Jungkook + Enemies To Lovers

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.”

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.”

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.”

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

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.”

*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

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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.