[1:33pm] popular! jungkook prides himself on two things; his athleticism and his fashion. in fact, he had spent strenuous hours just yesterday yelling at his friends after they almost spilt their vodka on his new white shoes. but, he can't do it with you. even when you've made an ugly swirl of murky brown on the tips of his shoes he doesn't really mind. you're just too cute. don't get him wrong, he's still frustrated. but he'll take it out on his friends. you, you he'll just take out on a date instead.
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P: Jungkook x male reader | G: timestamp, smut | Inc: tattooist!Jungkook, sub!Jungkook, dom!reader, petnames, teasing, orgasm denial, Jk's hands being restricted, implied multiple orgasms, filth tbh, I took 'every second, every minute, every hour' and ran with it lmao | Wc: 223 | W: slight D/s dynamic, restriction, orgasm denial,, desc. of pleasure almost being painful (consensually ofc) | R: 18+
Min’s notes: I blame a mf named Jeon Jungkook singing Seven for this ^-^
Sweat drips down Jungkook’s forehead, his head thrown back as he tries to ground himself on y/n’s bed. His head is spinning – how long have the two of them been at this? How long did y/n want to keep this up? All manner of moans and whines slip out of his mouth, only encouraging y/n to keep up his loving torture on Jungkook’s cock. There’s not much Jungkook can do to make it stop; his hands restricted above his head and leaving him exposed and entirely at y/n’s mercy.
“F— fuck, y/n, baby…” The tattooist cries, unable to stop squirming the longer y/n refuses to stop. He’s so close but anymore and Jungkook might just lose his mind. He’s going to start coming dry at this rate. Y/n simply blinks, looking to his boyfriend as his hands just…stop. Jungkook panics, bucking his hips into the younger man’s now still hand, desperately seeking the pleasure that’s keeping him on the edge of pain and holding him there.
“What is it bunny? Do you want me to stop? It is too much for you?” Y/n taunts, tracing circles onto the writhing man’s tip. He huffs, “and here I thought you had stamina~. What was it you said? Every second? Every minute? Every hour?”
“I’m sorry “ you gasped lightly at the feeling of milk seeping into your socks and the scrape of glass shards against the floor. For whatever reason, your grip had slipped and your glass of milk had tumbled to the floor without much time to try and save it.
“What?” Namjoon’s voice bellowed from the hall, “are you making a mess in there?”
“I’m sorry” you called back, the bass in your boyfriend's voice had left a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t shouting at you, you told yourself, but even so you could feel the ever so familiar swell of anxiety in your stomach.
“Don’t- don’t be mad!” You could only quickly glance up at Namjoon as he entered the kitchen, a furrow of confusion knitting his brow as he watched you scramble on the floor to clean it. “It was an accident, I’m sorry, I don’t know- I don’t know what happened.” You babbled, hands shaky as you frantically trying to pick the glass up- ignored the little stings of glass cutting your fingers.
“Hey” he knelt down beside you, reaching to grab your wrist to put a gentle stop to your panic. “Calm down, you know I don’t care.”
“No- it’s going to stain, ruin the floor, I wasted all of it- I broke one of your nice glasses-“ you hit him with every excuse in the book, trying to hide the shake in your voice towards the end. “Please don’t be mad” you begged, reaching to wipe away the first tear that fell; smearing milk and blood against your cheek.
“Hey” Namjoon frowned, “calm down, it’s just milk. I’m not mad.” You felt him pry your hands away from the mess, tugging your body closer to his. “I’m not mad, I promise.”
You nodded, face pressed into his chest as he hugged you, rocking you back and forth. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize” he kisses the top of your head. “I understand.”
He pried you from the floor and to the bathroom, running your cut hands under the water carefully. You watch him wrap bandages around your fingers and palm.
You sniffled, grateful that he understood why it was so much more than spilled milk to you.
Hiii congrats on the 2k. I would like to request yoongi with #6b0606 with some fluff and angst. Thank you.
thank you!! hope you enjoy :)
wc: 837
warnings: none
asks are now closed
2k drabble masterlist | main masterlist
yoongi thinks of himself as being incredibly difficult to love.
first and foremost, he spends more time holed up in his studio than he does outside. ever the introvert, he thrives in solitude — tending to spend countless hours alone in front of his computer, music streaming through studio-grade headphones — and is easily drained by excessive socialization.
secondly, physical affection tends to end up on the backburner, even when he is with you. that's not to say that he is not madly in love, but he finds that he would rather cook a meal for you, or present you with a small, sentimental gift here and there than initiate a cuddling session.
yoongi rubs his bloodshot, aching eyes as he leans back in his studio's cushioned chair. it's another long night in the studio, it seems. at this point, he is used to it, but the growing ache in his chest sings an ode as to how much he misses you during times like these.
you, with your bright eyes and gentle hands. you, who visits him when you know he hasn't been taking care of himself as well as he should, who sings horribly off-key in the car with him until you're both heaving with laughter. you, who loves him unconditionally, wholly, shamelessly.
you, his home.
he's about to return to work when a knock at the studio's door causes him to flinch. who could it be at this hour? the sun had set hours ago, an inky void following in its wake. few people wander the streets below, and almost no one remains in the hybe building, so why is there someone at his door?
he rolls over and cracks the door open enough for a singular suspicious eye to catch a glimpse outside.
when he realizes that it's you, his heart stutters in his chest.
"what are you doing here?" he murmurs as he opens the door wider for you to enter. "it's late."
"a hello would be nice," you joke, sticking your tongue out when he shoots you a small frown. you continue, "i know you haven't eaten today."
he opens his mouth to object, but you fix him with a pointed look. he's been caught.
you move to set the thai takeout you had bought down, patting the empty spot next to you on the couch in the corner of the room. he stands up, stretching his legs, before settling next to you. a comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you begin to eat.
the silence provides ample space for words to flood yoongi's exhausted mind. how many times have you done this for him? more than you should have to. you've always taken such good care of him, and what has he ever really done in return? lock himself in his studio and cut the world off for hours, for days on end, come home and immediately fall asleep instead of spending time with you, forget to eat and forget to drink water and forget that he should talk to you when he's feeling down. you're all he could ever ask for, but he falls short in so many places that he wonders how you could ever stay with him for as long as you have. he brings another forkful of pad thai to his lips.
it's when you reach over to brush your thumb against his cheek that he realizes he is crying.
it's a wordless affair — the way you gently pry the fork from his fingers, the way you engulf him in your embrace, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. you don't ask him to voice what he's feelings, which he is forever grateful for. you just seem to know what's on his mind without him saying anything.
"i love you. i love you so much it hurts sometimes," he whispers after some time, after the tears have dried and the food has gone cold. his eyes remain downcast. "sometimes i ask myself why you stay with me when you deserve so much better."
a call of his name causes him to look up at you, and he tears brimming your eyes under the low lighting. your voice is resolute when you finally speak. "don't speak so lowly of yourself. you are everything i could ever ask for and more. i do these things for you because i care about you. you may feel like i deserve better, but you're the best thing that has ever happened to me. i love you more than life itself, min yoongi, don't you ever forget that."
he nods, and your lips curl up into a sad smile. he gains the courage to pull you closer, tucking your head into his neck. you melt into his touch easily as you reciprocate with your arms looping around his neck.
everything is going to be okay — the words are a silent promise that floats through the air like a misty fog — as long as he has you by his side.
“Love, you’re hogging all the blankets again.” You complained, shivering slightly.
“I am not.” Jin defended, “You’re the one who’s a mile away on the bed. You’re right on the edge. No wonder there’s not a lot of blanket left for you, the invisible person in the middle of the bed is the real one hogging it.”
“But I’m cold.” You said, turning the other way so you were facing Jin. “We need to buy more blankets, someone won’t share with me.”
“Someone won’t snuggle with me.” He backfired, though you were both seconds away from bursting out laughing. He was the first to break, of course.
His giggles were more than enough to trigger your own, the quarrel over blankets quickly being forgotten by both of you.
“Come here if you’re cold.” He said, opening his arms wide. You pretended to hesitate for a second just to tease him. He pouted, “Please? I’m cold too.”
You smiled, scooting over to him and letting him wrap his arms around you tightly.
“We should have done this in the first place.” You whispered. Now that you were closer to him, you had the perfect opportunity to plant butterfly kisses on his cheeks, making him smile widely.
“We should sleep, it’s late.”
“But I’m busy kissing you.”
“You’re not kissing the right spot, love.” He said, puckering up his lips so you couldn’t possibly be confused as to where he wanted you to kiss him.
You gave in, pressing your lips to his quickly. He wrapped the blanket around you both tighter, resting his head on the pillow next to you and staring at you lovingly.
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“hey”, you heard someone calling. the person must have called twice because you almost didn’t hear while your airpods were blocking 90% of the streets noise.
you turned yourself at the voice’s direction, just in case the guy was really calling you. he was wearing a black sweater, white pants, sneakers and he had a whole arm covered with tattoos.
“I’m sorry?”, you took off one of your airpods.
“I’m sorry”, he said back. he also had a bucket hat on and a beautiful smile, although he didn’t look too happy in fact.
“do you want this?”, that was the moment you noticed there was a beautiful bouquet of rosie peonies in his right hand. it was so lovely, it looked like a wedding bouquet.
you looked at his hands then at his face then at his hands again. what?! then you remembered, it was valentine’s day – when everyone was a little bit out of the box.
he knew it was unexpected, both of you didn’t even know each other. how could you just accept? his free hand rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t want to put it on the trash. I saw you and felt like… giving it to you”, he finally looked directly at your eyes. and he had beautiful ones, you thought.
“is this a prank or what?”, you looked around for hidden cameras or something like that.
he giggled, “no, I’m just random. I had a date today but she didn’t show up. I don’t want to waste this, it’s beautiful”.
“fine”, you said after a while and reached out for the bouquet, touching his fingers while grabbing it. “thanks. and sorry for your date”.
he shrugged, “happy valentine’s day”.
“I kinda like peonies”, you said.
“what about italian food?”,
you stopped, looking at him again, “wait, you sure this isn’t a joke, right?”.
“I swear”, by the way he said that he was being sincere.
“ok, I adore italian food”
“so”, he put both of his hands inside his pockets, “we could go eat. I have payed everything in advance for today’s date but now that it didn’t happen…”
“first I need to know at least your name just in case you’re a tinder criminal, a fake person or something in the middle”.
he smiled and this time he could be genuinely happy.
“I’m jeon jungkook, recently dumped but still in need of having a little bit of fun”.
you had absolutely nothing to do, single as heck, no plans for valentine’s and an interesting possible date in front of you in a public place. could you say something else?
“alright, jeon jungkook. let’s play a game: I can go with you, but you gotta guess who I am”.
