Urgurlsbtsblog - Tumblr Blog

commercial break: sixteen

a netflix & chill drabble <3 directly after part 11 !

SUMMARY Your skin is warm and smells like sunshine. Jungkook can’t really explain it. (And also like the sunscreen you had doused him in earlier, but that isn’t as romantic.) WARNINGS smut in the forms of titluvr jk, fingering, kissing, shower sex, unprotected sex MISC justice for Doyeon, the Honeymoon!!, an infinity pool, tw: L0VE WC 1.9k

NOTES a couple ppl requested the honeymoon <3 and also Doyeon trying to defend herself lmfaksnk tada !

Keep reading

commercial break: fifteen

a netflix & chill drabble  takes place sometime after part 11 :)

SUMMARY It’s Jungkook’s teenage fantasy— being pushed down by a cheerleader.  WARNINGS smut in the forms of grinding, kissing, amateur roleplaying (cheerleader!reader, first-time!jk), groping, titluvr jk, some 69 action, jk has a scent kink??, panty ripping, oc being a lil mean, another episode of JK Cant be Submissive to Save His Life, jealous kook(?), a bit of degradation, unprotected sex, slight impreg at the end MISC jk’s teenage fantasy finally being fulfilled, scraps of domesticity <3 WC 3.1k

Keep reading

funimation & procreation

part 11 of my n&c series <3

SUMMARY Never mind your upcoming wedding, this was perhaps the greatest moment of your life— the day Jungkook sought out an anime on his own.  WARNINGS kissing, smut in the forms of cunnilingus, cum eating, mentions of anal, doggy style, unprotected sex with the intention of pregnancy, spitting, hand holding<3 MISC the wedding night, Doyeon strikes again, jjk watches  jjk, oh no not twins RATING m (18+) WC 9.1k 

NOTES (!) sorry for any typos T_T Tumblr played me as I was editing so I may have missed a few rip lmk !!!

Keep reading

perhaps… college student! jimin teaching college student! y/n how to kiss or Other stuff…or making out… IDK HOW TO MAKE THIS INTERESTIN imsorru

Is it wrong to kiss your best friend the night before your first date? Some would argue yes. Jimin thinks otherwise.

“What do I do if he tries to kiss me?” you ask, idly picking at a stray thread on the huge beanbag chair in his room. Jimin is sitting on the floor, trying to alphabetically organize the articles he printed out for his huge research paper. “I’ve never kissed before!”

He’s not the least bit interested in your conversation. He’s watched you cry and monologue about this crush of yours for weeks now, ever since the guy sat next to you in your Beginner’s Art class you took on a whim. Frankly, Jimin could care less about the boys you choose to involve yourself with, a stance he makes exceedingly obvious with his blunt response. “Kiss him back.”

You groan, slinking even further into the plush depths of the beanbag chair. “You’re not listening to me,” you huff, leveling him with the biggest, poutiest frown you can manage. “I don’t know how to kiss.”

Jimin finally looks away from his papers to counter your big frown with an unimpressed glare. “Then don’t go on your date,” he deadpans, nudging you over on the beanbag before eventually settling in beside you.

“Jimin,” you whine, near the verge of a mental breakdown. “But I like him! And I want to see him, and hold his hand, and kiss—“

He interrupts your spiraling thoughts in the most unconventional of ways, his warm palm coming up to cup your cheek, face turned his way to press his lips against yours. Your eyes go wide, and like a fish out of water, you find yourself awkwardly puckering your lips despite the shock. Jimin’s eyelashes are so long and dark, make your brain fizz over when he’s this close.

He pulls away, but not for long. “Relax,” he mumbles, his hand trailing down your cheek, his forefinger and thumb gently encouraging you to tilt your head. You do, eyes fluttering shut, heart hammering in your chest, lips trembling as they finally slip out of the uncomfortable pucker. You’re not sure if you hallucinate it, but you swear Jimin smiles against you, exhales softly when you finally begin to mimic the motions of his mouth. “That’s it,” he praises, seemingly ignoring the rapidly rising heat on your cheeks or the fact your heart is lodged in your throat.

It’s your first kiss, the night before your first date. It’s not your crush you’re kissing, but your best friend, who tangles his hand with your own. “Jimi—“ you gasp in between kisses, the soft smack of his lips against yours doing things to your brain. He seizes the opportunity and slips his tongue inside, earns a muffled whimper from you as you race to process this new sensation. It’s wet, warm, presses against yours until you’re quivering like a leaf. You’ve migrated closer to him, shoulders knocking when he pushes forward, nearly pinning you against the stupid beanbag chair.

“Don’t go,” he breathes, breath hot against yours. “Don’t go tomorrow.”

namjoon cowboy au ! maybe smut with impreg kink or whatever u want 😁

Namjoon’s hands are as rough as he is, manhandling you around until your ass is in the air, face against the pillows. “I’ll breed you, darling,” he purrs, calloused hands trailing down your spine, over the globes of your ass.

He had come home late tonight, had travelled a lengthy distance to retrieve one of your missing cows. Still, dirty and tired was apparently the perfect combination for him to get his rocks off, latching onto you like a dog in heat the moment he returned.

He’s a gentlemen, though, always has been. Namjoon’s horniness has never managed to blind him from addressing you and your own pleasure first, fingers deftly working inside of your throbbing core for a few minutes. Even the soft soap you had purchased does little to address the roughness of his fingertips, worn from years of working the soil, riding the horses. It provides you with a whole new world of subtle texture that drives you insane.

With that settled, he assumes his position behind you. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he purrs, spreading your cheeks apart carefully, the head of his cock nudging against your folds.

“Please,” you whimper, clutching at the bedsheets as he begins his slow sink into your folds, each inch of his engorged cock sending a new wave of pleasure tingling your your spine. “Joon,” you cry, biting down on your lip until it hurts.

He doesn’t pause at the hilt, doesn’t let your body familiarize itself with the stretch before he begins bucking forward into you, drowning out your pitiful whimpers with his own grunts and the slapping of his skin against yours. “Fuck,” he groans, has that same gravelly quality in his voice he gets after he’s spent a long afternoon yelling at the horses to settle down. “Gonna look beautiful for me, doll,” he croons, ramming himself deeper and deeper into your hole. “Carrying my babies— most beautiful woman in town.”

dilf jk 😈

Jungkook’s got a sparkly clip in his hair when you come home, eyelids smeared in the sticky, glue-like eyeshadow that seems popular among little girl makeup. “Yo,” he says, your little daughter tucked carefully against his side. She’s dead asleep, has got the same face as him and everything.

“Hi,” you greet, leaning over to press a kiss against both their temples. Jungkook accepts it gratefully, tries to steal your daughter’s kiss too before you swat him away. While you undress in the bedroom, she gets safely tucked into the expensive princess canopy bed Jungkook had bought her, her tiara nightlight casting a pink glow across her room.

By the time Jungkook shows his face again, you’re in your jammies, carefully combing through today’s emails one last time. “My Queen,” he sighs, snuggling in beside you. You do him a favor and remove the sparkly clip before it yanks his hair out, carefully combing his curls to one side. His skin is oily from all the hard work he’s done today; between cooking, cleaning, and looking after your little princess, Jungkook barely has time to relax. And still he worries about you first. “How was your day?”

“It was okay,” you say, engulfing him in your arms. He’s soft, melts into your touch. “And yours, sweetheart?”

His cock is half hard against your thigh, and you’re interested in seeing how long he can go before addressing it. His personal best is three minutes. “Tiring,” he groans, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck. Jungkook places a kiss there, like he’s testing the waters, and his little attempt makes you smile.

In the end, he doesn’t make it past two minutes before he begins trailing wet kisses down your chest, undoing the buttons on your top as he goes. His mouth latches around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling around your nipple until you’re a whimpering, writhing mess beneath him. “Did I do good?” he husks, voice hushed against your skin.

You appease him with a gentle pat against the top of his head that makes his cock swell against your thigh. “You did good, baby,” you purr, “know i can always count on you.”

The praise goes to his head, has him stripping you of your bottoms with an insane speed. “Wanna be good for you,” he moans from between your thighs, his tongue lapping away at your swollen clit like it’s bringing him more pleasure than it is you. It sends a heavenly vibration throughout your body, hips twitching against his mouth. “Wanna be your good boy.”

pilot seokjin😭😭😭

Senior Captain Kim Seokjin has the honor of initiating you into the Mile High Club.

You’re on your way to some vacation spot, one of those tropical islands that are flooded with visitors this time of year. These flights are always the worst, filled with rambunctious children and snobby young adults. It’s noisy and it’s demanding, two traits that make your job as an air stewardess all the more difficult. Between rounds, you take cover in the tiny kitchen on the airplane, gazing into the mini whirlpool inside your coffee mug until someone knocks their hip against yours. “Oh,” you blurt, “hello, Captain.”

Seokjin smiles, that same sparkly grin he’s given you every time you’ve had the opportunity to fly alongside him. “Hello,” he greets, and the only thing more shiny than his pearly smile are the metals that decorate his left breast. “Everything okay?”

Among all the flight captains you’ve had the pleasure of assisting, Seokjin is definitely in the top three, maybe even number one himself. He’s on the younger side, very polite despite his title. He doesn’t treat you like a maid, which is a pretty low standard, but you’d be surprised how many airline captains do. “Oh, just terrible,” you groan, offering him a tired smile that he takes as in invitation to stay for conversation, leaning against the kitchen cabinets beside you. He’s too tall for this area of the cabin, has to duck forward just the slightest bit to keep from bumping his head.

Anyway, after ranting for a couple minutes, he offers you an apologetic look, hand coming up to rest on your shoulder. “Sorry I can’t do much,” he laughs sheepishly, “but if there is anything I can do, just let me know.”

It’s not really much of a disappointment, considering there are very few things Seokjin can do, Captain or not, when the flight is already in the air. “Don’t worry about it, sir,” you shrug, “there’s not many ways to relieve stress in the air after all.” At that, Seokjin tilts his head, pouty lips cutely quirked to the side. You raise a brow. “Unless you happen to know any?”

“Well,” Seokjin hums, and then, carefully peers behind you at the open door leading out of the kitchen space. “I do know one way.”

Which is how you find yourself squished uncomfortably inside the cockpit’s bathroom, the skirt of your uniform hitched up over your hips as Senior Captain Kim Seokjin pounds into you from behind. “Fffuck,” you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head from the intensity of his hips.

“Shh, shhh,” Seokjin warns from behind hou, his big hands clutching at any part of you he can reach— your breasts, your waist, your throat. “Gotta be quite, baby,” he purrs against the shell of your ear, teeth nibbling along the curve.

As much as you want to, you can’t contain the whimpers and cries he draws out of you, lower lip trembling with each ram of his cock inside of you. One knee is propped up against the sink, hands flat against the mirror. You’d be embarrassed by your own reflection had you not been zeroed in on Seokjin’s. Sweat crawls down from his hairline, leaves him glistening under the artificial bathroom lighting. “Oh— oh, fuck,” you sob, “faster, sir— please.”

Seokjin groans, the hilt of his cock flush against your folds. “Of course, baby,” he exhales, hands wrapped around you, clutching at the inside of your thigh to hold you open. “I’ve got you.”

yami please i need a nerdy fwb namjoon who also know how to fuck good 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

The only downside about fucking Namjoon is that he cares more about his textbooks than he does you. “Woah— wait,” he chokes, swiftly removing his hands from your ass. The back of your thighs are pressing against his desk, ready to be hauled up by Namjoon’s beefy arms. But first, he has to carefully bookmark his pages and set them aside.

“Joon,” you whine, nearly stomp your feet too. He’s so handsome, makes your insides tingle when he looks at you over the dark rim of his glasses. But his dorky, academic side can be quite bothersome too.

“Just a minute,” he calls, now setting his books on the other side of the room. Truthfully speaking, his incessant need to set aside his books isn’t without reason; a couple weeks ago he had made you squirt so hard and far that it somehow reached the foot of his bedroom door. Anyway, by the time Namjoon returns, you’ve plopped down on his bed, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m back.”

“Yay,” you deadpan, not that he minds. Soon, he’s kissing the frown off your face, his glasses set aside, along with the last shreds of his delicate approach. His hands are so broad, latch onto your hips with a killer grip that is certain to bruise.

“Gonna squirt for me again?” he growls, his cock rammed deep between your folds. One hand snakes down, trails over your tummy and your mound until the tip of his forefinger is nudging against your swollen clit. You squeal, shoving your face deeper into the mattress. Namjoon huffs out a laugh. “You’re so cute,” he says, kissing along your shoulder, up your neck. His breath is hot against your ear, makes your eyes roll back when he says your name in that low tenor of his. Meanwhile, his finger wastes no time entertaining your clit, lazily rubbing circles against the bud until your thighs begin spasming uncontrollably.

“Namjoon,” you whimper, every muscle in your body locking up as he continues his steady stream of thrusts into your clenched walls. “Fuck— you’re so good,” you whine, clawing at his sheets.

Namjoon’s hips snap forward. “Yeah? You like that?” You nod along hurriedly, you’re entire body practically short-circuiting with your orgasm so close.

He rolls his hips on the next thrust and paired with the devilish finger dancing along your clit, it makes you see the entire universe all at once. “Oh, fuck!” you sob, toes curling. The pleasure washes over you, has you stuttering out his full name for some reason, every curse word tacked on as well. “Joon— Joon,” you cry towards the end, when his pace picks up as he chases his own completion.

You don’t squirt this time, just send his one thousand-page thesaurus flying off his night-stand by accident. “__,” he groans, flopping down beside you, all sweaty and hot. “That was my Special Student Edition.”

Consensual somnophilia with jk?

Jungkook had mentioned it a few weeks ago, over dinner. “Well, I’m tired sometimes,” he had said, foot tapping loudly beneath the table. “And I feel bad that I can’t help you out.”

“Help me out?” you had repeated, fork halfway to your mouth.

A hum. “Like, you know”— he waved a hand around —“getting you off.” He grimaced at his own wording, a light pink shade dusting his cheekbones. “‘Cause I fall asleep before you get home.”

“Oh,” you replied, carefully setting your utensils to the side as you wondered where exactly this conversation was headed. “That’s fine, honey,” you assured him, placing a hand over his. “I get that you’re tired sometimes, and—“

“Use me.” It had been so sudden. Jungkook’s own eyes had blown wide at the statement that escaped his lips, as if he hadn’t meant for it too. Similarly, you had blinked owlishly at him as you mulled over the meaning of that phrase. At your silence, Jungkook pressed on. “Just— I’m yours,” he stammered, “if you need me, I’m there. You can use me. Um, if you want.”

And then that topic had gone untouched for weeks. You’re not anywhere near as ravenously horny as Jungkook thinks you to be. At least, not normally. There’s about one million reasons why you love Jungkook— sure, your sex life is one of them, but again, it’s only one out of one million. After a while, you come to the conclusion that Jungkook’s suggestion had been more for his sake than yours, and it makes you laugh a little when you recall his flushed cheeks that night, the courage he mustered up to say that.

It remains buried in the back of your mind until one night, one fateful night, when you come home late— yet again —and find Jungkook sprawled across the couch in nothing but a pair of boxers. It’d been hot all day. Sitting beside him, you find yourself placing a palm over his chest. Jungkook’s skin is warm to the touch, glistening with a thin layer of sweat.His heartbeat is slow and monotonous, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Out of habit, you give his pec a squeeze, only mildly startled by the quivering exhale that escapes your dozing lover. At that very moment, Jungkook’s suggestion from all those weeks ago comes rising from the depths of your mind, rearing it’s audacious head.

You bite your lip as you carefully begin treading into this unknown territory. Another gentle squeeze receives a similar reaction, a long sigh as he shifts against the cushions. Emboldened by your minor success thus far and the knowledge you had Jungkook’s permission, you find your hand creeping down his abdomen, fingertips ghosting along the skin until your palm finds its new home over the front of his boxers.

The beginnings of arousal stir beneath the fabric, and you nervously coax that desire out of Jungkook with a squeeze to his bulge. This time, Jungkook groans, a low and steady sound that has you on edge, amazed by the way he quickly swells to full mast despite his unconscious state. “Oh,” you marvel, running your fingers along his clothed outline, in awe of the way the muscles in his stomach contract, the way his brows furrow together.

Pushing your palm against his hard cock, you nearly jump into the air when Jungkook writhes, one of his legs hastily jerking to the side. “Mmh,” he moans, his lips slowly parting.

The more you touch and squeeze him, the more Jungkook falls apart, soft whimpers filling the air, mingling with the quiet drone of the television. He doesn’t say anything— he can’t —which allows you to play and touch him to your heart’s content. No whiny pleas to hurry up, no desperate hands alongside your own. Just Jungkook, completely pliant beneath you, as your hands venture over his body.

Eventually, he comes. You’re both saddened that it ends so soon, and proud at the state you managed to reduce him to. All the while, he’s asleep. Even when his dick twitches, drips cum down your knuckles and onto his boxers, he remains asleep.

It’s fascinating.

since someone already requested angry sex with jk com i request slow sex? like very vanilla . with jk too

Jungkook’s skin was scalding to the touch, dripping in sweat that made him slippery and smelly, two things that would have otherwise made you uncomfortable had he not been fluttering kisses along your cheek. “Relax for me,” he croons, daring to readjust the angle of his hips against you. His cock is so hard, brushes against nearly every inch of your walls. “I’ve got you, baby.”

His hands are so careful, fingers brushing along the base of your throat like he’s afraid one wrong touch will break you in half. “Ugh,” you groan, hands clutching at his sheets. “It just— it hurts. A little.”

“I know, I know,” Jungkook mumbles, flashes you an apologetic frown as he watches you go through all the phases of discomfort on your mission to familiarize yourself with his dick. He’s got the patience of a saint; you imagine it isn’t easy to hold off this long. Jungkook had been the one to proposition you tonight, had sweetly fattened your ego with compliments and kisses until you had given him the green light for sex. And now, he’s the one who has to wait as you clench and buck against his fat cock. “You’re okay,” he hums, brushing his mouth against yours, a sweet attempt at distracting your from the tightness in your core.

It’s a damn good one at that. His tongue is as hot and slippery as he is, gliding along yours, swallowing up your little cries, until you’ve all but forgotten about the stretch downstairs, arms slowly coming around Jungkook’s shoulders to pull him closer. “I’m okay,” you repeat, and Jungkook smiles.

“I can go now?” he asks anyway, reaching down to readjust the placement of your thighs around his waist. You nod, biting down on your lip as Jungkook begins to slowly fuck into you, the sweet expression on his face melting away as he loses himself in the tight suction of your walls. “Ah,” he gasps, eyes fluttering shut, head lolling back. He’s so beautiful like this, chest glistening in sweat, his lips bruised from all the kissing you’d done that night.

Every plunge into your heat makes you want him more and more, hands clawing at any inch of skin you can reach. Jungkook’s pretty eyes blink open again, dazed and sparkly. When he looks back at you, a dazzling grin overtakes his features, your name like honey on his tongue. “You’re so”— a particularly hard thrust that leaves you seeing stars momentarily —“so fucking cute.”

If you weren’t already so hot from the exertion and the closeness of his body, you would’ve blushed. “St- stop,” you whimper, finally clutching at his forearms.

Jungkook chuckles, slowing the pace of his thrusts to roll his hips against yours, the hilt of his cock against your folds enough to make you quiver beneath him. “Don’t want to,” he teases, releasing the grip on your hip, his hand landing over your mound instead. “Cute, baby,” Jungkook sings, his thumb toying with your engorged clit in a painfully slow manner, rubbing the pad of his finger hard against you.

“Jungkook,” you choke, hips jerking upwards at the dual action; your clit pulses beneath his touch, your walls squeeze around the thickness of his cock.

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, an airy sound that puts a stop to the lewd thoughts flashing through your brain, allowing you to see the adoring expression he levels your way. It lasts for all of three seconds before Jungkook is looming over you, placing one final chaste kiss against your lips before really getting into it.

pls some sexy yoongi 🤲🏽🤲🏽🤲🏽

“You’re staring again,” Yoongi says, and how he could tell, you’re not sure.

As far as you know, his eyes have been zeroed in on the Sudoku book on his lap, the one he bought last week and has been carrying around like a newborn ever since. He hasn’t looked up once, too preoccupied with his stupid brain games to catch you ogling him. So it’s with the utmost conviction that you lie your ass off. “Nuh uh,” you huff, hiding your pout behind the rim of your coffee cup.

At that, Yoongi does look up. You’re immediately drawn in by the endless galaxies that hide in his irises, the swirling nebulae and cosmic dust behind that solemn gaze. “What’s so nice about them anyway?” he asks, breaking your little staring contest to glance down at his hands instead, turning his pale fingers over as if it’ll somehow give him the answer you withhold.

“They’re hot,” you deadpan. Yoongi seems rather unimpressed. Had this been anyone else, you would’ve left it at that, not bothered enough to explain yourself in the slightest. But Yoongi’s got this look about him, one that draws the truth out anyway. “I want them in my mouth.”

Immediately, you clap your own, less sexy hand over your mouth, surprised by your forwardness. Yoongi says, “oh,” and then, “I mean, go for it.”

“Really?” you splutter, too loud. Yoongi shrugs.

He makes you wait, says something about how doing that kind of thing in the middle of a park would get the both of you arrested. So it’s in his car, carefully tucked along a side street, that he lets you. He sanitizes first, always hygienic, and then ever so graciously stretches out his arm towards you, offers his hand like a princess awaiting a kiss.

Yoongi’s hands are soft, is your first thought, heart hammering away like a snare drum in your chest. And his nails are pretty. You move slowly, nervous that you’ll scare him off. His pointer finger goes in first, pushes past the plushness of your lips to rest against your tongue. You’re too scared to look him in the eye, barely flicking your gaze up enough to properly see him. All you do see is that pink mouth, practically mimicking your own, a perfect little circle. Your tongue curls around his digit, torn between memorizing the feel of his finger in your mouth or the pucker of his lips in front of you.

Before you, Yoongi exhales. “You like that?” It’s so quiet, quiet enough that you almost think you’ve made it up for a second. But then Yoongi is shifting closer, as close as he can over the center console in his car. “Open,” he says, and you do, lips hurriedly parting at his command. Another finger joins in, and together, they forcefully push down against the flattened surface of your tongue. It makes you gag a little bit, forces you to finally meet his gaze in surprise.

Yoongi’s eyes are half lidded, focused like never before. “Is this what you wanted?” he murmurs, head tilting to the side as he pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, sinks them in until the knuckle, tears springing behind your eyes. A sound catches in his throat and it has something sparking within him.

Soon, his fingers aren’t the only thing shoved past your lips.

sucking your boyfriend tae stupid. mhm mhm

The minute he had walked into the party, shirt one button too loose, you knew you had to intervene.

Big parties always made Taehyung’s ego swell. Your boyfriend was all too aware of his hotness, knew he was the sole recipient of everyone’s lustful gazes everywhere he went. And while his confidence was wonderful, there were times where he needed to be gently knocked down a peg.

“Ffffuck,” he groans, the usual low tenor of his voice nowhere to be seen as your lips slowly descended down the length of his cock. It makes him double over, hands antsy to push you down. But he knows better than to do that, settles on placing those trembling fingers against the edge of the sink behind him. His shirt— still open —flutters from the movement, gives you a peek of his brown nipples.

He’s so needy, your name tumbling off his lips like he’s a broken record that just won’t stop skipping. “Baby, can you just— oh, fuck,” he groans, hips bucking against you.

You’ve got your cheeks hollowed out, trying your best to replicate the tightness of your pussy with your mouth. It’s something Tae appreciates, singing his praises for you with each bob of your head. “Just like— just like that,” he shivers, looking down at you with watery eyes just begging for a release.

Upon drawing away, you let the tip of your tongue flick across the slit of his swollen head, your efforts rewarded with a sob from Taehyung and a pearly bead of pre-cum. You catch it with your tongue, nearly laugh at the whimper that escapes your boyfriend, before diving back in. “Fuck— baby, I- I love you,” he blubbers, eyes blown wide as he watches you take him all the way down, the tip of your nose hidden by the unruly curls at the base of his cock. “I love you— I love you,” Taehyung cries, before spurting down your throat.

oo requests?? can we get some jungkook fwb? (honestly never see enough of it)

Everyone knows you’re his favorite girl, even him. He makes a point of announcing it every chance he gets. “There she is,” Jungkook grins, and he looks even more handsome under the dim glow of the bar lights. His thigh is your seat, gestured forward with two careful pats from him, his long fingers decorated with rings and tattoos alike. “My favorite girl.”

His favorite girl gets certain privileges the other girls don’t get to enjoy; he’ll leave the bar at your request, come running to your apartment at the crack of dawn if you so much as ask. “I’m lonely,” you whine over the phone, toying with a stray thread on your sheets, and twenty minutes later, Jungkook will appear. Sometimes drunk, sometimes faded. Sometimes completely sober. He fucks best when he’s sober, spreads your legs apart and licks a long line from your hole to your clit until your entire body quivers from the pleasure.

His favorite girl gets to push him around as much as he does you, pin his hands above his head and ride him like a cowgirl. Jungkook let’s you do whatever you want to him under the condition you’ll let him do the same. He’ll eat you out for the longest, let you suffocate him between your thighs, and then shove his cock down your throat, makes it so you can barely breathe, gagging around his length. An eye for an eye.

His favorite girl gets to yell at him when he’s acting stupid, cry when he’s with other girls, and sleep soundly knowing you’ll never be cut off. “It was just one round,” he promises, softly patting the back of your head. You had looked for him all night at the club, wore the dress you knew he liked, just to catch him dancing with some other girl you’ve never even seen before. Truthfully, you’re not sure you’re even allowed to cry; the moment you’d caught Jungkook’s gaze, you leaped for the first man you saw, let him screw you in one of the booths as Jungkook watched from the bar.

His favorite girl gets to keep him overnight, swaddle him in your floral-scented sheets and card your fingers through his hair as he sleeps. “I’ll cut the rest of them off,” he whispers, face nuzzled against the base of your throat. (He won’t.) He’s the warmest in the mornings, his body practically a second radiator as he wraps those strong arms around you. Jungkook always makes the same breakfast in the morning— the only one he knows how to make —and it’s those godawful scrambled eggs that make you yearn for more. “See you,” he husks at the door, back in last night’s clothing because he refuses to leave anything at your apartment. He presses a kiss to your forehead, already gearing up for the same cycle all over again. “My favorite girl.”

miss yami!!!! for the request night, maybe nj + friends to lovers?? 🥺🥺 i'm so weak for mutual pining

Namjoon has this ugly habit of biting the tip of his straw every time you go out. “Yuck,” you grimace, trying to ignore the plumpness of his lips around the plastic he’s dead set on demolishing with his teeth. “You’ll never get anyone to go out with you if you keep doing that.”

His answer is following a hard suck at his smoothie; hard, because squeezing the contents through the tiny orifice he’s turned his straw into is nearly impossible. “You’re going out with me right now,” he says, and you’re embarrassed to admit how even such a cheeky statement as his can make your face heat up.

“Correction,” you scoff, downplaying the intense pitter patter of your heart. “I’m here to collect my free smoothie.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, slinking further down into his seat. When he’s got his legs all stretched out, they’re long enough to knock into your ankles beneath the table, probably staining your white shoes with whatever gunk he has sticking to the bottom of his own. “Besides, who takes their date to this rundown shack?”

A tap against your toe. “This is your favorite rundown shack,” he points out. “This is your ideal date.”

It is, it really is. From the location to the weather to the date himself, this was your ideal romantic outing. (The last bit, Namjoon doesn’t know.) “Maybe so,” you murmur, idly stabbing at your smoothie with your straw. Another nudge against your ankle, except this one is hard enough it makes you yelp. “Ouch,” you frown, leveling Namjoon with a glare. “What was that for?”

He grins. “Just making sure my date is enjoying themselves,” he chuckles, toying with the stray change he’d plopped on the table when you first sat down. The coins look tiny against his long fingers.

“I’m not your date,” you huff.

When he leans over the table, pretty smile leveled your way, you can barely keep your emotions in check. “Really?” Namjoon teases. “Even though I asked you on a date and you’re wearing your ‘date’ skirt?”

“What— you asked me to ‘hang out,’ Joon,” you stammer to reply, hands balled up against the tabletop. “And I wear this skirt, like, all the time.”

Your defiance is met with another dopey grin, Namjoon’s chin carefully leaning against his knuckles. “Usually,” he begins, his free hand slowly moving across the table until he’s unwinding your clenched fists, long fingers slipping between your own. “When someone who’s interested in you asks to hang out, it’s a date.”

You breath bitches. This time, your thoughts lag behind. “Y- yeah,” stutter, the fan in your brain going into overdrive. “Someone who’s intere—“

“Me,” Namjoon interrupts, squeezing your hand in his. “I’m interested.” And then, as if he’s uncertain how much of this you’re actually processing, he feels the need to add, “in you.”

hi yami!! for the requests, perhaps jimin + enemies to lovers or fwb to lovers…? 💜 whichever works for u!!

Jimin looks stunning in the new practice uniforms. Short sleeves this season, skin tight too. You can practically see every muscle in his upper body rippling as he walks a group of underclassmen through the motions of a lift. He’s absolutely gorgeous, oozes confidence with every step he takes.

And then he stops in front of you and all that lust in your core fizzles into annoyance. “Hey,” he mumbles, standing close behind you. He’s preparing to lift you, hands securely on your hips, lips practically against the shell of your ear. “No granny panties today?”

You elbow him, hard enough it makes him groan and the two of you miss your count. Your coach yells at you from across the gym, but you’re too busy glaring at Jimin. “I was on my period, you asshole,” you snap, reassuming your stance as you await the next count.

Jimin recovers soon enough, hoisting you into the air and back down before responding. “They were cute,” he mumbles, slightly breathless. “The flowers were kinda sexy.”

You try to stomp on his foot but Jimin is fast. “Stop looking up my skirt, perv.”

The routine ends and so does practice, but not before Jimin can get on your nerves some more. He follows you off the mat, practically hovering behind you. “Can’t do that,” he hums, leaning against the wall when you finally pause by the water fountains. “I’m your base, sweetheart, looking up at you is my job.” You throw a towel his way. “My favorite was the little black thong,” he comments, following you out of the gym despite the indignant squawk that escapes you and the way you desperately try to shove him away. Jimin follows with a feathery laugh. “Whaaat,” he sings, smoothly taking your bag off your shoulder, making a grab for your hand afterwards. He swings your joined hands back and forth. “You’ve got great taste in panties.” And at that point, you don’t even bother anymore

It’s freezing, your thin sweatpants doing nothing to protect you from the chill that settles in your bones at the bus stop. Jimin huddles closely behind you, practically lines himself up with you. In a low voice, he murmurs, “can I come over today?”

Your cheeks feel warm. Maybe from the cold, maybe from the hand that creeps around your waist. “I have an assignment due at midnight.”

Jimin chuckles and you can almost feel the vibration. “So then after midnight,” he decides, cuddling closer. The bus pulls around the corner. “Show me more of your panties after midnight.”

if ur still taking requests!!! nerdy/shy but kinda bratty jk + and girlboss oc (who is also kinda bratty lmao) is like.... crack to me .

much love miss first name yami last name 1kook xx

Jungkook doesn’t necessarily regret giving you the spare key to his apartment, but he does occasionally find himself cursing his past self for doing it. In the past few months, you’ve barged into his home at least five times a week, sometimes twice in one day, scaring the living daylights out of him each and every time. And while he is immensely grateful for you, who had hounded the landlord for nearly an hour before they doubled down on the monthly rent, Jungkook senses that bit has gone to your head. You practically treat his place like your second home.

“What’s for dinner, angel?” you purr, coming up behind him while he carefully slices through a lemon. Immediately, your hands bypass his hips— “love handles,” you cooed last week, despite the fact Jungkook is quite fit, body artfully toned —and reach for the front of his sweats instead. He lets out a startled eek that has you muffling giggles against his shoulder blade.

Jungkook huffs. “Just leftovers,” he mumbles, thankful you can’t see his flushed cheeks from your position behind him. It certainly doesn’t help when your hand glides over the front of his bulge, which quickly fattens up at the attention. “Um, I’ll have to check if”— a squeeze that makes his breathing waver —“there’s enough for you.”

You hum, kissing against the side of his neck. Jungkook squirms, both trying to get away and get more at the same time. His body’s become a confusing mess ever since he met you, does weird things in your presence. Like moan softly when you ghost your palm over his cock. “__,” he hisses, despite the fact his eyelids are fluttering shut with every new press of your lips against his skin. “I’m holding a kn—“

The hand not busy fondling him over his clothes comes around, catching his wrist and slowly easing the knife out of his grasp. “But I missed you,” you whine, sucking a patch of his tender skin between your teeth. Jungkook whimpers. “And I wanna suck your cock, angel.”

The playful hand against his sweats finally dips beneath the fabric, slipping past his elastic waistband to hold Jungkook’s warm length in your palm. “That’s—“ he gasps, back jolting forward as you get to work slowly working your hand around him. “Not here.”

You press your frown against his skin. “I wanna do you here,” you huff, pushing closer until Jungkook can feel your chest pressed against his back, your pelvis against his ass. He shivers. “You’ll let me do you here, won’t you?”

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. He cooks here, he eats here. Jungkook doesn’t think having sex in the kitchen space is the cleanliest of ideas, but your voice is so sweet, so syrupy when you ask again.

He has to be strong. As weak as he for you, Jungkook knows you’re just as weak for him. “But,” he manages, equally as stubborn as you. Even if he isn’t brave enough to act as such in his day-to-day life, Jungkook knows how to leverage his desires when sex is involved. “I wanted you to ride me in bed,” he shudders, practically melting into your touch when your thumb rolls over his slit. “I- I like the way you look on top.”

There’s a noticeable lag in your movements, your hand unnaturally pausing at the base of his cock for the briefest second. Jungkook’s thighs feel like gelatin, his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a clipped breath, throwing all reservations aside to turn his head and cast you a quivering pout. “Please?”

(He wins this round.)

Jungkook + enemies to lovers 😫

are yall okay

e2l + teacher au + dilf jk

As a kindergarten teacher, you’ve kind of been conditioned into being a nice person. After all, you spent most of your day surrounded by people with missing front teeth and shoes that light-up— it’s hard to be mean to children. Especially when they’re all so cute and squishy, have the doughiest cheeks on the planet and say the funniest made up words like, “bazillion-jillion” and “jiggly-wiggly.” They were endearing and they were sweet, often making your day without even meaning to.

The same couldn’t be said for their parents.

Areum is sitting in the reading area, backpack neatly placed atop her desk, when her father arrives. Clad in the same dark suit as always, Jeon Jungkook looks extremely out of place in your colorful classroom. “Daddy!” Areum beams, and he has the decency to at least kiss her forehead hello before jumping headfirst into battle with you.

Jeon Jungkook is a single dad, a fact Areum had randomly decided to disclose to you one afternoon in the sandbox, as children do, so you know he has a lot on his plate. Between working and raising a little girl, you imagine it’s difficult for him to unwind. The dark circles under his eyes are a force to be reckoned with, but you suppose it sort of adds to the sexy dad vibe he’s got going on.

(Not that you could ever say that to his face.)

And as understanding as you want to be of his situation, Jungkook is a little… annoying. He’s a good dad! That fact cannot be denied. But even you can look past your sympathy shades to say that scheduling his fifth parent-teacher meeting of the month is a little excessive.

He has this rather incessant fixation with arguing about her grades, convinced— as most parents are —that his kid is the smartest in the world. So even before Jungkook sits down, you already know what he wants to discuss. His briefcase hits the corner of your desk with a thud, before he flashily draws out a red sheet of craft paper from its depths, Areum’s art project from last week. Doesn’t even offer you a greeting. “This is definitely worth an A+.”

You sigh, pressing your hands against your face. “Mr. Jeon,” you begin slowly, “I’ve explained before that her art projects are not graded solely on the quality, but on her ability to follow instructions as well.”

Jungkook bristles, letting the sheet flutter onto your desk. Areum glances over from behind the kid-sized bookshelf, gives the two of you this pointed look as if she’s the adult in the room trying to reign in two fighting kids. The worst part is that it actually works; in a quieter voice, Jungkook hisses, “Areum’s art is good— I think you just hate my kid.”

Your jaw drops. “What—“ you blurt out, belatedly remembering to keep it down. You push yourself to your feet, arms crossed over your chest. “I do not hate anyone’s kid,” you spit, “much less one as as sweet as Areum.”

Jungkook’s jaw twitches, hands on his hips. “I know she’s sweet,” he spits, briefly glancing over at where the topic of your heated interaction is flipping through a a butterfly book. “Sweet and talented, which is why she should’ve gotten an A+, and not a B+.”

You roll your eyes. “Again, not based on her talent only, Mr. Jeon.” Like a kid, he copies your pose, the sleeves of his suit a little strained as his muscles bulge beneath the fabric. He even looked hot when he was mad. You stomp that thought down, whirling around to reach for Areum’s weekly performance review which you hastily slap down onto your desk. “Look,” you huff, flipping through the sheets carefully held together with a pink paper clip, “she’s good at art, but struggles a little with the instructions.”

Jungkook’s sighs, the sound practically a growl from how it catches in the back of his throat. And despite the annoyance wafting off of him in waves, he tries to subtly lean closer to get a look at your notes. He doesn’t drop his stance, doesn’t even apologize for coming on so rudely— not that it’s the first time —without knowing the situation. He remains as on edge as he was when he first walked in. “‘Needs to have instructions repeated multiple times,’” he recites, eyeing your detailed review.

You nod, trying to push the paper closer to him; Jungkook is standing a little too close now, the scent of his cologne tickling your nose. “She tends to get ahead of herself,” you explain, glancing over. You nearly flinch when he looks back, so close. His gaze is solid and unwavering, meeting yours with a serious glint in his as he listens carefully to what you’re saying. “She needs to work on listening first and then doing.”

For a minute, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, choosing to just rub his hand against his chin as he mulls over the information you’ve just presented him. And while standing beside this awfully gorgeous yet slightly hardheaded man is a little overwhelming, it’s better than having him accuse you of hating his five year-old kid. Areum peeks over and you offer her a tight-lipped smile, which she returns with her own sparkly grin. It eases your nerves.

“Okay,” Jungkook suddenly announces, clapping his hands together. The sound makes you jump, makes Areum run over too. He points a finger your way. “So help her improve her listening skills,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “That’s your job, right?”

You frown. “My job is to teach her,” you correct, unimpressed. “A child’s listening skills are something they usually develop at home.”

“At home?” he repeats, mindlessly placing his huge hand on the top of her tiny head. Areum’s got the same dark brown hair as him, the same glossiness and all, too. “So can’t you just come over and help her?”

You choke. “What?” you cough, flustered at Jungkook’s suggestion and how easily it’d rolled off his tongue. “I’m her teacher, Jungkook, not her tutor or nanny or whatever.”

“Miss __ is gonna come over?” Areum exclaims, clinging to her father’s pant leg.

“No,” you rush to correct, trying to respond in a way gentle enough for Areum but blunt enough for Jungkook. “That would be very inappropriate of me, Areum.” The aforementioned father rolls his eyes, stuffs the hand not petting Areum’s head into his pocket.

“Why?” she asks, as most kids do.

You sigh, straightforward in the glare you send Jungkook. “Only people you know and like should be going to your home, honey,” you try to explain, offering her the best, if strained, smile you can muster.

Areum blinks. “But I know and like you,” she says, and you’re touched for all of two seconds before she feels the need to tack on, “and Daddy likes you, too.” You freeze and it’s Jungkook’s turn to jolt in surprise. Areum pushes on. “Yeah, Miss __,” she nods, seemingly recalling a far distant memory. “Daddy calls you the pretty lady from school, mmhm.”

The blood rushes to your face. Jungkook jumps to his own defense. “No,” he chuckles nervously, trying to play it off as he glances between you and his child, “that’s— I didn’t say that, Areum.”

Another frown from the tiny human dead set on embarrassing the two of you. “What? But Daddy, you always ask about Miss__ and you always wanna visit school just to see—“

He interrupts her with a loud cough, cheeks aflame. Not that you’re any better, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. “We should, um,” Jungkook stammers, reaching for his briefcase, “head home now. Yes.” You nod meekly, clumsily handing him Areum’s art project before he can forget it on your desk. Your hands bump and the both of you stumble over each other’s apologies, choppily bidding each other goodbye.

“Bye, Miss __!” Areum calls, unaware of how she’s just reduced two functional adults into stuttering messes. Jungkook, who you previously wanted to throttle for being so annoying and insistent, spares you a shy glance that sends a tingle down your spine. “You can come over whenever you want! Daddy can make you dinner.”

taehyung + brother’s best friend pls yami i beg of thee 😵‍💫

why da hell this get so long

Taehyung comes up with the code.

Your brother is home for the summer, spends all his time lounging around the living room and bothering you every chance he gets. Up until recently, he spent the last few months off on the other side of the country attending grad school for some fancy degree you don’t understand. And while you may have missed his presence in your everyday life, his appearance back home cuts greatly into the amount of time you get to spend with Taehyung. You know, your brother’s best friend.

(It’s messy.)

“Just tell him you’re going for a run,” Taehyung had suggested, his face tiny on your phone screen. He’s standing some feet away from his own phone, patting in his moisturizer fresh out of the shower. He looks good, ridiculously sexy with his towel clinging to his waist. You‘re practically drooling at the sight.

Normally, you’d take the opportunity to rope him into some well-deserved phone sex— FaceTime sex, where he groans and grunts all while showing you his pretty cock squeezed between his fist—because you’re off work today, your parents are out on a date, and Taehyung’s rich dad and only roommate spends most of his time traveling overseas. But with your brother home, you have this totally rational fear that he’ll hear you. Even worse, walk in on you. Which is super embarrassing in itself, but even more terrifying when you consider the fact he’d also be hearing his best friend of two decades, Kim Taehyung, orgasming over the line.

Yeah, it’s a huge risk.

“I don’t go on runs,” you huff, freely letting your eyes wander over the length of Taehyung’s body. Even this FaceTime call is risky; while you and your brother’s best friend aren’t strangers, you weren’t exactly this close when he left. Your headphones are securely pushed into your ears, your entire body on high alert for even the most subtle creaking of the floorboards. “But I really wanna see you.”

By now, Taehyung’s finished with his post-shower routine, leaning against the bathroom counter to level you with a gentle smile. “Then come see me, doll,” he smiles, and you’re very weak. Powering through the nerves, you slip on the sportiest, I’m-going-for-a-run outfit you can find, sending Taehyung a kiss over the phone before hanging up.

As predicted, your brother is occupying the living room couch, watching some boring TV show when you get there. At the sight of you, his face scrunches up in confusion. “Where are you going?” he asks.

You shrug, casually stuffing your keys into the pocket of your shorts. “For a run,” you respond, just as Taehyung had told you to.

Your brother scoffs. “Since when do you run?”

Which is exactly why you thought it wouldn’t work! Your heart hammers in your chest, and as much as you want to give up and crawl back to your room, you push on. Taehyung’s wet hair and soft smile are calling your name. You steel your nerves, offering him a halfhearted shrug as you approach the front door. “Well, y’know.”

And then, just as you said, you go for a run. You practically bolt over the front yard, taking off like an Olympic champion in the direction of Taehyung’s house before your brother can prod any further. He only lives a few blocks away, part of the reason he’s been your brother’s best friend for so long, but the distance feels like nothing as you sprint on with the vigor of a horny woman craving her lover.

Taehyung opens the door with a laugh. “Wow,” he says, welcoming you into his arms despite the sweat glistening on your skin. “You actually went for a run.”

Gasping for air, you barely manage to snap, “shut up.”

He doesn’t mind, just ushers you inside and helps you out of your shoes. Taehyung is wearing clothes now, which really puts a damper on the dripping wet, post-shower image of him that had fueled you on your way here. But you comfort yourself with the fact he’ll probably be naked again soon.

Real soon.

Five minutes later finds the two of you languidly kissing on his bed, clothing haphazardly kicked away. Taehyung’s skin is still warm, super soft from his shower. You can’t get enough of him, running your hands over every inch of his body. He chuckles, muffling the sound against your neck. “I’m right here,” he mumbles, pressing kisses against your skin.

And he is, which is way better than over the phone. Nude and horny, he sits up and helps guide you between his legs, has you kneel in front of him. Taehyung’s cock is just as lewd in real life, his tip engorged and red, dripping with pre-cum that coats your fingers when you reach for him. He likes to give and receive in equal parts, pops his fingers into his mouth and then into your throbbing entrance. “Oh,” you sigh, back jolting as he works his digits in.

“Oh,” he repeats, a playful jab that you can’t even scold him for. As your hand trails down the length of his cock, his fingers push deeper inside, picking up a fast-paced rhythm that sends pulses of ecstasy throughout your body. He draws you along until you’re just at the edge, rubbing his thumb along your clit as you weakly buck into the touch. “Condom,” he husks, and you scramble to get it from his nightstand drawer, tremble so much that he eventually takes it away. “Cute,” Taehyung chuckles, helping position you over him as he slips into the rubber. “Go on, doll.”

The sweat you amassed on the run over to Taehyung’s house is nothing compared to the sweat that drips down your skin when you begin riding him. It runs between your breasts and down your spine in long trails, not that you particularly care as you bounce away on his lap. Taehyung looks delectable beneath you, head propped against one arm as he watches you work for it. His hair is fluffy from his shower— which you realize was pointless now —and covers his forehead. “That’s it,” he pants, his other hand on your waist, guiding your hips over him.

“Tae,” you gasp, hands propped behind you, palms against the top of his thighs as you roll ur hips over him. Your thighs ache from the run and from the bouncing, a searing pain running along the length of your muscles. “I— help, please,” you whine, shuddering after a particularly heavenly grind of his cock against your walls.

“Sure thing,” he hums, reaching for you with both hands only to tug you closer onto his lap. Your walls clench around him, suck him in further and tighter as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Ha— cute,” Taehyung says, never mind the fact you’re sweating like a pig at a summer fair.

Your pussy squelches with each of Taehyung’s upward thrusts, but it’s not the only part of you that is slippery and wet. The spot behind your knees is absolutely sweaty, as is the nape of your neck. “S- Sorry,” you manage to stammer, repositioning yourself so your hands are against Taehyung’s abdomen now, crying out at the way his tip grinds against your sweet spot. “I’m s- so sweaty.”

At that, Taehyung laughs. “Just a little,” he says, but you know he’s embellishing the truth. He’s always been like this, even when you were kids. Even when you were just his best friend’s crybaby little sister, he was always quick to make you feel better. Beneath you, Taehyung groans, smile momentarily slipping as he loses himself in the feeling. It motivates you to do more, purposefully tightening around him just so he can feel the drag of your folds against his cock.

You come soon enough, spasm and cry out his name in an airy voice that makes Taehyung grin. He follows quietly, just locks up and then busts into the condom. He’s always extra caring and doting after sex, drowns you in a sea of kisses and cuddles as you calm your racing heart. “I need a shower,” he sighs, and throws you a goofy smile, “again.”

You sit up. “Lemme join yo—“

“Nope,” Taehyung announces, slipping out from beneath his sheets. Buck naked and handsome, you nearly miss his next words. “You just went on a run, remember?”

begging for some DILF seokjin action bestie yami

The door clicks shut behind you. “The kids are asleep,” you whisper, and Seokjin nearly falls face first into the hardwood floor on his race to remove his pants. You muffle a giggle behind your palm, slowly sinking into the mattress beside your husband whose drowsiness completely wore off the minute he heard the words ‘kids’ and ‘asleep’ in the same sentence.

He wastes no time guiding your hand over the subtle stirrings beneath his briefs, your wedding bands knocking against each other on the way. “Sorry,” he sighs, has already begun to kiss a trail of wet kisses down the side of your throat. “Just really need this.”

He’s been stressed this past week, beyond tired as he wrapped up some projects at work. Between that, the kids, and his nosy parents, it had been difficult for him to find any time to unwind. At times like this, you’re all too ready to take care of him. You squeeze his bulge, reveling in the trembling exhale that escapes Seokjin’s lips. He’s hard by now, his long member curving up towards the waistband of his underwear. You bypass the elastic easily enough, trail your fingertips over the soft skin of his tummy, through the coarse hair at his base, and finally, his cock.

He’s warm to the touch, flinches cutely when you grip him too tight. “Your ring,” he mumbles, sucking a harsh kiss against your jawline. It’ll bruise tomorrow, make your skin tender to the touch. For tonight you’ll let him carry on like this, kissing and touching you like he’s starving for the taste of you. “Take it off.”

You snort, turning just the slightest to land a peck against his forehead. “Never,” you retort, tightening your hold around his member until he’s hissing, reaching for your wrist as if to pull you away. He doesn’t, which only emboldens you to carry on, carefully dragging your hand up his length until your thumb is swiping over the tip of his cock, coating your thumb in the glossy substance that oozes from his slit.

“Oh, fuck,” Seokjin shivers, lips against your throat. Flicking your wrist, you let your inner palm graze his engorged tip until it’s slippery with his pre-cum, running it back down his length with newfound ease. “Shit,” he curses, hips raising off the mattress just a bit as he slowly falls victim to the steady pumping of your hand against his cock.

He always comes the hardest when he’s pent up, like he’s physically and mentally incapable of holding it more than is necessary. Your hand runs up and down his length, squeezes at the base and rolls over the tip. Seokjin’s breathing becomes labored against your skin, the wet patches from his kisses fanned by his rushed breathing. Your name tumbles from those flushed lips, punctures every downward tug the closer he gets.

Eventually he comes, hips unconsciously jumping forward one last time as his cum dribbles down his length, over your knuckles. “Wow,” he exhales, flopping backwards onto your shared bed. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, trying to compensate for the way he’d whimpered and gasped just moments before. He flicks his gaze back over to you. “You need to sit on my face, like, now. Before the baby monitor goes off.”

size/strength kink with namkook plsss

Jungkook points it out first. “Namjoon, look,” he calls out, patiently waiting for his friend to look over as he creeps up beside you. You’re on your toes, making a desperate reach for the bowl on the highest shelf of the kitchen cabinets, and hardly see the need to pay Jungkook any mind. It isn’t until you feel something broad and hard brush up along your backside, a long-sleeved arm raising up beside yours, that you pause. “Short,” he says. His breath fans along your shoulder, makes every hair of yours stand on end as Jungkook eventually retrieves the bowl with a giggle.

Namjoon chuckles. “Leave __ alone, Kook,” he says, though the laughter that taints his words says otherwise. He joins the two of you in the kitchen then, stands close beside you as if gauging you up himself. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, one that, while maybe not as obvious as Jungkook’s, is just as amused.

You frown. “I am not!” you squawk indignantly, arms assuming a defensive position crossed over your chest. The two share a look, and then promptly dissolve into a fit of laughter. Your cheeks burn.

“You’re short,” Namjoon says eventually, as if that’s any consolation. “So what?”

As if to prove his point, he takes one step closer, until the tip of his slipper bumps against yours, his chest very much in your face. Behind you, Jungkook follows his lead, crowding you into a makeshift people sandwich of sorts. “See?” Jungkook chuckles, his fingertips ghosting along the backs of your arms, over your elbows until they’re wrapping around your forearms, ever so casually guiding your hands upward so that they’re finding their home against Namjoon’s chest. “You’re tiny.”

Namjoon nods. “Tiny,” he repeats, placing his hands against your hips, giving you a tight squeeze that makes your heartbeat falter. Behind you, Jungkook presses in closer, his proximity making your breath hitch for the briefest of moments.

“I- I’m not,” you defend weakly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by these two broad men and the tight fit between them. “You guys are just big.”

One of them laughs, you’re not really sure who. It’s a rather curt sound, more like a snicker. You don’t get to think on it long; Namjoon leans down, knocks his nose against yours. “I am,” he confirms in deeper tone, and the confidence in his smile breaks something within you.

Not one to be left out, Jungkook childishly chimes in, “me too, me too,” leaning over your shoulder until his lips brush along the curve of your ear. And then, in a breathier tone, “really big.”

His boldness astounds you, makes you jerk forward in surprise, knocking against the hard planes of Namjoon’s body instead. Youre not safer here either, not with the man’s pelvis pressing against you, hinting at something that was certainly big beneath the front of his pants. A similar bulge nudges against the curve of your ass. Namjoon smiles, “do you wanna see how big, __?”

can we get tying up husband namjoon miss yamz

Any uncertainties your husband may have had before are washed down the drain the moment you tighten the last knot against his hard body. “Oh,” Namjoon says, pleasantly surprised by the snugness of the criss-crossing sections.

“I read up on it,” you grin, patting the inside of his thigh as if to say ‘all set!’ His skin bulges against the ropes, makes certain parts— his ass and chest —look plumper than usual. You’re practically drooling like a dog.

Namjoon, who has long since categorized each and every one of your facial expressions, snaps you out of it. “Honey,” he calls out softly, nudging you with his knee. His hands are neatly tied up in front of him, just above his cock. Close enough for him to wrap his own hands around it, giving himself a few shallow pumps as he waits for you to touch back down on the ground.

“Sorry!” you stammer, maybe a tad too starry-eyed over your tied up husband. After the tedious and rather lengthy process that was tying him up, you didn’t have a second more to waste. “Going now.”

As suspected, the ropes make Namjoon all the more bratty, huffing and whining every chance he gets as you do everything but touch his weeping cock. You begin at his throat, lavishing it in kisses that were sure to bruise tomorrow, high on the fact he can do nothing to stop you. And then his chest is showered in even more kisses, nipples pinched and tugged until the skin around them is visibly pink and tender. “No more,” Namjoon whimpers, but he’s just so pretty laid out like this that you can’t help but envelop one perfectly pert nipple in your mouth, rolling it between your teeth as you rock back against his achingly hard member, letting it drag along the curve of your ass only.

By the time you’ve sucked his chest into two twin peaks, Namjoon is practically sobbing, bucking upwards into nothing. “Onto your tummy,” you coo, grasping one of the bulging knots at his front to pull him towards you, swallowing the whimper that escapes his lips. You roll him over, and the mere act of manhandling such a big man as Namjoon makes you a little power crazy. You push him down face forward, his ass in the air as you creep up behind him.

“So beautiful,” you praise lovingly, trailing your hands along the tense muscles of his thigh. Your hand snakes it’s way around, finds the base of his cock and makes Namjoon yelp from the tightness of your grip. “Stay still for me now.”

He’s practically leaking, coating your hand in his arousal all too easily. Your hand begins it dutiful mission up and down his cock, the other rubbing soothing circles along one perfect globe of his ass. “Good boy,” you purr, and then abruptly bring your hand down against his plump flesh, marveling at the blood that rushes to the surface. Namjoon moans, bucking into your hand instead. You meet him with a deathly tight grip that makes every muscle in his body tense up immediately.

He’s easy to manage like this, hands bound before him, and you fondly lock away every new memory made. From the pitiful cries that left his mouth to the tender skin after the ropes had been removed— it was beautiful, deserved to be cherished. A nice change of pace.

*gregorian chant* breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink bree

In another universe pups is the ABO fic I never wrote HJDHJDSHJDSHJHJFHJFSD OK so anyway I won’t lie I had to google what cum inflation was and when I saw what I saw.... yes. Ok. It got my brain gears going *rusty noise of gears turning* U know what I mean??? So i was thinking..... ***NSFW WARNING

.

.

.

You see hentai on Namjoon’s laptop one day. You’ve mastered the art of nonchalance, though. So when he comes back from the bathroom and gives you a smile—as if you haven’t gotten a peek into Things That Turn Namjoon On That Don’t Include You—you breathe an internal sigh of relief. Safe.

Except you’ve stopped taking notes and now all you can think about is Namjoon watching porn so brazenly on his laptop. Where he does schoolwork of all places! He could at least just use his phone. Also you’re just a teensy bit wet because cartoon boobs and dick is still conducive to horny hours, even if you are doing something as unsexy as critical writing.

Your study date ends with a simple kiss on the lips because Hoseok’s home this time and you’d rather not taint the living room space while he’s occupying the apartment too. Namjoon slips in a little bit of tongue though, because he’s cheeky like that.

You text Namjoon right when you get home. You lie and say you’re going to sleep early, with the excuse that you have to wake up early for a meeting with your advisor. And when he sends you his good night text, you get to it. Getting ready for bed, turning your night light to the colour red once you’ve settled in.

You have sleuthing to do.

Because the hentai wasn’t just... well there’s no regular hentai, is there? It’s just. There. Being hentai. And what’s Namjoon without an inclination for messy pussies because of—because of—

You close your eyes tight because you can’t believe what you’re about to type into the search bar on your phone.

But first!

Incognito. Whew. The shame of clearing your history would be too much to bear. So when you press enter on cum inflation it isn’t so bad. Especially when all the X-rated websites pop up and your screen just becomes Anime Boobies Galore when you click the first link.

You can’t believe Namjoon had the gall to just leave that website up there on his screen. You’re scrolling down the page and already you’re feeling hot. And it isn’t even because of the fact that you’re skimming through videos of perfect girls getting so cummed up their stomachs literally become distended. Nor is it the thought of Namjoon watching it and enjoying it, either. Rather...

Was he thinking of you when he was watching these videos? Bending your knees up over your shoulders and promising you that he’s saved up all his cum for you? Getting you to drool down your chin, cross-eyed?

(Your hand is down your panties at the third video you come across. You come pretty hard when you see the girl’s pussy literally spew semen from how hard the guy comes inside her. And when you reach post-orgasm clarity you immediately exit the browser, chuck your phone onto the floor, and hope to god sleep overtakes you within twenty seconds.)

The next time you meet up for another study date with Namjoon is the weekend. That’s a good three nights of jacking it off to the same video of a huge dongle fucking a good five buckets of semen inside his girlfriend. And when you settle all your notebooks and laptop down, you immediately go for the kill.

“Do you like anime boobs?”

Namjoon chokes on the water he’s drinking from his bottle. “I—ahem. What, uh... what brought this on?”

“I’ve been watching a lot of hentai so I thought I’d ask,” you clarify.

“Uh-huh,” he says incredulously.

“And you know, it’s just—I liked it. A lot. You know. Just for your information.”

Namjoon blinks. “Are you trying to get at something here?”

“Because I don’t really mind, you know. Porn is porn. And you can like whatever you want. Like as long as it’s nice and consensual,” you ignore him.

“Babe.”

“Like I would never make fun of you because I’m—well I’ve watched Grinch porn before but that was against my own will—“

“Baby,” Namjoon laughs, squishing your cheeks to stop your rambling. “What’s going on?”

“I like h’ntai,” you try to articulate with his hands still keeping your lips pressed in like this.

“I get that. But why?”

Oh god. You don’t even know what you want from this conversation. Maybe the guilt of catching him has caught up to you. Or maybe you also just want to have a distended stomach from having Namjoon bust a fat load inside you.

You take his hands from your face, clutch at them for support. “I saw... Um. What you were watching. The other day.”

“Ah.” You watch Namjoon’s ears turn red. He squeezes your hands right back. “You—damn. I’m sorry.”

“No—!” You clear your throat when it warbles. “N-No... it’s... well I...”

You feel his thumb rub comfort into your skin. He looks like he’s getting ready for a scolding. So when you say, “I actually really liked it and I’ve been watching it every night,” in one breath, Namjoon blinks.

And blinks.

After a solid sixteen seconds of silence, he says: “That’s really hot.”

You both stare at each other. The notebook you laid out for notes sits quietly, waiting.

“You wanna go to your bed—?”

Namjoon nearly dislodges your shoulder when he pulls you up to stand. “Yes we’re going right now.”

Something you’re really thankful for when it comes to Namjoon is how compatible you two are. You can’t count how many times you’ve both just looked at each other, no words to say, but somehow still completely on the same page. It’s like you both have the instinct of the other person ingrained in the part of your brain that deals with intuition.

You’re pretty keen on foreplay most days, but even Namjoon sees you’d rather rip your hair out than not immediately go for the feeling of his dick ramming inside you right at this very second. He laughs when you strip in record time, laying supine on the bed while he undresses.

“What’s gotten into you?” As if he’s not hard himself. He crawls over you with kisses warm on your belly, your breasts. “I have to admit. I really just wanted to fuck today.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh. You knew something was up the second you realized Hoseok wasn’t home. He probably sexiled himself. You remind yourself to buy him dinner one day for his noble deed. “Just—I’m wet. I think. I just want you inside me, please.”

Namjoon groans. “You’re dangerous.”

“I watched hentai for three nights straight, I’m horny,” you whine in correction.

“You wanna know something? Please don’t laugh.”

“What?” Oh you’re wet alright. Namjoon lines his cock at your hole, slides tight inside. “O-Oh—what?”

“I kind of. I haven’t jacked off since the last time we met,” he says, voice tight. “Thank god you watched that shit because I probably sound crazed right now.”

“Huh?”

He grinds up till his hips meet your ass, and you shiver when the tip of his cock hits just right. “I—I wanted to save my cum for you,” he admits, sweating at his neck, and something clicks inside you, because you were right.

“I thought—about that too—ngh!”

Namjoon fucks you steady now. No more shy thrusts like he always starts off with to gauge your mood. He knows you want it. “Shit. About what, baby?”

“You. A-And... making me full... of you.”

“Oh my god.” He grabs your thighs, opening you wide. Takes a thumb to your clit like he’s on a mission. “Will you come with me? Can you do that?”

Holy fuck you’d do anything for him. So you nod, moaning with every hard thrust he gives you. Your legs threaten to close when he rubs you raw, but he commands with a low voice:

“Open, pups.”

Embarrassingly, that does it. He’s never one to order you around. And knowing he’s purposefully saved you his cum like it’s Christmas come early, you know better than to hinder the process.

Your legs shake when you open wider, feeling the warmth of his cock tenfold. “I’m close,” you cry when he slams into you.

“Feel it here?” He slides a sweaty palm to your abdomen. “Gonna give it to you right there. Make you so full. So pretty. All—mine—!”

You don’t even know if that was your signal. But the thought of him swelling you up like that girl on your screen, her womb so full with cum and promise—

“Joonie!” You shriek, toppling right into red-hot pleasure, clutching at the sheets because it’s too much. You come in waves, and Namjoon rides it with you, bucks into you with one last groan. You feel it, feel his excess warmth coat your insides just like he’d told you, and you pretend you feel your stomach balloon for more space. He rubs a grateful hand on your stomach.

“My little cum dump,” he coos tiredly, and you slap his arm with a laugh.

“Don’t pull out yet.” You slide your arms around his shoulders, bringing his tired form onto you. “Keep me plugged in.”

He laves at your neck. “Oh so now I’m out of line when I say weird shit.”

“I never said it was weird,” you whisper. “I’ll happily house all your semen.”

“Oh my—pfft. Ok. You know what? Show me that video you were watching, I need to know what’s got you like this,” he snorts, and you promise to do it later. You’ll just keep him like this for a little while.

delicacies of the season (m)

part 3: days apart

note: hey!! What’s up!! first, I officially have named this series!! it’s right up there for ur viewing glory! ok anyway here’s something before I disappear for the next four weeks because I am drowning in school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also just a side thingie for this story: I’ve already established that oc isn’t on birth control but here I’m implying that they’re doing natural planning (i.e. fertility awareness where the person who menstruates keeps up with their cycle and thus only has sex when their cycles allows for it). PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS UNLESS YOU KNOW THE RISKS!!!!!!!! Oh Lord putting your impregnation chances up to God?! I couldn’t do it. But also this is fanfiction and nothing bad will happen to this couple so let’s all just… suspend disbelief for a second ok

PAIRING. taehyung/reader GENRE. romance, farmer au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 2.5k WARNINGS. kitchen sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, a good ol’ creampie bc wot is the ubemango experience without one :/ SUMMARY. Taehyung missed you.

Auntie Gaeul comes over when the rooster crows to tell you to check out the passion fruits today. They’re ripe not because she’s seen them but because she just knows. Call it the Elder Instinct for Ripened Foods. You tell her you’ll give her half the harvest, and she swats at you before she leaves.

“Stop being so polite, I’m not that old,” she spits in jest. “And make some of that honey iced tea your grandma makes. If there’s extra, then I’ll have some.”

Keep reading

pups oc trying lingerie for the first time and she’s shy and joon is like ;&:$:?M AL);!:!FU(2?/?/NC):)TIOn bc she looks so hawt :3

>//////<

Also no actual sex in this but like very uh. Horny lol. As is wont to happen

.

.

.

You hate lace. It chafes and doesn’t offer your cooch good ventilation most of the time. But you get an automated email about holiday specials at La Senza, and what’s a little self-care in the form of retail therapy? You’ll sacrifice comfort for the sake of good discount deals, you decide, and before you know it you’ve got an 8-pack of cute pairs of underwear and three colour-complimenting bras shipped to you.

It was Sunny who texted you to sign up for the newsletter. Gets the best deals and the best head, your neighbour/girlfriend since you were toddlers so eloquently explained. It’s actually kind of amazing seeing you go from high school hermit to self-proclaimed cum lover.

(Safe to say you withheld from replying to her for a good seven hours before sending back a very venomous FUUUUUUCCCCCJJJKKKKK YYYOOOOYUUUU!!!!!)

At least she’s nice enough to receive the package discreetly for you because your mom is nosey like that. You spend the day with her in her room, picking which underwear pairs nicely with which bra. And when you ask her which combination would best impress Namjoon, Sunny sits you down on her bed. She stares at you like something very serious has happened, and says:

“You might actually die from dick if you show him this.”

You squirm under her gaze. “What?”

“Oh don’t act so surprised. You tell me so much about how your boyfriend who happens to be massive also likes to make you cry from his pumping and that’s when you’re wearing granny panties,” she explains.

“I do not wear granny panties!”

Sunny pats your shoulder empathetically. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Sunny.” You fall over onto her blankets. “Pick for me, this is too overwhelming.”

“Fine. Seriously if your uterus isn’t absolutely broken after this then I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Sunny!”

.

.

This is how you find yourself at Namjoon’s on a Thursday night trying to fight the urge to rip your fancy underwear out your butt crack while making out.

You both reserve Thursday after work-hours for each other because it’s the only viable schedule option you could agree on. There’s also something really hot about knowing you’ve got one night of the week strictly scheduled for Namjoon and only Namjoon, brain unwrinkling from anything that isn’t the touch or smell of your boyfriend. Putting the world on do not disturb as you indulge in whatever activities you have planned.

Tonight’s plan: getting your uterus destroyed as per the wishes of your dear friend.

Namjoon pins you up against the inside of his door, leaves wet kisses in hurried lines across your throat. Before he can get a sneaky hand up your shirt, you breathe, “Um.”

“Mm?” He sucks on the spot behind your ear. 

“I—um. I kind of? Have something to show you first. Uh. If that’s okay.”

Namjoon moves back, eyebrows shooting up. “Oh. Oh—please don’t tell me you got that buttplug with a tail, I was just joking—“

“No!” You heat thinking about that very interesting conversation you had last pillow talk. “Just—ew. No. You wanna give me a second?”

So you make him wait patiently, sitting at the edge of his bed while you scamper off to the bathroom to get undressed for some pep talk in the mirror, because you promised yourself you wouldn’t be like Bella from Breaking Dawn when she tries to pose for Edward on their honeymoon night in her nightgown and it was awkward and you didn’t want Namjoon to laugh at you even though he wouldn’t do that because he’s a nice boyfriend and fucks you in your granny panties and—

You take a big breath in. Look at your boobs sitting nicely in a shiny bra, the fabric of your cheeky underwear stretched over your hips. You can practically hear Sunny now. You’re a weirdo if you think you’re not sexy. Look at you! So scrumptious! Like a sexy little cupcake. (She earned a slap on her arm for that.)

You walk back to Namjoon’s door, and steel yourself.

“I’m coming in now,” you say. You open the door and slot yourself inside against it, trying to fight the urge to make yourself as small as possible so that he doesn’t see, but. He sees, alright.

He doesn’t say anything though. Just keeps his eyes staring a little too long at your cleavage. You swear you see his knuckles twitching.

After another ten seconds of silent ogling, Namjoon starts with: “Please—” his voice cracks— “please come sit. On me. Or my face. Or whatever you want. Oh my god. Come here fast.”

“You like it?” Your feet patter against the floor quickly to make a home out of his lap. “I feel weird.”

“Good weird?”

“Like. Do you think I’m hot?” You whisper.

“I know you feel my boner right now,” Namjoon whines. “Of course I do.”

“Because Sunny thinks I’m obsessed with your cum and that made me feel weird.”

He snorts, tracing the patterns of the lace on top your ass. “I mean—is that such a bad thing?”

“Of course you’d say that, it’s your jizz,” you justify.

“Yeah but I jizz for you, it’s different. Anyway you’re distracting me,” Namjoon says, burying his face in your tits. “One second from busting. Let me eat you out first.”

You don’t refuse. 

When you text Sunny after fucking for two hours, it’s a picture of an ice pack resting on your crotch.