too busy bickering about your strangely integrated sex lives.
“What’s the difference? It’s just Jungkook. You guys are friends.”
“Yeah,extra reason why I don’t want to sit around and imagine him slurping from your vagina. I gotta look into his eyes later!”
You raised your hands, shaking your head. “So what? You’ve seen my other sex partners in public and never said much about it. Why are you making such a fuss now?”
“Because!” Taehyung flung his hands, stamping a foot on the tile floor in frustration, his handsome features twisted into despair, hands on his head and messing up his dark brown hair. “Because you’re going to stop being my friend now that you’re serious about someone and I can’t do anything about it because that someone is Jungkook and I actually like the guy! I’m fucking happy for you and shit, but, fuck, fuck, what am I gonna do when you’re not in my corner anymore?”
Your jaw dropped, shocked.
“Tae, what are you talking about–?”
He spun around, about to run out, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and pulling him back, yanking him into a fierce hug. And, just like that, Taehyung was that awkward, weird kid in elementary school again, not wanting to admit he was scared and frightened of the big mean boys teasing him about his odd drawings and strange thought processes, calling him a dorky alien. He grabbed your shoulders, shivering, holding back tears.
“No one’s gonna protect me…” Taehyung sniffed, burying his face in your hair. “If you’re gone, I can’t be brave…”
“Hey, you know that’s not true,” you chastised lightly, squeezing him. “You’ve become strong, all on your own. You know that. That whole exhibit is filled with yourart. You even got offers to buy some of your pieces. Isn’t that amazing?” You pulled back and placed your hands on Taehyung’s cheeks, smiling up at him kindly. He still looked gloomy and uneasy, lower lip sticking out. “Come on, you know I’m right, Van Gogh,” you teased, pinching his cheeks a little. He fidgeted, frown lessening. “I will always, always be in your corner. No matter what. No guy is going to make me stop being friends or supporting you. You need me to knock someone’s front teeth out, give me the time and place and I got your back.”
“That’s going to send you to jail,” he muttered, smiling slightly.
“Then I’ll go to jail. That’s just glorified detention because they give you free meals.”
He laughed, still with a tinge of anxiousness. “You promise you won’t stop being my best friend over some guy?”
You grinned. “You’ll always be my best friend, Tae. I just happen to really enjoy his company and his dick. You know, a girl has needs.”
He stuck his hand out childishly, pinky sticking out. “Pinky promise me.” Then he stuck his other hand out. “Actually, double pinky promise me.”
You crossed your wrists over each other and pressed your pinkies to his, squeezing his hands tightly.
“I promise I’ll always be your best friend.”
“Uh, guys, you’re kinda making me feel like a third wheel…”
Jungkook might as well have been a bathroom sink to Taehyung and you in this moment.
Taehyung nodded firmly to you. “Okay. You promised. You better keep it.”
You rolled your eyes. “When have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“Hmm, I guess you’re right…” All of a sudden, he looked down at your hands and wrenched his own out of them. “Oi! Where have those hands been, young lady?” He looked at his open hands with a repulsed scowl. “You better not have touched his dick and then my hands without washing yours! That’s disgusting!”
“Hey, I take offense to that,” Jungkook retorted heatedly. “My dick is perfectly clean and she didn’t get to touch me yet because you busted in and interrupted us–”
“What are you going on about, you’ve touched my hands after I’ve given handjobs! I didn’t hear you complaining!”
“He’s done what–?”
“I keep telling you that’s different, this is Jungkook, a man you actually love, and here I thought you were incapable of that.” Taehyung spoke over Jungkook, jabbing his finger into his palm to drive his point home. “You get that sparkly shit in your eyes when you talk about him and it makes me want to puke–”
“I do not get sparkly shit in my eyes, what the fuck does that even mean?”
“You literally will not shut up about how pretty he is!”
“He is pretty! Lookat him!” You banished your arms in Jungkook’s direction like he was your first-place trophy on display, which he might as well be at this point with how much attention either of you were giving him. At least he looked the part.
Taehyung rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, throwing his whole head back. “I can give you pretty. You’ve been telling me I’m handsome all my life.”
“Why don’t we just have a threesome?”
Silence.
Both you and Taehyung jerked your heads to Jungkook, jaws dropped at his suggestion.
The door to the men’s bathroom opened and an old man bounced in, humming to himself.
He saw you.
He stopped, tilting his head. Then he looked from Jungkook to Taehyung and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Love triangle or sexy night, boys?”
Taehyung choked on air. “Not a love triangle.”
“Oooh, sexy night.” The old man gave you two thumbs up. “I’d love to join, but I’ll back out this time.”
You laughed heartily as Jungkook and Taehyung grabbed your arms, pulling you out of the men’s bathroom, not about to discuss a possible threesome in front of some old guy who vaguely offered to make it a foursome.
You made sure to give the old man a wink, sticking your head back in the open door to say, “Maybe next time, eh?”
The old man cackled and Taehyung slapped a hand over your mouth, dragging you out.
“Pleaseshut up, I fucking swear…”
-
“So, why is it different?”
Somehow both you and Jungkook had dragged your best friend into your apartment and tied him to a chair. One of those nice wooden ones with plenty of openings to slip cotton rope through. Probably not what Kim Taehyung thought he was going to do right after his art exhibition, but judging by his peeved, unsurprised face, it wasn’t a completely unexpected result either.
You had pulled up another chair to sit in front of him, still wearing your fur coat, knees between his knees, mostly because Taehyung was forced to spread them because of how you tied the knots.
“I think I hate you,” Taehyung muttered.
“Nah.”
“At least a little bit.”
You slipped the shoulders of your coat down, exposing your skin, casually crossing your arms under your breasts and leaning forward, smiling sweetly at Taehyung. His dispassionate face basically said, ‘go-suck-your-own-dick’. He tried to pulled his arms free.
“Don’t rip your blazer.”
“Bite me.”
“You gonna answer my question?” you asked, redirecting the conversation.
Taehyung clicked his tongue. “I told you. It’s because I can tell you love him.”
You broke your playful demeanor for a second, smiling broadly. “Really?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, you dork.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like more of a third wheel in my entire life even though you’re talking about how much you love me,” Jungkook said behind you. He was sitting on the couch, as the chairs had been repositioned in the living room.
Taehyung pursed his lips. “That’s why I got scared, you know…” He leaned forward a bit, pouting. “What if you spend so much time with him that you forget about me? What if you guys break up and you blame me?” If he was untied, he would be nervously picking at his lower lip with his right hand right now. Instead, he chewed on it, worried expression clouding his strong features.
You shook your head, reaching out to fluff his brown hair. “You think too much. Why would I blame you over a breakup? If anything, I’d be dragging you out so you can help me keep a record of how many people I can fuck in a night.”
Taehyung made a face. “Why can’t you be normal and cry while eating chocolate?”
“You know I don’t like chocolate.”
“You don’t like chocolate?” Jungkook choked in disbelief.
“I have to fuck my problems away, Tae. That’s the best way to deal with them.”
He rolled his eyes. “You need to see a therapist.”
“Nah, I got you.”
Suddenly Jungkook’s face appeared because you two, sitting on the coffee table.
“How do you not like chocolate?” he pressed, staring at you.
You blinked at him. “I mean, I don’t hate it. I’m just not crazy about it like some people. Isn’t that better for you? I can give you all the chocolate that I receive.”
This thought didn’t seem to have crossed Jungkook’s mind. He grinned, highly pleased with this result.
“You’re even going to give him your chocolate?” Taehyung gasped, affronted. “That’s it, this friendship is over. I can’t believe you would betray me like this!”
You placed your hands on his knees. Taehyung huffed.
“You want me to untie you now?” you asked, patting his thigh and ignoring his dramatic outburst.
“Why? I thought we were going to have a threesome.”
Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads to blink at Jungkook. He smiled innocently, which did not look innocent at all with his sleek purple ponytail and mischievous eyes.
“Nobody agreed to that.”
“Yeah, Jungkook,” you sided with Taehyung. “Nobody agreed to that.”
“Aw, come on,” he nudged, grinning. “You guys have obviously touched each other before, right? And I can totally trust hyung not to fall in love with you.”
“Because my preferred type wouldn’t hump me in a public bathroom,” your best friend muttered.
“I’m sensing judgement here, Kim Taehyung. Watch your mouth,” you warned.
“Choke on my dick.”
“We can start with that,” Jungkook chirped cheerfully.
“Why do you want this, anyway?” You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. “You never expressed any interest in threesomes before. I assumed you were too selfish for that.”
“I am.”
You raised an eyebrow.
Jungkook grinned devilishly.
“But I also wanna see you get spit-roasted.”
“Don’t–” Taehyung began.
Jungkook spread his legs, revealing his erection straining in his slacks. Taehyung snapped his head away, groaning an annoyance, disappointed but not surprised that your boyfriend had zero shame. Jungkook bit his lower lip, tiny mole underneath quivering, excitement and lust in his dark brown eyes, looking right at you eagerly. He purred your name. Taehyung visibly cringed.
“You know I would…” you drawled softly, reaching over to squeeze Jungkook’s thigh. “But I don’t think Tae is into it right now.”
“Yeah, I’d only do it if I was horny and desperate.”
“Then why do you have a boner?”
Both you and Taehyung whipped your heads down to see his dick trying to bust out of his pants.
He glared at it. “You traitor.”
“Are you talking to your dick?”
“Look,” Taehyung snapped, letting out a puff of breath and frowning at Jungkook. “I’m not immune, okay? She’s hot, sure. Absolutely one of the sexiest, most beautiful women I know.”
“Aw, so sweet!” you interrupted, smacking his leg in mock bashfulness.
“And,” he gritted, shooting you a scowl. “I might be horny and desperate, sure.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Jungkook inquired, smug smirk on his face.
“Well, you’ll get jealous, for one.”
Jungkook blinked, confused. “What?”
“Taehyung has a big dick.”
You said it so nonchalantly that Jungkook was speechless.
“Mhm.”
“Not as nice as Jungkook’s dick though.”
“Excuseme? I am offended.”
“You honestly need to improve your technique. You think your size alone is all that matters? Jungkook’s the whole package, great dick, cute smile, diligence, strength, always up for anything, perfect duality–”
“Shit, shut upabout him, I get it, he’s the hottest thing to walk on this earth, now stop verbally jerking him, he’s not gonna agree–”
“Kiss him.”
You and Taehyung froze.
Eyes flickering to Jungkook, who raised an eyebrow challengingly.
“Kiss him,” he repeated.
Eyes back to Taehyung, who was breathing hard.
“Onlybecause I’m horny and desperate,” he growled.
The corner of your lips ticked upwards.
“Got it bad, eh, Tae?”
You placed your hands on his thighs, sliding down, rising off your chair. You felt Taehyung’s muscles tense, narrowing his eyes. He tried to keep up his severe front, borrowing your tendency to use arrogance to hide your true feelings.
“Isn’t that you?” he challenged. “Need me to satisfy you even though you have Jungkook now?”
You smirked, seeing right through him. “You always give me such blessed service though.”
Something flared in his brown orbs, pupils expanding as you neared. “Don’t.” Your head tilted at his tone, almost pleading, and still you advanced, your soft inhale ghosting his lips. His gaze was on your face the entire time, swallowing hard, anticipation creeping into his stern expression.
“Don’t what?” you whispered teasingly.
“Don’t say it in front of him.”
“But you like it.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to know my embarrassing turn-ons.”
“What if I slip?”
He clenched his jaw. “Fuck, fine, whatever.”
Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, licking your teeth slowly, maintaining eye contact. Your words a low hiss, laced with pure lust.
“My good little angel, let this devil corrupt you.”
Taehyung whimpered and you closed in on his lips, kissing him deeply, straddling his lap, rolling your hips into his, voracious, greedy kisses, Taehyung gasping in your mouth as you bounced on his crotch, your spread legs causing the hem of your dress to rise, popping over your ass, moaning into his mouth as you worked him under you, his body familiar and comforting. His tongue encircled yours, whining for more, and you mumbled sweet nothings to him, remembering all the things he loved to hear, and he gave you all the things you loved, the neediness in his kiss, the desperation of his hips rising to add more friction. You weren’t exactly immune to Taehyung either. You could control yourself, normally.
But Jungkook gave you the green light, so you went all in.
Your hands were in his hair, tangled in the strands of black coffee, murmuring in his lips, sweet angel, and Taehyung moaned, fiercely thrusting his hips up and you sitting down on it, already wet, sighing satisfyingly at the feeling of his impressive length straining to reach your dripping heat, too many layers of fabric between them.
“Such a good boy doing such bad things,” you purred against his lips, amused at seeing your lipstick all over his mouth.
Taehyung looked up at you with glazed brown eyes, a tinge of unease in them. Maybe he didn’t want to show Jungkook his vulnerable side. You could understand that. You didn’t mind playing your role but Taehyung was more guarded. He didn’t like to be criticized or judged for the things he liked. You noticed his gaze flicker to Jungkook and then back to you.
You tilted your head and cradled his, running your fingers through his hair. “You want me to stop, I’ll stop,” you cooed gently, kissing his ear.
“I don’t want youto stop,” he breathed, so quietly you barely heard it. “I don’t want himto judge me.”
You chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”
Taehyung made a disbelieving noise.
“Something wrong?” Jungkook asked behind you, sounding curious and confused that his show was paused.
“Mhm, need you to take my coat,” you replied, pulling back, lowering your arms so Jungkook could stand behind you and remove it. You slid your hands out elegantly, seeing Taehyung’s messy dark hair and lipstick-stained lips. You heard Jungkook back up and you reached into Taehyung’s blazer, pulling out his handkerchief and dabbing at his mouth, carefully wiping it off.
“We can stop,” your reminded him gently.
“No,” he growled, frowning. “I’ve got a massive boner and it’s all your fault. Get me off.”
You grinned. “Alright, angel.”
You saw Taehyung bite his lip, shivering at your words. You couldn’t remember how this started, but it always worked. The roleplaying helped with the whole ‘having-sex-with-your-best-friend’ thing ten times less awkward, and it made it much easier for him and you to get off.
Unfortunately, it also was starting to make both of you much hornier while having sex with each other.
Whoops.
He clicked his tongue, raising his head, eyebrow cocked.
“Dirty little devil.”
You smirked. Taehyung’s voice was always sexier when he was aroused, deep and sultry.
One by one, you undid the buttons of his dress shirt, kissing at his exposed chest, the deep rich tone of his tan skin standing out against the white, his eyes closing at your touch, running your tongue down his sternum and blowing on it.
He shuddered, moaning your name, long and sweet.
You shifted, intending to push the chair behind you back, but it was gone. Instead, your ass backed up into a pair of very muscular legs. You paused, turning your head to see behind you.
“Jungkook–”
A firm hand stopped you, forcefully jerking your head back to Taehyung’s chest.
“Look forward,” Jungkook commanded.
A shiver down your spine at his tone. You smirked, peering up at Taehyung, who smiled.
“He jealous?”
“I’m not,” Jungkook snapped, grabbing your ass.
“A little bit,” Taehyung chuckled, and now he was smirking too.
Eerily similar to you, because who else would he learn such a devious expression from? You taught him well. You hummed, yanking Taehyung’s shirt open and pushing it to his shoulders, his naked torso now exposed to your eyes and mouth.
“Can’t imagine why. This was his idea.”
Taehyung jerked his head to you as you lowered yours to his chest. “What?”
But your lips closed around his nipple and he gasped, sputtering, confused, and then moaning as you moaned, Jungkook yanking down your panties and slapping your ass with his open palm, the sting added to the disapproving hiss of your name.
“He’s not supposed to know. I didn’t do all that acting for nothing,” he snarled, and your response was wiggling your ass, nipping your teeth over Taehyung’s chest, his handsome features twisted in ecstasy and pleasure, the tip of your tongue teasing his other nipple, pushing it around with your strong, wet, warm muscle.
“Whoops.”
Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you and your not-so-innocent tone.
Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Such a bad little devil. You need some punishment.”
“He already knew?” Taehyung gritted, glaring daggers at your grinning face, saying nothing, your deft fingers undoing his pants. “Answer me, woman.”
Jungkook was positioning your lower half, ass up, legs spread, pussy exposed to his eyes and hand, your dripping core tense with anticipation. When he spoke, his voice was deep and silvery, laced with danger and desire.
“Answer him.”
And he spanked your pussy, making you cry out and leak between his fingers, the sudden sting of pain so nice, and you had the audacity to continue giving Taehyung that infuriatingly smug expression as you dragged his pants and underwear to his knees, freeing his stiff length that stuck straight up, your body repeatedly lurched forward by Jungkook’s open palm on your soaked slit, your juices splattering on his hand and the inside of your thighs. With a smirk, you lowered your head.
“Mhm, he knew… ah, fuck, yes, Jungkook, just like that…” you sighed in satisfaction, tongue snaking out and wrapping around the head of Taehyung’s cock, bobbing your mouth up and down like that, stimulating just the tip, paying extra attention to the underside of the head. “Sorry, Tae.”
“Swallow me whole,” he growled. “Now.”
You were ready to do it, of course, but you felt Jungkook’s hand clap onto your leaking, heated pussy lips, and the other danced up your back, so you waited, letting him grab your head and push you down, not quite as roughly as he would have if he was actually being mean, but with enough pressure that you knew he just wanted to do the physical action, wanted to feel the power even if there was no maliciousness behind it.
Your lips closed around Taehyung’s pulsing, hard length, taking it all, a familiar girth stretching out your jaw. You made a light gagging sound as the head hit the back of your throat, not quite suffocating, but enough to indicate, stop pushing me, and Jungkook lifted the weight off your head, still gripping your hair, messing up your perfected style of the night.
“That’s a good girl, swallowing all that dick,” he purred, sliding a finger into you.
You whined, clenching your walls around it, squeezing tight, wanting more.
“Suck.”
You did, obediently, looking up at Taehyung, his head tipping back, low moans escaping his throat as your tongue squirmed at the base of the head in your throat, muscles clinching around his cock, your lips around the base. You swiped your tongue down, stretching it out even farther, past your lips, slurping nosily at his balls, flicking them rapidly with the tip, feeling him get harder and harder, twitching against the roof of your mouth, bending a little due to the lack of space.
“Fuck, let go of her head, fuck!”
Jungkook released you and you grabbed Taehyung’s hips, starting a fast, intense pace, swirling your tongue around his cock, another long finger wiggling into your slick folds, thrusting into you from behind, your legs shaking with strain, Taehyung moaning louder and louder, filling up your apartment with his lust.
“Don’t fucking stop, fuck, you have the devil’s tongue, a-ah, it’s so fucking good…”
Jungkook scissored his fingers in you, the squelching sound loud and lewd, and you spied Taehyung tipping his head back, panting, watching Jungkook finger you from behind, his other hand smacking your ass periodically to watch it bounce and hear you moan, your hips bucking back into his hand every time you ascended from Taehyung’s cock.
“Give her another,” he gasped. “Stuff her more.”
Jungkook snickered. “For an angel, you’re all about the punishment, hm?”
But he did as he was told, shoving another finger in you and you whined, nearly popping your mouth off Taehyung’s thick length, stopping only because of imposing baritone.
“Don’t you fucking dare. Take it all. Or are you telling me you can’t? Telling me you’ve lost your touch?”
You went back down, narrowing your eyes, rising to his challenge. Your best friend knew everything about you and therefore he knew that the second he made it a question of your ability, well, that brought out the best in you.
“Fuck!”
Also made you almost vacuum his dick, but he asked for it.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuuuuck!”
Tighter, faster, tongue all over, nearly forgetting Jungkook was touching you at all because Taehyung had doubted you and you weren’t having that shit, fuck no, not even with Jungkook’s free hand snaking between your legs and feeling for your clit, rubbing it at the same furious pace you were blowing Taehyung’s jerking cock, tipping your head back and angling it so the head scraped against the roof of your mouth, locking your knees to prevent the shudders of pleasure from ruining your rhythm, so good, fuck, feeling so good with the pumping of Jungkook’s powerful fingers, electric satisfaction radiating from your throbbing clit, clutching Taehyung’s hips so hard he was getting indents from your nails, determined to get him there before you, and, by the sound of his breathless cries of your name and the trembling of his impressive girth, he was there.
“Yes, a-ah, you’re so good, so fucking good, I’m gonna cum, oh, fuck!”
His orgasm exploded, flooding your mouth with a gush of saltness, thick strings of cum painting the back of your throat, and you gulped it all down greedily, eyes rolling back, the tense coil inside you snapping and drenching Jungkook’s hands with your own orgasm, your legs unlocking and giving out, shaking and flinching as wave after wave of vicious pleasure flooded through you, Jungkook’s strong arms holding you up, moaning at the feeling of your pussy convulsing around his fingers, still lightly rubbing your clit through your orgasm, whines and whimpers crammed in your throat due to Taehyung’s cock in your mouth, sliding all the way to the base and swallowing around it, because you knew he loved it, wanted it, craved it, groaning carnally, the head swelling and pulsing, nearly suffocating you.
“Feels so f-fucking good… a-ah, yeees…”
You stayed in the position for as long as you could, a good minute, before backing up with a choked gasp, clutching Taehyung’s thighs, eyes drifting up to his and he looked down at you, fucked-out, content, grateful, black-brown curls falling all over his forehead and cheeks, so casually sexy and perfect.
“Good angels always taste the best,” you rasped, licking your abused lips.
Taehyung grinned.
“Untie me, devil.”
“Damn, you dohave a big dick.”
“… Stop looking.”
“Why? I wanna see what she put in her mouth.”
You teased the head with the tip of your tongue, smirking. Taehyung looked away, ears turning red.
“You two are shameless.”
“Yeah, but you like it,” you laughed, straddling his lap, casually leaning over him to untie him. You heard Jungkook make a clicking sound and you assumed he was making a frame with his hands and miming taking a photo.
“Stop that,” Taehyung muttered, face full of your covered breasts. “Oi, take your clothes off if you’re gonna squash my face with your tits.”
You rammed your chest into his face to muffle his protests.
-
“Mmm, yes, no faster way to make me limp than you sucking Jungkook’s face off.”
You were too busy grabbing Jungkook’s naked ass and moaning in his mouth, tongue on tongue, purple strands brushing against your forehand, his hands on your ass and squeezing it roughly, rutting his rapidly hardening cock against your thigh.
“You want me to leave you guys alone?”
You broke the kiss, snapping your head around to see Taehyung raising an eyebrow at you from the head of your bed, completely naked. Jungkook continued slowly humping your thigh, peaking pre-cum all over and adding to his own stimulation.
“Are you done being an insufferable shit or what?” you glowered.
“Mmm, no.”
“Hmph, fine, just fuck me from behind then if you’re so needy,” you sighed, turning back to Jungkook’s amused smirk.
“No. I want the mouth again.”
You and Jungkook shared a confused look. “Huh, why?” you both said at the same time, looking at him in unison.
Taehyung lifted his chin defiantly, pointing to you. “I wanna stuff my dick into your mouth and fuck your face because you trickedme.”
You gasped, feeling slighted. “I told you it was Jungkook’s idea, why am Igetting punished? You schemed against me first!”
He shrugged. “You corrupted him so, technically, it’s all inherently your fault.”
You protested as Jungkook laughed, pushing you into position despite you verbally fighting back.
“What! All I did was exist! Is it my fault that Jungkook was thirsting after my ass and you decided it would a taste of my own medicine, only to have it backfire in your face? And what if I wanna look at his handsome face? Huh? Why am I not getting a say in – mhpf!”
You yelped as Jungkook and Taehyung shoved your face first into Taehyung’s crotch, his semi-hard cock smacking you in the cheek and getting a mouthful of his nuts.
“Lick.”
They both said it at the same time. You saw them share a look of surprise, shocked that they were thinking the same thing, ignoring you.
Hey, nobody ignores you.
You wrapped your lips around one of his balls and sucked, tongue surrounding it, causing Taehyung to squeal and spread his legs, his cock swelling instantly, especially as your tongue poked out and lapped at the other while sucking intently.
“Good little devil,” Jungkook praised, patting you on the head before backing up, leaving you to rearrange Taehyung’s nuts with your mouth, licking and sucking all over, him gasping and moaning above you, falling back against the headboard.
“You’re crazy, fucking crazy…”
You switched sides, pressing your lips into his crotch to stuff your mouth full before sticking your tongue out and wiggling it on the underside of the other, his thick length now hitting you in the nose, and you realized Taehyung wasn’t going to help you with this, so you internally sighed and reached up to grab his dick and stroke it slowly as you continued your make-out session with his nuts.
Taehyung was chanting your name over and over like it was a prayer, as if he was saying it in attempt to ask for his soul to be saved.
You felt the bed bow and you lifted your head as far as it could go, which wasn’t very far because you still had one of Taehyung’s balls still in your mouth. You were still sucking on it.
He moaned above you, clutching your pillows for dear life.
You heard a condom being opened and felt Jungkook’s knees spread yours, deep silvery voice purring your name.
“Wanna see you take two dicks at once, naughty devil,” he teased, pressing the head of his cock against your soaked opening.
You unlatched your mouth and Taehyung seemed to see stars for a hot second, reeling.
“Hope you’re prepared, sweet angel,” you taunted, and then you swallowed his dick.
“Fuckingshit!”
You moaned around his cock, letting it fill you to the throat, Jungkook’s perfect length thrusting into you at the same time, stretching you out deliciously, his own moan adding to your pleasure. There was just something about Jungkook’s moan, the longing, the possessiveness, the love. It made you wetter every time, bringing newfound energy to your meticulous sucking of Taehyung’s cock, who finally seemed to get his bearings and remember what the fuck was going on and what he wanted to do in the first place, because he finally straightened, large hands fitting around your head, pushing your hair back.
“You know why you’re so good at sucking dick?”
You tried very hard not to roll your eyes, already knowing what was coming. You decided to focus on Jungkook’s cock instead, pumping in and out of you, powerful, deep strokes, his hands gripping your hips, trying so hard to please you, and he was good at it, hitting all your favorite spots that made you squirm back against him.
“Because I let you suck mine,” Taehyung growled, holding your head and thrusting into your throat.
Mmmhmm, you thought to yourself. Not that he was wrong, because he wasn’t, being your first and all, but, come on, you didn’t get all your skills from sucking onedick, no matter how amazing Taehyung’s was. Oh well, you let it slide, simply enjoying not having to do much as your best friend fucked your face and your boyfriend pounded your pussy.
Ah, bliss.
The feeling of your mouth being filled and used, stroking Taehyung’s hips with your fingertips, elbows on the bed, legs spread open for Jungkook to slap his crotch into your ass wetly, back to front, a constant encompassing ecstasy that you welcomed, letting them command the pace, hands on your head and hands on your ass, familiar hands, loving hands, because even if Taehyung didn’t want to take you on dates and wake up next to you every day, he still loved you, still made sure he didn’t actually hurt you, careful to thrust hard but not deep, or thrust deep but not hard.
Jungkook wanted to take you on dates and hold you on his arm like his trophy and be waltzed around as yours, so… romantic? It was your version of romance, anyway.
And sex.
Lots of sex.
Fuck, he was so good at fucking you, leaning down, giving you more, chuckling as he heard you moaning around Taehyung’s cock, faster, harder, yes, fuck, yes, so good, your noises trapped in your chest, Taehyung increasing the speed, breathing shallowing.
“Fuck, yes, tighter, give it to me, you dirty devil,” he growled and you obeyed, closing your lips and pressing your tongue against the bottom, sandwiching his length in your mouth, your pussy also squeezing Jungkook harder, basking in his sinful moan, enamored with his voice and the way he said your name, never getting enough.
“A-ah, you feel so good, your pussy is so fucking good, gonna make me cum…”
So rough, so intense, so full of cock, keeping your holes tight, relishing in the way they forced themselves into your mouth and pussy, heady and intoxicating pleasure, you tipping over the edge, wailing around Taehyung’s thick girth as you spilled onto Jungkook’s rock-hard length, mind-numbing satisfaction that spread all over, hot and melting into you. Your walls violently spasmed and caused Jungkook to gasp, cock twitching and jolting inside you, shooting thick spurts of cum that filled the condom, and he buried himself all the way in, a wanton moan of your name echoing off your bedroom walls, savoring the feeling of you milking him, gripping your sides and squeezing you lovingly.
Suddenly, Taehyung yanked his cock out of your mouth and you coughed, startled at the abrupt loss, only for him to orgasm all over your face, hot white strings shooting out of his glistening cock and his hand guiding them, painting your cheeks and open mouth, dripping onto your tongue and clinging onto your swollen lips.
“Tae! What the fuck?!”
He snickered, smearing the residual cum on the side of your frown, winking.
“Blessed service, eh, you devil?”
-
“Is it gonna be like this every time we hang out now?”
You climbed onto Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kissing him deeper, trapping his slim waist in between your thighs, his hands sliding up your skirt, moaning into your mouth as Kim Taehyung smacked you in the shoulder blades, the sound masked by the obscenely loud music of the club as onlookers watched you and Jungkook with increasing interest.
Probably all dreaming of threesomes with you two.
“Hello, you two are supposed to be helping me getting laid, not getting laid right in front of me!”
summary:You enrage your perfect boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, by being overtly sexual and inappropriately licking your kitchen counter. Why? Because you can and he’s going to get horny regardless. He’s going to chase after you with a spoon, so you better run!
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; actually low-key crack and fluff; shower smut (fem reader, handjob, thigh riding, nipple play, marking / scratching, fingering, multiple orgasms, one pussy slap); too much wasted water, RIP; non-idol!BTS; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts; please help Jungkook, he’s just trying to eat shaved ice, not pop a boner (he does anyway)
yes, the title is a pun it’s the best laid plans couple and they’re crackheads no need to read the first one, but it’s there if you want more
–
“Don’t.”
You grinned at your boyfriend (Cheshire-cat-style, but make it sexy).
“Listen to me, do not do it.”
You extended you tongue (lizard-style, still sexy).
Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend currently making shaved ice, narrowed his dark brown eyes at you and barked your name sharply (angry-mother-scolding-their-child-style, but make it the hottest man on the fucking planet who you were down to get railed by every second of every day). His ash-blond hair flared out around his strong features, adding to his (horny) fury.
He could pretend to be mad, but you knew better.
You licked the kitchen counter.
“Fuckingdamnnit!”
You cackled as you licked the fallen syrup and ice combination that was on the kitchen counter, slurping up the fallen solider (a valiant fight, but Jungkook had missed the bowl by accident and he deserved an honorable death).
“I told you I was getting a towel!” Jungkook hissed furiously, shaking the white towel with the cute pink bunny character on it. “Don’t be a nasty heathen!”
“What’s nasty about our kitchen counters?” you countered (ey, yeah, see what happened there). “We clean them all the time.”
You leaned down again and licked the counter, pressing your tongue flat against the granite and making Jungkook growl, to which your responded with wiggling your eyebrows. He shook the towel at you again, but didn’t advance.
“Back, you fiend.”
You straightened and grinned, sauntering over to him and the towel he was using like a rosary and you were the demon he was trying to exorcise (he wasn’t pure enough to be a priest, but then again, that might be your fault).
“But I need the towel to clean up the mess,” you chirped, grinning cheerfully as you closed your hand around the cloth, holding it for a little too long, letting your eyes linger on his tense face, taking in his chiseled jaw, shapely lips, and flashing dark brown eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
You smiled.
Ran your tongue over your upper lip.
“Like what?”
Jungkook looked like he wanted to murder you and fuck you.
(Not at the same time; that would be some serial killer shit.)
“Stop fucking teasing me when you’re not gonna do anything,” he grumbled, pouting slightly as you snatched the towel from him and wiped the counter that you had already licked clean.
“Who,me?” you replied innocently, grabbing the sponge to clean off the granite before wiping the spot once more. “I would never, ever tease you, Jungkook.”
He narrowed his eyes at you until they were lines and jammed his spoon into his shaved ice. “You never wanna fuck right after I work out.”
“Speaking of working out.” You pointed to his large bowl of shaved ice covered in syrup. “Should you have sweets right after working out?”
He clicked his tongue. “I drank my protein shake and I’m hot. Leave me alone.” He shoved a large spoonful into his mouth, still glaring.
(Oh, you’re hot, all right.)
“What a coincidence.”
Jungkook’s eyes shifted in suspicion as you spun around him. “Do I wanna know what’s a coincidence…?”
“I’malsohot.”
And you grabbed the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt (it was his) and pulled it up and over your head, leaving you in your underwear. You threw it at Jungkook’s crotch before prancing out of the kitchen.
“Alright,firstof all–”
“Lachimolala,” you sang nonsensically, heading off to the bedroom. “I thought you wanted to be alone?”
Jungkook stomped after you, clutching his bowl and still shoving shaved ice in his mouth as he very loudly put in his two cents and pointedly ignored your comments (a skill he developed while dating you, mysterious why that would be).
“I know you’re hot, you’re insanely hot and that’s not fair, and, second, you can’t just take off your clothes and expect me not to follow you, and, three, let me fuck you, damnnit!”
You stuck your head out of the bedroom door and your tongue out of your mouth. “No. You stinky.”
Jungkook looked livid, still holding his spoon and bowl. “Don’t make me put this spoon down, woman.”
“Oh nooooooo, Jungkookie has a spoon, oh nooo!”
“Gimmie those titties! Get your ass over here right now!”
You ran to the bathroom and turned the water on, throwing off your underwear in record time, only for Jungkook to show up and get smacked in the face with your bra and panties (awesome, your aim was improving, all those hours playing FPS games was a sound investment).
Jungkook snarled and shook his head, blond hair flying everywhere, holding his bowl of shaved ice protectively as your underwear scattered around him. He looked ready to scold you, only to freeze and see you standing at the open glass shower door, fully naked.
Grinning.
(Checkmate, he totally wanted to bone you. His shorts were doing nothing to hide his massive tent.)
“See ya.”
And you slunk into the shower and hot water, snapping the door closed behind you, Jungkook fuming and crossing the space in two steps (damn, can you say legs, holy shit) and yanked open the shower door.
“You fucking brat–”
You smirked, water running down your body, tipping your head back to soak your hair, reaching up to slick it back with your tits up. His dark brown eyes ballooned to the size of Dragon Balls (those are pretty big balls, no cap). His shaved ice was rapidly melting from the steam.
A full ten seconds past.
(Kinda cold, bro, please close the door.)
You maintained your smirk, rolling your shoulders to cascade water down your body, down your breasts, dripping off your nipples, curling around the curve of your waist, streaming in rivets across the expanse of your thighs and ass, doing a little half-spin. Jungkook choked a little, eyes completely fixated to your body. You (completely unnecessarily, of course) placed a hand in between your breasts, splaying out your fingers, gliding it down your stomach, making a detour for your hip, sinking your nails into it (his bowl was tipping very dangerously now and the ice was half-gone), curving back to the inside of your thigh and squeezing your thighs around your hand.
(Okay, for real, you can close the door now, Jungkook.)
“Your shaved ice is melting.”
Jungkook started, picking up his jaw off the floor, and whipped his head to his bowl of now sweet ice water. He closed the shower door (finally!) and you breathed out a sigh of relief, finally wiggling under the showerhead to wash away the goosebumps and your frozen tits (you suffered for a good cause, but still), hearing your boyfriend straight-up slurp the rest of his shaved ice (it was practically a drink by now anyway). You pumped some shampoo in your hand and casually started working it into your hair before half-screaming as the door opened again and a very naked, very horny Jungkook invaded your personal space and pinned you against the shower wall.
(You weren’t expecting his speedrun of stripping, that must have been a fucking record!)
You blinked rapidly, trying to swipe the water out of your eyes.
“Jung–”
You didn’t expect to get anything out but you said one syllable before his lips crashed onto yours, spraying water everywhere as he half-entered the raining showerhead (still a bit stinky, tsk tsk), pressing his body against yours, jabbing you with his rock-hard dick (rude). You yelped in his mouth, but he didn’t seem to care (probably thought you deserved it, rude), taking your tongue and sucking on it, making you moan, driving his thigh in between yours and pushing it up, water suddenly gushing onto your heat and then hard muscle, you gasping at the contact, tipping your head back with a soft whimper.
Opening your eyes to a slight sting and Jungkook’s half-wet hair, dark silvery-blond curls around his smirking face, cocking an eyebrow at you.
“Not so high and mighty now, hm?”
(Fuck, he’s so fucking hot.)
Your eye began to sting very badly.
(Shit.)
“There’s shampoo in my eye,” you choked out.
“Oh shi–”
There was a brief intermission of water torture as Jungkook shoved your head under the showerhead and you did the awkward dance of one eye half-open, half-closed, rinsing out the soap residue while holding your breath and trying not to drown (beauty, grace, and blindness, the trifecta, right?). You yanked your head out with a gleeful sucking in of air, pushing your hair away from your forehead.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked worriedly.
“Why is no-tears shampoo only for babies?” you complained, wiping your eyes. “Don’t they know horny adults get accosted in the middle of showering sometimes and need that shit? They need to put a warning or I’ll sue.”
He laughed, rich, full, and wonderfully sexy. “I don’t think you’d – ah!”
The second Jungkook let his guard down, you grabbed his dick (sucker), and started pumping him with a flick of your wrist, grinning wildly. He gasped and tried to back up, but you pinned his thigh in between yours and rubbed your slick pussy on his muscle, causing him to sway slightly and plant his hands on the wall beside your head, gasping your name.
“O-oh,fuck…”
You used your other hand to grab his chin and pull him closer, kissing him hungrily, a slightly awkward angle but it didn’t matter because you had him in the palm of your hand now (literally), jacking him off with one and the other stroking his jaw, shuddering at his tongue flitting in your mouth, snaking your own out to meet his, fuck, such soft lips, and he still tasted a little sweet from his icy snack lingering on his tongue. Your hand slid back and cupped his head, fingers in his wet ash-blond hair, rolling your hips on his leg and pumping his swelling length in the other, getting him extra hard again, both of you moaning at the lovely pop of the head being squeezed by your thumb and index, before going right back to furiously kissing as you increased the speed and pressure.
Jungkook always complained about how you never worked out with him, but you always rebutted that said workouts never started because you two were too busy eating face.
(Also, why work out when you can fuck? More fun, more pleasure, less hating yourself as you complete the thirtieth sit-up. Clearly, your boyfriend failed to see the logic.)
“Jungkook, ah…”
One of his strong hands around your waist, arching your back, kissing down your neck, matching your pace with his hips, moaning into your skin, raising his leg even higher as he leaned down to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Now the angle was really awkward, but you refused to give up, readjusting slightly, faster, harder, his mouth all over you, sucking hard, whimpering your name, your arm burning (and he wondered why you had biceps, sheesh), and you clamped his thigh in between yours, the real pleasure being how Jungkook moaned, throwing his head back, your name tumbling from his lips, so sexy with his dripping blond locks stuck to his cheeks, tendons standing out on his neck with the strain, thrusting into your hand to increase the pleasure and your arm was going to give out any second now but you just couldn’t, not yet.
“So fucking sexy,” you panted, your free hand tracing his jaw, shoving your thumb into his open lips, sinking your nails into his cheek because he was yours, all yours, and he didn’t care if you marked him up, his eyes rolling back, loving your roughness, wanting it. “Cum for me, come on, Jungkook,” you growled, even faster, even harder, thumb pressed into his lolling tongue and he whined, deep and feral, a mixed gargle of your name and pure ecstasy, cock jerking in your hand, spilling out over your thigh and the shower wall, hot sticky strings before being washed away, you dragging his face to yours, removing your thumb to kiss him again, sighing in relief now that you could slow, squeezing his twitching cock, feeling it drip down your fingers and smearing it all over his now-sensitive skin.
“So good, fuck, you’re so good…”
His hands all over your back, running his nails up and down, ravenous, messy kisses. Your hand stilled, arm burning, but somehow it didn’t matter, adrenaline and lust too much, and you wanted to hold him too, snaking your arms around his waist and digging your nails into his broad back, both of you moaning in unison as your ran lines of pleasure across each other’s backs, hips to hips, wet bodies rolling into each other, your drenched pussy on his hard thigh and his spent cock against your soft thigh.
“My arm almost died,” you gasped, his nails raking down to your hips, sinking into your ass.
“Heh, sorry,” Jungkook snickered (you suspected he wasn’t very sorry). “That’s what you get for teasing me.” (And you were right, hmph.) “This is why you should work out.” (This guy…)
You raised an eyebrow. “So I can make you cum in literal seconds? Your funeral.”
He paused, shifting his eyes. He seemed to be mentally struggling with the idea. “You look so fucking hot in workout clothes though,” he pouted, leaning down to press his chin against your breasts.
Uh oh, Jungkook was giving you puppy eyes now.
“I can wear workout clothes without actually working out,” you frowned. “And you never let me work out anyway because you’re too busy ogling me, and then you jump me mid-squat.”
He groaned, kneading your ass in his hands. “Your ass just looks so fucking good in leggings though… and the way your tits bounce, fuck…”
(Hello, Jungkook? You could, maybe, just look at the naked wet body in front of you right now instead of fantasizing about working out. What is your malfunction?)
You yelped as he buried his face into your tits, tongue snaking out and drawing thick, saliva-covered stripes over your breasts that were quickly washed away, whimpers in your throat once you saw the hungry look in his eyes, his pink tongue now circling your nipple, lowering his leg from between yours, your hands flying up to hold his head onto your chest.
“Ah, Jungkook, please…”
His lips closed in and his fingers grazed your slick slit, pressing circles of pleasure into you, leaning your head against the shower wall, back arched to give more to that perfect mouth, moaning his name, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing it slowly, working you up, sucking your nipple and flicking it with his tongue, waves of pleasure and hot water enveloping you, pushing his wet hair back to look into those dark chocolate orbs, clouded by lust and his desire to make you feel good, already knowing that when you rocked your hips you wanted more, already knowing that when your noises became shallower, more needy, that you needed it harder, closing your eyes, faster, hot and warm from Jungkook and water.
“Yes, fuck, yes, so close, so good, Jungkook, ah, Jungkook!”
You felt the flinch of overwhelming ecstasy, immediately trying to close your legs but he blocked you, planting his thigh between yours to prevent them, your moan turning into a feverish whimper, clutching his shoulders.
“J-Jungkook, w-wait, oh, f-fuck…”
He wasn’t waiting, still stimulating your now throbbing clit, lifting his head to press his lips to yours, whispering hotly, you’re so sexy, so beautiful, I love you to so much, fuck, your brain barely computing language, w-what, oh fuck, yes, don’t stop, Jungkook, I love you, fuck, so good, his soft smile on your open lips as your moaned once more, ramming your hips into his hand, eyes rolling back, pleasure shooting up from your core, and Jungkook’s fingers plunged into your wetness, moaning with you, stuffing you with three because you were so, so wet.
“Fuck my hand, come on, wanna feel you…”
You heard hand(seriously? alright, your funeral, Jungkook), and enclosed your fingers around his now hard-again cock.
“Wait, w-what – ah, fuuuuuuuck…”
Your misinterpretation seemed to be a welcome development, your hips moving on their own, pussy clenching around his fingers, your hand a vice around his hard, swollen length, his hips thrusting into your closed fist, and now both of you just chasing pleasure, wet, loud, and hot, the water adding to the noise, skin on skin, your pussy making embarrassing sucking, squishing sounds paired with the rapid slap of your vicious pumping of his cock, feeling so good it was hard to speak, but it didn’t matter because your lips found his lips, and you could tell by his trembling inhale and soft whimpers that he loved you, and he could tell from your breathless gasps and desperate whines that you loved him, and all that made it more intense, better, sexier, perfect.
Your name in that silvery, needy tone, followed by, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”
His name, followed by, “Shit, me too, fuck!”
(Maybe not your best work, oh well.)
You slapped your hips into his hand, burying his fingers all the way to his knuckles, and groaned, scorching ecstasy overtaking your veins, sparking up your spine and into your head, squeezing your thighs together powerfully, clamping his wrist in your softness. His cock jerked, his gasp in your face as he spilled again, all over your hip and thigh, jamming the throbbing head into your skin and moaning as his orgasm continued spurting out, pulsing, his moan turning into helpless cries as you rubbed the tip on your skin, smearing his cum onto you, his scent so strong you could still smell it despite the water washing it away, loving the way his hard, muscular body felt against you, shivering and vibrating with pleasure, unable to help himself, practically humping your leg to prolong the sensitivity.
Heavy, shuddering breaths.
Water tumbling down, somehow far too hot even though it was getting lukewarm.
(Rest in peace the water bill.)
“Uh… my hand…”
You tensed around it. “I like it here.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, frowning. “I’m getting a hand cramp.”
You bit your lip and clenched your core muscles, making him gasp.
“Fuck, I love how tight your pussy can get. Feels like you’re going to break my fingers.”
You relaxed, laughing. “That’d be a fun trip to the emergency room.”
He snickered and leaned in, kissing you softly. “I love you.”
You relaxed your thighs and he pulled his fingers out. “I love you too, Jungkook.”
You squeezed the head of his dick mid-kiss and he slapped your pussy in response, making you gasp.
“Brat.”
(Hello, you two, you’re wasting water… aw, shit, here we go again.)
summary:Everyone has bad habits. Funnily enough, Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook happen to have the same one. It involves silver chains, leather collars, choking each other, and a girl with a single white contact and daddy issues. Fuckin’ daddy issues, man.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you dislike overabundant swearing, maybe skip this one; too many Marilyn Manson / Slipknot references; D/s threesome smut (fem reader, black leather collars and chain leashes, choking [note:yoonkook choke each other], so much saliva, scratching, visceral making out, spitting kink, m-receiving oral, handjob, voyeurism, cum-eating); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader x sub!Yoongi; shifts from third person > reader’s > Yoongi’s > JK’s POV
this is absolute depravity, don’t say I didn’t warn you but it isporn with feelings, you know me
–
now playing – bad habits by ed sheeran ft bring me the horizon
“What’s the most twisted thing you’ve ever done?”
“Choked Jungkook while he choked me as we both got jacked off at the same time.”
Park Jimin’s jaw dropped. An unceremonious amount of ramen plopped out of his fluffy lips and back into the pot below him. Jeon Jungkook choked on his. In fact, he actually flung himself away from the table at warp speed to hack out his windpipe at the sink.
Min Yoongi calmly chewed on his crispy pork belly.
Jimin – sweet, lovely, soft-cheeked Jimin with bedhead hair and swollen pink lips from the spice of his food – blinked very slowly at Yoongi and laughed nervously, jerking his head to Jungkook, whose entire head was in the sink to avoid being looked at, back to Yoongi, who slurped up a large amount of his own noodles and did not elaborate on his previous statement.
The unease was so palpable that one could sink their teeth into it.
Yoongi’s dark brown eyes slowly raised from his meal, staring at Jimin with unsettling focus.
“You’re joking… right, hyung?” he awkwardly chuckled, probably unsure if his ears were broken or if he was in the Twilight Zone. Maybe Jimin was still dreaming. Any of those three would be a sane explanation because surely, surely, he was mistaken. He hadn’t heard correctly, right?
“Right,hyung?” Jungkook sputtered from the sink, finally emerging, red-faced from choking.
Physically or mentally remained to be known.
Yoongi tilted his head and shrugged.
-
You tilted your head.
Licked your teeth slowly and watched him shiver under your gaze.
“You know what I love?”
You collected saliva on the tip of your tongue and stuck it out, letting it drip into his open mouth, listening to him swallow with a greedy moan. You grinned, waiting for those beautiful dark chocolate eyes to open again. Glistening silver bar by his furrowed brow, gleaming silver ring at the edge of those pink shaking lips that were already asking for more, wordless whine and imploring gaze.
You lowered so you were eye to eye, teasingly licking the mole underneath his lower lip.
He whimpered, pleading you with your name.
“Depravity,” you purred, low and rough, drawing out the syllables, chewing on the density of the word, winding back up like a snake, bringing the silver chain with you. Yanked on it, hard, and his head snapped back, the heavy black leather collar slapping into the sides of his neck.
A loud, visceral sound.
Jeon Jungkook moaned again, intoxicated by your power.
He was a real good boy outside of the bedroom. You heard he was quite an upstanding guy. Diligent, hard worker. Went to work on a fairly normal schedule. Always said please and thank you. Never got into much trouble other than innocent, cute mischief that made him well-liked by his peers.
Then Jungkook would come to you.
Nervous, awkward, unsure around your crowd.
But needy.
So very needy that he forgot to be embarrassed or weirded out as he was surrounded by a crowd of people in black – leather, fishnets, vinyl, too much eyeliner and dark lipstick. They always hung around for some reason or another. Work. Smoking. Loitering because the owner didn’t give a fuck. Jungkook would sit and wait and you would come out of work to see him surrounded by your kind, standing around him.
A black cocoon protecting a rather plainly dressed caterpillar.
“I came to see you but you were busy… they said I should stay and wait,” he would mumble, not quite looking at anyone, but there was too much want in his system, too much desire to run away, too much greed.
He looked up and you saw that he enjoyed it.
He liked the eyes on him.
You would smirk, cocking your fingers towards you, and he would come, presenting his neck. You would lick it from collarbone to chin and savor his stifled whimper.
“Come with me.”
The first time was, hm, not quite an accident. It was a lesson, because he was about to do something very, very stupid, the kind of stupidity like trying to do cocaine with zero experience and zero familiar faces around him. A friend of his asked you to step in and teach him a little lesson. A lesson about pain and how to deal with it. Effectiveness remained to be seen.
But satisfaction had been guaranteed.
You leaned down now, placing your hands on his face, framing it with your fingers.
Jungkook gasped at your touch, wanting more.
He had a pretty face. Beautiful eyes, deep and rich and brown. Shapely lips that were made for begging and demanded to be kissed. Cute moles the dotted his light, tan skin, natural dark stars on the galaxy of his body that craved to be explored with teeth and nails. Lots of tattoos up and down his right arm. He usually covered them up with long-sleeved shirts and big sweatshirts. Wore his hair down to cover his eyebrow piercing and changed his lip ring to a small stud when he was pretending to be a good, good boy.
But he was changing.
Metamorphosis.
Slowly but surely, Jungkook started showing up to the music studios you managed with ripped black band t-shirts and leather pants. Tattoos on display, filling in the sleeve so it was obvious and prominent. Silver lip ring clearly visible. Black hair slicked back, sometimes messy with strands brushing against his cheeks. No longer sticking out from your kind, but becoming part of them.
You smiled at him, nice and slow.
“Don’t want to wait anymore, do ya?”
“N-No…” he breathed, lips trembling under your chin. “Want you… Want you to use me…”
What a scene.
“Take off your clothes,” you murmured to his lips, brushing against them, barely-there kisses that he drank up every single second of. “And wait for me on the bed. You can do that, right?” Your fingers travelled up, up, tangling in his hair and pulling back, inhaling sharply as you heard his desperate whine waterfall from his open mouth, begging for kisses.
“I have to go get you-know-who.”
You let go of him roughly, chuckling deep in your chest. Stood up, backing away from him.
“So we can do you-know what.”
Jungkook gasped for air, on hands and knees in your bedroom, raising his head as you walked away, dancing your fingers in the air as you waved a teasing goodbye.
“And maybe I’ll let you stick it you-know-where.”
You opened the door behind you, suddenly frowning mockingly, pretending to think about it.
“Or maybe I won’t.”
You snickered deviously and shut the door.
-
Min Yoongi was aware he had a type.
Great legs, great ass, perky tits, too much black leather, a consistent habit of wearing a single white contact on her left eye, a smirk that was a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy, also kind of his unofficial manager that he paid with his dick.
Alright, his type was one specific person.
“I’m so fucking tired of this shit! Fuck, just because they don’t have an agent, the venue thinks they can try to upcharge them and, the second I step in, they think they can go over my head. Fuckin’ misogynistic bastards backtracking so fucking fast when I started pulling out numbers, I’ll fucking gutthem! Fuck! People equal shit!”
Ah, right.
She had a mouth on her.
Not just limited to a colorful vocabulary.
“Hah,shit, I’m sorry, Yoongi, I’m too fucking pissed off after sorting out what happened to Hana and the guys,” she had growled earlier, sending an inappropriate or appropriate thrill up his spine. It depended on who was who in the situation. “I don’t wanna make you do some twisted shit because I’m in this fucked-up mood, I’m gonna have to cancel–”
Her satoori got deeper and gruffer when she was angry.
It was very arousing.
“Jungkook’s outside today.”
She had paused.
Looked at him, one normal iris, one fake white one.
“What kind of twisted shit do you want to do with us?” he had asked with a smirk.
It was incredibly dangerous to ask such a question, because right now Yoongi was finding out.
She had a demonic grin, looking from Jungkook’s big, shocked brown eyes to his. He narrowed his gaze, not backing down despite basically sitting knee-to-knee with one of his friends. Both of them with leather collars and chain leashes.
Fully naked.
Yoongi wound his hand around Jungkook’s silver chain and held it tightly.
He was going to do what he was told to do because she needed it. He could feel it, almost as if it was radiating from her skin. The sin that needed to be satisfied. The glee in orchestrating dirty deeds. The pleasure she got from it all. It was tangible with every raspy exhale pushed out of her lungs, rattling with excitement.
Pink tongue on white teeth, laughing low and devilishly.
“Pull.”
Yoongi pulled.
-
“Jungkook, why do you like pain?”
He stared into her eyes. It gave him a heady and insane feeling. Sent his heart ricocheting in his chest. She tilted her head, lips barely parted, the upper one angled upward, giving her a curious expression despite the unnatural quality of the single white contact lens over her left iris.
His chest felt tight and not his neck. That was unusual for him.
“I don’t like pain.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
Jeon Jungkook wished it was his neck though.
“I like you.”
She tiled her head the other way, otherwise not reacting.
“You just happen to like inflicting pain,” he said slowly, digging his nails into his palms, feeling his skin prickling from the chills of this moment, staring into one white iris, one normal iris, but what was normal anyway, because Jungkook was pretty sure that it wasn’t this, this thing he had with her. This was a drug. This was enchantment. This was…
Just one of many bad habits.
Number one was getting too many tattoos.
Number two was getting too many piercings.
Number three was getting on his knees and begging for a collar.
Her gaze sharpened.
“I don’t like inflicting pain.”
His breath caught his in his throat.
“Ineedto inflict pain.”
And Jungkook felt it, something deep inside, like fire, like a crescendo, lashing out and then the drop, the quick turn of her head and the snap of her jaw, violently throwing her arm out. They were standing in the living room of the big house that looked mostly untouched. Fancy black leather couches, sleek flat screen television, black and white shag rug with the white parts too white, and this was her living room, but it wasn’t in the sense that it seemed like she was never here. Expensively furnished, luxe brands, almost opulent in texture, contrasting the owner – black leather jacket with too many silver studs and chains, ripped-up goat skull t-shirt, short red plaid skirt with black straps hanging from D-rings, torn and tattered sheer black tights. Standing here with him, he who showed up at outside her work and she knew exactly what he wanted.
Pain.
The pain made Jungkook feel alive and she needed to know why.
At least, he sensed that that was the true question.
“Day in and day out,” she snarled, pacing, the sound of rustling leather and clinking metal, not quite looking at him because the words were not for him. They were for the cold, cold universe. “Fuck. Fuck! All the fucking time, fixing everyone’s shit, putting dumbasses back in their place, people coming up to me all the time, can you help with this, fuck, yeah, of course I can, but a bitch gets tired, a bitch gets fed up, a bitch is fucking over it, and, damnnit, fuck youDad, fuck you for not being here, not that you would ever be any fucking help because the only things you’re good at are gamblin’ and breakin’ hearts, you fucker!”
And she turned and screamed into the house, screamed into the big empty house that was her family home, yet there was no family here, just her and Jungkook standing there, witnessing this outburst that seemed a long time coming, but he let it happen.
Yoongi had told him about it.
Girls with daddy issues. Why do they have to be so good at sex?
His hyung had said it with an open-mouthed smirk. A joke but, of course, all jokes had some truth to them.
She threw her arm to the side, baring her teeth. Vicious rumble deep in her chest, her hair wild and flaring out, not quite looking at him, speaking to him but not directly. He could tell it wasn’t him that she was furious at.
“I’msick.”
Her satoori came out heavier and gruffer when she was pissed off.
It sent an appropriate shiver up his spine.
She reached up and sank her nails into her neck and raked down, gritting her teeth, scratching so hard she left red marks and Jungkook craved to have those marks on hisskin, but he needed to listen, he needed to be patient and he needed to listen.
“I don’t want to be a sweet dream. I want to be a beautiful nightmare. I want to ruin your life and make you cry alone, wishing you were being fucked up by my hands. I want to mess you up so bad no one will ever satisfy you enough because all you can think about is my grip on your chin and my spit in your mouth.”
Her piercing eyes flickered up. One white, one with a dangerous glint.
“I’m gonna fuck you up.”
It sounded like a threat.
“I’m gonna make you do some twisted, fucked-up shit.”
It made his blood sing.
“Doesn’t that sound awful?” she chuckled darkly, ticking her head.
Breathing hard, taking his breath away.
“No.”
His breathing shallow, his heartbeat fast, and Jungkook was trying to find the oxygen to speak.
“That sounds like everything I want.”
Because he was sick too. Sick and tired of being lovey-dovey-sad-and-lonely. Sick and tired of trying to be the perfect boyfriend that he wasn’t anymore because his ex-girlfriend tossed him aside like a piece of trash, sick of the perfect son that he didn’t know how to be, tired of attempting to become the perfect human that the world always talked about but never seemed to exist. Sick and tired of everyone’s expectations of him and how good-looking and smart Jungkook should be a talented artist – fuck them, fuck it all, fuck everything, he was throwing it all away and giving into her, into the collar, into the chains, because right here, standing here with chills all over and hot blood pumping through his veins, here.
Here, he was alive.
“I want to be as important to you as Yoongi-hyung is.”
Here, he was lust and he was greed.
“You are not a liar. You never pretend you’re anything you’re not. You are always yourself, no matter what. You would do it all right out in the open if you could.” Shivering breath and there was envy there, envy because she was honest with herself and it seemed so fucking easy for her, whereas he could only be that way with her. Lowering his chin, lifting his eyes, and he was afraid but he didn’t know how to lie to orbs of white and danger. “I don’t care who sees, I don’t care who knows, I don’t care what anyone says about me anymore, I just want to stare into your eyes and lose myself in you and, if there’s pain in you, I’ll take that too.”
Here, in her grasp, Jungkook was free.
So, now when she said pull, Jungkook pulled and watched the thick black leather snap against Min Yoongi’s pale throat, watched the collar press against the sides of his neck and those dark brown, cat-like eyes flash, causing blood and unexplainable emotion to rise to the surface and here, right here, pullmeant let go.
Jungkook let go of all preconceived notions and he let himself feel.
Feel his own blood scream against the constriction, feel his scorching skin erupting all over in prickling anticipation, feel her fingers close in on his thigh. Bony fingers pressing in, sharp nails sinking onto his flesh, white-hot scratches that made his breath hitch and his back arch slightly, choking himself more, and still Yoongi didn’t let go, holding tight and rigid, keeping eye contact with him.
Jungkook couldn’t look away.
There was definitely something wrong about this but, lost in the lust-induced haze, he couldn’t imagine why.
Her face appeared in his periphery. Demonic grin. A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy. She pried her hand from his thigh and raised it high, clearly visible. Long fingers, lined palm, capable of an inescapable grip.
She spat on her palm.
First one and then the other.
Jungkook whimpered, his heart pounding in his ribcage, gripping tight on the silver chain, inked knuckles and tense forearm covered in too many tattoos, or at least that’s what everyone said, but who gave a shit what everyone said, fuck them all, too entranced by every movement, watching her hands drop, too expectant for the touch, hot gasp, spreading his knees out more, and then her saliva-slicked hand wrapped around his hard, aching cock, wet and tight and inescapable. Slow. Up, ridges of her fingers contrasting the slippery friction, glossing over the swollen head. Thumb pressed to the underside and rubbing under the slit, sending a jolt up his spine and down his thighs. Down, tightening her grip again, faintest hint of her nails dancing along the length, so light that he almost didn’t feel it which only made the sparks catch and the fire in his core burn into an embarrassing twitch that caused pre-cum to join her saliva the next time her hand ascended.
Holy.
Shit.
His head tilting back, but Jungkook didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the rush of pleasure that suddenly consumed Yoongi’s normally composed face and dark eyes, tipping his head back too. Black lashes lowering, shuddering breath, the other man’s lips dark pink and trembling, erotic and picturesque, and this was wrong, wasn’t it, thinning blood flow and satisfaction burning up from his core, but if this was wrong then why did it feel so good?
Why did he want to twist his hand and pull harder and choke his hyung more?
She leaned over and licked Yoongi’s cheek.
Those sharp features scrunched up a bit, slight discomfort, but mostly biting back any possible pathetic sounds. Yoongi was much better at it than he was, but at this point Jungkook didn’t care what he sounded like, didn’t pay attention.
He was too fixated on the obscene scene before him.
Her soft lips pressed into Yoongi’s cheekbone. Tip of her tongue against fair skin, Jungkook could hear it, the sound of her lips and her nimble, wet muscle; feel it, tighter, faster, her hand pumping his cock harder and the pleasure shooting through his veins; see it, the delicate, sensual trail of kisses that dipped down and made Yoongi’s eyes close, and then it was lips to lips, passionate lovemaking of tongues and his hyung’s deep moan trapped in his chest.
Forced to listen to the sound of tongues thrusting into their connected mouths, stolen breath and suppressed sound, saliva exchanged and swallowing.
There was a low, raspy hiss of her name, contented gratification.
Jungkook pulled harder and choked Yoongi more.
She broke the kiss.
When her head retreated, Jungkook came face-to-face with Yoongi’s open-mouthed smirk.
“Jealous?” his hyung chuckled, dark and sinister.
And then Yoongi yanked up on the chain.
-
He was enjoying this.
Should or shouldn’t did not matter to Min Yoongi. He did what he wanted because he could, because it was fun, and because it was a challenge. It was a challenge winding the metal links around his palm once more to shorten it, forcing Jungkook’s head higher, feeling her hand slide up and down his throbbing cock, fuck, he needed it, but not yet, not yet, watching that demonic grin hover above Jungkook’s face, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.
She dangled her glistening tongue above Jungkook’s open mouth.
From here, Yoongi could spy the quivering mole right at the center of those shapely lips.
“P… Please…”
Yoongi knew they made a good team, him and her.
He wound the chain around his hand, closing the gap between his fingers and Jungkook’s chin.
“Please what?” she teased, gravelly and rough.
Yoongi saw those lashes lower, those big brown eyes closing, hiding from his hyung’s eyes, maybe, but not that much because Jungkook’s legs were open, his hips were raised, his chest was straining, and he was getting his dick jacked off right in front of Yoongi’s face. There wasn’t much to hide as he begged.
“S-Spit in my mouth… please…”
Mouth opening, and Yoongi kept it wide with two fingers on Jungkook’s cheeks, feeling the vibration of his whine through his fingertips, and then she leaned down.
Spat in the younger man’s throat.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He opened his hips more and thrust into her hand, letting out a tense exhale as Jungkook moaned, wanton and wet, his eyelids fluttering and his eyes rolling back, swallowing ravenously, and Yoongi could hear it, see it, feel it under his own palm, realizing Jungkook had loosened his grip in his ecstasy, leaving Yoongi with too much oxygen and not enough restraint.
Yoongi unwound his hand and tugged down, snapping younger man’s head down forcefully.
Those big brown eyes snapped open, shock and confusion, and then widening, witnessing the view before him, and Yoongi had a fleeting moment of, fuck, I don’t look as good as he does, but it came and went, because the second Yoongi pulled his arm back and really choked Jungkook, the grip on his cock tightened and soft lips wrapped around the head, dripping saliva and hot tongue against sensitive skin, sending his world aflame with pleasure.
“Fuck!”
Jungkook got the hint and tugged hard.
And then the world was flashes and gasps, tongue swirling, saliva dripping, hand descending and two fingers hooking around his balls to spread out the wetness as the head of his cock was trapped between her lips. Suffocating tightness, agile tongue all over, hand ascending, sharp hiss tearing from his throat, fuck, so fucking good, pumping him roughly once more, heavenly mouth now removed, but everything was slippery and slick again, breath and blood drained, hazily witnessing the euphoria as Jungkook received the same treatment, and now oxygen and thoughts dissipated, in hell but this was the circle of lust, locking his elbow and choking Jungkook as the younger man choked him. Collar to collar, chain to chain, tan tattooed skin covered in a sheen of sweat, large brown eyes open and drinking in every detail as Yoongi did the same, open thighs, intense pace, rippling chest, and Yoongi ticked his chin, fuck what the world says, I am just as much of man as he is, and there was anger in the thought, defiance, narrowing his eyes and vowing to last longer, not that this was a competition but why not add another layer to the insanity?
Eye contact and Yoongi didn’t say anything, just growled in response, telling Jungkook that he knew he was being seen, that he knew he was being watched, that he knew he could barely breathe and barely think, and above all that he knew he wasn’t going to lose and he wasn’t going to back down.
Jungkook whimpered, his gaze glassy and drunk on depraved desire.
“C… Cum with m-me…”
Out of all the things, that shaky whisper might have delivered the strongest surge of pleasure yet.
Thathadto be twisted.
Yoongi felt himself smirk.
The only way he knew how to take it was too far.
“Go ahead. Cum all over me.”
He watched white teeth sink into pink lower lip, exposing that tiny mole perfectly under the center, and truly this was fucked, the eerie satisfaction Yoongi got from those furrowed brows and lust-consumed brown orbs framed in black hair and silver piercings, brow and lip and ears, clenched jaw and prominent muscles on neck and torso, and Yoongi cocked his head despite it all, rolling his hips forward, closer, seeing Jungkook move his too, rising the challenge, and this was a little psychotic, a little mischief in Yoongi’s smirk reflected in Jungkook’s watering eyes, a lot sexy as Yoongi succumbed to the pleasure and grinned at the same time Jungkook moaned and threw his head back, cutting off his sound with a gargle, and the world that had been bleeding black hazed to a flash of darkness.
Jungkook came all over his thighs and between his open legs, strings of thick hot cum painting his equally burning skin, and Yoongi sucked in a razor-sharp inhale, peaking at the point of airlessness from holding his own breath, shooting white onto those thick, muscular, tanned thighs, his orgasm clinging to them even as they violently shuddered and bucked, slick cream dripping down the curves.
They let go.
The chains fell, slapping them in the chest and legs, smearing the cum.
The rushing oxygen knocked the wind out of Yoongi, making him cough and shake his head tensely, then a groan tumbled out of him, sudden soothing wet heat, and he cracked his eyes open, seeing her lick off Jungkook’s cum on his thighs, switching between him and the younger man, the depth of their moans mixing. One raspy, one silvery, both hoarse. Wet tongue all over sensitive and overstimulated skin, sharp nails gripping their hips, hint of pain, and that made it perfect.
Yoongi looked up, his palms on the bed behind him, panting.
Jungkook felt the eyes on him and gazed back, slightly unfocused, trapped in the carnage of the aftermath, sweat making his toned chest glisten. Yoongi smirked, open-mouthed and devious, deliberately looking Jungkook up and down.
“Should get a mirror next time so you can see yourself.”
He found perverse pleasure in seeing Jungkook’s cheeks flush red, tucking his chin down to cover his face with his long black hair, unable to keep eye contact any longer.
The only way Yoongi knew how to take it was too far.
-
It was true.
You were sick and tired of being alone.
It wasn’t as if you wanted your dad to be home. What was he gonna do? Become to dad he never was? No. You were too old for that shit anyway. And besides, it wasn’t like you didn’t understand it. Being an adult sucked. He was real good at gambling. So good that you were standing in a big house and you could buy big cars and big rings with your father’s winnings. Everyone liked to say that money couldn’t buy happiness.
But you know what it could buy?
It could buy two matching collars and silver chains.
Only someone born rich could say something like money can’t buy happiness, because everyone else knew that happiness was security, and security was lying between a sleeping Jeon Jungkook and dozing Min Yoongi and having your hands wrapped around each silver chain, running your fingers over the immobile links, soaking in the depraved satisfaction that gave you. Sure, maybe you had daddy issues that gave you bad, bad habits, but everyone had a sin and yours being lust only bothered those whose predominant sin was envy.
You felt Jungkook’s hand on your hip, pulling himself closer. Pressed his body against yours, craving the closeness and the maximum amount of touch. Yoongi’s fingertips were running down the tendon of your wrist, murmuring your name.
“Yeah?”
“Happy?” he mumbled, a one-word question.
You smiled to the dark.
You weren’t wearing your white contact lens. It was time to sleep.
summary:Jeon Jungkook has fucked up big time. Unlike you, he woke up with perfectly clear memories of fucking you. He spends every spare moment of his shift staring at you and trying not to get caught. Your father is his, uh, bosswho very much knows how to use a knife, yikes. Jungkook definitely shouldn’t like you. But he does. Ah, shit.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; Jungkook is low-key a horny mess at work; graphic descriptions of sexual acts (fem reader, penetrative sex, cowgirl); actually just fluff; non-idol!BTS; waiter!Jungkook x hostess!reader; Jungkook’s POV, ft waiter!JImin
–
“Fuck, that ass is illegal. Those fucking legs. Ugh, I don’t know how she does it, wearing those heels all night…”
“Lusting after your favorite hostess?”
Jeon Jungkook jumped ten feet into the air, greeted by the mischievous, perceptive expression of Park Jimin. The shorter man was dressed sharply in the restaurant’s waiter uniform – black vest, crisp navy shirt, black slacks, restaurant logo pin on the vest pocket atop a tucked, folded, patterned navy handkerchief.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Jimin chastised the second Jungkook faced him, reaching over with his small hands and plucking the handkerchief from Jungkook’s vest. “Left over right, not right over left.”
Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as the blond-haired man refolded it. The restaurant was bustling with activity, loud conversations and utensils against plates enough to mask Jimin’s words to anyone but him, who was standing in front of his hyung.
“What’s with you lately? You were getting the hang of it and now you’re forgetting these details and nearly arriving late, looking all messy… Are you trying to make me look bad? After I helped you get this job?”
Debatable, but yes, Jimin had set up the interview when he asked for help job hunting. The restaurant had been looking to hire a few more servers. Jungkook felt eyes on him as Jimin returned the perfectly folded handkerchief to Jungkook’s vest with a pout, puffing one of his round cheeks as he continued talking. Instead of listening, he looked up.
Right into your eyes.
You gave Jungkook a teasing smile, the ever-so-slight sliver of pink tongue peeking between your painted scarlet lips.
Jungkook turned red.
Jimin jabbed him in the chest.
“Stop making googly eyes at the head chef’s daughter! You’re gonna get yourself killed!” he hissed.
Too late.
Jungkook was already remembering your hands on his waist, pulling him to you, kiss hot and passionate, your fingers sliding under his navy shirt, his own white t-shirt on your pretty frame, your sensual whisper in his mouth.
“I said I would give it back,” you had breathed against his moaning lips.
Jimin snapped him out of his thoughts by smacking him upside the head.
“Come on, back to work.”
Jungkook hurried to the kitchen, nearly colliding with the head chef himself. The older man raised an eyebrow and shook his head as Jungkook apologized.
“Pay fucking attention. You better not be running with the food,” the head chef snapped gruffly. “Kids these days, always making a damn mess of things…” he added with a grumble, rerolling his sleeves as he walked past Jungkook, revealing the pattern of intricate inked leaves on the muscular, spotted forearms, reminding Jungkook of his interview when applying for the job.
“No tattoos.”
The head chef was glaring at Jungkook right hand with flinty, hard eyes surrounded by lines of age that had seen far too much shit to be dealing with Jeon Jungkook right now. Park Jimin had been hiding behind one of the kitchen doors, wincing at the gruff dismissal. Jungkook sputtered, retreating his hand from the table.
“A-ah, I could wear a g-glove or–”
“Who cares these days, Papa?”
And there you were, waltzing in with your hostess uniform, floaty navy blouse with a black tie, restaurant logo pin gleaming in the center, tight black pencil skirt, sheer tights, black heels. You swooped down and grabbed Jungkook’s hand under the table, dropping it back on the tablecloth.
“They’re small and, look, one of them is a heart. What gang do you think he’s part of? Hm? Gang of spreading love throughout the galaxy?”
The older man rubbed his forehead, running his fingers through salt-and-pepper strands. “It’s going to look fucking terrible for our reputation if–”
“What looks terrible is you swearing in the back all the time,” you chuckled, taking the resume in front of your father. “He’s handsome. Think of all the customers he’ll bring, especially the younger crowd. They’ll think he’s cool.”
“Work is not about being cool–”
“Butappearances matter,” you cut off your father once again, framing Jungkook’s stunned expression with the paper and your hand. “Look at him. He’s a good-looking guy. People will come back to eat here just to see him.”
Your father sighed, relenting slightly but not too much. “His hair is too fucking long.”
“Then he’ll cut it.”
And then you finally, finally turned your head to look at him, sparkling eyes full of life, taking his breath away, your simple but exquisitely done makeup merely accenting your mirthful gaze and teasing smile, thoroughly amused with knocking down your father a peg.
“Mmm, maybe not too much though. You look pretty good with long hair.”
Jungkook’s lips parted, completely speechless.
You turned away from him and he could finally breathe again, still slightly dumbstruck at the whole exchange and amazed at how the harsh man in front of him produced such perfect offspring. He barely registered you speaking to your father.
“Besides, what are you acting so old for? You have tattoos.”
“Youth is so careless these days,” your father deflected, standing up.
You laughed, light and musical. “You too, weren’t you, Papa?”
The older man scowled at your bright, playful expression before sighing and admitting defeat. "Have Jimin show the kid the ropes,“ your father mumbled, placing a hand on your head for a moment before stalking off to the kitchen.
"Now I have to fix my hair,” you sighed, combing a hand through it.
Jungkook thought you looked wonderfully sexy with slightly disheveled hair.
“Ah, Jimin, there you are, you rascal, were you listening in? Could you…?”
Jungkook was cut out of his thoughts once again as orders were rattled off to him. He mentally noted them with ease, his short black ponytail bouncing with his movements, collecting the tray of streaming food carefully, balancing it well. He hadn’t known it at the time, too desperate for a job to consider it, but he was good at the work and, what’s more, he enjoyed it. There was something nice about feeding people good food and seeing their big smiles after a filling meal, thanking him with gratitude. Like everyone, Jungkook got his share of assholes (suspiciously, mostly men whose wives spent their time staring at him), but it didn’t matter, because at the end of the night, he would laugh about it with Jimin and his coworkers over dinner, swapping stories of funny things that happened.
And the best nights were the nights when you helped out.
You always ate later than everyone else and always your father, helping him clean up. Sometimes your mother was there too, and Jungkook would watch the three of you interact. You were a lot like your mom, more carefree and friskier, giving your gruff, stoic father a hard time. No one could joke around with the head chef besides you and your mother.
Jungkook spent every free moment he had to observe your attentive gaze tending to the customers, leading them with elegant steps and a gentle smile, on the cusp of playfulness but not quite. Jimin had noticed his infatuation immediately and teased him incessantly about it… until he realized Jungkook was serious.
“Are you crazy?” Jimin choked on his drink when he came over to hang out on their off day and Jungkook admitted to his crush. “You couldn’t lust after any other girl but the one with an angry father that has access to literal knives and knows how to fillet a fish in less than five seconds?”
“Uh…”
“… Do you have a death wish or what?”
Maybe.
But Jungkook also knew he couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were way too cool for him, too attractive, too capable, switching between hostess work, chef work, management, fuck, even waiting on the tables if someone suddenly called in sick. You knew all the ins and outs, always ready to help someone who was having some trouble. One time the men’s toilet was clogged and you tied up your hair, rolling up your sleeves and unclogged it yourself, not even batting an eyelash.
Jungkook did not think he would ever find anyone holding a plunger sexy, but he also hadn’t met you.
It was an absolutely terrible, no good, very bad idea to want you, his coworker, his boss’s daughter, his incredibly-skilled-with-a-knife and usually-wielding-an-iron-wok boss’s daughter. He tried not to think about it and stay polite and definitely avoided staring too long at your ass, because then he would have to run to the bathroom and calm his dick down, knowing he was never going to tap that.
Or so he thought.
Until that moment in the break room. Jungkook had ducked into the back to take a breath and hydrate from a particularly busy day, sweating a little from the hot kitchen. He nearly ran into you.
“Oh, s-sorry!”
“It’s okay, Jungkook. I don’t mind if it’s you.”
He had gawked at you and you gave him that gentle, almost teasing smile. Then your body turned a little, preparing to walk past, not asking him to move out of the way.
“Gotta get back to work.”
Your ass brushed against his crotch due to the narrow doorway, his body automatically following, pressing back, nearly pinning you to the doorframe. You paused, eyes shifting to him. Jungkook felt his ears heat, trying to pull away, not wanting you to feel his rapidly growing erection. There was a split second where you could have recoiled in disgust, maybe even yelled at him, but you hadn’t given him any time to move away or avoid you and he wasn’t trying to–
You leaned back, wiggling your ass on his already hard cock.
Jungkook’s eyes widened.
Now your smile was definitely teasing.
“Don’t take too long. I’ll miss you too much,” you purred, looking up into his eyes.
And you left.
Him and his dick.
Both very depressed about it.
Then there was that whole thing where he spilled rum on your jacket when he was out that one fateful night, not expecting anything, but it somehow led to conversation, more drinks, heated kisses, and finally going home with you to fuck like animals. He wasn’t supposed to like you in the first place and you weren’t supposed make him fall harder by being the perfect blend of wild and sexy. And to top it all off, you were endearingly confused and cute the next morning, slowly piecing everything together and wanting to stay with him once everything clicked.
Wanting him more.
Fucking him more.
Jungkook was, officially, well and truly screwed.
He watched you right now, chatting with a disturbingly handsome man – one might even say, worldwide handsome – looking so perfect and pretty next to someone like that, someone with a great smile and laugh, someone that didn’t wait tables for a living. It made his heart ache as you bowed politely, waving goodbye to the handsome man.
You seemed to sense his gaze and you turned your head slightly, smiling at him underneath your neatly pinned hair. Jungkook started and threw himself into the kitchen. If he bothered to look back, he would have seen you laugh a little, making the other hostess look at you questioningly.
It was all very bad and getting worse, because now Jungkook had memories of your nails raking down his back, your breath on his skin, pleading with him to fuck you harder, to drive his dick into your tight, wet pussy, to mess you up and claim you, pushing his head down so he could bite your shoulder when he came, ecstasy shooting through his veins, your thighs squeezing his waist. He now had memories of you wearing his shirt, laying in his bed, standing in his kitchen, eating on the couch with him. Memories of your smiling mouth against his, rolling your hips into his crotch, knowing you two were nearly going to be late if you started again, but you breathed his name into his mouth, saturated with desire, your bare thigh rubbing against his already hard, leaking cock.
Jungkook couldn’t say no.
Not to the most diligent, capable, beautiful hostess he’d ever seen.
A minor issue that your father sharpened his knives while glaring at anyone in his path, including Jungkook. Maybe a little extra violently when spotting Jungkook. He was getting less and less subtle about his attraction to you.
He tried very hard not to look at you, because if you caught him, you would give him that oh-so-familiar smile and then all he could think about was the way you rode him, hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, head thrown back and messy hair floating around you, your tits bouncing right in front of his face. That harsh smack of hips to hips, the squelch of wetness mixing with moans, the pleasure racing through his spine, him wishing it would never end.
Sometimes you didn’t even have to look at him and he was already thinking it.
It was already the end of the night and you were shouting at your father.
“Don’t stay out too late!”
“What do you think I am, a fucking child? I’ll be fine. Stop worrying,” came the gruff response from the back. “Tell your mother the address if she wants to come.”
“She won’t, because unlike you she likes to sleep.” You were laughing in the kitchen, the other chefs already leaving with your father, off to a night of drinking with their boss. “What about me? Can I go have fun?”
“After you close up properly,” your father sighed.
Jungkook poked his head over the kitchen door, witnessing you grinning up at your father, everybody outside chatting as they waited. The older man frowned as you plucked the chef’s hat from your father’s head and put in on yours, taking his jacket as he handed it to you.
“That’s dirty. Take it off.”
“Why? You used to let me wear it all the time.”
“That’s because you were a kid, always trying to follow me around,” your father scoffed.
“I want to be like you. You will always be my hero, Papa.”
Jungkook noticed your father’s ears flush pink as he turned away, grunting. “Don’t forget to lock up.”
You hugged him and your father made a disgruntled grumble. “I love you. Be careful, okay?”
“Fuck, what are you, my mother?” the older man mumbled, but letting himself be hugged, patting your neatly pinned hair. You let go and he hurried off, letting out a puff of annoyed air.
“Bye, Papa.”
The head of salt-and-pepper stopped. Jungkook jerked his own head back as your father looked over his shoulder. He heard him sigh heavily, softer words now, words only meant for his daughter, words no one else was supposed to hear, kind and warm.
“Love you.”
Jungkook should really just leave. Everyone else was gone. Jimin had warned him multiple times not to stay behind, but Jungkook had pushed his hyung away, saying it was fine, telling Jimin not to worry because he had overheard that the head chef was treating all the kitchen staff to drinks tonight and that meant you weren’t going directly home with your father.
“Is it gonna be fine when I’m scraping your remains off the walls?” Jimin muttered and he pulled on his coat and shook his head. Jungkook had shooed him away.
He should really just leave, but he couldn’t, because, maybe, if there was a chance…
“Jungkook?”
He jumped, eyes shifting in every direction except your face right in front of him.
“Ah… yeah? It’s me?”
Smooth, Jeon Jungkook. He winced at his own response.
You tilted your head, swerving it this way and that to try to catch his gaze. “What are you still doing here? I thought you went home with the others?”
“Uh… I thought… I was hoping, maybe, if you want to…”
He finally looked at you and your playful expression, energetic despite the late hour, a true night owl and definitely not a morning person. Your smile grew. His cheeks felt hotter and hotter with every passing second. He really needed a few drinks before he could loosen up around you.
“Go eat something?” he squeaked.
You blinked at him. “Haven’t you eaten? I saw you devouring three bowls of samgyeopsal.”
Oh. Right. He did eat three bowls of pork belly. “Er… but you haven’t eaten yet. I saw you were cleaning.”
You nodded. “I could eat, yeah.”
Jungkook brightened, grasping at the little hope you gave him. “What would you like? I could order something right now and we could go pick it up. If…” He swallowed, realizing he hadn’t even asked if you wanted to spend time with him yet. “If you want to hang out with me for a little while, that is…”
You chuckled, shaking you head. “You don’t have to order anything.”
“O… oh.” He felt his heart sink.
“I’m already looking at my meal.”
He blinked at you. That gentle, teasing smile slowly graced your lips.
“I like Korean.”
Immediately Jungkook puffed his cheeks, whole face heating. “H-Hey–”
But you cut him off, leaning in and pressing your lips to his, hooking a finger on one of his belt loops and pulling him closer, arm gliding around his waist. Soft kisses, light and airy, murmuring his name, and he couldn’t help it anymore, his own hands landing on your hips and moaning into your mouth, squeezing that ass he had been staring at all evening.
“I want to hang out with you all night, Jungkook. You want that?”
Fuck yes, he did. But he also didn’t want to die.
“B-But, your dad…”
“Why do you think I spent all that time buttering him up, hm? Papa won’t mind if I tell him I’m hanging out with a friend… especially after a few beers.”
pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook, mentions of namjoon x reader
Do not read this before reading the full a–dick–ted au. Although these events occur before the entirety of the a–dick–ted au, the significance will be lost unless the rest is read first.
warnings:rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption; everyone is fucking around (literally); dreams of smut (fem reader, nipple play, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, choking, scratching / marking); non-idol!AU
inspired by TXT’s new album, The Chaos Chapter: FREEZE based on this
–
now playing – anti-romantic by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
He didn’t know it then.
He couldn’t dream of what was to come.
He didn’t know this moment would change him forever.
“This is my friend, Min Yoongi.”
“Hello.”
She didn’t pay very much attention to him and he didn’t pay much attention to her. They merely exchanged names, waved in greeting, and went back to their respective moments. She stood next to Kim Namjoon, hands in her pockets, not really looking at the people he was introducing her to. An awkward air, yet Namjoon stood beside her protectively. She chewed on her lip, nodding as another member of the friend group acknowledged her. Yoongi didn’t think much of her. She wasn’t his type. Baggy black cargo pants, loose black t-shirt, black cap.
His type was short skirts and easy.
Min Yoongi was a bad boy.
He smirked and pressed the girl beside him to his chest. She giggled and smacked him, playfully pretending to push him away. He wouldn’t call her in the morning and she would probably barely remember him, seeing how drunk she was.
Min Yoongi was a playboy.
He didn’t know.
Later, he was kissing his fuck of the night and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her and Namjoon in a corner. She was in Namjoon’s lap, her cap on the seat beside him, Namjoon’s hands all over her waist and ass. Yoongi pushed the girl down to his neck, letting her sloppily make out with his skin, watching Namjoon’s kind-of, sort-of girlfriend.
He didn’t know why.
Something about the way she was kissing his friend.
She wasn’t dressed sexy, but she moved like it, sensual, deep kisses, grinding in Namjoon’s lap, her hands sliding up into his dark hair. Words exchanged. Her eyes opening slightly, half-lidded and looking around them. For a split second, her gaze and Yoongi’s gaze connected, drawn to each other like a moth to flame. Yoongi only had a fragment of an instant to see those blown-out pupils and then Namjoon’s hand was creeping up the front of her shirt, kneading her breasts through the fabric.
Her attention was gone from him.
And his from her.
Min Yoongi didn’t care about anything.
Weird that when he fucked that girl in her apartment that night, he thought about those eyes.
Orgasmed thinking about them.
Those eyes had been searching for something. Yoongi wasn’t sure if she was looking at the actual people around her or something else. But it felt like something else. He didn’t know why.
He simply felt that way.
-
Yoongi closed his eyes and dreamed.
In his dream, her. Namjoon’s kind-of, sort-of girlfriend.
Except she wasn’t with Namjoon. She was wearing a sinfully short red satin dress, tight in all the right places, molded to every curve, his leather jacket over his shoulders. She looked sexy as fuck in red. Just so fucking beautiful on her own, standing there, surrounded by his black leather.
She turned her head and looked at him.
He couldn’t breathe.
Down, like he was falling, falling, and then his head collided with pillows, gasping, and she was on top of him, hungry kisses, tumbling, him grabbing her shoulders and pushing her down, so hot, her sounds filling his ears, his name a wanton moan, and he couldn’t stop, sliding between her legs, instant bliss, fucking her into the bed, surrounded by soft navy sheets, that mouth calling his name, those eyes looking into his soul, and the sound, fuck, her sound, music to his ears, the wet slap of their bodies, her whimpers, the way she said his name.
She had never said his name in real life, but in this dream, she said it like she had been saying it all her life.
And he could feelit, feel the way her pussy wrapped around his hard length, squeezing him, sucking him in, wanting him, and he was hazy, intoxicated, drunk.
Addicted.
It shot through him, the pleasure invasive and unavoidable, clawing through his veins, setting them all on fire, and he wanted it, those blown-out pupils and that fucked-out expression, he wanted it, that open mouth, pretty pink hole just begging to have his cock shoved into it, he wanted it, that body squirming under him, thighs and ass and tits and back, he wanted to watch cum drip down all over this body and spread it around with his hands, coating her with the thick scent of his orgasm, capturing her lips and thrusting his tongue into that mouth, her whines shoved back into her lungs.
Yoongi wanted it.
In this dream, he shoved her against the wall, pressed her down onto the kitchen counter, dragged her into his lap, put her on her knees on the floor, and fucked her, fucked her, and fucked her, and it was never enough, it never seemed to be enough, and he couldn’t stop, he just couldn’t stop wanting to fuck her so, so bad.
He wanted it so bad.
Wanted her to say his name, to grip onto his shoulders, to tip her head back as his hand wrapped around her neck and his cock assaulted her pussy, legs and arms and voice wrapped all around him, begging for more, here, there, everywhere, somewhere, nowhere.
Darkness.
Swallowing him up.
And then he was alone.
No, not alone.
But not with her.
Yoongi felt himself running, running, the world in darkness. A hand in his hand, holding tight, stumbling, looking for the black light that was her, chasing the moment. The never-ending moment of his lips on her lips, in the safety of the impossible.
-
The funny thing about dreams is, they’re too easy to forget.
Yoongi awoke with a start, tangled in unknown sheets, in a stranger’s bed. It was early morning. The sun hadn’t even rose yet. He was naked. The girl he fucked last night was naked and passed out. The details slipped away from him rapidly, all of it, but he remembered the sex the night before was nothing like his dream.
The sex last night before was fucking trash.
He got up quietly and yanked on his clothes, taking all his belongings, not giving a single shit, not bothering being nice about it. It didn’t mean anything, and it never did.
His head hurt a little, but not that bad. He picked up his phone, deleting the girl’s number right there in her own bedroom before shoving it in his pocket. He stepped outside the unknown apartment and started walking, hands in his pockets, looking for where he was, forgetting all about the dream and last night’s fuck.
Deep down, Yoongi felt an ache.
A want.
He couldn’t place it though. Didn’t know why.
Something brushed past his ear and it almost sounded like his name, breathless and full of lust.
Yoongi turned his head, his short black hair fluffing in the wind, but there was nothing but the stale air of dawn. He frowned, turning back forward, a sudden thought intruding his mind.
The best sex is still…
Who?
Yoongi looked up into the sky that was beginning to break into light, but, inside him, he was trapped in what seemed like endless darkness.
The funny thing about dreams is, even if you forget them, they don’t forget you.
—
now playing – ‘0X1=LOVESONG (i know i love you) ft. seori’ by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
He couldn’t do anything to stop himself.
When he was awake, he did whatever. He messed around, he drank, he fooled around with feelings and bodies, but never too much, never too far. He dressed nice to attract the sweet compliments, showering himself with praise and validation from others to feed his insecurities, but his heart belonged to that soulmate he would find one day, so he couldn’t get careless and give away his first experience to anyone.
It had to be that one, that person, all or nothing.
Jeon Jungkook believed that.
He believed that when he met this person, he would know instantly. That was how it was in movies and shows, right? The chance meeting, eyes to eyes, and the two main characters just knew, life giving them every chance to fall in love, the perfect moment of falling flower petals and birds singing in the background as they kissed for the first time.
So, why?
Why couldn’t his brain stop?
He didn’t even remember how they met. Not at all. He was probably drunk, and it was only an introduction anyway. Kim Namjoon introduced her as his friend, even though it was obvious they were sex friends. That wasn’t his person. The person for Jungkook would be like him. Waiting for the one. The moment of falling flower petals and birds singing in the background.
He hadn’t waited for his first kiss, but he had decided that wasn’t as important as his first time. He had been young then. He didn’t know the magic, the power, the importance of love. He knew that now, so he simply always stopped before the final moment. He would do everything else but that.
He had to wait and look for it.
Where was his moment?
Where was his euphoria?
Where was his forever dream?
Slowly, Jungkook was losing.
He would throw himself onto his bed of soft navy sheets and fall asleep, alone, the frustration festering inside his heart, infested and infected.
-
In his dreams.
Her.
It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t know her. He had only seen her a handful of times and they barely spoke. He didn’t even ask questions when Namjoon and her parted ways. He didn’t care. She wasn’t the one. She didn’t give him that feeling, so unless she wanted to be a side mission to his quest, he didn’t pay any attention to her.
And yet.
In his dreams, her.
Crawling onto his bed, shedding her clothes, delicate hand sliding up his abs, smelling like whiskey, pine, and leather even though that wasn’t what she smelled like whenever she hung out with him and his friends. Jungkook didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why he could feel this touch, he didn’t understand why it made him hot, he didn’t understand why his hand always reached down and pulled her to him, his lips crashing to those malleable lips, her mewls vibrating in his mouth, soft body flush against his hard one. His hands slid between her legs, forcing them apart, kissing down that body line, the smooth texture of her skin on his lips and tongue, fuck, breasts so soft and the taste of her nipples in his mouth, swelling a little as he sucked, lapping at it with the tip of his wet muscle and hearing her moan his name, a moan he had never, ever heard in his whole life, but she said it like she had been saying it forever and ever.
Jungkook didn’t understand why he could feel everything.
He could feel it, his mouth on that heat, guttural moan emitting from his throat as he tasted it, sweet like candy, his fingers digging into soft thighs, spreading them open as his tongue traced circles around that opening that he had never sampled before, thrusting his tongue in and groaning, getting hard because he could feel her muscles close around his tongue, his nose rubbing the sensitive nub covered in slick juices, sliding the wet muscle back out and encompassing her clit with his lips, licking at it and it swelled, engorged with pleasure, listening to her soft cries, his cock getting harder and harder, looking up at that face and seeing her head tipped back, mouth open, sucking on her clit more harshly, her trembling body shaking his own, surrounded by delightful sin as her juices flooded his mouth and her lustful voice whimpering his name flooded his ears, so turned on that he had to clamp his thighs around his cock to get it to calm down.
The dreams got worse.
His fingers shoved inside her, feeling her pussy walls wrapped around them, her hands gripping his shirt and her gasps in his ear as he thrust his fingers into her roughly, her softness to his hardness, wetter, louder, something between his teeth that tasted artificially sweet, and she leaned in and sucked it into her mouth, swallowing it before kissing him, ravenous, needy, whimpering his name, his fingers soaked to the knuckles.
And then.
In between her legs, his thick, hard length pushing into that tightness, oh, fuck, and it was perfect, wonderful, so tight, so wet, so soft. His hips rocking, plunging into that heat over and over, and she was breathless from his power, wrists pinned down by his hands as he fucked her into his bed, rough massage of her orgasm up and down his hardness, oh, so good, so hot, so sexy, so real, he could feel it like she was right there, wailing his name as he pumped his cock into her forcefully and came, shooting his cum inside that perfect pussy wrapped around him, fitted to every contour of his jerking length, made just for him.
Jungkook didn’t understand.
He dreamt these dreams all the time. Whenever his eyes closed and he slipped into darkness, she came to him, and he rushed to her, hungry to feel it again, the lust the seemed never-ending, the way she said his name, the way her nails dug into his skin and scratched him up, the way her breath caught when his hand was around her neck, ecstasy painted on her beautiful features as he thrust up into her, smacking hips to hips, so hard he could feel it bruise, and he loved it, he loved the feeling that seemed so real, so fucking real that it was starting to be better than his actual flings.
But Jungkook could do nothing.
She didn’t look at him.
To be honest, she expressed nothing but annoyance with his presence.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
It was supposed to be a perfect moment.
It couldn’t be her.
Her fingers would be twisted in a leather coat, her lips parting as Min Yoongi filled her ears with words Jungkook couldn’t hear, watching his hyung’s fingertips graze her thigh. And just as soon as they touched, they would break apart.
Jungkook was confused.
Like ships in the night, Namjoon’s past lover, his kind-of, sort-of ex-girlfriend would walk by Min Yoongi and something would be exchanged, something Jungkook couldn’t quite tell or see, until it was obvious, short skirts and cropped tops, Yoongi dragging her into hallways, into bathrooms, into dark corners, doing things to her, things Jungkook dreamed about every night now, things that he had never considered or didn’t even know he could do.
The more of her body was revealed to him, the more Jungkook wanted it.
But he couldn’t.
But he wantedit, wanted her under him moaning his name, wanted her hands on his body, wanted his cock to be the one to make her feel good. Jungkook wanted it and he didn’t understand why, because love was falling flower petals and birds singing in the background, not him dragging her on hands and knees and pounding her from behind, groaning as he savored the feeling of his crotch harshly smacking into her plump ass, his open palm slapping the softness and making it jiggle for him, leaving red marks and crescents of his nails because he was grabbing her hips so tightly while shooting his load into that warm, wet tightness, listening to her wanton moan of his name.
Jungkook could think about nothing else.
Addicted.
He would lay in bed and close his eyes, remembering his dreams, stroking his hard length with his hand and imagining it was hers, fucking his own hand and imagining her holding his cock, not even needing her to do the moving because just her presence was enough, just knowing that she was there, waiting to be used by him, and that thought alone was enough to make him orgasm with an aching gasp, pressing his head back into the pillows and shooting thick spurts of cum all over his hand and thighs, globs of whiteness dripping down and covering him with his scent, imagining it was her he was painting with his cum, smearing it onto her tits, her face, her stomach, her ass, her legs, everything, everywhere, all over.
He couldn’t make it stop.
He wanted it.
Needed it.
Needed her.
Jungkook just knew.
There was no way he could make it stop.
No, there was.
One way.
Could he?
“Hyung?”
Min Yoongi looked up from his glass of whiskey, leather jacket creaking, smelling like pine. His black hair over dark brown eyes, cat-like and indifferent to the world around him.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
—
now playing – frost by TOMORROW X TOGETHER
Silence.
A silent night for the first time in a long time.
For the past couple months, your nights had been filled with heavy breaths, the slap of skin to skin, deep whispers of your name. Strong hands wrapped around you, full lips capturing yours, pressed cheek to dimpled cheek, his large frame towering over you, full of warmth and lust.
And now.
Nothing.
Because you had asked it to stop.
You shifted in your pillows, turning your phone over in your hand.
“I appreciate you being upfront about it. To be honest, I wasn’t really getting the vibes from you either.”
That’s what Kim Namjoon said to you.
“I’d like to still be friends though. Would you?”
You didn’t need to hesitate.
“I’d like that, Namjoon.”
He had smiled at you, wide and full, dimples on full display.
You turned your phone over in your hand.
You thought you would regret it. At least feel disappointed. Sad. Something. Anything.
Nothing.
It wasn’t that serious. It was just sex. You weren’t his girlfriend. You didn’t want it to be more than that. He did. It was better this way, for you and Namjoon. He could find what he needed, because it wasn’t you.
You stopped turning your phone in your hand.
Remembering black hair and dark, cat-like eyes.
Remembering the closeness.
Remembering his words.
“Are you wet?”
Your words.
“Are you hard?”
The shiver you felt at his response.
“Yeah.”
He told the truth, so you did too.
“Yes.”
You looked up at the ceiling, remembering the way his deft fingers danced in the air. Teasing you. Making you wonder what he could do with them.
summary:Yes. It is a fact. Your boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, an absolute stellar specimen of a human being, considers workout clothes hotter than lacey lingerie because he is (ahem, say this in the most endearing way possible, please and thank you) a fucking muscle pig.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; in which Jungkook attempts to become a porn director and gets mad clowned by his gf aka you; crack and fluff; living room smut (fem reader, ass + pussy slapping, dry humping, nipple play, fingering, JK lifts you up by the pussy, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - blond!JK; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts; yes, I didreference the classic “Can I have Your Number?” 2007 Mad TV sketch XD
it’s the best laid plans/counter point couple and they’re crackheads no need to read the others, but they’re there if you want more
–
“Jungkook.”
“Yeah?”
“Um…”
“Does it not fit?”
“No, that isn’t the issue here…”
Your boyfriend was an idiot.
“Thefuckis this?”
You walked out of the bedroom, glaring at Jeon Jungkook, your one-of-kind but also kind-of-an-idiot boyfriend (don’t get it twisted, you were well aware you were also a special idiot). He was currently sitting on the couch, hands between his muscular open legs, wearing a sleeveless white tank (hot) and navy basketball shorts (double hot), grinning eagerly as you appeared (aww). You did not, however, bother coming out looking as sexy as possible (let’s be honest, Jungkook did not give two shits about clothes, not because you didn’t look cute in them, but because his preferred outfit on you was ‘birthday suit’ – butt-ass naked) because you were presently a bit peeved at him. Hm, how to say it?
Disappointed, but not surprised.
Jungkook’s eyes lit up and went all sparkly upon seeing you.
“Why did I know that when you said, I bought you some lingerie, you really just meant a sports bra and running shorts? By the way, these are obscenely short. My ass is hanging out the back.”
His smile was showing all of his teeth, giving him the appearance of a rambunctious and mischievous bunny. His long blond hair was swept to one side, definitely on purpose because you always told him it looked best that way. He was taking preventative measures.
You know, seducing you so you wouldn’t get mad at him for tricking you and putting you in workout clothes.
(It was working. You weren’t gonna say it wasn’t.)
“Is it? Turn around and let me check.”
You thinned your eyes and mouth into lines. You let him get away with so much shit because he was hot. Oh yeah, and also you were in love with him.
(It worked the other way around as well though. Couldn’t complain.)
You rolled your eyes and turned around, flipping your wrists to frame your ass with fanned fingers.
“Hello? There’s a whole gust of wind back here and the seam is practically in my butt crack!”
You looked over your shoulder only to throw yourself into the wall, hurriedly spinning back around before your boyfriend, apparently a human rocket launcher, shot off the sofa and barreled towards you (move over Usain Bolt, you’re not as fast as Jungkook when he was after your booty, no cap). You immediately planted your hands on his chest (definitely not planned, but also planned) and stiff-armed him, preventing him from coming any closer.
“Hold on a second! Acknowledge you’re an animal!”
“I’m definitely an animal,” Jungkook chirped with zero hesitation. “Now give me that ass.”
You thinned your eyes and mouth into lines once again as Jungkook knocked your hands aside and grabbed two handfuls of your bare ass because quite frankly these shorts weren’t doing shit, lifting you up and groaning lustfully while you flailed about for a second before grabbing his shoulders and hooking your legs around his torso, squeezing his chest with your thighs.
“You have a problem,” you muttered.
Jungkook’s face planted into your tits and he didn’t reply, forearms pressed under your thighs, one tattooed, one not. You ran your fingers through his blond hair, clicking your tongue as your boyfriend committed erotic asphyxiation with your sports-bra-covered tits.
Yeah.
Sports-bra-covered!!!
(Kinda rude to the naked titty, come ondude!)
Jungkook yanked his face out of your breasts, gasping for breath, silver eyebrow piercing flashing as he looked up at you, grinning very adorably.
Okay, one.
Man was toostrong. Had a workout obsession and it clearly showed with how easily he was holding you up by your ass. To be fair, he had a vast amount of surface area to hold, for sure.
(Your bangin’ ass was due to yourvideo game obsession, poggers!)
Two.
Fuck, he was socute. The crinkles next to his sparkling brown eyes and huge smile with the little mole underneath? The little mole on his nose?! Fucking precious.
(Goddamn, you were such a simp, but, goddamn, did Jungkook make it easy.)
Three.
His fingers were sneaking closer and closer to that center seam.
“I thought we were supposed to work out,” you said calmly and with zero intention to work out even if Jungkook hadn’t made you dress like a slutty Pilates teacher. Hey, fitness was his thing. He had his thing and you had your thing. Your thing just happened to be sitting on your ass playing video games (a completely valid lifestyle, by the way).
Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows at you.
“We can work out,” was his cheery reply that indicated zero intention of working out, sliding your legs back down so he could poke your covered vagina with his massive erection.
(Uh… huh.)
“You know, Jungkook,” (you lovely, handsome, sweet, incredibly horny young man) “We can just fuck, hmmm, I don’t know, naked, because this is our home and you don’t actually need to buy me impractical workout clothing to get it on with me.” You patted his cheek. “I swear you don’t.”
(Saves you money too, Jungkook, maybe you should consider it.)
Your boyfriend blinked at you, tilting his head. “Yeah, but I have fantasies.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Go on, go on.”
“You’re at the gym working out,” Jungkook started, dragging you along. The coffee table was moved and there was a yoga mat on the floor. Pink. It had been on sale. Jungkook had bought it in hopes that you would become interested in yoga, but one downward dog turned pretty quickly into downward doggy, woof, woof, bark, bark.
Also known as, you were interrupted with his dick.
Classic.
You interjected immediately. “That would never happen. I don’t like working out in public.”
Jungkook frowned and slapped your ass, making you smirk. He narrowed his eyes.
“That’s why it’s a fantasy. Now shut up.”
You squeezed him with your thighs and mimed zipping your lips.
“Anyway,” Jungkook continued with a huff, ignoring your patronizing smile and going back to squeezing your ass, looking over your shoulder to watch the softness bulge out from between his fingers, suddenly forgetting how annoying you were (you knew the feeling). You leaned against him, chest to chest, on tiptoe so he could get a good grip, popping your booty to add to the visual.
“You’re working out and then I notice you and we fuck.”
(Are you listening, PornHub? Brazzers got nothing on Jeon Jungkook.)
“Just like that?” you snickered, trying to stifle your laughter threatening to escape.
“I mean, you’re pretty hot. I don’t need to ask too many questions.”
He started bouncing the bottom of your ass with his fingertips, sighing at the perfect jiggle and perk. He always did compliment the roundness from top to bottom and it was further accented by the black short-shorts he had selected (man knew his workout fashion or, rather, man knew the workout fashion that would get him laid). It was hiking the hem deeper and deeper into your butt crack. Slightly uncomfortable, but it was being balanced out by Jungkook dry humping your crotch with his increasingly hard dick.
“I’mpretty hot, are you gonna ask me questions?” he shot back, increasing the vigor in his quest to dribble your ass. Was that why he wore basketball shorts? The mind of a horny man was truly fascinating.
“Hmm.”
You looked up at him with a big smile.
“Yeah, I’d ask, damn, can I have yo number?”
Jungkook burst out laughing at your sudden (and deliberately shitty) imitation of his Busan satoori.
“You’re so annoying–”
He did not get to tell you exactly how annoying you were being because you knew the power of redirected attention, spinning around and pressing your ass into the massive VIP tent in Jungkook’s shorts, trying to weasel your way into entry without having your name on the guest list. All you had to do was seduce the bouncer by rubbing your spread ass and bunched up shorts up and down his length, looking back with your tongue between your smirk, crossed arms under your sports bra, pressing inwards to increase your cleavage.
(Just kidding, you were definitely the only name on the VIP guest list to Jungkook’s dick, mwhahaha!)
“Can I have it? Can I have your number?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.
Your boyfriend was too busy moaning at your ass sliding up and down his crotch and thighs to actually respond, eyes glued to your body line, shoulders, tits, back, ass, wrapped in tight spandex and all the juicy bits straining against the too small sizes, all on purpose of course.
Hedidselect the sizes himself.
“Can I pleasereceive the secret code that will intelephonically pass me through to you?”
Jungkook snorted in laughter and smacked your ass, biting back his own groan. “Okay, shut up, I’ll think more about it next time so you’re not fucking clowningme, sheesh – oooh, f-fuck!”
You cut him off again by bending down and pressing your covered heat flush to his hardness, slowly curving back upward with your hands sliding up from your ankles, calves, thighs, framing your ass with your splayed fingers, spreading it out and letting it bounce back, Jungkook’s gasps behind you, forgetting everything he was going to scold you about. Your back to his chest, shoulder blades to his pecs, your arms lifting and reaching back, sinking your fingers into his blond hair and tugging him forward, sighing as his hungry lips feathered kisses all over your shoulders and neck, now actively (and aggressively) humping your ass, his own hands sliding up your torso to squeeze your breasts, slipping his fingers under the form-fitting fabric.
“J-Jungkook…”
He mumbled your name into your skin between kisses, fingers sliding under the sports bra now, pushing it up, your breasts popping out, free for only a second before his palms were pressed against them, rubbing your hard nipples forcefully, his moan in your ear, your hands in his hair, arching your back to fill his hands and grind against his cock.
“You would really want me no matter what?” he murmured against your ear, biting the curve, tracing it with his tongue and sending shivers down your spine.
“Why are you asking?” you chuckled, closing your eyes, savoring the feeling of his fingers squeezing your nipples, teasing and plucking at them, electricity humming in your veins. “I made a move on you first, remember? When I asked if you wanted to bonk.”
Jungkook puffed his cheeks, letting out a huff of air. “We are still telling our children we went on nice, romantic dates first, by the way.”
“Not me, I’m telling them, your mom thought your dad was dummy hot so she flashed him some titty the second he was alone and he was hooked.”
“No, you will not–”
You spun around in his arms, yanking the sports bra off and tossing it aside, bouncing said seduction titties in his immediate vision. His wide brown eyes instantly honed in on your hard nipples poking out, rapidly sucking in a tight breath, the same exact reaction he had the first time he saw them, moan bubbling in his chest, glaring at you for a very brief second (his gaze read, how dare you,but also, fuck yeah!!!), before diving down, turning the tables on you, your turn to gasp sharply as hot lips and swirling tongue attached themselves to one and a wandering hand found the other, both of you moaning in unison, wrapped up in warm lust and strong arms.
His blond hair was messy, golden strands cascading down one side and curling around his high cheekbone and angular jaw, softening his handsome features, a perfect balance of cute and hot.
Jungkook’s eyes found yours, hazed out and reflecting your love for him.
(Remember that it was all his fault you had a massive wet wedgie right now. Hello? Hello? Still simping? Okay, never mind.)
“Wouldyoueven approach me?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair. “You couldn’t even speak to me the first time we met with your friends around.”
Jungkook pouted, narrowing his eyes at you. “That’s not my fault. How wasIsupposed to know that some random girl hyung met online playing freakin’ MapleStorywas going to be literal walking sex?! I wasn’t prepared!”
You laughed cheerfully. “Still mad that I showed you my tits?”
“Fuck no. I have never been and will never be mad about that.”
Somehow seeing your tits had led Jungkook to be the horny animal he was today, but he made you a horny animal the second you saw him and all was fair in love and war, right? Right!
(For the record, Jungkook too was most certainly a horny animal the second he saw you, he just wasn’t going to admit it, we went on nice, romantic dates first!!!)
Which was precisely why he now yanked the shorts off your body (no panties, you knew where this was going the second you held those hilariously tiny shorts up to your lovely lady lumps), moaning at the sight of your soaked slit and seconds later his fingers were there, stroking your heat and your arousal, your hands on his shoulders, breathless cries as his fingers explored, grazing your clit, dipping in a little, teasing you with his touch and his mischievous eyes, dark brown orbs sparkling, knowing you were watching his arms, flexing them for you, black tattoos standing out against prominent muscle.
“F… Fuck, you’re so sexy, Jungkook…”
His hand slid back.
You moaned his name again, digging your nails into his shoulder as he tensed his forearm against your leaking pussy and leaned forward, biting the side of his lip playfully.
Then Jungkook lifted you with one arm.
BRUH.
BY THE PUSSY.
WITH HIS FOREARM.
(GODDAMN.)
“W-Whoa!”
You gripped his shoulders and gasped for breath, eyes widening, wetter at the feeling and the sheer display of strength, your slippery clit and lips rubbing against his inked skin, enough surface area that the weight was distributed pretty well, enough pressure to be throbbingly pleasurable, using his other hand to steady you by the hip so you wouldn’t fall.
“You can help me work out like this,” Jungkook remarked roguishly, lifting you up and down, smirking at your surprised and aroused reaction. “I think it would really help me out.”
“J-Jungkook, doesn’t t-this… oooh, fuck…”
Your hand had slipped down and touched his hard bicep.
Bless the gods that created Jeon Jungkook, seriously.
“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that forever. I wanted to make sure I was strong enough,” he breathed, slowly lowering you with a heavy, deep exhale, eyes roaming your naked body, smile dancing on his shapely lips.
(Wasthatwhy he worked out so much?! You would never mock his fitness obsession ever again.)
You grabbed his face, flurry of fierce kisses, tongue and lips and smiles, brief intermission to pull off his white tank before you lost yourself in his breath again, his heat, his skin, his scent, your hands all over his body and his all over yours, pressing his hands into your ass and dragging you to him, your tongue in his lips and being sucked on as you grinned in satisfaction, your fingertips slipping under the elastic waistband of his shorts.
“Not yet.”
You furrowed your brows, about to protest, but Jungkook pushed you down onto the pink yoga mat on hands and knees, your head whipping back and jaw dropping, but his fingers plunged into your wet heat before you got out any snappy objections.
Any words you had swiftly morphed into a wild moan of his name.
His free hand snaked around your waist, pumping two fingers in and out, deep and rough, just the way you liked, shudders of pleasure invading your body as he lifted your torso up, bending you backwards, tweaking your nipple, sultry chuckle in behind you as he increased the pace, hitting you in your favorite spot, your wetness creating loud, messy squelches with each thrust.
“You want this dick, hm?” he drawled, rubbing his covered, rock-hard erection against your thigh, the slinky fabric revealing that he was as turned on as you were, adding a third finger and making your moans pitch, a slight smile growing on your swollen lips.
“You’re just… stalling so you last more than two seconds…”
He snapped your name sharply and yanked his fingers out, smacking your soaked opening with a stinging slap.
(Weaker souls would immediately apologize, but remember you flashed him your tits the second you got him alone.)
You turned your head and grinned at Jungkook’s infuriated expression.
“You can do better than that.”
“You–”
You rolled over, spreading your legs, and were met with rapid, swift smacks to your pussy and clit, back arching at the jolts of pain, moaning for him on the floor, staring at his slightly irritated expression and ash-blond curls, his blown-out pupils drifting up to see you gazing back under half-lidded lashes, aware your want was all over your face and open mouth, tongue hanging out and teasing him, seeing his breathing shallow, hand slowly shoving three fingers back into you, fast and fierce and deep, growling your name, cum for me, cum for all over my hand, you bad, bad girl, and grinning at your snippy reply, I’m only bad because you want me to be bad, Jungkook, because it was true, he knew what your reaction was going to be the minute he brought those gym clothes and you knew he would do something like that, the action being so very him.
That’s why you were together, because when you liked the brand of annoying the other was, making for a harmonious, happy, horny relationship.
(Aww. Okay, back to him ramming his fingers into your pussy.)
“Faster, fuck, yes, yes, ah, Jungkook…!”
Bucking your hips up and crying out, clenching around his long digits and squeezing around them, gasping as you felt your juices leaking out over his hand and your inner thighs, falling back down and hearing the embarrassing squish of your release onto the yoga mat (oop), closing your thighs around his tattooed forearm and pulsing around his fingers, moaning deeply as the waves of pleasure shimmered through you, your core clenched tight to feel every delicious flinch of your ebbing peak.
(Who needed sit-ups when you had Jungkook, right?)
His strong hands forced your legs open, lowering himself between them, sending you into a frenzy of short gasps as he pulled his fingers out, hot breath on your inner thighs as he groaned while licking them off, gasps turning into wanton cries when his lips molded to your trembling slit, lapping up your orgasm, swiping at your engorged clit, holding your squirming hips still with his firm grip, the sensitivity raring through your nerves, trying to get away even though you didn’t want to get away, appreciating that he could tell from your panting noises that vaguely resembled, oh, God, don’t stop, marveling at his deep kissing skills (read: furious tonguing of your pussy), heart racing, spine arching, shivering with intense, blazing desire.
“J-Jungkook…please… w-want your cock, please…”
He had unquestionably been waiting for you to say it, although he had completely forgotten to tease or chastise you about it, instead emerging from between your legs with his glistening chin and bright smile, reaching into his pocket to pull out a condom (clever boy, he planned this, although deducing that did not, in fact, take a team of dinosaur genetic scientists), ripping it open as you yanked the rest of his clothes off, running your fingers over his exposed length and balls, smirking as you felt him twitch, hot taut skin quivering under your touch.
Jungkook slapped your hand. “Stop that.”
You scrunched up your face. “Meanie.”
“You want a good railing or not?”
“Am I the stairs?”
His pierced eyebrow twitched.
“IswearI’m gonna gag you next time,” he muttered, shoving you back down.
“You always say that, but you like it – oh, fuuuuuuuck!”
“Fuck, why are you still so tight–?”
All the words meshed together, lost in incomprehension and pleasure as he entered you, thick, hard, stretching you out, your walls closing in on him, enveloping him tightly with every centimeter that he pushed in, clutching your thighs and panting, shaking brown orbs gazing up at you. You tried to wipe the triumphant smile off your face, too greatly pleased at his reaction.
He glared at you accusingly. “You’re doing it on purpose!”
“Nooooooo…” you sing-songed, grin popping out involuntarily.
Jungkook clenched his jaw, looking a tiny bit scary, but mostly hot as hell. “I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”
“Wait, I need my brai–”
He cut you off by grabbing your legs and sandwiching them between his (buff) arms, bending you in half (improving flexibility!!!) before he started aggressively pounding you into the pink yoga mat with loud smacks of hips to hips.
“Ah,Jungkook!”
(Again, working out is a matter of perspective, remember that, kids.)
Your arms were above your head, moaning to his face, ecstasy flaring all over, looking up into those dark brown eyes that were watching you and your sensual expression, wanting him, needing him, loving him, sweat sticking his ash blond hair to his forehead and cheeks, open mouth and hot pants, so hard, fucking you with deliberate power and measured roughness, so soft, only able to gasp out your name in his deep, silvery voice clouded with lust and adoration, so perfect, because you knew he always did that when he really couldn’t stop himself and he was trying not to cum too fast so he could fuck you as long as possible and not disappoint you, not that he ever could disappoint you with his stubborn determination and relentless diligence, deeper, harder, right there, right there, ah, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum, f-fuck, tumbling into euphoria as he tensed his jaw and his eyes rolled back at the pulsating massage of your powerful walls stimulating him from base to tip, thrusting for all his was worth until he managed to get out…
“Fuck, goona cum, fuck!”
Very loudly, your name exploding out of his mouth and his cock jolting inside you, the buck of his hips indicating the strength and ferocity of his orgasm along with his obscenely loud moan, filling up the whole apartment with his climax in the middle of the day (oop), your cum dripping down and soaking into the mat (double oop), feeling Jungkook’s defined torso shake from the tremors of your pleasure and his (definitely not an oop).
“Hah…oooh, shit…”
Your legs slid down and he lowered himself to his elbows, kisses once more, tongues and lips and smiles, laughing a little at the mess, wrapping your arms around his sweaty body.
“We need to work on your idea of sexy lingerie.”
Jungkook laughed, rich and full and lovely. “I’ll keep trying. Maybe you need an even smallersize.”
“A smaller size would literally vaporize into my ass crack.”
pairing(s): jungkook x male wiyllt —important: contains m/m pairing and no reader — male OC is male whatifyoulivelikethat aka me, the author ;)
summary: Following a sex advice Twitter somehow got Jeon Jungkook here, at the physical address of useryourowndionysus’s apartment, the one whotaught Jungkook’s girlfriend how to suck dick and taught him how to eat pussy. Exactly what he asked for. No more, no less. So, what if he… asks for more?
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; important! male OC is pansexual and Jungkook is closer to bisexual; smut (m/m pairing, D/s dynamics, (a lot of) begging, praise kink, use of anal plug, handjob, m-receiving oral, hair pulling, dick slapping to the face, m-masturbation, anal sex, hyung kink?); non-idol!BTS - dom!male OC x sub!JK; Jungkook’s POV; fluff and feels; implied yoongi x ♂wiyllt
His long black hair was wet. He must had just gotten out of the shower. Damp strands clung to his left cheekbone, framing the left ear and the double lobe piercing. Two silver hoops. He had an undercut and it was much more obvious since his hair was harshly swept to the left. His skin glowed with product. He was wearing a low neckline, collared black pajama shirt with little red devils on it. They were making various faces, little grins and smirks and some with their long tongues hanging out. He was in boxer briefs. Black. Some kind of slinky fabric that clung to his muscular thighs and his crotch.
The breath caught in his throat as Jeon Jungkook stared.
“Shit, sorry, let me put pants on.”
The door was about to close and Jungkook smacked his palm against the front door of this apartment he had never been at until today, suddenly breathing hard, catching the gaze of those dark, dark eyes and the raised brow, stopping the man who named himself Dionysus on Twitter.
Useryourowndionysus.
“Um… I broke up with my girlfriend.”
The other man blinked at him. “What?” His handsome features furrowed in confusion. “Did I do something? Are you here to try to beat the shit out of me or something?”
Try?
Jungkook blinked back, now confused himself. “T… Try?”
The man frowned, clicking his tongue. “You think I would let you? You are cute, Jungkook, but I’m not going to let you win even if you’re mad at me for, uh, doing exactly what you told me to do.” Now he pursed his lips and scratched his head.
“N-No, ah, no, that’s not why we broke up. It’s, um… um, because…”
Oh shit.
How was Jungkook supposed to say, because we both figured out the reason why we suck at talking to each other about doing stuff is because we’re both subs and we want to be told what to do?
“Can I… can I talk to you?” he mumbled, sucking in a breath. They were nearly the same height. The other man was slightly taller and he wasn’t wearing shoes. Jungkook felt a bit sad about that, but oh well.
“You’re talking to me right now.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes and pouted.
That smirk returned and so did that deep chuckle. “Come on now. You gave me the chance. I have to take it.”
Jungkook chewed on his lip, slightly annoyed.
The head ticked and the wet black locks flicked in the air. Simple. Effortless. The right hand raised and Jungkook now noticed that only the fingers on his left hand had rings, as if he had been in the middle of putting them back on before being interrupted. As per usual, every finger was adorned except the left pinky.
The right, however, was bare.
His lower lip fell from his teeth, fixating on this man’s ring-free hand.
The long fingers raised, curling inward.
“Come in.”
Jungkook didn’t quite know why he was here. Honestly, he was kind of surprised at himself. He remembered showing up at a certain music producer’s studio. A grumpy, half-awake hyung had greeted him at the door, asking him why he couldn’t just text.
“You don’t answer texts, hyung.”
“You don’t either.” Those cat-like eyes had narrowed. Then he sighed. “Okay, what is it?”
“Um, do you, uh… knowyourowndionysus’saddress?”
“Jungkook, is that Korean?”
“His, er, address. Your friend. You know, um…”
“They guy who taught your girlfriend how to suck dick and you how to eat pussy?”
“Erm, ex-girlfriend.”
Slow blinking. “Oh. Sorry.” An awkward pause. “I have it on my phone. I’ll text to you, hm?”
“A… Ah, yeah, okay sure. Thanks, hyung.”
“It’s nothing. Uh… Friday is probably best if you want to swing by. I don’t think he’s doing anyone on Friday.”
“O-Oh…”
“Well, I guess his schedule could change whenever, but I’m pretty sure…” His hyung scratched the back of his head, turning his arm to look at the large, matte black-faced metal watch on his left wrist, keeping his eyes fixated on it. “He gets off work around this time. Remember. Friday.”
And now Jungkook was here, stepping into the apartment. He looked around and was not confronted with a sex dungeon. Not that he thought it would be or anything.
Okay, maybe.
Kind of.
Jungkook certainly did not expect the two-and-a-half-meter tall café-au-lait-colored stuffed bear sitting in the living room.
The front door closed behind him and Jungkook was suddenly acutely aware of the scent radiating from the man, sweet and spicy with a hint of herbal. Almost like… green tea and toasted marshmallow, but with slight sharpness. It contrasted the fresher, cooler scent Jungkook himself usually wore. He turned his head, but the presence backed off, running a hand through his thick black hair, separating the strands. There was undertone to the black, a deep mahogany that caught the light when he turned his head.
“That’s a big bear,” Jungkook blurted, realizing he had been staring too long at the man’s back.
“Mhm, for when your loneliness is just as big.”
A beat of silence.
Then other man turned around, knocking a stray lock from his forehead. “I’m going to go put pants on.”
Wait.
No.
“Um–”
Three things happened at once. Jungkook tried to step forward. A hand shot up and five fingertips planted firmly on his chest, pressing into the thin fabric of his white-turtleneck. Left hand, gleaming silver rings. And.
Jungkook made a very strange noise between a squeak and a moan.
Dark, dark eyes flickered to him, accompanied by a cocked eyebrow.
Silence.
Several seconds this time. Jungkook tried not to turn fifty shades of red.
His ears were failing him.
There was a sharp clicking sound of a tongue in cheek and maintained eye contact. “Shoes off.”
“O… Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
The hand lifted and he could breathe again, hurriedly kicking off his white boots and neatly stacking them beside each other before looking back up to a very amused smirk. Oh, shit. No. Quick. Saysomething.
“You have a lot of stuff.”
Those dark eyes glanced over to the living room, to the bookshelves that held anything and everything except actual books. Jungkook finally found a second to straighten the gray dress shirt that he was wearing over his white turtleneck and smooth the weird cease in the crotch of his gray slacks before standing up to view the living room in its entirety. There was a black couch that the giant bear occupied half of and a black coffee table with a glass top. On top of the coffee table was a stack of coasters, ceramic with cute cats on them. Huge flat-screen television. The gray rug was big and fluffy, with a large white cushy-looking beanbag instead of an armchair. The walls were surprisingly white, but the curtains were dark gray, clearly blackout.
But the wall of bookshelves.
He had never seen so many Pikachu in so many different outfits. Nor had he ever seen so many games stacked so neatly, placed next to the controllers of the respective consoles, most of them special edition. Did one person need to own three Nintendo DSs – wait, no, four, what – and two Nintendo Switches, one with neon red JoyCons and one Animal Crossing special edition mint and sky blue? There was even a special edition Pikachu and Pichu gold-silver GameBoy Color in a display case.
Was this guy a Nintendo ambassador or Pikachu’s number one fan?
“I like having a lot of stuff.”
Jungkook stepped forward, noticing there were small details. The coffee table was black, but if he looked closely, underneath the glass it was hand-carved with stars and planets. It was meticulous and one stolen glance at the man beside him and Jungkook knew he must have craved them himself, that proud smirk being far too obvious. He looked back to the bookshelves and noticed the lined-up CDs, not quite recognizing the bands, but all the covers were dark and gave off a rock-and-roll vibe. There were also little figures from other franchises. He cognized a few – Persona, League of Legends, Legend of Zelda, and a snarky-looking pink bunny that seemed to be holding a cookie that had a face on it.
Weird.
The walls had posters all over them. It was obvious they must have been fan art, but they were all beautiful, from various games and a few Japanese animations, mixed with a few funny ones such as a cartoonish Grim Reaper standing on a beach with a bright yellow inner tube, scythe stuck into the ground beside him and wearing a sunhat over the black hood.
“I kind of… expected you to have a different vibe?” Jungkook murmured, looking around, seeing there actually werea few books that had been hidden behind the massive stuffed bear’s body.
“Heh, if there’s one thing I’m not, Jungkook, it’s predictable.”
He looked up and that smirk was waiting for him. The man shrugged casually, ticking his head further into the apartment, his gaze flickering away.
“People don’t usually come to my place to look at my shit. They all want to be in the bedroom.”
Jungkook noticed the black hair was drying now, turning into a gentle swoop around his head, framing his face. Not quite as angular as himself. There was slight roundness to the cheeks and Jungkook caught the faintest hint of dimples if that smirk was wide enough.
“Anyway, I like cute things, so I buy them.”
Jungkook noticed there was a plush sitting on the beanbag chair. An alpaca with a red scarf. He didn’t notice it at first because it was white like the fur of the beanbag.
“What, you think I’d have whips and chains hanging out in my living room?” the other man laughed, ticking an eyebrow at Jungkook when he turned his head to sneak a glance at his face. Shit. Jungkook looked away again, neck heating. “Of course not. I sit here in my underwear and pass out watching Running Man like everyone else. Speaking of underwear, I’m going to actually get pants now.”
And with that, he began to stride past Jungkook, prompting him to snap out of his daze and stumble behind, following that back with the little devil faces until he yelped, colliding into it when it abruptly stopped. The black hair whipped around.
“Why are you following me?”
“Uh… um… I want to talk to you?” was the best he could offer.
Those dark eyes gave him an inquiring look. It really was strange how dark they were. His voice was low with an edge of warning. “You can’t wait until I go put some pants on?”
“Er…”
He liked this.
Jungkook realized he liked being observed so closely like this.
“N… No?”
Those long fingers came up and scratched his chin. “Honestly, I don’t really care, but you seem very distracted when I don’t have pants on.”
Jungkook opened his mouth but all that came out was a bizarre croak, suddenly realizing his crotch was right against a surprisingly soft and firm ass.
The man named Dionysus on Twitter tucked his tongue in his cheek and turned around again, walking down the hall. Jungkook followed, flustered, nearly tripping on his own feet and catching himself the same time a hand gripped his wrist and dragged him along, pulling him away from the walls. It was only then that Jungkook noticed there were records displayed on them, four clear hooks minimally holding each one so the covers could be fully appreciated.
“Woah…”
The goat from Slipknot’s Iowa looked down at him.
“What’s with you, man? I never took you for a clumsy one.”
Jungkook was suddenly acutely aware that that the hand holding his right wrist was ringless, skin to tattooed skin, knuckles prominent, the back his hand smooth and bare compared to his own tattooed one. Jungkook had a very strange thought all of a sudden.
Does he jack off his right hand like I do?
Their hands were almost touching.
So, that would mean…
He turned his fingers inward and the hand left abruptly, letting go of him. Jungkook had to suppress whatever embarrassing noise was threatening to come out of him and look up, seeing a full-sized bed with slate gray sheets and a rumpled black fleece blanket with white stars and moons printed all over it. Black furniture. Hints of cute things, like a meter-long sleeping Pikachu plush on the dresser and a black plush of a goat-headed devil with black wings. Another television hooked up to a white desktop tower with white peripherals. Jungkook noticed the colognes were lined up on a gunmetal tray, most of them with minimal packaging of clear glass bottles and silver tops.
There was a pair of pajama pants with little red devil faces on them on the edge of the bed. They were snatched by a ringed hand and yanked up rather carelessly, giving Jungkook a good two seconds of staring at a man’s ass and being strangely happy about it. The jersey fabric clung to his legs, outlining the thick thighs. He straightened his shirt over the waistband slung low. Jungkook jerked his head to have a brief glimpse of that v-line.
He was aware he was being very weird considering he had already seen this guy full-on naked but he still wanted to look anyway.
The other male seemed not to notice, running a hand through his hair again and reaching for the ring box at the top of the dresser next to the cologne bottles. It was black velvet. With a start, Jungkook realized it was shaped like a coffin.
“Can I see your rings?”
Those dark eyes shot to him, freezing him in place at the entrance of the bedroom.
Jungkook swallowed so hard he nearly choked.
“Er… please?”
“… Mmm.”
He was handed the coffin-shaped ring box.
Jungkook counted. Eight. He wore eight rings on his right hand? “There’s so many…” They were all silver, with one that had a blue stone surrounded by ram heads. A crow skull sing. One had a skull with a jester’s hat. “Do you have to wear them every day?”
That low snicker beside him neared and so did that spicy-sweet scent. Oh, fuck. His heartbeat accelerated at the closeness.
“I don’t haveto do anything. I wear the rings because I want to. Also, less expensive than hand tattoos that I won’t take care of and will end up fading over time. I like the aspect of being able to change the rings out whenever I want.” He pointed to the ring box. “I only have them in there so the sterling silver doesn’t scratch.” A light shrug. “Your tattoos are nice though. If I wasn’t so indecisive, I would have a lot more tattoos.”
“I like you back one,” Jungkook replied automatically, then realized maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, unsure if he was meant to see it or not. The other male didn’t seem to be bothered by the observation.
“Good, because it’s a part of me forever now.”
Dark orbs trapped him instantly and Jungkook froze, unable to breathe.
“And if you want to see me naked, you might be looking at it, so might as well appreciate it.”
He wasn’t that much taller. They were practically eye to eye. Those mauve lips looked so soft.
The man who named himself Dionysus reached up and placed his hand on the ring box.
Jungkook refused to let go.
A dark eyebrow raised.
“Why did you come here… Jungkook?”
He watched those dark, dark eyes to watch him.
“I…”
Jungkook did not understand this feeling inside him, the feeling where the world was suddenly so, so hot. The plush, mauve lips formed the word slowly and deliberately.
“You.”
Not a question. Low, deep, and full of danger.
A long pause.
Then a heavy, measured sigh.
“Give me my rings, Jungkook.”
He bit his lip. “But…”
Those eyes looked away and narrowed slightly.
“You’re here because you want me to fuck you, but you don’t even have the balls to say it, so give me my rings or quit fucking around,” he growled. “And what do you think I am, easy? I did what you asked as a favor for my good friend who probably gave you my damn address because you have the human equivalent of lost puppy eyes, but don’t stand there and think that shit is going to work on me.” He held his hand out, gesturing in the air sharply.
“Give me my rings. Now.”
Jungkook did not hand them over.
“But you… you kissed me back…”
He winced, sheepishness clouding his features. “Okay, yeah, I did, because you kissed me and you’re hot as hell, but I need to have some restraint, little as it is, and besides,” he added, reaching over and snapping the ring box shut, frowning as Jungkook clung onto it like the one lifesaver left on the sinking ship and they were the only two survivors. “Stop it. You do this and I’m going to hurt your feelings because I’m a jerk and don’t have any, so don’t do this to yourself.”
Jungkook remembered the casual comment when he asked about the big bear in the living room.
Mhm, for when your loneliness is just as big.
“I really want you to fuck me,” Jungkook finally got out.
He didn’t miss a beat. “You and everyone else. Fuck, let go, dude, give me my damn rings.”
“But I’m not everyone else, I–”
The hand with long fingers gave up, throwing both in the air. “You’re what, Jungkook? What? What are you, because if you don’t tell me in two seconds, I’m going to knock you out, I don’t care how cute you are, I fucking swear–”
Jungkook placed the coffin ring box on the dresser and grabbed those slim upper arms, startled to find they were actually quite defined, the muscle underneath his fingertips immediately hard and tense, dark brows furrowing, so close to losing patience, and Jungkook did the only thing he could think to do.
He used all his strength and jerked the other male towards the bed.
He yelped as instantly a pajama covered leg hooked around his and spun them around, shoving him backward and throwing him onto the bed, Jungkook flailing his arms, grabbing the closest thing to him which happened to be the pajama shirt covered with little red devil faces, clutching it desperately. There was guttural growl and the other man locked his shoulders, preventing Jungkook from dragging him down, fabric straining between his tattooed fingers.
He felt his entire body shiver at the glare now pointed at him, seeing the wave of black hair falling and shadowing the left side of that face.
“What are trying to pull here?” the man snarled above him.
Jungkook gasped as a strong hand gripped his right wrist tightly, and yet he refused to let go.
“I swear, if the next words coming out of you are I love you or some dumbassery, I’ll–”
“H… Hyung.”
A muscle above the right eye twitched.
“What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like the way I want you.”
The harshness in his expression softened. “Hah…?”
Jungkook put himself on his left elbow, relaxing the tension of the soft jersey fabric, his skin on fire, gazing into dark, dark eyes wary of him, wary of what he was about to say, but listening anyway, listening despite the fact Jungkook kept crossing the line. He knew he was; he knew he was being reckless, stupid, foolish, still didn’t even really know if he was into men or not, conditioned all his life to think there was only one option, and now he knew that wasn’t true because there was another man right in front of him and he…
He knew that he could not let this go.
Could not let him go, this man who called himself Dionysus on Twitter.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” Jungkook breathed softly. “I’m not good around people unless I’ve spent a long time with them and been around them a lot. I’m usually fidgety and nervous.”
“You’re fidgety and nervous right now,” the sharp voice cut in, but Jungkook shook his head quickly.
“It’s not the same,” he insisted, squeezing the fabric between his fingers, dragging the neckline lower. The three silver necklaces were missing. He was staring at prominent collarbones and a toned, bare chest. He swallowed quickly, spilling out the words. “I’m not comfortable around strangers. But I want to be around you. I want to be closer to you. But… I don’t know how to do it, so I get nervous…”
“Well, you did see my dick already, so you have a head start.”
Jungkook choked on air and the other man laughed, letting go of his hand.
“Ah, I get it. I figured that was the case. Still,” he said, mirthful tone dropping a little, patting Jungkook’s forearm gently. “Yoongi told me you were straight. Said you’ve only ever dated girls.”
“Erm… well, yeah… If you were a girl, I’d be screwed for sure…”
Those dark, dark eyes narrowed and Jungkook tried to hide his face but his black hair was short now, only brushing over his brows. Shit, why did he get a haircut? He should have left his hair long for moments like this.
“Anyway, I’m not going to be your experiment and you’re one of my friend’s friends, so if I hurt your feelings, Yoongi isn’t going to want to talk to me and I quite like the guy, so, maybe for my sake, stop trying to get into my pants.”
“You’re not an experiment.”
The other man gave him a pained, disbelieving look.
“You’renot,” Jungkook said firmly, tugging at the shirt. His hyung didn’t relent. “It’s you. Doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman or any other gender, I want you.”
The expression changed to slight exasperation, thinning his mouth and eyes into lines. “You’re very stubborn,” he sighed.
“Hyung, I swear on my left nut I really, really want you, even if you hurt my feelings and even if you think this is just for fun, I will make sureYoongi-hyung keeps talking to you.”
The other male blinked at him.
“Why not the right nut?”
Jungkook blinked quickly, glancing down at his crotch as if his left nut had protested at being put at risk. “Um… I don’t know, the left one always moves to the back for some reason…”
“Yoongi isn’t going to listen to you.”
His head snapped back up. “Yeah, he will. Hyung can’t scold me. I’m the youngest in our friend group.”
The older man let out another big sigh, rubbing his temples. He seemed to recall that who it was that referred Jungkook to him and convinced him to meet in-person at all.
“There are a lot of people out there. I’m just a guy who has a Twitter and now it’s turned into a sex advice and thirst Twitter when it was supposedto be my personal account for shitposting, memes, and cat photos.”
“You’re really handsome,” Jungkook blurted.
He rolled his eyes. “So what? You’re really handsome. You should know. They all line up and think you actually want to knock them down. Okay, I know I’m a degenerate, but I’m a human being too, and sometimes I–”
He suddenly stopped speaking and leaned down, placing a hand on the bed, making Jungkook squeak and his eyes widen, startled at the sudden closeness.
“You trying to rip my shirt off?” he grunted, trying to pry his fingers out of the fabric.
“W… What were you going to say…?” Jungkook sputtered, but those dark eyes looked away, now using both hands to pluck his fingers from the pajama shirt.
“It doesn’t matter, whatever,” the other man grumbled under his breath. “You wanna fuck, right? Fine. Let’s just do it. I don’t feel like trying to get you to see sense anymore, I’ve already warned you a bunch of times–”
“Hyung, please tell me what you were going to say.”
The hands on his fingers paused. One covered in rings, one bare. He sighed and those dark, dark eyes lifted, making eye contact with him. He didn’t shiver. He didn’t feel his heart race.
What Jungkook saw was sadness.
“I’ve got a long way to go and too much internal shit to work through to expect anyone to stay.”
He let out a tense breath. His hands were warm, encircling Jungkook’s, surrounding them with long fingers.
“Not saying you’re going to, because you won’t, you’re just a horny idiot who can’t think straight, and I…”
He trailed off.
Silence.
“You…?” Jungkook echoed softly.
The man named Dionysus on Twitter and his hyung, sighed heavily.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to want to stop fucking you if I start and that’s a disaster zone for both of us if I get into it, so please…”
Oh, how I want you, Jungkook.
He stared into those dark, dark eyes that didn’t quite reflect the words he was saying.
“Spare me.”
Heavy breath, fingertips stroking the back of his hand.
“Please spare me, Jungkook.”
He should. He should let go. He should let go of the man who named himself Dionysus, the man who was obviously walking danger and bad for all hearts and clearly saw other people Jungkook himself didn’t even know and would probably never know.
But he couldn’t.
“I promise you,” Jungkook whispered to those dark eyes. “Wherever you go, I will chase after you.”
An eyebrow raised. “Sounds kind of stalkerish, not gonna lie.”
“Um, wait, that’s not what I meant, er–”
The other male laughed, pressing his forehead to his, long black strands brushing his cheeks, hot exhale on his trembling lips.
“It’s fine. I’ll get over it if you don’t want to see me again after this, Jungkook.”
His lips parted, the scent of sweet and spicy filling his nose, heart racing, gazing into dark orbs that couldn’t look away due to their closeness, so instead the darkness closed, lashes and lids hiding the emotions buried deep within, avoiding him altogether.
“I already know I want to see you all the time,” Jungkook whispered to those mauve lips.
“I told you I was a jerk with no feelings, you horny idiot, weren’t you listening?” that deep voice murmured, squeezing his hand.
“I was,” he replied, “But I don’t believe you.”
Those dark eyes opened and glared.
Jungkook kissed him.
“God, you’re an idiot,” those lips mumbled against his lips, and then they captured his, pushing him down onto the bed, hovering over his body, heat and lust and presence, holding his hand with the right and using the left to brace himself, breathing into his mouth and making him moan helplessly, spreading his legs so those strong thighs could slip between them, nothing but a kiss, nothing but a heated kiss from soft lips, but Jungkook wrenched his hand from the one that held him, grabbing those hips and shoving them down onto him, breath hitching as the solid body collided with his, friction and confusion, not knowing what he was doing but needing it, chasing those mauve lips as the head lifted from his, feeling pressure between his legs, hardness to hardness, causing him to gasp sharply.
“Stop it, Jungkook, fuck, stop…”
He did not want to stop, not now, not ever, whining in his throat, tugging down the waistband of the pajama pants that he never wanted on in the first place, please, please, hyung, please, and the breathless response, stop it, Jungkook, you irresistible lunatic, shiver down his spine every time he heard his name from those lips, grabbing the hem of the pajama shirt and yanking it up, tossing the little devil faces aside to reveal the disheveled long black hair and sighing scowl. Strong hands came up to cup his cheeks and kiss him again, one ringed, one not, hot whispers to his lips, I hate how much I want you, you’re so fucking sexy and you make all these perfectly cute sounds when you’re turned on, fuck, Jungkook, you drive me crazy, making him want to say back, I think about those days all the time, I have those memories of you on replay and I wish it was me, I wish I just asked you to touch me, fuck…
One look into those dark, dark eyes and Jungkook realized he actually had said the words out loud, gulping as he witnessed the mischievously pleased expression.
Yoongi’s words came back to haunt him.
Best suck out there by far.
The excessively hot whisper was an order against his swollen lips.
“Take off your clothes for me.”
His mind went back to that day in the park, seeing that tall frame leaning against the park bench, alone, hands in the pockets of black denim, curtain of black hiding those eyes. His stomach in knots, worried this stranger was going to think he was a freak for asking for something so crazy. The head had lifted, just as Jungkook lifted his body now, dark eyes finding his, and in the past and the present, he felt it then as he felt it now, still distressed but strangely calm, unmistakable energy that welcomed him, those eyes telling him then what those mauve lips were saying right now.
“This is a safe space, just you and me.”
He found himself yanking his shirt and turtleneck out of his pants, pulling them over his head, breathing hard and not from exertion. He hadn’t known how to put the feeling into words back then, but he did now, so he said them.
“My safe space will always be your eyes.”
Those handsome features contorted in mild discomfort, looking away quickly.
“Don’t say that kind of thing so suddenly…”
Jungkook reached up and turned that face back to him, wanting, needing to see that face, bringing those eyes to him, reluctant, capable of refusing him, but didn’t. Those dark eyes still weren’t quite looking at him though.
“Please look at me.”
Jungkook found himself whispering, anxiousness shimmering in his tone.
“You make me feel things whenever you look at me.”
Those dark, dark orbs locked with his.
“Feel what?”
His hand dropped, shiver running through him, reaching for his pants. The other male stood over him, tilting his head, slow smirk forming on his lips, and Jungkook found himself there, there, that feeling he had with no one else, breath caught in his throat, undoing the button of his gray pants, heart racing, watching a wet pink tongue darting over those mauve lips, feeling his cock throb at the sight.
“You want to take it off for me?”
Jungkook found himself nodding eagerly, lips parted, unable to speak.
“You want to show me your body?” the other man drawled, circling him slightly with his turning shoulders, crossing his arms, dark eyes roaming down his body and back up to his face, sending Jungkook’s heart spiraling, spinning and tumbling, erection straining against his underwear as he lowered the zipper, on the verge of moaning.
“Y… Yeah…”
Jungkook found himself staring at this man’s toned chest, defined arms, smirking face, silver earrings and rings, collarbones and cologne, and never, never in his entire life had he ever wished a man to fuck the daylights out of him but, fuck, if this man did not fuck the daylights out of him, he was going to go crazy.
“H… Hyung, please…”
Something shadowy and sensual flared in those eyes. The other man ticked his chin to Jungkook’s hands on the zipper.
“Show me,” that deep voice commanded.
His hands drifted up, tracing the waistband, pushing it down, but the other man nudged his knee, shaking his head.
“No, Jungkook. All of it.”
A whimper teased out of his lips, ears and cheeks heating.
That head lowered, curtain of black hair covering his left eye, purring his name, making him breathless, his lower belly getting hot, hotter, hottest.
“Come on now. Show me.”
Jungkook sank his teeth into his lower lip and hooked his thumbs under the top of his boxer briefs and pushed down, whining in his throat as he freed his cock, blood rushing to his cheeks, unable to hide, but somehow it felt so good, so goodto drag his pants and underwear down and kick them off, taking his socks with them, littering the floor with his clothes, now exposed, so turned on the head of his cock was beading with pre-cum, sticking straight up.
The man’s eyes trailed down, sending shudders through him at the close observation, his hands awkwardly by his thighs, unsure what to do with them, hips quivering.
“You want my mouth on it?”
Jungkook nodded quickly, sending his black hair flying all over his forehead.
“Say it.”
His skin was tingling, on fire, embarrassed, highly aroused, cock twitching at the order.
“Want to hear you say it in that lovely voice of yours, Jungkook.”
He was lost, lost in those dark, dark eyes and seductive mauve lips.
“P… Please… please suck my cock, hyung…” he whispered shakily.
That smirk came back, exposing the tiniest peek of a dimple.
“Good boy.”
The simple praise shot through him like lightning, soft moan leaking from his lips, raising himself to his elbows as the other man lowered himself to his knees, elegant, swift, long fingers sliding up his thighs and making him gasp, dragged forward a little, legs opening wider, eyelids fluttering as those lips kissed up his thigh, nicking his skin, pricks of pain that bled into pleasure, up and up, closer and closer, hot exhale on his balls and a flickering tongue, slipping Jungkook into a haze of ecstasy, honorific slipping from his lips.
“H-Hyung…”
He noticed the pink tinge on the older man’s ears.
“D-Don’t tease, please, hyung…”
The other man paused.
“Jungkook.”
“Y… Yes?”
“What is this?”
Now Jungkook shuddered at the sharpness of the tone, swallowing hard.
“W… What is what…?”
Those dark orbs flickered up to his, narrowing.
Jungkook held his breath.
“You know what.”
And the other man shot between his legs, diving down, sending Jungkook into a hysterical wanton cry as hot breath washed over his skin, tongue pushing the base of the flared anal plug shoved into his ass, licking his scrotum, wet and hot and wild. His mind reeled, whining desperately for more, but the head of black hair lifted once more, glaring at him, Jungkook squeaking as harsh fingertips pressed to the base of the plug and pushed it in, pulled it out a little and pushed it in. Dark, dark eyes narrowing dangerously, daring him to lie.
“Why do you have a butt plug in your ass, Jungkook?” the other male growled.
Oh,fuck, it was so good, his harsh tone and the teasing of his ass, his hips bucking into it, whimpers in his throat, struggling to find words as a hand closed around on his cock, his eyes rolling back, his hard length finally touched and twitching in the other man’s palm.
“Answer me or I stop right now.”
“B-Because I want to get fucked!” Jungkook blurted out, desperate for it to keep going, clutching the sheets and looking down, words tumbling out, forgetting his embarrassment and fear. “Because… Because, hyung, please, I want you to fuck me, please, please, please, I… I took a shower and cleaned and… and put water up there and e-everything…”
A single eyebrow raised.
“You douched?”
Jungkook sputtered. “W… What?”
The grip of his cock didn’t lessen, slowly stroking, the anal plug sliding in and out of his ass steadily. The other male’s voice was calm, gaze attentive and observant, persuading him to communicate.
“You cleaned because you want my dick in your ass that bad?”
Jungkook felt his face burn. “U-Um… y-yes… I thought… I thought you would w-want me to be clean…?”
“Of course, I do. I will only fuck you if you’re clean.”
The grip of his cock tightened a little and Jungkook whimpered.
“You try to put your fingers up there?”
“Um… y… y-yes…” His eyes shifted. “I… It’s t-tight…”
“Yeah? You a virgin there?”
“Um… Uh… y-yeah…”
“You wanna give it to me?”
His gaze went back to those dark, dark eyes. “P… Please, hyung.”
Was it just his imagination or did those eyes seem to get even darker?
“Ugh, you’ll be the death of me, Jungkook.”
His eyes widened as he heard his name in that tone, desire, slight frustration, bordering on needy.
That pink tongue slid out and wrapped around the head of his cock and Jungkook was gone, gone, those plush lips enclosing his stiff length, swallowing his thickness, fuck, he was in heaven, unbreakable heaven, drenched in saliva and warmth and wetness, the expert tongue swirling all over, bobbing up and down the head, pulsing the plug into his ass, and it felt so good, so good, oh, God, it feels so fucking good, a low hum and he was squirming, hips rising, that mouth holding him, taking him deep, all the way to the back of his throat, tongue snaking out and dripping onto his balls, slurping at them, driving Jungkook insane, grinding into it. Faster, oooh, trapping his cock in the pleasurable constriction of wet muscles, tighter, yes, like that, so good like that, sparks up his spine and electrifying his senses, harder, the best, fuck, hyung, you’re the best, clenching the sheets and lost in that punishing mouth, the amused chuckle vibrating his entire length, and he was letting go, moaning obscenely, filling up the whole room with his sound, tongue and saliva and lips taking him, his ass throbbing around the plug deep inside, making him want more, more, want something bigger shoved into him, thinking about the other man using him for his own pleasure, needing it, begging and hoping with his whimpers, parted lips, rolled-back eyes, fucked-out bliss.
The wet warmth pulled off.
“N-No!”
He gasped, hands flying up, clawing the air, following the man as he backed up, falling to his knees on the bedroom floor and half-sobbing, chasing that mouth, those thighs, that body, saliva dripping down his legs, clutching those slinky black boxer briefs, yanking them down.
“Hyung, no, please, please, I’ll do anything, please–”
Jungkook had no idea what he was saying, too desperate for more to think things through, impatient, mouth open, half-hard length in his face, and his tongue shot out, trying to lick it, grazing that taut skin and moaning, fuck, so velvety soft and heavenly, and then fingers wrapped in his short hair, yanking him and a whine from his throat, frozen in place, clutching those toned thighs.
“Stop.”
“Hyung, p-please…”
Looking up, begging, vision blurry and glassy, on his knees for the man with long black hair and mauve lips, his rings pressed against his scalp, ringless right hand loosely at his side.
“Fuck, Jungkook, please stop using the honorific like that,” the other man grunted, tightening his jaw and the grip on his hair. “Use my name or something else, anythingelse…”
So he did it more.
“Hyung…”
A wince and a glare. “You little shit.”
The shiver down his spine was addicting, an erotic thrill at that low dangerous tone. He looked up, lost in his safe space.
“Punish me.”
A slight pause, those shoulders above him tensing.
“Please punish me, hyung.”
Those dark, dark eyes narrowed.
“So needy, aren’t you?”
Panting, nodding, tugging at his own hair, moaning.
Long fingers wrapped around that cock in front of his face, fuck, Jungkook had never thought he would want it so bad, but he did, he wanted this cock in his hands and his holes, staring at the shape, the thickness, the girth, not even fully hard yet, stroked by that right hand – Jungkook had been correct, he didjack off with his right hand – head tilted disapprovingly, black strands curling around that cheekbone and angular jaw.
“Open.”
Jungkook’s jaw dropped on command and he nearly choked at the suddenness of that stiff length being pushed into his lips, rubbing onto his tongue and hitting the back of his throat. If the other man had been fully hard, he surely would have gagged, but he wasn’t. Still, Jungkook had zero experience giving a blowjob, messy and sloppy as those hips thrust into his mouth, gargling slightly, shuddering as the hardness was pulled out, immediately coughing.
“Best you can do?” that deep voice taunted.
“N-No, I–”
The wet cock smacked him in the cheek.
Jungkook gasped, head jerking to the side, stunned, his own saliva dripping down his jaw, raising his head in confusion, only to be slapped in the face with that hard, wet cock again, knocking the air out of him, not because it was a violent or rough hit, on the contrary, it didn’t hurt at all, but he was just so shocked that his own cock sprang to life at him being slapped with a dick, suddenly swelling at the rough contact, shameful moan leaking from his throat, breathing shallow, thin and helpless and insanely turned on.
“M… More, please…” he squeaked, ears burning.
The other man ticked his head.
“You gonna give me a nice, tight mouth to fuck, Jungkook?”
The blood was leaving his head and going right to his dick, that rough voice injecting him with the high of arousal.
“Y… Yes…”
The man named Dionysus gripped his cock and smacked him in the cheek with it again, smearing pre-cum on his skin.
“What was that?” he snarled.
Again, and again, and again, the thick, hard length slapping his cheek, saliva and pre-cum caking on his face, his torso trembling, gasping with every hit, hot velvet skin on his blazing cheeks, so wrong, but so fucking good, dirty and filthy and controlling him, words tumbling out.
“Yes, hyung, Jungkookie will, a-ah… will give you a nice, tight mouth to f-fuck…”
The grip on his hair tightened.
A tight inhale.
Jungkook looked up.
The other man was grinning down at him like the devil.
“Open.”
Jungkook opened his mouth, tongue hanging out.
The hard length plunged into his waiting hole and this time he didn’t choke, wrapping his tongue around it, lips closing, copying what was done to him earlier, tightening around it, shivering as those hips rolled into his face, fuck, was thiswhat it was like? He had only ever received blowjobs, never given them, but there was something powerful about it, his nose buried into that hot skin, the cologne filling his nose, sweet and herbal, toasted marshmallow and green tea, the stiffness sliding in and out, hand in his hair guiding him, fucking his face, not so bad. It wasn’t very deep, not the whole thing, and it was invigorating, unreal, glancing up and seeing lust and triumph in dark orbs, smirk on those mauve lips, satisfied sigh drifting down.
“Pretty good for your first time.”
His cheeks heated. Was it that obvious? Well, it had to be his first time. He had only ever dated or touched women and none of them had a dick or made him suck dick, mostly because he could barely get past vanilla sex.
“Let go.”
Jungkook whined in his throat, clutching those legs, wanting to shake his head but not wanting to let go, pleading with his eyes.
“Let go so I can fuck your tight little ass, Jungkookie.”
He opened his mouth immediately.
The hand on his head relaxed, cock sliding out of his lips, hitting him in the chin. Fingers smoothed his hair, patting his head gently, gliding down, tracing his jaw, lifting it. Dark eyes to his glazed eyes, thumb rubbing against his cheek.
Those dark orbs seemed even darker with the pupils blown out and black lashes shading them.
“Get on the bed.”
Jungkook would have accepted being fucked on the floor and he half-hoped it would have been that, but he obeyed anyway, scrambling onto the bed, hearing the other man move around the room, slipping a little and getting a noseful of the slate-gray sheets, holy shit, musky and sweet and herbal, so sexy he rubbed himself against them, gasping as the sensitive, dripping head of his cock touched the bed, turning into a yelp as a strong hand grabbed his knee and spun him around.
“What are you doing?” the other male snapped sharply.
“N-Nothing…” Jungkook frowned, blinking hard at the items in that ring-covered left hand. “What is the towel for?”
“Your butt plug, obviously. I have to put it somewhere while I’m railing you.”
His cheeks burned hot.
“O… Oh.”
That was the most intelligent response he had to that nonchalant reply.
Jungkook squeaked as his legs were collected and pushed up, suddenly on his back, cheeks flushing as his plugged ass was exposed, not expecting the position, but the other man seemed undeterred, positioning his legs as if he had done this millions of times before. Powerful hands sliding down, gripping his ass cheeks, spreading them like he was an open buffet.
The man named Dionysus on Twitter shifted his eyes to him.
“Unless you don’t want to look at my face?”
Jungkook shook his head quickly, then he switched to nodding, and then jerked awkwardly, all of a sudden confused at what was the correct answer, the need to clarify rising within him, unafraid to say it now.
“This. I want this,” he blurted.
“Mmm. Hold your ass for me.”
“P… Pardon?”
His hyung dropped his hands and straightened his knees, flipping out the small towel and catching the condom inside it. He ticked his chin to Jungkook’s ass.
“Put your hands on your ass and spread it.”
Oh.
Fuck.
He gulped, hands slipping down, cock twitching at the command, fingers sinking into his own flesh, legs bent in the air, chewing on his lip as the other man ripped open the condom, rolling it down his thick, stiff length.
“You don’t,” Jungkook mumbled, shifting his eyes. “You don’t need that. I cleaned and, um, I’m not going to get pregnant… right…?”
A dark eyebrow arched.
“I… jeez, bro, I always use a condom for STIs, it’s not like you bothered to get tested before–”
“I did.”
Silence.
Jungkook felt his cheeks burn, staring into dark, dark orbs. “I did get tested, hyung. I have the results on my phone. I can show you if you want.”
The other man’s cheek twitched. “Dude… how bad did you want to get fucked?”
“Very bad,” he responded automatically.
The other man’s ears tinged pink. “Well, you shouldn’t trust me even if I do test regularly because of my, er, habits–”
“I trust you, hyung.”
A wince and a glare. “Shit, Jungkook, if I wasn’t responsible, you would be so screwed right now.”
He clenched around the anal plug, smirking slyly.
“Please screw me.”
The other male twitched, narrowing his eyes.
“Ugh, you are sobad for me, Jungkook.”
Before Jungkook could respond, he was doubling over in a gasp, long fingers closing in on the plug and pulling it out, sudden loss and emptiness, barely registering it being rolled into the towel before his thigh was gripped by a strong hand, the other guiding that perfect cock, his voice already whining for it, please, please, please, need your cock, please, hyung, the head pressing to his soft, tight ring of muscle, you want this dick to mess you up, don’t you, outlining the outside, teasing him, his words coming out with a half-moan and half-sob.
“Yes,pleeease, I want it – oh, fuck!”
All of a sudden, fullness, his eyes rolling back, a little pain, but nothing unbearable since he had prepared himself for so long already, but this was much bigger, thicker, harder, oh, God, was this what it felt like? Was it really like this, stretched out and used, another man’s body towering over him, clutching his thighs and pushing him into the mattress, witnessing the pleasure blossoming over the face he had desired for so long, masturbating late at night to the mental image of his ex-girlfriend sucking that dick and wishing it was him, drenched with pride that it was him now, his hand winding down, eyelids fluttering as those hips began to move, deep and steady and so, so good, wrapping his tattooed hand around his leaking length, shuddering and groaning at the feeling of something foreign being forced into his ass, so why did it feel so good, why was it so hot and so sexy and so addicting, why did he want more, more, pumping his length and getting it hard, his cries saturated with ecstasy.
“H-Harder, please…”
“Let me jack you off.”
Jungkook let go, moaning, wanton and lustful as that firm grip encased his quivering cock, forceful hips smacking into his ass, holding his own left leg now so he could get fucked and his dick manhandled, gravity making the slaps harder, those long fingers moving up and down, right hand so it was ringless and Jungkook had the brief mental image of cumming on those silver rings and he was losing it, ass filled and pounded, mattress bouncing, his hips moving of their own accord and rising, drunk on the pleasure, use me, hyung, use my ass to get off, fuck, do I feel good hyung, please tell me I feel good, followed by a deep chuckle, roughly thrusting into him and tearing his sanity asunder, endless euphoria in the steady, vicious assault.
“Look at you, so handsome but so wrecked, fuck, I knew I would love your ass… It looked so delicious in those pants, so perky and round, just waiting for me to ruin.”
“Ah, fuck, please, yes, ruin me, ruin me, ruin me, hyung, your cock feels so good, I need it, need you, f-fuck…!”
The praise was messing with his brain, mixing with the pleasure ricocheting all over his skin and his core, pulsing around that stiff length, squeezing it, savoring the hardness that twitched inside him with every deep thrust, boundless elation at the feeling and the knowledge, his own cock throbbing with need, ferociously pumped by that perfect, expert touch, faster, harder. His hands clutched the sheets and his thigh, knuckles turning white, all the sensations amplified when done all at once, his mouth filled with the name of another man, crazy, absolutely insane, Jungkook couldn’t wrap his head around why it felt so, so good, so right, so heavenly, accelerating towards the peak as that rough voice purred to him, cum for me Jungkook, cum all over yourself, let me see how much you want me, his hoarse gasps back, I want you, I want you so fucking bad, more than anyone else in the world, I’ll show you, fuck, hyung, fuck, staring into dark, dark orbs, saying things he didn’t even know he was capable of saying, embarrassed but somehow calm, his safe space in those eyes, that gaze there to catch him so Jungkook was letting go, wailing, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips up, his cock trembling, flinching as his orgasm shot out, thick white strings dripping down the back of that hand and onto his stomach, moaning as he looked down and watched with fascination, long fingers squeezing him, knuckles painted in his cum, then a fierce smack and Jungkook whined as he felt the cock inside him jolt and shudder, satisfied moan in his face.
“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck, you’re so sexy…”
Seeing the man who named himself Dionysus lose control, usually cool and composed, crumbling, flinching groans and shivering hips, jerking cock inside him, long black hair over his left eye, mauve lips parted, panting, eyes closed, and Jungkook had never thought a man was beautiful, but now he did, staring at the older male, the one visible eye opening, half-lidded, shimmering with ecstasy and flickering downward.
He noticed Jungkook looking at him.
He smirked, cocky and arrogant.
Dimple imprinted in his cheek.
Jungkook raised himself and reached up, bringing those lips to his, closing his eyes, sinking deeply into the scent of green tea and toasted marshmallow, clutching the sheets on the bed and wanting to be here for many, many nights to come, in this bed of unbreakable heaven.
-
“I don’t wanna leave.”
“You are not a dog. Get out of here and enjoy the home you are paying rentfor.”
“Woof.”
“Jungkook…”
“Bark.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Bark, bark, bark.”
“Get off me,” the other man grunted, but Jeon Jungkook did not, wrapping himself around the man who named himself Dionysus on Twitter, the large bear on the ground next to the sofa because Jungkook was occupying that space now, in both of them in their underwear watching Running Man.
The doorbell rang.
“Who’s that?” Jungkook quipped, turning his head to look at the door.
“Who do you think?” the older male sighed, getting up.
Jungkook followed like a puppy, frowning as he realized the other man was not getting any clothes, simply walking up to the door in only his black boxer briefs, glancing at the camera feed before yanking the door open.
“You gave me trouble.”
Min Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his short hair dyed a cool-toned pink, wearing a short-sleeved blue dress shirt and dark wash jeans.
“I gave you trouble? Since when is it my fault where you put your dick?”
“H-Hyung…?”
Yoongi’s cheek twitched.
“Ah…”
“Yeah. Ah.”
“Hm. I thought this might happen.”
“Did you now.” Not a question. A statement.
“I still fully intend on fucking you tonight, regardless of his presence.”
And Yoongi stepped into the apartment in his sleek blue oxfords, slamming the front door shut, grabbing the taller man’s head, tangling them in those long black strands, pulling them away from the other male’s face as he growled, dangerous and deep, but Yoongi paid it no mind, tilting his head and kissing that scowling mouth.
summary:Some parties you attend to have fun. Some parties you attend to forget who you are. Min Yoongi is looking for a friend that’s trying to do the latter. Jeon Jungkook wanted her to hurt him. Because if she didn’t, he was going to hurt himself.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of (side character) drug overdose; background alcohol consumption and implied hard drug use; there are (even more) Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; mentions of a previous toxic relationship (cheating and emotional manipulation); sad!JK almost does something stupid, but instead has sex (nice!); D/s smut (fem reader, use of a black leather collar and a chain leash, dubious placement of said chain (in mouths and in pants), public heavy petting / exhibitionism, choking, nipple play, so much saliva, slapping / scratching, literal ripping of clothes, hair pulling, spitting kink, m-receiving oral, m-masturbation, handjob, mentions of voyeurism); non-idol!AU - heartbroken, sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader; shifts from third person POV, JK’s POV, reader’s POV; I guess it’s a dork-meets-goth troupe
–
now playing – tainted love by marilyn manson
“Oh,fuck, she showed up.”
“You’rekiddingme. Shit!”
The crowd was suddenly more alive than before, rushing to the front of the huge house, the owner too preoccupied to notice, busy behind locked doors, upstairs with a rolled-up bill and credit card. Half of the people at the party didn’t even know who the owner was. The other half vaguely knew and didn’t care. All everyone cared about was that there was free alcohol, free swimming pool, and the very real possibility of getting laid.
Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?
There was one such desperate, not in the sense that he wanted to get laid.
Heneededto get laid.
The car slid to a halt and parked.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it seemed loud at the sudden hush of the crowd. The sleek obsidian car was adorned with a gaudy hood ornament of a skull with horns, complete with blood-red gems that matched the metallic scarlet rims. It was obnoxiously loud, it was borderline hideous, it was nothing compared to those that suddenly appeared around it. A whole damn entourage seemed to walk out of the shadows, except they clearly came from the cars that were suddenly parked along the massive driveway of the mansion, their pale white faces looking up to the flashing lights in the windows. All in black, mesh, vinyl, leather, thick chokers and silver rings, too much makeup and too many tattoos. Skirts too short, tops too tiny, clothes too shredded, pants with too many chains on them, heavy boots and wicked-looking high heels that looked more like murder weapons than shoes.
It was all very surreal.
The door to the skull car opened.
The desperate looked out the window.
A man stepped out. Fair-skinned, wearing all black. Rather simple in a long coat, black turtleneck, and leather pants, devoid of flashy accessories. Sleek black boots with neatly tied laces. His hair was black, lightly curled over his forehead and the tops of his ears. The sharp, pointed, cat-like eyes were barely visible, framed by dark circles.
He clicked his tongue, peering up at the mansion.
“What are you doing in a place like this?” the man muttered under his breath.
The passenger door opened and a woman in black strode out.
Plaid skirt, bare legs, mesh top over a black bra, topped off with a cropped, lush fur jacket, hair wild, left eye with a white contact. Just the left. A black choker with the word ‘MEOW’ was around her neck. Wine-red stained lips, black eyeshadow, and an amused smile.
“You sure your little friend is here, Yoongi?”
Min Yoongi let out thin sigh. “That’s what Jimin said.”
She ticked her finger to the crowd behind her, indicating them to follow, strutting up the winding path to the front door. Yoongi fell in step right behind her, eyes darting from side to side, searching the watching faces in the windows.
“He’s trying to get involved with cocaine?” she called, moving like liquid grace, each heel from the heavy black boots thudding loudly on the concrete, hypnotic hips swaying.
“I don’t fucking know what he’s doing, other than he shouldn’t be here. He just moved to the city. Jimin said apparently he broke up with his long-time girlfriend and now for some reason he’s in a place like this.”
The crowd was silent as the sea of black filtered in, dark lips claiming surprised mouths, suddenly injecting sound into the silence, causing a ruckus as they pushed people aside, heading for the alcohol, keeping a lookout for the one she asked them to find.
A favor for her.
“Yoongi.”
“What?”
“What are you going to do if I find him first?”
The man in black shrugged. “If he’s with you, then he’s better than fine.” He chuckled, clearly thinking about it. “In fact, I’m hoping you find him first.”
She grinned demonically, tongue tracing her teeth.
-
Jeon Jungkook was desperate to forget.
He didn’t like things like this. Big parties, too much alcohol, babbling strangers. The mob scene that was too obscene, trapped in a sea of faces knowing no one and nothing, but he needed to get out, get the fuck out of his head and his feelings and his memories. He had never been someone who thought memories were tortuous.
It was easy, Jungkook. You’re so fucking easy to trick.You’ll believe anything.
They were. Memories were torture.
Jungkook still hadn’t brought himself to finish his first drink though.
He had been clutching the plastic cup for nearly two hours now and he couldn’t finish it because he really didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to be doing.
Get drunk? Get laid? Attempt to take some of that of those weird questionable white powder those giggly girls had tried to offer him? They had moved on quickly before he could get a stammering reply out.
“Sorry, you’re straight-laced, huh? Hehehe, don’t tattletale now! Good boys should stay good!”
Fuck.
Was it really thatfucking obvious that he didn’t fit in here?
No one tried to make him leave, but no one tried to speak to him either. Not that he could talk that well anyway, because he didn’t know what to say. He just clutched his cup and scooted around the edges of the party, watching everything behind his thin, silver-framed round glasses. He shouldn’t have worn these. He thought they would make him look more approachable, but now he realized they made him look like a dork.
The crowd suddenly became silent.
Jungkook found himself following the gaze of the masses, looking out the window in the second story of the mansion.
A woman was departing from a car.
He felt his breath catch his throat.
There were lots of other people down there too, everyone in black and chains and leather, but the woman was clearly the leader, the one with the short fur coat and plaid skirt, wearing a wicked grin that disappeared under the awning of the front porch.
Jungkook stayed away from people like that.
Usually.
But.
He was lovey-dovey, sad and lonely.
You’re such a cliché, Jungkook. Flowers and chocolate? You never were that creative. I found someone else. Someone better.
What the fuck was better supposed to mean anyway? That’s what she liked, or at least that’s what she said so. She said she liked the traditions. He struggled with public displays of affection, but went through the cheesy photos anyway because his girlfriend liked them.
Were those lies too?
Jungkook found himself in the bathroom.
No.
Not his girlfriend anymore.
His ex-girlfriend.
His reflection stared back at him, wide brown eyes, silver round glasses, short black hair neatly parted, blue and yellow wide-striped shirt with a contrasting white collar, straight leg blue jeans. Shit. He looked like a children’s TV show host. No wonder no one talked to him.
How many? Eh, I don’t know. Five? Six guys? Yeah, the entire time. What, you thought I was serious about you? Of course not. Your gullible ass will do anything as long as someone says I love you.
Fuck.
He should just find those giggly girls again, snort as much of that white powder as he could, and pray that he didn’t wake up in the morning.
“Hey.”
Jungkook started at the sudden voice. A guy with long, stringy black and red hair was standing next to him. He was short. He appeared to be wearing a white mask with black lines all over it. It covered his whole face so Jungkook couldn’t see any of his features except his eyes. He was also wearing black coveralls that indicated a small, thin frame with callused hands and chipped black fingernails.
Oh, fuck, he was going to get mugged or worse.
“You look like you could use some new shit,” the grating, hollow voice beneath the mask said.
“N-No, I’m g-g-good…!”
There were more. More people, all in black, crowding into the small bathroom, leather and chains and fishnets and eyeliner, cornering him.
He was gonna die.
He was gonna die right here, surrounded by a bunch of guys dressed like Dracula’s school peers.
The one with the white mask reached up and plucked the round glasses off his face. Jungkook jerked back, dropping his cup into the sink, spilling the beer down the drain.
Oh, fuck. He just yeeted his emotional support alcohol. Now what was he supposed to do with his hands?
The white mask inspected the silver glasses.
“No offense, dude, but these make you look like Harry Potter,” the gruff voice chuckled, snapping them closed and tucking them into his coverall breast pocket. “I don’t think you’re going to need these tonight. You wanna get laid, don’t you?”
Was he thatobvious?!
Jungkook’s eyes darted around to the people around him, feeling his ears burning hotly. The rest of the guys shrugged and gave him looks that read, good try, maybe try harderandthey did make you look like a nerd, bro. Casually affirming his dorkiness. Great.
“She’s not gonna want you like this.”
“P… Pardon? Who?” he squeaked.
He asked who, but Jungkook felt that he kind of already knew.
The short man in the white mask cackled, raspy and guttural.
“Let’s get you outta these elementary school kid clothes and put you in something she’ll actually want to fuck you in.”
-
Yoongi tilted his head.
“Move.”
The man wearing a fake designer sweat set tugged the expensive headphones off his ears and pointed to himself. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. Move. This music is shit.”
“Uh… but… my stuff… don’t break it, man.”
Yoongi’s eyes followed the DJ as he stumbled out from behind his equipment, looking a mixture of confused, sheepish, and intimidated. He waited until the man had sufficiently scurried aside before striding behind the turntable, glancing at the laptop and current playlist.
He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
“Don’t worry,” Yoongi assured the man coldly, wiping off the earcups of the headphones with his coat sleeve. “I treat music equipment with much more compassion than other human beings.”
“Ha… hah…”
“Go get a drink. You’re done here now.”
Yoongi typed into the computer to bring up his own Spotify playlist. Clicked around. Ho. It looked like the owner of the house had a nice speaker system going on here, spread out over the inside and outside of the house. He could control what played through which speakers. Neat. He smirked and placed the headphones around his shoulders.
He was supposed to be looking for Jeon Jungkook.
Then again, it was always Yoongi’s plan to not find him first.
He cracked his neck and fed the house his music.
-
“What happened to Hana? I thought he was supposed to be coming today.”
“I’m here.”
You turned your head to face the raspy, grating voice. The short man with the white mask stood behind you and the living room armchair you had claimed as your sitting spot. It was one of those fancy, quilted, blue velvet things that looked better than it was comfortable.
Rich people were certainly weird.
“There you are, Hana. How are you feeling?” you chuckled, twisting your body in the chair, one of the shoulders of your fur jacket slipping off. “Seen anything interesting?”
“Mhm.”
You leaned your head against your fluffy sleeve and smiled at the white mask, waiting for him to elaborate.
Instead, he looked up and past you.
You heard the clink of a chain and a yelp.
“I found what you were looking for.”
You faced forward again to a man tumbling into your lap.
Immediately, you twisted your body back, snatching the flying silver metal that was falling in the air, gathering it in your fist and yanking up, pulling it taut so the man’s head snapped straight because the chain was attached to a thick leather collar around his neck.
Giant, quivering brown eyes outlined with black eyeliner and smoked eyeshadow gawked at you. His large hands were clutching the armrests. One tattooed. One not. He was wearing all black. Mesh black shirt, revealing the defined, muscular torso. Right arm tattooed underneath, barely visible. Thick black cargo pants with the side straps pulled as far as they would go because of his slim waist.
You looked into those terrified eyes.
Not his clothes, probably.
“Hana, what did you do?” you growled.
“Nothing.”
You noted the shoes. Chunky white sneakers. “You were psychotic enough to dress him up, but not to change his shoes?”
“You know how it is. The guys are possessive about their shoes.”
“U-Um…”
You looked back up to shapely lips and a trembling mole underneath them.
“I-I-I'm–” he sputtered.
You cut him off. “I know who you are, Jeon Jungkook. I’ve been looking for you.”
You spread your legs and jammed his thighs between them. Jungkook yelped, his knees hitting the underside of the cushion, awkwardly bent and hovering over you. You lowered your hand but kept your grip on the chain.
“Sorry Hana thought it would be funny to dress you up,” you sighed. Your voice became colder, addressing the one behind you without looking. “You should apologize.”
No reply, just the heavy bass and loud conversations of the rest of the party goers.
“Hana!” you snapped, turning around.
No one.
No short man with stringy black and red hair wearing black coveralls and a white mannequin-style mask with black streaks.
“That son of a bitch,” you huffed, turning back. You looked up to see Jungkook peering curiously over your head, frowning slightly.
“Uh… can I ask… what’s with the mask?”
“He doesn’t like being in public. He has a birthmark on half of his face. I’m trying to get him to be more of a people person, but apparently he kidnapped you and dressed you like one of us most likely against your will, so, as you can see, it’s working.”
You clicked your tongue, letting your gaze drift down. What a body. Very attractive. He must work out a lot to get a body like that. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that one of the guys was holding a beer and wearing a stiff blue and yellow wide-striped shirt with a contrasting white collar.
Ew.
Had he been wearing that? What was he, an elementary school kid?
“Um.”
You directed your attention back to Jeon Jungkook, the one you were supposed to bring to Min Yoongi and prevent him from doing anything stupid.
Jungkook slid down to his knees and looked up at you from between yours, tilting his head.
His short black hair was messy, pushed back with product. Some kind of gel. He had dark brows and a silver eyebrow bar piercing. The hairstyle and dark eyeshadow made his strong features stand out, high cheekbones and angular jaw, sharpening his eye shape if he wasn’t looking at you with those wide, innocent, doe-like brown orbs.
“Do I look bad?”
You smirked wickedly, closing your knees, sandwiching his shoulders between them.
“Nah. You look fuckin’ hot.”
His ears and cheeks flushed pink.
“What… What’s your name?” he asked with inquisitive wonder.
You told him.
-
She tilted her head at him.
A thrill shot up his spine.
Jungkook recognized the music playing now. He didn’t know the woman in black, but the raspy, sharp bars and well-crafted beat was enough for Jungkook to guess who came after him. He didn’t think anyone would know where to look.
But, then again, it seemed like his hyung was friends with the shadows.
The woman in black licked her teeth with her tongue and smirked at him. No. Grinned. Kind of demonic.
A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.
“You know a guy named Min Yoongi?” she asked, still holding onto the silver metal chain. It was attached to the collar on his neck. Jungkook had asked why they were putting it on him but nobody answered. They made him hold it and guided him out of the bathroom to the blue velvet chair that was holding juicy thighs and a plump ass. The short plaid skirt revealed quite a lot and not enough at the same time. Cropped faux fur jacket, leather boots, mesh shirt, bra, thick choker that read ‘MEOW’.
A pure white contact in her left eye.
“He’s been looking for you. Thinks you’re gonna do somethin’ dumb.”
Her voice was slipping into satoori, deeper, slightly gruff. Disturbingly attractive. She cocked an eyebrow.
“Why do you wanna do dumb shit, Jungkook?”
This was not the time to be turned on, but the way she said his name in that low octave of hers wasn’t legal. At least, it didn’t feel legal. He found himself sitting up straighter, swallowing hard.
Her knees were next to his shoulders, plaid skirt barely draping over the darkness where her legs connected.
Her hand darted out, two fingertips on his chin and pushing it up. Eyes narrowing, one white and the other with a dangerous glint.
“Answer,” she snarled coldly.
Your gullible ass will do anything as long as someone says I love you.
The woman raised her chin, looking down at him through her lashes.
“I…”
Jungkook felt scolded, like a misbehaving pet.
“I want to forget,” he whispered.
She leaned in, the gaze changing to one of stern attentiveness, listening.
You’re going to come back. You always do. You’re a hopeless romantic that believes in forever and happily ever after.
“I don’t want to go back.”
All I have to do is snap my fingers and you’ll be wrapped around them in no time.
“I don’t want to be who I was.”
His hands were falling down the armrests, blue velvet on the pads of his fingers, his voice getting smaller and smaller, staring into two different colored eyes, hexed by a poisonous voice from the past haunting him, in his memories and in agony.
Jungkook heard his own voice now.
I’m not coming back. I’m moving away. I never want to see you again.
But his brain wouldn’t stop bringing back memories he didn’t want anymore.
“I’m new now,” he breathed, not sure if he meant it or not, desperately wanting to mean it, breathing slowly and shallowly because she was so close, her ear against his lips, listening to his words, her skin radiating body heat that seemed to seep into his senses, soaking him anew with something different, heady from warm sweet perfume that reminded him of the earth, digging him and his memories deep down six feet under to find another side of himself. Jungkook was wearing someone else’s clothes, but he never felt more like himself in this strange and unusual situation, on his knees, whispering his thoughts into the ear of an unknown woman.
“They made me a new person. Your people.”
She chuckled darkly.
“They’re not my people.”
She turned her head slowly, slowly, one white iris in his line of vision, the color completely fake and artificial, but there was no mistaking the realness behind the contact lens.
“All I did was ask them to keep an eye out for you. They did this wardrobe change because they thought it would be funny. Didn’t have anything to do with me. People are individuals and they do what they want.”
Now her head ticked slowly, slowly to face him, one fake iris, one real iris, both fixated to his eyes. The hand holding the chain held it loosely. He could stand up and walk away right now. He could go home and hide in his room, crowded by his thoughts.
Or.
He could sit here, in a crowd where he knew no one, not even the demonic grin before him.
“What do you want, Jungkook?” she drawled.
You’re going to come back.
“I’m not going to go back to who I was,” he replied firmly.
His hands found the chain and her hand, closing her fingers around the metal, pressing his lips to that a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy smile.
-
“Oh, you’re home.”
“Daughter! Come here! I have something for you since your papa went to Vegas!”
Bright lights, boisterous casinos, big money. Everything for the risk, the excitement, the thrill. Life was a game to him. The bigger the bet the better, the hotter the fire the more your father jumped in, the more broken the heart the less he cared.
You used to be angry.
Then you found out you really were your father’s daughter.
It was hard to stay angry when you knew you were just like him.
“Ah, you’ve finally figured out my vibe.”
Your father had handed you a gaudy car hood ornament of a silver skull with wickedly curved horns. Blood-red gems glittered in the eye sockets.
“You won just this?” you scoffed. “You’re losing your touch.”
He clapped a hand around your shoulders, giving you a devilish grin, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot like yours.
“I won the whole damn car.”
Your father left a week later. He left the car keys on a hook next to the door and gave you warnings that had nothing to do with the imported obsidian car now sitting in the driveway.
“Stay away from boys.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m an adult now. They’re not boys anymore. They’re men.”
Your father smirked.
“Stay away from those too. You should know men are irresponsible and foolish. They live recklessly.”
He waved a hand and walked out to the black imported SUV waiting for him. You watched him go. You always watched him go, never arrive. Never arriving to birthday parties, never arriving to parent-teacher conferences, never arriving to graduations. He never said, I’ll come back. You used to think one day he wouldn’t, but your dad always beat the odds.
You smiled and went back into the empty house far too big for you.
-
“How you doing?”
“Mmm.”
“Hana.”
“… I ain’t dead.”
“You came come live with me again. House is empty now.”
“I spent my recovery there. It still… still gives me nightmares.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You kept me alive. It’s the most anyone’s ever tried to do. The other guys don’t understand. They don’t understand why I chose to be a drummer so I don’t have to stand in front of the stage. They don’t understand why I grow my hair out over my face. I don’t care how sick or metal they think my birthmark is. I hate it. I hateit.I hate it.”
You waited for the shorter man’s shaking form to subside.
“You’ve been trying the mask thing for a while now though.”
“… Yeah. Helps.”
“You talk more now.”
Silence.
“I try.”
The white mannequin-style mask turned to face you. Only the eyes were visible.
“I try because you tried.”
You shrugged.
You had found him on the floor of the recording studio the band had rented out, among his massive drum set, pieces torn off and rolled every which way. Bottles and vomit and broken drumsticks. Snorted so much cocaine his body had gone into shock. How long, you didn’t know. He should have died. The doctors didn’t know how he survived and made a full recovery. They told you he beat the odds somehow.
You were your father’s daughter after all.
“Can I ask you to help me look for someone? A friend is looking for his own friend that recently moved here. Said friend seems to be asking around looking for something specific. Those big parties you used to frequent.”
You gazed at the mask, exhaling slowly.
“Probably to trying to do the same thing you used to do.”
You waited.
Silence.
Well. It was worth a shot.
“You coming with?” the raspy, hollow voice finally said from behind the mask. “Don’t think I can walk into those places without some supervision.”
“I’ll come, yeah. I’ll bring a few guys along.”
The white mask bobbed in a slow nod. “You bored or somethin’?”
You shrugged. “What else am I gonna do? Watch you mash some drums and pluck some strings?”
“Oh,that’sthe friend, huh?”
“Shut it.”
The white mask laughed, a grating, chilling, maniacal wheeze. “You’re changin’, Boss.”
“That’s Dad’s title.”
The shorter man stood up, waving a hand as he strode to the door of your office. “You’re actin’ more and more like your old man these days. Suits ya.”
“I’m not a wrinkly devil,” you scowled.
Hana, which wasn’t his real name, but the number he liked to be called when he was wearing the mask, paused at the doorframe. You hadn’t referred to him by his real name since the overdose.
He let out a low chuckle.
“Yeah, you’re more like a hot demon bitch.”
-
“Who hurt you, innocent one?”
He was too big for the chair. The blue velvet armchair was heavy, but it couldn’t quite fit two people, leading to the awkward position. His knees were on the seat and her legs were wrapped around his waist, her ass off the chair, his hands on the ends of the armrests to counterweight her back leaning against the back of the chair.
One of her hands was on his chin, her pointed black fingernails digging in.
“I can tasteit, Jungkook,” she hissed to his swollen lips, low and gravelly, tongue flickering. “Taste your desperation and your pain.”
Her other hand was tangled in his hair.
The fingers dropped from his chin and yanked the chain taut, making Jungkook gasp into her face as the leather collar snapped into the sides of his neck, his gaze captured by two different-colored eyes, unable to look away. She smirked, licking her teeth, her voice seeping into his thoughts and his memory, sweeping out old ones to fester new ones.
“I’m supposed to give you back, but I ain’t gonna do that yet.”
Rough tone, low octave. Was she aware of how sexy her satoori made her voice? Maybe not. He was entranced by it. The unique quality seemed almost dreamlike along with the moment itself. She wound the silver chain around her hand and raised it into his line of sight. Metal and fingers. She tilted her head, quirking an eyebrow.
Jungkook felt his breath still in his throat.
She pressed the chain to his lips.
His tongue slid out and curled around her fingers and the silver, moaning at the metallic taste and the flavor of her skin, unfamiliar and warm, coating it with his saliva, messy and slippery.
The side of her mouth quirked up in amusement.
She rubbed the center of his tongue with her middle finger, her eyes narrowing. Watching carefully. Thrill sliding up and down his spine, his head cradled by her hand and his tongue stretching out more, licking her chain-wrapped hand with a breathless whimper, clutching the armrests so tightly that his knuckles felt strained.
“Someone’s gonna see how depraved you look right now.”
Her rough voice was gentle.
For him.
He retreated and kissed down, pressing his lips to her palm, his eyes closing, shuddering.
“No one knows me here,” Jungkook whispered to that warm skin, feeling her wet fingers caress his cheeks and nose, smearing his own saliva on him. “I came… to get lost.”
A dark chuckle.
“Sorry. You’ve been found.”
-
You heard your name being called, but you ignored it. You were busy.
“Stop squirming.”
Positions reversed now.
You dropped your ass onto Jungkook’s crotch and bounced your heat against his hardness, one hand over his mouth and the other tugging on the chain, pulling it tight and choking him, the clinking sound mixing with the bass and the hoots of the crowd surrounding you and Jungkook.
His hands were on your waist, clutching the top of your skirt, his half-lidded eyes partly hidden by his short black hair. You tilted your head, switching to rolling your hips into him, watching his eyelids fluttering, throbbing erection pressing into your core. You wound the chain tighter, pulling harder, his wanton moan leaking out of your separating fingers, a slow grin forming on your face as Jungkook’s eyes closed, his ears burning red, his hands holding you tighter. Your hand on his mouth clawed down, down, molding to his pecs through the mesh shirt, choking him with the black leather collar and your manipulation of the chain, shorter and longer, cutting off the circulation and letting it rush back, leaving it for longer and longer each time, roughly flicking his nipples through the thin material, feeling them harden under your fingertips.
Jungkook moaned your name, hazy and intoxicated with lust.
Your name was called again, raspy and guttural.
You tucked your tongue into your cheek.
“Yoongi says take it upstairs.”
You yanked the chain taut and Jungkook resisted you, choking himself.
“You outta here then, Hana?” you asked calmly, looking up to the short man with the white mask covered in black streaks.
“I gotta get out of there,” he muttered gruffly.
“Make sure one of the guys goes with you.”
The mask jerked away with a tongue click, stringy red and black hair swinging.
You cocked your head. “You said it yourself. Supervision.”
“I heard you.”
The white mask and black coveralls turned, slinking into the crowd. You made eye contact with a group in black. Well, one was wearing the navy and yellow striped shirt. They noticed your look, nodded, and slunk after the short man.
You could hear Yoongi’s voice and his beats resounding in the walls, the lyrics inaudible because of the loud sounds of the party. You would hear the sound better upstairs even if it was farther away because it would be quieter in the bedrooms, behind closed doors.
Just you and Jungkook.
“Come. I got the green light.”
-
“She’s going up.”
“Took a guy with her.”
“As long as it isn’t me. She’s hot, but she looks crazy.”
“You wouldn’t survive.”
The three men wearing crisp dress shirts and khakis turned to face the tall form in black at the DJ table, headphones around his neck. The owner of the equipment was nowhere to be found.
Dark brown, cat-like eyes flickered upward.
“Go ahead. Talk shit.”
Yoongi slowly lifted his head to scrutinize them.
“Come on. What do you got that I haven’t heard before?”
His voice was quiet, ice-cold. A bristling sea of black was creeping in between the colorful crowd. One by one, they came. Leather, vinyl, mesh, too much makeup and too many tattoos, sharpened gazes clutching beer bottles and looking from Yoongi to the three men holding plastic cups looking increasingly uneasy.
A pack of vultures looking for prey slain by a sharpened tongue.
Yoongi waited for the end of the verse. He reached over and cranked up the volume to his own voice.
“Go fuck yourself, huh!”
He turned it back down.
Didn’t look away the entire time.
The three men backed up. “Uh… let’s go. Get some air outside. And stuff…”
Multiple sets of eyes followed, unblinking. Yoongi turned from the outside world to the computer, now disinterested, checking the playlist. Some of the songs were his. Some were unfinished beats with no lyrics. But it wasn’t all his music. He had other artists thrown in there. Inspirations. Musicians he liked for various reasons.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi spied those in black fading back into the shadows.
Jungkook could have asked her to see his hyung.
But he did not.
Instead, the younger man had been making out with her in a blue velvet armchair wearing a collar and a chain leash, according to the short man in the black-streaked white mask. Yoongi figured Jungkook would want to do something reckless. He was not surprised by this turn of events. In fact, he had anticipated and hoped for it.
Jungkook probably needed her expert hand.
Dark brown, cat-like eyes glanced up to the ceiling. An open-mouthed smirk danced on Yoongi’s lips.
-
His mouth was full of metal.
“Come here, innocent one.”
His skin was on pins and needles.
“Want to see your body move for me, Jungkook.”
He was in all fours on the floor of a random bedroom in a random house. Probably a female’s room from the pink silk sheets and large, cutesy bunny plushies flopped over each other on the large bed. She was standing in front of it, black fur coat thrown on the white fuzzy throw blanket, her long shapely legs on display, hip cocked, grinning like a demon as he crawled to her, the black leather collar around his neck feeling heavy, carrying the chain leash connected to it in his mouth with a whimper, told that he couldn’t drop it on this dirty floor even though the blush pink carpet looked clean to him.
Jungkook didn’t question it though. He didn’t want to question anything.
He just wanted to act.
He was gambling with his safety, his sanity, and maybe even his life, but he didn’t care.
She leaned down as he neared; hand outstretched.
“Drop.”
The chain fell into her palm, wet from his spit.
She frowned.
“It’s wet.”
Faint disapproval. His body felt hot and cold. The bass was shaking the walls, beat thundering throughout the massive speaker system in the mansion.
Jungkook lowered his head. “S-Sorry…”
The chain rattled.
He could only take one breath before it was violently yanked straight up, silver gleaming against his cheek, the steel ring from the black collar knocking into his chin. Jungkook yelped, forced to stare at the ceiling, leather cutting into his jaw and under his ears.
She wound the chain round and round her hand, lowering herself out of his line of vision.
“Head up,” she growled dangerously. “I ain’t here to teach you to be a meek little bitch.”
And she slapped his chest, hard.
Jungkook gasped, wind knocked out of him, not because it was forceful, but because it stung, fuck, it was like searing fire, miniscule pins and needles racing across his hot skin, injecting him with the rush of prickling pain that morphed into something else, something heady and insane as her open palm whipped across his pecs, followed by vicious fingernails tearing across the flared path. He heard the mesh ripping, his moans turning into helpless whimpers, his eyelids fluttering, begging for more, one hesitation holding him back.
“T-This isn’t m-mine…” he managed to choke out.
“I know it’s not,” that gruff, amused voice teased, switching from the slaps to the long, deep scratches that were creating bigger and bigger holes, his exposed skin finally under her nails, no more barrier thin as it was, struggling to catch his breath, inflamed ecstasy clouding all common sense.
“I’ll pay him back. Don’t worry about others so much, innocent one.”
The tension in the chain suddenly laxed and Jungkook coughed sharply, oxygen shooting back into his brain, blinking rapidly before registering her hands were on his chest, grasping at the mesh shirt, growling animalistically.
“Worry about yourself.”
His eyes widened and she ripped the shirt in half.
Holy shit.
HOLY SHIT!!!
She dropped her head so fast that she was a black blur in his dazed shock. He whimpered needily as her pink tongue slid out between red-stained lips, planting on his bellybutton and licking one single, fat stripe up his abdomen and sternum, dripping what felt like scorching saliva, lifting off with a curl of wet muscle and a devious smirk, suddenly eye to eye with him. The shreds of the shirt were falling, falling down his arms, drifting to the floor. His chest was heaving, shivering, shuddering, cold and hot.
From sex and violence.
One white eye, one with a dangerous glint.
“You wanna rip mine off?” she snickered, white teeth gleaming in his vision.
She wasn’t serious, right?
Right?
Her tongue slid out, pink and slick, wiggling in the air, squatting in front of him, thick thighs spread, plump ass resting on her boots, mesh shirt stretched over her black bra, swell of her breasts clearly visible from how close he was, thin fingers spread out on her knees. Pointed matte black nails. The tendons on the back of her hands flexed.
She looked like a succubus. All that was missing was some horns and little bat wings.
The sides of her lips curved upwards, a demonic grin as she leaned forward and licked his lips.
Jungkook determined he must be the crazy one for being turned on by it.
“Tell me if you can’t take it.”
Any response he had was choked off by her dropping head, tongue and teeth on his exposed chest, fingernails clawing into his bare skin, hard then soft, hardthensoft, sucking on his nipple and swiping her nails up his side and down his back, hard and soft, hard and soft, his back arching, moans torn from his throat, pain and pleasure blossoming like flowers over his skin, artful and deliberate, cold metal against his abs and stomach, the chain hanging down.
No.
The chain being tucked into the waistband of his pants.
She pulled on the waistband, button undone, the chain falling into his boxer briefs.
“Ah!”
Instant cold skimming past his hard, hot length, his body writhing from the shock of the sudden chill on his most sensitive skin, her free hand bunching the end of the chain into his clothed crotch, pressing it against his balls and length, the heat of his body rapidly warming the metal, a strange, surreal sensation that made his eyes roll back and his body fall into her grip, rocking his hips into the foreign object, her name dripping from his lips, overflowing liquid lust in the form of a garbled moan.
“You got a mouth,” she reminded him sharply, her knee pressing down on his thigh warningly. “Talk.”
“F-Fuck… Don’t s-stop, please, do whatever you want, please…”
“Yeah?”
Her voice was a treacherous octave, driving him insane as he felt her heated breath on his skin, licking slowly, nails in the small of his back.
“Innocent, but a masochist? Who would have guessed?”
Mocking, but not unkind. Squeezing him a little, unrelenting metal next to his hardness. He felt his cock twitch, low groan drifting from his throat.
“I’m not… innocent…”
“’Course you are. You don’t know anything about this world you walked into, Jungkook.”
She jammed both knees into his thighs and slammed down.
His hands flew up and clutched the front of her black mesh shirt, emitting a pained whimper as his knees were ground into the floor, lowering his head to look into her eyes. It hurt, but only for a second. His thighs were hard and tense, tightness in his chest as he gazed at that wicked smirk.
Sucked in a breath, enraptured.
She raised her hands and spread them out, fingers splayed, her chest out.
Jungkook curled his fingers into the shirt and pulled outwards, tearing it straight in half.
Her grin grew, a sensual hiss streaming from between her teeth. Her shirt shredded by his hands and his heated passion was falling off her body, his own eyes widening, surprised he had done it, unsure how she had convinced him, almost regretting it, but she purred his name and his head snapped up, one half-second of dual-colored eyes and then his lips were claimed, weight off his thighs because she was now sitting in his lap, grinding her clothed pussy into his thigh and her powerful tongue his mouth, stuffing his whines back into his throat.
His hands flush with her waist, gliding down to her hips.
Her hands on his face, gripping his head, holding him in place.
Strong tongue thrusting into his lips, her saliva slipping into his mouth, so, so good, swallowing it, fuck, why did it taste so good, drunk on it, sinking his fingers into her softness, his fingertips slipping under the skirt’s waistband, toying with top of her panties, trembling, thoughts racing, impurity crossing his mind.
“S…Smmph…”
She yanked her tongue out, hot breath on his swollen lips.
“Tell me.”
Cradling his head, inescapable fingers in his hair, her nails digging into his cheek.
She’s going to think you’re crazy.
Her tongue lazily licked around his open mouth, waiting for him patiently.
“S… Spit in… in my mouth…” Jungkook shivered, voice quivering.
She arched a brow, smirking.
“Open wide.”
His head tipping back, thrill shooting up his spine, her legs closing around his thigh, towering over him, eye to eye, white and dangerous glint reflecting his dirty desire. He was crazy. Crazy for asking and crazy for getting harder and harder. She yanked his head back by his hair, immediate flaring pain.
Spat in his mouth.
Oh.
Fuck.
It was watery, sweet, running down his tongue and throat, his eyes rolling back, moaning as if possessed, cut off by a voracious kiss, his grip on her waist tightening, pressing chest to chest, more saliva seeping into his mouth and Jungkook drank it up, drank it like it was life’s nectar, body to body, heat to heat, his hair pulled back again, the kiss broken forcefully with his airless gasp, mouth open wide to receive it again, whimpering for it.
She spat his mouth and the entire lower half of his body lurched with a gurgling, messy groan, smashing his crotch and the chain into her heated core.
“Careful,” she warned, nipping at his lower lip.
He was vaguely aware that she was keeping him in check, but this point he could no longer think straight, didn’t want to think straight, all reason forgotten, forgot why he was there, forgot what he was doing, forgot why he ever wanted anyone else in the world, his body covered in burning scratches, so hard that he felt lightheaded without being choked.
“Don’t want to be careful,” he gasped, swallowing hard, leaning forward, mouth open, wanting more, shuddering exhale on her lips, his grip on her waist tightening. “Want you.”
He reached down, tugging the chain out, sucking in a breath at the strange sensation, placing the warm metal links in her open palm, closing her fingers around it, pressing his lips to her jaw, soft skin and deviant smirk beside his shaking whisper.
“Want you to ownme.”
-
“H-Hyung?”
“Hm?”
It was the end of the night. Yoongi had treated him to drinks on his first day of moving to the city. They were standing in front of the bar, waiting for the taxi. The older man had hooked a finger on the navy silk scarf knotted loosely around his throat, shaking it lightly to cool off.
Jungkook spotted the red lines on Yoongi’s neck from the streetlights.
“What… What happened to your neck?”
The hand paused.
A small smirk appeared on those shapely pink lips. Yoongi lowered his arm, covering it back up. Those sharp, cat-like eyes glided to him, observing him closely.
“I should have worn a turtleneck, huh,” the older man mused, not saying anything more.
-
Jungkook was definitely going to need to wear a turtleneck tomorrow.
“Please…”
Her left hand was wound around the chain, pulling it so hard that the leather collar was pressing into the sides of his neck, right under his ears that were burning hot from blood and anticipation, her body crouched over him, wearing her black bra and panties. He was sitting on the pink bed that wasn’t his, surrounded by massive bunny plushies that weren’t his, discarded pants on the floor that weren’t his, completely naked except for the collar, her fingertips on his lips, opening his mouth as she opened hers, clear liquid collected at the tip of her tongue, dripping down, seeping onto his waiting tongue with a wanton moan, his eyes rolling back into his head at the sweet taste, the watery feel, the dirty act of him swallowing her spit while being choked.
Underneath them, the babble of bitches and rebels hooking up messily at the party. The very air saturated with the sight, sound, smell of sex.
And, in this bedroom, not forgotten.
The violence.
The only way to cure the lovely-dovey, sad and lonely, right?
She hooked two fingers into his lower jaw and forced his mouth open, wiggling her tongue in the air of his breath, one white orb and one with a dangerous glint, mocking his pathetic whines, her saliva trickling into his throat, leaving him hazy and drunk and drooling onto her fingers, his own tongue trying to extend and catch hers, living for the accidental grazes and her dry laughter bubbling in her throat at his attempts before she closed her lips around his tongue and sucked.
Bobbed her head up and down and fucked it, he couldn’t describe it any other way, the stretch and the grip inescapable, electric stings and cracks of flooding endorphins spotting his vision and his sanity, his hips shaking uncontrollably, his cock leaking onto her smooth thigh, pre-cum smearing everywhere.
She unlatched from his tongue and relaxed her hold on the chain, causing him to gasp and choke on the abrupt rush of oxygen, righting his head and lowering his chin, his eyes unfocused, but he was sure she was smiling, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
Of course.
Jungkook looked down to the black choker around her neck that read, ‘MEOW’.
She snickered devilishly.
It drove him insane, unbearable arousal spiking like a red-hot poker searing his skin, goosebumps tingling all over his arms, his chest suddenly tight, breath trapped inside.
“What this mouth on you, Jungkook?” she purred, tongue dancing on the edge of her smile, already sliding down because he was furiously nodding, chain clinking against his chest, silver metal slowly unraveling from her hand, letting the end fall to the bed beside his body, her plump ass swaying with her movement, black panties framing the juicy curves with lace edges. Thighs sliding down his thighs and calves, softness against his hardness, deliciously flared out hips laying on top of his legs.
Fuck.
From his view looking down at her ass, it created a perfect heart shape with a black line cutting it half.
He was going to go crazy. Maybe he was already crazy. His eyes travelled up her spine, her wild hair, those dual eyes, stopping at her mouth hovering over his semi-hard cock already twitching at the proximity of her hot breath.
Pink tongue sticking out, glistening with spit.
A thin stream of saliva dropped down and hit his length, his jerking hips trapped by her fingers sinking into them, vehemently affixing him in place as the liquid streamed down and coated his cock and balls, trickling onto the pink sheets with the unknown owner.
Jungkook was sure he was definitelycrazy.
“Nuh uh.”
He whined, pleading.
She shook her head as if she was scolding a misbehaving pet, her head lowering, tongue snaking out and snapping her head from side to side, swift, rapid swipes ghosting his rapidly hardening cock and bucking hips, trying to get more in her mouth. Her nails dug into his skin sharply, forearms slamming down onto his shaking thighs. Pain shot up his body, causing him to gasp sharply, clutching the pink sheets, wet spot already under his ass.
“Naughty, naughty,” she growled. “Guess I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”
She dived down.
“F-Fuck!”
One smooth motion, hand off his hip and swooping under his drenched cock, back of her hand pressing it to his lower abdomen, and then tongue, tongue everywhere, licking fast and forceful, bouncing his testicles in the sensitive skin, raising an eyebrow as he yelped at the foreign sensation. She gave him a sly smile, lapping at the base of his cock right where his balls connected, her saliva his aphrodisiac, dribbling down and soaking everything.
“Oh… Oh, God…”
Touch so light the pleasure shimmered over his skin, brimming and threatening to overflow, wet muscle slurping around one quivering curve, then the other, sloppy, slippery kisses like shots of ecstasy invading his bloodstream, and then he realized.
The quality of her saliva had changed.
It was slicker, thicker, clinging to his hot skin and her tongue, a different consistency than when she spat in his mouth. His eyes found hers and, sure enough, her gaze sharpened, smirk widening.
“It’s different, huh?” she lowly chuckled. “You noticed?”
“H…How…?” he croaked out, exhale quivering in his throat.
But she didn’t answer, wrapping her lips around his nuts and he gasped out her name, tongue slinking out and collecting the other, stuffing her cheeks, his eyes squeezing shut, his moans uncontrollable, clawing at the sheets and locking his elbows, lost in the sensation of the warm cavern swallowing him up and drawing circles and diamonds all over his bulging, taut skin, her hand suddenly rubbing up and down the underside of his cock, muscles of her palm and fingers flexed and hard, ridges of sensation mixed with her drying saliva, his brain fogging and filling all his thoughts with mindless euphoria.
Wait.
Wait.
“Can you…?”
He was crazy.
“Can you spit on my dick so I can jack off?” Jungkook gasped out.
Thelookshe gave him.
She popped her mouth off, smug succubus-like grin hovering over him, lowering her hand, turning it so his cock was resting on his fingers, his own hand appearing, ink black tattoos on his knuckles and fingers leading up to those on his arm and shoulder. Their fingertips touched. A strange exchange, the pads of her fingers replaced by his own, his eyes flickering from her face to his cock, his heart pounding fast, so fast, but unable to breathe.
She opened her mouth and a thick, concentrated stream of spit dropped from her tongue and onto his rock-hard length, leaking in between his fingers, that smile and dual eyes honed in on his reaction.
Jungkook closed his fingers and began to pump himself, the violent moans he suddenly emitted so loud that he was sure someone outside must have heard. Were currently hearing. Listening.
Fuck, whatever, he was gone.
“Oh, fuck meeeeeee….”
Leaning back onto his elbow, giving that mouth access and she gave it to him without him asking, lips and tongue and kisses all over his soaked balls, adding more, licking under, all the way down, oh fuck, fuck yes, don’t stop, saliva everywhere, wetness stuck to his ass, one of his balls in her mouth and the other being licked, shit, fuck, how, how, how, no answer, her fingers splayed out on his hips and thighs, tendons on the back of her hands flexed and visible, him staring at it, staring at himself rapidly stroking his own slick cock centimeters from that beautiful demon on top of his body, her curves so hot that he was on fire, hexed and possessed by lust, the door rattling, someone banging to be let in, but he barely registered it, mind hazing out, dazed and dragged to the second circle of Hell, the hurricane intensifying in his lower belly, so close, so close, fuck, I’m so close, her lips tightening around him, tugging on one of his balls and bouncing her head up and down, sucking it hard and rough, the storm inside threatening to break.
“Open your mouth, please, please, fuck, wanna cum in your mouth, please–”
She didn’t have to do shit, she didn’t have to do anything he said, but she popped her mouth off and tipped her head back, glistening tongue lolling out, the red head of his cock hitting the tip, fringes of stimulation and the erotic visual plummeting him to climax.
“Fuck!”
He was so turned on that he actually shot into her mouth, missing her tongue and hitting the back of her throat because he didn’t see the thick white cum fall onto shiny pinkness until a second later, his hips flinching and gasping for breath, so much, oh, God, it was so much, awed at himself squeezing out stream after stream and hearing her swallowing with her mouth open, holy shit, sweat all over his back and hair, panting so hard his lungs felt like they were rattling in his ribcage. When he was nearly done, her lips closed in and he moaned at the feeling of her mouth around the sensitive head as she swallowed the rest of his orgasm, cleaning him off.
Licking him.
Jungkook was drunk, intoxicated on the high.
Lips so soft that he groaned her name, sweet and hoarse to his ears.
He was getting hard again.
Her hands were on his crotch, thumbs and forefingers creating a diamond shape around his cock, her fingers spread out, leisurely sucking him so gently, so deliberately, so good. He couldn’t talk. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe.
That was how good it was.
Jungkook’s right hand was still wet.
Creeping to her hand, wordlessly tugging on it, his chest heaving every time he sucked in a greedy breath, the chain jingling against his torso, leather collar heavy and weighty on his neck. Her eyes found his. Whines at his throat, pulling her fingers off his skin, curving them, nudging them to her mouth that was now moving.
Up. Up. Up.
The tip in her lips, pulsing suction, shocks of pleasure.
Popping it off, his whine turning into a helpless cry.
“I-I can cum a-again,” Jungkook stumbled through his words, too horny to think straight. “P-Please, if you just–”
He must be easy to read, because she spat on his dick and started jacking him off hard and fast.
“Fuck, yes, fuck!”
Throwing his head back, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, crystal chandelier and garish rose wallpaper, his veins on fire, lust incarnate, snapping his chin back when he felt her body rise, rise and grab the chain again, grip it and his soul. His eyes widened, his jaw dropping, that smile, a little psychotic and mischievous, too seductive, too addicting, too sexy, too much, and then – none – one last breath and he held it, her hand closing into a fist and yanking hard. Immediately, Jungkook locked his shoulders and choked himself with the collar, suffocated from throat to cock, his heart thundering in his ribcage, tremors all over his core and to every extremity, wet and soaked and messy from saliva and his own pre-cum pooling at the tip of his length and smeared all over by an expert finger, overstimulation excruciating but a welcome agony, the head now an angry purple-red, veins rubbing against bone and hard muscle, sogood, you feel so good, you make me feel so good, punishing his pulsating hardness in a wonderful erotic prison, his head empty, overflowing with dirty desire and filthy want, black threatening the edges of his vision, reducing it to those eyes and that smile.
“Scream my name,” she exhaled, cutting through his moans, low octave from her satoori, licking her teeth slowly, pink on white. “Scream my name, Jungkook, let the bitches hearyou.”
She could have said anything and he would have done anything.
No hesitation.
“Where’s your innocence, hm?”
A wicked, demonic snicker.
Tight, hot, wet, there.
Jungkook threw his head back and wailed her name so loudly it boomed with the bass.
She laughed like a maniac, his thick white cum shooting out and coating her fingers, his crotch, his thighs, and the pink sheets, unknown bed sullied by all the bodily fluids, handprints of his lust all over them and now his jerking hips were splattering his orgasm in flecks on her, on him, on the bed, everywhere, a whole damn mess. She yanked on the chain and his head snapped back, her lips crashing down, and Jungkook completely forgot what he came here to forget because now he only wanted to remember this wicked tongue, one white eye and one with a dangerous glint, demonic grin against his grateful smile, wrapping his arms around those sinful curves.
-
They were outside.
Their clothes were back on or, at least, what was left of them. That left them both shirtless. Nobody complained as they exited the party mansion, led by a silver chain instead of holding hands.
Now, his knees were on the asphalt.
Her fingers were tangled in his hair, yanking his head back nearly ninety degrees.
Jungkook really didn’t care who was watching. In fact, he wanted them to watch. He wanted no one and everyone to watch. Fuck it, he really didn’t care who was looking or not, he was much more preoccupied with his hands sinking into her juicy ass and begging for her to do it, please, please, want it, give it to me, and his knuckles were pressed into the door of the imported obsidian car with the ghoulish skull hood ornament. It hurt, but not as much as her denial.
He whimpered, giving his best pleading expression, opening his mouth.
The woman in black leaned down, playful smirk full of promises.
“Aw, don’t look so sad. Okay, I’ll give you the gift you want, Jungkook.”
And she spat into his throat.
Fuuuuuuuck.
His eyes rolled back, not registering the tall form in black, moaning depravedly and wretchedly, his fingertips slipping under her panties and grazing the wet slit underneath, wanting that too, but she had told him to wait earlier because she needed to talk to someone.
“You going to spit in his mouth like that in front of my face?”
Jungkook started at the familiar voice, recognizing the rasp and coldness. He scooted closer, unable to face it, heat rising to his ears and cheeks, staring at the short, black plaid skirt.
“H… Hyung…?”
“Hello, Jungkook. I see you’ve met the angel whose halo is held by devil horns,” Min Yoongi remarked calmly.
Jungkook clutched her thighs, frozen on whether to get up or hide under her skirt.
“Would you rather me spit on his ass in front of your face?” she replied just as calmly, running her fingers through Jungkook’s hair.
His eyes widened and his dick twitched, immediately hard.
“Both are things you can do in front of my face when we get back to your place. You know I don’t like it when other people watch you work.”
Suddenly, Yoongi was beside him, leaning over him, pushing Jungkook’s face into her crotch with his crotch. Jungkook’s eyes widened as he felt hardness behind his head, the scent of her sweet sex invading his nose, making him moan into her heat as he heard Yoongi kissing her above him, growling into her amused chuckle.
“OnlyI’mallowed to watch you go all the way,” his hyung hissed possessively. “And he has years of a shitty relationship to forget, so you have your work cut out for you, Boss.”
Her thumb stroked Jungkook’s ear, nail tracing the curve. He whimpered softly, slightly suffocated, trapped between pussy he couldn’t touch yet and a very hard erection.
“I keep telling you that’s Dad’s title. Stop calling me that.”
She pushed Yoongi away lightly and tugged on the silver chain. Disoriented and woozy, Jungkook stumbled to his feet, falling into her. Caught Yoongi’s sharp gaze and felt his cheeks flush hotly, looking away quickly. Fingertips gripped his chin and yanked him back, forcing him to look at Yoongi. The older man cocked an eyebrow.
“S… Sorry, h-hyung… I…”
“Sorry about what?” Yoongi responded coolly. “I planned for you to get fucked. Don’t be ungrateful.”
Jungkook felt his face burn hotter and darted his eyes to the woman in black, but she glared at him, telling him to look back to his hyung by digging her fingernails into his cheeks. He looked back reluctantly, swallowing.
“T… Thanks…?” Jungkook squeaked out.
Yoongi didn’t miss a beat.
He smirked, open-mouthed, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot like hers.
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s leave so I can watch her spank your ass for coming here to get coked instead of coming to me to find someone to fuck your worries away.”
Warning: hardcore impregnation kink, possession, dirty talk, vaginal sex, basically a major creampie bro.
A/N: I’m going through major baby fever, so please enjoy my imagination
You felt Jungkook’s hands press roughly into your hips as he pounded you from behind. The sound of your husband’s groans and whiny sounds filling the air as your face was pushed into the mattress.
“You like the way that feels baby?“ He asked as you gripped onto your marital sheets. You tried to nod, your words failing you but your back being bent unnaturally stopping you. “Oh god baby” He moaned as he felt your walls flutter around him. You squeezed around him again unconsciously causing him to buck harshly into you, the angle causing him to kiss the base of your cervix, a shiver running down your spine as you let out a wanton moan. The movement caused Jungkook to pause. You grew worried and tried looking back only to see the man you called yours with his eyes shut, head tilted as you watched him breathe through his nose heavily almost as if to keep himself sane. You called out to him with a weak call of his name catching his attention breaking him from the trance he was in, you watched his eyelids open slightly, his usual coffee coloured eyes now a lustful black eyeing your sweaty body.
“fuck” He let out as his eyes moved from you to where the both of you were joined, his cock twitching slightly at the filthy ideas running through his head. “Look forward again for me baby” He breathed out, his voice an octave deeper causing a submissive whine to catch at your throat before turning. His hands gripped your hips even rougher, this time his nails digging into your skin before pulling his hips back slowly and bucking back into you, knocking the air from your lungs. He repeated this before your body started fluttering around him again and all his thoughts began to slip from his mouth.
“Fuck baby wanna fill you up so badly, so f-fucking badly” He moaned as he pounded into you roughly. You moaned in response which only urged him on even more.
“Wanna cum so deep in you baby, wanna fill you with my seed pretty girl” He rambled as he threw his head back losing himself in you. “Jungkook please” You whined not knowing what you were even asking for.
“You want it too baby hmm? want me to fill you up and knock you up?” He pressed, his words sending a shock into your system at the thought of him getting you pregnant. It’s not like you both hadn’t talked about it, babies were a subject you just both silently agreed on that when it happens, it happens and apparently for Jungkook it needed to happen now. “God beautiful I’m gonna put a baby in you, would you like that hmm? like my cock hitting your womb baby” He asked, his voice straining at the end.
“Answer me baby, wanna hear you say it” He groaned as his hand sneaked between your thighs and started began rubbing harshly at your clit. You tried to figure out what was going on in your head but the mixture of Jungkook’s fingers pressed against your clit and his cock hitting your cervix was too much for you. You could feel your climax literally on the tip of your tongue but the thought was stopped the minute you felt a harsh slap on your clit sending your hips to jolt forward. “Baby-I told you-to answer me” He punctuated with harsh thrusts. You gasped, your eyes filling with tears as you tried lifting your head to give him what he wanted.
“J-jungkook please, fill me with your cum, want your b-baby in me, make me yours” You gasped out, his shit eating grin practically beaming even if you couldn’t see it.
“That’s right baby, you’re fucking mine” He growled, his fingers back on your clit his hips angling to press even deeper into you. “Can’t wait to show you off, all big and round with my baby” He whined, his orgasm catching up to him as yours hit you. Now you’ve never experienced a vaginal orgasm but with the way Jungkook’s cock hit the end of you, your body just went into overdrive. You felt like it was everywhere, causing your body to shake underneath Jungkook like a leaf in an aggressive wind. The feeling of your walls convulsing around him aggressively had Jungkook growling as hips forced his cock into you. “Gonna cum baby, g-gonna cum and fill you. take it, fucking take it- Fuck!” He let out as he pressed into you till you could practically feel him in your stomach, The heat of his orgasm filling you to breaking point. You let out small whines as Jungkook moved his hips slowly milking his orgasm “so deep, so fucking deep” He whispered as he watched his softening cock fuck his cum back into you.
“You good baby?” He asked breathless as he fell down next to you. You slumped your body down, wincing at the aftershock. “Ask me again in nine months” You breathed still catching your breath, your eyes closing but not missing the way he beamed at your words.
Extra
“Kook, what did you do to Y/N, she looks so pale lately” Hoseok asked as he plopped down next to the younger, the boys weekly catch up at your home.
“Yeah, I offered her the left over eggs from my plate and she literally gagged and ran off” Jin pitched in as snatched the remote away from Taehyung before scolding him.
A/N:Sorry, not sorry. This is the result of watching Youtube videos of this sexy af man-child.
Summary:Jungkook is angry that Reader is getting attention from other guys and tries to persuade her why he is better.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” he asked, that anger already simmering in his dark eyes. I ignored his misplaced jealousy and shook my head.
“Baby, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” I answered, exasperated but he persisted, grabbing my left wrist.
“I don’t like it when other guys want what is mine. I don’t like the way they look at you, as if they’re undressing you with their eyes,” Jungkook murmured dangerously, his voice deepening. Even in the midst of his anger, desire swirled like captivating gems in his gaze.
Pulling me closer, he glared at me with an intensity that demanded my attention. How could I resist his alluring scrutiny?
“You know I am the only one that can do that, right?” Jungkook demanded, lifting my chin up with his fingers. “No one can do the things that I can do to you.”
The way he said those words were erotically ecstatic, sending shivers through me like an electric current, awakening parts of my body that began to salivate.
“Jungkook-ah…!” I heard myself whisper, my breath coming out in a shudder. My exalted murmur made a corner of his mouth curve in a smile. He leaned down, grazing his jaw against my left cheek. His hot breath caressed the side of my face.
“Do you think they can make you quiverlike this?”
He slowly moved, turning his head slightly so that his lips brushed my skin. I trembled, feeling the burgeoning excitement burn within my body. I gulped, trying desperately to keep calm. But when it came to Jungkook, he always had a way of unraveling me…in ways that made my heart flutter and my knees weak.
“Do you think they cankissyou like this?” he muttered against my cheek as he lowered his lips to my own. Devouring my mouth with his, Jungkook ravaged my lips with a need that was almost brutal. Plunging his tongue deeper into my mouth, it entwined with mine and sent shocks of pleasure to stir in between my legs. My senses suddenly kindled, inflamed.
The sweet taste of his kiss aroused me to no end, rousing the hungry beast that lived inside. I heard its cry resound within me and realized it was my own pining moan.
Jungkook tore his lips from mine, reached down, seized my thighs and hoisted me into his arms. Carrying me over to the nearby table, he set me down on the surface. Scattering the items on the table with impatience, he lifted my dress up to my waist.
“Do you think they can make you feel good like this?” he seethed hotly, yanking my shirt off. With expert fingers, he unclasped my bra swiftly, tossing it over his shoulder. I held myself up with my elbows on the table as Jungkook stared avidly at my breasts. The longing in his gaze brightened his handsome face like a ravenous glow.
He cupped each mound of flesh with his hands and lowered to take each taut nipple in his mouth. I reveled at the way he gently bit my breasts with beastly ardor. My body responded; my back arched upward, a sigh escaped my lips, and the spot between my legs screamed with need.
Jungkook raised his head up, that fierce passion smoldering like flames in his eyes. I lowered my own gaze down to his slightly parted lips, wet with his own saliva. I wanted that mouth on me…and I wanted it now. It seemed that he knew what I wanted, because in one swift move, he crushed his lips onto mine. His blistering tongue wove around my own once again and a guttural groan emitted from his throat.
With one hand, Jungkook clutched one side of my face, while the other hand reached down to my panties. Hooking his fingers around the thin fabric, he jerked it loose, ripping the lace away. His mouth worked mine like a euphoric dream as he fumbled with the button on his jeans.
Our lips parted momentarily as he released his erect phallus. I stared at that delicious shaft of his manhood and felt my body pulse with longing. Jungkook opened my legs wider, pulled me to the edge of the table a bit more and said in the most seductive, angry voice ever.
“Do you think they canfuck you like this?”
With a jerk, Jungkook plunged his stiff member into the tender folds of my woman’s center. The thickness of his slick phallus filled me with such wonderful bliss that I moaned. My whimpers were muffled as he took my mouth with his once more. Pumping, his hips moved to a rhythm that surpassed time and space. It propelled us to a dimension where only he and I existed…in harmony, together.
Jungkook’s hurried breaths and my cries of ecstasy, along with the thumping of the table against the wall, made quite a racket but we were both oblivious to it. We were lost in the throes of passion and heated lust, that in a matter of moments, which seemed like eternity, our peak of pleasure exploded.
Jungkook groaned, his gruff voice was drowned by my own cry. Throbbing with gratification, I looked up at his sweaty face.
“Babe, only I can make youscream like this,” he whispered, that devilish smile on his gorgeous face. I snickered, amused.
BTS scenario/reaction - Sex/Sexual acts while one is asleep
Warning: blowjobs, sex with the unconscious, consensual sex, female oral, fingering.
Smut under the cut
Namjoon
It was clear you had tried to wait for him but they’d been delayed
You’d fallen asleep in sexy lingerie
A book by your side and reading glasses askew on your face
Mouth ajar with a little drool
You still looked undeniably sexy all dressed up or rather down for him
He placed your book to the side careful to keep your page
He slipped the glasses away desperate not to wake you before having a little fun
You had had an agreement for a long time that he could touch you however and whenever he liked provided there was no safe word used.
He turned you gently onto your back and spread your legs wide enough for him to lie in between
He slides your panties out of the way and flattens his tongue against your folds
You start to stir as he sucks on your clit and pumps one finger into you
“Hi Jagi, sorry I’m late.”
You don’t get a chance to respond before he is diving back in to make you moan for him
Seokjin
The clingiest man when he comes back from tour
Wants to do everything with you and for you
Cockwarming was something you did a lot during this time
An extra layer of intimacy you could share
Working from home, watching TV, playing video games
However this is the first time you’ve tried whilst asleep
Cuddly sleepers anyway it made sense
Until you’re awoken by his thrusts
Once you figured out what was actually happening you couldn’t help but be turned on
Jin was still asleep
Some wet dream being lived out in real time
You roll so he is on his back
Riding him through the dream and kissing his bare chest until he comes to
He doesn’t open his eyes, but you know the moment he wakes as his thrusts go from shallow languid rolls to deep forceful jolts
“What a wonderful way to wake up” he murmurs after finishing
Yoongi
You worked out early on in the relationship the best way to wake Yoonig up and not have to deal with a grump was a blowjob
He’d worked through the night again
Fast asleep his mixing desk
You squeeze yourself into the space underneath the table and unzipped his shorts
It’s so routine now that you can free him without him so much as stirring
You pump your hand along his hardening length before leaning in to kiss the tip
His breathing hitched as you tongued his slit his eyes flickering at the sensation
You could tell he was close to consciousness when he started to moan
His hands laced into your hair just as you took the last inch down your throat
“Good morning, Princess” his voice was still heavy with sleep
The sound mixed with the way he was petting your hair made you moan around his cock
Moments later he came undone deep down your throat.
Hoseok
Hobi was awoken by all your wriggling
At first he thought you were having a nightmare…
Until you moaned his name
He pulled back the covers to reveal your hand inside your pjs trying to provide some relief
Being the wonderful caring boyfriend he is, he thought he should lend a hand
He carefully removed your hand chuckling a little as you whimpered change your nose at the loss of friction
He cuddled close nibbling your ear lobe as his hand replaces yours
Your features straighten out again when he applies pressure to your clit
He whispers dirty words in your ear to influence your dreams
Dirty girl, so needy for me even in your dreams
Gonna come for me without even knowing
So wet for me
You mumble back “For you.” And Hobi has to check that you’re still asleep
You are
He gets more daring leaving his thumb on your clit and sliding his index finger through your folds dipping it inside
He thrusts the digit shallowly
Enjoying the little ‘o’ your mouth forms when he plays with a second finger
Every noise you make his music to his ears
He keeps his eyes on your face
Adding a third finger inside and curling each one as you stretch
The only change in you is the pleasure on your face
You cum in your sleep and Hobi isn’t sure he has ever seen anything sexier
He pulls his hand away and licks it clean taking note of how heavy a sleeper you are
Jimin
You awaken from your nap very disorientated feeling the heat pulling in the pit of your stomach and hands kneading your spread thighs
You can’t help the scream you release when you see the dark head of hair between your legs Jimin’s face peaks up smirking at you, lips covered in your cum
“Fucking hell Chim! You scared the fuck outta me” You half heartedly smack the side of his head
He was blonde when he left this morning
“Sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you.” He winks before reattaching his plump lips to your clit and sucking like his life depended on it
Two fingers scissor inside you
You’re not sure how long he’s been going at it but judging by the knot pulling in your stomach you wouldn’t need to go for much longer
The orgasm shudders through you
Thoroughly fucked out and oversensitive you hear the sound of a zipper
“My turn” he chimes lining himself up and you groan loving the overstimulation so soon
Taehyung
He woke so needy and desperate
In his half-asleep state he does the only logical thing
He put his leg across your sleeping body and starts using you for relief
You wake up when it starts to feel like you’re on a boat
You are unsurprised to find Tae with lidded eyes rolling his hips against your leg impatiently waiting for you to wake up
He has a way of asking for what he wants with actions and not words
You roll your eyes as he nudges into your arm
His boxy smile lights up his face when you agree
You rollover pressing your bum into him having forgone panties in favour of a long T shirt
He fingers you slowly for a while the motion relaxing enough to lull you back into a shallow sleep
Once he’s satisfied with your stretch, he hooks your leg over the top of him and lines himself up to you and rocks gently, finally content
Jungkook
It starts as a drunken bet between friends with benefits
“I bet I could make you cum in my sleep” he sounds so cocky
“But wouldn’t I be doing all the work? That would make you a glorified sex toy Hun.”
“OK, I bet I could make you cum in your sleep then”
“Without me waking up?.. You’re on”
Weeks go by and you forget but he doesn’t, plotting his time
You’d fallen asleep on his sofa after movie night and everyone else had already gone home
Through all the guys talking (and him accidentally hitting your head against the door frame when he moved you to bed)
It was now or never
He was careful removing your jeans scared to lose he hates losing
He starts tentatively rubbing your clit and watching your face for every reaction
The longer it goes on the braver he gets
Pinching your clit
Watching his index finger into you and feeling for the spot he knows drives you crazy
Your eyes flutter but you stay asleep
Finally he peels his gaze from your face to the matter hand
Just seeing how what you are for him gets him ridiculously wound up
All caution thrown to the wind as the blood from his brain go southbound
He slotted himself between your legs
Lapping hungrily at the juices
Diving his tongue in when he needed more
He ground himself against the bed seeking friction
Two fingers in
Sucking desperately at your clit
He felt you start to tense, a sign you’re as close as he had managed to get himself
He came in his pants as he felt you release on his face
Panting for breath he was a little relieved that you haven’t seen how easily he’d come all over himself…
➬ Summary | When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.
↳ Pairings | Jungkook x reader / Namjoon x reader
↳ Genre | Soulmate!au, Second Chances!au, Angst, Eventual Smut
There is nothing that Namjoon despises more than waking up to a warm morning with vicious throbbing happening inside his head.
The ache feels so potent that he can hear the sound of each throb echoing against his temple. He can even feel it all the way to his toes, feel how the world seems to move with it even when he is still lying in bed, unmoving. The kind of feeling that is completely unwelcome that he dreads opening his eyes.
He may not have always been a morning person, but Namjoon isn’t someone who would find himself in this predicament during a regular weekday, jeopardising what should have been a normally productive day for him. For years, Namjoon has maintained an image of himself where he is in complete control of his own self and need, always knows how to keep his composure in any given situation possible.
And yet, for the first time, he finds himself breaking all the rules and habits that he has created for himself. He can feel that contentment and control slipping out of his fingers only because he gave in to his sorrow. Even his body feels as if it is no longer his own, when every move he makes becomes a struggle and whatever he does only escalates it further.
Fucking hangover.
The entire room seems to tilt over whenever he tries to get up, while the spinning still doesn’t stop even when he closes his eyes to put everything to a halt, just like how he feels his world tilting and spinning in all directions. And it has been this way ever since the night he saw you at Bovine.
When his headache becomes too much, Namjoon gives up on trying and falls back on the bed. So far, his memory is a bit fuzzy and unclear. But as the pulsing headache slowly becomes numb, and just when he is not forcing himself to remember, they simply return to him, random bits and pieces of what had happened—starting from the night before to all day yesterday and then ending on the events unfolding just last night—come flooding back to him.
He remembers coming home late from the studio two nights ago, pissed at himself and feeling incredibly frustrated after his encounter with Jungkook that he decided to grab a bottle of liquor to soothe his uneasiness and wash down the aggravation that followed him home. Things didn’t turn better the next day, when he heard nothing from Jungkook and after he found out that his friend didn’t even make it to work.
Feeling lost, and distraught, thinking that Jungkook might have decided to spend the day with you to salvage and find some reassurance in his relationship with you, Namjoon spent the entire day being holed up inside his home, wallowing in his misery with the collection of liquors that he had kept in his home. He must have passed out or fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he realised, he had lost an entire day as it went past him. It was a miracle that he didn’t poison himself with all that alcohol, though he did remember stopping once in a while and the short naps he had in between helped him sober up each time. And yet even as time went by, even after all the effort that he had done to wash everything away with those liquors, the unsettling feeling inside his chest still lingered, as if it had been rooted so deeply inside him ever since the moment he had the talk with Jungkook.
It was sometime around sundown when he was awakened from another nap by the quick call that his assistant made to him from the lobby, notifying him about a guest who had come asking for him. The nap did so little to sober him up, and yet he made it to reach the front door, even with a few struggles as he tried not to stumble or fall over the coffee table on his way there.
The urgency of the phone call and how his assistant had stressed that he needed to hurry made him think that perhaps there was an emergency, something so urgent that he needed to deal with that nobody else could. He clearly was not expecting to find that the surprise guest that his assistant had sent to his door would be you.
It had taken him quite some time to process what he was seeing. At first, he had thought that he was dreaming when he saw you standing right outside of his home not too long after he was mulling over his situation with you. But then you charged at him, shoving him in anger and the pain he felt in his chest was enough to let him know that it was real. And he took every single thing you were throwing at him—every punch you gave to his chest and every word you screamed at him—so willingly. Because even in his haze, he still knew that he was responsible for everything that was happening.
That he was the reason why you were here.
And then you broke down right in front of him, and he nearly fell down with you when seeing you in that state had made him feel weak. Even now, as he is struggling to recover from his hangover, the dread that he felt from that moment still lingers inside him.
Once he feels steady enough to sit up, Namjoon leans back against the headrest, rubbing his palm across his bare chest as he can still feel the ghost of your touch that he had gotten from the moment you pushed him away and the fading warmth that he felt when he took you in his arms. The pain that you had inflicted on him was nothing compared to what he is feeling inside, though he knows now that he was also far too numb to feel anything last night compared to how raw he is feeling everything now.
But does he have a right to complain when he knows that you might be feeling more pain after what had happened? When what you had experienced had been too unbearable for you to deal with that not even his touch or his embrace had been enough to fix you.
That was why he had accepted everything that you gave him. Because he understood. And he took you in his arms because he understood how much you needed someone to hold you up and keep you from falling. Even if he couldn’t erase your pain, he knew that he had to offer you what he could give you then.
Although it doesn’t exactly justify what he did next.
It is the feeling of rage and disappointment that he has in himself that forces him to get up and leave his bed. He wastes no time and quickly freshens up, getting himself ready to face the repercussions as he marches out of his bedroom with the constant throbbing in his head accompanying every step he makes.
As he trots down his empty and silent home to reach the kitchen, Namjoon’s eyes linger on the locked door of the guest bedroom, the only other room in his penthouse that has rarely been used. Knowing what is waiting from the other side of the bedroom door gives him a sense of longing, even if he knows that he doesn’t deserve to even hope that something good may happen. Looking away from the room, his gaze falls on the foyer instead, right at the corner where he held you tight last night in his arms, holding you as an anchor that kept you from falling apart.
When he closes his eyes, he can still sense everything from that moment. Your warmth, the scent of your shampoo, the way you fit perfectly in his arms and how right it felt when you laid your head on his shoulder. That moment had been short, and yet it was still enough to make him feel complete. He felt as if his soul was awakened then, as if there had been a huge hole inside him that he kept carrying with him for years and you had managed to fill it so easily just by falling into his arms.
He had welcomed that feeling, just as he had welcomed his punishment from you. And he still remembers promising himself not to let you go, that he would always hold you up the same way, that he would never take any of it for granted just as long as he could keep you in his arms for as long as he could.
If only he didn’t royally fuck up right after, and let every chance of making it happen to slip away from his hands almost too soon.
Tormented by his guilt, Namjoon becomes determined to make things right. But first, he needs to make sure that he would do it while sober and that he would do everything the right way. While he has the coffee brewing on the kitchen counter, he picks up the phone and contacts the staff to take that first step of redeeming himself.
“Yes, sir?”
Namjoon clears his throat and keeps his voice low when he responds to his assistant. “Can you have the cook send out a complete breakfast set to my loft, please?”
“Anything specific, sir?”
Thinking and talking only worsen the ache lingering in his head. Closing his eyes, he presses his fingers on the bridge of his nose to try and stop his headache from rapidly increasing. “Nothing—just get me today’s special and some fresh fruit,” he says before quickly adding, “Make that two sets of everything.”
A movement catches his attention just as he ends the phone call, and he looks over to the guest bedroom and finds you standing in the doorway, looking like a deer caught in a headlight with your eyes looking around warily and your fingers fidgeting, as if you need to hold onto something to stop yourself from falling down again.
But what has his chest grow tight is the sight of you wearing his t-shirt, how it seems to be hanging loose on your body and its hem falling on your thighs. And he cannot deny how good it makes him feel to see you wearing something of his. The possessiveness that is building up inside him is driving him crazy, even more than how alcohol had driven his sanity to nothing but an intangible mess when he was supposed to be in control, even if it was only to offer support when you had most needed one.
His heartbeat starts pacing rapidly as he looks at your face and catches your eyes looking back at him, and more images from last night come rushing back to him. Not only for the comfortable warmth that he felt when he was holding you, but also for the cold realisation of how hurtful his actions had been to you last night.
“Perhaps it is a good thing that he is gone. Have you forgotten? You were supposed to be mine. Always have been.”
The dick comment that came out of his mouth makes him wince when he remembers ever voicing it out loud. He should have been consoling you instead of being a jackass about it and acted as if he was celebrating while you were in pain.
Namjoon would never be able to forget your reaction that came right after he said those things to you—the crestfallen look that took up your entire face, the pain in your eyes that became clear to him when they widened in shock after hearing his words, and how you pulled back so quickly, leaving Namjoon feeling mesmerised and too stunned to notice what you were about to do until it was too late. He didn’t realise what was happening until your palm landed right on his cheek and the sound of the loud slap you had landed on his face echoed through the foyer. He didn’t realise what had happened until his skin stung and the horrified gasp you made snapped him out of his shock.
Just as he recounts that very moment, his hand comes up to his cheek, touching the numbing pain on his skin. He is not entirely sure which one hurts the most—the slap of your palm that seems to linger or the constricting pain inside his chest that keeps rising and building when he tried to imagine what you were feeling then. But then everything comes to a halt once he looks at you again, the sight of you being engulfed in his oversized shirt and the knowledge that you had slept on his bed seems to calm his restless soul.
You clear your throat, looking flustered as you avoid his gaze while you remain standing there. “I think I should go…,” you murmur softly with a hoarse voice. “I know that I’ve overstayed my welcome. I shouldn’t have stayed anyway.”
“I was the one who offered. I couldn’t let you leave in the state that you were in last night,” Namjoon quickly says, wincing when he remembers how that night had ended. How right after you slapped him and while he was stunned into silence, you had somehow realised that he had been drunk when he opened the door for you, and how it pushed you to go around his kitchen and living room to find the missing bottle of liquor that he had left behind. His chest tightens when he recalls how you had then grabbed the bottle and started drinking your pain away, and how he couldn’t stop himself when—
Clearing his throat, Namjoon shakes the thoughts away and forces a smile. “And I don’t believe you are ready to go either. Why don’t you stay a bit longer and take your time until you settle down? At least stay for coffee and join me for breakfast. Maybe we can start all over and then later on, if you’d let me, I can lend my ear to listen or my shoulder to cry on if you want to.”
You open your mouth—ready to refuse him, no doubt—but stop yourself when you look conflicted. Knowing that you are at least considering it, Namjoon jumps at the chance and asks again,
“Please. It’s the least that I could do,” he says, quickly biting on his tongue to stop himself from saying, ’—after acting like such a schmuck to you last night.’
“We haven’t had a chance to talk either, have we? For us to talk properly, I mean, and without yelling at each other and while we are both sober,” he adds later on, drawing a smile to your face when you seem to realise that he is right. Namjoon’s lips turn to a wry smile when he realises that he had wasted the last few chances he had to talk to you before, how it had always ended with the both of you yelling hurtful things to each other instead of trying to figure out how to deal with the situation.
“Okay,” you whisper after a moment of silence, much to his relief, though he is still surprised that you would agree with him. Your gaze flickers toward the coffee machine as you sigh, before you meet his gaze again. “But I should probably freshen up real quick. Would you mind if I use the shower?” you ask him as you tilt your head towards the en-suite bathroom inside the room you had been sleeping in.
“By all means, help yourself,” Namjoon says with a genuine smile on his face, trying his best to hold back from adding—
Everything in this place will also be yours anyway. All of it.
It took you about 30 minutes to finish washing up.
Though it might have been more. You just know that you have lost track of time as you indulged in the luxury that the marvellous hot shower inside Namjoon’s en-suite bathroom had provided you.
It had not been your intention to stay that long in the shower, but after spending the first five minutes admiring his spacious guest bathroom and its entire fancy setup, it took you another five minutes filled with a lengthy pep talk about how much you deserved to enjoy this moment after what you have gone through before you could finally step into the shower. And you were soon filled with relief that you had talked yourself into taking it when you realised how good it felt as the hot water came running down your body. It almost felt like everything was being washed away—your fear, your pain, whatever was left from last night’s debacle—while the falling water felt more like magical fingers massaging your tense muscles until you could slowly relax. It had been too good and it felt like such a waste to step out early that you stayed longer than you should have, and you had only left when the hot water seemed to cool down and once your stomach began to protest, begging for breakfast.
After coming here completely on impulse and without carrying any personal belongings other than your small purse, you had worried about not having anything to change into. You can only sigh in defeat at the thought of the clothes that you were wearing yesterday turning into a complete mess after spilling some alcohol on yourself at some point following your impulsive act of barging into his home—hence why Namjoon had let you wear his t-shirt when it was somehow decided that you were staying for the night.
You had settled to the thought of wearing your dirty clothes again after your relaxing shower, telling yourself that you would only need to wear them on your way home anyway. But as you step out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy towel that you had found in the vanity earlier, you are surprised to find a pair of grey sweatpants and a fresh t-shirt left on the bed for you.
Taking no time to dress up, you bite down the smile that keeps trying to sneak its way to your face from thinking about how thoughtful he turns out to be. It feels like a complete turnaround after seeing the side of him that he had shown you last night, knowing that he cares enough to figure out about these things before you could.
The lavish breakfast setup and the scent of freshly brewed coffee welcome you when you walk out of the bedroom. For some reason, they bring some sense of warmth into Namjoon’s home, when all you had felt ever since you walked into this place has been nothing but hollowness. The place had seemed cold and so unfamiliar that it took you a lot of effort to feel comfortable when you laid to sleep last night. Seeing the vacant dining seats, you turn to find him standing all the way in the living room, looking out the massive window to watch over the city as it comes to life.
“This is a lot. Were you trying to feed an army?” you comment loudly before you can stop it, gaining his attention as he turns away from the window to look at you. The moment you meet his gaze, the smile on your face just comes to rise so easily, much to your surprise. And his, judging from the way he blinks rapidly as if he cannot believe what he is seeing. “Thank you for the clothes, by the way. I was already preparing myself to get through the day with the same clothes I was wearing yesterday.”
Namjoon smiles and shakes his head. “I thought you’d want something more comfortable to wear to make you feel better after that shower,” he says while making his way to you. The movement seems so natural that it almost feels like he is used to doing this—that he is used to having you here in his home. But Namjoon is quick to catch himself before getting too close, swiftly stopping and going around the table, taking the seat across from the one you are standing close to and putting the necessary distance between the two of you. “Come sit and eat with me.”
For a moment, you still feel hesitant to take his offer. Sitting here at the dining table with him seems too intimate, too soon, and too confusing. But there is something in his presence and in his words that seem to compel you into moving, eliminating every excuse that you could think of to escape as you easily slip into the empty chair right across from him without so much of a word.
The breakfast starts with silence, and for some reason, it feels oddly comfortable rather than it is being awkward to share this moment with him even when you barely know him. Things continue this way until Namjoon clears his throat and speaks first. “I want to apologise,” he starts, stopping briefly until you pay attention to him so he can continue, “I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, that was wrong of me. I won’t even justify my condition as it happened. I was drunk and caught off guard with the situation, but none of those things should give me the excuse to be an asshole.”
Your lips curl up to a small smile before you can stop yourself. “So you do realise that you were being an asshole?”
Namjoon scoffs in response to your teasing, though his shoulders sag in relief somewhat when you merely joke about it instead of yelling at him like how he seemed to have expected you to. “It’s quite hard not to,” he says with a shrug while giving you a remorseful smile that seems genuine. “I shouldn’t have said such a thing when you were going through so much already. Your life had changed irrevocably in the span of, what—hours?—after years of living in the stability which you had built with Jungkook as a huge part of your life. While it sucks for me to think about it, I understood. And it was way out of line for me to say such a thing when what you needed was someone to hold you up while you were falling.”
Once again, you are stunned speechless. His apology was something that you had expected to hear, but you had initially thought that he would simply say “I’m sorry” and then be done with it. And yet here he is, giving you such a lengthy apology and looking so terribly sincere with every word he says that you feel warmth blooming in your chest. There is also something else tugging within you as he was speaking, something that has your heart pumping and coming alive.
“You’re forgiven. For now,” you whisper to him as you return his gaze. With a sigh, you shake your head and murmur softly, “It must’ve been a shock to you when I came here unannounced, and to top it all, I created a scene—” you stop for a moment and your gaze flicker towards the living room, where the ‘scene’ from last night had happened. You wince when you remember how unruly your behaviour had been and add, “—and made a whole mess at your home when you probably wanted to have some alone time. And for that, I owe you an apology too.”
Instead of taking it, Namjoon only shakes his head. “There is no need for that. You were frustrated and needed someone to yell at. Someone you could put the blame on for everything that had gone down and I had been the most eligible bastard who deserved it, so I’m not going to blame you to take that opportunity when you could,” he says with a smile, drawing a chuckle out of you. But then he lowers his gaze, and the look that he is giving you is filled with concern as he watches you from under his eyelids. “Not to mention—it wouldn’t be fair for you to deal with this on your own when I have just as much part in this as you are.”
With his words reminding you of what had happened, the pain returns inside your chest, and you swallow hard to stop it from becoming stronger before it takes away your calm just when you finally start feeling better. Saying nothing about it, you lower your head and nod. “I didn’t know where I should run to,” you whisper, admitting how lost you had felt when Jungkook left. “And you were right, the moment I found out that Jungkook had learned everything from you, I acted out of instinct and rushed out here to—”
You look up at him just then, finding him lifting his eyebrows when you fail to finish your sentence. “To do what?” he asks, speaking softly and teasingly at the same time. “To punish me? To punch my face and release your anger?”
“All of the above, I suppose,” you answer him, allowing a shy grin to take over your face when he simply does the same. Although the grin quickly fades when your gaze falls onto his cheek, seeing the slightly pinkish shade on his skin which seems to take its time to fade and feeling the tingle on your palm that returns when you remember what you had done.
“I’m sorry, though. For assaulting you last night,” you start to apologise. Your cheeks are beginning to feel warm when you think about how reckless you had been, but you disguise it when you lift your hand and point it at him. “You know, the uhm—” you say to him, stopping to wave a hand at his cheek. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”
Namjoon laughs. “I already told you, I deserved it,” he says with a dimpled smile that has your heartbeat going so fast it nearly takes your breath away with it.
Your gazes lock to one another for a brief moment, and the air around you seems to sizzle. It prickles on your skin and makes your cheeks grow hot that you instantly look away to cease whatever it is that seems to be building between you. It is the connection, your conscience continues to remind you, but you deny it by simply ignoring it, refusing to acknowledge it for the sake of keeping it from becoming real. Thankfully, Namjoon no longer pays attention to you since the moment you severed that connection, already has his eyes on his phone as he continues to finish his simple meal, unaware that you now have your eyes on him again.
Your eyes linger on his face for a moment, silently taking him in while you have the chance to. The memory you have had of him from college and the pictures you have seen over the past few years have done no justice to what you are seeing up close. If you had thought that Jungkook is a perfect specimen of a human being, then Namjoon is—well, a different kind of perfect. While you have no intention of comparing him with your missing fiancé, there is no helping it when you keep seeing Jungkook’s face inside your head while you have your gaze on this man.
The one thing that you love about Jungkook is the soft features he has on his face even when his body is all firm and strong, but with Namjoon, everything about him is all hard, and all male. From the sharp lines on his face to his hard chest—you still remember how he felt under your palms when he pressed you against him—and his strong arms that made you feel small when he held you in his embrace.
As much as you hate to admit it, there is simply no way that you could possibly deny the attraction that is slowly beginning to sink in before you ever had the chance to realise it. When did it happen? Was it an instant pull, right when the soulmate bond snapped into place the night Namjoon’s mark appeared on his wrist? Or did it happen last night, right after you unleashed your anger on him and then you—
Your gaze trails down to find his lips, and almost instinctively the tingles start appearing on your lips just as you are once again taken back to last night, when in the middle of your frenzy, right when your mind was still clouded in the thick haze of your heartbreak and while you were slowly losing all control against the soulmate pull that your body simply—gave in. Right at that moment, you close your eyes, hoping that it would be enough to erase the flashing image of what happened in your blunder, only to feel your stomach dip when you fail and the memory returns.
Why did I have to kiss him?
You reach up and press your fingers on your lips, hoping to wipe the sensation away. But even as you try to do it by brushing your fingers across your lips, you can still feel it coming back to you each time the memory returns, and every single time it happens, your chest tightens with guilt.
It wasn’t that the kiss had been intended. Your emotions had been completely out of control, and the strong alcohol that you had drunk in the desperate need of erasing your pain must have clouded your judgement. You faintly remember Namjoon rushing to stop you from finishing his bottle, yet it only caused your rage to rise further, and you pushed him away while calling him names and accusing him to be petty and selfish for not wanting to share his drink. And when he finally caught your arm and glared at you to reprimand you, when the shove you gave against his chest wasn’t strong enough to draw him away, you ended up grabbing him by his collars and pulled him down until you could press your lips on his.
The kiss was meant to be brief, just something to shut him up because half of your mind had been thinking of smacking his lips with your palm and it was almost as if your body simply decided that using your lips would be a better idea. Clearly, your mind had already short-circuited just then to react so impulsively before you even realised what you were doing.
Despite the numbness and everything about last night that had become nothing but blurry fragments of moments, you still remember everything about the kiss. You still remember how his body stiffened when you reached out and pulled him down and how he was unmoving for a moment when you pressed your lips on his. You still remember how soft and tender his lips had felt when he began to reciprocate and pressed them against yours instead of pulling away, how he took over and seized control until your head spun with delight.
And you cannot deny the fact that your body came alight upon contact and how the tingles kept rising in the heat of the kiss, how it felt just as intoxicating as the drinks that you stole from him that you kept leaning in when he started to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip in while his hands pulled you closer to him. But the worse part of it all is the fact that instead of pushing him away, you simply relished the way your whole body was burning from the inside and out.
Thinking about it now makes your cheeks burn and your body heats up once more, but you shake it away. You had tried to convince yourself that it would be better for you to forget that it ever happened and move on. But now that he had put everything out in the open, after both of you had been so willing to own up to your mistakes, that decision simply flies out the window and you give in to the guilt that you are feeling inside.
Lowering your head to hide your burning face, you murmur to him, “Then I’m sorry for kissing you. That was—for the lack of a better word, completely inappropriate.” Unsurprisingly, hearing this only makes his smile grow wider, the dimples on his cheeks deepen when he chuckles so pleasingly as if he enjoys seeing you so flustered.
“I’m honestly not too sorry about it,” he softly says, and you almost swear that your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, most specifically when he slowly lifts his intense gaze to yours. You try to act like his words have no effect on you, but you doubt that you can hide it well when a grin comes onto his face. “But all is forgiven. Neither of us had been in our right minds when it happened.”
His words should be giving you some sense of relief, and yet again, your body reacts differently, when a rush of warmth engulfs you. It makes it even harder to deny it when both his words and the way he is looking at you are making you feel—wanted,even if you know that it is only coming from the bond you have between you and nothing else.
Nothing like what you share with Jungkook.
You say nothing to respond to his words, then simply turn away to enjoy your coffee so you would stop getting drawn to his intense gaze. “I don’t remember seeing you cook and there is no traces left in the kitchen showing me that you prepared breakfast while I was in the shower. Except for the coffee. Do you have staff helping you with all of this?” you ask him once another moment of silence settles in, choosing to change the topic just so you can stop thinking about the kiss again, which happens whenever your mind is idle.
Namjoon smiles bashfully. “I do. The staff belongs to the exclusive floors in this building, though. My boss, the benefactor behind the recording company, owns this building, and the staff is always on standby just in case we need anything. They always send me breakfast in the morning. All I had to do was ask for some extra portions so I can have you join me this morning.”
“You must have done it often, haven’t you? Invite someone to stay the night, feed them with lavish breakfast in the morning to woo them—” You have no idea where this thought had come from or what you are trying to accomplish by saying them out loud. And you certainly have not expected to feel a pang of jealousy for picturing all those women he had taken photos with sitting on this very same table with him, possibly in a more intimate way. You clutch onto your cold glass of water to stop yourself from pressing your palm onto your chest, right where the sting is coming from, though the feeling is quick to be replaced with guilt.
Because if knowing that he had shared his life with others before hurts you, even knowing that all he had gone through had been nothing more but short term relationships or flings, then how had he felt when he had to watch you with Jungkook?
“You may not believe me,” Namjoon speaks after clearing his throat, and you lift your eyes to find him looking straight at you so intensely that it makes you shudder in your seat. “But I’ve never invited anyone to stay the night here, or have the staff cook for them. Except for my family, of course.”
“Really? Not even your past girlfriends?”
You immediately regret asking him this when a spark of mirth comes to his eyes. When he seems intrigued at the fact that you are asking him about his past love life.
“How did you know that I’ve been with anyone else before?”
Gritting your teeth, you bite back the response that might end up with you confessing to him that you have been keeping up with his life over the past few years. It didn’t happen often, and not always on purpose either, when his photos just basically appeared even when you were not searching for anything related to him. With a forced smile, you simply answer him with, “Lucky guess. After all, you have always had a date clinging to your arms on the two occasions we met. Surely, it wouldn’t be wrong of me to assume that there are others in between.”
Namjoon blinks. Whether or not he believes you is not really your problem, though you are surprised to see a mix of shock and guilt in his eyes for a brief moment—and maybe a semblance of shame—before everything fades in the next blink. However, he still keeps his eyes on you when he says, “There had been a few casual relationships that I’ve shared in the past, some casual flings, nothing truly serious. Some of the women that people may have seen with me as my date have also been a part of—” he grimaces, “Well, you may call it as special arrangements.”
“What do you mean?”
Namjoon shrugs and gives you a small smile. “It means it was nothing but that, a front to show the public that I had connections. It helped boost the business when I showed up on dates with people who mattered in the business and it mostly helped them at the same time as showing up with me in public put their name out there for people and the media to recognise,” he says, once again surprising you when instead of telling you this while wearing a sense of pride on his face, all that you see on his face is a hint of shame, before he puts on another mask, and he wears a determined look on his face when he says, “So, the answer is no. They’ve never spent the night here and I’ve never opened my home to them. While I can’t say that I’m a saint either, I have had flings, friends with benefits, women that I could call when I needed a company, and oftentimes the public date that people were seeing me in would continue for the rest of the night, if you know what I mean. I can’t tell you all the details, but—” he stops to look at you in the eyes to add, “The time I spent with them had never been spent here, not in my home.”
Clearly, you have no idea how to react to that, or how to respond when he is looking at you with some sort of a hopeful look in his eyes. How could you even say anything when he just opens up that part of his life so easily, to be so easily honest instead of putting up a front just to amuse you? Unable to find anything to say, you look away, nodding at him as you tell him, “I see. Well, what you do at your personal time isn’t truly my business, is it?”
“Did. What I did in my personal time—” he quickly says with a firm voice, drawing you to find his eyes again. “Things have changed. It has to be.”
“You don’t have to change anything just because—” you begin to speak, hating the way your heart is giving some happy little flops in your chest just for hearing him say those things. Because it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. And you shouldn’t be jumping up and down in joy when his life doesn’t concern you. “We don’t even know each other to be saying things like this.”
“Then perhaps we can change that.”
“What?”
With a sigh, Namjoon leans forward to get closer to you, his eyes never waver from your face as he speaks, bringing back everything that had once been said between you the last time you met.
Before Jungkook left to give you space.
“Perhaps we can take this chance to get to know each other better. Past the memory of me being the douchebag who talked shit about the soulmate system and ignored you while you were waiting to see me, past the knowledge of me being Jungkook’s friend or the man who put up a front as if I have had a glorious love life in the past,” he says, and you can swear that there is a fire in his eyes, a look that tells you that he is not backing down. Not from this one.
“There is a reason why the universe had put the both of us together and matched us since birth. There is a reason why fate still insisted that we met, regardless of what had happened to us in the past that had kept us apart. Don’t you want to know what reason that might be?”
The weight of Namjoon’s offer sits with you all through breakfast. While it doesn’t do much to ruin the serene moment that you have been sharing with Namjoon right until the moment he said the words, it still has you growing weary and uneasy for the rest of the morning you spend with him.
It becomes a wonder for you when you manage to walk away from the dining table completely unscathed, even if your mind continues reeling over it without even being able to give him a sold answer. As if he can sense it, Namjoon merely smiles when you fall silent after hearing his offer and suggests that you would take your time to consider it.
“You don’t have to give me an answer or agree with it right away. Try to think about it, don’t let me force or affect any decision you make,” he says, before changing the topic just when you come close to start thinking of ways to escape and flee out of his home.
By noon, you are back at your apartment, sitting on the sofa right in front of the television, its empty screen looking back at you. Namjoon had sent his driver to take you home merely an hour ago, right around the same time he had suddenly acquired some motivation to get back to work and had decided that the driver would be of better use to drive you home while he did his duty from his fancy penthouse.
Feeling drained and sensing no other emotions but the emptiness that had followed you since the day before, you had fallen onto this sofa moments after you walked in and you have yet to move away from it since. You should be mulling over his offer, or perhaps plan out what to do to get Jungkook back and have him talk to you. But you are too numb to do anything, much less to function when you can barely think clearly, as if both your body and mind have shut down ever since you returned to your empty home.
Home.
Looking around, you take in your surroundings, gazing at the space that you had built together with Jungkook as a place where you would be—should have been—building your future together. You look at the beige-coloured walls around you which have been adorned with various framed pictures of the two of you and posters of everything that you both enjoy in life, at the room that is filled with all the mementoes that you have collected together with Jungkook through all the years you spent together.
Your mind takes you back to Namjoon’s home, which had appeared a complete contrast to your own. Despite calling it his personal space, Namjoon’s penthouse seemed scarce of intimate touches. It had felt too impersonal for you, with only essential things filling his home instead of the things that would make his personal space homely, with monochrome colours painting all the walls, spaces, and furnitures which seemed to be the opposite of the vibrant colours that you could find in yourhome.
And yet, as you are sitting here on your own, this apartment suddenly feels colder, hollow, as if the warmth that has been a huge part of it has been sucked dry the moment Jungkook stepped out of the door, the moment every bit of hope that you have built simply shattered when he turned away from you, taking all of that hope and your joy away while taking away your right to choose.
With a sharp inhale of breath, you finally snap out of it, and you soon fall in motion to start picking your life back up as much as possible.
You start by contacting your workplace, while you had informed your co-workers of your absence for the past two days, you decide to make it clear that the ‘family emergency’ you are currently dealing with will take some more time to fix and that you will need to take an early vacation leave before you can return to work. Then you start making more phone calls, sending out texts, doing the best you can to trace Jungkook’s whereabouts and confirm that he is okay, that perhaps you can find him and drag him back home to you.
Your stomach dips when Jungkook’s brother contacts you back only to let you know that your fiancé has yet to appear back at their hometown—not at their parents’ house, not at the brother’s house, and nowhere near their other relatives or old friends. Another call confirms what Namjoon had told you that Jungkook has yet to step foot at the company either, while none of your close friends claims to have been contacted by Jungkook since the day he was gone.
It takes a lot of convincing and pleading to Jungkook’s brother to make him believe that nothing is wrong and to make him promise that he wouldn’t let the news reach their parents. And it takes you a lot of vague explanations to answer all the questions that your friends throw at you with each call or text to keep them from finding out what is actually happening.
Your sister is the last person you call, and her voice immediately feels like a warm hug. Even before you start explaining to her all the details, Gahee seems to have sensed it, as if she had been expecting to receive this call for a long time.
“Gosh, I’m so sorry, _____, I have no idea what to say. Do you want to stay here with us until he comes back? Youngjae has a conference to attend out of town this weekend and I was just about to ask you to stay here to keep me company and help out with Gyeoul anyway,” she softly says.
“I don’t know,” you whisper into the call. “I want to be here if—when he comes back.” Your throat feels constricted that you can barely say those words, and you realise just how unconvincing you sounded even to yourself. Your eyes begin to prickle and burn with tears for the lost hope, but you suck a deep breath and hold everything in. Only for your effort to turn futile when your sister offers,
“I know that you want to wait for him. But would it be a good idea to wait on your own? At least when you’re here, you have Gyeoul and me to distract you. You wouldn’t have everything that reminds you of him suffocating and torturing you in your wait.”
Suffocating? Is that what this place is making me feel?
You begin to wonder about this just when your chest grows even tighter the moment your eyes fall on one of the photos that Jungkook had put on display. An old photo of you taken on your birthday two years ago.
You close your eyes briefly before taking another look around you just as you end the phone call. Not a moment too soon, the silence sinks in, as if it has been waiting in the shadows, lurking around you until the moment you are no longer busy with calls and texts to finally notice it and it would finally engulf you, wrapping itself around you until you find it hard to simply breathe.
Right at that moment, you know that you would never be able to survive sitting here in your silence and in the not knowing only to wait helplessly for Jungkook’s return. Determined to not let yourself drown in sorrow, you finally make your move.
By dusk, you have your personal things packed up. Essential things that you would need to get through the upcoming days and only enough spare clothes to get through the week. By nightfall, you are sitting inside an Uber ride taking you across the city. The hollowness follows you even after you are kilometres away from your apartment, though you can slowly feel it fading, chipped in with every added distance. You try not to think too much about where you are heading to, keeping your eyes looking out the window and watching closely at the city that still thrives while your entire world seems to be falling apart.
By the time you reach your destination, your chest no longer feels tight, though you still feel completely numb. And it doesn’t help eliminate your spiking nerves as you stand right in front of the doorway, your heart stammering in your chest as you are waiting for it to be opened.
The sound of the keys and the door clicking open feels like a gavel coming down to seal your fate. A sense of uncertainty plagues you as you are standing there, though it all fades so quickly when you lift your face and meet Namjoon’s eyes.
“I—I don’t know why I’m here, but—”
Once again, you feel as if your throat is clogged when you are not even completely sure how to explain yourself. The last thing you remember was feeling the dread of loneliness while being alone inside your home. That intense feeling had pulled you right out of it to find solace, only to lead you all the way here, back to his door.
While you are busy questioning yourself, Namjoon simply smiles at you and steps aside, widening the door behind him so you could step right past him. There is no question in his eyes, no doubt in his smile, and there is nothing but pure warmth engulfing you when he says,
“Come in. You’re always welcome here, _____.”
➥ Author’s note | Forgive me for the wait, but this one took a bit of time to finish. As you may have noticed, I have added another chapter on the masterpost. I have decided to split the original chapter into two, with chapter 8 as the filler chapter, while more intriguing stuff will happen later on chapter 9. I hope you enjoyed reading this one. Thank you for joining this emotional ride. Any feedback is welcome!
summary:Sometimes you just want to be pinned down and fucked like a whore, you know? Should you ask the strange woman wearing the leather bondage collar to do it? Probably not. But she’s going to ask for a shot of Don Julio and Jeon Jungkook’s going to ask to get fucked.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, sex on top of a bar, the wronguse of tequila including [but not limited to] sucking a shot off JK’s balls, handjob, m-receiving oral, cowgirl); non-idol!BTS; black-haired, ponytail, bartender, sub!Jungkook x pansexual, dom!reader; Jungkook’s POV, ft bartender!Taehyung
did i maybe question if i should put this on the internet? eh, it’s here now
–
“Shot of Don Julio, please.”
He poured it out. Placed in front of her. She smacked the payment down on the bar. She didn’t have to tell him to keep the change. He already knew. His eyes trailed from her smirk to her neck.
“Let me wear it tonight.”
Kim Taehyung, his co-worker and fellow bartender for the night, spoke up.
“You’re a fucking psychopath, Jungkook.”
She raised the shot glass and grinned. Downed it with one gulp. Tipped her head back to do it, so the white leather collar covered with clear Swarovski crystals glittered menacingly, the large silver ring on the center thudding against her collarbones. There was a chain attached to the ring, the end looped around and hooked to a white leather band her left wrist.
She lowered the glass, placing it on the napkin upside down. Unfazed, acting as if she had just taken a sip of water. That wide grin still playing on those dark red lips, teeth white and brighter than most people’s futures. She reached up behind her head.
⤑ Paring: Jungkook x reader (with a little bit Namjoon x reader and Taehyung x reader)
⤑ Genre: wolf!au, soulmate!au, collage!au
⤑ Summary: y/n has been feeling a certain darkness ever since she got her period. Something was calling her and one day that ‘light’ came into vision. You’d never thought however, that it would be a werewolf.
⤑ Rating: 18+
⤑ Warnings: mentions of rape, depression, smut, oral sex, window-sex, shower-sex, knotting, marking and animalistic behaviour.
⤑ Wordcount: 9.5k
⤑ A/n:hey!! This will be my first story on this account. I used to run another tumblr account, but I felt like I needed a new start hehe. Hope you enjoyed this one!
‘why is it so dark?’, you ask yourself as you try to see, but nonetheless fail to do so. It’s too dark. You can’t understand what you feel, but it has been the darkest feeling you have had in your whole life, though you might not yet be that old. It is creeping up on you, like a tiger or some other creature. It might’ve always been there, but never this strong. Never since this very moment. A white ray stands tall in front of you, all too sudden but not unwelcome. You feel like you need to be there, like this might be the place that brings you the peace you have been seeking. You know the feeling, the dark feeling, ends with this light. It all fits too well…
You take a step forward, but when you look down to see where you are walking on, you don’t see your feet. It’s only you, like a floating conscious. Even though it got you distracted for the smallest second, you knew this wasn’t important enough. The only thing worth doing right now is taking another step towards this warm and sunny light. Another step was taken and you feel your body heating up. Even though the light is your answer, you are still reacting to it in all the negative ways. ‘Is this what I need? It’s probably better than that horrifying darkness around us. Around me and this light’.
So without another thought, you take three more steps. There it is, right in front of you. You can feel your whole body reacting in heath, but you still feel save somehow. It’s resisting and it feels unnatural, but you haven’t felt as connected in so long with such a simple thing. You want it. No, you need it. And it also needs you. Two sides, two consciousnesses needing one another. But it doesn’t feel enough. You need more. You need to be closer. You need hi-.
‘Y/n? You are burning up! Are you okay? Wake up!’.
The sudden voice wakes you up in one simple snap. Your eyes spring wide open as you look scared towards your friend, who just as well returns that look. Namjoon puts his hand on your forehead. You flinch as he retracts his hand as fast as lighting, making a gesture as if your forehead is about a 100 degrees. ‘Damn y/n, that should be illegal. It’s way too hot. Please go to the nurses office’, he exclaims.
You put your hand on your heart, feeling how fast it’s beating. It’s so fast that you can feel it in your whole body. You are trying to recall your dream, but you only seem to remember that you felt a dark feeling. It must’ve been a nightmare. You check out your surroundings as you felt quite out of place, but you soon notice you are still in the comfort of your school’s library. You let out a breath, shaking off that weird experience and you try to calm down your body. ‘I think I had some kind of nightmare’, you inform Namjoon before picking up your pencil.
You have been working all night with your classmate. You were assigned to work together on a project. Since the both of you had a hard time to find a good spot in your agendas to work together, you found that only today you could really work on it. So you both took the chance and ended up working all night. You pull out your phone and you notice it’s already 11 pm. Your eyes widen. ‘Namjoon, why didn’t you wake me up? We really need to get going. Can we still get out of the building?’. He chuckles and shrugs. ‘Thought you could use some rest, you’ve only been gone for twenty minutes, so don’t worry. But you’re right. We should go home’. You let out a small sigh before clearing out your desk. He didn’t mean it bad, so you let it go. You both pack your things and go home.
As you walk your way to your dorm, you can’t help but feel that same creeping feeling. You feel that darkness. It’s not uncommon for you anymore. It has been a few years already, the moment you had your period. You have felt it ever since that moment. You can still remember the first dream about it. It was like just now, dark and alone. As if there was something or someone missing from your life. Your mother showed her concern about it and took you to a doctor, who gave you a number of a psychologist. There we thorough experiments, but no one could really tell what it was and how to get rid of it. At some point you found yourself at a more spiritual room. That was even more traumatic, as she just looked at you in fear and told you to leave within a few seconds. It got you thinking. Are you some kind of devil? Some kind of lost soul from another world, what certainly isn’t holy? This time though, this last dream, it was different. Different from your other dreams. You did feel the darkness, but there was something else. It felt refreshing and warm, something you haven’t felt in so long. Whatever it is, you hope that same feeling will return to you. And this time you won’t be woken up. This time it will stay with you.
Jin always made sure to treat you like a goddess. He has gentle touches on your body, especially with your nipples. His fingers would trail down from your collarbones, down to your breasts as you ride. His breathing would be loud and a moan would leave both of your mouths when he starts pinching your nipples. His touch left goosebumps all over your body. This man really knew how to make love to you and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
Yoongi:
Yoongi just loved your boobs. He would always put it in his mouth, as if he couldn’t live without them. His moves were always rough and it wouldn’t take him long to destroy your pussy after you released your boobs out in the air. He’d suck on your nipples hard and his tongue would make fast circles around them, making you just as hot as he was for you.
Hoseok:
For him it wouldn’t be necessary to have sex to play with your breasts. Sometimes he would just pin you down on the bed, sit on your waist and pull off your shirt. Your bra was off in no time too and then he’d start squashing your breasts together, of course in a gentle way. His thumbs would glide over your nipples, making them hard and perky. He loved the sight. he could do this the whole day, just laying on you and playing with your boobs until the time had come to sleep.
Namjoon:
Namjoon had the biggest kink for your boobs. He knew they were your weakness too and as the kinky shit he was, he would throw some BDSM-equipment into it. He’d attach your nipples to some chains, making them sensitive and maybe hurt a bit. You both liked it hard like this and he made fully use of that through these chains. He loved the way your boobs would bounce and swing around as he pounds into you from behind.
Jimin:
Jimin didn’t need to do much to turn you on. He would just have you seated on his lab, half naked. His hands would slowly make circles around your nipples. The tingling sensation would send you straight to heaven, getting your panties weak in a minute or less. Jimin loved to make you horny and needy like this for him. He didn’t need to do much more before you would go down on your knees and repay the favor. ‘You’re always so good for daddy.’
Taehyung:
Just as he had arrived home, he’d see you stand in your black lingerie. He noticed you were waiting for him, waiting for her boyfriend to fuck her right. He’d let his bag fall on the ground and would walk up to you. He’d loosen his tie before he scoops you up from the ground, bringing you to the couch and letting you down on his lab. His hands would pull down your bra and his lips would immediately be planted on your nipples. You’d moan out of relieve, being happy your boyfriend finally fulfills your needs. The one hand he has free, he would use to aggressively play with your nipples. This is why he loved to come home to you, you’re always full of surprises.
Jungkook:
Jungkook loved to play with your nipples. He’d always take his time with you, giving every boob it’s own amountof attention. His tongue would make small circles around your nipples before pulling on it, leaving your nipples hard and perky. He loved the moans and whines he dragged out of you by his actions.
↳ Summary: You’re a creature of habit, you plan everything from each hour to each day, so you can imagine the chaos which ensues after you discover a random guy leaking black goo in a ditch- who just so happens to be an alien.
↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader
↳ Genre: lowkey strangers to lovers, alien!jungkook, fluff, smut,
Word Count:13k
Tags: tentacle sex im sorry, foreplay, oral (f) but not?? jungkook is technically a virgin by human standards ayyy, penetration, nipple play, over stimulation, double penetration, squirting, sub!jungkook, breath play, spit kink, jungkook can make his own lube??, anal im so sorry, praise kink, they become soul mates on accident oops,
You didn’t see nor understand what JK was talking about at first, he just fumbled along between alleyways and roads and nobody, or what little people were on the streets didn’t look at you twice given your friend was as tall and broad as he was. Perks of being with a man you guessed. You still didn’t know what he was actually talking about except for the assumption that he had found his…friends…?
Eventually JK had dragged you through a lot of fields which had made you increasingly anxious, what if a kidnapper was out here? True you wouldn’t mind him using his talon like tentacles then but still…You also didn’t want to go to jail for assisting a homicide…Standing in an empty field, at the dead of night, was not what you intended on doing on a friday night.
JK seemed excited though as he bounced, grabbing a hold of you, he pressed his thumb to your forehead, your eyes fluttering shut on instinct from being so close to him suddenly but your brows pinched and an uncomfortable ache throbbed in your head before he released you. Rubbing your head you whined before you looked up again, only jumping with a screech at the…ship…in front of you…which was NOT there a moment ago.
“Home!” JK announced proudly as he grabbed your hand, tugging you along against your will, was this really…his ship? Oh god what if he was abducting you…You didn’t have time to think as he ushered you inside. It looked small on the outside admittedly but on the inside it was all glossy and clean, a sleek futuristic look dawning the interior.
Futuristic, he was an alien, you weren’t shocked at the assessment but still. This must’ve been the hanger or…living area… or…hell if you knew ship terms, it looked like the dining room but you didn’t expect two others to appear. All of them speaking in that same throaty tongue as he ran to them, embracing them with pure excitement on his face before he pointed to you, a look of pride on his face as he cleared his voice, “Y/n.” He spoke clearly as if introducing you.
↳ Summary: You’re a creature of habit, you plan everything from each hour to each day, so you can imagine the chaos which ensues after you discover a random guy leaking black goo in a ditch- who just so happens to be an alien.
↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader
↳ Genre: lowkey strangers to lovers, alien!jungkook, fluff, smut,
Word Count:12k
Tags: before anyone asks, yes tentacles are involved because I’m a proud monster fucker, jungkook has separation anxiety from Mc :(, he’s immediately whipped, and he can’t speak any human language at first oops, he like,,,tries it for a second before MC goes ♀️ this is unedited and for that im sorry bc yikes
___ | Next
In many cases, you could recall how you got into situations. For instance, when you were late to your mid morning lecture, you had zero excuses- not that the professor cared at all when you walked in with a bag of mcdonalds and a venti latte from starbucks. But the principle of the situation remained the same, you knew your actions would cause you to be late. You understood the consequences of your actions.
The same could not be said for when you took in the curious male who didn’t understand a word you said.
“What do you mean you just- picked him up off the side of a fucking ditch!” Jimin flailed his hands as you twisted around to face you, the male was examining his hands as if he had never seen them before, not paying either of you any mind.
You held up your hands as you replied, “I did!” You shouted back, immediately gaining the males attention as his eyes flashed between you and Jimin, “He was just…! Laying there! I don’t fucking know! What was I supposed to do? Leave him, look he’s hurt.” You pointed out the obvious wounds he sported.
“…He’s bleeding black goo Y/n! Have you never seen a horror movie before oh my god!” Jimin grabbed his head as his voice became dramatic and peril, “You’re practically number one on his kill list! He’s probably here to abduct us and- and butt probe us or some shit!”
You raised your brows defensively as you crossed your arms, “Look at him!” You pointed a finger at the male making him flinch a little, leaning a little away from you where he sat as his expression shifted, looking as if he was a kicked puppy at your tone, “Does that look like a butt probing alien to you shit face?”
“Maybe!” Jimin snapped back, “He ain’t human that’s for fucking sure! Just…!” Jimin flailed his hands, “Just look at him!”
