𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍⠀ ✶ ⠀there isn’t much of a reason for you and yang jungwon to end up showering together. convenience, maybe? curiosity? or maybe neither of you needed an excuse in the first place. either way, neither of you seems eager to be the first to step out.
𝟑𝟏𝟔𝟓 🗯️ ✽ ─── ⏾ 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 yang jungwon ⠀ x ⠀ 𝓯 ! rea ´ ꒳ ` 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : established relationship ˒ porn without a plot ˒ shared shower ˒ playful teasing ˒
𝔀𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit sexual content ⋮ 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀, 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 ✿ fingering ˒ creampie ˒ unprotected p in v ˒ handjob ˒ dirty talk ˒ praise kink ˒ handjob ˒ multiple orgasms ˒ bunch of orgasm denial ˒
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬⠀ꉂ (˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
✴️ 。 𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 guess who just survived their exams (no, i never found my calculator ) (ㅅ´ ˘ `) kind of ass but i need to post okay goodbye all 👋
"You're always so eager, aren't you? Always rushing me. I told you—good things take time, baby." Jungwon muttered out, you couldn't even hear half the words spilling out of his mouth.
The shower runs hot, the kind of heat that turns your skin pink within minutes and fogs the glass walls so thick you can barely see your own reflection. Steam curls slowly toward the ceiling, clinging to the dark stone that lines every surface, the matte slate absorbing the light from the single recessed fixture overhead so the whole space feels smaller, closer, intimate. The glass walls on two sides are the only things keeping the steam contained, and water drums steadily against the stone floor, pooling in thin rivers that snake toward the drain. A broad slab of polished stone juts from the back wall, wide enough to sit on, deep enough to lean back against the wet stone comfortably, the surface slick beneath you. The showerhead above is wide and rainfall-style, and the water cascading from it hits your shoulders and runs down your collarbones in warm, uneven streams.
Your hands are tied together.
The lace of your underwear, chosen specifically because Jungwon's fingers caught on the fabric when he peeled them off your hips, is wound twice around your wrists and knotted tight between them, your palms pressed together in front of you like you're praying. The fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, the delicate scalloped edge digging faintly into the underside of your left wrist every time you shift.
Jungwon is kneeling on the stone floor in front of the slab, and two of his fingers are inside you — moving so slowly you could scream. They push in, curl, drag out. In, curl, drag. The rhythm is agonizing, each stroke precise enough to press right against the spot that makes your thighs tense and your stomach clench, but never fast enough, never hard enough, never enough. His thumb works your clit in tight circles that keep you right at the edge of something without ever letting you fall into it. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you open, thumb pressing into the soft inside of your knee.
"Jungwon, I swear to—ugh, shut the fuck up and do more fucking," you whine, and your voice comes out thin, swallowed almost entirely by the steam and the sound of the water.
He tilts his head. His wet hair falls across his forehead in dark, uneven pieces, and his eyes, sharp and impossibly pleased, lift to meet yours. His fingers don't change pace. They don't even stutter.
"Mm, use that mouth for me, pretty girl. What were you talking to me about last night? The new boutique by the Italian restaurant we always head to?" he coos, voice silky and warm, and the bastard is smiling. A genuine, easy smile, like he's asking you about brunch plans while his fingers are buried inside you.
You open your mouth and every syllable you attempt to form collapses into a moan halfway out because his fingers curl again, pressing against the spot that has your whole body bow forward and your tied hands fall against his shoulder for balance. The lace drags wet against his skin. A sound rips out of you that isn't a word, isn't a name, isn't anything but want, and Jungwon watches it happen with the kind of attention that has your thighs squeezing against his hand.
He beams up at you. "Oh, yes! Wonderful, baby. Very interesting, I'll take you there soon."
You splay your tied hands in protest, shoving weakly at his shoulder, but his fingers continue to go in and out of you with that same unbearable, glacial patience. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit on every downstroke now and your legs are shaking, the warm water running down your thighs mixing with everything else, slicking the stone beneath you. "Fuck, just shut up and eat my pussy."
Jungwon's smile changes. His eyes go dark and warm at the same time, and his tongue drags slow across his bottom lip like he's been waiting for you to say exactly that. He pulls his fingers out of you so slowly you feel every inch of the withdrawal. The loss of them makes you clench around nothing, a whine building in your throat before you can stop it.
"Since you asked so nicely," he murmurs, his voice stripped of that playful lilt. Then his mouth is on you.
His tongue is hot and immediately relentless. He licks a broad, flat stripe from your entrance to your clit, gathering every drop of you. His lips close around your clit and he sucks, gentle at first, then harder, and the noise that leaves your mouth is mortifying and you can’t even bring yourself to care. The water from the rainfall showerhead runs down your stomach and over his jaw, pooling where his mouth meets you, warm rivulets mixing with your wetness and dripping from his chin onto the stone slab beneath you, and the added heat makes every stroke of his tongue feel amplified, filthy, too much.
"Oh—fuck, Jungwon—" Your tied hands drop to his head, fingers tangling into his wet hair and pulling, and he groans against you. The vibration rockets straight through your clit and down into your thighs and you grind forward into his mouth without meaning to, chasing the pressure, and he lets you. He lets you ride his face, his tongue flattening so you can drag yourself against it, and the friction is blinding.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his lips still brushing you, breath hot against your soaked skin. "Yeah, pull my hair. Show me how bad you want it." His tongue drags across his bottom lip, tasting you, and his eyes are heavy-lidded and black. "You're so wet, baby. All over my face. Fuck." He says it like he's savoring it. Then he dives back in, and this time his tongue is pointed and precise, flicking rapidly against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth again, and the rhythm he builds is punishing. His hands grip both your thighs now and he forces them wider, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, forearms flexing, the muscle in his shoulders shifting visibly beneath his wet skin. The strength of him is casual and devastating, like he could keep you spread like this for hours and never tire.
Your head falls back against the wet stone wall. The water hits your chest and throat, runs in hot streams between your breasts, and your hips move on their own, grinding against his mouth, chasing the rhythm his tongue is setting, and every time you get close, every time the heat coils tight and rising in your stomach, every time your thighs start to tense and your breathing goes shallow — he slows down. Eases the pressure. Licks you soft and open-mouthed until the edge recedes and you're left shaking and dripping, the orgasm retreating just out of reach, your body burning with the denial of it.
"Jungwon, I'm going to kill you," you gasp, and your voice cracks, your hands tugging at his hair in frustration.
He laughs against you. The vibration of it hums through your clit, your thighs clench hard around his head and he doesn't even flinch — he just keeps you pinned open with those hands, keeps his mouth exactly where it is, keeps laughing while you writhe. "You're not gonna kill me. You're gonna come on my face. I just want it to feel good when you do. I want you to feel it everywhere."
"It would feel better if you didn't keep stopping—"
His tongue flattens against your clit and he drags it up, slow and firm. Your sentence dissolves into a broken, high sound that echoes off the stone walls. He does it again. Each stroke heavy, his mouth so wet with you. Lewd sounds filling the small glass-walled space wet and rhythmic beneath the drum of the water. Then he pulls back again, just his mouth, just enough, and his fingers find you again, two of them sliding back inside so easily it makes your face burn, your body still so wet and open from his mouth that there's no resistance at all.
"You're so wet, baby. So fucking wet for me." His voice is rough now, the teasing lilt frayed at the edges. He fucks you slowly with his fingers while his thumb rubs your clit in tight, maddening circles, and he watches your face with that dark, hungry focus. "You taste so good. I could do this all night."
"Don't you dare."
"Mm, where’d you get all this attitude from? What's the magic word?"
"Jungwon."
"That's my name, not the magic word." He curls his fingers. Presses up. Your back arches off the stone wall and a sound punches out of you that you've never heard yourself make before, loud enough to cut through the drum of the shower. "There it is. That's what I wanted."
He lowers his mouth again. This time he doesn't stop. His tongue works your clit in tight, wet circles while his fingers fuck into you steadily, angled perfectly, pressing that spot on every stroke until your vision blurs. The edge comes back fast, coiling tight and hot in your stomach, spreading down through your thighs, your toes curling against the wet stone, and this time when you arch toward him he doesn't pull away. He moans against you, low and genuine, like he's the one being touched, like eating you out is getting him off — and maybe it is, you realize, because when you glance down past your tied hands you can see his cock, hard and heavy between his thighs, twitching against nothing every time you clench around his fingers.
"Yeah, fuck—come on my face, you dirty girl," he mutters into you. The words vibrate through your clit, and his fingers thrust deep and curl, and his tongue sucks, and the coil snaps.
Your orgasm hits you so hard your vision whites out for a second. Your thighs clamp around his head, your hands grip his hair so tight your knuckles ache. Your hips jerk against his mouth in uneven, desperate thrusts while the pleasure rolls through you in waves. His tongue works you through it, gentle now, lapping at you while you shake and clench around his fingers, and when you finally still, he presses one last slow, open-mouthed kiss to your clit before pulling back.
He looks wrecked. His lips are glistening, his chin wet with you and the shower water, his hair a mess from your hands, and his chest is heaving, each breath shuddering out of him like it costs him something. His eyes are black. His cock is hard, achingly hard, flushed dark and heavy between his thighs, the tip flushed and leaking, and the sight of him kneeling there, desperate and still holding your thighs open with steady hands, makes something raw and hungry twist in your stomach. He got like this from eating you out. That thought alone makes you throb.
"Get up here," you breathe, and you reach for him with your tied hands, the soaked lace stretching between your wrists. "Come here. Come here."
He rises from the stone floor in one fluid motion, water streaming down his chest and stomach, and you grab his shoulder and pull him in. Your mouth finds his and you kiss him hard, open-mouthed, tasting yourself on his tongue, and he groans into it, his hands bracing on the stone wall on either side of your head. You can feel his cock against your thigh, hot and slick. The fact that he's this hard, this desperate, because he spent the last twenty minutes with his mouth between your legs makes you dizzy.
Your tied hands slide down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, his abs jumping beneath your touch, and you wrap your fingers around him. Both palms press together around his cock, the lace binding tight between your wrists. He's slick with precum and shower water, hot and rigid in your hands. He throbs against your palms when you squeeze gently.
"Oh fuck—" His voice cracks. His forehead drops against yours, his eyes squeezing shut. "Baby, fuck—"
"Feel good?" you murmur against his lips, and you stroke him slowly, both hands working him together, the soaked lace dragging against the sensitive underside of his cock with every movement. His hips thrust into your grip involuntarily, chasing the sensation, and his breathing goes ragged and uneven.
"So good, fuck, you feel so good—" He's whining. His voice pitching up on every exhale, his hands fisting against the stone wall, his abs clenching tight with every stroke of your palms. His cock is throbbing in your hands, and you can feel him getting closer — the way he twitches, the way his thrusts lose rhythm, the way his moans fracture into desperate little gasps.
"Such a good cock, baby," you breathe against his jaw, pressing kisses along his throat where his pulse is hammering. "So thick. You're so hot, Jungwon, you're so fucking hot—got yourself all worked up eating me out, didn't you? Loved it, didn't you? You absolutely loved making me come on your face."
A moan rips out of him, his hips jerk forward hard, fucking into your hands, his cock sliding through your grip slick and fast. "Yes—fuck, yes, I loved it, you taste so good, I love it here, I love—"
You can feel it. He's literally right there. His thighs are trembling, his breathing is gone, his cock is twitching constantly in your hands, and his whole body is coiled tight, seconds from snapping.
You pull your hands away. His hips thrust into empty air and a broken, devastated sound leaves his mouth. Before he can protest, you guide him forward, position him at your entrance — you're so wet, so open from his fingers and his mouth, and the blunt heat of him pressing against you makes your breath catch. You hook your tied hands behind his back and pull him in closer, pull him into you, and he sinks inside in one long, deep thrust that steals the air from both of you.
"Fuck—" Jungwon's voice breaks. His arms give out. His chest hits yours, warm and pressed flat against you, and his face buries into your neck and he shudders so hard you feel it in your teeth. "Oh my—shit, baby, you feel—fuck, you're so—"
He doesn't finish the sentence. His hips pull back and snap forward and the sound that comes out of him is broken and beautiful, his length dragging slow and deep out of you before thrusting back in. He’s thick enough that you feel every inch of the stretch, thick enough that your walls clench around him involuntarily and he groans like he's dying.
"Good boy," you gasp into his ear, and his hips stutter and slam forward harder. "Fuck, you feel so good inside me. Such a good fucking cock, baby. So thick. You're doing so good."
He whines into your neck, thrusting into you deep and hard. The water runs down his back and over your joined bodies and every thrust sends it splattering against the stone floor. His hands find your thighs and he grips them, forces them wider apart, opens you up with that casual strength so he can sink deeper and the new angle makes you cry out, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust now, relentless and deliberate.
"Good boy," you gasp into his ear, and his whole body shudders, his hips slamming forward harder. "Fuck, you feel so good inside me. Such a good fucking cock, baby. So thick. You're doing amazing."
"Jungwon—there, right there, fuck, don't stop—" Your hands drag down his back, the lace catching on his wet skin, your nails scraping red lines into his shoulders. He's pounding into you now, the teasing control from before completely gone, replaced by something raw and hungry.
"I won't stop—I've got you, baby, I've got you—" He pulls back enough to look at you, and his face is devastating. Wet, lips swollen, eyes glassy and dark. His forehead presses to yours and his breath comes in ragged pants against your mouth, his hips never slowing. "Am I doing good? Tell me I'm doing good. I need to hear it."
"Such a good boy," you breathe, and you watch his face crumble with it, watch his eyes squeeze shut and his hips lose their rhythm entirely, thrusting into you deep and uneven. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So good. You're so hot, you're so perfect, you're—fuck—right there, don't stop, harder—"
He fucks into you harder, deeper, his hands gripping your thighs so tight you know there'll be bruises tomorrow, his cock throbbing inside you, and you can feel yourself building again, the edge coming back fast, coiling tight with every thrust, every drag of him against that spot, every desperate whine spilling from his mouth.
"Come inside me," you gasp, and his whole body seizes. "Come on, baby, give it to me, you've been so good—"
"I'm—fuck—I'm gonna—" His voice pitches high and breaks. His hips slam forward one last time, deep, burying himself fully inside you, and he comes with a sound that's barely human. The heat of him filling you pushes you right over the edge and your orgasm crashes through you for the second time, your walls clenching around him, your tied hands gripping his back, your body arching against his.
He keeps thrusting through it, riding out every wave for both of you, his breath hot against your throat. The water drums on. The steam fills the glass-walled space. His hands loosen on your thighs and slide up to cradle your hips, gentle now, and he stays inside you while the aftershocks roll through you both in diminishing tremors.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are soft and hazy and his lips curve into that same easy smile from before. "So," he murmurs, voice hoarse and wrecked. "About that boutique."
You stare at him. Then you laugh and shove his shoulder with your tied hands. "We can talk about that after this."
He presses a slow, soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. He reaches down and tugs at the lace knotted between your wrists, working the wet fabric loose with careful fingers until your hands are free, the skin beneath pink and faintly marked from the pressure. He brings your wrists to his mouth and kisses the inside of each one, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Let me wash your hair," he says quietly, already reaching for the shampoo on the stone ledge, and you lean back against the warm wall and let him, the water cascading over you both, the steam soft and close and safe around you.
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
hello elle. are you usa based or nawt because sometimes your writing is very american and sometimes it isn’t (dis not shade cuz ur fics are great either way!!)
-🎐
hi anon 😴 no shade taken at all !!! generally speaking, i've spent a bunch of time on the internet over the years, and i've consumed a ton of media from all over, so i think my writing has kind of absorbed bits and pieces of everything. i don't really write with one specific like dialect in mind, which is probably why it'll sound very american in one fic and then randomly not in another heh ........ also, i am philippines based hihi !
all the graphics look insane i love this theme soooo much 🙈
awwwee omg and im hearing this from the malena with the yummiest themes known to man 🥺 #FIRST and #LAST time using ibis paint (but it was definitely better than canva omfg.) #NEVERAGAIN
HAII OMG I LOVE UR THEME SM (also care to be moots???👀👀)
connie… what if i said… we’re already moots? 🤔 HMMMM also oh my goodness yes thank you sooo much (ignore how i’m seeing this after the theme change but I LOVE YOUR PROFILE AESTHETICCC)
