Number 7

Number 7

number 7; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 3k

rating: 18+

genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, brother’s best friend, college!au

warnings: v jelly googie 😐, brat oc & brat tamer jk !! 🫢, mirror sex, overstimulation, possessiveness, squirting, dirty talk, marking, they love bickering, cum eating, spanks, jaykay's lowkey a simp <3, taking kinda? naughty pictures 😋, choking, tummy bulging, size kink, name calling

summary: pov: your jealous fuck buddy pounds you in his jersey.

a/n: i couldn't resist 👩🏻‍💻 m tew obsessed w him what can i say ✋🏼

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You don’t know how exactly this situation unfurled.

It just kind of happened.

One minute you were on your way to Jungkook’s shabby dorm, padding briskly across the dim campus to fetch your journal that you accidentally misplaced in his apartment – and the next, Jungkook is fucking you in front of his mirror while you are clad in nothing but his jersey.

The correlation between your initial ambition and your current circumstance is a tiny mix of fragmented thoughts in your mind as Jungkook unceasingly thrusts into you.

You just wanted your journal back.

But Jungkook gave you his dick instead.

His oversized jersey swallows your body. He has the soft material tightly bundled in his hand at your lower back.

“God, Jungkook.”

His cock stretches your cunt deliciously, rutting into you with full force.

Your palms are placed on Jungkook’s fully-body mirror, and you feel partly guilty for dirtying it with your fingerprints. But it’s not like either of you genuinely care about producing a mess the way Jungkook fiercely pounds into you from behind. You both are destined to create a mess when you’re together.

Your eyes meet in the mirror. “Look at yourself,” Jungkook rasps. His palm smooths over your clothed back, pulling your hair to the side to get a clearer view of the imprint.

Jeon Jungkook. 7.

Seeing you in in his jersey sprouted carnal desire in Jungkook, something plainly self-indulgent. It dwindled his freshly blossomed possessiveness from recent events but made his need for you grow even bigger.

“Such a filthy girl, aren’t you?” He returns your stare in the mirror, mussed bangs fluttering over his forehead.

“Harder, Jungkook,” you demand breathlessly.

“What’s the word?” You see his eyebrow twitch slightly in the mirror.

“Please - please fuck me harder, Jungkook.”

His hands are firmly anchored in your hips and he changes his lunges to sharper, rougher ones. Your heartbeat roars in your ears, legs trembling as his length is deeply sheathed inside, his tip kissing places that elicit the softest whines from you.

“You like this, don’t you?” His big hand snakes around your throat. “Like getting fucked like a slut?”

The pads of his fingers press into you and your eyes blur. Just the sight of his inked hand on your throat makes your pussy squeeze his cock, the giddiness flourishing everywhere, reaching your fingertips and bringing tears to your eyes.

“Pretty princess loves to get fucked like a slut, hm?” he whispers.

“Yes, yes I do – fuck.”

His hushed, dirty words kindle the tingle in your tummy and you fall apart beneath him, a sniffled moan scurrying past your lips.

A dark scoff hits the base of your neck. “That’s a good girl.” He plants the tiniest kiss on your shoulder, releasing your throat from his grip. “Always so good.”

Jungkook draws you into his arms, moving to his bed with you.

“On your back,” he instructs, pushing you down on his bed.

You get comfortable on his soft duvet, legs spread. Jungkook’s hand is braced at the back of your thigh. He eases his cock back into you, tongue darting out as your tight walls enclose him again.

He tugs the jersey up, staring at the way he vanishes between your velvety pussylips, your tummy bulging when he bottoms out. Jungkook moves leisurely, the way he moves his hips so sinful and practised, the thin curb chain in silver he is wearing dangles over your face.

“Pretty,” you chunter. You reach out and play with it a little as Jungkook places his palm on your tummy with a little pressure. “Mhmm, Jungkook.” Your toes curl in pleasure and he smirks, giving your knee a tiny peck. “You’re so big,” you slur.

“Your little pussy takes me so well,” he praises. His hand disappears under his jersey, and he palms your supple breast. Your tiny nub pops out when Jungkook pinches and plays with it.

You choke on a gasp. Your legs impulsively wrap around him to drag him closer.

“Mine.” Jungkook’s fierce eyes trail down your body. “All mine.”

A sprinkle of playfulness sets on your face. “You’re still jealous because of Chanyeol?”

A day has passed since the kiss cam made Chanyeol and you kiss. You weren’t able to see Jungkook after the game because his team went out for dinner after their win.

As usual Taehyung invited you, but you declined. The way your brother spoke to you with cold eyes was reason enough to stay home instead. Jungkook was following your little conversation from the back, his secret glances prickling your skin.

When Taehyung came back home, he didn’t waste a second to reprimand you. As soon as he stepped into the living room, he interrupted your Sims 4 gameplay, rudely disregarding the reality tv show that was blasting on tv, with his annoying nagging and unnecessary enquiries.

He even dared to ask is Chanyeol your boyfriend? And you wanted to answer yes just to annoy him.

But you also wanted to resume building a house for your Sims family and watch your reality tv show in peace, so you grimaced, a harsh no rolling off your tongue.

Jungkook’s tongue pokes his cheek. “ ‘m not,” he denies, thrusts turning keener.

“Sure you’re not.” The pad of your fingers trickle along his broad front. “Chanyeol-” His name leaves your mouth as a moan when Jungkook pounds into you deep, his cock reaching spots that make you breathless for a moment. “Chanyeol is a good kisser.”

“He can have your mouth.” Jungkook’s leans down, shadowy eyes staring straight into yours. You inhale shakily. “He can have a little kiss.” His tone is tinted with mockery, combined with a condescending undercurrent. “But your pussy,” – Jungkook lifts your chin with his thumb – “is mine.”

Your heart beats abnormally in your chest.

“Prove it.”

Jungkook is not in the least swayed by your provocation. He’s become used to it by now.

His brow twitches, the challenge twinkling in his eyes. Jungkook stops, his hand is on the curve of your hip, demanding you to flip over.

“Ass up.” He tugs your ass up in the air. His palm rests on the back of your head. “Face down.”

There’s nothing that makes you heart flutter more than sparking the fire in Jungkook.

He squeezes his cock between your plush pussylips. A forceful push of his hips coaxes a whiny moan from you.

“Prove it?” Jungkook ridicules you. “Fucking take it then.”

His hips clash against your body and you nuzzle your face deep into the pillow as a cry flies past your lips. Jungkook pounds you into his mattress, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

He eyes keep wandering to his name printed on the jersey. Your tiny, stunning body swathed in what belongs to him. It reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does – that you keep coming back to him because you want to be with him as much as he wants to be with you. That you can’t get enough of his cock as he can’t from your pussy. That you keep this secret arrangement going because neither of you is ready to let go.

And Jungkook makes sure it remains that way by fucking you the way he knows you will inevitably cum around his cock.

“Always so naughty, so bratty,” he spits, striking your ass. “You wanna act like a brat?” He smacks you again, harder. “Then you’re getting fucked like one.”

Jungkook wears a frown on his face. The wet sounds of his cock ruining your pussy spurs him on. His skin slaps against yours, creating obscene sounds that are one of Jungkook’s favourites.

After wetting his thumb with his spit, he dips his pad into your other hole, just to tease a little. You wriggle beneath him, whiny sounds erupting from you.

“Let me tease,” he shushes, spitting on your puckered hole and circling his thumb over it. “Gonna fuck your ass the next time you behave like a fucking brat.”

“God,” you mutter into the pillow.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” Jungkook removes his finger just when you started relaxing, earning a prolonged whimper from you. “You’re not the only one who gets to tease, princess.” Jungkook feels your walls clamp together. He hisses at your tight pussy, swallowing his own desire to fill you up and focusing on you instead.

“G-gonna cum. Fuck – I’m so close.”

“That’s what I thought.” His voice is dripping in contempt, but that’s exactly what prompts you to reach your high like a whirlwind. “Moan my fucking name when you cum.”

“Jungkook.” You meekly whine his name, heavy puffs hit the pillow as the feeling in your tummy expands into your entire body.

“Good girl.” His saccharine lilt dispels your drowsiness, gently drawing you back to reality.

Jungkook withdraws his cock from your clenching walls. You complain in a sulky grumble at the loss.

You lift your head and crane your neck around.

His doe eyes shimmer in a way that you can’t quite pinpoint. Before you can ask him, Jungkook spreads your cheek apart with one hand, his other plunging two fingers inside your soft pussy.

Your head plops down again as a shrill squeak springs from your chest.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His fingers are fast, unyielding. “You’re gonna cum again for me.”

“Too much.”

“Yeah? Too much?” Mock sympathy bleeds from his voice. The pad of his fingers rub over your sensitive spot. “I know you can take it,” Jungkook says. “I know my pussy can take it.”

Your fingers claw at the pillow beneath your face, muffled mewls flying across your lips. He gets you to the point of losing yourself in another climax fast, his deft fingers know precisely how to move inside you, how to get your walls spasm around them as the feeling builds up in your tummy.

“Huh, princess?” His other hand delivers a teasing spank on your ass. “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Always so greedy.”

You want to say no I’m not gonna cum, want to act bratty again just because, but your head answers his taunting question with little, desperate yeses like a mantra.

The muscles in your belly contract when everything in your body begins to tingle. You tremble, pussy pulsating from the sensitivity. It’s so intense your hands hurt from gripping the pillow for dear life. The sounds in the room are nasty, so wet. More prominent than usual.

You are frazzled, a quivering mess lying limply on his rustled sheets.

Jungkook’s fingers are still sheathed between your fluttering walls, but his movements have stopped. “Fuck, princess,” he says with wonder. “You squirted everywhere.”

Your perplexity wins over your need to catch your breath and you turn your head, blinking in confusion. “I did what?”

“Squirted,” he curtly repeats in a mumble, popping his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean.

It has happened before, just very rarely. But every time you have, Jungkook eyes sparkled in a lustful and dreamy way – like right now.

“Was that good, huh?” He ribs, lips curving up into a smirk.

With a tired sigh, your cheek meets the cushiony pillow. You mumble something incoherent.

Jungkook stoops down. His hand brushes over your hair, smoothing some flyaways that sprouted from your wriggling.

“Don’t underestimate me.” His voice is low, eliciting tingles on your skin, but the kiss he plants on your cheek is soft, feather light.

You smile, a little deliriously, a little awestruck.

You roll onto your back. “Where do you wanna cum?”

Jungkook sits on his heels, lazily stroking his cock. He ogles your body, tiny puffs bubbling from his mouth. Instinctively, your catch your lower lip with your teeth. Watching Jungkook pleasure himself, the view of his tatted hand in general, makes your fingertips itch in anticipation.

You exchange your hand with his while he still muses over his choices.

He gazes at you slack-jawed. “Face,” Jungkook utters between desperate moans.

You shake your head. It is tempting, considering Jungkook’s yearning eyes, but you don’t want to ruin your make-up. “I still have somewhere to go.”

A frown twists his features. “Where are you going? It’s late.”

“It’s not late,” you argue.

“It’s dark outside. I should bring you home.” His hand closes around yours, signalising to tighten your grasp on his cock. You do, pumping him with a little more pressure. The soft sounds from his lips that follow are like music to your ears.

“It’s just the stationary shop. Need to stock up on some things.”

“Stickers?” he questions, brows furrowed when your hand moves faster.

“Yeah. And my black gel pen too.”

“The 0.5 mm one?”

You giggle. “Yes, that one.”

You lean closer to add a little spit on his dick, but you can’t help but tease him a little. You glide your tongue over the underside of his cock, swirl around his flush tip and suck a little on it.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Mouth feels so good.”

You continue with kitten licks, eyes casted upwards to catch every reaction. The visible muscles on Jungkook’s tummy strain as he nears his climax.

“Gonna cum,” he chokes out.

You draw back, pumping his cock as breathy, helpless moans escape Jungkook. Strings of white land on his defined abdomen and you watch him release with avid eyes.

“So much,” you mumble, flicking your finger through the mess on Jungkook’s glistening skin and sticking your cum covered pad into your mouth.

Gaspingly, Jungkook reaches for tissues on the bedside table. He cleans himself up before he orders you to lie down. He spreads your legs apart by pushing your thigh and tenderly cleans you as well.

He haphazardly tosses the dirty tissues back on his table.

“Wanna take a shower?” Jungkook mutters into the crook of your neck.

You throw your leg over his cinched waist. “I gotta go. The stationary shop will close soon.”

Jungkook pulls his jersey up, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your collarbones and down to your tits. He shortly teases your sensitive bud with his tongue before he presses a kiss below your boob. You feel him suck your skin between his puffy lips and utter a whiny complaint.

“No marks.” You lightly kick him with your heel on his ass.

Jungkook grouses against your skin. “No one’s gonna see it here.” He says affronted.

“I couldn’t wear the cute top I wanted today because of this.” You point to the faint purple mark beneath your collarbone.

“You look cuter in this anyway,” he retorts smoothly, giving your tit one last peck. “Should wear it more often.” He covers your body with his jersey again.

You grow shy beneath his stare, but you push him off your body and stand up. Jungkook fluffs the pillow and lets his back hit the mattress.

He has a cheeky smile plastered on his face. “You look so fucking sexy in my jersey.” His tongue swipes over his pink bottom lip. “Do a little twirl for me.” With his palm tucked under his head, he watches with relish as you spin.

You giggle mid-turn, a bubbly feeling swelling in your chest.

“Pretty.” Jungkook grabs his phone from the nightstand. “Lemme snap a pic.” He sits up.

You turn your back to him, and he gently pulls your hair to the side.

Jungkook has a vast collection of pictures of you from numerous nights spent in each other's bed. He takes joy in photography, and being Jungkook’s muse feels oddly fulfilling – but only on condition that your face is not visible in any of his snapshots.

You gasp when your feel Jungkook’s sneaky hand pull up his jersey and grab a handful of your ass. He chuckles at your reaction and takes quick pictures of the pretty ass in front of him.

“Yah,” you scold him, turning around again.

He flashes you the softest, dimpled smile and you are momentarily struck dumb by his effortless prettiness.

He grabs your hand and pulls you onto his lap. “Lemme come with you.”

You arrange his tangly bangs. “You know we can’t.” You’re very careful not to be seen with Jungkook. Rumours spread quickly here.

“No one will see us in the stationary store,” he insists.

“Why do you even wanna go there.” You quirk an eyebrow. “There’s nothing for you there.”

Jungkook shrugs indifferently, but you catch the corner of his lips lift faintly. “You’re there.”

“Stop playing,” you say, nudging his shoulder. But you can’t help the smile that forms on your face.

“Watchu doing tomorrow?”

“Shopping for a dress. Mum said I should dress nicely for the dinner with Minho and his parents.”

You don’t want your parents to come over for the weekend. And you certainly don’t want to have dinner with their friends, whose son they’re trying to set you up with.

“We won’t see each other then?” Jungkook asks, squeezing your bare thigh.

Your fingers find his necklace and you toy with it a little. “Probably.” You lean closer to catch his mouth in a kiss before you get up. “I’m gonna head out now.”

“Send me pics,” Jungkook tells you in his sweet voice.

“Huh?”

“In that dress you’re gonna buy. I wanna see you in it.”

You titter at his shamelessness. “Behave for once, Jungkook.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Say that again and I’ll throw you over my lap.”

He knows exactly what he is doing. He sports a proud smile on his face, cocking his head in provocation.

You muse over it as you step into your panties. Your eyes land on your journal on Jungkook’s desk.

You’d like to stay, but the stationary store. You wanted to spend a cosy evening in your room, journaling with some new supplies to finish off the hectic day.

You remove Jungkook’s jersey from your body. His round eyes immediately land on your naked figure.

Mischievousness contorts your features. “Next time,” you promise.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

read pt 1 here if u haven't <3

Care for you.

care for you — myg

⟶ SUMMARY : Yoongi will always care for you, no matter what.

⟶ GENRE : fluff, doctor au

⟶ RATING : pg-13

⟶ PAIRING : doctor!husband!yoongi x reader

⟶ WC : 2.6k

⟶ WARNINGS : curse words, yoongi is way too grumpy, yoongi’s intern suffers A LOT, seokjin being the sun basically, yoongi thinks oc has gotten into a bad car accident, anxiety, small panic attack (yoongi thinks oc is in a coma, dead, etc), mention of car accidents, bruises, hospitals & ERs. yoongi being a secret cinnamon roll, i am a sucker for grumpy x sunshine ok don’t come forme. this is honestly just pure fluff.

⟶ NOTE : this is not a request, however i needed to write this. god, this is just way too cute, i want this yoongi :( the way he is so soft for oc like AHHHHHHHH hdgjgfehf, this melted me so much. fuck. you’ll now find my in the corner crying thanks. NOT EDITED MUCH.

please reblog or leave feedback, it helps us creator a lot! thank u so much, i appreciate it a lot <3

MASTERLIST.

Today has been a long, horrible day for Yoongi.

To start off the day, he woke up almost an hour late to work, and if it weren’t for your angelic voice waking him up, who knows how long he would’ve taken to open his eyes.

As soon as he got out of the car, it started raining. Great, he thought, I hate the fucking rain. It reminded him of death. Every time it rained, he always had to perform brain surgery on a patient that got into a car accident, and most of them didn’t make it.

Second (maybe one of the worst in Yoongi’s opinion) the coffee machine broke, and without his morning coffee, his peanut brain can’t function properly, and his morning coffee was one of the only things that could hold back his irritability and anger.

Keep reading

The lesson

The Lesson | MY | Drabble

pairing: min yoongi x reader (f), mature 18+, explicit, minors dni

au: jewelry heist, pwp (sort of)

word count: 3.1k

summary: dom!yoongi. sub!reader. yoongi realizes how much the reader likes to be told what to do, and that's really the whole fic.

a/n: Thanks to everyone for their patience and kind words. I'm glad to have a fresh start.

---

Your knee bounces against the underside of the table. Gritting your teeth, you force your leg to be still. The interview room is a small rectangle with no windows, not even a two-way mirror to liven the gloom. You’re on the fifth floor of the police precinct, and you need to get your shit together.

The detective slams his hand against the scarred wood. “… isn’t that right?” He’s three inches from your face, leering at you. 

Fucking hell, you haven’t been paying attention to this guy. You’re a little, okay, a lot, distracted.

“I asked you a question,” he shouts.

It isn’t this sentient slab of beef that has you nervous, though. You slow your breathing. You need a strategy.

Min Yoongi is going to be here any minute, and he’s going to be pissed.

The detective is still ranting about the fact that they caught you. Not exactly red-handed, you didn’t have the necklace yet, but let’s just say very suspiciously-handed in the penthouse suite of the hotel, a little too interested in the formidable safe in the closet of the primary bedroom. Thankfully, you ditched your earpiece and safe cracking tools before they arrived. Your hotel maid’s uniform gave you an excuse to be in the room, but it looks bad. Even you can admit this.

“Are you listening to me?” the detective says, trying to sound menacing. 

You refrain from rolling your eyes. This is the kind of guy that assumes his size will get him out of any trouble, and you already have a plan to knock him out. You just hope you get to use it when Yoongi arrives. You need to show him you’re not completely incompetent. 

A cold feeling moves through you like ice in your veins. What if he leaves you here? Technically, he doesn’t have to do anything to help. He could walk away tonight, and you wouldn’t be able to find him again. What if he thinks you aren’t worth the trouble? 

“That’s right, you better be nervous,” the detective preens.

Someone knocks on the door.

“I don’t care what the chief says, my client hasn’t been charged with anything. I demand to see her.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’ll show myself in.”

The detective lurches to the door as it opens. Min Yoongi steps into the room, black suit, white shirt, and gray tie. All bespoke, all worth more than the annual rent on your shitty apartment. His black hair is pushed back from his face. He looks like he’s about to be photographed stepping out of a sleek black vehicle. Also, he’s wearing glasses. Glasses you haven’t seen before. They’re a distraction. Get your shit together.

“Who the hell are you?” the detective asks. 

“I’m her lawyer.” He points at you, and you force yourself not to shrink from his gaze. The explanations and excuses you want to make die on your lips. This isn’t the time. 

The detective looks at you questioningly.

You nod. 

Yoongi tongues his cheek. Ohhh, he’s pissed pissed.

“Can we move this along?” Yoongi asks. “I don’t have all night.”

“You don’t have all night?! Why I’m gonna—”

But whatever the detective is going to do is lost forever when Yoongi shuts him up with one hand to the jugular. He falls to the floor with a thud, and Yoongi gives him a few swift kicks to silence any further protestations.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say, hating the petulance in your voice. “I could’ve handled him.”

“Really? So, you aren’t currently handcuffed to the table?”

“Get me out of these things,” you say, lifting your hands.

“Aren’t you a lock pick?” He kneels to the get the keys from the prone detective. “I’m sorry, aren’t you the best safe cracker in the country?”

“I am,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Maybe when I see it, I’ll believe it.”

“They changed the model. I was prepared for the 10,000X, not the newest version.”

“I told you to be prepared for anything.”

He’s right, and he did. You got a little cocky, but for good reason. You are the best.

“Look—”

“If only you could follow simple directions,” Yoongi says, unlocking the handcuffs. “Then maybe we wouldn’t be here.”

“All I needed was thirty more seconds.”

Yoongi has you by the wrist before you can blink. He drags you to your feet.

“I told you that you didn’t have thirty more seconds.” He takes a deep breath. “I told you to get out of there.”

He’s never been this close to you. In all those late-night meetings, convincing him to give you a chance, planning the heist for the hotel, you’ve never even dared to sit next to him. This entire job became a reality sitting across from each other at the 24-hour diner. Like a couple about to break up, you each paid for your own coffee. He always left first, reminding you of the retribution that would follow if you tried to find out where he lived. 

 “Can we talk about this later?”

“I think we’ll talk about it now.”

“Yoongi, we’re on the fifth floor.”

“This is why I work alone,” he says, shaking his head and releasing your wrist.

“Please give me another chance.” You’re begging sooner than you thought, but you’ve never seen him this angry. Not even when you finished his dessert at the diner.

“We’re done,” he says, leaving the room. 

You follow. It cannot end like this. 

Thankfully, the precinct is empty. There’s no one waiting in the hallway. Yoongi strides toward the elevator. 

“Wait a minute,” you say in a harsh whisper. “You can’t do this without me.”

He turns to face you, lifting one eyebrow in a perfect arch. “I’ve got a list of names and you aren’t even on it.”

You briefly shut your eyes. This is… probably true. There is no reason in the world why he has to work with you. 

“Look, we got off to a bad start.”

“We got off to a bad start when you finished my dessert. This is an ending.”

“Please,” you reach for his arm, but stop when he glares at you. “Can we talk about this?”

“I’m ditching my phone as soon as we’re out of here.” He stabs the elevator button. “Do not try to find me again. You won’t be pleased if you do.”

Just as the elevator door opens, an alarm rings out.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes as he steps inside. For a moment, you worry he'll prevent you from entering, but he allows you to pass.

The doors close. The elevator begins to move. Yoongi pulls the emergency brake.

“What the fuck?”

“Listen to me,” he says, calmly. Before you can even think, he has a hand around your throat, and he forces you against the back wall. 

Your heart races and your breathing speeds up. But whatever happens, you won’t cower. He might think you’re an idiot, but you'll look him in the eye.

“What did I tell you?”

You swallow painfully. Yoongi’s grip is firm. 

“That you were in charge, and that I was to follow directions.”

“What did I tell you to do?”

“You told me to get out of there before the cops rushed into the room.”

“What did you do instead?”

“I stayed because… because I was so close. I almost had the necklace in my hand.”

He huffs a breath. There is a hint of a smile on his face, but you wonder if you’ve imagined it, it’s gone so quickly.

Not releasing his grip on your neck, completely unaffected by the general alarm in the building and the sounds of cops rushing the corridors, he leans in close to your ear. You swear you feel his lips on your skin. 

“I had one rule,” he whispers. “And you violated it.”

“I know I can crack—”

“Shhhh,” he says.

You shiver from the feel of his breath on your neck. 

“I'm speaking.”

You clench your fists. This motherfucker just shushed you, and it worked. But it’s not like you would put up a fight. He knows it. You know it. He’s going to keep you here as long as he wants. 

He pulls back, meeting your eye. Decision made, he bites his bottom lip. “Let’s see if you can follow directions.”

“Now?” 

This is insane. There’s an entire precinct of cops looking for you at this very moment. Pretty soon, they’re going to figure out one of the elevators is stopped.

He grins. “They’ll never think to look for us inside the building.”

“That’s because only an idiot—”

“Hmm, not a good start.” 

Goddamn him. 

He removes his hand from around your neck. You feel strangely lost without him holding you against the wall. You steady your breathing, resisting the urge to rub your skin. He knows what he’s doing. There won’t be a bruise. Just enough pressure to show you who’s in charge, not enough to leave a mark. 

Protestations die in your throat when you see the way he gazes at you. The air around you both is charged, and the space in the elevator feels intimately smaller than it did even a moment ago. 

You press your palms into the back wall, appreciating the cold of the metal under your hands. It grounds you. Reminds you of what’s real. Whatever he has planned, it is a foregone conclusion that he’s in charge. You might defy him when you are this close to holding a diamond necklace, so beautiful you can’t believe it’s real, imaging it around your own neck, but here in this moment, it’s clear that you will do whatever he commands. You realize that you’re willing to follow him where-the-fucking-ever. A frisson of excitement thrums low in your belly. Being caught by an entire precinct is worth whatever this is turning out to be. 

“Turn around,” he says. 

When you hesitate, he raises an eyebrow. 

You comply ridiculously fast. You hear that asshole chuckle again, but it doesn’t irritate you. It does something else. Something that you wish you could ignore, but you can’t. Just as you couldn’t ignore it all those nights sitting across from him—the way he would try to hide his real smile, the way he would push his hair out of his eyes and you focused a little too long on the silver rings on his fingers, the way he would stare into his coffee cup, and you wished you could ask him what made him sad.

Now you stare at the polished metal of the elevator wall, too close to see anything like a reflection, but you know he looms behind you. A ghost of smile crosses your face. 

He waits, and you resist the urge to squirm, feeling exposed in this ridiculous hotel maid’s outfit. 

“Nice dress,” he says. 

You can’t help but laugh with him. 

“Where do they find these things?” he asks. 

“Clearly, a fetish website.” 

This time you can feel his laugh on your neck. 

“Be a good girl. Pull up that skirt.”

There’s no going back from this. Already your blood is boiling with his instruction. Slowly, hesitantly, you place your palms flat against your thighs and drag the skirt over your hips. 

“Follow directions and I'll give you what you want.”

As your panties are exposed, there’s a hiss of appreciation from Yoongi. The job might have required this ridiculous hotel uniform, but you make your own decisions when you can. 

“Red?” He runs a finger over the lace trim of the tiny, barely there, covering. 

Already you feel your slick sex, and you wish you could do anything to relieve the ache that he so quickly created. 

You must make a move for some kind of relief. 

“No, none of that.” He kicks your legs wider so that you’re more exposed. You’ve never felt so vulnerable and so fucking turned on in your life. What in the hell? You want to be angry, but it’s the best thing you’ve ever experienced. Everything fades so that your world is the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand on your waist. He nudges you to lean over. You comply, realizing that you’re arching your back, wishing for any kind of contact, any kind of sign that he is as excited as you are, but all you get is his voice dripping with disdain, and a grip that suggests mastery not intimacy. It… isn’t a turn off. 

He moves a hand down your body, until he reaches your inner thigh, caressing and teasing. He takes his time, and you struggle not to squirm. When he finally, finally reaches your panties, breath ghosting your neck, your hands almost drop the skirt that he still has you holding.  

Have you been sleepwalking through life? How the hell are you turned on this quickly? A hot, sweet ache is unfurling low in your belly. He’s barely done anything. But knowing that you are the complete focus of his inexhaustible attention is enough to make your heart race. You grip the fabric of the skirt in your hands, willing yourself to comply with whatever he asks.

Without warning, he lowers your panties, pushing them down until they are around your booted ankles. You shiver at the exposure. 

You want to say something, but your thoughts are incoherent. Nothing is uttered but a broken sob, and your mumbled pleas for more. Nothing will ever be enough after this. 

He runs a finger along the seam of your wet pussy. “Holy fuck, you’re dripping.”

His touch is light, and it’s infuriating. “So, you do like following directions.”

“Yoongi,” you whine. 

You bite your lip to stop saying it again. His light touch is torture when you want nothing more than to be filled, begging for more because you’re sure whatever he’s willing to give you won’t be enough. 

He starts slow, languid circles around your clit. You moan, dropping your head even as you continue to hold your skirt so he can do what he wants with your body. 

After more of this delicious torture, you push back against him, needing more friction, more of everything.

His hand stops, and he pulls his body away from yours.  You sob at the loss. 

“You want it so bad, and I’ve barely even touched you.” 

There’s nothing you can say in response, because he’s absolutely right.

“Come here, lick these fingers for me. See how wet you are.”

What can you do but obey? You would do anything he asked at this point. He presses his fingers against your bottom lip and you open your mouth, greedily sucking the taste of your release. Your shameless in how much you want to show him just how good you can be. 

“Good girl.” He removes his fingers from your mouth. You can only imagine what you look like, mouth red, lips slick, voice slurred.

“Please,” you say. You’re not even sure you know exactly what you are asking him for. For him to let you go? For him to never stop? 

“I like it when you beg. What do you want?”

“Wanna come.”

“Hmm, don’t think you’ve earned yet.”

“I’ll be good,” you whimper. You can’t really believe how he has unraveled you so quickly, so completely. 

“Don’t come until I tell you.”

You moan as he pushes two fingers past your willing pussy. It isn’t enough, it isn’t nearly enough. He alternates between faster and harder pressure on your clit and fucking you with his fingers. He’s working you up to a frenzy, and it is taking everything you have not to come.

“Not yet.” He leaves a tender kiss on your neck. It is so at odds with the way his hand is working you. You almost come just from that alone. 

You groan, arms shaking, legs weak. 

“You look good like this, doing what I say.”

“I can,” you insist, but your sob undermines the message.

He hums his appreciation, but doesn’t relent in his ministrations. He just keeps going, his breath on your neck like he wants to bite your skin. He rubs your aching clit, you moan and buck but still he doesn't give the least amount of what you want, a terrible kind of tease he is, but you would rather die than have him stop. Time is suspended as he keeps you hovering, just way from your own release.

You groan his name, and he chuckles.

You’re biting your lip to keep from saying it again, but something must give way as tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

“That’s a good girl," he says in that bored drawl, as if hadn't a care in the world. “Come for me.”

Your back arches, body shudders and you can’t help the moans pouring from your lips. Pleasure moves through you like fire. You drop your skirt, as you bring up your hands to brace yourself against the wall. The pressure has built so tightly, so completely, that your release almost hurts. You just keep coming. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you want nothing more than to be stuffed full by whatever he will give you. You heave a sigh as your body finally calms. You turn around to face him, sinking against the back wall, trying to catch your breath. 

But he takes it again. 

When he meets your eye, he brings his hand to his mouth and sucks your release from his fingers.

There are a lot of things that you could say, like how the hell are you both going to get out of here, but really there is only one thing that really matters. 

“For all that is fucking holy, let me suck your dick.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You haven’t earned it.”

“I’m begging you.”

“I know. I like it.”

“You don’t want me to?”

“Sweetheart,” he says, holding your chin in his hands, his grip strong. “I’m gonna to use that mouth, and you’re gonna love it, but not now.”

“Why?”

“One of us needs to be able to deny themselves, and it clearly isn’t you.”

“I was so close to getting the safe open, I swear.”

“I know,” he says, pushing the elevator lock so that the car lurches back into movement. “That’s why we’re going back to the hotel.”

For the first time, you realize the elevator is going up.

“Now?”

“They won’t look for us there.” He shrugs. “Probably the safest place we could be.”

This is an insane plan. It makes no fucking sense, but on the other hand, he’s giving you another chance. That’s all that matters.

“I can get it open. I just need thirty seconds.”

“I’m giving you fifteen, since you’re the best in the country.”

You knew that would come back to bite you in the ass. 

“Then you can wear whatever we find in the safe while I teach you another lesson.” He rubs his thumb against your cheek, hard. It feels heavenly. 

“Another one?” you ask, reeling from image he’s just conjured. You on your knees dripping with diamonds, doing whatever he asks. Yoongi grabs your hand, pulling you through the open doors of the elevator.

“Sweetheart, it’s going to take a while for you to learn what I have to teach.”

__

a/n: thank you for reading!!!!!

bts au

Idk if ur still doing drabbles, but if you are, maybe ot7xreader "you're so different, I love it" "that must feel isolating" anyways ily & all your works u are such an amazing writer 👉👈🖤💜 keep up the good work! :)

“That must feel isolating.”

“Hm?” You looked up from the making of a pretty bouquet in process, confused by what Hoseok meant.

He beckoned his head at the bouquets already made placed on the side while more flowers scattered in an orderly pattern on the table in front of you. “Working so hard late into the night,” he said. “You work alone, owning a pretty flower shop. Doesn’t it get lonely?”

Your lips curled into a small lopsided smile. “No,” you said, “it’s quite rewarding when I’m blessed by your presences after your own jobs.”

Yoongi smirked. “Blessed, huh?” No one had actually been that brave enough to say such things especially to guys like them.

Gangsters.

“You’re different,” Seokjin mused. You had always been different from the first moment you met their eyes and didn’t flinch away but instead greeted them with a warm smile. “I love it.”

The sky was dark, stars above in constellations outside, rarely any vehicles maneuvered around because it was so late — or as your clock stated, too early in the morning for even the sun. It was just the eight of you in the flower shop feeling as if the eight of you were the only ones left in the world.

Pleasants nights just enjoying each other’s comforts. You always looked forward to these times, not caring for how tired you would get and only making excuses to work on your flowers when in reality, you’ve already caught up and was so far beyond from your goal. You just liked having them around even though the only thing you really knew about them was that they were gangsters, headquarters laying right across the street. While the only thing they knew about you was that you were a pretty florist, flower shop laying right across the street of their headquarters.

Jungkook walked in one day on a Valentine’s Day, hoping to get something for his boyfriends even though midnight was about to strike in less than five minutes and your shop had already closed. You giggled at the sight of the man, hair messy and ruffled, looking all disheaveled and in a rush. You made an exception for him and allowed him to just walk out with the flower bouquets you recommended him, telling him that he should just try not to be late.

That was how you saw him again the next day and later, as time passed, you got to meet the rest. They always came around 11:55 pm, your flower shop long closed with you hiding behind a table with all sorts of flower arrangements spread about.

It had become a routine, months in, yet the only thing you knew about each other were your names and what they and you worked as. Perhaps one day you’d come to know more, perhaps they would let you.

Perhaps not.

It didn’t matter at the moment.

Until something changed and one day, the routine didn’t come around for a whole week. You waited and waited, wondering what was going on, eyes casting to their HQ yet never able to catch sight of them.

Ten days passed and on the eleventh, your shop was left a wreck, flower pots shattered, dirt everywhere, the petals of the flowers ripped and stepped on, the windows broken into thousands of pieces, your door left ajar.

Your heart clenched, lips quivering, and you stood there in the middle of the floor, tears uselessly falling yet you made no sound whatsoever. You just stood there, staring blankly at nothing, face never distorted with pain as if you had no emotions.

Someone grabbed your hand from behind and turned you around forcefully. “Y/N..-” Jimin called out of breath as if he had just ran there and when he met your eyes, a blank stare with tears escaping as if you hadn’t realized, his heart pained.

“I...I’m so sorry,” Namjoon said, walking in with a face distorted of guilt. “Our rival,” he said, “they found out we’ve been frequenting this place and I thought that if we stayed away for a while, they wouldn’t do anything to harm you.”

“They found out you meant something to us so they decided to trash your place as a warning.” Taehyung’s brows furrowed. “We’ll get out of your life, Y/N, they won’t come back again, I promise. We’ll clean this place up, you don’t have to worry about any expenses or whatever. We’ll take care of it.”

“We’re sorry for everything,” Jungkook said regrettably and you could see how they all wanted nothing but to make things right again. “You won’t have to see us again, I promise.”

They turned around to leave, a bittersweet goodbye, but you squeezed Jimin’s hand before he could let go and he turned around, confused. “Y/N?”

Upon hearing Jimin’s voice, the rest stopped to turn around, wondering what was keeping them and looking to you for an answer.

You meant something to them, Taehyung said, that was why their rivals had decided to give them a warning through you.

You looked at Jimin, another drop of tear falling yet you never showed any pain. “Take me with you,” you whispered and he watched you, surprised. “It’s indeed isolating here,” you said, noting on the question Hoseok had once asked. “It’s always been lonely but ever since you walked in, things didn’t feel as isolating as it was and I loved it. So,” you squeezed his hand again, “take me with you, I don’t care how dangerous it is. Just make it less lonely. Please.”

There was a moment of silence before Seokjin stepped forward, his footsteps echoing through the defeaning silence, and you looked up at him as he held his hand against your face, a gentle thumb brushing away your tears.

“You’re so different,” he said, “I love it.”

Boyfriend joonie

｡⋆｡˚ IMAGINE | namjoon is your boyfriend and he’s leaning against the lamp post waiting for you

｡⋆｡˚ a/n: first post! my friend’s bts bias is namjoon, so i sometimes write her these fluff scenarios that make our delulu minds crazy. this scenario in particular is our favorite one because how could you not think about kim namjoon as total boyfriend material in the lamp post photo?

—

you have a class at night so you tell him not to wait for you. though you’re secretly hoping that he’s outside when you get out. once class is over, you look everywhere for him, but he’s nowhere in sight. you sigh and start walking towards the parking lot. but then you look up and see him leaning against the lamp post, smiling at you. you smiled back as he says “did you really think i’d let you go home this late at night all alone?”

Cherry balm

⨽ title: cherry balm

⨽ summary: you start using a new lip balm and jimin loves the taste.

⨽ pairing: jimin x reader

⨽ genre: fluff, established relationship

⨽ warnings: kissing

⨽ word count: 891

⨽ a/n: if you cringe towards the end forgive me. writing kissing scenes is a struggle for me lol.

There was a soft smile on Jimin's face as he watched you move around his kitchen. 

"Where do you keep your big bowls again?" You asked as you closed another cupboard. 

"In the bottom cupboard to your left," he said, and you hummed in response before opening it and taking out a bowl. 

He loved days like this. Days where'd you decide to come to his place and spend the night. 

"What're you making?" he asked as you began to set the ingredients on the counter. 

"Chocolate chip cookies," you told him. "I don't think I've made them for you before."

"You haven't," he said, getting up from the bar stool and making his way to the island. "Do you want me to help with anything?"

"Remember what happened the last time you lent me a hand?" You asked, pouring flour into a measuring cup. 

The last time you were here, you made cupcakes. 

What started off as playfully putting flour on each other's noses and cheeks turned into you being covered in flour. 

"I don't want to clean up a mess like that again..." he chuckled. "I promise this time I'm going to behave."

"I'll let you help me put them into trays," you smiled, causing him to playfully pout. 

"Please?" He asked, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

"I won't be able to move properly like this, Jimin," you huffed, trying to get the man off you. "I said you can help me put them in the trays. I'll even let you try the batter."

He only hummed in response before burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

One thing Jimin loved about you was your love for vanilla. It was your favourite scent and flavour. 

The majority of the baked goods you made were vanilla, and almost everything you used smelled like vanilla. You shampoo, your body wash, your perfumes, everything. 

Jimin's favourite was your lip balm. God, how he loved the Oh So Heavenly vanilla lip balm you used. 

"Do you want a chocolate chip?" You asked, popping one into your mouth and humming at the taste. 

Jimin lifted his head and nodded, opening his mouth and saying: "Ah."

You smiled before popping two into his mouth. "You know you could learn to make these if you just focused on what I was doing. So you don't always have to wait for me to come over for you to have something baked."

"Even if I learnt... I don't think they'd taste as good as yours," he sighed, letting go of you. 

"You'll be using the same recipe, so they'd definitely taste like mine," you said. "Here, you can taste the batter and tell me how it is."

You handed Jimin a teaspoon of the batter. "Please tell me if it's too sweet."

When Jimin put the teaspoon in his mouth, his eyes widened at the taste. "If this is how the batter tastes like this, I can't wait for the cookies."

"Is it too sweet or not?" You asked, taking the spoon and tossing it in the sink. 

"It tastes just fine to me," he smiled, giving you a quick kiss. 

"Don't kiss me when you have batter on your lips," you whined, licking your lips. 

"I can't see my lips," he chuckled, licking his lips to get the batter off. 

Jimin's face turned in confusion as he licked his lips again. 

Something was different, and he couldn't put his finger on it. 

"It's off," you told him, walking to the oven to get the tray. 

"Baby," he said, and you hummed. "Can you kiss me again?"

"In the kitchen?" you asked with a frown, placing the tray on the counter. 

"Relax," Jimin told you, knowing how you felt about being intimate in the kitchen. You were okay with hugs and pecks but nothing more. "I'm just asking for a kiss. Nothing more."

"Fine," you huffed before walking to him and kissing him again. 

Jimin's hands made their way around your waist and pulled you closer when your lips landed on his again. 

They were still sweet with the taste of chocolate from the chocolate chip batter. But instead of your sweet bubble balm, he could faintly taste something new. He wasn't sure what flavour this was he loved it. 

Jimin suddenly lifted you up onto the counter, causing you to gasp. With your lips parted, he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. 

He stood between your legs, a hand in your hair as you continued to kiss him. 

"You changed your lip balm," he breathed when you eventually pulled away, your bodies still close. 

"Yeah," you whispered, catching your breath. "I couldn't find another vanilla bubble balm, so I had to get something else. Does it taste weird?"

"Not at all," he told you. "What flavour is it?"

You unconsciously licked your bottom lip. "I think it's cherry."

"Cherry?" he asked, lips brushing against yours, and you hummed in response. "Keep using it for a while."

And his lips were pressed against yours again. He wasn't sure if it was because he was different compared to what he was used to, but the taste of your lips was almost intoxicating. 

He couldn't think about anything other than how he really hoped you'd use this cherry balm for a while.