Adult World (Jungkook Smut)

Adult World (Jungkook smut)

Description: You reveal to your friends that no one except yourself has ever made you cum. Jin in particular finds this interesting and dares you and Jungkook to go to the sex shop down the street and purchase a sex toy, for your own benefit of course.

Pairings: You x Jungkook, You x Taehyung, Jungkook x Taehyung (you know how truth and dare goes)

Basically: Taehyung is a cocky lil shit who features quite a lot. Jin is a mean lil shit and Jungkook is a very helpful lil shit ;)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff (so much smut, like damn this was hot to write)

This fic includes: A brief boy on boy scene, swearing, alcohol, sex toys, explicit smut

Word count: 6k

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Jin practically howls with laughter, doubling over himself and nearly falling off the couch with laughter. You’re about to tell him off but Jungkook beats you to it.

“Shut up. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Jin sits up straight, looking down at Jungkook, who sits next to you on the floor, opposite Jin. He wipes the tears from his eyes, his laughter finally dying down. “Hey, don’t you think you should talk to me with a bit more respect?” He prods teasingly, but Jungkook doesn’t seem in the mood, his previous lighthearted spirit vanishing upon Jin’s insensitive comment.

Jungkook’s tone is excitingly stern, but not rude, “Yeah, I’ll show more respect when you show more respect to Y/N.”

You laugh, “Don’t worry about me, Jungkook. I don’t think I can take Jin very seriously, not when I highly doubt he’d even know how to make me or any other girl cum.”

The circle of friends in Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment erupt into comical ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’.

“You got damn burned!” Jimin says, leaning over the bottles in the center of your various seated positions to high five you.

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SHELTER

Taehyung’s always been a best friend, which is why you think he’s the right person to ask for help when it comes to relationships.

word count: 22.5k genre: angst, smut, fluff

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experimental error (pt. 1)

pt. 2

→pairing: taehyung | reader

→genre: best friend au | smut

→word count: 8,833

→a/n: i’ve had this wip for what seems like forever and finally got around to finishing it! i hope you all enjoy :)

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Tape I: Sunset Masquerade

pairing: Hoseok x reader genre: smut, superhero!au, superpower!au, supervillain!hoseok words: 16.2k+ rating: nsfw! warning: smut: oral (receiving), masturbation, fingering, roughness, slight bondage (cuffs), exhibitionism- of multiple kinds, camera, dirty talk, cumplay, slight degradation, dom!hoseok, essentially pwp notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOBI!! In honour of our beloved Hope, and our Queen Hixtape, whenever she drops, I present to you the first of a three part smut series; The Tapes!

You finally trap your arch nemesis, the crimson-haired villain that went by the name Tempest, only to find out that really, the one trapped… was you.

Masterlist || Tape I - Tape II - Tape III

SCLS: Sunset City League of Superheroes. We fight, so you don’t have to!

You couldn’t help the grimace that slipped over your face as you stood before the large, wooden doors of meeting room 233 in the SCLS building. Apparently, despite asking for your advice on a slogan and receiving it, RM had decided to ignore it and go with the slogan he wanted. Truthfully, it didn’t bother you that much, the slogan wasn’t the worst thing you’d ever seen or heard, but there was still a certain part of you that was salty your advice had been ignored after being requested. It was stupid, and pointless, to simmer over it, and you knew you were really only thinking about it to justify in a roundabout way why you’d been standing outside the meeting room for seven minutes instead of just biting the bullet and going in.

Put simply, you didn’t want to.

Every three weeks to a month, superheroes from cities across the region would meet up in a designated city and share progress, you could say. Report on how things were in their province, like the crime rate, citizen satisfaction, whether a new villain had risen up… the works. This time, it happened to be held in your very own city. Months ago, you would have been bursting eagerly into the room, pride evident in every step you took, and you’d boast the amount of criminals, and villains, you’d taken down. You were a prodigy, excellent at your job and skilled with your abilities— you were revered by many and had built a spotless reputation for yourself as one of the most reliable, and capable, superheroes of the region. Everything was perfect.

And then he showed up.

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morning rush. (m)

pairing ~  college au!jungkook/reader warnings ~ exhibitionism?  summary ~ You develop a strange relationship with the boy you share your morning commute with.   word count ~ 3.2k

+ Once the the train is tight enough, he senses that he can proceed inconspicuously. His hand drifts from your waist to the edge of your skirt, and you can feel the pads of his fingertips against your skin.

I wonder what he thinks when he looks at me.

Every time you see him, he sees you. Again and again you are stumped by one of life’s greatest obstacles: you can never really know what another person is thinking.

The year is almost over, you thought, and yet I have never spoken to this guy.

In the train station exactly five minutes away from your apartment, you see him every morning, without fail. You board the same ever crowded carriage, endure the thirty minute commute, then disembark at the same stop. Yet, no good morning, no hello, no subtle head nod, not ever. You were unsure if he was even aware of your existence.

At times you swore you could feel his eyes on you, palpably you had thought that he even awaited your appearance. On better days you would even think that he started to take an interest in you.

But when your mind would inevitably clear, you’d realise that no, this isn’t possible. He’s too tall and too fit to be anywhere near your league. He’s Jeon Jungkook, the ever coveted yet doubly mysterious first class university athlete. And you are… well, you.

You drop the thought instantly when you remember who he is. Life separates people into distinct classes based on their looks. And judging by the small glances you stole every morning, he is several classes above you.

And so, you went on with your tedious morning commute.

The train station is a short walk away, and yet you are unwilling to leave that very morning. The sun beams through the windows when you wake up, and your first thought is that it is surely too hot to be outside the cool abode of your air conditioned bedroom.

Reluctantly you rose, preparing for the day whilst half asleep.

The heat seems to cascade the city in this soporific aura, the shopkeepers ready their shops in slow motion, the kids walk to school with droopy eyes, even the commuters at your station seem to be ready to fall asleep right then and there.

As usual, Jeon Jungkook arrives exactly two minutes before the 8:25 train. He runs through the same doors you had used fifteen minutes prior, and the first person he sees is you. His thin white t-shirt leaves no room for imagination, and his chest heaving from the run is no help.  You lock eyes and quickly you turn to the ground. This happens every morning.

He takes his spot behind you, just as the train approaches the station. You can see that the morning rush is still present despite the sleepy heat of the morning. The flashing windows show that the train is filled to the brim.

The doors slide open and the passengers compress within the carriage to let more in. You and Jungkook enter last, settling right in front of the train doors. Once again he stands right behind you, the only difference now is that you could feel him pressed against you.

Panic sets in as the doors close. Thoughts start flooding your barely awake mind, God, he is so close to me, am I sweating? Do I smell bad?

On the contrary, he certainly did not. He smells like fresh laundry, almost like the flowery fabric softener you used at home. You are thankful for the smell of flowers that masks the colorful mixture of unidentified smells in the cramped compartment.

The ride went on and your stomach eases with the monotony of your usual morning commute. You could feel his chest rise with each breath, and yet, somehow, you are able to focus on the music you were listening to, and the awful professor that you’d face for your 9:00 AM class.

On the thirteenth stop, one stop before your university, more people board the train and the crowd compresses into each other again. The sudden surge of people causes an abrupt movement, and he gets pushed against you. A soft gasp escapes from your lips, inconspicuous and only loud enough for him to hear, but an indication that you had felt him.

Your back against his front, you could feel his stomach quiver as he chuckles. Heat rises to your cheeks, and the only thing you want to do is bolt out of the fucking train. But there is an immeasurable amount of people around you, pushing you to press against him, and you feel trapped in the awkwardness that you had imagined your little slip up had created.

Seconds away from the fourteenth stop, you feel that his hands graze against you. The touch is barely there, one that would need double checking, but there’s no room to do so. Something stops you from reaching back to grab his hands.

Before you know it the doors open and the surge of college kids thrust you out of the train.

Jungkook is lost somewhere in the crowd, and that day, you mindlessly attend your classes.

You spend the weekend in your apartment, thinking about one thing, one moment. You begin to question yourself. Did that actually happen? Did someone push him? Was it just the rocking of the train?

Your mind is still lost as you chop vegetables, staring at an empty spot on the wall while you think about Jeon Jungkook’s hands on your ass.

Was I upset about it?

The last question irks you the most. You could feel the feminist in you bubbling up to raise concerns. But, the day that had followed that ride was not one of trauma or stress. Your legs tightly crossed, unable to comprehend any lesson taught, you were uncomfortable for a completely different reason.

There was much to investigate.

On Monday you walk to the station with a faster pace than you’re used to. The thought of facing the subject of your thoughts for the past few days make your hands clam up and jitter with anxiety.

You made the conscious decision to wear slacks instead of jeans so his touch will be more noticeable, that is if he does touch you. You decide that it’s crazy to do this, it’s crazy he would even take notice of you, but you find yourself standing roughly in the same spot as you did on Friday, opposite the big sliding doors as they about to close.

Jungkook is later than usual but he manages to make it inside. He glances at you briefly before taking his spot behind you.

You stare at him through the reflection of the glass doors. His arm is outstretched and flexed holding onto the plastic handle above him. It’s hard to decipher his face, his jaw is always tense but his eyes are almond shaped and wide. It seems as if his doe eyes always betrayed the brooding exterior he works so hard to convey.

He catches a glimpse of the glass door and you avert your eyes quickly, instead focusing on the ceiling of the train.

More and more people enter the train as usual. You and Jungkook cram further into the carriage after each stop. The minimal space between you diminishes as the ride proceeds, and by stop number five his chest is against your back once again. By stop eight you can feel his belt buckle against the small of your back, and by stop ten, you can feel his breath against your neck.

He smells the same, that flowery fabric softener with a tinge of his sweat.

You take a deep breath to calm the nerves flitting about inside you, and you can’t believe that you’re such in a close contact with him. You’ve had crushes before, glimpses of attractive people you admired from afar, but you would never make a move and none of them lead to any actual contact. And yet, here you are, practically grinding on Jungkook with each rock of the carriage.

You find yourself wondering what he’s thinking again. Whether he even takes notice of your body against his, whether he’s panicking as much as you. You decide that he isn’t, your existence is definitively not even a blip on his radar. 

Everyone knows who he is. And when you say everyone, you mean everyone. He made the front of every university publication, every social media page, everybody’s snapchat, the very second he won his first medal. On his first event, at the first track meet of the season, as a freshman. 

You distinctly remember a banner of his face in front of the school gym. Yeah, he definitely does not care about you. 

You settle on this thought but you can’t ignore the gnawing feeling in the back of your mind that there is no way to actually know. This reveals a gleam of hope, an unlikely possibility, that he thinks of you as much as you think of him.

Your mind flits from one thought of him to another and you don’t even notice that you’re about to arrive at the fourteenth stop, yours and Jungkook’s university.

Sure enough, before the train rolls into the station, you can feel his hands on your ass again - a little rougher than before, like he knows that you had been anticipating it. Still you don’t stop him, the thought of that never crosses your mind. You only focus on his large hands against your ass, light squeezes that would keep your mind occupied for the rest of the day.

The train releases the throng of students commuting to school, and you don’t even see him get off. You almost don’t make it out, you had been standing there aroused and unaware of your surroundings.

Still you can’t comprehend the current direction of this particular sub-plot of your life, but it floods thoughts of anything else, so much so that it seems to be hijacking the main plot. Lectures pass over your head and your friends talk nonsensically while you stare off into nowhere, thinking about nothing but his chest against your back, his hands decisively caressing your bum, the mass of people in the train pushing you closer together.

You go back to that same spot everyday for the rest of the week, slowly elevating the risqué of your outfits, testing him to see how far he’ll go.

On Tuesday you wear leggings and he can’t seem to hide his excitement. He starts touching you long before stop number fourteen, and he takes his time observing the way the thin material clings onto your body.

His finger brushes against the back of your thigh. For a while he keeps it just there, the lightest of touches, stroking unhurriedly at that one little spot. Slowly he traces upwards, leaving goosebumps on your skin, until he touches the outline of your panties.

He does this without once looking down. He only stares straight ahead of him, paying no attention to the girl squirming from his touch.

He shadows the frilly outline of your underwear and knows that you wore with the intention of teasing him. He smiles at the thought and follows line to touch your front, ghosting over your upper thighs, and then ..

The doors burst open on stop number ten and a mob of commuters cram onto the carriage. The crowd compresses and Jungkook grabs your hip with one hand, pulling you closer against him. He leaves his hand there for the rest of the trip.

On Wednesday you wear a skirt and stockings. He firmly keeps a hand on your thigh, occasionally squeezing to drive you mad. On Thursday he gives lifting up your skirt a go, and on Friday, he finally rubs a finger over your pussy from behind.

You decide to forgo the stockings that day, craving his touch on your bare skin. He arrives at the station before you for the first time, and for once you know for absolute certainty, that he’s watching you.  

He’s wearing an even thinner white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, a sleepy but satisfied look on his face, his brown hair a mess on his head. He glances at you like he does every morning and you take your spot in front of him.

You’re wearing the shortest skirt at your disposal, no stockings, your upper thighs in his complete view. You decide to save this for the last day before the weekend, a reward for surviving this ungodly week without falling behind in class.

At 8:24 you bend down to tie your shoelaces, teasing the unsuspecting Jungkook who finds the view of your thighs torture enough. He steals a peek of your baby pink underwear right before train rolls into view.

You take no notice of the fact that this is undoubtedly the most daring act you’ve ever pulled. Meek and unconfident you, proudly displaying your body for a certain boy you’ve never spoken to, all for the expectation of his touch. You ride on the adrenaline of the week without thought, and it’s the first time you’ve done anything without extensive consideration of the resulting implications.

It’s a break from your stressful reality, the week didn’t even feel real.

Jungkook runs his hand through his hair as the sliding doors open. He walks toward you, places a hand on your back, and you enter the train together for the very first time.

You look at him with mild shock, he flashes you a toothy grin before guiding you to your spot. He doesn’t wait until the the crowd pushes you together, he takes it upon himself to pull you against him. The other passengers don’t take any notice, nor have they ever.

Public transportation resembles this sort of intermediate stage between real life and hell, where social cues don’t seem to exist and everyone is solely concerned with the monotony of their own lives. It’s where daily sufferers congregate, so they pay no attention to what others will do in such a space.

You’ll never see these people again, so some, like the two horny college kids you and Jungkook are, use this opportunity to act without shame.

The train isn’t completely full yet, with pockets of space scattered throughout the carriage. Despite this you and Jungkook are pressed against each other like drunk club-goers on the dance floor.

His one hand is holding onto the handle and his other is on your waist to keep you steady.

You’re practically leaning against his muscular figure but you don’t mind and neither does he, he’s almost giddy every time the train rocks a little.

Stop number two lets a few more people on the train and his hand grips onto you tighter as the crowd begins to close around you. The familiar flowery smell clouds around you and you swallow as you feel his body heave with every breath.

Once the the train is tight enough, he senses that he can proceed inconspicuously. His hand drifts from your waist to the edge of your skirt, and you can feel the pads of his fingertips against your skin.

He does this right before stop number four rolls into view, and you feel excited by the time you have left with him. One hand wanders under your skirt, tracing the flesh of the back of your thigh before touching the pink underwear that roused him unbelievably so.

He grabs a handful of your ass, lingering there before you brazenly open your legs a little so he can slip his hand in between your thighs. Your head is almost leaning against his chest now, and you’re thankful for every pair of earphones, headphones, every smartphone, every book and newspaper in this passenger car, every distraction from the act of indecency you were both committing.

He touches the dampness of your panties and he smiles when he hears you sigh. One finger traces your lips, torturously stroking back in forth as you pour all your focus into keeping a straight face. You’re just another girl commuting to school, just another girl commuting to school, just another girl commuting to school.……

He pauses just as stop number five brings more passengers into the train, and you’re biting your lip with such fervour you feel some pain.

He’s rubbing your pussy diligently now, his middle finger stroking your clit, your wetness worsening with each stroke. You’re a bit embarrassed by how well your body is reacting to his touch, though he regards the same fact with unabashed glee.

Stop number seven and he pushes your soaked panties aside to slip a finger into you. You’re staring at the ceiling hard as you savour the feeling of his finger slowly entering you.

You can feel his bulge poking through his sweatpants and you are grateful for the restricted space of this unbelievably cramped car. If space would allow, you don’t think you could’ve stopped yourself from touching him too.

You stretch your neck to the side as he thrusts into you, and he desperately wants to kiss your neck, bite down on your collar bone, whisper into your ear. He knows any action above the waist will prompt attention so he resigns himself to exercise great self control.

Yet he tortures himself imagining how you would sound in private, moaning and writhing on his bed with no constraint.

You find yourself wishing the train would suffer through some kind of delay, but the stop to your university wildly approaches even though you are not nearly done with Jungkook.

Each stop rings an alarm in your head, and you count down intermittently, stop nine, stop ten, until the fateful fourteen.

He retreats from you just as your university comes into view, and you have to catch your breath before leaving the car. Again he’s disappeared, and has left you all hot and bothered and unable to get off for hours until you get home. Just like every day this past week.

This weekend is spent much like the last, pondering over the situation you had forcibly created. You did not expect the sudden escalation of your relationship with Jeon Jungkook, and you certainly did not expect that he would be fingering you in the midst of the morning rush.  

You’ve never even spoken to him, you realise, and your hand flies to your head as you question your own sanity. You laugh, a full bellied chortle, and you roll around in your bed amused at this past week.

You decide that for the sake of your university career, you have to end this cycle of getting teased by the school’s golden boy.

Your determination makes the walk to the station quick, and you’re clutching the tiny slip of paper in your hands. You decide to slip him your number, and maybe, just maybe, instead of letting him tease you, you’ll fuck him.

Same train, same spot, same interaction.

You don’t wear a skirt today, absurdly focused on your modest task. He seems just as content with the closeness and your body against his. He’s listening to music, hands around your hips. As you near the stop to your university, you reach back and grab his wrist.

You feel him panic, afraid that he somehow had crossed a boundary. He sees the note between your fingers and he lets his hand relax again. As the doors open, you let go of his wrist and feel him take the note. You both part at the station, and you attend class with an exciting prospect in mind.

.

.

He never calls.   

A/n~ I GOT THIS IDEA FROM REDDIT.  I just needed to write it because I am currently in college and I only wish my morning commute would be anything but completely mind numbing. 

❣  MASTERLIST ❣

(More Than A) Dream By The Fire | JJK

pairing | jungkook x reader genre | comedy, fluff, smut; friends to lovers word count | 5.1k warnings | super cute, relatively vanilla smut, awkward sex mishaps, easily flustered jungkook

↳ the night may not have went the way you expected it to, but it turned out better than you could have ever imagined. 

You drum your fingers against the marble kitchen island, eyes glued to the ticking clock. Each minute seems to drag on for hours and you can slowly feel yourself going insane with anticipation. 8:48… 8:49… 8:50… God, why can’t it be nine o'clock yet?

Tonight is special — not only are you going to be seeing Jungkook again for the first time in three months due to his busy overseas promotions, but it is also the third anniversary of the day the two of you became friends. He called out of the blue on Wednesday, asking if you’d be home Friday night, and when you inquired as to why, he dropped the bomb that he’d be back home in Korea and free of any schedules for the three weeks leading up to Christmas.  

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