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the thing about adulthood is when someone says something extremely rude to you, you can either turn the other cheek or calmly & firmly correct them. The third option is to tell them “say that again, I’ll bite you” & everyone sort of nervously laughs and tries to move on from your little joke. Which is why I think it’s very important that when they do say it again you follow through. Nobody actually expects you to bite them. We should be biting more. Also if you’re with the county health department do not read thi s post
The Exile: Hmmm... And what will happen if Mal and I die fulfilling your plan?
Revan: Die? While you're both supposed to be personal realizers of my plans you're not allowed to die!
....
Emma : is it okay to massacre innocent children?
Eren : 👁️👄👁️
Drive Me Crazy
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x f!reader
Genre: smut
warnings: strangers to lovers, virgin!JK, dry humping, oral sex, cum eating
Length: ~3.7k
Note: yes i'm insane. no i won't be taking further questions. thank u @gyuswhore for chaperoning my descent into JK madness
summary: You're not the only one with a shitty dating life. Your driver seems to be having a worse night than you can imagine. But things take a turn for the better in the backseat of his car.
m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
“Uber for Y/N?” you ask, stumbling into the backseat. “Thanks. God, you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man, Ian according to the information on the app, gasps.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You’re a wreck; makeup running, clothes damp from the rain peppering on the window. The last thing you want is some hot guy as your driver for the short journey back to your apartment but at this point you can’t muster the energy to care.
“Uhhh—”
“You probably don’t want to hear about my shitty night.”
“Well that and—” he starts, cut off before he can say more by your tipsy motormouth.
“Where does a man get off telling me he isn’t interested in gold diggers when he’s a public school teacher? No offense but what gold?” you ramble. “Not to mention, when I told the waiter to split the bill he asked if I thought he didn’t have any money. Like make up your mind dude.”
“What the fuck?” he asks lowly.
You nod in agreement, hands thrown wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m saying!”
“That’s fucked up.”
The thickness of his voice doesn’t register in your mind, a broken edgy scratching at the edges of your brain but it doesn’t signal any significant interest “Oh, that's not even the worst part.”
“There’s more?”
“He said ‘I asked too many personal questions.’”
“Like?”
“What he liked to do for fun, if he’s originally from the city, do you like dogs or cats? Literally anything I could think of because apparently he’s allergic to carrying a conversation.” In your hand, your phone rings with an unsaved number. “Hello?”
“Hi, this is your Uber. Did you mean to cancel your ride?”
“What?”
“Ian from Uber? I’ve been circling the block and haven’t found you and you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Oh! I’m sorry I’ll just—cancel. Yep. Bye.” You stare at the equelly unease expression on Not-Uber Driver Ian’s face, muddled brain racing. If he isn’t your driver that means you got into the car with a random man.
“Who the fuck are you?” you scream.
“Who the fuck are you?” he yells back.
You fiddle with the door handle, unable to grab a hold with shaky hands. “Oh my god, you’re a kidnapper.”
“I’m not a kidnapper!”
“That’s what a kidnapper would say!” You fumble for the pepper spray in your bag only to find it absent. It’s not your usual bag. It’s the nicer one that barely fits your phone and chapstick. Damn it.
“YOU GOT IN MY CAR,” he argues.
He makes a good point. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I tried but you talk a lot.”
Another good point.
“Oh my god, what the hell,” you gasp. “Why are you sitting here with the doors unlocked? I could have robbed you.”
“I used my last five bucks to buy this ice cream. Just kill me instead.”
You balk. “That’s so sad.”
“Yeah, I’m aware.”
“You’re a horrible kidnapper.”
“And you’re a pretty shitty carjacker so I’d say we’re even.”
If he was dangerous he's had plenty of time to prove it. Instead, when he looks back over the center console, all you see is the red rimmed eyes of a kicked puppy with a bird nest for hair. A ridiculous expression for a man of his size but you pity him nonetheless. He’s harmless. Pathetic. But harmless.
There’s a story about him and you’ve always been curious. “Okay, not-Ian, why are you sitting in a parking lot eating ice cream on a Friday night? Kidnapper thing aside, this is just sad.”
He’s hot. Even in nothing but sweats and his own misery. The intimidating kind of handsome that people, men and women, pine over. Hand themselves over on a silver platter if he so much as asked.
“Thanks,” he grunts, going for another spoon of ice cream.
“So why are you upset?” The rain outside intensifies, setting the scene to bare your souls in his cramped Toyota.
“Ugh…” he hesitates.
“You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t think it can be any more embarrassing than what I just went through.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Why not? If it’s more embarrassing then I won’t steal a bite. Is that chocolate?”
“Cookie dough,” he corrects. “This girl I’ve been talking to ditched me.”
“Because?”
He prepares with a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever motive his fling had. “I’m a virgin.”
“What?” you ask dumbly. Virgin.
Chin tipped back, he swipes at his face in embarrassment. “I told you it's embarrassing.”
“You’re eating your feelings because you’re a virgin?”
“Yes.” He waits for your interjection. When it doesn’t come he hesitantly continues. “And the last person I told laughed in my face and started hooking up with my roommate. So…”
“What a bitch.”
“Yeah. People just assume I’m some kind of man whore.” He explains, head banging against the wheel. “But I’ve never done anything besides… ya know?”
“I have no idea, complete stranger.”
“Like hand stuff.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely a virgin,” you snort. “Move over, I’m coming up.”
Shimmying into the front seat takes more coordination than you’re prepared for. The hem of your dress rises to brazen heights, a draft curling around the edge of your panties. Its a feeling you assumed would be happening with your date and not in the car with a random stranger. But beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s good ice cream.
He pointedly avoids looking anywhere close to your legs. Polite. Innocent. Virginal. How cute.
“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” His eyes roll as you settle into the passenger seat, snatching the container and taking a bite from the same spoon he’d been using.
“Sorry,” you say after swallowing. “Is it because you don’t want to? Because that girl can go fuck herself then.”
“No, I just, I don’t know. I get nervous? They’re expecting someone who knows what they’re doing and I have no idea. And then all I can think about is what if I’m bad at it which makes me more nervous and then I feel like throwing up.”
“Please tell me you haven’t thrown up on a girl.”
“Ew, no,” he laughs, taking a bite for himself. “I just make an excuse to slow down and then leave.”
“Okay. Well…” You try to think of something, anything, that could make him feel better. It’s not everyday a stranger spills their guts about lacking sexual experience. “So what if you’re bad? It’s not like you can’t get better.”
“Okay, but what girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s bad in bed?”
“How do you know you’re bad if you’ve never even tried? It’s different if you’re bad and you don’t care. Just tell whoever you're with you’ve never done it before. If they don’t jump at the chance to teach you then they can fuck off.”
“Well, Mina rubbed my face in it—”
“Oh fuck her. She seems like a bitch.”
“You’re not wrong,” he says.
Rain drizzles on the windshield, obscuring the lights into messy streaks. A flood of memories surrounding your own virginity rush to the forefront.
Your college boyfriend, Jimin, wanted to wait. It was cute. High school sweethearts going to the same school, taking similar classes, holding hands in the library. You thought he wasn’t ready and you respected it, found it endearing that he wasn’t like most of the guys your friends dated that couldn’t wait to do it.
Or you did until you decided to surprise Jimin for his birthday with breakfast in bed and got your own surprise. A girl, naked in his bed, Jimin’s own clothes scattered around the room.
You broke up with him right there. Two days of crying later, you invited your lab partner, the one Jimin couldn’t stand, over.
It was Yoongi that sent a selfie of you two cuddled up in bed to Jimin. He still likes to cash in on that favor whenever he needs a dog sitter.
Yoongi knew there were no feelings involved. A simple favor in the form of revenge against a shitty ex. Maybe not-Ian is your chance to pay it forward. By the looks of things, you wouldn’t be suffering.
“Ya know, some girls like guys who are inexperienced. It’s hot knowing you can teach someone how to be good in bed. Like an ego boost.” You shrug. If he wasn’t looking at your legs before but he sure is now. Pink ears and round eyes, his fingers twitch in his lap as you suck the spoon clean. At least the hour spent shaving your legs isn’t going to waste. “Besides, you obviously care how the other person feels, which is more than some dudes.”
“Why would someone not care if the other person feels good?” he asks, tone laced with disgust. “That seems like the entire point.”
“The world is full of mysteries.”
“My name is Jungkook by the way.”
Jungkook. Fitting somehow. It tastes good on your tongue. Like the cookie dough ice cream.
“Y/N.”
You end up in his lap in true stereotypical fashion. A too long silence, his eyes on your mouth and yours on his. Someone leans forward and now you know Jungkook is a great kisser with even greater upper body strength.
His inexperience shows in the fine details: shaky hands, hesitant tongue, waiting for you to take the lead as not to offend. It’s endearing. Someone as big as him treating you with such gentleness. But it means he’s thinking about messing this up and that’s the opposite of what you want.
You kiss him deeper, a grip on the side of his neck that he eagerly surrenders too. Your other hand wedges between your chests. Teeth nipping at his lip, you rock against him, palming against the soft cotton sweats until he’s plump in your hand.
“God,” he chokes. His own hands busy themself on your body, one at the seat of your ass, teasing the edge of your dress where bare skin peaks out while the offers a tight grip at your chest, pinching your nipple in desperate retaliation.
“Feel good?” You rut again, a tease for your own pleasure in the form of Jungkook’s heavy breath. It’s decent contact on your core, not enough to get you off but plenty for right now.
Kissing is well in his realm of experience. Obvious from how quickly he finds his bearings, licking behind your teeth. It’s good. Better than dry humping his thigh in the front seat should be. Vision dark from his hands frantic at your ass, thighs rising to meet every torturous curl against the heat of his lap.
You fall into his shoulder, drool staining his sweater as you pant. “Ever had your dick sucked?”
“No.”
A vein raises across his neck and becomes your new guidemap. Your hand at his crotch squeezes, his cock twitching at the action. “Do you want to?”
“You don’t have to,” he hisses.
You squeeze his cock again, enough for a needy drive of his hips in response. “I want to.”
“Seriously?” he marvels.
“If it’s cool with you.” You nose along his jaw, teeth scraping red over his skin. His stomach dips under your hand. “Get in the back, I don’t need to get caught with your dick in my mouth.”
“Holy shit, don’t say that.” He kisses you again, firmer this time.
You crawl back through the narrow opening between the front seats, ass on full display for Jungkook’s eyes. The heat of his palm ghosts over your legs but he doesn’t touch. The deliberate arch in your spine isn’t enough to break his self control just yet.
He comes next. The struggle is endearing, half stuck between the seats and wiggling forward. “I think I’m stuck.”
“Why didn’t you just go around?” You snort, grabbing around his arms and pulling to no avail.
“Too late now.”
You're both laughing. Breathless because Jungkook is lodged between the seats with zero hope. “Why are you so heavy?”
He wiggles through with your help, nearly elbowing you in the head in the process. But he’s in the seat with his lap as prime real estate. You try to commandeer the space once again but Jungkook stops you. Instead, he settles between your legs, weight pinning you into the door. Broad shoulders block out the light but you take it in stride, fisting the back of his sweater as he finds your pulse.
“Can I go down on you?” He nuzzles down your throat, mouthing the spots he’s learning make you putty in his hands.
“Yeah, sure,” you hiccup. “That’s fine.”
Jungkook crams between your legs, bending in half on the floor like a contortionist. The sparse kisses across your thighs would be a blatant tease if nervousness wasn’t rolling off him in waves. He’s eating pussy for the first time and acting like it’s open heart surgery.
“Calm down.” You brush a hand through his hair, attempting to be comforting.
“I am calm.” A bold faced lie. Even in the darkness of the backseat the signs of his impending nerves are obvious.
“You’re shaking,” you say. “I’ll tell you what feels good. You’re not gonna mess it up.”
An open mouth on your core kiss leaves you sweating with a weak hum. At least he knows where the clit is. Or has a vague idea of its presence. Jungkook presses his face further into the cotton, suffocating himself without realizing.
“O-oh,” you hitch.
Humiliation brews from such a visceral reaction to something as basic as a kiss over your panties. But Jungkook is out of his depth here and any reaction will stroke his confidence.
He ducks away, watching you with rapt attention. You’re the teacher and he’s a student eager for whatever validation that may fall from your lips. “Good?”
“Yeah, do it again,” you praise.
He nods before diving back in, throwing your legs over his shoulders for better reach. Your pulse jumps with juvenile eagerness. Like it’s the first time you’re left with a boy unsupervised and his hand is the first real thing to touch you between the legs. It makes you feel dirty. Has your hairline sweat and tongue go dry. A bold wash of his tongue couples the next kiss, hot and wet as he laps against the fabric until your own arousal mixes with spit.
"You fucking liar,” you croak. The back of your head knocks against the window, hips rolling into his mouth.
"What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back but just barely. His breath fans over your skin, a shiver crawling up your spine. “Did I do something—"
“It’s good. So good,” you praise. “Touch me more.”
He jumps at the chance. Your panties tear down your thighs, out of the way with some rough maneuvering. Bare for his eyes, Jungkook takes more than a fill before diving in for another taste. But not until he spits on your clit and rubs in the mess with his thumb. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate a hard pass of his mouth, more wet kisses burning your cheeks.
“Jungkook, fuck,” you sigh. “When you said ‘hand stuff’ what did you mean?”
“I’ve touched a vagina before if that's what you're asking.”
You swat his hand. “Don’t say vagina, it makes me feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”
“Sorry, a pussy.”
“Don’t say it like that either, weirdo. Have you fingered one?”
Pointed silence is answer enough.
“It’s okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Just don’t put a finger in my ass and you’ll be fine.”
He doesn't laugh at your poor attempt to cut the tension but he releases a weighted sigh, muscles sagging an inch. Better. Instead, he focuses on stroking you to life between your folds, fingertips nudging your bud teasingly.
“Use your mouth some more and then finger me too,” you beg.
“Uh—how many? I don't wanna hurt you." He’s unsure despite the obvious twitch in your thighs. It burns depravity through your veins. His innocence is hot. Jungkook doesn’t even realize how fucked up he has you from some softcore porn level touching.
"All of them. I don't care, I’ll tell you if it’s too much."
One hand firm on your stomach, keeping your dress out of the way as he spreads your insides with two. The first strokes are meek. Nothing to scream over but he’s learning and that’s what's important. Seconds tick by and Jungkook finds a hesitant rhythm. Wet noises echo with each slow sheath, reserved but stretching you all the same. The wet strokes of his tongue are there too, placating just in case. A soft curl of his fingers makes your hips cant into his mouth.
The fogged windows are a dead give away to what's playing out in the backseat. If anyone stumbles down the sidewalk then you’re both dead but Jungkook’s mouth is distracting in the worst way.
And then he licks between his fingers, tongue slipping past his knuckles for a pure taste of your arousal. You go fuzzy at the edges, thighs squeezing tight until he’s forced to keep them spread or risk having his head crushed.
“Oh–fuck me, god.”
It’s not fair. For him to be good at this so quickly. To delude himself into thinking he could possibly be bad, trying to convince you he’d be bad. Complete unfair how ill prepared you were for Jungkook worshiping your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.
He really needs to be more confident because, in the cramped back seat of his car, you’re losing your mind and it’s barely been ten minutes.
“Can I—” he asks around your clit.
“Do whatever you want, just don’t stop,” you ramble. “Jungkook, fuck.”
A hand of your own sinks into his hair, angling his chin for better access. Wet echoes fill the car, sharp mewls from your lips adding to the noise. Nerves blazing, your ride his mouth for all its worth. Eager slippery circles of his tongue against your clit intensify, built on praising moans of his name.
“Fuck. Tastes good,” he grunts. A squeeze of your hand, the one not pulling his hair and then he’s finding your chest, blind groping until you guide him to your nipple and curve into the sting of his grip. He twists it. Hard.
You want to cry. The sweat suck of his mouth, fingers confidently curling it that spot that makes the air thinner in your lungs. Moans die between your teeth. Too quick into the next sensation to revel. There isn’t a thought other than Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.
“Jungkook!” you cry, grinding into his fingers. Your teeth clench as a third one stretches that extra inch. Stiff in the thighs, you force yourself down into the friction. His tongue hardens, perfect for use as you hump his face weakly.
Your legs kick, scrambling under the sharp pleasure. He’s got you melting into nothing right on his carseat. Jungkook doesn’t lean back to ask for more confirmation; just takes the signs for what they are and keeps going with renewed stamina at the promise of your pleasure.
“I’m gonna—oh, god. Yessss,” you hiss. Nails sharp against the back of his neck, Jungkook buries his face in your cunt.
You go rigid, voice breaking into a desperate whimper. Jungkook has the sense to keep going, lashing at your clit over and over with each desperate pulse of pleasure through your veins. Flashes flare behind the darkness of your eyes squeezed tight. You make a few more desperate noises, lurching in his hold before falling lip and worn.
“Fuck, okay. Okay,” you whine, pushing him away from your core before the stimulation becomes too much.
His mouth is drenched, cheeks and chin smeared with your orgasm. A flash of tongue collects some of the mess but you drag him into a kiss before he can go for seconds. First time eating pussy and he’s one for one. If that doesn’t help his confidence then nothing else will.
“Give me a second and I’ll blow you,” you pant into his lips.
“I-it’s okay.”
You pout at the brush off, a deep kiss as you invade his space. “I promise I want to.”
Your hand goes for his pants just to be captured with his own. His fingers are still soaked from your insides. “No, I…I came too.”
“Really?” you ask in awe.
Jungkook is embarrassed again. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. That’s hot.” You kiss him again with a gentle suckle along the curve of his lower lip. Jungkook drinks it in, crowding you back into the door again like you aren’t a pile of mush. Your back hurts from hunching over for so long but you let him keep you tangled up for a little while longer just to feel the shuddering exhale from his nose across your cheek. “Can I see?”
He swallows thickly before rolling down his sweats. The thin fabric of his boxers are wet, sticky under your shaky hand. You dip below the waist band, fingers grazing the limp ridge of his cock. He’s stuck in the inbetween of soft and hard but still hot and heavy in your hold. Your core throbs in interest at the feeling.
Jungkook shivers as you swipe at the slit, collecting a bead of cum. You want to get your mouth on him but he looks like he might cry if you keep playing with it.
When your hand retreats, rising to your lips for a taste, his eyes round, mouth gaping over silent words. The pink of your tongue comes out, lapping at the thick mess coating your thumb.
“Is it okay if I get your number?” he asks after the initial shock wears away.
“Yeah,” you snort. “You can have my number. You can give me a ride home too. And we can do that again in my bed.”
The glee on his face is worth the disgusting mess between your thighs. “Hell yeah.”
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