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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 months

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talk | myg | nyangnyang au

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Your husband Min Yoongi declares that he needs to be more of a whore. Nyan?!

warnings: discussion about sex life; husband!Yoongi x wife!reader with their pet white cat Nyangnyang; heavy make-out session; domestic + fluffy; nyangnyang!au but can be read alone tbh it's just a husband and wife chatting about their sex life + the antics of their peanut gallery lol

You didn’t quite believe in soulmates or fate, but you were sure that Min Yoongi was the love of your life.

“I think I need to be more of a whore.”

Precisely why.

Wait, what?

You looked up from wiping down the coffee table and stared at him.

“What?”

“Nyan.”

Your husband was sitting on the sofa. An attempt to rest, except the furball you both affectionately called cutie had immediately rocketed into his lap and began rolling around, loudly demanding pets and leaving white fur all over your husband’s black sweatpants. Nyangnyang the cat had zero concept of personal space. Your husband had a problem with saying no to those he loved. Her head was in his large palm as the other rubbed her belly. White fur was getting everywhere. Loud purrs punctuated the silence.

“Do you think our sex life is boring?” was Yoongi’s follow-up on his previous declaration.

You folded up the polishing cloth and left it on the glass table, figuring this was going to be more than a yes-or-no conversation. Strands of black hair fell past his temples, framing his black metal glasses and sharp dark brown eyes. He looked at you with a calm expression as if he was talking about the weather and not about how he thought he needed to be more of a whore.

You paused. “I don’t think so, but I figured the slowdown was because you worked on that important album. You said it was very emotionally draining.” Your husband was a music producer. He wasn’t allowed to talk about what he was working on, which was why he told his wife everything. Hey, his primary loyalty was to his wife. That and you weren’t going to tell a soul anyway. That would require social interaction. Ew. “You’ve been sleeping a lot and watching TV all day even after you wrapped it up.”

Nyangnyang rolled around and covered Yoongi’s thighs with more snow-white cat hair. You used to keep a lint roller in the living room until Yoongi realized the cat had been knocking it down and licking the sticky paper like an adhesive heathen. Then you switched to other types of lint-and-fur collectors. The cat still licked the tacky parts. Sigh. Now they had to be kept in the closet. You and Yoongi just accepted that you both would be covered in cat hair twenty-four-seven.

Welp.

He accepted the fluffy tail smacking his stomach and scratched behind Nyangnyang’s ears while watching you carefully. At least his baggy t-shirt was white. You stayed kneeling on the floor, curiously tilting your head, positioned on the other side of the smoked glass and black marble coffee table.

Finally, Yoongi sighed. “I think I need to try harder. I’m feeling outdone by you lately.”

You frowned. “Sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”

For some reason, the cat stood up, circling Yoongi’s lap again before flopping down. You noticed his pale hand hover over his nuts before Nyangnyang threw herself down again with a dramatic princess floof. You could relate.

Heh.

His eye twitched. “Watch it,” he muttered, casting his eyes downward.

The cat gave no fucks and shoved her pink nose into Yoongi’s palm.

“What about last night?” you continued. “You came four times. Your dick felt great.”

Your husband gave you the side-eye. “You know, there’s a person attached to this dick.”

You grinned.

He scoffed. “Just because you were into the dick doesn’t mean you were into me.”

Your grin disappeared. “What are you talking about? I only think about you during sex. There’s no one else I want to think about.”

But as soon as the words came out of your mouth, you could tell that wasn’t what Yoongi was getting at. He stuck his tongue into his cheek and his brows furrowed, glancing away for a moment to collect his thoughts. His hand on the cat’s belly stopped. Nyangnyang, being a little shit, kicked his wrist with her back paws. His hand started moving again without looking. The furball went back to purring up a storm. Your husband winced and tried not to show it. Despite his longer, lustrous hair and slender frame, Min Yoongi was a manly man at heart that enjoyed woodworking, basketball, and UFC as much as he enjoyed music, fashion, and picking out aesthetic living room pillows.

“I’ve been relying a little too much on you being sexy and leading everything without contributing myself,” he finally said, sounding a bit rueful in his deep and raspy voice.

You heavily restrained chiming in that all he needed to contribute was an open mouth and a hard dick. Good commentary, wrong timing. It was pretty clear what he was saying and it was pretty clear that you should shut up for now and listen.

Difficult for a smartass, but you’d manage.

“I don’t feel that you’re having the same experience I am. Just because you like being in charge doesn’t mean I should step back,” he went on, verbally working through his thought process and letting you in on it. You were a bit surprised hearing those words, as it was word-for-word something you mentioned before, although that was years ago when something similar happened. It had been you to bring it up then. He listens, huh. Yoongi ticked his head, his glasses reflecting light. “I feel I’ve gotten a little lazy. And, with it, been too in my head recently. I don’t like this feeling. I’m not performing well. I need to be more into it.”

It was a first for him to be so direct about this. Usually, you would bring it up for some reason or the other. He was always willing to talk about it, but, well. You had always had a more… intense… libido compared to Yoongi and, although some would argue it was a good problem to have, he often had to rise to the occasion (pun intended). Something he wanted to do and did so without hesitation, but that also meant that he was more sensitive to his own intrusive thoughts whereas you were too absorbed with fucking to notice any. Sex was when you were free, yet Yoongi had reasonable worries that interfered sometimes. You had sensed the tension last night and figured some fucking would help relax him. But it turned out the issue related to sex itself. Welp. Still, it was nice to hear him communicate with you.

“So… how would being a whore help?” you asked.

Another bombastic side-eye. “I meant being more actively involved into the sex. Acting like one.”

You raised an eyebrow with a straight face even though you were cackling inside. “Do you even know how to act like a whore? You’ve never been slutty in your entire life.” Added a little dismissive hand wave with your act. Just to be extra infuriating. “You think acting like a slut is so easy? Darling, being a whore is a way of life.”

Yoongi stared at you.

Blank expression.

“You’re so freaking annoying.”

The tip of your tongue grazed the edge of your smirk.

“Naow…”

Your husband rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Hot. Nyangnyang seemed to sense the kind of tension a cat wanted no part of and promptly abandoned Yoongi’s lap, marching off to laze somewhere else. Not that her parents noticed because they were too busy making googly eyes at each other.

“It’s the middle of the day,” Yoongi said quietly.

“Time of day never stopped a whore,” you countered.

His expression was a mix between pained and irritated. Perfect. Heavy sigh, halfway lifting himself off the couch before you started laughing, breaking the tension.

“I’m kidding,” you chuckled, flippant, standing up as well. “Have you gotten a little lazy? Hmm, maybe. But maybe I’ve been overbearing too, since all I think about is enjoying your dick until I’m worn out. I probably shouldn’t go that far, hah… Yoongi?”

He grabbed your wrist.

You paused, fixating your gaze on him. His direct stare. Dark eyes shadowed behind clear lenses. Gleaming porcelain skin. You were both in casual clothes for lounging at home. Your lavender sweatpants with a matching crop top weren’t exactly screaming sex. But, of course, you would confess that you always made sure to cress cutely for yourself.

You frowned. “We haven’t showered yet.”

He shrugged. He had reasonably broad shoulders for such a pretty face. Fucking sexy as hell. You were allowed to think that because you were his wife. “You don’t have to go down on me.” Then he let go of your wrist to reach behind your head and tilt it back, the base of your skull against the heel of his palm.

“What?”

Then you sucked in a tight breath as you felt the tip of his hot tongue slide up your neck.

His warm breath spread over your skin, sending a wave of chills throughout your chest.

“Didn’t you tell me sex is more than just the orgasm?” he murmured, heating the saliva clinging to your throat. “I completely agree.”

Under normal circumstances you would have had the smartass comment ready, was this the right situation to admit that the wife was always right, but you didn’t even have a chance to glance at him before his lips started feathering up the side of your neck, his deft hands in your hair, licking, kissing, his familiar scent invading your nose, his soft black hair against your cheek, every action tantalizing your senses.

It was then that you realized, yes, you did miss this.

As a married couple that lived together, you both had the luxury of skipping steps. You could get into the action any time and that was exciting in its own right. You also had the natural tendency to immediately get into it, using everything in your arsenal all at once. Speed, accuracy, precision, multiple sensations all over, forcing all of your past lovers to chase to keep up with you and not giving them time to react or prepare themselves. There wasn’t much time to pull on the leash, so to speak.

A whore always wanted to have sex, right?

So, acting like one meant…

Your hands slipped under his t-shirt and pulled him closer by the small of his back.

His teeth nicked the space under your ear and you shivered before moaning, feeling the tingling sensation of sucking skin and soft lips. It really was delightfully pleasant to be caught off guard by your favorite person.

“You… You’re saying I act like a whore…?” you gasped, still playing around.

His lips grazed your ear. Voice low, direct.

“You’d be one if I didn’t catch you and shackle you with a ring.”

Touché.

“What’s wrong with that?” you bit back.

He moved his head and you gazed at each other with one eye, lashes framing dark orbs that were the window to knowing each other far too well.

“Nothing. That’s why I’m trying to be more like you,” Yoongi purred.

Your lower halves collided. Layers of clothing and heated friction, his hardness pressing against your thighs, and then his lips caught yours in a fervent kiss. No different in the level of passion but you could tell he was different from last night. More mindful depth. Only focused on the moment. Tongue against tongue. His hands all over, sliding up into your hair and down your shoulder, gasping into your throat as your fingernails turned inward, scratching down his back mid lip-lock.

“Nyao!”

There was a flurry of wild flailing sounds and then a thud.

You both stopped kissing to stare into the bedroom. The door was open, as it usually was. A whizzing snow-white blur shot out of sight. The bed was partially visible from this angle. The right lower corner of the covers was messy and pulled out. You stared at it, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened, still clutching your husband in your death grasp.

You blinked slowly.

“Nyangnyang, did you…”

“… Fail to jump onto the bed?” Yoongi finished for you with just as much disbelief in his voice.

Absolute silence.

“Hasn’t she made that jump hundreds of times?” you wondered out loud.

Yoongi grumbled. You turned your head back. He shrugged.

“Maybe it’s a sign to move to the bed.”

Hmmmm. You didn’t miss the want in his otherwise bland tone. “Why rush?” You let go of him even though your husband’s eyes were narrowing to death glare status. “It’s the weekend. We have all day. Besides, the rice will be done soon, so we should eat lunch.” As a very devious wife, you could tell Yoongi did not want to play this game but he also wanted you to give in first. He kept a firm hand on your waist.

“Hm, you’re right.”

“Yup,” was your chipper reply.

He gave you this look.

You grinned. Waved your finger as you chided him. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you dessert is after your meal? You can’t spoil your appetite with suga beforehand.” You bared the brunt of a criminally offensive side-eye. Worth it.

Then, Yoongi smiled.

Uh oh.

You had been with Yoongi long enough to know that behind that simple smile was a lot of cunning.

“But of course, my love.”

Well, a lazy Saturday just got a lot more interesting.

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 months

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Boop

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 months

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happy birthday to our hardworking, currently extra tuff sunshine

how many 100's of push ups can you do now?

hopefully you had a lovely day despite the work, stay happy and healthy throughout to come back strong!!!! :D

#whatifyoulivelikethat #wiyllt #jhope

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 months

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trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 months

Note

hi i love love love the basis of your blog: i write what i write when i want to write it !!! i recently had an idea spark in mind after watching a film and planning to write it, for myself until (could be never) when i want to post it publicly lol but was curious where do you write your work so it saves, google docs?

I paid for Microsoft Word as a one time purchase. You can use Google docs as a free option; quite a few people do this and you can even access your files offline so there's no big differences. I have been writing for a very long time and have gotten used to Word (at this point it's more of a habit).

As for writing, always make sure you're writing for yourself first. If you do decide to post, you'll go through ups and downs and other's expectations, so being internally motivated is important to avoid taking outside opinions personally. Good luck! If anything, writing will at the very least help you express and understand yourself better. :)

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 months

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Miss u

Watchu upto

thinking I can punch sickness in the face but turns out I can't

fuck

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

Text

possessed, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x (minor) yoongi

summary: Burning hot. Freezing cold. An all-consuming addiction to subspace that dominates every centimeter of Jeon Jungkook's mind. There is nothing to stop him when his favorite psycho demon bitch is just as crazy as he is. He'll do anything to get his fix.

collared au chained, yg | tainted, jk | twisted, jk+yg | wicked, jk+yg | burned, jk+yg

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - [!!!!] dangerous temperature play, do not attempt! I warned you, this is fiction, I am not responsible for your dumbassery; JK is dangerously deep in subspace and, if you feel like him, you need to take a step back and reevaluate; intense D/s smut (fem reader, fire play, pain kink, hair-pulling kink, marking from burns / bites, mentions of m-masturbation, spit kink, ice play, nipple play, handjob, m and f-receiving oral, cock-and-ball torture, forced orgasms, overstimulation, face-sitting, cum-eating, humiliation kink, voyeurism); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader + surprise sub!Yoongi at the end; JK's POV ad he's an extra subby pain slut; can be read alone

“You like fire?”

Fuck, Jeon Jungkook liked anything if his favorite crazy bitch was doing it to him.

“You bring the match and I’ll be the kerosene,” he breathed into her intoxicating kiss.

She laughed and he swallowed it.

His friends had been telling him he had become quite cool these days. He had changed his fashion a bit, going for the heavy black jackets and ripped jeans and old band t-shirts. He used to think he needed to uphold a façade in public, but now he realized that he didn’t care that much. He cared a lot more about how she viewed him. On sore says, Jungkook wore baggy athleisure and made sure his hood was up to hide the marks from his collar.

He was wearing his sweat sets a lot these days.

He pulled away, wanting to look at her again.

They stood facing each other. She grinned. Mischievous, sexy, and an extra psychotic glint in that fashioned heterochromia stare. Left iris covered with a flat white contact. Right iris as real as it got. He bit the side of his lip, feeling his second lip piercing press against his teeth. He had stripped his hoodie off like she asked, leaving him in only his mesh shirt in her cold studio office. The door was locked, leaving him at her mercy.

His nipples hardened as she held up the box of matches.

Who was she?

His lover. His maker. His lifeline. His only reason to exist was to be her sexual punching bag. Fuck doll. Cum dumpster. Whatever she wanted him to be on that day. He could be anything. Better if it was with malice and to his detriment. This wasn’t a game to him anymore. This was everything.

She.

Was.

Everything.

She struck the match against the sandpaper, grinning wider as the flame burst into life.

He could feel the heat against his chin.

The excitement.

The anticipation.

The arousal seizing his blood, searing downward to his cock, making it swell and pulse.

Jungkook used to feel guilty about his fantasies. After all, they were born from despair and a need to be someone he wasn’t. But his past haunted him. His dreams of love had been burned against his will, turned into scorched earth by someone he used to have faith in. He had loved someone will all his heart and she stomped on it, took a shit on it, and threw him away. Cheated on him with multiple partners and laughed in his face. When he left, he vowed to become a different man, but that turned out to be a lot more difficult than he thought. It seemed impossible to escape the constant daily misery. He questioned everything he did, his actions for others marred by her taunts, reminding him he had been so easy to take advantage of, reminding him constantly that he believed in all the wrong things.

Love.

Truth.

Heaven.

But, then, a goth bitch from hell changed everything.

He had to thank Min Yoongi for that.

She brough the flame closer, exhaling so he could feel her hot breath and smell the cinders.

He craved his penance for having faith. He craved to forget. He craved to make the constant loop of self-deprecation stop. It was all a mistake thinking that love couldn’t be foul poison. All snakes concealed themselves in good intentions. He craved to feel something besides the sadness, vowed to replace it with something stronger. Something rawer. Something innate, even more so than that poison called love. He learned it was okay to make mistakes. He learned to be was okay to be fractured, because there was something that could make him whole.

Pain.

Pain made him perfectly, completely, blissfully whole. He adored excruciating pain most of all. The more unavoidable and unbearable, the better.

She struck the flame across his collarbone and he gasped.

The match snuffed out with the speed.

A thin tendril of smoke slithered in the air, indicating the end of the fire, but he could still feel the sting on his skin. The heat had melted the threads of the thin mesh. The glint in her eyes, maniacal. Devouring. Eating up his reaction like it was feast. She flung the used match away and, before it had the chance to hit the floor and snap, he was groaning in agony as her fingers tore at the still-hot burn, the hurt slicing through his body in an erotic shudder.

His shirt ripped.

Jungkook looked down, seeing a red-hot mark on his chest.

If pain was beauty, then she was about to turn him into a pretty, pretty bitch.

His head snapped back up.

The corners of his lips rising, matching her insanity.

Her eyes glowed as she lit another match.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot when you want pain,” she snickered and struck the flame over his chest again.

He moaned, lustful and grateful.

Why should I struggle to find someone to walk through hell with me when I can just find hell and burn in it of my own free will?

He moaned at the pain, shuddering against the wall as she tore his shirt again, exposing the blistered skin. Match. Melt. Nearly burned. Torn away. He could feel the intensity radiating off her gaze, eagerly consuming the marring of his body. Building the hunger. His breathing shallowed as she traced an unlit match against his tense abs, leaning forward. Her lashes lowering, savoring the way his chest rose and fell shakily as he felt that rough pinprick drag across his skin.

Why fade when I can burn?

She raised the matchstick, holding it in his view.

Broke it in half right by her cheek.

He whimpered, longing for the torture. She dropped it, breathing out hotly over his trembling lips. The burns were significant enough to hurt for a couple days, but shallow enough to not leave a permanent mark. Somehow, she knew just the right pressure. His blood boiled. A rehearsed action? Practiced? On who? Then despair bled in. Not him.

He wanted it to be him.

He whimpered, tangling his fingers into the holes of his shirt and tearing at the irritated skin more, pain ricocheting over his nerves, his body screaming at him to stop, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He didn’t care if his body could take it or not. He didn’t care if he bled. He wanted this.

He needed this.

Jungkook used to feel guilty about his fantasies, but the desire to be abused was so much stronger.

She lit another match with a raise of her eyebrow.

Flicked it over his fingertips.

His hand recoiled reflexively and he cursed his body for rejecting the flame. He wanted to cover it with his palm, feel his skin blister as he snuffed out the fire, but she danced the light away from him, shooting it across his left forearm. Instantly, the piercing discomfort made him cry out, and then again the threads were torn, nearly ripping the sleeve clean off. He could almost, almost feel the individual tugs each melted thread, and his eyes rolled back at the thought.

She slapped his arm, right across the singed skin.

His knees buckled in fiery ecstasy.

His hips thrust up and into her crotch. The bulge in his jeans caused the hem of her short skirt to flip upward. He was so hard that it was embarrassing. Deliciously shameful. His cock ached for more. He wore jeans on purpose so he could feel the frustration of the metal zipper struggling to cage him down. He heard the sound of her stepping forward, a weighty clink of chains and heavy sole, and her body practically pinned him to the wall, one of her legs jammed between his. Tilting, making him wince as her thigh collided with his erection, but she didn’t seem to notice or care, cocking her head and leaning back to light another match.

His breathing was so shallow that he was nearly hyperventilating.

Staring at her, wide-eyed and unsatiated.

“The fuck you looking at?” she spat, her lip curling.

Then she grabbed his face with her left hand, forcefully turning it to his right, the matchbox in her palm cutting into his cheek. He gasped at the force, and then froze as he felt blazing heat against his exposed neck, right above his racing pulse.

She leaned forward.

She was crazy.

He loved it.

“You’re so fucked up, Jungkook.”

Yes, he was. He was. Burn me. Burn me, he wanted to scream, but her hand was clamped over his mouth and his entire body was vibrating uncontrollably. The flame right above his neck. The moment must have lasted less than a second but fear and anticipation turned it into another lifetime, suspended in terror before known pain, and then.

A swift, cool puff of air.

The acrid stench of cinders.

Tendrils of smoke swirling around his face.

It took him a moment to realize she had blown out the match but before he could comprehend the despair, she sank her teeth into his neck. He choked behind her hand, mostly from shock, his hands flying up and gripping her waist. The flimsy distressed sweater barely covered her bra, let alone block his hands, and he was able to grip skin-on-skin, digging his nails into her flesh as he moaned behind her hand, flourishing in the anguish, delicious pain radiating from her ravenous mouth biting and breaking blood vessels under his skin, bruising him.

Marking him.

Turning him into her possession once again.

He heard the audible crack of the used match next to his ear. Three of her fingers hooked into his open lips and pressed against his tongue, her almond-shaped nails digging into the wet muscle. He groaned, tasting burned air and iron at the back of his throat. And the pain, the pain. Her mouth moving all over his neck. A necklace of bruises, followed by her drenched tongue creating a thread of saliva to connect them, her spit mixing with his sweat and running down his chest.

Oh, how he wished he could watch himself being abused right now.

Sometimes, that was all Jungkook could think about.

Like an addict chasing for next high, and the next, and the next, never enough. When they couldn’t meet, Jungkook would look at himself in the mirror, naked, and trace the marks she left. On his neck. Over his chest. Decorating his thigh. Along his hip. Purple and red and pink, including those with the nasty green-yellow twinge on the way to recovery. Wanting more. He had scars on his heart, so why not on his body too? That was why he got the tattoos and the piercings. He loved to see her eyes light up when he got a new one, pulling him closer to inspect him, closer to feel her breath on his skin, turned on by his pain.

He even liked knowing he wasn’t her only one.

He would touch himself, running his fingers over the marks, over his hard nipples, imagining any second that she would walk up behind him. Hoped she could witness how greedy he was for the pain. Aching to feel her long fingernails clawing over his chest. Red lines of sin. His own fingers curling inward, attempting to mirror her force, gripping his cock and rubbing the head until it was red and raw, reliving the memories, drowning in them, his black hair falling over his glazed-over eyes, breathless shudders escaping his open mouth, watching his reflection fall apart and wishing she could see it too, waiting for that heterochromatic stare to rise behind his shoulder, one dark eye and one stark white.

Her rough, harsh whisper heating his shoulder.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she growled down at him.

She had grabbed him and thrown him onto her desk, sending pens flying, his back colliding with hard wood and his legs hanging off the side. His torn shirt tore even more. His hands had flown down, gripping the zipper of his jeans and pressing down.

He froze at her command, raising his head slowly, eyes wide.

She forced his knees apart.

He gasped, his swollen cock bulging even against the thick fabric, too hard to be confined. She stepped even closer, her short black pleated skirt bunching up, and she reached down with one hand to blanket it over his crotch, making the tent all the more obvious and contained.

In her other hand, she held a glass full of ice.

So that was what was sitting on the minifridge when he walked in.

She smirked.

A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.

“You're runnin' hot. Let me help you with that.”

And, even though Jungkook knew it was coming, even though he could see her pick up an ice cube with her fingers, even though his body was aching from bruises and burns, he still nearly screamed when the ice cube was shoved into his hard nipple, shock shooting throughout his nerves at the cold, moaning as she rubbed it back and forth, rapidly melting water mixing with sweat and spit.

He fell back against the desk with a dull thunk, writhing, trying to move away and trying not to move at the same time, his back arching towards it. Sinful pleasure rising to new, uncharted territory. Her low laughter rang throughout the room, swiping the ice cube over one of his fresh burns, and Jungkook bit back a howl, his hands flying up and grasping his hair, pulling at it, adding pain on shock.

Her name dragged out of his throat, desperate and raw.

The melted cube slid off and hit the floor.

Neither of them cared.

“What’s the matter?” Her rough voice was deeper than usual, slipping into her satoori. “Can’t take it?”

She ran another all over his neck and his head hit the desk, ice to bruised skin, freezing his sudden goosebumps, his depraved moan directed to the ceiling. Cold liquid seeped down onto the nape of his neck, into his hair, onto the desk under him, into the remnants of his mesh shirt, and then the ice travelled back down, abusing his other nipple. Hard nub to cold stinging, morphing into wicked pleasure, turning him on so much that it was intolerable.

His hands flew back down to his jeans.

This time she didn’t stop him, grinning, dragging the frozen cube down, down.

Over his tightened core, the melting ice making his cut abs glossy and glistening.

She swept it around his lower belly as he fought his pants, gasping and squirming, his cheeks burning as he realized his boxer briefs were soaked with pre-cum, nearly sobbing as his erection was freed. The heavy, pungent scent of semen hit the air, accompanying the burning smell. His jeans were heavy with his belongings and instantly clunked to the ground. His boxer briefs tangled by his calves, sliding down from her opening his legs wider.

He looked down.

Thick, dark red, his stiff cock sticking upwards.

Begging for it.

He gripped his tense thighs, knowing what was coming and not wanting to stop her.

Her wrist flicked.

The ice cube plopped into her palm and then she gripped his cock, pressing the small hard object into his even harder cock, stroking up and down without hesitation. His head snapped back and he nearly saw stars, his fingernails digging into his thighs, the cold point overcome by her hot hand, shock and pain and pleasure and immoral desires all rolled into one.

She hovered over him, grinning madly from ear-to-ear, delighted by his reaction.

A demon of lust overcome by her power.

The small remainder slipped out of her palm and hit his balls, sliding off with a prickling line of ice-cold water, but Jungkook was trapped by her wild eyes, absorbed by their shared insanity, panting hard, her punishing grip deliberate and intense, his hips bucking to every pump of his cock, his tongue sliding out, tasting the air. Pre-cum, cinders, her bittersweet perfume. Losing himself to the uncontrollable shivers all over his body and the prickling latticework of his nerves attempting to keep up with the piling sensations. Nearly crying when she stopped jacking him off, pulling away so he could see how swollen he had become.

Squatting down.

Her piercing stare above the throbbing, purple-red tip.

The glint in her eye.

Sadistic.

She was so beautiful, just like this.

He heard a clink of the glass touching the floor. Another ice cube appeared in her left hand. Wordlessly, she brought it to his length and pressed it to his hot shaft. Jungkook winced, clawing at the insides of his thighs to stop himself from flinching away from the cold, and then watched in fascination as the veins become more prominent, his length reddening, violently turned on by it, his cock twitching and pulsing, his body too confused on whether to back down or continue being aroused.

The ice cube slipped down, to his balls, and he bit back a yelp, immediately feeling them pull closer to his body, but she gripped his cock again, pumping him hard and fast, smearing freezing circles over his balls at the same time, causing cold water to drip down his legs and onto the floor, the fat droplets creating audible plop, plop, plops.

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

So good that he could only moan helplessly and thrust up into her hand. She gripped him, tighter, spitting onto her fingers, slicker, wetter, hot and cold and the unbearable ache between his legs, his shoulder blades pressing into her desk, his spine arched to the brink, begging, pleading, d-don’t s-s-stop, the pitch of her name becoming feverish as the ice slipped and skidded over the floor, but it didn’t matter, didn’t matter because she grabbed his balls instead, wrapping her fingers around them and squeezing.

“H… H-Harder…!”

His hair was stuck to his face, his eyes rolling back, his tongue hanging out of his open mouth, forcibly pushed to orgasm with the punishing clamping of his balls, and it all came down with a crash, the air crushed out of his lungs with a carnal cry, his cock violently jerking, shooting out a stream of thick cum that was quickly covered by her mouth, sucking it off with a lewd slurp. His hips snapped back from the whiplash of overstimulation but there was nowhere to go and he found himself wetly begging, almost sobbing, k-keep going, make me cum a-again, please…!

On the brink of agony and dependent on it.

“Please, don’t s-sto– oh, fuuuuuuuck…!”

Her mouth completely covered him, now two hands on his balls, tugging them in different directions, her knuckles closing in, locking. Pulsating around the delicate skin and sending him into blinding pleasure, on the edge from her wrapped tongue and steady abuse, and somehow she knew the exact amount of cruel pleasure to inflict that was almost, almost too much. Up and down, her punishing tongue pressing him to the roof of her mouth. Down her throat. Tight. Wet. Suffocating. Sucking. Spit leaking out and dripping down to his balls. Sticky, milky from his cum. The head of his cock was so sensitive that he could feel every ridge on the roof of her mouth and the pinch of her slippery throat muscles choking him.

He came so hard that his vision went black.

Hoarsely screaming her name.

She stopped moving her head but sucked him dry, swirling her tongue around and around and around.

His skin burned, his chest tight, his crotch ice cold.

Jungkook blinked hard, trying to come down, mind foggy and hazy from the back-to-back orgasms that had expended his consciousness. Blurred vision, shaking hands, his knees buckling. Coldness. He could hear clunking, sense movement, but his vision was blurred by his own tears, distracted and disoriented by his high.

Then his vision went black again and her bare pussy collided with his open mouth.

He gasped under the unexpected weight, her knees by his head and her hands clutching his hair, pushing the crown of his head back, pressing her wet pussy into his face. Sweet slick smeared onto his lips and slipped down into his mouth, and he was obsessed, possessed, latching on and thrusting his tongue inside, her skirt blanketed over his head. He couldn’t see anything. He didn’t care. She sat on his face, her thighs pressed to his cheeks, and he clawed up his own body, sinking his hands into her soft ass to put more of her weight on him, moaning into her wet folds, covering himself with her juices.

It stuck to his lips, his cheeks, his jaw.

He curled his tongue around her clit and coaxed it with licks, hearing her growl in satisfaction, her grip tightening in his hair. Grinding on his face, smothering him, but he didn’t care, wanted it, needed it, licking, sucking, drinking down her slick, straining his neck to close his lips around that elusive bundle of nerves and making it his.

Hard, primal exhales up above, riding his face and chasing the high.

“You’re such a pain slut.”

A man’s voice.

Raspy and smokey.

Amused.

Jungkook became highly aware that he was mostly naked, legs trembling from tension, spent cock bouncing in the air. On his back and pinned to a desk with pussy molded to his mouth, half-crushed by being sat on, his face covered by a short skirt and his hands molded to the juicy curve of her ass.

And he liked it.

No.

He loved it.

He ached for it.

He made an effort to be more noisy, more obvious, licking and sucking, his wanton moans muffled in his chest, rolling his body up into hers, earning another tug at his hair and a dark laugh some ways away, the Daegu satoori slipping out due to arousal.

“Yeah? You like me watching?”

She snickered, wicked and husky from approaching orgasm.

“Of course. He’s a fuckin’ freak just like you, Yoongi.”

He could hear the heavy tap, tap of boots. He felt her arch, a soft moan emitting from her lips, and he whined under her as her pussy spasmed and spilled onto his chin, her taste becoming sweeter, less viscous, stark. He sucked it all up, noisily, his forehead damp with sweat, but not stopping, running his tongue up and down her slit, shoving his tongue into her pulsing hole.

“Listen to him. He’s so desperate to make you cum in front of me,” the low, deep voice of Min Yoongi hummed. “You really gonna show me that face while he’s doing dirty things to you?”

Her teasing voice was daring, cold.

“Yeah, I am.”

Jungkook couldn’t see and could barely breathe, but he could hear just fine.

“Come here, then. Take out your dick. Prove to me that you aren’t hard.”

She curved her hips and Jungkook released the strain on his neck, gulping down a sticky, much-needed breath, and then he had to blink hard as light suddenly flooded his vision. Something brushed up against his upper arm. Rustling fabric. He heard a wispy sigh, and looked up to see the dark, cat-like eyes of Min Yoongi narrowed down at him, framed by long strands of black hair.

Jungkook stared right back and pressed his lips to her clit, making her moan with his tongue, her cum seeping down his neck.

Another stare joined Yoongi’s. One dark iris, real. One fake iris, vivid white. She grinned, sending another flare of wicked want through him, acutely aware of the indecent position he was in. A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy. Her left hand gripped her skirt, bunching it at her waist, and the other was on the desk, allowing her to hunch over him.

She licked her teeth.

Carnivorous.

“Guess what, Jungkook?”

His eyes widened as he felt fabric slide down past his arm.

“Yoongi’s hard watching you eat me out.”

There was the audible slap next to his head, right onto her thigh. She rolled her hips into his mouth, and he opened up, sucking on her clit as he heard a soft hiss, seeing the shoulder of Yoongi’s black long sleeve move. Hearing the back-and-forth slaps. Smelling the scent of pre-cum once again, but someone else’s, smearing right onto her quivering thigh next to his head.

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened, biting his lower lip, fixated on her clean-shaven mound rocking onto Jungkook’s needy and willing mouth.

“Makes you fuckin’ hard watching him between my legs, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook whined at her icy, heated tone.

The older male’s breathing was growing thin, the repeated noise of hand on flesh getting faster, louder.

“S… Shut up…”

Her hand hooked around Yoongi’s head and she dragged him to her face by his hair. There was a flash of shared gaze and Jungkook saw it – desire clouded by sin, an insatiable hunger for pain – and he witnessed Yoongi moaning into her face, succumbing to her brutal kiss, her hips picking up the pace as they made contact, prompting him to suck harder and lick faster.

Close.

Jungkook could now barely see the angry red head of Yoongi’s cock slipping in and out of focus, a peripheral blur from that strong pale hand wrapped around it.

Close.

His legs shook, threatening to give up on him.

There.

His eyes shut tightly as her hips flinched and she snarled, vicious and guttural in her chest. Heady and sweet cum flooding his mouth, over his chin, stifled moan bubbling in his throat as he tipped his head down and hungrily lapped it all up, covering his nose with her orgasm. Thrusting his tongue into her throbbing, shivering hole. Swallowing as much as he could, and then he felt the sudden hot, dripping stream of thick semen painting his forehead, a streak of Yoongi’s scent painted onto him, and then another, dripping down her thigh and into Jungkook’s sweat-soaked hair.

It was so wrong.

It was heaven.

The ache in his core pulsated, devastatingly turned on by the defilement.

She got off him and now Jungkook could finally breathe, but his surroundings were a blur. The sudden oxygen flooding his brain left him out of touch with reality, still drunk on lust, pain, and near erotic asphyxiation. Wet. Warm. He melted in her hands as she licked off his face, hot tongue slurping off his hyung’s cum and leaving sloppy kisses along his temples. He trembled, teeming with past sensations. His body sore and sticky with various fluids, his and hers and his, and this was it, this was everything he wanted, fashioning his new self from his guilty, masochistic fantasies.

Feeling truly, blissfully, painfully alive.

Yoongi was breathing hard, holding something out to him.

A black leather collar with a silver chain wrapped around his hand.

“You want yours?”

Yes.

Yes, he did.

Jungkook reached out and grasped his collar tightly. Brain muddled. Body electrified from willfully inflicted agony and the voracious want for more. More. Those dark cat-like eyes narrowed. Deep voice dropping to a wary rasp.

“Careful, or the headspace will possess you and take over your life,” Yoongi warned.

Too late.

Too fucking late.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #yoonkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #yoongi smut

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

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heyyy, i was wondering did you removed bsod? I can't find it in your masterpost🫢

I moved it to the drabbles masterpost, but here is the link.

sorry about that, tumblr limits the number of links in one post (cringe) and apparently I write too much (welp), if you can't find something (and it's short), it's probably there, but don't be afraid to ask, sometimes my organization only makes sense to me (sorry XD)

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

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hi i love your writing. <3

hi thank you for reading. <3

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

Text

happy birthday to ARMY's favorite clown...???????

just kidding, happy birthday to our favorite tiger / bear / dreamy vocalist / stunning fashion model / occasionally an actor / honorary Parisian / meme lord / always most handsome face Kim Taehyung (gosh, the list really does go on, doesn't it!)

you're busy being buff and bald right now but I hope it's a really good day, I hope you've made lots of new friends, you've worked hard on the cold! stay warm from ARMY's love! <3

don't stop being our favorite loon XD

#whatifyoulivelikethat #wiyllt

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

Text

not allowed xvii, m | jjk

pairing(s): est. poly relationship – yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The date of Jeon Jungkook's mandatory military service is drawing close. There's a heart-to-heart... following by fucking all three holes. What? That harsh training is easier to endure when Jungkook has nice memories of his girlfriend's sweet, sweet ass.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; JK and reader only; relationship talk; all the feels and heart eyes; smut (fem reader, all the kisses, nipple play, fingering [pussy + ass], f and m-receiving oral + face fucking, slight edging, anal doggy, vaginal penetrative sex, mentions of m-masturbation, multiple orgasms); idol!BTS - Yoongi x reader x Jungkook; reader is JK’s noona; based on real time (before 2023.12.11) this is late but I can't not send off the bunbun :D

part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your bf asked JK to fuck you, twice, and then on the regular. blue haired JK. 2021 YG birthday, ‘Butter’, wiyllt remix. new skill acquired, JK’s sheer pj punishment, 2021 JK birthday, during PTD in LA, 2022 HNY, 2022 YG birthday, PTD in LV, 2022 JK birthday; 2022 Christmas, before YG's service

“Yoongi warned me.”

“Hm?”

He didn’t have much time left. But he made time for you. He had made your favorite food (crispy samgyeopsal, hehe), bought you a gift even though you didn’t want to accept them (ended up being Google Play gift cards, which you gladly accepted; however, they came with a stipulation – “you better buy all of my and SUGA-hyung’s in-game outfits with this”), and made you take off your shirt (???????) to yank one of his white Calvin Klein t-shirts over your head. You always refused physical items from him. After all, you didn’t date him for the money, plus you didn’t want anyone to notice that you had any lavish gifts. They would think you had a suga daddy or something.

Hehe.

“Noona, it’s a t-shirt. Most people can afford a Calvin Klein t-shirt. Why do you think I accepted the campaign?”

“So you could be shirtless for a reason?”

“Hey!”

“Hmm, all for ARMY, huh?”

“That includes you too, you know.”

You had grinned at Jeon Jungkook then and, just this once, you accepted his gifts. He had smiled back with those round cheeks, bright white teeth, sparkling eyes, and a newly bald head. It was a strange look to see him in, but he made it amusing, joking about it all night, not addressing the why even though you both knew the part of life that was yet to come. He puffed his chest, shirtless, and jokingly pumped up his muscles.

“You remind me of The Rock right now,” you quipped.

His head tilted in confusion. “Eh?”

You pulled up a photo of Dawyne Johnson. “I expect your biceps to be this big after eighteen months.”

“Woah! That’s impossible!”

“Just imagine ARMY’s faces when you show up at the first concert as buff as The Rock. Still bald,” you laughed good-naturedly, setting your phone down. “We gotta pick someone to People’s Elbow.”

“Seokjin-hyung would never agree.”

“You said it, not me.”

Jungkook was laughing with you. It slowly died out, your smile remaining, and he was smiling back. You had noticed this feeling all night. Something weighing on him even though he was trying to be as normal as possible. It suddenly occurred to you that you were in a unique position now. You always had to hide your true emotions about Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook, staying silent until you were behind closed doors and only in their presence. After all, who would understand the love between you and two men, let alone two of the most talented and most famous world-class superstars of BTS? You could confide in no one. But now, everyone knew the timeline of their service to their country. It would not be strange for you to say out loud, in public, that you missed them being around.

It was…

Comforting.

Just knowing that you could say it out loud and people would likely say, me too, even if no one really knew what you truly meant.

Those big brown eyes searched your face. You smiled softly at him and didn’t back away, letting him find what he needed. You knew Jungkook wanted to say something, but you didn’t press for it. He would tell you on his own time. He was always like that.

“Yoongi warned me.”

You paused. “Hm?”

He came closer and held your shoulders. You looked up, seeing the infinite sky and the endless universe in those eyes. The strangest adjustment for you was not the hair but the lack of piercings. They had remained constant (or as constant as Jungkook had allowed, heh) even when his hair changed. He had removed all of them now, leaving only earrings in his lower earlobe that he would have to eventually have to remove too. Still, it was the same person looking back at you. No matter how many years passed, no matter how much his appearance changed, the pureness of his emotions always shone through those big peepers.

The original Magic Shop was that big heart of his, after all.

He made wishes come true all the time.

“I’m not… good at speaking or anything…” Jungkook mumbled, chewing the left side of his lower lip, exposing that familiar and well-loved underlip mole. He always started off with that. You didn’t interrupt even though you wanted to tell him he was always super obvious to read. Especially to you. “I… I wished I spent more time with you.”

You stilled, not expecting that. “Well, you know I understand–”

Jungkook smiled and shook you a little, telling you to shut up. You only did because of the faint sadness in his expression. “That’s what Yoongi-hyung warned me about. That you would understand. That you would always understand, no matter what. But, still… I know, I spent a lot of this year working on my album and flying to places and trying new things and recording content I knew ARMY would like. I really wanted to prepare stuff everyone could enjoy while we were gone.”

You chuckled. “Am I not included in that? You just said so earlier.”

He stubbornly shook his head. “You are different, noona. There are not enough hours for all the time I want to spend with you.”

You waited for him to look back to you again. He looked apologetic. He had run out of time. There was no one more time. But he never needed to give you more. You had always been grateful for every second, every minute, every hour that he gave you.

“Any time with you is enough for me, Jungkook.”

He held you tight.

“But it’s not enough for me.”

He was holding onto your shoulders very firmly. You could tell he did not want to cry. You gave him a moment to breathe. He blinked hard and swallowed, letting out a heavy exhale, expansive eyes full of glistening stars.

“I know you’ll be fine, noona.”

He tiled his head down, leaning his forehead against yours, and there were no shadows of his hair, just soft warm light all around.

“I have saved thousands of photos,” you murmured, and he cracked a smile. “And I’ll definitely still see your face all over Korea. I won’t be able to escape you, I promise.”

He stared into your eyes.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

You closed your eyes and breathed in, imprinting Jungkook’s clean scent into your memory.

“Even stronger than Yoongi,” he whispered, and you imprinted his voice into your memory too, even though you already had many of his words archived already.

“Don’t let him know you said that,” you whispered back. “He’ll get sulky.”

His breath trembled against your lips.

“But I won’t be fine knowing I should have done more.”

You reached up and wrapped your arms around him, hooking your hands behind his shoulders.

“There is no should here. And you are stronger than you know. You’ll be golden, my love.”

You used to only use that for Yoongi. You both mostly hated pet names. Somehow, my love snuck its way in there. It was never used lightly. There was weight to it. And now you used it for Jungkook, in the same tone, with the same softness. My love. Every time you felt him shiver and hold you tighter. Tilted his head to close the distance. You kissed him back, letting it linger, letting it take shape as a core memory. You let him be the one to break it. You let him take one of your hands and hold it up to his, palm to palm, fingertips touching.

He looked down at your joined touch for a moment.

At the same time, your fingers and his fingers curled forward and interlocked.

“Hyung and I are lucky to have you.”

“Dunno, sometimes my jokes aren’t smooth like butter.”

Jungkook squeezed your hand tighter, chuckling lightly. “You know what I mean, noona.”

“Do I?”

Then he surprised you.

“I’ve never heard you complain about your situation even though you had every reason and every chance to.”

He had noticed.

He really is growing up, huh?

“There’s nothing I need to complain about. I’m pretty lucky, I think,” you hummed.

“With adamant-almost-insufferable personality SUGA-hyung and very-difficult-to-handle Jungkookie?”

They were light-hearted words but the way he said it was not so. His tone indicated this was something spoken about between them. You didn’t mind it. In fact, you preferred it. Not only did they have complimentary personalities but they had someone who understood their unique situation well. But you also understood the apprehension. They had expressed it before.

“You two are my favorite challenges,” you chuckled, rubbing your nose against Jungkook’s. “Life is too boring without you.”

It had probably been a bad decision back then. After all, the agency was against Min Yoongi and you dating from the start, telling him repeatedly that romantic relationships were not allowed. But with youth and stubborn personalities came resilience. And becoming really good at lying to authority. Whoops. The agency both had to low-key accept what was going on and slowly relaxed over time. But life had other ideas to make your love life even more unconventional. And hectic.

(And loud. Jeon Jungkook was very loud.)

Of course, life was hard, but every life was. In fact, maybe challenge was the wrong word as it had possible negative connotations. The odd hours, the lost sleep, the sneaking around, the no-gifts rule, the creative dates behind closed doors – these things were a small price to pay in the light of the unbreakable connections you had between Yoongi and Jungkook.

Not one red line of fate, but two.

One silver.

One golden.

Jungkook held your face in his hands.

“ARMY is the reason I live, but you are the reason I know my heart is always safe.”

You tried not to wince and shifted your eyes from side to side. Eerily similar to a certain someone. Hard to tell if it was a habit that you picked up from Yoongi or one he had picked up from you. You could tell Jungkook was being sincere, but it was still a dramatic cheesy compliment that you weren’t used to accepting. He laughed and deliberately peppered theatrical smooches all over your face that you tried to squirm away from, successfully breaking away and starting a chase throughout his home where he would catch you and pick you up to yell that he loved you straight into your ear, followed by a kissing frenzy. You would temporarily lose hearing and wiggle away to start the cycle all over again, knowing full well that you couldn’t run faster than him. Maybe something to think about for the new year.

In those moments, everything was perfect.

In those moments, the world was only you and him.

In those moments, no one could break the wholeness between you and him.

No one but time.

You both tumbled into his bed, laughing, childish, holding onto each other. Somehow, your hand landed on his waist and his ended up in your hair, playing with it, and Jungkook asked you how you did it.

“Do what?” you teased with a smirk.

“I sometimes think about if I could love someone else, but I really can’t,” Jungkook frowned, running his fingertips over your temple. “I just get obsessed and can’t stop.”

“Oh, I know.”

Everyone knew that, keke.

“I got jealous of hyung, really,” he admitted. “Not only because he had you, but because it seemed to work so well. And then it turns out that you guys really are perfect.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not perfect–”

“It made me love you even more,” Jungkook continued, talking over you. “You pair with him so well. You pair with me well. You’ve always listened to me. Really paid attention. You know what I want before I say anything. You sometimes even know how I feel before I know. You know everything.”

“I definitely don’t know everything,” you scoffed. “Stop making stuff up.”

“And you never get mad at me.”

You shrugged. “The trick is to always be mad.”

“Hey!”

You grinned. Softened a bit when you saw his narrowed eyes and pout.

“Life’s too short to be mad at you.”

Jungkook’s expression changed at your words.

“When you’re young, you think you have all the time in the world, but that’s not true,” you sighed, remembering how it was. “Time is finite. Why waste it letting things pile up and be resentful? It is better to know yourself, to articulate how you feel, and to approach problems with confidence that you can solve them. There are things people can do and things people can’t. Even if… Even if things don’t work out tomorrow, I will have lived knowing I did what made me happy and knowing I did everything I could to make you happy.”

You squeezed his waist and exhaled softly.

“Maybe I can’t do that forever. But is that a reason to stop? I don’t think so. So what if people think it’s wrong? So what if people don’t believe in my heart? So what if they think it can’t be done? Wrongness is not as easy to define as people would like it to be. I only need you and Yoongi to believe in my heart for it to be true, and my toxic trait has always been that I think I can do anything, hah…”

A year and a half was a short time. And a long time, perhaps, but dedication and loyalty were always the foundation you built these precious feelings on. Maybe it wasn’t very romantic to rely on your stubbornness to stay in love, but it did help keep promises.

“You ask me, how do I do it?”

You had hesitated in the beginning not for your sake, but theirs. It was hard to live complicated. It was harder to love in a complicated way. It was impossible made possible through sheer determination, and maybe everything would become more impossible in the future, but it would be disingenuous to right now if you let those worries consume you, and it was important to you for your love to know that every moment with them was never taken for granted. As long as you made that promise, you would spare no expense.

The only way to do that was to, of course, live like that.

“I love you because I want to, with everything I have. And I will never make a promise I don’t intend to keep.”

Jungkook stared at you with awe.

“You’re so cool, noona.”

You half-smiled. Not denying it. “Can you tell Yoongi that so he stops disagreeing with me?”

He grinned mischievously. “He actually thinks you’re really cool too, but he didn’t want me to tell you that.”

“That punk–”

Words fell away. You wouldn’t say the conversation was surprising, but you hadn’t expected that level of depth. You appreciated it. Maybe it had been Yoongi’s idea, but it had been up to Jungkook to vocalize it. You understood that it meant a lot to him who thought he wasn’t elegant in his communication. He didn’t have to worry though. You could feel his sincerity in other ways. In the way he looked at you, turning to lift himself over your body, fitting his hand over your wrist above your head. You shifted to be on your back, looking back with a playful smile. In the way he leaned in and kissed you. In the way his free hand grazed the hem of the t-shirt and slid over your skin.

He showed rather than told.

So show me.

You felt him whimper into the kiss as your tongue slid against his. Felt the shiver of desire as his thumb grazed over your nipple and his fingers close in around your breast. You smiled against his lips. Nothing had changed since the first time. Jungkook still touched you with the same earnestness, the same unflinching lust, pushing away your clothes with the same frustration, as if they personally offended him by existing. But he was different too, savoring the moment, letting his hot exhale wash over you, kissing down your neck in the way you liked, sliding his arms under you so he could dig his short nails into your back and make your spine arc and your chest press against his, his teeth biting into the curve of your shoulder and sucking hard.

You gasped, gripping his shoulder tightly.

His forearms tensed against your back, kissing back up to your ear and biting down just under it, leaving his marks on your skin, your pulse thundering under his devouring lips.

Good thing winter called for turtlenecks and scarves.

You looked down at him when Jungkook scooted back and licked up the center of your torso, slow and dripping saliva, feeling the heat and wetness and possessiveness in the action, opening his eyes slowly as he lifted his head from your cleavage, those brown irises dark and heavy with desire.

“The baldness makes it feel like I’m sexing up a stranger,” you admitted with a snicker.

He glared. “Shuddup. I’m tryin’ to be sexy here.” His Busan satoori came out more when he was done with your bullshit.

“Keep trying. It’s fun,” you cheerfully remarked.

What?

It was fun to annoy him. It worked too, for his anxious need to make this a perfect moment dropped and was superseded by raw emotion and carnal need. He dropped his head and worked his mouth all over your breasts. Lips, tongue, teeth. Your breath caught in your throat, back arching, sparks over your skin, and his arms pulled out from under you. He gripped your thighs, curling his tongue around your hard nipples and making you moan from his mouth. Flaring his tongue over one, pushing it around, sucking, then moving to the other, sinking his fingers into your thighs, groaning as your hands encircled his head and pushed him closer, more, your head pressed to the soft pillows he always brought out when you stayed over.

Jungkook’s usual sleeping pillow was not optimal for fucking.

Facts were facts.

(You still didn’t understand how he was comfortable on that cylinder but he was one of the seven wonders of the world. The other six being the rest of BTS, of course.)

It was never about what, but how.

It was never about who he was, but about who he was with you.

He kissed up your collarbones, leaving your skin tingling with the strange sensation of missing lip rings. His fingers dipping inwards, your thumbs prickled by his short hair, and your eyes connected as his fingertips slipped under your panties, stroking your wet slit, shuddering as he felt your heat while basking in the heat of your gaze, stilling your inhale.

The moment settled into memory.

Burned.

He pushed two fingers inside you and your moans were cut off by his lips, roughly kissing you as your hips rose and your pussy locked around him, closing your eyes to turn low-lit reality into a continuous dream. One of your hands sliding down and into his pants, cupping your palm around his erection still constricted by his boxer briefs. Creating a rhythm, his fingers pushing in, your erratic breath making his, rubbing his hardness with each wave of pleasure, feeling the fervor build between bodies, layer by layer, the physicality becoming more intense with the depth of emotion, deeper, his cock throbbing under your touch, catching his tongue, feeling his saliva mix with yours and trickle down your throat.

Pleasure seeping into every fiber of your being.

“J… Jungkook…”

He ducked his head, your hand falling out of his pants, but your protest was cut off by the overwhelming ecstasy of his lips around your nipple once again, flicking it with his tongue, fucking you with more force, and your hips matched his pace, your head tipping back, throat exposed to the air, unafraid, moaning to the ceiling, close, closer, there.

Gasping sharply, and your walls clenched around his fingers, spasming, the heavy and sweet scent of sex bursting into the air, coating his fingers, sticking to your thighs, racing electricity up your stomach and into your lungs, the orgasm leaving you shockingly breathless.

Then your eyes rolled up into your head when Jungkook pushed himself down the bed, peeling your soaked panties down your legs, and he shoved his face between your legs, moaning hotly when his tongue met slick skin, your hands immediately gripping the sheets, your hips bucking into his face, ravenous for the sensation of circling tongue and soft lips, your eyelids fluttering as your swollen clit pulsed against wet muscle.

“F-Fuck…”

It wasn’t elegant but it felt fucking good. Your legs hooked around his shoulders and Jungkook lifted your lower body, his strong hands squeezing your ass, thumbs pressing in and spreading out your holes to give his greedy mouth more access while your thighs suffocated him, your palm pushing down on the crown of his head, shuddering as his tongue circled your trembling pussy.

He sucked up your cum.

Eyes opening and directly looking up at you.

You dug your fingertips into his head and fucked his face.

His eyes rolled back and he thrust his tongue into you, moaning again into your wet heat as you flexed around it, and then he shoved his thumb into your tight ass. Thankfully you had come prepared (and knowing him too well), so it didn’t surprise you, although you were a bit amused at his audacity. It was easy to forget about though, especially when his lips sealed around your clit, licking fervently. His thumb began to push in and out, in, out, his muffled groans vibrating through your core, fingering your ass while sucking your engorged clit. You would think he wouldn’t dare without checking with you first. Then again, he told you all the time to let him in your ass.

He was lucky you had foresight.

He was also right, though, because clearly you were letting him do whatever he wanted and enjoying it.

Hah.

You came again, hard, all the blood rushing to your head and gasping for air.

“Oh? It’s clean.”

“Yeah, something told me you’d try and go for the ass tonight,” you chuckled between pants, only to lose all breath once more as Jungkook planted his knee above your shoulder, mysteriously missing pants and underwear somehow (the spedy efficiency he was capable of when horny was remarkable), pushing down the dark red head of his stiff cock onto your open mouth, shifting his leg as you expertly adjusted your hair out of the way.

You raised an eyebrow at him but all Jungkook did was throw his head back and moan as your tongue wrapped around his girth, molding your mouth around him. His hips flicked forward, and you had the angle, swallowing him deep in your throat, deep enough for your lips to press against the base, his balls smacking into your chin. The tip of your tongue slid out and licked them. He groaned, low and erotic, slowly fucking your face, his pitch hiking as your tongue ran up to the thin skin under the head and down to his balls, smoothly not missing a beat as he dictated the pace. He didn’t touch your head, giving you the chance to move away if it was too much, but he didn’t have to worry. He was getting harder and thicker with this steady pace, his length twitching wildly between your lips, giving you all the control in the world, tilting your head to keep it at the perfect angle, curling your tongue to the underside of his cock to press it to the roof of your mouth and down your throat, anchoring yourself with your hands clutching his hard thighs, his girth stretching you out.

A desperate whine above you and he slowed, almost to full stop.

“N-No… w-wait…”

You calmly continued to move your head back and forth, leisurely, your lips pressed against the base of the head, licking around and around, flaring the slit with the tip of your tongue, his strong flavor invading your taste buds.

His hips nearly buckled and Jungkook cried out, tapping your upper arm hurriedly.

“I… I w-want to fuck your ass…”

Oh.

So that was why he wanted to be as hard as possible.

“You act like I’m gonna let you do anything you want,” you fake complained, choosing to roll onto your elbows after he backed up. Hey, you were going to picking the position here, even if you were succumbing to all his wants. Once again you guessed right. You looked back to see sweat glistening on Jungkook’s collarbones and his wide eyes honed in onto your perky round ass bouncing in the air, on your knees with your chest against the mattress. He carelessly dumped the hand towel back onto the nightstand and ripped open the condom, oblivious to you witnessing his hard dick bobbing up and down in the air as he climbed back onto the bed.

This guy was spacing out staring at your butt.

“Hey, I’m still here,” you joked.

“Uh huh,” was his distracted reply.

You turned back to face forward as his expression disappeared behind you, half-amused but not offended by his one-track mind. You figured he was busy carefully rolling down the condom until you felt his thumb once again press into your tight ring of muscle and heard him moan as he sank inside.

Um.

“Fuck, it’s so tight and so soft inside you…”

While you appreciated his complimenting observations, some warning would have been nice, but, then again, who cared about that, certainly not you as you gripped his sheets and survived on shallow breath and the repeated shallow fullness, in, out, in, out, this time using more force and stretching you out, acutely aware of Jungkook watching your body’s reaction in fascination, his rough pants deepening, hauling himself up.

Forget it.

You didn’t want any warning.

He pulled his thumb out and replaced it with his cock, bottoming out right away.

You clenched your jaw and felt your core tighten involuntarily, his wanton moan striking the air, somehow remembering not to move for a second despite you knowing that he desperately wanted to, his entire body trembling as he gripped your hips. There was a dull ache, of course. His fully hard cock was a lot bigger than a finger, but you knew what was about to happen, experience helping you relax, and then you snapped your ass into his crotch.

Which meant, fuck me.

Pussy dripping, ass full, face down into the sheets that smelled just like him, you pushing back as he thrust into you, any pain fading into a heady euphoric state that was inescapable, overwhelming, unforgettable, his grasp imprinted onto your skin, loud smacks melting into the air filled with your joined, unashamed moans, both giving pleasure as much as receiving it. Sensations piling on sensations, everything you wanted and more. Everything he wanted and more, fuck, I love your ass, probably because you didn’t have as much control over him as you did with your pussy, damn, maybe he was smarter than you thought, gasping as you dropped your torso lower to give his cock a more comfortable angle.

“N-Not fair, y-you can’t go low like that…”

You would have replied, oh yes I can, but you were face-first into his bed getting fucked in the ass, being pounded so hard that even your thighs were shaking, so you only focused on what little breathing you could do, although you did evilly snicker in between thin inhales.

You heard a disapproving huff behind you.

Oop, he heard you.

His grip on your hips tightened and you barely had time to gasp before he slammed into you, deliberate and rough and focusing on giving it to you as hard as he could without cumming too fast. You could tell because his noises were turning into stifled grunts, probably biting down on his lower lip, but then again there wasn’t much you could do to go against what you enjoyed most. Pure, intense fucking, digging the base of your palms into his mattress and throwing your head back, driven by his pace and the rapturous passion, your leaking pussy throbbing with need, filled up in other ways, pulse roaring in your ears and pushed to the brink of tension, deep inside, his name tumbling from your mouth, drawn-out and shaken, your core clenching, adrenaline striking to a feverish high.

Jungkook choked on your name, losing control faster than he could speak.

He came hard and with a tangible jerk that you could feel, even within you, and the thought and sensation sent you over the edge, burying your face into the pillows and letting out a wanton string of curses, powerful pulsations shuddering up your spine, so intense it was nearly an out-of-body experience, heart beating so hard and so fast that you felt like it was going to leap out of your throat.

Well, shit.

Maybe your age was catching up to you.

No time to worry about that though, because the most awkward sound came out of you after Jungkook pulled out with a shuddering gasp.

“Uh…”

“Damn, that’s hot.”

You shot him a look.

Jungkook was sweaty, panting, and pointedly stared back at you, brows furrowed and eyes big, very serious and twice as defiant. “What?! I don’t give a fuck. It means I fucked you so well your body can’t help it but make embarrassing noises.”

…

You were speechless.

Well, he was kind of right and also kind of wrong (gravity and displacement and other various scientific explanations), and strangely sweet for not making you feel bad about it, but also… what the fuck? How are you supposed to respond to that? You gawked at him, scooting to the edge of the bed, intending to leave as he peeled off the used condom and threw it in the trash, but then he blocked you and pushed you back down, unmoving hand on your stomach.

“Um…”

Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t say you could go,” Jungkook huffed, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t asking for permission–”

His hard dick smacked your thigh, smearing the remnants of lube and cum onto your skin.

“Hey!”

Then you realized he was holding up another condom in his free hand. Menacingly. Er, would be if he wasn’t so cute. You raised your eyebrows at his stern face, not intimidated in the slightest, but apparently Jungkook didn’t care.

“I want to feel all three of your holes before I go serve my country.”

You blinked slowly.

Was this guy for real?

“Ah, hmmm, I mean I would have let you even without that milestone – woah!”

Despite your (pretend) protests, you weren’t opposed to the back-to-back-to-back nature of each hole being used. Impressed, even, that he planned(?) this, willingly letting yourself be yanked to the edge of the bed with your legs open and propping yourself onto your elbows to watch him roll down the condom on his once-again hard cock. Driven by his insatiable horniness (relatable). You then looked back up to his face, trying not smirk at how sweaty he was.

Failing, obviously.

Jungkook lined up and then glanced at you, realizing your attention on him.

His gaze darkened, turning sly.

“Don’t look so smug, noona.”

“Who, me–?”

Then you choked on your words as he thrust into you with one swift stroke. Unlike your ass, Jungkook knew he didn’t have to wait with your pussy – you had already cum twice and truly loved the tightness that you gripped him with – so he lifted one of your legs and pressed it to his chest, snapping his hips into you over and over, looking down at you. Your body reacted accordingly, back arching, arms outstretched and clawing at the sheets, shallow breath, heatedly staring back at him.

There was a very brief power struggle in which both of you tried to silently assert dominance.

Brief because suddenly neither of you gave a shit. Too lost in the lust. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and Jungkook fell forward, catching himself with his right hand and still clutching your leg, fucking you harder. Locking eyes. The love in them so real that they glistened, and you held onto his arm tightly, your touch alone reminding him you were always with him, bodies moving in unison, breathless and sharing oxygen, the corner of your lips rising.

Jungkook smiled back.

It would have been chaste if he wasn’t ramming you into the edge of his bed.

His inhale caught and so did yours, realizing you must have shifted your hips slightly, making the angle suddenly perfect, right there, that depth he loved and that spot that scattered all your thoughts, trapping you and him in entangled limbs, chasing the tightness, the heat, the physical overtaking everything. So hard, so solid, his taste still lingering on your tongue, his lips gasping your name, your walls squeezing his length and drawing him in, closer, fuck, I love you, his sweat sticking to your thigh and calf, I love you too, o-oh, you feel so fucking good, and you lifted your body as much as you could to meet his and Jungkook pressed down, his heavy body burning with passion, wanting to feel more too.

You shuddered and your head tipped back.

He groaned, gravelly and hoarse, smacking his hips into your throbbing pussy, and you felt his orgasm after your own, maybe even stronger than before, his cock twitching in your constricting, flinching inner walls, strongly massaging him through his high, digging your nails into his tattooed forearm and hoping no one would notice the marks. Wave after uncontrollable wave, closing your eyes to savor it, inhaling his familiar scent mixed with sex and sweat.

The afterglow lingered.

Jungkook rested his forehead on your breasts, gasping for air.

You ran your fingers over his fuzzy head, breathing heavy and slowing back down to normal. Hm. Somewhat therapeutic, to be honest. You still preferred his longer hair but he pulled off the egg cut better than most. Probably because he had the cutest face ever.

“Your pussy is too good,” he mumbled.

“You lasted pretty long.”

“Not long enough,” he complained to your tits. “Let’s go again.”

“I really need to clean up. We can go again after.”

“Okay, then I’ll just follow you and jack off while you’re cleaning up.”

“That isn’t awkward at all.”

“Why would it be awkward? You look the best naked. My eyeballs and dick have to soak in every second of it.”

“… You do realize you have vacation days, right?”

But, of course, you let him do whatever he wanted, because he was Jeon Jungkook and you could never deny him. Ah, such is life. Hard, but apparently not as hard as his dick was for you.

“That’s really impressive.”

“What? You make me horny! I’m gonna go until I or he literally passes out from exhaustion.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me, noona.”

Welp.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #yoonkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #yoonkook x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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