#seokjin wearing a crop top that will show off his tattoo when he stretches his arms up WHEN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoonia · 3 years

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[Teaser] Blurred Lines

➬ Title | Blurred Lines

➬ Pairings | Kim Seokjin x reader

➬ Genre | Smut, Sexual Tension!au, Teacher!Jin, Teacher!reader, Tattooed Biker!Jin

➬ Summary | A new place to live, a new job, a new beginning. Six months have passed and everything has been going well for you in starting over. The warm welcome from your students and peers have quickly made you feel at home, yet you still long to have one calm day where you wouldn’t have to walk into the school with a heavy weight on your shoulders and the air thick with tension. Blame it on him—the strict English teacher who keeps giving you cold shoulders no matter how many times you try to play nice. One night out with your girls and a drunken dare ultimately lead you to uncover what he’s been trying to hide. People do say that the quiet ones always keep the biggest secret.

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

↳ Warning | Slow burn, mutual pinning, mention of alcohol consumption, hard dom!Jin, bondage, big cock!seokjin, dirty talk, mild degradation, cum play, creampie, tattoos and dick piercing, idk I might add more as I write this

↳ Estimated word count | 10k-15k words

↳ Estimated posting date | Dec 2nd, 2020 Dec 4th/5th, 2020

↳ Excerpt

“I’m not so sure about this,” you complain as your two friends barge in through the front entrance of the bar. Though you know that you are losing the fight when they keep pulling you along with them and you have no other choice but to give in when the drinks you had taken so far slowly begin to sink in their claws in you.

Holli wraps her arm around yours so she can drag you with her. “Oh, come on. Our goal tonight is to try on as many bars as we could get and none that we’ve been into looks like this one.”

Of course, they haven’t, since none of the bars you went to had looked anything like a bikers’s bar. And even under the state of tipsiness, you can still recognise this place as the one that you would usually avoid whenever you walk past down this road.

Both of your girls seem like an expert as they wave through the crowd, heading straight to the seating area to find yourselves an available booth.

The bar is nearly packed wherever you look. Only a few empty seats seem to be available, even with many of the patrons standing up, either crowding the pool table, lining up at the bar counter, or gathering in groups on the dance floor. Except that nobody appears to be dancing.

God knows how Holli can manage to snatch a seat at all through all of this, but she does it with ease. Taking one last look around as you take your seat, you are glad to have gotten a few drinks in from the previous bars. You would have never been brave enough to step foot into this place if you had been sober when you came in. Wherever you look, you see big, burly men drinking beer and laughing. Their muscles stretching out from beneath their tops—some wearing tight black T-shirts, some wearing white sleeveless muscle tops, either one had made their bulging muscles look like they are about to burst out of them—their ink work peeking out from either their sleeves or their necklines, and they are all wearing matching leather vests with silver studs on the shoulders, with a logo resembling a girl sitting spread-legged on top of a motorcycle and the name “Howlers” embedded at the back of said vests. You can even see that some of the men are sporting matching tattoos on their skin, though not all of them have them on the same spots—some on their necks, their upper arms, or at the back of their hand that is holding a glass of beer.

There are a few girls hanging out with them, some are simply sitting or standing close, while others are practically clinging on their men’s muscled arm. They are all wearing matching leather vests as well, suggesting that they are either members of their motorcycle club or they are here as their lovers, though the vests look much smaller in size and are a bit tight around the chest.

Waitresses with crop tops and tight plaid miniskirts walk around the room with trays that are never empty. They are always filled with glasses of beer that are filled to the brim, almost spilling as they weave their way through the crowd. The girls would occasionally stop on the tables they are tending to in between trips, chatting along with the patrons as if they are all old friends. And even through your drunken haze, you are pleased to find that none of the men are acting like sleazy bastards that might be disrespectful around these working ladies.

Damn, even those strong drinks Holli gave you still couldn’t get you out of your proverbial teachers’ shoes, it seems?

You look up just as one of the waitresses comes to your table, all warm smile and polite greetings. The lack of judgement in her eyes as she looks between the three of you sort of eases you down a little, and the apprehension you have been feeling upon entering the foreign place slowly fades away.

“Welcome to Anchor Roadhouse, what can I get for you ladies?”

Jennie leans forward over the table to make the order. “Cold beer for three, please. Oh, and with double shots of tequila on the side for each?”

The waitress nods. “You got it. Be right back.”

“We’re going a bit over the top, aren’t we?” you ask the girls as the waitress turns to make her way towards the bar to retrieve your orders, and Jennie only shrugs.

“This place looks like way more fun than the ones we’ve been before,” she says, looking around as she admires the sight she is seeing at all corners. You would have never thought that your best friend would have a liking to tattooed, burly men, but you are finding out all the new things about your friends tonight.

“It sure is. So might as well have fun,” Holli agrees with her, before turning to glance at your way. “But most importantly, we still have someone between us who has yet to do the dare.”

Ah, yes. The dare. You refrain from rolling your eyes as you are reminded of it. You have hoped that choosing to be the last one to do it would be able to safe your ass from actually doing it, thinking that your girls would have been too drunk to notice that you are skipping it by then.

You look around again, perusing the field and making plans, when you suddenly feel the heat of someone’s piercing gaze burning on your back, only to see that nobody is actually paying attention to any of you. But the quick scan around the room has you feeling quite intimidated all the same. Just how on earth are you supposed to get one of these burly bikers to buy you a drink?

You look at all the girls around you and consciously begin to compare yourself to them. Unlike these girls who are confident enough to flaunt their skin while wearing leathers and tight tops, you feel like everyone could look your way and figure out instantly that you are no more than a mousy high school teacher. Not even the mini black dress that you are wearing—no matter how tight and revealing it is—and the killer heels could hide it from the world.

The waitress returns just as you are about to give a closer look at the bar, to find your way in on finding a lone biker to talk to, and you are surprised to see her carrying not just three glasses of beer as requested, but a whole pitcher of it.

Everyone at the table looks at one another in confusion, yet the waitress simply sets down the pitcher and the clean glasses around the table, along with the tequila shots, and sets them all up as if there is nothing wrong with the order.

“Um—I’m sorry—” you try to cut in, “We didn’t order the whole pitcher.”

The waitress keeps her smile on her face when she raises her eyebrows. “Oh, don’t worry, Doll. It’s in the house. The owner wants to welcome you girls properly.”

You look at your friends again before asking, “The owner?”

The waitress cocks her hips once she is done setting up the drinks and tilts her head towards the bar. “Yeah, see the sweetheart standing right behind the counter over there? He’s watching over you girls to make sure you’re having a good time.”

You turn back to look at the bar as the waitress walks over to the next table right after Holli thanks her almost too excitedly. As if the night hasn’t gone any weirder yet, the crowd slowly parts way to give you the full good look at the bar counter.

And that is when you see him.

Standing behind the counter the way the waitress had described him is a familiar face. The same face that has your spine rigid and your muscles growing tense whenever you step foot into the school in the morning, knowing that your schedules will allow you to cross path with each other. He is now looking at you almost the same way he does it at school, the same way his gaze is locked on every move you make to have you feeling terribly self-conscious in everything you do when you are around him. Like every single move may end up as a mistake.

And now he is there, looking at you closely, though you are surprised to find him doing so without any judgemental look in his eyes when he finds you. He had discarded the ivory-rimmed glasses he normally wears, and instead of wearing his usual long sleeves dress shirt, he is wearing a black tight sleeveless top that puts his perfectly toned arms and shoulders on display, showing off the ink work that marks the length of his arms and all the way up to his neck, presenting you all the drawings and scribbles of words that you have never seen on him before. His fancy velvet coat has been replaced with a leather biker vest which looks exactly the same as to what everyone here is wearing.

You can barely get over the shock of not seeing the usual scowl that he normally wears at school, when his smile slowly grows upon noticing that you are looking straight at him, making your jaw drops even further.

This must be a dream, you wonder to yourself.

Because there is no way you are seeing Kim Seokjin—the strict English teacher that everyone is afraid of—standing behind that bar as if this is his own home.

But there is no mistaking the smouldering gaze he is giving you now, the same one that has been quite intimidating that you always avoid seeing him in the break room at school. Except that his gaze no longer causes fear inside you when you return the look in his eyes.

And he just bought you a whole pitcher of cold beer.

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