KPOP X READER SMUTS ONESHOTS FF

JJK🔞

The room is in shambles.

Two ripped open suitcases. Empty take-out boxes from Manolo’s down the road. Black Gore-Tex raincoats on the bed. Still dripping off.

With you standing on the carpet in the center of the room naked.

“Watch closely.”

And Jungkook kneeling at your feet. Panting.

You let saliva pool long enough at the tip of your tongue for him to tremble. Looking up from his position, sitting on his heels, Jungkook’s neck looks tense with the sustaining upward bend to it. In order not to make it strain too much, one cupping hand under his chin suffices. Perfect.

At the stroke of your fingers, you feel a little peach fuzz underneath, as slight as the one above his belly button that tends to escape his razor in the shower. Barely coarse to the touch, you fondle it, making Jungkook arch into his position even more. Obedient. And delicately servile as ever.

Seeing him gasp, and wriggle, and wait for the reward so much anticipated during two days and over seven hours in the plane — is the delight of a long week off your back through his gentle presence underneath you. Fuck. Missing him is nowhere near as hard as making up for the lost time when he’s in your hands this way.

“Y/N...”

He’s whimpering. So needy, his cock can’t take it. It throbs so hard against his abdomen, begging for the ease of stimulation that you will not allow.

At least not yet.

When you let a small thread of saliva drip downwards into his mouth, Jungkook sticks his tongue out to let your spit cool first, and then, lets it slide into his esophagus slow enough for you to still observe it disappear. 

Your voice is placid. The room damp. With a little help from your other hand, his bangs stay out of his eyes.

“Swallow, babe. Don’t be shy.”

“Ah—”

Jungkook gulps down every new portion of drops and threads you give him. The guttural noise that follows each time after his Adam’s apple pokes forward has always satisfied you, and still, never fails to stun. He’s endlessly ravishing.

The saliva that has gathered around your own jaw you swipe up with the hand once at his own chin, and slather your wet digits across his bottom lip. It’s gotten a little plump by now.

“Blow a bubble for me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook obliges. Gathering some more of his own spit, then pouting his lips to accumulate the mix. When he opens his mouth to exhale, a little pop escapes, and tiny droplets create spray all over his cheeks. He’s giggling. So it was more saliva than intended. Cute babe.

“Oh my! I’m sorry. Sorry, Y/N.”

Some of the spit also disperses on the foamy black floor mat, leaving small little dots around his thighs and between his bent legs in their remaining position: Jungkook has been kneeling steadfast like a champ.

“You’re the best slut. Don’t apologize for that.”

The praise brings Jungkook to bare his teeth in a wide grin that makes his eyes smile alike. You wish you could nibble at his ears, his crinkling nose.

But not yet.

When you tickle him inches short under his jaw, he throws his head back laughing even more. You love the sound. It’s heart-melting. His bangs part further.

“Can I gag for you?”

What a question. He can, always.

“Baby, want my fingers?”

The look in his eyes is the answer. So bad. His hotel room in Bangkok has been awfully devoid of you and his texts read just like that. It’s time to catch up tonight.

You make sure to wipe the very last of your spit from either lip and pass it down between his teeth where both your index and middle digit find a warm space to linger. So hot.

Jungkook visibly finds delight in brushing his head faithfully against your legs before resuming his position. The movement of your fingers draws ample chokes from him, many accompanied by what remains the grin that Jungkook sports with your hand in his mouth. He is diligent gagging himself onto either finger bit by bit until you decide to slide them out again and create space on the bed shoving the coats aside. The mattress got a bit wet from the rain drops covering the fabric. But who could know the way back from the terminal to the carpark would be a rapid cold shower. One that practically called for heating each other up again.

And indeed the temperature in the room has long increased.

“Got a reward, boo. You’ve been good.”

The surprise on his face inspires a rush of adrenaline, one that makes you realize that you have him on your bed, finally, after last week’s busy period.

“Yes. Lay back.”

You slide on top of him. Prurient. More adrenaline. His body is luscious.

“Is it a new toy?”

“Certainly. For you and for me.”

“Oh!”

“Can you wait for one minute?”

“Sure, are you getting it now?”

“Yes,” you gently lift from the edge of the mattress. “Called us a guest, sweetheart. You know who.”

Because the texts from Bangkok didn’t just reach you by yourself. It’s a group chat, after all.

Edited:
12/8/23