Prompt Post Round 1

[kpop_km_mod]

CLOSED for PROMPTS | OPEN for FILLS
 

 

Rules

• Please be 18 years old or over, or don't advertise that you're not; this meme will have adult content.
• No bashing, kinkshaming, trolling, personal attacks, or otherwise being an asshole.
• Post anonymously.
• One prompt per comment.
• Warnings for common triggers are encouraged but not required.
• Prompts should have a subject line as follows: [group (if applicable)], [ship (if any)], [kink(s)].
• Please don't use smushnames for ships without also spelling out the full names at least once.
• Don't hijack a prompt, make your own.
• Multiple fills for a single prompt are allowed (even encouraged!).
• No meme policing. If there's a problem, please contact a mod; don't start wank.
• Fills should have FILL: in the beginning of the subject line.
• You don't have to add your fill to the AO3 collection, but it would be appreciated.
• Please link images rather than embed them.
• No underage prompts. This includes ageplay and aging down idols.

Rules will be revised as needed.

Links:

• AO3 Collection
• Last Page Flatview

Comments

Any, humping

[(Anonymous)]

A humps older member B's leg or thigh in the living room. Other members present optional.

Re: Any, humping

[(Anonymous)]

It’s difficult to avoid a reticent glance. Yoongi can disguise it as the casual way his eyes usually wander. He has a guarded gaze, rapid blinks, and a tendency towards observation. Undoubtedly, Seokjin doesn’t assume it’s leering. The rosiness in Yoongi’s cheeks, he hopes, looks like embarrassment—not a flush of desire.

He doesn’t know which part fascinates him so much. Yoongi can’t imagine himself happy in either position.

It would be humiliating to lower himself the way Jungkook is, right now, submitting his body to exist in this warm winter living room cordoned off from a snowy January afternoon outside as a showpiece; or a glorified pet—groveling at the foot of his master. It looks like Jungkook agrees. A downwards tilt of his chin has pulled Jungkook’s silky hair over his face, and Yoongi can only see glimpses of his embarrassed expression. Seokjin said a few words and had the smart lights coating the ceiling dimmed when he came to sit across the coffee table from Yoongi. Jungkook trailed at Seokjin’s heel. Now, closed eyes cast shadows from Jungkook’s long lashes down burning pink cheeks. His thighs hug Seokjin’s ankle, and his arms are hugging Seokjin’s calf like it’s a lover.

Are they going to stop any time soon?

Yoongi blinks and adjusts his gaze back onto the man who is presently leaning to reach across the sleek coffee table—the same grey table that came with Yoongi’s similarly minimalist grey apartment in this upscale building in an affluent area that keeps the members of BTS close and cozy; dorms under any other name—and grab the can of sparkling mulberry-flavored wine he placed on it seconds ago. Part of Yoongi is convinced Seokjin is making a show of vacillating between holding his drink between elegant fingers and pounding it onto the table to flaunt how easy it is to move with Jungkook’s shivering body attached to his spread leg.

Even when considering Jungkook’s embarrassment, imagining himself in Seokjin’s position doesn’t appeal to Yoongi much, either. Seokjin is clearly enjoying himself. He’s manspreading valiantly, and he looked a little drunk or high or lustful when he met Yoongi at the apartment’s door earlier wearing a pastel blue hoodie and some jeans. It rankled Yoongi and made him snarl a bit to see Jungkook immediately appear behind Seokjin’s legs like a shy puppy. Seokjin could have pretended to care about Yoongi—and Yoongi alone—during this friendly visit. It’s not like Yoongi visits him often. And, right now, this setup just looks awkward. Or, boring. Or, perhaps, both. Whatever joy can be derived from somebody pumping their cock against your leg is found in some form of mutual pleasure. Yoongi believes that. Dry humping is an idea Yoongi savors, but he fantasizes that it feels best with some shared thrill of touch.

Yoongi veils a dry swallow by taking a sip of the canned beer in his hand.

Shouldn’t have let yourself start to think about it.

Visions are beginning to swirl behind his eyes. Gentle visions of petting Jungkook’s hair; at the very least. It's only polite to give the boy some attention. Yoongi imagines himself whispering down over Jungkook’s surrendered body to tell the young man he’s doing a good job. Building Jungkook's confidence would be important.

He can't imagine being so careless, so heartless, as his Seokjin is being right now. Jabbering about stocks he traded. Yoongi could talk the stock market all day. There’s somebody in this room gently rocking their hips off against his hyung’s leg, though. Yoongi finds it difficult to focus on anything else.

A mewl splits the air and Yoongi jumps. Seokjin lifts his head and glances down at the man who just whimpered like he was struck.

"Oh?" Softness suffused his voice as Seokjin tilts his head with a condescending smirk cast down at the kneeling figure still moving, tiny little shifts; pressing his hips into Seokjin's leg and rutting a shy tempo. "If you want it to be over quickly you should speed up. You're right doing well," Seokjin adds, as if as an afterthought, "you're doing exactly what I asked you to do." With that, Seokjin runs a hand through Jungkook's hair, and gives it a light tug.

That’s right… Yoongi’s mind cracks out commentary: That’s it. Pet the poor dog—

Yoongi gasps.

He can't help it—hypnotized by Seokjin’s tan fingers swirling into Jungkook’s ear-length curls of black hair, he forgets himself and, he realizes as his face reddens, forgets to temper the warmth tightening in his jeans with some little ice-cold self control.

"Hm?" Seokjin turns deceptively calm eyes up towards Yoongi. "Do you like seeing him like this?"

He gives Yoongi a smile of lazy camaraderie that Yoongi imagines is probably meant to be shared.

Yoongi is too flustered to reciprocate.

Another tug on the fistful of cuffed hair snaps Jungkook's face up, and, for the first time since he sat down, Yoongi can see clearly that Jungkook's dark brows are furrowed upwards in desperation. That’s what you get for moving so slowly, I suppose, Yoongi thinks cruelly, not out of distaste for Jungkook, but simply because he’s imagining himself in Jungkook’s position, and, he would have jerked his cock as forcefully as necessary to keep himself satisfied, humping like you’re afraid of making a scene… Ragged breaths stutter off Jungkook’s parted lips. His eyes remain closed.

"Maybe Jungkook can finish on your leg."

"...Huh?"

Lips hang open for a long moment before he can speak.

Yoongi knows he must look stupid.

A snap judgement pulls his knees together like that will pull his legs further away from the threat Seokjin just placed on them.

"N-no,” Yoongi stutters. “That won't be necessary."

“This will be a good learning experience for Jungkook. I told him he’d be my slave for a day if I beat him at Mario Kart.” Seokjin considers the man still grinding off on his leg as he releases his hair and Jungkook slumps back onto Seokjin’s leg and wraps around it like a venus fly trap. “This foolish boy agreed. He’s been getting too comfortable… gaining confidence. We should teach him a lesson in obedience. His body doesn’t just belong to me...” Seokjin leans back into the couch and slow blinks with an almost adorable steeple of his fingers over his loose cornflower blue hoodie bumping and curling over his stomach. “Jungkook belongs to anyone who wants him.”

The warmth of Seokjin’s relaxed posture and his apple cheeks made rosy by horniness, or excitement, or a few cans of alcohol are sucking Yoongi in with notions of harmless fun.

Harmless fun offered by a pervert, of course.

But, Seokjin is an honest pervert. Principled. Half-lidded, deep brown eyes meet Yoongi evenly and offer an unguarded invitation. Despite flames of discomfort licking his ribs, Yoongi trusts Seokjin. Seokjin knows what he’s doing. And, disconnected from his ruminating thoughts, Yoongi’s cock just pulsed with an ache of heat. The condescension Seokjin poured over Jungkook’s head was bereft of the treacly fondness usually expressed in baby-talk and fuzzy offers of food and drink to their dongsaeng. Roughness in Seokjin’s quiet voice scraped clean a thin veneer of frustrated self-control Yoongi didn’t realize he was desperately trying to keep.

Yoongi needs to check into the moment. His only options are to play this game, or leave. He can put up or—internally, inside; quashing his internal monologue of indecision—shut up.

Plus, Yoongi is lethargic. Comfortable. Sinking into this plush leather couch that smells like Seokjin, warm and cozy, with some good beer. He’s settled by the genuine good mood that forced him to put on some clothes and walk out of his own apartment and hope to spend some time with his hyung. The plan was to order some takeout and play a game. That plan could still chug along into the late afternoon. He’s too settled to force himself to stand up and go home.

“Of course.” Yoongi can’t look at Jungkook. Although he knows Seokjin decides whether or not Jungkook will crawl over the oak floorboards and marry the heated crotch of his cargo pants with Yoongi’s brand new jeans, Yoongi can’t help but view Seokjin as a middleman. With his two sets of dignity on the line, Yoongi parleys with the man in loungewear with steepled fingers and slightly messy brown hair thrown back against the leather couch. “Um…” Yoongi swallows. He wants to say something important, or elucidating. Instead, he just stutters on the same idea. “O-of course.” Cringing internally, he already knows his face is going to be cherry tomato red by the time Jungkook is breathing on his knee and Jungkook’s soft, strong body is close enough for Yoongi to inhale that sparkling grapefruit perfume rising off the back of his bowed neck.

A nudging sound of encouragement leaves Seokjin’s sighing chest. Yoongi decides to take a drink and then lower his can onto his thigh to avoid watching as knees shuffle over the floor. Hoppy beer tastes especially clean and fresh when Yoongi’s whole body feels like it exists in a tangle of nervous thoughts at the back of his throat. Swelling pressure from Jungkook’s body wrapping around him reminds Yoongi that his skin is electric.

Idiot, Yoongi chides himself, don’t you know your legs are your erogenous zone?

“Uh…” Yoongi closes his eyes, breathes out, and stares down at his leg. “Thank you…” Uncertain of who he’s thanking, Yoongi trails off. He just felt the need to vocalize the relief that just washed over his body to the man that caused it. Painfully hot embarrassment floods up his neck and into the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes feel a bit teary. Yoongi ignores it.

There would be such a sweet security in having a loyal, obedient boy like Jungkook at his beck and call, waiting on his knees, wide eyes sparkling, patient for Yoongi’s soft-spoken command. If this were a private moment. For a split-second Yoongi’s gut feels empty, or false, to only feel Jungkook’s body this intimately at Seokjin’s whim.

A muted sensation hits Yoongi like a ton of bricks. Thickness. Firmness. Like is a pervert rubbing off on Yoongi in the train during those days before Yoongi pointedly started driving everywhere. This is preferable. This is almost sweet. If anything, it’s a jamais vu of teenage dryhumping he was too shy to fumble through.

Yoongi avoids looking at Jungkook. He blinks hard to cure the stingining in his eyes. It is’t sadness, or anger.

Yoongi is just easily overwhelmed.

As he gazes across the table at Seokjin, Yoongi watches those half-lidded eyes wander down to Jungkook; a pleasant sigh lowering Seokjin’s relaxed shoulders as he smiles and taps his foot onto the floor with a hollow ring and a casual abatement of energy. A firm line of attention stretches between Seokjin’s hands, and parted knees, and the impression of Jungkook’s thick cock sliding against Yoongi’s calf.

Yoongi can almost see their connection snapping through the air. It’s a shield of security. It’s forgiving Yoongi. He doesn’t need to worry about handling Jungkook perfectly. Seokjin is there for both of them.

Moving his head cracks Yoongi’s stiff neck. He glances down and to the side. Hair. Hips. Knees, and the upturned, lint-flecked soles of Jungkook’s opaque black socks where his feet are parted out behind his ass on the floor. A rhythmic shift of fabric; rutting hips that move artfully. Jungkook is a good lay. Yoongi can tell that just from watching the twitch of the man’s lower back as Yoongi traces fingertips over the parting of Jungkook’s hair.

This is better.

“Did you see the jokes people were making online?” Yoongi chuckles as he glances back up to Seokjin. “About GME?”

I’m not in either of their positions. I’m in my own position.

Locks of his fringe are curling onto the knee of Yoongi’s jeans. His knees are sharp, and unforgiving. Yoongi knows that. Unthinking, Yoongi slides his hand down to grasp the back of Jungkook’s strong neck, cups the base of his head, and guides Jungkook to press the pridge of his nose against a softer part of Yoongi’s thigh.

Re: Any, humping

[(Anonymous)]

JFC, nonnie! This was hot.