No title available
$LAYYYTER
Stranger Things
will byers stan first human second
Claire Keane
noise dept.
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Misplaced Lens Cap
@theartofmadeline
Xuebing Du
if i look back, i am lost
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Kiana Khansmith
PR's Tumblrdome
Sade Olutola
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Thailand
seen from Singapore
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
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@alanasdesire
[INTRODUCTION]
Alana | 23 | blog for ateez fics
inbox will be open, for soft hours (occasionally hard hours)
CURRENT STATUS: active
PLS NOTE: Minors DNI if NSFW works are posted, empty blogs will be blocked.
All rights reserved. Do not repost. Do not translate.
[RECENTS]
freak for you HJ
Rough Rider HJ
[LINKS]
{MASTERLIST}
{REQUESTS}
Request here
PITC (version one)
hongjoong x AFAB!reader
smut - mdni
word count: 6.5k
walked in the room, you was looking like food - say “hey my love, can i bite it?” she said “i don’t mind if you try it”
TRIGGER WARNING: jealous!hongjoong, meandom!hongjoong, AFAB!reader, seonghwa and wooyoung are there, dirty talk, swearing, begging, biting, pet names (baby, mine, beautiful), kissing, unprotected p in v (don’t do this), m receiving oral, crying, possessiveness, jealousy, submission, name calling (slut), degradation, denial, exhibitionism?? maybe?, grabbing, gagging, praise (good girl), not proofread, bad humor
let me know if i missed any! i have a lot of ideas for this theme.. so i may do multiple versions whenever it sparks joy. i am (once again) not feeling 100% on this, but, i can always write a different one. thank you to everyone who has been kind to me about my stories. it means more to me than you know and i appreciate you all so much. okay, love you bye ♡
⊹₊⟡⋆Lover K.HJ.
Ateez fake texts
Pairing: bff!hongjoong x reader (friends to lovers)
Warnings: language, jealousy, innuendos, suggestive, MDNI, hurt/comfort, teasing, BangChan what are you doing here????
About: Hongjoong is your best friend in the whole world…and more?
Part 2
Part 3
Masterlist
rock the boat
he posted this pic on his story and i dropped my pants in preparation
bsf!seonghwa x f!reader
content: teaching you how to ride, slow and wet, eye contact, choking
wc: 2.3k
thinking about seonghwa...
“never?” he murmurs, nibbling on his inner cheek as he gives you a once-over. not in disbelief, but something else. something dangerous.
Rough Rider
[MASTERLIST]
pairing: husband!hongjoong × wife!fem!reader
genre: smut w/plot
synopsis: drenched drive along the coast quickly takes a sharp turn into something far more intense. Cruising in a sleek sports car with the top down, Hongjoong and Y/n find themselves overwhelmed by a sudden, undeniable surge of tension that the ocean breeze can't cool down. Pulling over to the secluded edge of the beach, the boundary between driving and desire blurs completely. Locked inside the intimate confines of the car, an afternoon escape evolves into an afternoon of breathless commands, rough passion, and uninhibited intimacy. It's a high-octane encounter where control is surrendered, whispers turn filthy, and a routine drive becomes a thrilling, unforgettable ride.
warning(s): public sex, fingering, riding, penetrative sex, creampie begging, dirty talk, car sex, rough sex, etc.
Song: Sports Car by Tate McRae
--------------------------------------------------------
The Pacific Coast Highway stretched out ahead like a sun-bleached ribbon, sandwiched between rugged, towering cliffs and the endless expanse of the deep blue ocean.
The weather was absolutely perfect—a crisp, bright afternoon with a relentless sun that would have been unbearable if not for the sharp, salty breeze whipping through the open top of the car.
Hongjoong looked entirely in his element behind the wheel of the sleek, white Porsche convertible. With his sunglasses pushed up the bridge of his nose, a crisp striped shirt blowing open slightly at the collar, and one hand casually resting on the steering wheel, he looked less like a husband running weekend errands and more like an escapee from a luxury film set.
You leaned back into the leather passenger seat, letting your eyes trace the sharp line of his jawline.
It had been weeks since the two of you had managed a single afternoon to yourselves. Between his grueling studio sessions and your own overlapping schedules, you had become like passing ships in the night—sharing quick kisses over morning coffee and exhausted collapses into bed at midnight.
When he had woken you up that morning, dangling the car keys with a mischievous grin and telling you to get dressed for a drive, you hadn't hesitated.
"Are you looking at the scenery, or are you looking at me?" Hongjoong asked, his voice cutting through the rushing wind.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained fixed on the winding coastal road.
"Can't I enjoy both?" you countered, shifting in your seat so you could rest your chin on your hand, openly admiring him. "Though, I have to admit, the view on the left is much better."
He let out a low laugh, the sound rich and warm.
He glanced over at you briefly, his dark eyes softening behind his sunglasses before returning to the road. "Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart. But I'll take it. I've missed you."
"I've missed you too," you murmured, the truth of the words sinking heavily into your chest.
As if sensing the sudden dip into genuine vulnerability, Hongjoong shifted gears, the engine roaring to life as he accelerated along a straight stretch of the highway.
The sudden burst of speed brought a thrilling jolt to your chest. The ocean breeze grew heavier, thicker with moisture, spraying a fine, invisible mist of saltwater over the car.
Your hair flew wildly around your face, and you couldn't help but laugh, the sheer freedom of the moment washing away weeks of accumulated stress.
Hongjoong's hand left the gear shift. Instead of returning to the steering wheel, his fingers trailed across the center console, searching blindly until they found your thigh.
His hand was warm, his palm slightly rough against your bare skin as he gripped your leg just above the knee.
The contrast between the cool, whipping air and the sudden heat of his touch was sharp enough to make you catch your breath. He squeezed gently, a grounding, possessive gesture that instantly shifted the atmosphere inside the car.
"You look beautiful today," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its playful edge.
His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin, charting a path that crept just a fraction of an inch higher with every passing mile.
The easygoing, lighthearted energy of the drive began to mutate. The heat of the sun above seemed to intensify, matching the sudden flare of tension sparking between the two of you.
Every time he shifted gears, his hand would leave your leg only to return a second later, gripping a little higher, a little firmer, his fingers anchoring you to him.
You glanced over at him, noticing how his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, how his jaw had tightened.
He wasn't just driving anymore; he was pacing himself, fighting a sudden, undeniable surge of desire that the ocean air was doing absolutely nothing to cool down.
As the car rounded a sharp bend, a secluded, gravel pull-off appeared on the right, completely hidden from the main highway by a cluster of overgrown coastal brush and overlooking a deserted stretch of the rocky beach below.
Hongjoong didn’t say a word. He didn't ask. He simply indicated, veered the Porsche off the smooth asphalt, and brought the sports car to a sudden, abrupt halt on the gravel.
The roaring engine cut out, leaving nothing but the sound of the heavy surf crashing against the rocks below and the sudden, deafening quiet inside the cabin.
The boundary between a routine afternoon escape and something far more intense had just completely blurred.
Hongjoong unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp click, took off his sunglasses, and turned his full, unblinking attention toward you.
The playful husband from ten minutes ago was gone; the dark, demanding look in his eyes made it perfectly clear that the drive was officially over.
He didn't move to open his door, nor did he make a move toward yours. Instead, Hongjoong shifted his weight, turning fully in his leather seat to face you, one arm draping over the steering wheel while the other remained exactly where it was—anchored firmly on your thigh.
His gaze swept over your face, heavy and deliberate, tracking the way your chest rose and fell with a slightly quickened breath.
"You're quiet," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly contrast to the crashing waves just beyond the cliffside. "Not going to ask me why we stopped?"
"I think I have a pretty good idea," you replied, your voice steadier than you actually felt.
The sudden stillness of the car made the tension between you feel almost physical, a thick, intoxicating weight filling the small cabin.
Hongjoong’s smirk returned, but it lacked its earlier innocence. It was darker now, sharper. His fingers flexed against your skin, a silent reminder of his grip.
"Do you? Because looking at you right now, all flushed from the wind, sitting in my passenger seat... I don't think you have any idea how difficult it was to keep my eyes on the road for the last twenty miles."
He leaned in closer, crossing the invisible boundary of the center console. The scent of his cologne—something sharp, woodsy, and thoroughly masculine—mingled with the salty air, filling your senses.
When he reached out with his free hand, his fingertips were surprisingly gentle as they tucked a stray, windblown lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingered on your jawline, tilting your face up slightly so you had no choice but to look directly into his dark eyes.
"We've been so busy," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, pressing just firmly enough to part them slightly. "Too busy. I feel like I haven't really had you to myself in a lifetime."
"Hongjoong..." Your voice hitched as his hand on your thigh moved. It wasn't the slow, agonizingly tentative crawl from before; his palm slid upward with a sudden, purposeful friction, stopping right at the hem of your clothes. The heat of his skin seemed to burn right through the fabric.
"I wanted to take you out here, where there's no phone ringing, no studio deadlines, no interruptions," he said, his gaze dropping to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes. The warmth in his expression had completely given way to an intense, burning hunger. "Just you, me, and nothing else."
He slid his hand beneath the hem, his bare palm making direct contact with the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
You let out a soft gasp, your fingers instinctively gripping the edge of the leather seat as a shiver ran straight down your spine. In the cramped, intimate confines of the sports car, every sensation was magnified ten-fold.
"Hold on to me instead," Hongjoong commanded softly, noticing your grip on the seat.
You didn't hesitate. You reached out, your hand finding the collar of his striped shirt, pulling him just a fraction closer.
The proximity was dizzying. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, hear the slight hitch in his own breathing as he realized exactly how deeply you wanted this, too.
"Is this what you wanted when you brought me out here?" you teased, though your voice lacked any real bite, trembling slightly under the weight of anticipation.
Hongjoong let out a low, rough growl, his eyes darkening further as he leaned in until his lips were bare inches from yours. "Sweetheart, you have no idea what I'm going to do to you out here. But we're going to start exactly how I want."
His lips finally closed the distance, crashing into yours with a fierce, demanding intensity that left you utterly breathless.
There was no hesitation, no gentle easing into the moment; the weeks of built-up frustration and longing exploded into a kiss that was deep, possessive, and entirely consuming.
You whimpered into his mouth, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, trying to erase every inch of space between you.
Hongjoong groaned, the sound vibrating against your tongue as he tilted his head to deepen the angle, his lips moving against yours with a practiced, desperate hunger.
His hand on your inner thigh slid higher, his fingers parting your legs effortlessly in the bucket seat.
When his fingers brushed against the damp lace of your underwear, a sharp jolt of pure electricity shot straight to your core. You arched your back, a breathless gasp escaping your throat as he broke the kiss, his lips immediately migrating down the sensitive line of your jaw.
"Look at you," he growled against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck. "You're already so wet for me, sweetheart. Just from a drive."
"Hongjoong, please," you begged, your voice thick and strained as he nipped at the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth leaving a deliberate, stinging mark that would undoubtedly darken by tomorrow.
"Please what?" he murmured, his hand pressing firmly against your center, the heat of his palm rubbing through the thin barrier of fabric. He applied a slow, agonizing pressure that made your hips instinctively roll against his hand. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you. Inside the car, right now," you gasped, your hands moving from his shirt to tangle in his hair, pulling him back up so you could look into his darkened eyes.
A dark, victorious grin spread across his face. "Then get over here."
He leaned back just enough to give you room. The space inside the Porsche was tight, the gear shift and center console presenting an intimate obstacle, but the challenge only seemed to heighten the frantic energy between you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, shifting your weight and swinging one leg over the console.
Hongjoong guided you, his strong hands catching your waist and lifting you effortlessly until you were straddling his lap, facing him.
The positioning was dizzying. Your thighs braced against the leather sides of his seat, your center pressing directly against the hard, rigid length straining beneath his trousers.
"Much better," Hongjoong whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, pinning you firmly to his lap. He rocked his hips up slightly, a deliberate tease that made you cry out, your hands anchoring tightly onto his broad shoulders.
He didn't waste another second. His hands moved to the fastening of his trousers, freeing himself with a dark, focused intensity.
At the same time, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling the fabric aside to expose you fully to the cool ocean breeze—and his burning gaze.
"You are so beautiful out here," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours as his fingers guided his length to your opening. He paused for a fraction of a second, letting you feel the agonizingly hot, heavy press of him against your slick skin. "Hold on to me."
With a slow, heavy upward thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you all at once.
Your eyes flew shut as a loud, uninhibited cry tore from your lips, echoing out over the empty beach.
The fullness of him filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made your head tilt back, your fingers digging bruisingly into his shoulders.
It was a high-octane rush of pure pleasure, so intense that your entire body trembled against his.
Hongjoong let out a ragged, breathless groan, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he gripped your hips with white-knuckled intensity, holding you still for a moment as his body adjusted to the tight, burning heat of yours.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he choked out, his voice completely wrecked. "So tight."
He didn't wait for you to catch your breath. His hands anchored your hips, and he began to push upward, establishing a rough, driving rhythm. Because of the angled confines of the car seat, every thrust hit deep and unyielding.
You began to ride him, matching his desperate pace, your movements frantic and uninhibited as the rhythm of the crashing waves below was entirely drowned out by the sound of your breathless gasps, the heavy friction of skin against skin, and Hongjoong's low, filthy whispers praising exactly how well you took every deep, hard push.
The sleek interior of the convertible felt entirely too small to contain the heat radiating between you.
Every time Hongjoong thrust upward, his broad shoulders brushed against the steering wheel, and the leather of the bucket seat creaked softly under your combined weight, creating a private, rhythmic symphony against the background of the roaring tide.
His hands on your hips were unyielding, guiding your movements with a possessive authority. You threw your head back, your eyes closing as the sheer friction of the movement pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
The cool breeze off the Pacific was a stark contrast to the sweat slicking your skin where your bodies met, making every touch feel twice as electric.
"Look at me," Hongjoong commanded softly, his voice a gravelly whisper against your ear.
You blinked your eyes open, your vision slightly blurred by tears of pure pleasure. He was staring up at you, his pupils dilated so heavily that his eyes looked almost entirely black. A fierce, desperate love shone through the raw hunger on his face.
"Tell me who you belong to," he groaned, lifting his hips to meet you in another deep, breathless thrust that made your toes curl. "Say it."
"You," you gasped out, your fingers tangling desperately in his damp hair as you rode him harder, the friction building to an unbearable, agonizing peak. "Hongjoong... always you."
A dark, satisfied growl tore from his chest. The confession seemed to break whatever thread of control he had left.
His pace turned frantic, his thrusts losing their measured rhythm and becoming beautifully uninhibited, rough, and demanding.
He pulled you down flat against his chest, his mouth locking onto yours in a messy, breathless kiss that tasted of salt and desperation.
The world narrowed down to the cramped cabin of the white Porsche, the heat of his skin, and the blinding wave of pleasure building at the base of your spine.
"I'm close, sweetheart," he muttered against your lips, his breathing coming in ragged, short hitches. "Come with me. Right now."
With a few more heavy, driving jolts, the tension inside you snapped completely. A loud, fractured cry was stolen from your throat as your body clamped tightly around him, pulsing in a deep, rolling orgasm that left you entirely weak.
The sensation instantly pushed Hongjoong over the edge; he let out a low, guttural shout into the crook of your neck, his fingers digging bruisingly into your hips as he thrust deeply one last time, completely surrendering his own control as he filled you with a heavy, shuddering warmth.
For a long time, the only sound was the frantic, synchronized gasps of your breathing and the distant, rhythmic crashing of the waves against the rocks below.
Slowly, the adrenaline began to cool, replaced by a heavy, blissful lethargy. Hongjoong’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist, burying his face in your neck as his heart hammered wildly against your chest.
He kissed the sensitive skin of your shoulder softly, a tender contrast to the absolute chaos of moments before.
"Best drive of my life," he whispered into your skin, a breathless, genuinely happy chuckle vibrating against you.
You let out a weak laugh, your forehead resting against his shoulder as your muscles gradually stopped trembling.
The intense, high-octane fog that had taken over the car was finally lifting, leaving behind a warm, heavy afterglow that made it impossible to move.
"You're a menace," you breathed, your fingers lazily tracing the collar of his shirt, which was now thoroughly rumpled.
"Maybe," Hongjoong murmured, his hands sliding up your back to pull you even closer, holding you flat against his chest as if he had no intention of ever letting you go back to your side of the car. He planted a soft, lingering kiss on the crown of your head. "But you didn't seem to mind."
The ocean breeze swept over the open top of the convertible again, chilling the sweat on your skin and bringing you back to reality. Below the cliff, the tide continued its steady, rhythmic crash against the shore, completely oblivious to the absolute storm that had just taken place in the parked Porsche.
Slowly, reluctantly, Hongjoong shifted beneath you. His hands gripped your waist gently, helping you lift yourself off his lap so you both could clean up and restore some semblance of order to the cramped cabin. The space felt different now—no longer filled with an agonizing, unspoken tension, but with a comfortable, deeply rooted intimacy that had been missing for far too long.
Once you were back in the passenger seat, fixing your clothes and running a hand through your wildly tangled, windblown hair, you caught him watching you. He had adjusted his own clothes and was leaning back against his seat, his arm casually draped over the steering wheel just like before. But the restless, hungry edge in his eyes had been replaced by a soft, thoroughly satisfied warmth.
He reached into the center console, pulled out his sunglasses, and slipped them back on. Then, he reached across the console one more time. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with your own and pressing your knuckles gently against his thigh.
"Ready to finish the drive?" he asked, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips.
You looked out at the endless blue horizon ahead, then back at your husband, feeling lighter than you had in months. "Yeah. I'm ready."
Hongjoong turned the key. The powerful engine of the sports car roared back to life, vibrating through the seats.
He shifted into reverse, backed off the gravel pull-off, and steered the car back onto the smooth asphalt of the Pacific Coast Highway, the afternoon sun guiding the way forward as you chased the coast together.
--------------------------------------------------------
@alanasdesire
All rights reserved. Do not repost. Do not Translate.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 Epilogue
m.list atz.list
genre: fan fiction, smut, friends-ish to lovers
wC: 786
- synopsis: Working as the daycare instructor was the most boring job you've ever had. Worse than being a cashier at a store almost no one goes to.
But when Mr. Kim first came to drop his kid off? Holy shit, things got interesting.
And the best part? He was single.
He, in your perspective, was a certified DILF.
pairings: dilf & producer ! hongjoong x young daycare worker ! reader
- warnings: swearing, drinking, dilfs, age gap
Prologue
"Yes, of course, Mr. Choi," you said to the last parent, Choi Yeonjun, who picked up his kid and informed you of a new allergy his son had.
Waving him off until you were out of sight, you sighed and walked back into the daycare with that sullen face of yours.
"Bored again?" your friend, Jeon Soyeon, asked.
"Outta my mind. The most exciting thing that's happened to me all my life was getting accepted to do this job." you mumbled, playing with the straw from your coffee.
"Let's go out tonight," Seoyeon's eyes light up yet dim once she sees you shake your head.
"Can't. I have to pay my rent and can't unless I take my shift at that fancy restaurant tonight. Which means," you grabbed your stuff and stood, "I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow, Soso!" You hugged Soyeon and made your way outside.
You walked to the bus stop and waited there patiently, ignoring anybody who attempted to have conversation with you by making sure your airpods were visible.
It wasn't until some guy forcefully ripped one out of your ear that you turned around, absolutely furious.
"What the fuck, dude?!" you shouted, snatching the device back.
"I'm trying to talk to you! Goddamn, fucking slut!" the older man shouted.
"Excuse me?" you said. The hell crawled up his ass tonight?
"I said," the man grunted, coming closer till his hand touched your breast.
Absolutely appalled, you pushed him backwards with a disgusted expression.
"Don't touch me." you said firmly, feeling slightly disgusted with yourself.
How could you let him touch you like that?
"D-did you just push me?" he asked, anger filling his voice.
Just as you were about to start running away from the man, who seemed to be firing up to touch you once more, you heard the man shout in pain.
You turned around only to find another older, but definitely younger than the man who groped you, man squatting over the handsy one.
"Repeat after me," he said to the man on the floor, "'I will not touch women or men without consent'." The old man repeated it and the other one smiled, tapping the olders cheek.
"Good job. Now get out of here before I call someone." The man said, turning to watch the other run away.
"Miss!" he shouted, standing. "You dropped your wallet, dear." He handed it to you with a smile.
"I'm sorry for pervs like him. Not all men act like that."
"Thank you," you whispered, still a little shocked.
This guy sounded to be about in his late thirties to early forties.
His looks? He easily could pass as a 24 year old.
Maybe he was.
"I understand if you aren't completely comfortable or convinced I'm good because I am older." He said, a chuckle escaping his perfect lips.
He was older than you? Really?
"You're older?" you asked instinctively, slapping a hand to your mouth instantly.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"No, it's okay. But yeah, I can tell you're in your early twenties. I'm 36." he explained, shocking you.
You're 23 and he's 36 yet he looks like he's just 2 years older than you.
You thought him to be 25 at max.
Never 36.
"Wow."
"I know, right? I'm old!" He laughed.
"No! Not like that! I'm saying I just thought you were a lot younger.." you mumbled, looking down at your shoes.
"Really? How young?" he asked, interested.
"I thought you were at max 25."
"No way. Thank you so much!" he laughed again, you joining this time.
"Of course. I hope the fact I've been informal hasn't disrespected you at all." you rush in, forgetting that he was an elder.
"Nah, don't sweat it. I'm not huge on the whole "formalities" thing. I have 7 other shit heads i'm with daily and they don't respect them often anyways."
"7 kids?!" you asked, astounded.
"No, god no! Friends. One of the 7 is my hyung but that's it." he smiled, turning his head to face the incoming bus.
"I actually don't need to take the bus. I just stayed to make sure that guy wouldn't come back and try again. You have a nice night, though." He chuckled before walking off.
You got in the bus and sat in the furthest seat, needing to distance yourself from everyone to properly think.
That guy was hot. Hotter than any other 36 year old you've ever seen.
You knew you weren't gonna see him again but, there was a sliver of hope that kept you up all night.
The hope being that he has a kid to bring in to your daycare.
And I guess the universe was listening.
teez + 1 🏴☠️
series masterlist
synopsis: randomly one late night you were added to the ateez group chat during a truth or dare game. at first it was weird, but soon turned into the best decision ever. friendships bloom, love grows— twists and turns occur. will it end well?
multiple part ongoing series— enjoy the ride!
cw: angst, smut, alc, weed, mental health topics
ATEEZ members texting you under the table at a work dinner.
Warnings: Unpublished relationship, swearing, NSFW content mdni
Hiii, I really like this one actually. And I hope you guys like it as well. I'm thinking of adding different types of fics to my page soon, and I'm really excited! Thank you all for the support, they really make me soooo happy! Love you all, have fun reading!
Ateez x fem reader
Treasure
Kim Hongjoong x Fem!Reader
Summary: "Trapped in a forced arranged marriage to your dangerous, blackmailing cousin Seojun, you strike an alliance with his bitter rivals, the Hala Clan, led by the captivating captain Hongjoong. Instead of becoming their hostage, you agree to act as their inside spy to take Seojun down."
Wc: 6,8k
Warnings: Violance, Smoking, Weapon usage, blood.
"You don't get to tell me what to do."
You blatantly said, glaring at the man seated beside you, driving. The fluorescent lights of the city emphasize the wrath you have in your eyes. That man gripped the steering wheel like it personally offended him, trying to maintain his fury against you. He changed his focus from the road ahead of him to you, imitating the same wrath in your eyes.
"You will listen to me. I have the authority to. And you do know what happens when you don't listen to my words."
Kang Seojun, the man sitting in the driver's seat, who is also your soon-to-be husband, stated. You scowl at his words, you know what he means by it.
Your father is one of the deadliest mortals living in the city right now. Your relationship with him actually feels like a boss and his right hand, you work for him, you obey his commands, and you train hard so you can fulfill his expectations, and that relationship is the reason behind your marriage with Seojun. You can't disobey him, or he will punish you, just like how he punished the others who work for him.
Your father has this obsession with keeping the family's bloodline pure, so he forced you to marry your own cousin, Seojun, a cocky and controlling bastard. You knew life with him meant being his slave for eternity. You made it clear that you did not like him at the first meeting.
Seojun is way ahead of himself after being told that he will marry you. He knew he would have authority over your father's businesses, but he also knew damn well that you despise him, so he made ways to keep you running away from him, he threatened you, taking your love for your mother as an advantage. If you run, he will do unimaginable things to your beloved mother, and sadly, your father seems careless about it.
"You know life with me wouldn't be paradise, and I'll make sure of it." You scowled.
You won't let him lay a finger on your mother, but you also won't let him step all over you.
.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖.✦ ݁˖
Rough Rider
[MASTERLIST]
pairing: husband!hongjoong × wife!fem!reader
genre: smut w/plot
synopsis: drenched drive along the coast quickly takes a sharp turn into something far more intense. Cruising in a sleek sports car with the top down, Hongjoong and Y/n find themselves overwhelmed by a sudden, undeniable surge of tension that the ocean breeze can't cool down. Pulling over to the secluded edge of the beach, the boundary between driving and desire blurs completely. Locked inside the intimate confines of the car, an afternoon escape evolves into an afternoon of breathless commands, rough passion, and uninhibited intimacy. It's a high-octane encounter where control is surrendered, whispers turn filthy, and a routine drive becomes a thrilling, unforgettable ride.
warning(s): public sex, fingering, riding, penetrative sex, creampie begging, dirty talk, car sex, rough sex, etc.
Song: Sports Car by Tate McRae
--------------------------------------------------------
The Pacific Coast Highway stretched out ahead like a sun-bleached ribbon, sandwiched between rugged, towering cliffs and the endless expanse of the deep blue ocean.
The weather was absolutely perfect—a crisp, bright afternoon with a relentless sun that would have been unbearable if not for the sharp, salty breeze whipping through the open top of the car.
Hongjoong looked entirely in his element behind the wheel of the sleek, white Porsche convertible. With his sunglasses pushed up the bridge of his nose, a crisp striped shirt blowing open slightly at the collar, and one hand casually resting on the steering wheel, he looked less like a husband running weekend errands and more like an escapee from a luxury film set.
You leaned back into the leather passenger seat, letting your eyes trace the sharp line of his jawline.
It had been weeks since the two of you had managed a single afternoon to yourselves. Between his grueling studio sessions and your own overlapping schedules, you had become like passing ships in the night—sharing quick kisses over morning coffee and exhausted collapses into bed at midnight.
When he had woken you up that morning, dangling the car keys with a mischievous grin and telling you to get dressed for a drive, you hadn't hesitated.
"Are you looking at the scenery, or are you looking at me?" Hongjoong asked, his voice cutting through the rushing wind.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained fixed on the winding coastal road.
"Can't I enjoy both?" you countered, shifting in your seat so you could rest your chin on your hand, openly admiring him. "Though, I have to admit, the view on the left is much better."
He let out a low laugh, the sound rich and warm.
He glanced over at you briefly, his dark eyes softening behind his sunglasses before returning to the road. "Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart. But I'll take it. I've missed you."
"I've missed you too," you murmured, the truth of the words sinking heavily into your chest.
As if sensing the sudden dip into genuine vulnerability, Hongjoong shifted gears, the engine roaring to life as he accelerated along a straight stretch of the highway.
The sudden burst of speed brought a thrilling jolt to your chest. The ocean breeze grew heavier, thicker with moisture, spraying a fine, invisible mist of saltwater over the car.
Your hair flew wildly around your face, and you couldn't help but laugh, the sheer freedom of the moment washing away weeks of accumulated stress.
Hongjoong's hand left the gear shift. Instead of returning to the steering wheel, his fingers trailed across the center console, searching blindly until they found your thigh.
His hand was warm, his palm slightly rough against your bare skin as he gripped your leg just above the knee.
The contrast between the cool, whipping air and the sudden heat of his touch was sharp enough to make you catch your breath. He squeezed gently, a grounding, possessive gesture that instantly shifted the atmosphere inside the car.
"You look beautiful today," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its playful edge.
His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin, charting a path that crept just a fraction of an inch higher with every passing mile.
The easygoing, lighthearted energy of the drive began to mutate. The heat of the sun above seemed to intensify, matching the sudden flare of tension sparking between the two of you.
Every time he shifted gears, his hand would leave your leg only to return a second later, gripping a little higher, a little firmer, his fingers anchoring you to him.
You glanced over at him, noticing how his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, how his jaw had tightened.
He wasn't just driving anymore; he was pacing himself, fighting a sudden, undeniable surge of desire that the ocean air was doing absolutely nothing to cool down.
As the car rounded a sharp bend, a secluded, gravel pull-off appeared on the right, completely hidden from the main highway by a cluster of overgrown coastal brush and overlooking a deserted stretch of the rocky beach below.
Hongjoong didn’t say a word. He didn't ask. He simply indicated, veered the Porsche off the smooth asphalt, and brought the sports car to a sudden, abrupt halt on the gravel.
The roaring engine cut out, leaving nothing but the sound of the heavy surf crashing against the rocks below and the sudden, deafening quiet inside the cabin.
The boundary between a routine afternoon escape and something far more intense had just completely blurred.
Hongjoong unbuckled his seatbelt with a sharp click, took off his sunglasses, and turned his full, unblinking attention toward you.
The playful husband from ten minutes ago was gone; the dark, demanding look in his eyes made it perfectly clear that the drive was officially over.
He didn't move to open his door, nor did he make a move toward yours. Instead, Hongjoong shifted his weight, turning fully in his leather seat to face you, one arm draping over the steering wheel while the other remained exactly where it was—anchored firmly on your thigh.
His gaze swept over your face, heavy and deliberate, tracking the way your chest rose and fell with a slightly quickened breath.
"You're quiet," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly contrast to the crashing waves just beyond the cliffside. "Not going to ask me why we stopped?"
"I think I have a pretty good idea," you replied, your voice steadier than you actually felt.
The sudden stillness of the car made the tension between you feel almost physical, a thick, intoxicating weight filling the small cabin.
Hongjoong’s smirk returned, but it lacked its earlier innocence. It was darker now, sharper. His fingers flexed against your skin, a silent reminder of his grip.
"Do you? Because looking at you right now, all flushed from the wind, sitting in my passenger seat... I don't think you have any idea how difficult it was to keep my eyes on the road for the last twenty miles."
He leaned in closer, crossing the invisible boundary of the center console. The scent of his cologne—something sharp, woodsy, and thoroughly masculine—mingled with the salty air, filling your senses.
When he reached out with his free hand, his fingertips were surprisingly gentle as they tucked a stray, windblown lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingered on your jawline, tilting your face up slightly so you had no choice but to look directly into his dark eyes.
"We've been so busy," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your lower lip, pressing just firmly enough to part them slightly. "Too busy. I feel like I haven't really had you to myself in a lifetime."
"Hongjoong..." Your voice hitched as his hand on your thigh moved. It wasn't the slow, agonizingly tentative crawl from before; his palm slid upward with a sudden, purposeful friction, stopping right at the hem of your clothes. The heat of his skin seemed to burn right through the fabric.
"I wanted to take you out here, where there's no phone ringing, no studio deadlines, no interruptions," he said, his gaze dropping to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes. The warmth in his expression had completely given way to an intense, burning hunger. "Just you, me, and nothing else."
He slid his hand beneath the hem, his bare palm making direct contact with the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
You let out a soft gasp, your fingers instinctively gripping the edge of the leather seat as a shiver ran straight down your spine. In the cramped, intimate confines of the sports car, every sensation was magnified ten-fold.
"Hold on to me instead," Hongjoong commanded softly, noticing your grip on the seat.
You didn't hesitate. You reached out, your hand finding the collar of his striped shirt, pulling him just a fraction closer.
The proximity was dizzying. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, hear the slight hitch in his own breathing as he realized exactly how deeply you wanted this, too.
"Is this what you wanted when you brought me out here?" you teased, though your voice lacked any real bite, trembling slightly under the weight of anticipation.
Hongjoong let out a low, rough growl, his eyes darkening further as he leaned in until his lips were bare inches from yours. "Sweetheart, you have no idea what I'm going to do to you out here. But we're going to start exactly how I want."
His lips finally closed the distance, crashing into yours with a fierce, demanding intensity that left you utterly breathless.
There was no hesitation, no gentle easing into the moment; the weeks of built-up frustration and longing exploded into a kiss that was deep, possessive, and entirely consuming.
You whimpered into his mouth, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, trying to erase every inch of space between you.
Hongjoong groaned, the sound vibrating against your tongue as he tilted his head to deepen the angle, his lips moving against yours with a practiced, desperate hunger.
His hand on your inner thigh slid higher, his fingers parting your legs effortlessly in the bucket seat.
When his fingers brushed against the damp lace of your underwear, a sharp jolt of pure electricity shot straight to your core. You arched your back, a breathless gasp escaping your throat as he broke the kiss, his lips immediately migrating down the sensitive line of your jaw.
"Look at you," he growled against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck. "You're already so wet for me, sweetheart. Just from a drive."
"Hongjoong, please," you begged, your voice thick and strained as he nipped at the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth leaving a deliberate, stinging mark that would undoubtedly darken by tomorrow.
"Please what?" he murmured, his hand pressing firmly against your center, the heat of his palm rubbing through the thin barrier of fabric. He applied a slow, agonizing pressure that made your hips instinctively roll against his hand. "Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you. Inside the car, right now," you gasped, your hands moving from his shirt to tangle in his hair, pulling him back up so you could look into his darkened eyes.
A dark, victorious grin spread across his face. "Then get over here."
He leaned back just enough to give you room. The space inside the Porsche was tight, the gear shift and center console presenting an intimate obstacle, but the challenge only seemed to heighten the frantic energy between you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, shifting your weight and swinging one leg over the console.
Hongjoong guided you, his strong hands catching your waist and lifting you effortlessly until you were straddling his lap, facing him.
The positioning was dizzying. Your thighs braced against the leather sides of his seat, your center pressing directly against the hard, rigid length straining beneath his trousers.
"Much better," Hongjoong whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, pinning you firmly to his lap. He rocked his hips up slightly, a deliberate tease that made you cry out, your hands anchoring tightly onto his broad shoulders.
He didn't waste another second. His hands moved to the fastening of his trousers, freeing himself with a dark, focused intensity.
At the same time, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, pulling the fabric aside to expose you fully to the cool ocean breeze—and his burning gaze.
"You are so beautiful out here," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours as his fingers guided his length to your opening. He paused for a fraction of a second, letting you feel the agonizingly hot, heavy press of him against your slick skin. "Hold on to me."
With a slow, heavy upward thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you all at once.
Your eyes flew shut as a loud, uninhibited cry tore from your lips, echoing out over the empty beach.
The fullness of him filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made your head tilt back, your fingers digging bruisingly into his shoulders.
It was a high-octane rush of pure pleasure, so intense that your entire body trembled against his.
Hongjoong let out a ragged, breathless groan, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he gripped your hips with white-knuckled intensity, holding you still for a moment as his body adjusted to the tight, burning heat of yours.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he choked out, his voice completely wrecked. "So tight."
He didn't wait for you to catch your breath. His hands anchored your hips, and he began to push upward, establishing a rough, driving rhythm. Because of the angled confines of the car seat, every thrust hit deep and unyielding.
You began to ride him, matching his desperate pace, your movements frantic and uninhibited as the rhythm of the crashing waves below was entirely drowned out by the sound of your breathless gasps, the heavy friction of skin against skin, and Hongjoong's low, filthy whispers praising exactly how well you took every deep, hard push.
The sleek interior of the convertible felt entirely too small to contain the heat radiating between you.
Every time Hongjoong thrust upward, his broad shoulders brushed against the steering wheel, and the leather of the bucket seat creaked softly under your combined weight, creating a private, rhythmic symphony against the background of the roaring tide.
His hands on your hips were unyielding, guiding your movements with a possessive authority. You threw your head back, your eyes closing as the sheer friction of the movement pushed you closer and closer to the edge.
The cool breeze off the Pacific was a stark contrast to the sweat slicking your skin where your bodies met, making every touch feel twice as electric.
"Look at me," Hongjoong commanded softly, his voice a gravelly whisper against your ear.
You blinked your eyes open, your vision slightly blurred by tears of pure pleasure. He was staring up at you, his pupils dilated so heavily that his eyes looked almost entirely black. A fierce, desperate love shone through the raw hunger on his face.
"Tell me who you belong to," he groaned, lifting his hips to meet you in another deep, breathless thrust that made your toes curl. "Say it."
"You," you gasped out, your fingers tangling desperately in his damp hair as you rode him harder, the friction building to an unbearable, agonizing peak. "Hongjoong... always you."
A dark, satisfied growl tore from his chest. The confession seemed to break whatever thread of control he had left.
His pace turned frantic, his thrusts losing their measured rhythm and becoming beautifully uninhibited, rough, and demanding.
He pulled you down flat against his chest, his mouth locking onto yours in a messy, breathless kiss that tasted of salt and desperation.
The world narrowed down to the cramped cabin of the white Porsche, the heat of his skin, and the blinding wave of pleasure building at the base of your spine.
"I'm close, sweetheart," he muttered against your lips, his breathing coming in ragged, short hitches. "Come with me. Right now."
With a few more heavy, driving jolts, the tension inside you snapped completely. A loud, fractured cry was stolen from your throat as your body clamped tightly around him, pulsing in a deep, rolling orgasm that left you entirely weak.
The sensation instantly pushed Hongjoong over the edge; he let out a low, guttural shout into the crook of your neck, his fingers digging bruisingly into your hips as he thrust deeply one last time, completely surrendering his own control as he filled you with a heavy, shuddering warmth.
For a long time, the only sound was the frantic, synchronized gasps of your breathing and the distant, rhythmic crashing of the waves against the rocks below.
Slowly, the adrenaline began to cool, replaced by a heavy, blissful lethargy. Hongjoong’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist, burying his face in your neck as his heart hammered wildly against your chest.
He kissed the sensitive skin of your shoulder softly, a tender contrast to the absolute chaos of moments before.
"Best drive of my life," he whispered into your skin, a breathless, genuinely happy chuckle vibrating against you.
You let out a weak laugh, your forehead resting against his shoulder as your muscles gradually stopped trembling.
The intense, high-octane fog that had taken over the car was finally lifting, leaving behind a warm, heavy afterglow that made it impossible to move.
"You're a menace," you breathed, your fingers lazily tracing the collar of his shirt, which was now thoroughly rumpled.
"Maybe," Hongjoong murmured, his hands sliding up your back to pull you even closer, holding you flat against his chest as if he had no intention of ever letting you go back to your side of the car. He planted a soft, lingering kiss on the crown of your head. "But you didn't seem to mind."
The ocean breeze swept over the open top of the convertible again, chilling the sweat on your skin and bringing you back to reality. Below the cliff, the tide continued its steady, rhythmic crash against the shore, completely oblivious to the absolute storm that had just taken place in the parked Porsche.
Slowly, reluctantly, Hongjoong shifted beneath you. His hands gripped your waist gently, helping you lift yourself off his lap so you both could clean up and restore some semblance of order to the cramped cabin. The space felt different now—no longer filled with an agonizing, unspoken tension, but with a comfortable, deeply rooted intimacy that had been missing for far too long.
Once you were back in the passenger seat, fixing your clothes and running a hand through your wildly tangled, windblown hair, you caught him watching you. He had adjusted his own clothes and was leaning back against his seat, his arm casually draped over the steering wheel just like before. But the restless, hungry edge in his eyes had been replaced by a soft, thoroughly satisfied warmth.
He reached into the center console, pulled out his sunglasses, and slipped them back on. Then, he reached across the console one more time. His hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with your own and pressing your knuckles gently against his thigh.
"Ready to finish the drive?" he asked, a soft, genuine smile playing on his lips.
You looked out at the endless blue horizon ahead, then back at your husband, feeling lighter than you had in months. "Yeah. I'm ready."
Hongjoong turned the key. The powerful engine of the sports car roared back to life, vibrating through the seats.
He shifted into reverse, backed off the gravel pull-off, and steered the car back onto the smooth asphalt of the Pacific Coast Highway, the afternoon sun guiding the way forward as you chased the coast together.
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@alanasdesire
All rights reserved. Do not repost. Do not Translate.
Freak For You
[MASTERLIST]
pairing: idol bf!hongjoong x gf!fem!reader
genre: smut
synopsis: Behind closed doors, the dynamic between you and your boyfriend, Hongjoong, completely flips. To the rest of the world, he is the charismatic and commanding presence on stage, but in the private sanctuary of your relationship, he gladly surrenders that control.
warning(s): Dom!reader, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, teasing, marking, sub!joong, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, begging, dirty talk, praise kink, choking, rough sex, etc.
Song: freak for you by Haiden Henderson
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The heavy click of the front door locking felt like the official end of the world outside.
To millions of fans, Hongjoong was a force of nature—commanding, hyper-focused, and completely in control of every stage he walked onto. He carried the weight of a leader, a performer, and an icon, moving through the world with a sharp, untouchable precision that left people breathless.
But the moment the two of you crossed the threshold into the quiet sanctuary of the apartment, the suffocating pressure of his public life simply evaporated.
He didn't say a word as he shed his heavy leather jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. When he turned back to look at you, the sharp, intense gaze he used to hold entire stadiums captive was completely altered. The fierce, unyielding edge was gone, replaced by a quiet, heavy focus meant entirely for you.
Hongjoong took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate but entirely devoid of the authority he wore like armor out there. He stopped just inches away, looking down at you through the dark bangs falling over his forehead, his breathing already shallow.
Without you having to say a single word, he sank slowly onto his knees right there on the floorboards, his hands resting flat against his thighs. He tilted his head up, his sharp jawline defined under the soft evening light, looking up at you with absolute, unblinking devotion.
"Tell me what to do," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that betrayed just how desperately he had been waiting for this exact moment all day.
You didn't answer right away. Instead, you took a slow, deliberate step closer, letting the tips of your boots brush against his knees. The faint friction made him track your movement, his chest rising and falling in a slightly quicker rhythm now, though he didn't dare move an inch without your permission.
Slowly, you reached down, your fingers sliding beneath his chin. You tilted his head back, forcing his gaze to hold yours completely. The contrast was striking—this was the man who, just hours ago, had a stadium of thousands hanging on his every word. Now, he was looking up at you, completely vulnerable, his lips slightly parted as a quiet, trembling breath escaped them.
"Did you behave today?" you asked, your voice low and even, dripping with an easy authority that made a visible shiver run down his spine.
Hongjoong swallowed hard, his throat bobbing against your fingertips. He leaned into your touch just a fraction, a subtle, desperate plea for closer contact that he tried to restrain. "Yes," he rasped, his eyes dark and wide, entirely focused on you. "I did exactly what I was supposed to. I promise."
"Good." You let your thumb trace the sharp line of his jaw, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered at the praise. "Because you don't have to be the leader in here, Hongjoong. You don't have to carry anything."
A soft, broken sigh left his lips at your words, the tension draining from his shoulders as he fully surrendered to the weight of your command. He reached up, his hands hovering just an inch away from your waist, waiting, begging with his eyes for the permission to touch you.
"Please," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of how badly he wanted to please you. "Just tell me how you want me."
You let the silence stretch between you, enjoying the way his breathing hitched under the weight of his own anticipation. His hands remained frozen, hovering just off your hips, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping himself back until you gave the word.
"Hands on the floor, Joongie," you commanded softly, using the nickname like a velvet leash. "Don't touch me until I say so."
He didn't hesitate for a single second. His hands dropped instantly to the floorboards, planting firmly on either side of your boots. He bowed his head slightly, exposing the pale line of his neck, completely compliant. The utter lack of hesitation from someone so powerful outside these walls sent a sharp thrill right through you.
Slowly, you stepped out of your boots, the quiet thud of the leather hitting the floor the only sound in the room. You moved backward, sinking onto the edge of the plush bed, looking down at him from your new vantage point.
"Come here."
Hongjoong looked up, his eyes dark, heavily hooded, and entirely consumed by you. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact until his chest brushed against the mattress between your parted knees. He rested his chin on your thigh, looking up at you like a devotee at an altar, completely at your mercy.
You slid your fingers into his soft, dark hair, gently gripping the roots. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to let him know exactly who held the reins. His eyes closed, a low, needy hum vibrating against your leg at the sudden contact.
"You look so beautiful like this," you murmured, tilting his head back to expose his throat. "So eager to please."
"I am," he choked out, his hands now resting flat on the mattress on either side of your hips, still strictly obeying the command not to touch you directly. His gaze locked onto your lips, his breathing ragged. "Please. Let me do something for you."
You let your fingers tighten just a fraction in his hair, keeping his gaze locked onto yours. The sheer desperation rolling off him was palpable, a heavy tension that filled the space between you. He looked completely undone already, and you hadn't even let him touch you yet.
"Since you've been so good," you purred, your voice dropping to a velvety whisper.
Slowly, you eased your grip on his hair, sliding your hand down the side of his neck, your thumb tracing over his pulsing artery before hooking under the collar of his shirt. You shifted back into the mattress, parting your knees a fraction wider, inviting him into the space.
"You can touch me now," you murmured. "Take off my clothes. Slowly."
A ragged exhale broke from Hongjoong's lips, a sound of pure relief and intense hunger. His hands, finally released from their restraint, moved instantly. They slid up the denim of your jeans, his palms hot and slightly damp against your skin, tracing a path up to your waist. He didn't rush—even in his eagerness, he obeyed the command to be deliberate, his fingers trembling slightly as he worked at the button and zipper of your pants.
He leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his knees on the bed, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slid the fabric down your hips. His hot breath brushed against your collarbone, sending a fierce shiver through your entire body.
"You're so perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but entirely breathless. "Thank you... thank you for letting me."
Once the barrier of your clothes was gone, he didn't immediately go further. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, hovering over you, looking down at your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. His hands came up to frame your waist, his thumbs smoothing over your hip bones, leaving burning trails in their wake.
You raised your hips slightly, hooking your legs around his waist to pull him closer, but you kept your hands flat against his chest, holding him back just enough to keep yourself in control.
"Look at me, Joongie," you commanded softly.
He lifted his head instantly, his pupils so blown out that the dark irises were almost entirely swallowed up. His lips were parted, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Down," you said, nodding toward the space between your thighs. "Show me exactly how much you wanted this all day."
Hongjoong’s chest heaved with a heavy, ragged breath as your command settled over him. For a fraction of a second, his gaze dropped to the space between your thighs, a dark, intense hunger flaring in his eyes before he looked right back up at you, silently asking for that final, silent confirmation.
When you gave him a slow, single nod, he moved.
He slid down the length of your body, his hot palms sweeping down your outer thighs to gently urge your knees wider apart. He settled between them on his knees, moving with a reverence that made your pulse skyrocket. The cool air of the room hit your bare skin, but it was immediately replaced by the radiating heat of his body as he leaned in.
Hongjoong didn't rush. He hovered just inches away, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you twitch beneath him. He looked up one more time, his dark bangs falling into his eyes, completely glassy and utterly devoted.
"Tell me if it's too much," he whispered, his voice incredibly low, gravelly, and entirely stripped of any pretense. "Tell me exactly how you want it."
"Just start, Joongie," you breathed, your hands reaching up to grip the headboard behind you as the anticipation became almost too much to bear.
He let out a soft hum against your skin, a vibration that made you gasp, before his lips finally made contact.
He started with slow, agonizingly soft kisses along the inside of your thigh, marking his way upward with deliberate patience. Every press of his lips was hot and damp, a deliberate slow-burn torture that had you arching your hips off the mattress in a silent plea for more. But he held your hips down firmly with his large hands, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to anchor you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you to be.
When his tongue finally flicked against your center, a sharp, breathless cry escaped your throat.
Hongjoong groaned against you at the sound, the praise fueling him instantly. His pace picked up, his tongue moving in long, deliberate strokes that had your fingers tightening around the headboard until your knuckles turned white. He knew exactly what he was doing, swirling and pressing with a devastating rhythm that had you completely at his mercy.
"Hongjoong..." you gasped out, your head tossing back against the pillows.
Hearing his name unraveled whatever restraint he had left. He used his fingers to part you further, exposing you completely to his heat.
His mouth became hungrier, his suction deeper, a soft, wet sound filling the quiet room as he worshipped you.
He swirled his tongue over your clit while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside you, the sudden fullness making your eyes snap open.
"Ah! Joongie—"
You looked down, your vision blurry, only to find him looking right back up at you. Even with his mouth buried against you, his dark, blown-out eyes never left your face.
He watched every single expression of pleasure cross your features, drinking in the sight of you coming apart under his touch, completely satisfied to be the one on his knees making it happen.
The sudden fullness of his fingers inside you, paired with the relentless, soaking friction of his tongue, had you arching wildly off the mattress. Your hips stuttered against his mouth, but Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs only tightened, holding you perfectly steady against the onslaught.
He didn't miss a single beat. His fingers curled inside you, finding the exact angle that made your toes curl, while his thumb applied a heavy, rhythmic pressure to your clit.
"Too fast?" he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled, hot, and vibrating directly against your center. He didn't slow down, his eyes locked onto yours, completely dark and pupils fully blown. He was reading every twitch of your muscles, every ragged hitch in your chest.
"No—don't stop, Joongie, please," you choked out, your voice breaking as the coiled tension in your lower stomach tightened down to a sharp, unbearable point.
A muffled, deeply satisfied growl rumbled in his throat at your begging. The sound was pure submission, yet the sheer intensity of his pace felt utterly dominant as he drove you closer to the edge. He increased the friction, his tongue swirling in relentless, soaking circles while his fingers moved in a swift, demanding rhythm inside you.
The quiet room was filled with the wet, heavy sounds of his devotion and your own breathless, unraveled cries. You were completely at his mercy, your hands gripping the headboard so tightly your arms trembled.
"Look at me," you gasped, your vision swimming.
He immediately tilted his head up slightly, never stopping his hands or his mouth, looking up at you through his damp bangs. His lips were wet and glistening, his jaw tense with the effort of holding his own desire back just to give you everything first. The absolute worship in his eyes was the final fuse.
"Hongjoong—I'm going to—"
"Go," he rasped out against you, his fingers flexing deeply inside you one more time. "Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it."
The peak hit you like a wave, a violent, blinding rush of heat that fractured your vision. You screamed his name, your hips spasming uncontrollably against his face as the first hard ripples of your orgasm tore through you.
Hongjoong didn't pull away. He drank in every single drop of your pleasure, burying his face directly into your heat and riding out the waves with you.
His fingers stayed buried deep inside you, curling gently to catch every internal contraction, anchoring you to the bed as your body trembled and finally, slowly, began to come down.
He stayed right there for a long, quiet minute, his face buried against your inner thigh as your breathing gradually slowed from a ragged pant to a steady, heavy rhythm. The tension had completely melted out of your muscles, leaving you tingling, warm, and entirely pliant against the sheets.
Slowly, Hongjoong pulled back. He slid up the mattress, his movements heavy and loose, until he was hovering over you once again.
He looked completely wrecked in the best possible way. His dark bangs were damp, clinging slightly to his forehead, and his lips were flushed and glistening under the dim light.
The intense, hyper-focused gaze he usually held was entirely gone, replaced by a soft, heavily hooded look of pure contentment. He rested his forearms on either side of your head, taking care not to put all his weight on you, but staying close enough that you could feel the frantic, rapid thumping of his heart against your chest.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice incredibly rough and gravelly. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before resting his forehead against yours. "So beautiful when you take everything from me."
You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your hands lazily sliding up his chest to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gently tugging to make him look at you. "You did so good, Joongie."
A visible shiver ran through him at the praise, a quiet, needy whimper catching in his throat. He shifted his hips against yours, and the heavy, rigid heat pressing against your thigh was a stark reminder that despite everything he had just given you, he hadn't touched himself once.
He was completely at his limit, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with a desperate, unspoken plea.
"Can I..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he struggled to find his words, completely unraveled by your touch. "Please. I want to be inside you so bad."
You arched your hips up slightly, feeling the friction of his weight, and smiled when a low growl rumbled deep in his chest at the movement.
"Take off your shirt," you commanded softly, sliding your hands down to his waist. "And then you can have exactly what you want."
Hongjoong didn’t need to be told twice. He sat back on his heels instantly, his fingers hooking into the hem of his white graphic tee. With one swift, fluid motion, he pulled it over his head and tossed it blindly onto the floor, exposing the sharp, tense lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin was slick with a thin sheen of sweat, gleaming under the low light of the room.
He didn't wait. He leaned back down over you, his bare chest pressing against yours with a heat that felt almost electric.
"Now," he gasped out, his hands framing your face, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones with a desperate intensity. "Please, tell me I can."
"Now, Joongie," you whispered.
He let out a ragged, broken sound—halfway between a sigh and a sob of pure relief. He reached down, his fingers guiding himself to your opening, which was still slick and sensitive from before. He paused for just a fraction of a second at your threshold, his eyes locked onto yours, silently checking one last time that you were ready to let him lose control.
When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him down, Hongjoong sank into you in one deep, slow push.
The sudden fullness made your eyes snap wide, a breathless gasp escaping your lips. Hongjoong groaned deeply, the sound vibrating right against your collarbone as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He went entirely still for a moment, his muscles shaking with the sheer effort of restraining himself as your body tightly accommodated his weight.
"God, you feel so good," he choked out, his voice completely wrecked. "So tight. So hot."
Slowly, he began to move. He pulled back just enough before driving deep again, establishing a slow, heavy, agonizingly perfect rhythm. He wasn't the leader right now; he was completely at the mercy of the friction, his hips stuttering slightly whenever your hands tightened on his bare back, digging your nails into his shoulders.
Every time he pushed deep inside you, a soft whimper left his lips. He was entirely unraveled, giving up every ounce of his usual composure, completely content to let you hear just how weak he was for you.
The slow, agonizingly deep rhythm quickly began to fraction. As the heat built between you, Hongjoong’s composure fractured entirely, his breath turning into short, ragged gasps against your ear. Every time his hips met yours, a low, desperate sound tore from his throat—a raw vocalization of how deeply he was losing himself in you.
"Look at me," you choked out, your hands sliding up his slick back to grip the damp roots of his hair.
He lifted his head instantly, his face flushed and his eyes completely dark, wide with an intense, unblinking focus. There was no stage persona left, no guarded expression—just pure, unadulterated vulnerability. He was looking at you as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded in the universe, entirely dependent on your expression for his next breath.
"Faster, Joongie," you commanded, your voice strained under the tightening coil in your stomach.
The permission broke the final thread of his restraint. His pace turned urgent, hard, and unyielding, driving into you with a relentless fervor that had the headboard knocking rhythmically against the wall. The wet, heavy friction filled the quiet room, a devastatingly loud testament to his surrender.
"Ah, god—sweetheart," he gasped out, his jaw clenching tightly as his movements grew slightly wilder, his hips stuttering against yours. He was chasing the edge blindly now, his fingers digging into the mattress on either side of your head, muscles in his arms tensing until they trembled violently.
You wrapped your legs higher around his waist, locking him in, arching your hips to meet every deep, frantic thrust. The sudden shift in angle pushed you both right over the precipice.
"Hongjoong—" Your voice broke on his name as the second wave of your climax hit, tight internal contractions clamping down around him.
The feeling of you coming apart around him ruined whatever control he had left. Hongjoong let out a loud, broken cry, his head falling back as his eyes closed.
He delivered three more deep, desperate thrusts before embedding himself completely inside you, his entire body locking up as a heavy, shuddering release tore through him. He spilled inside you, his chest heaving violently against yours as his pulse ran completely wild.
The heavy, frantic thumping of his heart gradually slowed against your chest, the loud, echoing sound of his breathing filling the quiet room as the aftershocks of his release slowly subsided. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you for a long moment, completely spent, his forehead resting heavily in the crook of your neck as his muscles finally unlocked from their tight tension.
Slowly, with an almost agonizing gentleness, he shifted his weight. He pulled back, a soft, quiet gasp escaping his lips at the sudden loss of contact, and rolled onto his side right next to you on the tangled sheets.
He didn't let you go, though. The moment he settled, his arm slid around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. He buried his face in the damp hair at the back of your neck, his breath still hot and slightly uneven against your skin.
"Don't move," he murmured, his voice incredibly rough, deep, and completely laced with exhaustion. He tightened his grip around your middle just a fraction, pulling you so close there wasn't a single inch of space left between you. "Just stay right here."
You reached down, wrapping your fingers over his hand where it rested flat against your stomach. His skin was warm, his fingers still trembling slightly from the sheer intensity of the last hour.
Out there, the world was waiting for him—schedules, cameras, stadium lights, and the relentless pressure of being the perfect leader. But in the quiet dark of the bedroom, with the door locked and your hand in his, he didn't have to carry any of it. He was completely stripped bare, entirely yours, and perfectly content to let you hold the reins until the morning came.
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@alanasdesire
All rights reserved. Do not repost. Do no translate.
the five senses — j.wy x reader
sadness, anger, happiness, that boy sure knows how to make your senses tingle, and it’s been that way since you were introduced as the final member of ateez. the only girl of ateez. you sure do have a favorite, don’t you?
idol!wooyoung x idol!fem!reader, 9th member reader, members/best friends to potential lovers?, 18+, unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, semi public sex? (they’re in a dressing room), mr. and mrs. giggleshits, set during work era —> adrenaline era, a little awk, dirty talk, breeding kink ?, pet names (baby, slut, good girl, etc.), cheating, breakup, slight comfort, reader is dating jaehyun (nct), smut with plot, fluff, mmm i think that’s about it
── wc. 8.5k
J. WY.
(one-shot) best friend!wooyoung x best friend!reader
first time writing fanfiction, kinda nervous
summary: After years of living together you always believed your best friend Wooyoung was gay. But when you announce you’re dating again, his "best friend" persona slips.
word-count: 1,5k
warnings: SMUT mdni, perv!woo, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, creampie, begging, wooyoung is not gay?!
note: this isn’t proofread so sorry if there’s any spelling errors, also this is my first time actually writing something, so if someone has any tips feel free to reach out to me :D
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a castle just for us | j.wy
pairing: bf!wooyoung x gf!reader synopsis: life has been kicking your ass. overworked, no time for self-care, and little time to spend quality time with your partner- wooyoung decides to whisk you away for a long weekend hoping it will help you feel like yourself again. a/n: this one's for the bitches who need a mf break. this was suppose to be an emotionallymessy!reader x emotionallystable!wooyoung fic but it turned into reader just needing to turn off her brain. also, i've been listening to castle a lot and it kinda influenced me! cw: smut mdni! alcohol consumption (they don't get drunk though), not necessarily dom!woo but he's def the one calling the shots, cursing, pet names (pretty girl, baby), fingering, unprotected p in v, one slap, fingers in mouth, drooling, dirty talk, semi-public sex (they're in a backyard, but houses are conveniently spaced far away hehe), mentions of toxic past relationships (i don't go into detail) wc: 6.7k
It was hot. Like, you better put on your flip flops coming out of the pool if you don't want the bottoms of your feet to barbecue on the patio, hot. The summer playlist Wooyoung curated bumps at a not-too-obnoxious volume from the speaker set on the lounge chair while you lazily float about the pool on an inflatable. The high, black iron fence that surrounds the backyard, matted with lush greenery and pops of light purple wisteria, makes it feel like you're in a fantasy world, away from real life problems.
Wooyoung could see that you were overwhelmed with everything life has been throwing at you lately and arranged for a stay at a rental house a couple hours away from the city. Somewhere that wasn't tied to the goings on of what was happening at home or work. A completely separate space that kept the looming thoughts of what was to come after the long weekend.
And a long weekend away was exactly what you needed. Your work shifts have been stretching long beyond the usual 8 hours into 10, sometimes more, because of reasons beyond your control. Coming home to a mountain of laundry and dishes with little time to cook yourself a nutritious meal let alone grocery shop. Wooyoung would cook for you when he had the time, but he was also busy with his photography business. Booked nearly every weekend for special events and the majority of the week for professional portraits. Quality time spent together consisted of strictly sleep. You’d trudge in from another long shift that made you rethink your career, absent mindedly shower, and eat cut up fruit and yogurt out of a glass Pyrex measuring cup because you forgot to run the dishwasher before hurrying out the door in the morning. Then, Wooyoung would make it over just in time to catch you as you were falling asleep, pulling your curled up form into his body as he ran a soothing hand up and down your back.
You didn't feel human anymore. You had no more spoons to give. Honestly, the whole damn silverware drawer was empty.
It’s a sweet gesture for him to make. You’ve only been dating for six months, the relationship very much still new, but it hasn't felt that way. Wooyoung's charismatic charm and talent for reading people made it easy for him to clock that the far away stares and random bouts of silence increasing in frequency was a sign of you being at your wits end.
The mixture of coconut-banana scented sunscreen and chlorine was like aromatherapy to you, a reminder that you weren't in the stifling city where all your problems were waiting for you to come back. You move your arms on top of the water, letting buoyancy do its thing, like you were creating snow angels, letting the feeling of the water rolling across your skin keep you grounded.
A hand caught your wrist, “Is this a relaxing type of fidgeting, or the anxious kind?” You hear your boyfriend ask from next to you.
You roll your head to the side where he was floating next to you and look up at him over your sunglasses. All golden skin, hard lines of muscle, and shiny silver of the necklaces, rings, and the bracelet he refused to go a day without wearing. His expression reads less serious than what his question was asking, but still genuine none-the-less.
“If you keep reminding me of my anxiety it’ll just keep me feeling anxious.” You twirl your wrist around to knock his grip off and interlace your fingers with his, pulling him closer to you so your inflatables bump together, “This is perfect, thank you for doing this.” You smile while you float next to each other hand in hand like a pair of sea otters making sure not to drift apart.
You bring the mixed drink you made before getting into the pool up to your lips, taking a sip to find it watered down and hard to swallow. The disgusted sound you make in the back of your throat comes out louder than expected, “I’m making another drink, you want one?” You shake your glass in front of Wooyoung for emphasis.
“I’ll get it,” He offers, already grabbing for the glass and slipping off his float. And bless his heart, but if he does one more thing for you, you might choke him out with all the love in the world. He's waited on you hand and foot since you got here a mere 18 hours ago. Laying out your bath towels and swimsuit in the bathroom before you woke up, bringing you breakfast and tea in bed, even applying your sunscreen for you. Not even in the sexy way- he just smooshed his hands all over your face and ears to make sure you wouldn't burn even a little bit.
“Woo, I really appreciate everything you've been doing for me. But you're starting to feel more like a butler and less like my boyfriend and it's weirding me out.” You argue, flopping off your own float and moving the glass away from his grabby hands.
It’s his turn to look up at you from over his sunglasses, a pierced brow raising and suggestive smirk plastered on his face, “That doesn't turn you on?”
You let out a short, loud laugh, “Maybe if you’d put on a pair of gloves and bow tie and didn't try to airplane feed me scrambled eggs this morning it would have.”
“Oh my god, rude!”
Plucking his glass out of the cup holder next to his tattooed forearm you ask,“Now, what can I get you, Mr. Jung.”
He pushes his bottom lip into a pout, “Mr. Jung, not baby? So you hate me?” He brings a hand behind you and rests a palm on an asscheek under the water, his large, veiny hand still warm under the cool water. Raising your brow at him expectantly, you shake his glass waiting for an answer.
He huffs and drops the feigned hurt, “Surprise me.”
“Sure thing…” you bend over and let your sunglasses slip down to the tip of your nose, making eye contact before finishing the sentence “...baby.” giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. His eyes roll back into his skull as you grin, all teeth, and turn around to wade through the water and up the steps.
At the outdoor bar, the guilt starts to gnaw at you. Being taken care of is such a foreign concept, how were you supposed to act? Is it a trap? A way to build up favors to hold over your head and manipulate you into doing what he wants? That's the extent of your experience in relationships anyways. Wooyoung seems genuine enough. It's been six months, which isn't a long time but men had shown their true colors a lot sooner in the past. You think you should be in the clear.
Your brain plays ping pong with the thought as you locate whiskey, bitters, and steal an orange from the pile of snacks you set out on the outdoor dining table before getting in the pool. Hands on autopilot, using your vague knowledge of mixology to make his favorite drink, your thoughts continue to spiral.
Were you too mean? Is he getting tired of you telling him he doesn't need to do things for you? Deflection over confrontation has always been your go to strategy when it comes to uncomfortable emotions. It worked with Wooyoung. You met him a couple months before the two of you became official in November and made your “couple debut”, as Wooyoung called it, at a get together for his birthday. A bunch of friends of his that you hadn't met before were there, and that included girls. Because girls like Wooyoung. He’s flirty by nature and a good listener. He remembers details about everybody, he’ll ask questions about something that was told to him months ago and women ate that shit up especially.
So when he was chatting it up a little too hard with Minji you couldn't help the physical shift in your face and body language. Lips drawn in tight together, body ridged and angled away from him. He clocked it immediately, but you couldn't push the words out of your throat when he asked about it. It felt like rocks were sitting in your mouth, blocking the jealousy from making itself known. Instead you made a joke about how he was fired from helping you pick out your outfits because his terrible choice in shoes was giving you blisters.
That was just the nature of your relationship, ribbing each other endlessly because you both enjoyed it. It made everything feel less serious, and therefore, the stakes were lower.
Tapping the bar spoon on the rim of the glass, you decide you didn't feel like making another cocktail so you settle on a canned seltzer for yourself, cracking it open before picking up Woo’s drinking and fast walking across the hot pavement to where your boyfriend was now sitting on the top step in the pool. Head titled back, eyes closed, and arms bent at the elbow, leaning back on the wet bricks you wondered how on Earth an emotionally fucked-up woman like you pulled a man like him.
An eye pops open as you step into the pool next to him, brown iris much brighter with the sunlight hitting them, “Who’s who butler?” he asks as he brings the glass to his lips for a sip.
It did make him feel some type of way then. Where exes of yours had no problem making their feelings of unpleasantness known through dramatic temper tantrums, Wooyoung did it with decorum. He thought before he spoke, when it mattered anyways, and it never came out accusatory, making your fight or flight less likely to kick in.
Sighing, you bring your leg over him and drop into his lap, the water only covering a few centimeters of your shins, your knees pressing into the blue plastic liner of the steps. Sour lemon and lime flavor prickles your tongue as you take a sip of your seltzer, the alcohol leaving a burn down your throat, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in an ungrateful way.” you say as you set the can on the pool’s edge and bring your hands to fiddle with front bow strings that keep your bikini top tied.
Wooyoung does the same with his drink and drops his hands to your thighs to rub, a silent way of showing he isn’t mad, “I know, I just don’t understand if you can do things for me why can’t I do them for you?”
Your throat feels tight and swollen all of a sudden, the metaphorical rocks are being shoved back into your mouth again and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. Groaning you drop your head forward so your face is hidden against his chest. The water droplets still clinging to his golden skin is a well needed shock of cool to keep your brain from overheating with a billion different thoughts. You try to parse through everything you want to say, weighing each word to determine what effect it would have on him. So badly not wanting to say the wrong thing- if that’s the case you’d rather say nothing at all.
Finally, you settle on “It makes me feel guilty when you do so much for me, especially when I haven't been giving back. I should be able to pull myself together and deal with my shit like an adult.” Your admission is quiet, whispered into his body like a secret, even though it was just the two of you hidden away amongst the viney walls the plants created around the yard.
With your vision obscured you hear more than see the laugh that escapes his nose through a huff of air. His arms wrap around you fully so you're pressed tight against him, trying to calm your racing, anxious heart.
“I do what I do because I want to. It’s how I show I care, baby. If it was too much for me I wouldn’t do it.” He speaks into the top of your head, trying to put all the sincerity into his words so you believe him. You tilt your head back so your chin is resting on his chest now and you’re looking up at him, wide eyed and glassy. It feels absurd how terrified you are about baring your heart to somebody, it’s embarrassing. He speaks with such confidence and certainty. How does he do it so easily? Why was it so hard for you?
But one thing was for certain: Wooyoung has been the best thing that's happened to you. You didn't have to worry about walking on eggshells to avoid a screaming match over trivial things. You could spend time with friends and family without him guilting you for leaving him alone and making you feel like you had to come home early. You never laid in bed at 3am agonizing over what you could’ve possibly done wrong because he’s been giving you the silent treatment all day. Your heart was calm with Wooyoung.
You inhale a full breath through your nose while wrapping your arms around his back, forcing your eyes back up to his.
“Lately, that's all you've been doing for me. I want to do things for you too, I don't want to feel like I'm always owing you.” You speak quietly, but Wooyoung hears you nonetheless. His brows dive-bomb down towards each other and flinches back subconsciously. He was genuinely curious, while also a little disturbed, by how you could think that? Why would you think that? Only answers that had his blood beginning to boil came to mind. He fixes his face and could only hope he did it before you could see his shock. Unfortunately for him, you’ve trained yourself to detect the microscopic changes in the facial expressions. He could see it in the way a blush flew up your neck and ears and how your bottom lip wobbled before you tucked it under your teeth.
He brings his hands up to cup your face, large palms with long, lithe fingers encompass both of your cheeks fully. Using his thumb to tug your bottom lip free from the anxious chewing you're doing to it, he says, “You will never owe me for anything I do for you. I take care of you because I want you to be happy in mind, body, and soul. Not because I expect favors from you. What can I do to make you believe that?”
You heave a big sigh and pull away from his hold on your face to move your cheek against his shoulder facing away from his neck, looking to the side and watching a squirrel dig frantically in the grass.
“I do believe you. It's my dumbass brain that-” you cut yourself off. If your brain doesn't believe him then doesn't that mean you actually don't? You groan, “I don't even make sense to myself. Woo, I feel like crawling out of my skin. I just know I like you, a lot, and I love being with you so much that I don't want something I do or don't do be a reason this ends.” By the time you finish your voice is warbling and you really wish you could trade places with that squirrel right now.
Wooyoung grips your shoulders to peel your sticky body off of him so he can look at you as he gently coos your name, “I love your big, beautiful brain,” he starts and emphasizes his statement with an obnoxiously large and loud kiss to your forehead. You scrunch your nose and give him a little hmph, but he just grins like you aren't spiraling out your damn mind and continues, “But it's gonna catch fire from all those neural pathways your lighting up with how much overthinking you do. You don't need to analyze and find a reason for every emotion you have. It's okay to just feel.” He rubs his thumbs into the joint that connects your shoulder blade and clavicle, trying to relax the tension you didn't realize you've been keyed up with.
You chew the inside of your cheek and narrow your eyes, “The brain is constantly using neural pathways, so if it was gonna be fried from that it would've happened already. I’m not worried about it.”
Wooyoung throws his head back and lets out a groan of frustration mixed with a laugh because picking apart the logic of the statement rather than absorbing the meaning was so undeniably you it was foolish of him to think you'd do otherwise. His fingers fly down and dig into your waists, wiggling them to tickle you “Don't be like that! You know what I mean, you're being bratty on purpose!”
You crumple into yourself and let out a screech of laughter, trying your best to swat at him while keeping your arms tucked close to your sides as an attempt to block the assault.
“Okay! Alright!” You gasp out between fits of giggles, “I’m sorry!”
He stops at your apology but keeps his palms resting on the curve where your waist and hips meet, “If you need to feel like you’re not…. in debt,” he doesn't hide his disdain for the word but continues, “Wedding season will ramp up next month and I’ll become a shell of a man with how many I’m booked for. You can take care of me all you want. I won’t protest or complain about it, I’ll let you do whatever it is you want to do for me. Will that make you feel better?’
You hum. It’s not something that will make you feel better immediately, but you know you have to meet him halfway.
“I suppose so. What if I’m still in this headspace though?” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth.
He doesn’t hesitate with his response, “Then we work it through together. We’ll be honest with what we need and what we can’t give, and promise each other it's not personal if we don’t have the mental capacity for extra attention. If we’re not open and honest about our feelings, how is anything supposed to get better?”
Damn his stupid, emotionally intelligent brain, because you know he’s right. Your whole life you’ve been bottling up your feelings inside hoping that things will change without ever expressing your desire for it in the first place. How were you supposed to get better at talking about your feelings if you don’t say them aloud in the first place?
“I’ll try harder to be more open about my emotions. It’s just really uncomfortable for me, I feel stupid talking about’em.” You mumble.
“Practice makes perfect, baby. I’ll never make you feel stupid for your feelings. Pinky promise.” He holds out his little finger for you to hook your own around, solidifying the agreement. Before he could let go of your finger you tug him forward and place your hands on either side of his neck to kiss his sun-chapped lips. He makes a shocked noise in the back of throat, but kisses back anyways tasting the citrusy tang of alcohol and the vanilla lip balm you put on this morning. Soaking in the wet slide of your tongues moving against one another and the slow movement of his lips over yours.
“My poor girl, been dealing with so much.” He coos against your lips, your mouth parted waiting for him to kiss you again, tongue flicked halfway out of your mouth. You open your eyes to find him already staring down at you, his expression changed from soft and sincere to something much heavier. You nod dumbly, all the talking about feelings making you want to shut off your brain for a minute. While it was much needed, it’ll still take a while before the idea of it stops feeling like an attack on your nervous system. He pulls you closer to him, sliding you up from your seat on his lower thighs until your core is pressed to his lower abdomen. One of his hands leaves your waist to cup the side of your face and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. “It’s so unfair, life’s been fuckin’ you more than I have, huh?”
You whine, squeezing your thighs against the outer sides of Wooyoung’s, closing your mouth to push your bottom lip out in a pout and nod. You can't remember the last time you had energy for sex. Even though your job doesn’t rely on physical strength it requires a lot of thinking and that mental drain sure makes your body feel exhausted like you've spent the day dead lifting concrete pavers. Driving home consisted of complete silence and fighting to keep your heavy eyes open while trying not to let your thoughts drift too much so you wouldn't miss an exit or run a red light. The reminder of the lack of intimacy sends a surge of neediness through you, your body wanting to make up for it asap. “It's been so long, Woo. M’sorry for making you wait.”
He slides his hand down your cheek to grip your jaw, chin pinched between his thumb and other four fingers, and jostles your head gently side to side, “While we're working on communicating our feelings let's fix your little habit of over apologizing too.”
The call out has you forming the word before you can even think to stop yourself. Wooyoung beats you to it though, squishing your cheeks together in his grip and making your lips purse together like a goldfish. His eyebrows shoot up, daring you to say it, his tongue poking out to play with his lip ring. You scrunch your brows together and blow air out of your nose, signaling your defeat.
He hums and gives your squished lips a light peck, “I know you weren't gonna say what I think you were gonna say, yeah?” He moves your head left to right to shake your head for you like a doll “That’s right, baby. I think you just need a distraction, make your brain go dumb and stop thinking about the bullshit.” This time the nod your head does is solely your own eager doing.
That’s all you've been wanting to do the last two weeks. The constant responsibilities being stacked up at work, being a shoulder to cry on for your friends who were also going through it this week, and being a problem solver for family all had your brain running nonstop. Always thinking of what to say, what to do, and how to do it. You haven't been able to cater to your own needs, too busy focusing on everyone else’s.
You use both of your hands to grip the wrist of the hand he was using to hold your face and tug it away so you can speak, “Shut if off, Woo.” It's said whiny, like you've been trying to fall asleep for hours and are begging the universe to grant you rest. Desperate, because at this rate, the need for him is more than your need to sleep.
The sound of your whiny desperation has Wooyoung cupping his hands under your ass to hold you steady as he carefully stands up. As quickly and cautiously as he could, making sure to step around the drinks abandoned on the bricks, he raced over to sit back against one of the reclined loungers in the shade and set you right back into his lap. You grip his shoulders and lay the front of your body completely along the front of his pulling him back into a frantic kiss. His lips move along yours, licking against the roof of your mouth, teeth catching on the skin of your lips, saliva making its way down your chin. You realize you haven’t even been making out like you used to in the beginning of this relationship and you missed it so much. The swell in your chest at the physical affection sends dopamine pumping through you, relaxing your muscles, and forgetting about anything that didn’t have to do with this moment.
Wooyoung’s hands glide up and down the curves of your body a few times before bringing them around your back and up to your neck where the string of your bikini top rests, giving it a tug to unravel it. He pushes up from his reclined position, forcing you up with him, before settling back down and holding you by the ribs to keep distance between you two. The top of your bathing suit slowly slips down, hanging flipped over your stomach still attached around your bust, and he groans.
“God, your tits.” He slides a hand up and brushes his thumb across your nipple a few times before using the tip of his finger nail to press down on it. You hiss, the sharp pain and zing of pleasure that zips down to your belly. “I missed seeing them, just as perfect as I remember them.”
“Wooyoung,” you pant, pathetically turned on in the span of a few minutes. But you can't bother with feeling embarrassed about it, “Please do something.”
“But I am already, baby.” He responds with an evil quirk of his lips, clearly knowing that's not what you meant.
“Wooyo,” you it say like a warning, but it didn't land. It was too breathy and soft.
“I dunno, I kinda like hearing you say my name like that. One more time for me.” You open your mouth to scold him, getting impatient. Sometimes if you're really stern with him, it'll turn him on enough to flip a switch, but he decides to use that moment to take your nipple between his index finger and thumb and pinch hard. A squeal comes out instead and your body jerks, “Woo!”
“Thank you baby, such a good listener. Giving me exactly what I ask for.” His eyes rake down your body behind his sunglasses, drinking in the shape of you, “This hot little bod drives me insane, and you have such a sweet personality? How’d I get so lucky?”
With eyes closed, soaking up the feeling of his hands sliding down to your thighs, thumbs rubbing the inside of each, you lick your lips before responding “Probably by being an unrelenting flirt and insisting on paying for every single one of my drinks at Mingi’s birthday party.”
He throws a “probably” in response, his thumbs reaching the crease of your thighs, running them along the inside seam of your bikini bottoms. You hum and roll your hips, trying to get them where you need them and open your eyes to see his own sunglass covered ones looking directly between your legs. Obviously too distracted to say anymore. Huffing out an impatient breath at the loss of momentum you bring your hand down to the bulge growing under his thin nylon swim trunks, rubbing the tip of your stiletto nails, the ones he so sweetly paid for you to have done before the trip, down the length of him. His thighs jump and he grunts, grabbing your wrist to twist your arm behind your back, “Put the claws away, woman. I'ma take care of you.”
And finally, he does. He lets go of your arm to bring you forward into his chest again, cheek on his shoulder with your lips pressed against the vein on his neck, pulling your hips up so they're hovering above his lap and can easily slide your damp bathing suit bottoms off. Wet from pool water? Sweat? Arousal? Fuck if either of you know, it could be all of the above. You hear the damp plap of them hitting the patio, feeling the hot breeze blowing across your exposed bottom half arched in the air. For a moment, the thought of surrounding neighbors seeing the debauchery taking place crosses your mind before you remember you're not in the cramped city anymore, you're in a vacation home where the next house is at least a football field length away.
The feeling of your boyfriend using his reach around the back of you to graze your slit brings you back to the present and rocking your hips back to take what you want. He graciously allows it, letting you fuck yourself on one of his fingers before adding another and slowly scissoring you open.
“I know it's been a long time, baby. L’me open you up real quick.” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You melt into the feeling, appreciating every drag of his boney fingers inside you, feeling every bump of his finger joints rub against the inside of your walls. The impatience bleeds out of you, after weeks of everything being go, go, go, you don't want to rush. You want to absorb the feeling of being with him, his ability to make you feel calm in the middle of the stormy parts of your life.
You aren't sure how much time has passed, only that suddenly you're empty and pouting again. You lift your head up with sad, scrunched brows and he's smiling softly, laughing, “Cute, all it takes is your little pussy being empty to bring you back from wherever your mind went off to? I’ve been asking if you’re ready for my dick the last couple seconds, I thought you fell asleep.”
The apology slips out unprompted by your brain, “Yes, yes, I’m sor-” Wooyoung’s thumb cuts you off, pressing down on your tongue, other four fingers curled under your jaw holding it open. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and rolls his eyes, “Alright, you lost speaking privileges. All I wanna hear outta this mouth are your pretty moans and whines, got it baby?”. You nod your head as much as you can. “Good fucking girl.”
This is what you needed. Being told what to do, for once, instead of being the one to do it. You’ll gladly let him take charge, direct you, use you, if that means you can just exist without thinking and dissecting every thought and feeling that rolls through your brain.
He keeps his thumb pressed down on your tongue while using his other hand to press the head of his cock, that he must’ve pulled from his shorts during one of the moments your mind had floated away from the present moment, to your opening. You sigh at the anticipation of being filled again, eyes slowly closing halfway, closing your lips around Wooyoung’s thumb to suck. The taste of his skin, mixed with a hint of chlorine and residual sunscreen from the last time he reapplied, floods your tastebuds as you hollow your cheeks and wiggle your tongue along the digit.
"Ah, ah,” A light tap to your cheek with the palm of his hand has your eyes opening wide again. “No sucking. Keep that mouth open. I wanna feel you drooling all over me, pretty girl.” A reluctant high-pitched whine leaves you as you drop your jaw back open, fighting the urge to taste the salt of his skin again. Pressure against your opening has that urge tossed to the side like your soaking bikini bottoms, the fat tip of his cock stretching your hole. The stretch of you wrapped around the thickest part of him has you clenching impatiently, wanting to feel him in your tummy already. You know better than to take without permission though. Wooyoung isn’t above dragging things out for the sake of making you squirm, but it seems like he was going to do just that anyways. He takes his time, fucking his tip in and out of you, driving you mad. It felt like scratching around a misquote bite, good but missing that satisfying pleasure of hitting the spot it needs scratching the most.
The saliva that's been steadily pooling in your mouth bubbles with your impatient whine, spilling over and down your chin. Wooyoung groans, "Music to my fucking ears." And that's all it takes for him to lift his hips and fill you in one long, torturous go. Your knees slide to the sides, rubbing against the tightly woven material of the lounger that makes the skin burn, but that's the last thing on your mind.
The sudden closeness- him being literally inside you- after weeks of quick kisses and body-to-body contact through pajamas while you catch as much sleep as you can has your heart beating something fierce. You missed him. You missed going to his place to keep him company and goof off while he cooked dinner for the two of you. You missed hanging out with him at his studio while he works on editing client photos. You missed feeling like a couple, because lately you've felt like strangers.
You grab his wrist and squeeze it twice quickly and once slowly. He slides his thumb from your mouth, a string of spit following, and quickly checks in, "You okay? Need a minute?"
"Mhm, wanna kiss you. And see you." You reassure and push his sunglasses on top of his head. Even in the shade you can see his pupils take up so much space only a sliver of pretty brown can be seen around the edges. You thread your fingers through his hair and brush your nose against his with a sigh.
"Better?" He whispers, moving your sunglasses from your face and carefully setting them on the ground. You nod with a dopey close lipped smile on your face, and once you begin kissing him slow and nasty he starts to move.
The delicious roll of his hips knocks a moan from your mouth directly into his each time he pushes in. His grip on your hips to keep them at the perfect angle is unrelenting as he steadily drives his cock into you. Chests sliding together with the help of the mix of sweat from the heavy humidity in the air and the drool that pooled out of your mouth moments earlier.
"Missed this pussy so much- fuck. Missed you so much." Wooyoung grunts against your lips, pace picking up and the legs of the lounger scraping on the patio bricks. “I’m spoiling you right now, because you deserve it for all the bullshit you've been dealing with.” He bands an arm around your lower back, pressing you into a deep arch that has you squealing, “But next round I want you to show me that you remember how to ride this dick.”
“Uh huh! I remember, ‘mma show you.” You're not even kissing him anymore, with every word spoken your lips brush against his. Brows twisted up at the way his body rolls are grinding your clit in the perfect pressure and rhythm. Your fingertips flex at the second joint in his hair, raking at his scalp, your sex dumb mind trying to keep them from using the tips of your sharp acrylics.
He sucks in a sharp breath, but plows into you harder, faster. Your entire body is jostling up and down the length of his, the fire in your gut growing at a rapid speed until you don't think you can take it anymore. The only noises leaving your mouth are a mash up of moans and sobs, and you don't realize you're actually crying until you taste the salt from the tears flowing down your cheeks and into your mouth.
“Oh, baby” Wooyoung coos, bringing a hand up to smear the tears away from under your eye with his thumb. “It’s okay. Shh.”
“It feels so good, Woo. I missed you so much.” You’re for real sobbing now. The emotional damn breaking and flooding your eyes. You love this man, you realize. He’s stuck by you at your worst, let's you have bad days without making it about him, takes care of you when you can't take care of yourself, rented a whole goddamn vacation house just so you could take a fucking breath. All of that, and he has never asked for anything in return.
He kisses you, lip melding into yours, gently nipping at your lips, tongue pressing against yours and licking anywhere he can to get a taste of you, “I’m right here, not going anywhere.” You’re about to cum, you can feel it, the uncontrollable clenching of your cunt around him makes it harder and harder for him to keep up the wild pace of his thrusts up into you.
“Shit, fuck, you gonna cum? I can feel you squeezing the life outta my dick. Go ahead, baby. Let go of all the stress for me.” It takes him a while for him to give you the permission, kissing you between every couple of words. When the tension that's been building up in your lower stomach finally breaks, your body locks up for a second before it starts twitching like you've been shocked. You moan directly into his open mouth, your tongue lazily pressed against his. Both of his hands are on either side of your face now, and he reciprocates with his own beautiful whine as he unloads inside you. Grinding into you to drag it out as much as possible before it turns into over sensitivity.
Your body falls limp on top of his, cheek against his chest, and you try not to think about the amount of sweat that's covering the two of you.
The rumbling of his voice keeps you from drifting off, “I’m going to say something at the risk of it breaking your brain, but I need you to know.” You turn your head to look up at him, seeing that he’s already looking at you. If he could shoot heart beams out of his eyes at the sight of you, he would. Red rimmed lash line, tear-glossed eyes, and dewy skin from the heat, it rivals how gorgeous you are when you dress your best for a night out with your shared friend group. “I love you. You don't have to say it back, I would actually prefer you didn't right away. But I know when, if, you do say it back, I’ll still feel the same way. Even if it's a month or year from now, I’ll feel the same.”
A smile slowly spreads across your face, completely unexpected from you by the faint look of shock on Wooyoung's face. Instead of feeling the need to crawl out of your skin at the thought of such a strong emotion, you feel relief.
“I don't think you’ll have to wait that long.” You say with no hesitation, no need to second guess the way you're feeling or why you're feeling it. Just letting it be. You turn to kiss his sternum, and he hums pleasantly, grinning like a maniac but he doesn't push for an explanation.
“Well, that's a relief.” He reaches over and grabs a towel from the little table next to the chair you're on, “You need to pee, and I didn't think pool water will be enough to wash off the amount of sweat we just produced.”
Your nose scrunches, the thought of moving right now is the last thing your body wants. However, the thought of feeling clean in fresh clothes, maybe going out to the little beach town fifteen minutes away for a late lunch at one of their local restaurants in sandals and a sundress sounds nice enough to get you moving.
You sit up and press your hands to his stomach to keep from wobbling sideways, "You're gonna have to help me clean up, I can't feel my knees." Wooyoung smirks, he can't help but be smug with himself. Pushing himself up, making sure to cradle your back to keep you from falling, "It's the least I can do I suppose." Kissing your forehead he adds, "Thanks for asking me for help."
Embracing the new you, leaving the fear of unworthiness behind, you respond. "Thank you for showing me how easy it can be."
KISS ME AND I MIGHT DROP DEAD
PAIRING: grumpy!hongjoong x sunshine!reader
CONTAINS: fluff & light teasing
SUMMARY: how being in a relationship with grumpy hongjoong looks like
AUTHOR’S NOTES: first time writing a hc!! lowkey kinda nervous!! sorry if this is kinda short though ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა howeverrr i added a few scenarios soo enjoy <33!
MASTERLIST
✶⋆.˚ GRUMPY!HONGJOONG who thinks you’re cute all the time. Honestly, nobody else would survive annoying him the way you do; you could steal his jackets, interrupt him while he’s working in the studio to show him something silly, or even stick Sanrio stickers on his belongings, and he still lets you get away with all of it. Although he complains about it the entire time and he’d tell you to stop, the second you stop bothering him, he starts wondering why it’s suddenly quiet.
✭ you are such a fuckin' superstar ✭
Pairing: Song Mingi (ATEEZ) x f! reader
Genre: smut, some fluff after
Word Count: 1558
Tags/Warnings: cursing, dom! mingi, sub! reader, mutual masturbation, some d/s dynamics (rules, titles), nipple play, fingering, jerking off, mingi talks you through it, vulgar language (cunt is used), blowjob (mentioned), penetration (mentioned), edging (mentioned). Let me know if I missed any!!
Names: nicknames for reader- superstar, baby, sweetheart, honey, love, good girl, pretty girl, and beautiful. nicknames for mingi- sir, master, and babe. "Y/N" used twice.
A/N: My bbyongming plush watched me write this... should I be ashamed?
MASTERLIST
MINORS DNI!! Smut under the cut!
VENGEANCE : featuring kim hongjoong
— DILF!hongjoong x fem!reader in which you thought you already had the best relationship you could ever have. until one day you found you boyfroend fucking another girl on his bed, and so what could be a better and appropriate revenge than to fuck his very handsome father.
content warnings: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, mention of cheating, dilf!hongjoong, 20 years age gap, fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasm, video taping, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
a/n: HI SO YEAH HAPPY 2K FOLLOWERS AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. So as a gift to everyone, here's a dilf!joong to all my fellow atiny's in my followers list. I hope you guys enjoy this delicious fic. ACK. I LOVE YOU ALL. <333
word count: 9k words
You were a catch. A fucking catch.
Everyone on campus knew it. Jaehyun, the guy you'd been dating for the past few months, was constantly called the luckiest man alive. You heard the whispers in the hallways, the envious glances in the cafeteria, the not-so-subtle comments from his friends. But you never really paid much attention to it. You already knew your worth.
After all, you were the drum major of the university's marching band—the one who commanded an entire field with nothing but a raised hand and a sharp look. You carried yourself with a natural, domineering aura that turned heads wherever you went. Tall posture, sharp eyes, and an unshakable confidence that made people straighten up when you walked by. Most of your friends secretly envy you for it.
Your relationship with Jaehyun was far from perfect, but it was still one of the healthiest ones you'd ever had. Or at least... that's what you kept telling yourself.
He was caring in his own way. Attentive on most days, always making sure you ate before long band practices and sending you good luck texts before every game. Jaehyun wasn't the most popular guy on campus compared to you, but as a star football jock, he wasn't exactly unknown either. You two shared the same friend group, which made everything feel easy and comfortable.
