Noah Kahan
oozey mess
#extradirty
No title available
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Color Me Curious
The Bowery Presents
YOU ARE THE REASON
untitled
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almost home
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
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cherry valley forever
The Stonewall Inn
Kiana Khansmith
Discoholic 🪩
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Phantogram Three
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Czechia
seen from Malaysia
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Armenia
seen from South Africa
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Finland
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Colombia
seen from Kenya
seen from Switzerland
@honeyxdeluxe
💌 𝑭𝒊𝒄 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 💌
🎤 Requests are OPEN 🎤
🌸 Groups/Idols: All safe K-pop idols & groups (no controversial figures)
💭 Genres: Fluff, angst, smut, crack, AU — everything
✨ Rules / Limits:
- Max 2 requests per person
- No smut/mature content for under 18
💌 Include in your request:
- Member(s) involved
- Theme / scenario / AU / concept
👉 [Request a Fic](https://honeyxdeluxe.tumblr.com/ask) 💖
🌙💙🤍
Unique displays of intimacy for multiple characters:
Cutting/dying each other's hair
Growing a garden together
They hang pictures of their selfies together on their walls and decorate them
Fixing the other's broken belongings immediately
Buying the exact groceries they know the other will like/need
Bringing the other back to a special place (i.e their hometown) to visit
Holding the other's hand during a health appointment
Guiding the other through a busy crosswalk
Always buying each other little things whenever they go shopping for anything
Sewing one another clothes that fit perfectly
Going on a late night drive together and exploring each other's music taste without judgment
They get matching bracelets with each other's names on them
They create an excuse for an absence when the other is too ill to attend another class at school
They make them breakfast every morning regardless of how busy they are, even if it's just cereal
They take care of their belongings & home when they are gone or disappear.
🌴 **FREE WALLPAPER** 🌴
I was so inspired by Hyunjin’s airport departure on his way to Los Angeles that I just had to make this! He is going to attend the GUESS JEANS Melrose Pop-Up Store event,
Feel free to save and use it for your lock screen or home screen!
Model: Hyunjin (Stray Kids)
Design by: Me (mm00♡)
📌 Please do not repost without credit or use for commercial purposes. Enjoy!
Free Dino wallpaper I made 🤍🤍
This was supposed to be a one shot for feral Friday last week but when I posted it everyone wanted a happier ending for Hyunlix so that’s what I did I wrote a second part so I hope you guys take the time to read it cause I loved the concept of this fic 🤍
Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85358431
Wattpad link: https://www.wattpad.com/1630752174?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=honeyxdeluxe
Some of my skz fic ideas
do you guys like any of these ? (If you see this please don’t use any of these I plan on writing all of these. But if you do…. at least credit me 🙄)
☀️Worship In The Bedroom🌙
Hyunlix • Explicit • One-shot • 2,141 words
Summary: Hyunjin only went to church because Changbin blackmailed him with a drunk ballet video. He didn’t expect to fall for the sweet, freckled choir boy who looks at him like he’s both temptation and salvation. And Felix has spent his life being the perfect Christian boy. One touch from Hyunjin and all his prayers stop working.
Author’s Note:
This started as a silly thread and turned into something soft and spicy. Hope you enjoy the guilt and the healing <3
Originally posted on my AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/85358431
The rain was coming down sideways, turning everything into a gray blur. Hyunjin sat shotgun in Changbin’s beat-up SUV, arms crossed, staring out the window like the church was personally offending him.
Changbin his roommate, best friend, and current pain in the ass was grinning like an idiot behind the wheel, phone propped up playing the video again: Hyunjin, absolutely hammered on soju, doing sloppy ballet spins down the dorm hallway in nothing but boxers, laughing his head off while “Swan Lake” blasted from someone’s speaker.
“Dude, it’s hilarious,” Changbin said, chuckling. “You’re my bro, but this is gold. Three Sundays and I delete it forever. No group chat leak. Scout’s honor.”
Hyunjin groaned, rubbing his face. “You’re a shitty friend, Binnie.”
“Nah, I’m a great friend. This is character building. Plus, free lemon bars.” Changbin punched his shoulder lightly. “C’mon, it’s not like I’m making you convert. Just sit there and look pretty for three weeks. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.”
Hyunjin flipped him off but got out of the car anyway, hoodie already soaked through. Changbin was an asshole, but he was his asshole the kind who’d drag him to church as a joke but also cover rent when Hyunjin was broke from art supplies.
Inside the church it smelled like old books, lemon Pledge, and wet umbrellas. Hyunjin slouched into the back pew, dripping. The choir started up, and that’s when everything shifted.
Felix.
Blond hair catching the light like it had its own halo, freckles dusting his nose and cheeks, cream cardigan buttoned over a white shirt that looked ironed within an inch of its life. He sang tenor like the notes actually mattered, eyes mostly closed in concentration. Then they opened during the chorus and locked on Hyunjin.
For a beat, Felix stared. Then his gaze dropped straight to Hyunjin’s mouth. Lingered. His throat worked visibly. He ripped his eyes away like it physically hurt, cheeks flushing under the freckles, staring at the bible like it could save him.
Hyunjin’s stomach did something complicated. He was openly queer everywhere except here, and this boy looked like he’d never even thought the word “gay” without immediately repenting.
After service, the courtyard was packed with polite churchgoers grabbing lemon bars under the overhang. Hyunjin reached for one at the same time as someone else. In the crush of bodies, his hand landed on a slim waist… warm, tense, perfect.
Felix.
The smaller man went completely rigid, breath catching sharp. Hyunjin’s fingers pressed just enough to feel the tremor run through him.
“Sorry,” Hyunjin murmured, low enough that only Felix heard. He didn’t pull away immediately. “Crowded in here.”
Felix’s eyes flew up they were wide, panicked, pupils blown. He stepped back fast, but not before Hyunjin felt the way his body leaned in for half a second. “It’s… fine.” His voice was barely steady. He grabbed a lemon bar blindly.
“I’m Hyunjin. New. Dragged by my roommate.”
“Felix.” He said it like admitting it cost him. His eyes flicked back to Hyunjin’s mouth, then away so hard his head jerked. “I, um… have to help clean up.”
He disappeared into the crowd, shoulders tight under that cardigan.
Hyunjin stood there tasting rain on his lips and wanting more.
Second Sunday✨
Changbin dropped him off again, this time with a teasing grin. “Make any Christian friends yet? Or are you still sulking?”
“Fuck off, Bin. You owe me pizza after this.”
“Deal. Text me if you spot any cute choir boys.” Changbin winked and drove off laughing.
Felix sat one pew ahead and slightly left this time. Close. When the sermon on resisting temptation droned on, Hyunjin shifted and their knees brushed. Felix froze solid, jaw clenching, fingers digging into the pew edge until his knuckles whitened. He didn’t move his leg.
Hyunjin leaned forward during a quiet moment, breath near Felix’s ear. “Pastor’s jokes are worse than Changbin’s.”
Felix’s shoulders twitched. Later, in the narrow hallway by the fellowship hall coffee urn, they ended up alone.
Hyunjin cracked another dumb joke about the terrible punch. Felix laughed it was bright, surprised, genuine. Then the laugh faded. He looked at Hyunjin properly, smile softening into something raw and defeated, like he’d lost the war inside his head.
“Don’t do that,” Felix whispered.
Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“That thing with your voice.” Felix’s tone dropped, half scolding, half begging. “When you talk low like that. It’s… please.”
Hyunjin’s dick twitched hard in his jeans. He wanted to push Felix against the wall and kiss the guilt right out of him, but he held back. Felix was already retreating, hand pressed to his chest like he could shove the desire back down.
Third Sunday✨
Shoulders brushed in the narrow coat room after choir practice. Felix made a quiet, wrecked sound like someone had ripped the plug out of his spine. He stood there breathing hard for several seconds, eyes closed, before bolting without a word.
Hyunjin jerked off that night in the dorm shower thinking about those freckles and the desperate crack in Felix’s voice. Changbin banged on the door afterward. “You done in there, jinnie? Pizza’s here.”
They ate on the floor like usual, Changbin ribbing him about church. “You look like you saw a ghost. Or a cute ghost?”
“Shut up,” Hyunjin said, but he was smiling. Changbin was a menace, but he was family.
Fourth Sunday✨
Rain pounded again. The sermon hit hard on lust and eternal fire. Felix looked like he might throw up, pale under his freckles, gripping the pew like a lifeline. After the benediction he fled to the parking lot.
Hyunjin was heading out when he saw Felix’s old sedan circle back and park crooked behind the church near the abandoned hay shed, hidden by trees.
Heart hammering, Hyunjin walked through the rain.
Felix sat in the driver’s seat, forehead on the wheel, shoulders shaking. Hyunjin knocked.
Felix looked up his eyes bloodshot, hair damp, freckles stark. Tormented.
Hyunjin opened the door. “Hey. Talk to me.”
Felix stared for a long, trembling second. Then, voice raw and broken: “Come here.”
It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t gentle. It was something desperate and needy in the middle that made Hyunjin’s toes curl.
They barely made it into the hay shed. Felix’s back hit the rough wall and Hyunjin kissed him deep, hungry. Felix whimpered, hands fisting Hyunjin’s wet hoodie, kissing back like a dam had burst all guilt and starvation.
“I can’t— I shouldn’t—” Felix gasped. “I prayed every night. I lead youth group. My family—”
Hyunjin dropped to his knees, worked Felix’s slacks open. He was hard, leaking, throbbing. Hyunjin took him in his mouth in one smooth motion it was hot, salty, perfect. Felix cried out, hips jerking, fingers tangling in Hyunjin’s hair.
“Oh God— Hyunjin— fuck—”
Hyunjin sucked him messily, tongue pressing under the head, one hand stroking the base. Felix lasted maybe two minutes before he came hard down Hyunjin’s throat with a choked sob, biting his wrist to stay quiet. His legs shook violently.
The guilt slammed in right after. Felix slid down the wall, curling into a ball, tears mixing with rain. “I’m disgusting. I’m such a fucking liar. Good Christian boy? What a joke.”
Hyunjin pulled him close, wiping his mouth. “You’re not disgusting. You’re human.”
Felix clung to him, shaking. “You don’t get it. My mom… the church…”
They stayed like that until the rain eased.
The sneaking started right after.
Felix used every excuse — “youth group planning,” “library research,” “extra choir rehearsal.” Changbin noticed Hyunjin slipping out more.
“You’re glowing, man,” Changbin said one night over takeout. “Church doing you good or what? Wait… is it a guy? Holy shit, you’re banging a choir boy?”
Hyunjin threw a pillow at him. “Mind your business, blackmailer.”
Changbin laughed. “As your friend, I approve. Just don’t get caught, idiot. I got your back if shit hits the fan.”
First Full Night With Lix – Dorm Room✨
Felix showed up at the dorm on a stormy Thursday, still in his cream cardigan, twisting his hands nervously.
“I’ve never… done anything. Not like this. Not with a guy,” he admitted, voice small.
Hyunjin kissed him slow and sweet. “We stop whenever you want.”
He undressed Felix piece by piece his cardigan folded carefully, white shirt unbuttoned with kisses down his freckled chest, slacks and underwear last. Felix was flushed pink everywhere, cock hard and leaking against his stomach.
Hyunjin laid him on the bed and took him in his mouth again, slow and deep, humming around him. Felix arched, moaning brokenly. “It feels— too good— I prayed so hard not to want this…”
Hyunjin pulled off, slicked his fingers, and worked one inside carefully. Felix keened when it hit his prostate.
“More,” Felix gasped. “Please.”
Two fingers. Then three. Hyunjin scissored and curled them, praising him the whole time. “You’re so tight, baby. So good for me. Look at you taking my fingers like you were made for it.”
Felix was crying from pleasure, cock leaking steadily. “I’m going to hell. I prayed on my knees every night and it didn’t work. I’m such a fucking hypocrite.”
Hyunjin kissed his thigh, added more lube, and lined up. He pushed in inch by inch, groaning at the heat. Felix’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, nails digging into Hyunjin’s back.
“Breathe. Relax. I’ve got you.”
When he bottomed out, they stayed still, foreheads pressed together. Then Felix whispered, “Move.”
Hyunjin fucked him slow and deep at first, grinding against his prostate. Felix’s legs wrapped around him, heels digging in. The pace built with wet slaps, desperate moans, Felix whimpering Hyunjin’s name like a prayer.
“Omg jinnie,” Felix sobbed even as he pushed back to meet every thrust. “don’t stop— fuck, right there—”
Hyunjin stroked him in time until Felix came hard, clenching around him, cum painting his own stomach. Hyunjin followed seconds later, burying deep and filling him.
Aftercare was tender. Hyunjin cleaned him gently with a warm cloth, held him through the tears, kissed every freckle.
“You’re safe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Felix curled into his chest. “I don’t deserve this. But God, I need it.”
They stole more nights. Quick, desperate handjobs and blowjobs in the car behind the hay shed. Longer sessions in the dorm where Felix grew bolder riding Hyunjin reverse cowgirl, biting his own hand to stay quiet, whispering filthy confessions: “I touch myself thinking about your mouth… I’m so fucked up…”
Changbin covered for him once or twice, smirking but supportive. “Your secret’s safe, bro. Just be careful.”
The Fallout✨
Felix’s mom showed up unannounced at house with food one afternoon. She let herself in with the spare key.
They were on the couch Felix in Hyunjin’s lap, hoodie on the floor, shirt open, Hyunjin’s hand down the back of his slacks with two fingers deep inside him while they kissed messily, Felix grinding down with needy whimpers.
The scream was blood-curdling.
She snapped multiple pictures before they could separate. Called the pastor immediately.
The consequences were devastating.
Felix’s parents hauled him to their house. Emergency elder meetings. Youth leadership revoked. Whispers and stares at church. His mom alternated between hysterical crying, screaming Bible verses, and forcing all-night prayer sessions. His dad wouldn’t even look at him.
Hyunjin showed up at the house anyway. Changbin drove him, waiting in the car. “I got your back, man. Text if you need extraction.”
Felix’s mom met Hyunjin on the porch, furious. “Stay away from my son, you sinner!”
Felix slipped out anyway, eyes swollen. They drove a few blocks and parked.
“I can’t lose my family,” Felix whispered, voice cracking. “But I can’t lose you either. I tried praying again. It only made me want you more.”
Hyunjin held his hand. “We’ll figure it out. Secret for now. Changbin’s even willing to help cover sometimes still. He’s an idiot but a loyal one.”
Felix gave that soft, surrendered smile. “I still feel like a liar every Sunday. But with you… it’s the only time I feel real.”
They kissed slow and sad in the car as rain started again.
It wasn’t perfect. Guilt still ate at Felix. Secrecy weighed heavy. Family wounds were deep. But late nights in the dorm, tangled together, Felix tracing patterns on Hyunjin’s chest and whispering fears between soft kisses, it felt worth fighting for.
One night, after another intense round where Felix had ridden him until they were both shaking and oversensitive, he lay spent in Hyunjin’s arms.
“I love you,” Felix said quietly. “Even if it damns me.”
Hyunjin kissed his temple. “Then we’ll be damned together. Or maybe your God’s kinder than you think.”
Changbin texted later: Pizza when you’re done being gay?
Hyunjin laughed into Felix’s hair. Messy, complicated, real.
For now, it was enough.
just dropped this Felix wallpaper for the STAYs 💛
took the new Adidas campaign shot and gave it some soccer/athletics vibes
vertical format, optimized for iPhone (looks good on both lock and home screen)
hope it brightens up your phone a bit 🫶 no credit needed, just enjoy
kim gun-woo as your boxing coach × you (female trainee) headcanons 🥊💕
omg guys i am actually unwell over this concept… like imagine having kim gun-woo as your personal boxing coach?? the quiet, insanely hot, abs-for-days man who barely talks but looks at you like he’d go to war for you?? i had to write these headcanons immediately because my brain won’t shut up about it:
• he barely says full sentences when he’s correcting your form (“elbow up.” “breathe.” “again.”) but the SECOND any other guy in the gym even glances at you too long, he’s suddenly standing right behind you like your own personal 6ft silent bodyguard. zero guys breathe in your direction when he’s around, it’s actually hilarious
• acts like you’re just another fighter but always sets aside the newest, cleanest gloves for you. after a super rough session when you’re literally dying on the mat, he just drops his own towel (still warm from his shoulders) over your head and ruffles your hair once before walking away like he didn’t just do the cutest thing ever 🥹
• those late night trainings when the gym is empty and the lights are low?? it’s just you two, the sound of gloves hitting pads, and heavy breathing. that’s when he actually starts opening up… quiet stories about why he fights, what he’s lost, what he’s protecting. my heart literally aches for this man btw
• gets SO much quieter and intense when you start sparring with the guys. one time a partner gets a little too rough with you and gun-woo steps in immediately, voice all low and dangerous: “she’s done. with me.” the dude basically evaporates on the spot
• his hands are so careful when he’s taping yours or fixing your stance… calloused but warm and steady. you keep catching him staring at the back of your neck or your jaw when he thinks you’re not looking, then he clears his throat and barks another command like nothing happened
• on your bad days when you’re feeling too small or not strong enough, he corners you after practice (both of you sweaty and tired) and says in that deep calm voice, “you’re mine. my fighter. means you don’t get to doubt yourself. understand?” …the “mine” just hangs there and he doesn’t even take it back
• after your first real fight he’s waiting outside the locker room with two cold sports drinks. doesn’t say much, just gently bumps his bottle against yours but the look in his eyes (proud + protective + a little possessive) says everythinggg
• the almost-kiss happened after a brutal training day. you’re both leaning on the ropes breathing hard, he reaches up to wipe sweat off your cheek with his thumb… and you both just freeze. dead silence for like three seconds before he pulls back, jaw tight, and mutters “shower. now.” like he doesn’t trust himself to stay near you
• random sweet things: new wraps magically appear in your bag, your favorite post-workout snack is always in the fridge, he somehow knows exactly how you like your coffee/tea and leaves it for you without saying anything
• he won’t say he likes you for the longest time but after a big win, adrenaline still pumping, he pulls you into a back hug outside the venue, buries his face in your sweaty hair and whispers, “you scared the hell out of me today… don’t do that again.” that’s basically a full love confession from gun-woo lmao
Can someone write the full fic immediately pls i’m begging 😭
submissive boys... who are taller than you.... submissive boys who sigh when you push their arms over their head... submissive boys who swear under their breath.... submissive boys!!!!!!!
(POV: you’re dating Felix )
Location: La Rampolina, Stresa 🇮🇹
Time: 5:30PM
[urfavgirl_Y/N]
1.2k♡ ㅤ50k⎙ ㅤ20k⌲
Liked by yong.lixx and others
urfavgirl_Y/N : dinner date <3
#stresa #italy #larampolina #felix
Feral Friday: Warehouse Heat Allen (Bloodhounds) x Reader Exes with Benefits • Rough Smut • Warehouse AU
Rating: Explicit / 18+ only
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, rough sex, degradation kink, biting/marking, hate-sex vibes turning into desperate reunion sex, semi-public (warehouse), exes arguing then fucking, creampie, dirty talk, slight power play. Consensual but feral.
Notes: Set during a late-night crew job in Season 2 era. Enjoy 🔥
The warehouse on the outskirts of Seoul felt like the ass-end of the world with cold concrete floors, rusted beams overhead, and the faint metallic tang of old blood mixed with cigarette smoke.
Friday night had bled deep into Saturday morning. The crew had finished dealing with the rival hackers who tried to skim the IKFC’s shadow accounts, hauling the prisoners away amid crude laughs and clinking soju bottles.
You’d tried to slip out with them, jacket in hand, but the bodyguards and older men blocked the door with those smug grins.
“This ain’t no job for a lady,” one chuckled. “Stay back here. Keep an eye on things. Allen’s got the tech covered.”
So you dropped onto the worn-out couch behind his folding table and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled lazily toward the dim bulbs as you watched the back of his head.
Allen sat hunched forward, green hair messy and falling into his eyes, black shirt sleeves shoved up to his elbows. His fingers moved across the keyboard in that steady, focused rhythm.
One screen showing a calm stream of network data scrolling from the rivals’ backup server, the other running a simple program quietly copying a list of files, the progress bar creeping forward.
“Guard,” he called without turning. “Boss wants traffic watch and that file pull finished. Total quiet. Go check the perimeter or grab a smoke. I’ll yell if anything changes.”
The bulky guy shrugged and stepped outside. The heavy door clanged shut, lock clicking. Now it was just the low hum of the laptops, the faint crackle of your cigarette, and the two of you.
Allen kept working for another minute, then leaned back, cracked his neck, and glanced over his shoulder at you. That cocky smirk appeared, but his eyes held a sharper, hungrier edge.
“Still sulking back there?” he drawled. “Didn’t think the crew would actually make you sit pretty like some delicate flower.”
You took a slow drag, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Tried to leave. They weren’t having it. Said it wasn’t ‘lady work.’ Like I haven’t pulled your ass out of tighter spots than this.”
He laughed shortly and spun his chair halfway around. “Oh, here we go. Still holding that grudge? Last time I checked, you were the one who walked out mid-job because I ‘didn’t listen’ to your perfect little plan.”
You narrowed your eyes, flicking ash into the tray. “Because your plan was half-cocked and nearly got us traced. You always do that… think your fingers on the keyboard make you untouchable. The world doesn’t revolve around your code, Allen.”
Allen stood, walking over until he loomed in front of the couch. He braced one hand on the backrest beside your head, leaning in close. “And you always act like you’re too good for the dirty parts. Sitting there smoking, looking pissed… but you stayed. Again. Maybe you like being told to wait for me.”
“Fuck you,” you shot back, though the words lacked real bite just that old spark that always lit up right before things got stupid between you.
“Yeah?” His smirk turned feral. He plucked the cigarette from your fingers and stubbed it out. “You good with this?”
You met his eyes, pulse kicking higher. “Yeah. Keep going.”
The air snapped.
Allen crashed his mouth against yours hard, hungry, all teeth and pent-up frustration from months apart. You kissed him back just as fiercely, hands fisting in his shirt as he pushed you flat onto the couch.
His body covered yours, one knee sliding between your legs, the hard line of his dick already pressing against your thigh through his jeans.
“Always bitching at me,” he growled against your lips, nipping your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. “Like you don’t get soaked just arguing with me.” His hand shoved under your shirt, rough palm skating over your skin, squeezing your waist before moving higher. He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you arched and moaned into his mouth.
You yanked at his hair, tugging his head back. “And you never shut up. Always gotta have the last fucking word.”
“Not tonight.” He laughed low and dark, grinding his hips down so you felt every inch of how hard he was. The friction made you both groan. His mouth trailed hot and wet down your neck, biting hard enough to leave marks as his other hand worked your pants open. He shoved them down your hips along with your underwear in one rough motion, cool air hitting your already slick pussy.
“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, fingers sliding between your folds, spreading the wetness. “Already dripping for your me. Pathetic.” Two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your thighs shake. He pumped them fast and deep, thumb circling your clit in tight, mean strokes while his mouth latched onto your neck again, sucking another bruise.
You bucked against his hand, nails digging into his shoulders. “Shut up and fuck me already, or I’ll finish this myself.”
Allen pulled his fingers out with a wet sound, making you whine at the loss. He sat back just long enough to shove his own jeans and boxers down, his dick springing free… thick, hard, the head already leaking. He stroked himself once, eyes locked on you, then grabbed your thighs and spread them wider.
He lined up and thrust in with one brutal stroke, burying himself inside you. The stretch burned so good you cried out, walls clenching around him. Allen groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second.
“Still so fucking tight,” he hissed, pulling back almost all the way before slamming in again. The couch creaked under you as he set a hard, relentless pace… deep, punishing thrusts that rocked your whole body. Every stroke dragged against that perfect spot inside you, his hips snapping forward with the same focused intensity he used when cracking a system.
Behind him, the laptops kept humming… data still scrolling, the file copy inching along but he barely glanced at them now. One hand braced beside your head, the other slid between you to rub your clit in fast circles.
“Come on,” he growled, voice rough and breathless. “Let me feel you fall apart on my dick. Been too long since I had you like this.”
The pleasure built fast and sharp. Your moans turned broken, legs wrapping around his waist as you met every thrust. Allen’s rhythm faltered when your walls started fluttering around him he fucked you harder, deeper, teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his own groan.
You came with a sharp cry, clenching tight around him, vision whiting out. Allen followed right after, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you with a guttural moan, grinding through the aftershocks to drag it out for both of you.
He didn’t pull out right away. Instead he stayed buried inside you, chest heaving, green hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. He lifted his head, uneven eyes dark and satisfied, that cocky smirk returning even through the heavy breathing.
“File copy’s probably done by now…” he murmured, voice hoarse. He rolled his hips once more, teasingly slow, making you gasp. “But I’m not finished with you yet. Round two starts as soon as I catch my breath and this time I’m bending you over the table while the next script runs.”
The warehouse felt smaller, hotter, and the night was far from over. Just like old times.
Allen from bloodhounds is so fucking sexy I don’t care if he is a bad guy. He gives me cyberpunk 2000’s nonchalant bf 😍😍
It's my 3 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
The cast list and chapter 1 of my hyunlix book is out now on wattpad. I love how it turned out
Read here : https://www.wattpad.com/story/410105917?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=honeyxdeluxe
Private Recording Session
(hongjoong x reader — slow burn, studio intimacy, hidden audio kink, 18+ only)
The first time it happens, it’s barely anything.
Hongjoong’s studio is always warm too many monitors, too little ventilation and tonight the air feels thicker than usual. You’re sprawled on the old leather couch he keeps shoved against the back wall, scrolling through your phone while he works. He’s been quiet for hours, headphones on, brow furrowed, chasing some elusive melody that refuses to settle.
You don’t plan to distract him. You never do.
But when you stretch arms above your head, his hoodie riding up just enough to show the soft skin of your stomach his typing stops.
You feel the shift before you see it: the sudden stillness, the way the room seems to hold its breath.
He doesn’t turn around right away.
Instead, he reaches over, slow, deliberate, and taps the spacebar. The DAW timeline stops moving. Then without looking at you he hits record.
The red light blinks on above the mic stand.
Your pulse jumps.
“Joong?” Your voice is soft, testing.
He finally swivels the chair. His eyes are dark, pupils blown, expression unreadable except for the faint flush creeping up his neck.
“I need a reference,” he says, voice low. “For texture.”
You swallow. “Texture.”
He nods once. “Vocal… ambience. Natural sounds. Nothing staged.”
It’s the flimsiest excuse either of you have ever heard.
You could laugh. You could call him out. You could walk out.
Instead you sit up slowly, knees drawn to your chest, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
“What kind of ambience?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
He doesn’t answer with words.
He stands, crosses the small space between you in three steps, and stops just short of touching. Close enough that you can smell the faint citrus of his shampoo, the warmer undertone of his skin after hours of work.
His hand lifts hesitates then brushes the exposed skin of your collarbone with the very tips of his fingers. Feather-light. Barely there.
Your breath catches anyway.
He watches your throat move when you swallow.
Then he leans in, so slow it feels like time is stretching, and presses the softest possible kiss to the corner of your mouth. Not quite a real kiss. More like a question.
You answer by tilting your head, parting your lips just enough.
That’s all it takes.
The kiss deepens gradually… lazy, exploratory, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth. His hands stay almost polite at first: one cupping your jaw, the other resting loose at your waist. But when your fingers slide into his hair and tug the smallest bit, something in him shifts.
He exhales sharply against your lips.
The chair creaks when he pulls you forward, guiding you to straddle his lap without ever breaking the kiss. You settle over him carefully, thighs bracketing his hips, the hard length of him already pressing up through his sweats. Neither of you acknowledges it yet.
Just kissing.
Slow. Deep. Unhurried.
Minutes pass like that maybe ten, maybe twenty. Long enough that your lips feel swollen, that your breathing has turned ragged, that the hoodie is rucked up around your ribs and his palms are warm under it, stroking the bare skin of your back in long, soothing passes.
He finally pulls back enough to rest his forehead against yours.
The red light is still blinking.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
You nod, cheeks burning.
His thumb traces your bottom lip. “Tell me if you want to stop.”
You don’t.
Instead you rock down just once, experimental and his grip tightens on your hips.
“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut for a second.
But he doesn’t rush.
He kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat, slow enough that you feel every millimeter of contact. When he reaches the hollow above your collarbone he lingers, sucking gently until you arch into him with a soft sound.
The mic catches it.
He groans low in his chest at the noise quiet, almost pained and presses another open-mouthed kiss there before moving lower. The hoodie gets pushed up further; he noses the underside of your breast, then takes the peak into his mouth so slowly you whimper.
He stays there for what feels like forever licking lazy circles, sucking softly, switching sides until you’re trembling, fingers knotted in his hair, hips rolling in tiny, helpless circles against him.
Only then does he slide a hand between you.
Fingers trace the seam of your shorts first outside fabric, teasing before slipping beneath the waistband. He doesn’t push inside right away. He just cups you, warm palm pressed firm against your clit, letting you grind down onto the heel of his hand while he kisses you again.
You’re soaked. You both know it. The fabric is clinging, slippery.
He finally slips two fingers inside slow, so slow watching your face the entire time. Your mouth drops open on a silent gasp; he swallows the sound, kissing you through the stretch, through the way your walls flutter around him.
He curls them once gentle and you jerk against him with a broken little moan.
“There,” he whispers against your lips. “Just like that.”
He works you open gradually. No hurry. No frantic pace. Just steady, deep strokes that make your thighs shake, that make wet sounds fill the quiet studio every time he pushes back in.
When you start to tighten when your breathing turns shallow and desperate he pulls his fingers free.
You whine at the loss.
He shushes you with another kiss, then lifts you just enough to shove his sweats down. His dick springs free thick, flushed, beading at the tip and he guides you back down slowly, letting just the head nudge inside.
You both freeze.
Eyes locked.
He’s breathing hard through his nose, jaw tight with restraint.
You sink down another inch then another until he’s seated fully, stretching you so perfectly your eyes water.
Neither of you moves for a long moment.
Just breathing together. Feeling every tiny shift, every pulse.
Then finally he rolls his hips in the smallest circle.
It’s devastating.
You drop your face into his neck, muffling your moan against his skin.
He does it again. And again. Tiny movements that make sparks race up your spine, that make you clench around him helplessly.
“Joong—” you gasp.
“I know,” he rasps. “I’ve got you.”
He starts fucking you in earnest then but still slow. Deep, deliberate thrusts that drag against every sensitive place inside you. His hands roam under the hoodie, over your breasts, down your back, gripping your ass to pull you down harder on every upstroke.
You cum like that quietly, intensely shuddering around him, nails digging into his shoulders, face buried in his neck so the mic mostly catches the soft, broken whimpers instead of full screams.
He follows not long after hips stuttering, burying himself deep as he spills inside you with a long, low groan that vibrates through both of your chests.
You stay like that for minutes after. Connected. Sweaty. Still breathing hard.
He reaches over eventually arm shaking and stops the recording.
The red light dies.
He kisses your temple. Your cheek. The corner of your eye.
“File name,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, “reference_only. Private folder. No one touches it but me.”
You huff a tired laugh against his throat.
“You’re keeping it.”
He tightens his arms around you.
“Every second,” he says quietly. “Especially the quiet parts.”
Months later the title track releases.
In the outro after the last chorus fades, when only soft pads and reversed ambience remain there’s a single, barely-there layer.
A sigh.
A whispered “Joong—”
A slow, wet slide.
A shaky exhale that could be anything.
Most people never notice.
But when you play it for him alone one night curled in his lap, studio dark he presses his lips to your ear right as the hidden sound drifts through the speakers.
“Again?” he asks, voice soft.
You turn in his arms, kiss him slow just like the first time.
