Top Posts Tagged with #jiminbts

possessive sex | pjm

→ summary: it doesn’t take much for jimin to become jealous and possessive when he notices a man being too friendly with you at a casual get together. let’s just say he shows you who you truly belong to. → pairing: bts!jimin x fem!reader → tags: smut, sub reader, jimin x reader, dom jimin, posessive bf, bf jimin, sex, posessive sex, ownership, kissing, semi toxic, jealousy, fingering, finger fucking, slapping (light) → word count: 4.8k → a/n: kinktober day 15! how would you guys feel if i incorporated the other members into some of the fics? my page will always be park jimin centered (jimin x reader), but the members popping into some fics sounds not too bad? btw, i've been writing a series about an high-end club in gangam for elite celebs in korea surrounded by dark secrets and mystery, with MAYBE a bit of a murder plot, and yes there's smut. i plan to post each chapter after kinktober. hehe. kinktober masterlist

you noticed it too late.

the night had been harmless enough at first, a handful of mutual friends crammed into a dimly lit apartment, music buzzing low beneath the sound of conversation. you didn’t plan to talk much. you never did. you sat in the corner of the couch like decoration, fingers clasped around a cup you barely sipped from.

jimin had dragged you here. he said it would be good for you. he said he’d be nearby. he was. he always was. until he wasn’t.

you didn’t realize when he slipped out of your immediate vicinity, too busy trying not to shrink under the sudden attention of the man who’d sat beside you. he was loud, friendly, and confident in the kind of way that filled every inch of space. he leaned close when he spoke, laughed too easily at your quiet replies, rested his arm behind you on the couch like it already belonged there.

you told yourself you were imagining it. that he was just being friendly. that it didn’t mean anything. but jimin saw.

he saw everything.

you didn’t see him at first, but you felt him. a slow freeze prickling along your skin. your shoulders tensed before you even turned your head. and when you did, you found him across the room, standing still in the kitchen doorway.

he wasn’t leaning. he wasn’t pretending to relax. he was watching. expression blank, eyes unreadable, his jaw tight in a way that felt like a clock counting down. you swallowed. the man beside you kept talking, oblivious, smiling too wide as he leaned even closer. his fingers brushed yours. jimin moved.

he didn’t storm over. that would’ve been too easy to process. instead, he walked. unhurried and silent, like something inevitable making its way to you. the closer he got, the heavier the air became. your heartbeat was a drum against your ribs by the time he stopped behind the couch. the man next to you finally noticed him.

“oh, hey,” he said, friendly but uncertain.

jimin didn’t look at him.

“move,” he said.

it wasn’t clear who he was talking to. you stared up at him. “jimin..”

his gaze cut down to you sharply. it shut you up instantly.

“get. up.” that wasn’t a request. that wasn’t even irritation. that was restraint barely holding together. you rose to your feet before you could think better of it. the other guy blinked, confused, sitting up slightly straighter.

“hey, man, we were just...”

jimin didn’t even spare him a glance. his hand landed on your wrist, not gentle but firm, cold even.

“we’re leaving now,” he said flatly.

no goodbye, no excuse, no acknowledgment of anyone else in the room.

just possession.

he didn’t look back to see if you followed, he already knew you would.

-

the hallway outside the apartment was too quiet.

jimin didn’t wait for you. he just walked. long strides, steady, unbothered. like he wasn’t dragging you out of a room full of people without a word. like he didn’t care who saw.

you followed because what else could you do?

he didn’t look back. not once. his grip on your wrist stayed tight, not enough to hurt, just enough to make it clear you weren’t going anywhere unless he let you. the walk to the car felt longer than it was. every sound was too loud. the buzz of the elevator, the echo of footsteps in the parking garage, and the faint hum of traffic outside. jimin didn’t say a single word the entire time.

you opened your mouth twice to speak. both times, nothing came out. by the time you reached his car, your chest was tight. jimin let go of your wrist only to open the passenger door. not gently. not violently. just… efficiently.

you stood still.

“jimin.”

he paused, his hand still on the door. you couldn’t see his expression.

“i didn’t...” you started, voice shaking. “i wasn’t...”

“get in.”

two words. softer than before, but somehow worse.

you hesitated.

his fingers flexed against the car door, knuckles pale. that was enough. you slid in without another sound. he shut the door. hard. not quite a slam, but close.

he walked around to the driver’s side, got in, started the engine. the radio stayed off. the air felt heavier than the silence deserved. you kept your hands in your lap, staring out the window. you could see his reflection in the glass, his jaw clenched, eyes forward, with one hand tight around the steering wheel.

you swallowed. tried again.

“are you… mad at me?”

nothing.

“…i didn’t do anything.”

still nothing.

your throat burned. emotion pressed tight against your ribs. “can you please say something?” jimin exhaled through his nose. slow. controlled.

finally, he spoke. “you really don’t get it.” he didn’t raise his voice. didn’t look at you. but his words were sharp enough to cut through the quiet.

your breath hitched. “…get what?”

his grip on the wheel tightened. “doesn’t matter,” he muttered.

“jimin..”

his gaze cut toward you then. brief, but lethal. it shut you up instantly. you faced forward again. your pulse was trembling against your skin. the rest of the drive was silent, but there was nothing calm about it.

-

he didn’t wait for you to step out of the car.

the moment he parked outside his place, he killed the engine and got out without a word. you fumbled with your seatbelt, scrambling to catch up before the silence swallowed you whole. the front door was already open by the time you reached him. he didn’t bother holding it for you, just walked in, but you followed quickly enough that it didn’t close on you.

as soon as you stepped inside, the door shut behind you with a heavy thud. jimin stood a few paces ahead, back to you, shoulders tense beneath his jacket.

you didn’t know if you should move closer or stay exactly where you were. “jimin?” your voice was barely above a whisper. “please just...”

“do you even think?”

you froze. he still didn’t turn around.

his voice was low, calm. too calm. like he was holding something back so tightly it hurt to hear. “were you really that fucking clueless,” he said, steady and cold, “or were you just enjoying it?”

your stomach dropped. “enjoying...? i wasn’t-”

“don’t lie.” his tone didn’t spike. it didn’t get louder. it got sharper. “you let him touch you,” he said. “you let him lean into you, laugh with you, act like you were his.” he scoffed, humorless. “and you just sat there. letting it happen.”

“i didn’t...”

“you never do anything,” he snapped, that control finally cracking. “you just sit there. waiting. letting people decide things for you. letting them take what they want. acting like you don’t know any better.”

“that’s not...”

his eyes were dark. not angry, past angry. something deeper. something possessive enough to scare you and make you tremble for an entirely different reason. “standing there,” he continued, voice razor-thin, “watching someone else touch what’s mine.”

your heart stuttered painfully in your chest. “i’m not-” you tried weakly, “i’m not a thing.”

“no,” he agreed quietly, stepping toward you. “you’re not.” another step. “that’s why i don’t let people treat you like one.” he was in front of you now. close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to look at him. his gaze pinned you in place. “but you?” he murmured, voice dropping lower. “you don’t even notice when they do.”

you didn’t realize you were shaking until his hand came up, but not to comfort you, to grip your chin, firm. unyielding and angling your face to his. “so listen carefully,” he whispered, every word deliberate. “because i’m only going to say this once.” his thumb pressed just enough to make your pulse jump.

“you. are. mine.”

the words weren’t tender, they were a claim.

-

you didn’t get a chance to breathe. the words had barely left his mouth before his hand shifted, sliding from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you forward in one decisive motion.

his mouth crashed against yours. not gentle, or hesitant.

commanding.

you gasped against him, unprepared for the force of it. his other hand found your waist, gripping hard, dragging you against him like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space left between you. you stumbled, caught off guard, hands hovering uselessly at your sides until instinct made you clutch his jacket.

he made a low sound. approval, frustration, probably both, as if that tiny response from you had finally given him permission to lose restraint. you didn’t realize he was moving you until your back hit the wall. the impact knocked the breath from you, but he didn’t pause. his lips moved hard against yours, stealing what little air you had left. your knees weakened. you would’ve crumpled if his grip wasn’t holding you upright, like he expected you to fall apart.

your head was spinning, heart hammering so loud you were certain he could feel it. when he finally tore his mouth away, you inhaled sharply, dazed. his forehead stayed pressed to yours, breath rough and uneven.

“don’t make me repeat myself,” he murmured, voice gravelled from restraint he was barely holding onto. “i’m not asking.”

you opened your mouth to reply, you weren’t even sure what you planned to say, but he didn’t give you the chance. his hand tightened behind your neck, keeping you pinned as his lips brushed your ear instead.

“you’re mine,” he whispered again, lower now. “so i’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.” you shivered.

you didn’t know whether it was fear or relief, maybe both.

his fingers slid from your neck, trailing down your spine with deliberate slowness. his touch lingered at your lower back before flattening, pressing you harder into the wall.

“say it,” he ordered quietly. your breath caught and you hesitated. his grip tightened.

“jimin-”

“no running,” he warned softly. “not from this.” your pulse throbbed in your ears. your throat felt tight. you swallowed.

“i’m yours.”

he inhaled sharply through his nose. something in his posture shifted. tension unraveling, replaced by something darker. more dangerous.

“good.”

and then he moved again, not kissing you this time. claiming you with his hands.

-

jimin didn’t give warning.

his hand left your waist just long enough to catch behind your knee. lifting without hesitation, forcing your balance to tip forward into him. you gasped, grabbing at his shoulders on instinct.

wrong move. his hand snapped to your wrist, tearing your grip free.

“no.”

one word. absolute.

before you could recover, his arm hooked under your legs. you were lifted cleanly off the ground. not gently, not carefully, just taken. your breath stuttered, hands frozen midair, unsure where to go. you didn’t dare cling to him again.

you didn’t need to, his hold was unwavering.

he carried you through the room without so much as a grunt, steps measured, grip secure. you didn’t ask where. you didn’t speak. there was no space to. he reached the back of the couch and stopped. you barely had time to register the change in footing before he dropped you. just placed you there with enough force to remind you whose hands you were in.

your back met cushions. the world tilted slightly as he positioned you exactly how he wanted: accessible and waiting.

you didn’t move, you didn’t know how.

jimin stood over you, looking down with an unreadable expression. his breathing was steady and composed, like he wasn’t affected at all.

you, on the other hand, could barely get air in your lungs. you tried to sit up. his hand landed on your sternum, flat and firm.

pinned.

“stay.”

your pulse thundered beneath his palm. you kept still. he watched you for a long moment, eyes dark and calculating, like he was assessing whether you would obey without resistance. apparently, you passed. his hand slid from your chest to catch your wrist, guiding it to rest at your side.

“there.”

you swallowed and nodded once, hardly moving. he didn’t praise you. he didn’t need to. his silence was approval.

and then, without another word, he leaned down over you.

not soft, not hesitant. looming.

blocking out everything but him. he didn’t touch you, not yet.

he stayed braced over you, one hand planted beside your head on the couch, the other resting near your hip without making contact. close enough to feel his heat, far enough to deny it.

you stared up at him, breath uneven. he was so close you could see the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint twitch of muscle in his jaw, the dark focus in his eyes that didn’t waver once.

you tried not to move.

every instinct screamed to close the distance. to reach up, to pull him down, to earn what he was withholding. you didn’t dare. his gaze tracked every flicker of hesitation across your face. calculating. knowing. he could see the conflict, the restraint, the want you were trying and failing to hide.

finally, he spoke.

“uncomfortable?”

you swallowed. “no.”

his brow lifted. slight, but skeptical. you forced yourself not to shrink. “good,” he murmured. his hand lifted from the couch, slow enough to make your pulse jump, and hovered above your sternum, just short of contact. your back arched the tiniest bit before you could stop it. his hand stopped midair.

you stopped breathing.

seconds passed and you didn’t know how many. your body trembled with effort, trying to stay still when every part of you strained toward him. finally, when your restraint began to crack; his hand pressed down.

you let out a shaky exhale, his expression didn’t change. “don’t reach for me unless i tell you to.” the command sank in deep. you nodded immediately. he didn’t accept that.

“say it.”

your throat tightened.

“i won’t reach for you unless you tell me to.”

his hand pressed a little harder, another approval without words.

“good.”

he withdrew his hand. the loss of contact burned more than the touch. you didn’t realize how much you’d leaned into it until it was gone. your breathing turned shallow. your fingers curled into the cushions in quiet desperation.

jimin saw.

he let you sit in that ache for one more long, excruciating pause;

and then he moved.

-

he moved, deliberately, in a way that made you impatient. he knew the power he had over you and he wanted this to be a reminder.

jimin looks over you, his body hovering over you in a dominant manner. you felt inferior and a shell of a human under him. he pushed open your legs with his own, forcing his way in between you. the palm of his hands lay flat against both sides of your head. you felt nervous, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to move or not.

jimin didn’t break eye contact, his hungry eyes digging daggers into your skull. “take it off.” he says, an order.

you swallow hard and tug at the ends of your shirt, slowly pulling it off of your body and over your head. your lacey bra stared back at him, it lifting your tits perfectly. you toss the shirt over your head, it landing somewhere in the living room. you stared up at jimin, waiting for your next order, or his next move.

he placed his weight on his right hand as he lifted his left and cupped his hand around your breast. he squeezed it firmly, not massaging, but feeling. a low groan escaped his lips. not seductive, or direct. but rather a noise of contentment.

he looked down at the rest of your body, the way your jeans wrapped around your waist perfectly almost taunting him. he slid his hand down your torso and towards your lower stomach, landing at the small metal button of your jeans. instead of an order, he sat up straight and began to undo your pants quietly. like as though this hand been done many times before, you lifted your butt off of the couch slightly as he pulled off your jeans.

a matching set.

you could see the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, his dominant mask slipping, but only for a second. it was like as though the set was deliberate, like you somehow knew you’d be in this position and came prepared. he stared down at your panties, running his finger along the rim of the fabric. he took a deep breath before looking up at you again. “undress me.”

he stood up off of the couch, waiting for you to undress him like he demanded. you sat up, still sitting on the couch as he positioned himself in front of you. you began to lift up his shirt, unraveling his hard earned abs and ‘nevermind’ tattoo. he lifted the his shirt the rest of the way and tossed it, staring back down at you as he watched you begin to undo his belt. the metal clinked together as you undid it from its hooks, sliding it off his waist and letting it fall to the floor. finally, you began undoing his jeans, like he had just done for you. a mutual exchange.

you slid them downwards and he wiggled free from his jeans, stepping out of them. he was just in his boxers now, his bulge protruding like it was begging for release. he rubbed his hand over it, sucking in a small breath of air. you laid back down onto the couch, without him needing to order you. he looked at you with approval, before getting back on top of you. he lowered his head and began sucking on your neck, his tongue swirling around your collarbones, nibbling on them and making it sting a little, but you knew better than to react.

he lowered himself as he kissed you, down, down, down. he stopped at your lower stomach his plump lips brushing against your cold skin. suddenly, he grips your panties from both sides, roughly pulling them down. your body jolts from the sudden aggressive movement. jimin slides your panties off and throws it, like it was useless fabric in the way of what he wanted.

he pushes your legs farther apart, making room for his fingers. “hmm.” he says quietly, almost inspecting you. he runs a finger along your folds, making you shiver. he positions himself and lays flat on his stomach. he peppers light kisses along your inner thigh, the sensitivity of his touch making you twitch slightly. soon, his tongue finds your clit and he begins to suck on it, making you arch your back instinctively.

you knew not to moan, or reach for his hair. you wrapped your arms around yourself, staring up at the ceiling as jimin ate you out. he licked, spit, and rubbed. everything he knew you liked. he was trying to torture you with pleasure.

he slid in a finger, finger fucking you as he still ate you out. your legs trembled and you began to squirm, unable to hold back the urge to react. jimin didn’t mind though, he kept going. then he added another finger, using both of them to slid in and out of your pussy. his fingers were slick with your lube, only making it easier for him.

you grabbed at his wrist, and he swatted you away. not allowed. you tried to squeeze your thigh together and he forced them open with his free hand. also not allowed. the sounds of your wetness got louder and louder, the feeling of liquid wanting to escape consumed you. you bit your lip, trying not to squirt all over his face.

he could tell, so he stopped. he sat up, his face wet and shiny as it reflected off of the warm lighting of his apartment. he wiped it off, reaching forward and placing the two fingers he used to finger you into your mouth. you sucked on them, needy and dependent.

“what should i do to you?” he asks, but you knew not to answer, because he wasn’t actually asking. rhetorical. jimin paused for a moment, as though he was thinking to himself. you could tell this was more than a punishment to him, it was an ego trip. he wanted to do something that would bring him pleasure, but show you, you only belonged to him.

after a few more seconds of ‘thinking’, he grabbed you by the neck and lifted you, making you sit up. he cupped your chin with a rough hand, staring at you long and hard. “i know.” he said, his hand still wrapped around your neck. “stay here.”

in one swift motion, jimin got off of the couch and went into the bedroom. you heard him shuffling around inside, probably the nightstand. you didn’t dare move or question what he went to get. you knew better. jimin waks out with a pair of handcuffs. not the fluffy plastic molded ones you get out of a cheap sex shop for valentine’s day. real handcuffs. metal, and real. he twisted the small key in one hand, placing it on the glass coffee table beside you. he pushed your chest, making you fall onto your back, flat on the couch again.

“give me your wrists.” he orders. you lift up your arms, your wrists pressed together. he undoes one cuff and tightly secures it around your wrist. then does the same to the other. he reaches over and grabs the key, twisting the cuffs and locking them into place. “i should take away your write to talk.” he says, tilting his head. then he shakes his head, pushing that thought away. “no duck tape this time. i want to hear your moans tonight.”

you watch him, as he runs his hands down to his boxers. he was hard, very hard. like as though the buildup was over and he was ready to fuck you already. everything was prepared and ready now. you knew it. you swallowed hard and waited for his next move.

jimin gets comfortable in between your legs, taking the couch cushions that provided back support and tossed them over the couch, getting them out of the way and making more space. he grabbed both thighs with both hands and spread your legs open wider. “jerk me.” he says. you reach down, his dick basically jumping out of his boxers. you used your fingers to latch onto the rim of his boxers and pull them down. his dick sprung free, and you grabbed hold of it. his breath hitched under your touch. hard and begging.

you began to stroke him with both of your hands, making sure to touch all the places you knew got him going. he thrusted into the o shape your hands had formed, slowly fucking your hands. you stared up at him silently, confirming that you were doing the right thing based off of his facial expressions. he quickly stops you, swatting your hands off. he spits, rubbing it into his dick and making himself wet enough for you.

you lifted your arms and rested them above your head, your body on full display now. jimin aligns himself and then slides into you, gripping onto your thighs for guidance. “fuck.” he grunts, sliding into you little by little until he’s fully inside. you arch slightly, the pressure of him inside of you taking over.

he reached forward at your bra and pushed it down, exposing your tits. he twisted your nipple as he slowly fucked you. his hips thrusting against you.

you kept your legs open wide enough for jimin not to have to correct you, watching his face contort with pleasure as he picks up the pace. he hovers over you now, staring down at you. you can see the anger from earlier flood back into his eyes as he stares at you. he grips your face, squeezing it. “you never listen.” he says, cold and annoyed. “how many times do i have to fuck you until you get it?”

you stayed silent, you basically had no choice. your face begins to sting suddenly as jimin swipes your hand against your cheek, slapping you. it wasn’t common that jimin would slap you, an indication that he was really bothered this time. he gasped out of shock, a small gasp. he looked down at you with an unbothered expression, the thrusting pace still consistent.

your walls wrapped around him, and him only. no one else. no one else got to feel you in this way. or slap you, or put you in handcuffs. only him.

he slid out of you, grabbing the chain of the handcuffs to lift you up roughly. he stood off of the couch and grabbed the small cuff key, then grabbed at your hair, pulling you off of the couch. he walked you over to the bedroom, making you keep up with his pace as you crawled over on your knees and restricted hands.

with your hair in a ball in his fist, he releases your hair as he pulls you onto the bed. he uses the key to loosen and undo the cuffs. finally free. your wrists felt sore from the metal cuffs digging into your skin. however, you knew this wasn’t over. not yet.

“turn over.” he says, adjusting the cuffs. you get on all fours, your ass up in the air. inviting. he grabbed your arms and put them behind your back, you held yourself up with your face pushed against his sheets. he recuffed you, this time with your hands behind your back.

he adjusted quickly and slid back into you, holding onto your hips as you bounced against his every thrust. you could feel his balls slapping against you, only making you more aroused and wet. you moaned into the sheets, muffed and crying out. jimin gripped your hips tighter, slamming against you. he slapped your butt multiple times, the stinging feeling lingering. he slid down your arch and grabbed the chain of the cuffs, using it to hold your arms back as far as possible.

you felt defenseless but desperate. you knew jimin was close when he picked up the pace. you began erratically fucking yourself against him, making him grunt and groan until he eventually pulled out and released himself all over your ass. “damn.” he mumbled, holding onto your hip. this wasn’t apart of his plan.

you stayed in position, as jimin took a few breaths. he continued like nothing happened, sliding right back into you. he was harder this time, like he didn’t have to be too careful now about withholding his release. he fucked you until you were squirming and whining into his bed.

he didn’t stop when your body began to shake and tremble as you came onto his dick, he only used it as lube to go even faster than before.

and this time, before he came again, he reached forward and grabbed you by the hair again, like telling you to sit up yourself wasn’t an option. he pulled you onto your knees, and began to jerk himself off in front of your face. “stick out your tongue.” he says through gasps of air. you do as he says, looking up at him with your tongue out. he still had a hold of your hair, slapping his dick against your tongue. before his hips quickly tightened and he came into your mouth. the white ropes of cum freed itself into your mouth, and you knew better than to spit it out.

he looked down at you, watching as you swallowed it whole. he gave you a look of approval before letting go of your hair. he walked over to a dresser and pulled out a small hand towel.

“stand up and around.” he says. so you do, of course. he begins to wipe the cum off of your butt from earlier. he grabs the key once more and undoes the cuffs, grabbing them and tossing them onto the bed. your back to him, still under his control.

he didn’t have to use his words to tell you that you were his, not right now. that point had already been made and proven. you could only think about the man from earlier. the one who didn’t know personal space and boundaries with strangers, the one who felt too comfortable, too fast.

you wondered what he was doing right now, not out of genuine curiosity, but because he was probably still back at that apartment, invading another woman’s privacy. while here you are, being punished under the control of park jimin and his possessive nature. you almost wanted to go back and thank him.

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