BTS Reaction - Make up sex
“Sweetheart… I’m sorry.”
You feel Jin’s weight settle next to you on the bed, returning from wherever he stormed off to not ten minutes earlier. Sorry or not, his apology doesn’t take back all the ruthless things his sharpened tongue have said, or act to ease the flow of tears running down your face. He’s usually such a sweetie - such a goofball with his terrible jokes and cheesy smiles - so seeing him lose his temper like that… having him yell at you for the very first time… it’s shocked you to the core.
He reaches out to touch your back, unable to hide the hurt he feels when you flinch away. When he softly utters your name you can hear the regret lacing his voice, and despite all the pain you feel you can’t help but lift your face from your knees to look at him, this man you love so much.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and expression he wears is so guilt-ridden, so tormented, that you feel some of your own anger start to slip away.
“I’m sorry too,” you whisper back, tilting your face into his hand when he reaches out to wipe your tears away. Jin’s touch is so comforting, so soothing, that you don’t resist when he moves closer, cupping your face in both hands now. The way he leans closer to you is cautious, his eyes flicking between yours for any sign that you’re going to run away, but much to his surprise you’re the one closes the gap between you. You bring your lips to his in an eager kiss, your hands finding the front of his sweater and gripping it tightly to pull him closer.
“I didn’t mean… what I said…” Jin mumbles between the meeting of your mouths, his fingers pushing back your hair and then grabbing at your back, pulling you into him as you start to tug at his clothes.
“Jin… just shut up.” His sweater coming off cuts short any reply what he might have had, your tongue slipping into his mouth ensuring he remains mute save the languid groan of pleasure he makes as you fall onto your back, pulling him with you to lie between your legs. It doesn’t take long for the both of you to lose the rest of your clothes, and when Jin starts to touch you gently between your legs you only wait a few seconds, no more, before pushing his hand away and whispering against his lips that you’re ready.
He needs no more encouragement than to hear those needful words from your tongue to give into that most primal of urges. He lines himself up with your achingly wet core and then slowly starts to push inside, his kisses never ceasing even as you gasp at the feeling of his thick length stretching you open beneath him. The feeling of Jin beginning to move inside you, his hands worshipping every inch of your body… there could be no better comfort that he could provide.
He rests his face against the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with sweet, loving kisses as he maintains the slow, steady pace of his hips, dragging his cock back and forth inside you to stimulate all your deepest, darkest places.
“You’re so beautiful… I love you so much.”
You hate it when he’s like this. Arguments you can handle easily enough; blessed with a quick mind and wide vocabulary, verbal slanging matches are practically your forte - but this? The cold shoulder, the sullen silences, the dean-pan expression and icy stare? You have no idea what to do with this.
It makes you feel nervous, chewing on your bottom lip and playing with a frayed thread on your shirt as you wait for Yoongi to explode; to shout, to scream, to throw things, anything. Anything but just stand there on the other side of the room, arms folded, regarding you like you’re something nasty he just found on the bottom of his shoe. You knew you were asking for trouble when you kept teasing him earlier, talking back and making fun with the rest of his friends. The dark look settling Yoongi’s eyes should’ve been enough of an indicator for you to stop, but you’d liked making them laugh and you’d liked being centre of attention, so you’d carried on, unknowingly pushing him far beyond his limits of tolerance.
“What do you want from me, Yoongi?” you sigh eventually, peeking out at him from under your lashes. Silence. “You want me to say sorry?” He cocks his head to the side. “Well I’m sorry, ok?” Still he says nothing, and you end up losing your patience, letting out a loud groan of frustration and shoving your head into your hands.
“I don’t want your ‘sorry’s’,” he drawls after a moment, voice soft and deadly, and you lift your face to look at him over the tips of your fingers, wide eyed. He starts to walk toward you, letting his arms fall from his chest, rotating the ring on his index finger round and round. “What I want… is for you to never disrespect me like that ever again.” Yoongi stops short of the sofa, just a pace or two away, his eyes blazing as he glares down at you. “I want you to not to be such a fucking brat.”
You take a sharp intake of breath into your hands, equally shocked and confused by his savage tone and the heat you can feel unfurling deep in your belly in response to it.
“I want you down on your fucking knees, showing me you can do as you’re told, for once.” What?
Your hands fall from your face, sitting up just a little bit straighter as you try to figure out if Yoongi’s serious or not. The steely look in his eyes and the obvious bulge in his sweats are enough to convince you of his intentions, and before you know it your body is moving down to sit on the hard wooden floor at his feet, your hands grabbing at the elasticated waist to tug them down.
“Open your mouth,” Yoongi tells you sharply, grabbing the base of his hardened cock and pointing it towards your lips expectantly. You do as you’re told, letting your jaw go slack as you look up at him from under your eyelashes, taking a breath when you feel him grab a hold of the back of your head. He pulls you onto him, slipping the entire length of his cock into your mouth and down your throat in one fell swoop, and then holding you there with a grunt of satisfaction. When you start to caress the length of him with your tongue, your throat burning, you watch as pleasure softens the harshness of his features.
Though Yoongi’s still rough as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth, some of the anger seems to have faded from his eyes, a smirk forming across his face as you moan around him. His other hand comes up to cradle your cheek, his cock slipping back and forth between your spit slickened lips.
“Can’t talk back now, can you?
It’s been six months since yours and Jung Hoseok’s paths have crossed. Six months since he walked out of your life, shouting and slamming doors, tired of having the same argument with you again and again. You’d convinced yourself you were long over him, sure that if you ever saw him again you’d be able to look him square in the eyes and feel absolutely nothing.
Oh, how very wrong you were. He had to be here, tonight of all nights, when you’ve already fallen out with the people who’re supposed to love you most. All you want is to drown your sorrows, but when you catch sight of Hobi from across the dance floor, his body moving fluidly to the music, you can’t deny the magnetic pull that draws you across the room. He hasn’t seen you yet, too busy beaming his 1,000 watt smile at the petite girl grinding against his side, and even though it hurts you to watch, you can’t look away.
Hobi always understood. He was always the one to put you back together after mother had torn you apart with her sharp tongue and harsh criticisms, and you find yourself aching for that comfort from him now. Thoughtlessly you approach until you’re only a few steps away, standing in the middle of the dance floor like some kind of motionless moron, gasping when his eyes pass over you and ready to sob in the split seconds between him looking away and then doing a double take. You see his mouth form the syllables of your name, and though the music is far too loud the memory of his voice makes it almost so you can hear it anyway, a thrill running down your spine.
He steps away from the girl - she’s thankfully too drunk to mind - to stand directly in front of you, his eyes running all over you from top to toe, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.
It’s only when he reaches out to touch your cheek, his eyebrows knotted in concern, that you realise you’re crying. You pull away abruptly, shaking your head and roughly wiping your eyes, but the damage is already done. That simple touch has been branded into your skin now, and all you can think about is having more and more and more. Apparently, Hobi feels the same. He grabs your hand and drags you away from the dance floor, towards the toilets, and when he finds the one marked as disabled he pushes you inside and then locks the door firmly behind him when he enters too, ignoring the shocked look on your face.
For a few moments you both just stand there, absorbing every inch of each other, but right when you’re about to speak Hobi suddenly launches himself at you. Your back slams into the countertop behind you as his mouth does the same, meeting yours in a hard, fervent kiss that smacks of desperation, and then suddenly his hands are hooking behind your thighs, lifting you onto it so he can stand between your legs. Your hands are in his hair, pulling on it, trying to get him closer even though you know it’s not physically possible, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours.
There’s someone banging on the toilet door - people must’ve seen the two of you run inside - but you couldn’t care less. All you can focus on is Hobi’s fingertips grabbing your thighs, hitching up to your skirt as you yank open his pants, craving the feel of him inside you after so long. As quickly as you can pull his long cock free he’s sliding you off the counter and onto it, thrusting inside you barebacked as you wrap your legs around his hips, knowing instinctively that you’ll be wet enough to take it. You always were.
“Shit, I missed this pussy,” he grunts into you ear, bouncing you on his length.
“I missed you, god, I miss you.”
Hitting the ‘send’ button with far more force than necessary you let out a scream of frustration, throwing your phone across the room and onto the sofa for a soft landing. Yes, you’re pissed off, but you still don’t want a broken phone. Namjoon wrecks enough of your stuff without trying, you won’t give him the satisfaction of being responsible for that too.
You’re not replying again, no matter what he has to say for himself. In fact, you’re not even going to read his response. Deep down, you know you’re over-reacting - him not doing the dishes is hardly worth this amount of aggravation. Truth be told, every time he does it you usually end up having to to the store to buy more to replace the ones he’s dropped and smashed on the floor, but that’s not the point. The point is Namjoon always makes these promises about things he’s going to do to help out more around the house, and then something bigger and better and more important comes up, and you’re left to do all the grunt work. Every time.
You pointedly ignore the flashing light on your phone for the rest of the night, knowing that he won’t be home ‘till really late and still soothing too much to make up in the meantime. It’s left abandoned on the sofa when you go to bed, too, only managing to fall asleep after you’ve helped yourself relax with a long, hot bath that helps to melt some of the stress away.
It’s Namjoon climbing into bed next to you that wakes you up a few hours later, though you still pretend to be fast asleep until you feel him start to shuffle up against your back, his face pressed between your shoulder blades.
“I’m still mad,” you murmur, your voice husky from sleep, and mad you might be, but you still can’t find it in your heart to pull away from him into the little bit of space left on your side of the bed.
“I know,” he mumbles back, the words blowing hot across your back, shuddering involuntarily at the lingering kiss he presses there. In the pause that follows Namjoon gingerly places his arms over your side, bracing himself for rejection but squeezing you tightly when it doesn’t come. “Do you still love me?” He asks it so cutely, his voice sugary sweet, and despite all your earlier irritation you end up huffing a laugh at him, placing your hand on top of his where it rests on your stomach.
“Of course I do, you dick.” Namjoon laughs now too, kissing the slope of your shoulder as you twist your head round to be able to look at him.
“Good.” He plants another kiss and then another, working his way upward until he’s pressing kisses to your neck too, all the hairs on your body standing on end when he whispers, “Because I love you too.” When you feel his hand start to slowly make its way southward you do little to stop it, more than happy to make up in the most pleasurable way possible, sighing softly when it slips under the waistband of your pyjama shorts.
It doesn’t take Namjoon to work you into a frenzy, rubbing gently at your clitoris and then running his fingers through your folds until they’re slick with warm arousal, all the while kissing your neck, loving the skin with his lips and his tongue. He pushes your shorts down over your hips, separating your bodies for just a second to remove his boxers, and then he’s taking hold of your uppermost thigh and lifting it, supporting it as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance.
“Joonie,” you sigh softly, arching your back against him, feeling him smile against your neck before slowly sliding in from behind. He groans when his long length is fully seated inside of you, feeling your warm walls clench around him in welcome.
“Babygirl, you feel so good.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” Jimin yells, brandishing your phone out by his side, waving it around like a taunt.
“He’s a friend Jimin, that’s it!” you shriek back, a hand in your hair as you pull at it in frustration. Sure, those text messages from Baekyun might’be been a little flirtly, but you know he didn’t mean anything by them, not really. Obviously, your boyfriend doesn’t see it that way.
“Oh yeah, it really looks like it. Real friendly.” A sneer twists Jimin’s usually soft, pliant mouth, your stomach twisting unpleasantly too when you see it.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t go looking through my phone if you’re gonna have such a fucking problem with what you find.” You see his fists clench at his sides, his eyes narrowing as he glares back at you from across the room, and it takes every bit of your willpower to force yourself not to look away, to stand strong and glare right back. You know if your heart of hearts that you haven’t done anything wrong, so you’ll be damned if you let Jimin make you feel guilty. Fuck that.
Still, when he suddenly stalks towards you, throwing your phone to the side, you can’t help but flinch in anticipation of what he might do. He grabs a hold of each of your upper arms, squeezing hard as his dark eyes flit back and forth between yours, and then all of a sudden he’s crashing his mouth to yours, rushing you backward until your back slams against the wall.
“Jimin!” you muffle against his mouth, your eyes wide as his hands start to roam all over you, grabbing at your hip, groping your breast, fixing your bottom lip between his teeth and biting, hard. “What’re you-”
“No one but me gets to touch you like this, you hear?” he growls into your mouth, already pulling up your skirt with one hand as the other flips open his belt. His tongue pushes into your mouth as he shoves his jeans down to sit just below his shapely ass, pulling his erection free from his boxers to leak pre-cum onto your favourite top as touches you through your panties. “You think Baekyun could get you this wet? Shit, I barely have to touch you and you’re dripping for me.”
“Jimin,” you groan helplessly, loving how rough and forceful he’s being even though his fingers hurt and you’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow. Fighting or not, all you want is for him to take you, now, right here, wreck and ruin you in his name.
He grabs one of your thighs and hitches it over his hip, bending at the knees and pulling your panties to the side to line his cock up with your entrance. He thrusts up and into you savagely, splitting you open with his girthy length, and once he’s deep inside you he picks up your other leg so they’re both wrapped around his waist, supporting your weight with help from the wall you’re still pressed against.
“Baekyun couldn’t fuck you the way I do,” Jimin grunts, snapping his hips back and forth as you cry out again and again, grabbing onto his shoulders, your head tilted forward, tears streaming from your eyes. He’s fucking you so hard that his hip bones are digging into you with every thrust, sharp and painful, but you don’t care, you want it to hurt. It only makes it feel better.
“Say his name, I fucking dare you.”
You and Tae have never had a complicated relationship. You’d gotten on instantly when you‘d first met working as a make up girl under BigHit’s paycheck, fast friends ever since. You’ve got the same sense of humour and humble upbringings; even the same fashion sense 99% of the time. He’s always invited you to the group’s dance practices too, though you get the feeling that if Tae could’ve taken back tonight’s invitation without having to give you a reason, he definitely would’ve done.
He’s been off with you ever since you stayed the night last weekend, replying only intermittently to your texts with short, clipped sentences that just aren’t like him, and for the life of you you can’t figure out what’s wrong. It’d been a normal night; you watched movies, ate crappy food, talked. Nothing out of the ordinary. You’d hoped seeing him in person might improve things but Tae’s been avoiding you all night, barely saying a word. The only time he paid you any attention was when you’d been playing thumb wars with Jin, and then his stare had been intense that it was you who’d to look away first.
Once practice is over you expect Tae to wait for you as he usually does, but when you straighten up from collecting your things off the floor you see his back already disappearing through the doorway. You call his name, running after him, grabbing hold of his arm and forcing him to stop.
“What the hell is going on with you lately?” you question, ignoring the awkward look you can see on Jimin’s face as he passes. “Aren’t you giving me a ride home?” Taehyung just stares blankly back at you.
“Why don’t you get Jin-hyung to take you?” You raise your eyebrows at him, infuriated when he copies your gesture. What’s that supposed to mean? Huffing, you drag him back into the studio and lock the door behind you, determined not to leave until you’ve gotten this sorted out.
“Why’re you bringing Jin into this Tae?” He avoids your eyes, staring at his feet. “Is this about what I said the other night?” It’s the only possible thing you can think of; you’d asked whether you should ask Jin out on a date - he was sweet and funny and always made a lot of effort to speak to you, so why not? It’s not like you’d been getting any other offers lately. Still, Taehyung says nothing. “Look, if you think it’d be too weird for me to date one of your friends you should just say so.”
“It’s not just Jin!” he suddenly snaps, his deep voice raised in volume, “I don’t want you to date anyone at all!” Your mouth hangs agape for a moment - Tae’s never shouted at you before, not once.
“Why not? I know you’re protective of me, but-”
“Because I want to date you, ok?! It should be me, not Jin!” he blurts out, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to slide across the wooden floor and into the mirror. You’re at a total loss for words, struck mute by his confession. “And I know I’m too young for you and I’m immature and I’ve never… I’ve never told you any of this.” Taehyung strides over with more decisiveness you’ve ever seen from him, grabbing hold of your hands in his. “But I love you, I’m in love you with you.” And then suddenly he’s kissing you with an intensity and a fierceness you never knew he was capable of, pressing his body against yours and squeezing your hands so tight it’s like he’s afraid to let go.
“Tell me you feel the same, please, Noona, I need to hear you say you love me too,” Taehyung pleads, his forehead resting against yours when he pulls away, his eyes closed tight like he’s in pain.
“Of course I do,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands and smoothing out the worry lines with your thumbs, finally letting yourself succumb to all the feelings you’ve been holding back for so long. “Of course I love you. I always have, Tae.” The look of amazement and wonder on his face is so pure, so sweet that it almost makes you cry until he starts kissing you again, deeper and needier than before, more perfect than you ever dreamed it could be.
Before you know it he’s dragging you to the floor with him and you’re both pulling off your clothes, desperate for the intimacy you’ve both deprived yourselves of for so long. You’re too caught up to even properly appreciate the sight of each other naked for the first time; just feeling, tasting, touching one another, wetter than you’ve ever been in your life when Taehyung finally finds his way inside. He starts to move only when you’re gasping and begging him to do so, tilting your hips up to help him find and abuse your g-spot.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Noona,” he groans into your shoulder, his thick, hardened length throbbing inside you as he moves.
“This is perfect… you’re so perfect.”
Jungkook’s in one of his silly, playful moods tonight. Usually it wouldn’t be a problem - you love the times where you get to play around and laugh together - but you’ve got a paper due tomorrow, one you’re already way behind on, so you really don’t appreciate the way he keeps poking and prodding you in an attempt to get a reaction, tickling and teasing you when you’ve already repeatedly asked him to quit it.
When he goes so far as to start tapping the top of your laptop, flapping the screen down over and over and over again as you try to type, your frayed temper finally snaps. You round on him, the stress you’re under making you respond far more angrily than you normally would, fingers clenching the keyboard so hard that it creaks.
“WIll you just stop it?” you yell, oblivious to the way Jungkook shrinks back into the sofa a little, startled by the ferocity of your voice. “Can’t you just act your age, for once? Maknae or not you’re still supposed to be an adult, Jungkook, so maybe you should start thinking about growing the fuck up.” He blinks at you once and then twice, expression completely blank and unspeaking as you glare back at him, almost daring him to give you an excuse to let rip once more. He doesn’t utter a word though, not as he rises from the couch or as he leaves the room, shutting his bedroom door quietly behind him.
It doesn’t take you long to calm down. As hot and quick as your temper is it always burns out fast too, and by the time it does you’re feeling truly awful about what just happened, guilt sitting heavy in your stomach when you think about the way you spoke to him. It’s useless trying to work now - even without Jungkook here to bother you you still can’t concentrate - so you shut your laptop with a sigh and then ready yourself to go eat a slice of humble pie, approaching Jungkook’s closed door and knocking softly. There’s no answer, but you don’t hear a ‘go away’ either, so you decide to forge ahead cautiously, opening the door and poking your head through the gap to look inside.
Jungkook’s sat on the edge of his bed, his ps4 controller in hand, eyes fixed on the TV as his fingers move mechanically over the buttons. He doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach, nor does he when you sit gingerly beside him, but when you try to place your hand on his knee he abruptly jerks it away from your reach. You deserve that, you know you do, so you try not to take it to heart.
You lean forward to look at his face and when you do you’re devastated by what you see; his cheeks are red and splotchy, and even though his eyes are dry now you can tell by how puffy they are that he’s been crying. God, if you felt awful before, it’s nothing compared to how you feel now.
“I’m so sorry…” you murmur, looking guiltily at the floor, “Kookie, I-”
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, pausing his game to glare at you icily, “I’m not a baby.” You flounder for a moment, wanting so desperately to touch him but frightened he’ll push you away again.
“I know you’re not, Jungkook… I didn’t mean what I said, I was just… stressed out and angry and… I know that’s not an excuse.” You’re rambling now, wanting to make it better but unable to find the right words to say under such an intense gaze. “Let me make it up to you.” This time when you reach out to touch him Jungkook lets you, albeit still reluctantly. He lets you place one hand on his cheek as the other settles on his thigh. He lets you kiss him too; softly, apologetically, and with all the feeling you can muster. He’s slow to kiss you back, but when he does it’s with a needfulness that makes you groan, his tongue slipping inside your mouth, delving deeply. All his earlier upset from your harsh words has morphed into a will to dominate, a desire to show you just powerful he can be that has him grabbing onto you so hard that it starts to hurt.
When you dig your fingernails into the meaty muscle of his thigh Jungkook abruptly pulls you onto his lap to straddle him, and suddenly you’re all too aware of his erection pressing hot and heavy against your core, gasping when he shifts his hips underneath you. He grabs onto your waist, grinding you down against him, smirking at the moan that leaves your lips.
“Are you gonna tell me that that doesn’t feel like a man, huh?” he growls, circling both of your hips to provide agonising friction against your clit, stimulating you through your clothes until they’re practically soaked through. “I guess you won’t want me to fuck you then, will you, if I’m such a child… if I’m so immature?”
“Please… Kook-Jungkookie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” you mewl, grabbing onto his shirt, your body trying to ride him even as he shoves you off of his lap.
“Take those off,” he orders and instantly you obey, stripping your lower half, your mouth practically watering as you watch him strip and then lie back flat on the bed, stroking his cock with his hair dangling into his lust-darkened eyes. You crawl back onto the bed when he beckons you with his finger, sitting astride him with your core hovering above his cock, dripping into his lap with how aroused you are. He rubs the tip of his cock through your folds, teasing you until neither of you can bare it any longer, finally grabbing onto your hips and pulling you down onto him hard, grunting as your ass slaps into his lap.
“Come on baby, show me how sorry you are.”
My oh my, those just got longer and longer didn’t they?