⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ contents: hwang intak x fem!reader, established relationship, smut (minors dni!)
⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ word count: 3k
⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ warnings: swearing, 18+ explicit content, soft soft soft dom!intak, down bad!intak lol, unprotected sex, fingering, little bit of marking, praise galore cause intak is so obsessed with reader omg
⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ a/n: a lil smut i had cooking for wayyyyy too long to hopefully get me back into a good routine of writing and posting over the summer break! and intak’s been killing me so bad this comeback so it was bound to happen regardless skdjfkjfjf. enjoy~~
now playing: bedtime story - rini, need it - rini
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“That’s definitely new, right?”
You catch Intak’s eyes in the mirror, watching his reflection look back at you before sliding down over your body, assessing the cute black pajama set—silky shorts and a spaghetti strap camisole—you’d recently purchased. The way that he’s staring at you, and especially the way his ears and cheeks are tinted red, has your stomach doing cartwheels, but you’re also just touched that he noticed.
“Yeah, I got them while shopping with Yeji over the weekend. I needed something lighter to wear over the summer…”
Your voice trails off as he steps fully into the bathroom and slips a hand around your waist, feeling the fabric. His eyes widen with a small shocked gasp. “Oh wow, it does feel really nice.”
“Right?” You concentrate back on the mirror to finish the last steps of your skincare—well, at least you try to concentrate. Intak’s gentle hand smoothing over your waist, occasionally brushing under the hem, and his head resting in the crook of your shoulder don’t do much to help that, especially when he presses a light kiss to your bare skin.
“It’s cute. You look really cute.” He mumbles into your neck and you’re glad for the excuse to reach away and grab a towel and pat your face dry, hoping he can’t see the blush on your cheeks from his voice so close to your ear.
However after taking off the headband holding your hair back and hanging the towel to dry, you make the mistake of catching Intak’s gaze on you in the mirror, chin still resting on your shoulder. His mouth instantly tilts up in a smile that’s so endearing and butterfly-inducing that you can feel your heart speed up. He lifts his head enough to press his nose into your cheek, then kisses the corner of your mouth with a whispered, “I mean, you always look cute, but right now…”
It’s diabolical and he knows it, your heart leaping out of your throat. Your body acts on instinct and you pull away with a giggled, “Intak!” He just grins as you duck quickly out of the bathroom before your boyfriend can think of anything else to say to make you shy and all sorts of stupid.
“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Intak laughs as you attempt to escape into your bedroom, cheeks heated- and this time he can definitely see your flustered state as he slips past the doorway behind you. He’s grinning, eyes sparkling playfully, and he’s looking at you like you’re the galaxy and he’s only just looked at the night sky for the first time. His hand catches yours with enough force to wheel you back to him, and you give in with little resistance, spinning to face him. You’re just a couple inches away now, giggling as he pretends to flick your forehead as punishment for trying to run from him.
“There’s no way I’m letting my girl go without a proper kiss.” Intak tsks, tapping your chin to force you to look up at him. “Especially when she’s looking so damn pretty.”
You roll your eyes, another not-so-subtle disguise to hide how flustered he’s making you. But he knows you too well, a crooked smile lifting with pride as he slowly adjusts his hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers and stepping right into your space. He’s leaning into you like a flower to the sun, adoring eyes darting between your eyes and down to your lips. The way such a simple action can make you feel so much is absolutely ridiculous, and it only takes Intak another few seconds to increase that giddiness tenfold with his soft lips pressed to yours. It’s a sweet kiss, gentle and slow and dizzying, instantly sending you reeling from his touch. His free hand finds your waist as yours slide up to his shoulders, shivers running up your body. He draws you as close as possible to himself, subtly tugging at your bottom lip to hear you sigh before pulling away.
You don’t let him get far, slipping a hand around to the nape of his neck to keep him close. Intak tilts his head, letting his forehead rest on yours as you hover around each other’s lips, taking in the other’s presence. Your hand lightly scratches at his scalp and his eyelashes flicker, eyes half closed, nose nudging yours as an invisible force closes the distance and his lips capture yours again—slowly, deeply, like it’s been weeks since he’s had the chance to kiss you like this. Your sharp inhale dissolves into a quiet whine that only encourages him to smile into the kiss and press closer. Both of his hands move to rest on your hips and you find yourself slowly moving backwards until your body collides with the back of your bedroom door. Intak has you pinned in a second, kissing you again and again, parting your lips to gently suck on your bottom lip and feel your quiet whimper on his tongue.
“God- been wanting to kiss you all night…” he whispers into your mouth in a strained, desperate tone. You answer by tugging him back into a heated kiss that pulls a groan from the back of his throat. Your hands rake through his curls to encourage more pretty sounds that fall onto your lips as he picks up the pace. His hands squeeze your hips, and that’s all the warning you get before he’s hoisting your body into the air, picking you up like its nothing to hold you against the door. You instantly wrap your legs around his torso and pull his face back to yours, unwilling to let him get too far. He responds eagerly, grip tightening on the underside of your thighs as his slow, borderline messy kisses pull from you sighs and whines of his name. His whole body feels on fire under your fingertips, and so does yours, adrenaline rushing through your veins and taking over your senses. His tongue parts your lips, his hands slip to grip your ass, and a murmured “fuck,” turns your brain to static. His hips rut against yours and you gasp, pulling away briefly, heart pounding in your chest.
Your breath catches as his gaze finds yours; Intak looks like a dream and your worst nightmare all at once. His cheeks are flushed, hair disheveled, chest heaving, eyes dazed and half closed as he examines your face the way you do with his, lips brushing yours as his gaze drops to them, then back up to your eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, eyes wandering over your face, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail. His lips are locked back on yours in an instant, pulled like a magnet to its opposite pole, and you’re instantly dizzy, gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.
This kiss is pure heat. He teases your bottom lip with his teeth and you quietly moan, drawing him as close to you as possible. You run your hands over his shoulders and pecs and feel him shudder, softly groaning as he presses your body to the back of the door once more, pressing his hips against yours again. His lips leave yours, but only to find the slope of your neck and kiss along the skin, sucking marks in a trail to your shoulder, slipping the strap of your tank out of the way without missing a stride. The sensation of his wet mouth on your bare shoulder has your head falling back to rest on the door, heat swimming in waves beneath the surface of your skin. Intak’s lips wander back up your neck, finding a sweet spot behind the back of your ear. The feel of his soft lips and wet tongue make you shiver and quietly moan out his name. “Intak—”
“You’re driving me crazy, baby.” He pants, voice low in your ear. “So perfect… look so fucking cute…”
Your hands run back over his biceps and shoulders, appreciating the toned muscle with gentle squeezes as you sigh and subtly rut your hips against his growing boner. He groans against your lips, melting under your touch and the obvious display of want. He can’t muffle a whimper from the back of his throat as you slide your hands over his chest and repeat the action, which he instantly reciprocates with a grind of his own and a whined, “Fuck, baby… c’mere…”
Making sure his grip looped under your body is secure, Intak kisses your lips one last, lingering time before pulling you back from the door. Stumbling slightly, Intak carries you to the bed and sets you down on the sheets, making your stomach jolt in anticipation. Moving to hover his body overtop of yours, he rubs your thighs and lingers by your lips again, kissing you with new fervor as he whispers between each dizzying peck, “Lay back for me, baby. Just relax and let me do all the work… gonna give you what you deserve…”
His words have an instantaneous effect, making you shiver and grab at his broad shoulders to keep him close, whispering, “Want you…”
With a smile, he pecks your cheek before trailing soft, sensual kisses back down the side of your neck and along your collarbone. He spends a little extra time at the neckline of your shirt before helping you pull the fabric over your head to discard it, doing the same quickly with his own shirt. His lips don’t miss a beat in continuing their path down your body, littering your skin with long presses of his mouth and tongue that make you shiver, sensitive to every touch. His hands follow his lips in their journey down your body, rubbing over your breasts and the curves of your sides. You feel yourself sinking into the bed as Intak slowly presses your hips into the mattress, lips worshipping your body, slowly sucking wet, red marks in his wake. Every small sound you make is only encouraged by Intak, who slowly massages your waist and murmurs, “You’re so good for me.” The words are whispered over your skin, making you feel lightheaded with desire. “So perfect.”
His mouth trails a line down your center, and he’s so unbearably slow that you already feel like a mess before he even starts kissing along the waistband of your shorts. Your hands find their way into his hair and tug at the dark locks, pulling small, strained groans from the back of his throat as his eyes flutter. The action seems to only encourage him to further drive you to the edge of insanity, tongue teasing the marks he’s leaving as you squirm beneath him, already out of breath.
“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, thumbs massaging the rise of your tummy, admiring the darkening bruises he’s left behind. He presses several wet, sweet kisses there before he tugs at your shorts, glancing up at you through dark lashes. “Can these come off, baby?”
You nod with a small “please,” and that’s all Intak needs. His lips split into a grin, eyes sparkling before he carefully pulls aside both your shorts and panties to expose your whole body to him. He takes several seconds to simply get a look at you before bending back down to capture your lips again, softly moaning when you readily press back into him. His hands slip back to your waist, thumbs pressing into your hip bones to hold you in place as he kisses you twice, three times, endlessly more. You lose count as he mumbles sweet praises and several “I love you” ’s against your lips before parting once more. This time, he wastes no time, eager impatience getting the better of him as his arms loop around your waist to roll you over onto your stomach with ease.
Your stomach drops at the change in position and the way his hands explore your body again, rubbing over your ass and up your spine firmly, kneading into the skin. His warm kisses return, littering your back with wet spots and stinging marks that make you whine into the pillow. You feel his smile on your skin, know he’s teasing you on purpose, but your complaints are instantly forgotten when he finally pushes your thighs apart and drags a finger through the wetness gathered in your core, catching on your clit in the process. Pleasure pulses through your body as he repeats the action several times, making you whimper and clutch at the sheets.
“Fuck, Intak, there, please-”
You arch your back with a small moan as Intak obliges, rubbing two fingers over your clit in practiced motions that have you seeing stars. After a minute, he pauses briefly to prop a pillow under your hips, then firmly loops his hands under your thighs and pulls you close to him. He leans over you, kissing up your neck before once again finding that sweet spot behind your ear and murmuring, “Relax, sweetheart, I’ve got you. You’ve been so good, so good, baby… gonna get you there, promise… just hold on for me.”
His fingers work magic as he slips two into your aching cunt and quickly begins to thrust and curl them just right. It’s so good you don’t even know when you start grinding your hips back to chase the friction. “Oh my god…”
It’s not enough, though, and when you say as much Intak quickly strips off his pants and boxers with his free hand, fisting his boner and aligning himself with your hole. Your whole body heats, shaking with anticipation and need, core tingling. Intak hisses as he slowly pushes into you, head falling, his hair and his breath tickling your back. “Oh my god… baby…”
His hands tighten on your hips as he ruts into you, gradually sinking further into your welcoming warmth as spots fill your vision, skin burning at the feeling of his pulsing dick filling you, stimulating your sensitive walls and triggering waves of heat and pure pleasure to flow through your veins. When Intak bottoms out, he does so with a throaty groan, head dipping to touch your back, hair tickling your skin.
As you take a second for the two of you to adjust, Intak lifts his head and presses several messy kisses to the side of your head and behind your ear. “Feel okay?” He pants, breath hot on your neck.
You nod, head heavy in the pillows, body shaking. One of Intak’s arms wraps around your chest and pulls you up to him, supporting your weight while he begins to thrust. The friction is delicious, and you’re instantly clenching around him, your body practically begging for more. Intak lets out quiet sounds and grunts with each thrust, and it’s not long before both of you start to slowly fall apart. Each stroke is deliberate and evenly paced, slow enough for you to really feel it, yet hurried enough that you’re not given a second to breathe before another wave of pleasure rolls through your gut and pushes a moan from your throat.
“God, you feel so good,” Intak groans, head buried in your neck, mouth warm against your skin. “Take me so well, baby… shit—”
His hips thrust with more force, his desperation getting the better of him. His arm around your chest remains firm in holding you to him at the same time that his body presses you against the mattress, his free hand sliding to your hip to hold you in place for him, allowing him to control the angle and hit all your best spots. It’s so good and so intense that you similarly begin to lose control, breaths hitching and choking on moans and whimpers and pleas of his name, all of which are muffled into the sheets as your strength fails you and your head falls against the bed.
His own groans and whines become more high pitched and breathy, his words coming out in broken murmurs. “Feel s’ good, baby,” he whispers, words slurred together. He presses sloppy kisses to your shoulder, moaning against your skin as you clench around him again, feeling your stomach tightening, body tingling. “Fuck, babe—ah—I’m not… not gonna last long like this…”
You whimper, fingers digging into the sheets as his hand slips from your hip to find your clit again, rubbing in pressured circles that have you clenching around him harder, moaning beneath him. “There, there—”
Intak doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, repeating each heavenly motion as your climax nears its approach. It doesn’t take long before the knot in your gut becomes unbearable, heat rising across your skin. A few more seconds and you’re babbling, “I-I’m coming, Intak, ah-”
“Come for me…” Intak pleads, panting, body shaking overtop of yours, voice right beside your ear, deep and laced with want. “Let me feel you, baby… I’ve got you…”
In an instant, your body tenses and the knot snaps, your high washing over you hard. Your boyfriend rides you through your high, and it’s not long before Intak’s hips stutter and his cum spills into you, his own choked moans filling the space between you. After a couple last thrusts, Intak stills, then slowly pulls out and slumps beside you.
You take a minute to catch your breath, and as you do, Intak pulls you against him, rolling you onto your side and curling you backwards into his chest. His mouth presses gently to your back, free hand rubbing circles over your hip bone. “There you go, baby, that’s it…”
You hum in return, taking his hand and intertwining it with yours. Intak nuzzles into your neck, both of you catching your breaths as he kisses you there. Eventually, he whispers, “You good?”
“Mm. Better than good.”
You can feel Intak’s proud grin against the shell of your ear as he holds you tighter to him. After a moment, he presses another kiss to your skin and murmurs, “Let’s get you washed up and back into those cute pj’s of yours, baby.”
You let him guide you to sit up, eyeing him as he grabs your pajama set, and laughing softly. “Okay, but behave this time.”
There’s a twinkle in his eyes as Intak pulls you to your feet, leaving a lingering kiss on your lips once more for good measure. “No promises.”
contents ꩜ dom! reader, sub! intak, overstimulation, begging, hand job + blow job, drabble, non idol ! au, est. relationship, nsfw MDNI
cw ꩜ power dynamics, dumbification, smut with no plot, lowk dacryphilia, lowk short sorry 😢
Nails digging into the flesh of your arm, his head thrown back, and shameless moans flying out of his mouth, all of the sign that show you Intak is currently over the moon and seeing stars. You pump his cock at a speed that has him rutting up in your hand, which you shake your head in disapproval at.
He’s being selfish by chasing his own pleasure and forgetting about your main rule, don’t cum right away. He couldn’t help it, your touch makes him sensitive, weak, even if it’s only been a few minutes since you’ve started giving him a hand job. That knot in his stomach slowly unravels, of course you notice right away. He’s arching, his noises sounding more desperate by the second, his orgasm in clear sight.
Intak expects you to stop, you usually do, though for some reason you keep going, helping him chase this early orgasm. Soon enough, he spills all over your hands, a broken moan following it. He goes limp, and his head falls against the pillow.
“W.. Wait— babe— too sensitive!”
You keep your pace even after he’s came, you’re not satisfied, not ready to let him off so easily when he just defied one of your rules.
“You came too soon, you remember our rules don’t you?”
He gulps, shuddering at the feeling of you kissing his tip, already red and irritated. You open your mouth and swirl your tongue around it, before taking his length in with your mouth, your hand covering what your throat can’t. You bob your head up and down, taking him so well.
Tears sting the corners of his eyes, already feeling another orgasm approaching. Your tongue swirls around his tip, your free hand caressing his thigh, your mouth feels so good around his length, the way you suck him off has his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“I’m gonna cum.. bae I’m gonna—“
You moan around his cock, sending vibrations all the way to his core. His moans have turned into whimpers, squirming desperately under you. Finally, he cums down your throat, you make sure to swallow it all, and lick up what you’ve missed.
“Such a good boy.. you can handle one more can’t you?”
He whimpers as you pull your skimpy shorts down, excitement filling his body.
Intak as a sub is so hot im sorry LITERALLY OBSESSED WITH HIM… also sorry for how short this is (i’ve been rushing cause I started late) but I still hope ygs enjoy!
summary. seokmin takes you on a date to the drive-in theater, but you’d rather do something else in his car than watch the movie.
wc. 1.5k
warnings. switch!reader & switch!seok, lots of teasing, dry humping, desperate simp!seokmin, slight exhibitionism (? they’re in the car in a parking lot), brief mention of breeding kink, very slight baby talk at the end.
note. i hope this doesn’t read weird lmfao 😭 thoughts have been heavy abt him and i think he'd love the drive in and other cute old-fashioned dates
“you love me, don’t you, baby?” you ask, body leaning over the center console of his nice, spacious car. your voice is just above a whisper, lips pressed against the shell of his ear.
his car sits in the parking lot of the drive-in theater. he suggested it for a cute date night since the two of you haven’t seen each other due to conflicting schedules.
and, yeah, it would’ve been cute if you weren’t so undeniably turned on by the sight of him in jeans and a white button-up. and fuck him for wearing that shirt when he knows it makes you feral. you now could care less about the stupid horror film on the screen when he’s right next to you looking unfairly handsome as always. you decided, bored and uncomfortably wet in the passenger seat of his car, to tease him instead.
no longer paying attention to the gore on the screen, seokmin nods his head at your question and allows his eyes to flutter closed, breath hitching at the sultry tone of your pretty, pretty voice. the same one you use when you’re feeling insatiable. the same one that always makes blood rush to his cock. the very same that had him falling head over heels in love with you the second he heard it.
his voice comes out thick, yet all the same reassuring, “yeah, you know i love you, baby.”
and you do. you do know, but hearing him say it makes you feel even more hungry. needy. the sense of confirmation makes you thrive. “yeah?” you ask, smirking against him as you find his thick thigh, squeezing what you can in your much smaller hand. “you’d do anything for me?”
his eyes nearly roll when your lips start to move down, soft, wet kisses placed on his jaw. “anything.” he whispers, unable to trust his voice.
you hum, “anything?”
“anything.” he reiterates, louder this time and you nearly giggle at the way his voice wavers.
it is the truth, though. he would give you the moon if you asked for it, which is one of the many reasons why you love him so much. you know he’d do anything to keep you happy, and you do the same for him. it’s how and why you work.
“really?” you tease, lips curving up into a smile against his smooth skin. “so, if i wanted to cum a hundred times, would you help me?”
the thought is implausible and he knows you’re exaggerating, but he still jerks gently under your hand. “fuck,” he mutters. “‘course i would, baby.”
your hand slowly slides up to his cock covered by the rough denim of his jeans. you slowly palm over him, feeling just how hard he is just by the sound of your voice. “and… say i wanted to make you cum a hundred times, would you let me?”
you swear you hear the whimper die in his throat before he speaks up, stuttering a breathy, “y-yeah.”
“yeah?”
he throws his head back when you press him harder, “fuck, yeah.”
“would you fuck me now if i asked you to?” you press, lips moving to his neck. “cum in me? fill me up with all of you?” you question, your own voice getting pitchy at the beautiful thought. you pull your head back and smile at the sight of him innocently, rubbing him with more force. “would you let me ride you, seok?”
“shit, anything you fucking want, angel.” he gasps, back arching at the pleasure before grabbing your wrist, and pulling you to the driver's seat with him. “i’d literally kill for you. now c’mere, come ride me.”
“seokmin,” you giggle, climbing over the center console before mounting over him. once comfortably seated, you press your chest against him before experimentally rolling your body against his. “you’d kill for me? so chivalrous.” your hands grip his shoulders and you bite your lip at the shockwaves his covered bulge sends through your body.
he groans at your teasing, leaning in to shut you up by roughly pressing his lips to yours. his hands find your hips and he guides you against him, moving your body in a needy matter.
your hips move faster and faster against one another, moaning into each other's mouths desperately. you’re sure there’s a wet patch on his jeans from your honeyed arousal where it's soaked through your own panties– or maybe it’s his precum– but he doesn’t seem to mind as he’s grinding his crotch against your aching, clothed pussy with vigor and desire.
you break from the kiss out of breath, letting your forehead rest against his, “c-can you cum like this?” you ask breathily– much too pretty for how embarrassingly close seokmin is from releasing in his pants like a teenager.
as much as you want to fuck him, you can’t seem to stop moving your hips as you’re getting closer and closer to completely letting go.
“i-i can…” seokmin pants, heavy eyes opening to see your eyebrows knitted together and your mouth open in pleasure. “c-can you?”
“mhm, feels too good, seok, can’t stop,” you whine. “‘m so close…”
seokmin groans lowly, squeezing your hips harder and bucking up into you faster. you’re sure if the car wasn’t shaking before, it definitely was now and even with the tinted windows, everyone in the parking lot would know what was happening inside.
that was the last thing on his mind, though. “god, me too, baby,” he moans, feeling his abdomen tense up. “so fucking close all ‘cuz of you.”
you whine out his name at that, panting out your next words, “please cum for me, seokmin, wanna see you cum.”
your breathy voice has always been irresistible to him. he can’t even try to protest, cumming as soon as you ask with a bruising grip and a string of curses and ‘baby’s’ on the tip of his tongue. his cock twitches in his confined jeans as his seed seeps through his boxers and creates an even darker patch on the blue denim.
you grind through his orgasm and you watch him with lidded eyes. his contorted face and his pretty voice make the knot tighten in your belly. the friction of his denim jeans feels so delicious that you’re just about to fall apart. you just need a little push.
seokmin knows you like the back of his hand, though, and he understands you’re close– he can see it– he can feel it.
coming down from his high, he pants, “so fucking pretty, you know that? my pretty girl… all mine, i’d do anything for you,” he keeps you moving, though he’s starting to feel a bit overstimulated– he needs to see you come undone on top of him.
his words shake you. “s-seokmin!” you gasp, your orgasm creeps up on you and you can nearly taste it.
“that’s it, angel, cum for me…” he says, voice wavering as he feels himself grow hard under you again. “promise ‘m gonna take you home and fuck you so full, might even give you a baby so you know i’d do anything for you.”
and that just about does it for you. you grip his shoulders tight as the tightrope unravels, throwing your head back and arching as you soak your panties further with your syrupy release. “fuh-fuck! s-seokmin,” you all but mewl, tears of pleasure clouding your vision.
he helps you ride out your high, slowing with each buck of your hips till you’re left writhing and shaking in his lap with a post-orgasm haze looming over your features.
after a few more minutes of recovering and letting your breathing return to normal, you look at him with doe eyes. “y-you wanna give me a baby?” you stutter.
his face feels hot and he’s thankful that it’s dark so you can’t see the blush spreading over his face. he hadn’t actually meant to say it even though it’s been something he’s been thinking about for a while and he knows it’s been on your mind too.
“well, no– i mean, not no, but… um,” he stumbles over his words awkwardly and you can’t fight the smile that etches onto your face. “i just mean… we should talk about it… i do want to have one with you. i want a life with you. i want everything with you… if that’s what you want.”
you laugh before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “of course, it’s what i want. i want everything with you, too, baby.” you mutter against his lips. “when you said that, it was really hot, by the way, holy shit.” you giggle, head falling on his shoulder to hide your embarrassed face as you remember.
he laughs, too, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you in a hug. “we missed, like, half of the movie, hope you’re happy.” he says, looking at the screen through the slightly foggy windshield.
“‘s okay, i think it was worth it.” you mumble into his neck, smiling to yourself. “and… if it’s any consolation… i’d kill for you, too.”
⤷ pairing: intak x fem!reader
⤷ tags: (slight) bondage, clothed sex, dry humping, dirty talk, umm that's about it loll
⤷ warnings: smut (MDNI) i will put dub-con just in case bc of the ending
⤷ synopsis: you and intak were getting ready for your best friend's wedding and you find another creative use for his tie
⤷ word count: 1.6k
★ A/N; this was inspired by this lovely script i read on scriptbin !
intak frowned as he looked in the mirror, the silk material of the tie feeling foreign in his hands. he had no idea how to maneuver the black fabric to mirror the neat tie that showed on his phone screen. with a frustrated sigh, he lets the ends of the tie fall uneven on either side of his collar. he peeks his head through the doorway of the bathroom into the connected bedroom, immediately finding your figure standing in front of a dresser fumbling with your jewelry.
he walks over to you. “hey, baby?” you’re still toying with the hoops in your ears as you turn towards him, eyebrows inching up in response. “you don’t mind helping me with this tie, do you?” he points to the undone tie hanging pathetically around his neck.
“aw,” you cooed, your lips forming into a thin smile. “i forgot you’re not used to dressing up like this.” a little while from now, intak was accompanying you as a plus one at your best friend’s wedding. you both wanted to show up as presentable as possible for her special day. you took the silk tie, situated it beneath his collar, and formed a snug knot. it was like muscle memory as you looped it in on itself. intak smiled to himself at the way your lips jutted out in concentration.
your eyebrows furrowed with focus as you finished the last loop.
“there,” you stepped back to admire your work with a soft smile, smoothing out any imperfections in the tie.
“thank you, i couldn’t get that no matter how hard i tried,”
“hm, what would you do without me?” your hand rested on the side of his face, thumb tracing along his jawline, moving to his nape to feel at the silky texture of his recent haircut. he leaned forward, your foreheads touching. “you look so handsome,” you mumbled into his lips. your forearms wrap around his shoulders, pressing your body into his.
“and you’re so beautiful, i mean, this dress..” his hands traversed the softness of your curves that lay beneath your body-con dress.
“i could take you right here,” his ears perk up at the mischievous lilt in your voice.
“and make us late? you would never.”
“you’re right,” you exhaled through your nose, looking away in thought before focusing back on him. “but, a little teasing wouldn’t hurt, though. we don’t even have to undress.” intak felt ensnared by your seemingly innocent gaze. both of you knew better, and you were sure your friends were noticing a pattern. the way you two would arrive late to events, your attire slightly disheveled and breaths a little short. you think that if you were careful, they wouldn’t catch on this time, right?
your hands rest on his chest, manicured nails grazing the fabric. with a firm grasp, you wrap your hand around his tie pulling him your way. you give him a soft peck, feeling him smile as your lips meet again slow and steady. the kiss grew messy as your tongue slipped into his mouth. you couldn’t care less about the makeup you just spent an hour and some change perfecting.
his hand hungrily grasps your waist, the other travelling down to grab a handful of your ass. the tie in your hand acted like a leash and kept him right where you wanted him.
your leg slots between his slack-clad thighs, brushing a knee against his growing bulge, and you devour the noises he made into your mouth. he shuffles backwards as you gently push him towards the edge of the bed. the bed whines under his weight as he sits down, looking up at you with those signature puppy eyes, lips slick with your spit.
the lipstick you put on earlier was smudged, and the splotchy red tint pasted across his face was enough evidence. you run your hand down the length of the tie before letting it drop to his shirt.
“lay down,” you spoke in that dangerously calm tone that had him following your command without hesitation.
“so, we’re doing this..” he smirked as he laid comfortably on the duvet. with a nod, you climbed onto the bed on top of him, your dress riding up your thighs as you mounted him. his hands are immediately drawn to your waist, sliding the fabric further upwards to reveal your panties underneath.
before he can comment, your lips are moving against his again, moaning at the contact. waxy lipstick prints adorned his tan skin with a sheen as you kissed down his neck. his hands greedily grasp at your ass, fingers wandering under the string of your thong. you tentatively slip your hands under the straps of your dress, letting them drop to reveal your breasts.
“what happened to not undressing?” he whispers into the air between your lips before dipping down to kiss your chest. lips wrap around one of your nipples, his warm, velvet tongue rolling over the nub relentlessly. you whine, hands finding purchase in his hair. you can feel yourself getting wetter as his hands tease your panty line. both of you were getting carried away, forgetting that you still have a wedding to attend.
“okay,” you breathe out with finality, reaching down to tug at his tie. the knot at his collar that you had so carefully constructed quickly comes undone.
intak mumbled with displeasure. “you’re undoing the tie? but it looked so nice..” you take his wrists and place them above his head, wrapping the tie around them before forming a tight knot.
“i know, you looked so pretty in it,” you grab hold of his jaw, tilting his chin up. “but, you look even prettier like this.”
you hold each other's gaze as you grind down against him, relishing the bulge you made straining through his pants.
“fuck, just like that,” he moans at the friction and the pressure of your hips pinning him to the mattress. he’s itching to touch you all over, to make you cum on his fingers as you moan his name like an incantation. his hands form into fists within his restraints. you wonder how long you can get away with teasing him, and how long you can keep this slow pace before he gets needy.
“baby..could you move a bit faster?” there it is. he lets out a low whine, squirming under you and trying to rut his hips up into yours.
an amused giggle leaves your mouth. “i can’t do that. we’re just teasing, remember?” he lets his head hit the bed with a heavy exhale. you moan out, the texture of the opening of his pants catching your clothed clit.
“fuck, those noises you’re making,” you bit down on your bottom lip, looking down at his features that continued to contort with pleasure.
“i’m sure i’d be louder if i was riding your cock. i bet you wish you were inside me, huh?” he chokes out a half laugh.
“you know i do. i want to fuck you so bad, make you come over and over again,” his words were broken up by heavy pants and whiny noises. your hips move at a faster pace, spurred on by the thought of him drilling his cock into you without mercy, filthy words gracing his lips. you know you’d find yourself somewhere during the reception in a secluded room as he pulls up your dress and uses you like a toy.
“oh, takie, i don’t think we can stop now,” you say with a smirk. you’re practically fucking him now, hips milking his throbbing cock through his pants.
“i’m so close… baby, i can’t cum with these pants on, listen to me.” he looks up at you with a slight look of apprehension because your hips weren’t slowing down at all and he could see where this was going. you liked his voice weakened as he failed to resist your ministrations.
“but i want you to cum, please gimme your cum, takie,” you whined, eyes never breaking contact with his.
“wait, no, stop before i-” a low groan cuts off his words, eyes clamping shut as his orgasm hits him like a truck. you let out a soft gasp as you feel his cum soak his pants. eventually, you stop moving and let him catch his breath.
intak’s face broke into a smile, chest heaving against the buttons of his dress shirt. “you mean, mean girl,” you giggle at his comment and give him a quick peck on the lips. “forgive me?” you ask with a mock pout. after you release the tie from around his wrists, he throws his head back with a groan, hands covering his face. “fuck, that conversation at the dry cleaners is gonna be so awkward.”
you hike your dress straps back up to your shoulders and pick up your phone to turn it on, eyes widening slightly at the numbers displayed on the screen. “shit, it’s already seven,” you hurl the phone back on the bed, rushing to get out of his lap.
“what? no way,” he shot up from the bed and his eyebrows knitted together. “uhh, start the car, i gotta go find a new pair of pants.”
his feet hit the floor with a thump, footsteps fading as he hurried towards the closet. not before he turned back to you with an accusing finger and half-squinted eyes. “you’re so gonna pay for this,” you put your hands up in surrender with a knowing look on your face.
he dips behind the door amongst his wardrobe, and quickly peaks his head back out with an awkward smirk. “but, can you redo my tie when we get there..?”
ty SAURR much for reading, look out for more works from me :'] !
a/n: hello again 😓 sorry for being gone for months, i still don’t know how much i have in me to post regularly, but i hope u all like this nonetheless <3 if this sucks please give me some grace, i’m so out of practice. anyways i love stoner piwon 😸
tags: established relationships, drug use (obviously, please stay safe!), sexual content, high sex, cunnilingus, blowjobs, domesticity, idk what else
౨ৎ keeho
the only member i think would rather drink than get high, but honestly, he’s down for anything you want. kyo doesn’t really buy bud on his own, so you’d have to be the provider i fear. all is well though, because he sends you money every other day anyways. the first time you got high together, keeho’s tolerance was shit, and the man had fallen asleep within 20 minutes of the sesh. now though, he’s built up his tolerance, and rather than getting sleepy, he just becomes cockier than he already is. compliments come easy to keeho, he’s never shied away from praising you, but when he’s smoked some weed, it’s like the words just spill out. it’s almost annoying, he knows exactly which buttons to push and prod at until you’re reduced into a blushing mess, and keeho definitely uses that to his advantage. what he doesn’t expect, is for you to retaliate, pressing your fingers into his chest to push him backwards, his back hitting the soft of your mattress as he looks up at you confused. it makes you giggle, how he’s so easy to render speechless when moments ago, he wouldn’t dare shut up.
admittedly, you’d already been craving him, long before he had made his way to your apartment. now that you’re high though, all that’s on your mind is keeping the boy beneath you quiet, almost as if to teach him a lesson. your attention falls from his face to his crotch area, his dick already pressing against his jeans, as if his body was anticipating this before his mind could even catch on. you coo at his patheticness, reveling in this newfound power you have over him. your manicured nails find themselves underneath his white tee, scratching slightly at his bare chest as kyo continues to silently ogle you. you don’t miss the blush on his ears though, or how his eyes glaze over in a way that makes it obvious he wants nothing more than to be taken care of. you test the waters by ghosting your fingers over his covered cock, now painfully aware of how inexperienced you are when it comes down to dominating him, as the opportunity hadn’t arrived until just now. you look at your boyfriend to gauge his reaction, and he simply nods to give you permission to use him as you please. confident once more, you unbutton his jeans slowly, all while staring at his bewilderment (and enjoyment!) of your sudden affinity for dominating him. twenty something minutes later, you’ve got keeho in tears, the man whimpering and thrashing around in your sheets, all while your fist pumps his dick as fast as you can manage. you’ve robbed him of three orgasms at this point, and you’re not planning on stopping anytime soon.
౨ৎ theo
taeyang was an avid stoner long before he had even met you, and now that you’re his girl, he’s corrupted you as well—if the pen you carry around like a vice is anything to go by. he’s still disciplined though, saving his smoke seshes for the weekend, where he can actually enjoy himself without having to stress about work. his ideal weekend entails sleeping in, picking you up to take you on a date, bringing you home to lounge around, and of course, smoke. i imagine theo has a cozy little spot in the corner of his living room where he likes to get high the most. there’s a good view of the tv from there, along with cushions that remind him of his childhood home, proper ventilation, the works. before you’re even over, he makes sure to have your go-to blanket on top of your usual cushion, along with some of your favorite snacks. once you’re both back at his place after another successful date, you get undressed into something comfy and make a beeline for his special corner, harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban already on, lighter and joint in your boyfriend’s hand. the two of you have a routine at this point, tuning the movie out and making conversation as the high starts to kick in.
high sex with taeyang isn’t guaranteed. it happens when it happens, so you aren’t necessarily expecting your boyfriend to lean over and stare at your lips, much less to make out with you right then and there. you get ahold of the situation pretty quickly though, deepening the kiss while putting out the joint on the ashtray beside you. he’s not super vocal, but his tight grip on your hips makes his desire for you undeniable, and lucky enough for him, it doesn’t take long before you can feel your arousal, your panties now sticky. he stops kissing you for a moment to stare at you, smiling like he just won the lottery. “i missed you.” is all he says, and the man doesn’t even give you enough time to reply, locking your lips once more while his hands move upwards to knead at your clothed tits. the stimulation is heavenly, and with just a few gropes you’re whimpering into his mouth, hot and heavy. eventually, yangie pulls you into his inviting lap, and after some more making out, you’re both naked from the waist down, with your pussy grinding against his thick cock in hurried motions. there’s no time to think, no time to even put him inside of you. all you care about is the dizzying friction against your cunny, and theo wouldn’t have it any other way.
౨ৎ jiung
rolls up for you every time like a true gentlemen—is good at it too. prefers to smoke with you out on his fancy patio, the chill air easing him into fully letting go, without having to worry about the pungent scent of bud that’ll no doubt linger on his clothes later. however, if you’re convincing enough, he might just allow you to place yourself atop his lap, your combined weight pressing into the plush of ji’s living room couch as you blow smoke into the stillness of his apartment. jiung, always responsible, has water bottles within reach for whenever need be, as well as the cute calico cat ash tray you bought him a few months back. hatessss getting ash anywhere but in the tray, and scolds you if some drops onto his hardwood floors. has a pretty high tolerance, but when it does hit, all of his stress fades away pretty quickly. isn’t really all that talkative, as he’d rather listen to whatever bullshit you have to spew when you’re high off of your mind. gently rubs at your thighs with his cold hands as he listens, a curious look in his eyes that’s mixed with something else that you can only place as love.
waits until your high dissipates into a thin fog before he suggests anything remotely sexual, afraid that he’ll do something rash and regret it afterwards. jiung tends to be a little lazier in this state, preferring to spoon fuck you into the couch at a slower pace than usual—not that you mind, especially not when his cock hits every little spot inside your gummy walls. kisses at your exposed shoulders after every few mind-numbing thrusts, and like always, makes sure that you’ve came on his cock before indulging in his own peak. jiung gets kinda sappy once the deed is done, evident in the way he turns you over to look at him, or how his hands come up to cradle your fucked out face, grounding you almost instantly. whispers sweet nothings at you until your eyes have fallen shut, and proceeds to bridal carry you to his bed when he’s sure you’ve tapped out for the night, knowing how much you despise waking up cramped on his couch. getting high with bf!jiung is comfortable, and you know that you’re always in safe hands with him.
౨ৎ intak
hwang intak rolls worst joint ever, asked to leave p1harmony. genuinely though, his lazy ass always stocks up on the weakest pre-rolls, because he knows his fingers aren’t to be trusted with the pretty pink rolling papers you bring to every smoke sesh. you always end up having to roll for the two of you because of his lackluster skills, but he makes up for it by buying his girl a cute hello kitty themed grinder. has a really low tolerance, but swears up and down that he’s not high (he absolutely is). when he’s baked, he somehow gets even touchier with you, pawing at each and every curve of your body with no shame. his big eyes get all droopy, tinted a slight red color as he watches you—perched up against his bedroom wall, joint between your fingers as you pay him no mind, like he’s not even there. for some reason, i see intak as the type to want to work for your attention, especially during times like these, where all you really care about is getting high, with or without him. he’s not one to falter when it comes to a challenge.
in true intak manner, he’d try to get you to crack with physical touch, and although the feel of his hands against your skin affects you more than you’d ever admit, the final push would definitely be intak getting real close to your ear, whispering something like “let me make you feel good? please?”, and you don’t have to be asked twice. smirks all stupid when he realizes he’s won, ready to make you see stars and regret ignoring him. i think tak would be an eater when he’s high, not like he usually isn’t, but his desire to explore your cunt with his tongue just grows tenfold when he’s in this state. takes you right there on his carpeted floor, not even bothering to take off any of his own garments, because this is just for you. likes to take his time with it, looking up at you with teary, hazy eyes as he admires the crinkles in your features when he moves his tongue especially well. wouldn’t even stop once you’ve hit your climax, is way too lost in the sauce, overstimulating your pussy until he comes in his pants with a groan like some horny teenager. he’s not ashamed about it in the slightest, as intak thinks the sexiest thing in the world is to have his girl rutting against his eager mouth.
random little thought of mine, but i imagine intak lovessss to get crossed as well :3
౨ৎ soul
i don’t know why, but sho pegs me as an avid bong user. maybe it’s the childlike whimsy of pulling and watching bubbles rise in the chamber, much like how he’d blow bubbles into a glass of milk as a kid. i don’t know, but soul loves himself a good bong. has a bunch of ‘em actually, colorful and strangely shaped. whenever you get high together, he lets you pick out the one you want to use from his collection, like the true gentleman he is. you’re both sat in front of his janky tv, passing around the bong and laughing at whatever anime soul’s currently binging. your boyfriend’s personality doesn’t change much when he’s high, but you on the other hand, happen to get horny each and every time. maybe it’s the way your foggy brain can only focus on his side profile, the light of tv screen casting a glow on his pale skin in the prettiest of ways, accentuating his jawline that you oh so love. maybe it’s his posture, hands pressed into the floor behind him to support his weight, sweatpants adorning his slightly spread legs that leave little to the imagination. whatever it is, you’re horny, and you get an idea that brings a flush of pink to your cheeks.
you crawl over a bit to hover over his legs, and shota, bless his heart, is too high preoccupied with the episode to wonder what you’re doing. you place your forearms onto his legs to stabilize yourself before looking up at him some more, waiting with batted lashes for soul to finally make eye contact with you. when he does, your lips move faster than your brain. “can i suck you off?” is what shota registers before blood rushes to his dick embarrassingly quick, and the innocent but eager look in your eyes has him filling up his sweatpants in record time. he’d probably mumble some stupid shit like “uh huh” with his gaze focused on your every move, clearly forgetting all about the show that was taking up all his attention earlier. you smile while pulling his sweats down, just enough to free his cock—red and begging for attention, the view making you salivate. of course, you get to work real quick, pumping his dick with a tight closed fist before taking it all the way in your mouth with some effort. your boyfriend lets out a strained “fuck” at the contact, hips already chasing the heat of your mouth, making you gag around the flesh—just how you like it. he comes embarrassingly quick, but you still swallow up everything with pleasure, cunt throbbing and head still lost to your high. when you pull off of him with a smile, shota wastes no time in grabbing your face and pulling you into a messy kiss, with his taste still on your tongue. and of course, he returns the favor with the most ruthless back shots, slapping at pulling at your ass to give thanks for your generosity. :D
౨ৎ jongseob
once again pitching the idea of seob being your boyfriend, as well as your dealer all-in-one.. only difference is, you don’t have to pay him shit, which is very convenient! has a zip on him at all times, and you’re forever thankful for it—especially when you’ve had a god awful day. his favorite way to cheer you up after one of those types of days is by getting high together, oh and fucking your brains out too. he’s not really picky location wise, doesn’t have a designated spot where he likes to smoke, as he’s used to getting ash on his sheets and doesn’t mind it much. while he’s sparking up, he watches you get unready for the night from the comfort of his bed. you’re wearing a cute little baby tee and some pajama shorts you bought a while back, hunched over by the vanity he bought just for your convenience when you sleep over. seobie lovesss watching you do your skincare in his bedroom, the sight so domestic and comfortable, making him want you even more than he already does. once you’re all done with your routine, he’s already taken a few puffs and passes the joint to your ready fingers as you approach him. is surprised when you seat yourself on his lap, but you look so pretty while doing it that he wouldn’t dare complain.
if you blow smoke into his face with a giggle, he’s a goner. flips you over to kiss you silly, pausing momentarily to take another hit from the still-lit blunt. jongseob when high is at his most confident, and it doesn’t take long before he’s smirking down at you while feeling you up over your clothes. unbeknownst to him, you’ve been waiting for this moment all day, to be in his bed, with a much needed high. his smooth fingers tease a bit more, grazing against the bare skin of your tummy, but never daring to touch you underneath the layers of polyester until you work for it. you’d squirm a bit, joint long forgotten and clearly unamused at his antics, but eventually you can’t wait anymore! the magic word is “please”, and as soon as it’s spoken, he lets go of all the teasing and gives you what you really want. pulls off your clothes with a mix of love and lust in his eyes, and fucks you into his mattress without hesitation. laughs at the sight of his dick forming a bulge in your tummy, presses on it just enough to get your eyes rolling back. you both fall asleep after a few more rounds, and he doesn’t even bother pulling out, just holds you close with his cock still planted in your cunny. he’s so <33
hey, how are you doing ?? hope you’re doing well !! 🎀🩷
i just wanted to ask if you can write a comfort fic with Jiung from p1h 🥺 everything is up to you i’ve been having hard times for the last few months and i’m just keep reading your works so i wanna say thank you, you really helped me get through this time ❤️🩹
just sleeping
# author's note ... sorry for such a long wait but actually we were twinning and i was going through some stuff too 😭 i hope you enjoy this tho <3 i hope you’re doing better now and i’m happy my silly little writing could help you cheer up, even a bit 🫂❤️🩹
# summary ... jiung enjoys every moment with you, even if it’s just a nap
# warnings ... mention of throwing up (but in a joking way), might seem a little suggestive but only if u squint ++ whole p1h cameo because i love them so much:(
# word count ... 1085
entering the dorm with keeho and intak, jiung is surprised at how quiet the place is.
“now that’s suspicious…” keeho giggled and three boys took off their shoes and put away their jackets.
bags rustling in their hands, they walked up to the living room. the soft sound of mario kart music echoed in the room but… the game seemed far forgotten.
“is anyone there?” intak asked quietly and jiung stepped closer, heart swelling in his chest upon the sight in front of his eyes.
you were sitting in the middle of the couch, shota and jongseob resting their heads on your lap. taeyang was awkwardly resting his head against the youngests’, hands wrapped around your legs… and his bottom part of the body uncomfortably on the floor.
keeho cooed and whipped out his phone, capturing this cute moment.
“what is that supposed to mean!” jiung grunted dramatically, noticing three gaming controllers messily thrown on the ground and a book of yours.
“they fell asleep, you should be grateful” your sleepy murmur caught their attention.
your tired gaze met your boyfriend’s curious eyes and you sent him a lopsided smile.
“what even happened here?” keeho laughed softly and started to pick up the controllers from the ground.
“well shota and seob were playing games, suddenly seob leaned against me so i started scratching his head. and then shota wanted too… and then tae came and protested that he wants too but welp, he didn’t fit on the couch so…” you chuckled, careful not to wake them up.
“idiots” jiung crossed his arms and noticed the sleepiness lingering in your gaze.
he knew that for the past few weeks (if not longer!) you’ve been struggling with work and academic stuff. on top of that, you were exhausted mentally, struggling with socializing and finding happiness in even your favorite hobbies.
and yet… here you are, hanging out with his friends… scratching their heads and letting them asleep on you.
“okay, enough of this. y/nnie, i bought something for you” your boyfriend hummed and poked theo’s arm.
“yeah, you must be pretty cramped up” intak sighed and shook the youngest’s shoulders.
you gently tucked shota’s hair behind his ear and woke him up with a soft tap on his back.
“what is it?” he yawned, sitting up. his hair was sticking in every direction, causing you all to laugh. the vibrations of your body stirred jongseob awake completely.
“my body…” theo groaned, massaging his neck. his eyes widened upon seeing the rest of the members being back “hi there”
“oh she has you all in a chokehold” keeho grinned and nudged jiung.
“did you even sleep?” seob asked you quietly, smacking away intak’s hands. you nodded, even though it wasn’t fully true. you were sleepy, sure, but you didn’t nap like them.
“okay, let’s make some food” intak clapped his hands, the youngests’ ears perking up.
once they were off you, you stretched your arms with a pleasant hum.
“how was the shopping, baby?” you asked jiung, who walked up behind you. then, you felt his warm hands on your neck and arms. massaging your sore muscles gently, you let your hands drop (and your neck too) “that’s nice…”
“we bought some clothes, intak bought some lego. i saw a cute hoodie and thought you’d like it so…” he wanted to go and show it to you but he noticed the way your arms relaxed. his thumb pressing in the middle of your neck. a groan ripped out of your throat, causing the boys in the kitchen to laugh.
“ew, disgusting!”
“i’ll show you the hoodie later, okay? and how was your day?” jiung ignored them, fingers working their way to the side of your neck. the pressure was a bit tough but in a pleasant way.
“fine… boring… missed you. so, nothing new… oh, right here, please” you hummed, letting out a small sigh when he stumbled upon a certain spot. he smiled and continued on.
“i’m literally gonna throw up, can you take this somewhere private?” theo snickered.
“ugh, intak, we’ll have to stay out of the dorm for a while” keeho sighed dramatically and you shot your head up, glaring at him “joking! joking…”
“c’mere, ji. they are just haters…” you mumbled and turned around, kneeling on the couch. wrapping your hands around his neck, you pecked his lips in a playful manner.
“ew! okay, sorry! just go!” keeho laughed, amused by the situation. the truth was, he just wanted you two to have some privacy – especially considering that you haven’t seen each other for the whole day.
you leaned away from jiung and stood up, grabbing your long forgotten book. after leaving it on the coffee table, he grabbed your hand gently and the bag in other.
entering his shared room, you looked around. the window was open, a nice breeze sneaking in.
“here, try it on” jiung leaned down and handed you the cloth. the hoodie was really cute – exactly how you liked it. it fit perfectly too.
you spun dramatically and posed.
“and?” you asked. jiung was observing you, smitten. a cocky smile was blooming on his lips.
“it’s perfect. what do you think, though?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
“it doesn’t smell like you yet. other than that, i love it. thank you, baby” you hummed and placed a kiss on his cheek.
jiung melted upon the sweet gesture. everything you did caused his heart rate to speed up, even after almost two years of dating.
“how was your day?” jiung asked and you fought a yawn, nodding.
“as usual… do you wanna take a nap? those rascals didn’t really let me sleep… taeyang talks awfully a lot of things in his sleep, did you know that?” you giggled and before he answered, you already hopped into his bed, burying yourself in the blankets.
spotting the plushie you bought for him ages ago, you grabbed it and pressed to your chest.
“i’m no fun, am i? just sleeping all day” you giggled, a spark of guilt in your eyes. jiung shook his head and in a blink of an eye was next to you, arms wrapping around you securely.
“i was tired too. besides, i don’t mind if i sleep or go bungee jumping. as long as you’re with me, i’ll enjoy everything” he hummed and pressed a tender kiss on your cheek bone. melting into the gesture (and because of his words), your eyes began to close.
cw: smut, oral (f receiving), theo eating it from the back, established relationship, pet names, slight pillow princess reader, lazy morning head
wc: 1.9k
18+ minors do not interact!
✰ ✰ ✰
Theo's index finger tracing along the side of your abdomen stirs you from your sleep—intentionally, it seems, since he doesn’t bother to retract his hand when he notices the slight shift in your breath, indicating you’ve woken up. Instead, his warm palm meets your skin with confidence, circling around your torso to pull you closer to his chest. He must not have been awake much longer than you, a tell being the quiet, borderline incoherent morning greeting he wishes you in a low rumble.
The bed sheets are strikingly cool against your skin, but his legs that tangle with yours are enough to keep you heated. If it wasn’t for his full lips wetly kissing your shoulder, you might’ve been lulled back to your peaceful slumber within minutes. You move to sit up, but his grip around you tightens, and his soft, tired voice calls out to you once more.
“Wait, don’t pull away…” he mumbles into your skin, “not yet. wanna lay with you for a bit longer,”
His ministrations start out slowly, subtly… For a second, you’re almost convinced his kisses that continue to smack against your neck come from a place of innocence, in the form of some half-asleep affection he’s less restrictive about showering you with when compared to his usually reserved self.
It’s something to take advantage of, you decide, and nuzzle your cheek to his, soaking up the way his hands rub over your skin as he lets a hushed moan slip out. At the same time, Theo allows his fingers to inch down your front shamelessly, digits curiously tapping over your stomach.
“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, and with his antics serving as a catalyst, you can’t help the way your abdomen instantly ignites.
Theo lifts his arm from your waist just long enough for you to roll around in his hold to face him, smiling down at you with puffy eyes and tousled hair. He pulls his hand back up to cup your face, muttering a small, “hi.”
“Hi,” you whisper back, unable to contain your giddy grin. Gently, he takes your hand into his and brings it to his mouth to kiss it once, then guides it atop of his head in a silent plea for you to run your fingers through his scalp. The dark locks don’t resist your fingers even a little bit, letting you comb through them smoothly until they’ve reached some kind of order. At the feeling, your boyfriend practically groans, rolling his eyes back for a split second before they regain focus and meet yours again.
Every feature on his face is so delicately crafted, gazing curiously at you and taking you in as if the night that passed, and the sleep he had once reveled in, had robbed him of you for far too long, just like his work schedule had the last few weeks. Days on end without being able to see you or hold you had taken a toll on him. You’re his favorite thing to look at, in any state, at any moment, so his first night back at your house was something he had been anticipating for a while now. Truthfully? he’d never sleep again if it meant he could stare at your pretty face for hours at a time.
He misses you, despite lying right next to you and having you in his arms. How is that possible?
Just then, as these thoughts flood his mind, he leans in, capturing your lips between his own in a sweet kiss. At the same time, his arms draw you tighter into his embrace, warm skin pressing to yours, practically melting into your touch.
He props himself up to hover above you, palms placed on either side of your head and caging you in. The metal of his chain is cool as it dangles, sitting on your chest like melting ice. It becomes even cooler as it moves across the expanse of your breasts, trailing down as his mouth follows behind to lick and lap and warm up the icy trail, and before you know it, he’s practically sticking his head under the hem of your tank top to nibble at the exposed skin below your navel.
His eyes, which were previously closed to savor the taste of your skin, peek open and steal a glance up at you, and his member, confined by only his boxers, twitches within the constricting material at the sight before him. Your lips are parted, your chest is rising and falling quicker with every second that passes, and your eyes can’t seem to leave the boy who keeps climbing further and further down, finding solace between your legs.
“I missed sleeping next to you.” He admits distractedly, placing a sticky kiss on your hip as his hand paws at your waist, squeezing at the flesh he can fit within his big palm, “I hate that i was away from you for so many nights in a row,”
“You were working, baby.”
“I know. Still,” he pauses, flashing you a lopsided smile, “this is nice.”
Little to no time passes between the moment when he mumbles those words, and the moment he buries his face into your panties, breathing you in deeply. The action makes you shudder, and goosebumps crawl over your skin as his black hair tickles your bare thighs.
Just then, there’s a glow flourishing on your cheeks, inevitable of avoiding around Theo. Truly, how are you meant to stay composed after he does something so lewd?
“Missed eating you out,” a ghost of a kiss is placed over your clit. It’s involuntary, but you roll your hips in his face and whine out, a response that only makes his head spin even more and his dick swell with need. He grips your thighs and props them higher up until your clothed center is in perfect view and your knees are almost folded onto your chest.
“Let me make you feel good, love. Please?”
“Yes,” you answer quickly, and he snickers at you in a way that doesn’t make you feel embarrassed in the slightest—despite its inherently teasing nature, his smirk is only intended to rile you up even more than you already are, and that, it does.
As he swipes one finger over your core, a splotch of wetness appears on the material. His index finger loops around to pull the lace aside, and he wastes no time in diving in. His tongue pokes out, kitten-licking your folds so lightly that you almost think he isn’t doing anything at all.
A few more experimental, soft swipes of his tongue get you writhing, and it’s only then that he releases the hold he has on your thighs and allows them to rest on his shoulders, fully burying himself between your legs.
“Feels good,” you whimper.
He hums back at you, content and unrestrained, and the vibrations almost make you come on the spot. He’s very obviously pacing himself, taking his time to dissolve you into nothing in his grasp. Your breathing goes from rapid heaves to long sighs as Theo alternates between lapping at you and nibbling your inner thigh. At one point, his actions become audible, the wetness of him fucking his tongue into you, and your soft moans become the only two sounds in the room.
Chin soaked and eyes half-lidded, he mumbles, “You’re so pretty,” as he crawls his way back up your body to kiss you.
He lets his thigh take his place between your legs and he presses his mouth to yours, plump lips gliding softly and lazily with no real purpose other than to soak you in. As your panting evens out, you peek your eyes open to glance at him.
“We can’t lie around for much longer. We have so much to do today,” you protest during kisses. He pulls away, resting his chin to your stomach. He stills there for a moment, falling limp, hands caressing you with no real purpose.
“It can wait.”
“The weather is supposed to be nice today,” you announce, and he gives you another crooked smile as his thumb passively toys with your nipple.
“Then we should take advantage. What do you wanna do?”
“Hmm,” As you think, your hand comes up to hold his cheek, thumb wiping the sleep from his eye. “What if we go for a walk later?”
He nods without second thought, happy to walk later with you wherever you’d like to go. At the same time, he greedily leans into your touch.
“We can do that.”
“And maybe we can–“ a few sticky kisses decorate your waist, “stop by the bakery you like on the way home? You haven’t had that since you left on tour.”
“That would be nice.”
“After we get groceries and make dinner, maybe we can even lie around and do this for a big longer.”
“Yeah?” He raises a brow, lip curling up in a similar notion. When you nod eagerly at his implication, he remembers the position he’s in, and presses his leg just a bit closer against you.
“Let me take care of you then, so we can start our day.”
You hum and he gives you one last look before sinking back down where you need him most.
Your taste is lavish and sweet on his tongue that doesn’t care to tease you anymore. Now, it’s working diligently, drawing out every last whine it can, sweeping and swiping at your glistening folds until you come around him with your fingers grasping at the sheets so hard that the skin has turned white.
You’re barely given a second to recover before he asks you to turn around and flip onto your stomach. Weak and unsteady, your limbs hold you up and you arch your back in anticipation as he repositions himself behind you.
For a moment, his shuffling and the rustling of the sheets makes you think he’s undressing and about to sink himself into your warmth, but then his mouth is on you again with no warning.
His groans are tantalizing, and the way he’s squeezing the flesh on your ass has you collapsing into the mattress and crying out in pleasure. The pleads that leave your lips in mangled cries have him reaching a fever pitch, and he suddenly can’t wait to taste your release again, so he does everything in his power to lull it from you faster. His fingers slip into you, shallowly at first, then knuckle deep and curling to fuck your sweet spot; before you know it, you’re gushing around him again.
“Baby…” is the only word you manage to spew from your drooling lips, and your back arches more as he moans into you again.
The comedown is just as sweet, especially when he lets his lips drag up the curve of your spine until they reach your hair, smooth palm tracing over your smooth skin to soothe you as the last waves of pleasure wash away. He collapses beside you, tugging you closer until your head is near his chest.
When your dazed eyes open to look at him, he’s already looking back down at you with his gentle smile.
His lips are glossed over, and you kiss him as a thank you, greedily humming at the taste of yourself in his mouth.
“Good?” He asks, raising his brows slightly.
“Shut up.”
He laughs when you hide your flushed face is his neck, leaning into you as if your proximity was still not quite close enough.
“Just checking.” He murmurs into your hair, leaving a kiss there in the process. “Now we can start our day.”
jiung, who looks so good when his tongue is poking the inside of his cheek in concentration, fully immersed in the song he’s been working on for the last few hours. the two of you keep missing each other’s glances, only looking when the other looks away or pretends to be too interested in what’s on the soundboard in front of him, or in your case, your cellphone.
he’s tried to focus on the task at hand, he really, really has, but how can he when you’re laying on the little couch in his studio, jeans hugging your thighs, midriff exposed under your shirt that has risen up?
he’s not usually this easily distracted—a detail about him you know very well. countless times, you’d tried to tempt him to take a break from work and each and every time, your attempts had failed.
“i’ll take care of you when we get home, baby,” he’d insist with a sweet, wet kiss on your lips, “but i have to finish this now.”
even sitting on his lap and rutting against him while you kissed and whimpered into his neck had been useless. technically, not entirely useless, cause you could feel him get worked up beneath you, but even then he didn’t budge—his outstanding and stubborn self-control won every time.
naturally, you decided to give up your fruitless teasing and convincing, but perhaps, the absence of your advances is exactly why he’s so worked up today.
subconsciously, he misses the way your arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, palms smoothing over his chest and fingers trailing paths through his soft hair.
“please, i’m so needy,” he can practically hear the words dripping like honey from your lips, begging for him, needing his attention. and if he tries hard enough, he can feel your breath on his neck when you ask him to touch you, “just for a little.”
but instead, you’re quiet and still, laying back on the couch as you patiently wait for him to finish. and as much as he’d like to get this adjustment to the song over and done with so he can go home and treat you to the pleasure you so rightfully deserve, he can’t, because nothing he’s hearing in his headphones sounds good right now—not when his dick is so hard and swollen inside of his briefs that it physically hurts.
the melody is a mess, the lyrics are senseless, the beat isn’t right, and his head is leaking pre-cum into his underwear.
with a scowl on his features, he yanks the headphones off and spins around to face you.
you don’t look up from the phone, simply humming to acknowledge him as you shift onto your stomach. he swallows back a groan at the view of your pretty ass, now in perfect view.
“honey,” he starts, but you only hum again. “i’m gonna take a break.”
“good,” you mumble, “you’ve been going at it for over two hours. i’m starving.”
“i-“
“what do you wanna eat? i’ll order.”
“baby…” there’s a smidge of vulnerability in his voice, which is what finally makes you look up from the screen and at him. one of his hands is cupping himself over his sweats, the other reaching out for you desperately, “c’mere.”
your eyes widen as you glance down at his bulge and back up at him, the corners of your lips twitching up to form a teasing smile.
"what's wrong?" you play dumb. jiung rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back.
"please?"
"what ever happened to leaving that for when we're home?"
there's a strain on his voice when he answers, "i know, but... i can't. not this time."
"oh, but when i'm the one who's needy, it's fine?" you get up, walking over to him and stopping between his legs. instantly his hands come up to hold your hips.
when you grab his chin and tilt his head up to look at you, his dick twitches in his pants.
"i'm sorry," he whispers, lids heavy and lips drooling as his eyes trail down your figure, following every curve, every bit of exposed skin. "m'sorry," he repeats, speech a bit more slurred this time.
his index fingers hook onto the waistband of your pants, slipping along the hem until they meet in the middle where the button clasps your jeans closed. he tugs at them in a silent plea, and you nod slowly, running a hand though his hair.
jiung groans softly, leaning into your touch and making quick work of the button so he can work your jeans down your legs until you can step out of them.
not a moment later, he's shimmying his own sweats and underwear down until his angry tip is out, flushed and dribbling with clear pre-cum.
"come sit on it," there's a firmness to his voice, hands desperately tugging you closer until you're hovering over his lap. he can tell you're worked up—the way your lips are parted, the way your eyes are hazed. once you're close enough that he can feel the heat radiating between your laps, he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you in place.
as his hand guides his dick through your folds to coat it in your slick, his lips find solace in the crook of your neck where he whines and drools and bites, hiding his flushed face from yours. he's already worked up a sweat from the need to feel you around him.
"mmm.." every time he drags himself up and down your core, your grip on his shoulders tightens, beckoning him closer.
"relax for me okay?"
you quickly nod, bringing your hand over your mouth to muffle the way you gasp as he pushes himself in. he slowly moves to sink you down, his own eyes rolling back, until you're flush against his lap and whimpering softly at the feeling of being so full.
"you're too tight," he groans.
"maybe you're just too big." he chuckles breathlessly at your words though he can't deny the way they make him flush, bringing his palms down to grip your hips. he tries to encourage you to move, but you only whimper, mumbling "hold on, i'm so full, i-"
"fuck, darling, i need you to move." he hisses, feeling the way your walls flutter around him.
after a few seconds, you lift yourself up halfway and sink back down with a moan that he echoes the moment he feels his swollen tip poke at your walls.
he works you to a pace that has your legs trembling, unable to hold you up if it wasn't for his grip that steadies you. you hum, eyes squeezed shut, focusing solely on him, on the way he feels inside you—the way his tongue drags up your neck until he stops at your jaw, ending his trail with an opened mouth kiss.
he moans against your neck, grabbing your face with his hand to turn you so you're looking down and at him.
"that's it," he praises when your eyes flutter open, glossed over and dazed. "there's my girl."
"ji-"
"sweetheart," his voice is tight as you roll your hips into his, chasing your high. the way you cling to him, nails scratching lightly at his shoulders, mouth letting out the most beautiful and addictive breathy whines—it drives him crazy.
you gasp against his lips as he rolls his hips up to meet yours—a slow, deliberate motion that has your fingers tugging on his hair, "jiung—” your breath hitches, the way he moves, the way he grips you, it’s overwhelming.
“i know, baby,” he groans, his lips tracing along your jaw, down to the base of your throat. his hands move, skimming up your sides, sliding under your shirt, palms warm against your flushed skin as he squeezes your boobs.
the tension that’s been building finally snaps, the air filled with breathless moans, whispered pleas, and the sound of skin against skin. the wet sounds coming from where your bodies meet make his head spin, pushing him to fuck you harder as you gasp, walls tightening around him.
he mumbles the sweetest things against your skin as you go limp in his hold, as he sinks so deep into you when he finds his own release.
"fuck," he shudders, head falling back against the chair, arms keeping you in place, tightly tucked against his chest.
for a few seconds, neither of you speak. the only sounds are the faint hum of the unfinished track looping in his headphones and your synchronized pants as you both come down from your highs. jiung leans forward, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as if he can't seem to pull away.
“you okay?” his voice is hushed, tender. he brushes damp strands of hair away from your face, his other hand tracing mindless patterns on your back.
you nod against him, still catching your breath. “yeah,” you murmur, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “really good."
jiung hums in approval, his arms wrapping around you fully. he leaves a kiss on your head, but before you can get lost in his warmth, he's shifting, adjusting you in his arms. “come on, baby,” he says, his voice still a little hoarse. "let's clean up.”
you groan softly, nuzzling into his neck. “uh-uh. can’t move,” you whine. “you wore me out.”
he chuckles, smoothing your hair back with his hand, mumbling, “i did, huh?” before he sighs. “alright, sit tight.”
before you can protest, he’s gently lifting you off of him, setting you down carefully on the couch. his warmth leaves you, but only for a moment before he’s grabbing a clean towel from the studio's bathroom, using it to wipe the sheen of sweat from your skin and the mess he's left between your legs with soft, delicate touches. his focus is solely on you, unhurried, full of care.
“there we go,” he murmurs, discarding the towel before grabbing the oversized hoodie draped over his chair. "c'mere, baby." he helps your arms through the sleeves and slides your panties back up your legs, fingers ghosting your skin. "all better."
you nod, your heart swelling. “you always take such good care of me.”
jiung grins, cupping your jaw affectionately before tugging on his own pants. “of course. you’re my girl.”
for a moment, he pauses, glancing toward his screen where his unfinished song still sits open. “shit. i was supposed to finish that.”
you giggle, nudging his side as he drops onto the couch beside you, pulling you effortlessly into his lap. “maybe next time don't get so distracted.”
he half-heartedly scoffs, pressing a teasing bite against your shoulder before pulling you into a proper kiss—slow, deep, tongue swiping at your still swollen lips. when he pulls away, he doesn't go too far, nose still brushing yours. “how could I not?” he murmurs against your mouth. “you’re my favorite distraction.”
you instantly melt into him, curling against his chest, listening to the thump-thump of his heart as exhaustion begins to creep in.
"i wasn’t expecting you to give in so easily,” you tease after a beat, your fingers absentmindedly threading through his hair.
"yeah, well," he starts, eyes flickering closed as you scratch his scalp, "you were quite convincing." when you sigh contently against him, he whispers “rest for a bit, I’ll finish up later.”
"are you sure?" you mumble, but you're already half-asleep—he can tell.
he just nods softly, squeezing you in reassurance as your breath evens out and you fall asleep, tucked in his embrace.
expanding on baekhyun beating it to his so's pics to say imagine him facetiming her in the middle of it cuz he needs to really see herrrr and ur like hi bby wait why is ur face so concentrated and also why is ur arm moving up and down underneath the camera and OH o_o
omgggg i can picture this sooooo vividly it hurts 😭😭😭😭 i literally had to write about it!!!!
18+/MDNI!! | wc: 1.6k+
you and baekhyun have each other’s locations shared, as couples and loved ones often do these days. he’s currently out of the country for a packed schedule and won’t be back for a few more days. you’ve both adjusted to the chaos of his life, as hard as it can be. but the bond you share? unshakable, no matter the distance or time apart.
tonight, though, he’s lying alone in his hotel bed, missing you more than usual. he knows you had plans with your friends, a rare night out you’ve been needing for a while. he checks the time: 11:30 p.m. back home. too early for you to be back, and he knows it.
still, he can’t help himself. he checks your location.
still at the bar.
he exhales, sinking deeper into his pillow. he doesn’t want to bother you. you deserve this—an escape from the stress that’s been weighing you down. he’d rather you enjoy yourself than feel guilty for being out late.
so instead, he unlocks his phone and opens instagram, likely to doom-scroll through endless posts, letting the minutes slip away as he waits for you to get home safely and for the comfort of your nightly goodnight call.
but then, your story flickers onto the screen, pulling him in, a sudden spark in the otherwise dull scroll.
the first post is a mirror selfie: hair falling just right, effortlessly perfect, makeup soft yet glowing, and that simple black dress—one of his many favorites—clinging to your curves in all the right ways. when he notices the timestamp, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. you sent this to him first. it’s a small gesture, but it makes his heart swell.
the next slide is a quick clip of you and your girls, all glammed up, drinks in hand, raising your glasses with laughter as the music blares in the background. your happiness is so tangible, so infectious, and it warms him to see you this carefree.
then, there’s a repost from your friend. it’s a grainy but adorable video of you and her dancing, swaying in sync with the beat. the way you playfully twerk on her, both of you giggling uncontrollably, is far from suggestive—just two besties reveling in the moment.
but baekhyun is a man. and men? they think with their dicks.
his mind wanders, lingering on the way that dress clung to you, the way your body moved. and now, no matter how much he tries to focus on how happy you look, he’s suddenly cursing the miles between you, wishing for the kind of proximity that doesn’t involve a screen.
he checks the time again: 11:37 p.m.
the urge to reach out to you—text, call, anything—burns hotter with every passing second. he’s jittery, restless, the kind of edgy that leaves his leg bouncing uncontrollably. would you even answer if he called? the thought gnaws at him. god, he misses you. he misses the nights you’d stumble out of bars, dialing him with drunken, slurred words. how you'd insist you weren’t done drinking because the only thing left on your menu was him.
shit. the memories alone have him stiffening in his bed, blood rushing south faster than he can stop it. the sound of your drunk giggles, your uninhibited honesty spilling out between hiccupped words. the way your hands would roam without permission, needy and brazen. he exhales a shaky breath. the ache in his boxers is unbearable now.
he can’t take it anymore.
his fingers unlock his phone, navigating to the photos app to access the hidden folder only you know about. his secret stash. a digital gallery of you: alone, with him, under him, and on top of him. his free hand drifts to his leaking cock as his thumb swipes through the memories.
you knew about this folder, of course. you had your own—filled with matching treasures. you both had this shared indulgence, a mutual obsession. pictures and videos from every angle: your hands clutching the sheets while he buried his face between your thighs. you straddling him, his camera catching the perfect view of your curves. shaky, raw footage of backshots, his hands leaving fiery-red imprints on your skin as you moaned his name into the mattress.
you needed these to survive the nights apart, a remedy for the distance that stung like a wound that wouldn’t heal.
truthfully, even if you saw each other every day, you’d still keep these folders. you both had a thing for cameras, for the thrill of capturing your rawest moments together.
his fist wraps around his length, the other clutching his phone as he presses play. it’s a video of you riding him, your hips grinding against him in a slow, torturous rhythm. the camera shakes slightly—it’s shot from his perspective, the faint tremble of his arm betraying how badly he was already losing it then.
his lips part, breath hitching, and his heart pounds loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. but it’s not enough. it never is. he needs more.
he needs you.
he taps the screen, fingers shaking as he hits 'facetime.'
you answer on the second ring.
it’s 12:55 a.m.
your face comes into view, filling the screen with a teasing smile as you nudge open the door to your shared penthouse. the faint hum of city lights spills in behind you, but all your attention is on him. one glance is enough—his brows are knitted together, lips slightly parted, the cool glow of his phone illuminating his face and glistening off his glossy lips. you know exactly why he’s calling.
“hi, baby,” you slur, voice syrupy with just enough bite, “i miss you so much.”
“i miss you too, my angel,” he exhales, his voice barely more than a whisper, chest rising and falling in measured, aching pulls. from where you stand, you see everything—the way his shirt clings to his body, damp in all the right places, the faint quiver of his lips holding back words he’s too desperate to say. the sound of his breath, uneven and needy, fills the air between you. his gaze burns, molten and consuming, pouring his hunger into every inch of your skin.
you giggle, a sound light and teasing, as you saunter toward your shared room. "i can tell, lover."
his smile is shy, almost boyish, but not enough to stop the slow, steady stroke of his hand over his aching length. "home already?"
you nod, a quiet hum slipping past your lips as you step into the closet, the soft shuffle of your feet muted against the carpet. your fingers trail over the familiar fabrics until they find your favorite pajamas. as you pull them from their place, you cross the room to the dresser, propping your phone against its edge. the glow of the screen bathes the space in muted light, capturing him on the other side—his hand moving with practiced rhythm, his flushed face a picture of unguarded bliss, every gasp and twitch drawing you deeper into the moment.
"ya looked so beautiful tonight. fuck—" his words falter, the shaky gasp making your thighs press together. "y’know i love that dress on you. can’t believe i wasn’t—hah—there to fuck you in it."
you grin, a wicked curl tugging at the corners of your lips. “i could keep this dress on a little longer for you if you’d like me to, baekhyunie,” you purr, your voice a delicate weave of honey and innocence, teasing just enough to leave him craving.
his breath hitches, a sharp exhale breaking free as his head falls back, throat exposed in a display of surrender. “hah— fuck, s-say that again,” he rasps, eyes clenched shut like he’s bracing himself against the tidal wave you’ve unleashed. his hand moves faster now, the slick sound of his strokes filling the space between you.
you tilt your head, feigning naivety, your eyes wide and sweet like sugar dusted cherries. “huh? say what, baekhyunie?” your voice lilts with mock innocence, the act so it’s almost cruel.
as you shift, the delicate strap of your dress slips, baring your shoulder and collarbone—a canvas of temptation. soft, lickable, and oh-so-bitable. baekhyun's gaze sears through the screen, his mind unraveling with reckless fantasies, aching to bridge the distance and claim you, over and over again, losing himself in you until the sun rises.
the sight of you, the way his name drips from your lips—it’s his undoing. his rhythm falters, the once-steady motion of his hand becoming erratic, desperate. he’s unraveling, and you can see it in the furrow of his brow, hear it in the staggered cadence of his breath. you lean closer, your voice dropping into a sultry whisper.
“gonna cum f’me, baekhyunie?”
the way your voice softens his name, rolling off those plush lips, breaks him into pieces. the sensation crashes over him, an overwhelming rush that leaves him shaking, the heat of his release spilling in thick, white streaks across his toned stomach, splattering his shirt in wild, chaotic lines. your name escapes him in a breathless murmur as he rides the last tremors of his high.
you smile, satisfied with the mess you’ve made of him, the power you wield with nothing but your voice and a knowing glance.
as he comes down, his chest heaving, baekhyun peels his ruined shirt off, using it to clean himself up. when his face reappears on the screen, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, a wicked curve to his mouth.
“your turn, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice still rough with pleasure.
“af·tuhrz” (n):
1. the unofficial, post-party gathering—usually at a random house/hotel after a bigger party and/or club, with tooooo much alcohol, moody lighting, and even more questionable decisions.
2. where you accidentally end up fucking baekhyun after his concert.
content: 18+/mdni. ~9.6k+ words. reverie!baekhyun x f!reader. strangers to one-nighters. fluff. smut. aftercare. praise. dry humping. fingering + oral (fem receiving), drunk p in v sex, hotel room hookup, semi-public foreplay, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, mild obsession vibes, overstim, raw juseyo, you’re both a lil unhinged and match each other's freaks lmaoooo
your throat is hoarse from screaming lyrics you didn’t realize you still knew by heart. your skin’s still buzzing, glitter catching on the collar of your top, sweat drying beneath your skirt.
baekhyun’s concert wasn’t just a show—it was an experience. a sensory overload. the kind that settles into your skin and stays there. the way he moved—fluid and precise, every step pulled straight from muscle memory and instinct—was hypnotic. the way he sang, breathless yet effortless. his visuals? unreal. almost unfair.
and the way he engaged with the crowd? grinning, teasing, soaking up the screams like sunlight—yeah, that wasn’t just performance. that was a man doing exactly what he was born to do. an idol in every sense. and it was obvious—he loves it. he lives for it.
and you—loud, radiant, maybe a little too invested—could’ve sworn he looked right at you during woo. his gaze was sweeping, fluid, made to tease, but just for a second… it paused.
row ten.
pink sequined skirt.
you froze mid-sway, breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, and you didn’t dare blink.
you told yourself it was wishful thinking. that you were just one face in a sea of thousands. but now, stepping out into the night air—still in that same outfit, skin buzzing like it’s holding onto his falsetto—you’re drunk on something more than just concert adrenaline.
your body still vibrates with the bass, your voice is hoarse from shouting lyrics like they were gospel, and your cheeks ache from smiling too hard for too long.
“oh my godddd, meeks, that was fuckin’ insane,” you pant, nearly breathless, practically levitating as you leave the venue.
your best friend, mika, laughs beside you—influencer, 125k+ on the gram, energy like a triple shot of tequila, dressed like the night owes her something.
“oh, baby,” she purrs, thumb tapping her phone like she’s conjuring magic, “the night’s just getting started.”
her screen flares to life with a flood of unread dms—club logos, kiss emojis, a string of heart-eyes from guys whose names you don’t recognize but probably should. “should we go clubbing?” she offers, eyes glinting. “wanna hit up gravity?”
you hesitate. gravity always spirals. last time, you ended up in a stranger’s penthouse afterwards with three underground rappers and a girl who swore she was hyunjin from le sserafim’s third cousin twice removed.
but fomo’s coded into your dna, and baekhyun’s voice is still ricocheting through your bones. you told yourself you’d say yes to everything tonight. so you do.
you grin, breath catching with the kind of thrill that tastes like trouble.
“fuck it,” you say, two taps away from ordering the uber. “let’s go.”
the club is a blur of lights and bass. you barely make it past the velvet rope before you’re swept inside by the gravity of mika’s orbit.
she knows everyone. the guy at the door daps her up like they grew up together. the bartender winks and sends over a tray of drinks before you even reach the bar. the DJ in the booth flashes her a grin mid-set and changes the track to her favorite remix.
you don’t wait in lines and you never check prices. you exist outside of time when you’re out with her—just a blur of laughter, glitter, and beat drops that rattle your ribcage.
you dance like your heels don’t hurt.
like you didn’t just scream your lungs out at a concert two hours ago.
your skirt swings with every sway of your hips, sequins catching the light like tiny spotlights made just for you.
you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut, drunk on tequila and attention, your friends orbiting you like a constellation of bad choices and even better memories.
you feel pretty—head tilted back, hips swaying, alcohol warming your blood. a random guy tries to flirt and your friend yanks you away with a grin.
“nope,” she says. “we’re keepin’ it mysterious tonight.”
you’re drunk and dizzyo a quarter ‘til midnight when you check your phone and realize you should probably head home.
but then she leans in close and whispers, “wanna hit an afters at the ritz?”
she doesn’t say whose. she never does.
but that’s the thrill of it. the not-knowing. the possibility that tonight hasn’t even peaked yet.
you glance down at your drink—half-melted ice, lipgloss on the rim—and swallow what’s left. you’re sticky with sweat, eyes glassy, lips tingling from salt and lime.
and yeah, maybe you should go home. but you’re not in the mood to be responsible especially when the night still feels electric.
so you grin, swipe your phone off the table, and say the words you always do when mika’s got that look in her eyes.
the suite looks like it was pulled straight from a luxury travel vlog—sleek, sprawling, and softly lit in golds and shadows.
there’s music playing low—something bassy and expensive, vibrating through marble countertops and plush velvet cushions. a tray of half-finished cocktails glows under the dim, amber light, and bodies are draped across designer furniture like they were born there. heels kicked off. dress shirts half-buttoned. laughter echoing from corners you’re not quite invited into.
you’re crouched near the minibar, pretending to fix the strap of your heel, feigning fascination with the towering bouquet of flowers that probably cost more than your rent, when you spot them—faces you vaguely recognize. not close enough to be certain, but… yeah. you’ve seen them before. maybe at the club earlier tonight. the way they move—relaxed, self-assured, like people who know they’re being watched.
you don’t overthink it. just assume that’s how mika got wind of this afterparty in the first place.
and then—something shifts.
a hum in the atmosphere. like the room just hit pause.
you glance up.
and there he is.
baekhyun.
but not in silk. not in silk or leather or anything made to kill. no stage persona. no spotlight.
just… soft.
he’s near the bar, dressed in an oversized grey hoodie with faded red letters stretched across the front. the collar hangs loose, offering a peek of a plain white tee underneath. a slouchy beanie hugs his head, and strands of bleached blonde hair curl out in fluffy wisps—just messy enough to look real. freshly washed face. no makeup. no filter.
he looks like he just stepped out of a hot shower. glowing, flushed, skin catching the warm golden light like it’s gilding him from within.
he doesn’t see you. not yet. he’s nursing a drink, sleeves pushed to his elbows, shoulders relaxed in that way people get when they’ve finally made it to the other side of a long night.
and then—click.
your eyes flick across the room again. those familiar faces lounging on velvet sectionals, sipping cocktails and laughing like they’ve done this a hundred times before—now you get it.
you hadn’t realized it earlier. hadn’t connected the dots.
but now, with baekhyun standing there—unguarded, undeniably real—it all snaps into place.
this is his afterparty.
those are his people.
you tear your gaze away, forcing your attention to the condensation sliding down a bottle of sparkling water like it suddenly holds the answers to all of life’s questions. anything to keep from staring at the man who just quietly turned your whole night inside out.
you don’t expect him to move—to notice you. definitely not to approach. but he does, of fucking course he does, like the universe just couldn’t resist handing you this plot twist wrapped in cozy grey cotton and freshly washed hair.
“you always this mesmerized by sparkling water?” his voice drifts in from beside you—low, easy, just amused enough to make your pulse trip.
you blink, caught in the act. the bottle suddenly feels like a spotlight. heat crawls up the back of your neck.
“i wasn’t staring,” you blurt, too quick, too defensive—and not at all what he asked.
baekhyun hums, a quiet chuckle under his breath. “didn’t say you were.”
you glance at him—and instantly regret it. he’s even more beautiful up close. skin dewy and flushed from the shower, hoodie soft around his frame, eyes sharp and curious beneath the shadow of his beanie. he smells like detergent and something warmer—clean skin and cologne clinging faintly to the cotton of his hoodie.
“what are you doing at this party, anyway?” you ask, shooting for nonchalant but landing somewhere breathless. “shouldn’t you be off… i don’t know, being famous somewhere?”
he grins—wide and unapologetic. “my team booked out the whole floor,” he says, like it’s the most mundane thing in the world. “so technically, i am where i’m supposed to be.”
you let out a quiet snort. “that’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
he studies you—really studies you—like he’s trying to file you into a box but hasn’t quite found the right label yet.
“you here with someone?” he asks finally, voice still casual, but there’s a hint of curiosity threading through it now.
“my friend got the invite,” you say, keeping your tone even. “i just tagged along. didn’t even realize whose afterparty it was until…” your eyes flick toward him. “well. until i saw you.”
that earns you his full smile—not the rehearsed kind, but something softer, looser at the edges. whatever guarded suspicion he’d been carrying eases, replaced by a flicker of something else. amusement. maybe interest.
“so you’re not here to corner me for a selfie? no skincare interrogation?” he teases, brows lifting.
you huff a laugh. “i mean, the skin is suspiciously clear. but no.”
his grin tugs wider. he tilts his head, studying you a little longer than necessary. “you were at the show, though… right?”
you pause—then nod. “yeah.”
his eyes drop for a second. “thought so,” he murmurs, voice dipping just enough to make your breath stutter. “that pink skirt’s kinda hard to miss.”
your heart stumbles over itself.
“well,” you manage, “you put on a good show.”
“thanks,” he says, smiling like he means it. “wanna sit? it's quieter over there,” he nods toward a closed off corner of the suite—where the music’s softer, the city’s glittering outside the wide floor-to-ceiling window, and a plush couch waits like it’s part of the plan.
you blink. “with you?”
he grins. “unless you’re still committed to bonding with that water bottle.”
you settle onto the couch, leaving a polite gap between you—respectful, casual, not too eager.
baekhyun drops down beside you a moment later. easy. relaxed. his knees part just enough to ground him, like he’s done this a hundred times, but somehow doesn’t feel rehearsed.
for a beat, he just sits there, sipping from his glass. then, gently, like he’s not sure if it’s too forward:
“so… what’s your name?”
you tell him.
he nods, eyes flicking down for a second like he’s committing it to memory.
a quiet pause.
then he glances over again, one arm resting along the back of the couch. his fingers drum lightly against the cushion, and there’s a flicker of something playful in his voice.
“do you usually show up at strangers’ after parties, or is tonight a special case?”
you let out a soft laugh. “you’re not exactly a stranger. i’ve seen you shirtless before. on a jumbotron.”
he huffs a small, nose-scrunching laugh. “ah, so we’re skipping introductions and going straight to shared history.”
“basically,” you say, lifting your drink. “we're practically close friends.”
he smiles wider, the boyish kind that starts in his cheeks before it reaches his eyes. “great. and here i am looking like i just rolled outta bed.”
your eyes flick over the hoodie and the slouchy beanie barely hanging onto his bleached hair. “you mean your softboy fit?”
“hey,” he says, mock-wounded. “this is premium downtime aesthetic.”
“sure,” you murmur into your glass. “total heartbreak fit.”
he grins, turns his body slightly toward you, eyes crinkling. “don’t say that like it isn’t working.”
you’re smiling before you even realize it. the banter flows easier than you expected—natural, not forced. and the longer he talks, the more you notice things. like how deep and calm his voice is when he’s not performing. how he pauses before answering, like he actually thinks about his words. how his fingers tap lightly against his glass, how he nods when you talk, really listens.
he starts telling you about this tiny bunsikjeom he swears by back home—some blink-and-you-miss-it shop tucked between a laundromat and a vet clinic. he goes on about how their tteokbokki is the best and how the ajumma there hates him, like genuinely scowls whenever he walks in.
“i always order, like, five portions of odeng. just for me,” he says, eyes wide, hands gesturing like this is life-or-death. “and she always yells, like—‘yah! save some for other people!’ but then she gives me extra anyway. she pretends she’s mad, but she totally likes me.”
he grins, ducking his head a little. “i think she worries i don’t eat enough.”
you raise a brow. “you’re ordering five skewers and she still thinks you’re starving?”
“exactly,” he says, mock-offended.
you ask if fame ever gets lonely. he doesn’t dodge it.
“yeah, sometimes,” he admits. “but i’m used to being alone. i think i’m better at being with people now, though. or... the right people.”
you blink at that. it’s quieter than the rest of the conversation. unpolished. a little vulnerable.
and it hits you—he’s nothing like the stage version of himself. not the flirty idol who winks at cameras or sings with syrup in his voice. he’s calmer. sharper. grounded.
even the way he drinks feels different. slow. deliberate. not for show, just... because he’s thirsty.
you look at him again. really look.
and for a moment, you just sit with it. the quiet between you, the city glowing beyond the glass, the weight of something undeniably real blooming beneath the surface.
you don’t speak. you don’t need to.
because somewhere between the last laugh and the next sip of tequila, time starts to slip. the minutes blur, slow and easy, like the night’s decided not to rush. you’re both tipsy now—flushed, relaxed, limbs loose. the music plays soft in the background, and the suite glows warm and golden, like dusk frozen in place. it feels quiet. suspended. like everything outside of this cozy little corner of the suite has been paused.
he’s charming, but not in the curated way you expected.
it feels private—like he’s peeling himself back one layer at a time just for you. less idol, more man. his voice is low, his stories surprisingly unfiltered, and he’s funny—actually funny, not just media-trained clever.
you find yourself leaning in before you realize it, pulled toward the gravity of his presence like he’s something your body already knew how to orbit.
he smells like warm skin and sugared spice—notes of something expensive laced with the earthy ache of man. every time he shifts, you catch more of it, and it’s dizzying.
you weren’t prepared for this. for him.
genuine. confident in a way that doesn’t beg for attention. grounded, but just enough ego to be dangerous.
not the distant, idolized version of baekhyun the internet likes to dissect in thinkpieces and fancams.
this version is real. present. and somehow even more disarming.
“so,” he says, glancing sideways, “tell me something that’s not small talk.”
his voice is low, unhurried.
you blink. “what, like… my credit card number?”
you smile, finally letting your shoulders drop a little. “okay, fine. i always cry during the last twenty minutes of ratatouille.”
baekhyun turns to face you more fully, brows lifting. “what gets you? the rat’s speech?”
“no, it wasn’t remy,” you say with a scoff, nudging his knee lightly. “his name is remy, first of all.”
he laughs—really laughs—and the sound curls warm in your chest. “ah, my bad. remy,” he echoes, grinning. “go on.”
you exhale, letting your gaze drift toward the glowing skyline beyond the glass. “it was the critic’s review. that part at the end where he talks about discovering something new, something unexpected, and how the world is always unkind to it.”
your voice softens, eyes fixed somewhere far away. “he says the new needs friends. and i don’t know—it hit something in me.”
baekhyun stays still beside you, his hand curled loosely around his drink, forgotten now.
“sometimes it just feels like... everything’s already been done. like no one’s waiting for what you have to give. and then this bitter old man eats a meal made by a fucking rat and suddenly he’s like—shaken. changed. reminded why he ever cared in the first place.”
you pause, then shrug, barely glancing at him. “i guess it reminded me that you don’t have to be expected to be meaningful. that you don’t have to be someone obvious to matter.”
baekhyun doesn’t say anything right away.
but something shifts in his expression. his jaw ticks, just barely. his lashes dip like he’s trying to hide the flicker of emotion behind his eyes, like he doesn’t want to give himself away.
because yeah—he fucking gets it. way more than you know.
not just the movie. not just the speech. but the whole aching truth of it.
he’s been living that risk lately—leaving the comfort of the company that built him, stepping out with nothing but belief and a dream that people might still show up for him. that what he has to offer—now, as he is—is still worth something.
he hasn’t said it out loud, not to anyone. but hearing you say it—watching you light up over something so honest, so deeply felt—it stirs something in him. makes him see not just the movie differently… but you, too.
you, sitting here in front of him, talking about hope like it’s something fragile and holy.
it makes him feel less alone.
and for the first time tonight, baekhyun forgets about being careful. about being cool.
he just looks at you like he’s seeing something rare.
something that might just change everything.
"you're not what i expected," he says, voice low—almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
you glance over, one brow lifting as you tilt your head. “good unexpected?"
he doesn’t answer right away. just looks at you—really looks—like he’s committing your features to memory one slow blink at a time. eyes scanning the curve of your mouth, the slope of your cheek, the way the light catches the side of your face. and then, finally, he nods. once. small, certain.
you smile, warmth curling beneath your ribs as you lift your drink and finish the last sip. the glass makes a soft sound as you set it down on the coffee table. “funny,” you say, easing back into the cushions. “i was just about to say the same thing.”
his lips twitch, curiosity sparking behind them. “yeah? how so?”
you hesitate for half a beat, choosing your words. “you’re… calmer than i thought you’d be. softer.” your voice dips, gentling. “more real. the version of you on stage is fun—electric—but it’s not this.”
his smile stretches slowly, not wide but genuine, like the words settle somewhere deep in him. like maybe they mean more than you know. “so what you’re saying,” he murmurs, “is that i’m not the guy i pretend to be when everyone’s watching.”
you bump your knee lightly against his, a tiny grin playing at your lips. “exactly.”
his gaze drops, lingers where your thigh presses to his. and when he looks back up, there’s something darker swimming there—something thick with heat.
your breath catches.
a strand of hair sticks to the gloss on your bottom lip, and before you can even lift a hand, his fingers are already there—brushing it away, tucking it behind your ear like it’s second nature. like he’s done it before.
the touch is soft. reverent. but it sets something off inside you, deep and molten. like your body recognizes him before your brain can catch up.
his gaze holds yours, gold and liquid in the warm afterparty lighting, and this time, neither of you look away. there’s no posturing. no pretending. just... him. and you.
he leans in, slow. lips brushing yours—barely there. testing the space between you.
you don’t move.
so he kisses you.
it starts soft. tentative. like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to. but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens too fast, mouths parting, breaths catching, lips dragging, tongues meeting like they’ve done this before. like they remember.
your knees hook over his thighs without thought, your hips shifting, sliding into his lap like you were meant to be there.
and the second you settle—flush against him—he groans into your mouth, deep and wrecked.
“fuck,” he exhales, breaking the kiss just long enough to breathe, hands curling tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. like he needs to hold you steady or he might come undone.
you rock into him slowly, your skirt hitched high, the friction between your soaked panties and the heat straining in his sweats making your thighs tremble. your head tips back, a moan slipping out that you couldn’t hide if you tried.
his lips are on your throat now, jaw, collarbone—anywhere he can reach, desperate to taste more. his hands slide lower, gripping your ass with purpose, grinding you down like he’s starving. like this is the only thing that will satisfy the ache he’s been carrying all night.
“you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he mutters, voice shredded, fraying at the seams. “you have no idea.”
you’re seconds from cumming—lips locked, skirt hitched high, his grip on your thighs desperate, like he’s caught between dragging you closer and anchoring himself from completely losing it—when a voice slices through the air like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head.
“uh, babe? you in here?”
you both freeze.
baekhyun’s mouth stalls against your jaw. your lungs forget how to work.
and then—
pure. fucking. chaos.
you scramble off his lap, nearly kneeing him in the balls in the process, tugging your skirt back down your ass like it’ll erase the last ten minutes. baekhyun shifts too, adjusting his sweats with hands that still shake a little. your lips feel kissed raw. your thighs ache. you don’t even want to know what your hair looks like.
mika stands just inside the doorway, one brow cocked, arms folded over her sparkly top like the mom friend she definitely is when necessary. her gaze sweeps over the scene—your smeared lipstick, baekhyun’s rumpled shirt, the space between you two charged and awkward, like the tension hasn’t quite settled. and you—frozen next to the couch like you forgot what to do with your body now that someone else is watching.
“meeks,” you squeak, trying—and failing—to sound casual. “hey.”
“hey yourself,” she says lightly, voice dipped in that syrupy sarcasm only best friends can perfect. “your phone’s dead. figured i’d check you weren’t, y’know…” she pauses, eyes sliding between you and baekhyun, mouth twitching. “kidnapped. or eaten alive.”
baekhyun lets out something between a laugh and a choke. you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
and then her gaze settles on him.
his bleached blonde hair is a mess—textbook post-makeout chaos. cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten, hoodie wrinkled like it’s been tugged in desperation. her gaze narrows. and you see it: the flicker. the click. the way realization sparks behind her lashes like a struck match. she knows.
of course she knows.
but mika? mika’s been around. she’s danced with indie film heartthrobs and ghosted rappers with stadium tours. she’s navigated VIP lounges and afters where NDAs are practically part of the dress code. she’s seen the famous, the infamous, and the almost-famous. and she’s never once made it weird.
so she doesn’t gasp. doesn’t scream. doesn’t say, “weren’t we just at his concert four hours ago?”
instead, she just raises an eyebrow—subtle, amused, dangerous—and shoots you a look that says i’m going to make you tell me everything.
then she shrugs. uncrosses her arms. casual as ever. “right. well. i’m heading out. you comin’ with or…?”
you look back.
and for the first time, really look.
bare skin—clean and fresh, faint traces of sweat still lingering at his hairline from earlier. his hoodie’s loose around his shoulders, the collar tugged slightly off-center, and his blonde hair sticks up in soft tufts where your fingers must’ve pulled through it.
he looks... manly like this. unstyled. real. almost heartbreakingly so.
and his eyes—they’re not teasing. they’re not flirty. not charming or rehearsed like they were earlier when he made you laugh into your drink. they’re quiet. open. like he’s asking something without saying it out loud.
you’ve never seen that look on him before.
not in music videos. not on stage. not even earlier tonight.
it’s not desire burning behind his gaze—it’s something softer. something closer to hope.
“stay a little longer, yeah?” he says, voice low. steady. like he’s giving you space to say no, but hoping to hell you won’t. “just for a nightcap.”
his thumb strokes your wrist again.
then, quieter—almost like he’s trying to make it casual, as if this isn’t something important—he adds, “i’ve got a charger for your phone you can use too.”
you don’t even realize you’re nodding until mika snorts.
“m’kay, text me when you’re done being ravished by kpop’s finest,” she calls over her shoulder as she turns to leave. “love you, don’t die.”
“mika!”
but she’s already halfway down the hallway, humming something that suspiciously sounds like ‘love shot.’
you glance back at baekhyun, cheeks burning, heart rattling behind your ribs.
he’s still holding your wrist, thumb brushing your pulse like he’s trying to soothe it—or match it. a crooked smile tugs at his lips, sheepish and flushed, whether from being caught mid-makeout or just the aftershock of it all.
like he hadn’t planned on you, but now he doesn’t really want to let you go.
his eyes find yours, soft and searching. there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but he doesn’t flash it like he does on stage or behind cameras. this one’s smaller. real.
he looks… relieved. maybe even a little stunned. like he’s not used to this—you. not just the kiss, not just the body heat, but the connection.
and there’s a flicker of something else in his expression too. not nerves exactly, but hesitation. like part of him is still processing that this is happening at all.
he rubs the back of his neck before reaching for you, voice low and careful. “i’m glad you stayed,” he murmurs, like it’s not something he says often. like it’s heavier than the words suggest.
his hand finds yours again, fingers brushing tentatively over your knuckles before he gently tugs you closer.
then he pulls you back into his lap, arms sliding around your waist, like it’s second nature—but his touch is more tender now. reverent. like he’s scared if he moves too fast, you might disappear.
you settle into him again, heart thudding, lips still tingling from the last kiss.
he exhales into the crook of your neck, voice barely above a whisper. “i-i don’t usually…” he trails off, his hold tightening slightly.
but he doesn’t need to finish.
you already know.
and that truth—that rare, quiet truth—makes your chest ache in the best way.
you smile, and before you can say something to break the moment, he’s kissing you again.
but it’s different this time.
still hot, still messy, but it lingers. it asks. his mouth moves with reverence, his hands memorizing you, like he’s been starving for touch but terrified of being fed too well.
“woulda been devastated if you left,” he rasps, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice rough and trembling with restraint.
then he nips—right below it. soft and precise. you jolt, hips twitching instinctively in his lap.
his hand moves like it has a destination. slow, deliberate, up the curve of your thigh, under the hem of your skirt. his fingers trail higher—light and teasing at first, but the moment he reaches the warm heat between your legs, everything sharpens.
you gasp.
his fingers still.
there’s a pause, heavy and humming.
you don’t have to see his face to feel the shift—the tension in his body, the hissed breath through his teeth, the unmistakable clench of his jaw when he realizes—
you’re not wearing anything underneath.
his fingers flex, knuckles barely grazing your slick folds.
“shit,” he breathes, almost to himself. “you’ve been sittin’ on me like this this whole time?”
you don’t answer. can’t. your chest is tight, lungs barely remembering how to fill.
he draws his fingers through your arousal, slow and deliberate, collecting the wetness before withdrawing. he brings his hand up, eyes locked on yours. his fingers glisten in the dim light, your slick catching the golden hue as he lifts them to his mouth.
you watch, helpless, as he slides his middle and ring fingers between his lips and sucks them clean.
his eyelids flutter, then flutter open again—gaze dark and fixed on you like he’s starving.
“where have you been all my fucking life?” he breathes, like it’s hurting him, like your taste is something he might never recover from.
his cock twitches beneath you, hard and heavy beneath the soft cotton of his sweats, straining for more contact—more of you.
you don’t answer him—not with words.
instead, you take his hand in yours, slow and sure, like it belongs to you now. your fingers wrap tight around his wrist as you guide him back down between your thighs, the same fingers still slick from earlier. you spread wider, shameless, hips tilting forward like your body already knows what it wants.
he groans the moment you press his fingers into your soaked heat again—your cunt so wet and eager that he slides in without resistance.
your back arches, lashes fluttering, a breathy moan spilling from your parted lips as he starts to move.
once.
twice.
a third time—deep, slow, curling just right, the pads of his fingers dragging against every spot that makes you whimper.
he’s watching you like he’s in a trance. like you’ve crawled out of some decadent, filthy dream with your lipgloss smudged and your hips rolling like you’re possessed by pleasure itself.
his eyes don’t leave your face.
they can’t.
you keep your hand over his, guiding the pace, the depth—controlling him like a toy you know exactly how to play with. his fingers stretch you just right, knuckles brushing your dripping folds, your slick making a mess on both your hands.
then you whimper. soft. broken.
it shatters him.
you lean in, your lips brushing his while you take those same fingers—wet and warm and still pulsing from where they were buried—and bring them to your mouth. your eyes lock on his, gaze steady, daring.
you part your lips and wrap them around his fingers slowly, deliberately, letting the gloss that still clings to your mouth coat his skin again. your tongue swirls over the pads, collecting your own taste, savoring him. his rings are cold against your lips—a metallic tease compared to the wet heat of your mouth.
his hips twitch beneath you, jaw clenching so hard you see the muscle tick.
he twitches beneath you. hips jerk. his jaw clenches so tight, you see the muscle flicker.
and you don’t stop.
you keep grinding down on him—slow, steady drags of your soaked pussy against his cock, your clit catching on the thick ridge of him through his boxers. the friction is perfect. devastating. addictive.
his eyes darken. voice drops.
“fuck,” he growls again, this time lower, more dangerous. “that’s it.”
suddenly, his grip tightens on your thighs, guiding you off his lap with shaky urgency. you stumble a little, knees weak, and he stands with you—his hand firm at the small of your back, the other sliding down to grab your wrist like he needs you moving now.
“can’t take it anymore,” he mutters, voice hot against your cheek, his breath a mess against your skin.
“i need you,” he growls, voice thick, fraying at the edges. “need to feel you wrapped around me. need to fuck the sweet, messy heaven you made on my fingers straight outta you.”
you whimper—helpless, already unraveling—and before you even register how fast you’re moving, you’re there. the hallway blurs. your hand is still locked in his, his grip unrelenting, like if he lets go now he might not get you back.
your pulse slams behind your ribs. you’re dizzy with how fast everything is unraveling. you follow him on unsteady legs, hips brushing, feet tripping over each other in the rush to get to the bedroom.
he’s not carrying you. he doesn’t have to. because he’s pulling you through the dark with a grip that says come with me. now.
he reaches the door to his room, throws it open with one swift motion. his eyes burn when they meet yours—dark, wrecked, entirely gone for you.
the door clicks shut behind you.
baekhyun’s on you in the next breath—hands cupping your jaw, mouth crashing into yours like he’s starving for it, for you. there’s no prelude. no hesitation. just heat and teeth and breath, his lips pressed hard against yours as he walks you backward, blindly, toward the bed. he groans into your mouth, dragging you with him like his hands can’t bear to let you go for a second.
the beanie he had on earlier? abandoned on the couch. long gone. forgotten the moment your sweet mouth touched his. his sweater comes off first, pulled over his head with a grunt and tossed somewhere behind him. then his sweatpants, shoved down with one hand, the other still gripping your hip like you might disappear.
you whimper when your back hits the mattress, but he’s already climbing over you—pressing himself between your legs, kissing you like he’s trying to devour the moans from your throat. and fuck, you're giving them to him. whimpers and gasps and needy little sounds he swallows down like they’re fueling him.
you straddle his lap, feel him hard and hot beneath his boxers, the outline of his cock pressing into your soaked panties. your hands explore in desperate sweeps—his toned stomach, the cut of his hips, the way his muscles twitch when you grind down just right.
his hands are everywhere.
on your ass, kneading.
on your tits, squeezing, thumbs circling your nipples through your top until you’re arching into him, chasing the friction.
every stifled moan from your mouth makes him groan harder. every shift of your hips has him whimpering against your lips like he can’t believe this is happening.
you barely register the moment his hand slides down again. his fingers slip under your panties, push past the mess of slick already dripping for him.
two fingers, knuckle-deep, curling perfectly.
you cry out, hips jerking, grinding against the heel of his palm as his fingers fuck up into you—rhythmic, practiced, devastating. his palm rocks against your clit with every motion, and it’s too much. it’s all too much. he’s kissing you the whole time, tongues tangled, teeth clashing, spit messy between your mouths.
you ride his fingers like they’re his cock. pace quickening, hips stuttering, moans breaking against his lips as your thighs start to tremble.
“baek—fuck, i’m gonna!”
“cum for me,” he breathes, lips dragging down your neck. “cum all over my fingers, baby. wanna feel it.”
and you do—with a sharp gasp and a choked sob, your cunt clenches around him, gushing slick onto his hand. he holds you through it, lets you grind it out, rubs your clit as you shake and shiver above him.
he pulls his fingers out slowly, and you whine from the loss—raw, overstimulated.
but he just smirks, lifts his hand to his mouth, and sucks your release from his fingers like it’s honey. eyes on yours the entire time.
before you can catch your breath, he flips you onto your back and spreads your legs wide.
“need my mouth on you. now.”
you gasp as he drops to his knees, throws your legs over his shoulders, and buries his face in your pussy.
he devours you like a man starved—tongue dragging slow and unrelenting through your folds, lips sealed around your clit like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste. every flick is deliberate. every suck sends sparks skittering down your spine. and when he moans into you—low, guttural, wrecked—it vibrates through your core like a detonator.
his hands are ruthless on your thighs, fingers digging deep, spreading you wider like he owns the view between your legs. like he’s earned this. and maybe he has, the way he fucks you open with his mouth—relentless, greedy, like your pussy’s the only thing tethering him to earth.
you come hard. once. then again. and then again, your vision going white at the edges, your voice splintering around his name like a prayer gone hoarse. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s back on you, dragging you higher, refusing to let you fall.
he’s obsessed. addicted.
and he’s not hiding it.
he lifts his head just enough to speak, chin wet, lips swollen, eyes glassy with lust. “fuck,” he rasps, eyes locked on the mess he’s made of you. “you see this? see how you’re drippin’ for me? how the fuck am i supposed to stop now?”
his fingers slide back inside—two, then three—stretching you wide, curling deep. he finds your spot like it’s mapped in his muscle memory, like he’s been waiting his whole life to touch you like this. his mouth returns to your clit, licking with slow precision, sucking hard like he needs it to breathe.
“wanna fuckin’ die down here,” he murmurs against you, voice thick and ragged.
you sob his name, thighs trembling around his head, hips trying to jerk away from the overstimulation—but he groans at that. growls at that. hands dragging you closer, grinding his face deeper into your cunt like he’s chasing your next high through sheer force of will.
you cum again—this one violent, toe-curling, shaking so hard your hands can barely find his shirt. but they do. they grab, fist in the collar, tugging him up with desperation.
his mouth crashes to yours, wet and dirty, your slick still shining on his lips. the kiss is obscene. teeth, tongue, need.
and your hand’s already moving—slipping down between your bodies, palming the thick, aching bulge in his boxers.
“want it,” you gasp against his lips. “wanna feel you. want you inside me.”
his eyes darken, jaw clenched, a twitch of disbelief and desperate restraint cracking through his composure.
he exhales, like the words punch the air out of his lungs.
“how can i say no to you?”
his lips are still on yours when he lines himself up—boxers shoved down to his thighs, your legs draped open for him, panties tossed somewhere in the sheets. he strokes himself once, twice, teasing your entrance with the flushed tip of his cock, gliding it through your soaked folds.
“baby…” he groans, forehead pressing to yours. “fuck, you’re so wet.”
you nod, lips parted, eyes barely open. “please, baek. now.”
he pushes in slow—inch by inch, thick and deliberate—letting you take every bit of him, your walls fluttering from how sensitive you still are.
you cry out, spine arching, nails digging into his biceps. he groans, low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.
“oh my god,” he breathes, jaw tight, hips shaking as he bottoms out. “you’re fuckin’ squeezin’ me, baby—”
you whimper beneath him, completely overwhelmed—stretching around him, feeling every inch, the fullness dizzying. he stays still for a second, panting into your neck, like he's trying to pull himself back from the edge.
you clench around him again, needing more. needing movement.
he lets out a choked whine, lips brushing your skin, “fuck—feels like heaven,” he groans, voice wrecked. “you do that again and i swear i’m gonna cum just like that.”
your pussy tightens reflexively, and he moans into your throat—raw, helpless, feral.
you whimper again, your hips starting to move on instinct.
he matches your rhythm, slow at first—sensual, deliberate strokes that grind against every sensitive nerve inside you.
the room is humid with breath and want, skin against skin, the slap of his hips against your thighs growing louder as he fucks deeper, faster.
“such a good girl,” he rasps. “takin’ all of me like you were made for it.”
you fall apart again—loud, messy, clinging to him, heels digging in his lower back as your orgasm rips through you.
he fucks you through it, fingers tangled in your hair, kissing your tears away as you tremble and shiver beneath him.
round two hits different.
you’re pulled from sleep by warmth—his breath on your shoulder, the soft drag of his mouth kissing over your skin.
you stir, barely, and feel his hand cupping your breast, thumb brushing your nipple.
his other arm’s wrapped tight around your waist, fingertips trailing lazy circles down your stomach, then lower. he’s hard again—thick and pulsing against your ass, and he ruts into the curve of your body without even meaning to.
“awake?” he murmurs against your neck.
you hum. “barely.”
“c’mere,” he whispers, rolling you onto your back.
his face is soft in the low light. it must be five a.m.—still dark, sky a velvety blue beyond the hotel windows.
you reach for him, pull him down by the face, and your mouths meet again—slow, sleepy, sensual. he sinks into you with a groan, no warning, no teasing. just raw, aching need.
you gasp into his mouth. he starts thrusting in long, slow rolls, his pelvis grinding against yours at the perfect angle. every stroke sends heat curling in your belly.
he doesn’t say a word—just exhales against your lips like he’s trying to pour everything he feels into that single breath. like if he kisses you any harder, you’ll know what he can’t put into words.
but it’s not enough.
you want more. need more.
your body moves on instinct—pushing him back against the mattress, crawling into his lap with slow, purposeful grace. your knees settle on either side of his hips, skirt riding up, your cunt slick and aching where it hovers just above the thick line of his cock.
his eyes drink you in like he’s never seen anything more stunning. heavy-lidded, lips parted, throat working around a breath he can’t quite catch.
“you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers, voice low and reverent, his hands sliding up your thighs—gripping, kneading, tracing your skin like it’s holy.
you don’t answer. just sink down, slow and steady, taking him inch by thick, throbbing inch.
his breath punches out of him in a gasp, head thrown back, fingers digging into your hips. “shit—”
you ride him like you own him. hips rolling, bouncing, grinding down until your skin slaps against his with every thrust. the drag of his cock inside you is devastating—too good. too deep. and not nearly enough.
his moans grow ragged, sharp, the sound filthy in your ears. “fuck, baby—just like that. keep goin’. you feel so good—fuck, i’m gonna lose it.”
your hands brace on his chest, nails raking down the sweat-slick fabric of his shirt, chasing another high as your body trembles from the aftershocks. your pussy flutters around him, milking him greedily, overstimulated and still aching for more.
“cum for me again,” he groans, sitting up just enough to mouth at your tits, tongue dragging over your nipple through your top. “wanna feel you fall apart on my cock. wanna feel you drip down my thighs.”
and you do. again. helplessly. a cry ripping from your throat as you fuck yourself through the release, dizzy from how much he fills you. from how deep you need him. from how much you know this is going to ruin you.
and god—he loves it.
“baek—don’t wanna stop,” you pant, nearly sobbing. “feels too good.”
“then don’t,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard they might bruise. “fuck—ride me, baby, don’t stop.”
he thrusts up into you, losing control. the tempo turns messy, hungry, animalistic.
“god, you’re perfect—this pussy, fuck—it’s got me fuckin’ obsessed.”
you throw your head back, mouth open, eyes rolling as he slams up into you.
your cunt flutters around him again—tight, soaked, relentless—and he nearly loses control.
he’s shaking now, jaw locked, muscles flexing under your palms. everything in him winds tighter, like he’s seconds from snapping.
because how the fuck is this real?
he’s never felt like this. never needed someone the way he needs you right now.
he’s obsessed—with the way you smile mid-moan, with the soft whimpers that leave your throat every time he grinds into that perfect spot. your eyes—god, your eyes—rolling back, lashes fluttering like you’re seeing stars. your throat exposed when your head tips back in pleasure, that pretty, vulnerable neck he’s dying to mark up and call his.
it’s too much. too perfect. too you.
and when you fall forward, mouth crashing into his, the kiss is frantic—tongues messy, teeth clashing, like neither of you can get close enough.
your bodies are slick with sweat, pulsing with need, every nerve screaming.
and then he’s cumming. deep, thick, hard. his whole body jerks as he spills into you, hips grinding through the release like he’s trying to brand it into you—his claim, his worship, his fucking downfall.
and in that moment, nothing else exists. just the feel of you around him, shaking and perfect. just the sound of your breath in his ear.
and the quiet, terrifying realization blooming behind his ribs: you’ve already got him.
completely.
the room is quiet now. the only sound is your breathing—shaky, soft, slowing. his, too.
the sheets are kicked halfway down the bed, twisted around your ankles. your body’s still warm, flushed in places, marked in others. the air between you is thick with sweat and sex and something heavier neither of you has named.
baekhyun lies on his side, propped on one elbow. just… watching you. like he can’t not.
he brushes a damp strand of hair off your forehead, knuckles grazing your cheek. your lashes flutter, your lips part like you’re about to say something—maybe something dumb or playful or too honest—but nothing comes out. you just look at him.
and he’s struck silent all over again.
because fuck…
you’re so pretty like this. all wrecked and glowing, skin kissed raw, eyeliner smudged in the corners of your eyes. your lips are swollen from him, your pulse still visible in your neck where the marks are starting to bloom—places he’s already thinking about going back to. again. and again.
it wasn’t supposed to go this far. he was just supposed to party a little. blow off steam. it’s his first solo world tour—he’s been running on fumes and caffeine and pressure for weeks now. last night’s plan was to just fuck around a little, drink, unwind, and then move on to the next city like always.
but then you showed up.
the girl from the tenth row at tonight’s show. the one who danced like she didn’t care who was watching. the same girl he caught standing awkwardly at the bar at his afterparty, trying to act casual like she hadn’t just been screaming his lyrics a few hours earlier.
and now you’re here. in his space.
naked and tangled in his sheets, etched into the quiet of his night like you were always meant to be there. your chest rises and falls beneath blankets he never planned to share, in a city that meant nothing to him yesterday, and now feels like it’ll ache a little every time he thinks of it.
he exhales through his nose, slow and steady, voice soft against the quiet, “you good?”
you nod, lips tugging into a lazy smile, “don’t think i’ll be able to feel my legs for a few days.”
he grins, low and crooked, “yeah, me too. rehearsals are gonna be a bitch tomorrow.”
you both laugh—quiet, breathy, the kind that hums in your chest. and for a while, that’s enough. no words. no pressure to speak.
just stillness. skin against skin.
your fingers drift along the inside of his forearm, lazy and absentminded, like they’re just getting to know the shape of him. his hand rests on your hip like it’s always belonged there, thumb brushing slow circles into your skin—as if he's trying to memorize the curve of you before morning steals this softness away.
then your phone buzzes twice on the nightstand. sharp. insistent. a quiet jolt back to reality.
you glance over and notice the screen lit up, the charging icon glowing in the corner. he must’ve plugged it in for you while you slept.
something about that undoes you a little.
you shift, the weight of the moment settling over your chest. “i should probably go,” you murmur, not really wanting to.
but his hand doesn’t fall away. he just holds you a second longer—fingers tightening at your waist, like he’s still deciding if he’s ready to let you go.
“lemme get you a car home,” he murmurs, still breathless, hand grazing your hip like he’s reluctant to let go.
you nod, rolling onto your back, already feeling the loss of his warmth before he even moves.
he sits up, silent, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling his sweats back on. the soft sound of fabric, the creak of the mattress, the distant hum of the city outside—it all feels louder now.
you slide out of bed, slipping your top back on, fingers fumbling slightly at the hem. your panties are nowhere to be found. your heels are waiting by the door like they knew this was coming.
neither of you speaks as you both dress, the silence not uncomfortable—just full. full of everything unspoken. full of the way your body still aches from him.
you’re slipping your heels on by the door when something soft lands against your back.
you turn just in time to catch it—his hoodie. the same cozy grey one he wore to the afters earlier, still warm from his body.
you blink at him, lips parting, chest already tight with something you can’t name.
the hoodie smells like him—clean skin, faint shampoo, and something unmistakably you clinging to the fabric now. you pull it over your head. it swallows you instantly—the sleeves hanging past your hands, the hem brushing your thighs, heavy with the weight of the night still lingering in every thread.
his eyes follow the movement, lingering as you adjust it over your hips.
he doesn’t say a word, but there’s a shift in his face—softened at the edges. like something quiet cracked open inside him.
he grabs the suite keycard from the nightstand and slips it into his back pocket like it's second nature. you’re still tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie, swimming in it, heart doing something stupid and fluttery in your chest when he glances back at you.
you follow him toward the door, and your hand just—finds his. like it was always meant to. he doesn’t say anything, just threads his fingers through yours and squeezes once. you don’t need words. not right now.
the hallway is quiet. like 3 a.m. quiet. the kind that makes everything feel softer, heavier. the elevator dings, and you both step inside. you expect silence. maybe a head-tilt goodbye. instead, his mouth is on yours again before the doors even close.
it’s slower this time. deep. his fingers slip into your hair, tug just enough to tilt your face up so he can really kiss you. and god, he does. like he means it. like he’s trying to burn the shape of your mouth into his memory just in case this really is the last time. your hands fist in his tee, your knees go a little weak. you sigh into it, drunk off him again.
there’s so much in this kiss. things neither of you planned. things he’s not saying. things you’re definitely gonna spiral about when you’re home and alone in your bed.
the elevator chimes again. he doesn’t let go immediately. just bites down on your bottom lip—gentle but deliberate—before he finally pulls away, breath still catching in his throat.
he keeps your hand in his as you both walk through the empty lobby. his thumb rubs slow circles over your knuckles, and it’s so stupidly sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself. outside, the air is crisp. the city’s winding down, the sky a soft blur of navy and gold. and the ache in your chest? yeah. that’s definitely real.
there’s a black truck waiting at the curb, engine humming low, windows tinted. you kind of hate how real it makes everything feel.
baekhyun walks you to the car without saying much, still holding your hand like it’s second nature now—like letting go would feel too final. when you reach the door, he opens it for you himself, his palm brushing the small of your back in that quiet, anchoring way. like part of him still isn't sure he wants you to leave.
you’re about to climb in when he pauses.
“i’ve got a couple more shows in the city,” he says, voice low and unreadable. his eyes flick up to meet yours. “if you’re around… and feel like crashing another afters.”
your heart stutters.
you look at him—white tee wrinkled from where you had your fists curled into it in the elevator, blonde hair still messy from your hands, from his own. he looks like no time has passed at all. like he could pull you back upstairs right now and you wouldn’t even hesitate.
you smile. “maybe.”
he nods, once. quiet. like that one word told him everything he needed to hear.
then he helps you into the car, his fingertips grazing your bare thigh as you settle into the seat. a soft touch. a question he doesn’t ask out loud.
he shuts the door gently behind you.
as the truck pulls away, you lean your cheek against the window, breath fogging up the glass. you try not to look back.
but of course you do.
he’s still there.
hands tucked into the pockets of his grey sweats, white hoodie sleeves pushed up, mouth unreadable. watching you go like he’s trying to memorize it—just in case you don’t come back.
your apartment feels too quiet when you walk in.
not peaceful. not calm.
just quiet in a way that makes the whole night feel like something you imagined. like you’re stepping out of a dream barefoot.
you toe off your heels by the door, ankles aching, thighs sore in the best, most sinful way. your lips are still tender—kiss-swollen, tingling—and you’re swimming in his hoodie. oversized and worn soft, sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing your upper thighs with every step.
your bag slips from your shoulder and lands somewhere near the kitchen counter. you don’t bother picking it up.
your phone buzzes the second you set it down. the screen lights up with notifications in a neat little stack:
instagram story likes.
a dm from some guy you danced near at gravity.
a flurry of messages screaming “YOU WENT TO REVERIE?! SO JEALOUS”
and then, of course—mika.
meeks 🦋
BITCH WHEN U GET HOME I NEED A PLAY-BY-PLAY!!!!! i saw the way he looked at u omfg i am unwell
you laugh under your breath, thumbs hovering over the screen—still unsure how to even begin explaining what the fuck just happened.
but then another notification rolls in from a contact you don’t remember saving.
B.
your brows pinch in confusion. you don’t remember saving that contact.
you tap it open.
the first thing you see is a photo. a crisp, perfectly lit shot of an all access pass for the next two reverie shows in your city… and a sleek black suite keycard resting beside it on hotel bedsheets you recognize all too well.
beneath it, a message:
thought you might wanna crash again
your stomach flips.
you stare at the image, your thumb hovering over it like it might disappear if you blink too hard.
he must’ve done it—added his number into your phone sometime between kisses, between rounds, when you were half-dozing on his chest, legs tangled in the sheets.
quiet. sneaky. baekhyun.
a laugh escapes—disbelieving, giddy, a little breathless.
you bring the phone to your lips and smile, heart racing all over again. not from the concert. not from the alcohol.
from this.
from the realization that you almost didn’t go.
you were tired. you were going to call it a night. but mika had to talk you into one more stop—just one more before heading home.
if you’d said no…
if you’d gone to bed like you planned...
you wouldn’t be here now, wearing his hoodie, smelling like his sheets, rereading a text from him.
your fingers hover over the screen for a second longer before tapping the heart on the image.
you type back:
guess i’m yours for the next two nights then
send.
you sink into the couch, the weight of the night finally settling in your bones. you bury your face in the collar of his hoodie, still warm, still smelling like him—sweet skin and sweat and something that clings.
and for the first time all night, you’re so fucking glad you didn’t go home.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ i think i've got my edge back 😭😭😭😭 this one's for my fellow delulu girliez, hope ya enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it hehe <333333333
*i’m off work for two weeks with a fractured tailbone so you guys finally get some writing for me hitting 500! i’m writing a bunch of other stuff too but here’s this first. ( @junemyeon @rosyyeols )
warnings/kinks: chanbaek x reader threesome, facesitting, anal.
chanyeol trembles beneath you, panting and sweating with exertion. every little touch to his cock coaxes a whimper out of him. the silver cockring sits tightly around the base of his length.
‘how many times have you cum, baby?’ you ask, kissing his jaw.
‘t-three. i think,’ he breathes.
you unfasten the cockring and begin jerking him off fast, holding his hips down with your other hand as he writhes. ‘one more for me, baby, that’s it.’
‘you look so great, baby boy,’ you say, admiring the view in front of you. chanyeol has his head thrown back, clutching the sheets in his fist as he pants, moaning breathily when you move your hips. he clenches around the strap, silently begging you to move.
‘i got you.’ you leave a kiss on his collarbone as you thrust into him, moving faster and faster until he’s choking on a cry, coming untouched onto his stomach.
cw: explicit (18+), raging breeding-kink, unprotected sex (no condom, yes other contraceptives), needy/whiny!san, cuteness/sexiness aggression (^^look AT THOSE ADORABLE PICS), not dub-con because you're not actually forcing san to have a child - its just a fantasy and san respects the responsible day dreaming -- oh, and this is NOT beta-read.
wc: 1.6k
note: reverse breeding kink turns my mind into a slushie
masterlist
---
you have a special type of aggression when it comes to your husband.
while there's the usual cuteness aggression that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and tickle him until he's a giggling mess -- or the alternative "awe-infused-aggression," that makes you want to crawl all over him and worship his body (because he's built like a god) -- this special aggression is a mix of the two.
you call it the "i-need-to-pass-on-his-genes-with-mine" or the breeding-aggression. you see his perfect, docile face -- the cute way his brows scrunch together whenever he's feeling too much, the way his chiseled abs clench as he holds himself back -- and it sets a fire in your horny soul.
typically, when one describes a breeding kink, it involves someone wanting to impregnate the other person in an act of love and possession. of course, the other person is wholeheartedly egging them on because they, too, want to carry their baby.
in this case, however, you work hard to fuck him to get you pregnant.
you may wonder, "is that not exactly the same thing as a normal breeding kink?," which will be responded with a, "no, because san is a smart boy and he doesn't want a child at the moment -- that is, not until you're both done achieving your dreams and settled into a family-friendly environment."
san is the sensible one in the relationship, while you play the role of a feral cat in heat. he always insists on a condom or some birth control while you immediately embrace your inner horny demon and cannot go a week without begging him to fill you up like a boston cream donut.
you often think he's just playing the role of the timid damsel, begging for mercy before getting thoroughly ravished because he always ends up giving in.
at first, this obsession started with an accidental and harmless mistake.
you forgot to get condoms.
neither of you realized it until you stuck your hand into the bedside drawer, only to come up empty handed.
san, the sweetheart he is, offered to run to the store to get some. but before he could leave, you pulled him back and convinced him that one time without it wouldn't hurt. you can always take the morning after pill. right?
and you thought that was that.
but once you saw the way his cute lashes fluttered as he entered you, eyes shiny from how lost he was in the pleasure -- maybe something clicked for you. maybe.
and maybe, when you felt how his body shivered, finally feeling your warmth without any barriers, and how his cock throbbed within you, you knew this would turn into an addiction.
a dangerous one.
then when he came inside, painting your walls in his warmth before pulling out to reveal his sloppy mess, your brain chemistry became altered in a way that would change the course of desires for the rest of your life.
and then, pushing his love back in so affectionately with his fingers, eyes glazed over in awe and hunger, you knew something changed within him as well -- as much as he'd deny it. he already started to get hard again from seeing how he dripped from your perfect cunt.
and so, after that fateful night, you tried to hold back, knowing that taking the morning-after pill often wasn't healthy (and, of course, you and san weren't ready for kids yet).
this didn't stop you from imagining how his cum would feel if there wasn't a barrier between you every time you fucked. or how pretty he'd be as your baby daddy, claiming you as his own as he gives you the perfect little family.
ok, and fine, maybe you 'forgot' to buy condoms a few more times after that. and maybe you made it a habit to make him cum a few times before fucking him so he'd be a little less attentive to the missing condoms just so you can feel him gushing out of you once more.
but that's neither here nor there.
...
ok, so, maybe it was here.
and there.
here, in the house -- on the couch during movie night, on the bed in the morning, on the kitchen counter when you saw him in that cute little frilly apron he borrowed from you, in the shower when he got back from the gym.
and there, outside the house -- messily in the car(s), in a tight dressing room, spontaneously in a lake, in a utility closet at his work (don't ask) -- so you had to find a sustainable solution quickly.
it finally got to the point where you made a doctor's appointment to get on birth control because you knew you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. the pull-out method wasn't going to work for long, and you knew san was struggling to deny your whiny begs to be filled.
now, you can say whatever you want and he'll be the obedient husband that he is.
---
"cum in me, sannie..." you whisper in his ear, rolling your hips and perfectly arching your back so you can press your hot body against his. "don't you want to make me a mommy?"
you admire how his cute face scrunches up as you speed up on top of him. he's flushed a pretty scarlet, from his chiseled chest to his cheeks -- a product of your merciless teasing and edging from earlier in the evening.
"b-baby," he meets your motions smoothly, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggles to bear with the sensations of your soft heat wrapped around him. "fuck, i-i'm..."
"...you're...?" you ask, mockingly. you lightly rake your nails against the back of his neck. the action never fails to make him shiver and buck against you. you let out a short gasp as the feeling of him suddenly fully thrusting into you nearly knocks the air out of you. he's hitting that sweet sweet spot inside of you now -- and it's making you almost as delirious as the man under you.
"p-please..."
"c'mon, hubby, i wanna feel it dripping out of me," you sigh dreamily. your lips barely brush over his neck as you speak, "then you can shove it back in and make sure it keeps, right~"
"yes, yes, anything--" he mumbles, head tilted back in ecstasy. his large hands grip around your waist, guiding your body like a glorified cock sleeve, up and down his cock just right. you swear you're starting to see white spots in your vision as he continues to use your body.
you love it when he's like this. tunnel visioned and desperate to reach that explosive feeling of stuffing you full of his cum. your eyes roll back as he continues to nudge against that soft spot inside of you.
"u-uh, san..." a familiar and addictive exhilarating heat blooms from your core and proliferates through every nerve in your body before you even realize it. you bite your lip to keep you from drooling as your body starts to shake in his hold.
the shockwave of pleasure makes you clench around him, making you impossibly tight around him as he continues to thrust into you.
"fuck," he groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him. he struggles to keep up his pace as he gives into his pleasure. you can feel his abs clench against you as his hips begin to stutter to meet yours. "take it, baby. i need you to t-take it all for me."
"give it to me. i need it."
he pulls your body down and gives one last punishing snap of his hips to press himself deep inside of you as he finishes with a broken moan.
as he cums inside of you, his body trembles, overwhelmed by his orgasm, the press of your perfect body against his, the heated air surrounding the two of you, and the panted breath leaving your precious lips.
his arms wrap around you, holding you close, as he nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing soft and sweet kisses to your sticky skin.
as you both start to calm down, san lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look up at you.
"baby?" he gently brushes some hair from your face so he can get a good look at your flushed expression, "i think i'm ready." he has such a cute little smile on his face as he stares up at you with adoring eyes.
"ready?" you ask, still trying to come down from the pleasure infused fog that has settled over your mind.
"i think we should start baby-making, for real."
a silence sits in between you as you stare at him in disbelief. you weren't expecting your sensible and responsible husband to suddenly propose such a life altering idea to you.
you're suddenly pulled out from your warm post-orgasm deliriousness.
"...san. are you sure?"
he looks down at your connected bodies, at your baby-less stomach and the sticky mess that's now dripping onto his thighs. and then you feel him twitch inside of you.
oh.
"i-- yeah."
not convincing.
(at least not in the state you're in)
"yeah, no." you shake your head, fully aware of his wandering thoughts. "let's talk about this when we're fully clothed, okay."
who knew you'd be promoted to be the sensible one?
Summary: in which your gorgeous best friend knows just what to do to help you relax. 
Warnings: strong language, shy yeol towards the end, explicit sexual content; mild muscle kink?? i think??, dry humping for like two seconds, oral (f. receiving) aka pussy eating king back at it again, fingering, park chanyeol bc the man deserves a warning all his own
Word Count: 3.3k
a/n; ah yes, best friends to lovers, my favorite cliche. i can’t stop writing for Chanyeol lately?? which really isn’t that out of the ordinary bc the man is literally my muse, but it seems a bit excessive at times yikes. but i also think it’s a good thing because i’m making some leeway with his prince au!!! yay!!! hopefully it won’t be too terribly long of a wait! until then, i hope these drabbles turned one shots will hold you over :) enjoy!
“You’re stressed out.”
It wasn’t a question.
You sighed, head shaking as you spared Chanyeol a glance from the corner of your eye.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re obviously not.” Was his abrupt response, concerned eyes dragging over the length of your tensed features, pausing on the visible lines above your brow and at the corners of your mouth.
He was right, of course. You weren’t alright. In all honesty, you hadn’t been alright for the past month. Your latest assignment was beating the absolute shit out of you, draining your mind and body of all its viable energy and leaving you an exhausted, stressed out disaster of a person.
Unfortunately, you knew that if you admitted it out loud to Chanyeol, he would not let you spend another second staring at your stupid computer screen. But you really had to get the project done by the end of the week or you were totally and royally screwed. And if he couldn’t make you feel better, Chanyeol would end up feeling like shit and that in turn would make you feel even more like shit than you already do and it would be an endless cycle of the two of you feeling like shit and does anybody really need that right now? You were already struggling enough without having an extra pouty, sulking best friend to tend to.
