#halie pls shut up

[here2bbtstrash]

heartless (explicit)

genre: pwp, smut, exes hooking up - a part of the jeju shore collab !

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: after a wild summer at the shore where he made more than a few mistakes, jungkook is ready to remind you why you always take him back.

word count: 7.4k

other works in this collab: You DTF? by @haliiimede and Himbo Hours by @gimmethatagustd

contains: explicit sexual content!!! set in 2009, member POV, established relationship (exes), mentions of infidelity, mentions of alcohol and drug use, jk blows a stranger (definitely not anyone we know 👀) in a bar bathroom, some good ol' fashioned 2009 biphobia lmao, EXCESSIVE use of petnames (kookie and jagi) like it's really too much, cunnilingus, fingering, a lot of pussy appreciation bc of who i am as a person, they make a sex tape 🎥 (reader films jk going down on her), hot tub sex, jk makes reader come with a hot tub jet, unprotected sex (smh 😔), nothing in this fic is sexually healthy pls do not replicate, multiple orgasms/overstim, a lil bit of marking, jk is toxic and i kind of love him oops, don't fight me for the ending

A/N: it's here it's here it's here!!!!! happy jeju shore day 🥰 i'm so excited to share this one with y'all, it really was supposed to be a joke thing like ~sammi and ron vibes~ yknow and then idk.... this fic ran away with me,, like tell me why i ship kookie and jagi lowkey 🥺 over here like maybe one day they'll work it out 🥺 ANYWAY uhhh heed the warnings, this one's a doozy, have fun, stay hydrated 💦 and make sure you check out jai and hali's fics toooooo for your full ~weekend at the shore~ !!!! love you babes, thank you as always for reading 😘💜

read on AO3 !

“Shit, gonna come.”

Thank god, Jungkook thinks to himself. This guy has some impressive stamina, which he’d normally appreciate, but he’s in a bad mood tonight. Getting his throat fucked hasn’t helped like he thought it might.

Even though the guy is cute, with a big body and a sweet set of dimples, Jungkook is just going through the motions. He’s annoyed by the way the bathroom floor is digging into his knees, the way his jaw is starting to lock up with how long he’s been at this.

He shuts his eyes, remembers to breathe through his nose, and then a hand presses hard to the back of his head and his mouth starts to fill, bitter and heady. Careful not to spill a drop, Jungkook keeps his suction tight through the cock-twitches of this guy’s— he didn’t get his name, because he really doesn’t care to know it— orgasm, until he finally feels the fingers in his hair release.

Jungkook gets to his feet and stumbles to the sink, gripping the porcelain edge while he spits out the glossy strings of a stranger’s load. He’s not a swallower, because he’s not gay. He’s just good at sucking dick— and Jungkook likes doing things he’s good at.

“Appreciate it!” The stranger’s voice echoes over his shoulder, followed by the sound of the bathroom door swinging on its hinges and slamming shut, leaving him alone with a sink full of cum.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Jungkook stares himself down in the mirror, runs a hand over his hair to make sure it didn’t get fucked up from that guy’s truly obscenely large hand. Thankfully his extra-hold gel seems to be doing its job.

At the realization that his teeth are grinding together, he presses a knuckle into the hinge of his jaw, trying to encourage it to relax. He’s been clenching all night, and he’s not sure if he should blame the six redbull vodkas he’s thrown back or the keybumps of something he did off the bar: it was either coke or molly.

Coke, he thinks. He’s on edge.

He can’t shake this feeling, like he’s a wild animal trapped in a cage, as he pushes the bathroom door open and presses his way back into the mass of bodies in the club. He’s gone out every night this week looking for something, but he can’t find it. It’s not at the bottom of a bottle or in white powder snorted through a rolled-up hundred. And it’s certainly not in any of the random strangers he’s taken in the bathroom or the back alley or on the hood of his car in the parking lot.

He misses you.

It’s been almost three weeks since you last came around, and even then, it was only to scream at him while you dug your clothes out of his dresser and threw your spare toothbrush in the trash can. All because someone left you that stupid fucking note detailing the night Jungkook went blackout, where the last thing he remembers is Jimin convincing him to switch to Malibu.

If what Jungkook’s been told is the truth, he apparently started a bar fight and had a foursome that night— just, unfortunately, with three people who weren’t you. He kind of wishes he could remember at least one of those.

Fuck this, he thinks to himself, surrounded by trashed club-goers on all sides, bodies slick with sweat and tanning oil, the floor sticky from spilled drinks and probably a few other things. Jungkook knows exactly where he wants to be, and it’s between your thighs, not at one of the seven shitty clubs he and his hyungs have been rotating through all summer.

Figuring Taehyung and Jimin are fine to handle their own shit, he shoves through the crowd a little more aggressively than he needs to, and definitely knocks one drunk girl flat on her ass without bothering to look back.

The slight chill in the air when he steps outside is a welcome relief from the stale heat of the club. It’s the last weekend before everyone packs up and heads for the mainland, which means he’s running out of chances to see you, to try and convince you to get the fuck over this latest bump in the road and take him back.

Jungkook knows he loves you, he’s sure of it. He wants to marry you someday, get a little house in the suburbs, pop out a few kids, all that shit. But right now he’s young, and he just wants to party and have fun. He doesn’t understand why you care so much.

Driving home with the windows down, going a cool 80 in a 40, he grips the wheel with one hand while the other digs his Razr phone out of the pocket of his ripped jeans. He hits the first speed dial where your number is saved and has to call three times before you finally answer. The fact that you picked up at all means he has a chance tonight.

“What, Kookie?!”

Probably the greeting he should’ve anticipated, but his stomach still flips at the nickname. You’re the only one allowed to use it: he’s strictly Jungkook to most, JK to his hyungs.

He fidgets absentmindedly with the car lights, the AC, the button for the windows. This is always the hard part, talking about feelings and shit. But it’s what you want, so he’ll do it for you.

“Wanna see you,” he murmurs into the phone, as if he needs to keep his voice down so he won’t get caught being soft.

“Fuck off,” you snap instantly, but you don’t hang up.

Jungkook’s played this game enough times to know what it means: he’s got a rapidly shrinking window of opportunity to say the right thing. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, trying to buy himself some time. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?” You huff.

Stopped at a red light, Jungkook tips his head back against the car seat and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts. “Don’t be mean to me. I already told you I’m sorry, it’s not fair for you to hold this shit over my head.”

“I’m not holding anything over your head, Kookie, you fucking cheated—“

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light changes. “Yeah, I fucking know, okay? But it’s the last weekend. Is this really how you want to leave it?”

The silence on the other end of the line is more than enough to answer his question.

“Just… come over. Let me see you. Please?” Jungkook grimaces, embarrassed to be begging. He wouldn’t do it for anybody else.

Gravel crunches under the tires of his car as he pulls into the driveway, and he’s only sure the call didn’t disconnect when he hears the way you sigh softly on the other end. It’s a sigh he knows well.

“Fine.”

You don’t say anything else, and neither does Jungkook. He doesn’t know what else there is to say, or why any of this has to be such a big fucking deal. But he waits, until finally you hang up, and then he flips his phone shut. Girls.

Once inside, he makes quick work of getting everything together: sweeping the empty beer cans on the kitchen counter into the trash, spraying on a little more Hugo Boss, a mouthwash rinse to rid himself of the lingering taste of cum. The place you rented for the summer is just down the road, so it’s as he’s spitting in the sink for the second time tonight that he hears you bang loudly on the front door.

Time to turn on the charm, Jungkook thinks to himself, and then he exits the bathroom and reaches a hand between his shoulder-blades to pull his shirt off over his head. He drops it to the floor of his bedroom before heading down the hallway to let you in.

Jungkook swings the door wide and leans one arm on the frame as he takes you in. You’re standing on his stoop, arms crossed angrily over your pink crop top, belly button piercing glinting in the porch light. He smiles fondly, remembering the summer you got it done, the way you squeezed his hand so tight when the needle went through that he nearly lost feeling.

It was nice then, the way you acted like you really needed him. You used to be so sweet. He wonders when that changed.

It’s been too long. “Hi, jagi,” he says, and it comes out softer than he would’ve liked. It makes him sound weak.

“Fuck off. Answering the fucking door shirtless. You did that on purpose.” You roll your eyes as you brush past him to walk inside.

He turns sideways, purposefully taking up most of the doorway so you have to squeeze through, and when you do, his fingers hook in the belt-loops of your jeans to pull you closer.

“Just like you wore these?” There’s no way you don’t know what those white low-rise jeans do to him. Jungkook always tells you they make your ass look so fat, and even though you complain every time, he means it as an honest compliment.

Clearly still trying to act pissed off, you pop your gum at him, but he knows better than to believe that you’re really mad. If you were, you wouldn’t have come here. And you certainly wouldn’t be looping your arms around his neck and tilting your head up like that, moving so close that he can feel the heat of your breath ghosting over him.

“Maybe. What are you gonna do about it?” You purr, like you don’t already know the answer.

Jungkook’s lips find yours at the same time his hands slide around your hips, fingers sinking into the denim stretched tight over your ass. You squeak a little at how hard he grabs, and he takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue into your mouth, deftly retrieving the wad of gum from between your teeth. He pulls back with a cocky grin and spits it halfway across the yard.

“How about you come inside and find out?”

“Jesus.” You make a face when you step in first, leaving your Gucci flip flops in the front hall, and Jungkook turns back to shut the door behind him as he follows you. “You guys trashed this fuckin’ place.”

He frowns at your utter disregard for his cleaning efforts, but he follows your gaze and, well, you’re not wrong. He probably could’ve done something about all the half-empty liquor bottles, the overflowing ashtrays, the sink full of dishes. But right now he really doesn’t give a shit.

Jungkook closes the distance between you again, arms slipping around your waist from behind, head ducking down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, to make you squirm the way he likes. “This is the bachelor life. We need a woman’s touch,” he murmurs against your skin, and you scoff a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Jungkook protests. He pauses to suck a mark into your skin, only stopping when he manages to coax a soft whimper out of you. “Why don’t you and I get a place together next summer? I’ll tell Jimin and Tae they’re on their own.”

You hum softly, in the way that tells him you want that, too. But you’re still playing coy, even as your hands slide over his arms locked tight around you. “That’s very presumptuous of you.”

“Maybe I should do some convincing,” Jungkook’s lips brush over the shell of your ear, and you wriggle out of his grasp, crossing into the living room and tossing your purse on the couch before dropping down unceremoniously next to it.

The wild animal feeling hasn’t dissipated— when he follows after you, Jungkook can’t help but feel like a predator stalking his prey.

It’s probably fucked up, but he likes the chase.

Leaning back on your hands, you gaze up at him, jeans sunk low enough for Jungkook to see the pink straps of your thong that peek out over the curve of your hip. The visual makes his own pants start to feel tight.

You tilt your head expectantly. “I’m listening.”

“I wasn’t gonna talk,” he admits with a smirk, standing over you, one leg teasing your thighs apart.

You reach forward to trail a hand down the defined lines of his stomach— the gym has been good to him this summer— and blink your long lashes innocently. “Will you at least use your mouth?”

“Well, now I know what you came over for,” Jungkook growls. His hands drop to brace on the back of the couch behind you, arm muscles flexing as he cages you in, and he leans down to capture you in a heady kiss. He missed it all: the way you smell, how soft your lips are, the way you still taste like spearmint. Your needy little noises when he licks his tongue into your mouth and the way you suck so diligently on it. You’re always so good for him, always so pretty when you come back.

“Take your pants off, jagi,” he breathes into your mouth, shifting to grip your neck with one hand as he kisses you again. He can feel a soft whine in your throat under his palm when you do as you’re told.

Jungkook pulls back once your jeans are kicked all the way off, knees digging into the carpet as he settles between your legs. His biceps wrap under your thighs and he tugs your bare ass to the edge of the couch, pausing to slip a finger under the thin string of your thong and gently snap it against your skin.

You spread your legs wider for him, leaning back against the cushion. “Don’t tease,” you huff. The desperation in your voice just turns him on more.

“Impatient,” Jungkook notes with a smirk. “And I haven’t even told you what I want yet.”

“What you want?” Your attempt at sass is undercut by the moan Jungkook works out of you when he sucks another hickey into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He pulls back with a final lick over the mark that sends a shiver rippling through you, makes your nipples stiffen against the thin fabric of your crop top and your hips tilt up instinctively for more.

His eyes find yours again. “Let’s make a movie.”

“Kookie,” you whine, and Jungkook cups a hand over the front of your panties, rubbing circles into the thin material, then gently squeezing your pussy lips together to help argue his case. He can feel the muscles in your thighs twitch in response— always so sensitive.

“Come on,” he murmurs, pushy. “I know you have that camera in your bag.” You take your Sony digital camera with you everywhere, like it’s a third limb, like you believe nothing really happens unless it’s documented on Facebook.

Jungkook reaches for the strap of your Coach purse and drops it between your spread thighs. “I want you to film me while I go down on you. That way you can watch it back when you need to remember why you keep me around.” He punctuates the request with a wink, because he knows you can’t say no to him. That fact is made evident by how quickly you dig in to retrieve the little pink camera before tossing your bag aside again.

“I don’t watch porn, Kookie,” you scoff, already turning it on and fiddling with the settings. “I’m not nasty like you.”

“You’ll watch this one,” Jungkook corrects, hands pressing on your thighs to encourage them to spread further. Your skin is smooth and warm under his touch as he slides his fingertips back up to the line of your panties. “Now shhh. The only thing I wanna hear talk is this pussy.”

When the telltale beep indicates you’ve started recording, Jungkook stares pointedly into the camera with a cocky smirk. “Missed you, jagi,” he says, both to the you on the other side of the camera and the you who will watch this in the future, when you inevitably get mad about some dumb shit and break up with him again. As if you could ever really stay away.

His eye contact doesn’t falter as he licks a long, slow stripe up the front of your panties, taking his time, tongue laid flat to fully soak through the fabric. When he leans back, one hand snakes between your thighs to tug the damp material to the side, tattooed fingers pressing into a V to spread your folds apart. It always makes you squirm, but he loves to admire you like this. He’s not ashamed to like pussy.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, reaching the hand that isn’t parting your pussy lips up to beckon for the camera. “Let me film. Won’t get your face in it.”

You hand it over silently, clearly already too turned on to make a big show of protesting. Jungkook turns the lens on your pussy, holds it up close as he traces two fingers over your folds, keeping the pressure light enough that you squirm and flutter cutely beneath it.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs when he teases his touch down to your entrance. There’s already enough slickness there to earn him an audible wet noise as he goes, his pattern a slow, lazy circle. He presses a finger in just to drag it back out, and a thin, glossy string of arousal comes with it. “Your pussy loves me too much. That’s why you can’t stay mad.”

Jungkook paints the wetness he pulled out of you up to stroke over the hood of your clit, and it’s enough to edge your breathing with shy sounds. You bring your palm up to your mouth, clearly trying to keep quiet, and it only encourages him to dip back in for more. He uses two fingers this time, slipping past your entrance into the tight velvet heat of your cunt, always so warm and willing for him.

You sigh at the loss when he pulls back, more arousal drooling out of you to chase after his fingers. Jungkook loves to play with you like this: you squeak when he squishes the whole of your cunt up in his hand, reveling in the noise of your slick folds pressing together, in the way your pussy’s gone needy for him. All swollen and puffy, all soft, dripping juice like ripe fruit.

He works up some saliva in his mouth and lets it dribble down over your slit between his fingers, then follows it with another pass of his tongue.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whimper.

“You know I’ll always treat it right, jagiya.” Jungkook purrs, releasing his grip on your pussy lips to pinch at your clit while he passes the camera back. “But let me show you in case you forget.”

He firmly tugs your panties down your thighs and leaves them to dangle off one ankle before guiding your legs to hook over his shoulders. After a final glance up to make sure you’re still filming, he leans in to properly trace his tongue through your slick folds, lapping at the arousal pooled at your entrance while his thumb brushes over your clit to work up more.

Jungkook’s brows pinch together and he grunts in appreciation of your taste, thick and familiar; he’s gone too long without it. He’s eating properly now, alternating between dragging his tongue flat and flicking it gently over your clit in the way that makes you gasp and shove your hips up towards his mouth, rough and wild, no good-girl pretense left in you.

His arm locks across your stomach to keep you where he wants you, and he pulls back with a smack of his lips and a cheeky smile for the camera.

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

This is the part he loves: when you start to come undone, worked up enough to be responsive to every little touch. Jungkook licks broad, showy stripes up to your clit, eyes fixed on you through the lens, enjoying the way your soft sighs blossom into full-out moans, matching pace to the steady rhythm of his tongue. 

“Kookie,” you groan, “nnh, fuck— f-feels so good.”

He hums a laugh against your folds, and the vibrations make you cry out so he does it some more, lips closing to suck firmly at your clit while his mouth buzzes sweet, low notes around it. You arch up beneath him and your moan scrapes rough against the back of your throat, desperate.

It was a stroke of genius to have you film it, Jungkook thinks absentmindedly to himself. Documented proof that nobody else could ever do you this good.

“Fuck.” Your voice brings him back to attention as he continues to pulse suction against your clit, tongue fluttering out again to lap at the sensitive bud. The sounds you make are slightly muffled by the manicured hand you’ve clapped over your mouth, but you’re so loud now that he can still hear every word. “Oh god, Kookie— I-I’m gonna come, oh fuck, ohhhh—”

Your hips tilt up as your orgasm overtakes you and he shoves them back down, practically growling as he forces you to stay there and take it. He can feel your legs shake, the way your bare heels kick listlessly against his back as he sucks and licks you through the peak of your climax. Your pussy throbs in his mouth and drips down his chin like honey, with a taste so good he doesn’t want to stop.

“God fucking dammit,” you moan, and he keeps going until you bring one foot up to press into his shoulder to push him away. “Kookie, p-please, it’s too much.”

With a final swipe of his tongue, Jungkook pulls back, wiping at his chin with one hand. “You’re sensitive, jagi, I know.”

But there’s a reason you haven’t stopped filming, and it’s one you both know well. It was back when you first started dating, when you could never keep your clothes on around each other and barely left his room, that Jungkook learned your body expertly enough to figure it out: after you come once, your pussy gets so sensitive that he can easily work you up to a second orgasm, even from just the curl of his fingers against your g-spot.

He hopes no one else will ever get the chance to know you like this. 

You barely manage to stifle another sob and almost drop the camera when he slips two fingers into your cunt, pressing to the hilt to feel how swollen-tender you are inside. Your walls squeeze so tight around him that his cock twitches in his pants with jealousy.

Sliding one of your legs off his shoulder, he presses your thigh firmly into the couch and groans a little at the way you spread wide for him, glossed folds all flushed and pretty. It gives him a head rush to watch his hand work you open, to see the thick white cream of your arousal paint his fingers each time he pulls back just to thrust in again.

You’re wet enough now that the sound is obscene, a juicy squelch every time he fucks into you, and Jungkook can’t help but smile. He glances up. “You’re dripping on my couch, jagiya.”

You can only whimper in response.

“You want to come again?”

You nod desperately until you manage to find the word. “Please.”

“Anything for you.” Jungkook winks for the camera as he starts to flex his fingers to pet over the ridges of your front wall. You keen as he puts more weight into his strokes, your free hand reaching to cling to him and dig your nails into his bicep. He’s too keyed up to feel it, can’t focus on anything that isn’t your pussy squeezing him like a fucking vice grip, tight and hot and soft inside.

You’re past the point of being able to talk, reduced to breathless moans— “ah, ah, nnh”— because Jungkook knows exactly what to do to take you apart all over again.

This time he makes no move to stop you when your hips buck up. Instead he lets you let go, lets you fuck yourself on his hand, fluttering around his fingers and trembling all over as you start to come.

Jungkook goes a little slack-jawed watching you and momentarily forgets about the video, looking over the camera to see the expression on your face as he works you through your second peak. He loves the way you grip tight to him with your nails and your pussy, like he’s special, like you need him.

Your knees reflexively pull towards each other as your cunt-pulses slow and you finally start to come down, thighs clamping in around Jungkook’s wrist to still the motions of his hand. When he hears the whir of the camera shutter retracting and sees you toss it aside on the couch, he finally relents. You open yourself up enough that he can slip his fingers out to suck the excess off.

“What the fuck,” you finally manage as you collapse against the couch cushions, sounding beyond dazed.

Jungkook presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his smug smirk, and gets to his feet. As he watches your head tip back and your eyes flutter closed, he can’t help but wonder if you got what you came for. If this is the last he’ll see of you until god knows when.

Fuck that. He’s not letting you go that easy.

In one swift move Jungkook leans forward, slipping an arm between your back and the couch and sweeping the other under your knees. He tosses you over his shoulder— completely naked from the waist down— like it’s nothing at all, delivering a swift slap to your ass with the hand that isn’t wrapped around your hips.

“Kookie!” You try to sound mad but the laugh that bubbles up gives it away. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Come on,” Jungkook replies as he carries you across the living room, impervious to the way your hands claw at his back. “It’s a perfect night for the hot tub.”

“I didn’t bring a fucking bikini,” you sputter, feet kicking softly in the air. “Put me down.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures you as his free hand easily slides the back door open and he takes you over the threshold. “Tae and Jimin won’t be back for a while. It’s just us.”

Tae and Jimin have also already seen you naked… probably dozens of times at this point, if Jungkook had to estimate, but he doesn’t mention that part. Not when he’s trying to get his girl back.

Instead he crosses the yard to set you down on the hot tub deck, your legs dangling over the side, and makes quick work of stripping out of his jeans and boxers, half-hard cock hanging heavy between his legs. He hopes it might give you some incentive to stay a little longer.

When he turns back to face you, your bottom lip is jutting out in a bratty little pout as your feet swing aimlessly off the deck. It makes him want to fucking ruin you.

Jungkook steps forward to close the distance, thumb running down your mouth to pet over your lip. “Put this back in your mouth and take your top off, jagi.” His voice is low, his mouth ghosting over yours. 

Your bare foot knocks into his shin, but it only hurts a little. “Make me.”

He can’t help but smirk at your attitude. It’s cute. He likes you feisty. “That’s a lot of sass for someone who was just screaming my name.”

You smack a hand against his chest with a play-scowl. “Shut up.”

He sweeps your arms behind your back before you can do it again, easily enclosing both of your wrists in one of his hands. “Why are you always so mean to me, huh?”

“Oh, I’m mean?” You look like you’re going to say more, but he pushes your crop top up with his free hand and watches the way it makes you shiver, your nipples tightening in the cool night air.

“You are,” Jungkook says softly. “And I’m just trying to love you.”

The same hand cups one of your breasts, and he ducks down to suck the stiff peak of it into his mouth, enjoying the airy little moan he coaxes out of you and the way you arch up into him. His grip on your wrists doesn’t falter as he pulls off, switching to roll your other nipple under the pad of his thumb.

“You should get these pierced,” he remarks, gaze shifting between your tits as he imagines silver barbells studded through the buds of them. “I’ll get one too. We can go together. Next summer.” His eyes find yours in time to watch your expression soften, just barely. It’s enough.

“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan, wiggling a little in his grasp. “Until you decide to stick your dick in some strange and fuck everything up again.”

Jungkook sighs. You’re fucking relentless. “I don’t want to talk about that. Can’t it just be us?”

Your reaction isn’t what he expects: he’s surprised to see the fight go out of you, to see how defeated you look as you lean in and press your forehead against his chest. Even your wrists go slack in his hand, and he releases his grip.

“That’s what I’m saying, Kookie,” you murmur. “That’s all I want.”

Jungkook’s fingers sweep under the line of your jaw. “I know.”

He tilts your head up for a kiss, and your hands come to cup his face, as if to pull him closer— to hold him in place so he can’t run away.

It’s the way it always is: he’s not going to promise he’ll change, and he knows you’re not dumb enough to ask him to. He can’t be anything but what he is, but he can hope you’ll love him anyway.

Your thumb strokes over Jungkook’s cheek as he pulls back, and he smiles a little. “Will you please get in the hot tub?”

Jungkook settles into the water first, sighing dramatically loud at the welcome warmth, and you giggle as you peel your top off before following after. When you slip in politely across from him, he grabs you by the ankle with a growl, and you don’t fight as he pulls you close again.

His hands guide your thighs apart to straddle him, so your knees rest on either side of the ledge he’s seated on. Between the heat of the water and your body on top of him, he’s dizzyingly hard in seconds.

The two of you make out like teenagers, more tongue than anything else, doing your best to hump and grind against each other despite the water slightly inhibiting your motions. Jungkook can’t stop touching your tits, obsessed with the weight of them in his hands. His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples to make you whine into his open mouth again and again, and his cock twitches in response every time.

“K-Kookie,” you finally manage to groan, nails dragging down his back as he presses sloppy kisses, all tongue and teeth, to the slope of your neck. “Need it, please. Your cock.”

His mouth finds yours again, and he bites down on your bottom lip with a smile before pulling back to answer. “You’ll get it, jagi. Wanna try something first.”

You whine a little and he gives a teasing pinch to your inner thigh, shifting you off his lap so he can stand up.

“Come here.”

Jungkook’s hands slide to your waist when you get to your feet, and the added weightlessness from the water makes it even easier for him to move you where he wants you. He guides you to spin so your back is flush with his chest, then encourages you to kneel on the ledge again, pushing your legs further apart.

“Can you stay like this for me?” He murmurs in your ear. You look up at him over your shoulder with wide, shining eyes, reflecting back the blue glow of the mood lights filtered through the water, and you nod.

As he ducks down to kiss you, Jungkook’s hand fumbles blindly against the edge of the tub until he finds the button he’s looking for. When he presses it once, the jets roar to life, including the one positioned right between your spread thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, and Jungkook wraps his arms tight around you to keep you in place, letting you collapse back into him as the jet pulses onto your pussy. “Oh my god, oh fuck, Kookie.”

“Feels good?” He murmurs in your ear, and you can only whimper and nod, hips circling against the stream of water, stimulated past the point of coherency. Your eyes practically roll back in your head. “Yeah, you look good like this.”

Jungkook can’t help himself now— his cock aches from lack of attention, and he starts to grind into you from behind, rutting himself against the small of your back, the curve of your ass. His hands grab at the soft skin of your thighs for leverage, and he can feel the way you’re shaking, already close, your breathing going ragged.

“K-Kookie—” you whimper. “I’m— fuck, g-gonna—”

“Want you to come for me,” he groans, tongue darting out to trace the shell of your ear. “Come for me like this so I can fuck another one out of you.”

Your arms scramble back behind you for something to keep you grounded, nails scratching and digging into Jungkook’s shoulders as your orgasm starts to crest.

He keeps rocking his hips into you, which only serves to move you closer to the jet and make the pressure that much stronger. You’re moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear, and Jungkook has to grip your hips to keep them still as you come fast and hard, shaking apart in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Jungkook talks you through it, petting broad strokes down your thighs that make you jolt under his touch. “How was that, jagiya?”

“Fuuuuuck.” Your answer is a soft whine, and he can feel the aftershocks still rolling through your body. You shift to pull your thighs together, shivering all-over, and Jungkook releases his grip on them, hands moving up to squeeze at your tits while you recover. He can feel the way your heart is racing beneath his palm.

Your eyes slowly blink open, heavy-lidded, and you start to untangle your arms from around Jungkook’s shoulders. His back stings a little— he’s sure he’ll have pretty pink scratch marks to remember you by.

He presses a kiss to your temple, chaste in spite of how fucking hard and horny he is. “Love you. Stand up for me?”

Your legs are still shaking, so Jungkook helps haul you to your feet. Taehyung is always telling him he shouldn’t actually be penetrating girls in the water, something about vaginal health, so he has you bend at the waist to lean over the edge of the hot tub. The arch in your back when you press your ass up towards him makes his cock start to leak against his stomach.

Your head lolls forward to drop down on your forearms, and he laughs a little at how fucked out you already are as he gives your ass a firm slap. “Stay just like that. Face down ass up.”

You wait patiently as he climbs out of the water to search the deck. It only takes a few seconds for him to spot what he’s looking for: the bottle of lube Jimin’s always leaving out “just in case”. Jungkook makes a mental note to buy him a thank-you shot.

“God damn,” he murmurs appreciatively when he returns to you, rubbing three fingers slicked in thick silicone lube along your puffed-up slit before pushing them into the velvet heat of your pussy. “Wanna come in you so bad.”

“Please, Kookie,” you whimper.

Jungkook withdraws his hand to squirt more lube into his palm and fist it over his length, hissing a little at the sensation and the squelching noise his hand makes when he fucks into it. Tossing the bottle over the edge, his hands come to frame your hips, and he can’t help but moan as he starts to grind the head of his dick against your folds. “Fuck.”

You push your hips back on him, all wrecked and needy, your voice wrung-out. “Fuck me, Kookie, please— wanna take your cock, wanna feel it.”

It’s so hot when you beg for him. With another soft noise, Jungkook lines himself up to your entrance and gives you what you need: the whole of his thick cock sliding into your grip-tight pussy, slow for the delicious stretch of it, so you can feel every inch until he’s pressed in to the hilt.

It feels the way it always does. You were made to fit together.

You whine into the crook of your elbow, your walls already fluttering, split open and filled up and so sensitive. Jungkook leans forward, hands bracing the edge of the tub on either side of you, until his chest is flush with your back and the tip of his cock presses into your g-spot.

“Oh shit, right there, Kookie,” you gasp, like he doesn’t already know.

Jungkook grunts, nipping at the skin of your shoulder, and he starts to grind his hips against you, rubbing his cock into your g-spot over and over, until your legs threaten to give out. 

Your pussy feels so good, the little moans you’re making in time with his motions are so pretty, it’s like he can’t get enough of you. He brings a hand up to run over every inch of your skin he can reach, all of it smooth and gorgeous under his fingertips— he really can’t stop touching you. 

Maybe those bumps he did back at the bar were molly, he thinks absentmindedly.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans as he strokes a little harder, hips rolling fluidly. “So fucking beautiful.”

“F-fuck, Kookie,” you whimper, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts, and you let out a choked moan when he starts to pound more firmly in response. “Ah, fuck— don’t fucking stop, oh god—”

Jungkook hooks his arm across your chest, and his hand gripped tight to your shoulder gives him more leverage to hit deeper. Being squeezed so close by your walls is nearly overwhelming, your pussy all hot and wet inside, it’s like he can barely fit. “God, you’re so fucking tight, jagi.”

“F-feels so guh— good, nnh,” you can hardly get the words out, and Jungkook can feel the way your whole body is starting to shake.

He can’t stop himself now, not when it’s this good. “Missed you so much, jagiya. Wanna marry you, wanna put a baby in you.” His cock twitches hard, enough that you whimper a little, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Come with me, jagi,” he grunts. “I want to feel you come again.”

“C-can’t,” you gasp, but he knows you can, can tell by the way you’re gripping around him that you’re already close.

The clapping of skin on skin echoes out as Jungkook fucks deliberately into your g-spot, no longer holding back, and you cling to the edge of the tub for dear life as your muscles start to contract. “Oh fuck, Kookie, fuck, fuck, I’m coming, I—”

With a loud cry, you collapse forward, knees nearly buckling as your orgasm hits you. Jungkook is helpless to the way your pussy pulses around him, like it was made to milk his cock. He tips his head back with a throaty groan as he comes with you, comes for what feels like an eternity, thick white ropes spilling into your cunt with every dick-twitch of his orgasm.

“Oh my god,” he groans, working the last of it out with a few shallow strokes, his breathing harsh and ragged. “So fucking good.”

You whimper softly with your head dropped down into your arms, your pussy still shuddering around him.

Jungkook squeezes at the curve of your ass as he pulls out with a hiss of oversensitivity. Deciding not to bother with the mess running down your thighs, he takes a second to catch his breath, then climbs over the edge of the hot tub, wiping absentmindedly at the beads of sweat dotting his temples.

You’re clearly too fucked out to walk now, so he scoops you up to carry you across the deck and back inside through the open sliding door, bridal-style this time, cradled in his arms. He smiles at the way you’re still trembling a little, your face now buried in his chest.

He deposits you onto the couch, then stretches out next to you to prop up on one arm, admiring how your hair fans out beneath you as you curl into him with a small sigh.

It takes you a while to come to, lashes fluttering prettily over your cheeks, and when your eyes finally blink open, you sit up rather abruptly.

Jungkook brings a hand to your low back to rub gentle circles. “Hi, jagi.”

There’s a look on your face, like you’ve just realized where you are.

“Fuck, I should go,” you murmur, looking around until your gaze lands on your purse. You lean over to retrieve it and dig through the contents until you finally find your phone and slide it open. “My roommate is gonna figure it out if I don’t come back, and she’ll fucking kill me.”

“Stay with me,” Jungkook says softly.

“No, Jungkook,” you snap, and he can tell by the way you’ve dropped the nickname that he’s lost you for the night. “I shouldn’t have even fucking come here.”

He should probably take this more seriously, but he can’t help his instinctive reaction, or the smirk that pulls up the corner of his mouth. “But you did come. Four times, if my memory is correct.”

“Fuck off,” you grunt, already up and starting to pull on your clothes that are scattered across the floor of the living room. You briefly disappear outside to retrieve your shirt.

“Does this mean we’re not back together?” Jungkook tries when you slip in the door again.

You shoot him a look he’s all-too-familiar with. “Not at all.”

“Will you at least unblock me on Facebook?” He asks sweetly, and it’s a joke, but he can see from the way you roll your eyes that you’re clearly too pissed off to have any more fun tonight.

“Facebook?! That’s seriously what you care about right now?! You are so fucking shallow, Jungkook.” You grab your purse in a huff and storm off down the hallway.

Jungkook knows he should get up and fight for you, at the very least stop being horizontal on the couch— but honestly, he’s fucking tired. That’s the thing about your hot and cold shit: he knows you’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort right now or not. And it’s so much easier not to.

So he says nothing, hands folded behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, and waits until he finally hears the front door slam behind you.

Whatever, he thinks to himself with a heavy exhale.

After a minute, he gets up and heads into the bathroom, turning the shower on extra-hot. It’s still early. He can rinse off, get dressed, go see what Tae and Jimin are up to. Maybe he can jump on a grenade for one of them and take his mind off things for a bit.

He unlocks his iPod, docked on the speaker he keeps on the bathroom shelf— can’t shower without a good playlist— and spins the wheel until he gets to one of his favorites, simply titled fuck bitches. The opening 808s of Kanye West kick on like a heartbeat as Jungkook steps under the spray of the shower-head.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts collab #jeju shore

[sailoryooons]

for the yoongi request!!!

basically him and reader get locked out from just anywhere of your choosing. somehow they fall into a deep talk where yoongi then proceeds to reveal he's never gotten head before... and well... whatever you want to happen make it happen ;) [leaving a lot up to you cause i know u can with your genius ass brain]

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

❀ Summary: You've been friends with Yoongi for as long as you remember. When he tells you he's never - and he means never - received oral in his life, you take it upon yourself to lend a mouth hand

❀ Word Count: 2,704

❀ Genre: pwp, friends to lovers (implied)

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (male receiving), spit and cum play, deep throating, Yoongi is a shy mess, implications to previous hookups, recreational drinking if you squint

❀ Published: August 10, 2022

❀ A/N: Lati baby, I am so glad you requested this. Your mind is elite and I expect nothing less from my wife. I’m so sorry I’m posting this after your mini-hiatus / going back to school – please take this as my apology. I completely forgot the part about being locked out somewhere when I wrote this pls forgive my idiotic brain. I love you very much and you mean the world to me – enjoy sloppy toppy for Yoons.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust Request Fill |

“What?” you demanded, almost dropping the beer in your hand. Your knees were pulled to your chest, tile roof rough under your ass as you stared at Yoongi. He hid his face in hands, neck flushed. Ears red. Cute. “I need you to say that again.”

“Please don’t make me.”

There is no way Min Yoong – beautiful, soft, with eyes like a stormy night and a smile a soft autumn morning – has never received a blow job. The thought makes your head spin and you lay backward on the roof of your childhood home, where you’re both catching up on summer break.

“We’re about to be seniors in college,” you accuse him, pressing a clammy hand to your heated forehead. “Yoongi - you fuck.”

He groans. “I know, but I don’t like asking for them to return the favorite.”

“So, you’re just out here going down on people with no reward?”

“I mean, I have sex.”

“I’m just. Wow. Never?”

Bo, your neighbor’s dog, starts barking, the only sound besides the crickets. Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek you recognize the look as mounting irritation.

“Shut up, Bo!” you holler, trying to diffuse the tension.

It doesn’t work.

Yoongi is not often irritated. He’s been your friend since high school – your what if for even longer – and you know everything about him. You know that he isolates himself when stressed, chewing his nails until they're red and you threaten him with princess band-aids. You know that sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking, he watches cat videos on his phone while you cook dinner. You know that Yoongi is selective about the people he sleeps with, preferring steady and consistent hookups to one-night stands.

So it absolutely baffles you that Min Yoongi – with his silky black hair tucked gently behind his ears, with his feline-sharp eyes, and his blush pout – has never gotten head. He is – god – he is stunning. You've always thought so. You know others do too. So how has his giving gotten in the way of receiving?

You admire him. He’s in an old flannel, a t-shirt and ripped jeans tonight. Something inside of you heats up. You lick your lips. Your throat feels dry.

Shoving thoughts of what his dick must feel like away, you focus on him. The way he won’t look at you, and the way he picks at his cuticles, his bottle of beer forgotten. His jaw jumps and he tongues the inside of his cheek again before wiping his palms on his knees.

“It was a stupid thing to admit,” he mumbles. “It’s late, I’m gonna head out.”

“Yoongi.”

He ignores the cashmere-soft way you say his name. He pushes himself off the piece of roof tucked under your bedroom window, dusting his jeans and flannel off. You call after him again, but he grabs his beer. Ducks inside of the window.

Flees.

He's embarrassed. You only hesitate for a moment before your foot is catching on the windowsill, sending you spilling onto the floor of your bedroom. Your beer is still out on the porch, humidity making it drip onto the dark tile.

“Are you okay?” he drifts back from your bedroom door. “Jesus, slow down.”

You’re a tangle of limbs and fussy apologies. You right yourself, managing to get to your knees. You blink up at him and your words pause. His brow is creased as he looks down at you. His face is still rosy from the beer and the embarrassment.

For a moment, Yoongi looks small. Not in size or stature, but shy. Tucked into himself. His fingers play with the end of his old flannel, and he’s chewing on the corner of his lip. He’s beautiful. It isn’t the first time you’ve thought it. It isn’t the last. But with you on your knees, looking up at him, everything else seems to drift away on the August breeze.

“Let me.” Your words barely carrying to him. His gaze darkens but he cocks his head to the side, unsure what you’re asking. You sink your weight onto the back of your calves, hands splayed on your thighs. “Let me show you.”

He scoffs. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“I don’t need my dick sucked out of pity.”

“I don’t pity you.”

He’s frowning, but you see a flicker on his eyes. It’s so quick that you’re not sure if you’re right. You squirm and lick your lips, looking up at him through rounded eyes and fluttering lashes. His foot slides back, a step toward the door.

“I want to,” you whisper. You don’t move an inch, terrified of chasing him away.

The words are true. Even before you became best friends in Mrs. Myers 10th grade literature class, you’d admired him from afar. He was always quiet. Not in a weird way, but in that way that Yoongi didn’t speak unless he felt like he had something to say.

When placed next to you in Mrs. Myers class, you paired together for a project on Dante’s Inferno. You’d discovered that he was a little warmer after time spent together, and he discovered you enjoyed dry humor. There were a few other things you had in common, but often, you found yourself sitting in the lunchroom with him.

Yoongi was easy. He didn’t make you question where you stood with him. You had always harbored a soft crush, but that took a backseat to friendship. It had worn away with time. He saw other people and so did you. You enjoyed things together, but never like that.

You didn’t resent the partners who stole bits of Yoongi’s time. But you did resent the fact that they never once thought about him. Never once considered that they should return the favor.

“You don’t want to,” he scoffed. But it was half-hearted and unsure, upturned at the end like a question. “Why?”

“You’re beautiful.” He flushes red and tucks his chin against his chest, letting his hair hide is face. “I’ve always wondered.”

“Wondered what?”

“What it would be like to touch you. To taste you.”

His head tilts toward the ceiling. “Fuck. You’re serious?”

“Please. Unless you don’t want me to.”

Yoongi relents. “I do...”

“Let me. Please.”

He moves toward the bed slowly, as though any sudden movement will chase you away. You crawl toward him, eyes only for him. Your stomach flips as you settle on your knees in front of him. They're a little sore from baring your weight, but you ignore it, quick breaths fanning between your lips.

Your eyes drop to his jeans. They're light wash and well-fitted. Dragging your eyes back up, you look at him. He props himself up, leaning backward with his palms spread on your bed. He looks down at you, somewhere between frightened and something... darker.

“Can I touch you?” you whisper, squirming back and forth on your knees. He nods, catching his bottom lip with his teeth.

Gently, you put your palms on his knees. He jumps a little but settles. His eyes don’t leave you as you brush your hands up and down his thighs, applying a little pressure in the tips of your fingers to massage the muscle through the thick material.

He sighs, almost inaudible. His fingers tighten in your sheets a little, spurring you further. You lift yourself between his legs, extending as high as you can on your knees as you squeeze his thighs. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

You huff. “I want to kiss you.”

Yoongi must hear how deadly serious you are. He surges forward with a new-found confidence, nearly knocking you over as he steals your mouth with his. His hands catch you, cradling your face as his fingers press bruise-hard into your jaw, desperate to keep your lips against his.

Everything is white noise. You no longer hear the chirping crickets outside of your window. You don’t hear the neighbor's dog barking anymore. It's just Yoongi and the warm taste of his honey-wheat beer. His lips are petal soft, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

You dig your nails into his thighs, drawing a deep whine from the back of his throat. It sends you into a frenzy, licking into his mouth. His tongue eagerly meets yours, hands moving to the sides of your neck, holding you in place and oh that feels good when he squeezes a little, reasserting some level of dominance.

Sucking on his tongue, you break away for a moment, a single glossy line of spit connecting your lips. Your eyes open just a bit to find him heaving, flushed, and lips red. He opens his eyes and it's like he has no irises, pupils blown out and starving.

Has this hunger inside you always been so severe?

Yes, you think as you connect your mouths eagerly once more. Always.

Brave hands drift to Yoongi’s semi-hard cock. You grip him firmly through his jeans, drawing succulent sounds from his mouth. You moan too, spurred on by the noises he makes for you. Your heart is pounding as you stroke him through the fabric, gasping between kisses turned messy with tongues and spit.

“Please,” he begs between a kiss.

You don’t hesitate. You pull the zipper of his pants. He lifts his hips for you, leaning back again on two hands. He's hard now, straining against stark briefs. Your mouth water, zeroing in on the size of him just through his boxers.

“Fuck, maybe that’s why no one returned the favor.”

“Huh?”

You realize you’ve spoken your fear aloud. You look up at him. Your face is burning and you’re so giddy with excitement laced with anxiety that you might pass out. “Um, your cock is sort of huge.”

He arches a brow. “You asked for it.” Your nails dig into his exposed thigh and he squirms. “Fuck, okay. Thanks for the compliment, I guess. Yeah, I’ve had someone tell me a time or two they didn’t want to try.”

“Fuck them,” you growl. “I’ll take care of you.”

You lean up again, hands playing with the elastic band of his briefs. Your tongue darts out to kitten-lick the dark spot forming on his briefs. He gasps, hips twitching at the contact. Your mouth continues to explore newly exposed skin. You bite his inner thighs, thicker than you remember them being. You suck marks on his hips, pulling his t-shirt up a bit to give you access to smooth skin.

“Off,” you mumble, pulling the elastic after a single kiss to his tip. “Wanna see you.”

Once again, he lifts his hips. You pull on the briefs, swiftly discarding them. Your eyes drink him in. Long and thick – your fingers definitely won’t touch when you grip him – pretty, flushed tip leaking pearly beads of precum.

Larger than you’ve had in your mouth. But you’re willing to take on the challenge for Yoongi. Anything for Yoongi.

“Fuck,” you whisper, kissing his knee absently. “You’re so fucking pretty, Yoongs.”

“Shut up.”

You smile and bat your lashes at him. You grip him at the base, skin velvety under your touch. You give a slow experimental stroke and his head falls backward, eyes shut. “I mean it,” you whisper. You gather spit in your mouth, leaning up and tilting the head of his cock toward your lips. You let the spit dribble out, dripping down his head onto the shaft. He curses. “So fucking pretty.”

Using the mixture of spit and cum, you pump your hand slowly up and down his shaft, watching with rapt attention as he reacts. He shudders under your hands, Adam’s apple bobbing, throat pink.  His eyes are closed, head tilted back, fingers white knuckling the sheets.

Tentatively, you lean down and flick your tongue under the crown of his cock. He moans loudly then, lips parting in a rush of air. He is a work of art. Soft planes, swaths of pink, silken at the edges. You take the tip in your mouth, suckling and running your tongue slowly around the head, drawing more noises out of him.

“Fuck, I am not going to last.”

You remove your mouth with a pop. You kiss the tip and grip him at the base, tracing the underside of his shaft with your tongue, greedily licking at the in there. His hips buck again. You don’t care as you lap him tip to base, taking a moment to stroke him with your hand while you lick at his balls.

“Baby,” he growls. A warning.

The new nickname softens you. You don’t want to ruin the experience by making him cum from teasing. It's about him, as much as you want to see him pant.

“Sorry,” you murmur, kissing a thigh. “I like the sounds you make.”

“Don’t be sorry. Feels good.”

You hum, pleased.

Settling, you take him into your mouth properly. You moan in the back of your throat, the salty sweet taste intoxicating. Yoongi is difficult to fit in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks and flatten your tongue, slowly bobbing your head, taking more in the warmth of your mouth each time you descend.

What you can’t fit in your mouth, you make up for in a steady grip with your hand, pumping and twisting. Yoongi is immediately affected, whining and cursing softly. He can’t stop squirming, a hand shooting to the back of your head, fingers pressing desperately to your skull. He doesn’t force you, just grips, hanging onto you for year life.

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice rumbling in his chest. “So fucking good, please don’t stop.”

You wouldn’t dream of stopping.

You're messy, sucking him with vigor. Drool leaks out the side of your mouth, dripping down his hard shaft. You alternate from bobbing your head up and down, sucking generously. You come up to release him with a pop, licking hungrily around the tip and down his cock to catch a breath.

Yoongi gets more and more worked up. His fingers press against your scalp and he’s rambling. You want to see him fall apart. He deserves it. Sweet Yoongi who has always done his part with his partners. Caring Yoongi who held your hand when you suffered breakups.

Taking a breath through your nose and digging your nails into his thigh, you take him all the way into your throat, swallowing around him. Your eyes smart as you choke for a second. He makes a panicked noise, but you pin him down, claws to thigh, breathing through your nose as you let up a little, coming up to pop.

Drool dribbles down your chin with a mix of cum. You stroke him quicker, looking up at him as you blink tears out of your eyes. He's so fucked out you can’t help but rub your thighs together. Yoongi is beautiful and blushing and messy.

Your Yoongi.

“I can handle it,” you promise, tongue experimentally flicking his slit. “Don’t worry. Let me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhmm.”

Yoongi watches you, hypnotized as you do it again, deep throating him in one motion. The choked noises are delicious, accompanied with the soft bass of Yoongi’s deep moans and the staccato of his breathing.

His cock twitches in your mouth. Your hand ventures from his base to his balls, fondling gently, reverently.

“I’m gonna-”

Yoongi chokes himself as he falls backward on the bed. You feel him go taught like a bowstring, coming up just slightly as he cums down your throat. His noises are light and gasping, stroking your ego as you suck him through his orgasm.

His thighs are twitching and the hand in your hair goes slack. Yoongi turns boneless as you swallow the saltiness of him, lifting your mouth. Spit and cum gloss over your chin and lips, a sinful sheen. He is panting, his hand shooting to your hair again, grabbing onto you and pulling you up from sore knees.

“Come here,” he growls.

You're pulled on top of him, knocking limbs and numb knees. He crashes your mouth to his, licking at you, devouring your lips, tongue, and the slick between. His hands squeeze your hips, his nose brushes yours.

“That felt so fucking good,” he growls. “Now let me.”

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bangtan boys #haliiimede writes #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic #suga bts #yoongi x you #suga smut #yoongi x reader #halishappyagust #halis requests