Bound By Law (m)

bound by law (m)

→ Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

→ Summary: Hoseok is feeling the pressure from recent complications with a tricky client, and you decide the best way to relieve his ever-growing stress is to surprise him when he returns from lunch with his favorite fantasy - you waiting for him all tied up in his office.

→ Genres & AUs: Smut, angst, office au, lawyer au, established relationship (they’re recently married but not exactly newlyweds)

→ Word Count: 5.1k

→ Rating: 18+

→ Warnings: explicit sex, strong language, bdsm-ish, light bondage (tie used as a restraint), light exhibitionism, calling hoseok sir as he deserves, getting fucked against his frosted glass office door, semi-public sex (hobi fucks the daylights outta you while he takes several business calls), breeding kink, dirty talk, impregnation kink, praise kink, sloppy head, marking, biting, spanking, begging, sense of ownership, deep throating, throat bulge, cock choking, cock swallowing, choking in general (hoseok likes his hands on your throat), office sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, thigh riding (while hoseok is in his lucky suit which in turn is very lucky for you), grinding, breath play, orgasm control, edging, creampie, deep dicking, belly bulge, riding, fingering, clit slapping, ass enthusiast!hoseok, dom!hoseok x bratty wife!reader, possessive!hoseok, asshole jungkook with minor appearances from yoongi & joon

→ Other: This fic is a part of Dee @sugakookitty​‘s Suits & Ties SOPE Collab!! Dedicated to my bff Kat @yeoldontknow​ who deserves endless Hobi content. Enjoy your gift!!!! Can’t wait to hear you scream about this later lol. And a GIANT thank you to AJ @bangtanintotheroom​​ for editing this for me <3 Check out the visual board & aesthetics for this fic too!

✥ ✥ ✥ available to read below & on AO3 ✥ ✥ ✥

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-> The two of you have been at odds since the old days, back when you raced homemade cars on concrete sidewalks for lollypops. But those days are nothing compared to the big league, where you’re challenged by tragedy, injury, and unresolved feelings.

Pairings: racer!Jimin x racer!reader

Genre/au: angst, smut, fluff, racer!au, childhood enemies to friends to lovers, coming of age, minors dni please

Warnings/ [TW]: minor character death (OC’s mom passes away), grief, mentions of crippling epilepsy, mentions of violence (car crash) and injury/pain, hospital visit, nudity, explicit sexual content, competition sex (idk how to say it just read it?), low-key soft sex bc I’m soft, teasing, fingering, teasing, light nipple play, penetrative unprotected sex (buckle up kids), teasing, oc rides Jimin’s face, biting/marking/scratching, squirting, did I mention teasing? confessions mid sex which is always fun, Jimin is a massive sweetheart because I can’t write my bias any other way, and there’s like three time jumps whoops but it’s not confusing I swear

Wc: 21.3K

a/n: y'all can thank @jookiemonie for sending me this and inspiring this monster 😉 also disclaimer I know nothing about NASCAR okay I actually researched for this so y'all better at least give me feedback 👉👈

taglist: @staerryminimini​ @unicornbabylover​ @kookieswan​ @sugarflywme​  @mwitsmejk​ @dvalitaes​ @still-with-koo​ @kookiecrumb​ @jeonsjiddies​ @taeshobipop​ @jktones​ @myooniverse​ @writtenwhalien​ @miscelunaaa​ @hobipost @lookhere-2seok @purplebeebs @justanotherstarlightmonger @bbl32 @highly-functioning-mitochondria @syhh1310 @armys-dna @thesugatoyourtae @anqelkoo @missseoulite @jiminshiinekoya @ashslytheringoddess @jimilter @kofisips @generousrunawaylove @jmforevs 

Disney’s Cars taught you that red is unquestionably the fastest color, and since your car is red, there’s an unquestionable assurance you’ll win.

After several laps around your humble culdesac, your precious 1979 Chevrolet Corvette is undefeated and so is your confidence.

“Who wants to lose next?”

Park Jimin, arguably the most boisterous of all the third graders, waltzes across your driveway with a smug look strapped across his face.

You find this dangerously presumptuous considering he moved in next door over two weeks ago and hasn’t spoken a word to you yet. You noticed him in home room, which is the only reason you know his name at all and the fact that he exudes false humility.

It was last year, when all the boys started getting taller than you. All of sudden they just grew like trees, but you didn’t. It hurt your pride a little bit considering you were superior to them in every other sense. A part of you likes the fact that Jimin is at least an inch shorter than you. But it’s not enough to make you like like him.

“I wanna race.”

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temple of adonis | pjm

➻ SUMMARY | Swearing your life to serving as a priestess in the Temple of Jimin, your city’s patron god, is no easy duty – especially made difficult when you have a run-in with the coquettish god.

➻ RATE | 18+

➻ PAIRING | adonis!jimin x phoenician!reader

➻ GENRE | mythological god AU, ancient phoenicia AU

➻ WARNINGS | mentions of hunting, loss of virginity, dumbification, degradation, self-demeaning, uses of "whore" and "cumslut" and "fucktoy," objectification, f! masturbation, voyeurism, unprotected penetrative sex, finger sucking, like one hickey, a creampie, jimin is a mf god yall ,,, a warning in itself

➻ WC | 6.6k

➻ A/N | the reader is labelled as phoenician because adonis' legend originated from phoenicia (modern day lebanon) and i wanted to ascertain that it is NOT about greeks or romans or other whites. that being said, the features of this reader is still meant to be inclusive to all BIPOC, even if you don't look like a modern-day lebanese person.

Life in the sisterhood was boring.

I mean, not to take it the wrong way, it was all you’d ever dreamed of as a young maiden. Staring up at the patron god’s temple every worship, admiring the adonis’ towering statue in the center of town, a pose of power. Looking down at the town, almost as if it knew that he was the only thing standing between the town’s deterioration and prosperity. A cocky tilt of his lips teasing passerbys.

Though, the statue within the temple was a different feat altogether. A nude rendition in an extremely suggestive pose, passing by the statue when you were younger would make you drop your gaze in embarrassment. As would the obscene drawings lining the passageways – the colorful panels that filled the temple walls would depict a plethora of sexual positions, characters in the mist of sexual gratification, and, well… Jimin in the center of it all. It was fitting for the god of beauty and desire, a temple well-crafted to honor his passions.

Unlike most temple patrons, Jimin was a mortal. Though, having once saved your town from a ferocious boar with his impeccable hunting skills, a bow and arrow straight between the eyes and the boar was down, your town was quick to hoist his pedestal and crown him patron. Jimin had the abilities of a god, but lived a mortal life – it allowed him to move freely between your world, and where the other gods resided. The underworld if he so wished, and, of course, through one’s thoughts, swimming with desire.

Your whole life, you were fascinated by the exuberant god, your dedication and worship growing stronger with each passing day. He was your town’s protector, your savior. You were honored to have such a dutiful patron, allowing you to drop to your knees and give thanks as often as you wanted to. You prayed to Jimin, and felt closer to him with each stroke of fortune you were awarded. It served as the main reason for you rushing to the temple as soon as you turned of age and begging to join the sisterhood.

They were astonished by your dedication, never expecting a young girl like you to give up a life of marriage and social status to serve as a celibate priestess of a patron god. It was unheard of, to be quite honest. But, you were determined in your request, dying to become a more intimate part of worship. You felt as though Jimin was always with you, watching over you as guardian. The least you could do to repay him was devote yourself to his service.

Though, as eager as you joined, your time at the temple slowly ebbed into never-ending monotony. Sure, you were an extremely well-respected member of society, your priestess status holding you in high regard. Sure, you were educated and resided in one of the most lavish places in the city. You were lucky by all means, gaining priestesshood was not easy.

But the more you spent time at the temple, learning the ins and outs of routine and procedure, the more the temple started to lose that magic that you were originally drawn to. The patterns you fell into made the beautiful decorations seem mundane, and the offerings you gave became mechanical. Your passion was fading for the wondrous place you once called sanctuary, and your once full heart started to empty.

It had nothing to do with the patron god, of course. And, of all the things in the temple that became repetitive to you, the giant suggestive statue of your patron was exempt, still bringing unexpected warmth to your cheeks. Your love for him was as strong as ever. But it started to fall to the back of your mind as habitual duties took the forefront. You weren’t thinking about him as often as you used to, as you should be.

Today was a special day, though.

It marked the one-year anniversary of the start of your priestesshood. One year ago today, you kneeled in front of Jimin’s statue, raised your hands, and vowed to remain a true and pure priestess serving the temple’s god for the rest of your days. And you had served well, an obedient and dutiful caretaker, carrying out your tasks with no hesitation or complaint. Carrying a torch for the young and handsome god, it was a flame that burned fervently.

The temple didn’t have many celebratory traditions. You would be awarded dessert this evening, and a new robe for all your hard work. And that was it.

Truly, the main part of the celebration was the eternal prayer session you were supposed to take place in. Secluded away in a private prayer room of the temple, you were meant to spend all day, hands clasped in sincerity, eyes shut with passion, reciting endless prayers to Jimin. It’s not like you necessarily had a problem with devoting your whole day to your god, but truly. You had said all you wanted to say. You spent almost every night praying to him, there wasn’t an absence of it in your life. Sat there in the small room, you ran out of things to say. At least, appropriate topics of prayer.

Another large statue of Jimin adorned the room in front of you, this one twisted into a lying down position. Most of his idols took a suggestive form in nature, the god of desire being well-represented. It didn’t faze anyone of course, he was your city’s patron and a savior, and that was the way life was. Many people had no problem coming to the temple, and setting their offering down in front of a giant fresco of Jimin in an orgy. It was simply a painting after all.

Though, as a young virginal maiden, you were bound to be affected by such promiscuity. Especially, having never experienced it yourself. You never acted on it, of course – you would never disrespect the temple of Jimin in such a way. You were simply… drawn to your god in more ways than one.

You always pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, imploring yourself to remain chaste in the holiest place in the city. And for the most part, it worked. The temple, though fraught with provacity, started to become commonplace to you.

However, sitting in a room with a giant statue of Jimin all day, while he twisted his body in an erotic way, wasn’t helping your cause at all.

You huffed as you turned your back on the marble, pointedly crossing your arms. “You know,” you started, “It’s so hard living with your constant displays of… erotica everywhere. Couldn’t you have been the god of something else?”

The statue offered you no answer, of course. Apparently, still caught up in a carnal sensation.

“You know priestesses are virgins, right?” You shifted, blowing air. “We can’t do any of those things. Especially that one fresco in the large basin?” You fidgeted at the thought of it, cursing at the reminder you just gave yourself.

“Why couldn’t you be the god of… I don’t know, hunting?!” You threw your hands up in the air. Legend was that Jimin was also phenomenal at hunting, proving his skills with the wild boar. Stories of his excursions in the wild of the Phoenician woods were told from citizen to traveler — the god’s golden bow and arrow glinting on his back as he rode through on his sterling steed. A cocky smile on his face as his game swung from his back, the concentrated look he wore when he spotted his prey. Those who caught a glimpse of the lightning-speed hunter were known to earn great fortune, his presence a lucky charm.

Fuck… now, images of his sweat-glistening body filled your mind, his damp hair sweeping over his eyes, sticking to his forehead, as he rode. How he’d probably mirror those concentrated expressions as he hovered over you, his loud grunts echoing in your ear…

“Or…y-you know…” you stuttered, trying to shake the lewd thoughts from your head, “the god of s-something else.”

You tried to keep your eyes downcast — though the statue was behind you, other paintings adorned the walls around you. One portrayed him in a beautiful garden, a field of anemone flowers under his feet as he… jacked off. Raining the flowers in his release as he reached his peak, mouth fallen open. The flowers drank him in, turning up to grow towards him as if he was the sun.

Another portrayed him caressing a lover twisted under him, bringing his lips close to his own. The man beneath the god looked up at him in awe, infatuated eyes drinking in the desire-filled god. Jimin was painted with a small smirk as he glanced over his lover – no doubt pressing his hard-rock body against him – eyes dancing in ego as he surely knew the man was putty to his touch.

His hair was golden, reflecting the sun’s rays, in the fresco to your right. His face was tilted up towards the sky as two lovers encircled him. But what really caught your attention in this one was how warmth seemed to flow through him, his expression of pure light and laughter. It perfectly represented the god’s presence in your own life. A source of brightness throughout.

“Like… the god of light. Doesn’t that suit you perfectly?” You sighed in contentment as you gazed at the painting, pointedly ignoring what his two lovers were engaged in, but instead, keeping your attention on his radiant face. Wondering how different your life would be if you were born in another city, with another patron god. You shuddered at the thought. You couldn’t imagine growing up with another god to worship, bringing offerings to someone else’s temple, signing your life over for priestesshood for someone else. Especially that Ares. You shivered, thinking about the god of war. No, with his anger issues, you’re sure the temple would’ve been built more like a barricade than a place of worship. Nastily out of style. And distasteful, if you ask yourself.

No, you thanked your lucky constellations that your lord and savior was the god of desire. Though hard it may be to abstain from the culture he so vivaciously represents… Especially while calling this place home.

“You sure have a lot of thoughts on what your god should represent.”

Your head jolted up at the echo sounding behind you–a beautiful saccharine sweet voice with a sharp edge. You didn’t dare turn your head in the direction, afraid someone had broken into your sacred sanctuary on your day of prayer, somehow sneaking in and interrupting your time alone. Though, you hadn’t heard footsteps, nor seen anyone enter in front of you, from the door you were facing. And, somehow, that voice didn’t seem like a stranger’s to you. Though you weren’t sure you’d heard it before, it somehow felt familiar–comfortable, even. You let your shoulders slowly relax, consoling yourself in the assumption that it was surely your imagination. You’d been in here for hours, you even lost count. Who knows what your brain would conjure up now?

“What’s wrong? Where’s that silver tongue of yours now?”

You jolted out of place, shock running through your body. There it was again. That one you couldn’t have imagined. Especially not with the footsteps slowly pacing behind you. You placed them near the statue now, the footsteps a few feet away from you. Your heart thudded loudly, racing to try and keep up with your brain. Unsure of your next move, you decided to stay still. Hopefully, they were just… I don’t know, talking to the statue?!

A small puff of amusement sounded behind you, the paces stopping. You heard the owner of the voice shuffle, close to the statue if the sound of marble was anything to go by. Your eyes were glued downcast, though darting back and forth, trying to make sense of the situation you were suddenly caught in on your one year priestesshood anniversary. Your mind was filled with situations, at the forefront being “oh shit! were you in trouble for complaining about Jimin’s dick being everywhere??” Not gonna lie, that one was on you. No one told you to complain out loud.

“Well, sweetheart?” When you failed to respond yet again, the voice prompted. With a laugh he pushed himself off of the statue, “Come on, baby. Aren’t you going to greet your god with reverence?”

Your eyes widened, shocking your body into movement. You stood up at the speed of lightning, turning around with a whirl. Your body warmed with embarrassment as you took in the figure smirking before you. You’d recognize him anywhere, his face etched in your brain, with reminders everywhere you went. There wasn’t a single place in the whole temple that didn’t portray the shining face before you.

“Jimin!” Your hand flew to your mouth at the blunder you blurted out in haste, fighting to keep your shaking body still as the god cocked his eyebrow at you.

“Well, don’t stop calling me that now, sweetheart. Your prayers are filled with your sweet little voice calling out to me: Jimin, oh Jimin…” The frisky god teased, holding a hand to his chest to mimic your desperate cries.

“I don’t sound like that.” You tried to be firm, indignant at his display (true, though it may be…), but your voice came out in a mumble, barely over a whisper.

“I think I’d know. It’s been constant for years, almost 24/7.” His words, though a call out, were not chastising in the slightest. His eyes were running down your figure, the nonchalance stance he was in opposed your jittering one, creating a power imbalance he was well aware of. “Tell me, do you think about anything else other than me?”

You wanted to spit out, “I have duties, Jimin!” and wipe that infuriatingly cocky smirk off of his face. Although, that would only serve to prove his point further. Trading your life away to an eternity of devotion to him? Yeah, you weren’t bringing that up.

“I am just… honored to have you as my patron deity,” you excused, hoping he wouldn’t see right through the tight-lipped wall you were putting up. Though, it was the truth, it wasn’t the whole truth. And you had a sinking feeling that nothing that came out of your mouth would be of any use–that your inner thoughts were like an open book to him regardless.

“Bullshit.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as you jumped at his words, not expecting such a crass awakening in his place of worship. But, why should you be surprised? Jimin, as you well knew, wasn’t one to hold back, especially not in areas such as… lewdity.

He pushed himself off of his statue, taking a moment to admire the carving work. He ran his fingers over the marble, humming in approval. “This one’s pretty good, I have to say.”

You were fidgeting in place as he circled the statue, and didn’t notice as he turned to face you, a ghost of mischief evident. “What do you think of it? It’s realistic, right?”

You kept your gaze firmly on the ground, and not at the statue of Jimin arching his back and throwing his head back in a supposed moan, body lifted off the platform in a display of passion. Or the life-sized Jimin prowling next to it, baiting you with a quirk of his eyebrows.

“If you say so. I wouldn’t know.” your response tumbled out of your mouth, rushing to to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes and huffing, how am I supposed to know, dickhead? You didn’t know if he was doing this on purpose, teasing a virgin priestess of his own temple, might you add. But you couldn’t help but wonder if he could just fuck off and mess with someone else. The priestesses at Apollo’s temple, for one. Your sister city was a grand one, throwing your humble city into the shadows. Obsessed with material things and kissing the government’s ass. It’s no wonder your smaller town was left to the wild boars until Jimin came along.

“Hm, I suppose you’re right.”

You couldn’t help the lift of your eyes when Jimin spoke again, catching your attention. Off guard, as it were. Because the moment your eyes met his, only a heartbeat passed before he was shrugging off his hunting tunic, pulling it over his head with finesse. You could’ve sworn you saw his tongue pushing into his cheek, but that view was soon obscured. And replaced with something much more bewildering.

You saw it in slow motion, the way his shirt slowly lifted to reveal his golden-tanned skin little by little. The V-shape leading down into his pants first, well-defined and hypnotizing. The hard-rock abs next, slowly revealing two, four, six… an eight pack. You weren’t able to tear your eyes away, glued to the figure of the stripping god before. You were helpless to the way your body started to warm, powerless to the way your hands fidgeted, though you urged yourself to keep it together. It wasn’t working.

The sight of his arms lifted over his head was the nail in your coffin, taut muscles complimenting the popping veins. And he knew. He knew you were shaking in virgin, putty in the face of him in his full glory. And yet. He decided it wasn’t enough.

“What about now?”

If you hadn’t schooled your face, you’re sure your jaw would have dropped all the way to Hades’ realm. Jimin, the god of desire, your city’s patron, had mounted a prayer table, and mimicked the statue’s pose. Complete, with the head thrown back, the arched back. Oh, and he gave you the exclusive version of a live moan–ripping from his throat with a debached look on his face, and a wink to boot.

“Don’t be shy.” How he wore a nonchalant smile on his face after that, you’ll never know. “Your city did good. You should be proud.”

“I guess…” you’re mumbling under your breath as you try to readjust your priestess robe, praying the arousal dripping down your legs hadn’t seeped through.

He chuckled as he sauntered closer to you, step by step until he was only a hair-breadth away. “So shy,” he muttered under his breath as he caressed your chin. His fingers were as soft as a dove’s feathers, though they alighted everywhere they touched.

“You weren’t this shy when you were dreaming about me doing you like that fresco in the great hall.”

You almost stumbled over nothing, scolding your balance for a scare like that, almost throwing you into Jimin’s chest. Jimin’s words, however, were not as easily reprimanded. Your hands burned with the thought of the fresco in question, and the sinful thoughts you allowed yourself to indulge in…

Only once though! And you couldn’t be blamed, really. One of the senior priestesses was giving a sermon of sorts, droning on about the prosperity of your city. Your eyes were bound to wander. And if they landed on the fresco of Jimin taking his lover against a column, where a crowd was gathered right behind them? Then so be it…

Though, you didn’t know Jimin was listening to your thoughts then! Though, with the thoughts you had, the way you were begging for his touch in your head, or chanted his name as you imagined yourself beneath him, you couldn’t blame him for mistaking it for a prayer.

“T-that wasn’t… It was a fluke–I don’t–”

“What?” Jimin playfully flicked your chin with his thumb. “Dumb baby, didn’t you know I’m always listening? Think I don’t know you got it bad for me?”

You opened your mouth to counter, but he didn’t let you, effectively shutting you up by running his thumb over your lips. “Don’t try to deny it. It’s not just your priestess duties.”

Your breath stilled as he slowly pushed his finger past your lips, ghosting the inside of your mouth teasingly. “Admit it. You can’t do anything without thinking of me.”

You fell silent, and not only because his thumb was working his way into your mouth. You took it gratefully, thankful to have an excuse rather than a response. Because, you supposed it was true. Jimin wasn’t wrong — there wasn’t a task in your day that you didn’t pray to the god about. You started your morning chanting his name, and ended it with a heartfelt appreciation. He occupied your mind even before you came to the temple — but now??

You nodded sheepishly, in lieu of using your mouth — it was occupied. But that was enough for Jimin, giving you faux sympathy with a pouty look. “Good girl. Can’t take a single step without me guiding you, isn’t that right?”

Your senses are hyper aware when his other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Baby’s one-year anniversary of dedicating your life to me.” You can feel the way he breathes the words, goosebumps rising on your skin. “Have to give my cute little devotee a present. Otherwise, what kind of god would I be?” He used a high-pitched voice when he said ‘god,’ mimicking you, no doubt. A teasing smile on his plump lips, he neared your own. Your breath hitched, stilling with anticipation.

“How would you like it? Oh wait–” Jimin’s lips never met yours, only ghosted over you as he spoke. Your heart thudded, racing to feel his touch. But he was making you wait. Of course he was.

“I know.”

In one fell swoop, Jimin had sat you both down on your prayer mat. Facing the large, imposing, marble statue. Your back pressed to his chest, your legs were spread out in front of you. Your robe was being subjected to Jimin’s hands, one quick move of his fingers, and the delicately-tied bow in front of you was falling open, letting him push the fabric to the side.

“Why don’t you show me how you pray to me?”

His hands trailed down your bare thighs, pushing them further open. He threw your legs over his, fully opening you up to both him and the statue. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” Your voice shook, but not with fear – rather with the guilt of knowing what he was referring to, and a hint of anticipation as his hands trailed closer to your core.

“Don’t play coy, baby. Or do you need reminding?” Jimin lowered his head to nip your earlobe, sending a shiver down your body. “How you laid back against your sheets and screamed my name. Filling my mind with your voice. I was hunting you know,” there was a hint of complaint in his voice, a slight whine lifting up the ends of his sentences, “almost caught an antelope. But all of a sudden, your voice caught me stumbling, pouring through my damn ears.”

His hand suddenly tilted your head up to meet his eyes, making you look at his lust-ridden gaze. Though, little did you know, behind those wide, surprised eyes, you mirrored his look. “Calling out to me, pleading my name.” His breath washed over you, the sweet scent of a star-shaped flower engulfing your senses. His lips were shiny – he’d just licked them, teasing for the way he was bending down…

“Begging me to do unspeakable things to you.”

You didn’t even hear the small whimper you let out, but Jimin sure did. Swooping down, he captured your poor, forlorn lips in a heated kiss. Not your first, but certainly your best. His lips were plump, molding into yours just the way you imagined they would. He slipped his tongue past your barrier, not that it was much of a challenge. Your mind was hazy with the kiss, riding on a high that was just out of reach. Until now.

“Poor baby was suffering all day, weren’t you? Practically in heat, couldn’t wait to get back to your room to indulge.” He pulled away from the kiss slightly, speaking in between peppering your wanting lips in pecks. You threw all caution to the wind at that point, stupid from the kiss, and begging for more. “Couldn’t even perform your duties. Just stared at my pictures, was all you could do.”

His hand had crept in between your legs, ghosting over your dribbling cunt. With a hard peck to your lips, he buried his fingers in your folds, not hesitating to explore the mess you’d already made. Your hand flew to his bicep, gripping tightly as you resisted the urge to buck your hips into his hands. Eyes half-lidded, you moaned into his mouth, submitting to whatever he said.

“You were made to serve me, weren’t you?” Mumbled against your lips so softly, so matter-of-factly, as though it were inherent. You didn’t process his words, only nodding dumbly. Yes, it was true.

His hands were getting well-acquainted with your puffy cunt, he spread your juices around, your cunt glistening with his ministrations. “So fucking wet. You’ve been sitting in my prayer room all day like this?”

No shame in you, you bobbed your head “yes.” You couldn’t lie to him if you wanted to. Ordinarily, a burst of warmth would spear right through you, shame overtaking you. Though, in the presence of Jimin, all you could see was him. Any notions of guilt or shame were worldly feelings–and the outside world simply didn’t exist right now.

“Wanted me to come take care of you, my desperate little baby.” He presses the next peck to your forehead, using his unoccupied hand to caress your chin. “Lucky for you, I’m a benevolent god.”

You closed your eyes in gratitude, basking in his embracing figure. He was right.

His fingers were coated in your arousal, sliding up and down between your folds more aggressively, with a goal in mind. “Baby,” his sweet voice caught your attention as his hand moved your chin, away from him, and directing you towards… the marble statue in front of you.

“You wanna get off?” How fast you nodded was embarrassing. “Then,” you heard the smirk in his voice before you saw it on his face. Jimin’s hand was suddenly ripped from in between your legs, the closeness of his embrace fleeting. He leaned back, resting on the palms of his hands as he gave you your ultimatum. “You’re gonna get off to him first. I wanna see the way you’ve been fucking yourself for me.”

Your face scrunched into one of trepidation when you turned back to face him. Was he serious?? By the fidget of your hands, you already knew the answer. But Jimin cocked one eyebrow at your confused expression, pushing his tongue into cheek and giving a small nod. Get to it.

You turned back around, sweat beading at your back, as you faced the large erotic statue in front of you. You had the god himself pressed against your back. Yet, there was something about that statue that elicited a deep yearning in your core. It must have been all the times you fantasized about him with that image in your mind, all the fantasies that were birthed from simply that statue being in your consciousness. Yeah, that was it.

Your hand slowly lowered, shivering with hesitation. You could hear Jimin breathing behind you, feel his chest rise and fall. Remembering the chants of his name, Jimin… Jimin… oh! Jimin, please—

Your hand made contact with your own core, fingers squishing with the soaking arousal. Messy already, and slightly throbbing from Jimin’s touch, you were dying for attention to your sensitive clit. Fingers brushing against the little nub, you arched your back as you pressed your thumb down, eliciting a sparked reaction shooting through you.

Fuck. You watched the statue, imagining the pleasure that made Jimin’s mouth fall open like that. Your fingers moved faster over your clit, putting pressure where you needed it most. Your cunt clenched with the thought of joining your pleasure with his, wrapping yourselves in a sheet of desire, rolling around in those debauched ways he paraded so proudly.

“Don’t be shy, baby. Let me hear you. What do you imagine I do to you, looking like that?” Jimin cooed in your ear, giving your earlobe a coquettish nip and a tug for good measure. You could feel his breath on your neck, tickling your sensitive spot.

“I-I–” Your sentence was interrupted with a whine as you imagined the way he’d feel on top of you, sweaty and breathing heavily. His damp hair sticking to his forehead, the teasing smile he’d flash you. The way his hips would gyrate against you, making you feel all the pleasures you’ve never known. “I’m thinking about how it would feel if y-you f-fucked me…”

It’s about all you can get out, but no matter. Your thoughts are like an open book to him regardless. Especially made clear by the groan he lets out when you think about gushing all over his cock and coating him in your arousal.

Fuck. This wasn’t cutting it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, lowering your fingers down your body. You pushed two into your hole at once unceremoniously, throwing your head back onto Jimin’s shoulder with a loud moan as you fucked yourself. Your hole squelched with each move of your fingers, ready for the taking. You couldn’t stop the fantasies rolling through your head, of how deep Jimin would penetrate you, how you’d be able to feel his imprint for days. You can almost feel it now, a bulge slowly growing behind you, making it evidently clear that your fantasies were not far-fetched—Jimin’s cock was fit for a god.

“F-fuck.” The tiny curse fell from your mouth breathily, the room suddenly feeling too stuffy. You huffed to shrug off the robe on your shoulders–before Jimin even noticed, the fabric was puddled in his lap. “Jimin.”

There it was. The sound of your sweet prayers, but live. A moan emitting from your desire, a desperate call of his name. You were deliriously devoted to him, truly. His name was out your mouth like an ancient chant, always on the tip of your tongue. Bright eyes, and excitable, you had joined, ready to serve. It was only right he rewarded you.

“Jimin, please. I-I’m close…”

Sweet girl, you chanted his name as you pumped your fingers in and out of your cunt, growing desperate and restless with each stroke. He could feel your legs shaking, your body squirming as you reached your peak. But, he knew you wouldn’t cum without his permission. You were waiting, holding yourself back. Waiting for your god, your lord and savior, to tell you what to do. His dumb angel, couldn’t even cum without him telling you to.

“Go on, baby.” He chuckled at your desperation, deciding right then that he wouldn’t let you suffer any longer. Only because it was your anniversary day, though. Let it be some other day… “You can cum.”

With the command, something clicked inside you. And before you knew it, your arousal was spilling out all over your fingers, your thrusts slowing down into your cunt with a final scream of Jimin’s name. Though, muffled, because as soon as you reached your peak, Jimin slapped his hand over your pretty little mouth before you alerted the whole temple to the god’s arrival.

You slumped against his hard-as-rock abs as your orgasm washed over you, Jimin cooing in your ear as you worked yourself through. “Good baby, that’s right. Fucked yourself so good for me.”

Jimin didn’t stop peppering kisses to your neck, nuzzling you in an uncharacteristically affectionate way. You leaned into his touch, craving more, quickly becoming addicted. In a haze, you lifted your fingers up to your mouth, sucking them dry. You wanted to minimize the mess as much as you could. You weren’t thinking about the way Jimin’s kisses stopped abruptly as he caught sight of you, or the way his eyes darkened while you swirled your tongue around your fingers.

You squealed as you felt yourself being pulled up, lifted off the floor, your robe falling in a heap behind you. “You know, baby,” You heard Jimin’s voice in your ear as he pushed you towards the statue, the marble legs stopping your fall as you stumbled towards it. “Only whores lick their own cum off of their fingers.”

You whimpered, your heart sinking. How were you supposed to know that, you internally wailed. You just wanted to clean up your own mess, that’s all. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I swear!”

“Sure you didn’t.” Turning around, you were met with Jimin crowding you, pushing you further onto the statue. “Are you really that stupid?”

His hand was caressing your cheek when he said it, but that didn’t decrease the bite in his words. You saw a mean glint in the god’s eyes—teasing, yet daunting. You nodded your head slowly, tears brimming in your eyes. Yes, you agreed, you were that stupid.

Jimin gave a sympathetic tsk to your cause, shaking his head in faux concern. “Looks like you’re only good for one thing.”

Before you realized it, too busy wallowing in your own self-shame, Jimin was lifting you up and placing you in the lap of the marble statue. A glance over to your right, and Jimin’s extremely realistic moan was closer than it had ever been. His Adam's apple could be seen clearly, all the guttural ridges and details sculpted very lifelike. You gasped, the statue’s package pressing into your ass check. You forgot it was in the nude.

“You’re just good for taking cock.” Jimin didn’t seem to be talking to you now, busy with fishing his own cock out. Holding you by the waist with one hand, he moved in between your legs, running his tongue over his teeth as he smiled at you. His Adam’s apple bobbed with his next words, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his moans would look the same as the statue. “Dumb girl, stupid for my dick.”

He kissed you so sweetly after that, you almost forgot what he’d said to you just then. Though it was all a ploy, a distraction for him to line his cock up with your entrance, and push into your tight hole. Your eyes widened as you felt him stretch your virgin walls, and you made to pull away from the kiss to gasp, but he didn’t let you. Chasing your lips and enclosing your figure, he kept you close, tangled in a mess of tongue and teeth, with no room to breathe.

Once he was situated fully inside, he let go, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. “You okay?”

You nodded, despite the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. He took that as his cue to pull out slowly, giving you plenty of room to catch your breath, before pushing back in again. “My empty-headed baby. Take anything I give you right?”

You nod again, “Anything,” you mumble, voice small in the large prayer room. You're letting out whimpers you don’t even know, grasping at Jimin with tiny fists, and tilting your head, eyes big and wide. It didn’t matter that it stung a little—you wanted to please him, make him happy. You’d do it all, anything he asked. Maybe you were just a dumb baby, a whore, as he called you. It seemed fitting now—

“Good girl.” His hips start a steady pace, snapping into yours with lewd thrusts. The sounds fill the room, and your small gasps make a symphony. “Fuck–good little cocksleeve. God, so tight for me.”

“J-Jimin—” you’re hiccuping, breathing starting to hitch as he penetrates places inside you that you’ve never felt before. You didn’t know it could go this deep, feeling him in the pit of your stomach. His hips slapped yours, rhythmic thrusts squelching in and out of your wet pussy.

“Shh, be quiet. You don’t know anything, do you?” He’s breathing in your ear, moving his mouth and leaving a hot trail before he’s ghosting his lips over yours. “Leave everything to me, okay?”

You bob your head dumbly, eating up every word that comes out of his mouth. Your hands wrap around his body, gripping at that perfect, bronze skin, his back muscles rippling under your touch. Jimin hooked an arm under your leg, lifting it, giving him a new angle to fuck you at. “It’s what you were made for, isn’t it? My little fucktoy.”

You whimpered, legs shaking as he fucked you deeper. “My stupid baby doesn’t even know what that means, do you?” Jimin let out a breath of amusement. You’d huff, under ordinary circumstances. Cross your arms over your chest with an I do, too! But, he was right. You pouted, shaking your head no soulfully.

“Letting me defile you in my own temple. Fuck—” He pushed you back, making you lean down and grip the statue’s knees for balance. He practically had you straddling the erotic figure, but he wasn’t concerned with all that. Jimin was reaching his peak, evident by his sloppy thrusts into your already messy cunt. His pace was getting intemperate, drilling into your tight hole with no signs of stopping. “Can’t even think straight if it’s not about me, little whore.”

He was chasing his own pleasure now, little concern for you. Though, Jimin, the god of desire, had a natural allure for someone else’s trigger points. He buried his teeth into the sensitive part of your neck, making you throw your head back with a call of his name as he sucked. “P-Please, Jimin, I-I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” He pulled back, leveling you with a domineering gaze. One that let you know there was no room for misbehaving, or playing around. “Take what you can get, and don’t complain. It’s all you’re good for.” He gripped your cheeks, squeezing them tight between his fingers. “Right?”

Your frantic nod was what did it. A few more thrusts into your sloppy cunt, and he was spilling his seed right into you, coating your walls. He was throwing his head back, letting out a deep moan as he buried himself in you, hips stuttering as he released spurt after spurt, your poor pussy taking everything he gave. You watched him in awe, flickering your eyes to the statue for a second, before you glued your eyes to the cumming god before you. It was even better in person.

He slumped after he fully emptied himself, catching himself on the statue’s abs before he toppled over you. “You did so good, baby.” He caressed your cheek, cooing at the shy way you looked down, avoiding his gaze.

“Thank you. For everything.” You were looking at the cum leaking out of your pussy, mesmerized. But you weren’t just talking about that.

Jimin pressed a kiss to your forehead, a smile of endearment spreading on his lips. “You deserve it, baby. You deserve everything you want. I’m just happy to deliver.”

He set you down gently, helping you off of the statue, and searching for his discarded tunic. Your heart was heavy as you fidgeted with your fingers, the question you wanted to ask him the most on the tip of your tongue. “A-Am I ever going to see you again?”

Jimin’s smile spread into an amused one, a cheeky wink following his words. “You know how it works, baby. You pray, I answer.”

➻ main m.list

➻ let me know what you think :)

practice | jjk

→pairing: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

→genre: college au, fwb, pwp, smut

→word count: 8.1k

→rating: M

→warnings: mentions of bad sexual experiences, nickname you guys might find cringey (sorry babes), praise, a little degradation, a little manhandling, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, very brief mentions of anal play, brief mentions of sex toys and masturbation, spitting, titty sucking, protected sex (hes a hoe but not a dummy), jk is kinda a himbo (scratch that last side note), jk running through twice members lmao sorry girlies, pining, maybe unrequited love, maybe not, ill let u decide, oc is in denial in the beginning, oc has that lemon water coochie!!, daddy kink + daddy kink slander (not seriously!), slight corruption kink

→summary: You usually spend Friday nights on your own. Tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, Jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

→notes: hi friends!! i’m back with my second fic!! i posted this last night but miss ting had a bad case of the typos rip </3. so i had it beta'd by my bby @kookstempo pls go give her love >:((( ! i found the smut a little easier to write this time. still not that good lol but not as mentally taxing! oc is totally definitely not a little bit of a projection of me haha thisficwassexuallycathartictowrite i hope you guys like it! i would love to know your thoughts! also would be v cool if you checked out my masterlist here. love u bye!!

It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday. 

The night of the week that lures college students out of their suffocating dorm rooms with the promise of parties and alcohol. After days of classes, hours of studying, and minutes of sleep, most people your age spend their weekends unwinding, hopping from frat house to frat house.

One of the many perks of living on campus is the social life. Being surrounded by young adults is exciting. It also means that everyone is horny. Ravenously so. Seriously. Anything with a hole or phallic-shaped appendage is a prime candidate for getting fucked. 

Anything and everyone, except you. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t get fucked, per se. Although abundant, your options were limited. Given the environment, it was difficult to find a guy you actually felt comfortable with. He didn’t have to be in love with you, but he did have to respect you if he wanted to get anywhere near your sugar walls. With that being said, it was slim pickings.

You coped well, for the most part. But it was hard to shake the lonely feelings that bubbled in your chest from time to time. And the feral ones. Nothing a quick rub from your petite, manicured fingers couldn’t satisfy, you suppose…

Besides, all men do is disappoint you. The only two sexual partners you’ve had thus far were subpar, to say the least. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Not an ounce of concern for your pleasure. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you’ve never orgasmed from sex. Not even close. That left a sour, lemony taste in your mouth. Ever since then, your pussy was on hiatus, locked away in the highest room of the tallest tower, until a worthy knight came to save it from this tortuous dry spell. 

You sigh, peeling the honey-drenched sheet mask off your face and tossing it into the trash with vigor. You eye yourself in the mirror with a scowl. Fluffy, freshly plucked brows knit together as you examine your appearance. You’re wearing a cropped white tank top, nipples poking through the little animated cherubs printed on the front. The baby pink Sailor Moon pajama shorts on your thighs left little to the imagination. White kitty ears headband keeping those annoying baby hairs out of your face. 

You’re cute, right?

Atleast you tried to look cute.

Your roommate, Mina, was visiting family for the weekend, leaving you the dorm to yourself. Without your extraverted lifeline, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to stay in and pamper yourself. 

You’ve already waxed your body, head to toe, with that expensive sugaring wax Mina begged you not to get. ‘It was worth it,’ you thought to yourself when you had spread your peach-scented lotion on the smooth canvas of your legs after the shower.

You even gave yourself a facial. Extractions and all. Much cooler and more productive than partying and getting laid.

You take your headband off, ruffling your thick hair until it falls into place. You reach for your candy-flavored Laneige lip mask, spreading it across your plump pout with your middle finger. Another overpriced purchase.

You exit the bathroom, shuffling towards your twin-sized bed and then falling face first into the plush, ivory duvet. So comfy. It wasn’t even midnight and you were ready to hit the hay. 

You had planned to study a bit before knocking out, but the warm shower left you sleepy. Plus, the past week has been hell. Two papers and an impromptu quiz from your least favorite professor. You were a good student. A great one, even. But you were an overachiever to the core, and still found yourself stressing over assignments you knew you aced.

You let out a small yawn, squinting at the brightness around you. Along the wall beside your bed were vine garlands, embellished with little fairy lights and pink roses. They were such a pain in the ass to put up. It took you and Mina nearly three hours, and a mental breakdown on your behalf, to stick them against the drywall in the right position. High maintenance, but cute, nonetheless. Kinda like you. 

The lights dim as your mind turns hazy, eventually turning into a silent black as sleep clouds your vision. Sweet, blissful sleep. You were teetering into the REM phase when-

Knock. Knock.

The booming noise startles you awake, rattling the brittle wood of your cheaply built door. The wall hangings flutter in its wake. 

Maybe you were being dramatic. The knocks were actually soft and melodic. Almost cheerful as they followed the rhythm of a made-up song. But you were pissed. Even the most heavenly sound would ring demonic and evil in your ears at the moment. 

You shove yourself off of your bed with an exaggerated groan, stomping towards the door and yanking it open, fully prepared to yell at whoever was behind it.

Jeon Jungkook. 

His expression is blank, doe-eyes widening as he takes in your expression. Your body language radiates hostility and violence. The silver barbell glimmers as his thick, dark brows twitch in confusion. He blinks before opening his mouth. “Hey,” he utters hastily. 

Under different circumstances, you would be ecstatic.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jungkook?” 

“Woah, someone’s cranky,” he laughs hesitantly. “I was bored. Figured you were, too. Mina is gone, right?”

“Are you drunk or something?”

“What- no,” his plump lips form a pout, the matching silver ring on the bottom corner shining as well. 

You sneer at him, pupils darting over his outfit. Oversized gray hoodie, white t-shirt peeking from the unzipped portion at the top. Gray sweatpants. Your gaze lingers on the tight pull of the material in the front. He doesn’t seem drunk, and he isn’t dressed in his usual party attire. 

“I just want to hang out with you. Why are you acting so sus?” 

You roll your eyes, doing everything in your power to exaggerate your irritation. “Why are you here?” 

“Oh, come on, Bambi. Don’t be like that.”

Bambi.

That stupid nickname. 

You and Jungkook had met at a party after you were peer pressured into a game of beer pong. The super boisterous, super attractive stranger ended up being your partner by default. 

‘What do you mean you’ve never played before?’ He questioned you, voice laced with devastation when he realized you were about to cost him his undefeated streak. 

Despite Jungkook’s best efforts, Mina and her boyfriend, Taehyung, mopped the floor with you. 

‘You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, ‘Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?’ 

You answered him curtly with a scowl. 

‘Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you.’ He was so wasted that night he ended up vomiting off of the second-floor balcony and onto the class president’s Honda Civic. Not drunk enough to forget the awfully humiliating, yet adorable nickname he had bestowed you. 

“Give me one good reason why I should let you in.”

“I have pancakes,” he beams with pride, bunny teeth peeking out. He raises both arms, showing you the crinkled takeout bags in his hands. “Chocolate chip-.”

“That’s disgusting,” you scoff. 

“And blueberry,” he retorts with a squint. “Please? I won’t be annoying, I promise.”

You let out a contemplative noise. It wasn’t what you had planned for the night, but you guess company wouldn’t hurt. Especially his company.

If only you could mute your evil brain. 

“I thought you had plans with whatsherface,” you question, stepping aside to let Jungkook enter your room. 

He kicks his slides off at the door, something you’ve drilled into his head with violent words and empty threats. You remember him texting the groupchat a screenshot of his calendar, tonight being marked ‘PUSSY APPOINTMENT’ with the woozy face emoji next to it. The same one that was inked on his middle finger; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Tonight was one of many slots in his month with the exact same title. That picture was deleted from your phone as soon as you received it. 

“Sana,” he corrects, face unimpressed like he expected you to keep a mental catalog of all his flavors of the week.

You did. Every time a new name was added to the roster, your heart sank. You would never admit it though. 

“I did, but I guess she has a boyfriend now or some shit?” He plops down onto the baby pink area rug beside your bed, immediately digging through the takeout bags. 

“How dare she?” You gasp sarcastically, taking the styrofoam container that he held up for you and sitting criss-cross on your bed.

“I know, right? That’s what I’m saying,” he laughs, opening a syrup packet and pouring it over his pancakes. 

You cringe, foreseeing a sticky, impossible to clean mess all over your floor. “Please don’t fuck up my rug, Jungkook.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles halfheartedly, bringing the pad of his thumb to his mouth. The tip of his tongue pokes out to kitten lick at the sugary liquid before wrapping his plump, pink lips around it.

He sucks gently and then pulls off with a tiny smooch. 

Wow. 

Are you really that far gone? There was no denying that Jungkook was attractive. But were you really that touch starved that you were drooling over every minuscule, minute movement he made? 

“Maybe she was sick of you stringing her along,” you comment, trying to cover up the fact that you were totally just gawking at him.

“Nah,” he murmurs through chubby cheeks, mouth full of pancake. “She knew it was just sex.”

“Did she though? What about Dahyun?”

“Well aware.”

“Jihyo?”

“Yep.”

“Nayeon?”

“Are you slut-shaming me?” He points his plastic fork at you, bringing the opposite hand to his chest in feigned offense. “Because I feel very attacked right now.”

You playfully nudge his shoulder with your thigh-high sock-clad foot, deciding to drop the subject. To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. Jungkook had a reputation on campus. Every girl who involved themselves with him knew what the outcome would be. He was very blunt about his desires and disinterests. Sex being the prior. Commitment being the latter.

But you suppose remaining detached was easier said than done. Something about him was… magnetic. He was bold, yet soft. Obnoxious, but endearing. A sweet talker for sure. And easily the freest person you’ve ever known. Add sex into the equation, and it must be nearly impossible not to fall in love with him…

Hm. That’s enough thinking for the night. 

You need background noise to keep intrusive thoughts at bay. He peeps an ‘I don’t care’ when you ask him what he wants to watch. You take it upon yourself. Sailor Moon it is.

The pancakes keep him preoccupied for a while. You glance down at him every now and then. His eyes sparkle as he watches the cartoon on your phone screen. There’s a little speck of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. His tongue makes an encore appearance, licking it away before fidgeting with his lip. How sinful. 

He starts getting squirmy about halfway through the episode. Antsy hands pull at the strings on the border of the carpet below him. Every now and then he draws a shape and erases it. One of the shapes is a penis, something you’d see on the back of a middle school textbook. 

He scoots with a sigh, pressing his spine against the edge of your bed, and then bending his head back. Fluffy dark strands tickle your legs as he peers up at you. “Can you play with my hair?”

“Why would I do that?” You huff, hot and bothered by the sudden contact.

“It helps me stay still. Please?”

“Oh, um- okay,” you oblige, gulping like you’ve dry swallowed a huge pill. You cautiously card your digits through his hair. It’s so soft and healthy. 

He purrs and closes his eyes. 

He's silent once again, enjoying your touch, even pushing into it a bit. Very cat-like.

That lasts for about three minutes. His inability to not speak every single thought that enters the void of his mind takes over.

‘I just realized they’re all named after planets.’

‘Wait, the moon isn’t a planet, is it?’

‘Why are they dressed so sexy to fight space monsters?’

“Jungkook, shut up!”

“But I’m bored,” he whines. “Is this really how you spend your Friday nights?”

“Excuse me, I’d like to see you take STEM classes for a week and then tell me how you feel,” you contend, leaning over to grab your phone off the nightstand. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your nipples. It makes your palms clammy. “Sometimes, it’s nice to just chill.”

“You don’t masturbate?” He asks calmly as if he had just inquired about the weather. 

You give him an exasperated look.

“What? That’s how I destress,” he continues, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t you have a vibrator?”

“I- no! Why are you asking all these questions?” You shriek, absolutely mortified.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He lifts his head off of your lap, craning his neck so you can see his appalled expression, your answer leaving him equally as mortified. “Damn, that’s wild,” he tuts in disapproval.

“I would rather not have to smuggle a sex toy into my dorm room, Jungkook,” you retort.

“You can borrow mine,” he smirks, turning his body to face you, obviously relishing in the reactions he’s pulling out of you. “It’s a Hitachi. It’s really strong too, like, most girls don’t even last five minutes.” 

“Why do you have- you know what, nevermind actually!” You clench your eyes shut, poking your fingers into your ears and shaking your head dramatically. Your reaction is mostly out of embarrassment and partly because the thought of him pleasing women who aren’t you hurts for whatever reason. “I’m done with this discussion!”

“Seriously?” He wheezes, thoroughly enjoying your tantrum. He wraps his long, nimble fingers around your wrists, pulling your hands away. Your skin burns under the touch. “I want to get to know you more.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to know-,” you rip out of his grasp, flailing your hands around in circular motions, “-those things.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he frowns. 

“About?”

“Anything.”

“Okay, um...” you look around the room nervously, searching for the right thing to say. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Black. What’s your favorite position?”

“Jungkook!”

“I think missionary is my favorite. Very underrated,” he says, tapping his chin like it’s an answer only an intellectual would’ve given. “The kind where her legs are pushed alllll the way back,” he emphasizes the ‘all’ by balling his hands into fists and lifting them up by his head, showing you exactly where he likes them. “You hit the g-spot perfectly that way.”

You level him with a scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Unamusement written all over. 

“Why are you so mad?” He laughs. “What? You’re embarrassed to talk about sex?” 

A pause. 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Jungkook, no…” you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration. “I’m just not like you, okay? I don’t like sex as much as you and everybody else on this fucking campus does!”

He hesitates for a moment as he processes your sudden outburst. The first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. You can picture the cogs turning in that thick skull of his. 

He inhales sharply, eyebrows raising up to his hairline as if something clicked. His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, cute dimple peeping out from the pull. His head drops as he huffs out a laugh.

“What’s so funny, Jeon?”

“Ah, I see now.”

“See what?” You groan, bothered by his vagueness. 

“Here's what I think, Bambi,” he mumbles in a low tone, sitting up from his spot on the floor so his gaze is aligned with yours. His palms are on either of your crossed legs, fingers curling into your white blanket. Forcing you to make eye contact with him- his pupils are black, nothing like the soft brown you’re accustomed to. “You’re so uptight because you haven’t had sex in a while- good sex, at least.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You say nothing.

“The guys you fuck don’t know how to treat you, am I right? They can’t make you cum?”

Crickets.

Your lack of response tells him the answer.

When you do speak, your words come out shaky. “Well, what makes you any different?” 

He shuffles closer, knocking his forehead right against yours, invading your space. He’s so close that you feel claustrophobic. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“I always make the girl cum.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hums through curled lips as he nods, silver hoops swaying at the motion, nose brushing against yours. “More than once.”

His dilated pupils scan over your body, pausing at your chest for a moment, and then continuing their descent. A hand slides up your bare thigh, the warm touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. He grabs the hem of your shorts between his index and middle fingers, tugging gently. “These are cute.” He licks his lips, making them pink and glossy, like he’s ready to eat you. “I’d like them better somewhere else though.”

“Jungkook…”

And then he's kissing you. 

It’s soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away by putting too much pressure into it. Little does he know you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

All your protesting and fighting up until this point was futile. Your hands unconsciously make their way to his cheeks. You swear you feel him smirking. It’s like he can read your mind, knowing exactly how bad you’ve wanted this.

He prods his tongue against your bottom lip, urging you to let him in. You do. He wraps an arm around your waist and guides you down, hovering over you.

“You taste like candy,” he whispers against your lips, hot and needy. Take that, Mina. A sneaky hand cups you through your shorts, right where he knows your clit is. The thin material does nothing to conceal how wet you are. “Do you taste like candy here too? Can I try?”

You’re anxious, but you can’t stop. Not when he’s so enticing. Not when the rumors of his sexual prowess are swimming around in your mind. Jungkook could ask anything of you and you’d gladly obey. You give him a small nod. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he teases through an airy laugh, breath fanning across your face. It smells like chocolate and syrup. He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss on your fingertips. You swoon.

Hooking his thumbs into the sides of your shorts, he pulls them below your butt. He dips his head down, biting into the side of your thigh. A predator sinking its teeth into its prey. Not hard enough to hurt. It’s just enough to rip a whine from you. “Fuck,” he grumbles, pulling your shorts completely off. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

He’s been wanting this, too?

“Let’s leave these on though,” he sighs, speaking in reference to your socks. It was something you knew he found sexy, overhearing a graphic conversation with Taehyung about kinks and other filthy things. That may or may not have been the motivation behind your purchase.

You cringe. Being naked in front of someone for the first time in a long time was nerve-wracking. 

“No panties?” Jungkook asks, looking at you quizzically. “Dressed so skimpy, Bambi. All for me?”

“I didn’t know you were gonna show up...”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” he chuckles, caressing your legs with his large thumbs. You appreciate the gesture. 

Cool air brushes against your exposed core when he parts your thighs. His gaze locks onto your dripping center. You whine and cross your arms over your face. Maybe if you squeeze hard enough you’ll revert back into yourself and escape this dreadfully vulnerable feeling.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” he starts, words dying out because his attention is elsewhere. Jungkook has seen a lot of pussy throughout his life, but yours has got to be the, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. So fucking wet.” He settles back onto his knees, hooking his limbs around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

Jungkook watches in awe as he spreads your lips open with his thumb and index fingers, stealing a peek at your shiny center. He takes a long, languid lick from your pussy to your clit. He moans when the wet muscle dips between your folds, eyes scrunching as his feature contorts into a scowl. You recognize that face. That angry face he makes when he tastes something he finds incredibly yummy. It’s the same one he made when he ate his pancakes. 

Have you really studied him so much that you’ve picked up on his subtle habits? Nevertheless, the fact that he actually seemed to be enjoying going down on you was jarring. You’ve never experienced this before. It felt so fucking good. You were already close and he has barely touched you. You let out a whimper.

“Mm, you’re so responsive,” he notes, absolutely loving the little sounds you’re peeping. Much different than the blaring moans and screams he is used to. Despite the ego boost they give him, your shy whimpers are a welcomed change. Each one makes his cock twitch, forcing him to bring a hand down, palming himself through his sweats. “When’s the last time someone ate you out?”

“Never…”

“I don’t see why not,” he coos sympathetically, shaking his head in disapproval. He gives you another lick, tongue pressed flat against you. “You taste like lemonade, so sweet.” 

That had you absolutely drenched.

You move up onto your elbows, watching as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders. He licks the pad of his thumb, this time actually sinful. He presses it right to your bud, rubbing it before pulling the sensitive skin taut, lifting the hood and exposing your clit. 

He tuts his tongue, whispering something so quietly you barely catch it, only making out a breathy iteration of the word ‘tiny’. Heavy eyes flicker up to yours as he places two soft pecks on it, then blows delicately.

“Jungkook, please…”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, “I won’t tease-,” sentiment interrupted with an open-mouthed kiss, “I know how bad you must want it.” 

He circles the tip of his tongue on your clit before suctioning his lips around it. You gnaw onto your lower lip, face twisting up in pleasure.

This is easily a far better form of self care than what you had planned. 

It’s obvious that this is something Jungkook does a lot. He is a photography major, and has never struck you as someone who is incredibly bright, but the way he touched is strategic. He has spent the better part of the past decade perfecting his craft, studying the way women move their bodies when he applies a certain amount of pressure. The beautiful noises they make when he stimulates them in certain spots. He has the exact equation to make you fall apart.

There is a pattern to it. He latches onto your swollen nub, cheeks hollowing with a few harsh sucks, before licking over it, letting his tongue dip into your entrance. You can’t help the subtle thrusts into his mouth with every glide of his tongue. The consistency had your stomach doing somersaults.

He sinks further down, lapping at your folds, never straying too far from your clit, burying himself so deep into your pussy that the tip of his nose nudges against it. A big palm slides up your torso, reaching under your tank top to grab at your chest, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple.

“Jung- fuck!” You croak, high-pitched and desperate. “I’m close.”

You expect him to pull away. He, instead, acknowledges you with an ‘mhm’, nuzzling even further into your cunt. 

You can’t help the instinctual, or more so learned, shame bubbling in your stomach. Your hips jerk away. Legs close tight around his head, attempting to save him from the brunt of your orgasm. He simply pries them back open, nails digging into your inner thigh. You grasp onto his hair, tugging it back as you curse under your breath.

He doesn’t like that.

He pops off of your clit with a sharp, annoyed growl. “Can you stop?” The stern edge in his voice makes you flinch, releasing your grip immediately. “You don’t have to control every situation. Just relax.” 

“I’m sorry,” you squeak.

His gaze softens immediately. He didn’t want you to apologize and he definitely didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. “You can touch me, Bambi,” he grabs hands and places them back on his head, encouraging them to tangle in his tresses once again. “Keep me here, though. Wanna make you cum in my mouth.”

It’s strange, being pampered during sex. Taken care of. 

You peer down at him. His mouth and cheeks are dewy, covered in your arousal. Even the tip of his nose is wet. He’s not uncomfortable in the slightest. 

You push him down, giving him the green light to continue. The descent is quick. Starting in your stomach before it shoots through the rest of your body. You throw your head back, teeth digging into your lip as you desperately try to stifle the lewd moans threatening to escape.

Jungkook guides you through it, slowing down towards the tail end of your orgasm. He pulls away with a satisfied hum, standing up from his spot on the floor. “Taste?” He asks, squishing your cheeks with his big hand. His tongue licks right against yours when you stick it out, lips closing into a sloppy kiss. “Good, right?”

You don’t really taste anything, but you nod anyway. Maybe a slight hint of citrus. Or maybe you were delirious after the best orgasm of your life. The only partnered orgasm of your life.

His eyes are scrunched, but you can still see the stars in his dark pupils as he smiles down at you. You mirror him with the opposite expression, irises wide and blown out. He giggles, nuzzling into the side of your face and then nipping at your cheek. “You’re like a space girl,” your heart melts at the Sailor Moon reference. “So clueless. I wanna do everything to you. Teach you everything.”

“Like what?” 

“Have you ever squirted before?” 

You freeze. “No… I don’t think everyone can.”

“That’s not true. Everyone can squirt with a good partner and the right mindset,” he proclaims enthusiastically, shooting you a thumbs up. The tent in his pants on full display.

“Right mindset?” You giggle, raising a brow at him. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty intense.” He grabs a half-empty water bottle, your water bottle, off the nightstand, taking a big sip. “I can get you there,” he states, a droplet of water dripping down his chin. “You have to listen to me, though. You can continue your ‘girlboss’ bullshit after I’m done with you.”

You roll your eyes. If any other man said that to you, you would be livid. You would literally rain hellfire upon them. But it’s Jungkook. You know he’s joking, and the soft spot you have for him prevents you from ripping him a new one. 

He smiles when you agree, pecking your cheek before unzipping his hoodie and shrugging it off his shoulders. You watch his muscles work. Toned, firm biceps exposed for your viewing pleasures. He recently recolored the tattoos on his right arm. 

You remember him venting about his parents’ disapproval of them, and his major, when he walked you to your dorm after a party a few weeks ago. It was the only time you’ve ever seen the fun-loving, jovial man feel melancholic. You coin that night the night you developed... whatever it was that you have for him now.

“Alright,” he gestures to the cotton sweater, now spread out on your bed. “Lay here.”

“Why?”

“I mean…” he looks at you like you’re stupid. “You don’t want to get this wet, right?” He counters, pinching your blanket.

Cockiness just oozes out of him. It makes wetness ooze out of you. 

You comply, laying down on the soft material. It’s warm and smells like the delicate linen cologne he normally wears. You bask in the scent.

“I usually use lube for this, but…” he clicks his tongue, knowing you don’t have any. “We can make it work.” Leaning down, he lets a string of spit land on your clit. It tickles as it trickles down your folds. He’s quick to collect it with his fingertips, smearing the moisture all over.

“Take your top off, please. I wanna see those pretty tits.”

It’s barely a top. The jagged, raw hem only conceals half of your perked nipples. How ironic is it that you’re wearing an angel print tank while being absolutely defiled. You sit up, taking it off easily and tossing it on the floor before laying back down. 

“It’s not going to hurt, is it?” You wonder, reflecting on his earlier statements.

“Why, you nervous?” He teases with a lopsided grin. It drops when he sees the apprehensive look on your face. “It shouldn’t hurt, but if it does you’ll tell me, right?”

“Right,” you moan, another drop of saliva hitting your pussy. 

“Hold your legs up, keep them open,” he orders, sucking back the extra spit with a hiss.

Pink nails curl under your thighs, bringing them up to your chest just as Jungkook instructed. He pops his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, bringing them down to tease at your entrance before slipping in, palm facing up.

There’s an adjustment period, his fingers being much bigger than your own. You’re so aroused that the tenderness subsides quickly. “Fuck,” you yelp when he starts gently petting at your g-spot.

He doesn’t jam his fingers into you carelessly, an unpleasant sensation you’ve been subjected to in the past. His digits never leave you. Instead, they move in a sensual curl that makes you purr. Every touch is focused, intricately placed on that delicious spot.

“Pussy so wet,” his voice comes out as strained as his pants. He sounds so turned on and filled with lust. It makes you clamp around his fingers. He lets out the tiniest moan, using his free hand to grab yours, sucking three fingers into his mouth. “Touch your clit for me.”

You bring your hand down, rubbing side to side. “Uh-uh, circles.” 

Immediately, you follow his command. You look so delicious he can’t help himself, bending at the waist to latch onto one of your nipples.

“Please, Jungkook, more…”

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your chest, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin. You nod frantically. “I usually don’t give in this easily, but I think you deserve it. Been such a good girl. You can have more, Bambi.” You know it’s just sex talk. A stream of consciousness fueled by his horniness. All the blood leaving his head to fill his cock, making him more dumb than usual, but you can’t help but feel special. 

“It’s going to build up fast, okay?”

You mumble a small ‘mhm’. How bad can it really be?

Jungkook starts moving his hand rapidly, fingers thrashing up and down. There's so much force behind his movements that your hips lift and dip. 

You’re overwhelmed. Constant, vigorous stimulation right to your g-spot. A strange swelling feeling starts pooling in your lower stomach. High-pitched whimpery moans and wet squelching noises fill the room.

“J- daddy, fuck!” It is so intense you can’t form a coherent sentence. There’s faint laughter in the background. “No, no, no…” you plead, wrapping your hand around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. It’s too good. So good that it made you scared.

His movements halt. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, too much… fuck!” You shout when he continues at the same intensity, your body thrashing wildly. You feel out of control.

“Shh,” he whispers softly. “You can take it. Just let it happen.”

You inhale sharply, doing your best to calm down. It’s difficult when he keeps touching you like that. Your fingers curl into his sweater, bracing yourself. As soon as you stop fighting that full feeling, as soon as you loosen the tense muscles, it’s going to hit you.

You relax and a wave of the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt ripples over you.

There’s an intense, world-shattering, euphoric release.

And then nothing. 

Your head is empty. Your ears ring. Your vision is distorted by white splotches. 

Complete solace.

Your senses come back after a few minutes of heavy breathing. It’s fuzzy, but you can see the ceiling fan swirling above you.

There’s a metallic taste on your tongue. 

You can feel droplets trickling down your inner thighs, a damp puddle under your butt, and a warm set of lips on your temple.

“Welcome back to planet Earth,” Jungkook jokes, pushing away the wispy flyaways that stick to your forehead. You blink absently as you slowly make out his features. You swear there’s a glowing aura around him. “You good?” 

“So good,” you confirm halfheartedly. “You’re so good.”

“You came so much,” he hums in satisfaction, placing a few pecks against your jaw. Jungkook was actually surprised at how much wetness he coaxed out of you. You just kept on cumming. The prettiest waterfall he’s ever seen. Damp fingers brush up and down your bicep, a comforting gesture. “You called me daddy.”

“Shut up,” you groan, covering your face. “Don’t talk about it.”

“I won’t, it was fucking gross,” he laughs, smiling down at you so genuinely that it reaches his eyes. This was just a hookup, you assume, but he’s just so pretty. You can’t stop yourself from pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He reciprocates. It feels so intimate. Too intimate for a pair of friends. You’re so tired but you want more. Everything.

“Take this off, please,” you ball the white fabric of his shirt into your tiny fists, mimicking his words from earlier. “Let me see those pretty tits.”

He quirks a brow at you, standing up straight and pulling his shirt off by the collar. It’s discarded onto the floor, with all the other useless, bothersome items.

His tits are pretty. Chest flushed red from exertion, nipples pink and tiny. His body is fit, but not overly muscular. Lean and toned. Just what you like.

You snake your legs around his cinched waist, constricting his pelvis flush against yours. 

“Is it my turn now?” He says, loving your sudden burst of confidence. His jaw goes slack when you start grinding on his clothed cock. There’s a slick spot where your bodies meet, heather gray turning dark as the fabric dampens. Jungkook lets you play with him for a bit, rutting against you until he physically cannot stand it anymore. “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad.”

“Then do it,” you whimper, growing impatient. He sighs, hand coming down to fiddle with the sweater underneath you. You crane your neck, watching curiously as he pulls a square packet out of the pocket. 

There’s a sharp pain in your chest when you see it. “Did you plan on us hooking up?”

“Maybe,” he contends playfully. All the amusement in his face disappears when he flicks his bangs back and sees yours. Hurt and disappointed. “I always keep condoms on me, you know that,” he explains, voice soft and wary. 

It makes sense. He was sexually active. Very much so.

That scares you. You could possibly be just another girl he’s sexually active with. A last ditch effort to get laid because the first option bailed. The puzzle pieces start coming together.

You look him in the eyes. His pupils are brown again. They look pleading, concerned for your wellbeing. Afraid they’ve tarnished something so delicate. You can’t tell if it’s just your delusions, post-orgasm bliss. All you know is you never want him to stop looking at you the way he is right now.

“Can I put it on?” You ask, pointing at the condom in his hand, desperate to break the tension.

“I- sure,” he retorts, exhaling deeply like he was holding his breath, relieved. He gives it to you, using his other hand to pull his pants by the waistband, stopping mid-thigh. Too rushed and eager to take them off completely. 

He didn’t have underwear on either.

You squint, trying to read the white font on the packet. Large.

You glance up, eyes bulging out of your skull when they land on his cock. It’s big. So aroused that it points straight up, resting on his abdomen. The tip is bright pink, standing out against the background of his smooth milky pelvis. It’s shiny with precum, a little bead sitting right at the slight. Your gaze trails up the veiny underside, following the acute upward curve. You gulp.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, jittery hands tearing open the foil packet. You cautiously wrap your hand around the shaft. It’s so firm. Rock solid and touch starved. It jumps in your palm as you slip the sticky rubber down, making sure to stroke him along the way. “Big, thas’ all.”

He nods, the corner of his lips pulling up in a smirk. He can tell your words are equally as worried as they are complimentative, though. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises, holding on to your ankle to lift your leg, kissing it through your white sock. Gaze locked on you, making sure you’re watching and that you know he can be soft with you.

He bends both of your knees up to your chest, tapping your outer thigh, indicating he wants you to hold them again. Tattooed knuckles wrap around the base of his cock, laying it flat against your pelvis. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath when he sees the tip reaches just below your belly button, knowing exactly what to envision when he’s inside you. His cock so deep it’s in your stomach.

He smacks the shaft between your folds. Filthy, wet slapping noises overpower your coos and purrs. The tip tickles your entrance, rubbing up and down your folds, before he brings it to your abused clit again, flicking it up and down like a light switch. Watching your face intently to gauge your reaction, looking for any prick of discomfort. 

“Put it in,” you frown, growing impatient.

“So needy,” Jungkook teases, gripping his cock right under the crown and pushing in. Only the tip. He uses his fingers as a buffer, trying not to give too much too fast. Pulling back agonizingly slow and then diving back in, giving you a little bit more length this time. It was only an inch or so, but the stretch burned. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill.

He repeats this process, working you open little by little until he’s buried to the hilt. He lets out a pained grunt, overwhelmed by the way your warm wet walls just suffocate him. “Fuck, tightest pussy ever.”

You clench your eyes shut, trying to ease the feeling of getting impaled. Jungkook is so big. The veins that run along his shaft, the thickness, the curve. He leans down and pecks your nose sweetly. His thumb, rubbing tight circles against your clit, provides a decent distraction. You focus on the pleasure instead of the pain.

“Feel okay, Bambi?” He coos, feeling you relax under him. “Can I move?”

With furrowed brows, he pulls out a few inches before thrusting back in slowly. Heavy eyes glued on the way your lips petal around him when he gives you more. The way they resist when takes his cock away. “Good girl,” he praises, voice raspy as he tries his best to maintain a slow, shallow pace. “You take it so well.”

Any pang of discomfort is gone. He prepped you so well that there’s no friction, just seamless glides in and out of your leaking cunt. The upturned tip of his cock tickles that sweet spot in you. You moan, digging your almond-shaped nails into your thighs, arching your back for more.

Jungkook sees your body language. He knows what to do in this situation. One of the most useful sex tips he’s ever learned. He leans forward, pressing his chest against yours, swollen lips latching onto your neck. They suck a sore spot that his tongue quickly soothes over. “Hold on to me,” he commands, wet pout smushed to your skin. 

You let go of your thighs, leaving little crescent indents on the surface, and throw your arms around his shoulders. Hooking your knees into the bend of his elbows, Jungkook hoists you up effortlessly, supporting your weight with his large palms on your ass. The change in position spreads you even further, slides him in even deeper.

“Mmm, f-,” you moan, words cut short when he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mmm, I knew it,” he chuckles sadistically, right into your ear. “I knew you were just waiting to be ruined. So fucking high-strung and- fuck!” He can feel your arousal dripping down to his balls. “Controlling.”

Arguing is pointless. You swear he's in your head, the tip of his cock scrambling your brain around so that you can’t even think straight. All you can think about is him.

You cling to him, resting your cheek against his shoulder as he lifts you in the air. Letting him have his way with you. You’re never felt more alive. 

‘Orgasms are the pinnacle of the human experience,’ you recall Jungkook telling you one day at the library. At the time, you rolled your eyes. Now, you know exactly what he meant. 

“You just needed some dick, huh? My dick?” You nod, drooling against his skin. “Doesn’t it feel good to let go?” All you can get out is a little moan.

A glint flickers in the corner of your eye. Mina’s mirror. It’s leaning against the wall right in front of you. You can see the expanse of his back. The taut skin on his shoulder blades. Biceps bulging as he moves you. His pants slid down to his knees, so you can see his cute butt dimpling when he thrusts up. Muscles working to make you cum.

“Okay,” he huffs, more to himself than you. Your pussy was so good that it derailed his original plan. Jungkook tosses you up a little, getting a more secure hold as he wraps an arm around your waist. The motion makes his cock slip out, the loss of contact makes you whine.

His free hand tosses his soiled hoodie out of the way. You cringe, making a mental note to mop tomorrow morning.

He places one of your fancy, cooling-gel pillows on the edge of the bed, laying you down on top of it. Your hips are elevated, tilted upwards. Giving him a clear view of your glowy core. He catches a glimpse of the only place he hasn’t destroyed.

“What about this?” He coos, pressing the pad of his thumb right against your clenching hole.

You squeak, shaking your head. Baby steps.

“Alright,” he chuckles, hand retreating promptly. “Maybe next time.”

He wants to do this again. Your heart flutters.

You watch as he guides himself back in, stuffing you to the brim in one swift motion. Much less cautious than earlier. His cock hits your g-spot perfectly. The pillow and his curve doing wonders. Your eyes roll back as your head hits the bed. “Like that, right?” He laughs, snapping into you. 

“Yeah, Jungkook,” you moan out, gripping your ankles and bringing them up by your head, just how he likes. “Don’t stop.”

He could’ve busted right then and there. 

“Fuck, keep saying my name,” he groans, eyes glancing up to your perky tits, jiggling freely with every snap of his hips. His pupils sneak down further, watching his cock plow into your tight, wet cunt, leaving it dewy and red.

You call his name like a metronome, ‘Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook’. Voice airy, following the rhythm of his hips. It makes him move harder and faster, feeling that familiar pooling at the base of his shaft.

Just like everything about him, his strokes are fluid. His hips aren’t locked and stiff. They move in a dip and roll that makes your toes curl. His pelvis mushes against your clit when he thrusts all the way in, balls smacking against the curve of your ass. It feels delicious. Your third orgasm of the night is approaching fast.

“You cumming, Bambi?” He hums, already recognizing the way your thick brows pull together when you're close. The way your hips rut a little, naturally guiding you to your orgasm.

“Mhm, make me cum Jungkook,” you mewl.

He hovers over you, placing his hands on top of yours, bending your legs back farther. Taking long, violent plunges into you. So close to a piledriver. He’s basically fucking you into the mattress, bed frame cracking against the wall beside it. One of your vine garlands falls down, but you’re so close you can’t even bring yourself to care. 

Your climaxes blend together. You first, clenching and unclenching around his length. Moans coming out sporadic and your shoulders off the bed. Legs trembling in his hands.

His orgasm is stunning. 

“Ah- fuck. I’m cumming,” he croaks through snarled teeth, head dropping to watch where you connect. Something he does often, you notice. He doesn’t stop, even after he spills into the condom, fucking you until he’s completely drained. You whimper, sensitive from the overstimulation. 

“Damn,” Jungkook huffs out a laugh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You fist the wavy strands at the back of his head, a little damp. 

“Thank you,” you speak shyly.

“I know you’re new to this,” he lifts up and looks at you quizzically, amusement tickling his features, “But that’s kinda a weird thing to say after someone fucks you.”

You laugh with him, eyes darting over his face. He has a small scar on his cheek, something you’ve never noticed before. 

“No, I just mean-” you cringe when he pulls out of you, feeling empty. “You’re the only guy who’s ever… I don’t know. You’re just different.”

He smiles with twinkling eyes, tying a knot at the end of the condom and tossing it into the pink trash can beside your nightstand. “You’re different, too,” he mirrors, plopping down onto the bed next to you. “Special.”

Special.

You sigh into his lips when he gives you a soft peck, thumb brushing against the newfound mark of his face. “I’m sorry that I made you do all the work.”

“Nah, don’t worry. Making you feel good makes me feel good.” His words are sweet but there’s a naughty glint in his eyes. “Besides, you can think of this as a practice round.”

“Practice round?”

He hums in conformation, tapping your ass lightly, making it ripple against his hand. “Alright, go take a leak before you get a UTI.” He laughs when you push his shoulder. The same old blunt, shameless Jungkook.

He stops you before you disappear into the bathroom. “I hope this won’t make things awkward between us. Like, we’re still friends, right?”

Friends.

It takes all of your strength to give him a nod. You ponder over his words as you clean up in the bathroom. Why did you feel so... conflicted? You’re so happy, but you’re also kinda sad. It’s like your mood solely depends on Jungkook. His words have the power to pull you in whatever direction he pleases. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

All these emotions must mean you have a crush on him.

You sigh, flicking off the light and then heading back into your room.

Jungkook is hunkered down in your sea of pillows, soft snores leaving his parted lips. Chest rising and falling steadily. Hair messy, fanned around him.

He looks so beautiful and peaceful.

You tilt your head at the sight. He always told you that he never spends the night after a hookup.

The blanket is only covering his pelvis, strong legs poking out from underneath. His sweats are still on his ankles. You giggle, attempting to slide them off without waking him.

“Bambi,” he mutters sleepily, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. You shuffle into bed, throwing the covers over both of your bare bodies. 

He wraps his arms around you, pecking your forehead before drifting back into slumber.

Fuck.

What have you gotten yourself into?

© chryblossomjjk 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost]

hooked

Pairings: nerd!jimin x fem!reader

Genre: college!au, s2l, this is pwp but without the plot

Warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, sub/dom themes, dirty dancing, so much grinding, dry humping, thigh riding, petnames, swearing, oral sex (m receiving), penetrative sex (be safe kids), cock riding, praise kink, multiple orgasms, cum play, oc licks it too, fingering, nipple play, lil bit of body worship, jimin has a massive dick but what else is new, he’s also cute af

Summary: things get carried away with the campus good boy after you agree to help him have some actual fun at a party. but hold up now because you’re not the one supposed to be hooked.

Wc: 8K

a/u: repost. have some good ol’ sub!Jimin smut to pass the time while I prepare my supernatural au. sorry for any mistakes, have mercy on me.

series mlist

You’re not typically the party-hardy kinda hoe but…

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Our ‘Get Along’ Shirt - pjm

⇢ another day, another endless round of you and Jimin bickering. It’s never ending, all-consuming, and your friends have had enough. Namjoon decides to end it once and for all - with help from a shirt for squabbling toddlers.

Genre/warnings: smut, 18+! ‘enemies’-to-lovers, swearing, semi-public smut, mutual masturbation, fingering, honestly at this point a sweat kink, multiple orgasms, light choking, some spitting, unprotected sex, creampie.

Words: 14.2k lol

A/N: well hello! I’m back baby, and to celebrate i had to exorcise some Jimin demons. Did i talk about him sweating a lot? Yes. Did i use my favourite pic of him for the header? Also yes. Don’t @ me, i already know. I hope you enjoy!!!

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