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My Goddess

Summary: You tried to escape again, only to epically fail. Nothing seemed to work, and Hades just smiled as he watched you walk away. He knew the real reason you kept trying to run away, and was just waiting for you to realize it.  

Pairing: Hades Namjoon x Persephone Reader

Genre: hades x persephone au, bts au, angst, fluff, teasing, smut

Word Count: 2.5k 

Warnings: kidnapping, this is a hades x persephone retelling, escape attempts, mc doesn’t want to admit anything, mc running from her feelings, slight coercion, needy mc, tease namjoon, smut, namjoon being a feral tease, mc just wants to feel full, dom namjoon, sub mc, lots of angst, 

(please let me know if I miss any tag/warnings)

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“Come on, darling. You should have known that wouldn’t work.”

You sigh, knowing you had been caught. Again.

You had been at it for a few weeks now, you think. Time worked differently in the underworld, unfortunately. You had woken up here one morning, someone caressing your face as you slept. It freaked you out, and you had been trying to leave ever since.

“Yeah, well I hoped it would.” You turn around, staring him dead in the eyes. You hated the smirk on his lips. Hated the damned quirk of his eyebrows as you spoke to him. He stood against the doorway, leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest, making his muscles bulge.

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a/n: Again, this one is inspired by a dream I had of Namjoon but I wrote this on two different days. I kind of lost the plot along the way lol but I hope you still enjoy this little dirty one shot. I kinda went off a tangent lmao xD

Title definition: something for something, an equal exchange.

Warning: 18+, minors DNI

Summary: Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin are both heirs to their families’ conglomerates. One has you under his thumb for awhile now while the other has only just noticed you, the only girl on campus he doesn’t really know much about. But your mysteriousness is both a curiosity and a business risk. Little do they know, they’re not the only ones with an agenda.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x you (main pair), Jimin x you

Tags: University AU! Chaebol, dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, oral sex, penetrative unprotected sex, submissive Joonie, triangle relationship implied.

Word count: 12k

Rich kid Kim Namjoon. Bad boy Kim Namjoon. Fuck your brains out Kim Namjoon. Will only date you for three months Kim Namjoon.

You’ve heard the rumours and the titles that stick to the back of this man’s broad shoulders, heard the stories from the broken-hearted girls of the way he’d swept them off their feet only to drop them crashing to the ground yet they sighed and wished they had been good enough for him to be kept. The other girls still hope that one day they’ll catch his eyes next and the guys worship him like some sort of sex deity that they pray to for luck on their first dates.

You wagered going to a private university for the elite would be crazy but this was absolutely bonkers. It was like living in Kim Namjoon’s world, everything and anything revolved around him. So you keep your head low and your nose clean and stay out of everybody’s way. It’s your freshman year and Kim Namjoon is a senior; you may share the same program but it’s a safe distance away. Safe.

Or so you thought until that night of Park Jimin’s birthday party, thrown in the lobby of the guys’ dormitory quarters. Everyone was invited. The little sprite of a man with his dangly earrings and his ripped jeans had thrown the paper invites down from the rooftop of the main campus building a week prior before shouting, “Come to my birthday party! Everyone’s invited!” Him and his two friends, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook, managed to run away before the guards could catch them. The whole campus cheered as they got away, like some bold heroes who managed to pull off the biggest coupe.

So here you are, in a pair of jeans and a sheer white blouse, walking amongst the half-drunk crowd like an invisible person, a beer bottle in hand. No one knows who you are, no one cares to know. The girls are all dressed up like they’re in a club, sexy dresses and tiny skirts and tops that seem to be a second skin, skimpy clothes they pull off so well to look alluring instead of trashy. You guess that this is what money can buy. Wait, or was it the other way around? I don’t know.

Whispers through the crowd confirms that he will be here, Kim Namjoon. Of course he would. Kim Namjoon is everywhere, even at the birthday party of his rival. It’s almost like he runs the society here. President Kim Namjoon, overseer of the student body, unofficially. It’s like he wants to be at the centre of everything that goes on in and around campus, and you guess he kind of is. His father is the biggest benefactor to the university and everyone knows how much the father dotes on his only heir. Kim Namjoon is untouchable.

You stand back, blending into the crowd, sticking close to the shadows when he finally arrives, blond hair slicked back, sunglasses on top of his head, the denim jacket sleeves rolled up at the wrist. The crowd cheers and he raises his hands into the air, greeting them, his rings and bracelets glinting in the dim lighting.

It’s tacky. It’s ridiculous you almost roll your eyes but still, you can’t help but look. He is mesmerising, charming and, if you say so yourself, very handsome. Tall and handsome. You watch the girls around you swoon, calling out to him, subtly pushing their breasts together, adjusting their skirts to ride up a little bit more. You move away, slinking even further to the back, moving away towards the food table where the crowd is thinner.

The air smells of sweat and sickly sweet perfume of both males and females. You pick up a cupcake with vanilla frosting and take a bite, savouring the sweetness in your mouth as you chew slowly. Suddenly someone throws their arm around your neck and you drop the rest of the cupcake to the floor.

“You came!” Jimin shouts into your ear.

You try to wriggle free but his grip only tightens. “I came for the food,” you say blandly, “and you make me drop my cupcake.”

Jimin laughs, his famously cheeky grin plastered on his face. He’s half intoxicated, you could tell from the carefree way he speaks with you. He takes two new cupcakes and places them in your hand. “There’s always more where that came from. You’re not going to wish me my birthday?” He leans close to you, lightly tugging on the hem of your blouse.

“Happy birthday,” you say, taking the cupcakes from him, peeling back the paper before biting into one. “Namjoon’s here,” you add nonchalantly.

Jimin’s face immediately turns frosty, rolling his eyes away to look at the crowd around the newcomer. “Of course he is.” He lets go of you and for a second you thought that your cousin was going to go and kick Kim Namjoon out of the party but he only picks up another beer, uncaps it easily with the edge of the table and takes a swig. He turns back to you, pointing with a finger of the hand holding the bottle. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye to your oppa,” he says with a wink as he jogs away into the crowd, whooping as he goes.

The music starts up again, louder this time, the base thumping against your chest. It’s almost like a recharge for the crowd as they jump up and down, yelling and shouting in excitement. You lean against the food table, calmly munching on your third cupcake. Well, second and a half, actually, if you count the half on the floor. You turn to pick out a different flavoured cupcake when you feel a presence behind you, dark and looming.

A warm hand slides around your waist, the grip strong. You freeze, your heart hammering in your chest because you know, you know who it is. You can smell him, not his cologne but just him, the musk of a man who knows he’s in charge.

You don’t dare to move, suddenly feeling cold. He leans closer, his front sticking to your back that you can feel every curve of his muscle, including the soft bulk resting against the bottom of your spine.

“For someone who doesn’t want any attention, you sure stick out,” he breathes into your ear, his voice soft but deep, his breaths tickling the nape of your neck.

You tilt your head a little to the side to try and catch Kim Namjoon’s eyes. “What makes you think I don’t want any attention?”

He pauses, thinking. Then he chuckles as he steps back, his hand sliding away. “You’re wearing jeans to a party but since no one else is wearing it, it’s more obvious, isn’t it?” You fully turn to face him. He’s taller up close and even more good-looking. It feels like a magnet, drawing you in, wanting to put your hand up against the white shirt underneath the denim jacket and feel his warmth again.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he speaks, making you tear your eyes away from his chest to look up at him, a little taken aback.

But you shrug instead. “Why would you?” You pick up a red velvet cupcake this time, slowly peeling back the paper holder before pinching a piece off and plopping it into your mouth.

“Is that, what, your fourth one?”

You look at him, frowning. “I didn’t take you as a stalker.”

He smiles, his perfect teeth showing. “I can’t help it when I’m attracted to things that are…” He looks at you from head to toe before finishing, “a little peculiar.”

You stare at him, unsure if you should feel complimented or offended. You stuff the rest of the cupcake into your mouth, brush your hands together and make to leave. He steps in your way, stopping you. “Leaving already?”

“Yes,” you answer softly, looking down to the floor. Something in his voice warns you not to look into his eyes lest you change your mind to walk away. “Enjoy the party.”

He catches your arm and pulls you back, hard enough for it to sting. He leans closer. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

“I-”

“Y/n.”

You turn to see Jimin storming towards you, Taehyung and Jungkook by his side. From the crowd, you see Namjoon’s posse, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi, emerge, hands shove deep into the pockets of their jackets. They glance at Jimin and his friends once before taking their place next to their leader. You’re standing in between the six of them, caught in what looks like a probable fight.

Jimin pushes his hair back as he licks his lips. He nods, gesturing to the grip Namjoon has over your upper arm. “You might want to let go of her,” he suggests, his voice even.

Namjoon looks from Jimin to you then back at Jimin. “Oh, sorry. Is she yours, Park?”

You roll your eyes but Jimin’s lips curl up on one side. “Something like that.”

It takes a full ten seconds before Namjoon finally lets go, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, brother. Didn’t know she was spoken for. Not your usual type, is she?”

Jimin looks disgusted. He gestures for you to leave but as you pass by him, he touches your arm for you to stop. “I’ll see you around, kitten,” he mutters.

You fight the urge to pull your arm away, knowing too well the dramatics he’s going for. But he did save you so you put on a smile. “See you,” you say, pausing, making sure all six can hear you. “Oppa.”

You walk away, hurrying your footsteps to leave, pushing through the throngs of sweaty people to get to the exit. Whatever that is going on between the two groups, you want no part of. You hope it doesn’t turn into a brawl but these are rich supposedly classy people; they don’t dirty their well-manicured hands that way, though you are sure your cousin can hold his own.

As much as Park Jimin annoys the hell out of you, he’s been a sort of protector to you, an older brother position that he assigned himself back when you were kids. You never agreed to any of his antics, acting like some kind of knight in shining armour but you don’t hate it either. You appreciate his presence, it kept all the bullies away throughout school, with a price of course. However, as much as Jimin loves the spotlight on himself, loves the money, loves being a part of the elites, you are the total opposite and it was your one and only condition; to be kept out of his circle.

You get back to your dorm, the room dark and empty. Anya, your roommate, is still at the party. You undress and get ready for bed, slipping under the covers. You fall asleep pretty easily, the wind through the opened window nice and cool, lulling you into dreamland. But just as you’re about to dream, you wake up with a start, your eyes opening and scanning the room.

Something feels off. Your eyes fall on the other bed across the room but Anya is still not back. Something catches your attention in your peripheral vision and you see a figure standing by the door. Tall and definitely not Anya. Not even a female. You sit up but the figure is already by your bed in three full strides. A hand covers your mouth as another pushes you back onto your pillow by the shoulder, the rings digging into your skin.

“Shh, don’t make any noise.”

Your eyes widen, recognising the voice. You shake his hand off of your face before whisper-shouting, “What the hell are you doing here, Namjoon?!”

He smiles, a little too menacingly. “I don’t like being told no.”

You scoff. “I don’t doubt that.”

“What do you mean by that?” He looks a little offended which is funny if the situation isn’t a little suspicious. He just broke into your room and is now sitting on your bed, leaning over you, telling you to be quiet because he doesn’t like being told no. It sounds like the intro of a crime documentary.

“Well, aren’t you daddy’s little prince?” you say, playing on his hurt feelings. “Always getting your way, no consequences because daddy will bail you out of every little mess you made.” It felt good saying it but now, looking at his face, you’re not sure if it was smart. You’re still just another female underneath a large man who could have his way with you and, like you said, will get away with it.

He grits his teeth, his jaws ticking. “And what about you? Hiding behind Park Jimin’s money and influence. What are you? His little private whore?”

You hold back the acidic words in your mouth, letting them burn on your tongue before swallowing them. “What do you want?”

Namjoon smiles again, almost leering. His eyes glint in the shadows as his hand, the one resting on your shoulder, moves slowly down your arm, tracing your skin with the tip of his finger. “I want what Jimin has.”

You let out a chuckle. “You have more than that. What are you even talking about?”

He shakes his head. “No, I want the one thing he loves most.”

You swallow your saliva. “Well it’s not here.”

“You sure?”

His tracing finger moves back up to your shoulder then your neck, stopping under your chin to tip your face up. He leans forward, his nose touching yours. He doesn’t answer you but your lips connect with his, his fingers holding your chin, making sure you’re not able to turn away from his kiss. It’s deep and hungry, his tongue snaking out to lick your bottom lip before tugging on it between his teeth hard enough for you to gasp. In that moment, you feel his tongue against yours, prodding, tasting, licking, entangling.

Your hands push up against his chest but he barely even budge. A moan escapes your lips and instead of the disgust that you should feel, instead of fear and anger, want and lust bubbles in the pit of your stomach, boiling and boiling. Your pushing hands are suddenly pulling him close by his jacket, arching your back so you are pressed up against him, wanting him even closer. A warning goes off somewhere in the back of your head but with your tongues at war, your lips locked together, you give it no mind, not even comprehending why it’s sounding off. You’ll think about it later.

Namjoon climbs into your bed, shucking off his jacket to the floor the same time you kick your blanket down to your feet. His knees rest on either side of your hips as he leans into you, sucking on your tongue, shoving his own as far down as he can into your sighing mouth. His other hand travels down your side and sneaks up your thin tank top to cup your breast, thumb flicking against your already hardened nipple.

You writhe under him as he trails wet kisses down your neck, sucking on your sensitive spots until you gasp and moan. He peppers the top of your chest with more kisses, humming as he goes. He pulls your top up to reveal your breasts, using both hands to knead on them a little more forcefully that it hurts. He looks at your face, your eyes scrunching up tight, your mouth agape, breathing hard. “Look at you,” he says softly with a hint of a smile. “Shall I keep going, princess?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. He doesn’t need to be pushed, latching onto your nipple and suckling on it like a babe. He twirls it in between his teeth, tongue drawing circles in ways that you can’t help but moan out his name. “Namjoon,” you whine. “Feels so good, Namjoon. Mmhh.”

He does the same with your other nipple, rolling his tongue over the perkiness. When he has had enough, he moves further down, delighted to see that your underwear already has a wet patch. “Already so wet for me?” He chuckles to himself, pushing his nose against the wet patch and taking a deep breath. Something about it makes you let out another soft moan, opening your legs for him.

He pushes your soaked panties aside to reveal your glistening cunt, dripping wet with slick. He lets out this dark guttural sound, almost feral and for a short second, you wish he would devour you like the animal he is. You let out a loud mewl the moment the flat of his tongue touches your drooling hole, collecting the juice and bringing it up to swirl it around your swollen clit. He clasps his mouth over your little nub, moaning as he does, savouring the taste.

“Taste so good, princess,” he moans. “So fucking good. Fucking hell.” He pushes your legs further open, holding your thighs in place as he eats you out, your voice echoing off the walls, not even caring if your next door neighbour could hear you. All you can think about is that Kim Namjoon has his face in between your legs, buried deep in your pussy, licking and slurping as if you’re a meal and he’s been famished.

“Namjoon, Namjoon,” you call out, getting close to your high. “Fuck, Namjoon. I’m close. Please, please. I’m so close.”

“Come for me,” he urges. “Come on my tongue.”

You do, pushing his head in as the waves come crashing down. You arch your back as your eyes roll into your head, gasping so hard no sound comes out of your parted lips. Your thighs shake as your orgasm travels through you and when you’ve come down, panting and limp on the bed, Namjoon sits up, licking his lips in satisfaction. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, eyes raking your body.

He stands up and picks up his jacket, holding it over his shoulder.

“Leaving already?” you ask, ironically repeating his own words from earlier tonight back at him. You push up on your elbows, looking up at him through your lashes.

He lets out a small snicker. “For now,” he says, eyeing you from the door. “Something tells me you’re a whole lot of danger, princess.”

A small smile creeps up your lips, feigning innocence. “But not dangerous enough for you to bury your head in between my legs?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Can’t help it. I needed a taste.”

“And?”

He opens the door and steps outside. “And I think you’re trouble. So I’ll need to figure out if you’re worth it or not.” He gives you one last cheeky smile and closes the door and you can hear his footsteps walking down the hallway.

You lay back onto your pillow, staring at the ceiling. Before long, you start laughing to yourself, softly. You can still smell him on you. On the nightstand, your phone vibrates for an incoming call. Park Jimin’s name flashes across the screen.

“Yeah,” you answer breathlessly, putting it on loudspeaker, too lazy to hold it to your ear. You still feel a little weak from your orgasm. You can hear the party in the background.

“Did he pay you a visit?”

You giggle. “Yes.”

Jimin laughs from the other side, a sarcastic one. “I can’t believe that bastard.”

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” you say, thinking back at the way he laps on your cunt. “He’s a good eater.”

Jimin lets out an angry scoff. “And I haven’t even gotten my birthday present yet. Get your ass here. Now.”

You let out a groan. “Seriously? Right now? But I’m tired. I wanna go to-”

“Now.” The call cuts and the screen goes black. You sigh. You get out of bed and ruffle through your wardrobe for your trench coat, feeling like one of those noir film actresses. You don’t bother putting your panties back on as you put the coat on and leave your room in a pair of sneakers. Park Jimin is going to be hard to appease tonight but judging from the slight slur in his voice, he won’t be too hard to manage.

Park Jimin has always been the jealous type, it’s why you’ve never actually been with anyone else. It’s too much trouble because Jimin has a sadistic streak. So in order to remain in his good graces, you know what you have to do tonight or else Jimin will sulk throughout the year and that will be bad for you. It wouldn’t take much, you think. Jimin has a soft spot for you and you both know it but his possessiveness can be problematic. It gets in the way of everything despite the non-agreement agreement you two have.

As you cross the green courtyard towards Park Jimin’s building (yes, most of the richer ones have their own private quarters), you don’t realise the shadows following you.

“Keep me posted,” Namjoon’s voice comes through Yoongi’s phone. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

When the call ends, Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Out of all the people, why her? There’s nothing interesting about her. Not even from any known family. She’s even here on scholarship.” He spat the word as if it disgusts him.

Yoongi shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care. C’mon.”

***

In the morning, after untangling yourself from Jimin, you leave his place in one of his T-shirts before the sun fully rises.

You manage to creep back into bed without waking Anya and without being seen, balling the borrowed T-shirt and throwing it into the back of your closet, to be forgotten. When Anya wakes up, the first thing she sees is your made up bed and you ready to leave out the door.

Unlike everyone here, you have a part-time job to get to. Your phone rings in your pocket as you walk to the bus stop and you answer it. “What is it now, Jimin?”

“I don’t like your tone,” he says, his voice heavy from just waking up. “And it’s oppa to you. Where are you?”

“I’m sorry, Minie, but I’m going to work,” you answer impatiently. “And I have to go. I’m almost arriving.”

“Wait,” he calls out.

You sigh. “What?”

He’s quiet for a long while that you pull the phone away to check if the line is still connected. It is so you put it back to your ear. “Jimin?” You shake your head, correcting yourself. “Oppa?”

“Nothing,” he answers, his voice sounding more awake now. “Have a good day at work.” The call ends and you pocket your phone, jogging over to the bus that just pulled up.

Somewhere in the distance behind you, in a sleek black car parked on the side of the street, Hoseok sits in the passenger seat. He points in your direction. “Who the hell takes buses these days?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer him but starts the engine and pulls out from the illegal parking spot, sticking close to the bus you just got on. He’s a little grouchy right now for having to wake up this early. He’s also not sure why Namjoon wants them to tail you, it’s not like you’re somebody worth tailing. Got into their university on a scholarship and has a part time job. Hoseok is right. Who the hell rides the public bus when they go to Ivy University?

But when Namjoon wants something, Namjoon must get it. Yoongi sighs, anticipating a long day.

---

You step into the office just as the clock strikes 9.01AM and immediately, your boss is already standing in the doorway of his office, looking at you unimpressed. “You’re late.”

You glance at the clock on the wall but don’t say what you wanted to say. You offer him an apologetic smile, instead. “Sorry, sir.”

He doesn’t respond, disappearing back into his office. You roll your eyes and make your way to your desk. The boss’ assistant peeks his head out and raises his eyebrows at you. You raise a hand to shush him. “Not a word, Seokjin.”

He smiles, his cheeks puffing up like two round breads. “Time is money is power,” he says, quipping our boss’ usual quote before going back to his place.

You work only until two o’clock and ten minutes before your shift ends, the bell above the front door rings. “Welcome to-” you stop short when you realise it’s Kim Namjoon, standing there with his shades on and a black fitting tee with jeans that seem to hug the form of his long legs. “What are you doing here?”

At the sound of your panicked voice, Seokjin comes out to check. Upon seeing Namjoon, his face lights up into a smile. “Namjoon-ah, long time no see.”

They exchange a quick hug and a few words before Namjoon turns to look at you. You wonder how they know each other but then again, Seokjin is the university’s alumni. Everybody knows Namjoon. He points at you, “Taking this one out to lunch. Thought I picked her up from work.”

Seokjin looks at you, worry flitting through his eyes. “Really? Since when are you two a thing?”

“We’re not,” you retort, packing your things. “And I’ve got class after this.”

“Your class starts at 3.30PM,” Namjoon says easily. “You have time.”

You stare at him. “You check my schedule?”

He shrugs.

“Do you know how creepy that is?” you ask, mildly annoyed as you continue to stuff things into your bag.

Your boss comes out, forehead furrowing, eyes aiming at you. “What’s all the ruckus out here?” He looks around and sees Namjoon and immediately his expression changes to delight, the crease between his eyebrows immediately erased like magic. “Namjoon, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you here in my little office?”

Namjoon is all smiles, shaking your boss’ hand confidently. “I’m just here to take my girl out, sir.”

Your boss turns to look at you, an incredulous look on his face. “Her?”

You let out a sigh. “I’m not his girl and,” you swing your bag over your shoulder. “I’m done for the day. Goodbye, Mr Oh. See ya, Seokjin.”

You power-walked down the street heading for the bus stop, aware of the man following you in just a slight quick pace of his strides. He catches up next to you, not a hair out of place, lightly touching your arm. “I got my car with me and-”

You swivel around on your heels to jab him in his chest, hurting your finger a little at how hard it actually is. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” You continue towards the bus stop and he remains on your heels.

“Is it Jimin? Are you scared if he finds out?” He stands in front of you as you take a seat on the bench, checking your watch impatiently when you already know it’s not another twenty minutes for the next bus to arrive.

“I don’t know why you’re bringing him up,” you say, shrugging. “It has nothing to do with him and just about my principles.”

Namjoon laughs, running his fingers through his hair. Fuck, he didn’t have to look so good. “What principles? Not accepting when someone is just being nice to you?”

You look at him then, eyebrows furrowing. “No. Just not to accept anything from you.”

His face falls, confused. “Me?”

“Specifically.”

“Can you at least share why?” He takes off his sunglasses, waving them around in his hand.

You give him an incredulous look. “Really? You can’t guess?”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “I mean, it couldn’t be those rumours, right?”

You let out an exasperated noise but ignore him. Namjoon takes a seat next to you, scooting so close that your legs are almost touching. “I didn’t take you for someone who believes in rumours.”

“What did you take me for then?” you give him a pointed look, feigning interest.

He regards you, tilting his head to the side, one leg of the sunglasses resting on the corner of his lips. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out.”

You don’t have a comeback for that, staring at him for a few seconds longer. For the first time, you’re not sure what to make of him. His eyes have a sort of gleam to them that you can’t tell if it’s innocence or just plain mischief. For a moment, you wonder if the labels stuck to his back are even justified, if they even had any truth to them because the man sitting next to you, a soft smile playing on his lips, doesn’t scream red flags to you. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

Namjoon sees it too, the way your eyes soften as you look at him, the way your forehead creases just slightly as you contemplate on what to do with him. For a split second, your guard is down and he sees that, clear as day reflecting on your face. He reaches out, brushing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You flinch but don’t move away.

He’s about to say something when a convertible slides into the bus parking and stops right in front of you. You know it’s Jimin before you even look.

“Kitten,” he calls out. “Get in.”

Before Namjoon can stop you, you pull away from his touch, pick up your things and get into Jimin’s car. You don’t spare another backward glance but Jimin does. He stares long and hard at Namjoon from behind the wheel, the man’s tall reflection against his own sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He sneers and Namjoon stands up, putting his shades back on, unfazed.

“I’ll see you around,” Namjoon says, looking in your direction. “Kitten.”

Jimin’s car peels out of the bus stop, merging with traffic and speeding off. He drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gearhead in the middle console. He doesn’t speak, jaws ticking silently. You know he’s waiting for you to speak first but you don’t know what to say. He came to the office by himself? He stalked me? He wants what’s yours? Neither of those sounds good enough, if not enraging.

“So?”

You sneak a glance at Jimin from the corner of your eyes. “Hm?”

“What did he want?” he snarls, impatient to deal with your nonchalance.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. He wanted to take me out to lunch but I told him-”

“That little bitch,” Jimin curses through gritted teeth. “I give him an inch and now he thinks he can take a mile.”

In an attempt to calm him down, you slide your hand to rest on his thigh, subtly rubbing the inside of his leg over the tight black jeans he’s wearing as you press up against his side. It’s not surprising when he leans into you, seemingly calming. You place your lips against his shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about him. Please, Jimin?”

He reciprocates by moving the hand he has on the gearhead to your thigh, giving it a squeeze a little further up than just a casual touch, running his pinky up and down your crotch. The car slows down at a red light and, out of the blue, Jimin asks, “Do you like him?” His voice is soft and he’s staring ahead, almost as if he’s scared of the answer. His Adam's apple bobs but he looks at everything except you. His pinky ceased movements as his hand rests somewhere a little more appropriate, just above your knee.

You don’t answer him immediately, contemplating. You know nothing of the man named Kim Namjoon other than the words flying around about him. But the magnetic force that pulls you to him is quite compelling though you’re not sure if you want to admit that. He’s not the kind of guy you want to be involved in. Too much spotlight, too much drama dating someone everyone wants.

“I don’t know,” you say carefully. “I don’t know if I like him.”

Jimin senses there’s more to that answer. He glances at you briefly before the light turns green again. “But?”

“But I’m intrigued,” you confess. “There’s something about him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “There’s always something about him,” he mutters. After a few minutes, he continues, “So? Are you going to go with him next time he asks?”

You lean back to look at Jimin’s side profile; the chiselled jawline, the cute little nose, the multiple studded ears. Your eyes follow down his neck, your lips recognise the shape of it, how it then curves down to his shoulders, small but strong, sexy, captivating. Only two other people know that you’ve been each other’s firsts; first kiss, first times, during an experimental phase that lasted long into their adulthood out of a mutually hormone-driven consensus. You love him, you do, but never like a lover and you know Jimin feels the same way.

Whatever it is, you want to put Jimin first. He’s done a lot for you, someone who isn’t even acknowledged by the rest of the family. He has fought in your corner and you know if you call, he’d come running. You sidle up to him once again, resting your head against his shoulder, hugging his arm close to you. You link your fingers through his and grips him tight. “Would that be okay with you?” you ask hesitantly.

You feel him sigh but there’s no animosity this time, no anger. Just acceptance. He doesn’t answer, though, not wanting to give you that satisfaction. He squeezes your hand and you take that as him giving you his blessing. “But,” he says, a hint of warning in his tone, “if he does anything I don’t like, I’m ending him.”

You giggle quietly, pressing another kiss to his shoulder at the same time that he leans over to place a lingering kiss on the top of your head.

---

Namjoon disrobes himself with one hand, the other busy scrolling through the hundreds of unread text messages in his inbox, not one he’s interested to read.

His forehead creases the further down he goes, walking towards the bathroom where the tub is already filled with warm water, waiting for him. He almost tripped on the bathtub’s leg if he hadn’t looked up in time, saving himself from plunging in head first. Carefully, he steps into the water and the stress of the day immediately melts away. He sits in the tub, eyes still glued to his phone screen.

No, you haven’t texted him at all. Not once, ever. Namjoon has the phone numbers of almost everyone on campus, given to him freely or from them searching him out first. But not yours. How is that even possible?

There’s a knock on the door and Hoseok’s head appears through the small gap. Namjoon doesn’t even look up, searching through social media to find traces of you. “Yo, Joon-ah,” Hoseok calls. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Namjoon waves him away. “Not now. I don’t want to see anyone today.”

Hoseok snickers quietly. “Okay, whatever then.”

Hoseok disappears back out the door, leaving the bathroom door just as he found it, ajar. Namjoon comes across your Instagram account but it’s locked with only twenty-two followers. He founds your Twitter account, too, in the same circumstance; private with less than thirty followers. Considering that everyone who goes to this university has connections to the upper class society, having less than ten thousand followers on social media is…lame.

He knows that you got in because of Park Jimin, connected by marriage and not by blood. He knows that when you were three, your mother remarried into the Park family, long owners of one of the biggest conglomerates in the country and, by default, the Kim family’s biggest rival. Other than that, there’s nothing on you. Or so everybody thinks, but Namjoon has a feeling something is going on between you and your step cousin, what, he doesn’t know. Jimin is too protective over you, too possessive.

Namjoon clicks his phone shut and places it on the bathroom floor next to the tub. He slides down lower and leans his head back, closing his eyes. He tries to relax but his brain can’t help but think about you, the enigma plaguing him. There’s no one on campus that he doesn’t know about; every little dirty secret, every little incriminating details, every little sore points, he has them compiled in alphabetical files in the office room downstairs, ammos he uses every once in a while, little business deals to ensure everything runs smoothly the way Kim Namjoon wants it. Everyone has something to lose or to gain, it’s a matter of knowing who’s got dirt on who and what he gets in return.

What he doesn’t know is a threat to himself, especially when something draws him to you. He can’t get involved without knowing what he’s about to gain or lose; it’s too risky. His father taught him well enough about it. Keep things strictly business, your brain must always lead the way, not your heart, every relationship is a transaction. And that’s what’s troubling him. His brain is telling him to just move along, there’s nothing you can offer him, you’re technically a nobody with no actual connection. But his heart. His heart just won’t listen this time.

Namjoon is so lost in his thoughts, his forehead wrinkling, that he doesn’t even notice the shadow that falls over him. He doesn’t even notice it when you lather one pump of soap into one hand and slowly, slowly, quietly dip into the water. His eyes finally shoot open in complete shock when he feels your hand wrapping around his flaccid cock. He gasps aloud, jerking forward and splashing water against the walls and floors.

“Shh,” you say, placing your other finger against your lips, blinking against droplets of water on your lashes. “Don’t want the others to know that I sneaked in after Hoseok told me to leave.”

Namjoon, bless his big beautiful brains, is lost for words. He splutters, mouth opening and closing but nothing comes out, staring at you as if he’s seeing a ghost. His heart is still hammering in his chest and is only subconsciously aware that you are softly tugging his penis under the water, massaging it and rolling the pad of your thumb against the tip.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a hushed voice.

You grin up at him. “Returning the favour.”

He tries to push the question but your soapy hand is starting to have its effect on him, assisting in your underwater heavy petting. He licks his lips, trying to collect his composure. You feel him throb in your hand, warm and growing harder. Bigger, so big that your palm only covers not even half of his shaft. You had underestimated him, you realised nervously.

Namjoon breathes shakily, letting your hand wander down to his balls without saying a word or even moving a muscle. In this situation, both his brain and his heart are taking the backseat. You gesture, jutting your chin. “Why don’t you sit back and relax, little prince?” you say, teasing.

He sits back but his face is disgruntled. “I’m not a little prince,” he mumbles before his words are cut off by a muffled groan as you refocus back to his cock.

You smile, taunting. “Not little,” you say pointedly, “but definitely still a prince. What would daddy say if he finds out you let your guard down like this?” You pick up your pace, pumping on his cock in between your thumb, forefinger and middle finger, feeling the ridges of his hardness against your touch, curious of how it would feel to have him stretch you out taut. Jimin is so much smaller but made up in girth, filling you up so full. But this sheer monstrosity? You can't even imagine it but damn if you don’t try.

“Tell me, Namjoon.” You draw circles with your thumb around his cockhead and watch him press his lips together to avoid making any sounds. “How do the other girls touch you? I want to know.”

He doesn’t answer, breathing heavily, chest heaving, knuckles turning white from gripping the edges of the tub. His rock hard cock putty in your hands, jerking and leaking precum that you gather to rub on the underside of the tip. Seeing that he is ignoring your question you let go and he quickly looks up at you in surprise and confusion.

“Answer me and I’ll keep going,” you promise sweetly, resting your head against your other hand on the lip of the tub.

Namjoon growls. “There’s nothing special about the other girls.”

“You mean, they’ve never given you a handjob before?” you widen your eyes, faking surprise.

“They have,” Namjoon snaps but then he shakes his head. “Just…” he pauses, glaring at you.

“Oh,” you pout. “You don’t like handjobs? I should stop then.” You move away from the tub but Namjoon is desperate now. “No, wait!”

You kneel back down on the floor, looking at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“I didn’t say you could stop,” he says through a grimace. He’s struggling to remain in control. You laugh softly, amused, and once again he looks confused.

“You’re not in charge right now, Joonie,” you explain. “I am.”

Anger flashes in his eyes but he doesn’t react. In the water, his cock looks just as angry as he is, veins bulging and twitching in the water, starving to be touched again. He wants your hand back on him, needs it.

You see him unravelling but your patience is high right now. You know you have him where you want him, looking up at you with defeated eyes. Angry but defeated. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even tell you to leave. You take your chance, daring to push him further, curious to see the real Kim Namjoon. You lean close to his face and his eyes flutter but just as he thought that you might kiss him, you pull back with a smile. “You want me to touch you?”

He swallows hard before he gives a small, strained nod. You smirk. “Beg for it.”

His brooding eyes lock on yours, his jaws grinding together. His hands are in fists and you expect for him to turn you away, to gather up what’s left of his bruised ego and stand up, maybe, so he can really flex how easily he can turn this situation around. You almost hope he would, the masochist in you watching gleefully at how this could all turn out. Kim Namjoon doesn’t beg. He wouldn’t.

But instead, Namjoon lowers his head and whispers out, “Please.”

This time your surprise isn’t faked, kneeling there with your mouth slightly open. Kim Namjoon is begging you to touch him. The Kim Namjoon. The proud man on campus that exudes so much alpha pheromones in any room he walks into; the man that every female and male on campus thirsts for, desperate to bed or be bedded by; the Kim Namjoon that runs the campus like it’s his little playground, a little prince flexing his power and influence over his subjects. That Kim Namjoon is pleading with you, head hung low, naked in the bathtub, cock sticking straight out in between his legs, quivering for more of what was given to it just seconds ago.

“Please what?” you ask, confidence surging. Your hand is already back in the water, tracing your fingers against the inside of his thigh close enough to brush against his cock but not quite there.

“Please,” Namjoon mumbles, his hair falling over his face that you wish you could see his expression right now. What does he look like when he’s begging? You tip his chin up with your finger, making him look at you. Again, you’re taken by surprise as his eyes are a little glassy, lips a little wobbly.

Your heart jumps out at him but this power play is giving you a feeling you’ve never had before. Jimin had only loved to dominate and you loved being taken care of, but this is new. This is something you’ve never experienced before and seeing the six-foot alpha male in front of you submit to you is exciting, intoxicating.

The defiance in his eyes only adds fuels to your newly-born fire. “Please,” he says again, voice cracking at the end, “touch me. Please touch me more.”

“But I am touching you,” you answer in mock ignorance, fingers dancing through his pubic hair now, tugging on it. “See. I’m touching you.”

“Please,” Namjoon whines, biting on his lower lip. He uses one hand to grab yours under the water and places it on his member. “Touch me here.”

Your lips curl upwards, satisfied. Without another word, you restart your movements, making a circle with three fingers and using them to pump his shaft, squeezing it in all the right spots, feeling him harden beneath your touch. You continue to jerk him off, watching him close his eyes and tilt his head up, lips parted. You quicken your pace, the water sloshing around noisily. You add more soap into your hand, smoothening the glide enough for him to breathe in quick shallow breaths, soft little moans in the back of his throat.

The water is somewhat restricting and you want more. “Move,” you order, standing up and stepping into the tub in between his legs. He looks a little perplexed but is quick to oblige, sitting up on one end of the tub, butt situated just inches on the cool surface, using his hands to support the rest of his weight. Not caring that your denim shorts are now wet, you kneel in front of him, coming face to face with his crotch, his darkened cock bouncing in between your eyes. You give him a few more pumps with your hands before you hold it up, look him in the eye and snake your tongue out to lick the tip.

Namjoon hisses but he doesn’t look away. You lick the underside of his cockhead, tasting the precum leaking profusely. You pop the head into your mouth, using your tongue to roll around it, hollowing your cheeks to suck. Namjoon lets out a full moan, bottom lip in between his teeth. “Fuck,” he curses. “Just like that, please.”

Alas, being dominant isn’t exactly your thing because once lust envelopes you, your switch flips and you’re hungrily sucking on his cock, taking him into your mouth as much and as far back as you can go without gagging, using your hand to pump the base to make up for what you cannot fit. He’s huge. While you can wrap your pretty little mouth over Jimin’s length comfortably, you’re struggling to breathe around Namjoon’s.

Saliva drips messily down your chin but you pay it no mind, wanting nothing but to please him. You bob your head down his length, careful to use your tongue for the underside, to retract your teeth except when you’re nibbling his tip, to use your spit as much as you can for lube. What dribbles down your mouth, you collect with your hand, pumping the base of his cock with it in time to your head-bobbing. Jimin taught you well because Namjoon is softly begging again.

“Oh, please, oh, please.” He has a loose touch of the back of your head, more guiding than pushing. “Please, harder. Your mouth. Please.”

You understand what he wants, clamping down a little more firmly, doing your best to not let your teeth graze him. You press your tongue up, feeling the bulky veins as you move up and down his shaft. Feeling a little tired, you focus on the tip, sucking lightly with every upward move of your head.

You’re not sure what happened or why it happened but something snaps in Namjoon. He holds your head in between his hands firmly in place and instead of you blowing him, he fucks your mouth. You let him, adjusting yourself to his sloppy movements. He’s careful enough not to shove his whole length in, watching your reaction with hooded eyes, hip bucking wildly.

“Yes, yes,” he mutters, watching his cock slide in and out in between your lips. “Your mouth feels so warm, so good.” His mind wonders about watching the same scene unfold in between your legs. How would you feel wrapped around him, spread open for him?

Before long, he pulls out, steps out of the tub and lifts you up bridal style. You squeak at the sudden movement, clinging onto him as he transfers you over to the sink countertop. He buries your head into your neck, breathing hard, arms around your waist. “Please, I want to-” he hesitates, gulping in more breaths. “Please,” he finishes silently, pressing wet kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin.

“You want to what?” you coax, pushing against his shoulders so he would look up at you. He does, looking at you with wide eyes, pupils blown out, blond hair sticking to his forehead. You push his hair back and kiss his forehead. “Tell me. What do you want, my little prince?”

He seems to contemplate it before muttering, “Sex,” like some kind of virgin school boy that’s only just learning the word. That’s when you know that this is a whole different side of him that you’ve never seen before, confident that no one has ever seen before. It contradicts his whole being that you could never have imagined it if you’re not actually seeing it now. He towers over you as you sit on the edge of the countertop, looking down at you like a kid who is asking for extra dessert. Is this what he hides behind the mask of alpha Kim Namjoon? A little needy boy in the bedroom who can’t even vocalise what he wants?

You can’t help the smile on your lips but all Namjoon is seeing is the way you leer at him, your mouth turning upwards on one side. It makes him feel small, powerless, at your mercy. It makes his cock throbs painfully. He lets out a small whine, burying his face back into your neck, nibbling on your skin that smells like your wash soap, nothing too fancy nor too strong.

“You want to fuck me?” you inquire, tilting your neck to give him access to more skin. “Is that it? You want to know what my pussy feels like around your fat cock?”

He nods against you but you’re not having it. Without thinking, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull, roughly enough to jerk him backward. He lets out a surprise, “Ah,” but relaxes, his skin tingling from where the pressure emits from his scalp down to his leaking tip, so much so that it drips down to the tile floor.

“Answer me in words, Namjoon,” you hiss, glaring at him. Something in him withers even more, seeing the reflection in the mirror of how he, at six foot tall with swollen biceps and chest and rock hard abs, is being manhandled by this girl who is not even over five foot, the girl who, just a few days ago, he doesn’t even know existed. What a plot twist.

“Yes,” he breathes out, the excitement growing.

“Yes what?”

His brain scrambles to remember what were the words you said but he can’t. His attention had been somewhere else. From his view point, he can see straight down your loose T-shirt and realises that you’re not wearing a bra. You’re not generous in the chest area but the swell of your breasts is prominent from this vantage point and he gulps. Your nipples are already perky.

You pull on his hair again as you bring his face closer to yours so that he has to bend forward slightly. “I ask you a question,” you reiterate, growing impatient.

Namjoon’s lips quiver. He honestly can’t remember what he was supposed to repeat. Words. You wanted words. “Please,” he says pathetically blubbering, “Please, want your pussy. Want to…want my cock in you…in your pussy. Please, my cock in your pussy.” At the same time, his member between his legs does a little jerk upward.

You let go of his hair, bracing yourself against the edge of the counter. “Take my shorts off,” you command and he hurries to unbutton the denim with careless fingers. He tugs it off of you and you lift your ass to assist. Once it passes your knees, he lets it drop to the floor. He looks at your soaked panties from when you joined him in the tub, a little disappointed that he can’t tell between the tub water and the leak from your cunt, the cunt that he had his face buried in just last night.

His fingers linger on the band of the panties, eyes stuck on the spot between your legs. You giggle softly to yourself, cupping his cheek and pulling him to look at you. “Kiss me,” you say, tilting your head up.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, crashing his lips against yours that your teeth clashed together. You taste blood and wonder which one of you is bleeding, not really caring. The kiss is sloppy, wet, open-mouthed. Tongue moves against tongue aimlessly and he leans in, pressing his hot cock against your pulsating clothed pussy. Moans tumble out of both your mouths into each other, dribbling saliva down chins. He rubs his cock against you some more and you wish he had removed the panties, too.

“Panties,” you moan out, hoping he understood.

He does but his brain is still not working properly so instead of pulling it off of you, he rips it off with one powerful wrench of his wrist, leaving you to gasp against the burn on your skin from where the material dug into you before it broke apart. He doesn’t miss a second, pressing up against you once more, running the length of his hardness against your sopping crotch, gliding it deliciously up and down your clit.

You let out a moan into the kiss, pulling him closer by the waist, wrapping your legs around him. “You’re so wet,” Namjoon whines, “so, so wet. I’m so hard. Please. Want…”

He breaks away from the kiss to nibble down your neck, his hands travelling up your shirt to rest on your sides, squeezing softly. You’re small in his grasp, his fingers easily circling you on both sides that his thumbs are almost touching together with every little squeeze. So tiny, so small, so fragile.

“Hands on the mirror,” you tell him, prying his hands off of you and guiding it to the mirror behind you. He leans heavily on it, spit lining the corners of his lips, tongue lolling, searching for something, anything to suck on. You suck on his tongue hungrily, slobbering over each other, lips missing lips, messy kisses that leaves saliva trailing down his front. “No touching,” you breathe out. “Do you hear me?”

Namjoon nods his head weakly, the pain in his cock is getting unbearable. He needs release so bad that he's starting to sound needy even in his own ears. “Yes, yes, please. No touch. Won’t touch. Please…fuck me.”

“Good boy,” you purr. “Such a good little prince. Is this how you obey your daddy? When he tells you to do things? Little Namjoonie can’t help but be a good little boy, huh?”

Something stirs in the pit of Namjoon’s stomach at your words. At the back of his mind, a voice screams No! That’s not how I am, you little bitch! And don’t call me that! I don’t like it! But his mouth can only let out little soft noises, his cock wet from his own precum, knees weak, brain all fuddled from any thoughts, only want. Want, want, want. Please. He only nods, a little stronger, this time.

“Are you being a good little Namjoonie for me?” you prod some more, this time giving him a little incentive by touching his reddening cock. You rub the little hole, silently gauging if he can even fit inside you. It’s going to be painful for sure.

“Yes,” Namjoon moans cutely. “Yes, I am.”

“You want this,” you say, tugging on his member, “inside me?” You guide his cock to your entrance, rubbing on your own hole to gather the slick. “I wonder if your cock will even fit me, Joonie.”

He pushes slightly and you lean back. “Uh uh,” you warn. “I don’t think it’ll fit, baby boy. I think it’s too big. I think your fat cock is going to destroy me, baby.”

Namjoon whines, exasperated. His hands are fists against the mirror. Any more pressure and it’ll definitely crack. He can see it, can picture it, how he’s going to stretch you out so wide and so good. He can imagine just how warm you would be, how wet, your pussy tight around his cock. So tight he might come just from the first thrust. Fuck.

“Nooo~,” he mewls out. “Want. Please…Let me. Please.”

You relent, guiding his tip to your entrance and this time you don’t stop him as he pushes in, slowly, carefully. The sting sears through you and you grit your teeth against it, holding your pussy open with two fingers, watching as he slides in painfully slowly. It burns so much your eyes water. “Fuck, Namjoon,” you exhale through shallow breaths. “Fuck, it hurts. It’s so big.”

Namjoon looks down and sees that the first quarter is in. It’s tighter than he thought it would be. So tight he can’t move. He leans his forehead on your shoulder. “Relax, baby,” he soothes. “Just relax. Breathe.”

The switch has flipped. The moment he penetrates you, you let go of control, trying to relax your lower half to ease the pain. You circle your arms around his neck for support and he pushes in a bit more. You can feel the stretch, can feel how hard he is, how much he fills you up, and yet he still has more to give. You can feel the slide in, the pain stinging before it subsides as you adjust to his size. You have only known Jimin, feeling only slightly guilty and sad that his shape will be erased for Namjoon’s.

When Namjoon is finally all the way in, you both remain unmoving for a couple of minutes. He lets you get used to him while he struggles not to come just yet, breathing in deep breaths and trying to distract himself. He looks up to check on you, finding your face all scrunched up in pain. You slowly open your eyes and tears pool in them. He kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear, “Relax, baby. Breathe, just breathe. That’s it. That’s a good girl.”

Namjoon repositions himself in between your legs, slowly pulling out again. You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, feeling the weight of him move inside. He doesn’t pull out the whole way but stops at the tip before he plunges back in. You cry out in both pain and pleasure. “Ahh, Namjoon…Namjoon. It feels good. Feels good, Joonie.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?” he asks softly, wanting reassurance. You shake your head, bottom lip white in between your teeth. “You sure?” You nod your head vigorously.

He pulls forward a little bit so you are sitting on the edge of the counter, your butt lifted up a little to give him more access. This way, his thrusts are at an angle that gives you the most pleasure, hitting that right spot, moaning his name drunkenly, eyes barely open. You’re so wet, you can feel it. Can hear it, the squelching sound loud in your ears.

“Oh, baby, can you hear that?” he says from over you, hips rolling against you expertly. “So wet for me. You’re so wet for my cock.”

You nod, humming. “Yes. I can hear it. Your cock feels so good, Joonie. Please. More. Faster, please. Your cock is stretching me out so well. I want more.”

Namjoon sucks on your earlobe, nibbling on the shell of your ear. “Pull your legs up. Let me see how you stretch out for me.”

You comply, pulling your legs towards you by the knees, giving him a clear view of where you two are connected. His cock glistens with your wetness and he hastens his strokes. In, out, in, out, in, out, building up speed as he goes, watching your hole parts with every push in and watching his cock reemerge as he pulls out. “See, baby,” he murmurs. “Fits just right in your little pussy.”

“Haa, Namjoon. Oh, god,” you mewl out, tears slipping out from the corner of your eyes. “Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god. Fuck, Joonie. You’re fucking me so good. So good. Aahh, Namjoon, Namjoon.”

The more you repeat his name, the more aware you are of who has his dick buried balls-deep in you. It’s a little bizarre, a little exciting. The man who runs around campus with a gaggle of onlookers, the man who Jimin isn’t very keen of, the man who you told yourself to stay away from because Jimin doesn’t like him (plus the whole drama between the families) is now standing in between your legs, fucking yo so deep your eyes roll back in their sockets. And just mere moments ago, he had begged to be touched. By you.

Fuck, just a few minutes ago he had sobbed for you to pay attention to his leaking cock, veins popping, chest heaving and now look how the table has turned. Not that you mind it. But you love the fact that Namjoon has given you something he has never given anyone else and with that in mind, your eyes open and push him off, wanting to switch positions.

You hop off the sink countertop and twirl around, sticking your ass out to signal to him how you want him to do you next. You lean against the mirror, looking back over your shoulder at him, waiting. Namjoon realigns himself but because you’re too short, the angle isn’t quite right. He can’t quite sink in correctly. He parts your ass cheeks, fumbling with his fingers to find your cunt hole and you sigh with his touch. He digs two fingers in and you moan, sticking your lower half out more.

You crave his touch, lifting one knee up to rest on the counter, giving him more ease to shove his fingers deeper. He scoots down and buries his face in your dripping pussy, tongue out so he can taste you. You wail, face pressed against the mirror, breath fogging it up. You forget about the two other men in the house, not caring if they can hear you. “Yesss! Yesss! Fuck.”

Namjoon stops and stands back up, chin wet, massaging his cock before plunging it back into you, so deep you arch onto your tiptoes, hissing as you do, unable to make any other sound as it feels like your breath is knocked out of you. He continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping skin resounding with every thrust. By this point, the two other men in the house, who have been pretending they couldn’t hear your voice, are visible trying to hide the tent between their legs.

Supporting your waist with his big hands, he whispers continued praises from behind you, his voice a little shaky from his vigorous thrusting. “Look at you, taking my cock so well. Being so wet for me.” He moans, feeling you tighten around him. “You like that, kitten?”

In between your little gasps, you manage to tell him, “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what? Kitten?” He rams into you hard enough for you to cry out again, pussy clenching and unclenching, dribbling more slick than he thought possible. “You don’t like me calling you kitten? Is it because Jimin calls you that?”

His voice sounds a little mean as he grows a little annoyed, images of you under the other man flashing across his mind. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to know that another had claimed you first. He shoves into you so deep his tip rests against your cervix. You mewl, trying to move away but having nowhere else to move to. Your toes are cramping up. “Namjoon, please,” you sob. “I’m so close.”

Namjoon continues to deep fuck you in fast hard strokes, grunting each time, his nails digging into the skin of your waist. “You’re getting close thinking of being with Jimin? Huh? If I call you kitten, you’ll think I’m Jimin, fucking your wet pussy until you’re a mess like this, huh?”

You try to shake your head but you can’t do that without losing your balance. Namjoon pauses, cock deep inside your weeping cunt. You feel him throb, feel every curve of him, feel how hot he is.

He seems to read your mind, leaning to speak into your ears. “You feel that in between your folds? Can you feel how hard I am for you right now? Can you feel it, how much I want you to come all over my cock? My cock. Mine. Not Jimin’s.” He pulls out slowly and shoves back inch by inch, making sure you feel every stretch of your walls as he claims you. “From now on, I’m going to make sure your little pussy only remembers my shape. I’m going to make sure that neither Jimin nor anyone else will ever make you feel enough. You hear me?”

You nod desperately. “Just stop talking already,” you whine, pouting your lips at him. “You can’t even make me come yet.”

Namjoon pushes you against the countertop, making sure you bend forward for him to envelope you from behind, his front to your back. He places a hand above your head, a safety cushion to stop you from banging your head against the mirror. Then, he gets to work. You’ve never been fucked this roughly before, never been fucked this good and wild that you’re screaming his name through heavy lips. You’ve never been fucked in a way that makes you want to open up more for him, expose all part of you so he can get at every little inch.

“That’s it, baby girl. Just like that, fuck! Your pussy is clenching so tight, baby,” he moans out. “So tight- I- fuck, feels so good, baby girl. Your pussy- so good, baby. You’re so wet for me. Come for me, baby girl. Come all over my cock.”

Your breathing quickens as you feel the familiar knot tightening in your belly. You let out another cry when Namjoon reaches over to rub on your clit and that’s what you need to send you reeling over the edge. “Yesss, yesss, yesss! Oh my god, yesss. Pleasepleasepleaseplease don’t stop. I’m so close, Joonie. So close. Namjoon, you’re fucking me so good. Fuckfuckfuck, aaahhh!”

Namjoon feels you tighten around him before the spasm rocks through your whole frame. You arch your back, stilling for a moment as your legs shake. Your cunt clenches around his cock hard enough to make him moan out your name, calling out to you over and over again, praising you with words barely incomprehensible. You feel him keel over on you, kissing your back as his cock throbs, spilling his seed, painting the walls of your cunt in hot white stickiness that overflows and drips down your thighs.

Namjoon lets out a few grunts before he slips out and his legs buckle beneath him. He plops to the floor by your feet as you hang on for dear life on the countertop, legs too weak to hold your weight. From his place, Namjoon looks up to see how much of a mess he’s made of you, his semen mixing with your juice still dribbling out.

You lean over your shoulder to look at him, panting, your eyes barely open. You can feel the stickiness in between your legs, feel something hot and wet trailing down your thighs. Fuck, that was intense.

“So pretty,” Namjoon blabbers, eyes in between your legs. “Such a pretty pussy.”

Feeling cheeky, you spread your legs wider. “The little prince should learn to clean up his own mess,” you pant, half teasing, half pouting. “Or didn’t your daddy teach you that?”

Still feeling spent, Namjoon crawls over to kneel in between your legs. He uses his palm to spread your butt cheeks apart, exposing you even further. Something about the way that he’s looking at you in such a private place relits the fire in the pit of your stomach.

“I know how to clean my mess,” Namjoon mutters, kissing the insides of your thighs. “I can clean very well.” His words are muffled as he speaks with his tongue on your sloppy entrance, pressing his whole mouth to it and sliding the flat of his tongue against your pussy. He slurps and licks and nibbles and sucks on your swollen clit. He alternates between that and shoving his tongue as deep as he can in your hole, tasting both himself and you.

“Oh, Joonie,” you mewl softly. “Yes, just keep doing that. Keep sucking on my clit. Yes, just like that. Fuck, my little prince is such a good cleaner. My pussy’s gonna come again.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, easily obeying you, tongue furiously flicking against your little nub. Once again, your orgasm washes over you, building into a crescendo until it crashes down, your pussy pulsating, your legs finally giving out from underneath you. Namjoon catches you in a heap in his lap, holding you close against his chest. He tips your head up to him, covering your mouth with his, making sure you can taste yourself, too.

Once you both calm down, you pull away, disconnecting your lips, a string of saliva still connecting your tongues before it breaks off. You’re still breathing heavily, eyes too heavy to keep open, resting against him. You’re not sure how you got to the bed or how you got cleaned up but when you open your eyes again, you’re sleeping on your side, Namjoon spooning you from behind, fast asleep.

His deep breathing tells you that he won’t be easy to wake but his arm wraps around your middle so tight you can barely move. The room is dark and the curtains drawn. Somewhere in front of you, a phone vibrates on the side table and you fumble to look for it. You pick it up, squinting from the light and realise it’s not yours. It’s Namjoon’s.

It’s a text from Jimin. Curious, you focus to read the words, your vision still blurry with sleep. I know you’ll be bored of her soon but she’s my toy so don’t break it. Or I’ll break you.

You place his phone back down on the table and feel around for yours. You find it tucked under your pillow. You check for messages and there it is, a text from Jimin, too. He won’t entertain you for long. I’ll be waiting, my little kitten.

You smile to yourself before putting the phone away. You’ll placate Jimin in the next few days, giving him little tidbits to soften him up and sweeten him just right, enough to assure him that of course, he’s still your favourite. Neither him nor Namjoon will realise the hook you’ve sinked into the both of them, little puppets that would react with every little jerk of your fingers.

You snuggle closer against Namjoon and he stirs, tucking you in against him even more. Soon, his warmth will lull you back to sleep but for now, you lie there in the darkness, unable to wipe the smirk on your face. The two most powerful pawns in the business world are now both in your pocket, ready to be played when the time comes, a typical chaebols rivalry to be used for your own gain.

After all, it’s just business.

a/n2: lmk what you think of this one in the comment or ask!

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

GAS STATION

Summary; walking out the airport unnoticeably hard, he waits until the car stops at the gestation to show you how much his cock missed the touch of your body since the day you you boarded the plane.

au; step bro

paring: jungkook x reader

wc: 2k

WARNINGS; PWP, taboo themes, cock sucking, public sex, blackmail, spanking, pictures, grinding, jealousy, nipple sucking, slight asshole, light fingering,

hold you to his chest, your head resting softly in his shoulder as then lifts you a bit. Taking his cock, he softly rubs it around your slit trying to find the entrance. Once finding it, he softly eased you down on his tip hearing the breathy moans clear in his ear.

Spreading each hand on each cheek, he gripped your ass and slowly bounced you a few inches down his member. Moaning, you held onto him moving your legs closer to him as you took the rhythm of his hands and applied it with your hips. Eventually, he removed his hands and let you glide up and down his cock like water. Closing his eyes, his legs spread wider and he slouched in the leather seat while feeling your cunt take him slowly.

Seeing this as a perfect moment, you shifted your head so you could move your lips around the crook of his neck and only to receive blocked moans in the sound of hummus. Forcing yourself down, his hands brought themselves up to your ass to just grip and tuck on the skin as you continued bouncing. With adding suction to his lips, came the risk of brusing his neck and making it obvious you two did something morally wrong. Then again, his cock was barried inside you raw and there was no blood connection between the two of you so it was fine. With that in mind, you began nibbling his smooth skin causing light bruises to appear as he began to relax in your touch and focus on his own pleasures.

“jungkook~” you teasingly moaned in his ear, causing his face to furrow and his mouth to hiss at you. Moaning more in his ear, you felt his hands travel up your back as you realized he was feeling the moans deeply in his core. Smiling into his neck, his eyes opened and his hands went back to your ass to pull you off. Confused, he laid you flat on your back in the sea to the right and began taking off his shirt and kicking off his shoes.

“Fuck if you’re gonna make me cum, at least let me do the movements” he mumbled, as you raised a brow. All this time you thought he was enjoying himself and feeling it out when in reality he was slowly reaching an orgasmic state. Watching him, he put his hand behind the backseat of the car to lower the seats back down so the two of you would have more room. Moving you over more, he slid himself in and towered over you.

“I’m gonna use to cum, more now than I was then. Got it?” He admitted, legs and hips pinning you down. Nodding, he grinned moving his weight to his knees so he could play with your boobs as he pushed himself in and out. Groaning, he held your legs wider in his hands as his cock did the work of making your back arch up to push your breast up.

“Fuck it, you’re gonna cum with me,” he says, body eager to cum and excited to hear you moan. Learning back over you, he lowered himself to your chest and looked down, his hips moving quickly as your head goes back slowly in pleasure. Moving your hands to his back you grip him, only causing him to pound you in response. Kissing your cheek, he holds you down and pushes himself with great force into you. Moaning loudly, your legs opened wider and wrapped themselves around his waist as he felt your pussy lips more clearly on him than before. Moaning, his head went back a few times before pushing his head deep into your neck.

“The car must be shaking, just fucking moan louder everyone here knows we’re fuckingmight as well give them a show” he insists, moaning in your ear and telling you how good you feel to him.

The louder you moaned, the more his hips slammed into you. The more he slammed, the more your legs uncrossed and widened for him and that’s when the clenching started. Your walls clenched and begged him to stay in you and do shorter strokes ss his cock found it arousing and followed that command. Jungkooks eyes softly crossed, cock began throbbing even more so when that happened.

“Fuck yes!” He screamed, cock getting what it’s been craving for hours as it softly drips pre-cum inside of you. Groaning louder, your backaches and he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you up as his hips threaten to make him cum. Without the need of saying it, he felt your bodybuilding up an orgasm. So in response to the clenching, the sudden weakness, and walls becoming almost impossible to thrust into he starts jackhammering into you. Your mouth hangs open and so does his as you let out loud whiney and his high and desperate moans while both reaching a state of pleasure.

“Fuck I’m cumming”

“Jungkook I’m there~”

You both yelled, before hearing a deep grunt from his mouth and the deepest point with a big stopping motion as he tries to pull out before his hips stopped and made him release inside of you. Cursing, he blows a load deep and roughly before laying you down and pulling out. Kissing your lips, he knew he was fucked and that’s when the both of you heard the clicking of the car doors

scent of eager suds ⏤ knj (m)

pairing: husband namjoon x fem!reader

genre/au/rating: 18+, smut, angst, pwp, some fluff

summary: you missed each other, too fucking much. but your head had stayed down in futile hopes of remaining stubborn, forgetting that there is a wedding ring on that tricksy little finger of his for a reason.

warnings: swearing, angst, couples fighting, mixed feelings, explicit sexual content, oral (f. receiving), hair pulling, angry sex, shower sex, unprotected sex (can't go wrong if you shield your dong!), breath play, nipple play, yeah it's basically just porn with feelings

word count: 3.7k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: she's back y'all!!! just with a few tweaks, alterations and additions ⏤ like this new banner!!!! i kinda wanted to give it a whole new vibe hehe. another thank you to my beta @magicshopaholic, and my brainstormers @taetaesbaebaepsae and @hobateas! hope y'all enjoy!

❥ masterlist.

...

If anyone else was to describe it, lifelessness was the prime impression. There’s nothing else that one could possibly gather from your fairly cryptic manner; no words had fallen from your lips to aid the hypothesis.

You’re always so annoyingly adept at your motives. But somehow, there was still one - and only one - living soul that held the mindly means to figure this shit out. To figure you out. He would spend a considerably scant amount of time on such a task, yet fulfil it so thoroughly that the constant aching between your legs seemed more equitable than you would like it to be.     

He’d recognized it through the minute rising of your chest as if it were obvious. He’d recognized it in the concerningly restive footsteps to your shared bedroom. He’d recognized it in the amusingly shrewd vibrations of your voice box that he’d supposed were to display your deadly level of vexation. Even the fresh, new callousness of your hands had been sensed, the ground being much more than the wrathful nails pressed against your palms in a fist - a skillful maintenance of your bitterness. 

You’d hoped to be a mystery. You’d hoped to seem as composed as you believe yourself to be. But truth be told, you were utterly feeble in your means to conceal it; almost in a way that should have you cowering in humiliation. From careless hands inertly twisting your braids into a bun to your unrelaxed journey to the bathroom; cards were laid out. You fucking knew it. 

What lies beyond sustaining his oh so honorable hand as your lover - your spouse, or partner in crime as some might call it - is absolutely no reason he should know you this well. The wonders, the mysteries… the frailties of your being weren’t just on the back of his skillful hand, but were studied, revised and crammed tirelessly by means of writing on every wall he turned to. 

Fuck him, a cunning conscience with devil horns would whisper every two seconds to your delicate soul. Fuck his criminal wit. Fuck his willingness. Fuck those audacious, plump lips against your neck and his wispy “I missed you.” Fuck his free hand for its knowlege of the riddling workings of your body; sliding up your soft inner-thigh in dissonance with the tiny warm droplets. 

But most of all, fuck you. 

Fuck you for your sweet sighs of compliance. Fuck you for leaning back against his chest and serving absolute fuck-all to simmer his smauldering pride. Fuck you for carelessly rivaling your better judgment. 

Fuck you. The one message that he’d received throughout the noise of your mindly cursing… because Lord, was he just too damn good at fucking you. 

“Still don’t wanna talk to me?” His hand makes a bold move towards your aching cunt, leisurely and patient. Perversity had won the part as your middle name, commiserating you with honeyed whispers, convincing you that maybe, just maybe, the steamy torrent before you was well in outwitting the gears of your autonomy. The heat, the profuse clan of droplets crashing boorishly on your skin and on the shower floor, the wispy tendrils of steam, the cruel rashes of pleasure. Your instincts were hampered from the prospect of pushing him away. It wasn’t you. 

Your breathy shudders were back at failing you, alas, and giving a fuck was thoroughly out of the question. His finger proceeds, light rubs against your clit abettering the drift of his persistence, “Tell me, baby. Are you ready to push me away like you always do?  Like you say I always do?”

“Joon…” You drag, lulled by the whispery milieu of the water, whilst afire by the skill of his fingers. You were beyond certain you’d heard a chuckle, a song of timeliness as per what you’d call it; a fair response to what was supposed to be a lesson learned. 

“Baby,” he murmurs against your neck once more, whilst long, beautiful fingers in a pair begin their jaunt to fuck you before his cock does. “I missed you. I missed you so fucking much and all you need is for me to prove it to you.” 

Your gasp might’ve said something, but you’d basked in it for only an appropriate instant. His fingers, slyly slipping between your folds hadn’t done much for your lively ire. They had, however, certainly succeeded in peeving you further. 

You wanted more. You needed more. 

“We both know that this isn’t enough to prove it. ” You managed to breathe out.

Kisses on your neck cease, and fingers retract from what was the miry wetness of your pussy, certainly ready for more than just a round of listlessly apologetic fingering. 

“Then what is?” He slyly murmurs. 

Damn you for having retained the valor to communicate thoroughly. Spinning around to face him (which was, by apt means, quite difficult), you gift your husband with a bold move of your own, bringing a hand up to grip tightly at the nape of his neck and shorten the distance between your burning faces. A piece of your mind was the treasured cargo. 

“I don’t know how long you’d hoped to play dumb with me, but it ends now. You know what I want.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

The deep and tyrannous buzz of your chest had barely succeeded in vanquishing the serene chaos of the atmosphere. In some obscure way, you felt like it mattered despite his fitting proximity to your lips. Hearing words could only do so much. It isn’t enough until his eardrums are damn near dissipated from your vague desires. 

But there’s no need. Hushed demands are sweet in entertaining his specialty as, afterall, he is your husband.

“Always so bossy.” He tuts. Though, he does all but support the remark. 

You’re moving backwards at his accord, coming in contact with the too-near dead end. You wind up grimacing softly at the rabid coldness of the wall against your shoulder blades and ass, instinctively deterred from the warmth of the recurring downpour. But all is effortlessly shirked once the stirring sensation of his cock against your thigh makes its rise. You feel so hot again, a manic arousal putting zero effort into making your head spin. The strengthening masses of steam would have to try harder. 

Just about sick and fucking tired, you pull him in to kiss you, hard, bringing vengeful tongues and teeth to clash against one another in zeal. With a nip of his teeth and swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, perhaps a good start in replacing the venomous tidings of each other’s disagreements was put in place  A divine pair of hands is making ravenous journeys across the spacious sweeps of your melanated skin, helped by slippery suds that all but succeeded in concealing the scent of your unending keenness. 

“For what it’s worth,” he mutters, breaking the kiss, “I do know what you want. I always know what you want, and I’m always willing to give you what you want.” 

You’re fucked up. Manic. Aching. And your husband is having too much fun with you.

But one last peck against your lips is where it officially begins. 

He continues down your neck once more, whilst this time, your breasts are caught in the arrest of his hands, squeezing and thumbing across the supple skin of your nipples every now and then. 

It happened too quickly, too far from the likes of your expectations. As if only a nip at your collarbone later, his thumb is benevolently replaced by the eager muscle of his tongue, circling vigorously like his life depends on it… which, in this particular respect, it does. 

“Fuck, Joon.” You heave, almost whimpering, back arching in a deliverance of access. A pair of plump lips wrapping around the erect nub was your response.

He then does the same with your left tit, licking, lapping, sucking, skillfully relishing the flavor of your skin as if it were his last. Your hands had conceded defeat and befriended the burning itch to touch him once again. You bring them up for your fingers to card through the doused tresses of his grey hair, which he’d been making points to trim every so often.

 You sensed an obscure motive behind it. He need not explain a damn thing, he’d probably say if you asked him about it. But the echoes of your casual “you look so much better with short hair” had made its homecoming. His beautiful cheeks would betray him in your honor, alluding with a pink hue at every vibration. You missed it, and you’re sure he missed it too. 

The same could be said about the recurring shifts in his physique. Although you’ve come to appreciate it more than dwell on the intricacy.

“Oh my God,” you moan as he releases your nipple with a final pop to placidly continue with open mouthed kisses down the valley of your chest, your stomach, then down to your pelvis. The feat had become less farfetched than thought to be. But still, it was about fucking time. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs once more, for what seemed like the umpteenth time to you. But it’s impossible to say that you didn’t appreciate it. 

As you basked in the sight of him knelt down before you in diligence, what you did say was, “You said you were gonna prove it to me. So prove it to me.” 

An index finger making its way back to your throbbing pussy, stroking in between your folds and up your slit to gather the flavourful mess of your arousal, serves the power of his cheeky rejoinder. “As you wish.” He murmurs before wontonly sucking on that fucking finger. 

A bullet was wisely dodged. Dissipating the chance of a thorough scolding for him to just fucking get on with it, he wastes absolutely no time. 

Senses fleeting, mouth forming an ‘o’ and hips arduously urged to buck against the art of his mouth and tongue, you free a series of curses as if it were a play for the casual streetwalker outside your house. One thing for sure is that the neighbors were pissed. Loafing folk sat in what was supposed to be the comfort of their homes in fumes, having attained the gall to complain if it weren’t for knowing of the obvious circumstance. 

If it weren’t for the sound of your husband’s name bouncing off your tongue in a notably pornograhpic lilt, the neighbors would’ve said something. And you’re aware of 

The strong, wet muscle zealously wiggles on your bundle of nerves before it is engulfed within the warmth of his mouth for him to suck softly. Your husband was finally fucking home. 

“Fuck, so good, Namjoon. Always s-so fucking good with your mouth.” Along with your words, the grip on his hair meliorates in palpable praise, earning you the pulsation of a deep hum sauntering amongst the nerves of your throbbing pussy. 

One last nip at your clit foregoes his hushed and mellow response, right before he eyes your zestful form through lidded, dragon-like irises. “So sweet.” he murmurs. “Sweet as always.”

He wastes not an ounce of time before diving in between your thighs again. 

Knees lose a few tinges of functionality at the momentous feel of his tongue parting your folds.  His hands dance up and down the stage of your lower body, caressing the small of your back before landing on the bounteous flesh of your hips to squeeze and detain you taut as he devours the absolute fuck out of you. Loud cries ensue in simple accordance. 

A thunderous call from reality was in your heavy braids having rebelliously twisted out of their bun to fall back onto the expanse of your shoulders and back, carelessly falling victim to the wrath of the downpour. You should be irritated. But his tongue, fucking you ever so sterningly, had garanteed failure to give a fuck about anything opposing the likes of his amazing apology. 

“Mmh- o-oh my… fuck!” More whimpers slip out in reverence as his head shakes vigorously from side to side, his nose rubbing against your clit before it is shortly replaced by his tongue again. He soothes the agonizing emptiness of your entrance with his long fingers; scissoring, curling, prodding sweetly at that spot that had, for too long, begged to be touched. 

He could only keep this up for so long. There’s only so many praising mewls you could set about as he laps at your clit, as he works his digits to what he would know to be your principle. His fingers fucked you so good, but not good enough to make your forget whatever else you had craved throughout the course of this dumb fucking stress-train. 

“Joon.”

The benevolent moil of his fingers ends as he returns to fucking you with his tongue again.

“Namjoon, please.”

Continually, his mouth shifts back and forth from your entrance to your still throbbing clit; licking, sucking and biting ever so softly. At decent levels you were certain that his neck was tired. 

“Namjoon! Namjoon, please,” you heave desperately,  “fuck me. Fuck me now. I need you to fuck me right now.” 

The unremitting sounds of the pouring atmosphere stood not a chance against your grippingly melodious pleas. He heard you, loud and crystal fucking clear. The treasurable element that many would identify to be control had blindly resided within his procurity. 

You weren’t going to let him have it for long. 

“Namjoon!” You mewl with absolute finality. Having devised the mastery from his hair still intertwined between your fingers, you harshly pull his head back for him to look up at you. “Quit playing games and fuck me!”

“Patience, baby. There’s time.” He, once again, proceeds in ways that effortlessly contradict the dulcet tone of his rules. Kisses already take small treads back up to your pelvis, then to your stomach. “I need you to be patient with me. I need you to lay low and let me fix things.”  He is soon up on his feet, his lips traveling towards the now acquaintable stop between your breasts. He lingers to plant a few more kisses on the spot, then slowly moves up to your neck as he murmurs, “I can make you feel so good. But only if you let me. Just trust me for once.” 

“Namjoon,” a sigh escapes your lips as you aid his treatment to your neck, leaning back and giving him access. 

“Just let me…” he stops to suck at the advantageously delicate skin before he’d then made it to your lips. “ …make things right.”

His lips were well guarded within the intention of connecting with yours, steeling you for what is soon to come. His hands were gentle too, having found purchase on the space of your hips and being so dexterous to the touch whilst his intentions were anything but. 

Your hands grip tightly at his broad shoulders, hopes instinctively goaded by his cock conveniently rubbing against your thigh again. You thought of it to be the final tease before he adheres to your lusty inclinations. But it is only after the heat of a “Turn around,” is softly blown against the flesh of your treated lips that he does what he’s raucously told. 

You do so without question, facing the wall in anticipation. 

Though (with arrant difficulty) you’re inwardly vowing to be obedient, your form misplaces all pretense of control. It is especially to the songy squelches behind you directly disclosing the act of your husband stroking his cock; your hands are against the wall as you’re moving your hips backwards to brush up against him. You’re fortunate that he responds with some form of enthusiasm, which is closing the distance between your eager bodies and lining himself up with your dripping entrance. 

The contact induces another knotty spate of desperate whimpers, which he obediently acknowledges, sinking into you with utmost precision. “Oh, f-fuck!” 

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” 

The soothing response to your sonorous gasp was hushed and ever so demure, a stark polarity to the harsh grip of his winsomely big hands now on both of your breasts, squeezing like stress balls. 

“Namjoon,” you call out once more, “Namjoon! Fuck me. Please… fuck me.” 

The need for those words had successfully reached its coming of age; even posing as an anagram had been deducted as an option. You’ll never have to say them again. 

He begins to move, steady thrusts gradually progressing into a speedier rhythm. His grunts, as well as your whimpers, had joined in with the feat of increasing in a higher measure.

 “Baby,” It was his turn to silently twine a series of praises as you, in return, release a reverberant string of salacious cries for the neighbors to hear and possibly enjoy. “You look so beautiful like this. You always look so beautiful like this, taking me so well.” 

Your hips are once again a landing spot for his hands. You bring your hand down as well, letting it rest upon one of his as he fucks into your pussy with an unsparing velocity. 

The vibrancy was beyond sinful. The warm water continues to strike the lustily responsive flooring as his hips rival the noise with jarring contact against your ass. Each cry made up for a snarl, each word of praise made up for a cold shoulder, each thrust made up for a petty form of dismissal.

 He finds it within himself to slow down, the only unchanging fruit being the brunt in which his skin slams against yours. “I missed you, I missed the way you feel. Baby, tell me how good it feels.” He goads. 

“Oh, baby,” It had been your turn to sing the term of endearment. An urge to finally say “I missed you too” was frighteningly near, but remained still… in your favor, really. It seemed like your tongue’s desire to untangle was only in support of praising his touch; praising the way he felt inside of you, praising the clench of your walls around his length or the nudge of his tip against your dear sweet spot. “So good! So f-fucking good,” you mewl. “Please… please make me come.”

 But you’re empty again, pussy clenching around vain flecks of air. The incompleteness brought waves of confusion. Rhythmic pumps of irritation. A need to spew pleas that was soon held off by the gentle contact of his hand on the front of your neck. Your hand that was once atop his had made its way back against the wall.

It is when his grip gradually strengthens do you meet his return to fucking you senseless. Your sounds travel at staggering heights of volume amongst the echoey air. “Oh- Oh- fuck!” You scream. It encourages him. 

Groans, grunts and a final round of “Oh baby”s against your ear had made its endmost cut. A knot in your stomach signals an approach to orgasm. You were close. “Fuck, Joon… I’m gonna-” 

He doesn’t respond. Not with his familiar breathing of “Come for me” or anything else of the sort. No. He speeds up, in pursuit of something much, much more than a customary finish. A compromise. A refitted amity. Hopes had desperately arised from your moans. Hopes of an “I love you” reattaining its fittedness. It’s exactly what he murmurs against the shell of your ear as you reach your high, cumming with ear-cricking wails that do nothing but praise his laborious efforts. 

The jets and quells of warm liquid inside of you incline a decrease in the speed of his thrusts, which eventually turns into a steady stop once light sobs from overstimulation make their way into the cleft of echoes. 

“You’re okay,” he repeats against your neck. “You’re okay.”

Heavy breaths, weak knees,  and a space freighted with teeming clouds of steam. From the very moment that he’d pulled his cock out, that’s all he could’ve left it to be. You were slightly stunned, for a reason that wasn’t identifiable. 

Your loofah remains lifeless, devoid of its purpose with fluffy white froth sticking languidly out of its miniscule gaps. You were about to pick it up, mind unmoved from the strident feel of cum dripping down your inner thighs, to resume the sorrowful bout of washing away the sense of need that your husband could only do so much to vanquish. 

“Hey, relax.” 

You were still facing the wall. You weren’t making eye-contact. You weren’t going to. And you knew that he knew. But his feet were resolutely taut upon the shower floor. They reeked of intention. It seemed like he wasn’t done. 

It was still foreign to you, the slight suction between your back and his upper body that soon vacates as he bends down to retract the loofah. He’s up straight again.  “Can I?”

Yes please, the words had begged to be the ones to make ties with his mellow request, but all you managed to bring out was a hesitant “Sure.”

He proceeds enthusiastically, nonetheless. 

“I am, however, still waiting for you to…” he begins as he sweetly drags the contraption down the trail of your back, “rank the irrefutability of my proof.” 

Be it your weak knees or your opulent bathroom’s restored comfort, you suddenly feel that there’s no point in arguing the prowess of his sex skills. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the time to praise him with more words. 

Within the beat that you remain silent, your eyes instinctively follow his hand trailing towards the swell of your breasts, making it difficult to not stare. Studying the garish shine of soap down the smooth canvas of your melanin, and its corrivalry with the single shimmer of your husband’s wedding ring… was artful. Artistic. Just like him. Just like you always thought he was. 

It gave you time too; time to realize that all this was you. If only your pride allowed it, an immersive rewind to the oh so salacious removal of your dress and heels after what Namjoon had made out to be a stern “don’t talk to me” could teach you something. 

But despite it all, and you being greatly incapable of turning an inquisitive mind away from what was the flavorus scent of eager suds… control was a factor that you would do everything in your power to make yours. And yours only. 

“We’ll see, Joon.” You reply softly. 

DREAM GIRL 💭 kim namjoon.

pair. writer! namjoon x f. reader | genre. age gap romance, obsession, love at first sight, angst | warnings. corruption kink, profanity, slight stalker behavior, daddy kink, pet names, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, power imbalance, just filthy sex tbh | word count. 3.7k

synopsis. “tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?” or namjoon is completely enamored by your angelic innocence, and absolutely has to claim you.

Kim Namjoon spent most of his time reading.

His most recent binge had been Murakami books, the woman through a man’s point of view, and while fascinating—it lacked depth. Intensity. This author clearly understood the peculiar sex very little, was entirely focused on his love for them, and their reaction to it. If it was Namjoon, he’d let them lead the narrative, while he’d step back and observe.

Women were to be observed, understood, before approached. This is how he found you, a perfect little angel in your white dress, sipping coffee outside his neighborhood’s café, softly talking to a grey, stray cat, your hand extended out for it, your fingers delicate in their calling. You stopped him dead on his tracks. He could do nothing but stare.

You looked so peaceful in your oblivion, your hair up and away from your face, a book propped on your knees. Namjoon’s feet moved without his knowledge, his mind replaying one thing—I have to see your face, your beautiful features, I need to meet you, sweetheart. Shamefully, his cock stirred in his pants, alerting him of his improper intentions. No matter. He couldn’t control his response to you, didn’t want to.

Walking in the coffeehouse, he leaned against the tall counter, head lazily falling into his open palm, gaze following your every move. Ordering his usual drink, he gathered the courage to approach you. You seemed to like this cat, so, perhaps an animal lover, and you most certainly were a reader—it was a start, an opening for him.

Clouds were beginning to gather, September coming to an end, but you paid no mind to them, your eyes scanning the pages of whatever you were reading. His writer brain was romanticizing your entire existence, was picturing you under him, in his arms, consumed, defiled, claimed. A pretty little thing dancing in the rain, running towards him, laughing, the outline of your breasts visible for anyone to see.

Henry Miller would’ve been one jealous fucker if he’d ever known you were out there, years ahead of him, a muse for the taking. Namjoon thanked every fucking God known for putting you in his way. Bukowski would be having a field day fantasizing about your honey dripping thighs and sweet pussy. You are every writer’s dream, sweetheart, and do you even realize?

“Beautiful choice,” he comments on the book in your lap, coming to stand over you, desperately trying not to lose it over your angel features.

You jump, startled, and look up to witness the most breathtaking man you’ve ever come across in your life, smiling down at you. You smile back without meaning to, your back straightening, your shoe clad feet touching the pavement.

“Anaïs is for the bold,” you retort, voice light, motioning for him to sit in the empty chair opposite you.

He’s massive, with strong arms and long legs. He thanks you softly and takes the seat, paper cup in hand, eyes piercing through you in an identifiable way. You shiver—blame it on the chilly day.

“Are you bold, then?” He asks cryptically, leaning into you. You feel exposed, but intrigued. So incredibly intrigued.

You falter in giving him your answer. You don’t even know his name. You don’t think it matters. “I—I try, I think.”

He smirks, and pulls away, taking with him his amber scent and magnetism. You miss it as soon as it’s gone. You reason with yourself, try to find an explanation for your thought’s reaction—your body’s.

“I’m Namjoon, sweetheart. What should I call you?” His voice was velvet; deep, and manly. It radiated through you.

Closing the book, you instead chose to hold your coffee cup between your hands, a distraction from the intense man pinning you down with those dark eyes. His black leather jacket accentuated his big shoulders, the buzz cut on the top of his head making him appear meaner than he actually was. Namjoon was older, you could tell. It scared you, but in the way rollercoasters make you nervous, or in the way thunder cracked in the night, somewhere far away, miles and miles from you. Bark with no bite.

“(Y/N),” you reply, licking your dry lips.

He follows the movement. “Pretty—(Y/N),” he tries it in his mouth, the sound sinful, inviting. “It’s beautiful.”

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, your head dropping to hide. Namjoon is an intuitive person, a risk-taking man. His fingers reach out, his index lifting your face to look at him. Your breathing has changed, you’re not accustomed to flirting, much less compliments from strangers, it’s all there for him to see. His innocent baby. He’d take his time with you. You deserved nothing less—he’d give you the fucking world, if you so wished.

“Are you a lover of books?” You ask, wanting to break the incantation, disperse the intensity of the moment.

His hand drops, the touch that lit a fire inside of you burning still, bright and strong heading lower, in between your legs, gone in an instant. You mourned for it, yearned for his hand to come back, touch you somewhere else. Your thoughts were shameless, your deepest desires but a breath away.

“You could say that,” he sips from his cup, calm and collected, legs crossed, studying you. “I’m a writer.”

“No way!” You exclaim, your cute reaction eliciting a laugh out of him. How adorable, he thinks, watching your nose scrunch up, your small, fuckable mouth curving in a smile that knocks the wind out of him.

“What about you, angel?”

“I’m a sophomore in college. Literature.”

Of course you are, his smart girl. He needs you to know, before he proceeds. He needs you to vocally say it’s okay for him to court you, to make you his. He won’t lay another finger on you until you do so.

“Sweetheart, you understand the age gap between us, don’t you?”

The part you dreaded. The truth. “Yes,” you say loud enough for just him to hear.

Namjoon leaves his now cold drink on the table, leans forward, forearms resting on top of his knees, fingers lacing together, a serious expression on his flawless face. Is this how it happens, you think? One day, out of the blue, no warning, no signs? Love, plainly in sight, asking you to accept it? You can’t say no. You don’t want to say no, knowing the difficulties, the struggles that entails.

“One word of yours and I’m out of your life. You’re holding the reigns,” he explains, but his eyes are terrified of you rejecting this, of scorning him, of sending him away after he’s found you, an oasis after a long dry desert.

He wants to love you madly. He wants to fuck you senseless, and ruin you for any other man. Most of all, he wants you to want the same things. Eight years isn’t a lot, but it’s a lifetime apart.

“You—you like me?” Your lips fall open, your chest deflates.

Oh, sweetheart, you might not be ready for what I feel for you, what I’m planning to do to you—it’s beyond words. Beyond reason.

“As soon as I saw you. I’m not a talkative person, (Y/N), I don’t walk up to just any girl.” There go those eyes again, haunting your soul, turning you inside out.

You blink, surprised at his honesty, at the bluntness of his words. In your twenty years on this earth, you’ve never been more sure of anything. This man will show you things you’ve never seen before, take you to places you’ve only dreamed of. He’s experienced, he’s an all rounded person.

He’s handsome. His mouth begs to be kissed.

“I like you too,” you admit, but refuse to meet his gaze.

He can’t have that. His fingers shoot out again, gently bringing your face level to his. Rain droplets release themselves from the puffy clouds. You don’t react to any of it, hypnotized under him, under his irresistible touch.

“It will be more than that. I need to know if you’ll be able to handle it, pretty girl. I’m not going to be your high school boyfriend.”

“I understand.” Your thighs clench together, your breathing erratic.

Namjoon notices, of course he does. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

Your eyelashes flutter, the red painting your cheeks turning a shade darker, your skin hot under his palm. He’s closer than ever, this broad man asking if he can take care of you. You’re endeared. Your heart is weak.

“I’m—no. A boy in my senior year,” you reply, embarrassed. Excited.

His eyes flash, something dark stirring in them, before it’s gone instantly. Jealousy. But, why? You couldn’t have possibly known, and even then…the danger. The forbidden. No, that couldn’t have been it.

Why hadn’t you waited? Who dared touched you before him? His muse, his perfect girl. Thoughts that had no place being voiced out loud, in fear of sounding insane. He would never admit to them.

“Then tell me pretty baby, have you ever been fucked up against a wall?”

His lips were but a breath away. You wanted to give in so badly, anything he wanted, you’d become pudding in his hands, melt away if that meant you’d be with him, if that meant he’d take you with him everywhere. His question. You stayed silent.

“Use your words, (Y/N). I’m not doing anything without your consent.”

You were so wet. So incredibly wet. If only he knew the influence his words had on you… He only had to reach a hand under your dress, touch your core. Then he’d realize just how inexperienced you truly were.

“Never,” you whisper.

You exchanged breaths, your eyes falling shut in the thought of his lips on yours, and it almost happened, the ghost of them faintly pressing, a gentle caress, before he pulls away completely, his hand finding yours, pulling you up with him.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you just did to me,” an arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you closer, your head at level with his chest, a man, standing before you, asking to have you.

“I should wait, I should take you out and make sure you’re fed, take care of you, every fucking inch of you, before I even begin to think—do you want this?” His voice is vibrating, filled with his desire, breath now tickling your ear, a whisper between lovers.

You just met Namjoon. You don’t know anything about him, nothing but your attraction to him. Your body’s reaction. So what if this was a bad decision? He didn’t look like a bad guy. Anais Nin wasn’t second guessing herself when she fell into an affair with Henry Miller. It just happened, their souls spoke to each other clearly. Could this be what was happening?

You wanted him inside you. You wanted what he offered, every bit of it. Yes, yes, yes.

“Take me with you, Namjoon.”

Together you run, belongings forgotten; the rain had turned from a faint whispering to a thundering roar in a split second, and it didn’t take long for the both of you to get completely drenched in it, tasting sky water, your small hand in his bigger one, holding tight, fingers intertwining.

He only had to look back once. Your dress was see-through, he could see your white undergarments, the silk of your panties, the cups of your bra. Namjoon growled, a guttural noise boiling from his throat. Immediately, he pulled you in between two buildings, a narrow alleyway leading to apartments’ fire escapes unraveling in the length of it.

Leading you under a small shed, he made sure you were against the wall, covered, while he let his arms rest above your head, your bodies touching. He looked down at you, his breathing labored, and he saw the skin glistening, the fabric sticking on every curve, those pink lips open, fast breaths exhaled.

He kisses you, then. Takes your lips as his own, traps you in his embrace. You taste like cold rain, but when his tongue slips past, there’s hints of coffee with milk. Namjoon smiles against your mouth, hands getting lost in your hair, steadying themselves at the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw, your chin—you fit right into him, so small, so precious. He’s going to love corrupting you, tainting you.

“Has anyone ever touched you…here?” His fingers bunch your dress up, dip under it, over your slick. You gasp—he marvels at your expression.

“No? Baby talk to me, use your pretty mouth,” he kisses you again, his digits moving over your panties. You’re moving with them, rubbing against them, it’s all wet wet wet—

“No one.” Your nails dig into his jacket. He sighs dreamily; you’re a vision for him. An angel send.

“Did that boy not know how to please you, baby? He just shoved his fucking dick in you carelessly?” His voice grew rough, anger rippling through him. “You deserve so much better than that, sweetheart. You deserve to be loved, to be caressed…”

With one hand slipping inside your panties, fingers curling, entering you slowly, the other one ran up and down your thigh, gripping at your waist, snaking its way to the small of your back, and back down. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pumping movements inside you, the long digits bringing you pleasure, making your cunt ache, clench around them.

Namjoon was hiding you from view with his entire body. This was only for him to see, but it also served as a test. To see how far you were willing to go with him.

“You’re doing so well, my sweet girl. So tight, so wet for me… I want to taste you, baby, I want to inhale you. Will you let me?”

Your moans were music to his ears. They started as low pants, your hand blocking most of them, your cheeks that familiar pink shade. He saw it happen, as his fingers curled a specific way, the way your legs fell open wider, the way your voice turned a pitch higher than before, unable to hold back, helpless against your pleasure. Namjoon was rock hard, stifled in his pants.

But that would come shortly. First, he needed to show you—what he can do. What you could have every single day, everywhere, as soon as you spoke the words. He’d cater to your every need, be whatever you wanted him to be. As long as he could have you, take you, own you.

A smack on your ass. Your eyes shot open, staring wide at him. He lifted you up at once, arm under those plump cheeks, his fingers still fucking your cunt vigorously. You yelped, held onto his shoulders in fear of falling, but quickly grew overwhelmed, your volume rising. Fuck him, you’re so fucking hot.

“Tell Daddy, my sweet girl—will you let me have a taste of your cunt?”

“Oh, please,” you whined, your head falling in the crook of his neck, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “Please.”

He needn’t be told twice. With your feet planted firmly on the ground again, he removed his hand from your panties, kneeling down in front of you, rain sipping through him, as he lifted your dress up. Namjoon looked up at you through his eyelashes, before he ripped that silk right off you, diving right into your slick.

Divine. He’s had a lot of sex, has tasted a lot of women, but none could ever compare to you, to your sweet fucking cunt. It was pure Heaven. And the way your back curved against the wall, pushing his head into you, his tongue swiping your wetness, sucking your clit—it was enough to make you cum. He slurped all of it up, fingers finding their way again into your warm hole. He’d blow, he fucking swears. Your beautiful voice moaning out his name, wet all over, a Goddess for him, as he laps your intoxicating juices. He drinks you up, he makes it his life’s mission.

“Fucking tell me, sweetheart, has anyone ever had a lick of this pussy? You know it belongs to me now, don’t you?”

You nod your head, losing your mind. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re convulsing this hard. His baby.

“Words.”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please,” you sob, “please…fuck me, please…”

He locks you in place, his hands on your ass, determined to make you cum with his tongue, before his cock is anywhere near you. His impatient girl, so lost in feeling, such a slut for him, for what he’s giving you. He’s never had such a perfect woman.

When he started working both his fingers and mouth again, this time aggressively, his only motive was to get that pussy to drench him, to have your cum dripping from his chin. And it did just that when his thumb flicked over your clit relentlessly, tongue moving just underneath, three fingers deep. Your nails dug into his scalp, your entire body convulsing. He rubbed his stubby jaw on your lips, inhaling deeply. Your scent, uniquely yours—he now knew how you smelled. Truly. He would never be able to let you go.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me. Ready for me? Ready to give me another one?” He muttered, hands on your breasts, dropping kisses on your neck, before unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants. “I love the way you cum. I can’t wait to have you on my bed, have my way with you. You’ll let me, yes baby? You’ll let Daddy defile you, pretty thing?”

You looked down at his girth, swallowing thickly. Namjoon chuckled darkly, allowing you to see what would enter you. He pumped himself a couple times, his other hand rubbing your pussy, making sure you were wet enough for him. You just looked so fucking innocent, all fucked out. He attacked your mouth once again, biting down on your lip.

“Do you taste yourself? My delicious fucking girl.”

He enters you slowly, brows furrowed, savoring the tightness. Once he bottoms out, he stills in you, letting you get used to him, his will made of iron. Your fingers wrap around his biceps as you take a deep breath through the sting of his cock.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks, worried.

“Yes,” you reply at once. “Go on.”

He hikes your thigh up and around his torso, as he lifts you up. You wrap around him and that’s fucking it—he loses it. His cock brutally starts pistoling into you, holding you tight against him. You meet his thrusts halfway, before it becomes too much for you to handle, instead becoming his personal little fuck doll to pound senseless. And he does. His moves are exact; sharp, and precise. He’s hitting everything inside you, the position as well as the thickness of his cock filling you up to the brim, until all you can think is him him him, inside your cunt, fucking you dumb.

“Call me by my name, sweetheart,” he pants in your ear, bouncing you on his dick.

“Namjoon,” you weakly moan, your breaths coming short, on the brink of passing out.

“My name,” he repeats harshly, ramming into you once, twice—

You throw your head back in ecstasy. “Daddy! Fuck, don’t stop! Keep fucking me please, please, I’m so fucking close daddy, please!”

“That’s my fucking angel.”

He does just that, until he can feel you spasming, until you’re screaming, begging, crying, coming on his cock, his desperate whore, getting fucked so good, isn’t she, bounce on my fucking dick, baby, ride it out, that’s right, milk me, fucking own me, my sweet fucking baby, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot, give me a kiss—

“Where do you want me, baby? Tell Daddy, fuck you’re clenching me so goddamn hard right now, sweetheart, please.”

“Inside, please inside, I want your cum inside of me, please,” you beg, and he almost fucking chokes on his spit.

His thrusts are fast, hard and sloppy now, bruising your pussy, chasing after his own release, his mouth filthy—you want me inside this fucking cunt, don’t you my perfect fucking baby, my little slut, you’re gonna let daddy paint your walls white, won’t you, squeeze me dry, baby, fuck, come on, clench those tight fucking walls, goddamn you, I want to die in this pussy, please baby—

His arms tighten around you as he comes, and you let him; you let him calm down, for his breathing to even out, as he slips out of you, and carefully unwraps your legs from his hips, planting kisses on your shoulders, water dripping from his hair. The thunderstorm still hasn’t passed, raging on beyond the shelter of this shed.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this,” you confess as he fixes your hair, your dress, adjusts the straps, gives you his jacket to make up for the lack of underwear, and even though it’s several sizes too big on you—he cares.

It wasn’t just a lie to have a quickie with you. He took his time to explore your body, to study what makes you tick, what sends you over the edge. You didn’t even know his last name, but he knew his way around your pussy the best, better than you it felt like.

His eyes are fond, staring down in adoration. “I want to make you feel good for as long as you let me, sweetheart. I’m not here to hurt you.”

You hug him, then, your arms not quite reaching all around him. But it’s enough for him. More than enough. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you so easily. You’re the most adorable thing he’s ever witnessed. He wants to hide you away, put you in his pocket and carry you everywhere.

“What’s your last name?” You ask innocently, head still buried in his chest.

He barks a laugh out, squeezing you in him, the vibration of it radiating through you. “Should’ve mentioned it, huh? It’s Kim, angel. Kim Namjoon.”

“Kim Namjoon,” you try it. It sounds…wholesome. “Hi, Kim Namjoon.”

“Hello, baby.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, waiting the storm out in each other’s arms. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling, didn’t want to, never wanted to, ever again.

You couldn’t stop staring at him—he felt like the sun peeking after the gray of the clouds. Warm, important.

taehyung for vogue korea

rivals academia | knj

pairing: knj x reader (f)

genre: slight angst/smut

rating: mature audiences ONLY (strictly 18+)

wc: 4.2 thousand

summary: you and kim namjoon absolutely hate eachother but after you’re both paired for a school project — things get rather interesting at the school library.

warnings: enemies to one-night stand (potential fwb) unprotected sex (wrap it up yall); penetrative sex; hand job; fingering; brief nipple play; teasing; dirty talk; public sex; foul language; dirty talk; bickering; thigh riding; slight degradation; praise kink; i think thats it ??; namjoon’s fucking thighs; i was having a moment of weakness please; college au

posted: sunday september 11th, 2022

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Repulsed.

That’s precisely the word indicative enough to portray exactly how you felt. Repulsed, repugnant, nauseated, revolting — it all came rushing in like a wave of rage aggressively meeting the golden shores.

It was overwhelming yet still - here you sat across from him and his absolutely irritating aura. It excluded an intoxicating amount of cockiness and an irritating deal of arrogance.

His presence was so irritating.

So fucking irritating.

“Are we supposed to finish this whole project today?” He asked exasperated - as if putting off the project until the last minute wasn’t his exact idea and now he wants to treat it as a nuisance?

“The project is due Monday, Kim. And it is 8:00PM Friday,” you briefly examined the watch sitting on your wrist, “and I’m guessing you have plans for the entire weekend?”

Namjoon nodded eagerly, picking up his phone for the thousandth time but you snatched it right out of his hand.

“What the—”

“It’s time to get to work. For real this time, Kim.” You shoved his phone in your purse, “I'm tired of you just pretending to do things.”

“Can I have my phone back?” He uttered through gritted teeth.You could’ve sworn you saw clouds of smoke emitting from his ears as his usually chocolate eyes turned red hot with anger, “Now!.”

“You’ll get it back when you actually fucking do something for once.” You snapped back — standing your ground.

He slouched back on the wooden library chair and scoffed typing away at his laptop.

Kim Namjoon.

If it wasn’t obvious he wasn’t your first choice for a project partner, however, your Intro to Art History professor thought otherwise. And now you suffered the consequences; bearing the temper tantrums of a man baby.

“What was the year for Venus of Urbino again?”

“1534.”

“Artist?”

“Titian.”

“Interpretation some believe?”

You huffed — he was truly insufferable, “did you even read the cards she passed out?”

He rolled his eyes, “does it look like I did?”

“Kim, do I really have to do your part of the project too?”

He quirked a brow as he shrugged, “you’re the one holding me hostage.”

“I’m not holding you anything. You have a responsibility to this project as my partner. This doesn’t just fall on me.”

“And yet here I am contributing absolutely nothing and you’re already doing both our jobs so you might as well excuse me.” He pushed his chair back in an attempt to stand-up.

“I swear if you so much as take a step, Kim,” you stood up from the table from him — your eyes sternly set on his. You were not afraid of him, “your name will be removed from this entire fucking project and word on the street is you’re current GPA isn’t really securing you a place on the team. What is the athlete’s magic number again? 2.5 right?”

“Ouch!” His full lips curved into a smile. His chasmic dimples on full display. You could sense the sarcasm even in the simple phrase your attention was averted towards his lips. It’s rather nice. His smile that is. You didn’t really see it often but his smile — fuck — it was picturesque; similar to the sunset as it kissed the deepest depths of the cerulean sea when nighttime lurked behind in its shadows.

“Don’t hold back now.” he uttered, taking a seat once again.

“I don’t intend to.”

“Tell me, doll. Are you always this dense?”

You ignored him and continued typing your section of the project. Just pretend he’s not even here — you repeat in your head.

“Are you going to answer my question on Venus about the depiction or should I spend the next hour researching it?”

You looked up at him and there it is again. The soft strokes of curvatures of his golden cheeks painting a delicate smile.

“It is literally a five minute search,” You cleared your throat in an attempt to be clear and to avoid having to repeat yourself, “but to save you the trouble; we're focusing on sexuality through the ages she is theorized to be masturbating, Kim.”

“Masturbating?”

“Precisely, with the way she’s laying naked and the placement of her hands — it’s only been assumed by some and obviously our professor as well considering she included it.”

Namjoon huffed. “Interesting.”

“Not at all,” you pointed at his laptop, “now write it down.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Where is this going, Kim?”

“Well,” he began, “I don’t mean to be lewd—”

“You already are, Kim.”

“It’s Joon,” Namjoon smirked, “but have you ever?”

His words were brief but they were tainted with a vivid carmine hue — all of it backtracked with sexual intent. And truly you despised the kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting at the pit of your stomach.

“That is none of your business.”

“—but it is something to be curious about.”

“I don’t see why,” though the library was completely vacant and you both sat in a private study area for some reason you could feel a swarm of watchful judging eyes — all of them condemning everything you've ever done. Everything right down to that very question. You shifted in your seat clearly affected at the utterances of his beguiling words, “and the next artwork on the list is The Swing. Figure it out.”

“Truly, has a girl like you even —” he chuckled, “never mind.”

“What could you possibly mean by that?” there was a feeling bubbling deep inside but you couldn’t quite decipher what it was. Anger? Annoyance? Bashfulness? .

“I just mean you’re innocent.”

“Innocent?”

“You could barely say ‘masturbation’ without a stutter a couple minutes ago,” he shrugged and you knew that in his own twisted way Namjoon was using this as another thing to hold over you.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I just don’t feel like discussing those things with you. This has nothing to do with how innocent you think I am.”

“I think. .” He drifted off. His chin was now propped up on his palms.

“You think?” you emphasized the word ‘think.’

“You wanna know what I think?”

“Is it that maybe you should shut up for once so we can get this project done already?”

“In fact,” he scoffed, beginning to share his theory anyway, “I think you’re a virgin.”

“That’s a great observation, Kim. Now let’s move on to what we’re actually here for.”

He slouched down in his chair, his arms now crossed at his chest, his eyes laid intently on you sitting right across from him. His watchfulness was kind of — intimidating to say the least.

“Kim, it’s 9PM. Can we please?” you sighed your eyes, never leaving the brightness of your screen.

“I would but it’s just so hard to concentrate.”

You sighed, “what will it take for you to finally move on and finish this project once and for all?” You shut your laptop, your eyes finally meeting his once again,

“Answer my question. Have you ever masturbated?”

His cavernous voice was bottomless like the deep sea and the obscenity in his words sent a glacial shiver down your spine. Was his voice always this low? You’d never really noticed before.

“I know you may think I’m familial to freaks of some sort but like any normal person I have in fact masturbated Joon,” you let out all in one breathe.

“You called me Joon,”

“I did,” his smile beamed brighter than sun rays — the rapid thumping of your heart beat aggressively thumped against the walls of your chest and you were afraid he might just be able to hear, “Are we done or do you also need a demonstration?”

“Let’s make your proposition a bit more sensible,” he began.

“I was kidding.”

“It was your idea,” The air in the room grew thicker. It constricted your airway and for a minute you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Were the air vents even opened here? You checked and they were, “are you already backing out now?”

“Joon. .”

“Tell me,” his voice was provocative and you feared one more soft utter would have you stripped bare with little to no command.

“Tell you?” your leg is bouncing under the wooden table and you could feel your palms growing clammy.

The soft glimmer of the luminous moonbeam was casted upon him accentuating his sun-kissed tone and the striking features staring back at you intently — his glistening cherry lips, the way his dimples formed at the mere appearance of the smirk on his face and his stern amber gaze still so intimidating. It made you feel small but you are not going to show him the power he could have over you.

“What do you wanna hear?” your tone now masked in thin layers of silk.

He panted softly, “I want to hear it all.”

“You wanna hear about how I lay completely bare with my head propped up against my pillows. Eyes shut tightly as my hands explore every single inch of my body pretending it’s someone else?”

“Fuck-” His hands dug under the waistband of his sweats. Your eyes now casted on the way the cotton light grey fabric rhythmically moved up and down repeatedly. His chest heaved as his breathing became uneven — and in that moment you could not think of a more captivating sight. Like an erotic painting right out of the renaissance era. You remained at your previous position behind his chair, “but when I get tired of that I have to resort to other measures as you may know.”

“I d-don’t know..” he groaned. His tone expressed frustration and arousal combined. The repulsion you once felt ceased and all your mind could become aware of was the vast ocean accumulating between your thighs; staining the fabric of your underwear as the sight of Namjoon stroking himself in the campus library became imprinted in your mind.

“Sometimes, I also like to mount my pillow placing my thighs on each side as I move my hips steadily against the soft fabric. Slowly rolling my hips back and forth until I’m finally able to reach that high,” you whispered.

His soft pants filled the stillness and furnished the serenity amongst the vacant tables and chairs right outside the private study room. The sounds so addicting it looped within the walls of your head like a vinyl on a broken record player.

“Y-You—” was all he could manage as he became enthralled in his own pleasure, the sweat forming at his temples could attest to it.

“Can I touch you Joon?”

“Please.”

You placed a velvet kiss on the nape of his neck. Your hands found their way up to his dark strands — you softly tugged at it, pushing his head back, “well I’m not the one with my hands in my pants. Am I?”

A thunderous chuckle rumbled within the four walls of the secluded study room, “Please believe you are the clear cause of this.”

“I didn’t do anything, Joon.” you let out an airy laugh, “just provided details of a scenario per your request. Remember?”

“You’re a fucking demon.”

“And you’re too easy. Just like every other horny dude on this campus.”

“Please—” He begged, grabbing onto your wrist before you could walk away. This tone was husk and as much as you hated to admit it. It was like an alluring song to your ears all of it shooting right down to your core just like everything he did. “I need you.”

I need you. The three words invaded your tympanum serving as a command for his needed pleasure and you felt as if your feet vacated their stance on the ground. His honey voice was lulling and if he continued to say anything in that tone, you’d fear your dignity would rid itself and follow every single thing he’d bark without objection. Every bone in your body already begged you to comply; to do it for you and chase your own pleasure — and as much as your mind screamed at you to leave. You listened to the throbbing between your legs instead.

“Pull it all down,” You ordered and Joon quickly rid himself of the pesky fabrics standing between him and utter vulnerability. He didn’t even bother to get up, just allowed them to pool at his ankles. His rather massive erection now on full display — shocked wasn’t the word you were looking for. After all, Joon always exuded the aura that he was considerable in size but nevertheless it was a pleasant reaffirmation to your lingering rumors.

Joon cleared his throat pulling your eyes away from his erection — your trance was essentially amusing to him, you could see it painted on his smirk, “You can come closer you know. If you want to.”

“Closer?”

Joon softly tapped on his bare thighs. His thick fucking thighs. Having attended numerous of his soccer games you were constantly given a sneak peak at his toned legs. His upper thighs often lolled you into a fantasy that was now taking play right before you and instead of following the script your head had created for you on multiple occasions; instead you sat here salivating at the clear view of his lower half without the burden of shorts being in the way.

“Come sit. Please,” his pleading made your legs turn to jello — the way his tone so delicately continued to voice his intricate needs was fucking sexy. Although you’ve only been sitting on top of his left thighs approximately 30 seconds now you couldn’t help the way you were throbbing at an uncontrollable beat. You were certain he could feel it too — it was plastered all over his shit-eating grin.

“Can you be a good girl and move for me please?” His tone still velvet to the touch.

Your underwear were already drenched and you were terrified he would notice — the lack of shorts under your skirt left only the thin cotton fabric of your underwear to meet his thighs. But you were not going to back down. Not now.

“Have you done this before?”

“No,” you simply stated.

“Just follow along.”

You nodded.

Initially, the mere feeling of his hands secured around your waist clouded your thoughts entirely. His warm grasp sent waves of electric currents down your spine but nothing prepared you for the feeling that bubbled in your core as soon as his sinful hands instructed you to move. The pace began agonizingly slow and you followed his motion moving forward and backwards against his thigh.

You whimpered, “It feels so good. .”

Joon laughed — the sound drummed at your eardrums and without a stutter in his rhythm you were being guided to move against him faster and faster as he continued flexing his thigh muscles causing all that more friction against your lower half.

“N-namjoon,” You moaned holding on to his chest for support; your head rolled back as you grew consumed by pleasure.

His hands vacated their place on your waist but you continued the steady pace against him chasing a high you knew you were very close to achieving. Joon’s attention was diverted into your clothed chest.

“Can I take your shirt and bra off?”

“Mhm,” was all you truly could manage.

Though, you were breaking a sweat going at it against his thighs as soon as your top half was stripped you felt a draft of cool air meet your perky nipples. The slight frigidness you briefly felt subsided and instead you were met with Joon’s warm touch once again except now it was taking a hold of your breast — his slender finder massaged one while the other was taken care of by his plump lips. Your hands traveled to the back of his neck as the rhythm of your hips stopped against his thigh. Your senses now focused entirely on the way he swirled his tongue against the sensitive bud.

He paused for a moment looking up at you through hooded eyes, “did I say you could stop?”

“No.”

“Then, continue riding my thigh until I say it’s enough.”

The switch off between his pleads for consent and the way he barked orders in your direction shot straight down only adding to the piled up sexual frustration bubbling deep within you but nevertheless you obeyed — now taking on a slower pace against him as he continued his attack on your breasts.

Locked away in a retreat of arousal and between slurred words and dazed moans you asked Joon if he was in accordance with receiving some attention as well.

“I want to focus on you.”

“And I on you,”

“If you insist,” he gave in, “just stay on my lap.”

His words set a stump in wanting to suck him off but ultimately you settled for using your hands. After aiming down to use your saliva as lubricant you could see the shock sitting behind his lust induced eyes. Your hands began working at his length mimicking his earlier motions — there was nothing more you wanted than to be on your knees in front of him but you were glad you fought against those urges when you felt his hands traveling under your skirt to move your panties to the side.

“Fuck.” He hissed, “you’re drenched.” Joons words only affect you in the worst way possible. Causing the pool between your thighs to deepen, “you claim you’re so fucking quiet but that’s all a facade you know. You’re a fucking slut.”

You never thought a word would affect you as much as being called a slut but you fucking loved it.

“Call me that again,” you whined, “call me that again, please.”

“You’re a slut — you know that?” the soft pads of his fingers finally arrived at their destination and quickly began massaging your clit . . lento. An eruption of lights fired in the back of your mind as Joon continued to immerse himself in bringing you utter satisfaction. You were levitating — your body vibrated which only accentuated the feeling of his heavenly touch.

“Your slut.” your lips ‘fessed up before your brain could register what you actually said.

“My slut.” He sat-up on the wooden chairs but his fingers abandoned your bundle of nerves and traveled further down resting at your entrance, “You know what you’re doing to me right?”

His face was just inches away from yours but your eyes were set on his lips — you leaned forward. Both of you began composing a magical piece in the way your lips danced against each other. His kisses were drug induced and you were already addicted; making it impossible to even pull away so you didn’t and he certainly didn’t either. Under your skirt his phantom touch ceased until you felt his pointer and middle fingers push past your entrance.

“Your fingers are blessed Joon. . They’re fucking blessed. .” you rambled on, “Blessed.”

“You think so?” He pushed them further in causing a strain of moans to fall from your swollen lips.

“Hmm.”

Joon’s pace picked up as he continued to move in and out of you repeatedly. Truly, all the words you could make out were stuttered strings of praises toward his fingers. They were fucking blessed and right then you swore you could write a million poems just on how delectable they felt inside of you.

“Uh, J-Joon. I’m so close. . so so fucking close Joon.”

“Come for me,” he whispered against the nape of your neck as he continued peppering you with silken kisses.

“Shit. .”

His fingers continued moving at a rapid pace as they finally met that spot that drove you over the edge. If you were levitating before you could easily confirm that now you danced amongst the twinkling stars.

“You were so good for me.” He was panting, his chest matching your heaving as you came down from your high, “so fucking good for me.”

His words were always so intricately sensual and you could feel your arousal throb at his dulcet praises.

Why did you hate him again? You couldn’t recall ever having such a feeling for the man you were currently straddling.

You didn’t hate him. You craved him.

After Namjoon removed his hands from underneath your skirt he brought his fingers up to your mouth and smeared your juice on your lips like lip gloss. Before you knew it you were welcoming his digits past your cerise lips tasting your sweet nectar right off his fingers.

“You are so hot.”

“Did it really take having me half naked on your lap for you to realize that?”

“Actually, no. . only one of us in this room actually hated the other.”

“I didn’t hate you.” you blurred out.

“I didn’t say you did, doll. But since you practically snitched on yourself I think it’s safe to say you despise me. ”

“I despised you. As it's in the past,” you corrected him.

“Dick is all it took to change your mind?”

“Hmm,” you took Joon’s cock in your hand slowly pumping at his shaft once again. And he just looked so good— slouched on the chair, his hair disheveled, a slight glow taking hold of his forehead and chest as sweat ran down his tan skin tone. His grin showed the way his teeth sparkle even in the darkness of the room. Namjoon is pulchritudinous and you are under his spell, “I would need to actually have you inside me to make that deduction.”

“I-I didn’t bring protection,” he let out in-between pants.

“I mean I’m clean. Are you?”

He nodded eagerly. But that didn’t suffice. You wanted to hear his raspy voice as confirmation. You tightened your hold on his erection just a bit, “I didn’t hear you.”

His jaw was clenched but still managed a soft, “I’m clean.”

“Perfect.”

Joon welcomed you back on his lap now accompanying him in complete nudity after you had finally decided to rid yourself of the clothes still covering your lower half. His keen gaze felt like it cut right through your confidence like a knife. And although it was a bit intimidating you didn’t let it set a stumble in your actions. His hand landed back on your waist like earlier that night and he guided you towards the tip of his erection.

“Hold it while you go down.”

You complied. Taking him inch-by-inch, your mouth forming into an ‘O’ immediately after his tip pushed past your entrance.

“Y-you’re so fucking big,” you could’ve sworn his length was sucking the air right out of you like a vacuum.

If you thought Namjoon’s thighs and fingers are graces sent by God himself, there was absolutely nothing in this world that could compare to his cock. There was nothing in this world that could feel so—

“J-Joon,” you moaned, attempting to keep up with the overwhelming pleasure driven by the guidance of his clammy hands as you bounced on his dick.

“You feel so good, doll. You’re doing so well.”

His praises you discovered are your weakness — his words were dipped in honey and they fed your ears affirmations you could not get enough of. Your head grew hazy at the duality in his words.

That alone drove you closer and closer to the edge. Not to mention the way his thrusts met yours was a sufficient contribution to your demise — you are about to crumble at the mercy of Kim Namjoon’s massive dick.

“R-right there,” your temples glisten with sweat and you could feel the scratchiness in your throat take flight after the past hour you’ve just had, “don’t— please don’t stop.”

“Mhm. .” His thrusts are harder. Deeper. You could feel the way he continued meeting you right where you needed him most. His eyes never lose contact where your bodies meet comforted in the way he disappears inside of you entirely.

And he continued fucking you so good. Fucking you into oblivion.

The silence that once tip-toed around the both of you was gone never to be seen again. Instead it was replaced by the squeaking of the chair (which you continued to pray it wouldn’t break), Namjoon’s groans and your slurred obscenities. It was like that for a while until your legs began to shake and your moans became too loud to suppress. Until your juices coated his cock and his filled you up.

“The Swing-” he managed after catching his breath, “Jean-Honoré Fragonard, 1767. It symbolizes the ideas of infidelity, desire, eroticism and love. The guy on the bottom left is peeking up her dress right?”

“Huh?”

“The next one on the list for our project.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, a bit stunned by the realization, “You knew the information this entire time?”

“I had to get your attention somehow right,” he snickered.

“I hate you, Kim Namjoon,” you laughed playfully, landing a punch on his arm.

“After tonight, I think we both know that is simply not true.”

-

-

-

authour’s note: it took me forever to finish this for a lot of reasons but the main being that thisismyfirstsmutandiwassupernervoustopost so lol sorry if its — bad — i do apologize in advance. I tried and am using it as a way to break out of that shell and explore uncharted grounds. either way i hope some of you enjoy it lol

thank you for reading <3

- em

© flterkoo

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIM NAMJOON — 09.12.1994

+ more

go ahead and cry (m) - jjk

a/n: this is purely a fic based on the song ‘daddy issues’ by the neighbourhood - probably great to listen to it first

summary: jungkook has commitment issues when it came to love and you are always ready to fall in love. you two want to be loved, and you’re ready to attach yourself but that’s what scares jungkook and he finally confronts all his fears.

genre: smut, angst | friends to lovers au | fratboy!kook x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: daddy issues lol, unprotected sex (don’t ever do that pls), cunnilingus, unhealthy coping mechanisms, squirting, overstimulation, fingering, public sex (sort of), exhibitionist kink (if you squint), praising, desperate kook, needy kook, jealousy, insecurities, crying scenes, emotional outbursts

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yess i love doechii

comfortable, bare, and hungry | jeon jungkook

you and jungkook worked up your appetites after an intense night together, so you decide to order in some pizzas...

Description/TW: ~2.6k words / Jungkook x Reader (F) / Fluff but suggestive / Established relationship / Banter! / inspired by a TikTok of a girl saying she and her partner ate a meal together naked - as soon as I find it I'll link it here (x) / I wanted to write the smutty part before this but I think I need to build up my smut writing skills before I do that considering the intense time JK and the OC/YN had🫣

You and Jungkook lay naked on the couch as your breathing returned to normal following your high. You lost count of how long you’ve been going at it that evening since you were trapped in Jungkook’s apartment due to a heavy rainstorm and just kept going on and on and on….

All you knew right now was that you were exhausted, sweaty, red, and hungrier than ever. 

You whine as he breaks free from your tight snuggle and sits up. He rubs your arm in apology as he pants.

You stare up at him. His hair was a mess, beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and he was zoned out trying to snap back to reality… You could barely move after all you’ve done that evening but seeing him in this state, knowing you are a part of why he’s so… it made him even sexier. You were somehow still turned on… 

“Oh” he lets out between breaths, staring in the direction of the windows, “The rain stopped.”

“Jungkook,” you whimper, “I’m too tired to go out and eat like we planned.”

“Me too….” he grumbles in a low voice, turning to look at you with an unknown glint in his eyes.

“But who says we’re done anyways?”, he menacingly grins, breaking into a laugh that he wasn’t able to contain for long.

You cover your face with your arm, hiding your smile, desire, and exhaustion.

“Jeon Jungkook… look what you’ve done to me.”

He ducks down to softly kiss your arm from your elbows to your fingertips and you ruffle his hair. It’s just then when you feel a rumble in your stomach… You and Jungkook had been devouring each other all day that you must’ve forgotten to actually eat.

“I’m hungry,” you whine with your hands now on your belly.

“So am I,” he says as he grabs his phone from the table. “Let’s order in. Is pizza okay?”

“Yeah, pizza is great,” you stare up at him, scratching and tracing his tattooed arm as he places the order on his phone.

“I ordered three large pizzas, it’ll be here in 15 minutes,” he announces as he looks over the order on his phone.

“Why three large pizzas for just you and me?”

“There are a bunch of different flavors we can try, it made sense since we’re so hungry.”

You shrug as you continue feeling his arm, letting your hand roam to his back, feeling it all over from his defined shoulder muscles to the very top of his butt, allowing your nails to dig into his skin before smoothing it over with your fingertips….

“Baby… if you continue doing that,” he begins as he turns and grabs your hand. “…We won’t be able to hear the delivery man when he rings the doorbell. He’ll get quite an audio show if the mic of the bell is accidentally on.”

You look up at him and moan. 

“Stop it,” he laughs as he throws his phone aside.

“Are you saying you can’t resist my touch? Even if it’s as innocent as that?” you tease.

He gives you a defiant look and within seconds he immediately cups your breasts, causing you to gasp.

“See? It’s the same thing,” he says sternly, squishing your breasts before letting go of them, shocking you.

“Don’t pretend like that grab wasn’t for you too,” you manage to let out quietly.

“Oh, and you touching and scratching my arm and back like that wasn’t for you? It was innocent?” he defends.

You roll your eyes, admitting defeat, but pulling in Jungkook for a kiss… In truth, you didn’t know if you could resist him for longer.

“Babyyy,” he drawls between kisses, trying to stop you while also smiling against your lips and reciprocating your kisses.

You push him away and sit up on the couch, crossing your arms and staring at Jungkook.

“I need something to distract me from the hunger,” you tell him.

He moves closer to you and brushes your messy hair away from your face.

“It’ll probably be about ten more minutes. I’m too tired to joke around - see what you do to me?” he cajoled. “Let’s watch a YouTube video or TikTok to pass the time. But give me a minute I’ll get a towel so we can get cleaned up a bit.”

Jungkook gets up and returns within seconds with a towel in his hand, cleaning you up and then handing you the towel in case he missed anything. He reaches for his phone and ushers you to rest against his chest on the couch as he scrolls through TikTok - you both laugh at the same videos and in a flash a notification popped up from the delivery app stating that the driver has arrived at his apartment.

“Ah, finallllyyyy,” he sang, getting up before pausing. “Where are my clothes?!”

You and Jungkook had been so comfortably naked together, only able to think about each other and the food this whole time, that you didn’t think about what to do when the food gets here.

He scrambles around his apartment trying to find his clothes, and calls the delivery man telling him he’d be a few minutes and apologizing for the wait.

Defeated, he runs into his bedroom and quickly puts on a random pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and runs for the door, grabbing extra cash as a tip for the driver on his way out.

In a couple of minutes, you hear a knocking at the door - he must’ve forgotten his keys. 

You stand up and head for the door, opening it and peeking out just to reveal your face and bare shoulders.

He looks away and attempts to hide a smile that crept up on his face.

“Don’t pretend like you can wait any longer…. For me or the food,” he jokes.

He was right, you couldn’t.

You opene the door and let him in, following him as he headed straight for the couch you had been on earlier. He lay all the pizza boxes side by side on the table in front of it and opened them at once. 

He really did order many different types - there was a bit of everything.

“Ahhhhh… perfect,” he remarked as he looked down at the pizzas, admiring his order.

He took off his t-shirt, grabbed a box excitedly, and fell back on the couch.

Imitating him, you grabbed a box as well and sat down with your legs stretched on the couch, facing him.

The scene of it all suddenly hit you.

You were laying on Jungkook’s couch naked, the pizza box over your stomach and private areas, after having intense sex with Jungkook, who just lay shirtless opposite you already eating a slice of pizza.

For a moment you thought to look for your clothes and cover up, but then you realized…. you were comfortable. The air wasn’t cold, the fabric of the couch was soft against your skin, and you didn’t have to hide your body from Jungkook - it was a sense of security and safety that you never had before in a relationship, which was separate from your confidence. Plus, it helped that Jungkook always made you know how beautiful he thought you were.

It was warm, to have a comfortable relationship like this with someone you loved. 

This was more intimate than anything. You were satisfied in every way. You were bare, as you are, with the man of your dreams, just comfortably eating junk food together with no judgment or barriers…. 

But he was still wearing more clothes than you were…

“Jungkook… take off your pants,” you say invitingly.

He stops right as he was struggling to bite off the melted cheese from the pizza, his furrowed expression still on his face. He rips it away with his hand and swallows his bite.

“…Honey, we’re finally eating,” he says with a laugh, still confused. “Ay, you really can’t wait? Let’s rebuild our energy.”

You wave off his reaction. “I’m not talking about doing that now… It’s just that I think it’ll be cute if we both ate together naked. It’ll show that we feel comfortable enough to do that with each other. I mean, only if you are, though….comfortable.”

“Oh,” he smiles. “Of course”.

He sets his pizza box aside and gets up to take off his sweatpants, staring down at you as you watch him, taking a bite of your pizza. You had just spent hours with him naked and always got to marvel at his body, but it was always entertaining to see him getting undressed, just for you...

“You know, I was so focused on eating I actually didn’t realize how sexy you look right now…”, he says quietly.

You raise your eyebrows in response. Was he coming onto you? Wasn’t he just confused when he thought you were turned on while you both ate?

“I mean with your hair like that after I messed with it but also tried to fix it… Your skin is still red, I can see my bite marks on you…. Your boobs are right there, and the pizza box over your… - wait isn’t the box hot?!”, he stops out of concern.

“No, it’s fine”, you laugh.

“Seriously though,” Jungkook continues, taking in the sight of you. “But you’re right I think the thing I find most sexy but also heartwarming is just that you feel comfortable enough with me - and of course, I feel comfortable enough with you….” His voice trails off.

It’s hard to hide your smile. 

“Jeon Jungkook…. your food’s gonna get cold,” you murmured as you avert your gaze downwards and point over to his spot on the couch and the discarded pizza box.

He sighs and gives you a quick kiss on your forehead before resuming his position, now naked. Unlike you, he played around with his pizza box around as he ate, moving it from his chest to his lower areas and back again.

You catch him staring at you every now and then as you ate. 

“Stop staring at me, you’re distracting me from the food…”, you say as you take a bite out of a slice of cheese pizza. 

“I’m staring because you’re distracting me!”, he protests. 

You pull the slice of pizza away from your face and a long string of melted cheese hangs from your lips and goes down to your chest. You let out a quiet whine as the heat of the pizza touched your sensitive skin, and quickly use your teeth to bring the string into your mouth, bite by bite.

“You see? Fuck… maybe we should start involving food in the bedroom,” Jungkook admitted, his face flushed.

“Jungkook that was not sexy,” you object. 

“Well, I found it sexy,” he shrugs. “Next time let’s try something sweet and messy like pancakes and syrup.”

You laugh it off.

“Alright, pizza number three!” Jungkook boasts, as if it’s an accomplishment, as he grabs the third box.

His eyes widen as he looks over the slices.

“This one’s between us.”

“Jungkook, I can barely finish one pizza,” you insist. 

“Just eat as much as you want, honey,” he reassures. “I like seeing you eat well.”

You smile at that because you know it’s true. He loved food and always enjoyed eating with you, whether it was home deliveries, street food, or a home cooked meal… He had even memorized your favorite foods within weeks of you dating, and made an effort to find the best places that had your favorite dishes…. 

You stare intensely at Jungkook’s expression as he took a bite of his pizza - you were always amazed by the way Jungkook ate. He’d always be so focused on his food, and when his eyebrows furrowed into an angry expression, it actually meant it was his sign of approval and enjoyment. You were concerned when he didn’t look angry as he ate. 

He savored every bite as he determinedly fought against the cheese, which was being separated from the crust below it, causing Jungkook brought the slice closer to his face…. He definitely ate passionately….

Sensing your eyes on him, he stares at you through his lashes.

“Damn, I wish I was that pizza,” you scoff.

“You WERE this pizza all day!”, he grins. “…Every inch of you.”

He pauses for a moment before the mischievous grin returns on his face. 

“You taste better anyways.”

You roll your eyes and lightly shove him with your foot, your bare legs continually skimming against his as you carry on eating together and teasing one another.

Before you knew it there was barely anything left in the pizza boxes, mainly a couple of slices of a type of pizza you and Jungkook didn’t like. 

“Jungkook,” you whine as you lean all the way back on the couch, rubbing your stomach. “I hate to say this but I think I’m too full to go for another round tonight.”

“Oof me too, baby,” he groans. “Sit up, it isn’t good to lie down like that right after a meal.” 

He stretches his hand out towards you and you take it, but he pulls you up and closer to him. He lets his hand rest on your soft hips while the other is on your face, caressing it and brushing your hair back. 

“Tomorrow?” you beg, feeling a sense of warmness in your heart to be cared for so delicately by the man you loved, not long after he absolutely ruined you. 

“Yeah, probably tomorrow morning too, I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow night - I can’t get the image of you out of my mind,” he giggles. 

“Same here,” you tease as you poke his chest. “I love you, you know?”

He kisses you, his hand moving on your hips and down your thighs, while you can taste the pizza on his tongue, wondering if he could too when he licks your lips. 

“I love you too, baby. Come on, let’s watch Netflix and go to bed?,” he suggests, still rubbing your thigh.

You nod in response and he gestures towards the bedroom and gets up from the couch and into his sweatpants again.

You peek behind your side of the couch looking for your sweater, only to find the clothes Jungkook was initially wearing.

“Look what was here,” you say, lifting up his T-shirt to show him.

“Ay, whatever,” he shrugs. 

You put on his T-shirt and head for the bedroom, stepping on your own clothes that Jungkook discarded on the floor. You assumed Jungkook was following right behind you but realize you were alone, turning only to see that he was still by the couch, watching you.

He lets out a tiny laugh. You’ve become so comfortable with him, considering his home like yours, and being so open and vulnerable with him…. He knew it wasn’t easy for you. It was a sign that you were happy to be in each other’s world and it made him happy beyond words. It was almost all he thought of in the brief moment as you headed for his room, but the sight of your butt peeking out from under his t-shirt stopped him dead in his tracks.

He finally walks up to you, placing his hand on your lower back and moving it to your butt, giving it a quick squeeze - you’ve gotten so used to it that you barely squirm anymore. He gives you a quick kiss on your shoulder and closes the door of the bedroom behind him.

NAMJOON’S BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN: namjoon’s eyes 🤍 [cr. c_a_leaf]

❝mon amour❞ — namjoon / drabble m.list [18+]

⊹ a small series of pwp drabble with boyfriend!Joon

➛ pairing - namjoon x female reader

➛ genre - fluff, smut

➛ au - non idol!au, domestic!au, established relationship

Keep reading

long way home masterlist | jjk

pairing: dilf!jk x best friend!reader

genre: single dad jk, friends to lovers, !angst!

summary: jungkook's life makes an 180 degree turn when he's suddenly a single dad and while you're trying to help him come accustomed to the new circumstances, your long-standing friendship takes new turns as well.

part 01: cockblock

the one where you babysit jungkook's baby and somehow let the night end up with being a cockblock for him.

part 02: promises

the one where jungkook breaks his promise for the first time.

part 03: drunken confessions

the one where you had a little too much to drink and, oops, your lips are pressed against someone else's.

part 04: oh, you mean the babysitter?

the one where jungkook fucks up.

part 05: girlfriends and boyfriends flashback_01_

the one where you think calling jungkook will make you stop missing him but it actually worsens the ache in your heart.

part 06: apologies and excuses

the one where jungkook tries to apologise for his behaviour.

part 07: first time

the one where jungkook has to deal with your rejection for the first time.

part 08: the night i lost hope flashback_02_

the one where you're drunk and ask jungkook a question and he unknowingly crushes all your hopes with his answer.

part 09: birthday surprise(s)

the one where jungkook wants to surprise you on your birthday but then he gets surprised with a half naked jimin in your apartment.

part 10: best friends

the one where you're reminded why you love jungkook so much.

part 11: needing him flashback_03_

the one where you're absolutely broken and there's only jungkook you need.

part 12: weird behaviour

the one where jungkook is acting weird but you can't tell why.

part 13: little bear

the one where you miss nabi.

part 14: needing her flashback_04_

the one where jungkook is absolutely helpless and there's only you he needs.

part 15: concerned granny

the one where even the grannies in the coffee shop start missing jungkook.

part 16: unwanted guests

the one where jungkook proves to you that he's always there for you when you need him.

part 17: betrayal

the one where you're not enough for jungkook.

part 18: stolen kisses flashback_05_

the one where your foolish heart thinks it'd be a fun idea to kiss jungkook at a party.

part 19: double chocolate cookies

the one where traditions are broken.

part 20: pillowtalk

the one where you realise that talking to jimin helps you to mend the broken pieces of your heart.

part 21: new beginnings flashback_06_

the one where jungkook gives up.

part 22: oopsies & ouchies

the one where jungkook can't control his jealousy.

part 23:

part 24:

part 25:

part 26:

⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧ ⌒ ⛦ ⌒ ⛧⌒ ⛦

drabbles:

• baby

jungkook calling you "baby" for the first time.

• mummy milkers

you taking care of nabi.

• can u give me a hickey?

you asking jungkook for a hickey.

↬ your mum's reaction to the hickey

• fake mama

jungkook pretending you're nabi's mum in front of a stranger.

• first meeting

jungkook meeting nabi for the first time.

• why are ur cheeks so red?

you making jungkook flustered.

• jk's spa salon's special treatment

jungkook helping you to relax.

• can i cuddle u?

your first sleepover at jungkook's place.

• tummy hurt

jungkook comforting you during your period.

• he's never made a woman not cum

you telling jungkook how men fail to please you in bed.

• jelly jk

jungkook stumbling upon you and taehyung making out on your bed.

long black-haired namjoon 🤍 for @namjon 🤍

BTW..

Consuming or writing smut doesn't equal over-sexualization, it's a healthy way to express sexual desires about a member within boundaries.

Oversexualaiztion is seeing a member doing something nonsexual and it is taken to extreme measures. Ex: jk being hurt from exercising and him limping in pain, but gets manipulated by a member using him for sex.

Dehumanization, seeing any member as simply a sex object for any fantasy of yours or others with no other feeling than fucking or just being seen as sex objects only. Ex: going to a fansign and asking only sexual questions or the situations didn't invite such questions or responses.

This excludes kinks & fetishes

Knk = things you like sexualy but it's not needed it.

Fetish = you need it to cum, etc.

TEMPLE

percing au! Jk drabble!

"Your body is a temple, my love-" he paused, panting under his breath into which he gripped your hips with need.

" and I'm going to crash into heavens gates to make sure I paint every wall with sin" he groaned, pushing his cock deeper into your cunt. Pleading out in pleasure, he pressed his hands on your back to keep it down while the other gripped your ass roughly. Moaning, his hips began to pound but before pulling his tip out to the end and going in with a slow rhythm. Meanwhile, your knees dug themselves into the bed and your hands made friends with a white pillow below your stomach as your moans escaped your lips with ease.

Pulling out, he quickly turned you on your back and slid himself in with no time to waste. Licking his lips, he felt your swollen cunt throb on him and smirked devilishly in response. Getting comfy in his knees, he grabbed under your shins and spread your legs wide enough for him to lean forward a bit.

"Mmm, fuck. you look twice as hot with your piercings and your tats now that I look at them in this setting" he chuckles watching your hands cross above your head as he licks his lips in hunger for your breast.

"Yeah, my cock would look perfect between your breast, with the cute nipple bars sticking out or simply watching the metal shine under layers of my cum" he moaned out, thrusting his cock slowly.

While gliding his cock in and watching your tits bounce a bit, the sticky, wet sounds of your cunts wetness became apparent to both of you and jungkooks only response was to place your legs down and hover over you to see the rest of the work done with your body closer. A simple lip and nose piercing, nothing much to others. But to him, it was just another thing to love about you.

"fuck yes-" he cursed, head moving up as his hips pushed against yours with force. Arching your back with pleasure, your breast pressed a little bit against his face and he immediately places a kiss between them both. placing a hand under your back, he grunted and moaned as your hand's gripped his back in support.

"yes, yes, yes, Jungkook!" You cried into his neck as he helped the both of you down and continued to thrust while holding onto your back. Moaning, your legs slowly spread apart for him and lifted themselves when he saw that offer. Crying into him, cursing his name and whimpering was giving jungkook power to keep going without a stop.

"Keep moaning"

"don't stop"

"cum baby, cum"

"I want to hear it all, I'm going to cum to it all" he cried, his moans being heard as he begged urgently for you to keep going as cum started pushing out his tip with no stop. with tears, he started cumming inside with no intention to stop until his balls emptied deeply in you with every desperate word of want of your body that spilled from his mouth.

"fuck just like that, my cock wants it badly. Fuck just let me have you like this, take it all. I'm cumming baby, I'm cumming so hard" he cried, face looking at the headboard as his cock pushed him to go on with thrusting. watching him above you was a sight, one that made even you want him to not stop cumming if that meant he would feel that good. But all comes to end and he falls weekly into your breast panting heavily.

you ain’t my boyfriend | jjk smau

— summary: your ex-fuckbuddy hates the idea of you with someone else, and he’s even more annoyed at the fact that you’ve been spending way too much time with his team captain lately.

pairing: jungkook x reader & (eunwoo x reader)

genre: angst!! fluff, humor, slow burn, social media au, college au, ex fwb to kinda enemies to lovers au (+written chapters)

warnings: a lot of swearing, angst!!, toxic relationship, miscommunications, love triangle, jealousy, possessiveness, mentions of sexual content, stupid decisions, pining, some fluff & humor, smut in future chapters, oc & jk are idiots

status: ongoing

taglist: CLOSED !!

updates: every other day at 8pm cet (unless stated otherwise)

note: this is my first ever smau, so pls bear with me <3 but i’m very excited to share what i’ve planned for this story with you all !!

PROFILES:

y/n’s besties | jk’s besties | cameos

prologue

one: not ur business

two: costume party

three: unblock me

four: you’re crazy

↳ bonus part

five: i want you (written)

six: babe?

seven: last chance

eight: the truth

nine: new roommate

ten: friends don’t kiss

eleven: my girl

twelve: i’m very single

thirteen: pancakes

fourteen: coming july 22

fifteen:

sixteen:

seventeen:

eighteen:

nineteen:

twenty:

to be added…

copyright © 2022, doublebunnykoo on tumblr. please do not repost my work!

The End is You and I [Taehyung x Reader] - IN PROGRESS

Everyone has always considered y/n a wise soul. Her whole life, everyone, even her older brothers, have come to her for advice so when her psychology class requires a creative final project, she decides to create an anonymous “advice column” on Twitter. What she doesn’t expect is a DM from her long time crush and best friend, Kim Taehyung:

“How do you know if you’re in love?”

Genre: College!AU, F2L, Angst

Warnings: 🔞; subject to be added to.

Schedule: Sundays and Thursdays 1 AM CST

Keep reading

Soft

pairing- Namjoon x Reader

wc- 900

cw- smut, dirty talk, soft dom!namjoon, fluff if you squint

a/n- Im currently trying to find the will power to work on something with more plot but here this for now ;(

~~~

"You’re cute like this," Namjoon panted above you, watching your scrunched up face as he thrusted his hips slowly into you. 

"Mm, you too," you sighed as you felt him take one of your breasts into his mouth and gently suckle on it. His hands slid up and down your waist in a soothing comfort as he continued to fuck you. 

A low groan left his mouth when he detached himself from you. One of his hands going down in between your legs to play with your clit, while the other went up to entangle with your own. 

You squirmed, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt ripples of more pleasure pulse through your body. Namjoon stroked your left index finger with his thumb while picking up the speed of his thrusts. 

He groaned, biting his lip when he felt you squeezing around him tightly. "Fuck. Baby you keep that up and I’m gonna cum" he warned, straining his voice. 

You moaned and moved your head to the side, restraining yourself from squirming away from the man giving you maximum pleasure. But the restraint was quite enough because you were wiggling yourself away from him, the pleasure deriving from your head. 

Namjoon's eyes opened, his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip as he placed a hand on your hip, keeping you in place. "Come on, don’t run away now," he mumbled breathily, squeezing your hip gently. 

A pout grew on your lips. Your eyes still squeezing tightly, " s’ too much. needa cum." you struggled on the verge of tears the need to come becoming painful. 

"Yeah?" Namjoon raised an eyebrow, looking down at your face and reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, "Open your eyes for me, pretty girl." 

Obeying, you reluctantly opened your eyes, looking into Namjoon's pity-filled eyes. "Turn around for me, yeah?" he asked, tilting his head and slowly slipping out of your cunt.  

You whined at the loss of contact and pouted at him. He mirrored the frown on your face, looking into your eyes, "I know. I’m sorry," he breathed. 

Silently, you gave Namjoon one last look before turning from your back to lay on your stomach. You felt him shuffle behind you, a hiss coming from his throat when he saw your bare backside. 

He leaned down to your ear, whispering sweetly, "God. You’re perfect." You felt one hand settle itself to grip on your hip while the other played with the hair on the back of your head. 

Namjoon tapped your hip, "Hips up." He was always gentle with you, never wanting to hurt you even slightly. You pushed your hips up, waiting impatiently for him to start again. 

He took a deep breath in before lining himself up with your dripping wet entrance. You buried your face into the pillow that your head rested on when you felt his tip enter you. 

He always felt bigger from this position, always filling you up perfectly. "Ah, shit. So good, "he threw his head back while he sank himself into you fully. "Namjoon,"

you moaned, the pillow muffling the way his name fell out of your mouth. At the first thrust, you were already a moaning mess. The way his balls slapped against your swollen clit, made you even wetter.

You shifted your gaze to the side, your panting mingling with the groans of the man behind you. "Namjoon" you repeated, opening your eyes and turning your head to look behind you.

You took him in. The way his head was thrown back, his eyes closed tightly and his mouth wide open, letting out obscene groans. It was definitely a sight to see. 

You bit your lip and said his name again, this time louder, making him open his eyes and look at your face. His eyes were hooded and filled with lust. "Yeah, baby?" 

He pushed your hair to the side, getting a clear view of the back of your back and diving down to kiss the back of your neck.  "gonna cum" you mumbled reaching back and tangling your hand in his hair. 

At your words, he picked up the intensity of his thrusts. "Me too." he breathed in between his kisses. "cum with me," he sweetly said, caressing your hip. 

You nodded, your eyes drawing shut again. He forcefully gripped your hip, grunting with the strength of his thrusts. "Just a little more," he whispered softly, shushing you as you whimpered in need. 

"cumming." he confirmed in a grumble, "come on" he groaned as he felt your walls squeeze him tightly, gushing onto him. You moaned and pushed your face into the pillow, the intensity of your orgasm hitting you like a truck. 

"Fuuuck" Namjoon stuttered, spilling his seed into you. You both sat there panting, not daring to move until your highs had passed. 

When you finally came down, your body relaxed into the mattress. Namjoon gulped down air and laid down on you, careful not to put his whole weight onto your body. 

His cock softened in you but Namjoon still stayed where he was. "Joon’?" you wiggled your hips a little, and he groaned in sensitivity. "Can we just stay like this for a bit?" he sleepily asked. 

You huffed out a small laugh and nodded, making Namjoon snuggle his face into your neck, giving it small kisses as he hugged your body closely to him. 

~~~

namjoon weverse magazine 2022

VOID.

Welcome to the void of Ideas, where I randomly write what's in my head in hopes of completing it one day or getting things that could help me build a plotline. I am aware that anyone could steal the plot, but as it's just brain storming this isn't the final idea so I don't care that much.

Obession

Human 01

A fetish for a certain body type, race, nationality, etc.. He looks for girls that look like his fetish and he finds you.

.

You get pulled into hell and the king orders for your death and the only way not to die Is to give him your soul through sex ??

He's a prototype of the human species made in a lab, when he learns the body can create immense pleasure and he begs his scientist to help him feel better.

.

Hell's gates