Yami Please I Need A Nerdy Fwb Namjoon Who Also Know How To Fuck Good

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.”

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.)