Golden Hour | Husband!joshua X Reader

Golden Hour | husband!joshua x reader

After a long day of surf and sun, Joshua somehow still has the energy to fuck you into the hotel mattress. Being in love (and obsessed) with his wife always pays off.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~4.4k | Pairing: hjs x reader | Genre: smut

Part of the Husband Joshua series! Can be read as a standalone

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Warnings: idk how to surf so if this is wrong blame wikihow, possessive!josh, drink mention but it doesn’t have to be alcoholic, oral r. rec., spitting, some spanking, fingering, piv sex, breeding kink but they don't want kids, creampie(s), cockwarming

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, on some form of birth control, referred to as a wife, wears a bikini (every body is a bikini body), wears a dress

Joshua raises a hand to his face, holding it above his eyes to block the glaring sun as he scans the crowded shore for you. He’s been out in the water for a while, trying to improve his surfing skills and also perhaps trying to impress you, just a little. Neither you nor him have been to the beach since your honeymoon, and he doesn’t want you to think those lessons he splurged on while you were having a spa day were for nothing. 

He’s caught a few waves so far but hasn’t made it close enough to the shore to see your face, so he has no idea if you’ve been watching him or if you’ve just been reading and listening to music. He won’t be hurt if you haven’t had your eyes on him, but he does want you to see him ride at least one wave. 

He hears some murmurs from the few other surfers in front of him and turns around, immediately seeing what has them talking. There’s a big one coming in, building and building and building, and if he starts paddling now, he just might make it. 

So he leans forward onto his stomach, his arms powering through the water even as his muscles begin to ache from so much use. The ocean beneath him starts getting sucked in, contributing to the rolling wave, and he prepares himself to pop up and find his balance. 

His heart races as he takes off, getting his feet beneath him and standing on steady legs, his arms loose and his eyes trained on the shore. He rides the wave as far as he can, bailing when it starts to peter out and immediately swimming up to catch his breath. Climbing back onto his board, he looks around for your rented rainbow sun umbrella, grinning when he realizes he’s much closer to it than he thought he’d be. 

You’re not under it though, his smile dropping as he starts to survey the beach, searching for you. He can’t seem to find you, and for some reason that has his heart racing again, this time in anxiety rather than exhilaration. 

“Joshie! That was amazing!” You exclaim from somewhere to the left of him, your voice just a bit faint but still easily recognizable. He whips his head over, his shoulders relaxing as soon as he sets eyes on you, wading waist deep in the clear blue water and making your way toward him. 

He beams and hops off the board, closing the remaining distance and catching you with one arm as you launch yourself at him. The other keeps hold of his board, though he wishes he had both hands free to hug you back. 

He also wishes he could feel your skin against his, but his swim shirt is still in the way and he won’t be able to take it off until you let go of him, which he’s not going to ask you to do any time soon. 

It’s silly but he’s missed you while he was out surfing, even though it’s only been a couple of hours. You’ve been on vacation for three days already and he’s grown used to sharing every minute with you, being in your presence for each breath in and each breath out, bar bathroom breaks and the one nap you took without him when he wanted to explore and you wanted to stay in. 

He wishes it could be like this all the time, but he’ll settle for the rest of the week if only because he knows he’ll have you for the rest of his life. 

Too soon, you pull away, sliding your hands from his shoulders to rest on his chest, your touch appreciative and the slightest bit possessive. His hand on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh exposed by your bikini. You let him pick out your swimsuit today, and while some men might want to cover their wife up, he’s the opposite. 

He thinks it’s hot that people are looking at you, wanting you, not knowing he’s the only one you’ll ever go home with. They realize when he presses his lips to yours in a claiming kiss, when he lets his hands wander a little, when they notice the matching rings on your left fourth fingers. 

He doesn’t even know if anyone is looking at you now, too busy staring into your eyes to notice anything else, but he feels the urge all the same. You can already tell what he wants, leaning in to meet him in the middle as he kisses you deeply, slowly, sucking at your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth when it opens on a gasp. 

His hand slips down to your ass, squeezing it over your swimsuit hard, pulling your cheek up and over, surely tugging at your pussy too. You squirm against his chest, pressing closer to him as your fingernails dig into his pecs. 

He remembers you’re at a public beach when a wave crashes into you, and thank goodness it did because he was millimeters away from slipping his hand into your bikini bottoms so he could find out if you’re wet from the water or wet for him. 

He pulls away and laughs, shifting his hand to your lower back and pecking you one last time before breathing, “Should we head back to the room?” 

“Yeah, I think we should. Wanna lay out enough to dry off first?” You offer hopefully, and while he kind of just wants to throw you over his shoulder and haul you to the hotel now, he knows you hate tracking water through the clean lobby. 

“Sure, baby, we can do that,” he smiles fondly, giving you one last squeeze and releasing you. His board goes under one arm and you go under the other, your hand coming up to hold his as you walk back to the shore together. 

He splits off from you to return the board to the surf shack, promising he’ll bring back one of those coconut drinks for you to share though he knows you’ll likely have most of it. 

The line isn’t too long for the return of the board or the purchase of the coconut drink, thankfully, and he walks back to you with care, not wanting to spill even a drop. 

You’re on your stomach to the side of the umbrella when he arrives, not under its shade but close enough that it’s obviously yours, a thick terry cloth blanket spread out under you with just enough room for his body too. He sighs contentedly as he sits next to you, handing over the drink and smiling as your eyes widen with glee, your lips pursing around the straw to take an excited sip. 

He reaches for the hem of his surf shirt and yanks it off, wringing it out away from the blanket and laying it flat on the edge of the lounge you no longer occupy. You roll over to lay on your back and he feels your eyes on him like a physical touch, your gaze hot and familiar on his chest and stomach. 

He loves how you look at him, loves that you’d rather stare at him than at the beautiful beach around you, loves even more that you’re obsessed with his body just like he’s obsessed with yours. 

He also loves that this way, he can look at you too. You shift up onto your elbows, your breasts jiggling with the movement, and he feels a bolt of desire shoot straight down his spine as he lets his eyes lovingly travel over every available inch of you. Over your soft tummy and your squeezable hips and your perfect, perfect thighs. Thighs he wants to suffocate between. Thighs he wants to sink his teeth into. Thighs he wants to hold down to the bed as he-

“I think I’m dry enough. Are you?” 

He clears his throat and attempts to clear his head, but images of you still swim through his thoughts, even as he nods and tugs at his board shorts to subtly adjust himself. They don’t feel as wet between his fingers, just damp, and when he reaches for his shirt, it’s close enough to dry that he only cringes a little as he pulls it back on. 

You pack up together quickly, and Joshua is almost relieved when you reach for your dress and tug it over your head, needing a reprieve from your near naked body. He’s less relieved when he remembers that it’s a fucking sundress. 

Of course it is, that’s all you’ve been wearing on this trip, and he doesn’t know how he forgot. This is worse, because it’s his favorite article of clothing on you, and because he knows all you’ve got on under it is an easily untied, flimsy little bikini. 

It takes everything in him not to pull you into one of the changing cabanas, bend you over, and make you scream for him; he manages somehow, the knowledge that he can do the latter two when you get into the room tiding him over, but only just. 

He’s silent while you return the umbrella, his hand tight around yours as you walk through the lobby, and he’s glad you know him well enough to understand that he’s not upset or annoyed, just nearly out of his mind with desire for you. 

The wait for the elevator feels like eons, especially when he looks at you in the reflection of the metal doors, your form slightly fuzzy but clear enough for him to see the rise of your tits under your dress and the way the hem flutters gently over your thighs. Those thighs…

The doors part with a ding and you pull him inside, pressing the button for your floor before the elevator fills with other guests, leaving you and Joshua at the back. You’ll have to maneuver in between them to get out but it means he can slide his hand up your dress and squeeze your ass again, his fingers slipping under your bikini to touch your bare skin. 

They creep closer to the heat between your legs with every stop, and he’s just about to reach your pussy when the elevator lands on your floor. He reluctantly takes his hand back and rights your dress, murmuring, “Excuse us,” as he weaves around the few people left. When the doors close behind you, he twines his fingers with yours and breaks into a jog, tugging you to the room and grinning as a few bitten back giggles escape you. 

He bounces on his toes as you dig the card out of your bag, your trembling fingers inserting it into the lock and his hand turning the handle as soon as the light glows green. He pushes the door open for you, following closely with his other hand tight on your hip, his dick already hard and throbbing in anticipation. 

You’ve barely set your bag down before he’s steering you to the bed, crowding you up against the edge, and pressing your shoulder to bend you over. He flips up the hem of your dress and tears down your bikini, knocking your legs apart with his own and pushing his left knee up until yours rests on the bed. He’s sure you expect him to drop his shorts and sink right into you, which is probably why you gasp when he falls to his knees and slaps your ass with both hands before spreading your cheeks apart and shoving his tongue inside of you. 

You taste fucking divine, the beloved flavor of your pussy tinged with salty seawater, and he groans deeply into you, fucking his tongue in and out of your entrance and swallowing as his mouth fills with saliva and your arousal. 

He fucks you with his tongue until you’re whining and shaking above him, tilting your hips to improve the angle and rocking into his movements. The leg keeping you up starts to quiver, and he pulls away just long enough to gasp out, “On the bed, baby, get on the bed.”

You listen, clumsily climbing up and stretching out for him, face down, ass up, just like he likes you. He smacks your ass again just because he can before spreading your pussy open with his thumbs and spitting on your clenching entrance. Some of it seeps inside of you and some of it trails down to your clit, leaving the bud glistening and just begging for his attention. 

He leans down and wraps his lips around it, sucking in hard, quick pulses until you cry out, “Joshie, please!”

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want,” he mumbles into you, just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Your fingers, I want your fingers,” you whimper into the pillow, arching your back and pressing further into him in wanton need. 

He licks his lips to get one last taste of you and slides two digits deep inside, giving you no time to adjust to the intrusion before pulling them out to the tip and sinking them back in. His pace rockets up, his tired muscles hard at work as he fucks you with his fingers, the wet sound of your pussy accepting them filling the air. 

He wants to hear your voice too, slowing down and leaning over you to slide his fingers beneath your cheek and turn your head to the side so you’re no longer muffled by the pillow. Your gaze catches his and he smiles tenderly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple before returning to his previous position and hooking his fingertips into your g-spot, grinding harshly into it. 

Predictably, you yelp, your eyes squeezing shut as he focuses on massaging that sensitive patch, his breath catching as he feels you get wetter around his fingers. You’re moaning now, your brows scrunched with pleasure and your mouth stuck open, and he reaches his free hand up to tap at your bottom lip with two fingers, sliding them into your mouth when you open wider for him. 

You suction around them immediately, your tongue laving over his knuckles and bathing his fingers in saliva, and he feels his cock throb in his shorts in response, the memory of your perfect lips around it visceral and precious. He yanks his fingers back before he can get too distracted, reaching around your hips to sandwich your clit between them. 

He starts fucking you with his other hand again, your hips jerking with it, stimulating your clit as he curls his fingertips towards your stomach, tapping your sweet spot with every thrust. It’s not long before you’re gasping out his name and clenching down, your thighs juddering as you fight to hold yourself up through the pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop, pinching your clit harder and digging his fingers into you, scissoring them to stretch you out for another. A third squeezes in beside the first two, making you whine and claw at the duvet, your cunt contracting and trying to suck his fingers in deeper when he pulls them out. 

“Fuck,” he groans, releasing your clit to press down on your back and deepen the arch, making it even easier for him to hit your g-spot. He wants to be inside of you, desperately, but he wants to make you cum again first, wants you to be so wet, he can just glide right in. 

You’re getting close, he can tell by the way you’re pushing back into his thrusts and sobbing, and he doesn’t know what possesses him to say it, but it just feels so fucking right that he can’t stop the words from coming out.

“Cum for me and I’ll breed you full.” 

You suck in a sharp gasp and bear down, your pussy rippling and leaking and fever hot as you break apart beneath him, your arousal soaking his hand and dripping down his wrist. It seems like it lasts forever, though he’s sure it helps that he’s still fucking his fingers into your g-spot as much as your tightness will allow. 

He knows you’re done when you whimper brokenly and pull away from his touch, your hand reaching back to hold his wrist in place so he doesn’t follow you. He decides to let you catch your breath, sliding off the bed to shed his shorts and wipe his hand off on a towel, bringing it with him so he can spread it out under you like he should have done before. 

You’re on your side when he returns, and he climbs back onto the mattress before carefully tugging at your shoulder and hip, pulling you to rest on your back and waiting for you to look at him. 

When your eyes blink open, they’re teary and dazed, and you watch as he gathers a couple pillows, weakly lifting your hips just enough for him to slide them under you and lay the towel out on top of them. He’s gentle as he sets his hands on the backs of your knees and pushes your legs up, the angle making it easier for you to keep them tucked to your chest when your hands replace his. 

He can tell your head is full of clouds by the way you gaze at him, and he attempts to bring you some clarity by asking, “Remember what I said before?” 

You think for a second, your lips pouting as you try to recall, and he can’t resist leaning down over you and pressing his mouth to yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he soothes the sting with his tongue. 

When he pulls away, it seems to come to you, and your eyes clear up just a bit as you respond, “You said you’d breed me full if I came for you.” 

“Good, baby, that’s right. So what do you think I’m going to do now?” He asks, sitting back up on his knees and shuffling closer to lay his aching cock on your wet pussy, just barely grinding against you. 

“You’re gonna-,” you take in a halting breath. “You’re gonna breed me?” 

“Yeah, honey,” he nods with a hungry smirk, shifting his hips back enough to line himself up before pressing forward a few inches and popping the head of his cock inside of you. “I’m gonna fuck you full of my cum, until it’s dripping out of you. And then I’m gonna fuck it back in, and fill you up even more. Until it takes.” 

You whimper from deep in your throat, pressing your lips together and readjusting your grip on your legs, your eyes darting down to stare yearningly at his cock. 

“Do you want that?” He whispers, working himself in as slowly as he can manage, teasing both you and himself. 

You just nod, but he wants to hear you say it, needs to hear it from your own lips. 

“Tell me then.”

“I- I want you to fill me up with your cum, fuck a baby into me, please.” 

He sinks the rest of his cock inside of you, covering your hands with his and spreading your legs wider, pushing them into your chest and resting his weight on them as he draws back and snaps forward. 

He’s not gentle now, and he’s definitely not slow, his hips smacking into your ass as he thrusts forcefully into you, his grunts of exertion soon joining the cries escaping you. You’re staring up at him with stars in your eyes, your fingers tight on your thighs beneath his and your pussy fucking flawless around him, and he’s never been so in love. 

That’s a thought he has constantly but he means it every single time, his devotion to you endless and all consuming. 

His appetite for you is voracious enough to rival it; the need, the sheer greed that he feels when it comes to you stripping him down to his basest desires. He’s only human in the end, and nothing could be more human than the urge to love, to fuck, to breed you, to keep you. He knows you’re his already but beyond that ring on your finger, there’s one other thing that could show the world you belong to each other, and that includes pumping you so full of his cum, it sticks. 

He’s getting close already just thinking about it, and the way you’re clenching and fluttering around him doesn’t help in the slightest. He wouldn’t mind breaking this early though, not when it means he can just get hard again and fuck his cum even deeper into you. 

“Joshie,” you whine in the voice that means you’re inches away from the edge, and he feels his body respond, his heavy balls drawing up tight and his cock hardening further within you. 

“Cum whenever you want, baby. I’m not stopping anytime soon,” he vows darkly, fully intent on keeping you in this bed and on his dick for the rest of the day. Maybe for the rest of his life. 

You shudder at his words, gasping when he shifts his hips and changes the angle, the head of his cock now bullying right into your g-spot. He can’t hit as deep like this but he knows it’ll be enough to unravel you, and that’s exactly what he wants. 

He grins wickedly when you start to ripple around him, knowing the waves of your orgasm are beginning to overtake you, and when it’s at its peak, he sinks in deep and lets you carry him with you. He groans roughly at the feeling of your undulating walls milking his cock, relief and bone deep satisfaction filling him as he fills you. 

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, fucking you through the sensitivity and burying his cum deeper inside of you. You buck against him in overstimulation, crying out his name with tears in your voice, and he feels his cock twitch and get harder, your pussy like a molten velvet vise around him. 

An hour and two more loads pass by in a blur, every minute melting into the next as he ruts into you, barely pulling back enough to get any friction but grinding into your sweet spot to keep you pliant. He thinks he might’ve fucked you dumb, no words escaping your parted lips and no thoughts behind your glassy eyes. You’re still holding your legs up though, and that’s how he knows you’re present enough to hear him. 

“Said I would fuck you full, didn’t I, baby?” He laughs breathily, his eyes trained on the sight of his cock thrusting into you, the combination of your arousal and his cum seeping out around him in bursts. “I think you’re pretty fucking full.”

You mumble something but he doesn’t catch it, and he shifts your legs onto his arms and leans down, bracing his hands on the bed to hold himself up. “What was that, honey?”

“Not enough,” you gasp out, releasing your thighs to wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s not enough, Joshie, I want more.”

Your words blend together but he hears them all the same, and a bolt of desire shoots through him, traveling down his spine and ending in his cock. He gets his legs under him, trapping you in a mating press so he can put more power behind his hips as his strokes get deeper, longer, your fingernails digging into his neck with every thrust of his aching dick. 

“I can give you one more, baby, I’ll give you whatever- whatever you want,” he groans raggedly, his vision blurring and his hips stuttering as he nears the edge for what he fears may be the last time. You clench and squeeze and flutter around him, whimpering, “Please, Joshie, breed me,” and that’s it for him. 

This time when he cums, it’s enough to steal his voice, his breath, his thoughts. It’s blinding, the pleasure, but that just means he feels everything. He feels you falling to pieces on his cock, he feels the warmth of the sunset on his back, he feels his heart racing in his chest. He feels his cum filling you again, replacing what he’s fucked out, and more than anything, he feels satiated, like there’s nothing left to give and nothing left to take. 

He all but collapses into you, shifting to rest his knees on the bed and dropping your legs from his arms, his face buried in your neck as he trembles and gasps for air. Your cunt is still hugging him tightly, and he winces at the sensitivity of his spent cock but doesn’t pull out, can’t pull out, not when he knows that all of his hard work will go to waste as soon as he does. 

You run gentle fingers through his salty hair, your chest slowly rising and falling against his, and his body starts to grow heavy, exhaustion weighing him down and the comfort of your pussy keeping him warm. 

He’s asleep before the golden light of the sun fades from the sky. 

“Joshua, with everything we said, I have to ask… Have you changed your mind about kids?” You ask softly, your back to his chest and your body between his legs as you laze in the massive hotel bath together. 

He presses his lips to your neck and thinks, only for a second, before responding, “No, I’m happy with our life. I don’t need anything but you.”

You let out a sigh of relief and turn in his arms, resting your cheek on his shoulder and tucking your legs up, your knees just barely out of the water. He scoops some up and pours it over you, not wanting you to get cold. 

“Good, I feel the same way.”

“Love you,” he murmurs into your hair, kissing your crown and rubbing his hand up and down your back. 

“I love you,” you whisper in return. “The breeding kink was hot though, let’s keep that?” 

“Oh yeah, baby, for sure.”

AN: for @thatgirlfromwindsor and these anons 💖

Seventeen Masterlist

Main Masterlist

I cannot stress this enough:

Soft sleepy sex with Hoseok, intimate and slow and maybe a bit of overstimulation... that's it- my mind can't think any further 🥥

TAKE CARE OF ME | JHS

You'd never trade quiet, sleepless nights with your boyfriend for anything in the world, even when sometimes it feels like the world is falling apart around you.

» pairing: hoseok x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | established relationship | fluffy smut

» word count/date: 3k | August 2022

» warnings: cunnilingus | fingering | handjob | marking | multiple orgasms | overstimulation | unprotected vaginal sex

» notes: pls this request had me going full on raging DELULU

» masterlist 

» what was jai listening to? belong to you (ft. 6lack) - sabrina claudio

Gentle. Always gentle. A long time ago, you used to hate being treated gently. The vulnerability that came with someone taking care of you, being soft with you, knowing every little detail about you enough to shape their world around you… it was hard. Scary. Gross, even. You wanted to be tougher than that because one day that gentleness would end and how would that leave you? 

Empty. 

That is, until you met him. 

You felt Hoseok wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so he could tuck his face into the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled goosebumps across your shoulders and arms, but his grip kept you grounded. His hands pressed into your sides to hold you in place. Like a weighted blanket, you felt secure with him on his side behind you, the rise of his chest comforting as he breathed against your back. 

His warmth and the pattern of his breathing was almost enough to lull you back to sleep. You couldn’t tell what time it was. The storm raging outside knocked the power out just before the two of you climbed into bed, but you assumed only an hour or so had passed. 

“Hey,” Hoseok whispered in your ear. You let out a small ‘mmm’ in response and nestled backwards into his arms even more deeply. “Are you having trouble sleeping?” 

You nodded, eyes still closed. A crack of lightning briefly lit up your dark bedroom with white light bright enough to penetrate your eyelids. 

“Want me to make you some tea?” 

Forcing your eyes open, you twisted around to face him. Hoseok’s hair was messy, wavy strands flopped in every direction. You reached up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. He’d been growing out his hair and you quite liked being able to ruffle the strands around, watching them fluff up and flop to the side. Especially the hair at the back of his neck that was now longer than you’d ever seen it. You liked the way it made him look rugged and slightly unkempt; the exact opposite of your responsible, well-organized Hobi. 

At this point, you were just barely able to make out the details of his features in the dark. But you felt the way he leaned into you and you knew to meet him halfway so he could give you a light peck on the forehead. Gentle. Always gentle. 

“No, it’s okay,” you insisted. You gave him a tap on the nose. “You’re too considerate sometimes.” 

“Never.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“Only a little bit.” 

“A lotta bit.” 

A pout was his next rebuttal. You reached out to press your fingers against his lips as though you were trying to smooth them out. When you moved to pull away, Hoseok caught your hand and pressed it against his mouth again. He kissed your palm, then each fingertip. The softness of his touch sent shivers down your arm. 

“It’s because I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice tired and thick. 

Before you could respond, he cupped your face and pulled you towards him. His lips moved against yours softly, guiding you into a slow dance you’d only dance with him. A smooth hand ran down your side to stop at your hip, squeezing it lightly. Your fingers found Hoseok’s hair, tangling in the loose waves at the back of his head and tugging just enough to make him sigh against your mouth. You captured his bottom lip between your teeth when he slightly parted his lips, taking advantage of the opportunity to nibble and suck on it. 

“You’re gonna start something,” Hoseok spoke gruffly when he pulled away. You tugged at his hair again and got the quietest of moans out of him. “I’m serious.” 

Even if he hadn’t said anything, his growing erection pressed against your body said enough. 

“Maybe I want to start something.”

The room stood still, shadows from the swaying tree branches outside the only movements. Eventually, Hoseok shifted, pressing his chest against yours with enough force to roll you onto your back. Wordlessly, he shifted beneath the blankets to hover above you. His forearms rested on either side of your head while you felt him spread your legs apart with his knee. Slotting himself between your thighs, he lazily rolled his hips into yours. You whimpered from the pressure and the heat radiating off of him. Soon you felt that heat on your neck as Hoseok sucked hickeys onto you, swirling his tongue against your skin. In the past, you thought making love was boring, that you needed to be treated roughly in order for sex to be fun. You were accustomed to being used. Sex with Hoseok, though? It was heated and weightless. 

He left wet kisses along your throat while his hands gripped the hem of your t-shirt. Well, his t-shirt, an old baggy one he never wore anymore. He cradled the back of your head as he pulled it off, careful to rest you back onto your pillow. 

“It’s so cold,” you whispered. 

“Mhm.” 

Hoseok pulled the blanket up, making himself disappear beneath it in the process. With him out of sight, you lifted up the blanket slightly to peek at him, only to drop it in favor of squeezing the bed sheets beneath you as you felt him drag your underwear down your legs. He grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed forward so your legs were lifted up, feet against his shoulders and pussy on display. The inability to see what he was doing under the blanket only heightened your desire and you felt your arousal drip down. 

One hand pressed hot into your hip where your thigh creased from the angle Hoseok had your legs pushed up. The other slipped between your thighs. 

“Hobiii,” you moaned, head slightly lifting off the bed when you felt his fingers swipe at your wetness gathering around your entrance. 

He coated his fingertips before sliding his fingers upwards, parting your lips until he got to your clit and began circling it. You clenched, though the way he had you folded into yourself made it difficult for you to get any friction to provide relief. Instead he kept you raised and spread open, fingers slippery and sticky. It was easy for him to slip two fingers inside of you, even easier to hit that sweet spot on your front wall to have you lifting off the bed again. The way he pumped into you was sleepy and slow, but you hadn’t expected anything faster. Hoseok shouldn’t have even been doing this; you knew how exhausted he was. He should have been sleeping. 

Instead, you felt him shift, his shoulders dropping down slightly. And then you felt the tip of his tongue flick against your clit. 

“Fuck, babyy, oh fuck.” You immediately let go of the bed sheets and slipped your arms beneath the blanket, fingers digging into Hoseok’s hair. 

“Mmhmm, uhh huhh,” Hoseok moaned into your pussy, his lips closing around your clit. He suckled it softly, applying such light pressure while his tongue licked at you that you felt like you were going to explode. 

“More, baby,” you whined. “Faster.” 

He shook his head, smearing his lips with your arousal, and you weren’t sure if that was an answer to your requests or just him enjoying his late night snack. Likely the former since he returned to gently sucking your clit and taking his sweet time pumping his fingers in and out of you. 

“Please, Hobi.” 

Begging usually got you what you wanted, especially when you used the breathy, high-pitched, pornographic whine that you knew drove him crazy. To add to your plea, you tugged a bit harder on his hair, dragging your fingers through his bangs to pull the strands out of his face. 

Suddenly, his mouth left your pussy and your next whine was that of disappointment. When his tongue returned it was to lick along your lips, and he occasionally pressed kisses everywhere but your clit. 

“It’s bedtime,” you heard him speak from the darkness. “I’m going slow to lull my baby to sleep, okay?” Then his lips were burning into you once again. 

Your build up was gradual, a growing throb as your clit became even hotter and more swollen with every lap of Hoseok’s tongue and curl of his fingers. You squirmed and arched your back beneath him, cursing him for taking his time with you even when you both knew you loved it. The fact that your sheets were already soaked through was a testament to that. Who the fuck cared if you were tired and supposed to be sleeping? Every drag of Hoseok’s hot tongue across your clit, every drip of his saliva coating your pussy had him practically exorcizing your soul from your body. 

But when Hoseok unexpectedly slipped a third finger inside of you and sucked your clit with a tiny bit more force, he finally got you unraveling in a flash of white light that you weren’t sure was you cumming or the lightning outside. 

Your legs twitched uncontrollably where they’d flopped over Hoseok’s shoulders and down his back. Exhaustion made them heavy, and you struggled to move them while Hoseok wouldn’t let go of you. He’d removed his fingers from you and had both his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping you spread open as he continued sucking your clit. 

“Hobi, oh my god, please, I came already,” you whimpered, pulling his hair to get his attention. He moaned a response into your skin and began lapping against you, flicking your clit from side to side. Your body jerked forward, but Hoseok’s grip on your thighs kept you pushed down. 

“Jung Hoseok.” 

Rather than sound threatening, your voice cracked and Hoseok had the audacity to laugh. 

Tears welled up in your eyes and your body jerked again when you felt his teeth gently graze the top of your clit. A guttural moan was torn from your throat as you came a second time, squeezing Hoseok’s hair so tightly you were sure you’d ripped a few strands out accidentally. 

Finally, finally, Hoseok emerged from beneath the blanket. He crawled up to hover over you once again, chest heaving and arms caging you in. 

“It was hard to breathe under there,” he laughed again. 

You opened your mouth to speak but all you could do was whimper once again. 

“What was that, baby?” Hoseok drawled. He dipped his head down to nip at your earlobe and your eyes fluttered. 

“Felt good,” you finally found your voice. 

“Better than tea?” 

“Much better.” 

Hoseok chuckled, sleepy eyes meeting yours through his bangs that fell forward, slightly obscuring his face. The storm outside wasn’t raging as loudly against the windows, but the occasional lightning bolt still lit up your bedroom, allowing you to see more flickers of his face. You brought your fingers to his throat, running them along his Adam’s apple until you reached the dip where his collarbones met, before venturing down his bare chest. When your fingers dragged down his abdomen, you felt Hoseok suck in his stomach and heard him hiss lightly. 

“What about you?” you whispered. You reached the waistband of his briefs, but you didn’t move any lower. Still, you could feel Hoseok’s cock twitch against you. 

“I’m okay, baby. Don’t worry about me. I want you to sleep.” 

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck for a moment before he began to pull away from you. There he was, being too considerate again. How many times had he insisted he didn’t need anything from you? You’d never met someone more selfless. It wasn’t fair. 

You quickly slipped your hand into his underwear and squeezed his cock, rolling your palm around the tip where precum already started to drip out. 

“Shit, babe…” Hoseok stayed nuzzled in the crook of your neck and bucked into your hand with languid thrusts. There wasn’t a desire to chase a high, but more so a desire to relish in the warmth of your hand, the firmness of your grip, the comforting smell of your body wash. 

“Is it embarrassing,” he took a deep breath and pulled away from your neck to look you in the eyes as he thrusted again, “that I could cum right now, just from this?” 

“Maybe a little bit.” 

Your honesty and the giggle that followed brought a frown to Hoseok’s face. You had no intention of letting him cum in your hands. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smoothed out his frown when you pulled him into a kiss. Your hands traveled the lean muscles of his back, reaching down to squeeze his ass. 

“Feisty.” You felt him smirk against your lips. Hooking your fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, you pulled the clothing down his thighs and waited for him to sit back to completely remove them. 

“Come up here,” you ordered him, but Hoseok shook his head. 

“I’m too tired to fuck your mouth. Let me put my energy into fucking you the right way.” 

You felt a shiver down your spine and nodded silently as you spread your legs wider to accommodate him. 

Hoseok ran his hands down your legs until he could reach around to the back of your thighs. Pushing them up, he folded you nearly in half as he had when he ate you out, keeping you slightly elevated and wide open for him. Since his hands were occupied, you reached between your bodies to guide him. Hoseok’s breath hitched when you lined his cock up with your entrance. 

He sunk into you slowly, taking his time slipping inch by inch to allow you to adjust and to savor the high that came with that initial thrust. Your mind was still foggy from two orgasms and a lack of sleep, so you appreciated his thoughtfulness as he eased into you. 

“Mmmm,” he sighed once he bottomed out and your bodies were flush against each other. Leaning forward slightly, Hoseok rested both of your legs on his shoulders. 

“Yeah baby?” Your voice trembled as you watched him brush his lips along your calf, planting a soft kiss at your ankle. His hands fell to your waist to hold your hips down as he drew back. He pulled out of you as far as he could just to slowly ease into you once again. Each thrust was thoughtful, intentional. His strokes were slow, but long and deep. 

“You know you leave me speechless,” Hoseok groaned, pushing a bit deeper in his next thrust. Your whimpers got louder when you felt him brush your cervix, his fingers pushing you hard into the bed. 

Hoseok was definitely the biggest you’d ever been with, but even more importantly, he was the most fluid in his movements. He knew how to move his body with flexibility and grace, which for you was the most satisfying aspect of sleeping with him. You never had to put in work to get yourself off; every roll of Hoseok’s hips made his cock glide against your g-spot and his pelvis stimulate your clit. You weren’t an object for Hoseok to use to get off. No, Hoseok put your pleasure in the center of everything he did. 

Although sometimes that wasn’t necessary. He brought his fingers to your clit, but you swatted him away. 

“I’m tapped out,” you sighed. You really didn’t need him to try to make you cum three times. What was this, porn?? Two orgasms was plenty. 

“Are you really?” he smiled, a hand creeping back towards your clit. You swatted at him again. “Alright, alright. I’ll cum without you like an asshole.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” You clenched your muscles around his cock and Hoseok let out a low moan. If he was ready to bust from a simple handjob, you were sure he was having to work hard to keep it together now that he was inside you. 

“Do that again for me, baby,” he said in a shaky breath that confirmed your suspicions. Another moan rumbled from him when you did as you were told, tightening around him and pressing your thighs against his abdomen. “Fuck, fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

You loved to watch Hoseok fall apart. The tip of his tongue poked out of his mouth when he bit down on the muscle as he was concentrating on each gentle snap of his hips against yours. His strong hands squeezed your waist to ground himself once his thrusts became a bit erratic. His messy hair fell into his eyes when he leaned his head slightly forward to watch your bodies collide. 

“Hobi,” you moaned, reaching up to pull him into a kiss. “Cum for me, baby. You’ve been so good for me.” 

“You,” he took a deep breath, “You are so fucking sexy.” 

Your legs fell down to wrap around Hoseok’s waist as he leaned into your kiss. One hand stayed at your waist while another slid down to grip your thigh against his hip as Hoseok picked up his pace. His breathing came out ragged against your cheek, his lips sucking little kisses along your jaw until he was back to marking up your neck. 

He squeezed you hard when he came, whimpering and moaning your name into your neck like the sweetest lullaby. When he slowly eased his body on top of yours you welcomed the pressure of his weight, even though it was difficult to breathe. 

“Better than tea?” 

Hoseok snorted, but you saw his eyes sparkle in the moonlight as he gently pulled out of you and found his spot beside you once again. “Much better.” 

His long arms dragged you backwards so you were pressed against each other with chests still heaving. 

“Thank you,” you said after a moment. You were beginning to crash from your orgasmic high. Darkness eased your eyelids lower and lower until you couldn’t bear to open them again. 

“You know I’ll always take care of you.” Hoseok nuzzled your neck and squeezed you against his chest. “I hope you sleep well, baby.” 

You murmured a “you, too” and fell asleep to the steady pattern of Hoseok’s breathing and the knowledge that there was no one else who could care for you the way he did.

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & ao3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

·˚ ༘ 💌 IMAGINE┊the boys thinking you’re the sweetest thing on this earth and can do no harm. namjoon has a few words to say about that.

TAGS — spit kink (mentioned), choking, reader gets (lightly) slapped, degradation, creampies, unprotected sex (duh)

WORD COUNT — 1.8 k

"Where's y/n?" Hoseok asks over the loud music as he takes a glass from the server offering everyone drinks.

Everyone's gathered for the pre-release party Hoseok's hosting. It's barely kicking off and the crowd is getting more and more wilder. Hoseok had gone to talk with his band mates when he noticed something off. You weren't there, and wherever Namjoon went you did too. It was strange.

"That's what I said." Seokjin pipes up as he takes a sip from his drink, "Is she coming later?"

"Nah." Namjoon checks his phone for any messages from you, "I left her at home because she wasn't feeling too good. Probably a stomach bug or something." He shrugs it off like nothing.

Hoseok makes a noise of agreement, "She probably been hanging out with Yoongi too much." He jokes softly, "Yoongi got a fever and couldn't make it either."

Namjoon's phone lights up and he excuses himself to take the call some place else where it isn't loud. "Hello? Baby?" He says as he ducks into the nearest hallway.

"Just calling to remind you to take it easy on the drinking. Oh and I sent a gift for Hoseok in the trunk of the car."

"I know, I know," he leans against the wall with a soft chuckle, "you feeling any better?" He smirks.

".... You're a jerk. Can't believe you," you laugh on the other side of the line, "you knew I was looking forward to Hobi's party."

Namjoon bursts out laughing as he looks behind him to see if anyone's in the hallway with him, "Nahh you were the one begging for more baby, you dug your own grave now lie in it." He lazily drawls out.

"Ugh whatever, have fun baby I'll see you when you come home. Stay safe."

"Alright, bye baby." Namjoon smiles as he hangs up and heads back. "Sorry, it was y/n. She sent a gift for you, it's in the trunk of the car you wanna come with?"

Hoseok smiles apologetically at Namjoon, "Yeah," he pats him on the shoulder and walks with the younger, "hope she feels better soon Joon."

"Nah she'll be okay Seok, she's bummed out she couldn't make it. She was looking forward to this for a week." Namjoon wraps a arm around Hoseok's shoulder as they walk out of the party together. "Told me to tell you she loves you."

"You ass," Hoseok laughs, "how the hell did you get so lucky with such a sweetheart like her? What am I doing wrong?"

Namjoon shrugs as he presses the button to the elevators, "You can start off with the shoes," he snickers, "have you been hanging out with Jungkook too much? Shit looks like you're getting ready to walk through snow or some shit."

"Fuck you." Hoseok laughs as he steps into the elevator, "They suit my outfit, you're just jealous."

"Yeah, pass on them stompers." Namjoon rolls his eyes and presses the garage.

Before the doors close Jungkook's tattooed hand comes into view as he steps in, panting like he just ran (most likely did) all the way there. Hoseok and Namjoon look at him crazy and shake their heads because that's Jungkook for you.

"I was alone," Jungkook says, "Min with his friend and Tae's talking to someone else too. Where are you guys going?"

"y/n sent a gift for me, it's in her car and Namjoon invited me to come get it with him." Hoseok says as he eyes Jungkook, "Don't drink too much if you're driving later." He warns.

They talk some more in the elevator and make their way into the garage where Namjoon parked the car. "Tell her I said thank you once again, I'll take something to your house later." Hoseok softly says as he watches Namjoon open the trunk.

"It's no big deal Hobi, you already know how she is." Namjoon smiles back and lets Hoseok look at his gift.

"I want a gift from y/n too," Jungkook whines as he stares at the big box with a black and white bow wrapping around it, " 's not fair. You get to have her all day let me hang out with her for a day."

Namjoon snorts, "What are you five?" He says as he shakes his head and leans back against the car. "Nobody, not even you Jungkook, can have my sweetheart."

Hoseok laughs, "Look at you all whipped and shit, you really lucked out with her. You got stuck with an angel." He teases as he opens his box, Jungkook cooing in amazement as he leans close to get a view at the present.

Namjoon chuckles to himself under his breath as he looks to the side, "Yeah, angel." He smirks.

+

"Mmm," your body shudders in delight when Namjoon bottoms out in one go.

You feel stuffed, your cunt is full of Namjoon's cock and slick dribbles down the sides and down your inner thighs. Namjoon has your thighs pinned back on your body as your knees bend and feet dangle in the air. He's watching the way his cock looks every time he bottoms out balls deep.

"You like that baby?" He mumbles in that deep voice of his, "Slutty pussy stuffed with my cock?" To emphasize his words he snaps his hips upward in a deep body roll that leaves your mouth watering.

You nod slowly, "Mm-hm," it comes out a little high-pitched as you reach down to stroke over your swollen clit, "can feel you so deep inside me baby.. want you to stuff me full of your cum."

Namjoon grunts softly and leans down to press gentle little kisses on your lips. "Yeah?" He whispers softly as he stares into your eyes, "What else baby? C'mon, talk to me."

You're a little shy when he stares at you like that but a sudden rush of boldness courses through you. "Sometimes–ahhn–I think about how it would feel like if you choked me," you softly admit as more moans poured from your lips, "wanna feel your big hands wrap around me and–mmm..!–squeeze." You arch your back when his cockhead brushes against your g-spot.

Namjoon's eyes darken at the words, never in a million years did he think a sweet thing like you would want him to do nasty things like this. He sets his hands on the curve of your hips and thrusts a little more forcefully, "Baby wants to get choked?" He licks his lips, "What else? Tell me everything your filthy little mind thinks of."

He fucks you faster, building rhythm as his thighs smack into your ass. "Call me your dirty slut, want you to tell me how filthy I am.." you whimper as your tits bounce in tandem with his thrusts, "spit in my mouth and call me your good girl."

Namjoon growls lowly, "Fuck.." he closes his eyes and shudders at the mere thought of fucking you like that.

You don't stop there, "Slap me Joonie, I'm all yours." You say as you pout a little and reach for his hand that is on your hip, "All yours.." you mumble and take his finger into your mouth as you suck on the digit.

He completely switches, forgetting he was just trying to hear you dirty talk. He yanks his hand away and grabs your chin roughly as he plows into you at a punishing pace, "Here I thought you were my sweet girl, turns out you’re nothing but a little whore who wants to be slapped around like one. Is that what you want baby? You want me to slap you around and spit on you like the useless cumdump you are?”

You cry out from the way his hips slap into yours, the pleasure hits you hard and it leaves you boneless on the bed. “Y..es..!”

“I can’t hear you.” Namjoon growls and lightly slaps your chin a couple times.

“Yes!” You whine and arch your back.

Namjoon suddenly pulls out as he flips you on to your front. He twists his hand in your hair and yanks it back with a strong grip. One that makes you ache pleasantly. “Lucky this pussy is so good to me, you’re nothing but a fleshlight to use. I have no need for you apart from that,” he says as he slips back and thrusts harshly. “wonder how people would react if they knew the world’s so called sweetheart liked it sloppy and nasty? I wouldn’t put it past me you if you wanted a whole audience to come and see the kind of person you are.”

He emphasizes “kind of person you are” with a set of hard thrusts that send you rocking front to back on his cock. “This what you wanted?” He rasps out.

You can’t answer, only garbled moans and whines escape your lips as you drool. “Open up,” he speaks up as he pushes two fingers past your lips.

You’re too fucked out to comprehend, eyes slipping shut as your eyes water. You choke around his fingers and reach up to grip his wrist as spit and drool runs down your chin. Muffled whimpers and moans fill the room along with sloppy slurping noises. Namjoon’s enjoying this a little too much.

“That’s right baby, get ‘em nice and wet for me.” He whispers as he rolls his hips. He’s not going to lie, this little power play you guys got going on is making his cock twitch with interest. He can feel his stomach coil in pleasure as he gets close to his orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Namjoon’s hips stutter and he presses deep against the curve of your soft plush ass.

His fingers slip out of your mouth and you gasp in relief. You clench tightly around his cock, causing him to cry out as his hands grip your waist tightly. “C-Cum… in me.” You whimper out and rock your hips back on to his.

Namjoon steadies you as he fucks into your sopping pussy a couple more times before he cums hard. His cock throbs deep inside of you, a long groan leaving his lips as he relaxes and loosens his hold on you. You reach below to rub your clit slowly and inch towards your sweet orgasm. It comes in slow waves, your body shudders as you close your eyes and quietly moan into the pillow.

You both stay like that for a bit, harsh panting and soft mumbles filling the room as the high comes down. You didn’t think he had it in him to be this degrading..

“Can’t walk.” You mumble.

“I can see that.” Namjoon grunts as he pats your ass, “Shit I gotta get ready.” He says when he sees the time on the clock. He knows for sure you aren’t going, by the looks of it you looked like you got the train ran on you.

admiring from afar

characters: jeon jungkook x female reader.

summary: you owed a friend a favour, a favour which entailed a blind date. but the catch, it was only blind on your side.

genre/rating: strangers to lovers au (?), blind date au with a lil angst. a lil fluff. and a lot of smut (minors do not interact). 18+

word count: 10.1k

warnings: very awkward first encounter, jk is slightly obsessed, mentions of heartbreak and insecurities, oh so v dramatic, mature language, a lil cheesy romance, and very passionate sex. smut warnings (18+): body worship, slight dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!jk, oral (fem and male recieving), fingering, so much praise, dirty talk, very intimate, lots of kissing, biting/marking, overstimulation, protected sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, power play, manhandling, needy!jk, lots of cum, and aftercare <3

a/n: hi. a quick backstory, i used to write on here. but lost inspiration. and now i am back, with new inspiration. i have been army for fourteen months now (a lil baby), and i want to start writing again. i didn’t mean for it to be this long btw. anyways, i hope you like this but lmk! feedback is always appreciated. i really wanna interact and get to know people on here :) disclaimer: i am not a professional writer by any means, so this is no shakespeare masterpiece. but it’s something lmao.

So maybe it was just a tiny bit awkward, which was not entirely your fault. Blind dates weren’t your forte per se. And clearly, they were not his either.

Exactly three minutes and thirty-two seconds had passed since you sat across from the mysterious man. The number was oddly specific because the nerves had you checking your wrist every two seconds.

What had you so nervous in the first place? It could be the fact you were seventeen minutes late. Or maybe that the dress code for this date had been lost in translation. Or the fact you can't remember the last time you were on a proper date.

No, you were nervous because you were sat across from, possibly, the most beautiful man on the planet. His aura radiated confidence, power and prowess. If you were watching an animal planet documentary, he would be on the top of the food chain. The apex predator.

It was intimidating. You sat on the uncomfortable wooden stool, allowing his dark eyes to consume you. At first glance, they had seemed innocent as if they belonged to a child. It was the first thing you had noticed about the man. However, just as a kid, the initial curiosity had settled. They had been judging you, sizing you up.

They had explored your appearance and features, before glancing at his own watch. Evidently, not pleased with your tardiness. His eyelids relaxed, covering the whites of his piercing gaze. You had weakly smiled at the gesture, offering an apology as you hesitantly took a seat.

Your hands had immediately found a home on your lap, intertwined and sweaty. This had not been the plan for the first interaction. It felt as though you were in the principal's office. Your index finger and thumb pinched your dress as you began to rethink and regret every decision.

You wore a simple mid-length black dress, that hugged your body. It wasn’t fancy by any means, but, before the date, you had googled the location, information that your friend kindly shared. It was a small bar, off the beaten track, hidden in a corner of the buzzing city. A den of sorts. You had thought it was a speakeasy.

Your company for the evening had decided on a much more casual outfit. Denim jeans and a black oversized shirt. You noticed a black leather jacket on the stool next to him, a packet of cigarettes peeking out from the pocket. A tattooed hand caressed a glass of whiskey on the small oak table. Why was he so frightening in this setting?

The bar was quiet. Three other couples and a few stranglers occupied the cosy setting. Your eyes quickly surveyed the area, mapping out a safe escape. Like you were cornered prey.

You don’t know if it was the flames that were ablaze in the fireplace, but the temperature had grown exponentially causing the light makeup to become dewy in the lowly lit room. Lips were dry as you tried to find the words to finally break the silence.

The man silently watched your struggle, enjoying the way you were melting beneath his gaze. He wasn’t a cruel man, but he found it amusing that he had this effect on you. A total stranger.

“Are you okay? You aren’t sick are you?” He teased with a slight smirk appearing across his face, which he graciously hid by raising the glass to his lips.

Your heart snapped, chest tightening. This was utterly embarrassing. “No.” You muttered, ripping the cropped jacket from your body. “Just very hot in here.” His tongue poked at his cheek concealing the smile. His action made the room a thousand times hotter.

“A red wine for the lady.”

Startled, you twisted your body to face the intruder. “I was told that was your go to.” You heard the stupidly handsome man say, as you thanked the bartender who placed the drink in front of you.

“Um, yeah. That was very kind of you. Thank you.” The end of your sentence drifting off into the humid air as you were reminded that you had no idea who he was.

“Jungkook.”

You shyly nodded, as if you were being scalded for not answering a question right. Fuck, this was pathetic. Grabbing the wine glass, you took a gulp. Not very ‘lady-like’, but liquid courage was needed if you were to continue to look this man in the eye.

“Y/N” you answered, wiping the red stain from your lips.

He chuckled at the action. Which for some unknown reason, he thought was cute. But nothing was cute about this scenario.

He had anxiously waited nearly twenty minutes for your arrival. Fingers tapping his empty whiskey glass, silently praying you would show up. He may have had one or two before you arrived, trying to calm his own nerves.

His older friend, Namjoon, had mentioned you multiple times. Telling stories of your shared college years and your friendship. He painted you out to be this outgoing, caring, and smart woman. How if he was ever in trouble, you’d be the person he’d call. Mature, reliable, and loyal. All these attributes were what Jungkook desired in a partner. What he needed.

Admittiedly, Jungkook was lost. His life had been a struggle. He hadn’t found his place in the world yet. But slowly and surely, he could feel himself getting there. Finding himself amongst the masses. And this was his chance.

When Namjoon mentioned you had thought about dating again, Jungkook practically begged him to set up the date. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had been admiring you from afar.

Everything he had learned about you from Namjoon had solidified his interest in you. From your hobbies to your habits. You weren’t a stranger to him. He wasn’t a creep or a stalker. But when your name was mentioned in conversation, his ears perked. Absorbing every minor detail.

The second your frame appeared through the door, Jungkook’s heart plummeted to his stomach. If he was hooked to a monitor, it would’ve flatlined. Completely, entirely beautiful. Jungkook had seen photos of you with Namjoon, at a party or a gathering. But he swore, as cheesy as it sounded, they did you no justice.

But because Jungkook was still a boy a heart, he thought the best way to approach this date was to act cool and reserved. Thus, he mentally slapped himself, gathering composure as you entered the bar and walked towards him.

So the evident awkward atmosphere was also partially his fault.

“Namjoon has mentioned you before” you chirped, distracting Jungkook from the internal beating he was giving himself.

“Oh yeah? Only good things I hope” Jungkook cringed, wanting to slam his face against the table. Jin and his Dad jokes had subconsciously infiltrated his brain.

You giggled causing his ears to ring. Was he dying? If so, an angel sat before him, radiating the kindest, warmest smile he had ever experienced. He wanted to record that moment and put it on a loop for eternity.

The sudden change in Jungkook’s behaviour helped you regain some composure. The hard exterior was slowly breaking in front of you.

Namjoon had forced you onto this blind date. Claiming this guy would be your type. And also pointing out that you owed him for the countless calls he had to endure after your not-so-gracious breakup. Which you had countered by saying ‘that is what friends are supposed to do’ to which he argued ‘the amount of times he had carry you home after a drunken night was excessive’.

Maybe not your finest moment. But your ex had blindsided you, abruptly announcing he wasn’t in love with you anymore.

Namjoon has told you nothing about who you were meeting. Just that he was a friend. But you didn’t know it was that friend.

“Well, he mentioned that you are a bit, um, wild” you admitted, biting your lip as you avoided his stare. Shit, how long have you been running from eye contact at this stage?

Let’s say, Namjoon had once or twice, talked about his dismay regarding his younger friend's actions. His reckless behaviour was not appealing to his friend. They had shared an apartment for exactly twelve months before Namjoon called quits.

Jungkook’s eyes bulged at the discovery that his friend had shit-talked him to his crush. Sighing, his hand swooped through his hair as he concluded that this date was doomed. His chance disappearing before him.

“But” you continued. “He also mentioned how hard-working and determined you are. That you don’t turn away at the first obstacle. Which is admirable.”

Your eyes and his lock. The once intimidating gaze had disappeared, a softer, hopeful one replacing it. You were slightly confused.

“I am still trying to figure it all out honestly.” He spoke, nearly whispering the sentence as if he was ashamed. “I just want to try everything, give everything my all before I decide whether it’s what I want or not. I wouldn’t say that is admirable.” He clarified, chuckling as to mask his anxiety.

Why, of all people, did he think you were the person to expose his deepest feelings? Probably the alcohol. Easiest thing to blame.

“It tells me a lot about the kind of person you are.”

Silence. Jungkook didn’t know what to make of your comment. Was that a good thing? Did you like that kind of person? Absorbed in his thoughts, he stiffened. The awkwardness returning. You grabbed your glass of wine, taking a final sip.

“I am sorry Jungkook, but this doesn’t seem like it’s going to work.”

Shattered, his skin turned pale. A disaster. He couldn’t even spark your interest for longer than thirty minutes. Hesitant, he nodded, chugging down the remains of his own drink.

“No need to apologise Y/N. It was worth a shot” he smiled, trying to hide the heartbreak. He really did think he had a fighting chance. To win over the girl of his dreams.

“Let me walk you home, it is late. Namjoon would kill me if he found out I left you out there by yourself.”

“Thank you, but I only live five minutes away. I will be fine—“

“Please, I insist.”

You debated, maybe it was a bit late to be walking home alone. “If you are sure.”

Jungkook immediately grabbed his jacket, throwing it around his broad frame before gathering your bag and jacket, handing them to you. “Let’s go.”

Thanking him, you wrapped yourself in the light material, clutching the bag as you began to follow him to the exit.

Why did you end the date? Because you could feel him breaking your heart already. He was genuine. Too precious for you. He would promise you the world, and you would take it. But was that fair? No.

You realised, it was too soon. The cuts too deep to heal.

Some things in life are unfortunate, and they break people and leave them there to mend the pieces. You had let your insecurities win yet another mental battle in that moment. You didn’t deserve love. You couldn’t reciprocate it.

His figure cast a shadow on your fragile state as you left behind the possibility of starting over, leaving the warm bar behind and entering the dimly lit street. The cold breeze immediately attacked your skin, but the close proximity of Jungkook protected you from a full slaughter.

Jungkook stopped by the lamppost outside of the newly discovered hellhole, opting to light a cigarette to use the nicotine to ease his pain. A deep inhale allowed the mixture of chemicals to entire his system. He held for a few seconds, feeling the breath on his back copy his actions.

Exhaling, he turned to face you. “Where do you live?”

You blinked, completely forgetting that this man was practically a stranger. Comfort was found in his presence. “Yeah, sorry. Just follow me.”

And so he did. Step in step. He followed you along the quiet, darkened path.

As you began to walk under the rotten blossom trees, sudden ‘pitter patters’ reverberated off the dying leaves.

Just give me a break.

Removing the jacket from your body, you used it as a shield from the wet droplets. Jungkook did the same, using his leather jacket as an umbrella.

Once situated, you began to thread through the night. The path had brightened at the end of the blossom tunnel, and Jungkook’s eyes scanned your upper body. The small cropped jacket offered no protection. Your skin was littered with goosebumps due to the weather conditions.

Without thinking, Jungkook ran to your side, grazing you. He extended his arm, expanding the leather above your head. “Put your jacket back on, you’ll freeze.” He ordered.

Your cheeks dampened even though you were sheltered. Whispering gratitude, you tossed the jacket over your body, hugging yourself for comfort. Your head hung low, watching your feet drag against the floor.

“You don’t need to be kind to me. You shouldn’t.” You said whilst attempting to hide the cracks in your voice. But Jungkook’s eagle ears heard and that was the last straw.

Scanning the surroundings, he saw a porch sheltered by a cabana in the public playground. With a hand on the middle of your back, he guided you to it. You didn’t fight, just accepted it.

The downpour began to gain momentum as you picked up the pace. Once under the stable structure, you finally caved. Your tears flowed rapidly, matching the stream of rain. Cold and vulnerable.

The urge Jungkook felt to protect you, to engulf you, was animalistic. He couldn’t stop himself. He dropped his drenched jacket, wrapping his arms around you. And just like that, you were pulled into his chest, the warmth soothing some of the ache.

His posture softened to cradle you. Moulding himself to your delicate stature. It felt as though not a single inch of your skin was exposed.

He held you like that until your mind stopped racing and breathing slowed. With one last obnoxious sniffle, you unwillingly pried yourself from his body, pressing your hands against his forearms.

With the little courage you had, you looked up at him to offer yet another apology. But you were taken aback, thinking you’d meet the eyes of sympathetic man, yet all you saw was anger. Furrowed brows, a tight jaw with pursed lips.

“I am sorry—“

“Do not apologise. Are you okay? What happened?” Were the first words to leave his system.

Looking at the ground, you felt ashamed. You were supposed to have it all pieced together.

“Who did this to you?” He urged, pleading for you to open up.

“I did this to myself.” You snapped, not at him. At yourself. You pushed the wet strands of hair behind your ears, trying to make yourself a little more presentable.

In your peripheral, you saw a marble bench. Deciding your legs were too weak, exhausted from the exertion you just put your body through, you sat on the hard surface. Jungkook followed, squatting in front of you.

“If it’s any consolation, you look pretty, even when you cry”

“I don’t live far from here”

“Great, so we don’t have much further to walk in the rain” he whited.

Defeated and deflated, you sighed, looking at him with annoyance. He understood the suggestion behind your comment, however, he was not giving up on you just yet.

His knees were to his chest, arms folded neatly. The anger you once observed had dwindled into worry and sympathy. He knew that you were recently single, but didn’t know you were still recovering.

“Y/N” his voice softly echoed. “Talk to me, please. I know you don’t know me that well, but you should know I have cared about you for a while.”

He could immediately sense the change in your posture. “Not like that!” He rushed, not wanting you to feel threatened for a second in his presence. “Namjoon often talks about you. And he speaks so highly, admirably of you. Unfortunately, I can’t say he does the same about me.” He chuckles, in an attempt to ease the tension. Your features soften as you puff out a breath of air from your chest with a small smile.

“Anyways, I have been in awe of you. You sound like the purest person. The person that would be there through thick and thin. I don’t know why, but I gravitate towards you. I just want you all to myself. Tonight I wanted to prove to you that I am deserving of you. That’s why I asked Namjoon to set up this date. I wanted to prove to myself, that I deserve someone like you.” He sported a frown as he continued.

“But I have realised that I still have a lot of growing to do. That I am still immature. The way I acted on that date was stupid, and I am sorry. I was hoping the whole cold-hearted persona act would intrigue you. Foolish, but true.”

Perplexed, you just listened to him ramble. Trying to understand what was unfolding in front of you. He realised he was going off the beaten track, so he gathered himself by taking a slow breath.

“What I want to say, I do care. And I don’t want you in pain. I want you happy and healthy. Want to continue to blossom and bloom, even if I have to observe from afar. But, I- no sorry, you need to get over this obstacle to do so. And I am willing to help.”

Stunned. That is how you would describe yourself at this very moment. This not-so-stranger, had put the ball in your court. Gave you back the responsibility for your life. He didn’t take anything nor ask you for anything.

Although, minutes ago, you felt at your lowest, you were given the opportunity to overcome your hurt, your pain. And you were going to grasp it with two hands.

“Jungkook, I just feel so deflated. But you are right, this is my obstacle to climb. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself about the ‘what-ifs’. I can’t change the past, only heal and move on. And I am so sick of healing.’ You stated the facts. They were loud and clear. No more hiding. And you thought about your behaviour from the past twenty minutes and just laughed.

And you actually laughed. It was buried deep in you, but it lifted such a heavy weight off of you. If this man didn’t think you were crazy, he definitely did now.

To your surprise he joined in, crackling along with your insanity in that moment.

“A genuine laugh too? You are spoiling me now Y/N.”

You pushed his shoulder, rolling your eyes at his playfulness. You let the laughter die down before you decided to be bold. To finally choose you, not hide behind a world of pain any longer.

You placed a hand on top of his, engulfing it like he did with your body earlier. “I want your help.”

Jungkook froze for the umpteenth time that night. “Although I barely know you, I do know you’d be good for me. I just feel it and I can’t explain it. It might take me a while to accept it, but I deserve someone like you Jungkook.”

His mind must be deceiving him. He subtly pinched the skin on his arms, hoping you wouldn’t notice in case this was real. “And you deserve me and then some.”

Jungkook caved. His entire world collapsed around him. The evening took a one-eighty turn. He didn’t know how to respond, to hear the validation he craved. He was good enough.

Jungkook sprung to his feet, posture as straight as a pin as he ran his hand along his face, a smile erupting. Heavy breaths of air leaving his lungs as he processed your words. Mimicking his sudden movements, you rose to stand directly in front of him. Millimetres between your exhausted bodies.

Silence returned, but of a different kind. More like tension. Neither one of you knew what to do next. Both of you in shock from the unravelling that had just taken place in the children’s playground.

His eyes scanned your face, looking for something. A sign or signal. Something to help him determine his next move. Your eyes were like glass, their fragility reflecting in the moonlight. Cheeks wet, hair clumped and lip swollen. Although the scene was tragic, it was too much for the weakened man.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Taking the initiative, he gently cupped your elbows causing your bodies to collide. A warmth engulfing the new couple.

Your forearms raised ninety degrees, hands finding comfort on his waist. Your fingers gripped the dampened material, gazing into his eyes. Pleading for something. Anything.

The world stopped, faith or gravity or Namjoon, whatever overseeing power was at play, had brought you together in this moment. It felt as if this was written in the stars, like this was supposed always to happen.

You and Jungkook.

Time was slow, everything in slow motion as Jungkook inched closer to your face. His neck concaving to allow his lips to hover over yours. His hot breath on your skin added to the warmth, sparking a fire in the middle of the abandoned park.

His eyelids became heavy, partially shielding his magnetic eyes. His pink tongue poked from his tight lips, swiping it across his dry lips. The small piece of metal embedded near the corner of his lips caught your attention as the coldness grazed you, as if testing the waters.

Seconds passed while Jungkook waited for any signs of hesitation or a change in body language. Giving you the opportunity to leave. But nothing.

Your eyes were wide open when your lips finally collided, crashing together to add more fuel to the burning flames. It was surreal, the way it was gentle but rough all at once. His lips rested against yours with force. Squished together, praying that this was real.

Your eyes collapsed, fingers tightening against his shirt, pulling his hips closer. He reciprocated your need, his hands trailing to the middle of your back, spread wide as they guided you towards him.

Both of your minds were turned to mush, completely enthralled in the moment. In the kiss. Every naturally born instinct had malfunctioned, both of you losing your breath.

Reluctantly, you pulled back, still retaining the strong grip on his clothing. You focused on your breath, allowing your heartbeat to return to a normal pace. Your eyes remained closed, knowing that if you even looked at Jungkook you would hyperventilate.

Jungkook was hyperaware. His senses turned up to the maximum as if he were Spider-Man in the middle of a war. He could feel your heartbeat through his hands, gradually slowing down. His ears honing in on your irregular breaths, drowning out the sound of the continuous droplets of rain against the roof. Eyes consuming you, all of you. His tongue licked his own skin as he did, tasting the strawberry lip balm you applied to his. But it was the smell of your perfume that was turning him into a madman. It was too real.

Once you felt stable, you opened your eyes staring at his black shirt which was stretched tightly across his torso due to your grip. Realising you were probably ruining the elasticity of it, you let go. Jungkook followed suit, releasing his hold on you, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of denim jeans. He shifted his centre of gravity onto the ball of his feet.

“Sorry” he mumbled, tongue playing with the warmed metal in his lip.

“Please don’t be” you weakly begged. You didn’t want him to regret that moment. “That was nice.”

His eyebrow piercing perked. “Only nice?”

Your lips curled, cheeks heated. “Maybe a bit more than that.” You giggled, like a five year old girl who was admitting her crush.

Jungkook dipped down stealing a single kiss. A simple peck. “Definitely more than that.”

Your eyes shot up, finding the courage to meet the man’s enchanting gaze. Bringing a hand to his sharp jaw, your thumb caressed his cheek. “Yeah maybe.”

The whole situation was so gentle. Sweet and innocent. As if it was written in a novel about young love. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Jungkook, with the biggest smile on his face, grabbed your hand pulling you towards the waterfall that was falling at the edge of the cabana. He swiftly bent, grabbing his jacket off the floor, swooping it over your head. “Better keep up.” He playfully smirked.

And then, he starts jogging. You gasped, laughing as you tried to catch up, trying to limit the exposure to the rain. Grabbing his shirt, you slowed him down, allowing you to wrap an arm around his back. He looked down, adjusting the makeshift cover to ensure you were sheltered.

You both continued to run through the rain, guiding him by pointing your finger. No words were shared, just laughter.

You made it to your house in no time thanks to all the adrenaline that ran through your veins. Grabbing your keys from your purse, which you somehow didn’t lose through the entire rollercoaster, you opened the door, crossing the threshold. You shook your body like a dog, removing extra water droplets that had built up on your frame.

Jungkook remained outside, still holding his jacket above his head. Admiring how cute you looked. “You can come in.” You insisted, shifting your body to the side, giving him room to enter.

His cheeks hollowed, jaw tightened and Adam’s apple bobbed. Nervous. Slowly, he brought one foot across the threshold. His boba eyes evident as he soaked in your home. Once again, his inner child appeared. Carefully, the other foot crossed over, his body awkwardly turning to keep the sodden jacket outside.

“It’s gonna make a mess” he concluded as his efforts to try and remove some of the wetness rendered useless.

Your eyebrows furrowed trying to find a solution to the problem. “One second.”

Kicking off your shoes, you ran into the living room, grabbing an unused clothes hanger. Carrying it towards the entrance where Jungkook stood. His posture hilariously reminded you of those standing still memes. Pursing your lips, you tried to hide the laugh from escaping.

You extended the legs of the hanger, placing it above the mat at the front door. “You can leave it on there. Maybe it will dry a bit.”

He nodded, tossing the jacket onto the hanger, cringing when he saw the water droplets soak the mat underneath. “You can take off your shoes”

Jungkook gulped, his throat restricting. “Yeah, I will, uh, call a taxi. Should be here soon.”

“You don’t have to go so soon.” You tested, leaning against the wall. “Our first date went, well, not-so-great. But I want to make amends.”

“So soon?” He choked as he wasn’t expecting an invitation.

“Don’t want the night to end I guess.”

You turned away, walking towards the kitchen. Praying that he would follow. But you wanted to give him the opportunity to make his choice and not pressure him with your looming presence.

Grabbing two wins glasses from your cabinet, you hoped when you faced back towards the kitchen island, a figure would greet you. And your wish was granted.

“I don’t have any whiskey. I hope wine is okay?” You asked, as you grabbed an unopened bottle from the countertop.

“Thank you. Wine is perfect.”

Placing the bottle down, you grabbed a corkscrew from the cutlery drawer. Jungkook walked to the corner of the island placing a hand on the bottle. His free palm was extended flat towards you. “Let me.”

Handing him the bottle opener, he got to work removing the cork from the bottle. The veins in his arms flared as he twisted the screw, bottom lip tucked into his teeth. So domestic. So hot.

Fumes oozed from the longneck bottle as it popped, dragging you out of your thoughts. Eyes snapped towards the glasses to avoid getting caught. He tipped the bottle, allowing the red fluid to pour into the empty glass, creating thick waves in the confined space.

“Thank you Jungkook.”

“No thank you Y/N. Spoiling me. This looks like good wine.” He commented, not because he was a wine connoisseur, but because the label looked fancy.

“I only use it on special occasions.” You admitted, bringing the filled glass up to your lips.

Jungkook did the same, soaking up the view in front of him. Your pupils were tucked seductively behind your lids as you made eye contact with him. He couldn’t tell if it was on purpose.

You looked so pretty, so raw. Lips were swollen, skin puffy, clothes wet, and hair rustled. Jungkook was in awe. His mind wandering.

“Special huh. What makes this so special?”

“It’s like a new chapter I suppose. Drinking to a new beginning.” You shrugged, taking another sip.

Jungkook liked the sound of that. “To a new chapter.” He toasted, tipping his glass towards you.

Catching onto the memo, you clinked glasses. “To a new chapter.” You confirmed before joining Jungkook with a celebratory sip.

Resting the drink on the countertop, you finally took in your appearance from the reflection that was in the glass. “I look like a wet dog.”

“I have a dog. Bam.” Jungkook announced. “Doesn’t look like you when he gets wet. Would be nice if he did.”

You chuckled at his weird attempt at a compliment. “Thanks I guess.”

“No- no. I uh- I wasn’t comparing you to my dog. Nothing like that. Just trying to say you don’t look like a wet dog. You are much more breathtaking.”

Fuck. Why him? He was too good to be true. Too sweet. Like sugar. He would probably end up poisoning you, but right now, was too addicting.

You couldn’t stop what your body did next. Leaning forward to kiss him. It was a peck. But it had Jungkook turning into putty. Before you could go too far, his lips chased yours, crashing into them again. Not letting you slip away.

His arms caged you against the countertop, hands gripping the edge. Your hands fled to find safety on his chest. His lips started to move against yours. Working to find a slow, steady rhythm.

He couldn’t stop, you were too delicious. Your hands travelled further north, resting around his neck, fingers threading through his wet locks. Pulling him impossibly close. Nose pumping as you moved frantically wanting to devour him.

One of his hands moved to your hips, pulling you towards his own. Your back was curved into a c-shape as you moulded to his body. Things were getting messy, hands and bodies continuously colliding. The hand on your hip, slid under your thigh, pulling you up to sit you on the counter.

As you slid on the flat surface, you bumped one of the glasses. You gasped, closing your eyes waiting for the clashing sound. However, it never came, Jungkook’s fast reflexes preventing the fall. “Whoa, easy there.” He teased, settling the glass.

The near accident had broken the momentum. “Sorry, was eager.”

Jungkook shamelessly scanned your body, taking note of every detail. “Yeah? What has you so eager pretty girl?”

The question had you wanting to shrink. Shrivel into nothing. His demeanour overpowering you. You tucked your head into his chest, saving yourself the embarrassment. He caressed your hair, kissing the top of your head. You noticed how wet his shirt was as you leaned against it.

“You are soaked.”

“That’s supposed to be my line baby.” Jungkook smirked as you slapped his shoulder, pushing yourself off his chest.

“Such a playboy.” You groaned hoping down off the countertop. “You will get a cold. I will get you a change of clothes. Come on.”

And there is that caring woman Namjoon has mentioned. Jungkook followed you, into what he believed to be your room. You bent down to grab some oversized sweats causing Jungkook’s eyes to bulge from their sockets. Fuck.

“Here.” You said, extending your arm backwards to hand him the clean clothes. You continued to grab a pair for yourself, before straightening your posture.

“I’ll get changed in the bathroom.” You announced. “Actually, do you want to take a quick shower? To warm up?”

His jaw dropped. Your cheeks heated when you realised the innuendo that left your lips.

“I, fuck, not-“ “Will I be alone?”

He took a step forward, eyes burrowing into you. “Because I would be willing to take a shower if it’s with you.” He admitted, loving the effect he had on you.

Your words were stuck in your throat. Yes, you wanted to shower with him. But fuck, shower sex wasn’t the way you wanted to get the first taste of him.

Sensing your hesitation, Jungkook lowered his head, his lips fanning your ear. “Or I can think of another way to warm up.”

The whisper caused you to shiver, arms reaching out to grab the hem of his shirt. “Please.”

The beg was instinctive. It ticked off his biology, his primal need. Like a scavenger, he was ready to attack. His hands cupped your face, forehead resting against yours. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you need me.”

Your eyes connected, radiating the need and want that resided within you. “All yours Jungkook. Please.”

You barely finished the sentence before his lips were on yours again. Lips dancing with one another, teeth clashing as he desperately tried to get closer. You were the first to slip in a tongue, wanting to taste the poisonous sugar. He groaned, hands slipping down to your hips.

Tongues battled as he began to walk backwards, pulling you along for the journey. His legs hit the bed, knees collapsing to sit him down on the mattress. Your body chased him, crawling onto his lap, lips never disconnecting. You cringed once you realised the wet clothes were ruining the sheets. Jungkook felt your nose crinkle against his. “What’s wrong. Tell me.”

“We are wet and my mattress.” You whimpered.

“Fuck you are so cute.” He pecked your lips. “We can solve that issue real fast baby.”

His fingertips grazed your calf, just below your dress. “Can I take this off?”

You shyly nodded, scooting closer to him, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. His fingers tucked under your dress, pulling it up over your knees. It snapped, jumping to your upper thigh. His lips connected with your clavicle, licking and sucking at the skin. The dress was pulled further north, his hands resting at your hips.

“I’m so lucky. Fuck. Baby, lift your arms for me.” He murmured against your skin.

Immediately you followed his order. In hindsight, it was a bit pathetic. You responded as if the words had come from a police officer. You could see an eyebrow quirk below you, his teeth grazing the abused skin before leaning back.

His hands pulled the bunched dress up your body, uttering praise as he did. “Such a good girl. A goddess. Look at how beautiful you are.”

You were left in your underwear, dress thrown onto the ground. He was still fully dressed making your stomach twist and turn. The power he had over you in that moment, you felt weak. Your fingers played with his wet shirt, avoiding eye contact once again.

“Why don’t you get me undressed baby. We don’t want the water to seep into the mattress.”

Letting your hands fall, you started with his belt. Letting the metal clank as you undid it. You bit your lip when you saw how his hardness was sitting straight and pretty against the wet denim. The tips of your skin grazed it. Shit.

He watched as your stomach tightened, hips jerked. “Got me so hard. You like it baby?” Eyes focusing on your covered centre. “Are your panties wet because of the rain?”

You whimpered causing his hips to thrust upwards. Fuck, you sounded so good. Too good. He couldn’t handle the strip tease any longer. He ripped the shirt from his body.

With his skin finally disclosed, his waist looked tiny compared to his shoulders. The temptation, the teasing, it was all too much. Jumping off his lap, you unbuttoned his jeans, frantically pulling them off his hips. He aided by lifting his hips.

Both of you stilled in your naked frames. Staring into each other’s eyes with hunger and greed. Jungkook scooted up the bed, moving away from the wet patch. His abs were contracted as he sat, pecks flexed as he patted his bare lap. “Come back to me baby. Let me take care of you. You deserve it.”

And you were not going to deny him. You crawled into the bed, as seductively as you could, and found your home on his lap. Lips tangling once again. His hands immediately gravitated to your hips, pulling them to his clothed cock.

The first touch had you both in a trance. You both let out moans of pleasure. It was so warm, so hard, so inviting. “You never answered my question. Are you panties wet because of the rain?” He repeated, guiding your hips against his.

“Yes.”

“Really? Are you lying to me pretty?”

“No.”

He smirked, moving one of his hands to your front. His fingers grazed your clit, a whine escaping your lips at the slight contact. A finger slipped the material to the side, dipping into the true source of the wetness. “Now why would you lie? That is not what a good girl would do.”

Your hips grind against the single finger, needing more friction. “Sorry. I was embarrassed. Please.”

“You promise you’ll be good. Good for me. Don’t I deserve that baby?”

“Only for you.” You stated.

Pleased with your answer, he flipped you onto your back. Lips exploring your neck as his hips continued to grind against you. Your knees were bent, toes curled. He hovered over you, one forearm rested against your head, a hand cupping your head. The other placed on your thigh, holding you close to him.

His lips travelled south, sucking and licking, his way down to his desired destination. Small purple marks littering your bare skin. He placed a delicate kiss on the top of your covered mound. Fingers curling around the band. He sat on his heels, lips swollen as he drowned in the picture below him.

“Look so beautiful.” He groaned, grabbing your left calf, lifting it up into the air to kiss the inner side. “No need to feel embarrassed around me, ever.” He placed your leg on his shoulder. “Fuck, you are so good to me. Got me so hard baby. So close to cumming, haven’t even gotten a taste.”

“Please Jungkook.”

“Yeah baby, I know.” He started to pull the material from your body. “Let me?”

You nodded, lifting your hips allowing him to remove them with ease. He admired the view, sitting patiently on his feet. Folds glistening and messy. He wanted to make them so much more messier. His thumb rubbed up and down the exposed heat, playing with his food. “I won’t be able to stop. Tell me what you like baby. Please.”

Your hips buckled against his skin. “Just want you. Want your tongue. Now, please.”

“So good. Keep using your words beautiful. Sound so perfect.”

Before you could respond, his head dipped between your legs. The hands on the underside of your knees kept you nice and wide for him. His tongue wasted no time, licking a wipe stripe along your slit before placing his lips on your aching clit.

He growled against it, vibrations sent through your body sending your hands flying to his hair. Gripping the curly locks as you prepared yourself. You could feel him smiling before his lips engulfed the bundle of nerves. A light suck had your back arching off the bed. His hands had to anchor you down by pushing on your hips.

You laid there, allowing Jungkook to devour you. Licking and sucking every inch of the silky folds. His tongue tested and tried every technique, flat, pointed, circling, flicking. Until he found the one that made you cry out. Using precise movements, he continued to eat. And he ate and ate until your body screamed out.

“Jungkook, I am going to cum. So close.”

Pausing for a moment, he propped himself higher on his elbows. “Tell me baby, what do you need. Want my fingers too?”

You couldn’t respond, just whimpered. Hips raising to get closer to him again. “Greedy.” He muttered.

His lips connected back to your cunt, continuing to cover his face with your juices. His fingers joined the party, prodding at your weeping entrance. Slipping one finger, he gauged your response. You were in pure bliss.

Using a single finger, he moved it slowly, exploring your walls. The warm tongue that played with your clit had you begging for more. All you wanted was him. To be full of him. Only him.

He obeyed your pleas, adding another finger. His precise movements picked up the pace. The ‘come here' gesture made you lose your mind as it grazed against a very sensitive spot. Your breath hitched, fingers tightened against his long locks.

Jungkook didn’t dare stop. Even when you tried to run from the slaughter, he kept you pinned. “Fuck, Jungkook. Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, the knot in your stomach snapping.

It exploded, the pleasure flooding your veins. Your head was light as you began to float. He continued, guiding you through your orgasm. He let you ride it out, slowing down when he felt your thighs twitch.

As you calmed, your eyes focused on the man you had to thank for the pleasure. And the view was sinister. His face was glistening with your wetness, covering his reddened plump lips, puffy cheeks, and chin. His eyes had darkened with lust. He kissed your inner thigh, slightly biting the skin.

He glanced back to where he removed himself minutes ago. “One last taste baby.”

His tongue ran from your clit to your hole, having one last lick. You whined at the overstimulation. “I know. But looked too good. Taste so much sweeter when you cum.”

“Fuck Jungkook, please. You talk so much. I can’t.” You huffed.

“Do you not like me talking to you? Don’t like hearing what I want to do to you? How I want to fold you in half and give you what want. Let my cock finally get a taste.”

You let out a pathetic cry. You wanted to hear it all. But you swear you could just cum from his voice if he continued. “Please. Want it. Want it right now.”

He climbed up the bed, straddling your thigh to allow his own thigh to press against your abused cunt. You could feel his hard member pressed against you, a wet patch present where his sensitive member sat. His upper body hovered above you, kissing the tops of your tits. “Did I neglect these gorgeous? M’sorry.” He slurred.

He pulled the flesh from the cups, kissing the newly exposed skin. The juices that remained on his skin smeared across your chest as his tongue swirled your nipple. You pushed down on his thigh, needing him. “Need your cock.”

“You are not too sensitive? We can kiss some more.”

“No.” You pleaded. “I love it. I want it.”

He moved to the other nipple. Circling and sucking on the darkened skin. “Fuck, tell me to stop if it’s too much. Condoms?”

He removed himself with a pop, following to where your fingers were pointing. He grabbed a condom from the top drawer of your nightstand. Quickly, he stripped the Calvin’s from his body, freeing his red, angry member.

You whimpered at the sight. Everything about him was too good. Too perfect. His large thighs, small waist, broad shoulders. His rustled hair, his tattoos. His structured facial features. And now, his curved, thick cock. Decorated with a large vein that protruded through the gentle skin from the base to the wet tip.

It throbbed as he ripped the condom open with his teeth. He pinched the top, rolling it down his length. It was all too attractive. You rose from the bed to where he kneeled. You grasped his shoulders, crashing your lips. His arms wrapped around your back, gelling your body together as you got lost in the kiss.

Using all your strength, you twisted his body, trying to lower him onto the bed back first. He complied, grunting as his body collapsed onto the firm mattress. You climbed onto his lap, hands on his chest.

His fingers dug into your hips, anticipating your next move. “Help me.” You pleaded raising your hips.

His hips thrusted upwards, missing the contact already. “Want you to put it in.” You begged.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head, believing that was the hottest thing he ever heard. Although you were in total control in this position, you were giving him some power.

Spitting in his hand, he brought it down to his aching cock, spreading it along his length. He pressed the tip against your sodden folds, running it up and down. He rubbed it against your clit making you hiss. “Please, need it now. Been good.”

“So good for me. Just wanted to tease you baby. So cute.”

He moved his sensitive head back to your entrance, he could feel the vacuum, wanting to suck him in. You slowly sank down, inch by inch. Fingernails sank into his chest, leaving behind those beautiful crescents. He swore he would get them tattooed. Immortalise your touch.

It took everything for Jungkook to not pull you down and force you to take his full length. His tongue poked at his lip piercing, trying to focus on anything else. Your warmth consumed him entirely. He swore he could cum right there and then.

Meanwhile, you were shutting down. The stretch, the pleasure flooding your thoughts. The sensitivity of your cunt making you cry out as you continued to take length. Once you felt your thighs meet his torso, you let out a breath, giving you time to adjust. He sensed your struggle. He traced shapes along your side, cooing you. “Doing so good baby. Feel so tight. So wet.”

The praise that slipped from his lips, brought you back to reality. A sense of accomplishment pounding in your chest. You had this man below you mewling as you shuffled to find a comfortable position. “So big Kookie.”

“Fuck” he growled, thrusting upwards. “Yes baby, I am your Kookie.”

Unable to stay still any longer, you began to slowly lift your hips up, before slamming back down. Your hands on his chest acted as a stabiliser. Gave you the support you needed to find a steady, hard rhythm.

Your head was thrown back, feeling him filling you up repeatedly had you going cross-eyed. Moans and groans filled the room. Heavy pants as you continued to relish in the pleasure. The air thickened as a thin layer of precipitation glossed your skin.

Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way you looked so demanding and yet so elegant. Your lips parted with endless curses escaping, mixed with your cries. He watched as your cunt engulfed his cock, a white ring forming at the base. He loved you like this.

A certain stroke, had you collapsing. His tip digging somewhere deep within you, ecstasy shooting through your nervous system, paralysing you. His hands wrapped around your back, holding you close. “You okay? Too much?”

He was anxious, you had just suddenly stopped, screaming in pleasure, or so he hoped. “Your cock, too much.”

“Wanna stop? Take a break?”

“No, please. Kookie. Don’t stop.”

He kissed your temple, his torso rising off the bed. You were glued to him, not moving an inch. He folded his legs beneath you, with you sitting on top, legs hugging his waist. “This okay baby? This position?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know if I have the energy.” You admitted, a bit embarrassed.

He kissed along your clavicle, his hands worked to unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders. He kissed each shoulder, before kissing you once again. Slow and steady. “Don’t worry baby, I got you.”

Grabbing your ass, he squeezed as he began grinding you against him, his cock nestled deep within your warm walls. He rocked you slowly, lips attacking every inch of his skin. This position was very intimate. It felt like you were under a spotlight, skin burning, goosebumps decorating your skin.

But it felt so good, your clit being stimulated by the collision when he pulled you forward. Your head was thrown back, embracing the feeling of his lips and his cock. Fingers digging into his scalp as he started to pick up the pace.

It was sloppy, like dry humping, both desperate to feel close. Jungkook was cracking, he knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. Your walls fluttered against him, contacting, tightening. “Y/N so close, shit.”

“Please cum.” You cried, beginning to rut against the man.

A primal grunt ripped through him. “You give me one more baby.”

Pulling his head away from your tits, you looked him in the eyes. Pupils dilated as if he had indulged on a class A drug. “Harder.” You begged.

Although this position was wonderful, and, oh, it was incredible, you knew it would take you a while to reach your high. Jungkook understood, immediately pushing you backwards. His cock slipped causing you to whimper at the loss.

He chuckled as he aligned himself before sinking back in, stilling once his pelvis touched yours. “So needy, so desperate. I was trying to be nice for you. But you just want it hard. You want me to be hard baby? Want me to take control?”

“Please fuck me.” You growled, so turned on.

“You ask for it, you get it baby.”

His hips snapped back before plummeting back in. So deep, so strong. Your body ricocheted, slightly moving up the bed. But he was caving you in, his elbows placed above your shoulders as he continued to pound into you. No where for you to run. Your fingernails carved into his back, trying to ground yourself.

“Kook” you panted, the knot immediately tightening in the pit of your stomach.

“Play with that pretty clit for me.”

Obeying the command, you swiftly move your hand to your swollen clit. The pleasure was intense, every inch catching flames. You couldn’t stop the sounds that fled. To muffle them, you attacked his neck and ear. Kissing and sucking the soft, dampened skin.

This action only encouraged him. He was panting, moaning in your ear as he continued the inhuman pace. It didn’t take long for him to feel your walls grip him, clamping him down. Making it nearly impossible to move. Your chest rose, tits pressing against him. The hand on his back, seeked refuge in his locks. Toes curled and legs shaking.

A wail erupted from you, as the knot finally snapped. You were overcome with the pleasure, black spots in your vision, ears ringing. You could barely hear Jungkook praising you through your high.

“Cum. Please.” You pleaded, voice horse and husky. Fuck everything about you was so hot.

Jungkook, who was solely focused on your pleasure, realised he compressed his own. Suddenly he felt his heavy balls, his stomach begging for release. He needed a bit more stimulation. But he didn’t want to risk hurting you. “Fuck feel so good, can I pull out. Wanna paint you baby.”

“Yes, please. Wanna see you cum.”

As he pulled out, the movement nearly made him blow. Raising up on his knees, he whimpered as he tore the condom from his body, admiring how it was covered in your essence. What a waste.

His hand gently swiped through your folds, gathering your juice to use as lube. Perking up on your forearms, you watched as he wrapped it around his cock. One pump, two pump, his thighs began to quake, stomach tightened, his abs carved along his abdomen. He was groaning and grunting, telling you how good you felt. His eyes closed as he focused on the pleasure. Sitting up, you reached forward, fingers grazing the vein that had caught your attention along his cock.

“Fuck. Shit.” His eyes snapped open at the new set of hands that joined his. He saw you lean forward, lips apart, tongue flat. As soon as your tongue met the precum that was pouring out of his tip, he lost it.

He moaned your name, a hand holding your hair as you took him into his mouth. Two bobs of your head and he was crying out. “Baby I am cumming. Wanna cum.”

You hummed around his tip. And the champagne popped. His cum flooded your tastebuds. The explicit sounds were pornographic. He couldn’t stop as his cum painted your mouth.

He kept pumping the length that wasn’t in your mouth causing him to whine as he purposely overstimulated himself. You pulled back, stunned as you saw how hard was. Although you couldn’t see, you knew you had swallowed a large amount.

“Sorry baby. It felt too good.” He whimpered. “Can’t stop.”

His cock was so pretty. So angry, so wet. His hand glided easily, pushing more precum from his little slit. Finally coming out of your orgasmic haze, you smirked. Pushing your tits together, you looked through your bashful eyelids. “You wanted to paint me Kookie. So paint me.”

His mouth was agape, no sound exiting as he just admired you sitting below him, looking so sexy and cute all at the same time. In the blink of an eye, a second orgasm crept up.

He watched as the spurts of white cum pumped out of his cock, landing on your beautifully marked skin. He sounded so submissive as his overstimulated and abused cock throbbed and twitched in his tight grip.

The pain suddenly overtook the pleasure, causing him to release his limp cock. He collapsed on top of you as you both settled on the bed, heavy breaths being shared. He tucked his head into the nook of your neck, leaving light wet kisses.

Realising that he was probably crushing you, he rolled over, pulling you with him. His hand rubbed your back, trying to calm you and your own aftershocks.

In your post-sex blissful state, you thought about the night's events. From the blind date, the playground, and then finally, to the bedroom. You just laughed. It was comical.

Jungkook didn’t know why you laughed, but it was contagious, and so he joined in. Chuckling along with you. He was honestly just happy to be there. To be with you in that moment.

Gathering composure, you rested your chin on his chest. “I mean this date was something else.” You joked, poking at his cheek. “You have a different kind of charm Jeon Jungkook.”

“Hopefully that charm worked on you.” He quirked, pushing away the fallen locks from your face.

“Seeing as we are just laying here in your cum, I think it worked.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose at the reminder. The sticky sensation between your bodies became evident. “Yeah sorry about that. I, um, don’t know why, I just wanted to feel your skin. But come on.” He tapped your ass making you giggle. “Let’s get us cleaned up.”

You hummed in agreement, getting off of him, scooting to the side of the bed, letting your legs touch the ground. The stiffness in your legs was obvious as you tried to rise. Jungkook had no issues, doing some kind of parkour to get off the bed.

He walked over to you offering a hand, to which you gladly accepted. He smiled watching you struggle, pride erupting through his chest. Yeah, I did that.

You wrapped a hand around his waist, like you did when you ran home in the rain. He guided you to the en-suite bathroom. “Shower?” He asked, kissing your temple.

“Please. But no funny business.” You warned, pointing at his dick.

He chuckled, raising his hands as you walked towards the open shower, twisting the handles to allow the hot water to run. You stood underneath the stream, loving the warmth. Jungkook admired the way the relaxation overcame your body. Your shoulders shrunk, eyes closed.

Jungkook almost felt guilty joining you in your little paradise. He tip-toed in, not wanting to disturb. Your eyes pried open as you heard the squeak of the porcelain floor. He looked so small, so hesitant. “Come here, the water is so nice.” You insisted, grabbing his wrist to guide him closer.

He stood there, a frown on his face as he watched the water trickle down your body. “I will have to paint you again soon. I miss the picture already.”

“Mister, no funny business.”

Jungkook chuckled at your stern voice. Once again, his hands were raised in defence. “Let me clean you.” He said grabbing your loofa, pouring body wash onto it. “No funny business.” He clarified.

It was your turn to laugh, letting him wash your body. His hands caressed every crevice, paid attention to every inch. His lips kissed the newly made marks, ensuring they got the extra attention they deserved.

Returning the favour, you cleaned his body, giving extra care to the marks and scrapes. The shower was like a second round, so intimate, but without any sexual intention. It was weird, but so nice.

“Sorry about the scrapes.” You apologised as you dried your bodies, seeing the marks through the mirror. They looked raw. Sore.

He furrowed his brows, looking over his shoulder. The deep marks visible. “Might not wear a shirt for a while. Need an ego boost.”

You squinted your eyes, scolding him as you playfully pushed his shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. I like them. Nearly as much as the person that made them.” He kissed your cheek. “Let me grab some clothes.”

And with that, he exited the bathroom leaving you with your thoughts. Was this moving to fast? He is a stranger, right? You can’t be doing this, you’ll just end up getting hurt. He doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know all your quirks and habits, your pet peeves. Why would he be so invested all ready. Throwing around confessions like that. Is there something I am missing?

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, placing the clean clothing on the sink. He could see you were consumed with thoughts, standing still in the middle of the bathroom.

“Jungkook, I just don’t understand you. We barely know one another but you seem so certain that this will work.” You wrapped your body in a towel, opting to not be in your most vulnerable state for this conversation.

Jungkook had his boxers on already. His cheeks hollowed, biting his cheek. “Y/N, I don’t know how to answer that without sounding insane.”

“The truth.” You simply stated.

He ran a hand through his wet locks, gripping the roots. “I just- fuck. I have been admiring you for a while. Namjoon mentions you a lot, and the person he talks about, that is the person I want. Look I can’t say this will work, but I want to give us a try. And I have always had a habit of jumping in head first. I am sure Namjoon has mentioned my lack of patience.”

You pursed your lips, hiding the small smile. Yeah, Namjoon has mentioned it a few times.

“But one thing I can promise, I will give you everything. All of me. I don’t expect you to accept it all now, I know you are still recovering. But I just want you to know I am willing and ready to be by your side as you pick up those pieces.”

Maybe this was too good to be true. But what if it was true? You have always been so calculated, but tonight had been the first time in a long time you just did, not think. And it had been amazing. Not a single regret. So maybe you should be crazy for once.

You stepped towards him, wrapping your arms around him. Hugging him. He immediately reciprocated the action. Holding you tight.

“I like you too.”

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x f. reader (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?” 

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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city lights series | joshua hong (M) [ongoing]

Joshua Hong could be many things. For one, he is your next door neighbour. He is a rockstar, a relentless tease, a menace. But, ironically, he is always willing to lend a hand whenever you need it, regardless of the nature of your desires.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: smut [18+] ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits ✮ word count: 132k

▸ playlist ♡

navigation post part i | insomnia The last bit of sanity in your mind vanished the moment before you asked your hot neighbour to be your fuck buddy. Whatever prompted you to muster the courage to get the words out was something you didn't know you had inside you. But he wasn't saying no.

part ii | reverie Joshua Hong was many things aside from your hot neighbour—he was a menace, a relentless tease. But most importantly, he was the first guy to ever make you feel wanted. And you were yet to know how dangerous that was.

part iii | pillow talk Deep down, you knew you were growing an attachment to... whatever this was. Joshua was not intoxicating, you were wrong about that, he was addictive.

part iv | lunacy You could no longer hide your infatuation over Joshua Hong. It was becoming painfully obvious, though you weren't sure to what extent he was aware of this. Or if he even cared, for that matter.

part v | stargazing Joshua should've known the minute he saw you standing outside his door for the first time. Then, maybe he would've gotten the opportunity to make things right with you. But no, he let his hedonistic ways get in the way first. Now, will he get the opportunity to make things right with you?

part vi | blue hour If there was a guideline to how to be a fuckbuddy, you were sure you had already broke every rule in the book. It was ridiculous at this point, and you were so sure that Joshua might be catching all of your signs already, because you couldn't be more obvious. But oh, Joshua is only but a man.

part vii | lullaby For months, you've been hiding how you really felt about your fuckbuddy and the remorse for deceiving him can be sickening. For both of you.

part viii | after dark It all started with a deal with your next door neighbor, Joshua Hong. A little harmless deal that surprisingly led you to finding love; and a part of yourself that you were still discovering.

side chapter | 3:14 AM

last update: 25.03.2024 (❁´◡`❁) JOIN MY TAGLIST