#late nnn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

voyter · 29 days ago

Text

NNN (NO NUT NOVEMBER) ! ... thanksgiving special

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

jungkook and his friends are all in on the internet's most ridiculous trend: no nut november. but you’re determined to make your boyfriend lose — and you know just how to do it.

word count. 8.9k warnings. stupid fucking nnn challenge. JUNGKOOK IS SOOO DRAMATIC IN THIS OML. competitive koo. oc being petty as fuck. oc a brat hehe. jungkook cannot lie to save his life. he fighting demons in his head. needy koo. slight crack. smut. oral (fem!receiving). MUNCH JK. dry humping. blindfolding (very brief lasts like five seconds). koo loves her boobies. unprotected sex. dom!jk (i dont usually like writing him like this but i didnt hate it).

ana's notes. happy (very late) thanksgiving !!! BETTER LATE THAN NEVER RIGHT. this was supposed to be posted after thanksgiving but i got so busy and then the writers block crept up on me :\ .. ANYWAYS i am so grateful for you guys and the support you have shown for my writing, it means a lot since this is a hobby that i love. heres a little silly smutty fic for the holidays !! keep your comments positive or say nothing at all <3

There was this utterly ridiculous trend that resurfaced on the internet like clockwork every year – No Nut November.

The viral phenomenon was a joke. Honestly, who in their right mind would actually take part in such a thing?

Well... Jungkook and his friends would.

Never ones to back down from a challenge, they had turned the trend into a full-blown competition: the last man standing would walk away with a cash prize collected from everyone who failed. And Jungkook? He wasn’t about to lose. Not to his friends. Not to anyone.

It wasn’t like he needed the money. Jungkook was doing just fine in that department, thank you very much. But the satisfaction of watching his friends begrudgingly hand over their hard earned cash, faces red with defeat? Fucking priceless. Count him in.

Unbeknownst to you, the bet was in full effect. Therefore, in preparation for what promised to be a painfully unfulfilling month, Jungkook made the most of Halloween night. His desire was overwhelming as he pulled you into his arms again and again. By the time you were both utterly spent, he’d taken you three times — round after relentless round, ensuring he had no regrets before the clock struck midnight.

It was all part of his plan: to have you as many times as he possibly could before November hit and he couldn’t have you at all. He was dead serious about this challenge. Winning was secondary — what mattered most was that he didn’t lose.

By the first week of November — just five days in — Jungkook had been doing surprisingly well. His restraint was impressive, and he’d managed to keep his touches brief and calculated. The physical contact between you two had been limited to sweet, innocent moments: the kisses you shared when he left and came home from work, the soft pecks exchanged before falling asleep, or the comforting warmth of cuddling. None of it lingered too long, and Jungkook was acutely aware of how easily even the smallest touch could spiral into something much harder to resist.

But Jungkook’s plan didn’t seem to work so well after all. As the week drew closer to its end, you began to get eager.

Your arms would wrap around his waist from behind, your chest pressing against his back as you left featherlight kisses against the nape of his neck. Each one sent a shiver down his spine, your breath warm and teasing against his skin. Your fingers trailed along his arms and shoulders a little longer than usual, like they couldn’t bear to part from him. When you kissed him, your lips lingered just a second too long, brushing against his with a softness that made his heart pound and his resolve crumble.

And Jungkook — poor, stubborn Jungkook — felt the strain of holding himself back with every passing moment.

The tension in his body was unmistakable. His jaw clenched, his hands fisted at his sides, as if anchoring himself in place was the only way to resist you. But it was getting harder. Your every move — a tilt of your head, a brush of your fingers, the soft hum of your laughter — was a calculated test of his willpower.

There were times where his thumb hovered over the group chat. His mind screamed at him to type out the words, to admit defeat, to let it all go so he could have you the way he so desperately craved.

But he didn’t.

He kept his composure, though it was a battle he felt he was losing by the second. Temptation clung to him like a warm, enticing embrace, your every move a test of his self control. You were irresistible, and he knew it. Hell, even the fucking dickwad of a neighbor — the one who always found a reason to greet you while mugging Jungkook — knew it. But as much as he wanted to give in, Jungkook had to tread carefully. Ignoring you completely would be suspicious, and pulling away would be totally out of character. You’d see right through him.

So he found a fine line to walk, a delicate balance: giving you just enough to keep you satisfied while keeping his own burning desires tightly in check. A heated makeout session here, his hand squeezing your ass there — little gestures that made everything feel normal. Just enough to keep you from noticing anything was off, but never enough to let things spiral out of control.

The thought of explaining the ridiculous bet to you was out of the question — he wasn’t about to tell you he’d willingly signed up to not get his cock wet for a whole month. So instead, he silently resolved to endure.

It wasn’t easy. Hell, it was torture. But the thought of losing to his friends? That was even worse. Their smug faces, the relentless teasing — it was unthinkable. Jungkook would rather give himself the worst case of blue balls imaginable than admit defeat.

But just as the next week was about to begin, Jungkook’s willpower met its match.

At night, Jungkook stuck to his usual routine. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and climbed into bed. He scrolled aimlessly through his TikTok for you page, waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom and join him. It was the same comforting ritual as always.

Usually, when you slipped into bed, he’d put his phone down immediately. Without a word, he’d shift closer, press his chest to your back, tangle your legs together, and throw a protective arm over your waist. It was an unspoken rhythm you both loved, the closeness of his warmth pulling you both into peaceful sleep.

But tonight, something felt different.

It had been a long week — too long. You hadn’t had him, hadn’t felt his touch, hadn’t been able to drown in the comfort of him. And tonight, the ache of missing him was unbearable. You needed him, desperately.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the soft light from the lamp illuminated him sprawled across the bed. His focus was on his phone, completely oblivious to you — but your attention was elsewhere.

The thin material of his sweatpants did nothing to hide the outline of his cock, pressing firmly against the fabric as he lay there in complete ease. It was almost unfair how effortlessly attractive he looked.

And just like that, the last of your restraint snapped.

You didn’t even try to play coy. Not tonight. Not when every fiber of your being screamed for him, for his touch, for his warmth.

You crawled onto the bed with purpose, straddling his hips in one smooth motion. Jungkook tensed beneath you, his phone slipping from his hand onto the mattress. His dark eyes met yours, wide with surprise, but the second your lips captured his, you felt him relax into the kiss.

It didn’t take long for your lips to wander. From his mouth to his jaw, each kiss slower and deeper than the last. That’s when he knew.

This wasn’t going to end with a few kisses.

“It’s getting late,” he murmured, his voice breathy, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your lips trailing down his neck, suckling gently at the spot you knew made him shudder.

“We should go to sleep,” he tried again, though his words sounded more like a plea than an order.

“Don’t wanna,” you whispered against his skin, your hand sliding down between your bodies, cupping the hardening length beneath his sweatpants.

The guttural moan that tore from his lips was instant, raw, and uncontrollable. His reaction was visceral, his hands flying to your hips to still you, but it was too late. That single touch had ignited something primal in him.

With a sudden movement, he flipped you onto your back, his hands capturing your wrists and pinning them firmly above your head.

“Why do you never listen to me?” he said through clenched teeth. His frustration of trying to compose his restraint thinning. Why won’t you let him win? His face was so close to yours that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips.

“Love pissing you off,” you shot back, your grin wicked as your eyes gleamed with mischief. You tilted your head slightly, your voice dropping into something softer, sultrier. “Makes me wet.”

“Brat,” he spat. His grip on your wrists tightened just slightly, his jaw clenching as if holding himself back took everything he had.

To you, it was all in good fun — a playful game, harmless teasing. But to Jungkook? It was sweet, unrelenting torment. Every kiss you pressed to his skin, every soft laugh that spilled from your lips, and every calculated touch you offered worked to chip away at his resolve, unraveling him one agonizing piece at a time.

He wanted to be strong, to resist, to uphold his own ridiculous self imposed boundaries. But how could he? How could he lay down beside you and simply go to sleep when your every movement, every sound, every look begged him to surrender? His body betrayed him first, drawn to you like a magnet, unable to keep his distance. The tension in his muscles, the sharp hitch of his breath every time you touched him — it all screamed of a man teetering on the edge of self control.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, taking in the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts innocent and dangerous. He hated how much you affected him, but at the same time, he craved it. Every fiber of his being ached for you — your warmth, your softness, the way you felt against him. He knew he was doomed the second you whispered his name, voice laced with need.

Giving in wasn’t just inevitable; it was everything he wanted. And as much as he’d tried to fight it, there was no denying you. Not now, not ever.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with a pain so desperate it borders on pitiful. His head drops, forehead pressing against your sternum, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. It’s as if he’s trying to ground himself, clinging to the fragile threads of control slipping through his fingers.

For a moment, he stays there, his breath warm against your skin, his body taut with tension. Then, slowly, he lifts his head, meeting your gaze with eyes darkened by lust and want, swirling with a need so intense it makes your stomach all jittery. His cheeks are flushed, the faintest rosy tint blooming across his face and staining the tips of his ears. He looks utterly undone, vulnerable in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

Before he could think twice, his lips crashed against yours in a feverish kiss, devouring you like you were his favorite candy — sweet, irresistible, and utterly addictive. He poured everything into that kiss, every ounce of frustration and need, as if losing himself in you was the only thing that mattered.

His lips began to trail south, brushing along the curve of your jaw before dipping down to the sensitive hollow of your neck. Each press of his lips left a trail of heat on your skin, and your breath hitched, a soft sound that sent a rush of satisfaction through him. He didn’t stop, didn’t falter as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt — no, his shirt. You always stole his shirts for bed, and as much as he teased you about it, he loved seeing you in them.

He pulled the fabric up, lifting it just beneath your chin and exposing your bare chest. Your breasts, freed from the confines of the shirt, bounced softly back into place, and Jungkook’s breath caught. His dark eyes locked onto the sight, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his hands instinctively cupped them, squeezing gently, pushing them together as if appreciating every inch of you.

Unable to stop himself, he buried his face in the softness, his nose stuffed in between your tits, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Kook!” you giggled, your voice light and teasing, pulling him back just slightly from the haze of his desire. Your hands reached down, cupping his face and tilting it upward until his eyes met yours.

“Prettiest titties ever,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. He leaned forward to press a tender kiss to one breast, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your lips curved into a warm smile, and your thumb traced softly over the scar on the apple of his cheek. The tender moment was fleeting, though, as Jungkook’s mouth found its way to your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples. His tongue flicked against the sensitive peak, drawing a sharp wave of pleasure through your body. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying — and failing — to stifle the moan that bubbled in your throat.

Your hands moved instinctively, brushing back the dark strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Your touch was soft, almost reverent, as you gazed down at him. The sight of Jungkook — cheeks flushed, lashes kissing his cheeks as he lost himself in you, his lips tugging gently at your sensitive flesh — made your heart race and your body ache with want.

He let out a low hum against your skin, the vibration sending a delicious shiver cascading down your spine. His tongue swirled around your nipple with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion igniting sparks of pleasure that left you breathless. His focus was unrelenting, his attention on you so singular it made your toes curl. The warmth of his saliva mixed with the heat of your skin, creating a sensation that was utterly intoxicating.

You let out a quiet gasp, your fingers tugging gently at his raven hair, earning a soft groan from him in response. Jungkook didn’t stop, his lips worshiping you like you were the only thing that mattered.

But as his mouth continued its ministrations, Jungkook couldn’t ignore the ache building in him. His cock throbbed, painfully hard and straining against his sweats, begging for relief. The urge to push everything aside and lose himself in you was overwhelming.

Maybe he could lose. Maybe he could just not tell them.

No. That wasn’t fair, and Jungkook hated lying — especially to his best friends.

But fuck, you weren’t making this easy for him.

With your pretty, soft boobs. Your sweet, irresistible lips. The way you tasted, the way you sounded.

He released your nipple with an audible pop, leaving your skin glistening and flushed from his attention. His lips lingered, warm and damp, as if tethered by an invisible string, reluctant to part. Then, slowly, he began his descent, tracing a line of soft, deliberate kisses down your stomach. Each press of his lips was unhurried, almost worshipful, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as anticipation tightened in your core.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, his movements paused. His lips hovered just above the fabric, warm breath teasing your skin. He glanced up at you, eyes hooded and dark with want, as if searching your face for permission to continue. The moment felt suspended, heavy with tension, before he shifted his attention lower, redirecting his kisses to the delicate, sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

His pace was maddening, each kiss a whisper against your skin, igniting every nerve and sending shivers rippling through you. His lips barely grazed you, his touch so featherlight it felt almost cruel, building the pressure inside you until it was nearly unbearable.

Then he saw it. The damp patch on your panties. His movements stilled for a moment, the sight pulling a soft moan from his lips, thick with need.

"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath, as if meant more for himself than for you. His voice was strained, low and raw, betraying the war raging inside him.

You were blissfully unaware of the full weight of his internal struggle, the impossible battle between his ironclad resolve and the magnetic pull of you beneath him. But for Jungkook, this wasn’t just lust; it was a consuming craving, threatening to shatter the very challenge he'd sworn to uphold.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, his touch firm yet tantalizingly gentle as he began to slide them down your thighs. The soft fabric dragged against your skin with agonizing slowness, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. When the panties finally slipped off and landed somewhere forgotten on the floor, his gaze dropped to the apex of your thighs, and a deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest.

Your pussy glistened in the dim light, your slick coating your folds, the evidence of your desire laid bare before him. Jungkook's tongue darted out to wet his lips as impatience flickered in his eyes. Without hesitation, he leaned in, starting with slow, deliberate licks, savoring the taste of you like a man starving.

Your breath hitched, a shudder racing through you as you glanced down at him. His dark eyes locked with yours for a brief, smoldering moment before he closed his lips around your swollen clit, sucking gently yet firmly.

A moan tore from your throat as your head tipped back, your fingers instinctively finding one of your breasts. You cupped the soft mound, your palm pressing into the supple flesh. The room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and the wet, sinful noises of his tongue working you over.

Jungkook's hand shot up, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist as he yanked it away from your breast. He possessively replaced your hand with his own. His large, tattooed hand cupped your tit, kneading the soft flesh with a firm yet reverent touch.

He lifted his head from between your thighs, his lips glistening with your slick, and his heated gaze met yours. Without a word, his free hand slid down, his middle and ring fingers gliding through your folds with expert precision. He paused for a moment, his fingers coated in your arousal, before pressing them slowly inside you.

Your breath hitched at the delicious stretch, your sopping wet heat greedily sucking him in with ease. A low, satisfied hum rumbled in his throat as he watched your body respond to his touch.

“So fucking wet," he whispered, voice thick with lust. His fingers curled slightly, stroking your walls with an unrelenting precision that had your thighs trembling.

Jungkook leaned back down, his lips latching onto your clit with a hunger that made your thighs quiver. He sucked and flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud, the wet, rhythmic sounds driving you wild. His fingers continued to thrust in and out of you, the steady, deliberate pace sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body as he curled them just right, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

His other hand stayed on your breast, groping and kneading with a firm possessiveness that left you aching for more. His thumb brushed over your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

He was everywhere — on you, in you, surrounding you. The intensity of his touch, his mouth, and his presence consumed you entirely, leaving you trembling under him as he worked your body like he was born to do it. You could feel the tension building, the coiling heat low in your belly threatening to snap as he devoured you like a man obsessed.

“Baby,” you whimper, your voice trembling, raw with need as your fingers twist into the sheets beneath you. “G- gonna cum.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down or falter. If anything, your words fuel him, igniting something feral inside him. He needs this — needs to feel you fall apart on his tongue, to taste every shiver and moan you can give him before he has to deny you for the rest of this painfully long month.

A low hum vibrates against your clit, and the sensation sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your body arching instinctively toward him. His tongue moves faster now, precise and unrelenting, flicking and circling as if the very act is his lifeline.

His fingers thrust into you, curling just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your vision blur. The rhythm is perfect, practiced, like he’s mapping your body by memory, knowing exactly how to coax you to the edge.

Another hum escapes his throat, deeper this time, resonating against you with an intensity that feels almost like a plea — an unspoken command for you to let go, to surrender completely to the pressure building inside you.

And with each stroke of his tongue and every curl of his fingers, he pushes you closer, until you’re teetering on the brink, your body burning with the promise of release.

His hand on your breast squeezes more firmly, his thumb flicking and pinching your nipple with just the right pressure, as if he knows exactly how to push you over the edge. Your hand shoots up to grab his wrist, your nails digging into his skin, while your other hand fists the sheets desperately.

Your head tips back, lips parting in a silent, breathless moan as the tension inside you finally snaps. Your thighs instinctively begin to close around Jungkook’s head, trembling as your release crashes over you in wave after blissful wave.

Your body shakes beneath him, overcome by the force of your orgasm, but Jungkook doesn’t stop. His mouth continues its sinful work on your clit, sucking and licking with unrelenting precision, while his fingers maintain their steady thrusts.

Despite the painful, throbbing ache of his cock, Jungkook finds a twisted kind of satisfaction in giving you pleasure. The way your body arches, the sounds you make, the way your nails dig into the sheets — it’s intoxicating. It fuels him, spurring him on as though your ecstasy alone is enough to soothe his own torment.

He doesn’t want to stop. Not when you’re trembling beneath him, your body so responsive to his every touch. But there’s a limit to how much you can take, and he knows it. As much as he loves pushing you to the edge, watching as you surrender completely to him, overstimulation begins to creep in, your soft whimpers turning into desperate little gasps.

Still, there’s a reluctance in him, a battle between the unyielding need to give you more and the understanding that your body can only handle so much. Even as you writhe beneath him, pleading for reprieve, there’s a part of him that aches to keep going, to hold onto this connection for just a moment longer.

But he’s Jungkook, and if there’s one thing he values more than his own desires, it’s you. The sight of you trembling, your chest heaving as you fight to steady your breath, tugs at something deeper within him. He takes a deep breath, the taste of you lingering on his tongue, and finally, he pulls back.

His lips and chin are glistening with your slick, a sinful testament to his devotion. He doesn’t bother wiping it away; instead, he leans over you, his eyes dark and heavy with satisfaction as they roam your flushed face.

“Munch,” you giggle, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers brush his hair back from his forehead.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep and warm, scrunching his nose in playful protest. His pretty bunny-like teeth peek out in a smile so endearing it makes your heart skip a beat.

Unable to resist, you lean in, pressing your lips against his. Your tongue brushes against his, exploring him as the taste of you still lingers on his lips. The kiss grows deeper, more heated, and you feel his hard-on pressing insistently against your thigh.

Without a second thought, your hand slides down, grabbing his cock through the fabric of his pants. He groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating between you.

“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, breaking the kiss as he pulls away, the warmth of his lip still lingering on yours. He stands, his movements abrupt, leaving you breathless on the bed. His lips, swollen and glistening faintly in the dim light, speak to the intensity of your embrace, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours. Instead, it darts away, like a guilty child caught red-handed. He scratches the back of his head, his posture stiff as he moves toward the bathroom door. “I think I’m gonna go shower,” he blurts out, the tension in his voice betraying his attempt at casualness.

Shower? Now? Really? His dick is literally straining against his sweats, the outline unmistakable, practically begging for attention. You can still feel the heat of him pressed against you, the way he twitched beneath you just moments ago.

He’s not serious. There’s absolutely no fucking way.

“What?” Genuine confusion coats your tone, your brows furrowed. “You always shower in the mornings.”

“I- I know, baby,” he stammers, his pitch climbing an octave as his composure unravels faster than a poorly wrapped gift. Panic flashes in his wide eyes, and his mouth hangs open, grasping for an excuse he clearly doesn’t have.

“Then what’s wrong?” you ask, your softer now, a thread of worry weaving through your tone. You sit up, the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him slipping down your chest, covering your boobs he wished he could stare at for just a second longer. “Is something going on?”

“I-” His eyes dart around the room like the answer might be written on the walls. “I’m just tired.”

Your brow arches, skepticism written all over your face. “Tired?” you echo, your face scrunching in disbelief. “You’ve never not wanted to have sex.”

Jungkook visibly winces, his ears turning a bright shade of red. Rising from the bed like it might help, he sits at the edge, his hand nervously brushing your shin. “I- I had a long day at work.”

You tilt your head. “But you love having sex after a long day,” you say, your voice tinged with confusion. “Jungkook, seriously… what’s wrong?”

He freezes, like a deer caught in headlights, his lips parting in silent panic. “Nothing!” he squeaks, his voice cracking.

You lean closer, your suspicion mounting. “Well it’s clearly something! Do I not smell good?”

His head whips toward you, his face a mixture of offense and horror. “What? You smell amazing!” he practically yells, his voice high-pitched. “Honey, I could eat you all day if you’d let me!”

“Then why are you running off like this?”

“I’m not running!” he protests, though the crack in his voice suggests otherwise. “I just- uh- need to clear my head!”

“Clear your head?” you ask, squinting at him. “From what?”

“All the thinking I’ve been doing!” he exclaims, clearly grasping at straws. “It’s... exhausting.”

You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?”

His mouth opens, but words fail him. After a moment of floundering, he groans, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands. “You’re impossible,” he mumbles, his voice muffled behind his palms.

“And you’re a terrible liar,” you fire back. “Spill it. What’s really going on?”

He exhales deeply, dragging his hands down his face in defeat before clasping them together in front of him as if in prayer. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m trying so hard right now,” he mutters finally, his voice low and desperate, “and you’re not making it easy.”

“Trying hard to what?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

“To not combust right now!” he exclaims, his voice rough with need. His eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “You’re killing me, babe. Just... let me shower first, and then let’s just have a good night, okay?” His breath hitches, barely able to keep his composure as he watches you, a mixture of desperation and affection in his gaze.

You blink at him, your mouth slightly open, trying to piece together his words. Before you can say anything, he kisses you once more, the movement rushed and almost sheepish.

“Go to bed, honey,” he says, practically bolting for the bathroom. “I love you!”

The door shut behind him with a sharp, decisive click, followed by the distinct sound of the lock turning. It was jarring — Jungkook never locked the door. There was no reason to; it was just the two of you living together, no one else to intrude. The realization sank in quickly, a bitter confirmation that this time, he was actively shutting you out, trying to keep you from coming in and uncovering whatever was weighing on him. You sat there, frozen, staring at the closed door in stunned silence.

Whatever it was, one thing was clear — you weren’t letting this slide. You were going to figure out what was going on with your boyfriend if it was the last thing you did.

After that night, you kept your distance.

Jungkook hated it. He hated the silence, the lack of your warmth, the way you avoided his touch. But he couldn’t blame you. He knew he was the root of the problem — he had fucked up that night. He should’ve been smoother, handled it better, but he completely blew it. Jungkook was good at many things. Lying was not one of them.

For a few days, you gave him the silent treatment. When he leaned in for a kiss before heading to work, you turned your face, leaving him with nothing but a peck on your cheek. The lack of communication was agonizing, eating away at him every time he caught your cold glances. But you were petty as fuck, and he knew it. You weren’t about to kiss his ass — not when it was obvious he’d lied to you that night. If he didn’t want to talk to you, then you weren’t going to talk to him.

When you were alone — at work, lying in bed, or just lost in thought — your mind spiraled. What could he possibly be hiding? The thought haunted you, gnawing at the edges of your sanity. Was he cheating on you? The idea felt impossible, unthinkable. Your Jungkook would never… or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. But his strange behavior, the evasiveness, planted seeds of doubt you couldn’t ignore. The very thought made you feel sick to your stomach, but the ache of curiosity refused to leave you alone.

You needed answers. And if Jungkook wasn’t going to give them to you, you decided to go to the one person who knew him best.

you [3:15 pm]: what is wrong with my boyfriend ??

jimin [3:17 pm]: That sounds like a question you should be asking your boyfriend, don't you think?

you [3:17 pm]: I KNOW YOU KNOW SOMETHING.

jimin [3:18 pm]: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT???

you [3:18 pm]: whats her name

jimin [3:18 pm]: Who??

you [3:19 pm]: HIS SIDE BITCH

jimin [3:19 pm]: GIRL WHAT

jimin [3:19 pm]: You think he’s cheating on you?

you [3:23 pm]: is he ?? just tell me so i can save myself the humiliation pls

jimin [3:23 pm]: Bro no he would never

jimin [3:23 pm]: I’d chop his dick off and then kill the girl if he did

jimin [3:23 pm]: What makes you even think that in the first place?

you [3:24 pm]: hes acting weirdddd :(

you [3:24 pm]: i was trying to fuck him a few nights ago but he wouldnt let me touch him

jimin [3:25 pm]: First of all ew

jimin [3:25 pm]: Second of all

you [3:28 pm]: SECOND OF ALL ????

jimin [3:30 pm]: 😂😂😂

If you weren’t pissed at Jungkook before, you definitely were now.

After talking to Jimin, you finally learned the truth about the challenge. It wasn’t even the fact that Jungkook had hidden it from you that irritated you most — it was the challenge itself and his ridiculous competitive spirit. Why did he have to be such a sore loser?

According to Jimin, five of the seven participants had already been knocked out. Seokjin and Yoongi, being married men, didn’t stand a chance — they were bound to lose. Namjoon, like Jungkook, was in a committed relationship, but unlike him, Namjoon had the good sense not to put himself through that kind of pain just to preserve his pride. Hoseok and Taehyung? They were notorious party addicts — losing was inevitable for them.

Now, it was down to just Jungkook and Jimin. And, of course, Jungkook’s competitive streak wouldn’t let him back down, no matter how ridiculous the stakes were. The thought made your blood boil. How could he have dragged himself — and by extension, you — into this mess?

You didn’t confront Jungkook about what you’d learned from Jimin, though you did drop the silent treatment act. Instead, you decided to take a different approach — one far more devious than simply ignoring him.

Even with the heater running, the November chill still lingered in the air, but it didn’t stop you from dressing provocatively around the apartment. You roamed in short shorts, sometimes just your underwear, paired with a silk camisole that left little to the imagination. The thin fabric did nothing to hide your hard nipples, which poked against the material as you moved about. Jungkook would notice, of course — he’d grope your ass or give you a quick kiss goodbye before heading to work — but that was it.

When he was away, whether at work or hanging out with his friends, you upped the ante. You sent him pictures of yourself in matching lingerie sets, always in his favorite color, knowing how much he loved them. Sometimes you sent something more daring — nudes that left nothing to the imagination. Usually, those photos had him texting back immediately, promising to deal with you as soon as he got home.

But this time, his responses were different. Short. Terse. Instead of giving in, he’d simply tell you to stop.

Frustration boiled over each time you read his dismissive replies. You groaned and threw your phone onto the bed in defeat. Why wouldn’t he just give in already? You wanted him so badly, and you refused to even touch yourself because what you craved was him — his hands, his mouth, his dick.

If teasing him over the phone wasn’t working, you decided it was time to take things up a notch. One night, when you heard the shower running, you didn’t hesitate. Stripping off your clothes, you quietly stepped into the bathroom. The steam swirled around you as you opened the shower door and stepped in.

Jungkook froze the moment he saw you. His wide eyes scanned you from head to toe, lingering on your curves as if he hadn’t seen them countless times before. His jaw tightened, his chest heaving as his restraint wavered. Then, with a groan of frustration, he threw his head back against the shower wall, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to block out the temptation in front of him.

Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

Despite his impressive self-control, his body betrayed him. His cock stood stiff and proud between you, a silent plea for attention. But no matter how much you pressed closer, your skin grazing his, or how boldly you touched yourself in front of him, he didn’t break.

With a stoic determination that only fueled your frustration, he focused on washing off, his movements precise and distant, as though ignoring the tension hanging thick in the air. And just when you hoped he’d finally push past his limits, he’d step out of the shower, leaving you behind in the steam, your desire unfulfilled.

It was maddening. Teasing him was supposed to work — it always worked. And while you were determined to push him until he snapped, you had to admit, his composure was far better than you’d anticipated.

It was just days before Thanksgiving, which meant this painfully long month was finally nearing its end. But you were done waiting. Done teasing. The ache in your body had grown unbearable, a constant, gnawing need for him that no amount of patience could soothe.

You were going to have him tonight, or you were going to actually die.

Jungkook had a day off tomorrow, so he was sprawled on the couch, completely absorbed in his Nintendo game. His focus was unwavering, his brows furrowed in concentration as the soft clicks of the buttons filled the room.

Dressed in a matching lacy black set that left little to the imagination, you moved silently behind him, your determination unwavering. Gently, you placed your hands on his broad shoulders, your fingertips tracing soft patterns over the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance up, much too engrossed in the virtual world on his screen.

But then you leaned down, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. The soft, teasing kisses trailed along his skin, featherlight yet deliberate, leaving a warm path behind. You felt the slightest hitch in his breathing, a telltale sign that despite his effort to remain focused, you were beginning to unravel him.

His eyes fluttered shut, his focus on the game completely shattered as his head tipped to the side, exposing more of his neck to your eager lips. His lips parted, heavy breaths escaping him, each exhale laced with a vulnerability you rarely saw.

“Baby…” he moaned breathily, his voice low and strained, warning you.

“Shh,” you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. Your voice was soft, commanding, and it sent a shiver rippling through him. You felt his resolve beginning to crack, the tension in his body shifting as your hands slid down, teasing the line between tenderness and temptation.

Pulling away, you reached for the tie you had stolen from his drawer earlier. With a deliberate slowness, you brought it up to his eyes, slipping it over and covering his vision.

“What-” he began, his voice tinged with confusion as his hands instinctively moved to stop you.

But you were quicker, gripping his wrists to still him. Leaning in close, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “I know about your stupid challenge, Jungkook.”

His body tensed beneath you, the air between you heavy with tension. His breaths came uneven now, a mixture of guilt, surprise, and something else simmering just beneath the surface.

“Let me explain-” he started, his voice edged with desperation.

“No,” you cut him off, your tone firm but quiet. “It’s too late for that now.”

You secured the tie around his eyes, knotting it with careful precision. The soft fabric sat snugly against his skin, cloaking his vision completely. His lips parted as if to protest, but he stopped himself, seemingly caught between resisting and surrendering to whatever you had planned.

Rounding the couch, you reached down and plucked the device from his hands, setting it aside on the coffee table without a second thought. His body went rigid beneath you, his breath hitching as you settled in. The unmistakable hardness of his cock pressed against you, igniting a spark of satisfaction that curled your lips into a smirk. Slowly, you began to move, rocking your hips against his in steady, purposeful motions, grinding into him just enough to draw a reaction.

“Do you know how much I missed you, Kook?” you murmured, your voice dripping with need as your lips hovered near his ear. “Missed your pretty cock… my fingers could never give me the satisfaction you do.”

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, the silver of his piercings glinting under the warm light, drawing your eyes like a magnet. That perfect little mole just beneath his lip was on full display, a teasing reminder of how irresistible he looked like this — teetering on the edge of control.

His lips parted as a soft, breathy moan escaped, the sound low and unrestrained. It sent a shiver straight through you. His hands, no longer hesitant, slid to your hips, gripping firmly as he guided your movements. Each roll of your hips against his was deliberate, his touch coaxing you to grind harder, deeper, until the friction was almost too much to bear.

You hooked a finger into the fabric covering his eyes, tugging it free with a teasing slowness. His lashes fluttered as he blinked, his vision gradually clearing — and then he saw you. Nothing but his favorite set of yours graced your body, clinging to your curves in all the right ways.

A low, breathless please escaped his lips, muttered more to himself than to you, as if trying desperately to maintain his composure. His eyes squeezed shut, and he turned his head away, a feeble attempt to resist you.

But you weren’t having that. Your hand shot out, firm but gentle, cupping his chin and turning his face back toward you. His eyes snapped open, dark and hungry, as you reached behind you, unclasping the delicate hook of your bra. The straps slipped from your arms, the fabric discarded behind you without a care.

Your hands came up, cupping your bare breasts, teasing yourself as his gaze darkened. His restraint frayed before your eyes as his hips bucked up into yours, seeking friction, a desperate need taking over. His jaw tightened, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a clear sign of how much he craved you.

Those should be his hands, not yours.

His hand twitched, reaching out instinctively, but you caught his wrist, guiding it purposefully down your body. Your gaze never wavered from his, locking him in place as you slid his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, and his breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were. The slickness coated your plush lips, a testament to how badly you wanted him.

“Honey…” he warned, his voice shaky and breathless, teetering on the edge of control.

“Please, Kook,” you whispered, your tone laced with desperation. “Fuck me tonight, or I’ll lose my mind. It’s been weeks. Don’t you miss me as much as I miss you?”

Your plea hung between you, thick with need and longing. His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle playing out in his dark eyes as his fingers twitched against you, his restraint unraveling with each passing second.

How was he supposed to get up and walk away with his cock straining painfully against his sweats, and you like this, laid out before him? His hand was still buried in your underwear, fingers sliding effortlessly over your slick folds, forming a V as they trailed up and found your clit. His jaw clenched at the way your body shuddered beneath his touch, the quiet moan slipping from your lips like a siren’s call.

And then there was you — your smaller hands kneading your soft, perfect tits, the ones he loved so much, the sight alone nearly undoing him. The way you whimpered, the way your body responded to him, had his restraint crumbling to dust.

This was it — his breaking point.

He didn’t care about the fucking challenge anymore. Nothing mattered except you.

It was like a switch flipped inside him. In a sudden, fluid motion, he grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly as he laid you down on the couch. His broad frame hovered above you, the way you’d missed for so long. His dark eyes were locked onto yours, blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

He didn’t waste time. You were already soaked, your body more than ready for him. No need for extra preparation — he knew he’d slide right in. With one hand, he freed his cock, giving it a few languid strokes, his eyes never leaving yours. He hooked a finger under the edge of your panties, tugging them to the side, baring your pretty, dripping pussy. He couldn’t wait to get inside it. The flushed tip glistened, teasing your entrance for a heartbeat before he pressed forward, the head sinking in.

A sharp gasp escaped both your lips, the shared sensation so overwhelming it felt as if you were experiencing each other for the first time all over again. Jungkook moved slowly at first, his cock stretching you inch by inch, filling you with deliberate care. His brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened as he savored every moment, every inch of warmth he’d been denying himself for far too long.

But restraint wasn’t his strong suit tonight. The need coursing through him was too much to bear. His movements quickened, his hips snapping forward with purpose. The wet, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin filled the room as his pelvis slapped against the back of your thighs. The steady rhythm of his thrusts deepened, each one more urgent than the last, driving both of you closer to the edge.

His upper body lifted off of you, and with a swift motion, he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his broad, muscular frame sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. He was absolutely stunning, every inch of him on display — his skin glowing under the dim light.

His arm was covered in intricate tattoos, the ink curling around his bicep like a story you wanted to read. His chest was thick and broad, with a layer of muscle that made your fingers itch to trace every curve. His arms were solid and meaty, a strength you could feel even from just looking at him.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your hand moved instinctively, running down the defined lines of his chest, your fingers grazing over the hard muscles of his stomach. His abs flexed beneath your touch, tense and firm, the warmth of his skin sending a wave of desire crashing through you. The simple touch made you want more, made you crave everything he had to offer.

But now it was Jungkook's turn to take control. With a swift motion, he caught your wrist, his grip firm as he seized your other arm and pinned it above your head. The dominance in his touch was undeniable, and you knew exactly what that meant. He always did this when he wanted to take over, to remind you who was in charge.

His hands moved quickly, grabbing one of your legs and effortlessly throwing it over his shoulder. You gasped at the sudden shift, your body bent in half, your chest pressed against him, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin as he studied you.

A small whimper escaped your lips at the stretch, your body not as flexible as you'd like, but that discomfort was fleeting. It quickly morphed into something else — pleasure, intense and consuming — as his brutal thrusts began again, filling you completely.

He was relentless, each movement pulling another gasp from you. His breath came out in ragged bursts, his voice low and laced with command. "You never listen to me, do you? Huh, you brat?" His words were a breathy growl, like a warning. "Just had to get fucked."

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind completely consumed by the overwhelming pleasure. Every inch of your body was alive with sensation, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. Instead, soft moans and breathless hums spilled from your lips, your chest rising and falling rapidly as his thrusts deepened, each one hitting you harder than the last.

Your body arched into him instinctively, eager to feel more, to give in to the rhythm he set. The tension was building, spiraling higher and higher with each movement, each sound leaving your mouth a mix of pleasure and need. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the way he was making you feel, his hands and his body taking you exactly how he wanted.

"You made this so hard for me, baby." His voice was breathless, low and laced with desire as his thrusts didn’t falter. "Can’t resist you. Too fucking pretty to not touch." He spoke as though he couldn’t control himself, his words slipping out between harsh breaths, his hands gripping your body with barely restrained urgency.

“M’already so close, Kook,” you moaned, your voice shaky with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. The pressure inside you was building, so close to release, but you needed him to push you over the edge.

“Yeah?” His gaze darkened, his hips snapping into yours with even more force. “Show me. Let me feel you, please.” His words were more than a plea — they were a command, a desperate need for you to let go so he could feel every inch of your pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt you. He wants to feel you. Needs to feel you.

With each punishing thrust, your breasts bounce uncontrollably, catching Jungkook's undivided attention. His hooded eyes are glued to them, pupils blown wide with lust, as if he's seeing something so utterly captivating it leaves him in a trance. The way they move, the way your body responds to him — it’s driving him wild. His tongue flicks over his lips as he lets out a low groan, jaw tightening, the need to mark you overwhelming every coherent thought.

You gasp sharply, a broken moan escaping your lips as your orgasm slams into you with ferocious intensity. Your body arches off the couch, your hands still pinned above your head as waves of euphoria ripple through you. Your head tilts back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of your neck, and your chest heaves as you ride out the high.

Jungkook growls when he feels your walls clench down on him, the tight grip almost sending him over the edge. “Oh, yeah,” he rasps, voice rough and deep, his hips grinding against you. “That’s it. Just like that... so fucking good.”

But he doesn’t slow down. If anything, his pace quickens, the desperate need for his own release taking over. Each thrust is brutal, precise, and deliberate, as if he’s claiming every part of you, chasing that high he knows is just within reach. His grip on your hips is bruising, holding you in place as he slams into you again and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.

Finally, with a strained groan, he pulls out abruptly, his cock slick and throbbing in his hand. He strokes himself hard, the sight of your trembling, sweat slick body beneath him sending him over the edge. His release comes in hot, thick ropes, splattering across your stomach and tits in messy, deliberate streaks.

He lets out a guttural moan, chest heaving as he watches his cum paint you like a masterpiece, dripping down your skin in glistening trails. His hand slows, and his eyes never leave the sight of you — glistening, marked, and utterly his.

Once he milks every last drop of his release, he does something that shouldn't be as devastatingly sexy as it is. Leaning down, his gaze locked onto yours with a feral intensity, he drags his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your stomach, collecting his own cum. The heat of his mouth follows, traveling upward until he captures a nipple between his lips, sucking and swirling his tongue with maddening precision.

You giggle, your face flushing with heat as he releases your nipple and makes his way up to your lips. The moment his mouth connects with yours, you taste his cum on his tongue, and you can't help but moan softly into the kiss. He pulls back, resting his head on your chest with a contented sigh.

“Can’t believe you made me lose. I was so close,” he sulks, his voice laced with playful frustration.

“Jimin texted me. He gave in yesterday. You won,” you tease, your fingers softly running through his hair.

His head shoots up quickly, eyes wide like a dog hearing its name. “Seriously?”

You nod, giggling softly at his excitement.

Without warning, he stands up from the couch, pulling you with him. He scoops you up by your thighs, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You squeal, half-laughing, half-terrified, “What are you doing?!”

“Making up,” he grins, his voice low with promise as he strides toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna fuck you all night.”

The door clicks shut behind you, the remnants of your clothes scattered haphazardly in the living room, and the night unfurls into a whirlwind of heated kisses and passion that sweeps you both away. Jungkook’s teasing words and touch keep you on edge, but it’s the way he makes you feel — desired, cherished, and completely consumed by him — that transforms the night into something unforgettable.

You knew that this Friendsgiving would be one for the books. Jungkook wasn’t going to let any of the guys forget it. Always the bragger, that one. He’d be sure to shove it in their faces every chance he got.

And he might have won the bet, but it’s you who’s the true victor tonight.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine

3K notes · View notes

endereies · 2 months ago

Text

JUST NEED YOU - CS

No Nut November - Day 3

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ After a long day, Chris goes to you for comfort

Being awake late into the night repeatedly created such a messed-up sleep schedule and it was taking its toll. Ever since the triplets made a new schedule to fit around meetings and events, they found themselves filming into the dark hours of the day so that they could publish a higher quality video.

Chris was always energetic, and he portrayed that during every free opportunity. However, today was slightly different. Him and his brothers planned a stream about midday, along with a late filming session. Nothing he couldn’t handle until his team wanted to have a sudden meeting about his upcoming Fresh Love merch drop. It was early in the day compared to what he was used to.

The meeting wasn’t anything special, but it cut into the hours of rest he hoped would get him through the day. He wasn’t even sure of the meeting wasn’t necessary or a topic that couldn’t be discussed over a few strings of emails.

Then the streaming session followed. So many interactive tasks messed with his brain. Reading out the subs, communicating with the chat, following the requests, playing games while having to make the content engaging with commentary, it was becoming too much. Everything started to blur together, and his brothers could see that. They picked up on the subtle changes of their brother and brought the stream to a close.

“You going to be okay for filming dude?” Matt’s voice caught his attention and dragged it away from the day dream he didn’t even know he was having,

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just a little tired but I’m fine. I’ll grab an energy drink or something.” He shrugs, hiding the mental exhaustion on his face behind a meek smile. His brothers chose not to bring it up again and trust Chris with his words.

“Alright then, see you later.” Chris mumbled a goodbye to Nick, leaving the room to grab a drink from their fridge. The crack of the can giving him some hope that he’d feel more awake. But that’s the opposite of what happened.

The triplets had scheduled a car video for this Friday and if Nick wanted to have it edited by then, they had to film tonight. He was sat in the passenger seat, his third drink laying in the centre console. The filming started promising. Even with no topic, they each found small topics of conversation to entertain. He felt the drinks start to wear off and he couldn’t help but feel more agitated. Bantar turned into insults and left his mouth before he could process. Guilt filled his stomach as more words came out, eventually falling to silence.

When the camera finally stopped showing the red light, Chris sunk into his seat. Overstimulation ran through him by now and he hated it. Every cell in his body practically vibrated and he didn’t feel okay.

“Matt?” He offered a sincere tone to his brother, not opening his eyes while he leant back.

Matt glanced over to his body, evidently full of fatigue. “Yeah buddy?”

“Could you drop me at y/n’s house, please.” His brain felt fuzzy, he needed to just take his mind off his life for a moment. With his own home full of cameras, social media plans and reminders of what he had to do next, he needed a secondary. Your place held sanction to everything that made Chris feel calmer, safer. Away from cameras, away from his job and into your arms. When Matt hummed in response the car grew silent once more. Relief flooded him and a gracious smile twitched at his lips.

Neither Nick nor Matt uttered a word about the situation to Chris. They understood. There had been times where both of them had been in the same boat. The weren’t about to ridicule and tease Chris for that. Chris was just staring out the window at this point, falling silent which allowed the aux’s music to be heard. His eyes traced the painted lines on the road awaiting the moment those lines turned into the gravel of your drive way.

Chris knew you were home, he had been on and off messaging all day. Every few hours he’d receive a text from you just asking about his day. It wasn’t uncommon for Chris to seek your attention after a harsh day, today was no different.

He found himself stood in front of your door for mere moments before pushing the door open. His breathes instantly levelled and a feeling of relief filled his body as he took in the familiar surroundings. “Baby?”

“I’m in my room, Chris!” It didn’t take him long before he wondered into your bedroom.

When he pushed the door open, the scent of your vanilla candles breezed past him, the light casting a soft glow against your skin. You were stood by your closet, organising out piles of clothes freshly washed and dried. He couldn’t help but admire the way the flickered candle lights lit up the room. You feel his eyes baring into yours.

“What’s s’matter babe?” You don’t lock eyes with him briefly as you stretch your body to place a t-shirt away. Chris dawdled towards you, a breathy chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Too fucking much, m’exhausted and stressed.” His arms easily wrapped your waist, the feel of your skin making him sigh softly. You felt the pressure of his face, buried into your neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Would you want to lie down for a bit?” A small giggle passes your lips when Chris’s grip on your waist gets tighter. “Thought you’d never ask…”

Reluctantly, he let go of your body only for his hands to find yours, dragging you both towards your bed. Your bodies align so easily so that you were lying on his chest. Peppered kisses trace your features gently. Chris loves these moments more than anything, the times of the day where he could just be him with no camera or responsibility pushed into his face.

You settle your body in his arms, his heartbeat prominent when you placed your head flat on his chest. Chris’s hand finds his way to your scalp, running his fingers back and forth.

“You want to talk about your day?” You whisper softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze once more. Something in the way you look at him makes his body relax further.

He is quick to shake his head, planting a kiss on your lips. “ Jus’ need you…”

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa23 @emilyfaith2003 @zariyam @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone

1K notes · View notes

jwonsite · 1 year ago

Text

e(nnn)-

(a no nut november series)

what will happen when two boys bet a ps5 if either one of them make it through no nut november?

heejake x fem!reader (y/n is a different y/n for each hee and jake!)

smut!! mdni!! warnings will be posted on individual works

masterlist!

authors note!!! this series will NOT be finished. i’m going to leave the heejake versions up but the other members will not be posted. i’m really sorry to everybody who looked forward to it 😞

prologue

“just sit on my lap, it’ll be fine” - lee heeseung

release date: nov 5th, 2023

synopsis: your video game obsessed boyfriend is determined to win a bet made with his friends for a new gaming console, all while depriving you of sex for an entire month. luckily for you, your boyfriend lacks any amount of self control

warnings: p in v, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), hickeys, grinding, exhibitionism (? the boys hear them over the mic😭), unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!!), lmk if there’s anymore!

“happy birthday, pretty boy” - sim jaeyun

release date: nov 18th, 2023

synopsis: while your boyfriend is trying his hardest to win a bet made by his best friends to not have sex for a month, you couldn’t help but give him a little show on his birthday

warnings: oral (f&m receiving), making out, 69 position, lingerie mentioned, idk what else to put help me

hi guys!! i am so excited for this series since it is my first one!! i hope you all enjoy and i apologize for the shitty titles i kinda rushed to get this out since i planned for it late :((

tag list (closed!) -

@yannew @hanienie @beomgyusonlywife @akirakinimi @multifandomgurllll @boutyouwonu @kissmunalodz @5xiang @ibsysbsfsunsbs @guqsnfics @hellaboredd @wvnkoi @kpopslover @heerinnie @climbingmandevillas @rikisly @simeonswhore @lilriswife4life @daegutowns @harrietbarnesblog @wonniie3 @ariadores @yizhoutv @lilizinho @firstclassjaylee @olivehues @ikeusol @bunhoons @electrobutterfly @choijxn

(if your name is not greyed out i cannot find your acc!)

4K notes · View notes

rafebangme · 1 month ago

Text

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ frat!rafe decides to participate in no nut november, you disappove... strongly.

summary: in leu of it being november... rafe and his buddies (idiotically) challenge each other to nnn and you do your best to make your boyfriend lose because you cant stand the stupid juvenile game.

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! no nut november. male testosterone (ew), fratboy idiocy, topper and kelce (ew), spoiler! unprotected sex, hj, size kink, strong language, use of the nickname 'rafey' and 'baby' (bcs when do i not), kinda mean!rafe ?, kinda plot, kinda smut... yay!

wc: 2k

a/n: hoping this will get me out of my writers block... (its really bad) but tbf i just moved into my new apartment !yay! so hopefully when i'm not tired as hell and feeling broke from the deposit, i'll write regularly again <3

you had tolerated a lot of stupid shit that rafe and his idiot friends would get up to when they were together. especially when they were together, drunk and unsupervised. last night was the same as any other, but your boyfriend, topper and kelce had concocted an idea that put most other idiot ideas they've had to shame.

of course topper birthed the idea in the first place, he wasn't currently getting some anyway. his girlfriend, whom you actually found to be super bitchy, had just dumped him for some older dude that had dropped out long ago. everyone tried to tell him he was better off without ruthie because of how much of a raging cunt she was but he just decided to make his miserable attitude everyone's problem, leading to this stupid bet.

you can easily surmise how it came to be, one too many beers and topper starts talking about how he's better than kelce and rafe because he's not getting any and he can 'handle it like a man'. whatever that means. of course kelce and rafe in their drunken stupor don't enjoy their masculinity being threatened, so all reason goes out the window and they all bet each other $100 they can do no nut november.

the next morning of course, your boyfriend instantly realised what a stupid fucking idea it was the second he saw you making breakfast for the two of you in just panties and one of his t-shirts. he wanted to take you right there on the kitchen floor of your apartment but he couldn't. it's not like he didn't have 100s to spare, he just didn't want to back out of the bet so early and embarrass himself in front of his frat brothers.

though you would argue that the bet itself is doing a lot of embarrassing him on its own. when he had begrudgingly rejected three advances you'd made towards him, you finally caught on.

instead of smacking him 'round the head like you wanted to, you came up with a much better idea that unfortunately for rafe consisted of him losing $100 but consisted of you actually getting laid this month. because fuck that noise, you didn't agree to involuntarily joining in on no nut november.

you began to walk around in your best lingere, with one of his big t-shirts on too, though that definitely only turned him on more. next was wearing tiny pieces of clothing that left little to the imagination whilst always putting yourself in compromising situations; dropping things in front of him, getting 'stuck', spilling things on yourself... basically anything because if he was gonna do something stupid then you were gonna make him reap the consequences.

it was late at night when he'd finally had enough. a huge exam was looming and he'd had no proper way to let off steam for almost the entire month, you 'whoring' around the apartment didn't help either. so when you'd slipped into bed in one of your best lacey sets with a glossy smile, he'd just scowled at you before grabbing you and pressing his lips to yours hungrily.

"you're such a fucking slut" he growled between your lips, his hands desperately gripping wherever they could on your body. you were sat pressed up against the headboard of your bed, thighs haphazardly spread with his body forced between them. you didn't reply, just smiled and groaned into the rough kisses.

he parted his lips from yours and grabbed your throat roughly with one of his hands, anger but also desperation was seeping from his expression. you were, admittedly, a little afraid. rafe would never purposely hurt you but, he was extremely built and towered over you, though rough sex was kinda your thing.

you almost shook off the slight fear in your face before smiling at him again, realising you'd already won. this was a point of no return, the way he was biting his bottom lip in frustration, the heavy breathing in an attempt to control himself, he had unraveled already.

without a word he hooked a finger under your panties and yanked them down forcefully, you giggled at the action and helped him pull them off from around your ankles. he shook his head before kissing down your stomach, he knew you'd won and he'd given into you, that he'd be surrendering a crisp $100 to his asshole friends.

but a smirk stretched across his face as he tugged his pants down too in front of you, "you won baby, i lost no nut november.."

you grinned proudly as you lay back, your legs spread waiting for him to slowly sink his length into you.

in one swift motion, his arm slid under the small of your back as his huge cock plowed all the way into your sopping pussy, "- but we'll see who's really winning when you can't walk tomorrow." an evil smile was strewn across his face now as he mercilessly snapped his hips against yours, ignoring your cries at how he was too big.

he wasn't a complete asshole, he knew your pussy would relax around his length and soon you'd grasp around his neck, moving your hips in sync with his.

rafe hadn't realised just how pent up he was until he felt himself nearly coming undone multiple times, the way you were tightly squeezing around his dick didn't help either.

his eyebrows were permanently stitched together as his hands dug into your hips, still ploughing deep into you.

"fuck baby, fuuckk baby. this pussy loves me s'much huh? couldn't jus' let me be forra single month." his tip kissed your cervix multiple times and you could've cum a number of times, but vowed to not give in before him as you could feel his strokes becoming increasingly sloppy.

his face screwed up and he let his bangs hang messily over his face, not bothering to run a hand through his hair anymore. he was about to spill into you, and you were unravelling too, "you about to come in me rafey? please, fuck- give it to me-"

his eyes rolled back at your words, finally slowing he painted your crimson walls with thick ropes of cum, groaning gutturally the entire time.

"fucking hell. that creampie was just worth $100 baby." he scoffed, shaking his head a little, "'nd it was worth every fuckin' dollar." he half-collapsed on top of you, kissing your forehead, all while still inside of you.

"you'd better go tell topper and kelce then" you grinned mischievously.

688 notes · View notes

sintiva · 1 year ago

Text

ARMINEEEE pt.2

pt.1 of church boy! armin

his dick practically leaked between the soft pillows of your thighs. the fluffy, burgundy comforter disappeared under the tight clasp of his fingers. it felt like you’ve been milking him for hours ‘n hours but it’s only been ten minutes and he’s came…. one, tw-, three times! “y/nnn, i’m gunnu cum, ughh godddu… again —“ the poor things overstimulated himself to the point where he can’t stop, he doesn’t want to. and you’re not doing much, but the casual stroking and warmth of your body has him hooked in between your thighs. it’s comforting, exponentially better than anything he’s experienced.

when you told him he could touch you however he liked: the first thing he reached for were your cocoa scented thighs and how they rose ‘n fell with each curious imprint he placed upon them. they fluffed and molded under his hands like a pillow. hands down the softest things he’d ever felt. he groped you so eagerly, jaw wide and eyes quivering in awe of how you felt. “their not going anywhere, i promise.” intentions for him to relax only continued his exploration like he was starved. “so you really are a goody two shoes? i figured.”

“no-no, i-i’ve done this kinda thing b-before.” he blushes; bound by his own lies you giggle and he feels his face grow hotter, embarrasment like this hasn’t coursed through his bones since the day his parents took his door “you’re lying to me? that’s no good armin, remember?” your fingers caress his face; he’s hot to the touch. “i-i have!” he’s beyond flustered at this point. he grabs onto your wrist and flashes those pretty, pleading, wet eyes, begging for you to stop teasing him so much. with each passing second they grew wetter just like his… yeah. “you just wasting your time at church huh?”

“so as i was saying…you haven’t there’s no need to lie to me, besides—” you straddle his lap, and he sinks further into the bed, his eyes widen in shock. “you’re getting this excited, wanna put it in me that bad? you wanna fill me up this bad thinkin’ about it?” armin swallows back a moan and bites down hard on his lips; flush from sheer force. you feel his thighs tremble and his grip on your skirt tighten, “why are you getting all wet, min?” your brown eyes flutter one too many times, and his heart sinks into his chest. all the breath in his lungs fans out between his lips. is he being ostracized he can’t tell, but when you glance down at him with that look… as you’re dragging your hips harder along the prominent tent in his pants, you’re making him moan so much louder, “didn’t mean to, i didn’t.” he whines and bucks up into you. this long into the night and he’s writhing,, sniffling uncontrollably and babbling on about how good you’re making him feel. “but i didn’t say you could cum, you have to control yourself armin.”

ouch:( it felt like you were upset with him-well, that came a little too late… and he came bit too early. those super ugly khakis that he wore every wednesday for bible study grew warm and wet right under where you sat. soothing, unpleasant, but more of the former, considering its spread. hot, scorching your skin, blue like the hottest flame—spreading in your stomach. you can’t blame him, you’ve been searching for something like this for a while. “didn’t your mama tell you good boys don’t make messes?” bite. this far into the night your skirts bunched up around your waist, and armin’s losing his mind. he’s tried so hard to apologize for enjoying all this — you letting him do everything he pleases. the same excuse tumbles between his lips, in that sime high pitched whiny voice while a deeper flare of red painted his skin. curiosity settles in your stomach, to think he’s acting like this — and it’s not even sex.

“i’ve….oh’y god - never felt anything like…this — like you—” you can hear the nervousness in his voice, see it in his face. avoiding, your gaze, his eyes shift back and fourth, uncertain of where he can look that won’t expose his innocence. that won’t expose how abundant his joy is. the delicacy in his voice, the slight tremble and strain in it. can’t you tell he’s working so hard to keep it in? but when you grind down so hard on his hips. bend forward to bite down on his lips, and lick them to lighten the sting, he’s cracking bit by bit. he can physically feel every part of his body throbbing and how his lust for you overflows. while your thighs envelop his length, working so hard to squeeze out every drip of cum. his chest falls and that high piles up on him, higher and higher, till it comes crashing down and he’s pumping out another sticky load.

“what are you blaming me for, you’re the one whose fuckin my thighs outta control like a pup.” his moves are sloppy, out of time, uncontrollable. “‘s too much.” bubbles out. his eyes roll to the back of his head, his fingers clamp down onto your thighs. “you don’t wanna keep using me ‘til you’re satisfied?” the hint of sadness embedded into your question deepens his feralness. it hurts so much to keep going; to keep getting consumed by your offers of induction. the ‘keep goings’ and ‘don’t stop, i want you to make yourself feel so good baby’.

“you’ve been hidin’ this big ole thing from me ‘cause of your dumb parents. you’re so mean armin.” words mean everything to this boy. there’s power in every syllable you cast from your mouth. they tug on his resolve, gratifying every action he’s taking. cursing his subordination, his inability to have something like this all the time. his parents fought so hard to “protect” him from all this corruption because, “that girl will land you in trouble, can’t you see we’re trying to do what’s best for you? as your parents? it’s like you don’t care about how you’ll end up, how that reflects on us…”

your words sound better, they don’t sound like you’re degrading him to make yourself feel better. affirmations encouraging all those uncertainties his parents made sure he’d be too inept to act upon. outlining all of his priorities: all the things he could and couldn’t do. truthfully he was tired of it, so letting you have your way with him; in his parents word “corrupting” him felt liberating. this newfound freedom, that his parents warned would leave a stain, felt otherworldly.

“minnn, i want you to put it inside me.” you lift up your legs by the underside of your knees. taken aback, he groans as you fall back onto the bed, thighs spread; your cream white panties were eaten up up by your pussy lips. you pull them to the side, innocently inviting him in. smearing all your mess over your pussy lips then spreading them to reveal your puffy clit. “if you put it inside it’ll feel good.” and he takes the bait. he crawls forward, and his cock twitches. outstretched, nervous; one hand takes place on your knees and the others follows in spreading the pretty girl’s legs who lay in his parents bed with arousal leaking between her ass cheeks. “wanna let you feel something better.”

"i'll teach you how to use it, but it can only be mine, k? he looks so cute and your hearts skipping beats, it's getting so loud that you can barely hear. but as he gets closer to you and begins to line it up, asking questions to make sure what he's doing is okay you hear something. "wait!" your stomach drops and your legs do the same, armin fusses so you plave your fingers against his lips. "there it is." it's faint but you can make out that sound, the eerie beeping of a key pad. the distant notification rings through the house, chime! — disarmed, ready to arm— muffled voices, keys, shoes removed, voices growing louder, creaky floor boards. "you're fucking parents."

the two of you jump up. "fuck, fuck, fuck. armin! you said they weren't coming back til tomorrow! why are they here?" the bed was a fucking mess and armin was frozen while you collected yourself. "i-i don't know." tears stream down his cheeks and he starts to panic, the realization kicks in and he's sobbing. the only thing running through his mind is punishment if his parents catch him, when they catch him and you. the girl, the only girl they've warned him about, together in their room. "they're gonna kill me and i'm never gonna see you again and they're gonna ship me away —you're gonna forget about me an-"

"armin, if you don't stop all that bull shit and listen to me." as you readjust your skirt, you instruct him on what to do in this situation. it hasn't been your first, but you're to old to be worrying about getting caught fucking by old hags "got it?" he's already started pulling the sheets off the bed, you duck into his room tossing things everywhere; pulling drawers open and scattering papers on the floor. he runs the sheets to the laundry and tosses the comforter in first as it was the scene of his crime. the sheets could wait. you dig through some of his drawers, adding to the mess; looking for nothing causing a distraction for him. you pop his window open, the alarm chimes and that tells him he needs to be in his room. it gives you time to hop out while his parents find there way to the back if the house yelling his name, but he'll get there first in enough time to...

"armin robert arlert, you better have good reason for opening your window this late at night, so help me god, before i bolt tha-" his mom's eyes twitch. the back of the house is a complete mess, and armin's jamming to the music filtered through his earbuds as he cleans your mess; the cool breeze of the night sweeping through his room. he's stripped to clean boxers and a white tank top. "what is this?" she wails, hysterical and bitchy as always. "just cleaning, my rooms a mess, ma."

"well fix it. quickly. and my sheets, i didn't tell you to take them off. but thank you." she huffs the last part out, turning on her heel stomping down the hall back to his father.

holy shit. under his breath a sigh that releases all the fear accumulated within the last 5 minutes. we pulled it off. it's hard to hear him, but the earbuds pick up enough his voice for you to decipher the static.

"i told you we would… robert."

"you're a fucking genius, but don't ever call me that again."

"you've got a filfthy mouth, maybe i should've let your momma see how her beloved robert gets down." he smacks his lips and yells a good night, embarrassed again. "who are you talking to?"

#armin x reader #armin x reader smut #armin x black reader #armin x black reader smut #armin arlert #armin smut #armin arlet x reader

2K notes · View notes

desperate-gay · 1 year ago

Note

How about a NNN (No nut november) fic with either Leah or Alexia where they made a bet and two weeks in regret it but R wants them to win and denies them but also still teases. they end up getting mocked by everyone because of their lack of concentration. you can decide the ending !

Needy November

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

summary: ale accepts a challenge not realizing how hard it’s going to be

a/n: pretend i’m not two months late…

“C’mon capi, join the bet. Ingrid and I are doing it!” Mapi exclaims, continuing to try and convince her captain to the challenge.

“For the last time Maria, no.” Alexia shakes her head and proceeds to pack up her kit bag. She found the whole month's dare stupid and meaningless, especially when it meant holding off one of her favorite things.

“Ah, I see. You’re too scared that you’re gonna lose. I bet you’d crumble and fail within an hour.” The tattooed girl smirks, egging on Alexia which seems to be working. Alexia is never one to lose a challenge, so hearing people say she’d fail, she’s going to prove them wrong.

“How much are we talking?”

—

“Bebe, I’m home!” Alexia’s voice echoes through the house, but once she notices the nicely lit candles and rose petals on the ground, she decides to quickly look for you.

Making her way around the home, she still has no clue as to where you are. She finally makes her way to the bedroom, and when she walks in, hands cover her eyes from behind which makes her jump but ease down when she smells the familiar scent of your perfume.

“Surprise.” You whisper in her ear, leaning up to reach. Removing your hands, you make your way in front of her and smooth out your outfit. Her eyes trail down her body and her mouth opens slightly in awe.

“What is all this?” She asks breathlessly, hands finding their way to your hips while yours loop around her neck and mess with her baby hairs.

“I thought I’d surprise you. I didn’t have anything to grade or check over today, so I came straight home and set this up. You and I have hardly had much time together since the season started, and I wanted to make time. So here we are.” Smiling, you lean in for a loving kiss. Alexia melts into your soft lips but pulls back way too soon for both of your liking.

“No no no no, I can’t.” The taller girl groans as she runs her hands down her face. She keeps them hovering over her eyes so she can’t see you in your outfit. If she keeps looking, she would pounce and have her way with you, but lose the bet.

Your hands grab her wrists and pull them away from her face, but her head tilts up towards the ceiling. “What is going on, baby? You’re really confusing me right now.” You nervously chuckle at her weird behavior.

“I made a bet with the girls.” She trails off, still avoiding your gaze.

“Oh no-”

“I can’t have any sex this month.”

“What!”

Alexia winces at your sudden rise of tone. “I know, I know. It was so stupid to accept. I should have just left.” She groans, still keeping her eyes off of you.

You let off a small huff and race through your thoughts. Technically, the team wouldn’t even know if she failed the challenge, she’d just have to lie. You grin to yourself and return your hands to her neck, rubbing up and down sensually. Alexia’s breath hitches when you press a few kisses on her jawline, knowing what you’re trying to do.

“Y’know, the girls don’t have to find out. We can have all the fun we want and still win the bet.” You whisper in her ear, attempting to help her give in. You pull back slightly and tug her earlobe between your teeth, making her eyes roll slightly in pleasure.

“No, that’s cheating which makes me a loser.” She suddenly takes a few steps back, shaking her head ferociously while pacing around the room.

“So you’re saying no to your half-naked girlfriend because you’re too stubborn to lose a bet that you got yourself into?” You question, quirking your eyebrow at her.

“Si.”

Her deadpan answer makes you scoff and groan at the same time. She probably didn’t even consider what she’d be taking away from you when she accepted the bet, so you’re going to try one last thing in hopes of changing her mind. You approach her and lightly run your fingertips down her chest and to her stomach, causing the Catalan to look anywhere but you.

“Ale, be serious for a second. You can pretend this stupid little game doesn’t exist and do whatever you want to me. You can bend and flip me into any position then fuck me-“

“La la la la! I can’t hear you!” Alexia covers her ears, shouting like a little kid and closing her eyes to end your temptations. Groaning loudly, you stomp into the bathroom to get your robe and calm down.

After a minute, the brunette peeks her eye open and sees you’re no longer in the room. She lets out a breath in relief but frowns when she takes in how much you did for her only for it to be ruined.

Walking over to the bathroom, she knocks lightly against the door. “Amor? Are you okay?”

She moves back when the door swings open, revealing you with your hair up in a messy bun and your body dressed in an oversized shirt with shorts. Her eyes follow your figure as you blow out all the candles, confusing her as to what your mood is. You can either be angry or just meh. Once you’re done, you walk back over to the taller girl and place a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m not mad, Ale. I guess it’s my fault for being in a relationship with a stubborn captain who can’t ever lose.”

“Hey!”

—

Three weeks in and Alexia has been miserable. Her body aches for yours, to touch you and to be touched. You on the other hand have been okay. Of course, you’re constantly craving Alexia, but you can still get off by yourself. It’s hard, but it’s one way to relieve yourself.

Alexia has been off the past week due to tweaking her knee, so she has to sit out for precautionary purposes. She still goes to training to see the girls and fulfill her captain duties, but today she decided to stay at home with you. It’s the weekend so you don’t have to worry about going to work.

You decided to take in your time off and enjoy yourself with a book in bed while Alexia busied herself in the living room, most likely watching football games. You’re embracing the silence of the room until the door creaks open and a body slams itself onto the bed.

The Catalan sighs, trying to get your attention but when you don’t pay her any mind, she sighs louder. You continue to flip through the pages of your book, purposely ignoring the girl’s advances. She crawls up to your body and places her head onto your stomach then trailing her hands onto your waist, just where your shirt rises and shows off your skin.

It starts as innocent as she rubs her hands up and down, massaging at your skin but soon turns more sinister when she places kisses below your belly button. Her fingers hook onto your shorts in an attempt to pull them down, but her advances are stopped when you slap at her hands.

“Amor.” She whines, looking up at you with your nose still stuck in your book. She huffs in annoyance and slides her body up, poking her head between the gap of your arms, now resting her head on your chest.

When you continue to pay her no attention, she begins to trail kisses across your jaw and down your neck. Her teeth start to sink into your skin right before you slam your book shut, making the girl jump in shock.

“Baby, I know you’re needy right now, but you need to stop.” You say sternly.

“Oh bebe, I know you want this just as much as I do. Let’s get naked, si?” She grins as her nose brushes along the underside of your jaw.

“Ah, no.” You push her off your body and onto the other side of the bed.

“C’mon, bebe. Don’t you want me fuck you with the stra-“

You quickly place a hand over her mouth and say, “You dug this hole, Ale. You gotta get yourself out of it. I’m not gonna give in just because you want it this time. You wanted to win so you’re going to win.”

Alexia buries her face into a pillow and lets out a few noises of aggression before getting up to head back into the living room. You shake your head in amusement and reopen your book, continuing from the spot you were interrupted by.

The Catalan shouts from another room, “I guess I’ll have to occupy myself because my girlfriend doesn’t love me!”

“Don’t you dare, Alexia Putellas Segura!”

—

It’s finally November 30th. Alexia is in the locker room, bouncing her leg up and down in anticipation of tonight. You’re both definitely going to be staying up until midnight to make up for the month’s time.

“Got somewhere to be, capi?” Patri asks, noticing the girl’s antsy behavior.

“Yeah, to her girlfriend so she can finally shag her tonight,” Mapi smirks when Alexia glares at her. “Don’t you think I know? Ingrid and I are both excited too, right bonita?” Ingrid rolls her eyes at her girlfriend who is waving her eyebrows up and down.

“It’s your fault I am even in this mess.” Alexia glares at the tattooed defender who in return holds up her hands in fake defense.

“You’re the one who agreed to take part in it, amiga. I didn’t force you.”

The two bicker back and forth until Ingrid interferes, stopping both of them much to the team’s dismay who find their arguing amusing. Ingrid rushes Mapi out the door to get home and rest as soon as possible from the rough training while Alexia decides to do the same.

It’s around 10 at night as she walks through the door. Just like a few weeks ago, there are flower petals on the ground and candles lit around the house, but now there is soft music playing and you standing in a new lingerie set with two flutes of champagne.

Alexia drops her bag onto the floor and quickly makes her way over to you, taking one glass out of your hand and into hers before wrapping her free arm around your back, pulling you into a steamy kiss. After a while, you both pull away to catch your breath with swollen red lips and blown-up eyes.

“Um, we still have two hours so I thought we could watch a movie for the time being. Can’t let you lose now.”

“That’s so long though.” Alexia whines but stops when you slam your lips against hers.

Pulling away you whisper, “Maybe we can make out during the movie, y’know, set the mood for the hours of stolen time we need to redeem?”

—

“Someone had a good night!” Lucy howls at the love-sick smile and glow that has been plastered on the captain’s face since she arrived at training.

“Mapi, pay up!”

#alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen #patri guijarro #lucy bronze #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #woso #barcelona fc #barcelona femeni

976 notes · View notes

libingan · 5 months ago

Text

— ami’s masterlist!

JOHN PRICE

soft price hcs! (smut, fluff)

—undying love. (angst, zombie! reader)

body worship! (smut)

captain snugglebear. (fluff, gn!reader)

in command. (fluff, f!reader)

- what the boys think of you.

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

period sex! (smut)

—an unhealthy obsession. (dark content)

—escapism. (smut, f!reader, age gap)

—wolf’s den. (1) , (2), (3), (4), (5) , aftermath

dry humping! (smut)

—woven from shadows. (dark content)

—beneath the mask. (fluff, soft simon)

sleepy morning sex (smut, m! reader)

stressed out! reader (smut, f! reader)

stressed out! reader (smut, m! reader)

like an open book! (fluff, gn! reader)

rolling his eyes! (sfw!)

devotion. (dark content, gn! reader)

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

hairy fem reader hcs! (smut)

chastity cage w/ soap! (smut, f!reader)

ferris wheel fingering (smut, f!reader)

high sex drive reader! (smut, gn!reader)

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

back massages w/ gaz x m! reader (smut)

late night fingering (smut, f! reader)

jealous! gaz (angst w/ happy ending, gn!reader)

—reverence. (smut, gn!reader)

—gym buddies. (no smut, only dirty jokes)

PHILLIP GRAVES

pampering graves! (smut, fluff)

sugar daddy graves! (smut)

—temptations. (smut, angst, m! reader)

graves’ dog! (smut, m!reader)

pup graves (smut, m!reader, reader is MEAN)

how long they last NNN? (smur, gn!reader)

MISTLETOE MISHAPS! (fluff, sfw, gn!reader)

KÖNIG

small, top reader! (smut, m!reader)

shy könig! (smut, f! reader)

VALERIA

free use! reader (smut)

TASK FORCE 141

how they eat pussy!

how they suck cock!

“yes, ma’am!” (fluff)

fave positions! (smut)

how they kiss you! (fluff)

when they’re sick! (fluff)

sucking off johnny and ghost! (smut, f! reader)

relieving price w gaz! (smut, gn! reader)

tits or ass? (smut)

MERRY CHRISTMAS! (fluff, sfw, gn! reader)

318 notes · View notes

m-ayo-o · 8 months ago

Note

yoyo! please can i request jjk men reaction to yn always sleeping hugging a pillow(because it’s comfy lol) 🙈. thankyou! :)

warnings; like camembert, this is MUSHY and CHEESY

Satoru

Also sleeps hugging a pillow (when you're not there) so he can't really say much when he gets home late to find you tucked up in bed with your arms wrapped around the fluffiest, biggest pillow you could find.

"Hmm," he smiles and hums quietly to himself, admiring your figure where the blanket dropped away.

And because he's feeling particularly sweet, maybe a little mushy or sentimental over seeing you like this, he quietly gets ready for bed and joins you. He eases his body into the mattress and tugs the pillow from you slowly, carefully, earning a few disgruntled moans, then slots his body right in front of yours.

Feeling your arms wrap around him, he's content.

Toji

"Oi"

Your sleep is disturbed suddenly by a jabbing sensation in your ribs.

Along with a familiar, deep voice.

"Hey"

And hands.

Big hands.

"nnhnn--"

You regain consciousness and feel the warm, squishy pillow being pulled from your clutches.

"nnn--" you grab onto it, but it's too late.

"Give me back my pillow."

He grumbles and moans about you stealing his stuff but secretly thinks that you looked so cute like that and he just wants you to hug him instead.

Kento

Lets you sleep like that peacefully, but snuggles up behind you and holds your waist in his hands until you start shuffling and turning.

"Oh~" you were so tired you didn't even hear him come in.

"Go back to sleep, my love," he murmurs softly and kisses you back to sleep, with you in his arms and the pillow long forgotten.

Suguru

"Aw" a soft sigh leaves his lips when he gets home from the gym, seeing you curled up on your side holding onto a big pillow.

He tickles your feet, admiring how adorable you look.

He's waking you up but he can't help it.

"Suguruuu" you moan but he's giggling at you now and starting to playfully tickle your waist as he climbs into bed to replace the pillow.

Megumi

Stares at you and scratches his head, wondering how the hell somebody could look so cute.

As quietly as humanly possible, he gets in bed behind you and wraps his arms around you.

Admires you silently, kisses your neck and strokes your thighs, letting you rest peacefully.

Yuji

Gets jealous that you got so damn comfy without him.

Makes a little pouty face when he sees you all snuggled up in the nest you made in your bed.

Your legs should be wrapped around me.

He ruffles his pretty hair and sinks onto the mattress, tugging the pillow away and getting wrapped up in you.

Sighs contently when you pull him closer.

542 notes · View notes

emilys-bangs · 3 months ago

Text

this is me trying | e.p

Tags: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end, mom!emily, no use of yn, use of petnames

Summary: Emily misses one of Eloise's milestones and tries to deal with it. Requested here.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: my longest fic is officially a momily fic oops...(gimme more momily thoughts please) also I did the convo with Hotch instead of JJ because he's surprisingly easier to write than her :p

Emily was having an okay day. It was her second night away on a case and it was unraveling quickly, quick enough that she thought she’d be home for dinner.

She wasn’t.

Instead, she gets a call from you around Eloise’s bedtime. With the ring comes a twist of guilt in her stomach; she’d promised herself she’d call this time instead of you, but her reminder to set an alarm slipped from her mind, and soon she got swept up in an endless whirlpool of case files and paper trails. Silencing her phone, she pushes her chair back and stands up, her eyes flitting over Reid and JJ’s forms bent over the conference room table. They can handle a few minutes on their own.

Emily slips into an empty office, shuttering the blinds as she accepts the video call before it rings out. Crackly noise comes through and she smiles at the sight of you and Eloise on the plush carpet of her nursery, the little girl already in her pajamas and sitting in the cradle of your crossed legs. Some of the tightness in her chest loosens.

“Hi there,” Emily smiles softly as you hold the camera away from Eloise’s grabby hands, her eyes tracing your faces through the screen, “how are my favorite people in the world doing?” She asks, perching on the edge of the table.

“Good,” you say, smoothing a hand over Eloise’s damp hair. “Sleepy, but someone won’t—”

“Bye-bye!” Eloise interrupts cheerfully—her favorite word as of late.

Emily chuckles, her shoulders slumping at the bell-like tinkle of her daughter’s voice. “But I just saw you, sweet girl. I don’t wanna say bye so soon, do you?”

“Bye,” she repeats.

“Think I should go,” Emily wrinkles her nose at you, the playful gesture pulling a laugh from your toddler.

“Maybe she’s finally starting to learn it’s bedtime,” you say, kissing the top of her head. “We’re starting to feel sleepy, aren’t we, Eloise?” Your voice softens as you trace your finger down the soft bridge of her nose, a trick you and Emily use to soothe her to sleep.

But Eloise stubbornly shakes her head. “Nnn.” She turns her face away, placing two hands on your knee.

Emily smiles at the domestic image, her heart tugging with a need to be home. To join your daughter in the circle of your legs, feel your arms around her waist as you both worked to lull her to sleep.

She breathes through the ache, forcing herself to smile. “Well, we both know where that came—”

Her playful jab falls away when she sees Eloise stand, her hands still on your knee to hold herself up. Emily holds her breath, waiting for her to topple, but her daughter steps over your leg and walks to the drawers behind you. Her movements are wobbly but she doesn’t fall, babbling bye, bye, bye under her breath as she fiddles with the handle of the drawer at her level.

You don’t give a reaction apart from a guilty twist of your lips. Still, Emily waits for something; surprise, shock, excited laughter. The only thing that happens is an apologetic shrug of your shoulders, resigned and defeated.

Her heart sinks.

“She—” Emily sucks in a breath, her throat dry. “She started walking? When?” She hates how her voice is croaky, how it breaks as her heart picks up its pace.

You guiltily chew on your lip. “Yesterday morning.”

Yesterday morning. She was on the jet by then. Something bitter coats her tongue, digging into her molars; the inside of her cheeks pucker.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

But it’s obvious why you didn’t.

“Emily…”

“Mmamamama,” Eloise comes over again, her small, onesie-covered feet showing up on the screen. She grabs the phone from your limp fingers, her sweet, clueless face reaching the edges of Emily’s phone. “Ma,” she babbles, and Emily forces a smile.

“Mommy’s here, sweetheart.” She says hoarsely.

Her voice cracks around the blatant lie.

___

They’re on the jet home less than twenty four hours later. It was as happy an outcome as they can possibly hope for; unsub in cuffs, airtight evidence, families reunited with their loved ones.

And yet everyone notices Emily’s mood.

They notice it but say nothing about it, letting her churn in silence as she bypasses all the seats in the jet to sit in the back. Her go bag is thrown under her chair, her arms tightly crossed over her chest as she looks out the window and toys with her ring.

Takeoff is a blur. The lights dim and she chances a glance at her watch, hopelessly willing the time to go by faster. As she’s turning her head, she spots movement from the corner of her eye.

Hotch sits down across from her. He’s quiet as he places a mug of tea next to her phone, but when he leans back into his seat, she sees the concern—and the question—in his eyes.

“You’re upset.” He says.

If Emily wasn’t feeling so miserable, she might have scoffed. Maybe she could have deflected, or lashed out and told him to leave her alone and wallow in her self loathing.

But she’s too tired for that. And Hotch has kind eyes; he understands, what she’s feeling, more than anyone.

So Emily finds herself cracking.

“Eloise. She, uh…she took her first steps two days ago.” Emily says quietly, staring intensely at the mug he’s placed in front of her. The lump forms yet again, the threatening press of tears just behind her eyes. Her own words only make her gut churn. “...And I wasn’t there.” She adds unnecessarily, her voice lowered to a whisper because any louder and she’s sure it’ll break.

Her daughter crossed off a huge milestone. And instead of cheering her on, taking her into her arms and kissing her little cheeks, Emily was off hundreds of miles away, hunting down a pathetic, homicidal man rather than being there for her own child. Emily had promised herself that she’d always be there—for every dance recital, every parent teacher meeting. But she couldn’t even be there for Eloise’s first steps.

She’s just as bad as her mother, prioritizing a job over her own daughter. The thought makes her bite down on her lip, hard. The metallic taste of blood floods her tongue.

“How do you deal with it?” She asks thickly. Emily doesn’t look up at him as she twists her fingers into her necklace, smoothing her thumb over the engraved E and staring intently at the mug he’s placed on top of a coaster—because of course Hotch got a coaster.

The answer she gets is a low, heavy exhale that she feels in her bones. Emily looks up, chancing a glance at him even though she knows her eyes are probably shining under the low lights of the jet.

Hotch swallows, carefully measuring his words before he speaks. “I try to remind myself that I’m making the world a better place for him. Though most of the time it’s a lousy excuse.” His lips press together in a small, bitter, smile. A hand goes through his hair and a few strands flop back into his face; for the first time, Emily sees a rumpled, exhausted single dad rather than her put together Unit Chief. “I guess I try to deal with it by giving Jack 100% of my attention when I’m home. I shut everything out and focus on him, for however many hours I can get. I’d like to think I’m making a difference, but…” He trails off, shrugs.

Emily’s stomach sinks then. She presses her lips together, fighting against the shine in her eyes that now reflects in Hotch’s.

There’s no good answer. No way to make herself feel better about it. She knew that, and yet hearing it from him somehow makes it worse. The chain of her necklace tugs sharply against her throat.

“It helps,” he speaks up again, a tinge of sadness to his voice, “knowing that she’s not alone. She’ll always have someone. And no matter what, she’ll always know you love her.” He says gently. Somewhere in the shadowy corners of her mind, she realizes she’s never heard him talk this softly before, at least not to her.

Emily swallows hard. “What if—” Her voice shakes. She snaps her mouth shut, grabs the mug and takes a scorching sip. The chamomile doesn’t register on her taste buds, neither does the sweetness of two Splenda’s. Emily wraps her cold, trembling hands around the mug, looking into it as she forces herself to say the words. “What if she wants me? And if I’m not there…” Her voice grows hoarse again.

She swallows again. Drinks her tea, again. Closes her eyes against the tears, digs a thumb into her wedding ring. “What does that tell your child about you, Hotch? When you’re not there and they need you to be?”

Emily pretends not to hear the crack in her own voice. Hotch pretends, too, as he leans forward on the table. “You’re not a bad mom,” he says quietly. His tone is firm, unwavering. “You care and you’re trying and they’ll know that.”

They. Their combined children, victims of their job. He says it like he’s begging for it to be enough. For his sake and for hers.

Emily tries to believe it. She really, truly does, but she can’t stop the whispers that say it’s not enough.

___

When she walks into your home, the living room is empty.

Emily follows the sound of your voice and Eloise’s, her breaths coming easier as her feet lead her to the nursery. She inhales the scent of home; baby powder and your perfume and the detergent all of your clothes are washed with. Before she lets herself caught up in it—in you—Emily stores her gun in the safe, drops her go bag in the laundry room.

Finally, she stops at Eloise’s nursery. You’re sitting on the floor just like you were yesterday, Eloise again sitting between your crossed legs. There’s a book in her hands that she furrows her brows at, intently studying the colored pages as if she’ll be quizzed on them.

The sight makes Emily smile.

“Knock knock,” she says softly, briefly scaring you. The tension in your shoulders melts when you see it’s her, a small smile curling your lips as she toes off her boots and walks into the nursery.

“Hi,” you whisper. Eloise finally looks up from her book just as Emily settles next to you on the floor, where she wished she would be just last night.

“Mama!” Her baby squeals, and Emily’s heart constricts, and her vision blurs as she reaches her hands out to carry her into her arms.

“Hi, Eloise,” she whispers. She feels the scrape of tears in the back of her throat and swallows, pressing her lips to her daughter’s soft cheek to stifle them. “I missed you.” Another kiss goes to her other cheek, then one to her forehead.

Your hand falls to her knee and squeezes; Emily takes a hand off of Eloise’s back, places it over your knuckles. She skates her thumb over your skin, squeezes her daughter with her other hand.

“I heard my sweet girl started walking.” Emily murmurs, letting go of your hand to smooth Eloise’s hair behind her ears. It’s an adorable mess, the way it springs right back in her face bringing a smile to Emily’s lips. “Can you show Mommy, honey?”

Her dark eyes stare into Emily’s; twin pairs. “Hi,” Eloise mumbles.

“Hi, my love. I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she says, her voice cracking on the last word. Her daughter doesn’t notice, too busy with reaching out to fiddle with her necklace. Emily runs her palms over the soft cotton of her onesie, hugging her close and trying to remind herself that she’s here now. “I’m so proud of you, Eloise. Mommy’s always proud of you, you know?” Tears balance on her lashes as she turns her head again to kiss a soft cheek. “You’re my girl.”

Emily didn’t used to be an easy crier.

Having a child changed that; she cried at Eloise’s ultrasound, cried at her birth. She cried when her daughter said Mama and when she was running a mild fever of 99.5. Tears were easy to come, at bumps and bruises, at small snippets of her personality that start to form with time, at a singular candle blown on her birthday. Undeniably, her daughter is her Achilles heel. Emily is still trying to deal with that, trying to adjust to having her heart walk around unprotected on tiny, wobbly legs that still don’t know where to go.

Emily doesn’t realize she’s been rocking her daughter back and forth until your arm wraps around her shoulders. The weight of it forces her to go still; when she leans back, she leans back into you.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles. Eloise wriggles in her arms and she lets her go, only for the little girl to plop between both of you. Her small hands fiddle with the badge on her hip; Emily’s eyes dart down to her, a wobbly smile pulling on her lips.

“Em,” you whisper, cupping her chin in your hand. Her gaze meets yours again. “You have nothing to apologize for.” You say quietly. With more tenderness than she deserves, you wipe the wetness under her eye.

Emily shakes her head. “I wasn’t there.” She says, her lip trembling as more of her tears drip onto your palm.

An adamant frown pulls your brows together. “Look at her.” You murmur, both firm and soft as you catch a tear before it falls onto Eloise’s head. Emily does, her heart clenching when she finds Eloise’s chin already tipped up, their eyes clashing in identical shades of brown. “She’s just happy you’re home, baby. We both are.”

“But—”

“Mama cry?” Eloise’s sweet voice pipes up.

The palpable sadness in it breaks Emily’s heart. Eloise frowns fiercely as she shoves her small palms into Emily’s knee, steadying herself before standing on her own and taking two steps to reach her mother.

Pride flares in her chest. Eloise stands on her tiptoes, her small hands falling on her mother’s face; Emily’s hands go to her waist, steadying her. “Mama cry?” Her baby asks again, her eyes far too serious for a just turned one-year-old.

Emily smiles and this time it’s more genuine. “I’m okay, sweet girl.” She lifts a small fist off her cheek and brings it to her lips. “I love you.”

“Wuv.”

“You tell her, Ellie.” You lean against Emily’s side, your hand going to her cheek to wipe the remaining tears. Eloise’s hand joins yours and Emily laughs, shaky and wet even though your daughter is being none too careful. “That’s what we like to hear,” you murmur, tucking Emily’s hair behind her ear. Eloise falls into her lap and she instinctively holds her, her hands secure around her body even though she doesn’t break eye contact with you.

“Listen to me. You’re here now. That’s what matters, okay? It could’ve happened at any time—hell, I could’ve been at work when it happened. This is not on you.” You say firmly, your voice almost scolding. But your hands on her face are soft, cradling her cheeks with gentle care; the pad of your thumb skims absently over her jaw.

Emily’s lips twitch. Your words go through one ear and out the other; nothing against you, but she’s never relied on them for comfort. Instead she leans forward and presses her forehead to yours, closing her eyes as your noses bump together. Her shoulders slump, her body relaxing when Eloise presses her cheek to her chest.

“I love you.” She says, soft, pressing the statement into your lips.

“I love you too.”

“Wuv.” Eloise joins in.

You and Emily both laugh as you look down at her, a familiar warmth returning to Emily’s chest at being home, with her family. She lifts her daughter back into her arms and kisses her until she giggles, until the sound of her laughter drowns out Emily’s thoughts. She’s not sure if she trusts your words, trusts that your love and Eloise’s won’t simmer to resentment when this situation is inevitably repeated in an endless cycle.

But for now, she’ll believe them. Believe you.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mom!emily #momily #fic #divider by saradika

336 notes · View notes