pairing: mx's shownu x fem!reader
word count: 883 words
synopsis: why would a hotel put a mirror on the ceiling?
!!!: mirror sex, overstimulation
a/n: saw a shownu selfie in his hotel room and there was a mirror on the ceiling. i also haven't written anything in 27346578632 years so the writing is RRRRRRUSTYYYYYY but i just needed to let this out lol and i just looooove shownu sm rn :')
Hyunwoo taps the hotel card on the lock and the door clicks open.
While he wasn’t bothered by the long drive, she clearly was. She speeds past him, releasing her grip on her luggage. It rolls off to the side and gently bumps against the wall. Her tote slips off her shoulder and falls to the floor with a thud, and she collapses face first on the bed like a sack of bricks.
Amused, Hyunwoo picks up her bag and sets it against the nightstand. This vacation is her idea, as most of their vacations are, and it follows the same pattern every time.
She’s enthralled by the idea of going anywhere just to get away from work. She swears she enjoys road trips because she loves looking out the window when they drive past bodies of water and landmarks. She seems to enjoy the first hour or two of it before she falls asleep, then wakes up grouchy because sitting in the car for hours makes her behind sore. He will ask a simple question and she scowls like he had stepped on a puppy.
While she’s sunken into the mattress, Hyunwoo tilts his head and observes the mirror mounted to the ceiling.
Why would they put one there?
His thoughts are interrupted by her whines as she turns onto her back and peers at him through heavy eyelids. His eyes dart between the ceiling mirror and her, and the dots start to connect. His curiosity arises, as does his polluted thoughts, but he tries to suppress them. He may be hot and bothered but she is just bothered, and he doesn’t want to worsen her discomfort.
“What’s the likelihood that mirror will randomly drop on us in the middle of the night while we’re sleeping?,” she asks after eons of silence.
He purses his lips to hold back laughter and crawls in beside her. “Hopefully zero.”
“What’s the point of a mirror on the ceiling anyway?”
He shrugs. “Aesthetics? Preferences?”
“What’s so aesthetic about it?”
He turns onto his side and guides his hand over her shoulder to her arm where he fixes a grip around her waist and pulls her closer. Her eyes widen at the abrupt closeness, but his gaze is fixed upon hers. “I don’t think it’s the mirror itself that’s aesthetic.”
She swallows. “What do you mean?”
One thing about her boyfriend is that no matter how much she gives, he is somehow severely depraved.
She was expecting a simple answer but knowing him, she had an inkling of where this was going to lead. Instead of a simple answer, clothes were tossed across the room and she’s pinned on her back, naked and vulnerable before her aerial reflection.
Being granted the view of what Hyunwoo sees every night makes her shy. It almost ruins the mood for her but it’s hard for her doubts and insecurities to stay alive when his mouth is doing unspeakable things between her legs.
Rather than staring back at her reflection, her eyes wander lower where she’s most distracted by Hyunwoo’s back. His muscles flex as he works his arms under her thighs and guides them over his shoulders. His lips never leave her swollen clit, greedy indulgence sending waves of pleasure through her limbs. She grows hotter as his hands run up her body and clutch her breasts. He palms them, then tweaks her hardened nipples with his thumbs. His groans rumble against her skin and she nearly loses her mind when he picks up his pace.
Perhaps he’s right.
The mirror is not the primary aesthetic.
The reflection that stares back at her is filthy imagery that is making her wetter. She is more ravenous than usual as she watches Hyunwoo lose himself between her thighs. He’s strong and beautiful, and the lesson is that she doesn’t admire him nearly enough when he’s making her feel so good.
“Oh..,” she pants, the stiffness in her thighs becoming familiar. “Fuck. Please.”
He knows.
He knows her so well.
His fingers ease inside her and she could’ve easily fallen apart right then and there. Her eyes roll shut. She yearns for the fullness but as soon as he sinks deeper, her thighs lock in around his head. His mouth and fingers are working in tandem, and she could’ve suffocated him from how hard her thighs are squeezing him.
But he doesn’t fight back. He is right where he wants to be.
His muffled grunts mingle with her desperate pleas. The man is persistent with prolonging her ecstasy, his tongue triggering wave after wave of pleasure. She tosses and turns from the sensitivity, but he proves to be much stronger.
When he is done, he hovers over her. The mess she leaves on his chin is almost embarrassing. It seems to be the opposite for him because he doesn’t spare her a second to ponder the embarrassment.
She gasps at the swift fullness. “Babe.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he groans, hands firmly gripping the back of her thighs after pushing her legs up to her chest. “But I need you so damn bad.”
She can barely see their reflection in the mirror, but that’s okay.
Her eyes can barely stay open when his desperation is playing out in slow but shallow, shallow thrusts.
She is draped in moonlight and white silk, the strap of her nightgown hooked in his pointer to slip down her shoulder. With stardust in her eyes and desire on her lips, Hyunwoo finds himself drifting away from slumber—veering for the hem of the silk garment.
A breathy ‘darling’ slips past her kiss-swollen lips, followed by soft laughter and coldness trickling down her spine to the tips of his fingers that feather over the naked softness between her thighs. He guides her leg over his waist, spectates the pleasure that weighs on her fluttering eyelids as he draws slow circles between her glistening folds, warmth blooming within him when she exhales.
This isn’t his first or last time under her sheets. His fingertips have memorized every curve, every blemish, every nook and cranny like a sculpture he’s worked on for years. She is meant for him after all. Meant to be memorized by eager fingers, showered with patient kisses, and adored with a racing heart that only boasts the touch she has left on it.
Voice barely above a whisper, airy moans mingling with soft whimpers, a quiet gasp emerges from her lungs as his fingers ease inside her, pursuing with steady strokes contrary to the storm that he had swept her up in hours prior. The aftermath resulted in a swift shower and an immediate crash on the bed where they lay wrapped up in each other, but she proves that she can withstand it.
✧ wonho x fem!reader
✧ 665 words
✧ fluff
✧ he’s enlisting in a few days and she worries extensively for him.
Months of extensive training sculpted Hoseok’s body into the work of art it is now, and it deserves to be flaunted.
He knows it deserves to be flaunted, and he knows how to do it creatively. His stage wardrobe consists of risqué cutouts, crop tops, and tops that pass off as his second skin due to the tight fit, and he has made some headlines with them. There will always be criticism, spite, and hate regardless of what he does but in her eyes, he is a wonderful talent who knows how to harness his creativity to challenge societal standards while showing off his assets.
Hoseok is not Hoseok if he’s properly covered by a full tee. Some area of his torso has to be exposed, if not completely topless.
When he’s disrupting her nightly reading by laying on top of her and settling between her legs, Hoseok being shirtless only means one thing.
The biggest breath heaves from his lungs as she lightly traces her nails up his muscular back. She still questions how the feathery sensation can bring the man so much joy because she has tried it on her own arm, and it felt ticklish. Far from relaxing.
He nestles his head in the valley of her chest, humming as she continues to gently rake her nails all over him. Although her beloved is beefy, she doesn’t feel too suffocated by his weight on her. She is also used to it at this point because he often requests ‘back tracing’ time whenever he visits her right after his schedule.
“Are you nervous?,” she asks, breaking the silence with a small smile.
“A little.”
She sometimes traces briefly to appease him, but she’s going slower and longer than usual. She can only do it for fifteen minutes at most before she gets bored or drowsy, but the thought of having to bid him goodbye for almost two years is keeping her up and going.
“I’m still just a public service worker though,” he reminds her. “I’ll pop in to visit from time to time.”
“Can you really do that?”
He pauses. “I hope so.”
Though she chuckles, the weight on her heart can’t be denied. Though he won’t be put in danger, she still frets about his wellbeing. She worries about the food being served after coming across pictures of soldiers’ meals online, which were shown to be severely rationed and barely had variety or nutrition to them. She worries about his fellow comrades not having boundaries and violating his privacy just because he is a well-fit, popular idol. She worries he may suffer terrible treatment, or be given special treatment and garner bad press for it.
“You’re doing it again.”
Hoseok’s words disrupt her thoughts. She looks down to see him staring up at her, searching her face as he reaches up to soothe the crease between her brows with his thumb. “You’re overthinking.”
She musters a weary smile. “I can’t help it. I worry for you.”
He gently squeezes her hip. “I’m grateful that you care about me that much, but I’ll be okay. I’ll make it out alive.”
She pouts. “I’ll miss you.”
“Two years will fly by before you know it,” he reassures as he repositions his head on her chest. “I promise I’ll keep in touch whenever I’m allowed.”
Her fingers subconsciously trace up his nape to comb through his hair. It has gone through extensive bleaching and styling and needs a good hair treatment to heal it, but there’s no need for it when it’s about to be shaved off in a few days. Though the strands feel far from healthy, she still rakes through it, missing it before it’s even buzzed off.
“I hope you can take it easy,” she mutters as she resumes running her nails up his back in feathery strokes. “I don’t want your previous injuries to worsen.”
He smiles. “Hopefully they can spare me mercy so you don’t have to worry everyday.”
Hello! I am here. Announcing my presence! I don't know what kind of asks you're looking for though 😭 but if you're still passionate and willing to write about MX pls pls don't disappear <333 There's not many mx writers left 😭
Although I can understand having your whole account gone would be unbearable to process it's a good thing you have them saved up!
the fact that there’s not many mx writers is why i’m still lingering here a bit. 🥹 tysm for stopping by! i’ll try to keep writing 🫶🏼
😭💖you posted the rocker kihyun au-- thank you so much-- although you didn't have to i'm so happy to have been able to read it--! It was amazing!! Thank you so much! 😭💖💖 I hope your day is wonderful!
you’re welcome! i hope you have a splendid day as well 🫶🏼
hi,
due to a series of very unfortunate events, my previous account is gone. i’m just very dumb. my writing inspiration has tanked bc of it and i don’t want it to bc i was having so much fun writing for the boys. 🥺 my blog is sparse now so if you’d like to leave some requests or make your presence known that there’s still some readers out there, pls spare me some asks 🫴🏼
✧ 537 words
✧ smut ( 18+ )
✧ his bandmates are searching for him, not knowing that he’s still in the dressing room fucking his girlfriend.
✦ this was day one of kinktober that i did on my old account that i accidentally deleted. 🥲 if any of my old works are mentioned, i’ll try to repost them.
Another night of performances conclude.
Kihyun clutches the microphone attached to the mic stand and peers out into the crowd with a fond smile, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair that has now fallen out of its gelled style. He tugs at his shirt that’s sticking to his skin, then removes his electric guitar.
“Thank you, everybody!,” he bellows into the mic once more, and generates another wave of cheers from the crowd. “Let’s meet again soon, yeah?”
His bandmates have to physically drag him off the stage, or they’ll be standing there the entire night bidding goodbyes to their fans. They deal with this after every concert so they’re used to it. If anything, Kihyun’s undying love for their fans is a notable trait that news articles love to mention when they’re highlighting their tours and overseas performances. With it being brought up so much, the media dubs him as the nation’s ‘Prince Charming’, which is comical because Prince Charming doesn’t usually dress up in leather and belt out the highest notes into the mic.
And Prince Charming certainly doesn’t rail his girlfriend in his dressing room.
He couldn’t help it. He was filled with elation from completing another show, filled with adrenaline from hearing them cheer his band’s name. As soon as he met her eyes, he just knew the door had to be shut and locked. All he could think about was having her in his arms–preferably under him. A crowd of fans screaming his name evokes a sense of joy and pride, showing him that all his hard work was worth it in the end. His girlfriend screaming his name evokes an entirely different emotion: one that would make him snap and fuck her harder.
“Kihyun!,” she pants, fixing a vice grip on the edge of the vanity table as he pounds her from behind.
“Don’t close your eyes on me, sweetheart.”
He pauses to cup her chin and crane her head up. Her half-lidded eyes flutter open, her swollen lips parting to catch her breath as she peeks at her reflection in the mirror. “Look at how pretty you are.”
He drags his cock nearly the whole way out and pistons back in, forcing a moan out of her. “My pretty baby.”
He resumes his pace. His grip on her chin remains to ensure that she keeps an eye on herself as he’s fucking her. Never mind his phone, that’s been sitting on the couch neglected, blowing up with texts, presumably from his bandmates asking where he is.
“Babe,” she whines. “Your phone.”
She cries out when his hips work quicker, the room echoing with obscene skin slapping and the faint squelches of her weeping cunt being rammed by his cock. When she mentions his phone, he only fucks her harder to shut her up. It’s delightful to hear her words fade into incoherent whimpers, to see her crumble as she nears her brink.
It’s even more delightful to witness it all in front of a well-lit vanity mirror where he can etch her pleasured face into his polluted mind.
His bandmates will kill him for disappearing without a trace, but he will cross that bridge when he gets there.
OMG 😭😭😭 I went to read your rocker! Kihyun fic to find the links were broken-- so I like scavenged and saw your tag-- 😭 oh gosh-- that must have been awful to lose your whole account! Omg-- I was so worried you left with no explanation 😭😭😭 I'm glad you're still here-- I hope you're having a good day-- oh man-- I'm glad you're still writing tho! 😭💖💖💖
that was a killer to my writing motivation but yes, i’m still here. 🥹 but i have all my writings on google doc so one day, i’ll try to repost some of them. thank you for finding me again 🫶🏼
PAIRING: jooheon x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 2.9k
!!!! spanking, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, orgasm denial, creampie
SYNOPSIS: when he’s craving baked goods, it’s best for him to come over.
When Jooheon is craving desserts, his best bet is to show up at her apartment unannounced, equipped with a cheeky grin and an overnight bag. He overwelcomes his stay when it comes to his cakes and cookies because his fatal flaw is his disastrous baking skills–or lack thereof–which will often yield burnt goods or a nearly burnt residence, even when following a recipe to a T.
Or so he claims.
“What do you want now?,” she questions with mock disdain, a stone-cold expression too transparent to mask the pep in her voice when her beloved stands outside her door on a gloomy Friday evening.
“Chocolate chip cookies.”
His eyes gloss over her figure, as if to burn the image into the back of his mind like he hasn’t done so countless times, and he cocks a brow. “And you, of course.”
Despite her grimace, heat flows up to her face, her heart hammering madly in her chest. She swore up and down that any cheesy phrases given to her, any cheesy phrase that can only derive from romance novels, would evoke a visceral reaction: disgust. It’s partially true but coming from her own boyfriend, her body goes into overdrive between shudders and shyness. “You are repulsive.”
“Only for you.”
She steps aside for him to overstay yet another welcome, one that may be what she needs after a long day at work. He heads for the guest room while she strays into the kitchen where she pulls out her baking utensils and ingredients, piling them onto one corner of the kitchen island. She knows the recipe by heart but pulls it up on her phone anyway as a safety cushion, then sets the device down to be forgotten later.
Jooheon is not an incompetent man, but there’s genuinely no hope for him to bake something without potentially setting something ablaze or yielding a culinary monstrosity of epic proportions. She has seen his sugar cookies before, which resembled the end pieces of overbaked, lopsided bread more than actual cookies. Even though he insists on shouldering some of the labor, she strictly assigns him the duty of dishwashing instead where it would be impossible to spark a fire.
He stands on the opposite side of the kitchen island, watching her every move like a curious child observing his diligent mother. He has learned the lesson of keeping his distance while she’s running around in the kitchen because literally butting heads will wear her patience thin, and she can see it in his pouty expression that he wants to be close to her, have his arms around her and forget the definition of ‘personal space’. It’s endearing to see sometimes.
The dough comes together in less than fifteen minutes, and the preheated oven goes off a minute later. Jooheon is already standing at the sink washing the dirty dishes before the tray of cookies even goes in, and the flour-dusted, dough-streaked counter becomes her duty to clean with a soapy rag.
He’s chatting about his day, relaying a funny story about his coworker and filling her residence with laughter while she stands beside him with her back pressed to the counter, nodding as most of his words go in one ear and out the other. She’s typically a good listener, but her mind has entered another realm trying to conjure up ways she can startle him while he’s doing the dishes. He gets easily spooked, which entertains her when she’s in the mood to be a little brat.
Her gaze travels down his back to his behind, which is emphasized a little too well in his gray sweats. There’s still a fair amount of dishes to wash. With soapy hands, there’s no way he can retaliate, right?
He is rudely disrupted with a hand to his ass. With a slow turn to face her, her grinning face meets his seemingly peeved one: narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. Two seconds pass, and she finds herself running laps around the counter with her boyfriend hot on her trail. He ends up cornering her and her quick thinking leads her to her doom of being caught by a singular arm hooking around her waist, reeling her back against him to avenge his peace.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!,” she wails in between giggles as he smacks her ass back–several times.
“No, you’re not,” he refutes with a chuckle while vehemently carrying out his vengeance.
Her ass is not spared from his assault, not even once. It’s almost unfair really, as she only got him once while she has lost count of how many times he got her. What she thought was going to be a playful charade shifts to something else when the moment he stops, he presses up behind her and tucks his head between her neck and shoulder.
“Honey..?,” she mutters, knowing well enough what the tension and his curious hands roaming her body will lead to.
Her eyelids flutter as she leans over the kitchen island, succumbing to the warmth surging from the pit of her stomach to her limbs, to the tips of her fingers and toes, and to her head from his lips traveling over her skin. The collar of her tee is tugged back at his discretion, granting him more surface area for his mouth to cover, and the initial fits of laughter simmer down to labored breaths and open-mouthed kisses.
“Not so mischievous now, are you?” He hums.
His hand clamors for her throat, thick fingers wrapping around the base of her neck to tilt her head back and draw a gasp from her lungs. While his mouth brands her neck, his grip tightens just enough to force a breath out of her, to shock her and assert control of the reins. She swears that this wasn’t her goal of doing what she did, but the outcome makes her proud of her mischief.
“Thought you could get away with it, huh?”
She shakes her head, though her movement is rigid from his grip. After swallowing, he squeezes, catching her off-guard, and he soothes her with gentle kisses on her exposed skin. As cold as the autumn has been, there’s no better source of heat than what is set ablaze within him. Whatever fuels him into carrying out his sinful endeavors on her sparks a flame inside her, one that grows into wildfire when his hand snakes up her shirt and squeezes her naked chest.
Blinking through a blur, the timer on the oven ticks down to eight minutes.
Eight minutes of allowing him to do whatever he wishes, carry out the consequences of her own actions however he likes.
The pad of his thumb circles her nipple, which hardens from the contrast of the cold breeze and the heat of his touch, a whirlwind of fiery desire growing as filthy words are uttered in between kisses. His fixed grip on her neck has brought her head back over his shoulder at this point, fully exposing the canvas for his mouth to finish his artistry on. Her shirt has ridden up from him groping her breast so when her abdomen presses against the cold edge of the counter, chills run down her spine. The reaction seems to bring his hips closer where his erection digs against her ass, and who is she to not tease him in return?
He never lets her get away with anything, therefore drawing back and grabbing her hips to spin her around and face him. He hoists her onto the counter, perching her on the edge where he guides her legs around him, keeping the distance to a minimum. He drags her shirt up, fully exposing her bare chest, and his mouth latches onto one.
Her judgment is skewed by the pleasure, but not entirely to where she neglects checking the timer. Even if the cookies burn to a crisp, she shouldn’t let her apartment burn to one either.
While his mouth tends to her chest, a curious hand dips down the waistband of her pajama pants, burrowing between her thighs to feel her. The cotton barrier of her panties is thin, allowing him to perceive just how wet she’s getting. Suddenly, it’s not so cold anymore as he digs his thumb between her folds, wedging the damp patch of fabric in as he thumbs her clit.
Draping her arms around his neck, she whimpers from a touch she desperately needs that is a measly barrier away. If he could just scoot her panties aside, it would be enough to extinguish the fire within. But Jooheon sometimes likes to watch the world burn, and she continues to burn with lust, frustration, and borderline outrage.
“Babe,” she whines. “Please. I want to feel you.”
“Hm. I know.”
“Asshole.”
The ‘slip-up’ earns a tight grip on her chin that forces her to stay still as he straightens up. Leaning so close to her, the weight of his piercing glare racks a tremor through her, particularly when his lips ghost over hers.
“Watch your mouth,” he cautions.
Words are lodged in her throat as he continues thumbing her clit through her panties, and she can only muster a mere nod to acknowledge his warning. She could push him a little more but the friction of his touch, the friction of the fabric rubbing at her soft flesh, wanes her urge to continue acting up. She ruts against his hand, pleading and whining so pathetically from the calculated strokes. Her suffering etches a smirk on his lips, luring her to a strong desire of kissing it off, but her wishes are granted by a tug of her panties and two fingers filling her needy hole.
There’s only so much room in her pants for his hand, but he makes it work. His pace is surprisingly quick, considering the tumultuous teasing he was doing beforehand. Thick digits drive between her clenched walls, drawing out an eclectic mix of incoherence and breathy cries, and she naturally secures a grip on his wrist for security.
He observes intently, an unwavering gaze making it impossible for her to meet it as she’s falling apart in his palm. She’s used to his cheeky grins and over-the-top humor so when he has her cornered and vulnerable for him, the polar contrast arouses her more. His roughness and sharp expression calls for her to be on her knees for him, and it never fails to.
“Fuck,” she pants, her fingers wrapping tighter around his wrist.
“Yeah? You like that? Feels good, hm?”
She begs, though she’s not sure for what. A flurry of ‘please’s part from her lips like a bad habit and perhaps, might be why he seems to be pumping quicker. His thumb is fixed on her clit, thankfully without a barrier in the way, and her head reels from the onslaught of pleasure washing over her, the high tides threatening to drag her deeper. While a mess is spurring in her pants, his mouth finds her neck, soothing the newly branded flesh with kisses fragmented by filthy words and smug laughter.
Her walls are seizing around him. She’s throbbing, aching to chase her release, and she’s rushing to a brink, seconds away from rapture when the obnoxious beeps of the oven disrupts them, forcing him to remove his hand when she needs him most. Her eyes grow wide as she’s left high and dry.
“Lemme get that for you first.” He laughs.
But it’s not funny. It’s almost hurtful as she sits on the counter, her poor pussy throbbing around emptiness, damp panties practically adhering to her skin by the wetness that has seeped out of her. Her thoughts tune out the running water, the clank of the baking trays as it hits the stovetop, and a singular beep that turns the oven off. By then, the smell of freshly baked cookies grows tenfold, filling the kitchen, and she almost forgets about her sticky ordeal.
Almost.
“Now..” Jooheon finds his way back between her legs, fingers tucking into her waistband again. “Where were we?”
A harsh tug sends her pants down her legs, followed by her panties, both garments flung to the side with a flick of her feet. He bends down and perches her legs over his shoulders, naturally bringing her down on her back, but she doesn’t want to miss the lewd view of him committing sins between her thighs.
Propping herself up on her elbow, she runs her fingers through his hair, moaning and panting with less of a care for her neighbors hearing. Steam is still pent up, searching for exit routes as she was abandoned just before her peak, and picking up right after lures her even closer to the edge.
“So good,” she whimpers, throwing her head back as her clit falls victim to the fervent strokes of his tongue. “Want to feel your fingers inside.”
Soon, thick digits plunge back in, giving her what she wants. The rapid pace, coupled with his mouth working on her clit and every inch of her pussy that has yet to be touched, sends chills up her spine. The deadly combination renders her taut, tension wracking her limbs and forcing her thighs to close in on his head, but he only groans in response. His noises serve a subtle vibration to her sensitive clit and his persistence quickly brings her over the edge.
“Oh, god!,” she wails, tugging at his strands as she spatters on his hand.
He continues fucking her through her high, forcing her to squirt in smaller successions while she is now flat on her back, writhing and twitching from the aftermath. Just as it becomes too much for her, he removes his fingers and draws back, carefully dismounting her legs from his shoulders to straighten up.
A breather.
That’s what she thought she was going to get. It feels like a split second before a bigger intrusion sinks inside her, stretching her open and filling her in the way she needs him to. When she peers down at him, he is pressing kisses on her thigh, up her pelvis and to her navel while he’s bottomed out and sheathed by her aching walls. He pushes her shirt up to kiss higher, as high as he can reach, and he is appeased enough to perch her leg back over his shoulder. He splays a hand on her inner thigh, pinning her other leg down on the counter, opening her up further for his taking, and she chokes out a moan when his cock pistons in her.
He is driven mad, his thrusts carnal as he fucks her on the island countertop. The mix of the cold surface beneath her back and the heat of feral hunger culminates in a tight knot in the pit of her stomach, goosebumps pricking her skin, and chills surging through her body. When she meets eyes with him, it’s like looking into the gaze of a wild predator behind bushes: primal.
“Feels so good around me,” he grunts, fingertips digging into her skin with a tighter grip. “Your pretty pussy is made just for me.”
She could implode just by that remark.
“For you,” she mumbles in between breaths.
The kitchen reverberates with the clashing of hips and lewd squelches of her dripping cunt being pounded. It’s not ideal to be railed on a surface with no bounce, but they have already passed the point of no return. Jooheon has proven to be ravenous for more than just a sweet treat.
The sheer force of his hips already has her seeing stars, but the pad of his thumb sweeping over her swollen clit is the nail to her coffin. Her back arches off the counter, a gasp heaving from her throat with the additional touch, and she squirms as her brink comes much closer—much quicker.
“Fuck. Jooheon!”
“Gonna come, huh?”
She nods, a hand clasped over her mouth to suppress a cry.
“Go ahead,” he encourages. “Come for me. Come all over my cock.”
Her eyes roll back as the tension reaches an all-time high. Her slick soaks his shaft, dripping down the line of her ass to puddle beneath her. His grunts mingle with her whimpers, threatening to override her noises as he hovers closer and pounds her. Her walls seize tighter, clenching and resisting but giving him the friction he needs to nail his cock inside her and unload in her greedy hole.
Ecstasy flushes her body with warmth as she becomes a vessel for his climax, shallow thrusts forcing his seed deeper inside her. Her breaths are fragmented by whiny pleas, and he eventually comes to a halt. After pulling out, mixed arousal seeps out of her, spurring a bigger mess on the counter. It’s less pleasant to feel now that she’s not driven wild with desire.
Jooheon grabs her hands and pulls her up into a sitting position too soon. She thinks he’s about to do something again when he wraps her legs around his waist, and hoists her off the counter.
“Let’s go wash up so we can eat some cookies.”
She erupts into laughter from the immediate change in his demeanor. “You have too much energy, honey.”
“Because you charge me back to full percentage.”
In contrast to the heat creeping up her face, she grimaces. “My god, no more. Please.”
PAIRING: wonho x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 1k
SYNOPSIS: sickness doesn’t stop him from being needy.
From the moment that one customer was hacking up a storm without covering his mouth, the foreseeable future of high body temperatures, fatigue, honey ginger tea, and a trash bin full of used tissues wasn’t too far in the distance. In three days, she found herself tucked under the covers: exhausted, congested, and barely able to lift a finger.
While she has taken off from work, her dutiful beloved has been running around, essentially gathering a ‘get well soon’ basket for her, sans the basket and organization. Even with the grueling work hours, Hoseok shows up at her door with an armful of goodies–cough drops, additional tea, snacks, and various brands of mineral water–and the warmest smile to take care of her. She is grateful to have a partner who cares for her when she’s at her lowest, but the man truly has no concern for himself when he attempts to steal kisses from her.
“Hoseok, my love,” she warns him for the nth time while pushing his face away from her. “Stop trying to kiss me.”
With a pout, he grabs her wrist and positions her hand to cup his cheek. “I haven’t gotten any kisses in a while.”
“Because I’m sick.”
“My immune system will be fine.”
“No.”
He gets progressively whinier but makes no move to pressure her, instead leaning more into her palm while his thumb brushes over her pulse. He’s kneeling beside her bed, but he is still at a distance too close to avoid catching what she has. She has no will to fight him off, her heavy eyelids fluttering closed and threatening to stay shut for the remainder of the evening, and a winded sigh is dragged from her tired lungs. Hoseok merely observes her, a wistful gaze accompanied by the pad of his thumb gently resting on her wrist, and it’s hard to turn away a man who is so soft for her.
“You’re so annoying,” she quietly concludes with a tired smile.
“But you love me, yeah?”
She chuckles. “Ridiculously so.”
“Then I guess I’m very annoying.”
She looks as ghastly as she sounds, yet it doesn’t deter him from coming close–or wanting to. When he attempts to climb into bed, she blocks him with her leg. When he leans even a centimeter too close, she swats him away. He’s rough and burly, but always goes easy on her. That’s not to say that he will go down without a little tumble.
“My god, Hoseok!”
He does manage to climb in next to her, citing their position of him laying behind her as his defense of not getting sick just because she’s not face-to-face with him. She is no doctor but she doubts that their position makes him less susceptible to catching her cold. He’s still clinging to her, muscular arms wrapped around her waist and locking her in. It’s tiring to lecture him like he is a disobedient, codependent child, but she misses the warmth of his embrace. Touch deprivation has a strong hold on her judgment; she really doesn’t want to be let go.
It goes quiet, save the steady rhythm of his breaths as his chest is pressed against her back. She is already heating up from her sickness and having the human equivalent of a furnace trap her in her own bed will surely make her room feel like the pits of hell. She feels her clothes sticking to her skin, courtesy of the sheen of sweat on her, but Hoseok is unfazed. If anything, his hands are just as curious as they usually are, as one slips under her tee.
His fingertips brush over her skin, wandering no higher than her navel, kisses peppering over her nape and shoulder. She wouldn’t have minded his clinginess on normal occasions where she’s alive and well, not sweating, not hot to the touch, and can breathe through both nostrils. She seems to be the only one severely bothered by him voluntarily touching her sickly self, but her disgruntled thoughts shift with a little extra loving and persuading.
“It’s okay,” he reassures while settling between her legs, his hands traveling up her thighs to keep her spread for him. “Just a little taste. That’s all.”
“God, I’m so tired of you..”
She rubs her eyes, her whiny words of despair not matching up with the small smile on her face. Though she shakes her head, she allows him to drape her legs over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs.
Her attention is pulled in all different directions by her itchy throat, congested sinuses, and the conscious urge to suppress the coughing fits threatening to escape. Holding in her breath temporarily relieves the persistent itch but it’s difficult to think straight when Hoseok’s mouth is doing the unspeakable on her swollen clit.
His movements are controlled—calculated. He goes easy on her, which would typically make her throw a fit and demand for more, but her newfound patience is solely derived from her cold. Her patience is merely a guest, not a resident. The energy she can barely muster draws her fingers through his hair in a loose grip, and the obscene squelches of his mouth on her slick flesh reminds her that nothing will stop this man from satiating his hunger.
A bated breath parts from her throat, on par with the chills that rush through her weary limbs and down her spine when a single finger sinks inside her. A second one wriggles in a moment later, which goes against his claim of ‘getting a taste’. Nonetheless, he doesn’t stray from his leisurely pace, his mouth continuing to cater to her clit and every inch of her cunt that has yet to be touched while his thick digits stroke her walls.
Hoseok always spoils her, but she feels even more spoiled with his devoted attention to her and her pleasure. He really shouldn’t be in the room with her but as a grown adult who’s capable of making his own decisions, he is adamant on being horny and negligent of his own wellbeing.
“Love,” she breathes, her grip on his tresses fixing a bit stiffer, trembling thighs locking a bit tighter.
He grunts in response, smoldering eyes piercing at her when she peers down at him, and the pace of his tongue and fingers appear to pick up.
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