Jungkook Smut Audio Lol

jungkook smut audio lol

Like I’m Famous

It’s New Years Eve and Jungkook would rather be anywhere else than at his company’s massive party. Sure, he’s a guest of honor and his team rented out the nicest hotel in Seoul, but ringing in the New Year with you on the other side of the world just feels wrong. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to celebrate without the woman he loves, but maybe- just maybe…he won’t have to…

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Idol! Jk, Dom! Jk (oops), established relationship au, long distance au, smut, fluff

Word Count: 11,239

Warnings: a teeny bit of angst, use of alcohol (jungkook and yn are sober), biting, marking, scratching, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), dirty talking, doggy style, slight elements of dom/sub dynamics, squirting.

A/N: Happy New Year, cuties <3 s/o to @bulletproofbirdy and @gldnrecs for putting up with me screaming about this jk. Love you both!!! Let me know what you think ^-^

Jungkook grumbles to himself as his long fingers desperately try to unravel the tangled mass of party decorations.

He HATES parties.

But the company is insisting on throwing a massive one for it’s employees, which (unfortunately) includes him and six of his best friends.

One could argue that they are probably fairly important employees, considering the fact that they bring in nearly 80% of the company’s revenue, but Jungkook? Literally. Doesn’t. Care.

It’s New Year’s Eve.

He wants to spend it at home with some good alcohol and a FEW friends.

Not half the population of Seoul.

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jmscaffeine

9 months ago

Sweet Dreams

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: co-workers to lovers, smut

Summary: You've been working (and flirting) with Jungkook for months now, waiting for him to make a move. When he does, it's not the move either of you expected but it opens the door for you both to get exactly what you want.

Word count: 12.2k

Content: oral sex (f. receiving); unprotected sex; (very) soft dom!JK

A/N: So this started with a request for, iirc, Jungkook coming across reader asleep and her asking him to stay or something like that, and then I wrote two more parts to it lol I have obviously combined them all into one fic here.

Your ability to sleep anywhere was legendary, almost to the point of concern. You’d had the tests – your thyroid was fine, your iron levels were good, everything checked out ok – you just had an extraordinary skill of dropping off anywhere and everywhere. You’d never known a bad night’s sleep nor ever turned down an opportunity to nap. Sure, there are more impressive talents, but your preternatural predilection for passing out in odd spots did come in handy.

There you were, head on your hand in front of the computer, your right hand still covering the mouse, your notes scattered all around you. Your head nodded slightly and you flinched but didn’t wake up. Jungkook stood watching you for a minute, shaking his head. He wondered how much time you actually spent sleeping in bed as opposed to literally anywhere else. He knew you often slept on the sofa having fallen asleep working or reading or watching TV. He knew you slept on the floor more frequently than was altogether normal, claiming it was ‘good for [your] back’, even though you could afford a decent mattress quite easily. He swore he once saw you sleeping standing up at a party, leaning against the wall in a dark corner. You protested and said of course you wouldn’t have fallen asleep at a party – not least because it would’ve been rude – but he was not convinced. He’d never met anyone who liked sleep as much as he did, who slept as deeply as he did, let alone more.

He liked it. An odd quirk from an otherwise altogether adult: you were successful, confident, popular, happy, fun etc. You seemed to move through life with ease, despite what it threw at you. You moved with grace and lived with peace in your heart. Maybe that was what enabled you to sleep so easily. It’s certainly what enabled Jungkook’s enormous throbbing crush on you. He admired you with every inhale and was almost intimidated with every exhale. You sparkled in his eyes and in his heart. He felt himself growing into a better person just by being in your presence; he wanted to learn everything you had to teach.

When you had first met, you were tickled by his shyness. Such a bold performer, such a famous man! And yet such a sweet, little thing telling you how pleased he was to meet you. He’d thought he’d largely got over his shyness; he wasn’t always comfortable with new people or in front of a crowd, but he never let it show. He met people’s eyes with a confident smile and smothered his anxiety with reassuring platitudes. But your aura shone so bright, it knocked him off-guard. He stumbled through his introduction and suddenly felt 16 again. You were gracious and funny and so at ease; he felt like an awkward schoolboy. But before too long, he realised that his anxiety had disappeared, replaced with the warm glow of your attention. You were what he wanted to be. His feelings for you were a foregone conclusion. He’d been desperate to work with you again and again and again, trying not to bring up your name too often, lest he reveal himself (he’d needn’t have bothered, literally everyone already knew); then, as he felt the waves of his heart coming up around his ears, he suddenly panicked, he couldn’t work with you again! He couldn’t let you know how he felt! He dared not. But, was it not a worse fate to not see you again?

The meeting after his feelings had come to his attention was, in his mind, a disaster. He forgot words in English and Korean; he couldn’t concentrate; he couldn’t not blush every time you looked his way. His heart throbbed throughout the entire 60-minute meeting and he left the room exhausted, sweating prickling his scalp and pooling in his palms. He’d felt such a fool, such a little, lovestruck boy; you’d never see him as a real man, not now.

Little did he know. You were charmed by him when you first met; admittedly, you didn’t think more of him than that to start with. He was sweet and earnest and – though you hated to admit it now – a little bit try-hard. You hadn’t really taken him seriously. But they kept bringing you back in and, as you got to know him, you saw how much deeper his waters really ran. The fierce grit in this soft, little boy’s heart surprised you; his assertiveness and confidence in himself turned your head. As he argued, one meeting, passionately defending his suggestion, maintaining a perfect balance of the cocksure certainty and deferential politeness, you felt your heart grow. You watched him, a smile spreading on your face, realising too late that you had stopped listening to him, hearing only the blood roaring in your ears. Working with him after that had been even more fun. You loved to flirt with him, just subtly enough that you maintained plausible deniability, and you would see him stutter, watch him get a little hot under the collar. You knew he wasn’t seeing anyone and you didn’t see any harm in it. You weren’t about to make the first move – not with an idol – but you did what you could to let him know that he could. The longer this little flirtation went on, the less sure you were that he might return your feelings, but until or unless he outright rejected you, you were going to carry on having your fun.

It had been a long day and, though working hours were technically over, you were still sitting at your desk, tapping away. Why was it that the most tedious of tasks were always the longest? You yawned dramatically; does it count as a nap if it’s already 9pm? You figured probably not, but when had that ever stopped you? Resting your head on your hand, you closed your eyes – ‘just five minutes,’ you told yourself.

It was never just five minutes.

Sighing and shaking his head, Jungkook approached you quietly. Ever so careful, he pulled your chair out from under the desk and bent down, sweeping you up in his arms. There are very, very few benefits to the compulsively workaholic culture of South Korea, but beds in the office was definitely one. He carried you down the hall to an empty sleeping room, opening the door with his foot, balancing carefully so as not to drop you. He tried hard to focus on carrying you gently, not jostling you or trapping and pulling your hair. He tried hard not to focus on the smell of your shampoo, or the cute, heart-shaped pout of your lips. He tried hard not to notice the weight of your head on his shoulder, the finger that had just slipped between two buttons of his shirt, your nail lightly grazing his skin.

You were dimly aware of what was happening, not sure if it was real or you were still dreaming. Unable to think clearly – or, let’s be real, at all – you went with it. What’s the worst that could happen? You heard Jungkook grunt quietly as he lowered you down onto a bed. As his arms slipped from underneath you, you found your fingers hooked in his shirt and didn’t let go. You mumbled something incoherent and Jungkook froze. Like a deer in headlights, his heart was racing and he was paralysed with indecision.

“y/n?” he whispered.

You mumbled back, again inaudibly, and pulled your hand closer to you, dragging Jungkook with it. Unable to think clearly, he went with it and lowered himself down next to you. He thought he heard you say his name but wasn’t sure he didn’t just imagine it. He lay, stiff, beside you, heart pounding and mind racing. He didn’t know what to do; he hadn’t expected this. Oh, he’d thought about it, no doubt. He’d imagined a thousand of these scenarios over the past few months, but now that it was actually happening, his head was empty. He didn’t know what to do. Your hand still gripped his shirt and you shuffled, resting your head against his chest. You extended one finger and poked him.

“Jungkook,” you breathed. “Relax.”

You heard him exhale in a rush and slowly, his arm came around you and you felt him sink lower on the mattress, letting his muscles unclench. You took your hand from the front of his shirt and snaked it beneath his arm, grabbing a handful of the back of his shirt instead, fidgeting so that your knee lay between his legs. He smelt so clean and fresh and not too strong; you realised you’d never actually got quite this up close and personal with him before. You could smell his fabric conditioner and his shampoo and you wondered if he’d just brushed his teeth because his breath was sweet and minty. With your head on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding hard in his chest and you smiled to yourself; if this got him so worked up, you were no longer worried that he might not be interested. You pushed carefully, shifting yourself so that Jungkook was forced onto his back and you lay next to him, half atop him, your hand over his heart, your head on his shoulder, your leg over his waist. All he had to do was reciprocate. You were almost fully asleep again before you felt his arms wrap around you and his head loll to the side so his cheek rested against your head.

‘This’ll do,’ you thought to yourself as sleep took you away. ‘For now, this’ll do.’

* * *

Jungkook woke with a start. For a second, disoriented, he couldn’t remember where he was. He shuffled away from you in a panic before it came back to him. It was you. Then the panic started again. It was you. Sweat pricked on his back and in his palms and, wiping them on his trousers, he cursed softly, an erection bulging against its fabric containment. He gulped and looked skyward, desperately wishing it would disappear. The thought of you waking up now, at this second, finding him like this, turned his blood cold.

What time was it? The room was pitch black so there was no seeing the clock on the wall. He was wearing a watch, but it was at the end of the arm currently trapped beneath you. He didn’t dare try to extricate it. He was on his back and if he’d just turn towards you, maybe he could crane his neck and reach over to light up the watch screen to see the time. But if he turned towards you, brought his body closer to yours... He was trying to will his erection away, not encourage it.

He needed to calm down. This was fine. Probably. This was probably fine. You were still asleep anyway so there weren’t any consequences to speak of yet; he didn’t have to confront anything: you, his feelings... the HR department. He just had to calm down, relax. He took deep breaths and wiggled his toes furiously, trying to direct the blood-flow anywhere else. He had to relax, but not fall back to sleep. That was key.

Minutes passed, how many, he had no way of knowing. Finally flaccid, he rolled into you, straining his eyes in the dark to see his wrist, raising his other arm, trying to reach it without touching you. An impossible task. Cursing inwardly, he ran through his options:

1. Go back to sleep

2. Wake you up

3. Try to get out without waking you... And then... ???

Jungkook knew that number one was not an option. Even if he had wanted to, he knew sleep wouldn’t come again. He considered himself lucky that he awoke, randomly, before you. If you had woken first, what would you have done? He didn’t know, couldn’t even make a guess but he didn’t want to. He might not have had any idea what to do, he might be lying there in torment, but at least it was his decision to make. You made him so flustered; he needed these moments to himself, to compose himself, to work out what he wanted, to consider the possibilities. You were always acting, always doing, and he didn’t have enough time to think around you.

For that reason, number two was also not an option. He couldn’t wake you. Not yet. He still needed time. It felt like you had crossed a line now, the two of you; things were different. This meant something, he was sure of it, but what exactly it was, he didn’t know. He knew what he wanted, but he was scared of it, too. Dating within the company wasn’t prohibited – a futile endeavour at best – but it was prohibited for idols to date staff members. You technically weren’t a staff member because you were a contractor, but didn’t that still make you an employee? Of sorts?

You sighed in your sleep and drew him back to the present moment. No, he couldn’t wake you. He could make out the barest silhouette of you in the darkness, could still smell your hair, feel it on his arm, on his cheek. He sighed and chuckled to himself; you were easy like this, he thought. He never got the opportunity he wanted to just revel in your presence. He had to be there, always on, when you were around. He wanted to drink you in, but you moved so fast, you winked at him when he wasn’t expecting it, or touched his shoulder or, god, gave him praise, and his brain short-circuited, needed a reboot. By the time he was back in the room, the moment had passed. Now, though, there you were: silent, still, so close.

He ran a hand above you, tracing your body in the air with his finger: the peak of your shoulder, the low slope into your waist and soft, round rump, disappearing into nothing, your legs tucked forward in front of you. He imagined touching you: a kiss on the shoulder, an arm around your waist, his leg cocked between yours. He turned his head, his nose buried in your hair, and cursed violently to himself, his cock stirring in his pants again.

He had to get out of there. Option three it was.

Taking another couple of minutes to gather himself, he slowly, painfully slowly, pulled his trapped arm from beneath you. Not daring to risk disturbing you further, he tiptoed as quickly as he dared and slipped out of the door.

The light in the corridor was blinding and he screwed up his eyes, leaning back against the door, waiting for them to adjust to the brightness.

“Jungkook?”

He whipped round and his eyes were seared again as he opened them to see who was talking. Hoseok.

“What are you doing here? It’s 3am!”

Jungkook stammered, mind searching frantically for an excuse.

“Uh, oh, I just... I meant to have a nap... Overslept. What are you doing here?”

“Working.” Hoseok shrugged, taking steps towards the lifts at the end of the corridor. “No rest for the wicked! You should go home, though, Jungkook; it’s no life sleeping at the office!”

“Says you.”

“Ah, I know, but … Do as I say, not as I do!” He laughed and disappeared into a lift, waving.

Jungkook was suddenly aware his mouth was dry. He needed a drink. That’s what he would do. He’d go and get some water and then decide what he was going to do about... everything else.

* * *

You rolled over, imagining you were in your bed at home and, brain slowly surfacing, realising that you weren’t. The room was so dark, it offered no clues. You tried to remember what had happened but you couldn’t work out what was real and what you must have dreamt. You were certainly alone in the bed (if not the room), so you assumed you had imagined JK sleeping behind you. But, if he hadn’t carried you, how did you get there? You raised a hand to rub your face and caught yourself, not wanting to ruin your make-up. Then you figured you’d already been sleeping in it so you rubbed anyway and then slapped yourself lightly, trying to wake up. If Jungkook had been here, where was he now? When did he leave? And was he coming back?

You wondered if you had pushed him too far. You liked that he was skittish with you; it was cute and you loved provoking a reaction, but was this too much? It certainly crossed some sort of line, although you weren’t entirely sure which. You were used to running this little game, flirting with him so he lost his concentration, but this was all him. You didn’t know what was running through his mind – then or now. You felt like it had to be him to make the next move, but would he? What would it be?

You sat and fumbled for the switch, the bedside lamp suddenly shining. You looked away, opening your eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light. You could now make out the clock on the opposite wall – 3am? You groaned. This was certainly not what you had planned. It’s also really not how you’d have wanted your first night spent with Jungkook to go. You wondered where he had gone. Maybe you really had imagined things and he had just put you down and left. But then you recalled the scent of his fabric conditioner, the warmth of his body below you. It was too real to have been imagined.

You waited a few minutes, you weren’t really sure what for, and then stood to leave. You remembered with a start all of your belongings – where were they now? Had Jungkook tidied them away somewhere? Had someone else? It was unlikely that they’d have been stolen, but anything was possible. You muttered under your breath, cursing your earlier self.

‘Just five minutes, my fucking arse.’

You opened the door and immediately shut it again. Why did the company keep so many lights on all night? What was the point? Was there anyone besides you even in the building? You closed your eyes and opened the door, taking time to open both fully, allowing your eyes to adjust. Then you headed for the lifts.

You weren’t even wearing shoes and you were sure you looked a state so you were glad it was so dead. You were relieved to go back to the office you were working in to see that everything was still there. You slipped your shoes back on first and trotted quickly to the bathroom; you might not be seen looking frightful but that didn’t mean you wanted to look it. You swiped a hand under your eyes and grabbed the hair tie in your pocket, pulling it all into a messy bun on the top of your head. You returned to the office, gathered your things and headed back downstairs, asking the 24-hour receptionist to get you a car – a perk you’d not, until now, had cause to use but for which you were incredibly grateful.

As you were driven back to your apartment in the dead of night, you fingered your phone uncertainly. Should you text him? What would you say? You weren’t due back for another meeting until next week and it felt far too far away to not say anything. You were too tired to think. You’d just get to it in the morning. You yawned widely, thinking of your bed.

* * *

When Jungkook returned to the room, two glasses of water in his hands, he discovered it empty. He had tiptoed in, walking gingerly in case he stubbed his toes or banged into something, but when he reached the bed, he saw you had gone. He might have discounted option one and chosen option three, but he was disappointed. He knew that he had woken with a panic and floundered, worrying about what to do, but now that the options had been taken away from him, he lamented his inaction. He left the room once more and found his way back to where you had been working: empty. Desk clear of your things: notes, laptop, phone, pens, snack wrappers, mug. He wasn’t sure where to go after that. The obvious answer was home, but it just didn’t seem an appealing thought at that moment. Jungkook was disappointed; disappointed that you’d left, but mostly disappointed in himself. So much thinking, so much worrying that he was always missing his opportunities. Tonight had been just such an opportunity, he told himself, and once again, he had missed it.

He pulled out his phone and stared at it for a moment. He unlocked it and brought up your message thread and stared at it for a moment longer. He took a deep breath and held it as he typed and sent.

JK: Are you at home?’

You: On my way. Are you?

He hadn’t expected you to reply! I mean, of course he had, because that’s how messaging worked but he hadn’t thought that far ahead. What to say now?

JK: No, still at work. Did you take a car?

You: Yeah. You should go home soon, too; it’s late You: Well, early 😂

JK: I will

He wanted to make a joke or at least say something interesting but his mind was blank. He regretted messaging you; now you would just think him boring. He hit his forehead with his phone a few times and sighed. Maybe it was home time. Go to bed, get some rest, it’ll all look better in the morning etc. etc. He called another car and left. He didn’t bother collecting his things; he’d be back in less than six hours anyway.

He sat in the car, staring at his phone, willing you to message again, acknowledge what had happened, make a joke, say anything. But his silent pleas didn’t meet you and his phone remained lifeless.

* * *

It had been a long week. You hadn’t seen Jungkook, nor had you spoken to him. You carried the tension around with you everywhere; you couldn’t concentrate; you made mistakes at work, which never happened. For the first time ever in your life, you couldn’t sleep. Every time you lay in your bed, you remembered his warm body and it turned you cold. You remembered lying so close to him on that tiny bed made for one and your own bed felt like the Pacific ocean; you were drowning in it. You passed someone on the street wearing Jungkook’s cologne and you almost turned to follow him. No one had ever put you off your game like this. It wouldn’t do. Whatever he had started had to end.

The day finally came when you were due back at the office. A whole team meeting this time, not your favourite on any occasion, but especially not now. You knew Jungkook would be on time or late, but not early when you really needed him to be. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to get through the meeting with him there, on the other side of the table (the same side?), looking at you, talking to you. You rolled your eyes at yourself that, all this time, you’ve been teasing him, flirting with him, enjoying making him flustered, and all it took for him to turn the tables was... almost nothing. Lying together. The smell of his shampoo, the soft wash of his sweet breath against your cheek, his heavy arm across you. He had done more to unravel you by doing nothing than you could ever have hoped to do to him, using all your charms and wiles.

You needed to regroup so you found an empty bathroom, with five minutes to go, and gave yourself a good talking to. A quick, sharp slap, one cheek, then the other, a quick power stance, and a final once-over in the full-length mirror to remind yourself that you are a confident, capable, sexy woman who can do whatever the fuck she wants and won’t let anyone, any man, get in the way.

You stormed to the meeting room, full of bluster, and took your seat, breathing a small sigh of relief that he hadn’t arrived yet – at least you got to settle in first.

Then the meeting started and the chair rattled through the apologies: first up, Jungkook. Your head snapped round at the mention of his name. He wasn’t coming? You had been dreading seeing him again, but... not seeing him again? You couldn’t focus on that now. You had work to do.

When the meeting ended (and it had gone very well, thank you very much), you suddenly felt the full force of Jungkook’s absence. It wouldn’t do. You had to put a stop to this. You cornered his assistant (who was there to cover for him) and asked where he was. She looked like she didn’t want to answer, but the moment passed, and she let you know he was in a meeting for another hour, two floors up. She didn’t give you the room number, but that was fine.

You made your way to the right floor and, for possibly the first time, you were pleased that every single new building in the world seemed to be made of 90% glass. You peered surreptitiously into meeting rooms until you spotted that oh so familiar back of his head. Then you found an empty room in view of it and sat and waited. As soon as you saw them all stand to move, you did the same.

“Jungkook!”

He span and looked surprised to see you, his mouth hanging open.

“Do you have a minute?”

His mouth stayed hanging open and he blinked, like a deer in headlights. You gestured to the room you had been occupying.

“I think this room should still be free; can we talk?”

He blinked again and flickered to life. He shook his head.

“No... No, let’s not talk there. Um... come- come with me.”

You followed him into the lift and were about to open your mouth when two others joined you. You held them back, pressure in your chest expanding; you were right to insist on this. You had to talk. You had to get this sorted. Something had changed and you knew your working relationship wasn’t sustainable anymore. You cursed him; as much as you wanted him (and you closed your eyes for a moment, remembering the warmth of him around you, his soft hand over yours...), you couldn’t go on any longer without touching him, without telling him. Flirting wasn’t going to be enough anymore. You had to have him; you had to make him yours. Just standing this close to him and unable to reach out was making your heart race. His hair shone in the light and you imagined running your hands through it, pushing it off his face. You saw his fist clench and unclench by his side and you wanted to hold it, give it a squeeze, run your thumb across his knuckles, bring it to your lips. Your heart skipped a beat and you rolled your eyes at yourself. So much for having a job to do.

Jungkook led you silently down an unfamiliar corridor and showed you into a room. It was a studio (his?): one wall taken up with speakers and monitors, a huge desk with any number of buttons and boards and switches across it.

“I thought it would be better to have some privacy,” he said, you thought a little sheepishly, as he gestured for you to sit on the sofa. You moved towards it but stopped.

“No, I don’t want to sit.”

“Ok.”

“Right. I want to establish some facts.” You would have loved to have been gentler, sweet even, but that’s just not really who you were. “One: you picked me up and put me to bed here last week.”

Jungkook said nothing.

“Right? You did that?”

“Oh, uh, yes. Not here here, but yeah here.”

“Ok and two you did sleep with me here-, not sleep with me sleep with me, but we... we slept.”

“Yes.”

“Ok and you did that because...?”

His eyes widened again and he stuttered. That you had him flustered brought a spark to your heart, like old times.

“Ok that’s fine, I’ll go.” You shook your hands out and clicked your neck. “I wanted you to stay; I wanted to sleep with you so I more or less asked you to. Sleep with you, I mean, like, sleep, just- just sleeping.”

“Ok... I put you to bed because you looked uncomfortable and it was late and I thought you should sleep in a bed for once.”

You physically took a step backwards. That was it? Was that... it? Had you read this all wrong? You couldn’t be wrong. No. No time for thinking. Powering through. You were powering through.

“Three, you left.”

“I, what?”

“Sometime that night, you left, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, well... I left to get some water and then you had left when I got back.”

“Oh... Ok. Ok, so... um... So you were coming back then?”

“Well-” he paused and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He perched on the edge of the desk and then stood straight again, kicking his heel against his toe, chewing on his lip ring. His nervous energy was making you nervous, well, more nervous. The pressure in your chest was rising and you felt like you would have to do something soon if he didn’t stop moving, if he didn’t do anything.

He flopped onto the sofa heavily and looked up at you, inscrutable. You were so used to being able to see everything on his face that this unreadable gaze made your mouth dry.

“I like you,” he said simply. “I like you and I... wanted to be... close to you. You-… You...” He sighed and it came out almost like a whine. “You make me stupid! You make me feel so... so dizzy and silly and flustered and you flirt with me and I want to flirt back with you but you turn my brain into a white noise machine and I can’t do it; I always miss it. I’m always on the back foot. I can flirt, you know, I really can, but you just... you just... You make me stupid! I can’t think around you; I can’t concentrate; you’re like a magnet scrambling all my signals; when you’re around, you’re north and I can’t point anywhere else. And you were sleeping and I just thought, god, she’s sleeping, I can do something for her. I can do something where she won’t see me as a stupid, brainless boy; I can take care of her... I just... I wanted to be close to you.”

You hadn’t expected that. It was your turn to goldfish at him, your mind buffering.

“And then I woke up in the night and I panicked.” A deep blush bloomed over his cheeks and you wondered why. “I didn’t want you to wake up and- I don’t know. It felt like we were in a moment and I didn’t want it to end; I didn’t want to ruin it. If you woke up, I would just be stupid again and I don’t... I don’t want you to see me as stupid anymore.”

You laughed, just a chuckle to start with but then a full-throated laugh bubbled up and you couldn’t stop it. You laughed until your eyes watered. You couldn’t look at his sweet, sad, innocent face without collapsing into giggles. You turned around, away from him, and gathered yourself.

“Jungkook,” you said, your voice wavering as you tried to keep your mirth in check. “Jungkook.” You pulled him by the hand so he was standing in front of you and then, placing both hands on his face, kissed him firmly on the mouth. You felt him flinch a little and then he responded, his hands finding your waist and his lips moving against yours. You pulled away but kept your face close. “You’re not a boy to me, Jungkook.” You moved your hands across his shoulders and down his arms, strong, smooth, muscular. You felt him squeeze your waist, just gently, and his eyes poured his soul out into yours.

“Oh,” he breathed.

You kissed him again, softer this time, sucking his bottom lip gently, just for a second. When you pulled away, his eyes looked almost glazed and he swallowed, blinking hard.

“Are you an employee here?” he asked, throwing you completely.

You stepped backwards, out of his aura just slightly to gather yourself. You searched his face for any clues to the background of this non-sequitur.

“What?”

“Are you an actual employee here or freelance or something else?”

“I... Freelance.”

“Oh, good.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He grinned sheepishly.

“Idols aren’t allowed to date employees.”

You laughed softly as you exhaled.

“I take it back: maybe you’re right. Maybe you are stupid.”

Jungkook squeezed his hands tight and scrunched up his face.

“Too late, cat’s out the bag now. You can’t take those kisses back even if you want to.”

You noticed the cocky smirk sneak onto his face and were about to try to wipe it clean off when he lowered his head and kissed you. He wrapped his arms around you, resting one hand on the small of your back, the other reaching up to brush the hair from your face. Warmth radiated from him, a trail of fire left behind wherever he touched you. You leant into him, running your hands through his hair just as soft as you’d expected. He licked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth to him, unable to stop the quiet moan rising in your throat as your tongues rolled against each other. You were lost in him, the rest of the world a quiet blur, unimportant. He pulled away, leaving light kisses on your cheeks, your jaw, and, just as he pressed his lips against your neck, your phone rang.

You both jumped, brought abruptly back down to earth. You fumbled with your phone and answered when you saw it was your manager.

“Hello?”

“Hi, we were expecting you at this meeting; are you dialling in?”

Oh fuck. Had it been that long already? What was the time? You had been so caught up with Jungkook, you had completely forgotten that this was supposed to be a normal workday, with actual work to do and meetings to attend and not just Jungkooks to kiss.

You apologised profusely and promised you would dial in within the next minute. Jungkook said you were fine to take the meeting in his studio; he wasn’t going to be using it. He would leave you to it. As he stood with his hand on the door, he turned to you, grinning.

“Maybe this is why they don’t let idols date staff?”

* * *

You sighed and put your head in your hands. The meeting went fine, all things considered, but when the project manager then asked you to stay on the line, in order to ask very sweet and well-meaning questions about how you were doing at the moment, you had started to sweat. Instead of using the time before the meeting to go over your notes and prepare, you had been in here with Jungkook, decidedly not working. It showed. As you span in Jungkook’s chair and took in all the details of his studio, it was decided. You absolutely had to get out of there and get your head back in the game. You took a few deep breaths, gathered your things and opened the door... Only to immediately stumble upon Jungkook, who was sitting on the floor outside.

“Ah! Wh-, uh, what are you doing down there?”

He grinned up at you.

“I was just waiting. I actually do need to use the studio today-” He stood up and cut you off as you were about to interrupt him and led you back inside.

“Jun-”

“It’s fine!” he argued, resting his hands against your hips. “I told you it was fine and it’s fine.” He pressed his lips against your neck and you groaned, trying not to give in to him.

“You’re going to get me fired, Jeon,” you told him in a warning tone, all the while raking your hand through his hair, gripping his arm tight.

“I would never let them do that.” His words were muffled, mouth barely lifted from your skin. His lips found yours again and stole the reply ready on yours. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispered, pulling back just a little, to look into your eyes and nuzzle your nose.

“If you’d made that clear, just think for how long we could’ve been doing it already!”

He snapped his teeth in front of you and hushed you.

“How did I know if you wanted it?”

“Oh, you think I flirt with everyone like that, Jungkook?!”

He giggled and wrapped his arms tighter around you, kissing your cheek and your temple.

“Well, no...”

“Because, actually, I have one of you at every company I work with.”

“Oh yeah?” You could feel him smirk as he squeezed you at the waist. “Tell me about them.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he placed a kiss just underneath your jaw, starting a trail of little, sucking kisses down your neck and your brain buffered. He hummed with his lips against you and all that came out of your mouth was a tiny, whimpering sigh.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He brought his face back to yours and his eyes were dark and certain.

You chuckled a little breathlessly, amazed at the change in him: suddenly so confident, putting you on the backfoot. You liked it.

“Where was all this attitude before?”

“One of us had to keep it professional.”

You laughed out loud as he followed that statement up with another kiss, his thumb just barely slipping under your blouse, stroking your skin.

“And now?”

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door, startling you both. Jungkook groaned and closed his eyes, looking as if he hoped whoever was out there would go away. They didn’t.

“JK!” Yoongi’s voice called from the other side of the door as he knocked again.

“Y’know, if they fired us both, we could just leave now and not be interrupted anymore,” Jungkook suggested, bringing his mouth back to yours.

“Tempting...”

Yoongi knocked on the door again and you broke apart with a sigh. If either of you was to get any work done that day, then it was absolutely necessary for you to part, then and there, but that didn’t mean you wanted to.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing.”

“Good. I’m going to take you out.”

“Where shall I meet you?”

Jungkook scoffed.

“Meet me? I’m going to come and pick you up. We’re going to do this properly.”

“Is that right?”

Jungkook pressed his lips firmly against yours one final time before finally letting you go and stepping back.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said as he moved towards the door, preparing to open it to let you out and Yoongi in. You bit your lip; you hoped you would discover just how much Jungkook liked to take charge. You might act like a boss, but that’s just what made it all the more satisfying when you found someone to put you in your place. Sometimes it’s nice not to be in control of everything. He winked at you as you passed him to exit his studio and you blushed, a real-life blush. You could barely look Yoongi in the eye.

* * *

You had never been this nervous for a date before. They’re usually for getting to know someone, usually someone you don’t know that well – or maybe haven’t even met yet – usually, you don’t really worry about it going wrong, or doing something embarrassing, because the stakes are so low. At worst, it’s an awful hour of your time that you won’t get back, so what’s the fuss?

This was different, though. You knew Jungkook. And now you’d tasted him. All day, your mind kept wandering back to his studio, his lips on yours, the unyielding metal of his lip ring between your soft lips, his secure grip on your waist, his hard body pressed against yours. How were you supposed to sit through an entire dinner on the opposite side of the table from him? How were you supposed to see his hands and not think about them on your body? Look into his eyes without imagining them looking up at you through his lashes, his tongue disappearing inside you? How were you going to sit there with him so tantalisingly close to you, able to touch him but not allowed?

You took a cold shower that evening. You slipped on your favourite third-date dress; this wasn’t a third date, of course, but it certainly didn’t have the vibes of a first date. Besides which, this is the dress you wore when you wanted to get lucky and god, have you ever wanted to get luckier.

* * *

Jungkook was nervous. Extremely nervous. He hoped these nerves would melt away as soon as he saw you; he hoped he could kiss you hello and that that would settle the butterflies in his stomach. He hoped he somehow hadn’t just imagined everything that had happened that morning. He still couldn’t believe it. You had a point, of course; he knew you had been flirting with him all this time, but he still couldn’t believe that it had actually happened. Finally. He was kicking himself for not having acted before, for letting you take the lead again. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t make that mistake another time. He meant it when he said he didn’t want to be a silly, brainless boy around you anymore. If you could see him as a man even when he felt like that, then so could he. Even knowing that you did made him feel stronger, more like the Jungkook he wanted to be.

He thought about the smell of your hair and the taste of your lips and the tiny, quiet noises you had made as he kissed you. He didn’t dare let himself think about what other noises he might get you to make. He had chosen a restaurant as private as it could be, without it being... too private, so private it would make it weird. It was a little place, not fancy, just somewhere he went often enough that he knew the couple who ran it and knew they wouldn’t disturb the two of you and would be discreet.

He was early to pick you up but didn’t want to rush you if you weren’t ready so he sat in his car, anxiously tapping the steering wheel, watching the minutes tick past, painfully slowly. He hadn’t been to your place before and he looked up at the building, wondering if you had any windows on this side, wondering what you were doing at that moment, what you were feeling. He didn’t expect you would be nervous, at least not as nervous as he was. Part of him hoped you would be. He imagined turning the tables on you, making you flustered, watching you splutter. Now that the floodgates had opened, now that he was allowed to flirt back, to kiss you and touch you, and get as riled as he liked, he couldn’t wait to show you what he could do.

* * *

Your doorbell rang and you jumped, even though you had been watching the door for ten minutes. You stood, slipped into your shoes, and took a deep breath before opening the door. There he was. Neither of you could stop your eyes roving over the other; this was the first time you’d met outside of work.

“You look nice,” he said, taking the words right out of your mouth.

“I was about to say the same to you.”

“Beat ya!”

You rolled your eyes and stepped out, expecting him to step back so you could walk down the hall, but he simply welcomed you into his arms, drawing you closer with his deep, dark eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest at the unexpected close contact and then again when he lowered his face to yours and kissed you, ever so lightly.

“Ready?” he asked, his face still so close to yours. You swallowed hard and nodded.

“Yep, let’s go.”

* * *

The fact that you were in public forced you to put some space between the two of you and you were relieved. It meant your heartrate could settle and you were finally able to drag your mind out of the gutter.

He had ordered for you both and he was calm and cool, chatting with the owners, and your heart fell open watching him, remembering that there was so much more to life than work and you knew none of what that looked like for Jungkook. You imagined him coming here the first time and then again, and then again and again, this familiarity settling in place so that they knew what he liked to order and he knew about her mother-in-law’s arthritis and the new restaurant on the next street they were worried would hurt their business.

Part of you had thought this would be strange, awkward, uncomfortable, your nerves jangling in your chest like chimes on a windy day. Another part of you had thought you would be rabid, impatient, frustrated, bored of talking, desperate to get to the action. You had been wrong. It was comfortable and you laughed and joked and he showed you that he really did know how to flirt. Your nerves made you skittish, excited, the anticipation of the moment when his hand brushed lightly over yours almost more powerful than the touch itself. Your barely concealed desire, simmering just below the surface, made that touch burn, scorching through to your core. You were giddy, giggly, silly. He made you feel champagne drunk, up to your ears in light golden bubbles.

As before, in his studio, gone was the timidity, the shy, flustered Jungkook replaced by one confident, almost cocky, smirking at you when he noticed you blushing. He winked at you as you took a sip of your drink and you almost choked. You could’ve felt annoyed at the way he had turned the tables on you, but you couldn’t deny that you liked it. You liked this Jungkook: this is the Jungkook who caught your attention in the first place. You wanted him to make you flustered, wanted him to look at you like he knew your every dirty secret, like he might make your every dirty fantasy come true.

Jungkook was happy. He had thought about this first date for a long time and it was going even better than he had imagined. He had been so nervous he could have puked before he saw you. But then there you were and he remembered. He remembered how much he liked you and he remembered that quiet, whimpering sigh as he’d kissed your neck and his nerves evaporated.

He couldn’t believe the change in you. The way you looked away, the faintest blush on your cheeks, when he held your gaze too long; the way you almost flinched when he touched you; your wide-eyed, slightly open-mouthed gaze. He was glad he knew the owners, for privacy reasons, but also because he knew they liked him and that they would think twice about that if he swept all their crockery onto the floor and took you right on top of the table like he wanted to. He kept thinking about your pretty mouth, how sweet your lips looked, how much sweeter they might look wrapped around his cock. When you looked up at him, deliberately coy, through your lashes, he wanted to see you on your knees.

How many times he’d had these fantasies he couldn’t count and now, here you were, real, in the flesh, sitting across from him, laughing at his jokes, licking your lips, looking at him like you had stars in your eyes. He’d seen that look a thousand times, a hundred thousand times, but this one was different. Yours said something other than ‘I’m your biggest fan’; yours said something that couldn’t be uttered aloud in public. Yours said something he wanted you to say quietly in the dead of night, naked in his bed.

When the plates had been cleared away and the restaurant was empty but for the two of you, Jungkook leant forward on his forearms, taking your hands in his. This was the part he had not been looking forward to. This was the part where, once again, he couldn’t just be a normal guy out on a date with a normal woman.

“Y’know what I want to do?” he asked as you leant forward, too. He reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear and you turned, demure, coy, shy.

“What’s that?” you asked, your voice only just level.

“I want to take you by the hand and walk by the river. I want you to shiver when the wind blows so I can take off my jacket and give it to you. I want to stop suddenly, and pull you back by the hand, spin you round so I can kiss you in public and not care who sees. I want to see you in the moonlight and remember it for a thousand years to come.”

You were crimson and hot; your heart fluttering in your chest. You had expected filth; he had delivered romance. You wanted to fan yourself; you needed the cool air of a breeze to sweep in and reset your core body temperature to normal levels. Your mouth was dry and you wished your glass weren’t empty. You were silent in response, speechless.

“You know we can’t do any of that, though, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know. I understand.”

“There’s other things I want, too.”

His voice was lower, eyes darker, and you swallowed hard, a low heat settling in your abdomen.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I want you to know that it’s not all I want. I’m all in. And I need you to be all in, too. I might not be able to kiss you in public but I want you to know that I want to. I want you. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes, grinning. “But I guess you already know that.”

“Oh, I’m in.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by your certainty. You had been flirting with him for months; you had been so sweet on this date;,he had almost forgotten who you were. You were a woman who knew what she wanted. You were a woman who got what she wanted.

“Shall we get out of here?”

You stood before he could give you an answer and he grinned at you. You walked, a polite distance from each other, to the car he’d parked behind the restaurant. He opened the passenger door for you and you watched him walk around to the other side, watched him slide in, punch it into drive, and then pause. He put it back into park and looked at you.

“I need you to know how badly I want to kiss you right now. I need you to know that because I’m going to need you to remind me that speed limits and red lights exist. I’m not a bad driver, I’m not a dangerous driver, but god, if it means I can kiss you even one second sooner, I’m going to-”

You put a hand to his mouth.

“Can’t kiss you if I’m dead, JK. Eyes on the road and keep your head up here, ok?” You tap him on the temple. Then you move closer to him, leaning across the central console to whisper in his ear. “Trust me, your patience will be rewarded.”

“Fuck.”

You leant back in your seat and looked at him. He was blinking hard, staring off into the distance.

“Well… Now I’m going to need a minute.”

He clicked his neck as you laughed, and then he gripped the steering wheel tight, looking straight ahead. You waited, just taking him in, filling your mind with fantasies about what you would do when you got back to your apartment.

* * *

You made it in one piece to your building and stood outside your front door.

“So,” you began, your hand on the doorknob. “You gonna come inside?”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, his tongue in his cheek.

“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

You opened the door and wasted no time, shedding your shoes and your coat, letting them fall where they may. You dropped your bag on the counter and turned to Jungkook, who was slowly slipping of his own shoes, stooping to pick your coat up off the floor and hang it on a hook.

“What are you-? What happened to ‘if I can kiss you one second sooner…’?”

He turned to you, like the cat who’d got the cream already.

“I thought about it.”

He walked closer, as if he were stalking prey, and rested his hands on either side of you against the counter.

“I have thought about this a lot and I don’t want to rush it.”

He took a deep breath and pulled back just enough to let his eyes rove down your body and back up, his tongue running over his lips, his teeth tugging at his lip ring.

“Nah, I want to take my time with you.”

His dark eyes fixed on yours and you heard yourself swallow, heard your heard beating so fast it was humming.

“You’ve got time, right?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, hoarse. You cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I’ve got time.”

Jungkook removed his hands from the counter and placed them on your waist, pulling you into him as he lowered his head to kiss you. You couldn’t have stopped the high-pitched sigh that came out of you if you’d tried. The relief of his lips finally on yours, the taste of him, the feeling of his body against yours made your bones soft and your muscles weak. You didn’t know how long Jungkook was going to make you wait, just exactly what he meant by taking his time; you didn’t know if you would survive but you were one hundred percent willing to find out.

He had you backed against the counter so hard, it was digging into your back, your bodies pressed so close you could feel his erection grow in his trousers, pressing against your front. You wanted to grind your hips against him, but you were pinned so tight, you couldn’t move. You pulled away, turned your head to break the kiss.

“Jungkook,” you panted. “Take me…” You raised an arm in the direction of your bed and he flicked his eyes in its direction for a split second before they were back on you, before he was kissing you again, stepping backwards, taking you with him.

He turned when he reached the bed and pushed you onto your back, climbing over you, pausing to look down at your chest with his lip between his teeth.

“Fuck, I like you so much.”

You laughed and he laughed – you almost thought you saw him blush – and he leant down on his forearms, nuzzling your nose with his. You brought your hands up to cup his face.

“You know you’re cute, right?”

He giggled and you were sure he was blushing now. He kissed you quickly on the nose and then on the cheek, then buried his face in your neck, turning your giggles to whimpers as his teeth found your skin, as he sucked light bruises onto you.

You pulled your hands between you, gripping his shirt, fumbling with the buttons but he mumbled against your skin and reared up, taking your wrists in his hands and pinning your hands above your head.

“I meant it when I said I’m taking my time, missy. You just keep those hands to yourself.” He bent as if to kiss you again and stopped halfway. “For now.”

You swore softly to yourself, your underwear so uncomfortably wet, your nipples hard against the fabric of your dress. He let your hands go as he let his own explore your body, one teasing at the hem of your dress and the other kneading your breast. His mouth moved down and he pulled your dress with it, taking you into his mouth, swirling with his tongue, biting with his teeth. You pull hard on his hair and he releases you with a wet pop.

“Too hard?”

“No, no, I liked it… More. I want more.”

“In that case, what did I say about keeping your hands to yourself?”

You whined as you let his hair go and returned your hand above you. He kissed you in the valley of your breasts.

“Oh, look at my good girl.”

“Oh, fuck. Jungkook, shit. I like it. Please call me that again.”

He laughed darkly.

“Only if you behave yourself.”

You hadn’t imagined he’d be like this. You hadn’t imagined it would be like this at all. But this was better than you’d imagined. So much better. Your whole body pulled towards his, every cell screaming for his touch, your heart yearning for his approbation. You needed it. Needed him. You knew you’d do whatever he asked without a second’s hesitation. Fuck. Suddenly, you were his.

Jungkook chuckled to himself as he sank his teeth hard into the soft flesh around your nipple, cock throbbing at the keening, whining, mewling sounds you made when he did. He pushed your dress up, fingers grabbing at the waistband of your underwear, tugging awkwardly down with one hand. But then your hands were there, too, your hips raised as you slipped them down. He took hold of them from the gusset and tugged, his hand coming away wet when you lifted your knees to kick them off your ankles.

“Oh, fuck, is all this for me?”

“Yes, Jungkook, yes. Please.”

If he wasn’t careful, he was going to blow his load before he’d even got his dick out of his pants. You were more than he had imagined: the sounds you made, the way you said his name, how pliable, how obedient you were. He couldn’t have written you this perfect in his own fantasy. He wanted this to last forever. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect world to live in than this: you beneath him, hot and wet and begging for him. He wanted to make you scream; he wanted you to come thunderously, clapping his head between your thighs, suffocating, drowning him; he wanted you to come gushing into his face.

He pressed two fingers into you with a long, drawn-out curse; you swore repeatedly, gasping, whining, trying to tip your hips, grind yourself into his hand. As you moved, he stopped moving. As soon as he started again, so did you. Then he stopped.

“Jungkook.”

“Don’t try to run this show. I’m going to give you what I want, ok?”

“Oh god, ok, ok, ok.”

You lay still, desperately trying not to move as he curled his fingers inside you, as his thumb rubbed circles over your clit. You gripped your bedsheets tight in your fists, looked to the ceiling for strength, gritted your teeth, tensed your legs, pulling your feet up to your buttocks just to move some part of you. Jungkook hummed appreciatively and scooted backwards on his knees, pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

His hand moved slowly in you – too slowly, torturous – and his mouth made slow progress towards your burning heat. He meant it when he said he would take his time. Just as his mouth made it to the crease of your thigh, he removed his fingers entirely, sat back, looked at the anguish on your face at the loss of him and grinned. He sucked his fingers clean of you, moaning performatively for you, palming at his dick through his clothes, pre-cum soaking through his boxers as he looked at you. Dripping wet and puffy, you were dark and slick and inviting. His mouth watered and he gulped.

“Jungkook,” you whispered and it broke his reverie.

“Yes?”

“Please can you touch me? Please. I need you.”

He groaned as his cock twitched and he looked skyward just as you had only moments earlier, before he clicked his neck and winked at you.

“Since you asked so nicely, beautiful, yes I will.”

He pushed your legs apart, spreading your thighs against the mattress, and then he licked a broad stripe from your slit to your clit and the sound that left you was loud, wanton, indulgent. He did it again, drinking you in, and again and again and then he flicked at your pulsing little pearl with the tip of his tongue. He rubbed the flat of his tongue over you; he licked through your folds; he took your lips in his and you cried out when he clamped his teeth down on them, remembering at the very last moment, as your fingers grazed his hair, that he had told you to keep your hands to yourself. He hummed with his lips sealed around your clit and then he looked up at you.

He had felt you squirm as he’d bitten down and he had felt your hand in his hair. He was about to release you, to remind you of the rules, and then it disappeared and returned to fist the bedsheets beside you and he groaned. His cock was painfully hard, throbbing, leaking, hot and turgid and he shuddered. God, you were so good. He had expected you to protest, to argue, to tease, to show off, to fight back, to be as you are outside the bedroom: bold and assertive and strong. He’d have loved putting you in your place, no doubt about it, but this? Your complete surrender to him, no questions asked? Just obedience, acquiescence, submission? He moaned, determined to get you off before he lost control of himself completely.

It was getting difficult not to move, not to writhe, to squirm, to grind your hips into Jungkook’s mouth as you got closer and closer to your climax. You were trembling, shivering, your whole body juddering towards it like a cart ascending a rollercoaster track. In much the same way, your stomach lurched as your orgasm thundered through you. Like being tipped off a cliff, free-falling, you lost all sense of your body, nerves on fire, every inch of you screaming Jungkook’s name. He pinned you down hard, but you couldn’t stop yourself shaking, convulsing, bucking, overstimulated. Whimpering, your thighs clamped shut against his head and you felt him chuckle, the vibrations making you squirm.

Jungkook let you lock him between your legs. He was more than happy there. Letting you soak his face, he pushed two fingers back inside your quivering cunt, hooking them hard against your front wall as he sucked on your clit. You tumbled from one orgasm to the next, spots dancing in front of your eyes, your breath coming in ragged gasps. It was like you were being split, atom by atom, separating your body from your soul. Your vision going black, breath trapped in your chest now. You were so sure you’d pass out, overstimulated, overloaded, overwhelmed. But then Jungkook let you go, pulling your legs from his head, pressing small kisses to your stomach as he crawled over you.

His face swam in front of you and when he finally fell into focus, a hysterical giggle left your mouth. The smile on his face was so warm and sincere that, were it not for his hair on end and your arousal all around his mouth, you might never have guessed he’d just mercilessly ripped two towering, crashing orgasms from you.

“What’s funny?”

You couldn’t stop laughing, your mind addled. You covered your face with your hands and had to wait for it to pass, wait for the moment to stop feeling absurd, surreal, wait for yourself to return to your body, your mind.

When it did and you dropped your hands from your face, Jungkook had shed his clothes and the sight of him there, his naked body, his tumescent, leaking cock very nearly knocked your mind straight back out again.

“I really like you,” you said, your voice almost plaintive in its trembling.

It was his turn to laugh this time.

“Yeah, yeah, I bet that’s just the orgasms talking.”

“No, really.”

You reached out and grabbed his hand and he climbed over you to lie by your side. He cupped your cheek and kissed you, all sticky and sweet.

“I really do,” you insisted and he kissed you again. “I really like you.”

“Isn’t that why we’re doing this, hm?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be smart with me, Jeon.”

He laughed.

“Ah there she is. I was wondering what you’d done with her.”

“Done with who?”

“Miss take-no-shit girlboss.”

You laughed and blushed, curling yourself into his chest, self-conscious and shy.

“I’m still here,” you mumbled quietly. “I just… I don’t like being in charge all the time.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that.”

He dropped his eyes and when he looked back at you, his gaze was darker, mischief glinting in them.

“You were a very good girl, you know. I didn’t expect that.”

“You thought I’d argue?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want me to argue?”

He grinned.

“I mean, I’m not opposed to it but, fuck… Honestly, I needed this little break. You being so fucking good for me… shit.” He bit his lip and trailed a hand down your body, circling your taut nipple, dancing over your hip. “God, I could come right now just thinking about it.”

“Is that right? You want me to be good for you? Want me to do as you say?” You shuffled onto your knees. “Tell me anything, Jungkook. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Jungkook groaned, eyes fluttering to a close. He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

“God, I think I fucking dreamt you up.” He turned back to you. “You just can’t be real.”

You swung a leg over him, taking his heavy cock in your hand. He groaned.

“So… You gonna come inside?”

He almost yelped, laughing, and then cursing under his breath.

“You really want me to?”

You shrugged.

“I’m protected and I know I’m clean and I know how many health check-ups they make you have so I can’t imagine you’re riddled with disease.”

“God, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

You leant forward, ghosting your lips over his.

“I’m just saying,” you whispered, “that I want to feel you inside me, down to the tiniest detail.”

“Fuck, I made you up; I know I did. I know I did. You cannot be real.”

“Oh, I’m real.”

You rose up and rolled your hips, coating his shaft in your slick. The noise that left him was animal and he flung you onto you back, pinning you down and towering over you. He leant down, your noses touching, and kissed you, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a pause, both just looking at each other, breathing heavy, sticky with sweat. Then the moment broke and you both laughed.

He kissed you again, his grip on you softening, relenting. He still tasted like you when he licked into your mouth and your cunt quivered in anticipation of his cock and at the memory of his mouth.

He retreated and grabbed a pillow, lifting you at the hips to slip it beneath you before he gripped his cock with a light hiss. He pushed the head of it through your folds, lodged it just barely at your entrance and you whined. He anticipated your action before you could make it, holding your hips down, keeping you still.

“Jungkook.”

He hummed, less in response to you and more in appreciation of your body, as he ran his hands over it. His thumbs grazed your pert nipples and his hands squeezed at your waist. He lifted the backs of your thighs and pushed them to your chest, humming again in satisfaction. You could feel him at your entrance and your walls pulsed, desperate for him. You gulped, wondering if you still had to keep your hands to yourself. You were so needy for it now that you didn’t dare try it, didn’t dare take the risk that he might move away, stop touching you, even for a second.

“Jungkook, please,” you whispered. “I need you to fuck me, please.”

He slowly dragged his eyes back to you.

“Say it again, beautiful.”

“Say what?”

“Tell me you need me. Tell me you need me to fuck you.”

“I need you. I need you. Please. Fuck me, please. Jungkook, I need you to fu- oh!”

He didn’t even wait for you to finish. He thrust hard and you got what you wanted: you could feel every ridge of his shaft against your walls, tight and slick and trembling.

“Tell me how it—fuck—tell me how it feels.”

“Feels good, JK. Feels so good. Can I… Do I have to, ah, keep my hands to m-myself? Can I touch you? Please?”

He groaned loud, dropping his head, and laughed softly.

“You asking my permission? Does my good girl need my permission to touch me?”

“Yes, yes. Please.”

“Shit.”

He leant forward, pushing your legs to the side, lowering himself onto his forearms so he could kiss you.

“Yes, go ahead; fuck, you’re so good for me, baby. You don’t have to keep your hands to yourself.”

The first thing you did was pull him even closer, kiss him again, whine into his mouth when the head of his cock squeezed past your g-spot. You gripped his hair tight, twisting it in your fingers, keeping his face close to yours. You whispered his name and his eyes found yours; wide, bambi eyes staring openly at you, hair sticking to his forehead, your name on his lips as he pounded into you. You traded sloppy kisses and whispered expletives.

“JK?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I… Can I touch myself?”

You felt his cock twitch inside you and he swore.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re the best. Shit. Oh, shit. Yes, you can, you can.”

He wished he could keep his cool, but it took all he had not to come right then and there. He dropped his head to your shoulder and bit down hard, trying to ground himself as you reached between you and drew circles over your clit. Your walls fluttered against him, squeezing and clenching, as you shuddered into your third orgasm and he growled, desperately trying to last, to fuck you through this at the very least. What he wouldn’t give for this moment to last forever, to live this moment a hundred, a thousand times over: the sounds and feelings of your climax almost overwhelming him, his head barely above water, about to drown in you and die happy doing it. He wanted to freeze this moment, store it in his memory, crystallise its perfection. But it was over too soon.

When your cunt released him, still quivering, he was too quick to breathe a soft sight of relief, too quick to relax, and he juddered quickly to his own end, filling you with milky ropes of cum.

Breathing hard, he kissed you, still hungry, still needy, still inside you. He held you at the back of the head and pushed his forehead into yours.

“You’re perfect, fucking perfect.”

With a groan, he let his strength go and flopped against you. You held him close and could feel his heart beating hard under your hand. You brushed his hair from his face and smoothed it down. You kissed the top of his head and he sighed.

“Is it wrong if I say I think I fucking love you?” He raised his eyes to you, giddy and sparkling.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s just the orgasm talking.”

He laughed quietly and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

“Maybe. But if you keep it up, I am going to fall in love with you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

He turned his head to bite down on your shoulder again.

“Can’t it be both?

767 notes View Post

jmscaffeine

1 year ago

I will stay bts ♡⁠˖

67 notes View Post

jmscaffeine

8 months ago

Dickless

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Genre: basically pwp but like, enemies to lovers if you REALLY squint

Summary: Your boyfriend won't go down on you and it is a Problem. Fortunately, your friendly neighbourhood fuckboy (or is he??) Taehyung is there to lend a mouth hand.

Word count: 11.1k

Content: oral sex (f. receiving), protected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, infidelity, some very poor communicating

A/N: it's another repost!!! because this just hit 2k notes on the old blog 🥺🥺🥺 I have a secret soft spot for this fic, ngl. I'm secretly (not so secretly) proud of the smut; I tried to do something a bit different with my writing and I like how it came out, at least those parts. I have not edited this at all due to the aforemetioned bottle of wine so, here it is as it always was

ETA: the sexual politics of this one are 🥴😬 because reader essentially won't accept the truth that sexual incompatibility is both real and a valid reason to not continue a relationship. No one should be pressured into doing something they don't want and that extends to her bf! It's not his fault! She should have dumped him months ago! And she didn't! And she's in the wrong for that!! To be clear: she is in the wrong!!!!

That said, she's not a total cunt; she is struggling with it and doesn't want to break-up with him because she does (did) love him and she feels like she should just be able to give up this thing because it's only her, it's only what she wants, it doesn't really matter-- except it does matter; what she wants does matter and she had to come to terms with that and the fact that that means she and her bf can't be together.

* * *

You remembered the first time you saw Taehyung. You were at a bar your friend had dragged you to because she knew he would be there; they had been sleeping together for a couple of weeks and she wanted to ‘casually’ run into him as he had stopped replying to her texts.

“There he is,” Tara had hissed, pointing to a tall man across the room, dark curls bouncing on his brow, long fingers curled around a wine glass, and an intense look on his face.

Moving further into the room, it had then been revealed that the target of his gaze was another woman and, despite your friend’s best attempts, Taehyung was not interested. She had dragged you to the toilets where she cried, real, huge tears.

“It’s just been a couple of weeks, hasn’t it? Did you say you were exclusive?” you had asked, trying to be sensitive but shocked at the display of emotion. She wasn’t usually like this.

“I’m not crying because I’m in love with him or something!” she had replied, her voice thick with tears. “I’m crying because he’s never going to sleep with me again!”

“What?”

“If he’s done with me, then that’s it. I’m done for. I’m done with sex.”

She had fixed you with a wet, shining stare.

“No one is as good in bed as Taehyung.” Her voice was hushed, awed. “He... You just don’t know if you haven’t slept with him, ok? He has ruined me. I can never sleep with anyone else, not knowing that he’s out there somewhere, not sleeping with me. No on-”

“No one is that good at sex. Come on; it’s not like he’s got a magic dick or so-”

“Yes, he has! He absolutely has. But it’s not just his dick – it's his everything. I’m telling you, y/n-” she had sniffled for dramatic effect, her tears were mostly dried- “he’s the best I’ve ever had or will ever have and, honestly, if he ever shows any interest in you, take it.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“I don’t care.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock; she knew your boyfriend; you had thought they got along well; but she interrupted you before you could argue.

“I’m serious, y/n. This is a hall pass situation. Do not turn Taehyung down.”

“So I can end up like you, crying over his dick in a toilet?”

She had fixed you with a death glare but could not exactly say you were wrong.

* * *

That was months ago now. And, somehow, Taehyung kept popping up in your life. At the pub, at bars, at a party where you weren’t even sure he knew anyone – he just happened to be there. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him because you didn’t even know him, but you certainly had no interest in getting to know him. Men like him were ten a penny and, despite what you had been told about him, you were not convinced he was all that in the sack, because men like him never are.

He was certainly handsome; you wouldn’t deny that. But attractive? No one that smug, that arrogant, could ever be attractive to you. Someone who thinks the world is at their feet, that everyone should fall to their knees for them, that other people exist only for their delectation... That was disgusting, not sexy. Even if you hadn’t had a boyfriend, you knew there was no way his ‘charm’ could work on you. All bluster and machismo and that quirked eyebrow and little smirk? No, thank you.

“You know, I’ve been seeing you around a lot, but I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.”

The voice came from behind you and you knew, without having to look, who it would be. You replied not even bothering to turn around.

“No need. I know who you are.”

“Oh? And who am I?”

He was next to you then, leaning against the wall, your arms touching.

“You’re Taehyung with the magical dick.”

“Oh, is that what they call me?”

“Well, I don’t-”

“You just did.”

“I don’t but rumour has it... Of course, I don’t believe a word.”

“There are rumours going around that I have a magical dick and you don’t believe them... You know there’s one way to know for sure?”

You turned to him, then, stared into his eyes – wide, innocent, as if he wasn’t just asking you to fuck him without even knowing your name – and scoffed.

“No, thanks. I have a boyfriend.”

“And does he have a magical dick?”

You didn’t hesitate, not really, not for more than half a second, but it was enough.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s a real shame. You want my number so you can pass it on to him? Maybe I could give him some tips?”

“Ugh, goodbye, Taehyung.”

You pushed yourself off the wall and made your way through the room, but he followed after you.

“Or,” he continued. “You could just take my number and not pass it on, maybe keep it for yourself. In case of an emergency or-”

“Emergency? What emergency might I possibly ever have that I would require your assistance?”

He leant down, so close that you could smell his shampoo and his drink on his breath. His cheek barely brushed yours as he brought his lips to your ear.

“Maybe your boyfriend with the disappointing dick can’t get you off and you’re so on edge that you think, god I’d do anything, anything, to come right now, but you can’t. Then you’re lying there, hot and bothered and unsatisfied, yearning for something, someone, to come and sort you out, to show you the kind of pleasure you’ve not even ever dreamt of. And you think of me, and my magical dick, and you think, oh how I wish I’d taken his number; if I had his number, I’d call him right no-”

You put a hand against his chest and pushed him back.

“I’m not taking your number and I’m not going to call you. This-” you gestured broadly to him “this doesn’t work on me. You’re a fuckboy and I don’t fuck with fuckboys. Goodbye.”

As you walked away from him for the second time, he didn’t follow and you had to stop yourself turning around to see if he was still looking at you. It didn’t matter if he was or not, but you liked the idea of denying the undeniable man, of being one person he couldn’t charm, couldn’t win over. You didn’t care if his dick really was magic or not because you knew you would never be finding out.

* * *

The next time you saw him was a few weeks later, at a party. He was on the sofa, slouching low, an empty glass held slack in his hand, dangling at the end of his wrist. He wasn’t talking to anyone, not making moves or scanning for prey; just sitting, staring into space. You turned away from him; you didn’t want to think about a sex god right now; you didn’t want to think about sex full-stop. You ideally wanted to not think at all. You left the room.

Later that night, when you went back inside, you saw him again. He was still sitting on the sofa, empty glass (the same one?) in hand, still staring into space. You briefly wondered if he was on drugs and, if he were, whether that was deliberate or he’d had his drink spiked. Most people seemed to be ignoring him, or they hadn’t noticed him at all. You sat down next to him.

“No conquest tonight?”

“Nope.”

“What? Not even one? You can’t be telling me your magical dick would miss an opportunity like this: all these people, drinks flowing, inhibitio-”

“I said no.”

He tipped his head over the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

“Are you ok?”

“Yep.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yep.”

You had to stifle a giggle and take a pause before you continued.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had your heartbroken. Mr Magical Dick, Mr Fuck Anything That Moves, Mr Don’t Keep Anyone Around For More Than Two Weeks has had his little heart broken?”

You could see his jaw work as he tongued at the inside of his cheek, as if deliberating whether or not he would confide in you.

“In a manner of speaking.”

The way you gasped was uncharitable, and on a different night, you might have been less callous, but misery loves company and you were delighted to find out that someone else – Kim Taehyung at that – was having relationship problems. You were just fixing on your best retort, tidying it up on the tip of your tongue when he spoke again.

“Before you say whatever clever remark you’re currently labouring over, my fucking grandmother died, ok? So save it.”

“Oh.” Surprised didn’t even come close. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He stood and walked away but you followed him, up the stairs and into an empty bedroom where he collapsed on the bed. You followed him in and shut the door behind you, but stayed next to it, unsure what to say or do.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ventured.

“No.”

“Do you want to drink about it?”

He lifted the empty glass in his hand as if he were about to take a sip and then held it out to you.

“Sure.”

“Ok, uh, stay here then and I’ll be back.”

When you returned to the bedroom (bottle of unfortunately cheap vodka in hand), you thought he must have left: the bed was empty. Then you saw his feet poking out from the other side and found him lying on the floor. You took his glass, poured him a drink, and watched him as he knocked it back. He grimaced and looked at you.

“This is horrible.”

“Yeah, I know, but I figured it wouldn’t be missed. Sorry.”

He held his glass up for more.

You sat, drinking in silence. You didn’t know what to say to him and he was obviously not interested in conversation so part of you wanted to leave him alone, but he hadn’t told you to leave, and he was still holding his glass out for more, and you didn’t really feel like he should’ve been alone. So, you stayed. It was nice, actually. You hadn’t really been in the mood for a party – you had just wanted to get out – so you were enjoying the quiet. You were enjoying the way the vodka was making you warm, edges all fuzzy and soft, the noise far away.

“She basically raised me.”

His voice was quiet and thick; you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or just talking.

“Yeah?”

“She-”

He looked at you then, his eyes not quite focusing, and stopped talking.

“You can tell me about her, if you want.”

He shook his head with a groan and drew his knees up to his chest, dropping his head between them.

“I’m going to go home,” he said after another short while had passed.

“You sure?”

He nodded.

“Can you get home ok? Did you need me to get you a taxi or call someone?”

He shook his head and fished his phone out of his pocket, waving it at you, unlocking it to order a car. You almost didn’t reach out for it, but you knew you would feel responsible if something happened, so you took his phone and entered your number into it.

“Please let me know when you have got home safe, ok?”

He looks at you, suspicious, and then playful as that all-too-familiar smirk returns to his lips.

“It was all a ruse, huh? Get me drunk and give me your number under the pretence of concern for me, huh? I knew you wanted me.”

“What I want, Taehyung, is to not be the last person to see you alive and the subsequent subject of a murder investigation.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You’re the one who calls me magic dick...”

He winked at you and then turned, waving a hand in your direction, stumbling down the stairs. You figured you might as well call it a night yourself.

You were back in your apartment, washed and undressed, tapping impatiently at the side of your phone, not sure if you should wait to hear from Taehyung or assume that he’d forgotten and just go to sleep yourself. Then a message came in from an unknown number.

A head shot, but with enough of his shoulders displayed to make it clear he was topless, his black hair splayed on the pillow behind his head. He had his eyes closed, his fingers in a V over his mouth.

???: Didn’t die.

???: Unlike my grandma 🙁

You choked on surprised laughter.

y/n: Glad you got home ok. Sorry about your gma 🙁

* * *

Your phone rang the next evening while you were making tea and you answered without looking who was calling.

“Hello?”

“What the fuck is this I hear about you and Kim Taehyung?”

It was your boyfriend.

“Uh, I don’t know; what did you hear?”

“Apparently, you’re fucking.”

“WHAT?!”

“Apparently, when you were out last night, you and Taehyung went into a bedroom for a very long time and he came out looking very pleased with himself.”

“Ok and? That means we’re fucking, does it?”

“I don’t know; I’m asking you.”

“Ok, well, no, we didn’t. We didn’t really do anything. We just sat and drank.”

“What do you mean you just sat and drank? What even is that?”

“I mean we literally sat and drank. I wasn’t in a good mood and neither was he, so I nicked a bottle of vodka from the kitchen and we sat in the dark, in silence, drinking it. That’s it.”

There was an aggrieved sigh from the other end of the phone.

“So, it’s my fault, is it? Is that what this is about? You trying to make me jealous or some sh-”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m supposed to believe it’s just a coincidence that, almost immediately after we have an argument about me not going down on you, you end up at a party with the most notorious fuckboy in the fucking country?”

You could feel anger swelling within you, sweat pricking on your back and in your palms.

“Believe what you want. I’m telling you nothing happened.”

You hung up. You were not about to be accused of cheating by a guy who, frankly, already owed you an apology. As if you would’ve done that. Even if you had been single, you wouldn’t have slept with Taehyung – not ever, but certainly not last night. You had a little more decency than that. Hell, even Taehyung had more decency than that. You tried to push it from your mind; if you had been your boyfriend, maybe you would’ve thought it, too, or at least, felt insecure about it or unsure. You could admit that it didn’t necessarily look great – you were very aware of Taehyung’s reputation and maybe you should have considered that before shutting yourself in a room with him. But you also knew you hadn’t done anything wrong. So you were prepared to let it blow over.

* * *

Taehyung: You coming tonight?

y/n: Coming where?

Taehyung: Jimin’s party?

y/n: 🤷‍♀️ not invited

Taehyung: Ok, I’m inviting you.

Taehyung: So you coming?

y/n: Can’t. Have a date

Taehyung: You dumped disappointing dick??!!! 😄😄😄

y/n: No.

y/n: He’s still my boyfriend. My date is with him.

Taehyung: Boo 😒 let me know when you finally leave him

y/n: Fuck off, taehyung

* * *

You didn’t see him for a few weeks after that, until you found yourself actually searching for him, peeking into dark corners in clubs and bars to see if he was there. You weren’t sure why you did; you weren’t friends and you certainly weren’t interested in him. But you were intrigued. You always assumed people like him were shallow – truly of the no thoughts, head empty kind. You hadn’t really considered that he might be a real person under there somewhere. Albeit a smug, arrogant, charmless, shameless person. Who may or may not have had a magic dick.

You thought about what your friend had said, the first time you met Taehyung. How she had cried, not because she liked him, not because he broke her heart, but because she would never get to sleep with him again. You couldn’t imagine it, sex that good. Not that the sex you had was bad (it wasn’t), it was good, even, but you couldn’t imagine it being so good, so much better than now that it would inspire such a reaction.

You began to think about it more and more as things with your boyfriend went from bad to worse.

The club was hot and loud and you were happy to be drunk and dancing. Happy, that is, until you weren’t. Your phone buzzed once, twice, three times, four times. You knew it was your boyfriend and you knew it was because you were out without him. Which was kind of the whole point; you didn’t want to speak to him.

You wandered outside to the smoking area, for some air, to scan your eyes over your boyfriend’s messages and see if there was anything worth replying to. And there was Taehyung. He hadn’t seen you yet and you knew you had only a few seconds before he turned around and noticed you. You realised, with what might have been clarity or might have been too much gin, that of all the people in all the world that you might speak to about your problems, Taehyung was probably the best: experienced, not your friend, you didn’t care about his opinion of you, and he didn’t think much of your boyfriend.

“Hey, Taehyung,” you called as you approached.

He turned and his smug, little smirk turned into a genuine smile when he saw you.

“Y/n! It’s been a while. Still being disappointed in the bedroom?”

You almost changed your mind.

“Shut up, Taehyung. I have to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“You have a lot of sex, right? Like, a lot of sex with a lot of different wome-... people? Right?”

He shrugged.

“Some, sure. Maybe a lot. Depends who’s asking.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean. When you have sex with someone with a... with uh, a vulva, do you go down on them?”

He looked at you as if you had suddenly grown another head and, when he answered, he spoke slowly, as if you were an idiot.

“Yes, if they have a pussy, I go down on them.”

“Always? Like, every time?”

“Well, I guess probably not 100% of the time, but... I don’t know, 95?”

This was not the answer you had been hoping for.

“Why are you a-” He cut himself off with a gasp and looked at you, shock and glee in equal measure on his face. “Does Disappointing Dick not go down on you?”

You blushed furiously, your face hot, and stomped your foot, shushing him viciously.

“No,” you admitted, through gritted teeth. “No, he doesn’t. Not ever.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“Like, not even a little?”

“I said not ever! What do you not understand about those words?”

“Why?”

“You mean why doesn’t he?” You shrugged, trying to appear more unbothered than you were. “He says he doesn’t like it.”

“Doesn’t like it? Is he gay?”

You rolled your eyes and turned away with a groan, intending to drop it, but he grabbed your arm and turned you back.

“I’m being serious. If he’s not going down on you, he can’t be that into pussy. Is it just you or was he the same with previous partners?”

“He says it’s everyone, not just me. He says he just doesn’t like it.”

“Has he tried? With you, I mean?”

You grimaced at the memory.

“Once.”

“And how was it?”

“Awful. I couldn’t relax because all I could think about was how much he didn’t want to do it and he was so awkward and tentative and then he got annoyed because I wasn’t enjoying-”

“He got annoyed?”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung’s brows came over his eyes and his lips pouted forward. He looked at you, thinking carefully.

“Do you go down on him?”

“Well, yeah, but I like doing it so it’s not an issue.”

“But him not going down on you is an issue?”

“Yes. I know I shouldn’t make it a big deal and maybe it’s not and I’m just being selfis-”

He held up a hand to cut you off before you could even finish the word.

“You’ve done things you aren’t that keen on in bed, right?”

“Uh, wh- what do you mean? No one’s ever forced me to do-”

“No, I don’t mean that. I just mean... There are some positions you like more than others, yeah? Or maybe he likes to fuck in the shower but you prefer not to or he likes morning sex and you don’t really, but you sometimes do it anyway, even though it’s not your favourite thing?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So why do you do them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well if they’re not really top of your list, why do you do them at all? Why not just say no and only do it how you want?”

“Because it’s not just about me. It’s about them, too, and I want them to have a good time. And, ok, maybe we do it that way this time, and next time, we’ll do it my way.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“My point is that, even if eating your pussy isn’t his favourite thing to do, he should still do it because it’s something that you like and that makes you feel good and he should care about that.”

“You care, do you? About all the people you have sex with?”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes were sharp, his lips almost sneering. He seemed annoyed but you couldn’t work out why. “Why are you asking me about this anyway? Want me to give you what you’re missing?”

You punched him in the arm, a little harder than you’d intended, and he scowled, giving the area a rub.

“No. Why would you ask me that? Of course, I fucking don’t. I have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah. And maybe you shouldn’t.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He lifts an eyebrow at you, disbelief and impatience clear on his face.

“You know what I mean. And you know I’m always here for you.”

For one second, you really thought he was being nice and thoughtful; you thought he might be treating you like a friend. And then reality came back to you and you realised precisely what he meant. You punched him in the arm again.

“Fuck off, Taehyung. I’m not fucking you.”

“That’s not what I offered. Come on, sweetheart-”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Y/n, seriously.”

He cradled your cheek with his hand and looked closely at you. His brown eyes were so warm, inviting, so wide and open and sweet that you couldn’t believe what came out of his mouth next.

“What’s a little oral between friends? Let me show you your pretty little pussy’s worth wanting.”

“Ugh!”

You ripped your face away from his hand and stalked off, even as he called after you. The juxtaposition of that cute, teddy-bear face and his fucking depravity would give you whiplash. You told yourself that’s what it was; that he was confusing and you didn’t know how to take him, didn’t know if you could trust him. That’s why you could feel a cold stone of anxiety sinking in your stomach; you were discombobulated, that’s all. You were drunk. He had knocked you off kilter.

You were fine.

The next day, Taehyung messaged you.

Taehyung: I’m sorry for overstepping, ok?

You didn’t have time to read the rest before he was video-calling you.

“Hi.”

“You haven’t even given me three seconds to read your messages yet.”

“I know, but it said you read them so I knew you were looking at your phone and I wanted to speak to you.”

“I don’t know if that’s smart or creepy.”

You could tell he shrugged by the jolt of the camera.

“What do you want, then? You’ve already apologised.”

“I don’t want to apologise. Not really... Well, I do if I made you uncomfortable. I am sorry if I did but I’m not going to apologise for anything else. Not even this...

“No partner should ever make you feel weird or self-conscious or bad or insecure or anything like that. If you are putting your trust in someone, if you’re literally putting your body in their hands, they had better make damn fucking sure that they’re treating it right, that they’re taking care of you, that you feel good, that you feel better being with them than you do on your own. That’s all non-negotiable. It doesn’t sound like Dickless is doing that.”

“What happened to Disappointing Dick?”

“I demoted him. He doesn’t deserve a dick.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“I’m fucking serious. You deserve better.”

You hung up on him. You didn’t want to hear it because you didn’t want to admit that it did make you feel bad; that you were self-conscious now; that something bad was definitely happening inside your brain and you didn’t, somehow, feel like you had the right to blame your boyfriend.

Taehyung, persistent as ever, sent a text.

Taehyung: I’m sorry if you’re upset but I’m also not sorry. You deserve better. You deserve to be feel like your body is perfect because it is. Your body is a site of worship and if he’s not praying to you, sacrificing to you, he’s blaspheming. You deserve to be fucked by someone who will recognise what you are, will recognise how lucky they are to be with you, will make sure they let you know just how desirable and sexy and fucking perfect you are. That's all.

Y/n: You mean someone like you?

Taehyung: 🙄🙄🙄

Taehyung: NO. I’m not trying to fuck you; you’ve made your feelings on that abundantly clear. This is not about me at all. How many times do I have to say I’m serious about this? Your boyfriend is a sack of shit.

You did not reply.

* * *

It was a Monday morning, hardly the highlight of anyone’s week, when you next ran into Taehyung. As you entered the café, you could see him, waiting for his coffee at the other end of the bar. You ignored him and placed your order, hoping he would be gone before you had finished.

No such luck. Worse still, he immediately started talking to you.

“I just have one question; will you let me ask one question?”

“What?”

“Are you prepared to go the rest of your life with no one going down on you?”

“What?”

You could feel your face heat and you glanced nervously around, hoping no one else had heard him. You were furious with him for bringing it up here, in public, first thing in the morning, but you were also not prepared for that question and a cold feeling of dread slipped through your veins like ice.

“You’re in a relationship with this guy; at some point, eventually, you’ll get married, right? And that’s it, then; you’re staring down the barrel of what, 70 years without it? You’ve already had your last time. Do you remember it? Was it even good?”

You knew it wasn’t because the last time anyone did it was the first – and only – time your boyfriend had and that had been an unmitigated disaster.

“We’re not that serious, Taehyung. We’re not getting married.”

“Maybe not now, but if you don’t break up, that’s where you’re headed, isn’t it? Is it really something you’re willing to give up forever? For him?”

Your coffee had arrived and you had hoped you could take it and run, but Taehyung picked up your cup with his spare hand and wandered towards a spare table.

“I don’t even know why you care so much,” you hissed as you sat opposite him at the table.

“I don’t know why you don’t. You asked me for a reason and you are apparently completely unwilling to listen to anything. Is what I’m saying so radical? What do your other friends say?”

You couldn’t answer that question because you hadn’t told anyone else. It was too embarrassing.

“Have you even told anyone else?”

“No.”

“Then why me? Because I’m just some disgusting, shallow fuckboy whose opinion you don’t care about except when it might benefit you? Because you expected me to say that I don’t go down on the women I sleep with? Expected me to make some crude joke or cruel comment about them? Because you think that, just because I sleep with a lot of people, I must not respect them enough to treat them right? All of the above?”

The silence between the two of you was thick, untouched by the noise and bustle of the café around you. You couldn’t deny that basically everything he had said was true, but hearing him say it made you feel thoroughly shamed.

“I’m not offended,” he continued. “Because I know that none of that is true, as does everyone who actually knows me. You haven’t bothered to get to know me-”

“Yeah because all you do is try to get in my pants!”

“How is that true? Did I not just tell you that I’m not trying to fuck you? That this isn’t about me? Contrary to your beliefs, you are actually not some kind of irresistible siren whom I will make it my life mission to bed. I can live without fucking you, thank you very much. And you think I’m arrogant.”

“I don’t think I’m irresistible,” you protested weakly.

“I’m not interested in arguing with you. I’m a lover, not a fighter.” He paused to give you a dramatic, over the top, sexy wink and you couldn’t stop yourself rolling your eyes. “But, for the millionth time, I am serious about this. And you need to get serious about it. Here, enjoy your coffee, sweetheart.”

He slid your cup towards you, stood, and left before you could tell him off for calling you that again. You were rattled and frustrated and couldn’t stop thinking about the rest of your life.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it that day or that week or even into the next week. You saw your boyfriend three times and had sex that you couldn’t enjoy because you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It was the last time, with him pounding away inside you, that he finally noticed.

“Hey, y/n.”

He slowed, but didn’t stop.

“Where have you gone? I feel like you’re not there.”

You dragged your eyes back into focus, onto him.

“Do you think you’ll ever like it?”

He frowned, confused, and came to a stop, resting his weight on you a little.

“Like what? What are you talking about?”

“Oral.”

He groaned and you knew, even though you couldn’t see his face as he rested his forehead on your clavicle, that he was rolling his eyes.

“Do we have to talk about this again? I feel like this is all we ever talk about and I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to give me a reason! Tell me why you won’t do it!”

He rolled away, slipping out of you, and sat up and you pushed yourself upright next to him. He had never really given you an answer, other than that he ‘just doesn’t like it’ and you thought this little pause might be him finally deciding to tell you.

“Tell me why it matters so much!” he countered and your hope deflated. “I get you off, don’t I? It’s not like I’m selfish. Why do you need me to do it so badly?”

“Because I like it! Because I do things for you! Because... Because it makes me feel bad that you don’t.”

“Oh I make you feel bad? All this time I spend trying to make you feel good-”

“I don’t! I don’t feel good! I don’t feel good because you make me feel like there must be something wrong with me! No one else has ever had a problem with it-”

“Now who’s making who feel bad? If everyone else you’ve fucked likes it so much, why don’t you just go and ask them to do it?”

“What?”

“Well, if they all love doing it so much and you need it so fucking desperately, why not ask them?”

“Are you serious right now?”

His jaw dropped as if you’d just hit him.

“Of course I’m not fucking serious! Are you joking? You’re my fucking girlfriend! As if I would let you do that! I don’t understand why you can’t just be happy with what we have.”

He was standing and putting his feet back into his boxers and trousers. You didn’t want him to leave. Because you wanted him to stay and change his mind. You wanted him to suddenly turn around and say, actually, I was wrong, please allow me to go down on you for hours and hours... You knew he wouldn’t.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and took your hand.

“Do you love me?”

At that moment, no, you truly didn’t. It took all your strength to look him in the eye and answer.

“Yes, of course.”

He kissed you and told you the same and then he told you to get some rest and sleep on it and that things would look better in the morning.

You had had this argument enough times to know that it wouldn’t. Things would look the same in the morning. In actual fact, they looked worse.

You still couldn’t get Taehyung’s words out of your mind, any of them. The idea of anyone worshipping you was faintly absurd, a rhetorical flourish you’re sure he didn’t mean literally, but he seemed so sincere and, well, they didn’t say he had a magical dick for nothing.

You called Tara.

“Ok, I need you to be really real with me and also to not ever tell anyone I asked you this.”

“Oh my god, the intrigue... Go on.”

“Just exactly how good is Taehyung in bed?”

She cackled loudly down the phone and then sighed, suddenly wistful.

“Still, by far, the best I have ever had. I still miss him.”

“Ok, but I don’t know how good the other people you’ve slept with are. I need like, some objective measure-”

“Why? Are you planning to sleep with him?”

“No! God no! I just don’t believe that what people say about him can be true, so I’m … I don’t know... checking...”

Her responding hum sounded unconvinced.

“Well, he once made me come for like, two straight minutes. I thought I was going to die and I could barely walk the next day; every muscle in my body was sore.”

“Is that... good?”

“YES! I meant it when I said you shouldn’t turn him down if he ever offers. I have never had as many orgasms in one night as when I was with him. He just... He fucking loves it and he loves you when he’s fucking you. He kind of takes it almost weirdly seriously? But like, in a good way. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. I may have been drunk at the bar that time, but I honestly could still cry about how much I miss fucking him.”

“Jesus.”

“Not even he can help me, y/n.”

“Ok, well, thanks. I guess.”

“Did that help? I seriously think you should fuck him; I promise I won’t even be jealous because it is truly something I think everyone should get to experience at least once.”

“I am not sure that’s a normal thing to say about someone.”

“Taehyung is not normal.”

* * *

Two days. It was two days before you snapped. You took a deep breath, pressed call, and held the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Do you want to eat me out?”

You could hear choking at the other end and a muffled ‘hold on’. You held on.

“Sorry, what the fuck did you just ask me?”

“I said, do you want to eat me out?”

“Is this a hypothetical question? Because you know I have already made the offer.”

“So you do want to eat me out?”

“Again, is this hypothetical or are you asking me over right now?”

Another deep breath.

“I’m asking you over right now.”

“Give me your address.”

You paced up and down your living room, anxious, impatient. The sheets on the bed were clean; you’d showered and then done it again for no real reason other than an irrational fear of him thinking you were dirty; you hesitated over whether or not to light candles – it felt like too much, too romantic but would also mean you could turn out the lights, keep it dark... You were just about to find the matches again when there was a knock at the door.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

His grin was wide as he stepped over the threshold but it did nothing to put you at ease.

“Do you want a drink or something?” you asked as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Whatever you want. I am at your service.”

He bowed, thrusting an arm elaborately to the side, his head dipping low as he bent deeply from the hips.

“Please don’t be weird. Don’t make this weird.”

“What’s weird about it? Like I said, what’s a little oral between friends? Platonic pussy eating, that’s all it is.”

“I said don’t be weird! Why do you have to put it like that?”

“Well, what is it if not that? I assume you don’t suddenly want to date me.”

“God, no-”

He raised his eyebrows at you, questioning, demanding.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry.”

He shrugged.

“It’s alright. I know you still think we’re not friends, but, just so you know, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

He was suddenly close to you, a little too close. He looked down at you, and you expected to look up and see that arrogant smirk, the quirked eyebrow that he thought was so sexy, but he’s just smiling, sweet, cute.

“I’m glad you called, though. Glad you’ve finally seen the light and ditched Dickless-”

“I haven’t. We’re still together.”

His eyebrows shot up, his mouth a little ‘o’ of surprise.

“You haven’t? And yet here I am... I thought you were a good girl.”

“Shut up, Taehyung. Stop trying to flirt with me.”

You moved away from him, towards the fridge, and got out a bottle of wine, more for something to do than anything else. You poured two glasses and held one out to him.

“How do you expect me to go down on you if you won’t even let me flirt with you a little?”

“You don’t have to flirt with me if I’ve already agreed to it. There’s no need.”

“That’s what you think flirting is? Just a way to get into somebody’s bed? That is not what flirting is for – well, not the only thing.”

He considered you carefully over his wine glass and you could feel yourself blushing all over; he kept his gaze steady, his face betraying nothing, and then he held his hand out to you. You didn’t take it but you moved closer to him, just close enough that he could reach out and grab you by the waist, pulling you up against him.

“Just so we’re clear,” he began, his voice low, his eyes pointedly fixed on yours. “If we do this and you don’t break up with Dickless, I will consider it a failure.”

You didn’t know what you felt. What would make this a success? What would make it a failure? Did you want it to be good? So good you ended your relationship? Or did you want it to be disappointing, maybe literally anticlimactic, so that you could stay with him and not feel like you were missing out? You had absolutely no idea. You didn’t even really know why you were doing it. Was it a good idea? What had possessed you? All you knew was that it had to be done. Now or never. For once and for all.

He placed his wine glass on the counter and slipped his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, his fingers just lightly grazing your skin. Your stomach twisted and you squirmed out of his grasp.

“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to stop your heart racing.

“What are you doing? Did you or did you not invite me over so I could go down on you?”

“Well, yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean all of... All of that.”

You heard him chuckle behind you and you turned slightly, just enough that you could see him run his hands through his hair and roll his eyes, the boxy grin back on his face.

“Y’know, I’m starting to think that maybe you are the problem. At least a little bit.”

When you didn’t move and didn’t respond, he sighed again, lightly exasperated.

“Come here,” he commanded softly, holding his hands out to you. When you didn’t move, he walked towards you instead. He took your face in his hands and made you look at him. “Do you trust me?”

When you didn’t answer, he shook your head lightly side to side.

“I don’t mean like, trust me with your family secrets, trust me to take care of your pets while you’re on holiday. I mean... Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

You shook your head and he moved his face even closer.

“Do you think I’m going to do something you don’t want?”

You shook your head and he lightly pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Do you think I’m going to make you do something you don’t want?”

You shook your head and he kissed your other cheek.

“So, do you trust me?”

You nodded, dumb with anticipation and tension, shocked at the way your body was responding to this, just this: he hadn’t even kissed you on the mouth but you were trembling, warm, wet.

“Ok, then,” he whispered and he moved his hands down your body, then back up on the inside of your clothes. His hands were cold and you shivered against him, closing your eyes.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flicked back to him and he kissed your lips, just barely, still looking you in the eye, and a whimper caught in your throat. He closed his eyes and pulled you closer, his lips pressing against yours now. He removed a hand from your waist and gently pressed his thumb against your chin, opening your mouth to allow his tongue inside. His kiss was warm and sweet with wine; his tongue was soft against yours, slow as he licked into your mouth and retreated. You chased after his mouth when his lips left yours and you could feel him smile as he let you close the distance and kiss him again. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip and sucked it gently, a barely perceptible pressure that made your knees tremble.

You could feel all the heat rushing through your blood, flowering on the surface of your skin in warm blooms as you let yourself relax. All the tension you were holding melted away, evaporating on your skin, leaving you soft and pliant. A deep, dark want blossomed in you, its petals unfurling in your core, arousal first like dew drops, then like a sudden summer downpour buffeting the pale heads of roses. You had thought this would be quick, frantic with need, with guilt, with anxiety, but all of that was held at bay by the gentle way that Taehyung ran his tongue over yours, ran his hands over your body, held you just close enough that you could feel him against you but not so close you felt trapped.

He moved from your mouth and placed kisses on your temple, your ear, your jaw. As he sucked kisses down your neck, you were so distracted that you didn’t notice him unclasp your bra, only aware when he rubbed his thumbs over your nipples, already hard. He moaned against your skin, his teeth sinking into your flesh as he pulled your hips against his. You gasped, both at the bite, and at the feeling of him, stiffening, growing against you. He ran his tongue over the indentations in your neck and you shivered.

“Can I take your clothes off?”

His voice was raspy and low in your ear as he tugged at the bottom of your shirt. You sighed a yes and looked into his eyes as his fingers worked on the buttons of your blouse. His eyes were soft, liquid, the light glinting off them in gold and honey. He took his time, each button slow, his eyes never leaving yours. He nudged your nose with his, licked your bottom lip, sank his teeth into it, sucked it into his mouth.

He pushed your shirt off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then he pulled the straps of your bra down and it fell, too. He finally dropped his gaze and took in the sight of your naked torso, nipples taut, goosebumps spreading over the swell of your breasts as he gently took them in his hands, massaging, squeezing your nipples between his fingers. He hummed quietly.

“Shall we go to the bedroom now?”

You couldn’t speak, only nodded, and walked backwards until your legs hit your bed, then you let him lay you down.

“Can I take this off?” he asked again, holding the edge of your skirt. Again, you nodded and he pulled gently, the fabric almost burning against your legs as it dragged. He kissed your feet and you squirmed.

“Ticklish?” He grinned and licked the sole of your left foot from heel to toe with the tip of his tongue as you squealed.

“Yes, I am!” you gasped. He chuckled and relented, trailing soft, wet kisses up your legs. You held your breath as he licked at your inner thighs, anticipating him at your core.

But he wasn’t there. He slipped his hands underneath at the hips and lifted the fabric so he could lick the crease of your leg and then pulled it down so he could kiss across the waistband from hip bone to hip bone, but he didn’t touch you. Your heart was racing in your chest now; what was he waiting for?

He hummed against your skin and moved above you, his hands on either side of your chest. He looked at you, almost quizzical for a second, and then that look faded into a smile that – had it been anyone else – you might’ve called adoring. He lowered his face to yours and kissed you.

“Relax, y/n. I can feel your heart beating from here.”

Resting his full weight on one hand, he placed the other between your breasts, atop your sternum, your heart pushing back, thumping against your ribs.

“But aren’t you gonna...?”

He kissed you again, forceful this time, leaving you breathless as he pulled away.

“Yes, I am. But we’re doing it my way, ok? Just relax; I’m going to take good care of you.”

He shuffled downwards, lips everywhere on his path down your neck, across your chest. You whined when he took your nipple in his mouth, your back arching into him as he sealed his teeth around it, his tongue lapping at your tightened bud.

Everything was so slow. You felt like a frog in a pan; you hadn’t really noticed it building, this huge, hungry desire, but now you were drowning in it, burning, melting. It enveloped you, held you, suspended, cushioned in its warmth but needled by its intensity. It sent its buds out from your centre to your extremities, your fingers and toes tingling, your body trembling, your breath catching in your throat. Flowers of want blooming all over you, petals falling from Taehyung’s lips, soft and sweet and warm.

You let out a long, shaky whine when he finally locked his fingers around your underwear and tugged them down, his hands sliding against your legs as he pulled them all the way off.

“Taehyung,” you whispered as he pushed your legs apart, crawling back towards you.

“Yes?”

You didn’t know what to say. You knew there was something, something inside you that you wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t find the words. Everything was obscured by the veil of your greed, your craven yearning for him. You wanted his mouth on you so badly, wanted to be wanted. You remembered what he said about worship and a sudden panic sliced through you with painful clarity.

“I-… What if it is me? What if there’s something wrong with me?”

He pressed a soft kiss against your inner thigh and then loomed over you.

“It’s not you, I promise.”

He rested his forehead against yours, your noses pressed together, his hand on your cheek.

“You’re perfect. Perfect, you hear me? If you’ve changed your mind about this, that’s ok-”

“No, god no,” you answered quickly, immediately, absolutely sure that you wanted this, your nails digging into his arms. “Please...”

He kissed you, slow, even slower than before, and he lowered his body down on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. It’s only then that you realised he was still fully dressed. And you were completely naked beneath him, so exposed and so vulnerable. You pushed him back, a light palm against his chest, and he looked at you, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

You looked at his eyes, somehow both shining and dark at the same time; his pouty mouth just barely open; his hips pressing into yours; his erection hot and hard against you, almost exactly where it needed to be, so you could just tip your hips and rub yourself on him, feel the friction you were desperate for. He looked at you so openly and it wasn’t like you expected it to be at all. None of it was. You thought he would be arrogant, cocksure, swaggering; you thought he would be rough, wild, frenetic; you thought it was all bluster and machismo, that he’d keep calling you ‘baby’ and asking how you liked it and trying to make you scream. You hadn’t even really believed that he would get you there. Whether due to you or to him, you had thought it probably wouldn’t happen. Your boyfriend had made you too self-conscious; Taehyung wouldn’t put the effort in or wouldn’t know what to do.

But it wasn’t like that at all. He looked at you questioningly, searchingly, like he actually cared. And he had moved so slowly, so patiently; he was rock-hard against you, but hadn’t even mentioned it. He hadn’t even taken his clothes off. This was the first time he’d even really pressed his hips against you so you could feel him. You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, tried to feel yourself in your body. You could feel the ghost of his breath over your face, his hand curled around your shoulder, fingers dancing lightly over your skin. There was the weight of his body, the warmth of it. You wanted to feel his skin in yours.

“Take your clothes off,” you whispered, opening your eyes to look at him.

He grinned and sat back on his knees, unbuttoning his shirt. You reached out to unzip his trousers but he batted your hand away. He unzipped them himself and stood to step out of them.

“Better?” he asked, already making his way back to you, but shook your head.

“No. Everything.”

His eyebrows raised just a hair and he paused, considering you.

“You know this is not about me, right?”

“I know. I just want to see you.”

He nodded slowly and hooked his thumbs into boxers, sliding them down and stepping out. His dick was wet with pre-cum and you couldn’t believe he could be so hard when you hadn’t even touched him, when he had barely touched you. He knelt at the end of the bed and grabbed your ankles, slowly pulling you down, down, down, until you were just barely still lying on it, your feet touching the floor until he spread your thighs to the side, as wide as they could go.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked, his words muffled as he kissed your thigh.

“Yes, fuck. Yes, Taehyung. Please.”

He was still slow. Slow as he pressed kisses against your lips, on your mound, back out to the crease of your hip, your thighs. You whined when he ran his fingers through your folds, hearing the slick of your arousal as he dragged up to your clit and down again, as he opened you up. He pressed a kiss to your clit and you jumped, swallowing hard, trying to catch your breath as he opened his lips and sucked. He laved over your clit with the soft, flat pad of his tongue and you sighed, having forgotten this feeling.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, sprinkling kisses across your legs, your mound, your lips. “Tell me what works for you, what doesn’t.”

But you couldn’t speak. You moaned and mewled and whimpered, but no words would come. You were swept away on a wave of pleasure, not in the room anymore, but somewhere else, somewhere nothing else existed – just you and Taehyung and this bed. You wanted to tell him yes, like that, more, yes, please, please, please, but the air was tight in your lungs, stuck in your throat, whipped away as it left your mouth in a strangled whine.

He moaned loudly as he licked over your slit, drinking you in.

“Y/n.”

His breath was warm, brushing against your flushed skin.

“You taste so good, y/n. I fucking knew you would.”

He moved his mouth away again, biting down on the soft flesh of your inner thigh as he slipped first one and then two fingers into your wet heat. You whined, greedy, needy, grinding your hips, trying to feel some friction back on your clit. Taehyung hummed against your skin and you felt his lips stretch into a smile.

“Don’t hold back, y/n. I love the way you sound.”

And you didn’t. You let yourself go, let yourself fall into it, abandoned yourself to him. With his fingers still inside you and his mouth back, sealed against your clit, his tongue alternately flicking hard circles around it, then licking softly over it, you felt your body shuddering to its climax. You expected him to stop as your walls clenched hard on his fingers, to stop when your legs clamped over his ears, to stop when you writhed beneath him, fully overwhelmed as wave after wave swamped you with pleasure.

But he didn’t. He thrummed his fingers hard against your front wall, not letting you squeeze them out. He kept his mouth on you, your slick and his spit mixing as you came, gushing around him. When you finally cried out, cursing him, calling his name, he slowed, but he still didn’t stop, and you felt your whole body convulse under him. With a flash of clarity, you remembered what Tara had said, and you couldn’t believe it, knew you couldn’t take it, knew this would kill you if it went on any longer.

But it did. And you didn’t die. You felt yourself floating, your limbs weightless, your head dizzy as you climbed to your second peak, your, soft, weak body tightening, pulling in all directions at once, your skin burning, your heart like a hummingbird’s, blood roaring in your ears like the waves of the ocean. Your hands twisted in the bedsheets as you came, the noises you were making nothing short of animal.

When you flopped, spent, melting into the mattress, you pushed your fingers through Taehyung’s hair and tugged, your body screaming with over-stimulation, your bed and thighs soaked. You could hardly see; nothing but flashing lights in front of you, stars shining and twinkling on your ceiling, swirling, disappearing and reappearing like a kaleidoscope.

“Taehyung,” you panted, weak and quiet. “Stop.”

He was immediately still, those wide, open eyes looking up at you. You whimpered as he pulled his fingers from you and you fell, slithering like a slinky from the bed and into his arms. He held you tight, pushed your hair from your face and kissed your forehead.

“You ok?”

You looked up at him, blinking hard to stop your vision swimming. He was shiny and sticky all around his mouth, all over his chin. Those deep, autumn eyes all dark now, swirling black, glazed and penetrating. You summoned what strength you could and crashed your lips against him. You could taste yourself on him and you knew he was right. You weren’t the problem. It wasn’t you. And it certainly wasn’t this.

“Fuck me, please,” you asked, taking his face between your palms. “Please, Taehyung.”

He started shaking his head, his lip bitten between his teeth.

“That’s not what- you don’t have to- we don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I want to. Please.”

You twisted in his lap so you were straddling him, his cock leaking against you between your bodies.

“If you want to,” you added. “I... Only if you want to.”

He laughed, deep-throated and rich – you could feel it rumble in his chest.

“Oh I absolutely want to but this is... Are you sure you want to? I mean... You are still with Dickless and this-”

“Don’t fucking talk about him. I don’t want to think about him. Please, Taehyung.” You pressed another kiss against his lips, insistent, urgent. “I want you. I just want you.”

He moaned against your mouth, his arms encircling your waist, his tongue encroaching. Then he rolled and lay you down, the carpet surprisingly soft against your skin.

“I just,” he said, his mouth wandering all over you, slowly making his way down. “I just want one more taste. Please.”

He looked at you, waiting. He licked his lips and held the bottom one tight in his teeth. You could see him swallow hard, his breathing deep and heavy. You nodded and dropped your head back, keening as he licked through your folds, humming against your clit, smacking his lips as he raised himself back on his hands and knees.

“I told you you were fucking perfect.”

You moved backwards, out from underneath his arms and gave yourself carpet burn on your knees as you shuffled to the bedside table, rifling for the box of condoms you kept there. You grabbed the whole thing, crawled back to Taehyung and emptied it onto the floor. He laughed again.

“Sweetheart, even for me, that is truly ambitious.”

“Shut up.”

You fell back, your chest still heaving, your limbs still trembling, as he tore one open and rolled it down his length. He paused, his dick in his hand, held at your waiting entrance and he looked at you.

“For god’s sake, Taehyung, don’t ask me if I’m sure. Please just please just fuckin- ahh...”

He didn’t wait for you to finish. He plunged into your soft, wet cunt and moaned.

“Fuck. Please tell me that feels good.”

“It feels fucking incredible.”

He grabbed at the backs of your thighs and lifted, pushing them up and out, keeping hold of them as he began to move. Smooth and fluid, his hips rolled. Your cunt, wet and soft and sweet, held him tight, moulded to his cock, your walls fluttering around him. Heat radiated from your centre, a fire burning there, flames licking up your body. You were so sensitive, close again almost immediately, whimpering with every thrust.

You grabbed at him, pulling him down, your hand around his neck to bring him closer and closer ’til you could kiss him. Your tongues tangled and the adjusted angle made you moan straight into his mouth. You could still taste the wine, still taste yourself on him and with a shock of remembrance, you whined. This was what you loved; this was what you had been missing. The proof of the pudding: your arousal all over his face made you hot with a sudden rush. Your boyfriend could never be enough. Because it wasn’t just about you and your desire; it was about his, too. And he didn’t have it, not like this. Not like Taehyung. The strangled moans and gutteral groans escaping his throat, the rumble in his chest as he breathed ragged and uneven made you shaky with feeling. Feeling wanted in your entirety. Wanted in your animal mess. Wanted from head to toe. Inside and out. No holds barred.

“Taehyung.”

“Fuck, y/n, yeah? Tell me- tell me...”

He kissed your lips and your cheek, his hand skirting your body and grabbing at your thigh, pushing further, holding tighter, his thrusts faster now, harder, his pelvis tantalisingly close to your clit. You put a hand down between you, circling slowly, your third orgasm bubbling through your veins.

“You feel so good,” you breathed. “Fuck, so, so-… ah... shit.”

Already there, your toes curling, Taehyung hissing, cursing as you squeezed him tight inside you, pleasure blazed through you like a forest fire, every inch of you alight and burning, sparking, fireworks bursting all over you, inside you, filling your vision with dizzying colour. Taehyung was gasping, stuttering, his fingers digging into you, his teeth biting hard.

“Come, Taehyung,” you whispered to him, your voice wobbling, shaking like the rest of you.

“I w-wanna-” he stammered. “I wa- wan-”

“No, just come. For me.”

You brought your mouth to his, pulling his bottom lip with your teeth, sucking gently.

“Oh, fuck.”

He juddered, thrusting hard as he let himself go, gave himself to you, gave in. He let himself flop against you for a moment, just a moment, and then he pushed himself up on his hands, looking down at where you bodies met, still together. He rolled his hips one last time and you mewled, over-sensitive, overwraught. He grinned and pulled back, turning away from you as he took off and disposed of the condom.

He crawled back to you and pulled you onto your side so you were facing each other. He knocked a leg between yours and traced the curve of your body; you shivered, even his hands feeling like fire against you. He kissed you, once, and then again, and then a third time.

“You’re perfect,” he said, barely moving his mouth far enough from yours to speak, his words mumbled, muffled. “You’re fucking perfect. You understand?”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, suddenly self-conscious, suddenly so embarrassed at what you had done. Embarrassed that you had needed this, needed him to tell you that, needed him to show you that you could be wanted how you wanted to be wanted, desired in the way you wanted, fucked like you wanted. You felt small and silly and stupid. That you had cheated on your boyfriend with the most promiscuous man on the planet just because you felt insecure. You shivered, but it wasn’t pleasure this time. You were suddenly cold and tired. Exhausted. Choked with emotions you didn’t want to admit.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” he said, softly, his lips against your hair now. “You ok?”

“I don’t know.”

Your voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, hardly audible beneath the thumping of your heart.

“Talk to me...”

“I feel so stupid.”

“Why?”

You had to think it through, carefully, how to say it, how to express it.

“Because... I needed this. I didn’t know that I-… I-”

You crumbled, dissolved into tears, embarrassing you further. You wanted to be swallowed whole, to sink into the ground, to dessicate and turn to dust. You couldn’t speak, shame dousing you, drowning you, your hitching, heaving breath barely enough. He let you cry and you were grateful for his patience... again.

“You w-want me,” you said eventually, your voice thick, choked.

“Yeah.”

“You want me and h-he doesn’t. And I- I want to be w-wanted. I'm so... Am I undesirable?”

“Categorically, demonstrably, absolutely not.”

“Then why doesn’t he want me?”

Taehyung held you tighter, pulled you closer, kissed the top of your head and stroked your back.

“This is why I’ve been telling you to leave him, love. You shouldn’t feel like this. I’m sure he does want you, but if he can’t want you in the way that you want, in a way that makes you feel good, feel desirable, and cherished, and loved, then he shouldn’t have you.”

He pulled back, holding your face to his, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“I want you. Believe me, I want you. I’ve just had you and I want you all over again. You should believe that; you deserve that. Don’t let him break you down. Don’t let him do this to you.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as your eyes filled with tears again and he placed his thumb over it and his lips over that. He swiped his thumb across your mouth and kissed you as slowly as he had the very first time, his lips so soft, his mouth so sweet.

“If you don’t believe me,” he said, his lips just ghosting over yours, his breath washing over your face. “I will happily show you again and again and again just how desirable you are. Just how perfect you are. It’s not hyperbole; you’re fucking perfect to me. I’ll show you.”

And he did.

Not just that night or the one after that or the one after that. He showed you repeatedly again and again until you started to believe it. Until you realised that you didn’t need him to show you anymore, just wanted him to. Just wanted him.

You broke up with your boyfriend two weeks later. It was horrible and he was surprisingly vicious and you were surprisingly upset. But you knew you were right to do it and wished you had just done it earlier.

y/n: I broke up with him.

Taehyung: FINALLY

Taehyung: Guess this means you don’t need me anymore...

y/n: I didn’t say that.

y/n: Come over?

Taehyung: On my way

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jmscaffeine

11 months ago

Watermelon Sugar | JJK (M)

☼ Summary: When your friends outvote you for your annual summer trip, you end up stuck at a beachside town. To make it worse, there’s an irritating local surfer boy that won’t leave you alone… that is until you see him shirtless and in the water - then you don’t want him to leave you alone and your unexpected summer romance begins.

☼ Pairing: Surfer!Jungkook x Female!Reader

☼ Genre: Fluff, smut, a dollop of brief angst, strangers to lovers au, summer romance au?, age gap au (Jungkook is 21 and y/n is 27-29)

☼ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

☼ Words: 14.4k

☼ Warnings: Profanity, mention of alcohol, y/n almost drowns, a classic misunderstanding, dirty talk, exhibitionism, handjob, oral (f receiving), face riding, protected sex, sub!jk, dom!reader

☼ Note: Here’s my fic for the Blue Crush collab! Thank you to @jamaisjoons for this gorgeous banner!! And thank you so much to my amazing, fantastic, magical beta @bangtanhome! Moon always saves my ass when I need someone’s big brain to read over my fics. Ily moon 🥺💙 Also! It’s still September 1st in the U.S. so I managed to post this in time for Jungkook’s birthday! 🙌🏽 I wrote more than half of this fic when I wasn’t sober, so enjoy!! 💜

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