read reblog repeat

recs by jun/linoguistics. enjoy, and don't forget to show your favourite authors some love! 💖

[junrecs]

This is @linoguistics' reading blog (i.e. the place where I scream about fics). I'm a multistan, so expect to find a little bit of everything here. Enjoy! And don't forget to show your favourite authors some love 💖

Find fics by ...

Group

Ateez (Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho, OT8) BTS (Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, OT7) Stray Kids (Chan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, OT8)

Genre

Angst Crack Fluff Smut MxM

Trope

Brother's best friend Coworkers to lovers Enemies to lovers Established relationship Fake dating Friends to lovers Friends with benefits Idiots to lovers Infidelity Neighbours to lovers Rivals to lovers Roommates to lovers Slow burn Threesome Tsundere Yandere

AU

Alien Android Bartender Camping College Crime Christmas Demons Fairytale Fantasy Ghost Halloween Historical Hybrid Idol Mafia Mythology Office Racing Social media Scriptural Soulmates Supernatural Tattoo artist Vampires Wedding

Length

< 1k 1-3k 3-5k 5-7k 7-10k 10-15k +15k

[minisugakoobies]

Hello! I am here 👀

Sunny, you know who lives rent free in my little head all year round (Day 5!hoseok) if possible (if not Hoseok is good too) 👀 and number 5 

Day 5 Hobi is still in your head? 🥹🥹🥹 I think it's time he did something to earn his keep! (Thank you for asking for him, it makes me so happy 🥰) I kept the holiday theme going for no particular reason.

Prompt: Hoseok + body worshipping

Warnings: killin' it girl hobi is the visual here, sneaking around, fingering, eating it from behind, cum eating, I'm sorry this is so long but hobi likes to take his time so *shrugs*

Previous installments of this Hobi: first second

Minors fuck off!

It's New Year's Eve, and the end of the holiday season. You've worked your last double shift for the foreseeable future. Not only that, but with the tips you've earned tonight, you've finally got the money you need to move into the studio apartment you've been eyeing.

You should go out and celebrate. It's the end of a long, hard year, and your freedom is on the horizon. Maybe that's a little dramatic - living with your fraternal twin brother Namjoon isn't that bad. Most of the time. You just need your own space. And now you can afford it. Yeah, a few drinks sounds good right now. You have to take your victories where you can.

But once you're home and sitting on your couch, all thoughts of celebrating go right out of your head. God, you're exhausted. It's like all the double shifts you've pulled are ganging up on you right now. You flop down in your long-sleeved white button up and your black skirt, too tired to even get up and get changed, and reach for the remote.

Namjoon comes out of his room at the sound of the tv. "Hey, you're home."

Years of telling your brother your schedule and he still acts surprised. "Yes, that's how shifts work. When you're done, you go home."

"Ha ha," Namjoon intones lifelessly. "Listen, Hobi and Kook are on their way over. We're gonna pregame at Tae's before the party tonight."

Oh, right, your brother's going to some New Year's Eve party at someone's house that is sure to be broken up by the police at some point. When he'd found out you had no plans for the holiday, Namjoon had invited you along, but you'd declined, not wanting to start your own rap sheet. You love your brother, but he makes very questionable decisions when it comes to the company he keeps.

Except, maybe, for Hoseok. The mention of his name brings butterflies. The two of you have been sexting like crazy in the last few days, but you haven't seen him since that fateful day that he tasted your cookies. You have been dying to find the time to see him, but even if you hadn't been busy lately, you'd have to do it without your brother finding out, and that's a level of complication that you've been too tired to even begin thinking about.

"I'll alert the press."

"Damn, I was gonna invite you again, but maybe not." Namjoon dodges the pillow you throw at him. "I gotta get in the shower - let them in if they show up, will you?"

You nod, because you always do, and Namjoon leaves you alone. Not five minutes after he's turned on the water, someone bangs on the door.

"Yo, hyung, let's go!" Jungkook calls out. "It's time to - oh! Hey Noona." Jungkook smiles when you open the door, his tone softening. "Is Joon-ah around?"

"He's in the shower."

Hoseok stands behind Jungkook. You allow yourself the briefest of looks, and are met by an intense gaze and a smirk. Fuck.

Acting as cool as you can, you return to the couch, leaving the door open for the others to enter. Jungkook throws himself down on the couch next to you, making you bounce on the cushions, while Hoseok takes a seat in the worn out armchair. Both men are dressed nicer than usual. Jungkook's wearing a black shirt unbuttoned low enough to show off the tattoos on his chest, and black jeans to match.

You allow yourself to peek out of the corner of your eye at Hoseok. He's got on a leather racing jacket over a tight white t-shirt. A single chain hangs around his neck. He's still watching you. Your neck warms in response, remembering your texts, the photos you've shared. Is he thinking about them, too?

"You look nice, Noona," Jungkook says, giving you a once-over "You coming out tonight?"

"This is my work uniform, Kookie," you reply. "But thanks, I guess." It's nice that he thinks you look like you're heading to a party instead of going to wait tables. "And no, I'm staying in tonight. I just want to relax."

"That's a shame," Hoseok pipes up. You can't resist the pull of his gaze now, and glance over at him. The corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. "You've been working so hard lately. You sure you don't wanna come with us?"

For a second, you imagine it. Going out with your brother. Putting up with his friends, just to be near Hoseok. Maybe you find a way to sneak away together, find an empty room, finally be alone. Oh, god, it's so tempting.

But then your brother comes out of his room, Jungkook immediately clowns him about his choice of shirt, and the two start roughhousing, and Hoseok's question is forgotten. By the others, at least. You're still picturing it. But you can't bring yourself to get up and join them. It's too risky, and besides, you really need some sleep.

They head out not long after that, and you're left alone. The apartment is rarely this quiet. Namjoon won't be home for hours, if he even comes home at all. You could take advantage of the solitude and take a nice long bubble bath in the tiny tub in your shared bathroom. But that requires getting up, and that would take too much effort right now. So you melt into the couch and relax, letting yourself zone out as another episode of your show begins.

About an hour later, there's a knock on the door. Frowning, you get up, and peer through the peephole.

It's Hoseok.

Your hand fumbles with the deadbolt.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, opening the door. Hoseok grins at your confusion.

"You gonna let me in?"

That's not an answer to your question, but yes, of course he can come inside. You lock the door behind him and lean against it for strength.

"Did you leave your phone behind, or..."

Hoseok shakes his head. He glances you up and down slowly, and maybe it's just the longing, but you can feel his gaze like a soft caress on your skin.

"Got my phone," he replies, producing it from his pocket to prove it. "I came back for something else."

"I don't have any cookies left," you blurt out. He laughs in delight, and takes a step towards you, and oh, he smells so good, like citrus and spice, sweetness and warmth. Your fingers twitch at your sides, wanting to grab at him, pull him closer.

But you don't need to. He crowds into your space, leaning one arm on the door behind you. "Come on, sweet girl, you know why I'm here." You hold your breath as he presses his lips to your cheek. He kisses down your jawline, and you sigh, and reach for him, letting your fingers curl into the soft leather of his jacket.

"Hobi..." you whisper. He tears his mouth from your neck and kisses you. His lips are soft against yours at first, but when you tug at his jacket, he pushes himself into you, pinning you against the door and stealing your breath away. You've been dreaming about this moment for weeks, and it's finally happening.

"I was hoping you'd come with us tonight," he tells you between kisses. "Thought we could have some fun at the party."

The admission that he was thinking about you makes your stomach flip. "'m sorry, I'm just so tired," you mumble into his mouth, apologizing automatically, but he shushes you, kissing away your concerns.

"Nah, baby, it's okay. Once we got to Tae's, I came up with a better idea. I pretended to get a text and bailed. Told them I was going to link up with this girl I've been talking to."

"Oh," you say, closing your eyes as he trails his mouth down your neck again. His hands are so heavy on your hips - it's all you can focus on. "I didn't know you were talking to someone."

He laughs, a puff of air tickling your skin. "Yeah, that's because we're trying to keep it quiet. Don't want her brother finding out."

You shiver. "You mean me."

"I mean you, sweet girl." He lifts his face, and brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he kisses you. "You said earlier you wanted to relax. I'm here to help."

If that's his reason for being here, he's failed already. Your heart is racing from his touch. Excitement surges through your veins, along with anticipation. The two of you are finally alone.

"So what's your idea, then?" you ask. "How exactly do you plan on helping me?"

Hoseok takes your hand, linking his fingers thought yours. "Let's start by getting you out of these clothes."

You laugh, because it sounds like a line, but he's serious, so you follow him into your bedroom. He turns to face you, and kisses you again. It reminds you of the first time he kissed you, his tongue tapping on your lips again. As your mouth parts to let him in, you feel his fingers unbuttoning your shirt. You let him undress you, shirt and skirt falling to the floor. He removes your tights, rolling them down your legs until he's crouched at your feet.

"Mmm," he hums, staring up at you in your white lace bra and matching panties. "Pretty baby. Is it okay if this comes off?" He stands again, and wraps his hands around your back. You feel him tug on the clasp of your bra.

"Yes," you whisper, nearly breathless with desire. He takes your bra off, and you wait for him to move his hands to your hips, to reach for your panties next, but he steps away instead. A slight wave of disappointment that sweeps through you, causing you to whimper.

Hoseok laughs. "Getting impatient?"

"Maybe." Your response makes him laugh again, and you step towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You've been telling for a while now all the things you want to do to me. Now you've got me here, all alone, so what are you waiting for?"

"Oh, don't worry, baby, we'll get there," he promises, brushing his mouth over yours. "But I said I'd help you relax first and I meant it. So go lay down on the bed for me, okay?"

You don't have to be asked twice. If he's promising to take care of you, you'll let him. You lay on your bed, arching your back slightly as you raise a finger, beckoning him to join you.

Hoseok peels off his jacket. His biceps flex beneath his tight shirt as he reaches behind his neck to take it off, leaving only the silver chain dangling over his bare chest. He reaches for his belt next.

"Not like that, baby. On your stomach for me."

Oh, okay. Realizing where this is heading, you do as commanded. The tension in the room is reaching critical levels as he finishes stripping down to his boxers. You hope Namjoon doesn't come home tonight, because Hoseok doesn't seem to be in any hurry as he joins you on the bed, kneeling beside you.

He runs a hand down your back, then back up. It's a pleasant sensation, and it makes you sink into your bed, humming. "That's it, relax for me," he murmurs, straddling your legs.

He rubs your shoulders first, working at the knots there. Then his hands move lower, rubbing your back, the low curve. He whispers gentle words of encouragement the entire time, telling you how good you're being for him. No one's ever touched you like this. Hoseok treats you like you're something to be treasured - something to be worshipped.

His hands reach the waistband of your panties. He runs his fingers back and forth, playing with the lace. "Is it okay if these come off?"

You hum, nodding into your pillow, and lift your hips to indicate that he can continue. He slips his fingers beneath and slides them town, crawling off the bed to toss them onto the floor. Then he kneels over you again, and places his hands on your ass.

He kneads the skin there, gentle at first, applying more pressure as you hum in pleasure. He's so close to your pussy now that you could scream. He continues at his slow pace, thumbs tracing along the curve of your ass, moving lower, and lower.

When his thumbs finally brush between your thighs, you shiver, and moan. "Hobi... please."

"Shh, it's okay. Let me take care of you."

He shuffles down the bed. You let him part your legs so he can lay in between. He massages your thighs, his thumbs dipping inward, finding the wetness there. He makes a pleased noise, and you respond in a matching tone when his lips brush your shoulder.

"'M gonna touch you now, baby."

He presses two fingers against your pussy lips. You whine, arching your back to urge him to push harder, give you more pressure. He reads your body like a book, responds to every moan, every whimper. You cry his name when his mouth joins his hands. He eats you out from behind, slurping up every drop of arousal that spills out of you, groaning into your throbbing pussy as his tongue dips into you again and again.

You come hard, back bending as you lift your head and wail his name. Hoseok doesn't stop sucking your clit until you push his head away, panting. You feel wrung out, completely spent, and know if you close your eyes again, exhaustion will claim you again and you'll fall asleep.

Hoseok seems to know this, too. "It's okay, sweet girl," he whispers, wiping his mouth as he moves to lay down beside you. "You need your rest. Just ride that wave right into sleep."

"But you - what about..."

"Don't worry about me. I came here to take care of you." Hoseok leans in to give you a soft kiss. "There will be time later for us."

You really hope so.

When you wake a few hours later, he's gone. But there's a text from him, like a note left behind.

Hobi: sweet dreams, baby. next time i'm staying the night

[junrecs]

I LOVE THIS HOBIIII

& as someone who's currently a wiped out couch potato because of an insanely busy week, I both need and deserve this treatment... Hoseok pls 🙏

[multifandomfantasies]

dom!skz & their favorite punishments (18+)

word count: 2.2k

warnings: y/n has a vulva. power play, begging, oral (both giving and receiving), cockwarming, spanking, slapping, pinching, rough sex, piss play, orgasm denial, overstimulation, shoe humping and licking, i.n’s part can read as dubcon, but this is part of a pre-established dynamic. not proofread.

this is pure fiction for entertainment purposes only. minors dni.

bang chan

you might call him old fashioned, but chan really can appreciate a good old spanking.

there’s just something about having you over his lap, the tender skin of your backside warming up under his palm when its harsh strikes make your blood rush. something about the way you squirm and wiggle, but to no avail, there’s no escape when the fingers of chan’s other hand keep your hands crossed at your wrists behind your back. something about the way your voice shakes when you count every slap out for him, breathless and wound up, interrupted by quick gasps for air and then finally - a moan.

chan can’t stop himself from fingering you right after that, releasing your wrists in favor of digging the pads of his boney fingers into your spongey walls while his other hand soothes over your abused ass over and over again. it’s easy for both of you to get lost in this - the lingering sting of chan’s merciless treatment of your ass contrasting the indulgent pampering of your aching cunt leaves you dizzy and chan can’t get enough of the sounds you make for him, unabashedly desperate as he winds you up to your release.

make sure to not cum without his permission though, unless you’re ready to restart counting your spanks.

leeknow

he likes to go for the more mentally draining and - sorry for the wording but - unhinged punishments.

minho’s favorite is probably to have you kneeling for him with a clothespin on your tongue, reciting his rules back to him as slowly and clearly as you can. you sound ridiculous with the pin hindering your ability to articulate and you can’t help but drool pathetically the more you try to enunciate for him.

minho looks so mean when he looks down on you like that and you have to avert your gaze because of the shame and arousal you feel from just being beneath him. it takes a while, but sooner or later you feel yourself going all mindless and floaty, eyes closed as you listen to minho’s steps circling you, still trying to repeat his rules back to him, to be good. minho kneels down to your height when he considers your job well done, one hand resting on your thigh, the other removing the clothespin from your numbing tongue with diligent fingers. you wince when he runs his fingers over the sore muscle and minho’s eyes sparkle.

“aww, are you sensitive? i’ll give you some medicine for that,” he promises with a devious lilt in his words.

he gets up unceremoniously and unbuckles his pants and you obediently keep your mouth open for him, numb but oh so inviting, ready to take whatever reward - or additional punishment - minho is willing to give you.

changbin

i feel like it actually takes a while to get changbin to the point that he truly feels like he needs to discipline you. it takes a day or maybe even two of consistent bratting and selfishness until you finally see that gleam in his eye when he tilts his head at you disapprovingly and you know that you finally got to him.

changbin asks you if you’ve forgotten the most basic training, musing that he needs to start it all over and go back to the very first thing he taught you: sucking dick. changbin is way harsher in his throat training now than he was when you started sleeping together. now that he knows just what you can take he has no reservations pinching your nose closed between his fingers and jerking his hips against your face until you gag for him. changbin groans that he’s close and he pulls out when you get ready to swallow, jerking off into his palm with quick, firm strokes until his release streaks his cupped palm white. your throat is sore but you can’t help letting out a sassy remark to hide the disappointment of not getting to swallow his cum this time. “what? was that my punishment?” you giggle.

“no,” changbin smiles. “this is.”

you don’t even get a second process this before he’s slapping you across the face with his cum, the impact stinging more than it actually hurts you. as your now sticky cheek flushes in the aftermath, it doesn’t take long for the rest of your body to heat up from the humiliation blooming just beneath your skin.

“what?” changbin challenges, mimicking your bratty attitude from before. “aren’t you gonna say thank you?”

hyunjin

as your dom, hyunjin can be strict and he can be demanding - but he would never outright punish you.

why would he? both of you know that he’s above getting his hands dirty to discipline you, especially when he can just make you do it yourself.

whenever you misbehave you can already tell that hyunjin is displeased with your antics, but it doesn’t quite show until the next time you get intimate, when you’re already naked and ready for him, lips swollen from his hungry kisses and cunt dripping with the desperate need for hyunjin’s undevided attention. “you know what you did, baby, don’t you?” hyunjin mumbles and that’s your sign. he wants you telling him exactly what you did wrong, that you understand why it was wrong. then he wants you begging for forgiveness while humping his shoe. if you cum then that’s your problem, both of you know you’re not giving your swollen clit a break until hyunjin accepts your apology. you know that moving away only makes hyunjin press the sole of his boot against your harder, so you accept your fate and obediently move your drippy cunt over the shiny leather just for him.

you can try not to make too much of a mess of hyunjin’s expensive shoes all you want while you’re at it, but you know hyunjin will make you clean up after yourself regardless.

han

one word: overstimulation.

you’re still giggling when jisung cuffs your wrists to the headboard, the dissatisfied crease between his eyebrows not deterring you at all from you delighting in the fact that everything is going your way. it almost feels like a reward when jisung situates himself between your legs, resting your thighs on his shoulders.

“i don’t want to hear another sound out of you,” he huffs and it’s only then when dread begins to set in. because even with the countless times you’ve had the luxury of being at the receiving end of your boyfriend’s talented tongue you cannot remember a single instance where he hasn’t reduced you to a moaning mess within mere minutes. there’s no time to brace yourself when jisung’s soft tongue meets your cunt, gently parting your folds before swirling an indulgent circle around your clit, already sensitive and swollen in your excitement. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and roll your hips up against jisung’s face, a silent plea for him to continue despite your self-control already slipping with just one touch. it doesn’t take him long to get you on the brink of your first orgasm, sucking and licking at you just the way you need him to with the most obscene sounds that only add to your arousal somehow.

you try to hold it together, try to keep yourself from humping against his face in desperate anticipation, try to not moan out it pleasure and agony. it’s a lost battle when jisung renews his efforts between your thighs, two fingers slipping into your sopping cunt and curling upwards, tongue swirling over your clit at a rapid pace that has sparks of please shooting sll throughout your body. “jisung,” you gasp, any worries about the consequences of the smallest sound thrown out the window. “please.”

his indulgence is almost threatening. jisung - usually so teasing, so slow - just keeps up his pace for you, your pussy squelching around his digits as he keeps curling them into you, tongue flattening against your pulsing clit until your orgams crashes over you, tingly and strong.

“two more,” jisung grins while you’re still clenching around his fingers, trying to come down from your high. you can’t help but whimper in response.

“make it three.”

felix

he doesn’t like punishing you, he tells you adamantly, his deep voice sweet like syrup. doesn’t like punishing you at all but now he’ll have to, won’t he? he’s spoilt you too much, given you too many liberties, too much time to form your own selfish thoughts in your silly little head. thoughts that - much to his chagrin - aren’t centered around how much you need him. felix needs to remind you of your place, he fears. that’s why he has to punish you, despite how much he swears up and down he hates seeing you like this.

and so felix makes you edge the whole day, has you send him pics and videos of your arousal coating your fingers and staining your underwear, but never giving you permission to bring yourself over the edge and fully soil your underwear for him. he has you touch yourself in public restrooms and under your desk at work, anywhere you can get away with staying on the edge without getting caught. and then, finally, when you come home to him felix edges you for him some more. first with tender touches of the tips of his fingers, then the teasing flick of his tounge, and finally with just the tip of his cock, shallowly fucking himself in and out if your tight entrance while he makes you play with your aching clit some more, catching your wrist in one hand whenever you get too frantic.

it’s only when he sees tears brimming at your lash line and you insist you’ll never take an orgasm granted again through gritted teeth, that felix deems it a lesson well learned and finally grants you release. and the orgasm that crashes over you like a tidal wave after anticipating it for an entire day makes the torture worth it.

seungmin

another dom that likes to consider himself a fan of the classics.

you’ve forgotten a specific rule of his? he’ll have you writing it out over and over again for up to an hour to see if maybe some repetition will ger it into your head.

you’re not just writing lines of course. you’re also sitting pretty in his favorite skirt, perched in seungmin’s lap with your panties pushed to the side and his thick cock buried between your slick walls.

seungmin doesn’t let you move, even the slightest shift earns you a warning slap to your cheek. he might play with your clit a bit, just to throw you off, harshly laughing at you when your pen slips on the paper or his sudden touch causes you to misspell a word. it’s so clear that seungmin is getting off on this just as much as you are, his cock hard and throbbing inside of you whenever you ask him to let you stop writing, you swear you’ve learned your lesson and you’ll be good now. but he still doesn’t budge until at least an hour has past.

you’ll just have to keep cockwarming seungmin until he decided he can’t take it anymore and fucks you over the table right then and there. seungmin doesn’t care if the ink hasn’t dried yet when he holds your head down against the table, the other hand finding leverage at your waist as he pistons his hips against your ass at a relentless pace, still repeating his rules to you when his cock bullies your cunt until you think you can feel him knocking at your cervix with all that force.

i.n

jeongin knows a little bit of denial, a tap on your ass or a stern talking to would never be enough to get a message across to a brat like you. no, jeongin has learned over the months and years that the only way to teach you a lesson is humiliation.

he keeps you guessing - and you wouldn’t have it any other way - you know you’re getting punished today, but you don’t know with what.

relization sets in soon enough when during a night of partying and drink after drink after drink you tell jeongin you’re going to the bathroom and he tells you “no”. it sets in further he tells you “no” again, until he finally takes you home only to push you up against the wall in your hallway, rough fingers finding their way into your jeans while his other hands presses against your bladder until you’re forced to release everything all over the tiled entryway in a mortifying reminder that jeongin still controls you.

realization sets in when drawn out foreplay turns into your hands cuffed to the headboard, desperate and needy, with the only release jeongin grants you is a pillow that he lets you hump your sopping cunt agaunst while he films your embarrassment for future use.

it sets in when a “you up?” text leads you to where jeongin is clocking in overtime at the studio with the sole mission to relieve his tension with some head, only to be greeted by the other members waiting for you with him, already half hard and ready to inflict their own punishments on you.

[junrecs]

Minho's 🫠🫠🫠 It's so good to see you posting again AJ, your ideas are always so creative!

[minisugakoobies]

Sunny ☀️ can I request “i’ve been thinking about you all day.” With day 5 kinkmas hoseok 😭 he lives in my heart rent free forever and always 💜

B I would do anything for you! Thank you for requesting my Kinkmas Hoseok, he's a favorite of mine too 💕

(This can also be read as a standalone fic!)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: holiday, smut, Brother’s Best Friend!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: references to fingering, holiday dick pic, would you consider sexting at the dinner table to be a form of exhibitionism? Word Count: 957 words Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don't own BTS - they just inspire me **********

Hoseok is your brother’s best friend. He is not supposed to be texting you. He’s definitely not supposed to be texting you photos of his cock - on Christmas Day, of all days. 

It starts innocently enough. You’re seated at your parents’ dining room table, enjoying dinner while your older brother Namjoon faces rapid fire questioning about his (admittedly poor) life choices. About halfway through the main course, your phone vibrates next to your plate.

“No phones at the dinner table,” your mother reminds you with a stern look. You nod, but as soon as she returns to her inquisition, you peek at the screen.

Hobi: i’ve been thinking about you all day

What a coincidence. You have not stopped thinking about Hoseok and your encounter since it happened three days ago. Is ‘encounter’ the right word? What’s it called when your brother’s bestie fingers you in your kitchen, a mere ten feet away from your brother and the rest of his friends?  Your cunt clenches at the memory, and you shift in your seat, setting your phone down with a covert glance to make sure no one saw your reaction. 

You: Is that so?

The next time it buzzes, you force yourself to slowly count to twenty before checking. 

Hobi: yeah

Hobi: i’ve been dreaming about your cookies, pretty girl

You take a sip of your wine to hide your smile. If any of your brother’s other friends ever called you “pretty girl,” you’d scratch their eyes out with your own fingernails. But when Hoseok says it, it makes your body hum in a way you’ve never known before. 

Hobi: i want another taste

With your napkin in your lap, you hide your phone as you type your response.

You: Don’t play with me, Jung Hoseok

Hobi: i’d never do that

Hobi: you trust me, right?

You do, the most out of all of Namjoon’s friends. But given the level of losers that your brother brings around regularly, that’s really not saying a whole hell of a lot. 

Hoseok doesn’t wait for an answer.

Hobi: where are you right now? 

You: Parents with Joon

Hobi: oh shit, right, it’s christmas

Hobi: am i interrupting anything?

You: Just my parents grilling Joon about his five year plan

Hobi: i didn’t know he has one of those

You: He doesn’t

Hobi: rip 

Hobi: you staying there tonight?

You: What’s it to you if I am? Nosy motherfucker

Hoseok sends a string of laughing emojis. You wonder if he’s smiling at his phone the way you are. 

Hobi: easy, pretty girl, i just wanted to know if you’d be around later

You: Maybe

Hobi: maybe you will be?

You: Yeah

You: I mean, I was thinking about crashing here. But if I get a better offer…

The typing indicator in the text chain keeps starting and stopping, and your heart starts to race. 

Hobi: a better offer, huh? 

Hobi: i can make that happen

You: What does that mean?

Hobi: it means, name your price

Heat coils in your stomach. Quickly, you down the rest of your wine, then mutter something about needing the bathroom and bolt from the dining room before anyone can respond. You dash down the hallway and lock yourself in the little half bath beneath the staircase. 

Hoseok waits. You stare at your phone, thinking of an endless combination of letters that you could type, so many possibilities for potential responses that you’re overwhelmed by choice. 

You: I can have anything?

Hobi: yeah pretty girl

Hobi: just tell me what you want

You don’t hesitate.

You: I want you to touch me again

Hobi: fuck 

Hobi: i wanna touch you too

Your knees feel a little wobbly all of a sudden, so you sit on the lid of the toilet, praying that your parents are still so absorbed in interrogating Namjoon that they’ve barely noticed your absence. 

Hobi: got me hard just thinking about it

You can’t believe what you’re typing until you send it. 

You: Show me

Hobi: fuck

Hobi: okay

It’s clearly a hastily-taken shot that he sends you, with his boxers shoved down far enough for him to grip his dick at the thick base. But it makes your mouth water anyway. You can’t stop staring at the veins, the flushed head, the dark little cloud of hair. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience right now, sexting with your brother’s bff in your parents’ bathroom. It’s not a bad feeling by any means. 

Hobi: what’re you thinking pretty girl

You: That's because of me?

Hobi: fuck yeah

Hobi: this is what happens when i think about you

You: Do you think about me a lot?

Hobi: more than i should

You: Which means…

Hobi: all the time

Your breath catches in your throat.

You: I guess it’s only fair for me to come over and help you with it

Hobi: is that what you want?

You jump as a loud knock startles you. Your brother’s voice calls your name through the door. 

“I've been sent to check on you. You good in there?” 

Seems like your time is up. 

“Yeah, I’m just surfing the crimson tide,” you lie. Your brother makes a disgusted noise and you grin, knowing your brother doesn’t ask follow up questions any time you refer to your monthly curse. “Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.” 

You hear him walk away and return to your conversation, firing off two more texts before flushing the toilet and running the sink for good measure. The phone vibrates again in your hand as you exit the bathroom, and you stop halfway down the hall to read his reply. 

You: Yeah

You: I want it

Hobi: then come get it

12 Days of Kinkmas Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

[junrecs]

I'm a simple woman. I see Hoseok and Sunny, I click. Talk about Christmas in Spring because this was the perfect present 🤤

[honeyhotteoks]

early hours (j.yh)

summary: you run into him in the hallway of the hotel, it's late and you're exhausted from the concert, but he thinks you should grab a drink and you can't help but agree

prompt: Hi! Sooo it might gonna be a little similar to into the aurora, but I kinda let my mind wander about what would it be like (probably really really lucky) to bump into yunho after a concert (like you know as a fan) and eventually have a one night stand with him..

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // i hope this is what you were looking for!! honestly it got away from me there in the middle, i'm just also very in love with this man. i hope you enjoy!! <3

warnings: idol!yunho, fem!reader, one night stand, slight injury and brief description of a bloody cut, oral (f receiving), protected sex, semi rough sex, free use kink, praise, *slight* brattiness / teasing, size kink, use of the pet name 'tiny', big dick yunho. please let me know if I missed any.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: idol x non idol, self insert, smut-a-thon with some fluff

word count: 8.8K

my masterlist 

Everything about your night feels absolutely electric, the feeling of the music still buzzing in your skin, your legs exhausted from standing, your hands numb from clapping. Now, laying in your hotel room after the show on top of the

 comforter, you replay the little moments in your mind. It was lucky you were able to go, a ticket given to you from a friend who could not longer make it, a VIP seat almost at the barricade. It had been perfect, it didn’t even matter that you went alone.

Flipping over onto your stomach, you pull your phone back out and scroll through the videos you were able to take during the show – every second of footage shockingly good quality. They’re handsome, of course, but the power in their dancing and the magnetic charisma of each and every one of them is overwhelming, the videos paling in comparison to the feeling of being mere feet from the stage’s edge.

Glancing at the clock, you see that it’s already twelve-thirty in the morning. You have a bit of a long drive to make in the morning, especially if you’re going to make it back to your apartment to get some work done, and you really should get to sleep. If you didn’t start winding down now, you never would.

Despite your sore muscles, you drag yourself off the bed and into a warm shower, washing off the show and trying to relax. You keep your hair dry, already freshly washed and dried that morning, but take your time removing your makeup and refreshing your skin before you get dressed for bed. You’re tucked in already, cozy in your gray sweats and oversized black hoodie, when you realize how hoarse your voice feels after the show.

There’s nothing in the mini-fridge and no little bottles of courtesy water left on the dresser, so you’re stuck with tepid tap water. With a sigh, you pull on a pair of fluffy socks, pick up the small empty ice bucket, grab your room key, and head out into the hall. It’s late, and the hotel is quiet around you, everyone in their respective rooms fast asleep.

The ice machine is around the corner, down the hall, and set back in an enclave next to a vending machine. You fill your bucket up, stifling a wide yawn, before shaking off the sleepy feeling and closing the lid of the ice dispenser. Turning on your heel, you turn the corner and collide directly into a chest.

The man was walking at a good clip, turning the corner himself, so you rock back on unsteady footing, tripping backwards and colliding with the floor hard. The ice bucket in your hand slips, and the sharp metal edge of the lip of the bucket cuts across your palm, flaring a sharp line of pain in your hand.

“I’m so sorry!” the man exclaims, immediately reaching down for you.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head, brushing off some wayward cubes of ice that landed on you, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

When you look up your breath catches in your throat.

“Still,” the man says, crouching at your side and softly gripping under your forearms to help you to your feet, “I was too busy looking at my phone. Are you okay?”

“Uh,” you fish in your brain for anything to say, “yes, yeah, I’m fine.”

Now on your feet, you realize just how tall he is, especially standing so close. His eyes are kind, soft and brown, an embarrassed blush across his cheeks, and he keeps his hands resting on your arms as he looks down at you.

“I really am sorry,” he says again.

The shock of recognizing him is wearing off and you take a small step back, waving him off, “I promise, it’s fine. Thank you for your help though,”

His eyes widen suddenly and he reaches for you, taking your hand in his and turning it over in his wide palm, “Your hand!”

Across the heel of your hand, a deep cut runs across the fleshy base of your thumb where the sharp edge of the ice bucket dragged across it. Blood wells over, smeared across your skin where you skidded on the floor when you fell. Looking at it now, you can feel it, a slow throb of pain radiating out.  

“Oh,” you manage, grimacing.

“Now, I’m really sorry,” he says, and when you glance up at him you can see how red his ears have gone.

“I think it looks worse than it is,” you pull your hand back and smile, “you don’t need to worry.”

His eyebrows are knit together in concern and as you lean down to pick up the discarded ice bucket, he glances down the empty hall, and then back to you. “Let me do that,” he drops down, gathering the ice that has scattered on the hotel floor and dropping it into his own empty bucket to discard.

You rock back on your heels and watch him as he fusses around you, clearly embarrassed, and you take the moment to look him over. He’s much more handsome up close, but without the makeup and styled hair, he looks so real.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you say.

He looks up, meeting your eyes again and smiles, “I’m Yunho,”

“I know,” you say, and now you know you’re blushing yourself.

“Oh,” he helps you to your feet again, “you’re a fan?”

“Kind of,” again, you wish for nothing more than a filter over your mouth.

His eyes widen a bit as he takes in your words, “Kind of a fan,”

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “my friend gave me her ticket, I only knew some of your songs before, but the show was amazing. I’m a fan now,”

He grins, “Oh, well that’s nice, thank you.”

There’s a bit of a pause between you, and you know it’s time to let him off the hook. You should go back to your room and figure out the cut on your hand and go back to your original plan of going to sleep. You should let him get back to his room and whatever his plans were for the evening. You should.

“Well, I should let you go,” you take a step away, and his hand leaves your elbow, “but it was nice to meet you, and really, the show was incredible.”

You start to step away, but he stops you, “Wait, wait,” Yunho steps in front of you, blocking your path back up the hall, “at least let me take care of your hand, I feel terrible.”

“Oh, no I think it’s honestly fine,” you smile, “like I said, it looks worse than it is.”

“You have a first aid kit in your room?” He asks, and something in his expression tells you that he already knows you don’t.

“Not exactly,”

“Then let me patch you up,” his smile is warm and inviting, everything about his presence easy and comfortable, “it’s the least I can do.”

“You travel with a first aid kit?” You raise an eyebrow, but let him take your hand again so he can take a look at the cut.

“No,” he shakes his head, “but our managers do,”

“Fine,” you concede, “I guess it can’t hurt.”

“Good,” he nods and gestures with his arm for you to follow, “my room’s just down here.”

A flutter of anxiety washes through you, the idea of being in his room strange and sudden. You had been minutes from sleep not that long ago, and now here you are walking into Jeong Yunho’s hotel room. It feels a little like a dream, but think that at least in a dream you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself in front of him and cut open your hand, you would have said something cool and flirty, so definitely this is just reality.

He opens the door with a keycard and holds the door open for you, “Come on in,”

You thought he would have a roommate or at least a manager in the room, but when you step over the threshold and the heavy hotel door shuts behind you, you realize that his room is just like yours, empty with one queen sized bed and clothes and travel supplies littered around.

“Obviously I didn’t think I’d have company,” he jogs across the room and grabs the clothes up off the floor, tossing them into an open suitcase and flipping it shut. He sweeps away some wrappers off the counter top too and pushes them into a waiting wastebasket.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you laugh, “you haven’t seen my room.”

It’s cute how nervous he seems to be, and when he’s done clearing away the clutter he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. He looks up, and realizes that you’re still standing in the entryway. “Sorry, here, take a seat and I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He physically steers you into the room and back towards the edge of the bed. He ducks into the bathroom, and you hear him shuffle around, clearly digging through items, before he comes back with a handful of supplies. “This should be good,”

“I appreciate this, by the way,” you tell him, “I’m sure that you’re exhausted after the show.”

 He sits next to you on the edge of the bed and drops the first aid items between you, before taking your injured hand back into his and sweeping a warm wet washcloth across your skin. “Honestly, after a show I can never sleep.”

“Really?”

“I’m always too keyed up,” he shrugs, carefully wiping away the blood away from your hand, staining the washcloth pink, “it’s such a rush of energy and then suddenly nothing,”

“They have a word for that,” you say, hissing slightly when he presses a little too hard across the cut itself.

He lifts the cloth and looks up from his work to your eyes, “Sorry, sorry,”

“I’m good,” you assure him.

He nods and more carefully sweeps the cloth over your skin, “You were saying?”

“Oh,” you run back through the thoughts, the conversation from a moment ago, “Oh! Yes, that feeling, they call it post concert depression.”

“That’s accurate.” He says, pointedly.

“Everything and then nothing,” you nod, “it must be overwhelming for you.”

He shrugs, but you can see he’s nodding too, and as he squeezes out a bit of ointment to apply to your hand he says, “It can be. You go from thousands of fans telling you they love you to your own thoughts alone in a hotel room within an hour. Nothing can really prepare you for how that feels.”

“I’m sure,” you murmur. With a glance around the room you realize how empty it must be, on tour with no one but your crew and group mates, far from home in strange places, sometimes with a heavy language barrier. The words leave you before you can catch them, “It seems kind of lonely,”

His fingers still and he looks up to you, “Sometimes,”

This close, he really is just a boy. Your stomach flip flops and you lean back a bit, blush heating your cheeks again. You can’t quite stop thinking about his beautiful mouth.

You can almost touch the pause between you, the silence stretching out and enveloping you both, but he clears his throat softly and looks back down to your hand, “I think you were right, it’s really not too bad.”

“I thought so,”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” He asks, peeling open a bandaid.

“Not too much,” you shake your head.

He turns your hand over in his, the back of your knuckles resting in his palm, and you realize just how large his are and how small yours looks held in his. “Did you come to the show with someone?” he asks suddenly.

“No,” you shift, angling towards him a bit more to make the position more comfortable, “I came by myself, my friend only had the one ticket.”

              He hums in acknowledgement and pauses briefly before he says, “Did you travel far? By yourself?”

You catch his eyes, your eyebrows raised, “Not too far, and yes. It’s only a three hour drive, I just didn’t want to drive back so late in case I was tired.”

Yunho nods, and refocuses on his task to apply two large bandaids over the cut, his long fingers smoothing out the edges of the adhesive tightly over your skin. He examines his work carefully to make sure it fits comfortably over your hand and murmurs, “There we go,”

You pull your hand back, flexing your fingers and testing out the feeling, “That’s perfect, thank you so much.”

“It was my fault you got hurt anyways,” he smiles, “I’m just glad it wasn’t too bad and I could help.”

You’re pretty sure you should get up and leave, but his smile is kind and warm and you can’t quite make your legs move. His eyes flick over you, his fingertips lingering on your injured hand, and when his ears flush red again he stands and clears his throat, “Well,”

“I should get back to my room,” you interrupt, jumping up and pulling down the sleeves of your hoodie, “but thank you so much.”

He steps back and towards the door, pulling it open and holding out an arm to let you pass through it into the hallway. When he follows you out into the hall and shuts the door he says, “Let me walk you back to your room, it’s late.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, but you smile up at him anyways.

 “I want to,” he assures you.

There’s a pause, and you remember yourself, “Oh, right! It’s this way,” you wave him to follow you and start down the hallway back towards the ice machine, walking in step with each other slowly.

“So,” he glances down at you, “what do you do?”

“I’m a student,” you tell him, “in graduate school.”

“Oh,” he nods, “that’s impressive.”

You shrug, “I wouldn’t say that,”

“I would,” he shakes his head, “I was never very good at staying attentive during school let alone doing post grad. I had too much energy,”

“It makes sense you’re a dancer then,” you note, and with every sidelong glance up at him your stomach flutters. He isn’t flirting with you, he’s just being kind, but he’s still just as charming and it makes you wish for just a little more time with him.

“Mm,” he nods, “I have to be moving, I can’t help it.”

You’ve noticed that already, in the short time you’ve spent together. Even after the long show it seems like he is overflowing with energy. His leg bouncing, his fingers dancing, something unconscious vibrating under his skin.

Now that you’ve turned the corner on the hotel floor, you can see your door just ahead and you wish there was just a little more hallway. “Do you leave soon?” You ask him.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he nods, “you?”

“Sometime in the morning, I think. I have some work to get done tomorrow and shouldn’t leave too late,”

As you approach your door, you slow your steps and he realizes you must be at your room. “This is me,” you gesture towards the door and turn to face him, “thank you for everything.”

He waves your thanks off and smiles, “It’s really the least I could do,” he says again.

“It really was nice to meet you,” you tell him honestly, “I’m just sorry I ran right into you to do it.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he says, and then you watch his expression shift as he backtracks, “well, I’m sorry I knocked you over, but I’m not sorry I met such a pretty girl.”

Heat flushes your face instantly at his words and you glance down, fighting a smile.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he clears his throat and shifts from foot to foot, “I’m sorry, it’s late and I’m clearly making a bit of a fool of myself.”

 You laugh immediately, looking back up to him, “Hardly. You’re actually very charming, it’s kind of annoying.”

He laughs, covering his mouth with one hand and taking a step away, “I’m annoying you, am I?”

“No, I just meant,” you sigh, covering your face with your hands, “I really just don’t think before I speak, I swear.”

“y/n,” your name on his lips sends a chill through you and you look up at him, “Don’t be embarrassed, I like it.”

“You like me calling you annoying?”

Something passes over his face at your words, a shift, and he says, “I do, it’s cute.”

Your stomach clenches, the conversation drifting into a new space you feel wholly unprepared for. You cross your arms, tucking your hands away and looking up to him, “You’re not what I expected,”

“No?” He grins, leaning on the wall next to your door.

“You don’t seem like an idol,” you explain.

He shrugs, “We are just people,”

“I’m getting that,” you say honestly. At a beat between you, you sigh, “How late is it?”

He pulls his cellphone out of his sweat pants pocket and checks the time before quickly returning it, “Almost two,”

You sigh, nodding and reach into your pocket for your keycard, “It’s late… I should go,”

He nods and watches as you swipe your card over the door lock and prop open the heavy door. Something is stalling you, pulling you back into the hall, but he makes the leap for you. He reaches out and gently touches your forearm, “Maybe I’m feeling bold because it’s so late,” he says and you look back to him, “but I’ve enjoyed talking to you, if you’re not too tired maybe we could have a drink or something?”

“You want to have a drink with me?” You can’t help the look of shock that crosses your face.      “Well, yes,” his hand rests more comfortably on your forearm now, his thumb stroking your skin softly, just once, “if you want to.”

You shift back towards him, the door closing behind you now that you’re no longer propping it open, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he nods.

“Do you want to have a drink with me because you want to have a drink with me, or because you don’t want to be alone after the show?”

His eyes flick away, and you can see him think before he looks up and says, “Can it be both?”

His honesty makes this easier, knowing that he wasn’t feeding you a line just to be a flirt or trick you into something. You smile, “Yeah,”

“What about you?” He asks, taking a step towards you and closing the space between you, “If you say yes is it because you want to have a drink with me, or because you’re alone in a strange hotel room?”

He has a warm, flirtatious smile on his lips, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the proximity between you both and between you and the door behind you. “Both,” you answer. It’s entirely possible you’re reading into things, but it’s also entirely possible Yunho is making a move and this night might end with him inside you. Warmth curls in your belly at the thought.

“So, what do you say?” He shifts a little closer, and you press a hand to the center of his chest to keep him where he is.

“Let’s have a drink.” You agree, “But I don’t have anything inside.”

He steps away and thinks a moment, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll come back,”

“You’re not going to disappear on me, are you?” You tease with a sly smile.

“Definitely not,” he squeeze your arm softly before he drops it, “I’ll be right back.”

 He steps back and you move to open your door again. His eyes flick up to the number on your hotel room door and you watch him silently repeat the number to himself and commit it to memory. He tells you he’ll see you soon, and you watch him jog down the hallway in the direction of his room.

Once he disappears and you slip back into your own room things feel suddenly incredibly surreal. Meeting him like this felt like meeting anyone, bumping into a stranger and making a connection just like you would at a bar. The ten minutes between your door closing and Yunho knocking is fast, and you spend it picking up your space and cleaning up the bedding, quickly brushing your teeth, fluffing your hair and discarding the oversized sweatshirt.

His soft knock on your door has you jumping out of your skin, but you pull the door open and can’t help but laugh. He’s holding up a six pack of obviously cold light beers, and two bottles of soju, an incredibly cheeky grin on his face. He’s a flirt, then.

“Come in,” you wave him in, and he crosses by you to set the drinks on the desk and turn back to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that his eyes flick over you, your body more on display in a fitted tank top now that your sweatshirt was off.

“I’m not sure what you like,” he pulls a beer from the sleeve and holds it out to you, “but this is pretty light,”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, popping the top off the beer and discarding the twist off in the trash, “where did you get this anyways? It’s two in the morning.”

“The downstairs bar is open until three,” he explains.

“Ah,” you take a swig of the beer and watch him follow suit. It’s easier to watch him now that you both have acknowledged the heat between you, and you find yourself appreciating a lot of little things. His hands are large, making the bottle in his grip seem smaller. You find yourself staring at the soft edge of his jaw when he tips his head back for a drink, and noticing the broad set of his shoulders when he stands at his full height.

Yunho takes a few more sips of his drink, and once he’s had about a third of his beer, he reaches for a bottle of soju to mix in a shot. You hop up from your perch on the dresser and reach out to him, “Oh, wait, let me.”

His brow is a little furrowed, but he hands the unopened bottle of soju to you. “Okay?”

“I’m not a very seasoned drinker,” you explain, “but I do have a party trick or two. I think everyone should,”

With practiced hands you flip the bottle quickly, the alcohol inside spinning quickly into a whirlwind. Taking the neck of the bottle in one hand, you tap your opposite elbow firmly on the base of the bottle before twisting it cleanly around in your hands, all the while untwisting the cap. You present the open bottle with a flourish, the soju still whirling inside, and take a small playful bow. He’s grinning, and he claps at the trick, “That’s expertise,” he says.

“In opening bottles, maybe,” you pass it over to him so he can add his shot, and then add one to your bottle too, “in drinking, not so much.”

“Me either,” he confesses, “a drink here or there, but I’m not really one to overdo it.”

“You’re probably too busy,” you take a drink, and sidle closer to where he sits on the edge of the hotel room’s desk.

He shrugs, “it’s that, but also it makes your body feel terrible. If I don’t have a clear head it shows up on stage.”

“That makes sense,”

“Yeah,” he takes another drink, but you can see he’s already slowing down, “we have to be very conscious about our health, so drinking occasionally is fine but I don’t normally do it.”

“But you wanted to drink with me?” You ask, turning towards him more fully.

He smiles, “I thought it might be weird if I asked you to just keep talking in your room at two in the morning. Drinks are a good excuse,”

His honesty strikes you again, “I think I still would have said yes.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow.

You nod, taking another drink, and say, “Maybe I’m reading this wrong, but I don’t think you’re here just to talk, right?”

Yunho is quiet, his eyes flicking over you, “You’re very direct.”

“I’ve been told,” you smile, shrugging.

“I like direct,” he clarifies.

“Yunho,” you murmur, and you watch his eyes flicker at the sound of his name, “what do you want?”

He swallows, takes another drink, and swallows again, his throat tight, “If you’re saying yes, then I’d like to fuck you.”

The bottle in your hand slips a little and you grip down on it to keep it from falling, Yunho watches and smiles at your reaction. It cannot be overstated that this is not how you thought the night was going to go.

“Yes,” you decide not to think.

His hands are on you in a moment, one braced on your hip and the other cupping the back of your neck so he can drag you forwards along the desk and crash his mouth into yours. You like direct too.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he breaks the kiss, “I’m sorry, I was going to be cooler about this, but you’re very cute.”

You hum a laugh against his mouth, feeling his smile, and shake your head a little when you break away, “I really don’t think we have to pretend if it’s just tonight,”

“Yeah?”

“Be yourself,” you kiss him again, “I’ll be myself. It’s only one night, so why be nervous the whole time?”

“I like you,” he grins, “I’m really glad I met you,”

“Ran into me,” you tease him.

“Ran into you,” he nods, “now come here,” The way he kisses is fast, firm, and insistent, his tongue dipping into your mouth and running along yours, a huff of warm shared breath between you. His hands hold you perfectly, fingers applying perfect pleasure as he squeezes you and it sends a dizzy rush through your brain when you realize just how small you are in his grip.

When you shudder a moan against his mouth, heat pooling in your core, he pulls back and stands up. Moving in front of you, he hooks his fingers in the top of your sweats and yanks down, taking your underwear with them. You brace your hands on the desk to lift your hips up so he can pull them all the way off and toss them to the side.

“Arms up,” he says, soft and firm, when he starts to pull your shirt over your head, and you comply immediately.

You can see the outline of his hard cock through his own sweatpants, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. He takes a step back to regard you and smiles, reaching down and catching one of your feet in his hands, still wearing your fluffy, colorful socks. “These are too fucking cute,” he teases you, and you blush.

“Stop it,” you laugh.

“I don’t know,” he drags a hand up your calf, under the hook of your knee, the top of your thigh, “Maybe you should leave them on, they’re kind of hilarious.”

“I clearly wasn’t expecting to get laid,” you start to say, but when his fingers dip down and brush your inner thigh, mere inches from your core, you gasp a breathy inhale.

“Still cute,” he smirks, and before you can retort he’s on his knees.

Looking down at him sends a rush of instant heat through you, and you barely register the fact that he’s slipped your socks off now and tossed them aside, leaving you fully naked and exposed to his gaze. His hands grip your backside and drag you forward on the desk, lining your hips up perfectly with the edge, and he pushes your thighs open to move forwards between them.

He’s moving fast, rocketing past teasing kisses and harmless groping, but you don’t seem to care. There’s a time clock on the night, and you’re sure once he’s had his fill he’ll leave and move on with his tour and his life, but you’re oddly okay with it. He dips low, hooking your legs over his shoulders, “Lay back,” he instructs.

You ease back on the desk, still staying propped up on your forearms so you can look down between your legs and see the dark mop of his hair, but providing him the access that he needs. He presses close to the apex of your thighs but doesn’t quite touch you, softly he blows a stream of cool air over your exposed clit and you jolt. “You have the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen,”

His words make you arch your back just slightly, involuntarily, and you let out a breathy moan, “Oh my god,”

“Do you want my mouth on you, pretty girl?” he asks, pressing wet kisses to your inner thighs.

An image of his mouth flashes in your brain, his plush bottom lip, his perfectly curved cupid’s bow. The way his tongue juts into his cheek when he’s teasing. You’re surprised at how easily you beg for him, “Please, please,”

He chuckles, bringing his arms under your thighs now and reaching around to brace your hips. His hands settle over your stomach and lower ribs, and he presses firmly down with his hands when he realizes you’re still propped up and not laying flat like he wants you. You drop back, letting your head rest against the hard desktop, the cool chill of the wood adding to the prickling sensation of goosebumps across your body.

“Say please again,” he tells you, and your words catch in your throat when he licks a firm stripe up your slit.

“P-please,” you shudder, and he listens.

He devours you, hungry for every drop of your slick arousal, and desperate to hear every little pant and moan you make when he focuses on sucking softly at your swollen clit. He dips his tongue inside you, hot and pulsing, and you groan, trying to rock your hips but finding that his hands are holding you exactly where he wants you.      

When he delivers a sharp suck, your brain whites out, “Fuck, fuck,” you’re reaching for something to grab, to hold, and you desperately grip one of his hands. He twists it, catching your hand in his much larger one, intertwining your fingers and keeping it pressed to your stomach as he works you.

“There you go,” he pants when you arch against his tongue, flicking your clit perfectly from side to side.

“Yunho,” his hands grip down on you when you say his name, and pleasure curls tight inside you, ready to burst. “Yunho, I can’t,”

He doesn’t respond, simply works his mouth against you faster, firmer, his nose bumping your clit. Your free hand laces into his hair, gripping tightly and he groans against your heat. Your hips are bucking softly, chasing the sensation, and he shifts the tempo of his tongue to match your needy thrusts and perfect the pace you need. It’s seconds before you’re about to fall over the edge, your thighs shaking and your legs tightening around him. You pant his name again, and he presses closer, the added pressure tipping you over into a tidal wave.

The sound that leaves your lips is desperate, a crying choke of pleasure as you arch back, legs locked tightly around him, and your hand slipping out of his hair to come down hard on the table and brace yourself there. When your moans turn to soft whimpers, he slows, lapping at you softly through your aftershocks and pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

“Oh my god, you’re good at that,” you manage, recovering your breath.

He leans back, untangling his hand from yours and gently unhooking your legs from his shoulders. He holds you up, since you had wriggled off the edge of the desk a bit and helps ease you up to a sitting position again. He looks overwhelmingly pleased with himself, a wet glisten of your arousal across his mouth and chin. His hair is mussed from where you grabbed it, his cheeks flushed pink, and you want nothing more than to tackle him and kiss him soundly.

Yunho stands to his full height and offers you a hand, “Let’s move somewhere more comfortable,”

“Yeah,” you nod, a little breathless still.

He steers you to the bed, tipping you backwards so you can collapse onto the mattress and you watch him as he undresses. He pulls the loose tour t-shirt over his head and you can’t help but admire him, watching him carefully as he moves to shuck off his sweats. He’s incredibly lean, taut sinewy muscles that jump with every flex of his hands or shift of his body. Bruises litter his shins and knees, and you catch more along his elbows and forearms, a collection you suspect is from how hard they dance.

When he drops his boxers, you can feel your eyebrows jump up and he laughs at your expression. “What?” he teases.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “you know exactly what.”

He blushes, his ears running red, and he clears his throat a little awkwardly before moving forwards to kneel on the mattress between your open legs. He sweeps a broad hand up your thigh, kneading your skin softly and says, “You still good?”

He’s nervous, you realize. You suspect that in his past he’s had a few negative experiences given his expression, girls who maybe shied away or feigned some excuse to end things early. Despite his intimidating size though, you’ve never wanted anything more, and you can feel the low throb of your core return as you look at him.

“I’m still very good,” you assure him, reaching up a hand.            

His expression clears slightly, “Yeah?”

You change tactics, shifting up fully to a sitting position and reaching up to catch the back of his neck and pull him down, “Don’t be so full of yourself,” you tease him, hoping to lighten the tension, “I can take you just fine.”

He smirks, falling over you easily and holding himself suspended above you, “you think so?”

You really hope you can, but you double down, “Easy.”

The head of his cock connects with your entrance suddenly with a shift of his hips and you jerk, surprised at the sudden sensation, and he pushes forwards just enough to slip the head of him inside you, a hungry sly smile across his face now that he knows you’re back to playing. He pulls back when you gasp, a laugh on his lips and shakes his head, “You’re not ready yet.”

You want him so badly it makes you feel needy, a squirming urge to rock yourself against his cock until you come or until he fucks you into the floor, and you push him back with a hand on his shoulder just slightly so you can better meet his gaze, “Yes, I am,”

He smiles down at you, pleased with your bratty insistence, and shifts back up to kneel between your open legs again. He pulls you up by your hips, dragging your body into a better position, and for a moment you think he’s about to throw hesitation out the window and do it, but he doesn’t. He strokes himself with one hand as he looks down at you, and then lines your hips together, positioning you so he can let the hard straight length of his cock rest on top of your mound.

From here you can feel the hot length of him, from the base against your pubic bone to the tip that just covers your navel. Yunho squeezes your hips in his hands as he looks down at you, “You really think you’re ready for this, tiny?”

The nickname has your muscles clenching around nothing, your fingers tightening in the sheets, and a breathy groan slips out of your lips.

“Oh,” he smiles, “you like that, don’t you?”

Before this minute you didn’t, but here with him above you, proving with every inch of his body just how much larger he is than you? You want nothing more than to be caged in by him and used just the way he wants you. “Yes,” you manage, “please,”

“Please?” He chuckles, sliding back.

You nod, your hips jerking up and trying to catch some friction against your clit as he drags his cock back off you.

He shakes his head, “I’ve got to work you up to it, tiny.”

You want to respond, you want to say something teasing and clever, but the words die on your lips when he dives two of his long fingers inside you. He reaches the tender soft spot inside you easily, something that you could only hit just right with your favorite vibrator, but he catches it with ease and flicks his finger against it perfectly, his thumb landing on your clit to deliver punishing circles.

Your hips work against his hand, grinding down desperately for more pressure and he delivers it, picking up your needs immediately.

“Please,” you blink up, catching his eyes, “please fuck me,”

He shakes his head, “Only if you come again,”

“But,” you start to say, but a firm push of his hand and the addition of a third finger has you choking back a moan and arching into his hands.

“Are you close, pretty?” his low voice sparks pleasure up your body.

All you can do is whine a yes, nodding as you press your eyes shut and let the sensations roll over you. Heat flushes your chest, spreading a blush up your neck and face, and all you can hear is the wet sounds of his fingers working your sopping core. He hums softly in approval and it sends you over again, wrenching your body tight and up, your hips raised and bucking as you crest into your second orgasm.

Yunho’s wide palm comes down quickly over your lower stomach and he presses you down hard to force your hips back to the mattress and he continues pumping his fingers, holding you steady through your release. You barely register it when his fingers leave you, your head spotty and dazed, but you come back to yourself at the feeling of his cock nudging your clit.

“Wait, wait,” you’re panting, clearing your vision with furious blinks, “condom?”

“Shit,” he backs up immediately, “of course, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,” you shake your head, “I’m on birth control, we should just… we don’t really know each other,”

He hops off the bed, reaching down for his discarded sweatpants and searching through the pockets. “No, no,” he tears open the foil packet in his hands, “I have one, I just got a little carried away.”

“Perfect,” you sigh.

He rolls the condom over his length, checking the tip and smoothing down the base to fit snugly around him before tossing the empty packet back over the side of the bed and returning to his original position.

“Ready?” He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance again.

“Yeah,” you grip his shoulder, “yeah, I’m good.”

He nods, and seems focused. He takes one of your knees and presses it up, folding you back and opening you up wider, and then lines up his hips perfectly. “Fuck,” he breathes, shifting forwards and pressing into you just a bit, “you’re so tight,”

The press of him already is overwhelming, and it’s no longer his length that you’re focused on but how thick he feels, stretching you wide and sending a hot flush of pleasure up your chest. “You feel,” you stutter out, unable to finish your thought.

His hips jut forwards again and you whine, his forehead dropping against yours for just a moment as he holds himself controlled and steady, “Tell me,” he prompts you, moving in deeper.

“It’s so much,” you manage, and he smooths the damp hair back from your face to get a good look at you.

“Too much?”

“God, no,” you didn’t know it could feel quite like this.

“Yeah, tiny?” He sinks in further and groans.

“Please,” your hands shift down and you pull him closer, your nails digging in to his firm backside, “more,”

He’s losing his composure now, and his eyes roll shut when he finally thrusts forwards more sharply, sinking his entire length inside you and bottoming out. He’s stretching you fully, filling every little warm place inside you that you didn’t even know you had, and fleetingly you wish you could feel him more fully, no thin latex separating your warm wet walls from him.

“Fuck,” he starts to roll his hips, fucking you softly as he works your body up to taking more, “tell me how you feel, baby,”

“Full,” you answer immediately, “I can feel you everywhere,”

“God,” he chokes, his hips stuttering, “can you take more?”

“Yunho,” you catch his cheek in your hand and bring his eyes to yours, “I need it,”

“Yeah, tiny?” He teases, thrusting just a little more firmly.

The need inside you for more is deep though, and you can’t wait any longer. “No, Yunho,” you level him with your look, clenching your muscles tight around his hot length, “Fuck me, do whatever you want to me, I just,” you search for the right words, “just please,”

He answers with a firm thrust, and when he watches your eyes roll back and hears the moan that leaves your lips he understands. “Is that what you need?” He holds you firmly and ruts into you, “you like it harder?”

You’re sure you answer him because you hear him laugh softly in response, but your mind is hazy and disconnected, nothing but the feeling of his thick heat hitting every place you need it to, bringing you up faster than ever.

“Yeah, pretty?” He’s everywhere, collapsed over you and desperate, one hand on your thigh to hold you open, the other locked now in your hair, his breath hot over your damp skin, his pace never faltering, “you just want me to use you?”

Your body arches deeply, shifting the position of him inside you and you choke a whine out, gripping onto him tightly, “Please, please,” you can’t stop.

“Shh, shh,” he kisses you hard, his hands holding you roughly, “you’ll take what I give you,”

You nod against him, unable to find anything but pleasure and the tight feeling inside you. He dips his thumb into your mouth, running the pad of it along your tongue, and you suck his digit gently, before he pulls his hand back and firmly flicks his wet thumb over your pert nipple.

“God, Yunho,” you thrust up to meet him, your hips connecting fast and firm, “I’m- I’m,”

“Come for me,” he directs, “come and I’ll fill you up,”

Your brain shorts out, and the hot sensation that you’ve been chasing turns stifling, crashing into you and turning you into a quivering mess, your muscles locked and jerking against his hold as you come hard and fast.

He tumbles over behind you, the feeling of your walls pulsing down on his length sending him into a spiral, and you hear him curse, panting, losing his grip on you and fucking into you desperate and fast until he comes, collapsing over you and pressing your cheek into his sweaty chest.

His heart is beating hard and fast against your cheek, and it takes a moment before you both recover and he can ease himself off of you, out of you. He discards of the condom in the waste basket, and turns back to you, realizing you haven’t so much as moved an inch since he left you.

“Hey,” he sighs, sweeping a hand through his damp hair, “you okay?”

“So perfect,” you sigh.

He smiles, “Can I get you anything?”

Your limbs start to come alive again, and you ease yourself up into a sitting position against the headboard, pulling the sheets over you, “Water?”

“On it,” he slips his boxers back on and returns with a glass of cool water.

You’re not sure what his next move will be, staying or going, but you know what you wish he would do. He surprises you when he collapses back onto the bed next to you with a sigh, resting a wide hand on your thigh and squeezing you, “You’re amazing,” he says.

“You did all the work,” you chuckle, “I feel like I should be telling you that.”

He shakes his head, “No, it was great,” you look down at him and his eyes are gently shut, his mouth open softly as his breathing evens out.

You watch him for a few minutes, and it’s clear he’s not going to be moving any time soon, he looks spent, a second away from sleep, and judging by the late hour you figure it’s better to let him stay if he wants to. You grab your phone off the nightstand and start to set an alarm.

“Yunho,” you murmur, prodding his shoulder gently, “what time do you need to be up?”

He hums, shrugging.

“Hey,” you nudge him again, “you can sleep here if you want, just tell me what time to get you up.”

“Nine?” he blinks his eyes open, “I can go if you’d be more comfortable,”

“No, no, stay,” you ease down into the covers, and he shifts to slide in beside you, “I’d like it if you did.”

“Good,” he sighs again, reaching across the empty space between you and pulling you back into his chest. He snuggles into you, spooning you close and relaxing against you, “because I really hate sleeping alone.”

Warmth heats your chest, and you finish setting the alarm before you relax back into his embrace, “Me too.”

You sleep, but you wake twice before the alarm, the first time to Yunho’s hips rolling against your backside, his cock hard again and straining against his boxers and looking for friction. He fucks you soft the second time, spooning you still and holding you open, gentle thrusts and his fingers massaging your swollen bud until you come gentle and easy against the warm plane of his chest.

The second time he’s gone, and you think for a moment that he’s left entirely. You’re not necessarily surprised, but he had seemed nice enough to at least say goodbye after fucking you twice and holding you all night. 

The sound of your hotel room door makes you jump, and you pull yourself up, holding the fluffy white comforter to your front and running a hand hastily through your hair.

Yunho’s back, freshly showered and already dressed for the day in stylishly baggy light wash jeans and an oversized blazer. “Oh,” he smiles, “you’re up!”

In the light of day, seeing him cleaned up like this has the reality of the evening crashing into you sideways. You had made fun of him, flirted with him, begged him, fucked him, and now you’re still sitting naked in front of him like a mess while he’s looking like what he is, an idol.

“Hey,” you manage.

He holds up a hand and you see now that he has a coffee cup and a small white pastry bag, “I brought you some breakfast,”

You’re really not even sure what to say he’s being so sweet, but you smile, watching as he drops the bag and coffee cup off on your side table. “Thanks,” you take the coffee happily, and he pulls a few packets of sugar out of his pocket.

“I didn’t know how you like it,” he says, a little sheepish, “but I didn’t want to wake you,”

“No, no, this is perfect, thank you so much.”

“I have to get going,” he sits on the edge of the bed, turned towards you, his hand resting on your knee with such easy familiarity, “but I wanted to make sure you got up too, I know you have a long drive back.”

Something inside you melts, “Thank you, Yunho, that’s so nice of you,”

“I also,” he shifts, a smile on his lips, “I had a lot of fun last night.”

“Me too,” you nod, resting your hand on his.

“It was really nice getting to know you,” he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his other hand coasting down your bare back.

You sigh against his lips. It had been a long time since you had had a soft morning like this, and the feeling of his hands on your skin again and his warm kiss on your lips has you feeling weightless and dizzy.

Yunho leans back and squeezes your knee gently, “I really do have to go,”

“It’s okay,” you smile, “I get it, but yeah, I had a good time too.”

Yunho takes your hand in his and turns it over, “How’s this feel?” he nods his head towards your injured palm.

You had honestly forgotten about it, “Completely fine, don’t worry,”

“Good,” he drops a kiss to your palm with a teasing eyebrow raise and stands, smoothing down his jacket.

“Well,” you would get up and see him to the door, but you blush and hold the comforter a little higher over your chest, “have a safe rest of your tour,”

“I will,” he nods, “you have a safe drive,”

You nod, and you expect him to go, but he shifts, glancing at the floor for a moment and then back up to your eyes. “I put my number in the bag,”

The sentence doesn’t quite make sense to you, “You what?”

“My number,” he explains, looking at you a little more clearly as if that will explain, but he says, “if you want,”

“Want to what?”

He laughs at your expression, “Text me, if you want to message me sometime.”

“Oh!”

“Only if you want,” he says, and when you start to open your mouth to respond he gestures for you to stop, “otherwise we can leave it here. Either way, I’m glad I met you.”

“Me too,” you nod earnestly.

His phone dings in his pocket and he sighs, his eyes closing in annoyance for a moment, “Okay, that’s my cue. Drive safe,” he says again and starts to slowly head for the door, “and maybe I’ll talk to you,”

“Maybe,” you respond, noncommittal but you already know your decision.

He smiles, “Okay,”

“Okay,”

He pushes himself towards the door with a groan, “Alright, I’m going. You look pretty in the morning by the way,”

A laugh breaks out of your chest, “Thank you?”

“I just thought you should know,” he shrugs, flirtatious and teasing, but with the sound of the door opening and swinging shut you know he’s gone.

It takes you about three seconds to tear the bag open and see if he was being serious. Tucked into the pastry bag, nestled on top of the wax paper, is a little card with his number written out and his name, Jeong Yunho, as if you wouldn’t remember his name.

You key it into your phone immediately, a message open and waiting. You bite your lip, nervous and unsure of what to say, but then you hear his parting words ringing in your ears again. You type the message out and send it immediately, not pausing long enough to think too hard or overanalyze the decision.

You look handsome in the morning too, just so you know.

You toss the phone aside and leap out of the bed, needing suddenly to walk far away and clear your head. You pull the hotel robe around yourself and sigh into your hands, recounting the night and the way his soft sweetness made your stomach flip flop. You start to walk towards the bathroom, ready to start a warm shower and clear your head, when you hear the soft ding of an incoming message, and you can’t help but smile.

[junrecs]

Thank you for feeding my delusions, the meal was delicious 🫶

[honeyhotteoks]

an innocent man doesn't stand a chance (j.yh)

summary: it's halloween and your boyfriend has a fantasy. he wants to be the masked killer and for you to be the final girl, and he wants you to run.

note: this was written in a feverish haze of ghostface yunho brainrot, you can thank this fanart and this edit for making this one about yunho, but i have to give all credit for the idea to the nsfw audio creator augustinthewinter who's masked hookup audio killed me. also please read the warnings, this one is potentially very triggering.

warnings: ghostface!yunho x final girl!reader, boyfriend!yunho, hard dom!yunho, girlfriend!reader, sub!reader, sadism, masochism, knife play, primal play/chasing, threats of violence, heavy cnc that really looks like noncon because part of the play is that he wants her to struggle and say no BUT there are consent checks explicit throughout, rough sex, fingering, gloves, masks, breath play, impact play, mirrors, finger sucking don't look at me, dry humping, clothed sex, ripping off clothes, size kink, ass play, lots and lots of degredation including use of sl*t/wh*re/fvcktoy/c*cksleeve, yunho is seriously mean in this i'm not kidding, fear, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie, subspace, there's more i'm sure but this one is a doozy. also lots and lots of aftercare!! after a scene like this i had to write detailed aftercare and confirmation of limits, so that's there too! yunho is v sweet when not in the zone.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: smut and more smut, no plot in sight

word count: 7.9k

The party is in full swing when you arrive. The house bumping with music and every corner decorated for Halloween. You’re late enough that you can just slip in through the back door, and that was the plan from the start. Yunho arrived first, nearly two hours ago, and made excuses for why you were late, for how you might not even make it to the party. No one would see either of you come or go together, so when you both disappeared to play your game no one would ever know. You had come up with the plan in bed, whispered fantasies and what-ifs between the sheets as he rewarded your willingness to try something new with his tongue. 

His fantasy is special, and to do it right you can really only do it on Halloween night. 

You weave through a throng of drunk acquaintances, searching the crowd for him, but it’s not as easy to find him as you thought it would be. You’re not sure how a six foot something Ghostface killer could hide from you in the crowd of your friend’s house party, but no matter how many rooms you check you can’t see him. Nervousness pits inside you as you check your phone and see nothing. He could be caught up with friends, he could be changing his mind, but you can’t tell if you can’t find him. 

Adjusting your very 90s costume, you dart away from the kitchen where a group of your girlfriends are pouring shots and weave your way into the back of the house. Maybe you can call him? Text him? Would that completely ruin the mood of psycho killer stalking? Maybe, but it’s been forty-five minutes and you haven’t so much as seen a sliver of his mask. 

You flick through your phone, checking for any new messages, and then scroll to find Yunho’s contact card in your phone. Your finger hovers over the call button as you lean against the quiet hallway wall, and then in your peripheral vision you see it. 

A dart of black, something looming, and when you finally turn your head, you see him. Ghostface, standing wide and imposing in the hall, blocking any way past him and back out into the party. 

“Spooky,” You sigh, tucking your phone away. 

Silently, Ghostface nods his head. 

The hair on the back of your arms stands up. This is it. 

“What? Are you looking for the bathroom or something?” You take a step or two towards him, leaning into the character you dressed for. 

He shakes his head. 

“Looking for me?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Mm,” You raise a brow at him, “what’s the line from that movie? You wanna play psycho killer?” 

His head tilts slightly to the side and he nods once again. 

“And who do I play?” 

He takes a step towards you and you fade back. 

Fear starts to spread through you, even with it all being pretend, you can’t fight the feeling that your subconscious drums up in your gut. 

He takes another step, and then another, and then you’re running. 

Spinning on your heel you push deeper into the house, away from the party and towards a line of doors down the hall. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, your stomach a bundle of nervous trembling knots, and your hands are so slick with sweat you can barely grab the door handle of the basement. It’s not as easy to run as it looks in the movies, especially not in a tight skirt and penny loafers, and you skid down the basement stairs taking them two at a time until you slip forwards and crash down onto your hands and knees. 

You don’t have time to assess the sudden sharp pain as the skin of your palm drags over the concrete floor though, so you scramble up in a flash and in a panic you weave your way deeper into the basement. 

It’s familiar enough to you, your best friend’s parent’s place. You know there’s a tiny half bathroom in the far back corner, a rarely used guest bed against one wall as you descend the stairs, a collection of old video games and movies, and then around the corner to the left more and more basement, more storage, more dusty nooks and crannies to hide. You’re frozen for a split second, trying to decide the best place to go where he won’t find you, but heavy footfalls on the stairs ring in your ears like drum beats and you don’t have time to weigh your options. 

You take off towards the bathroom, fumbling with the door again when you reach it. 

The masked man behind you doesn’t say anything, but you hear him moving. His feet are sure and quick, the heavy fabric of his robes making a whooshing sound as he darts forwards to try and close the space between your bodies. 

A panicked sound leaves your mouth as you tumble into the sink, clocking your hip hard on the porcelain and bracing yourself on the wall. Turning you reach back for the door, if you just get it latched maybe you can give yourself a second to think, to shimmy out of the very small, high set window. Pushing yourself into action you grab the door, he’s so close you can hear his breath, seconds away. Seconds away. 

The door stops abruptly as you throw your body against it, six inches from closing. You push again, but it doesn’t budge, and when you look down it’s clear you’ve lost this game. His heavy black boot is firmly set in the door’s path, and you know there’s no chance for escape. 

He crowds you instantly, leaving you no time to recover, his body pushing into the cramped space of the bathroom and flinging the door backwards into the adjacent wall. You stumble into the sink and he moves right up against you, the firm length of his body pinning yours in place. 

For a moment everything is still, completely and shudderingly still with only the sound of your hitched breathing and thundering heart filling the room. You’re not sure what you should do - beg? Plead? Stay silent and let him do what he wants? 

The masked man’s head tilts to the side as if he’s observing you, something you can’t tell through the ghostly plastic of his mask and dead black eyes. You’re trembling for real, hands shaking as they grip the cool porcelain. Ghostface leans into you, one of his gloved hands reaching for your face, a soft brush against your chin at first that turns to pressure as his fingers slide up your jaw to push you face to the side. It’s like he’s studying you, his hand slipping lower and dragging down your throat. 

Your breath comes faster, stomach tight. 

Ghostface closes his hand around your throat and your eyes widen. He holds you like this for a moment, his other hand locking down over your waist and gripping you tight, pinning you in place. 

When he squeezes, panic bubbles through your body. 

Yunho’s never choked you before. He’s never even suggested it, despite all your little jokes about how nice his hands would look around your neck. It seemed pretty clear to you that within the bounds of your relationship that was one thing he just wasn’t interested in, but whoever has you in the bathroom knows exactly how to hold your throat and where to press. Part of the fun is not knowing who’s beneath the mask, but your body still locks up, and an anxious voice inside you starts to wonder - what if? It’s not as if Ghostface is that rare of a costume choice, you see dozens of them on the street every year. It’s not inconceivable to think that at this party there would be more than one. 

Your heart beats in fluttering fits and starts in your ribcage as your mind turns over this possibility, and then he squeezes. The fight comes back into you full force when you hear him sigh, his hand tightening even more and cutting off your airway. You wriggle in his arms, pushing against his chest and trying to use your hips for leverage, a startled whine ripping from your throat, but fear laces through your body as you shove against him and realize just how immovable he is. 

Ghostface releases your throat, the same gloved hand slipping into the back of your hair to hold you steady. 

“No!” The word tumbles out of your mouth as soon as you can properly make noise again. 

He crowds you more, masked face dipping by your ear, “Shh, shh,” 

You freeze. 

“Safe word?” Yunho’s voice is a balm in your moment of sudden panic, his tone low and hushed. 

“T-treasure,” You manage it, the realization coming back into your body that this isn’t a total and complete stranger, it’s still him. Your fear starts to melt into anticipation. 

He gives you a squeeze, just one gentle pulse with his hand on your hip to communicate that he’s heard you, “Color?” 

You take a second to assess yourself. This game is intense in a way that you’ve never experienced. Yunho had tried to tell you how your body might react to this kind of manufactured fear, how it would play tricks on you, how even if you knew it was him your body would still have the urge to fight and flee. You knew it, but you didn’t really understand it until this moment. 

Yunho’s gloved thumb drags lovingly over your cheek for just a moment, “Color?” 

If he has to ask you a third time he’ll end the scene, you know he will, but the brief flicker of tenderness in his touch reminds you of everything you already know about him. He has you. You’re safe. This is a game. 

“Green,” You finally answer, “I’m green,” 

One more quick pulse to your hip, he’s heard you again. More than that, he’s pleased with you. 

His shoulders straighten as he draws to his full height, his body filling the space of the tiny bathroom and caging you in. You swallow tightly, audible in your ears and then he moves fast. 

His hands around your waist, lifting you up and then shoving you back until you’re sitting on the lip of the porcelain sink, uncomfortably balanced and pushed back flush to the mirrored wall behind you. You yelp when he moves you, hands scrambling for purchase on something, gripping the sleeve of his black cape in desperation. Fear and anticipation pulse through you, but he doesn’t give you a rest to get your bearings. 

He shoves your legs open wide and slots between your thighs and shoves your face to the side until your cheek is squished against the cold mirror, his hand a controlling brace from your jaw to the crown of your head. 

“You look so pretty running from me,” He strokes your face, but this time it’s not loving, it's possessive, it’s pure control. 

You grip the edge of the sink and whimper. 

“Should we play a little game?” He teases, “It’s Halloween, you must like scary movies,” 

Your breath quickens, “Y-yeah,” 

He drops his voice low, in a mimic of the movie, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

You’ve heard Yunho do that voice before, lazing on the couch last October when you had yourselves a movie marathon, the day he realized something about your favorite scary movie that turned you on, the day you called him out for being hard during a kill scene. It took a year for you both to work up the courage to actually act on any of those fantasies, but here and now with his mask on and his voice low, you feel that mix of terror and arousal bleeding through your body in a way only he can elicit from you. 

You can’t help the little smile that passes over your lips, “Scream,” 

“Meta,” He teases, pinching you hard on the thigh,  “for every question you get wrong, I’m taking something off you,” 

You swallow hard again. 

He reaches into his black robes and then you see it, shining in the reflection of the mirror and in your hazy peripheral vision. The glint of a real knife is unmistakable, the cool sharp edge of the steel crystal clear and you can’t stop the actual fear that jolts through you. You jerk in his hold, instinct driving you for a split second, and he pushes your face harder into the mirror. 

“Tch,” He makes a disappointed noise with his tongue against his teeth, “the game’s no fun if you don’t play.” 

He won’t hurt you, at least not in ways you don’t already like. You have to trust that. 

Settling yourself with a slow breath you summon the act he wants, find the fear within yourself and let it inform your words to give him what he wants. 

“Please, don’t,” You’re trembling is real, that you know. 

He shifts between your legs, drawing the knife closer, shifting it in his hand so he simply presses the cool flat side of the blade against one of your nipples. You hiss at the sensation, tightness building in your gut. 

“First question,” He drags the knife a little over your nipple, “What movie franchise is Jason from?” 

It’s an actual quiz, of course it is. At least he’s starting off easy. 

“Friday the Thirteenth,” You reply fast. 

“Correct,” He lifts the knife, and with the blade pointed away from you, he pushes up your tight tshirt until it’s bunched above your breasts. 

“I got that right,” You glance down at the way he’s touching you, breaking his own rules already. 

“Just getting a better view,” He insists, and then the cool knife is against your nipple again, only the thin fabric of your bralette between skin and steel. 

Your body is aching in this position, but you can feel the heat off his body, and the heady tone of his voice from under the mask still has you starting to ache in different places. 

“Let’s make this a little harder,” He taps the knife against you and you shiver, “what movie has a group of teenagers being stalked on an island by a killer fisherman?” 

“It’s,” You start to answer but he taps the knife again and you jolt, “fuck, it’s I Know What You Did Last Summer,” 

You watched it with him two weeks ago. You remember it, clear as day. 

“Wrong,” The knife twists, the tip gently skating over the swell of your breast. 

“Wait,” You start but he tips the knife under the center of your bra. 

“I Still Know What You Did Last Summer,” He clarifies the sequel, “they weren’t on an island in the first movie. I thought you liked scary movies,” 

“I,” You press back into the wall as the knife edge kisses your skin, “I… I do,” 

“You’re not very good at this,” He twists the knife and drags the sharp edge out so that it severs your thin bra in half, falling open and revealing your breasts to his wandering eyes. 

A little gasping sound leaves your lips, a desperate noise you try to bite back, but he hears it. 

He hums a soft, amused laugh and suddenly the knife is gone, sheathed and away and he leans into your space again, “You fucking like this, don’t you?” 

“No,” You insist, despite the way your stomach is in tight knots. 

“Did running away get you hot?” His gloved hand skims over your exposed body, “Do psycho killers make you wet?” 

“Fuck,” You whine, “no, no,” 

“Liar,” He whispers, and then he delivers a pointed slap to your thigh, “spread.” 

Your legs widen instinctively at his command, but he doesn’t reward you or praise you like he normally would, this is different. He reaches under the hem of your taut mini skirt, finding the apex of your thighs, and his fingers gently rub up and down from the base of your slit to your clit. A tiny gasp bubbles out of your throat. 

“Are you afraid?” He all but growls. 

Your stomach flips and his hand tightens in your hair, “Y-yes,” 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” He finds the edge of your panties and drags them to one side. 

“I don’t want it,” You answer him, body shaking now. 

“Tell me to stop,” One gloved finger presses into your entrance, the softness of the leather and the warmth of his skin beneath it making you tremble. 

“Stop,” You beg, “please, please, stop,” 

“Why would I?” He slowly pushes inside, stretching you around his finger, “When I know how wet being fucked by a stranger in a mask makes you,” 

A tense thready sound pulls from your throat as he adds a second finger. 

“If you don’t want this,” He pulses his hand once, forcing both fingers deep into your slick channel, “why are you panting like a dog in heat?” 

“N-no,” 

“If you don’t want it,” He whispers, “don’t come.” 

Your eyes shut as his hand starts moving, a steady pulse of his gloved fingers inside your aching cunt, curled just right in the way he knows gets you off fast. A pumping drag against your g-spot, the sound of his heavy breath, the unmistakable sensation of your own wetness making a mess between  your thighs. 

“Looks like you want it to me,” He adds the circle of his thumb against your clit and you jerk in his hold. 

“Stop, fuck,” Your nails dig into his forearm. 

“You don’t want me touching you, but you’re soaking my fingers,” 

“N..No, no,” You babble, heat pooling in your gut. 

“Fight it,” He pumps his fingers faster, drumming against your sweet spot, “don’t come,” 

You hiss sharply, pleasure dropping low in your belly, the sensation of his gloves and his hot hand too much to bear. 

“Moaning like you want it,” He laughs, pulling his hand suddenly out from under your skirt and yanking your head back to center. 

You yelp at the position change and the sudden lack of contact but he doesn’t make you wait for long. 

“Open,” He smacks your cheek lightly. 

Your mouth falls open and he shoves both gloved fingers between your lips. You choke against the suddenness, at the way he presses down on your tongue, blinking to clear the haze from your eyes. 

“Suck.” 

You shiver, your lips closing over his digits, the sharp taste of leather mixed with your fluids assaulting your senses and you can’t fight the moan, the way your eyes drift shut as you swirl your tongue. 

He hums, pleased, “Does it hurt?” He asks. 

His question doesn’t make sense, and you blink your eyes back open to look up at the cool passiveness of his ghostly mask. 

“Pretending you’re not a whore?” He clarifies and your mouth stills over his fingers. He pulls them out, delivering one more pointed slap to your cheek, and dives back down to plunge them back into your aching cunt, “Moaning like that, your nipples rock hard, and this pussy,” 

You choke, a bubble building in your core as he abuses your slick channel again. 

“Clenching around my fingers, sucking me in,” He chuckles, “I can feel you, baby,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” 

“Hold back,” He doubles his efforts between your thighs and you keen, “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop, don’t come,” 

“Stop!” You whine, giving him exactly what he wants, “Please, please,” 

“No,” His thumb rubs fast, his hand practiced at making you fall apart at the seams, “you come, you keep your eyes open, and you come all over my fucking hand,” 

Your breath is fast, heart pounding, and you feel the cord tightening in your belly in a way that makes you want to rub yourself back up into his touch but he has you pinned, stuck, at his mercy just like he wants. 

“Come,” His voice is clear, authoritative, and familiar. Like a trained response, your body releases and cracks open into a desperate orgasm, crumbling in his hands as you pitch forward onto his shoulder and grind your hips down to take the last little bit of what you need from his fingers. 

When his hand stills, you realize you’re still clinging to him and you jerk back, one hand over your mouth as you try to recover your breath. 

He steps back, his hands sliding off you and body slotting out from your thighs. You can’t see Yunho beneath the mask, but you know he’s looking. You can feel his hot gaze sliding over your body and taking in every wet and shaking inch of you. Your body is throbbing with need, but the game isn’t done, he hasn’t even made you touch his cock yet, and you know there’s no way you’re making it out of this basement without that. 

“Tell me again how you don’t like it,” He finally says. 

You shiver. 

“Cat got your slutty little tongue?” He prompts you again, voice hardening. 

You swallow hard, finding your words, “I didn’t like it,” 

“Mhm,” 

“I d-don’t want you to touch me,” You lie. 

“Yeah?” He teases, “Well then run,” 

“W-what?” Your eyes flick up to the impassive plastic of his mask. 

“If you didn’t like it, why are you still sitting there?” He takes a step to the side, clearing your path to the door and you slide off the edge of the sink, your loafers making a click onto the tile floor. 

You swallow hard, eyes darting out to the rest of the basement. 

“Come on,” He teases, and you can hear the sick smile in his voice, “try to get away,” 

You look between him and the room ahead of you again.

He leans forward and you shiver, his gaunt stretched mouth at your ear again, “I can’t fuck you if I can’t catch you,” his gloved fingers yank your top down over your exposed breasts and he chuckles, “better run fast.” 

You spring forwards, adrenaline pumping through your body and blood rushing in your ears. Leaping out of the bathroom he gives you a couple steps to get a head start, but he’s so much bigger than you, his stride so much longer, and he closes the distance with ease as you scramble in mock terror to get to the steps. 

Yunho’s arms close around you, hauling you up off your feet and against his chest, his touch rough and probing as he drags you up into the air. 

“No!” You shriek, “Fuck!”

“You think I’d really let you go?” He laughs, “After that?” 

“Fuck you!” The words bubble up out of your mouth. 

“That’s the idea,” His hand slides down your belly, closing over your cunt and cupping you tightly. 

Your body is reacting before your mind, and you jerk in his hold, kicking back your leg and catching him in the shin with the flat heel of your shoe. 

He groans and wrenches you higher in the air, “Keep struggling,” he pants, “I like it,” 

You twist again, trying to free one of your arms, but he has them pinned tightly to your body, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Not a fucking chance,” He takes two wide steps to the mattress and then tosses you down. 

You collapse onto the bed, the old and rarely used springs creaking under your weight, and your scramble forwards in some kind of an attempt to get your bearings, but he’s on you just as fast. He yanks you back with a hand around your ankle and in a flash he’s on top of you. 

He presses one hand firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned face down to the bed, and then his body weight drops down as he straddles the backs of your thighs. Your hands curl into the bedding beneath you, rough sheets and scratchy camp blankets, nothing soft and soothing to take a moment of comfort in. 

His free hand wanders, searching your body slowly. The sound of the party raging upstairs drowns out any competing noise, but you can still hear his heavy breath against the mask and your pounding heart, the sound of anticipation thick in the air around you. 

Yunho presses his hips forwards and you feel the thick hard length of his cock through his costume nestled against your backside. 

“Look at you,” He palms your ass, “shaking for me,” 

A whimper leaves you as his fingers dig into your back. 

“Do I scare you, baby?” He delivers a harsh slap to the back of your thighs and you yelp, “Are you fucking terrified?” 

Another slap leaves you trembling and you hide your face in the mattress, pressing your eyes shut tight. You love when he touches you like this and he knows it. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from whining, wetness pooling in your core. He wanted you scared, he wanted you fighting, you can’t give in just because his glove on your stinging skin feels like sin. 

He groans, his cock pressing down harder to your ass and you feel both his hands slide from your hips up to your back and back down again until he has a grip on your waist. 

A whimper slips out from between your lips.  

Yunho freezes above you, his thumbs massaging a quick circle into your lower back, “Color?” 

“Green!” Your voice is muffled by the bedding but you know he heard it. 

He groans, pulsing his hips to rut his cock against you again. 

Even between layers of fabric, you can feel the heat of him, throbbing and ready for you. Your mouth waters as you picture it, cockhead leaking precum and Yunho’s familiar hand wrapped around the base as he directs it to your mouth. 

“Little slut,” He chuckles and it pulls you straight out of your mental fantasy, “rubbing that ass on a stranger’s cock,” 

Your stomach clenches, and you twitch under him. 

“That’s fucked up,” He drops his body weight over you, one hand pushing your head to the side as he leans over you, “you’re so fucked up, aren’t you?” 

Your breathing is fast, a thready sound in your throat. 

“Aren’t you?” His voice is low, a shade away from a growl, and he rocks his hips again to rub his cock against you. 

“N-no,” You try to shake your head but his hand tightens against your scalp. 

“Liar,” He keeps grinding against you, his free hand snaking underneath your bodies to grope your breast, “I know a needy whore when I see one,” 

You moan into the sheets as he tweaks your nipple, tears springing to your eyes as he palms you, taking you apart with every touch. 

“Let’s see how you like this,” He pinches your nipple once more and you squeal at the sharp sensation that rockets through your chest, a sharp line down to your clit, and then he slides back and shuffles back to sit up over your thighs. 

He pushes the stiff fabric of your mini skirt up over your ass and then you feel the cold metal again. 

You jerk underneath him, and he tuts softly, the sharp edge of the weapon gently dragging over the curve of your ass cheek. 

“Tell me,” He grips your flesh tightly with one hand, painfully pinching, “do you still like scary movies now that you’re in one?” 

You shake your head, a whimper on your lips when the knife slips under the edge of your panties, “P-please, don’t,” 

He yanks the knife up and splits one side of your panties with a taut snap of fabric, “Please?” He taunts, “Please?”

You sob softly in response. 

“Is ‘please’ all you can say?” He delivers a sharp smack to your exposed ass check and you jerk under him. 

“I can’t,” You shake your head into the sheets, “I can’t,” 

He sighs, and you feel the knife shred the other side of your underwear and then you hear the sound of the blade clattering to the floor. With both hands free he palms your exposed flesh, squeezing you almost painfully and inspecting your exposed body. 

Shivers run through you, and you try to hold yourself still for his touches. 

“Which hole should I fuck first, hmm?” His fingers search you, probe you. 

Your body locks up tightly, a gasp on your lips. You hadn’t discussed that, and you shake your head. 

“Scared?” He ghosts his fingers over your rim. 

“Please,” It’s all you can manage. 

“Beg me,” He presses down with his thumb, “beg me not to fuck your ass if you’re so scared.” 

You scramble in the sheets but he has you stuck, “Please don’t, don’t fuck me like t-that, you’re too big, it’s too,” 

He massages one cheek and hums, “What should I do then?” 

“What?” You crane to look back at him, at the masked man pinning you down. 

“Beg,” He says it like he’s bored, like it’s obvious, “beg me to put it somewhere else, or I will fuck this pretty ass open and make you say thank you.” 

Heat floods your belly, your body a sizzling live wire, and you fall right into step with a heady whine, “Please, fuck my pussy,” 

“Again,” 

“Fuck my pussy, please, I’m begging you,” Your voice sounds needy and strange even to your own ears, “I need it inside me, g-give it to me please, fuck my pussy, please,” 

“Better,” His hands disappear into his robed costume and then he pushes forwards, his cock finally free and sliding up and down your slit to find your aching entrance. 

“Y-yes,” You drop your head back down to the bed and in one sharp thrust, he pushes his thick length all the way inside you until his hips are flush with your ass. 

Yunho groans, bracing himself with one hand on the back of your neck and the other on the bed beside you, the mattress creaking with every shift, “Needy pussy,” 

“Fuck,” You moan. 

“Greedy,” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, starting to pick up the pace now in earnest, “gripping my fucking cock like that,” 

All you can do is hold on, bite down on the sheets and let him use you, focus on the sensation of his impossibly hard cock driving in and out and in and out. 

“Are you crying for me? Hmm?” He rolls his hips, the fabric of his costume dragging against you as he fucks into you faster. 

Your eyes are wet, pleasured tears bubbling up and you nod, a tiny sob passing through your lips. 

“Good cocksleeve,” He presses down harder with his hand on your neck, forcing you lower into the mattress. 

Your back arches instinctively, and you whine at the angle change. A few more thrusts and you’ll be done for, you know it. 

“That’s it,” He pants, voice muffled by the mask, “come for me,” 

“C-close,” The words tumble out. 

“Come for me,” He stays steady with his thrusts, pushing your orgasm closer and closer, “come for me, come for me,” 

“Ah!” You fist the sheets, legs starting to shake, “Ah, fuck, fuck!”

“Come on this stranger’s fucking cock,” He grunts, shuddering above you, his fingers digging into your skin and no doubt leaving a bouquet of bruises behind. 

So close to the edge, just a little more will tip you over, and you whine, “Harder,” 

He gasps, forcing his pace to clap harder, deeper, and it only takes two pointed thrusts of his cock into the deepest parts of you to send you careening over the edge. 

“Coming,” You twist beneath him, moaning into your fist, “oh, god,” 

“Fuck,” He curses as your muscles clench and flutter around him, “fuck, oh fuck,” 

Your orgasm has your body locked up and shuddering, but when he pulls free suddenly you gasp into the bedding, “N-no, no, please,” 

He yanks off any scrap of clothing you have on with frantic hands and then rolls you in the sheets so that you’re lying on your back spread open for him. You try to form a sentence, to ask what’s happening but suddenly he’s tearing off his mask and the world slows to a stop. 

Yunho’s sweaty, flushed pink in the cheeks eyes blown wide with need, his plush lips parted and his chest heaving with labored breaths. In a flash he’s stripping off the costume, peeling off his gloves and kicking off his boots. 

“Come here,” He spreads your thighs wider and presses down over you, his cock finding your entrance with ease as he sheaths himself again in one thrust. 

You moan sharply and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he collapses over you. 

“Need you,” He pumps his hips, “have to have you,” 

Pleasure crackles up your body, “Yours,” you nod, “I’m yours,” 

He presses his mouth to yours, kissing you hot and hard, “Fuck,” he groans. 

Yunho gathers you closer, your slick bodies now flush together as he rocks into the warm cradle of your hips, “never heard you moan like that,” 

Your walls clench around him. 

“You wanted me to do this,” He groans between messy kisses, “you wanted to run,” 

You nod, lips pressed together. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He pumps into you harder, like he’s desperate to get as deep as possible, “my dirty girl,” 

“Oh, fuck,” Your head falls back against the bed, a pleasured moan caught in your throat. 

“My little fucking slut,” He groans, tipping your hips open wider, his hands tight on your skin, “so desperate to come on stranger cock,” 

You whine sharply, nails digging into his back. 

“Say it,” He threads a hand through your hair and tugs your head back up roughly, “say it,” 

“Yes!” You whine, “Yes, I-I need it,” 

His gaze darkens, the cool mask of your dominant returning, and he slaps your cheek sharply, just enough to give you a pointed sting, “Need what?” 

Your brain is soft, fuzzy with pleasure, but the slap focuses you and you blink, “Need to come,” you pant as he thrusts into you, “on a stranger’s cock, need you to… fuck, need you to take it,” 

He nods, lips parting open in pleasure, “That’s right,” 

Your stomach tightens, pressure dropping low in your belly and you can’t stop feeling the way his cock punches into the deepest parts of you over and over again. Your eyes close tight and you hold onto him, one of your hands slipping up to his neck to tangle into his black hair. 

“Oh,” You’re so close, almost there, “Y-Yunho, oh, god,” 

His hips thrust forward once more, burying his cock impossibly deep and then he stops. That’s when you realize your critical mistake. 

“Is my cock so good you forgot your manners?” He says and your eyes fly open. 

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to recover, your head is too mixed up to know what’s up and what’s down and you’ve never played a scene where he’s a stranger before. You’re used to your rules, you’re used to calling him sir or daddy or master, but now you feel unmoored. 

“Now you don’t get to come,” He leans back, taking your wrists in his hands and pushing them down flat to the bed. 

You know better than to protest, but you’re sure he can feel you shaking. 

He drops closer, pinning you open with the weight of his body, his head nudging yours to the side, “Maybe you’ve forgotten who’s in control here, baby,” 

Liquid heat spreads through your body and you shake your head just a little. 

“So drunk on cock,” He bites at your ear, “you forgot you don’t want this,” 

Your pussy tightens, and you hear him chuckle. 

“Filthy,” He maneuvers your arms above your head so that he can close both your wrists together in one of his large hands, “fucked up little fucktoy,” 

Your eyes roll back and you fight the urge to move your hips, his words enough to put you on the precipice. 

A sharp slap stings over your exposed breast, your nipple hardening even more and Yunho draws his hips back before slamming forwards, driving you deeper into the squeaking mattress. At the painful stretch, the sharp sting inside, you do cry out. 

“Does it hurt?” He thrusts again, just as hard. 

You struggle under him, a little for play and a little because it does hurt, but you love the way he groans when you please him and you can’t stop, “Y-yes,” 

“Too bad,” His hand claps over your mouth and then he starts to fuck you again for real. 

Pleasure and pain in equal parts spike through your body, a perfect combination to get you right up to the edge of orgasm, but you know you’re not allowed. You moan into his hot hand, the sound feral and taut, tears gathering in your eyes and slipping down your temples into your hairline. 

Yunho slides the hand on your wrists up to clasp your hands together palm to palm, still pinning you to the bed but offering you a line of communication you desperately need in a scene like this. He doesn’t stop, but his eyes find yours in the dim light of the basement and he squeezes your hand once. You squeeze back just once, your silent sign to keep going. 

He keeps driving into you, cursing every time you moan and clench around his thick length, the mask of dominance slipping again as he starts to rut into you with artless, needy thrusts. He’s chasing his own pleasure now, with no regard for your own release. 

“No one’s coming to help you,” He groans, “you’re mine,”

 You can’t hear everything he says, not with your mind spinning so close to a forbidden orgasm and his pants and groans punctuating every few words, but you hear it when he says he’s coming inside you. 

Thrusting deep, he spills himself hot in your belly, hips grinding into yours to milk himself dry as he moans into your ear. The bubble of your own pleasure builds with every rock of his body and you whimper into his hand, tears spilling over as you try not to let it take you. 

Yunho’s hand pulls away from your mouth and suddenly his fingers are rubbing fast and firm on your swollen clit, his cock still buried deep. 

“Ah, n-no, please,” You grip his hand tightly and lock your eyes closed, trying to pull yourself back from the edge, “please,” 

“Fuck,” He groans, overstimulated. 

You’re going to come, there’s no way to hold back if he’s going to torture you like this and you thrash under him, “I can’t,” you’re sobbing in earnest now, “I can’t hold it,” 

“Shit,” He curses sharply, “come, sweetheart, come, I’m so sorry,” 

At his permission, your pleasure rips through you, a hot slice of rapture rocketing up your body. Your ears are ringing, black dots over your vision, and your body wrenches up with tight shakes in a way that only a soul shattering orgasm could do. You vaguely hear your own voice, a babbled string of ‘thank-yous’ and sobs, but it feels like someone else. All you know is warmth, and the deliciousness of earned pleasure. 

When consciousness starts to creep back in, the first thing you feel is Yunho’s gentle hands on your cheeks. He’s murmuring something, but it takes your mind a second to process, and you blink your eyes open slowly to find his face. 

“Hey,” He’s back to soft and warm, your tender lover, “oh, there you are,” 

“Mm,” You manage. 

He looks you over slowly, warm brown eyes flicking over your skin, “Does anything hurt, sweetheart?” 

You shake your head, still boneless and trembling in the scratchy blankets. 

“Hmm?” He nudges you, pushing for a verbal response. 

“I’m okay,” You respond, but your voice is small. 

Yunho, so attuned to you, looks back up and shifts up the bed to meet your eyes, “Feeling floaty?” 

“Mm,” You nod, recognizing distantly that the intensity of your play tonight pushed you right into subspace. 

“Ah,” He smiles warmly, “come here,” 

He gathers you close, arms wrapping around you as he tucks you into his chest and pulls the plaid camp blanket up higher over both of your naked bodies. His skin feels so essential, a necessity like eating or breathing, and you nuzzle into his warm chest. 

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, stroking your back, “you’re safe, you’re safe with me,” 

A heavy breath releases from your chest. 

“That’s it,” He kisses your forehead, “breathe with me, relax with me,” 

Your muscles release one by one. 

“That was just a fantasy,” He soothes you, easing the knotted up feelings in your body with practiced words, “it was just pretend,” 

You nod. 

“Just pretend,” He murmurs, lips tender against your forehead, “none of that was real, nothing I said. I love you, and I will always keep you safe, sweetheart,” 

Your fingers relax, and you realize how firmly you were gripping his arms. 

“There you go,” He murmurs, “I’ve got you,” 

“Yunho?” You manage, your body feeling heavy once again as you start to center. 

He shifts, cupping your cheek as he leans back to get a good look at you, “Right here,” 

“H-hey,” You give him a lazy smile. 

He nods, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me where you are?” 

“Basement at the party,” You answer. 

“Good,” He nods, “now tell me who you’re with?” 

“You, Yunho,” You reply, practiced now at the routine he uses to help ground you out of the scene and bring you back into reality. 

“Good,” He continues, “tell me three things you can see,” 

You glance around the room, “Old playstation, bicycle,” you look back to him, “your necklace,” 

He smiles as you touch the silver chain around his neck, “Good,” 

You stretch your stiff limbs in his arms and try to snuggle back into his hold but he’s not done yet, especially after a scene that new and that intense. 

“Any pain?” His hands slide over your body. 

“No,” You assure him, “a little sore, but I feel good,” 

He nods, but keeps looking you over anyway. When he turns your hands in his and finds your scratched palms a little line forms between his brows, “What’s this?” 

You look down at the red skin, a few shallow cuts here and there, “I fell,” 

“Fell?” His brow goes high with alarm, “when?” 

“When I was running, I took the stairs too fast,” You tell him honestly, “but it doesn’t hurt, I promise,” 

His fingers trace over the broken skin and he nods, “You promised you’d call the scene if you got hurt,” 

For how rough this man can be with you, for how many times he’s bruised you and made you bleed, he never fails to surprise you at just how tender and soft he is outside of the bedroom. 

“Baby,” You close your fingers over his, “you promised you’d trust me to know my own limits, I’m not hurt, I got a little scrape,” 

His lips close as he considers your words and then he nods, leaning in to kiss each of your palms warmly, “I want to disinfect these at home,” 

“Okay,” You murmur. 

“Anywhere else?” 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head. 

“But sore?” He confirms.

“A bit,” 

His fingers find your jaw, massaging the muscle there, “When we get home, we’ll run a warm bath. I’ll take care of all your aches, I know I was rough with you,” 

You sigh pleasantly, relaxing into the warmth of his hand and he nods, dipping his face towards yours and capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. 

“You did so perfect for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, voice threaded with emotion, “I’m so… is it too lame to say honored? I… you were so amazing, and you trusted me like that and I,” 

“Yunho,” You smooth back his hair and pull him closer, “I’m alright,” 

His eyes flick over your face, “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” You give him the clarity he needs to know he didn’t hurt you, “you made me feel very safe, even though I was kind of terrified,” 

He stays quiet, like he’s gauging the honesty of your words. 

“Even when I was scared,” You lean in, kissing him quickly, “I knew you wouldn’t take it too far, and you checked in with me. I’m okay, I liked it, I love you,” 

“You didn’t push yourself too hard for me?” He always worries about that, the double edged sword of a submissive who’s desperate to please. 

“No,” You smooth your hand over his cheek, “I liked it alot,”

He nods and snuggles you closer, his fingertips coasting up and down your back softly. He’s quiet for a few minutes, just letting you both come down as easy as you can with thrumming house music upstairs. 

“You liked it?” He finally confirms, carding his fingers through your hair. 

You nod, “A lot,” 

“What I said,” He kisses the top of your head, “during, about you liking it, that was fantasy too, you know that right?” 

You’re quiet, taking in his words. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” He continues softly, “there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting it, all of that was pretend, okay?” 

“I know,” You kiss his chest, nodding against his shoulder. 

“I love you,” He squeezes you, “you know that too, right?” 

You smile, wiggling up in his arms to see his face, “I do,” you kiss him softly, “I love you too,” 

He nods and sighs, “I lost my head a little at the end there,” he admits, “I didn’t communicate well when you needed it, I’m sorry about that.” 

Your brows knit together in confusion. 

“I should have given you permission sooner,” He explains, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I forgot myself in the scene, I didn’t mean to push you so hard.” 

“Oh,” You smile, “Yunho, I’m alright,” 

“I know you are,” He dips in for a kiss, “but I’m still sorry,” 

“Thank you,” You murmur, pressing your lips back to his, staying warm and still and soft in this moment together, “I know you’ll always take care of me,” 

He nods, his broad hand brushing down your hair. 

“How was the party?” You nudge him a little. 

He smiles, “Fine,” he shrugs, “I was too focused on looking for you, I think everyone thinks something’s up with me.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” You laugh. 

“Mm,” He nods, “and now I disappeared and we made a mess of this basement,” 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you cut my underwear off, how am I supposed to get out of here,” 

“I brought backups,” He grins wide, proud of himself for thinking that far ahead. 

“You’re a genius,” 

“There is a back door out of the basement though, right?” He looks up around the room trying to find one. 

“Yeah,” You reach out, pointing around the back corner, “why?” 

“It’s extremely obvious that you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life,” He presses a quick kiss on your forehead and stretches next to you, so casual about the way he just rearranged your insides, “and I’m not so sure you’re going to walk straight,”

You laugh sharply and shake your head, “Take me home,” 

“Scary movies on the couch?” He squeezes your thigh as he rolls away, searching for his clothes. 

You shiver, “Maybe, that might be too close to home,” 

Nudging your knee he smiles, “Don’t worry, baby, it’s just a movie.”

[junrecs]

This got me so insanely unhinged I'm pretty sure I saw God (he's a 6 ft something man wearing a ghostface mask)

[augustbutwinter]

Chicken Date - ATEEZ' KYS

Pairing: yeosang x gn!reader, gn!reader x various chicks and a cock

Prompts from this list Thank you @onecentwriter for the fun list!

"everything would be a lot easier if you fucking sat still."

"if you're trying to manipulate me, it's not working."

"yeahhhh no. we're not doing that."

Summary: your nearest neighbour’s chickens keep escaping to your garden (Thank you @hamsterclaw for providing the initial prompt for this!)

WC: 1.2k

Warnings: bad puns and the author plays very loosely with blooming dates of flowers and can’t bring herself to care for the sake of this fic. Pls roll with it.

A/N: I think we can agree that there's no better pairing than Yeosang and the chicken from the 'Work" MV (okay, maybe Hongjoong and the goat from 'Bouncy' - Anyway. Please enjoy this little drabble. And my infinite THANXX goes out to @hobivore who has been the G.O.A.T beta-reader and hype person! LOVE!

AO3//Masterlist

**__**__** 

Chicken Date

“Everything would be a lot easier, if you fucking sat still."

You know chickens are highly intelligent. Supposedly, they can recognize up to 100 faces, do mathematical sums and can recall events from their past.

Big emphasis on supposedly. And maybe other chickens were smart. 

Maybe some of them were even familiar with the Pythagorean theorem.

This one, however, squints at you in a borderline idiotic manner and clucks a quiet cluck. It keeps its eyes trained on you while picking at the marigolds you had planted along the edges of your little garden. 

Little fucker. It’s either Hen Solo or Henrietta, you think. Anyway, it’s one of your neighbour’s silkies. Your knowledge of chicken breeds has expanded further than you could have ever imagined in the last few months. Which would be fine on its own; you like knowledge. But you would prefer, if it didn’t coincide with all of your flowers being eaten.

You sigh. Yeosang and his gentle chicken parenting would be the death of you (read: your flower garden) one day.

He swears it makes his chickens more relaxed and the yolks golden and creamy. You swear if one of his chickens ends up in your garden and in your flowers one more time, there’s gonna be soy-garlic glazed chicken for dinner. Which would be much more cruel than keeping them in a nice outdoor enclosure. Wouldn’t it, Yeosang? you think pointedly.

“Come on, stop it.” You try reasoning next. “Come here, I’ll bring you home.” You’ve seen him carry them around in his arms so you open them wide to look inviting. “Come on over, I’ll bring you home, be a good chick.” 

Nothing. It picks on another yellow flower. You groan. It clucks. And doesn’t move other than picking at more flowers. Flowers you had planted with your heart and soul and the last of your nerves. 

You’re not a born gardener but you try your best. It relaxes you to have dirt under your fingernails and it distracts you from your day to day in the city, inputting all types of data, clicking away on a white and sterile keyboard. 

You choose to change tactics and move closer. A strategic mistake. The hen moves further away, dangerously close to the echinacea–your pride and joy.

The sun is blazing down. The sweat in your neck rolls down your back. 

Damn it, Yeosang and his stupid newfangled pedagogical approach. 

You curse the city boy that had moved into the house next to yours after the owner–a man you never even saw–had left the premises to his estranged distant nephew, a fresh faced young man from the city. Who had promptly started to curate a colourful flock of chickens. 

The fact that you’re also only here on the weekends to escape the city is additional information that shouldn’t have any significance to the reader, in your opinion. At least you don’t have livestock that makes your neighbours’ lives a living hell.

Which–in your humble, but definitely correct opinion–is 100% what Yeosang is doing. 

Yeosang, who seems to have made it his life’s mission to make your life’s mission– have a pretty garden in order to keep your millennial stress at bay–next to impossible.

Not a day goes by without one of his chickens visiting you.

Not once have you managed to catch and bring them back though. Your wild goose chase usually ends with the chicken deciding to go back home on their own and with you sitting on the floor contemplating all your life choices.

Which is exactly what happens next. As if called by a soundless call, the chicken lifts its head and with a little bok-bok-bok starts strutting towards the bushes that serve as the border between yours and Yeosang’s house, dives in, and disappears.

You sigh. Peace. At last. 

You do need to speak to Yeosang about this though. This is unacceptable. You hope you don’t stumble over your words again the next time you see him. He has a very pretty smile.

**__**__** 

“If you're trying to manipulate me, it's not working.”

Attila the Hen cocks her head and tries to pass you by on the left side. You step into her way. She tries to duck right. You block. She clucks.

You sigh.

“Girl, I know they’re pretty, but they’re also going to kill you.” 

The azaleas are blooming early this year. It’s barely April, but your garden is already exploding in pinks.

“Tilly,” you warn as the hen tries to dodge your defence. “Don’t.” You raise your brow as she starts purring seductively. “Don’t even try, I’m not letting you through.” 

A day later finds you on your knees.

Damn it, Yeosang. The things that man makes you do without him even asking.

With a hammer you drive the posts into the ground. This should keep Tilly and the others out.

You’re definitely not thinking about the sparkle in your neighbour’s eyes when he told you about the pretty new chicken breed he’s planning to add to his ever growing flock.

**__**__** 

Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato flutter around happily in the rain, peeping and chirping.

 “We have to stop meeting like this.” You try to wipe the mud from your face. “Stupid teenagers.” 

The rain falls in steady, heavy drops and the ground has turned into a large puddle of mud. 

You can’t believe it’s come down to this.

**__**__** 

“Yeah, no, we’re not doing that.” 

“What?” Yeosang seems genuinely confused. And you hate that it’s a good look on him, but you refuse to be led on. You refuse to fall victim to a cheesy line of a horny man.

Yes, you might have adopted half of his flock. Yes, Cluck Norris loves to chill on your porch. Yes, Henrietta actually loves getting cuddles from you now.

But you draw the line at: “Let me show you a real cock.”

Fuck, the fact you hesitated shows you’re probably in too deep already.

Also, you have a tiny chick on your arm that’s peeping softly, leaning into your touch. Why would Yeosang think this would be the right moment to make a move? 

What a fuckboy. 

But you’re mature enough to recognize you are tempted to give in. You’re a red-blooded adult. Yeosang is a hot dude. Still.

“Yeah, no, we’re not doing that.” 

“But.” He draws his brows together. “You cannot seriously name her Brian.” 

Her? Your cheeks grow hot. Shit, is he still talking chickens?

“Come over, we can check out her dad, I just got him last season, one of the prettiest sebrights I have ever laid my eyes upon.”

Oh. Something inside you deflates, and you hope your face doesn't show… (Wait, are you actually disappointed about him not coming on to you?)

“Are you okay?” Yeosang studies your face, since you haven’t reacted to anything he has said.

You look away and proceed to gently pat Brian’s (Shut up!) head, still embarrassed about misreading the whole situation.

“Oh.” Now he blushes “Wait, you didn’t think I meant…”

You interrupt him. “Don’t be stupid.” You start walking past him, bumping your shoulder purposefully into his. “Let’s go, show me that stupid cock of yours.” Over your shoulder you shout,“I bet it’s tiny.”

**__**__** 

Ⓒaugustbutwinter september2024 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it! I thrive on feedback like a thirsty houseplant!)

[junrecs]

Drop whatever you're doing because it's CHICKEN TIME, baby! This is such a sweet and funny story, so go read read read! I mean bok bok bok. This is a delight and I love Yeosang and mc and all the chickens... where can I get myself a neighbour like this 😍

[augustbutwinter]

leave (i'm in pain, i'm okay) | skz chan

title: leave (i'm in pain, i'm okay) pairing: bang chan x reader genre: hurt & comfort rating/warnings: a break up, a past toxic relationship wc:  around 1 k summary: eavesdropping on the café's customers to figure out if it's a first or second date is one of your favourite pasttimes. but what if it's not a date but a break up? who will you have to console? a/n: this is the first thing i've finished in a while, please be kind. (not beta-ed)

AO3 - Masterlist

---

“Yeah, we’re done.” 

You don’t even have to lift your head to know the guy is wearing a nasty grin on his face. There’s a tone in his voice that is unmistakably a smirk.

That’s cold. No, even worse, that’s brutal. 

Not that you have infinite wisdom on how to break up with someone, but he is definitely not taking the gentle route.

Usually eavesdropping on the café’s customers is one of the best parts of your job. Since Stars&Raindrops has become the neighbourhood’s favourite date spot, there’s been a steady stream of couples filtering in. Rightfully so in your opinion. Your boss really has outdone herself with the cute rainforest aesthetic; dark green plants that create little separate corners for flirtatious whispers and quiet love declarations. Perfect. (Also: Looks great in pictures.)

It’s become almost a sport for you to figure out whether it’s a couple’s first or second date. Maybe even a third? Which app did they match on? Or is it a blind date set up by mutual friends? 

You’re never witnessed a last date before today though. 

But you’ve seen the guy before, he’s here a lot. Sometimes he’s alone working on his laptop. Sometimes he comes with a friend to chat. You remember him, because he’s never ordering coffee. Which definitely hurts your barista pride a little bit, but hey, if the man wants juice, he gets juice. 

What a weird choice to break up in one’s favourite café though. At least you presume it’s his favourite café, because why would it not be. It’s adorable.If you didn’t work here, it would be your favourite café for sure.

You busy yourself with making the next customer’s coffee drink, trying to direct your attention away from the now broken up couple, feeling sorry for the girl; what a shock this must have been! 

Meanwhile you try not to beat yourself up over the lack of your people knowledge. Sure, you didn’t know him, you just gave him the juice (or sometimes the smoothie) he ordered, but you always thought he had a kind smile and gentle eyes. And he always had a fond smile on his face when his younger friend bullied him to pay for their drinks because you're such an old man you should pay for me, i’m just a broke student.

The woman gets up and to your surprise, she doesn’t look as heartbroken as you had presumed. Maybe she’s great at hiding it. But she looks…almost blasé? One corner of her mouth drawn up into something that in any other situation you would describe as a sneer. But that wouldn’t make sense for someone in her situation, would it?

Without another word though she leaves and you remember you’re not being paid for watching personal dramas unfold and go back to preparing an iced americano.

*

When you look up the next time, you catch him getting up and heading out the back. You frown. He’s not supposed to go that way. The restrooms are on the other side. Nodding to your colleague to let them know you’re taking care of it, you follow him, ready to tell him that he has no business going to the employee’s break area on the little terrace in the back. 

Before you can open the door fully and walk down the stairs to the small refuge to tell him off, you hear a soft noise.

Your heart breaks a little.

There’s a deep sigh and a wet sniffle. A muffled sob, as if someone tried to tone down their crying by stuffing their fist into their mouth. (You’re more familiar with this than you’d like to admit.) 

When he starts talking, you think he’s noticed you standing at the half opened door–you still hadn’t decided fully whether to make yourself known–but he’s talking to himself, gaze to the floor, pacing.

“I’m okay.” 

You don’t think that’s true.

“This is for the best.” 

You shrug, this might be true.

“Seungmin said, I shouldn’t let her drag me around.”

You don’t even know the full story, but if this is the state this relationship has put him in, you think you agree with this Seungmin.

More angry sniffles and one very silent whisper of fuck from the broken man and you make your decision.

Quietly you turn around and close the door a little more, he needs privacy more than you need to enforce the stupid rule that the backyard is only for employees. And he definitely doesn’t need to be told off.

*

Slowly you retreat, embarrassment flooding your veins. You had gotten it all wrong.

There’s nothing cold about him. 

As the embarrassment ebbs away, it gives way to another emotion. Pity maybe? You listen to your heart. 

No. You don’t feel sorry for him. Empathy, yeah. That’s more like it. 

You know how it feels.

You know how it feels to end a relationship you were invested in. And it doesn’t feel great. Even knowing you’re doing the right thing. It still doesn’t feel great.

*

You’re back behind the counter preparing yet another iced americano when he comes back a little later. A bit more composed, nose and eyes still a little red.

He gets back to his table, and you keep a little smile hidden when you see his nose scrunch up in confusion as he sits back down at the table.

There’s a piece of chocolate cake in front of him and a small piece of paper on which you have scribbled a little message. 

“힘내세요.” 

Bewildered, he looks around to find the culprit, but you make sure to keep your head down, but you can’t keep your cheeks from heating. You hope it doesn’t show and you try to keep your hands steady.

When he digs into the cake with gusto and his face loses a little bit of tension, you try not to look too pleased.

The cake might not be reason enough for him to ever come back to a place that has caused him pain, but if it managed to chip away just a little bit of the pain of today, you’ll be glad. 

*

“Thank you.” 

An empty mug and an empty plate is placed on the counter in front of you, but when you lift up your head, he is already gone. The bell at the door gives a little chime as it closes, and he is gone.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper. 

*

“힘내세요.” if put into the translator says 'cheer up' but literally goes more into the direction of 'gather strength/hope'

*

Ⓒaugustbutwinter january2024 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it! I thrive on feedback like a thirsty houseplant!)

[junrecs]

Poor Channie 🥺 This was so cute! I'm glad he was a little less sad in the end because otherwise he wouldn't have been the only one with a broken heart 🥲

[gimmeurtmi]

no nut november — hyunjin (loser #3)

pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

tags: no nut november mini series, established relationship, domestic bliss, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, mentions of masturbation/watching porn, mentions of overstimulation, cockwarming, unprotected sex, no nut november as a bet, slight dirty talk, use of names like “pretty boy”, group chat shenanigans

inspo: that video of jinnie fixing his hair with his head thrown back and everyone staring in awe.. you know the one

notes: this is so self indulgent when it was meant to be my gift to @sluttywonwoo lmao. i hope you enjoy the softness of it all, boo! and i hope you feel the joy i felt when writing this <3

banner by @sluttywonwoo

{ wc: 4227 }

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!!” You heard Hyunjin screaming from the next room.

You were in the kitchen trying to make breakfast, following Hyunjin’s mother’s recipe for his favourite breakfast food. He came over to yours after your weekly game night—since most of the rooms at theirs were full anyway, and besides, it gifted you with a peaceful morning. Or so you thought.

Hyunjin came into your kitchen, dancing around in what you assumed was celebration, wearing nothing but his boxers and your old jumper from highschool.

He was dancing around so much, flailing his arms enough that the jumper had started riding up, his happy trail peaking out through the fabric.

You swallowed.

“What happened?” You asked, as casually as you could, focusing on the pan in front of you.

“Jeongin lost!”

To prove his point, he showed you the group chat he had with his friends, in which the youngest retold his story from the night before.

You’d have to congratulate them both for finally being brave enough, you noted.

“Cool,” you said simply.

You weren’t really surprised he was talking about that bet again. It was like it was the only thing he could think about since it started. When he told you about it—all you could was laugh and shake your head.

But then he told you what the stakes were, and only after that did you agree and promise him you’d do your best not to get in his way. If it meant you had a whole weekend of Hyunjin to yourself—then you’d play along with their stupid bet.

Although, it was already driving you crazy.

You knew Hyunjin wasn’t doing it on purpose, it’s not like he could help how gorgeous he was, but he didn’t make your life any easier when he so casually licked his lips after taking a bite from the food.

“Thank you, babe,” he said with a smile before devouring the rest of his plate.

You sighed.

The rest of the day was spent catching up on Hyunjin’s favourite K-Drama. You liked it, but what was better than the show was your boyfriend’s commentary. The gasps, pleading at the characters (as if they could hear him), and calling out the plot twists a few scenes before they were revealed.

“What?” He asked as he caught you smiling at him.

“Nothing,” you grinned, placing your head on his shoulder as you cuddled closer to him.

November 9th

A few days passed since you last got to spend time with your boyfriend. But today you knew you had all night together.

Your roommate went to her girlfriend’s house on Wednesdays and it so happened that that was the day Hyunjin finished work reasonably early.

She was never there to disturb you and your boyfriend had more time and so it always ended up with a sleepover.

From being the day you spent together it had evolved to your self care day—one that Hyunjin happily agreed to participate in with you.

There was only one problem. The stupid bet.

You spent all week waking up from wet dreams. Sometimes they were only about your boyfriend and sometimes they involved other people, too. That’s how you knew it was really bad. You were faithful, even in your dreams, but when other people showed up you knew you were unsatisfied and needy.

Luckily, agreeing to the bet never meant that you weren’t allowed to do anything by yourself—but needless to say, that didn’t quite cut it anymore.

Still, you decided if you were still this horny when he showed up it wouldn’t be fair—you could even class it as sabotage, and so, you took matters into your own hands. What else did you have to help you?

It was still early in the morning, you had the whole day to yourself, and so you opened your phone and logged onto an incognito tab.

Your fingers moved across the keyboard, searching and researching. You tried all your go-to’s, but you knew you were screwed when you were on the third page of the search results and none of the videos were even close to what you wanted.

You wanted Hyunjin.

You even went as far as looking for actors who resembled him—but that was impossible. No one was anywhere near as beautiful as him. You were sure it was cosmically impossible for there to be more than one Hyunjin.

That thought, of course, led you to imagine the impossible scenario of having two of him pleasing you at the same time. Kissing and touching and groping and—

You groaned as you locked your phone.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, and so you unlocked your private file on your phone.

There was only a handful of photos on there and even a few short videos he sent you during the times you were away from each other for too long.

You looked through each one of them carefully, taking your time to appreciate his body, his dick, his face, his moans.

After a few moments of just admiring you got to work, shimming your shorts off your body.

You went on for as long as you could—managing to pull out six orgasms before you had to stop and gulp in some air. It felt empty.

You weren’t nearly as satisfied as you thought you’d be, not to mention, you could only think about the look on your boyfriend’s face if he managed to get you to cum that many times in a row.

You dragged yourself out of bed, washing the sweat and stickiness off you in the shower quickly. You might’ve taken extra time touching your tits—still feeling the need to please yourself however you could—but that was between you and the shampoo bottles.

Once you were ready, hair mask washed off, you made your way into the living room accompanied by your soft lo-fi playlist.

Everything was exactly how you wanted it to be on your day off—curled up on the couch under your fluffy throw blanket.

A few dozen tiktoks later, the door opened, your boyfriend letting himself in with the pair of keys you gave him a few weeks back. He had a clear bag in the other hand—and you could already spot your favourite sweets in there.

“Jinnie!” You exclaimed with a grin, opening your arms in an invitation. You didn’t want to get off the couch just yet and considering your boyfriend was just about to join you anyway he didn’t mind.

“Y/N/N!” He parroted, kicking off his shoes by the door. He quickly put down his keys and the bag, rushing over to you as he skipped from side to side.

“How is my dimples doing today?” You asked after he fell into your arms.

“Tired, but practice was good,” he nodded at you. “Did you move today?”

“A little,” you said, scrunching your nose.

“Your hair smells nice,” he sighed contently, burying his face in your neck.

“I put a mask on it,” you said, touching the now softer locks.

“You started without me?” He gasped.

“I thought it would be best to avoid the shower part together,” you pointed out, eyebrows raised.

Hyunjin hummed at you, nodding in confirmation that you had the right idea.

“I bought those strawberry masks you like, and they were on offer so I got you an extra two to keep. And there was this lip scrub I wanted to try,” Hyunjin said, pointing at the bag on the table with his leg. “My lips are so dry.”

“It’s the weather,” you hummed.

“Or maybe I don’t get enough kisses,” he pouted up at you.

“Kissing makes your lips drier,” you countered.

“False,” he shook his head.

“And the fucking stubble burn makes my chin and lips crack,” you said with a huff.

“I get stubble burn, too,” he raised his eyebrows.

“From what?” You gasped at him.

Hyunjin moved his eyes towards your crotch before looking up at you pointedly.

“Complaining, are we?”

“No! But I’m just saying,” he shrugged.

“And I’m just saying, you haven’t done that in ten days.”

“Why are you counting?” Hyunjin giggled.

“Because there’s nothing left to do,” you sighed dramatically.

“Oh, shut up,” he chuckled. At that he lifted himself off your body, easily making his way into the kitchen.

“Do you want peppermint tea or camomile?”

“Peppermint please,” you grinned at him, getting up.

“No, no, where are you going?” He stopped you with his hand up in the air.

“To get the hairbands?” You said, matter of fact.

There was a very clear routine in place, familiar, and you were simply following it.

“You, sit. I am man, man gets hairbands. Man makes tea.”

“Okay, man,” you rolled your eyes. But you snuggled deeper into your blanket nonetheless.

Soon Hyunjin offered you the warm cup of tea before he skipped over to your room to grab your matching pink hairbands. They had bear ears attached to them, and Hyunjin smiled softly to himself as he pushed the plush fabric up to his hairline. He plopped yours over your head (he knew it was yours since it had your foundation colour on it, stains that wouldn’t come off no matter how many times you washed it) and helped you push it up past your forehead.

After that he grabbed the edge of your blanket and frappes it over his legs.

Then he grabbed your phone, opened it easily since the passcode was your anniversary, and started queuing songs on your spotify.

It was all as it should be.

Once the tea was finished—Hyunjin telling you all about the drama unfolding between the new trainees in the studio across from theirs—you both put your mugs to the side.

“Am I allowed to get the masks?” You asked with a raise of your brows.

“Nope,” he grinned, jumping up and running towards the bag. As if you were gonna race him.

He plopped back down on the couch, bag in hand, and unloaded its contents. First, the strawberry face masks, and then the lip scrub, and then your sweets, and then some cherry flavoured lip balm, and then a new body lotion that “even has glitter in it!” and then a replacement of your moisturiser that Hyunjin may or may not have stolen from you.

“Anything else?” You joked as you looked down at the loot in your lap.

“Is there something missing? I can go out and—“

“Calm down, Jinnie,” you laughed, placing your hands on his forearms, “what’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I just wanna make sure you have a nice relaxing day.”

You nodded.

“Are you having a relaxing day?” You double checked.

He nodded.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You first.”

You handed him the mask, offering your face over to him.

He wiped your face with micellar water and a cotton pad before slowly and delicately placing the mask on your face. After tapping around it a few times to make sure it was stuck on properly, and bopping your nose for his own amusement, Hyunjin announced he was done. You opened your eyes and grabbed the second mask, applying it to his beautiful face.

You let the masks set for twenty minutes—enough time for you to tell Hyunjin all about your plans for your sister’s birthday—and once you peeled them off and washed your faces it was time for the lip scrub.

Hyunjin grabbed “the wand”, as he called it, and scooped up a generous amount of the scrub before grabbing your chin.

You focused on his face as he spread the small grains over your lips—his eyes zeroed in on them. Your heart started beating faster as you felt a wetness pooling in your underwear at the attention he was giving you. You took in a deep breath.

“You’re too far away,” he muttered to himself, scooting closer. He grabbed your thighs, pulling himself towards you, then lifted your shins to place them on either side of his body.

You could easily place your forehead on his, and so you did.

“Close enough?” You whispered.

“Could never be close enough,” he shook his head simply. You scooted closer still, your hands settled on his thighs, smiling at him.

He grabbed your chin again, angling your face so he could scrub the product onto your lips.

Hyunjin puckered his lips at you, eyebrows raised. So you leaned in closer and kissed his lips.

“No,” he giggled, “pucker them.”

“Oh,” you giggled back, following his instructions as your eyes settled on how adorable he looked while he concentrated on his task. And, as much as you tried not to focus on it, you took a moment to realise the intense stare he held on your lips was accompanied by a fluttering in your pussy you tried so hard to ignore.

As Hyunjin moved the product on your lips in circular motions, you instinctively moved your hands up his thigh, playing with the string on his sweats casually.

Hyunjin swallowed visibly.

“Um,” he started, voice cracking lightly, “did you want to be closer?”

“Jinnie, I really don’t think that’s possible,” you said slowly, trying not to move your lips too much as you spoke.

“I mean like, uh, maybe I can be inside you?” He offered, avoiding your eyes completely as he looked around himself for a cotton pad to take off the excess product with.

“Uh,” you let out, feeling your heart race at his suggestion. “Well, that would definitely make us closer.”

Hyunjin nodded as he wiped your lips. “But are you sure? I mean, the bet.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “just to be close.”

“No moving?” You tried to confirm.

“If you want.” He handed you the products casually, keeping the routine going—even if the conversation was suggesting something entirely out of the ordinary.

You looked down at the small empty space between your bodies. You could very clearly see the outline of his erection through his grey sweats.

You licked your lips, tasting the coconut on them, noticing how soft they were.

Hyunjin was studying your face, the way your eyes moved from his lap to his lips a few times before you nodded.

“I don’t want to lose though,” you said, even though you didn’t really mean it that much. Sure, the prize was a very good one, but at this point you were starting to care a whole lot less about it.

“I miss you,” your boyfriend said, rubbing your shoulder softly.

You chuckled as you waved at him. “Hi!”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes, squeezing at your bicep, “I miss being close, I mean.”

“I would love to, if you think it’s okay,” Hyunjin grinned, “but we aren’t done with our skin care.”

“Of course,” he nodded seriously, “we can keep going like that.”

You smiled before shifting around to slip your shorts and underwear off.

“Do we need to warm you up or—“

“—no,” you scoffed, pulling on the knot tied on Hyunjin’s sweats. He laughed.

“Are you wet enough?”

“I came six times today,” you said casually, pulling his dick out of his boxers, “I’ve been wet since the morning.”

“Six?” He gulped, a small twang of jealousy in his voice. You weren’t sure if that was to do with the fact you got to cum or that he wasn’t involved in it. It was probably a bit of both, you thought.

You climbed onto his lap, pulling the blanket around yourself to stay warm and slowly with Hyunjin’s hands on your hips helping you sink down onto him, you got into position.

The pair of you let out a few breathy gasps at the almost foreign sensation, realising you both truly missed the feeling of Hyunjin inside you.

After a few small breaths, and a kiss on your shoulder, you grabbed the lip scrub and kept going.

“You’re really fucking wet,” Hyunjin sighed as soon as you wiped the excess product off. He used up every muscle in his body to concentrate on keeping still as you touched his lips—only now putting his thoughts into words. “Did you actually cum six times?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged.

“How?”

You could feel his dick twitching inside you as the words left his mouth.

“Are you sure you want to hear more details?” You cocked up an eyebrow. Hyunjin licked his lips.

“You can tell me if you want,” he said, lowly.

“No,” you chuckled, “I’m not trying to make this any harder for us.”

“Why are you complaining when you got to cum today?” He pouted.

“I’ve been cumming every day this month, actually,” you said simply. Hyunjin thrusted up at that.

“Hey!” You warned him, even if it was undermined by the small moan that you let out beforehand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was just… a hot thing to say.”

“Do I need to get off?” You asked seriously, giving him a pointed look before applying some lip balm on his beautifully plush kissable lips.

“No, no, no,” he insisted, “stay close.”

After he applied lip balm to your lips, the pair of you shared a small kiss, and then you started massaging the moisturiser into his face.

He intertwined his fingers behind you, resting them on your lower back as he closed his eyes, completely content.

“I missed this,” he mumbled out softly, “your warm cunt and your smell and your wetness all over my c—“

You leaned down to kiss him, sighing into his soft cherry flavoured lips.

“You need to stop talking,” you warned.

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he ignored you, opening his eyes as he stared right at you, his lids heavy.

“What did I just say?”

Still, he ignored you, unlocking his hands and trailing them to your hips. He pushed upwards, his dick nudging your sensitive spot gently.

“Jinnie,” you whined, “don’t do this.”

“Will you clench for me, baby?” He begged you, eyes wide and pleading in front of you.

“That is just as bad as moving.”

“Please. Just once, wanna feel how your cunt wraps around me so ti—fuuck.”

Hyunjin let out a louder moan when you repeated the action, pulling your body forward so your noses were touching. The new angle helped you feel the stretch even more, and it took all your self control and then some to stay still. Hyunjin was clearly losing his focus, you knew you had to stay strong for the both of you.

He pressed his lips against yours hungrily before thrusting up twice, his cock dragged against your walls so deliciously that your head fell backwards, allowing Hyunjin to press open mouth kisses to your neck.

You weren’t sure who started it, you or him, but soon you were bouncing up and down his dick repeatedly, your hands flat on his chest.

“Wait,” Hyunjin said breathlessly, holding your waist so you’d stop moving. “The bet.”

“Yeah,” you breathed in deeply. “The bet.”

You nodded at each other as you settled back down on your knees, once again staying perfectly still.

“Where were we?” He coughed, grabbing the moisturiser from where you discarded it on the couch, distributing a generous amount on the back of his hand before he started applying it to your face.

Once you covered all other areas, going through your joint skin care routine step by step, all that was left was a head massage to relax the face muscles.

You kissed Hyunjin softly, your faces still slightly sticky as the products all settled into your skins, and smiled at him as you pushed the hairband off his head, carding your hands through his hair.

You carefully unknotted his hair with your hands, slowly pressing your fingers into his scalp. His mouth hung open, his tongue poking out under his teeth as he relaxed into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

His dick twitched inside you again, and you had to actively breath out to stop yourself from clenching. You weren’t sure you could play along with his bet any more if he made you stop again. So you just had to act like this was any other Wednesday and his dick wasn’t inside you.

But you didn’t want to complain too much, even just having him inside you without any movement was a huge improvement from the empty feeling you had until now and so you’d happily stay this close to him if that’s what Hyunjin wanted. You were greedy of course, of course you wanted all of him and you wanted it now—but if you could still win this bet while having his dick inside you, you would take it.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Hyunjin moaned softly, eyebrows scrunched as he melted into your touch.

You rubbed circles into his hair, moving up and down, focusing on his neck and his temples and anywhere that might have tension.

You dragged your nails up and down his scalp, something he’d asked for several times before, and smiled to yourself as his eyebrows raised themselves in pleasure.

Just when you were about to announce you were done and demand your weekly foot massage, Hyunjin squeezed your hips tightly.

“What is it, Jinnie?” You asked softly, unsure of what the squeeze was meant to tell you—he still hasn’t opened his eyes. Did he sense you were about to pull your hands away? Was he trying to tell you he wanted you to keep going?

“What does my pretty boy need?” You hummed, dragging your nails across his scalp one more time.

At that, Hyunjin’s head fell onto the back of the couch, his hips lifting as a long and loud groan left his chest.

You felt his dick pulsing inside you as he came, hard, a wet feeling dripping down your entrance as some of his cum leaked outside of your pussy.

His chest rose up and down heavily, his eyes blinking open as you admired his blissed out face, the way his jawline sat so proudly in front of you with his head tilted back.

He was outrageously gorgeous.

His thumb rubbed circles into your hips where he was still squeezing you, slowly loosening his grip as he came back down to reality, and in turn, came to terms with what just happened. In his own Hyunjin kind of way.

He brought his face into your chest, sobbing theatrically into your body.

“I tried so hard! I was trying so so hard,” he practically wailed, “We lost!”

“Yes, yes,” you patted his head comfortingly, “it’ll be alright.”

“We lost!”

“What were you expecting was gonna happen with you inside me?” You chuckled.

“I thought I could be strong!” He threw his head back, dragging you closer to him. “How could you let me fail so spectacularly?”

“I literally warned you,” you rolled your eyes.

“You let me crash and burn,” he shook his head, “betrayed by my own girlfriend.”

“Will you stop,” you pushed at his chest, laughing loudly at his antics. “It’s not my fault you came from literally nothing.”

“Nothing? I had my favourite girl around me scratching my head and playing with my hair. That’s literally what I imagine heaven looks like.”

“Right,” you rolled your eyes fondly. “How does it feel to be the third one out?”

Hyunjin groaned. “And after the two most obvious ones. Seungmin is gonna tease me to death about this.”

You laughed at him before slowly pushing yourself up, dripping down his sweats and over your fluffy blanket.

You grabbed your shorts off the floor before announcing you were going to get cleaned up quickly.

“Wait, can I make you cum please?” He asked, so softly. You would’ve melted right there and then if it wasn’t for the slight soreness starting to build up in your body. You were sat on his lap for a fair amount of time, feeling him stretching you out, not to mention your adventures from the morning.

“To be honest, I probably can’t go again today.” Hyunjin nodded. “But since we’re out anyway, you can do it anytime you want.”

You mirrored his grin, Hyunjin nodding at you before he let you go clean up the cum now running down your legs.

When you came back out the living room was already clean and organised, Hyunjin even put the blanket and his sweats into the laundry machine.

You wrapped your arms around him, grinning as you pecked his lips again and again and again.

“Do you still love me now that I’m a loser?” He pouted.

You laughed as you started, “you were a lo—“

“—yes, yes,” he rolled his eyes with a groan, “I don’t know why I even asked.”

“I love you still, Jinnie. Maybe even more now.”

“How come?” He asked as he rubbed his nose against yours.

“Because every day I fall more… yeah, no, I can’t say it,” you scrunched your nose up in fake disgust.

“It’s okay, I know you fall in love with me more every day,” he completed the cliche for you with a grin so big little dimples appeared by his eyes.

“Okay, you be the cheesy one, I’ll order some food.”

“No, that’s fine, I can do that—“

“—I am woman. Woman order food,” you mocked him.

Hyunjin laughed at you, his whole face laughing with him, before he pulled you into a hug and squeezed you.

As you ordered the food, Hyunjin sent a message to the group chat.

hyunjin: i’m out.

jisung: already? you suck.

hyunjin: you didn’t last 48 hours!!!

jisung: that’s not what your mum said

chan: please don’t

seungmin: han what does that even mean

minho: eliminated ❌

hyunjin: put my face up in the sky like the hunger games

jeongin: hyungs, sorry but all of us would die in five minutes if we were in the hunger games

chan: yep.

changbin: i wouldn’t

chan: yep!

seungmin: you’d get hungry and die

chan: actually yep to that

changbin: i’d get good sponsors because of my charming looks and they’d feed me forever

felix: yep!!!!

felix: and don’t worry hyunjin, next year you can try again!

several people are typing…

[junrecs]

This was so soft and domestic, I need a self care day with Hyunjin 🥰

[sluttywonwoo]

no nut november — i.n (loser #2)

pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (18+), dry humping, messing around with clothes on

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi and i's collab <3

word count: 2.9k

To say you were suspicious when Minho approached you at the surprise birthday party Jisung threw for him (over a week late) would be an understatement. He was one of the friends who would only come to you when he needed something, and you assumed this time was no different. 

“Happy birthday?” you offer, wondering if that’s what he was expecting. 

He’s unfazed by your greeting in the form of a question and just smiles, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Thanks.”

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to get to whatever it was he wanted from you but he stares right back with that stupid grin of his.

“So, um, were you surprised?” 

“Not really. Hannie talks in his sleep and he crashed while we were watching a movie together the other night. But hey, anyway, you like Jeongin, right?”

You’d have whiplash by now if you weren’t so used to Minho’s abrupt subject changes. This one, however, did manage to catch you a bit off guard. 

“Of course I do. He’s a good friend.”

“But you like him as more than a friend.” He wasn’t asking, he was stating. 

You blink, stunned. “Wh- I don’t-”

“Come on, don’t play dumb. I can see the way you look at him when you think no one’s paying attention.”

Well fuck. If Minho of all people had noticed your crush on Jeongin, who else knew? Did Jeongin know? Did everybody know?

“Relax, I'm not going to tell him,” he continues when he sees the look on your face. That wasn’t necessarily what you were worried about but good to know nonetheless. He sneaks a look at the younger member from across the room as he talks. “I just thought that you should know that he likes you too.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“You know I’m like one of his best friends, right?

“I-I mean, yeah, but...”

“And we live together, he literally never shuts up about you,” Minho adds. He raises his eyebrows expectantly but you don’t say anything. You don’t know what to say. “You don’t believe me?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t believe you… it’s just, why are you telling me?”

Minho shrugs. “Think of it as a favor.” 

“Since when have you done anyone a favor?”

“Ouch.”

“I’m serious,” you insist warily. “You’re acting weird. Why are you suddenly so invested in me and Jeongin? You have to have some kind of stake in this.”

Minho sighs and drops his head, which confirms your suspicions. “Okay, fine. Here’s the deal...”

Jeongin’s pleasantly surprised when you approach him at Minho’s birthday party. You’re one of his good friends but it’s rare that the two of you ever spend time alone together. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just gets so nervous around you. He can barely get a word out when you’re in the room, which is why when he sees you making your way across the room he prays for strength and holds his breath. 

“Hey,” you say casually, sliding into the seat next to him, and Jeongin feels his heart rate pick up almost immediately. “Bored already?”

Jeongin chuckles. “What gave it away?”

“Well, you’re sitting over here all by yourself. It wasn’t very hard to guess.”

“Yeah, I guess I should mingle more,” he sighs and puts his hands on his knees to push himself up.

“Wait, but not now! I just got here.”

Jeongin’s half-relieved he doesn’t have to move from his spot, half-panicked because now he’s forced to have this one on one conversation with you. He started sweating the minute you walked in the door how the fuck was he supposed to get through this in one piece. 

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“Did you get Minho a birthday present?” you ask, thankfully skirting right past Jeongin trying to ditch you. 

He nods. “I did.”

“What’d you get him?”

“It’s a secret.”

“You didn’t get him anything, did you?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was in the mail?”

“No.”

“I forgot,” Jeongin admits sheepishly. “I always get the guys birthday gifts after the fact. I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“You can just add your name to mine, if you want,” you offer. “People group us together all the time anyway.”

“Wha- they do?” 

“Yeah, you know like whenever I show up at the dorms the boys are always like ‘Jeongin’s in his room’, ‘Jeongin will be right out’. ‘Jeongin isn’t here right now, I thought he’d be with you’. Do they not say that stuff to you?”

“Uh, no. Not really.” 

Probably because they all know about his giant fucking crush on you. 

“Oh.” 

You sound disappointed. Fuck. How does he always manage to put his foot in his mouth? 

“I mean, because they just tease me right in front of you anyway.”

“They just like giving you a hard time,” you reason. 

“So you’re on their side now?”

You crook an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize there were sides.”

“There are.”

“Then I’m on your side, obviously.”

“Really?” 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Cause you’re friends with all of us, not just me.”

“Yeah, but you’re my favorite.”

Jeongin isn’t sure if he totally believes you but he’s elated regardless. He beams at you. 

“You’re my favorite too.”

-

He doesn’t know why, but after Minho’s birthday party, things between him and you feel different. The next time he sees you is on that Saturday, the fifth. You come over for game night like you do every weekend, and you take your spot next to Jeongin as usual. Everything seems normal. But it isn’t. Jeongin can feel it in the stiffness of your posture, in the nervous tapping of your foot against the hardwood floor. 

The night progresses as smoothly as any other game night, with Jeongin losing every single one, but he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. 

You’re not mad at him, he knows that. You still laugh at his dumb jokes, you still let him cheat off of you, both good signs. 

When Felix calls for a break, Jeongin takes the opportunity to lean over and check in. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You jump in your seat a little like you hadn’t been expecting him to address you, which was fair because he was usually too much of a coward to, and turn to face him. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yup. Just fine.”

“Not good?”

“Neither good, nor bad,” you say with a shrug. 

“Why? Is something wrong?”

You open your mouth to answer but Felix’s voice from the kitchen cuts you off as he calls out to suggest that the group of you watch a movie instead of finishing the game of Uno you were currently playing.

“You never want to watch movies,” Hyunjin says, scrunching his face in confusion. 

“Yeah, you’re only suggesting that because you’re losing!” Seungmin adds.

Felix comes into the room, hands on his hips, and lips pursed. “Do you want to watch How to Train Your Dragon or not?”

-

Seven and a half minutes later, you’re all on the couch watching Hiccup struggle with his daddy issues. Jeongin didn’t have much say in the matter but you had seemed eager to watch the movie so obviously he was… also eager. To watch the movie. 

A lot of the guys’ girlfriends were over so you asked Jeongin to share a blanket with you, seeing as there were only so many to go around. 

He agrees, of course, even though he isn’t cold. If anything, he’s overly warm. He hopes you can’t feel the heat radiating from his body. 

It’s hard to focus on the movie with you so close, not that he was really interested in it in the first place, but then you snuggle close to Jeongin and rest your head on his shoulder and his brain short circuits. You must feel his body tense because you sit back up immediately after, frowning. 

“No, you can lay back down,” Jeongin insists, going as far as craning his neck in the opposite direction to give you more room. 

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you mumble. 

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” he asks.

“Because you’re being all weird.”

“I’m not-”

“Hey, you two,” Jisung hisses from the other couch, “could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to watch the movie.”

Jeongin apologizes and you shift away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s really done it now. He tries to remedy the situation by scooting closer but you don’t even look at him. 

From across the room, Jeongin makes eye contact with Minho, who gives him a look as if to say what the fuck are you doing? 

Minho’s been trying to get Jeongin to make a move on you for months now, claiming to be tired of listening to him pine over you from afar, but Jeongin knows his friend really just wants him to be happy, put himself out there and all that. Minho’s been especially insistent ever since the eight of them made that stupid bet. He’s somehow under the impression that if Jeongin tells you how he feels it’ll eliminate him as competition. But for that to happen, you would have to like him back. 

He doubts he’ll win No Nut November anyway, girlfriend or not. Hell, half the reason he acts so strange around you is because he’s using up all of his energy trying not to get hard. All you have to do is smile at him and his dick will twitch in his pants. In fact, he knows tonight after you go home he’ll just lay in bed, hard and aching with thoughts of you as he wills his cock to soften on its own. 

But at least he wouldn’t be the first loser. Jisung made sure of that by losing on the second day of the month. Everyone saw it coming. 

Jeongin’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of you yawning. 

“Are you tired?” he asks softly, not wanting to get scolded by his members for talking again.

“A little.”

“Do you want to lay down in my room? You could stay the night if you want, I know it’s getting late.”

“That’d be great, Innie, thanks.” You smile sleepily at him and reach for his hand. “Will you come with me? I don’t want to go by myself, I’d feel weird.”

Jeongin nods, brain going on autopilot as he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom. No one questions where the two of you are going, either too engrossed in the movie to notice, or too uninterested to care. 

You flop down on his bed as soon as the door’s shut behind you. Jeongin chuckles. 

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“I will,” you hum. 

Despite the fact that the two of you don’t spend much time together, it isn’t uncommon for you to end up in Jeongin’s bed. He offers it to you whenever you decide to stay over because he doesn’t want you driving yourself home if you’re tired or if you’ve been drinking. He always takes the couch even though you’ve pointed out that his bed is big enough for the both of you. He doesn’t trust himself not to embarrass himself if he were to entertain the idea. 

“I know you wore jeans tonight so you can borrow something of mine to sleep in if you want.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can just sleep in my underwear,” you say as you start to unzip your pants. “Unless that bothers you?”

Jeongin’s eyes widen at the sight and he spins on his heel to face the wall and give you privacy. 

“N-no, that’s fine,” he squeaks out. 

“You don’t have to turn away, Jeongin. It’s not like I’m a stranger.”

He ignores you and only turns back around once he hears you slide underneath the covers, knowing that he’d instantly get hard if he did any sooner. 

“I know, I just... uh, let me know if you need anything else,” he says and heads for the door. 

“Wait,” you call after him. “Won’t you stay with me?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he says slowly. 

You huff in frustration and throw back the covers. “I-I don’t understand. I should have never listened to Minho-”

“Minho? What’s Minho got to do with this?”

You look guilty all of the sudden, and Jeongin’s drops as his brian conjures up every possible scenario that involves you and Minho talking about him. None of them are good. 

“Y/n?” he prompts again. 

“He told me that he knew I had feelings for you and that you had feelings for me too, and then he told me about that idiotic bet you all made and tried to get me in on it, I guess to seduce you or something? But obviously he doesn’t know what he’s talking about because you don’t even like me!”

It’s entirely too much information for Jeongin’s brain to process at once. All he can focus on is that you have feelings for him??? 

“You have feelings for me?” he asks, dumbfounded. 

“Did you listen to anything else I just said?” you huff. 

“Not really.”

“Yes, I’ve had a big fat crush on you for forever now, thanks for noticing.”

“Really?”

“Really. Are you going to make me say it again?”

“I kind of want to,” Jeongin admits, finally feeling brave enough to approach you on his bed. 

“That’s mean.”

“Why? I have a crush on you too, silly.”

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“Minho wasn’t messing with you. He was right.”

“You like me?”

“How could I not?”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you scoff. 

Jeongin rolls his eyes at you and pouts. “You just make me nervous, okay? I can’t function around a pretty girl.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He nods and takes your hand. “The prettiest.”

He’s not sure who makes the next move, probably you, but then you’re kissing. Your arms are wrapped around Jeongin’s neck, pulling him down close to you as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Clumsily, he climbs onto the bed with you and slots himself in between your legs, moaning into your mouth a little when his hand brushes against your bare thigh. 

You already sound breathy and desperate for him and it spurs him on further, hips grinding into you instinctively. He’s practically fully hard in his sweats, there’s no way you can’t feel it, but you don’t seem to mind. If anything, it turns you on even more. 

You’re the first to break away, though, pushing on Jeongin’s chest to put more distance between you. “Wait, wait, the bet! Don’t you want to win?”

He doesn’t even need to think about it. “Fuck the bet.”

Jeongin kisses you again, letting his hands travel beneath your shirt and up to your tits. He traces your curves, outlining each one, before moving down to your underwear. It seems that you have a similar train of thought because you reach for the waistband of his pants at the same time, but he stops you with a sheepish grin. 

“This is really embarrassing, but I haven’t jerked off in like a week so I won’t last long.”

You smile against his lips. “It’s okay, Innie. We can just go again if you cum too fast. We have all the time in the world now.”

The assurance is all he needs to relax. You begin to palm him over his sweats and it becomes very apparent to Jeongin that he’s going to cum way faster than he wants to. He whines, actually whines, and bucks his hips into your hand. 

“Shhh, the others are still outside,” you remind him. 

“S-sorry.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss as he fumbles for the waistband of your panties, wanting to make you feel good too. He dips his thumb beneath the fabric, lower and lower until you’re moaning and arching your back off the bed. 

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you whisper. 

Jeongin keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow circles, while he works the rest of his hand into your underwear. He figures that if he can’t make you cum on his cock, his fingers will have to do. He’s been told that he has nice hands on more than one occasion, and he’s gotten good reviews from partners in the past, so it’s kind of like a failsafe for him. 

“Shit, you’re wet,” Jeongin breathes.

“Do you believe I like you now?”

For some reason, that’s what does it for him. He shudders and falls forward into you as he cums in his pants. 

“Oh god, sorry, sorry,” he groans. 

There’s so much of it too, it seeps through the material of his sweatpants and onto your hand and he’s mortified.

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” you soothe, rubbing his back as he comes down. “You told me it was going to happen, I expected it.”

“But still.”

“It really isn’t a big deal, Innie. If anything, I think it’s hot that I have that effect on you. And you can go again right?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes! Yeah, just give me like, ten minutes.”

You laugh and pet his hair. “Well in that case, I can think of a lot of things we can do in ten minutes, can’t you?”

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka

[junrecs]

Well that was easy 🤣 Minho's definitely playing the long game here, clearly. But Innie was so cute 💜

[augustbutwinter]

hello and happy early birthday! 🎉 i'm here to request a Hongjoong drabble, please. maybe something with "you drive me crazy, you know that?" 👀 crack, fluff, smut, whatever you're moved to write! 💕

Sweet Sunny @minisugakoobies! Thank you!!! 💕

Now, my birthday has come and passed, and in true Virgo fashion I couldn't pull a Namjoon ("Done is better than perfect" - even though I doubt, even Namjoon could pull a Namjoon.) and just post just anything. Is this perfect? I doubt it. But I do like how it has turned out. I played around with the prompt a bit. I really hope you enjoy it! 💕

AO3 - Masterlist

"drive me crazy" - an ateez drabble duo

pairing: hongjoong x reader genre: fluff? angsty? is "fade to black" a genre? wc: 119 and 137 warning: i think none. a/n: not beta-read! both drabbles are not necessarily in the same universe. it's up to you!

1

Maybe you shouldn’t do it. But then again. You like taking risks.

You make eye contact, and click your pen. Again. And one more time for good measure. 

"You drive me crazy, you know that?"

A grin on your lips. You know you do. And click your pen. Again. And one more time for good measure.

What can you do? There’s something about his face when he’s pissed. You click your pen.

You know you’re playing with fire, but –oh– the reward will be so sweet later. It’s not the first time the two of you are dancing to this beat. 

And you both know the steps to this dance well. 

You stretch your arms in a way you know your shirt will ride up. 

He shuts his laptop with a groan and a second later your back hits the wall.

2

Your phone hums – once, twice– and lights up. 

You swear one day it’s gonna drive you up a wall.

Up. A. Wall.

You know you shouldn’t even open the texts. Should leave them unread.

23:04 > are you sleeping?

23:05 > done with work. wanna meet?

You know you shouldn’t even touch your phone now. Should turn around and ignore it. You know he won’t send another text after this. He’s not pushy like that. 

You’d be safe then. Would fall asleep in peace. Would wake up well rested.

But you know you won’t. You’ll try to be strong a little longer. Today you give yourself 3 minutes.

And allow yourself to cave. Your doorbell rings a minute later.

___

Ⓒaugustbutwinter november2023 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it! I thrive on feedback like a thirsty houseplant!)

[junrecs]

A small snack (just like Mr Kim himself), loved it, definitely left me craving for the whole bag 👀

[gimmeurtmi]

no nut november — han (loser #1)

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader

tags: no nut november mini series, established relationship, ot8 inclusive, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, open conversations about sex as an impulse/need, insecure reader for a bit, fingering, oral ( f + m receiving), slight dirty talk, unprotected sex, no nut november as a bet, needy!jisung,

inspo: kaili’s brain <33

notes: @sluttywonwoo and i are finally collabing after like five years :’). i’m so so hyped for this one!!! make sure to tell us what you think and place your bets on the winner🥰 😉

banner by @sluttywonwoo

{ wc: 5246 }

jisung and his friends were close. very close. they saw each other practically every day and would share everything with each other. it was something he cherished deeply, and he loved just how jisung he could be around them.

they never made him feel like he was too much—unlike most of the people he grew up with, and they even indulged him when he’d start talking about his niche interests or when he shared a new song he wrote. they were always supportive.

maybe to a fault.

“so, even though we can’t grow facial hair,” chan concluded, “i think it would be nice if we could at least make a donation to the charity.”

“what charity?” seungmin asked.

“weren’t you listening?” changbin yelled.

“no,” the younger said easily.

“hyung was explaining to us about movember,” felix recaps. seungmin just shrugs.

“i could grow facial hair if i tried,” he challenges.

“that’s not the point!” chan shakes his head. “will you guys make a donation with me or not?”

they all mumbled their affirmations.

“why is it in november?” jeongin quips.

chan just shrugs. “every months has things attached to it, i suppose.”

“november has another thing,” minho says, plainly.

“there’s national cappuccino day,” seungmin agrees with a nod.

“and fried chicken day!” changbin adds.

“yeah, and there’s a challenge to write a whole novel in the month of november,” hyunjin says softly.

“yeah,” jisung says, tone serious as he leans forward, “you’re forgetting the most important one. no nut november.”

minho smirks at him as the pair of friends exchange a look that says ‘you read my mind’.

“yeah, right,” chan chuckles, “the other ones sound like real things though.”

“it’s a real thing!” jisung defends.

“no, it’s not,” chan just shakes his head.

“it is!”

“do you know anyone who actually does it rather than posting stupid memes about it?”

“me,” jisung shrugs confidently.

the room fills with a chorus of laughter so loud, jisung sits there with a shocked face at the reaction he just got.

well, fine, he doesn’t do it. he’s never done it. he’s never even thought about it. but chan doesn’t need to know that, does he?

“why?” jisung said once the laughter calmed down, a few minutes after he last spoke.

“you’re trying to say you’re not going to have sex or do anything for a whole month?” seungmin tried to clarify.

“yeah, why?”

“it’s just…” he holds back his laughter, “…i don’t think you’re capable of that.”

“hey!” jisung exclaims. “i’m not an animal, i can go a month without sex.”

“oh, we all know that,” hyunjin laughs, “we’ve seen you go through a year long dry spell before you found y/n. but you got off every fucking day.”

“uh—i don’t—why do you know that?” jisung could feel himself blushing.

“we share a wall.”

the boys laugh harder. jisung can’t stop himself from cringing.

“hyunjin, please never say that again,” he tries to brush off.

“maybe you can not have sex for a whole month,” minho chuckles, “but you can’t go that long with nothing.”

“it’s not that hard!” jisung insists, unable to accept the fact his friends think so little of him and his self control.

“it is!” chan adds, “we’re used to doing stuff like that all the time, we can’t just stop.”

“yeah,” changbin agrees, leaning forward to give jisung the kind of look he gives him when he’s trying to encourage him. “none of us could do that.”

“hey!” felix quips up, just as seungmin puts his hand up.

“speak for yourself!” the younger adds.

“yeah!” jeongin nods firmly.

“you guys think you could go a whole month?” chan raises an eyebrow at his friends.

“i could, too,” hyunjin shrugs plainly.

“first of all, this isn’t fair,” minho leans closer, as if evaluating the situation. “innie is single. he’s used to not getting any,”

“—hey!—“

“—and most of you have girlfriends so you can’t just decide to do this without telling them.”

“most of us?” changbin quotes back at minho, “like you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“she’s just as competitive as i am, so she’ll do it just to show you guys we’re the best.”

“the best at not getting any?” jisung quips with a raise of his brow. the boys snicker.

“yah!” minho exclaims. “don’t start with me!”

“maybe minho is so confident because she never lets him get it anyway,” seungmin laughs.

“you think i can’t get some?” minho squares up, acting as if he’s about to take out his phone and prove his friends wrong.

“uh,” chan tries, hands up, “i think we’re getting off track here?”

“let’s put money on it,” jisung offers. he’s joking, well, kinda.

now that the boys have all doubted him, while simultaneously agreeing they’d be better than him at something, he has to prove them wrong. even if it is only trivial and honestly pretty stupid. jisung is never not the best.

“how much?” felix rubs his hands together.

“enough for the winner to get a nice weekend away with his partner,” hyunjin suggests, “minho’s got a point. they’ll have to go through it too so might as well treat them.”

“and what does innie get?” seungmin can’t help but ask.

“i’m single, too,” changbin croaks.

“you’re not,” chan rolls his eyes. “being too scared to establish the relationship doesn’t make you single.”

changbin smiles sheepishly at the raised brows around him, trying to ignore the pointed looks his friends are giving him.

“yeah, when are you going to just ask her to be your girlfriend? we’ve all met her already and we love her,” felix encourages with a soft smile.

“why is this about me?” he yells back. “tell jeongin to get his shit together and ask his crush out!”

“that can be his prize. a getaway that’s the perfect excuse to ask her out,” chan offers with a smile.

“so, agreed? no sex for a month and winner gets a weekend away with their lover, undefined partner, or unrequited crush, as a prize,” minho concludes.

“it’s not just sex,” felix points out, “no, uh, fireworks at all.”

“it’s called orgasms, yongbok,” seungmin says bluntly.

“fine,” he rolls his eyes, his cheeks dusted pink, “no orgasms.”

“we should exclude jisung from this,” hyunjin smirks, “since he was gonna do it anyway.”

“poor y/n,” seungmin tsks, “at least our girlfriends will get something nice for this torture.”

“hey hey hey!” jisung lets out quickly, barely breathing as he goes on, “if anything as your inspiration and true role model i should be part of this bet, too. and i’ll have you know i take amazing care of my girlfriend whether i sleep with her or not and no, sleeping with me is not it’s own kind of torture,” he says quickly, before seungmin and minho can say what’s so clearly on their minds.

they both let out a disappointed grunt at his words—confirming jisung knows them far too well.

“but we have to tell them we’re doing this,” chan confirms, “i don’t keep stuff from her and like minho said, it’s just cruel not to tell them.”

they all agree.

jeongin curls in on himself ever so slightly, before he says, “maybe just hyungs should do this, then. i don’t have a girlfriend so it’s an unfair advantage.”

“as the youngest your hormones are most active, so if anything it’ll be harder for you,” hyunjin says, comforting his friend.

what a weird way to comfort someone, jisung thinks. and then he says it out loud.

“it was actually very comforting, thank you,” jeongin glared at jisung, “but it’s fine. i don’t have to be part of the bet. i’d have no one to take to the getaway either.”

“don’t worry,” minho says quickly, “you’re playing. we’re not letting you sit this out just because you haven’t had the chance to make a move on that girl.”

“but—“

“—the more of us play, the harder it is. more people you need to outlive.”

“outlive?” jisung repeats with a gulp. minho simply nods at him, his face expressionless.

“right, shake on it!” chan announces, and all eight of the boys put their hands in the middle of the circle, each grabbing at one or two people’s fingers.

november 2nd

why did jisung ever agree to this? why did he even bring it up?

this was stupid. this was so so stupid. you haven’t had the chance to come over since the month started, and well, jisung got too distracted and engulfed by your presence that he didn’t have a chance to bring the bet up just yet. he didn’t know how to say it, either.

“i bet a romantic getaway with my friends on us not having sex for a month,” felt like a stupid thing to say. well, it was stupid. stupid!

it felt borderline ridiculous when you snuggled up closer to him on the couch, back flush to his chest as you played the next movie on your scary marathon list. halloween was over, but both you and jisung agreed there were far too many good ones to just stop once the holiday was over, so jisung was happy to let you keep working through the list the pair of you curated on your letterbox account.

“you’re so warm,” you said happily, moving in closer to his embrace. jisung planted a small kiss on the back of your neck, squeezing you tighter as you sighed.

“i love being like this with you,” you mumbled, moving your head to the side enough to plant a soft kiss on his equally soft cheeks.

“squeezed to your death?” jisung teased, squeezing at your stomach and your hips, where his hands were casually wrapped around you.

you let out a dramatic huff before you giggled at him, curling a hand underneath his bicep to push his arms away from you. he only let his grip loosen, but didn’t dare move away too much. you kept your fingers around his bicep, slowly pressing into the muscle.

“ji, all the time you spend away from me at the gym really paid off,” you mumbled, leaning down to kiss at his bicep softly.

jisung smiled timidly.

“uh, thanks,” he cleared his throat.

“i feel so safe in your strong arms,” you added.

“why do scary movies always make you horny?” jisung asked.

“what?” you chuckled, “i’m not horny?”

“you are feeling me up,” he pointed out, his chin gesturing at your fingers and the way they wrapped around his muscles.

“i can’t admire the artwork?” you huffed.

“there’s admiring, and there’s drooling,” he said, eyebrows raised.

“since when are you so cocky,” you sighed.

“does that turn you on, too?” jisung smirked. he was moving into dangerous territory, but he couldn’t help it when it was you. there was something so enticing about flirting with you, especially when you were sat so snuggly in between his legs.

“for the record, everything you do is a turn on.”

jisung swallowed. it didn’t go unnoticed to him that your thighs spread ever so slightly since this exchange started, or that you were much closer to his chest than you were a few moments ago. he had to keep it clean. “focus on your film, honey.”

you two still exchanged kisses, you still fed jisung snacks in between jump scares, you still laughed at all the kills together. so, it was just like any other movie night.

except it wasn’t—for the very reason you were pointing out now.

“jisung,” you began, tilting your head to the side slightly as he sat back down on the bed. he cleaned his room from the snacks and came back quickly, but it was enough time to for you to realise what happened.

“jisung? who the fuck is jisung?” he knitted his eyebrows together. “what’s wrong?”

“are you upset with me?”

his face reminded you of a surprised cartoon character, his mouth a perfect circle as his eyebrows met his hair.

“what? no, no. why? why?”

“it’s just,” you blushed, causing jisung to grab both your hands and trail his thumbs against your wrist soothingly. “we’ve never ever had a movie night without your hands down my pants.”

jisung laughed.

“stop,” you groaned. “i’m being serious.”

“my baby! my sweet sweet baby,” he teased, getting closer and closer to your face with his signature shit eating grin.

“it’s like an instinct you have, jisung. we watch a movie and you touch me. it was really weird that you didn’t.”

“stop calling me jisung,” he scoffed, “i’m not your friend.”

“you are now, since friends usually have normal, non-pussy-touching movie nights together all the time!”

“so you didn’t get touched for one movie and i’ve been bumped back down to friend status?” jisung gasped.

“i don’t know, have i?” you counter.

jisung notices the way you don’t quite let him hold your hands, the way that gorgeous glint in your eyes isn’t there. he isn’t too sure you’re just joking about this.

“hey,” he says softly, “are you being serious?”

you nod softly. “did i do something wrong?”

“why would you think that?” jisung exclaimed, pulling you closer to him. “where is this coming from?”

“is it because i didn’t put perfume on today? i know i’ve been getting more comfortable around you, i’m sorry i haven’t put a lot of effort in today i just thought we were gonna have a chill night so i didn’t wear my best clothes and—“

“—hey! hey! stop that now,” jisung shakes his head quickly. “i love that you’re comfortable around me.”

“it’s just, i don’t know, jisung. you’re always—“

“—can you not call me that—“

“—you’re always touching me in some sort of way and then i don’t see you for a week and you’re just not anymore?”

“why are you insecure? you know i love you,” jisung emphasised with all his might, his figure slumping until he met your gaze. you wouldn’t look in his eyes.

“it’s okay if you just weren’t in the mood,” you say quickly, realising your insecurities were indeed leading your train of thought. you owed it to jisung to be understanding—even if his behaviour was painfully uncharacteristic. “i just never see you not in the mood.”

“you’re making me out to be some sort of pervert,” jisung jokes, trying to get you to laugh. or at least let him hold your hand.

“but you’re my pervert,” you pout at him, causing his insides to crunch at the sight.

you always made him weak—and he was holding everything inside him not to tease you during the movie like he always did. but it was only his first try, he couldn’t lose already. and if he touched you, jisung knew he wouldn’t wanna stop until you were both spent and satisfied. he thought so hard about that, he didn’t stop to consider how you might see it. or the fact he never fucking told you.

“i made a bet with the boys,” jisung said quickly.

“huh?”

“we’re doing no nut november so i tried not to touch you because i don’t wanna lose on the second day,” he said in one big breath.

“that was too fast, rapper boy,” you pointed out, unable to catch half the words he said.

jisung repeated himself, slowly, feeling the blush creep up his neck as he spoke clearly and carefully.

“what did you bet on?”

he felt his eyes gap again. that was your first question?

“a romantic getaway for the couple that wins.”

“and where will changbin go for his getaway, do you think?”

“what?” he gasped. “i’m taking you on a romantic getaway.”

“no, you’re not,” you laughed, amused at his incredulous face.

“what does that mean?”

“ji,” you giggled, lacing your fingers together, “i have never met anyone as insatiable as you. even if you can somehow hold off sex for a month, you really think your impatient dick will be able to stay calm for that long?”

jisung felt heat rushing all over his body, coursing through him then all the way down to his crotch.

“i’m sorry i made you feel insecure,” he tries to change the subject, ignoring just how dry his mouth felt all of a sudden, “please never doubt how much i’m obsessed with you.”

you smiled at his words, nodding in acceptance.

you lean forward, capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

jisung wanted to make it up to you, he wanted to make sure you had no doubt at all about how crazy he was about you—he wanted you to know this was just about the bet.

so he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled your body closer to him, deepening the kiss as you sighed contently.

he ran a hand down your back, slowly, cupping your ass softly as he felt you smiling against his lips.

“so obsessed with you,” he mumbles into the kiss, “so obsessed.”

“i’m obsessed with you too,” you sigh, unable to quite finish your sentence before jisung slips his tongue past your lips.

the kiss is still soft, jisung’s tongue moving slowly against yours, but his movements are more urgent as he grabs your hips and pulls you onto his lap.

“my perfect, perfect girlfriend,” he sighs, kissing down your jaw.

jisung wants you. he wants you really bad. and he can have you. why not? the rule is, as felix put it, no fireworks. jisung is not the kind of man that can only have sex if he cums. he can just focus on you. he’ll just take care of you. that’s allowed.

“can i make it up to you?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he moves your hair away from your face.

“how?” you cock your head to the side.

“i’ll touch you now, give you what you so clearly missed out on,” he chuckled.

you nodded instantly, biting your lip.

“you sure you can?” you ask, no hint of teasing in your words. you know how competitive jisung is, and you also know he really doesn’t have much self control. you wouldn’t want him to lose just because you were feeling a little insecure lately.

“yeah,” he nods. confidently.

you lean down to kiss him again.

jisung doesn’t waste any time pulling your sweats down your legs and helping you shimmy out of them. he slowly presses you down onto your back, pushing at each knee to keep your legs open for him.

he trailed his finger up your thighs, slowly, smirking at the way your eyes fluttered at his action. he’s still jisung, so he’s still a fucking tease, and he circled your lips once and twice, bringing his finger in between your folds casually.

before you think to protest, he dips the tip of his finger inside you, his eyes gleaming at the squelching noise. it’s only the tip of his index finger, but it’s enough to make you want more—so you buck your hips up in a silent request.

jisung leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hipbone.

“don’t get needy,” he warned, “you know we shouldn’t be going crazy.”

you nod, taking in a deep breath as you focus on the feeling your boyfriend is giving you right now. you know you shouldn’t be greedy.

jisung is spread out in front of you, his whole body on the bed—face in front of your exposed pussy.

he leans his head against your thigh, kissing at the soft skin as his eyes fixate on his fingers—slowly, shallowly, going in and out.

“faster,” you dare.

jisung obeyed instantly, the tip of his finger tapping in and out of your entrance in quick shallow motions.

“ji, fuck baby,” you start chanting, breathing fast as the pleasure starts to consume you.

“more?” jisung raises his eyebrows at you, his smile big and cheeky as a sense of pride follows his movements.

“please, please more,” you pleaded.

jisung climbed up your body as he kissed around your collarbone, planting kiss after kiss after kiss before he pulled your shirt down enough to expose your bare chest.

“no bra?” he gasps.

“i said i was more comfortable around you,” you shrugged.

“fuck, baby,” he chuckled, “be as comfortable as you want.”

he grabbed your tit, kneading the skin before he rolled your nipple in between his fingers—a loud moan escaping you. jisung leaned down, sucking the sensitive bud as you grabbed onto his soft hair.

“ji,” you moaned, “fuck, please. please.”

“what?” he asked, almost genuinely. he knew you quite well at this point and he was doing everything you taught him you liked. what was he missing?

“want you,” you sighed.

“i’m here,” he smirked up at you, kissing your lips softly before turning his attention back to your nipples—tongue moving fast against it.

“can you, uh, would it be okay if you—“ you stuttered, unsure exactly how to ask for what you wanted. usually you just told jisung to fuck you, but you didn’t want to ask that now. still, you weren’t quite sure how to word your next request.

“what is it, baby?”

“can you use your mouth?” you blushed. but jisung didn’t even stop to tease you about it—and instead buried his face in between your thighs without a second to spare.

you squealed at the coolness of his tongue, taken aback by just how fast he was going from the start.

jisung was good at a lot of things—but you didn’t think anyone could possibly be so good at giving head. he proved just how good he was at it every chance he got, and now, he was determined to prove that point one more time.

your fingers carded in his hair, pulling at the strands as he placed his tongue flat against your clit—moving it in a pulsing pattern against the sensitive bud.

you’ve never been with anyone who ate pussy like him.

you weren’t even sure what you were saying, too lost in the feeling to realise you were chanting your boyfriend’s name like a prayer, mixed in with a few swear words and some questionable noises.

but it was driving jisung insane.

he loved knowing he was making you feel good, he loved the compliments that tumbled out of your mouth without you even realising it, he loved how you always said how good he was when he made you cum.

he couldn’t remember the last time you were this loud for him.

as you tugged on his hair again, pulling him even closer to your cunt, jisung grunted. he was rolling his hips into the mattress.

“fuck baby,” he pulled away slightly, catching his breath for a moment, “i’m gonna lose my fucking mind soon.”

he kept rutting into the mattress as he sucked on your clit, moaning against your body and causing another set of swear words to leave your lips.

“such a filthy fucking mouth,” he let out, his eyes hooded slightly as he looked up at you, his hips still rolling against the mattress. “how does someone so pretty sound so dirty?”

“ji,” you whimpered, “ji, your mouth is so good.”

“yeah,” he sighed before getting back to his task.

after a few moments, both of you rolling your hips in search of more friction, you started to whine.

“i’m close, i’m so close,” you said softly.

jisung knew you needed more to be able to cum, and although he could’ve just used his fingers—he was desperate for more, too.

so he climbed up your body and rolled his sweats down his thighs.

“what are you doing?” you asked quickly.

“just let me feel how warm you are,” he all but sobbed, “just for a little bit.”

“are you sure?” you checked, glancing down at his dick. he was swollen, hard, and the tip glistened with precum. you weren’t sure he would stop after a little bit, especially considering he was practically humping the bed until now.

“wanna feel how warm you are baby,” he repeated, kissing your neck, “please. i’ll stop if i get too close.”

you nodded at him. it was all you wanted too, to feel the stretch of his cock inside you, but you could tell jisung wasn’t thinking clearly as soon as you noticed just how blown his pupils were.

either way—how could you care about the stupid bet he made with his friends when the prettiest boy in the world was begging to put his cock inside you?

jisung lined himself up easily, his strong hands on either side of your shoulders before he pushed himself all the way inside you.

the pair of you groaned in unison.

“so fucking tight,” he sighed, “so wet.”

“it’s from how good you are at eating me out,” you moaned, grabbing onto his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

“can i move?” he asked, his nose bumping against your chin before he kissed you sloppily.

“it’s up to you, baby,” you nodded.

jisung thrust up into you. hard.

you yelped.

“more,” you couldn’t help but ask.

jisung repeated his actions, once and then twice, and then he was rubbing your clit fast.

“oh my god,” you moaned, “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

jisung wouldn’t dream of stopping, not when you looked so good underneath him, moaning and grunting and biting your lip in pleasure.

he was focusing as best he could on thinking about literally anything else to push his own high as far away as he could.

he could do it. he could make you cum on his cock without losing. he knew he could do it.

and soon, your moans were getting high pitched and longer and then—

“i’m cumming!” you announced breathily, and jisung shut his eyes. it was one thing feeling you clench and pulse around him while keeping his focus, but he couldn’t possibly look at your blissed out face right now. he needed to focus.

once he felt you calm down, heard that little sigh you let out as soon as you relax, he knew it was safe to open his eyes.

“ji,” you chuckled, “that was fucking amazing.”

you kiss him, hand cradling his cheeks as you pepper more kisses around his face.

“happy to be of service,” he smirked at you. pride coated his shoulders as he kissed your cheek.

he actually fucking did it.

he took a moment to appreciate your expression, the sweat on your forehead, the way you were still taking in big breaths, your messy hair.

“fuck, i’m so lucky,” he let out. you chuckled in response.

“can i—would you be okay if i did the thing?” you asked, shyly.

only recently did the pair of you discover you both loved tasting your own release on each other. jisung would eat you out almost every time he came inside you, and you loved sucking him off after he fucked you. it wasn’t like you had to do it—but since this discovery, your aftercare reached a new level of hot.

“sure,” jisung nodded, laying down on the bed beside you after he slowly pulled out.

“tell me if i need to stop,” you said before kissing his lips.

“don’t worry, honey,” he smiled, “i got this.”

you nodded before sliding down his body.

you licked his tip softly, testing the waters, and hummed at the taste. the saltiness and your own taste combined together as you took more and more of his dick into your mouth.

you licked the shiny part of his thighs where a bit got away, sucking a small bruise into the skin. and then you licked his balls, and then you took all of him inside you.

jisung was quiet the whole time, his face scrunched in concentration. he wouldn’t even look at you.

“baby, you’re okay?” you asked, rubbing his thigh soothingly as you licked his tip slowly—still tasting yourself on his warm dick.

“yeah, baby, all good,” he grunted as he shut his eyes.

you took that as a sign you could keep going, and tried your hardest not to tease him too much. you just wanted to clean him off.

“there we go, my love,” you hummed, “all done.”

jisung opened his eyes with a smile, bringing a hand into your hair.

“thanks, baby,” he smiled, visibly relaxing in front of you.

“you did so well, ji,” you smiled, “so patient and calm for me. you’re gonna win this for us.”

you gleamed up at him, a big smile on your lips, and instinctively you found yourself bringing your hand around him as you stroked him twice.

“wait, wait, wait,” he said frantically—waving his hands at you.

but before you could question that kind of reaction, or even respond, his thighs had contracted in front of you as cum shot onto his stomach.

it was too late now, so you made sure he at least enjoyed it, stroking him in a pace you knew he liked as you watched the pleasure sink into his body.

“fuck!” he let out as he came down his high. “two fucking days?”

“i don’t understand what just happened,” you chuckled, sitting up. “was it something i said?”

“i shouldn’t have looked at you,” jisung groaned, bringing his hands up to rub his face. “your stupid cute smile.”

“really?” you giggled, “you could fuck me through an orgasm but me smiling at you was the last straw?”

“you know what,” jisung chuckled, grabbing the pillow next to him and launching it at you, “i wish you would bump me down to friend status.”

“you don’t mean that, jisung,” you smirked, reaching over to his bedside table for some tissues. you helped him clean up his now ruined shirt as the pair of you laughed.

jisung leaned up to kiss you, pulling you closer by the back of your neck.

“don’t call me that,” he whined as you pulled away.

“so like, i’m not allowed to call you by your legal name, i can’t smile at you, anything else?”

jisung rolled his eyes at you with a grin, leaning up to kiss you—tasting everything you cleaned up on your lips.

“two fucking days,” he mumbled again as he pulled away.

“get over it, ji,” you chuckled.

jisung huffed at himself, running a hand through his hair before he pulled his shirt off, letting you cuddle into him as the pair of you sighed into each other’s embrace.

his phone buzzed at that—pulling you away from your momentary post sex bliss as jisung read over the text.

minho: so how is movie night going? 😌

jisung: fuck you

“don’t worry, baby,” you said as you giggled at the texts on his screen, “the boys will never find out it was only two days.”

jisung grumbled at that.

“minho is a dick. and we all know he’s gonna win it, too.”

“sure, sure,” you patted his chest, thinking did it really matter that much? “i’m sure whoever wins will use their gift wisely.”

“oh wait, shit,” he exclaimed. you looked up at him curiously. “we were all busy the week of his birthday so chan said i need to plan a party for next week. will you help me?”

“of course, jisung,” you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“stop calling me that!” he chuckled, eyes wide as he shook you around by your shoulders.

you decided kissing him would calm him down, and it did—the pair of you kissing until you were both too tired to go on.

[junrecs]

I saw this on my dash last year and still hadn't got around to reading it, so what would be a better time than now?

Poor Sungie 😂 he really didn't stand a chance, didn't he? I can't wait to find out how the others are faring!

[minisugakoobies]

Sunny, hear me out:

I need soft cuddly bestie Jongho, you’ve shared a bed all your youth so it’s never been a big deal, and he’s the one to always initiate the cuddles. What happens? Do things get steamy? Does it stay purely platonic? HELP ME OUT with this man my fellow libra bby 🥺

I don't know where this came from but it's M(18+) so minors go away!

*********

Ohhhh, sweet cuddly BFF Jongho loves nothing more than lying on your bed together, his arm around you while your head rests on his chest as a movie plays on your laptop. He's spent so much time holding you like this over the years, yet he's never made a move. You've always assumed it's because his feelings towards you are purely platonic, but that couldn't be further from the truth! No, Jongho longs with every fiber of his surprisingly muscular being to kiss you, but like all Libras he is absolutely paralyzed by indecision! Can't decide whether to say something and possibly risk losing you or say nothing and possibly get his heart broken when you fall in love with someone else. If he thinks about saying something, he can't choose what to say or how to do it.

Overwhelmed by too many choices, he does nothing, just listens to the sound of your breathing as it deepens, and he realizes that you've fallen asleep on him. Like you always do on movie night. He shifts, rolling out from under you, guiding your head towards your pillow. He's careful to move your laptop off the bed, since you flail like a spider monkey in your sleep, limbs flying about like you're sailing through the treetops, and are wont to breaking things.

Once you're resting on your side, he mirrors you, indulging himself just a little by gazing at your peaceful face. Watching the way your lashes flutter like delicate butterfly wings, barely brushing your cheeks. His heart pangs. He wishes he knew what to do. He'd give anything to be sure. Of himself, of the two of you, of anything. But he's not, so instead, he'll just lay here and cuddle you. And when the morning comes, he'll let go.

His eyelids begin to droop, as he feels himself being pulled under by sleep.

"Jongho."

You breathe his name. His eyes snap open, focusing on the gentle smile on your lips. You're still asleep, and he's almost convinced himself that he was hearing things (hearing what he wanted to hear) when you sigh again. "Oh, Jongho."

There's no mistaking it now. You're saying his name in your sleep. It's like something from one of his dreams. But it's happening for real and again he's stuck. Does he wake you up? Let you sleep and ask you about it in the morning? Say nothing and just enjoy the moment, let the hope of it burn forever in his heart?

He's wrestling with his thoughts when your leg suddenly kicks out and nails him square in the shin.

"Ow!"

Your eyes pop open. "Jongho?"

Even full of grogginess, your voice is sweet enough to make Jongho's heart skip a beat.

"I didn't mean to wake you." He rubs his leg.

Your eyes follow the movement. "I kicked you, didn't I?"

He nods and you laugh, giving him a bashful smile.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. I'm used to it." He lies back down, and you do the same. "Go back to sleep. You…" he trails off, and you look at him expectantly, eyes radiating so much warmth that he can feel it flooding his own veins, bolstering him. "You sounded like you were having a good dream."

When you say nothing in response, he's afraid for a moment that he's made the wrong decision. But then your eyes flicker from his down to his lips and back, and he knows. For sure.

He tilts his chin up, bringing his face towards yours. You suck in a hushed gasp, and times slows to an aching crawl as you raise your chin too, until your mouth is merely a breath away.

"Think I'd rather stay here, with you," you murmur, and he grins.

His hands slide up the bed to cup your face as he finally, finally kisses you. He holds you tenderly, afraid that maybe he's the one who fell asleep and at any moment this fantasy could pop like a bubble. But it doesn't. Instead, you lean into the kiss, shuffling closer to him, sighing happily when his arms drop to your waist to press you against him.

When he nips at your bottom lip, you gasp again, and he takes a risk, sliding his tongue into your mouth, groaning when you respond by sucking on it. He rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You grind down onto him, and he pants into your mouth, toes curling in his socks as he tries not to cum in his sweats. Maybe the two of you should slow down, only… only he doesn't want to, and neither do you, judging by the way you detach yourself from his lips long enough to peel your top off, tossing it to the floor.

He stares at your bare breasts so long, you start to giggle.

"Do you need a written invitation?" you ask, before grabbing his hands and placing them exactly where he wants them. You keen, head lolling back as he plays with your nipples, lightly pinching and plucking until you're whining his name.

He sits up suddenly, throwing his arms around your back to keep you from toppling over. "Fuck, YN," is all he can manage before he crushes his mouth to yours again.

"Please," you whisper when you part for air. "Been wanting you for so long." Your hips grind into his again.

"Yeah? You want me?" He's nearly lightheaded with joy. And harder than he's ever been in his life. Jongho grunts, fingers digging into your back to keep you in place so as he ruts up against you.

"All the time," you moan. "Want you so much, Jongho. Just you, always you."

That's all he needs to hear. In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, and he's fumbling with his clothes, trying not to get twisted up in his haste. Meanwhile, your shorts have already hit the ground and you're digging through your nightstand before pressing something tiny into his hand.

He glances at the foil packet and then back at you. You're a vision, lying there against the sheets, all satin skin and flowing curves, smiling at him with soft eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

He tears the packet open and sheaths himself, hands nearly shaking with need. He has to stop with just the tip inside you, he's so nearly ready to explode. Once his heart rate settles a little, he presses forward slowly, taking his time, opening you up carefully. He's not the biggest, but you still need time to adjust to the intrusion, even as wet as you are. And god, he can't believe how wet you are. For him.

Your hands rest on his shoulders as you gaze up at him. "Now," you say, nodding. "Please." And he gives you what you want, like he always does.

Over and over, he thrusts into you, snapping his hips every now and then to make you shout, punctuating your pants with cries of ecstasy. He knows that he's not going to last very long, so he slips a hand between you, strumming away on your clit, letting your loud wails guide him, until you start to clench around him, and then he's gone.

He cums so hard, he swears he passes out for a second. When he comes to, he's lying on top of you, face buried in your neck. You're humming, stroking his hair, and he thinks that no matter how long he lives, he'll never be happier than he is in this moment.

Just like any other night, the two of you cuddle to sleep again. Only this time, when the morning comes, neither of you let go.

[junrecs]

This was such a cute snack and then it got steamy too 🤤 We need more Jongho on this hellsite, so thank you 🥰

[minisugakoobies]

The Rules - Part 1 | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: smut, crack, strangers to lovers, Weddingl!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: drinking, kissing, exhibitionism, reader gets fingerfucked in public, dirty talk, a little bit of praise, Fuckboi!Chan has a tongue ring and a lip ring, his charisma is off the charts, reader's got impulse control problems Word Count: 4K Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me

Summary: When your cousin asked you to be a bridesmaid, she gave you three simple rules to follow. Number one: Don't be late. Number two: Don't get super wasted. And rule number three: Don't fuck Chan.

A/N: This came from a request sent by @aprylynn back in, ummmm, let's not focus on how long this took and just enjoy 😆 This is just part 1, so let me know what you think - like if you want more! 💕

SKZ Masterlist

(dividers by @/saradika)

When your cousin asked you to be a bridesmaid, she gave you three simple rules to follow:

Number one: Don't be late. "To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is to get cut out of the family. Don't think Halmeoni won't drop you from her will if I ask."

Number two: Don't get super wasted. "What if I have a bridal emergency and you're completely zooted, upchucking wine spritzers in the bathroom?" As if you'd drink a wine spritzer.

And rule number three: Don't fuck Chan.

She announced the third rule the first time you gathered with her and her other bridesmaids to discuss wedding details. Chan, it turned out, was her fiancé's "Best Bro" from his college frat days.

"Binnie was in a frat? Huh," was your response upon learning this new factoid.

Sun Hee rolled her eyes. "I know, it's weird, but he's grown up a lot since I met him. Chan, on the other hand…" she grimaced. "He's a fuckboy. Of the highest magnitude. S-class. A summa cum fuckboy."

"More like a someone's gonna come fuckboy, amiright?" maid of honor Ji-won snarked, cracking herself up, but she quickly stopped when Sun Hee gave her the evil eye.

"And that's bad because…" you drawled.

"Because every goddamn time one of my friends hooks up with his slutty ass, they completely lose their shit. And I! Do! Not! Have the time to deal with the fallout!" Sun Hee clapped her hands after each word, like a deranged cheerleader. "So keep your hands and your holes away from that man!"

At first, when you met the groomsmen at the engagement party, you thought to yourself that Sun Hee's rule was unnecessary. Apparently, Changbin only hung out with other ridiculously good-looking guys. Any one of them could probably show you an amazing time, if you so desired. 

And then Bang Chan walked in.

Out of curiosity, you'd looked the guy up, scouring Changbin's insta for old photos. Just so you could see what all the fuss was about. It was pretty easy to identify why Sun Hee's friends were apparently throwing themselves at the man, between his muscular build, his warm eyes, and his heart-melting smile. And as a semi-famous music producer, he's a star on the rise, which only adds to his allure. But holy shit, you were not prepared for the charisma.

He strolled into the room in a leather jacket like he was walking onto a stage, radiating confidence from every inch of his rather thick frame, as if expecting an audience to start applauding at his presence. Maybe that's why you weren't surprised to see Changbin and his friends light up as they caught sight of their friend.

Of course, they weren't the only ones to notice him.

"Oh damn, look at the snack that just walked in," Ji-won whispered, tugging on your sleeve. "He's tasty."

"Yeah he is," another bridesmaid, Hae, piped up. "Is it too late to call dibs?"

"Gawi bawi bo!" Ji-won suddenly yelled, but you grabbed her hand as she threw a scissors symbol into the air.

"Sorry, ladies, but the bride's rules trump rock, paper, and scissors. That's Chan."

“That’s Chan? Well, shit.” Ji-won pauses. “Okay. Dibs on Jisung!” 

“Wait a minute!”

Ignoring the horny squabbling going on beside you, you discreetly ogle Chan over the rim of your cocktail. Changbin really needs to update his insta, because you were not prepared for Chan’s blond hair. Or the lip ring. Or, fuck, you nearly choke on your old fashioned as Chan laughs and something silvery inside his open mouth catches your eye. Is that a tongue ring too?!

This man could not be more your type. Absolute catnip, and your kitty is eager for a taste.

Whoa now. Deep breaths. You can do this. You have to do this, because otherwise you’ll let your cousin down. You can practically hear her disapproving tone right now. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

With a startled jump, you realize Sun Hee is standing next to you. 

“Think about what?” you inquire, stirring your drink super casually. Like the most casually anyone’s ever stirred anything. Unbothered little rotations. 

Sun Hee is not easily dissuaded. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I mean.” 

“I promise you, I’m not thinking anything.” If only that were true. You’d give anything to be head empty no thoughts right now. 

“I really wish I believed that,” Sun Hee sighs. “We both know you have a problem with… self-control.” 

You open your mouth to argue, but she merely points to the glass in your hand, and you quickly snap it shut. You’ve only been at the party for maybe half an hour, and this is your second drink.

Sun Hee’s not wrong. It’s well known to all your friends that you have a tendency to eagerly embrace all the delights life has to offer. Maybe “eagerly” isn’t the right word. “Greedily” might be more accurate. Often, unfortunately, to your detriment. But how can you resist, when the universe is constantly throwing so many pleasures your way - especially when they come in such gorgeous packages as Chan?

“Yeah, okay, maybe sometimes I indulge myself a little, but I told you I wouldn’t sleep with him, so relax, okay? I’m not going to do anything to ruin your big day. I promise you!” 

Sun Hee squints as she examines your face. Whatever she sees makes her smile, shoulders dropping in relief. “Thank you. Now let’s get this party started!” 

As she and Changbin greet their guests, you take another long look at Chan. He turns suddenly, catching your eye. Your breathing nearly stops when his gaze sweeps over you from head to toe. Then he smirks, tongue ring flashing as he licks his lips. 

Fuck. Okay. You can do this. You just need to exert a little willpower. Reign in those bad instincts of yours. Should be a piece of cake. 

Right?

Somehow, the god of parties is on your side. Maybe it’s the drink you spill as you look for a spot to sit for dinner that pleases them - your tipsy faux pas is accepted as an offering. Whatever the reason, you manage to dodge Chan all evening. 

He does offer you the seat next to him at dinner, but Ji-won waves you over to her table, so you refuse him with a polite shake of your head. Ji-won quickly engages you in assisting her with talking to Jisung, but all you end up saying is “Hey Jisung, haaave you met Ji-won?” before Ji-won takes over. Gal’s a talker, which is good, because Jisung’s a bit on the quiet side. Or maybe he just can’t find a place to jump into the conversation, since Ji-won doesn’t appear to need to breathe in order to speak. 

After dinner comes more cocktails and gifts. While the maid of honor hands out gifts for Sun Hee and Changbin to open, you ignore Chan’s smile in favor of writing a list of who brought what, to help your cousin with her thank you notes later. Your Halmeoni would be so proud. 

By the time the festivities wind down, you feel you’ve dodged a bullet. As everyone says their goodbyes, you linger behind, helping your cousin and Changbin carry their ridiculous haul of presents into their car. The trunk is stuffed full as you attempt to shove one more box onto the pile, only for an avalanche of ribbons and envelopes to send it clattering to the ground. 

“Here, let me,” a pleasant voice hums in your ear as your fingers extend, reaching for the box, only for it to be swept up by another hand. And, of course, that hand is connected to the man you’ve been carefully avoiding all night. Guess the party gods have abandoned you.

“Thank you,” you reply politely, studiously avoiding his eyes as Chan beams at you. Jesus, he could literally light up a room with that megawatt smile. 

“No worries.” He helps to push some of the packages back, preventing another deluge. “I’m Chan, by the way. I didn’t get a chance to introduce m’self earlier.” 

You grant him a quick smile as you state your name, then glance over his shoulder, looking for backup - someone you can excuse yourself to catch up to, pretend they’re your ride home. But of course, everyone else is gone now, and your cousin and Changbin are back inside the restaurant, settling the bill. 

“Am I holding you up from something?” 

“Hmm?” You finally let yourself meet his gaze. It’s like you’ve been hit with the full force of the sun. Chan’s smile intensifies, eyes crinkling as he laughs lightly, and it’s too late, you can already feel yourself melting. 

“You look like you’re looking for something. Or someone?” 

“Oh. No, sorry, I was just making sure I hadn’t dropped anything on the way to the car,” you lie, clearing your throat awkwardly. 

Chan nods, sliding his hands into his pockets as he leans against the car. “So… you’re Sun Hee’s cousin, right?”

You nod. 

“She told me that you live here too,” he says. “It’s been years since I’ve been in town. I was thinking - since I’m gonna be here a few times between now and the wedding, I should find someone who can show me around a bit. Let me know what’s good.” He rolls his tongue over his lip ring. “Think you could help me out?”

Every time he drags his eyes down your body, you have to suppress a shiver of anticipation. He’s being incredibly obvious about what he means by showing him what’s good. 

“I - “ can’t think of a valid excuse because you’re too busy picturing what he can do with that tongue ring. “I don’t know how much free time I’ll have, with everything Sun Hee needs me to do for the wedding. She’s gonna be so busy. So, um, I don’t think I can. Help you.” Not your smoothest response, but not the worst, either.

Chan’s eyebrow rises slightly. He looks away, nodding. “Right, of course. Can’t let your cousin down, can ya? So…” He pushes himself off the car, taking a step towards you. “What about tonight then? Any plans?” 

Not a single one. An alarm goes off in your head as he takes another step closer. “Tonight?” 

“Yeah. Maybe we could go somewhere and talk? I know I could just ask ‘Bin for suggestions, but…” he shrugs. “He’s pretty busy too. And honestly? He’s gotten all mellow on me. Too boring and settled-down, y’know?” 

You laugh at his bluntness. “Binnie’s always been this way, as long as I’ve known him. You’re telling me he used to be different?” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” he hums, winking. “The stories I could tell… why don’t you let me buy you a drink, and maybe I’ll share a few?”

It’s very tempting, especially the thought of hearing some (hopefully) embarrassing tales about Changbin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? One drink wouldn’t be too much, even given how much you’ve already had this evening. You’ll give him some suggestions of places to check out while he’s in town, he’ll divulge some of Binnie’s college shenanigans, and then you’ll say you’re tired and bounce. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

And then suddenly it’s two hours and several drinks later, and you’re nowhere near home. 

You had originally suggested going to a favorite spot, a bar owned by a friend where you could drink for cheap (and also potentially have someone who could bail you out if things with Chan got a little hot and heavy), but upon arriving had found it closed for repairs of some sort. Chan’s hotel just happened to be a block away and it just happened to have a really nice bar, so you thought, why not?

Why not, indeed, you’re thinking to yourself, playing with the melting ice in your empty glass. Why not sit side-by-side in the booth, so you can hear each other better? You really didn’t want to miss a single word he said. Why not let Chan drape his arm around your shoulders, since the bar has the air conditioning set to arctic blast and your sundress is not nearly as warm as its namesake? 

Chan has been nothing but a polite gentleman since you sat down, keeping you laughing with all of his deliciously embarrassing tales, to the point that your worries about crossing the line so firmly set by Sun Hee fade from your mind. 

“And after that, we were banned from ever visiting Ikea again,” Chan finishes, a crooked grin crossing his face as he waits for you to stop laughing.

You wipe a tear from the corner of your eye. “I cannot believe Binnie did that! That is… just the greatest story I’ve ever heard,” you inform him. “Thank you so, so much for sharing that.” 

Chan nods, leaning back against the vinyl of the booth seat. “Now, you’re not gonna run off and snitch to Changbin, are you? Tell him I’ve divulged all his dirty secrets?” 

You press your hand to your chest, looking scandalized. “Absolutely not! I would never. Everything you’ve told me stays with me.” You pause. “Until I need it.” 

“Fair.” His grin returns, cheekier than ever. “If you’re gonna use it for blackmail, I will be expecting a cut. Just to warn ya.” 

A server stops by your table to grab your empty glasses and drop off the check. It feels like the perfect opportunity to bring the night to a close - thank Chan for the drinks, since he didn’t even attempt to argue with you about paying, simply dropped his card on the tray, thank him for the gossip, and bid him a good evening. 

But no. You’re you, and so instead of saying “Thank you” or “Good night,” you say,

“I think we could come to an arrangement.” 

Chan tilts his head, eyes roaming from your smiling lips down to your goose-dimpled thighs and back, and you realize you may have miscalculated a bit. Because the sweet expression on his face has vanished, replaced by a look of hunger so ravenous, your pulse quickens - the primal reaction of prey realizing it’s exactly where a hunter wants it. 

“Could we now?” He shifts slightly, the arm around your shoulders falling between you as he signs the receipt. He taps the pen on the table. “I like the sound of that.” 

You do too, which is why there are klaxons suddenly blaring in your head. You should really leave. Instead of sliding further into the corner of the booth as Chan casually leans forward, blocking your view of the rest of the bar. 

That’s when the hand that was at Chan’s side creeps its way onto your exposed thigh. 

“I…” you trail off, totally engrossed by his fingers as they roam, unable to tear your eyes away. They’re more callused than you’d expected, roughened tips catching slightly on your soft skin in an enticing manner. “I do too.” 

He’s just a whisper away now, deep brown eyes fixed on your mouth as he smiles, a warm thing that sharpens as he says, “Maybe we should hammer out some terms? Y’know, just in case? We don’t have to talk here…” His hand slips ever so slightly down the inward curve of your thigh. “We can take this to my room. For privacy. Unless…” 

Sucking in a breath, you meet his eyes, and let your legs fall open just a bit. Chan huffs out a pleased laugh and his hand disappears beneath your skirt. 

The klaxons in your brain are completely silent now, but thankfully the bar is not. The jazzy music drifting down from the overhead speakers covers your tiny whimper when Chan skims his fingers along the newly formed damp patch in your underwear. 

“Mmm, someone seems to be into the idea of being touched in public. Are you into that, love?” 

As a matter of fact, you are, and it’s one of the many vices that’s gotten you in trouble in the past. You just can’t help yourself. Just like right now, even knowing you should walk away, that you might make a mess of things, you’re unable to stop. 

You don’t want to stop, so you nod. 

He arranges himself so he’s propped his head up on his elbow on the table. To anyone looking at your table, it just looks like the two of you are absorbed in deep conversation, huddled close, but not close enough to cause anyone’s eye to linger. 

Or so you hope, biting your lip to stifle a whine when Chan’s fingers push your panties aside.

“Good. Cause I am, too.” And then he’s pressed his finger inside you, groaning quietly at how easily it glides through your folds. His tongue plays with the small hoop nestled in the center of his plush bottom lip. “Oh, shit, you really like this. So fucking wet, dirty girl.”

There’s no reason to argue with him. If it wasn’t clear by the ridiculous amount of slick between your legs, it’s clear by the way you cant your hips forward, trying to urge him to slip his whole middle finger in too as he teases you with the tip. With a throaty chuckle, he obliges. 

“There you go. Is that what you needed?” 

“Mmm,” you hum, muffling your moan with pursed lips. He strokes inside you languidly, enjoying the choked breaths that punch their way out of your throat, before adding another finger. 

You bow your head slightly, trying to hide behind Chan, who leans forward with a smirk, close enough for his lips to brush your cheek. If you turned your face a little, you could kiss him right now, but you’re too focused on the way he’s playing your pussy like one of his soundboards, tweaking and fondling just right, to do anything but try to breathe. 

“Can I tell you something?” he whispers. 

“A-anything.” 

“I had my eye on you all during the party. Kept trying to get your attention, wanted to convince you to go home with me tonight. ‘M glad it worked out.” 

“Who, hnngh, who said I’m going home with you?” you manage to spit out around your groans. 

Chan’s fingers still. “Wait, you don’t wanna come back to my room?” 

“I didn’t say that.” The look he gives you makes you feel dangerous, having such an irresistible man hanging on your every word. It’s such an intoxicating power. “I just meant I’m not convinced y-yet, fuck.” 

You stutter as Chan starts tracing your inner walls, caressing your g-spot hard enough to make you curse. He’s accepted the gauntlet you’ve thrown down with surprising speed, and you suck on the insides of your cheeks, biting gently into your own mouth to keep from shouting out loud.

“Something you should know about me, love - ‘m a bit competitive. I don’t back down from challenges.” 

Chan’s fingers plunge faster and faster, alternating thrusts with strokes. The more his speed increases, the more his arm flexes, biceps rippling under his tight t-shirt. If the bartender were to just glance over, he’d see the way your head is tipped back in ecstasy, and there’s no denying the pleasure flitting across your face. You could be caught so easily.

“Look at you, taking it so well. Bet you’d look so good taking my cock.”

Your eyes fall to the obvious bulge in Chan’s lap. You just know he’d feel so good. Why didn’t you take this to his room? You could be riding him right now. 

Oh well, you’ll just have to let him keep fingering you until you cum all over his hand in the middle of this bar. 

You’re getting close now, but his plunging fingers aren’t quite enough to give you what you so desperately desire. Unashamed to beg for what you want, you gasp out, “More,” hands balling into fists as tight as the knot inside you. 

Chan smirks. His thumb finds your clit. You find the edge. And fall right over. 

“Shiiiiit,” you groan, thighs twitching together, muscles contracting to trap Chan’s hand as an orgasm overtakes you, shockingly fast. So he doesn’t back down from challenges and he’s an overachiever. 

“There you go, love,” he coos. Your abdomen shakes from the force of your climax. He slowly circles your oversensitive nub until he finally stops, and one final shudder passes through you. “Made such a mess for me.” 

Your only response is a string of curse words that would send Halmeoni right to her grave. Chan laughs, bringing his hand to his mouth, and you swear again as he thoroughly cleans his fingers with his tongue, rolling the little stud over and around.

“Have I convinced you now?” he asks, eyes gleaming, tone smug. So, so smug. It’s almost shameful how hot you find that. 

You’re definitely convinced of his skills. And if you go back to his room with him, there’s no telling what other talents he might share. 

Then again… if he works this hard to impress you now….

With a polite smile, you gently pat his arm, silently asking him to give you some space to shimmy your panties back into place. His eyebrow lifts as he waits for your answer.

“Not really.” 

Based on his dazed expression, it’s pretty evident that Chan has never gotten anything less than a rave response to his skills. How absolutely delightful. Your shoulders shake with suppressed laughter as he blinks at you. 

“Thank you for the drinks. But I should really get going, got a ton of stuff to do with Sun Hee in the morning.” Not a total lie, since you do have plans for brunch with your cousin and the other bridesmaids. But brunch never usually stops you from anything. 

“Come on, love - you really want to leave now?” He’s recovered from his shock, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. “The night’s just getting started. That was just a small taste of what could happen.” He leans in, lips just brushing your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t you want more?”

Chan’s a fighter. Good to know.

“Mmm, maybe. But not tonight.”

He pulls back, searching your gaze. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You laugh, nudging him with your knee. Chan slowly rises to his feet, shuffling aside to let you out of the booth. The stupefied look is back. Baffled hunter realizing his trap didn’t spring. 

“Well… if you change your mind, you know where I am. Room 143.” 

He rubs the back of his neck as he speaks, and there’s something kind of sweet about it, like he’s a little unsure of himself, possibly for the first time in his life, so you place your hands lightly on his chest. Damn, he’s so solid. He could definitely rail you through the wall of this bar, if you so asked. 

But not tonight. 

“Sweet dreams, Chan.” Your words warms his lips as you cross the space between you. Even though his hands grip your hips, even though his tongue tastes like scotch, even though the moan he exhales sends shivers from your head to your toes, you break away, and head for the door. 

As you sit in the lobby, waiting for your ride, it’s impossible not to pat yourself on the back, gloating over your victory. You kept your promise to your cousin and got to tease an incredibly hot man into giving you an orgasm at the same time. But what strikes you the most was the wild glint you saw in Chan’s eye as you walked away. 

This is going to be so much fun. 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my works.

[junrecs]

Sunny I love how funny and witty your stories always are, this made me snort out loud several times 😂 (and "Unbothered little rotations" nearly made me choke on my drink)

And the hard to get game? Ohh I can't wait for part 2 👀

[augustbutwinter]

cheek to cheek | kth

title: cheek to cheek wc: around 2k pairing: kth x reader (no pronouns are used) summary: what a cliché, falling in love on the dancefloor. and in vegas of all places? genre: fluff, nostalgia, getting ******* in vegas rating: teen? i don't know. this is not spicy. warnings: no warnings

a/n: thank you so much, dear friends! @hobi-gif @hamsterclaw and Evie! for beta-reading!

AO3 // Masterlist

You watch the older couple fondly as they’re swaying on the dancefloor. 

This is where they belong. There’s a smile blooming on your grandmother’s face as your grandfather sings in her ear. Softly, so it’s only for her.

You sink a little deeper into the velvet sofa and sip on your drink that is decorated with a little umbrella and indulge in memories.

Memories of your grandfather singing “Strangers in the Night” and “What a Wonderful World” in his best Sinatra and Armstrong voices, a big smile on his face as your little brother giggles.

You and your grandma dancing around the living room table, throwing up your arms and legs in your own version of Rock’n’Roll while Elvis drawled his “Jailhouse Rock”. The words didn’t mean anything to you, but the sheer joy that the music brought to her face made this song your favourite for years to come.

You remember sitting in the pillow fort your grandmother built when she watched you while your parents went on a date of their own, telling you all kinds of stories. Going on all kinds of travels with you without ever leaving the house.

There’s always this one story though. The one story she has to tell you every time. Otherwise you would not go to sleep. 

It’s the story of how she met your grandfather. 

“You met him because of me, right?” You would squeak in your little voice and a proud smile would grow on your face.

“Of course I did!” She laughs. She’s not growing tired of telling this story either. “I had you in my arms, and you were the cutest baby around. You smiled at him, and he fell in love with you first, and only then with me.”

Later you would learn that the story probably went a little differently. Your mother would roll her eyes at her mother’s antics. To this day you’re not completely sure if you know the whole truth.

But no matter how much truth that story contained, there’s another truth you’re one hundred percent sure of: Your grandfather fell in love, fell quickly and fell deeply, went all in and–in his words–hit the jackpot. And now gets to slow-fox across the dancefloor with his one true love.

Your eyes wander over the dancefloor over all the couples… and they land on a young man who is dancing alone. He’s swaying between the older couples looking like he doesn’t have a single care in the world. He smiles to himself, and you can feel your own lips curve into a wide smile at the way he lets the music move through his body.

You love Vegas, and you love the way people love it. There’s more to this city than you can see at first glance. More than what you see on the brochures, loud music and neon lights. There’s a magic to it. 

Maybe you’re influenced by the way your grandparents see it. It’s their Sehnsuchtsort. The place they long to be. And maybe there’s no deeper reason than that. 

You love it and you’re glad you accepted your grandparents invitation to their ‘second wedding’ as your grandpa had called it when he proudly handed over the invitation card. After that he stage whispered that by bringing you along he wanted to make sure that it would be him she married (again) and wouldn’t leave him at the altar for Elvis, even if it was only an impersonator. She had only rolled her eyes affectionately.

You’re also glad you decided to stay when your brother went to bed a little earlier with a yawn shaking his head at the energy his grandparents displayed as they flew over the dancefloor, their joyous laughter accompanying the band. Because now not only do you get to witness your grandparents’ joy on the dancefloor but also soak in the atmosphere in the bar. There’s something special about red velvet sofas and an upright bass.

Your eyes keep coming back to the solo dancer though. His movements smooth like butter, radiating happiness with every step.

Suddenly your eyes meet, and your heart beat does a frantic quick-quick-slow, because he winks and smiles at you. Your surprise must show on your face, because he laughs and nods. Yeah you. 

Your eyebrow raises in question. He grins wider and points at you. Yeah you. 

He shuffles over to your table, always in tune with the music and holds out his hand. The universal gesture of asking someone to dance. 

You shake your head. “Ah, no sorry—but thank you. I’m not dancing.” You point to your grandparents who are lost in their own little world.

“I’m just the chaperone making sure those two lovebirds make it home alright, so…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupts you with a wave of his hand. “Dance with me. If you’re here, you dance. Dance with me, you look like you’ll be a fun dance partner.” 

You must look unconvinced, because he breaks out a million watt smile, and holds out his hand again. “Come on, dance with me, I’ll take care of you.”

Oh, what the hell, why not. You take a generous sip from your cocktail and get up. His grin gets wider as you offer your hand for him to take. A little yelp escapes you as he pulls you up with enough momentum, so that you almost crash into his chest. Oh… firm.

“I’m Taehyung by the way. Pleased to meet you.” 

You offer your name in return, and fight the heat in your cheeks, as you hear him mumble pretty.

The song changes and he draws you closer. 

Before you know it, the song has changed again and again and again and you’re still dancing. A big smile on your face and more than once you have thrown your head back in laughter.

When your grandparents slip out of the room a good while later, your grandmother sends you a cheeky wink and your grandfather gives you two thumbs up.

“You’ve got a good one there.” The lady with the grey curls and the sparkly dress sitting in the booth closest to you compliments–who knows how many songs later–as you take a quick break.

You stand at the side of the dancefloor while Taehyung is getting the two of you a drink.

“Oh,” you breathe out, a little out of breath from the twirling and the laughing.

You open your mouth to tell her that she got the wrong impression, you just met, and are just dancing.

But then you feel an arm snake around your middle, and a glass of champagne pressed into your hand.

And a kiss against the back of your hand.

“It’s me who got a good one here.” He lifts his glass to cheers. “And I’m not gonna let her slip away.”

“Excuse us, I love this song, I need to sweep her away for another dance.” 

Gently he takes the glass out of your hand again, and pulls you onto the dance floor.

The clock ticks on. You keep on dancing.

The band has taken a break.

The band has come back from their break.

You keep on dancing.

Maybe the sun has started to rise at some point. You ignore the little voice in the back of your head that tells you you’re supposed to be at breakfast at ten to go on a day trip to Red Rock Canyon.

“We can’t just keep on dancing. We have to sleep at some point,” you say–the grown-up in you taking charge for a second. Your voice is not much more than a whisper, but you’re sure he can hear you. 

“But that means, we’re going our separate ways again and who knows if I’ll ever see you again.” You can hear the pout in his voice, even though you can’t see it, with your cheek pressed against his. His words are so close to your ear, they send a shiver down your back. 

You chuckle a little breathlessly.

“We’re literally strangers who don’t know anything about each other, Taeyhung. Not a couple that has just gotten married in Vegas.”

“We could be.” 

You miss a step and land on his foot. He chuckles. 

“Getting married or being a couple?” You join his joking, because he must be, right?

“I wouldn’t mind either.” He doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

“I mean the night is young, we could always get married now,” you try another obvious joke as he twirls you out of his arm. 

“I would marry you in a second.” He twirls you back into his embrace, your hands now clasped in front of you, your back against his front, slowly moving to the music.

There’s a warmth making way in your stomach, your heart beats a little quicker and you can feel a smile take residence on your lips. 

Is this what falling in love feels like? Is this how your grandparents fell in love? 

Over the years you’ve heard a lot of iterations of the story. One time it’s over a letter sent in response to a ‘lonely hearts column’ in the local newspaper. One time it’s your baby giggles on your grandmother’s arm. One time it’s your grandma’s handkerchief that she accidentally left on the bus and him rushing after her to give it back.

But it’s always love at first sight. They fall in love in every version. They fall in love and heal the wounds their former partners left on them. They smile together, they dance together, they build a new life together and thrive. And they love deeper than anyone else you know.

Is this how they felt when they fell in love? Warm and loved and safe, and a little drunk on each other?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” is what you say at last. Maybe after taking way longer than you should have taken to answer such a proposal from a man you’d met just a few hours earlier. Because it would be ridiculous.

“Wait, so should we not get married in Vegas?” His tone is so earnest and surprised that you break out in laughter until something in his expression stops you.

Take my hand, take my whole life too, sings Elvis in the background.

“Maybe we should get married in Vegas?” you try it out. “Maybe we should get married in Vegas.” It really doesn’t sound as crazy as you thought it would. Or does it?

You’re not that sure anymore. 

Maybe it’s the city, or this bar, or this man. Or maybe it was the drink with the sparkly umbrella, but somehow you can see yourself dancing with him when your hair is grey. 

“Darling, so we go. Some things are meant to be,” sings Taeyhung softly. His cheek against your cheek. Your lips curved into a smile. 

And maybe at 10:15 am your grandparents share a secret smile with each other, as you arrive at your meeting point the next morning, mascara a little smudged, your hand in Taeyhung’s hand. Bands of gold around your ring fingers.

A/N:

Thank you for reading this little thing. While it’s very much a love declaration to Jazzbar!Taehyung, it’s also very personal to me.

This is me giving my grandparents the happy ending they deserve and that they never got. There’s a lot of truth in here, but also a lot of creative freedom. As fluffy and silly as this seems, writing it made me sad, because they never got this and had to play with the cards that life dealt them. Sadly there wasn’t a happy ending in store.

Ⓒaugustbutwinter september2023 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it! I thrive on feedback like a thirsty houseplant!)

[junrecs]

Gosh this was so sweet and nostalgic and perfect 🥹 You wrote such a beautiful ending for them, August! And Tae fit this story perfectly. I can totally picture him doing something like this. Oh to be in a jazz bar in Vegas, dancing with him all night long 🥰

[augustbutwinter]

close, closer, closest | knj

title: close, closer, closest wc: ~600 pairing: knj x reader (no pronouns are used) summary: you know your soulmate is close, but you haven't met them yet. every day your counter goes up when you pass that one station. until one day it doesn't. genre: soulmate!AU rating: teen? i don't know. this is not spicy. warnings: no warnings

a/n: thank you for beta-reading @hobi-gif @purplebeebs THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REQUEST! I posted this in a separate post, I hope this is okay, and you like it! <3

AO3 // Masterlist

When your phone vibrates in your pocket you know your counter just went up again. 78 now?

You’ve passed by your soulmate 78 times now.

The train’s doors close and you know you’ve missed another chance to meet them.

You grant yourself until the next stop to wonder, if they’re on their way to work as well? Are they tired as well? Are they working in a tall building like you are? Are they getting on the train at that station? Are they changing lines? How long is their commute?

Do they care that their soulmate counter goes up every morning when they pass this station? Do they fight the urge to jump out of the train and find you as well? Do they also make sure to take the same train each morning to feel close to their soulmate? Does it comfort them as well? Just to know their soulmate is there?

One morning the vibration doesn’t come. You’re not too worried. Maybe they just missed the train? Hopefully they haven’t gotten sick.

When the vibration doesn’t come the next morning either, you try not to worry.

You start to worry when the vibrations don’t return after a week.

Have you missed your chance? How are you to find them again in a city of millions? But what can you do? There’s websites with millions of postings looking for their soulmates that they passed by once. There’s other websites asking for updates on the app to finally include better stats. But studies are slow, and developments are slower. The science behind it remains a mystery even after so many years.

And so you get used to your counter stuck at 89. _____

Tall, broad shoulders, a handsome face, striking blue hair. This must be the new hire your boss had mentioned a while back. You remember your colleagues giggling over his resume, praising your boss for hiring such a handsome man. You had rolled your eyes at them in good-nature. Your counter had been at 87 back then.

“Y/N,” your team leader greets you, when you meet her in the middle of the hallway. “Let me introduce you to Namjoon. He’s joining our team starting today. Please take good care of him while you show him the ropes, he’ll learn quickly, I’m sure.”

You bow slightly in greeting. He bows in return.

When you continue down the hallway, there’s two–no, three– things happening in quick succession.

Your phone vibrates. His phone vibrates. He walks into a glass door.

Your counters turn to 90. _____

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.” You smile. He smiles.

“I thought, I’d lost you.” His smile drops a little as he stares into his beer and grips your hand a little tighter. “I tried to find you on my last day at the other job. I think I ran through the station for hours in hopes you were there somewhere. Pure hubris.”

“But you didn’t lose me,” you say as you move closer. “You came to me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He laughs. “I will never again bash soulmate science again on the internet.” He looks sheepish as you frown. “Which… I… uhm… have never done before.” He clears his throat. “Anyway.” He turns sombre again. “I’m really glad I found you.”

You give his hand a little squeeze. “Me, too.” And in a rush of boldness you press a kiss to his cheek.

He turns to you, a hint of heat in his cheeks.

“So,” he starts, focusing on the table. “So, today is our day one?”

You nod. Yes, today is the day you start.

______

Ⓒaugustbutwinter september2023 (Please don’t repost. If you like it, reblog it, leave a heart, drop me an ask or a message. I’d love to hear from you! Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you liked it! I thrive on feedback like a thirsty houseplant!)

[junrecs]

This was so cute! I like how there was a kind of (hinted) science behind the whole soulmate thing. And of course Joon walked into a glass door 😂

[sluttywoozi]

After LIKE Part Two | smg x f!reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.2k

You and Mingi find out what happens after like.

Part One

Warnings: weed mention, grinding, dirty talk, big dick!mingi, oral f. rec., fingering, possessive!mingi, restraining but not really, unprotected sex, creampie

Reader Notes: wap, gets carried by mingi, hands are smaller than mingi's 

You sit heavily on your bed, your skin still shiny with lotion and a damp towel holding all of your hair. It’s been a week since that day in the car, and you haven’t seen Mingi since. It’s no one’s fault - you’ve been insanely busy with school and work and he picked up a new apprenticeship so your respective free time has been limited.

But you just finished up at the cafe and you’re pretty sure Mingi mentioned keeping his Friday’s clear, so you’re hoping you’ve caught him at a good time. You miss him, like you never thought you could, and it doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about what happened last week.

Nobody’s ever kissed you like that, so thoroughly, so passionately, so carefully, like getting to be close to you at all is a privilege, and you want more. You want to see him and touch him and kiss him and you want to do it now, so when your phone lights up with a text, you open it and bring it to your face immediately.

You squeal, dropping back to rest on your bed and holding your phone to your chest as if it’s something precious. Twenty minutes means he’s dropping whatever he was doing to come to your place, and you feel your heart squeeze in your chest as you picture him zipping around his apartment, getting ready to come see you.

Twenty minutes also doesn’t give you a lot of time to get dressed and tidy up, but you keep your flat relatively clean so there isn’t too much to do. A quick sweep over your bedroom, living room, and kitchen confirms this. The real dilemma is in what to wear.

Do you go for full comfort, like you know he will? Do you wear something cute but casual, something that makes you look like you’re trying but not too hard? Should you risk going for sexy? You do have that little satin pajama set…

In the end, you decide on a pair of lounge pants that make your ass look amazing and a tank top that’s just low cut enough. You’re comfortable, but you still feel and look hot and you hope Mingi will think so as well.

You miss a time where you didn’t agonize over your clothing choices, but you suppose this is who you are now. Someone who goes through five different outfits before landing on the right one, someone who sits on their couch and waits for a knock, someone who all but runs to the door when it finally comes.

Mingi seems as relieved to see you as you are to see him, thankfully. As soon as you get the door open, he breathes a greeting and pulls you into a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck and his wrapping around your waist. He smells so good, fresh and clean and manly, and when he pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead, you feel yourself melt.

It’s a good thing he’s holding you up, and you only become more grateful as his eyes travel from head to toe, roving lovingly over every clothed inch of you. Your agonizing was not in vain, it seems, his gaze filling with heat before he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. He apparently forgot he’d pulled a beanie on because he knocks it right off his head, making his cheeks tint in a blush as he leans down and swipes it off the ground.

Mingi wrings the knitted hat in his hands and shifts on his feet, looking at you through his eyelashes. You grin affectionately, reaching up to fix his hair with your fingers before cupping his cheek and tilting your chin. He takes the hint, leaning in and softly pressing his lips to yours.

This kiss is just as good as the rest, just as sweet and right and perfect, and when he pulls away, you can’t swallow the sigh. You wish he was still kissing you, but he opens his mouth to speak instead.

“So, did you wanna buy today? Or…,” he trails off, looking nervous for your answer.

“No, I just wanted to see you,” you respond with a shy smile, holding a hand out with raised eyebrows.

“Oh,” he exhales, tension you hadn’t noticed in his shoulders fading away as he beams back at you and takes your hand in his bigger one. You lead him to your couch, sitting down first and patting the cushion next to you. Usually, you go to his place, and you can tell he’s feeling a bit out of sorts here.

You don’t know how to soothe him beyond behaving normally, so that’s what you do. You turn the TV to the show you both watch on repeat and chat at him until he loosens up enough to let his thigh touch yours. His warmth radiates into you, drawing you into his gravity and making you lean closer and closer until you’re all but pressed against his side.

He shifts next to you, his arm raising and staying aloft until you snuggle in and get comfortable. His arm feels heavy when he drapes it over your shoulders, but it’s a welcome weight, one that makes you feel safe and content and, honestly, a little sleepy.

You could easily doze off like this, nestled into his side with his heart thumping under your cheek and your breathing synced with his. When his fingers start to play with the ends of your hair, you know it’s not only a possibility, but an inevitability. You can feel every blink growing longer, every breath growing deeper, and as his fingers climb their way up your hair and to your scalp, you let your eyes fall completely shut.

Hopefully, Mingi won’t mind you having a little nap.

When you blink awake, your flat is dark but for the flashing light of the TV. Mingi is breathing slowly under you, and you look up at him to find his eyes closed and his lips gently parted. You don’t know when you became horizontal, but you can’t say you mind, with Mingi’s chest beneath your cheek and his thick thigh pressed between yours.

You can feel something else pressing against you, but there’s no way. Sure, Mingi could be having a very good dream, but the, for lack of a better word, pipe that lays against your inner thigh is just too fucking big to be real. But he is 6 foot, and his hands and feet are massive, so is it really that hard to believe his cock would be huge too?

“Mmmm,” Mingi rumbles under you, his chest vibrating with the depth of his voice. You can feel him start to wake up, his fingers twitching in your hair and his belly raising as he takes a deep breath in.

His eyes open slowly, his head angling in different directions as he looks around your dark flat. Grinning down at you sleepily, he tugs your hair and murmurs something you can’t make quite out, something about warmth and being happy. You can tell the exact moment he realizes how hard he is, his body tensing under yours and a sharp gasp leaving his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he shifts under you and tries to pull his hips away. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” you attempt to smile reassuringly, petting his abs over his t-shirt and attempting to keep potential awkwardness at bay.

“You’re right,” he deadpans, “It’s your fault.”

“It is?” you freeze, your smile falling and your hand stilling on his stomach. He smirks down at you, obviously proud of his little turn around and almost obnoxiously attractive as a result. You don’t know what else to say, and you’re sure he can tell, probably even likes having stunned you.

“What do you think I was dreaming about?” he quirks an eyebrow at you, letting his eyes fall to your lips.

“My sparkling personality?”

“Nah, babe. But if you don’t want to hear it, I won’t tell you.”

You know he’s teasing you, but you rush to say, “No no no no, I wanna hear it!”

You can tell he’s biting back a smirk at your enthusiasm, making you shift on top of him and inadvertently grind against his hard on. He clenches his jaw, the hand not tangled in your hair finding its way to your hip for a sharp squeeze.

“I was dreaming about you, laying in your bed in the dark, just like the photo you sent me.”

“You couldn’t even see me in that,” you remind him, but he shakes his head and breathes, “Maybe not but I knew you were there, and because I couldn’t see you, I had to fill in the blanks for myself. What you were wearing, what you were doing, who you were thinking about…”

He pulls your hips into his, the thickness of his thigh spreading your legs further and making you press harder against him.

“And in my dream, you weren’t wearing anything. You were naked, fresh out of the shower like you were when you answered the door, and you were touching yourself, thinking about me. Do you ever do that? Touch yourself and think about me?”

You gasp at his bold words, your mind going back to what exactly you did that night after you sent him that picture. How does he know?

“I know because I do the same thing, babe. I lay in my bed and I think about you, and I get so fucking hard, I can’t stand it.” His voice is deep now, his eyes half lidded and his cock throbbing beneath you as he works both you and himself up.

“Tell me, please. What do you think about?” he begs, grinding you over his thigh and gasping when he feels how your wetness has soaked through both of the layers on your bottom half.

“I think about you, how you would touch me and what you’d want to do to me and how big you probably definitely are and-”

And before you can finish exposing yourself, his mouth covers yours in a needy kiss, his groan so low pitched, you feel the vibrations in your pussy. He grows harder against you with each grind, the front of his sweats getting progressively darker from both his leaking cock and your weeping cunt.

“Fuck, can I touch you? I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for fucking years.”

“Years?!” You choke, bucking in his hold and struggling to sit up. You straddle him, your hands planted on his chest, and nearly shout, “Explain!”

Mingi grimaces, removing his hands from your hips to press his palms to his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at you as he responds. You won’t allow that, pulling his hands back and returning them to their rightful place while he gathers his courage.

“When I went up to you at San and Yeosang’s party, I wanted to ask you to dance. I saw you in my classes but you only seemed interested in learning so I didn’t want to bother you, and when I saw you at the party, I thought it was time to shoot my shot. But I chickened out and talked to you about class instead and you looked kinda… disinterested, until you saw the joints.”

All your breath rushes out of you, leaving you lightheaded and swaying on top of Mingi as you process his words. He’s been into you… this whole time? No wonder he was so upset after your first kiss, he’d been envisioning it for three years.

“I’m not saying I’m in love with you, I know that would be a lot and that we don’t actually know each other that well, but I want to get to know you that well. I want to be able to say I’m in love with you and I want to know that you’ll say it back.”

You’re a little relieved to hear that he’s not in love with you, and over the moon to hear that he wants to be. You’re also slightly scared because admitting your feelings has never been your forte, and you know it’s your turn now.

“Mingi, I- I could see myself falling in love with you. You’re so thoughtful and sweet, you know my favorite snacks and what to do when I’m stressed - you’ve always taken care of me. And it helps that you’re ridiculously hot.”

He flexes beneath you, grinning so brightly you’re nearly blinded with it. He’s also still hard, still throbbing and pressed between your legs, and your hips move before you can even think about why they shouldn’t. Nevermind that you’re having a conversation three years in the making, you have a need that’s been brewing just as long.

His head tips back at the friction, his jawline so sharp, you want to cut your tongue on it and his neck so tantalizing, your teeth ache with the desire to sink in. There’s nothing stopping you, so you lean down and drag your canines over his jugular, nipping your way to his ear to whisper, “And yes, you can touch me.”

His whole body trembles in a shiver, his cock twitching under you and his hands so tight on your hips, you know you’ll bear his fingerprints later. He gives you one last squeeze before smoothing his hands up your back, pulling you flush to him and sitting up in a movement so sudden, it steals your breath and sends your heart galloping.

You don’t have time to reorient yourself before he tips you backwards and gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes, his hands hovering over your body like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch first. You’d think after so many years spent yearning for you, he’d have a plan but-

“Can I take this off?” he breathes, his palms already sliding up your stomach and taking your tank with them. The fabric obscures your vision as soon as you nod, your arms automatically raising to allow him to pull it all the way off. You’re left in a bralette and your lounge pants, and before you can ask him to, Mingi hauls his shirt over his head, leaving you speechless and far too distracted to assist him in taking your bra off.

He glows in the natural light flowing into your living room, his muscles defined and his hair messy. He looks like a dream, literally, he looks like he did in the dream you had last night, except now you can really see him, touch him, feel him. You can feel his fingers fumbling behind your back to undo the clasp, you can feel his strong arms bracketing your waist, you can feel his warm thighs spreading yours apart.

You can also feel how wet you are, especially now that air is coming into contact with the damp gusset of your pants. You’d be embarrassed if Mingi wasn’t hard enough to cut a diamond, if he wasn’t wide eyed and slack jawed at seeing your top half bare, if he wasn’t currently ducking toward your chest with an obvious mission in his eyes.

He cups your breasts with his hands, testing their weight and holding them up for his seeking lips, his mouth wrapping around one nipple and his fingertips rolling the other. Your back arches at the wet heat that engulfs you, a sharp gasp escaping when he sets his teeth into the soft flesh and gives it a tug.

Pulling away to admire his handiwork, he brushes a thumb over the mark he just left and leans back, curling his fingers in the waistband of your pants and beginning to tug. You lift your ass just enough to help, letting Mingi fold your legs up and yank the pants off of them like he’s personally offended by the article of clothing.

You’re left in just your panties, and thank God you chose a cute pair because he’s looking so closely at you, you want to squirm. His eyes feel like physical weights on you, his hands shaking where he carefully places them on your stomach and drags them down. As he tucks his fingers into the waist of your underwear, you expect him to start taking them off but instead, he pulls them up, putting pressure on your clit and outlining your wet folds.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, one hand flying down to curl around his fingers and the other clawing at the arm of the couch.

“Having some fun.” His focus is still stuck between your legs, his voice gravelly and low, “I waited three years, babe, I have a lot of ideas.” That’s all you need to hear, the reminder of how long he’s wanted you.

“Play away,” you release his hand, letting yours join its twin above your head, and he groans at the picture you make.

“So fucking pretty, baby. Keep your hands there, yeah?”

You nod and do your best to stay still as he hikes your stretched underwear up high on your hips and spreads his knees, splaying your legs even further apart. You’re almost completely exposed like this but it’s hot, you feel hot, like maybe Mingi is the lucky one here, not you.

He’s definitely acting like that’s the case, muttering little compliments under his breath and touching you so reverently you’re shocked he’s not on his knees worshiping you. When he tucks your knees up and slides down the couch so he can shoulder your thighs apart and stare right at your clothed cunt, you wonder if that’s his next step.

You wouldn’t mind, don’t mind this, bar the fact that you wouldn’t miss your underwear. You mind it even less when he tentatively places his palms on your thigh and starts to glide them up, his calluses from lifting dragging against your sensitive skin and making you shiver.

His thumbs trace the edge of the dampened fabric, threatening to slip under and touch you bare, and you could cry at how much of a tease he’s being. You’re aching for it, your pussy so empty and wet, you won’t be surprised if he has you begging before he even takes his pants off. You’re almost ready to beg now, and just as you open your mouth to let out a, “Please,” he slides his fingers into your panties.

“Fuck,” you say in unison, your utterance sounding more like a sigh than a swear as he glides his thick fingers through your folds and over your clit. It throbs under his touch, desperate for attention, but he bypasses it to dip into your entrance and gather more of your wetness on his fingers.

He uses his other hand to pull your underwear to the side as he brings his fingers up into the light of the TV, spreading them and smirking at the strings of arousal that bridge the gap. You whine and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed at how wet you are and at the fact that he’s practically gloating over it.

“Don’t hide,” he chastises you, sucking at his fingers before peeling your hands away from your face and returning them to their place above your head. “I love how wet you are, it makes me feel good and it’ll be easier for you to take my dick later.”

He returns his focus to your cunt, licking at his lips like he’s chasing the taste of you he’d just gotten and asking, “Can I eat you out? Need you in my mouth.”

“Please!” you gasp, watching him stare at your pussy like you’re a ten course meal and he’s famished. He dives in as soon as you finish speaking, his lips finding your clit so fast you don’t even have time to take in another breath before you’re gasping again and digging your nails into the couch to keep your fingers from disappearing into his hair.

The sounds he makes as he feasts on you are obscene, his whimpers and groans and grunts sending pulses of want through your body that all end where he begins. Shaking his head, he buries his tongue deeper within your folds, curling it around your clit and sliding it as deep inside you as he can reach. No one has ever eaten you out like this before, like they’ll die if they don’t taste every drop of you, like your cunt is air and they’ve been suffocating, like they’re on death row and you’re their last meal.

It’s incredible, and it only gets better when he pulls just far enough back to rasp, “Fingers?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Mingi.” Those may be the only words you know now, all others erased from existence by his appetite. One finger prods at your entrance before sinking in with ease thanks to how drenched you are, and you clench down around it without even thinking, your body so needy for something to fill you up that just one of his thick fingers is enough.

A second joins the first, the stretch making you sigh and his lips around your clit making you keen. He curls them, rooting around for your g-spot and finding it before you can take another breath. Digging in, he rubs his calloused fingertips over the sensitive patch of nerves, your back arching and your walls fluttering as he fucks you with his fingers.

He sucks at your clit, worrying it between his lips and laving at it with his tongue, and already, you’re starting to get close. “Harder, Mingi, please,” you whine, needing just a bit more to get there and more than willing to tell him.

His fingers pound into you, hooking into your g-spot on every thrust in and spreading on every stroke out. It’s a tight fit but he works another finger in beside the first two, his digits so much longer and thicker and better than yours. The stretch adds another layer of pleasure to what you already feel, your cunt so full with his fingers, you almost can’t believe you’re going to take his cock.

But, by God, you will, or you’ll die trying. First, though, you’ll cum.

It was really only a matter of time, and when he curls his fingers into your g-spot and leaves them there with a harsh suck of his mouth on your clit, you’re done. The wave that overcomes you is inescapable, pulls you under and into a state of rapture so blinding, you almost don’t even notice his eyes on you.

But, there they are, watching you tumble through the orgasm he pushed you into with a heat and headiness you’ve never seen before. Knowing that he’s watching you makes everything better, heightens every sensation and draws out every burst of bliss, and when he finally pulls away, he’s still watching you.

His lips are swollen, the whole lower half of his face soaked with your arousal, and he’s looking at you like he could go for seconds, thirds, and fourths. You’d let him, would let him drown in you all day if he asked, but right now, you need him to split you open.

“Fuck me, Mingi,” you half sigh, half plead, your face crumpling in impatience when he takes his time pulling his fingers out of you before licking off every single trace. He grins up at you from between your spread legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and exhaling, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Mingi,” you whine, “Fuck me, fuck me, fu-”

He pushes your legs apart and slides up your body, resting his hands on either side of your head and connecting your mouth with his in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you love it, love tasting the physical evidence of your desire for him and his hunger for you.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his sweats and he mumbles, “Off,” into your mouth, taking over when you take too long. He pushes them and his boxers down, kicking them off his legs and leaving his massive cock hanging between your bodies and brushing against your stomach.

It’s hot to the touch and leaking precum onto your skin, and it’s also the biggest you’ve ever seen, as thick as a can of soda and long enough to reach the end of you. Any trepidation you feel vanishes when you look back up to Mingi and find him examining you with a worried expression.

“Do you think it’ll fit?” he gently asks, looking back and forth between his body and yours with doubt.

“Make it fit,” you tell him, widening your legs as one of his hands reaches down to line his cock up with your entrance. You both watch him enter you, watch his cock split you open and spread you apart, watch it carve a path inside you that’s for him and him alone.

He shudders out a long breath as your cunt stretches to welcome him, his hips getting closer and closer to yours until they’re pressed together, his cock fully seated inside you and filling you to the brim.

You can’t breathe and it seems he can’t either, his elbows buckling and his upper body dropping to rest on yours. He’s mumbling something into your shoulder, a litany of words you can’t make out and one phrase you can, “Fucking tight and wet and perfect, never felt this good, never.”

You preen beneath him, your pussy fluttering and your hips wiggling, making him groan deep in his chest, press his teeth into your skin, and give you a sharp thrust. You buck back, following him when he recedes, and he starts moving his hips in an unhurried, smooth rhythm, his movements eased by your overflowing arousal and the three fingers he’d opened you up with.

He fucks you like that, slow and deep and dirty, until you feel like you could scream. It feels amazing, and you love being this close to him, but you need him to go harder, faster, need him to fuck you like he means it.

“Mingi,” you begin, your voice more ragged than you expect, and he lifts his head up with a smirk, grinds his hips against yours, and pulls back, sitting up on his heels and hoisting you into his lap.

You can’t hold in your gasp at the new angle, nor your moan at the way he fills you again, and again, and again. You clench down at the picture he makes, his abs flexing with every thrust and his hands huge on your hips, while he bullies through your tightness to tap your g-spot with the head of his cock. Your back arches, a wounded cry leaving your open mouth as he starts fucking you in earnest, just like you wanted.

It’s perfect, he’s perfect, everything you could ever need or ever want, and suddenly, you feel the urge to tell him.

“Mingi, you’re so fucking good, you fill me up so well,” you whimper, and you can feel him get harder in you, feel him twitch and leak and throb.

“Like nobody else, right?” he questions breathlessly, his hands tight on your hips and his brow furrowed.

“Like nobody else,” you confirm with a squeeze of your insides and a sigh of his name.

“And there won’t be anybody else, right?” he punctuates his question with a rough thrust, his cock reaching a depth that makes stars swim in your vision.

“No, baby, nobody else.”

Grinning savagely, he pounds into you, the sound of his movements inside you pornographic and nigh embarrassing. You’re so ridiculously wet, there’s a squelch every time he pushes in and a gush of arousal every time he pulls out, and both your thighs and his shine with it. Thankfully, you don’t have any thoughts to spare on being embarrassed, your hazy mind too occupied with Mingi and retaining the capacity to breathe.

“There’s no one else for me, too, you know that?” he speeds up, his hips slapping against yours and his head tipping back even as he keeps talking. “I tried, but I just keep coming back to you. Haven’t even dated in- in a year, because your pickups were enough for me, fuck, I’m close.”

A year?!

You didn’t even realize you were nearing that peak but when he shifts one hand down to rub your clit, you’re suddenly right there, teetering on the edge and waiting for him to fall over with you. He battles through the clenching of your walls to hit your g-spot, his aim so precise it’s like he’s got a lock on it, and it’s enough to break you.

“Are you cumming, baby?” he asks desperately, and you find it in yourself to nod even as your orgasm steals your breath, your voice, your ability to think. He wheezes, “Thank fucking God,” and you can feel his cock start jerking and jumping inside you as he fills you up with white, hot cum. The sensation draws out your release, makes each wave hit harder and longer, makes your cunt clench and ripple and undulate around him until he’s shaking and near tears.

“Fuck,” he sighs, pulling a hand from your hip to wipe at the sweat coating his forehead before letting himself slowly fall down and cover your body with his. You catch your breath while he rests, your pussy still pulsing around his softening dick as a combination of your cum starts to seep out.

“Can we take a shower?” you inquire in a small voice, your fingertips digging into his toned shoulders and your legs starting to ache.

“Course, baby,” he breathes, snaking his arms under you and pulling you up into his chest as he gets off of the couch. You didn’t expect him to carry you, scrambling to wrap your legs around his waist, though you know he’d never let you fall. He stops at the entrance of the hallway, unsure of where to go.

Soon enough, he’ll know your apartment as well as you know his, but until then, you direct him, “First on the left,” and hide a grin in his shoulder when he stubs his toe on the doorframe.

AN: posting part two a bit early in honor of mingi’s birthday!! im overjoyed with all the feedback i got on part one and i can’t wait to hear your thoughts on the conclusion!

thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading and thank you to @bbychocolat for the original commission 💖

My Masterlist

[junrecs]

I was rooting for them hard and boy did this deliver 🔥 where can I get myself a Mingi like this 😩