Warnings: Working out, horny for your gym crush, arm kink (idk I am just horny for his muscles), cute and kinda cringy, very brief pinning, size difference, hair pulling, BDE Mingyu, no protections, creampie.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
“Last set. You got this.” Mingyu’s voice is sunshine and gasoline, stoking a bonfire already lit in your chest. He steadies the barbell as you slip beneath it, bare hands roughing over smooth steel. You grit your teeth, focus up. Four reps, two breaths, and then, his knuckles graze your shoulder, gentle as a whisper, steadying you on the last, quivering press.
“Solid,” he says, flashing that smile you wish you could photograph onto your retinas. “You’re going to smoke my PR at this rate.” Your arms scream, the good kind of ache, and your heart chases the adrenaline through every vein. Sweat stings your eyes. You let the bar crash into the rack and flop back, gasping, while Mingyu hands you a towel. His hand lingers on the small of your back, just for a second, but it’s enough to shoot a signal straight between your legs. The gym is mostly empty this early, save for a few overcaffeinated regulars and the grim dedication of early-bird bodybuilders. Mingyu moves around you with tiger grace, always aware of your position, always in your orbit. You never have to say when you need a spot or a refill; he appears, like your body has its own gravity. You snatch your water bottle and chug, watching him in the mirror. He’s all broad strokes and sharp edges, slick with sweat, the cut of his jaw flexing when he laughs at your bicep-flex selfie. It’s almost unfair how perfect his arms are. You pretend not to notice when he catches you looking. You’re both experts in pretending.
“Coffee or crash?” Mingyu waggles his brows, towel around his neck, bench-pressing that familiar invitation. Your gym crush is nothing if not persistent.
“Protein,” you say, trying not to sound breathless. “I’ll cook for you. My place.” Mingyu stops mid-wipe. For a split second, his eyes flicker, a spark, a question, then cool bravado.
“Is this a reward? Or a bribe?” You drain your bottle, toss him a grin that’s more teeth than confidence.
“That depends on how fast you can shower and get to my apartment.” He lifts both brows, and this time you see it, the subtle recalibration, the mutual calculation that’s been humming in the background for months.
“I’ll bring the smoothies.”
***
You beat him home, just barely, long enough to peel out of your gym gear, wash up, put on some comfy clothes, and spritz yourself with something citrusy. Mingyu knocks once and lets himself in, arms loaded with a blender, bags of fruit, and the irrepressible energy that makes every room feel suddenly smaller. He toes off his shoes, looks you up and down with a lazy, appreciative scan that leaves you blushing, then sets up shop in your kitchen. You hover at the edge, chopping up chicken breast and trying not to hyper-analyze every single gesture.
“So this is the lair,” Mingyu says, eyes flicking to the plush couch, the anime posters, the jungle of potted plants taking over your windowsill. “Cozy. I dig it.” You snort.
“Don’t judge my Sailor Moon shrine.” He holds up his hands.
“I’m only disappointed there’s no life-size tuxedo mask cutout.”
You reply teasingly, “Oh, it’s in the bedroom.” Mingyu’s lips twitch in a slight laugh. For a moment, neither of you talks, and there is silence except for the whirr of the blender. You can feel the words boiling up inside your chest. You’ve wanted to tell him for weeks, no, months. Maybe since the first day he held your feet during core day and called you a beast with that intoxicating grin. It’s just, what if you’re wrong? What if the flirting is just gym-buddy chemistry, not what you want it to be? That being said, you can’t keep orbiting him forever? You decide on the direct approach, even if your pulse is somewhere near your ears.
“Hey, so, real talk?” Mingyu pauses in the act of pouring a smoothie into a glass tumbler. He turns, forearms braced on the counter, gaze open and honest.
“Lay it on me.”
“Don’t laugh, okay?” You stare at the tile, at your toes, at anywhere but his face. “I like you.” A silence stretches, taut and thrumming.
Then Mingyu says, quietly, “Like, like me?” You want to hide under the countertop.
“Yeah. Like, a lot. I think about you when I’m not at the gym. And at the gym. You’re basically my preworkout at this point.” You risk a glance up. “I can’t stop.” He’s still as stone, but his eyes are so warm you could fall into them. Then he laughs, low, delighted, a little incredulous.
“Wow. I thought I was being so slick.” Your brain stutters.
“Wait. You—?” He slides around the counter in two steps, his palms engulfing your hands, so big you feel like a child.
“I was trying to figure out how not to come on too strong and make you run for the hills.” You look down at your joined hands. His grip is confident, not crushing; he could break you in half, but he’s gentle, careful with you. It’s a perfect metaphor.
“You could never,” you whisper. For a moment, you stand there, holding hands like awkward high schoolers.
Then Mingyu squeezes once and says, “So… this is a date now?” You nod, dizzy.
“If you want it to be.” His gaze drops to your lips, then back up.
“I definitely want it to be.” And just like that, the tension that’s been knotting your gut for months melts away, replaced with something electric and bright. You want to kiss him, but you’re also terrified. He must see it on your face, because he leans in slowly, patiently, so close you feel the heat of his breath. You meet him halfway. The first kiss is warm, hungry, an exhale of relief. You laugh into his mouth, and he nips at your lower lip, playful. His tongue traces yours, teasing and soft, and your hands find their way to his biceps almost automatically. They’re still pumped from the gym, rigid and slick and beautiful, and you squeeze experimentally. Mingyu grins against your mouth, flexing to show off. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever felt. He spins you, gently but firmly, so your back presses against the fridge. You yelp, and he laughs, his chest rumbling against yours. One hand cradles your jaw, the other wraps low around your waist, so tight you feel like you’re being claimed. You love it.
“God, I’ve wanted this forever,” he groans. You break away, gasping.
“You mean you didn’t just want my macros spreadsheet?”
“Macros are great. You’re better.” You slide your hands under his shirt, greedily mapping the terrain of his abs. He lets you explore, eyes half-lidded, mouth open.
“You’re gonna break me,” you whisper.
He kisses your neck, slow and deep, and says, “I hope so.” It’s not long before you’re both tangled together, shirts now abandoned. You tug at the waistband of his joggers, and he laughs, half breathless, and helps you strip them away. He’s even bigger out of the gym clothes, all velvet and steel, and you can’t stop touching him. You want to drown in him. He runs his hands down your arms, eyes raking over you with open hunger.
“You’re perfect,” he says. “I want to see all of you.” He strips you bare, every inch a ceremony. Your skin sings under his hands; you never feel more alive than in the spotlight of his gaze. He lifts you, easy as breathing, and sets you on the counter. His mouth finds yours, then your throat, then lower, trailing kisses like confession. You arch into him, gasping, and he buries his face in the hollow of your shoulder, biting gently. You dig your nails into his back, and he moans, low and rough. It’s like a switch flips in him, one second careful, the next wild. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, so massive it feels like a manacle, but the pressure is perfect, exactly what you need. He kisses you harder, tongue insistent, and your body thrums with want.
“Tell me what you like,” he murmurs against your collarbone. Your courage spikes, blood loud in your ears.
“Choke me.” He goes still, eyes boring into yours.
“Yeah?” You nod, biting your lip.
“With your hands. Or—” you glance at his arms, flushed and veined from the lift. “Or your biceps, please, I want to feel you.” His pupils dilate, and his smile goes wolfish.
“You’re dangerous.”
“Can you handle it?” His laugh is pure fire.
“You’re about to find out.” He twists your hair around his fist, tilting your head so his mouth can devour you. His other hand, god, those hands, wraps around your neck, thumb tracing the pulse. He squeezes, gentle at first, then tighter, never enough to hurt but enough to make your vision go white at the edges. He lines himself up, presses inside, and you almost sob with relief. He’s huge and hot and perfect, and the stretch is everything you’ve fantasized about in the long, lonely nights after gym. He fucks you slow at first, savoring the feel, then harder, faster, each stroke punctuated by the growl of your name. He squeezes your throat in time with his thrusts, and you see stars, pleasure so intense you feel like you might shatter. You hold on to his arms for dear life, nails digging into his skin, and he grins down at you, sweat dripping from his brow.
“You’re incredible,” he pants. “God, Yn, I’m not gonna last—”
“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please, don’t stop—” He doesn’t. He drives you right to the edge and over, holding you through the quake, kissing away your cries. When he finally comes, it’s with a shudder so intense you think he might snap the counter in half. You love the way he lets go, like he’s never held back for anyone else. He collapses beside you, catching you before you can slide off the counter, and you curl into his arms, panting, bruised, alive. For a while, neither of you speaks. You breathe, tangled together, the world condensed to a single, blissed-out heartbeat. Mingyu strokes your hair, then kisses your forehead.
“Best post-workout ever.” You giggle, delirious.
“You saying you want to make this a regular thing?” He looks at you like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“Let’s break all our PRs together.” You nestle closer, inhaling the sweat and salt and newness of him.
“Deal. But next time, I’m topping.” He raises an eyebrow.
“Challenge accepted.” The future cracks open before you, bright and reckless and entirely yours.
Warnings: Dirty talk, Yeosang might be a voyer, nipple pinching, you have to be quiet, light biting, fingering, oral fem receiving.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
Tour bus showers barely qualify as showers, and sleeping upright is like trying to nap on a rollercoaster, but there's something about knowing a real hotel bed waits at the end of this stretch that makes it bearable. The vehicle has its own perfume of feet, energy drinks, and that 'alpine frost' air freshener dangling from the vent that smells more like a hospital hallway than any mountain you've ever visited. Still, there's a certain charm to this temporary discomfort, this metal cocoon carrying eight grown men, and you, of course, across state lines, the promise of proper sheets and water pressure just days away. Yeosang has claimed the middle bunk. He called dibs by throwing his duffel in before anyone else could even drag their suitcases down the curb. He's selfish with the good bunks, always has been, but tonight he's watching you with those eyes that say he'd give up his spot if your back hurt enough.
“You awake?” he whispers, from the safety of his blue polyester cocoon, the edge of his voice catching with static from the low-volume horror movie playing on someone's phone. You blink your bleary eyes back into focus.
“Barely. My spine is officially older than your entire discography.” There's a soft snort.
“You could sleep in my bunk.”
“You could have given me a real pillow.” You punch the foam slab beneath your cheek. It emits a puff of dust and the ghostly smell of the basement. “I think this one used to be a yoga block.”
“Luxury.” He slides the curtain back and peers at you with midnight-oil eyes, a dangerous glint lighting up his pupils in the glow of emergency exit lights. “Come here.” You check the aisle. San is out cold, headphones jammed, legs splayed like an open gate. Wooyoung is sprawled across two seats, face-planted in a bag of spicy chips. No sign of Hongjoong, the man is as elusive as sleep on this bus. You crawl the two-foot gap between bunks, knees clacking against the metal rails, and Yeosang's arms open, seamless, the perfect catch. He tucks you in chest to chest, his skin radiating a thousand watts through the thin line of his T-shirt. You can feel the thump of his heart, the slow drag of his breath as he nestles his nose against your temple.
“I can hear your thoughts,” you murmur. His scent is an intoxicating cocktail of dry shampoo, sweet coffee, and whatever cologne he sneakily spritzes whenever he knows you’re coming over. He hums into your hair.
“I’m thinking about what we’d do if we didn’t have to be quiet.” His hand finds the hem of your shirt, thumb sliding beneath, slow and hot, a secret handshake just for your skin.
“We’d get caught.”
“Not if we’re careful.” His lips ghost along your jaw, an idle threat. “Or maybe I want us to get caught.” You make a face.
“No, you do not.”
“Maybe I want you to get loud.” A wicked, sleepy smile. “It’s not fair, you know? Having you this close, but not being able to touch you like I want.”
“You’re touching me right now.” He presses your stomach to his, a full-body suffocation in the best sense.
“Not enough.” His hand travels up, flattening over your ribs, then higher, until your nipple is caught between two fingers, pinched just hard enough to turn breath into static in your lungs. You stifle a gasp.
“Yeosang,” you hiss, not even trying to hide the warning in your voice.
“What?” he says, all honey innocence, even as his thigh wedges between your legs. “I’m making you comfortable.” You glance at the curtain. Anyone walking by would see four bare feet tangled together, the light spill of your hair across his chest, maybe the exposed sliver of hip where your pajama shorts have rucked up indecently high.
“You’re an animal.” He grins, then bites your earlobe gently.
“You like it.” The bus shudders over a speed bump, and you both jolt. Yeosang’s hand clamps tight around your thigh to steady you.
“See?” he whispers. “Destiny.” You snort, but you’re already melting, your resistance softer than the pitiful pillow you abandoned.
“If we get caught, you’re explaining this to Hongjoong.” He starts to laugh, a warm rumble beneath your palms, but you clamp your hand over his mouth. “Shhh. You’ll wake someone up.” He licks your palm. You yelp and jerk your hand away, but it’s too late: there’s movement in the back, the hiss of the bathroom door, shuffling steps. You both freeze, the adrenaline spike leaving you breathless. It’s just Seonghwa, padding to the mini fridge, searching for bottled water without so much as a sideways glance at the two of you in the bunk. Yeosang rolls his eyes.
“Blind as a bat.”
“Or polite,” you whisper.
“Or he doesn’t care,” Yeosang mutters, returning his attention to your body like a man with a single-minded mission. His palm is all over you now, a slow undulation from hip to waist, to breast, and back again. You squirm against him, and when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, you bite your lip so hard you taste blood. He slides his fingers along your slit, feather-light but deliberate, and your hips answer before you can think. The bus groans around a corner, but it’s nothing compared to the tremor that starts in your gut and radiates out, a concentric wave of need. He slips a finger inside you, just one, but you’re wet enough for two, maybe three. He’s gotten better at this, more daring, more practiced.
“Fuck,” you whisper, biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet. He moves his fingers in a tight, slow rhythm, using his thumb to rub where you’re most sensitive.
“Good?” His voice is a dark syrup, lazy but sharp-edged. You nod, jaw locked tight. If you let go, you’ll moan loud enough to wake the dead. Yeosang’s hand withdraws, and for a microsecond, you want to punch him, but he uses that same hand to tilt your chin up, eyes boring into yours.
“My turn.” He rolls you onto your back, careful to shield you from view if the curtain should part. He pulls your shorts down with one hand, slow and steady, like a magician about to reveal his final trick. Then he ducks under the blanket, his breath scorching hot on your skin as he plants a kiss low on your stomach, then lower. His tongue is everything you remember from last time and better; every flick, every pause, is perfectly calculated to unspool your nerves. You grip the mattress so hard your knuckles creak, legs parted as much as space allows. He eats you like he’s starving, the sounds hidden by a blanket but not by your willpower. You arch up, pulse roaring in your ears. There is nothing but him, the engine’s hum, and the fear of being caught, which makes it so much more intense. You’re right on the edge when Yeosang’s hand covers your mouth, muffling the small, desperate sounds you can’t quite contain. You’re gone, all logic and resistance vaporized, hips bucking up into his mouth as you come, hard, his tongue relentless until you sag, boneless and dizzy, against the bunk’s hard edge. You blink spots from your eyes and try to breathe. Yeosang resurfaces, cheeks flushed, lips shining with you. He wipes his mouth, then grins like the absolute menace he is.
“Loud enough?”
“Asshole,” you manage, but you’re smiling, toes still curling. He tugs your shorts up, helps you smooth your shirt, then folds you into his chest like nothing happened.
“Now you can sleep,” he says, smugly.
“I hate you,” you whisper, nuzzling into his neck. He tugs your hair, gently.
“Liar.” You’re drifting, already half-asleep, when you hear footsteps, too heavy, too purposeful to be a random bathroom run. A hand yanks back the curtain, and there’s Hongjoong, backlit in the hallway, looking like the world’s angriest owl.
“Are you kidding me?” he says, voice pitched to an impressive blend of exasperation and resignation. “Yeosang, what did I tell you about curfew?” Yeosang doesn’t miss a beat.
“I was helping her with her insomnia.” Hongjoong drags a hand down his face.
“Please get back to your bunks, and wait til we are out of the bus to do all your nasty stuff. If I hear one more sound from you two, I’m putting you in the luggage compartment.” You stifle a giggle, and Yeosang squeezes your hip. Hongjoong mutters something under his breath and stalks back toward the front.
After a long, quiet pause, you say, “Should we feel guilty?” Yeosang presses a kiss into your hair, laughter bubbling in his chest.
“No. But next time, I’m bringing noise-canceling headphones for everyone.” You drift off, curled together in secret, the tour bus rattling forward through the night, the taste of each other lingering like the best kind of dream ever had.
Warning: Very slight mention of the hardships of post-partum, feelings of self-consciousness, groping, licking, nipping, oral fem rec, fingering, you ride him, no protection, creampie.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
Your daughter weighs less than a warm loaf of bread, but you clutch her as if she could tumble through the fabric of reality at any moment. She’s swaddled tight, a honey-glazed dumpling pressed into your chest, her breath milky and damp against your collarbone. Somewhere in the far-off world, the dishwasher drones, and the sky through the window is a canvas of nothing but the pregnant promise of dusk. Taeyang’s silhouette cuts through the domestic hush, bare feet padding from kitchen to couch with the silent authority of a parent who’s done this a thousand times but is still enchanted by the ceremony. He’s wearing an old navy blue t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts that cling to his thighs in a way that is criminally distracting, considering the context. There’s flour dusted on his wrist, a splatter of formula on his collarbone. His eyes, when they meet yours over the fuzzy crown of your daughter’s head, are the gentle brown of roasted chestnuts, rimmed with tiredness and still so absurdly bright.
"Hand her here?" he says, soft, already crouched beside you. The knees crack like they always do, but he doesn’t flinch. You pass her over, careful as an acolyte with the world’s holiest relic. Taeyang’s hands are warm, fingers thick but impossibly gentle. He cradles your baby, the phrase never stops sparking electricity in your spine, as if she is both a miracle and a secret, cradling her against his chest before peeling back the burrito of blanket.
"Hey, little one," he croons. There’s a note of gospel in his voice, something ancient and prayerful, maybe a remnant from his own mother’s lullabies.
"Did you drop a bomb for Appa?" The corners of his lips twitch upward. You can’t help but return the smile, a mix of fondness and awe. He settles her onto the changing mat he’d set on the coffee table earlier, the living room now half-nursery, half-battleground. Taeyang pulls wipes from a plastic pack with the slow assurance of a sommelier uncorking wine, wipes her bottom clean with a series of careful, practiced sweeps. He hums a bit, something poppy and catchy, and your daughter’s toes flex in rhythm. His head tilts as he focuses, a single bead of sweat gliding down his jaw, tracing the point where his stubble meets the slender arc of his neck. It isn’t exciting, really. It’s the most ordinary thing in the world. But you feel it, warmth flowering through your chest, tumbling down your stomach, and lower still, the kind of sudden, raw need that isn’t so much a surprise as a reawakening. You’ve felt adrift, postpartum, your body unfamiliar and stretched thin, but watching Taeyang’s hands reverent on your daughter’s velvet skin, you feel every cell in your body humming yes, still alive, still yours. The fresh diaper fits snugly around chubby thighs. Taeyang kisses her bare belly, lifts her legs, and does the same to her feet. She gurgles, eyes wide and shiny as marbles. The sight of him, forearms flexing, expression rapt, has you clenching the couch cushion so hard your knuckles ache. He senses it because he always does. He looks up at you, one brow cocked in a silent question. There’s something wicked at the edge of his smile, an undercurrent to the gentle teasing.
"She’s got your cheeks," he says, fastening the last tab on the diaper and tickling her side until she makes a hiccupping sound of protest. "But she’ll have my stamina." You snort, trying to look away but only seeing more of him, his dimpled forearms, the muscle at his throat working as he laughs. You want to climb into his lap and stay there forever. Taeyang sets your daughter back in your arms, wraps the blanket around her with the finesse of an origami master, and sits close enough that your knees touch. The nearness is enough to make your skin flush. He looks at you like you’re something rare and precious, even though you’re in sweats and a nursing bra with yesterday’s mascara shadowing your eyes.
"Hey," he says, voice low. "Watching you with her turns me on so much, you know?" The confession is half-whisper, half-challenge, and you feel it ripple through your body, heat coiling under your ribs. You shiver, and not from the chill. You lean in, bridging the gap until your forehead is pressed against his. He smells like vanilla, faint sweat, and the sugar of old cereal milk. Your breath fans over his lips.
"I was going to say the same," you murmur, voice shaky but steadying as his hand drifts to your hip, thumb tracing gentle circles through the thin fabric. Taeyang grins, a slow, wolfish thing, then steals a kiss. His lips are soft and coaxing, at first, a lazy drag, the kind reserved for sunrise Sundays or the time between dreams and morning, but then he deepens it, teeth grazing your lower lip, tongue flicking yours in a way that makes you gasp. Your daughter sighs, deep in her infant sleep, and Taeyang chuckles into your mouth.
"She’s got impeccable timing," he says, pulling back. You glance down at the bundle of blankets in your arms. Her eyelids flutter, but they remain closed, her face a picture of serenity.
"You want me to put her in the bassinet?" he offers, already rising.
"Please," you say, and the word comes out more desperate than you intend. The emptiness on your chest when he lifts her is immediate and profound, but the promise in Taeyang’s eyes makes you dizzy with anticipation. You watch as he lays your daughter into her crib by the window, so carefully you want to cry. He lingers for a second, one hand lingering on her chest, murmuring a promise you can’t hear. Then he turns, the whole focus of his body and gaze locked on you.
"You coming?" he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips, and you’re halfway to the hallway before you even register moving. The corridor is a brief blur. He leads you to the bedroom by the hand, fingers threading through yours, strong and confident. There’s a moment at the threshold where you falter, memory flooding in, stretch marks, splayed hips, the way your body feels neither old nor new, just alien, but Taeyang doesn’t give you time to spiral. He tugs you gently inside, pulls you against him, and his hands on your waist are the surest map back to yourself. He kisses you again, this time rougher, more intent. His teeth catch your lip, and you moan into his mouth, hands scrabbling at the hem of his T-shirt. He obliges, lifting it over his head in one practiced sweep, and the sight of his naked torso makes your thighs clench. You run your fingers over the hard lines of his chest, the dip at the center of his ribs, the familiar territory that now feels doubly forbidden and sacred. He reaches for your shirt, pausing for permission, and you nod. He peels it off slowly, reverently, baring your arms and shoulders, the nursing bra underneath. He drags a thumb along your clavicle, then down to the side of your breast, cupping you through the fabric. His fingers knead, gentle at first, then firmer. You’re hyperaware of how your body has changed, softer, looser, different, but Taeyang’s touch is so unselfconscious, so greedy for you, that for the first time in months you feel genuinely, mindlessly sexy. He peppers kisses down your throat, lingering at your pulse, then up to your jaw, your cheekbone. You’re breathing hard, pulse thrumming as you shrug off the bra and toss it to the floor. Taeyang stares for a long moment, hunger etched in every line of his face, then lowers his head and wraps his lips around your nipple. You gasp, back arching instinctively, and he growls low in his chest, suckling and laving with his tongue in a way that makes you keen. His hands find your ass, fingers digging in as if he wants to anchor you there, never let you drift. He switches to the other breast, equally greedy, and you tangle your hands in his hair, nails biting into his scalp. He shivers, responding to every gasp and moan like he’s building a song around them. He kisses down, down, trailing fire along your belly, tongue dipping into the new valley at your navel, then lower still, worshipping every line and scar. His mouth finds the waistband of your sweatpants, and he looks up at you, eyes glazed with lust and worship.
"Okay?" he asks, voice raw. You nod, unable to find words. He slides the pants down, underwear with them, until you’re bare to the hips. The air is cool, but his mouth is hot as he presses kisses along your inner thighs, nipping lightly, soothing the bites with the flat of his tongue. He opens you with practiced hands, one thumb stroking up and down until you’re slick and needy. His tongue finds your clit with pinpoint accuracy, circling, teasing, then flattening against it with obscene pressure. You whimper, hands fisted in the sheets, hips rolling into his mouth. Taeyang moans into you, the vibrations sending aftershocks up your spine. He eats you like a starving man, alternating between fast, flicking licks and deep, slow sucks. You can feel yourself unraveling, heat building until you’re almost frantic with it. He slips a finger inside, then another, pumping in rhythm with his tongue. You bite your own knuckle to stifle a scream, legs trembling as the first orgasm hits you in a white-hot surge. He doesn’t stop, just slows, letting you ride the aftershocks until you’re gasping, blinking up at the ceiling with the world smeared and beautiful. He finally kisses his way back up your body, lips slick with you, and you meet his mouth greedily, tasting yourself on his tongue. You flip him onto his back with surprising strength, straddling his hips, pressing your palms to his chest. His cock is hard and urgent, trapped under the waistband of his shorts, and you shiver as you palm it, feeling the familiar heat and weight. You tug his shorts down, freeing him, and he sighs in relief as you stroke him, thumb rubbing the slit at the crown. He twitches in your hand, and you giggle, the sound light and delirious.
"Someone’s eager," you tease, lining him up at your entrance.
"Only for you," he says, and the sincerity makes your heart skip. You sink on him slowly, inch by glorious inch, feeling the stretch, the fullness, the burn as your bodies merge. Taeyang’s hands clamp on your hips, steadying you, and you roll them in a lazy rhythm, finding your pace as you adjust to him. The friction is dizzying, each movement a spark up your spine. You ride him, taking your time, savoring the way his eyes never leave yours. Every stroke, every thrust, is a conversation: I missed you. I’m proud of you. I love you. You don’t need to say it out loud, but the meaning hangs heavy in the air.
You lean down, mouth by his ear, and whisper, "Daddy." The word is breathy, scandalous, but it fits. You repeat it, moaning as you grind harder, and Taeyang’s grip tightens until you’re sure he’ll leave finger-shaped bruises on your hips. He bucks up into you, pace quickening, eyes darkening with every echo of "daddy" you pour into his ear.
"God, keep saying that," he groans, voice breaking. "Say it again."
"Daddy," you gasp, and his control frays. He flips you, landing you on your back with a gentleness you never would have thought possible from someone so feverish with want. He drives into you deep and slow at first, then faster, harder, chasing the rhythm that makes your toes curl. You meet every thrust, thighs clamping around his hips, nails raking down his back. He keeps one hand braced by your head, the other cradling your face, thumb stroking your cheek as if to remind you this is still him, still Taeyang, even as he fucks you breathless. You come again, maybe twice, the pleasure so thick and endless you lose count. Taeyang holds off, teeth gritted, until he finally groans and pulses inside you, hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt. He collapses, careful not to crush you, and you lie tangled together in a mess of limbs and sweat and laughter. You both catch your breath, the room awash in the blue-gray wash of moonlight. Outside the bedroom, your daughter’s faint sighs and the city’s lullaby are the only reminders that anything else exists. Taeyang shifts, tucks you against him, and traces lazy circles on your bare shoulder. You brush his hair off his forehead, the strands soft and wild.
"So," you say, voice small and mischievous, "maybe we should try for another baby?" He laughs, the sound rumbling through both of you, and kisses your temple.
"Let’s," he whispers, and in the gentle hush that follows, you almost believe you could do this a thousand more times.
Warnings: Hybrids are not quite treated as people. The reader is the new caretaker of their wolf hybrid friend. Mentions of ruts, Intak is so deep in his rut that he can barely speak, grinding, biting, no protection, he is soooo big, creampie, he leaves his knot in you for a while.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
You keep your hands gentle on the steering wheel, knuckles white only because the city’s traffic is a labyrinth and not, you assure yourself, because the hybrid creature breathing shallow and sharp beside you is one miscalculation away from bolting through the glass. The car smells like the inside of a vet’s office, gauze, old coffee, the tang of antiseptic, but underneath it all, a musk laces the air, subtle at first, then suffocating, it’s Intak’s scent. You risk a glance sideways. He’s folded in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, knees up and braced against the glove box as if he expects it to attack. His hands, which are larger than yours, the fingers tipped with blunt, hard nails, clench the fabric of his own shirt. His face is a landscape of conflicting signals, the eyes big and too dark and wet, the mouth slack and silent. If he were a dog, the hackles would be up, the tail tucked. Instead, the patterns on his skin, those faint, chevron stripes you once traced with a gloved finger, are pulsing darker and darker, like warning signals. You try your best “everything is fine” voice, even though he’s never seemed to buy it.
“Almost home, Intak. Then you can rest. I made up the cot for you, lots of blankets, and, uh, I can put on the humidifier if you want. You like that, right?” He gives a noise, not a word. Not even a sound meant for you. It’s more of a low, vibrating growl that starts deep in his chest and rises into a whine. You wince, immediately ashamed of yourself for the flicker of fear that races through your body. Intak isn’t dangerous, not to you, not really, but that sound, some part of your brain knows to flinch from it. You put your hand on the console, palm up, offering, not asking. He doesn’t move, but his eyes flicker to your hand, and then up to your face. His irises are dilated, the sclera bright and bloodshot. He licks his lips, and you see the moment he decides to trust you. His left hand, trembling, temperature noticeably higher than your own, drops to cover yours. You drive one-handed the rest of the way, letting Intak squeeze your hand as hard as he needs.
—
He bolts the second you open the apartment door. Not away, not out, but inside, straight to the darkest corner, under the table, where he crouches and pants and glares at the world. You shut the door quietly, lock it twice, and then lean against it, chest heaving, more tired than you should be. Intak’s breathing has gone ragged. He’s rocking forward and back, hands pressed to his knees, forehead beaded with sweat. You check the thermostat, and it’s set to the normal temperature. Not too hot, and not too cold, but the air feels ten degrees hotter, as if his presence alone stokes the temperature. You keep your voice soft, low, and rounded at the edges.
“Intak? I brought the water dish. Do you want the cool pack? You don’t look so good.” He doesn’t respond. Not even a twitch. You try again, on hands and knees now, crawling under the table as if you’re trying to coax a traumatized animal from under a car.
“Tak, what’s wrong? Please talk to me. You’ve never been this agitated here before.” He snarls, a real, guttural snarl, but it breaks halfway, dissolving into a choked, needy whimper. He’s clutching himself now, arms wrapped around his gut. There’s no blood, no sign of injury, but the distress is so raw it feels like it should be visible. You reach for him. He lets you touch his hair, fingers running over the bristling, damp crown. His scalp is fever-hot. His whole body radiates heat, palpable even from inches away. You murmur nonsense until your voice gets hoarse. Eventually, you risk the question.
“Do you want a bath? I can run cold water or get you ice packs. Just say the word, Intak. Tell me what you need.” He jerks, then grabs your wrist, too fast, too strong. The grip would leave bruises if he meant to hurt you, but he just holds, trembling.
“You,” he manages. “Need you.” You freeze. The look in his eyes is feral and pleading, equal parts threat and desperation. You’re not a genius, but you know what a hybrid in rut looks like, at least in theory. The vet’s warnings suddenly click into place. The symptoms. The heat. The scent. The way Intak can’t seem to stop looking at you. You swallow. You’ve trained for panicked rescues, bloody wounds, and even the time a half-feral hybrid bit off a handler’s pinky finger. You have not trained for this.
“Intak,” you say, “are you, do you want—” Words, suddenly, the hardest thing in the world. “Do you want me to stay?” He shakes his head once.
“Don’t want. Need. You help, please. Hurts.” You pull your hand away from his, just long enough to cup his cheek. His skin is burning. His breath comes in pants, so close your own mouth fills with the animal-salt scent of him.
“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll help. Just tell me what to do.” He makes a noise like a laugh, but it’s wild and broken.
“Don’t know. Not like before. Never—” He cuts off, grits his teeth, and tugs you toward him with a strength that leaves no room for negotiation. “Please,” he hisses, voice ragged. You kneel in front of him, hands on his shoulders, waiting for him to make the next move. He seems to need the moment, so do you, if you’re honest. So you just breathe with him, matching his rhythm, letting your own heartbeat slow down. He stares at you, expression shuddering between panic and hunger, then leans in and nuzzles your neck. The contact is shockingly intimate, not quite a kiss but a press of heat and need. You’re shaking now, but you let him scent you, let him rub the bridge of his nose along your throat, jaw, the soft skin below your ear. He’s shuddering, making low, helpless noises. You stroke his back, feel the way his muscles bunch and tremble. Eventually, words return.
“Need to—” He pauses, biting down on whatever he was about to say. “Can’t do alone. Not supposed to.” You can feel the line you’re about to cross. Once you do, nothing will be the same. The animal handler part of you catalogs the risks; the rest of you just wants to make this hurting creature whole.
“Let me help,” you say, and your voice sounds steadier than you feel. You guide him to your bedroom, more accurately, he half-drags you, nails digging into your wrist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. You get as far as the edge of your bed before he collapses, hauling you on top of him, panting into the fabric of your shirt. He’s not subtle. His hands wander immediately, searching, shaking, tracing your spine with fevered urgency. He’s rutting against you before you can even process the fact, his body hot and hard and desperate beneath you. You gasp, not just from the pressure, but from the sheer, overwhelming need rolling off of him in waves. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug, just gently, just to see what he does. He growls, then tilts his head up to kiss you in a messy, open-mouthed kiss that’s more teeth than tongue. You let him. The taste is sweet and salty and something uniquely Intak.
He fumbles with your clothes, nearly ripping your shirt in his haste. You help, unbuttoning, unzipping, guiding his hands where they need to go. You strip together in a frantic, wordless choreography, both of you making small, desperate noises. When your skin finally touches his, it’s an electric shock, the temperature difference enough to make you gasp. He wraps himself around you, limbs everywhere, rutting helplessly. You grind against him, giving as good as you get, letting him use your body to soothe his pain. He kisses you again, this time softer, trembling.
“Need inside,” he rasps. “Please. Can’t—can’t hold.” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and slide a hand down, guiding him. His cock is different from any you’ve known; it’s thicker, ridged, with a knot at the base that already feels swollen. He’s leaking slick, not just at the tip but from along the shaft. He’s too big, you realize. Not just thick, but long, and the knot? There’s no way. You hesitate, and he senses it, immediately freezing, looking at you with wide, terrified eyes.
“Hurting?” he whispers. “Stop? Should stop—” You cup his cheek, stroke his hair. “No. I want to. Just slow, okay? We’ll go slow.” He nods, relief shuddering through him. You line him up and press down, letting him fill you slowly, inch by inch. The sensation is intense, almost too much, but the look on his face of pure, unfiltered relief, gratitude, and devotion makes you keep going. When the knot bumps against you, you pause, breathing hard, letting your body adjust. He’s trembling, so you murmur to him, nonsense words and soft encouragement, until he relaxes. You rock gently, allowing the rhythm to take over, feeling him swell and throb inside you. When the knot finally slips in, it’s a sudden, shocking fullness that leaves you gasping. Intak whines, high and desperate, then buries his face in your neck, biting down gently on your skin as he climaxes. The sensation of heat flooding inside you is overwhelming; you can feel the pulse of his knot, locking you together. You shudder, clinging to him, letting him ride out the aftershocks. For a long time, neither of you moves. You’re locked together, literally, and he’s panting into your neck, making soft, contented noises. You stroke his back, murmur sweet nothings, and slowly, the tension in his body ebbs away.
When he finally goes soft enough to slip free, you both gasp at the sensation. He collapses beside you, dragging you close, curling around you like a living furnace. His breathing slows. He nuzzles your hair, licking the sweat from your forehead, then kisses your cheek.
“I feel much better now,” he whispers. “Thank you.” You wrap your arms around him, smiling into the mess of tangled sheets and tangled limbs.
“Anytime,” you say. “I mean it. Anytime.” He laughs, a rumbling sound that vibrates through both your bodies. Then he falls asleep, arms tight around you, safe and sated. You close your eyes and let yourself drift, the scent of him filling the room, the memory of his need still burning in your skin. In the morning, you know, nothing will be quite the same.
Warnings: Holy cow, this one is really long, so I will go through and add them later.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
You can always tell when Kibum’s reached the restaurant first by the sound of his voice, somehow both sharp and melodious, slicing through the noise of the lobby like a bell. Tonight, he’s perched at the bar with one leg tucked elegantly under him, swizzling an electric-blue cocktail and critiquing the merits of the light fixture overhead to anyone within range.
“It’s trying too hard to be mid-century,” he says, catching your eye as you and Yn step in. “Just like me. I respect it.” He salutes you with his glass, then gestures extravagantly at the pair of empty seats he’s reserved with his coat and a menacing look at any would-be interlopers. You squeeze your wife’s hand, partly for reassurance, partly because you still can’t get used to the casual claim she makes on every room she enters. She’s in her element tonight, hair curled and lips painted just the way you like, her laughter already bright before you’ve even reached the table. You spot Minho at the hostess stand, deep in negotiation; she’s resisting his efforts to snag the corner booth, but he’s undeterred, eyes crinkled with the promise of inevitable victory. Taemin slides in behind you, somehow unnoticed until his arms snake around your waist.
“Hyung,” he whispers, voice low and mischievous. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Is it the tie? It’s the tie, isn’t it?” He flicks at the knot, loosening it just enough that you can breathe again.
You let yourself laugh, maybe for the first time today. The album’s only been out for twelve hours, but already your group chat is full of memes, memes about the memes, and links to reaction videos. You’d spent the morning holed up in the studio, rehearsing answers for upcoming interviews, and then all afternoon corralling twins through a pediatrician’s appointment and a grocery run. There are still handprints on the inside of your car windows and two pounds of grape jelly in your hair, but now you’re here, with your people, and even your stress is starting to taste sweet. The hostess finally surrenders, and Minho sweeps you all toward the corner booth like he owns the place. You and Yn slide in first, shoulders brushing. Minho takes the outside seat, a protective sentinel; Key and Taemin wedge themselves in across from you, immediately fighting over menu placement and the best angle for a group selfie.
“Can we order like twelve appetizers?” Taemin says. “I haven’t eaten since…whenever we last had food.”
“‘We’?” Key snorts, snatching the menu away. “You ate my leftovers, brat.” Minho ignores them, leaning in so close you can smell his cologne.
“Congratulations, hyung,” he says, voice pitched just for you. “You really pulled it off this time.” His hand lingers for a moment on your shoulder, then drops away as if the contact might give away too much. You feel the heat in your cheeks and look for cover in the wine list.
“We all pulled it off,” you say, trying to sound leaderly and not like you want to disappear under the table. “It’s only a win because we did it together.” Yn nudges you.
“Stop being humble. You nearly killed yourself with that last vocal take. I was afraid you’d lose your voice for good.”
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Key sighs. “Then you’d have to do interpretive dance for the comeback stage.” Taemin claps, delighted.
“Please! Let’s choreograph it tonight. We can practice on the table.” You can see the server approaching, eyeing your group with a mixture of dread and fascination.
“I’ll start you with drinks?” she says, not quite a question. Key orders a martini, specifying “bone dry, like my sense of humor.” Taemin wants the “weirdest cocktail you have, surprise me.” Minho asks for a neat whiskey, and when you hesitate, Yn orders a bottle of soju for the table and winks at you. “For courage.” By the time the drinks arrive, Key’s in the middle of recounting an epic tale of backstage wardrobe malfunction.
“—so then, with nothing but a tank top and sheer terror, I had to run all the way across the set, past the camera crew, and back on stage. The look on the producer’s face. Priceless.” He tips his martini at Yn, who’s giggling into her glass. “You’re the only one who would’ve found it hot instead of horrifying.” Yn blows him a kiss and drains her soju.
“I did. Still do. Jinki couldn’t stop staring at your—”
“Let’s not,” you say, but everyone ignores you. Taemin is doubled over, tears streaming down his face.
“Hyung, you’re blushing so much! Are you okay? Should we fan you?”
“Only if it’s with a menu,” Minho says, and proceeds to do precisely that, fanning your face with the dessert section. Yn rests her head on your shoulder, tears in her own eyes from laughing so hard.
When the appetizers arrive, six, not twelve, but still excessive, everyone dives in. It’s chaos in the best possible way, chopsticks dueling over dumplings, fingers snatching fried squid before it cools, Minho absentmindedly feeding you a bite of his tartare while Key critiques the plating like a surly Michelin judge. Yn drops a shrimp in your lap, “accidentally,” then retrieves it with exaggerated care, licking her fingers and grinning at your expression.
“So,” she says, leaning back. “Who gets to brag the most about the album? I vote Jinki, since he’s the only one who didn’t threaten to quit at least twice during production.” Taemin sulks.
“I never said I’d quit. I said I’d run away to France and become a mime.”
“Same thing,” Key says. Minho raises his glass.
“To the world’s worst quitters, and the best comeback. May we never lose our voices, or our mimes.” You clink glasses, the sound ringing sharp and clear. For a moment, you’re all suspended in it, the laughter, the glow, the sense that this is precisely where you’re meant to be. The entrees arrive. You’ve forgotten what you ordered, but it doesn’t matter; the table is a blur of shared plates and passed bites. You catch Minho’s eye across the rim of your glass, and he smiles, slow and sly. Key and Taemin are arguing over dessert strategy, plotting an elaborate plan to steal bites from every plate. Yn is watching you, a little soft, a little proud, her hand tucked in yours beneath the table. You’re not sure how the conversation drifts to babies, but suddenly, Minho is reminiscing about the time he had to babysit your twins and one of them projectile vomited on his brand-new tracksuit.
“I swear they planned it,” he says, deadpan. “I’d just finished cleaning up the first mess when they synchronized for round two.”
“Teamwork,” you say. “It’s in their blood.” Key shudders.
“That’s why I’m never having kids. I’d end up with twins, too, and they’d probably be even worse.”
“Worse?” Yn arches a brow. “Are you sure that’s possible?” Taemin nods solemnly.
“Hyung’s children will end the world. I want to babysit next time.”
“Never happening,” Minho says, but there’s affection in his scowl. The server clears the plates and brings out a cake, chocolate, glossy, topped with a sparkler that throws wild shadows over your faces. It’s so extra, you suspect Minho arranged it. He insists everyone sing, and though your voice is already hoarse, you join in, loud and off-key, because you can’t imagine saying no to this moment. The sparkler gutters out. The cake is cut, bites traded, forks stolen. Yn leans in, lips brushing your ear.
“You happy?” she asks, voice barely above the hum of the restaurant. You don’t have to think about it.
“Yeah,” you say. “Right now, I really am.” She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Good. You deserve it.” Key is corralling everyone for a photo, Minho’s arm around your shoulder, Taemin squished in next to Yn, everyone grinning, glasses raised. The flash catches you mid-laugh, eyes almost closed, head thrown back.
After dinner, you and Yn begin the trek back home. The car is thick with the scent of her perfume and the faintest echo of Minho’s aftershave, which must have latched onto you during the goodbye hug. Yn kicks off her heels as soon as you hit the freeway, feet tucked up on the seat, and rolls the window down to let the night breeze whip her hair wild. She’s still buzzing from the soju and sugar, chin propped on her hand as she watches the city unspool in streaks of neon and tail light.
“So,” she says, after a few minutes of contented silence, “how’s the blushing leader feeling? Sufficiently celebrated, or should we call Key and have him break into our apartment with a confetti cannon?” You drum your fingers on the wheel, grinning despite yourself.
“If anyone’s getting arrested tonight, it’s Key.” She laughs, then hums along to the song on the radio. It’s one of yours, which makes you want to die a little, but she turns it up anyway and sings the chorus just off-key enough to make you smile. When you hit a red light, she leans over and kisses your cheek, lingering a second too long.
“Hey.” Her tone softens. “You did good, babe. I know how hard the last few years have been, and I want you to know that I am so proud of you boys.” You glance at her, at the way her eyes glitter under the dashboard lights. The words you’ve been rolling around in your head for days are suddenly heavy in your mouth.
“Can I ask you something?” you say, trying to keep it light. She perks up.
“Is it about the grape jelly in your hair? Because I already know. Minho ratted you out.” You snort.
“No, not that. It’s more…like, a relationship question.” Her curiosity spikes; you can practically see the gears turning.
“Ooh, am I in trouble?”
“No,” you say quickly, then amend, “well, maybe. Depends on how you feel about weird husband confessions.” She gives you a side-eye, lips twitching.
“Jinki, if you say you want to buy a motorcycle, I’m divorcing you.” You laugh, but the nerves are back, fizzing just under your skin.
“No motorcycles. Just—” The light turns green. You drive another block, searching for the words, before you finally just blurt it out. “Have you ever wanted to… try something really new? Like, in bed?” She sits up a little straighter, her whole face going bright with interest.
“Oh? What’s got my shy husband so worked up?” She prods your thigh with her toes, eyes dancing. “Are you gonna ask for butt stuff?” You almost swerve into the next lane.
“No! Well. Not—not tonight.” She cackles, victorious.
“You’re adorable. Okay, tell me. What’s the fantasy?” Your mouth is dry, and your hands are gripping the wheel a little too tightly.
“It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Jinki.” She’s gentle now, hand on your arm. “You can tell me anything.” You take a breath, then another.
“I keep thinking about… what it would be like to watch you. With someone else.” You say it fast, hoping that if you get the words out quickly enough, they’ll sting less. “Like…not as a joke. For real.” There’s a pause. You risk a glance at her, but she’s just looking out the window, thoughtful.
“You want to watch me get fucked by someone else?” Her bluntness makes you swallow hard, but you nod.
“Yeah. I mean, only if you’d be into it. Or we could talk about it, or—” She turns to face you, eyebrows up.
“You want to watch, or join in?”
“I want to watch,” you admit. “Just… see you, from the outside. Like a movie, but real.” She’s silent for another beat, then grins slowly and a little wickedly.
“That’s actually really fucking hot.” You nearly miss your exit.
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah!” She’s animated now, all in. “I mean, I never thought about it before, but if it’s you? And you’re into it? God, that’s kind of insane, Jinki.” She pokes your shoulder. “You, the ultimate softie, wanting to be a voyeur. I love it.” Relief rushes through you, dizzying.
“So… you’d want to try?” She chews her lip, thinking.
“Yeah, but who would it be with? Not some stranger. I’d rather die.” You nod, already knowing she’d say that.
“I just… I can’t imagine it with anyone but someone we trust. Someone who gets us.” She taps her chin, fake-musing.
“Should we send out a survey to our friends? List of references, medical exam—”
“Stop,” you groan, but you’re laughing, the tension finally breaking. “I knew you’d make it weird.” She leans over, kisses your cheek again, then your jaw.
“You married me for it. So, who are you thinking of?” You pull into your apartment complex, the parking lot mostly empty, and kill the engine. The silence is immediate and intimate.
“I don’t know. It’s just a fantasy. I didn’t think we’d actually… pick someone.” She’s quiet, studying your face.
“Do you want to?”
“Do you?” Her smile is softer now, more private.
“Maybe. Suppose it was someone we trusted. Someone who wouldn’t make it awkward after.” She nudges you. “Does this mean I get to watch you with someone, too?” You snort.
“I don’t think I’d survive.” She giggles, then sobers a little.
“I like that you told me. I like that you trust me.” You reach over, threading your fingers with hers.
“You’re my best friend. Of course, I trust you.” She squeezes back, eyes shining.
A few days after the group dinner, Minho arrives exactly two minutes before the agreed time, his arms loaded with takeout and a six-pack of beer, like a walking stereotype of the world’s hottest babysitter. You hear the thump of his shoes in the hallway, followed by a practiced, gentle knock; no need to wake the twins if they’ve miraculously managed to nap at the same time. Yn’s in the middle of wrestling one baby into a clean onesie, her hair caught up in a lopsided bun, wearing your old sweatshirt and no makeup. She’s never looked hotter. You’re on the living room floor, half-submerged in a drift of plush animals and baby books, trying to keep the other twin from gnawing through a board book about trucks. Minho pokes his head around the corner, grinning.
“Did you miss me?” The baby on your lap gurgles and kicks in obvious delight, and you pretend it’s not the same effect Minho has on you.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Yn calls from the nursery, wrangling a new diaper with the grace of a seasoned pro. “If you hadn’t come, I think Jinki was about to start eating crayons.”
“Who says I haven’t?” you fire back, waggling blue-stained fingers. Minho snorts, shedding his jacket and setting the food on the coffee table. He scoops the baby off your lap and up into his arms, settling the tiny bundle against his broad chest. The ease with which he moves, gentle, confident, completely unruffled by the spit-up that immediately decorates his shirt, makes your stomach flip.
“Hyung, you’re really outnumbered here,” he says, bouncing the baby expertly. “How do you survive?”
“Poorly,” you admit, “but at least we’re cute while we’re suffering.” Yn emerges from the nursery, hoisting the other twin like a trophy.
“I see you found your favorite uncle,” she says to the baby, who is already drooling onto Minho’s sleeve.
“I’m everyone’s favorite,” Minho says, without a hint of modesty. “It’s a curse.” You watch them, the way Minho makes the baby giggle, the way Yn looks at him like she’s not sure whether to laugh or throttle him. For a second, you wonder if you’re dreaming. Or if you’re about to propose a bizarre, very modern kind of marriage. The next half hour is a beautiful disaster. Diaper changes performed with the precision of a pit crew, a feeding session that devolves into a synchronized food fight (applesauce: 1, Minho’s shirt: 0), and an ill-fated attempt to teach the twins “Peekaboo” that ends with you wearing half a banana on your head. Through it all, Minho is calm and steady, his laughter filling the apartment. It’s impossible not to want him here, always.
Once the babies are down, the three of you collapse onto the couch, bruised and battered but victorious. Yn stretches out her legs, pinning you to the cushions with a contented sigh.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” she declares. “Parenting is an extreme sport.”
“Then I want a trophy,” Minho says, wiping mashed carrot from his arm. “Or at least a drink.” You hand him a beer, and he pops the tab with a flourish. He catches you watching him, and gives you a look, open, easy, like he knows exactly what’s on your mind. Maybe he does. Perhaps he’s always known. Yn tilts her head, surveying the wreckage of the living room.
“Should we be worried that we’re this tired, and it’s only eight-thirty?”
“Only if we stop inviting Minho over to save us,” you say, a little too sincerely. Minho grins.
“You know I’d do anything for you guys, right?” The words hang there, just long enough for you to wonder if they mean more than he says. The rest of the evening is spent in a lazy sprawl, the three of you recounting old stories and new disasters, passing the beer around like a peace offering. Now and then, Minho’s hand lands on your shoulder, or his knee brushes yours, and it’s all you can do not to lean into it. When he leaves, the apartment feels a little emptier. Yn watches you as you lock the door behind him, her expression thoughtful.
“You really like having him here,” she says. You rub the back of your neck.
“He makes everything easier.”
“He makes you happy.” You look at her, and for a moment, it’s like the air changes.
“That thing we talked about,” you say quietly, “I keep thinking about it. And I think… if it were Minho, I’d be okay. More than okay.” She steps closer, hands finding your waist.
“You want him,” she says, a simple fact.
“Not just him,” you say, pulling her in. “I want you. And I want to see you. Like that.” She considers you, then smiles.
“I do, too.” You rest your forehead against hers, heart pounding. “Should we ask him? See if he’d even want to?”
“I think he might say yes,” she whispers. You laugh, relief and excitement mingling in your chest.
“I think he would, too.”
About a week later, you and Yn sit in your apartment, waiting. You can always tell when the house is empty of children; the silence feels almost foreign, too crisp around the edges. Yn moves through it like she’s wearing new skin, bouncing from room to room, lighting candles, and adjusting pillows. She fusses with her hair, changes shirts three times, and finally settles on a soft cotton tee and jeans that cling in all the right places. You can’t stop watching her, either. Everything feels more intense when it’s just the two of you. Well, just the two of you for now. Minho’s supposed to arrive any minute. The takeout is on the kitchen counter, and the wine is breathing on the table. You keep checking your phone, even though there’s no reason to. For the first time since you two met, you’re nervously awaiting the arrival of Choi Minho. Yn catches you pacing and grins.
“You’re more nervous than I am.”
“Am I?” Your voice comes out tight, so you clear your throat and try again. “I just… want it to go well.” She steps in close, wrapping her arms around your waist.
“It will. He likes us. Worst case, we eat all the food and make him watch trash TV with us.” You bury your face in her hair and breathe in, just trying to stay present.
“What if he thinks it’s weird?” She tilts her head back to look at you, unblinking.
“Jinki, you’ve literally been in a K-pop group with this man for about 17 years now. You have shared a toothbrush with him on tour and seen him fully nude in the dorms. Nothing is too weird when it comes to you and Minho.” You smile, a little, then a lot.
“You make it sound so romantic.” Before she can retort, the doorbell rings. You both jump, then freeze, then start laughing at yourselves. You open the door to find Minho looking annoyingly perfect in a fitted sweater and slacks, his hair pushed back in a way that makes you want to run your hands through it.
“Are we having a party, or did I just crash your date night?” Minho says, sweeping in with his usual confidence.
“It’s both, actually,” Yn says, stealing the words right from your tongue. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press, just shrugs out of his jacket and heads for the kitchen.
“Is that bulgogi I smell?” The three of you pile around the table, serving up food and filling glasses. The first few minutes are easy, all laughter and catching up, Minho’s stories from the gym and Yn’s commentary on the latest group chat drama. You let yourself relax into it until the bottle of wine is half-empty and the sun has slipped below the windowsill. At one point, Minho excuses himself to use the bathroom, and the moment the door clicks shut, Yn turns to you.
“Now or never,” she whispers. You wipe your palms on your jeans, heart kicking up a notch.
“You start.” She grins.
“Coward.” When Minho comes back, you’re waiting, the words rehearsed in your head but still terrifyingly fragile.
“Hyung, you look like you’re about to propose to me,” Minho jokes, sliding back into his chair.
“Sort of,” Yn says, voice playful but sure. “We have a question for you. And if you say no, it’s fine, but… we want to ask anyway.” Minho leans in, all focus.
“Now I’m actually scared.” Yn glances at you for backup, and you take the plunge.
“So, uh,” you begin, “we’ve been thinking about trying something new. In the bedroom. Together.” Minho’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t say anything. Just waits. You keep going, skin prickling.
“Specifically, we were wondering… if you’d be interested in helping us with that. With Yn. And me. Sort of at the same time.” A beat. Then another. Minho’s eyes dart between you and Yn, searching.
“Wait,” he says slowly, “you want a threesome?” You nod, your throat so dry it hurts.
“Yeah, but not just any threesome. More like… I want to watch. I want you and Yn to—uh. I want to see it.” It’s the longest silence of your life. Then Minho laughs, not mean, but genuinely surprised.
“I thought you were going to ask me to babysit the twins for a week,” he says, voice light. “You want to watch me fuck your wife?” The bluntness makes your heart jerk, but you nod again. Minho looks at Yn, who meets his gaze, steady.
“We both want it,” she says, softer now. “But only if you’re comfortable.” He sits back, mulling it over.
“You guys are wild. I mean, I’ve thought about it, sure. But I figured it was just a dumb fantasy.”
“You’ve thought about it?” you blurt, incredulous. Minho shrugs, cheeks going just a little pink.
“You two are… I don’t know. Hot. And you make me feel like part of your family. I’ve had dreams, okay? It’s embarrassing.” Yn giggles, covering her mouth.
“It’s not embarrassing. It’s nice to know we’re not the only weirdos.” You reach across the table and cover Minho’s hand with yours.
“So, is it something you’d actually want to do? No pressure, seriously.” He looks down at your hand, then back up at you.
“I’m in,” he says, quiet but confident. “But I want to know the rules.” You exchange a look with Yn, one of relief, and maybe more than a bit of lust.
“We can figure that out together,” you say.
“Good,” Minho grins, the tension draining from his body. “Because I want to do it right. For both of you.” You’re giddy now, the fear gone, replaced by something bright and intoxicating. The rest of the evening is a blur of laughter and more wine, Minho’s hand never straying far from yours, or from Yn’s. You all talk logistics, boundaries, and how to keep it safe and fun.
Later that night, the three of you assemble in the bedroom. Yn sits on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, biting her lip in that way that always makes your thoughts go soft and frantic. Minho stands at the footboard, hands in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot with the easy, predatory energy of a big cat. You’re the one who looks the most out of place, perched in an armchair across from the bed, hands pressed to your knees, hard and so wired you could vibrate through the floor. It’s odd, you think, to be nervous about something you’ve spent hours imagining. You’d built the fantasy on the back of a thousand little moments. But the real thing is… different. Heavier. Realer.
“Is everyone okay?” Minho asks, his voice more gentle than you expected. Yn is already grinning, tongue flicking over her teeth.
“Very okay.” You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Yn glances at you, reading your nerves, and beckons Minho closer.
“Can I kiss you?” she asks, already leaning in. He doesn’t answer, just tilts her chin up and meets her mouth with his. There’s no shyness between them, not even for show, just a quick, hungry connection, like they’ve both been waiting for this since forever. You watch the way Minho’s hand cradles the back of Yn’s head, how she melts into it, her palm flat against his chest. When he finally pulls away, both are a little breathless. She laughs, bright and incredulous.
“Wow. You’re good at that.” Minho shrugs, then turns to you.
“Hyung, is this okay?” You nod again, this time with more conviction.
“It’s… really hot,” you admit. Minho flashes a grin, then sits beside Yn on the bed. Yn leans in again, and this time it’s slower, her hands trail up his arms, his lips moving across her cheek to the spot just under her ear, drawing a soft gasp you’ve never heard from her before. It’s intoxicating. Minho’s fingers tangle in her hair, and he tilts her head back, his mouth trailing down her throat. She shivers, and you realize your own breathing’s gone shallow. She grabs the hem of her shirt, pauses for effect, then strips it off in one easy motion. Minho’s eyes go wide for a second. He’s seen her in a swimsuit a million times, but this is different, more electric. She lets him stare, lets you stare, and then lies back on the duvet, propped up on her elbows.
“Are you just going to watch, or…?” she teases, arching an eyebrow.
“Watching,” you rasp. “Just…keep going.” Minho looks at you, almost shy, then down at Yn.
“May I?” he says, hands hovering over her jeans.
“Please,” she answers, and the sound is thick with wanting. He unbuttons them, slow, careful, like he’s afraid he’ll break the moment. She lifts her hips to help, and suddenly she’s stripped down to underwear and nothing else. Minho runs his hands over her thighs, then up her waist, as if memorizing the terrain. She wriggles, impatient.
“Minho,” she chides, and he laughs, all confidence returned.
“Sorry, just… taking my time.” He bends and kisses her stomach, then up between her breasts, lingering on each. Her hands are in his hair now, fingers clutching tight. He looks at you again, this time not asking for permission, just checking to see if you’re still there. You are so hard it hurts, and so turned on, you almost want to cry. You shift in the chair, unbuttoning your jeans just enough to relieve the pressure. Yn sees, and her eyes go molten.
“Touch yourself,” she says, and it’s not a suggestion. You do as told, one hand in your lap, the other gripping the chair arm for dear life. On the bed, Minho peels off his own shirt, then leans over Yn again, kissing her with a heat that almost sizzles. He moves down, tracing the line of her hip with his tongue, then lower, until she’s gasping and writhing and clutching the duvet in her fists. He slides her underwear down, tossing it to the floor, then looks at her as if she’s the most perfect thing he’s ever seen.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says, then gets to work. You’ve gone down on Yn a hundred times, but watching Minho do it is like seeing it for the first time. He’s slow, precise, relentless; she arches and moans and forgets you’re even there for a minute, her head thrown back in abandon. You stroke yourself, unable to look away, every moan burning into your memory. At some point, Minho glances over, lips wet, and grins.
“Still good, hyung?”
“Better than good,” you manage, stroking harder. He sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Yn is flushed, chest heaving, one arm flung over her eyes.
“You want more?” Minho asks her. She lets out a shaky laugh.
“Are you kidding?” He undoes his belt, pushes down his jeans, and lets his cock spring free, thick and flushed and absolutely perfect.
“Condom?” he asks, glancing at you.
“In the drawer,” you croak, pointing. Minho finds it, rips open the packet, and rolls it on. Yn reaches for him, legs spread wide, and he positions himself at her entrance, pausing.
“Last chance to back out,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. Yn laughs, but it’s shaky and honest.
“If you stop now, I’ll kill you.” He pushes in, slow at first, and you see the moment she takes him, the way her back arches and her breath catches. Minho groans, head dropping to her shoulder, and starts to move. It’s steady at first, but quickly grows rougher, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm that makes your own hand speed up. Yn is loud now, chanting his name, your name, caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. You can’t believe how hot it is. How right. How happy you are to be watching her, watching them, seeing her come undone in someone else’s arms. It’s your fantasy, come to life, and you want it to last forever. Minho fucks her like he means it, like he’s waited years for this. He kisses her, bites her shoulder, whispers things you can’t hear but that make her gasp and laugh and claw at his back. You watch, touching yourself, not caring how desperate you must look.
“Jinki,” she moans at one point, and the sound of your own name nearly sends you over the edge.
“Yeah?” you answer, voice strangled.
“Come here,” she says, and you’re up and moving before you know it. She grabs you by the shirt, pulls you down, and kisses you. Deep, messy, tasting of Minho and sweat and herself. Minho’s still thrusting, still buried inside her, but he reaches up and cups your cheek, holding you both in place.
“Hot,” Minho pants. “So fucking hot.” Yn bites your lip, then lets go, eyes sparkling.
“Finish,” she commands. “I want to see you.” You step back, hand working your cock with wild abandon, watching as Minho pounds into her harder, faster. Yn wraps her legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, and cries out as she comes, body shuddering. Minho groans, loses rhythm, and you see the exact moment he tips over the edge, slamming in one last time before collapsing over her, both of them gasping and shaking. It’s all you need, you stroke yourself to the finish, heat and relief pouring through you as you come, your vision gone white. For a second, the whole world goes quiet, just three people tangled in sheets and sweat and each other. Eventually, Minho rolls off, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like he’s seen God. Yn pulls you down beside her, curling into your side, still trembling with aftershocks. No one speaks for a long time. Then Minho turns his head and says, “We are definitely doing that again.” Yn laughs, giddy and spent.
“Maybe next time, I get to watch you two.” You choke on a laugh, but the idea is already searing itself into your brain.
“Deal,” Minho says, and holds out a fist. You bump it, still breathless. You lie there, the three of you, a tangle of limbs and nerves and possibility. For the first time in ages, you feel completely, utterly content.
“Hyung,” Minho says, after a while. “Thank you.” You smile, pulling both him and Yn close.
“No, thank you.” The city outside is just waking up, but here, in this room, time is suspended. The future is bright and boundless, and you can’t wait to see what else you’ll discover, together.
Your black boots hit the pavement outside. You can’t believe you actually came, but something was drawing you here. The mysterious stranger who presented you with the card you had dropped on the floor by your feet had an aura about him that made you feel as though you were going to come just as he asked. You knock on the ornate wooden door, and a small window slides open, revealing the doorman’s eyes.
“Password,” he asks. You clear your throat and reply.
“Golden hour 3.” The window closes, and then you hear a click, and the door opens, allowing the red lights and the thrum of music to hit you as you enter the ATEEZ club. The heavy door swings shut behind you, muffling the sounds of the city outside. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the dim red lighting as you step further into the club; the bass thrums through your body, matching the quickening of your pulse. You scan the room, taking in the sleek black furnishings and writhing bodies on the dance floor. Everywhere you look, you see flashes of skin and leather. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and desire. A tall figure catches your eye from across the bar. Even in the low light, you can tell it's him, the mysterious stranger who gave you the card. He raises a glass in your direction, a predatory smile playing on his lips. Your feet carry you towards him before you can think better of it.
"I knew you'd come," he purrs as you approach, voice barely audible over the pounding music.
“Oh,” you retort. “What made you so sure?”
“Well, besides the fact that you’re here,” He said in a mocking tone, “I know what you’re into. Baby, got a type?” You scoff at his directness. He leans in closer to whisper in your ear.
“I could be gentle, but that ain’t what you like.” You bite your lip as you have no words to reply, so he continues.
“Those lips you’re biting,” he runs his thumb over your lips, “It’s inviting and it’s hot as hell. Trust your body, I’m nobody and I don’t kiss and tell.” Your breath catches in your throat as his thumb grazes your lips. The heat of his body so close to yours makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You struggle to maintain your composure, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much you're affected.
"Bold of you to assume you know anything about me," you manage to say, your voice huskier than intended. He chuckles, a low, dangerous sound that sends shivers down your spine.
"Oh, but I do. I can see it in your eyes, the way your body responds to me." His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer. "You crave the thrill, the danger. You want someone to push your limits, don't you?" You know you should pull away, should run from this intoxicating stranger, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch. The bass of the music pulses through you. He pulls back slightly and pushes a dark red drink over to you.
“Release your inhibitions,” he says, “There’s no point in fighting.” He goes to take a drink from his own glass, spilling some down his arm in the process. He makes eye contact with you as he licks it up slowly. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you grab the glass, chugging it without a second thought, relief instantly hitting you. The sweetness of the drink lingers on your tongue as a pleasant warmth spreads through your body. You feel your inhibitions melting away, your senses heightening. The stranger's eyes seem to glow in the dim light, drawing you in.
"Dance with me," he commands, taking your hand. You allow him to lead you to the crowded dance floor, bodies pressing in around you. The music pulses through you as he pulls you close, his hands on your hips. You move together, the heat between your bodies intensifying with each sway. His lips brush your ear as he whispers,
"I'm going to ruin you tonight. I’ll make you come and get it." A thrill runs down your spine at his words. You should be afraid, but instead you feel exhilarated. Your hands slide up his chest as you press closer, silently urging him on. His grip on your hips tightens as he grinds against you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. The music and the mysterious drink have you feeling dizzy and uninhibited. You turn in his arms, pressing your back to his chest as you move together. His lips trail along your neck, teeth grazing your skin.
"Tell me you want this," he growls in your ear. Lost in a daze, you tilt your head, giving him better access.
"I want it," you breathe, barely audible over the pounding bass. He spins you around suddenly, his eyes dark with desire.
"Not here," he says. "Follow me." He takes your hand, leading you through the writhing crowd. You weave through dancers and past private booths until you reach a hidden door. He pulls out a key and unlocks it swiftly. As soon as you're through, he pushes you against the door and kisses your neck.
“Come take a seat in your fantasy.” He breathes into your neck, “I’ll set you free from your sanity. Heaven is in my stare, but I am not gonna take you there.”
“Why not?” you gasp as he continues his ministrations.
“Because I am the devil in disguise. You know how this works.” You pull his face up to meet yours.
“Then come take a bite like it’s what you need.” You say before planting a passionate kiss on his lips. He pulls you in closer until it is difficult to breathe. You are lost in the rush of your roaring blood and the daze from whatever it was he offered you to drink.
“Relax, my angel,” He says, slowing your advances, “I ain’t in a rush. I’ll get what I want and so will you.”
“Wha-what do you want?” You manage to ask, trying to catch your breath.
“I am here for the chase,” He replies, “I want a piece, a taste. I’m here for the cake, so to speak. An adorable human cake with the face of an angel and curves like sin.” You feel a rush of heat at his words, your body thrumming with desire and anticipation. The mysterious stranger's intense gaze pins you in place as he slowly trails a finger down your neck, across your collarbone.
"And what a delectable cake you are," he purrs. "I can't wait to savor every. Last. Bite." His touch leaves a trail of fire on your skin. You shiver, torn between wanting to pull him closer and needing to catch your breath. The room seems to spin slightly, whether from the drink or his intoxicating presence, you're not sure.
"Who are you?" you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He smirks, leaning in close to your ear.
"I'm your darkest fantasy come to life, darling. The one who's going to make all your secret desires a reality. You may call me Seonghwa because I doubt you’ll remember your own name by the time we are through.” Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Seonghwa. The name sends a shiver down your spine as you repeat it in your mind. His dark eyes hold you captive, filled with promises of pleasure and danger. You know you should be afraid, should run from this mysterious stranger, but something primal within you urges you to stay.
"Seonghwa," you whisper, testing the name on your lips. His eyes flash with approval.
"Good girl," he purrs, his fingers tracing your jawline. "Now, shall we begin?" Before you can respond, he's pulling you deeper into the hidden room. Dim red lights flicker to life, revealing plush velvet furnishings and an imposing four-poster bed. Your heart races as Seonghwa leads you towards it, his touch both gentle and commanding.
"Light those candles for me, angel," he says, while moving to light the candles on the other side of the room. You want to disobey, but your body reacts to his words. It’s like he can make you do anything he wants. You should be afraid, yet you only feel excitement and arousal. You light the candles as he asked, and when you turn, he’s there in front of you again. He gently grabs your wrist and places your hand on his considerable bulge.
“Can you handle this?” He asks, “I think you’ll manage.” You feel a rush of heat flood your body at his bold words and touch. Your fingers twitch against the hard length beneath his clothes, and you struggle to form a coherent thought.
"I-I think I can manage," you stammer, your voice betraying your arousal. Seonghwa's eyes darken with lust as he watches your reaction.
"Good," he purrs, leaning in close. "Because I plan to ruin you thoroughly tonight." His lips crash against yours in a searing kiss that steals your breath away. You moan into his mouth, pressing your body closer to his. His hands roam your curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You're lost in the sensations, your mind hazy with desire.
I think I'm finally getting into your head. You hear his voice in your mind as he’s still kissing you. You gasp, pulling back from the kiss in shock. Seonghwa's voice echoes in your mind again, a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.
Surprised, little one? There's so much more to me than meets the eye. Your head spins as you try to process what's happening. Is this real? Or just a hallucination from whatever was in that drink? Seonghwa's fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes seem to glow with an otherworldly light.
"Oh, this is very real," he purrs, answering your unspoken thoughts. "Give in to desire, I can make you feel so good." Your mind reels as you try to process Seonghwa's words. The room seems to spin around you, his glowing eyes the only fixed point. You want to question what's happening, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch. He pulls you flush against him, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. You melt into him, your body responding eagerly despite your mind's lingering questions. You allow yourself to be taken over by desire, by need, and most importantly, by him. His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more. Seonghwa's lips move to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. A breathy moan escapes you as he finds a particularly sensitive spot.
"That's it," he murmurs against your skin. "Let me hear you." Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as he continues his assault on your neck. The room spins around you, your senses overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, the sound of his voice in your mind. You feel yourself falling deeper under his spell with each passing moment. Seonghwa's hands move to the hem of your shirt, tugging it upwards. You raise your arms, allowing him to pull it off and toss it aside. His eyes roam hungrily over your newly exposed skin.
"Beautiful," he breathes, his fingers tracing along your collarbone. You shiver at his touch, goosebumps rising on your skin. Seonghwa's hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. A soft gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. His other hand slides down your back, pulling you closer. You feel the hard planes of his chest against yours, the heat of his body seeping into you. His lips find yours again in a passionate kiss that steals your breath away. You're drowning in sensation, lost in the feel of his hands on your body, his tongue exploring your mouth. Suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted. Seonghwa carries you effortlessly to the bed, laying you down on the soft sheets. He stands over you, his eyes roaming your body hungrily. Slowly, teasingly.
“Look at you, my fallen angel,” He says darkly, “No more Mr. Nice guy, I want to take you sky high. You thought you were a good girl, and now you’re not so sure, huh? This is my favorite part when you lose it for me.” His words send a shiver down your spine as you lie there, exposed and vulnerable on the bed. Your heart races as Seonghwa's gaze rakes over your body. You feel a heady mix of desire and trepidation as he slowly begins to undress himself, revealing toned muscles and smooth skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. His fingers trail along your collarbone and down between your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more.
"So responsive," he purrs. He is then on you again, kissing and nipping all over you. His lips move to your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.
"I'm going to make you feel things you've never felt before," he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. You gasp as his teeth graze your earlobe, your body arching involuntarily against his. His hands roam your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You're lost in a haze of sensation, every touch amplified by whatever was in that drink. Seonghwa's fingers hook into the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs. Cool air hits your heated skin as he removes the last of your clothing. His lips begin roaming your skin again. You gasp as he takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand kneads your other breast, fingers teasing and pinching. Waves of pleasure course through your body, making you arch up into him. Seonghwa's free hand slides down your stomach, dipping lower to cup your sex through your pants. You moan at the contact, your hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckles against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you.
"So eager," he murmurs, his fingers applying delicious pressure. "I can feel how wet you are already. Is this all for me?" You nod frantically, beyond words, as his skilled fingers work you to a climax. Your body trembles as waves of pleasure crash over you. Seonghwa's fingers work you expertly, drawing out your climax until you're gasping for breath. He watches you intently, drinking in every reaction.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "But we're far from done, my little fallen angel." You whimper as he withdraws his hand, already missing his touch. Seonghwa stands, slowly removing the rest of his clothing. Your eyes widen as you take in his naked form; he's breathtakingly beautiful, all lean muscle and smooth skin. His arousal is evident, impressive in both size and girth. A mix of anticipation and trepidation fills you as he rejoins you on the bed. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wide as he positions himself between them. You feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you mercilessly. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact. Seonghwa chuckles darkly, his hands gripping your thighs tighter to hold you in place.
"Patience, little one," he purrs. "I want to savor this moment." He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he slowly pushes inside you. You gasp against his mouth, overwhelmed by the stretch and fullness. Seonghwa swallows your moans, setting a torturously slow pace as he sheaths himself fully inside you. Your mind goes blank, consumed by the feeling of him filling you so completely. He pulls back slightly, allowing you to catch your breath. His eyes lock onto yours, glowing with an otherworldly light.
"You're mine," he growls." Body and soul." With those words, he begins to move, setting a punishing pace that has you gasping and clutching at his shoulders. The pleasure is intense, almost overwhelming. You feel yourself getting lost in the sensations, your mind hazy with lust. Seonghwa's hands roam your body as he thrusts into you, touching and teasing every sensitive spot. His lips find your neck, sucking and biting, surely leaving marks. You tilt your head, giving him better access, beyond caring about the consequences.
"That's it," he purrs against your skin. "Give in to me completely." Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even deeper. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure through your body, building towards something monumental. Seonghwa's movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged against your ear.
"Come for me," he commands, his voice resonating in your mind. The intensity of his words, combined with his relentless thrusts, pushes you over the edge. Your body arches off the bed as pleasure explodes through you, more intense than anything you've ever experienced. Seonghwa groans, burying himself deep inside you as he finds his own release. You lie there panting, your body tingling with aftershocks. Seonghwa's weight on top of you is comforting, grounding you as your mind slowly clears from its pleasure-induced haze. He lifts his head, studying your face with those mesmerizing eyes.
"You did so well, my darling," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. His touch sends a shiver through you, your body still hypersensitive to his touch. “Wasn't too rough with you, was I?”You feel a rush of warmth at SSeonghwa's tender words and gentle touch. Despite the intensity of what just transpired, his concern for your well-being makes your heart flutter.
“Oh, “you whisper, your voice hoarse. “It was perfect. “A pleased smile curves Seonghwa's lips as he slowly withdraws from you. You whimper at the loss, already missing the feeling of fullness. He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Est now, my love," he murmurs. " he aphrodisiac caused by drinking your mate's mate's blood can be overwhelming even for other Fae, much less a mortal.”You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as Seonghwa rises from the bed, his lithe form illuminated by the flickering candlelight. He retrieves a soft cloth and returns to you. Seonghwa gently cleans your body, still tingling.
“You know,” you say a little hoarsely, “ think this time was even better than when you officially marked me as your mate.”Your words make Seonghwa pause, memories flooding back. The night he claimed you as his mate, marking you with his bite, it had been intense, overwhelming in its passion and power. But this? This feels even more intimate somehow. You watch as Seonghwa moves around the room, his graceful form casting flickering shadows in the candlelight. Despite what just transpired, you find yourself admiring him anew. The curve of his shoulders, the lean muscles of his back —he's breathtakingly beautiful. When he returns to the bed, you reach for him instinctively. He allows you to pull him close, settling beside you and wrapping an arm around your waist. You nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent.
"I didn't realize drinking your blood would have such an effect, “you murmur, tracing patterns on his chest. Seonghwa chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest.
“Oh, my innocent little mate. There's still so much for you to learn about Fae biology. “His fingers trail lazily up and down your spine, sending pleasant tingles through your body.
“Our blood carries powerful magic, especially when shared with our mate. It heightens every sensation, every emotion. “You shiver at his touch, your body still hypersensitive.
“Is that why everything felt so... intense? “
“Partly, “he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But it's also because of our bond. Each time we're intimate, it grows stronger. “You ponder this, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek. The connection between you does feel more potent somehow, like an invisible thread tying you together.
“I love you, Seonghwa. Thank you for doing this for me.”
“I love you too, my darling,” Seonghwa says, “Now sleep, please enjoy the rest you get now because after the drop, when you become full fae and officially queen, we will not be getting much rest at all since I won't have to hold back anymore.”You feel a rush of warmth at Seonghwa's words, both from the love they convey and the promise of what's to come. Your body tingles with anticipation even as exhaustion tugs at your consciousness. You snuggle closer to him, savoring the feel of his skin against yours.
"I can't wait, “you murmur, your voice thick with sleep. “To be entirely yours, in every way. “Seonghwa's arms tighten around you, his lips brushing your forehead.
“Soon, my love. Very soon. “As you drift off, cradled in your mate's embrace, you can't help but marvel at how your life has changed. From an ordinary human to the future Fae queen, it's been a whirlwind journey. But with Seonghwa by your side, you know you can face anything.
A/N: This is the other one I got carried away with. I hope you all enjoy. The In Your Fantasy MV has been sending me into a tailspin since it came out, so now you all get to deal with it. I am not sorry, and yes, I did have to include the lyrics. I will have two stories out for you tomorrow. Sorry for such a long gap in between.
Warnings: Bobby gets horny thinking about his wife being pregnant, lots of pet names honestly, cursing, begging, teasing, no protection, creampie, pushing the cum back in, sweet aftercare, fluffy end.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMT LIST
MASTERLIST
After five years of marriage, you've grown more convinced each day that Bobby would make an incredible father. The way he lights up around your friends' children, his patience, his playfulness, all point to someone born to be a dad. You've both always incorporated the fantasy of pregnancy into your bedroom talk, the whispered pleas for him to finish inside you, the shared imagination of your body changing with his child. Until now, it was just a fantasy, punctuated by your reliable birth control. Lately, though, something's shifted. You find yourself lingering in the baby section at stores, calculating finances in your head. Tonight, you decide, when he walks through that door, you're finally going to have the conversation. Your heart races as you hear Bobby's key in the lock. You smooth your shirt nervously, second-guessing your decision. But as he steps inside, his warm smile melting away the day's stress, you know this is right.
"Hey, beautiful," he says, hanging up his coat. You take a deep breath.
"Bobby, can we talk?" His brow furrows slightly, sensing the weight in your tone.
"Of course. Everything okay?" You lead him to the couch, clasping his hands in yours.
"I've been thinking... about us, our future." Your voice wavers. "I think I'm ready. Ready to try for a baby." Bobby's eyes widen, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face. "Really?" he whispers, squeezing your hands. You nod, tears welling up.
"I want to start our family.”
"So," he said, eyes darkening with lust, "You want me to get you nice and pregnant, huh? You know how much it turns me on to think of you big with my baby." You shivered and nodded. He grinned wickedly, and you knew that you had made the right decision.
"Well then," Bobby growled, pulling you onto his lap, "I think it's time we make that fantasy a reality." His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your body already thrumming with anticipation. His hands roamed your curves, settling on your hips to grind you against his growing hardness.
"God, I can't wait to see you swollen with my child," he murmured against your neck. "To watch your body change, knowing I put our baby inside you." You whimpered, arousal flooding your core.
"Please, Bobby," you begged, fumbling with his belt. "I need you now." In one swift motion, he stood, lifting you with him.
"Bedroom," he commanded, his voice husky with desire. "I'm going to fuck a baby into you tonight." You basically ran to the bedroom, stripping out of your clothes as you went. You sat on the bed and waited for him. He wasn’t too far behind, slinking his way over to you now, also fully nude. When he reached you, he kissed his way down your body, lingering at the hollow of your throat, the curve of your breast, the soft dip of your navel, until he was kneeling between your trembling thighs. The feelings of desire and anticipation coiled tight within you like a spring about to snap. You felt the cool air of the bedroom whisper across your already slick folds, sending goosebumps racing across your heated skin. A moan escaped your lips, low and needy. His eyes, dark with hunger, locked with yours as his thick cock twitched visibly in response, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. You shivered as he lowered his head, his hot breath teasing you before he grazed his rough tongue over your swollen pussy lips, tasting your arousal with a groan that vibrated against your sensitive flesh. Then he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly upward before flicking it rapidly across your throbbing clit, the sudden change in pressure making your hips buck involuntarily. His strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he devoured you, only pausing to slide two thick fingers into your aching entrance, curling them upward as he stretched you, preparing you for what was to come. This exquisite torture continued until your fingers tangled desperately in his hair, your body arching off the bed, silently begging for more.
"Oh god, Bobby," you moaned, "fuck me, please!" He lifted his head, lips glistening with your arousal, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"You want my baby?" he growled, rising to his feet. "Then I'm going to fuck you like I mean it."Bobby's eyes flashed with predatory desire as he rose, positioning himself between your legs. He gripped his cock, sliding the thick head through your folds to coat it in your slickness. He teased you for a moment.
“Tell me how badly you want it."
"So badly," you whimpered, squirming beneath him. "Please, Bobby, I need you to fill me up. Make me a mommy." With a groan, he pushed inside in one powerful thrust, stretching you deliciously. Bobby paused, his chest pressed against yours, his breath hot on your neck. "I love you," he whispered, tender despite the primal energy crackling between you. Then he began to move. His hips drove forward in a relentless rhythm, each thrust punctuated by the sound of skin meeting skin. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, desperate to feel every inch of him. Bobby's hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples as he imagined them overflowing with milk.
"You're going to look so beautiful carrying our child," he panted, his pace quickening. "I can't wait to watch your belly grow, to feel our baby kick." The image sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor.
"Yes, Bobby, yes! Give me your baby!" He groaned, burying his face in your neck as he pounded into you with renewed vigor. He grabbed your thighs, pushing them back against your chest to get the best angle. The new position allowed him to hit even deeper, his thick shaft rubbing against your most sensitive spots with each powerful thrust. You cried out in ecstasy, feeling yourself rapidly approaching the edge. Bobby's movements became more erratic, his breathing ragged against your ear.
"I'm close," he grunted, his grip on your thighs tightening. "I'm going to fill you up, baby. You ready to take it all?"
"Yes!" you screamed, your walls clenching around him. "Give it to me, Bobby! Breed me!" With a primal roar, Bobby slammed into you one final time, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside your willing body. The feeling of his hot seed flooding your womb triggered your own intense orgasm. Your vision went white as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body shuddering beneath his. As he withdrew, you felt a warm trickle escaping between your thighs. Bobby caught the evidence of his passion with gentle fingers, tenderly guiding it back to its rightful place. You both lay there panting, bodies intertwined and glistening with sweat. Bobby pulled you close, his hand resting protectively over your lower abdomen.
"Do you think it worked?" you whispered, a mix of hope and nervousness in your voice. He kissed your forehead softly.
"If not, we'll just have to keep trying," he said with a playful wink. "I'm more than happy to put in the effort." You giggled, snuggling deeper into his embrace. As your breathing slowed, a comfortable silence settled over the room. Your mind wandered, imagining the possibilities of what you may have just set in motion.
"What do you think it'll be like?" you mused aloud. "Being parents, I mean." Bobby's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin as he considered the question.
"Terrifying," he admitted with a chuckle. “Terrifying and wonderful and stressful and joyful and all the things that I only want to experience with you.” You smiled, touched by his honesty and the depth of emotion in his words.
“I feel the same way," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. "We'll figure it out together." Bobby's hand drifted to your hair, gently stroking as he spoke.
"I can already picture it, you know. Teaching our kid to ride a bike, reading bedtime stories, cheering at little league games." His voice took on a dreamy quality. "And you... You're going to be an amazing mom." A warmth spread through your chest at his words, mingling with the nervous excitement already bubbling there.
"You really think so?"
"I know so," he said firmly. "You've got so much love to give. Our child is going to be the luckiest kid in the world."
“Yeah, they are because they’ll also have the most amazing and loving father.” You both fell silent for a moment, lost in the possibilities of the future you were creating together.
About three weeks later, you found yourself standing in the bathroom, staring at the pregnancy test on the counter. Your hands trembled slightly as you picked it up, hardly daring to breathe as you examined the little window. Two pink lines. Clear as day. Your heart raced as the reality sank in: you were pregnant.
"Bobby!" you called out, your voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. "Bobby, come here!" You heard his footsteps approaching rapidly. He appeared in the doorway, concern etched on his face.
"What is it? Are you okay?" Wordlessly, you held out the test. His eyes widened as he registered what he was seeing. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the magnitude of the moment settling over you both. Then Bobby's face broke into a radiant smile. He swept you up in his arms, spinning you around the small bathroom.
Warning: JB POV, Secret crush on both sides, Both seem kinda shy at first, they fuck on the first date, they do it on camera, dom!Jae, possessiveness, groping, oral m/f receives, very vocal Jae, makes you beg and tell the audience what you want, cum swallowing, bent over the bed, no protection, creampie, implied multiple rounds.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
Today is finally the day. My stomach flutters with a cocktail of excitement and dread. I still can't believe I won that giveaway on my favorite camgirl's stream a few weeks ago, a chance to meet her and appear on her next broadcast. I smile, remembering how her performances always felt like private shows just for me, as if she somehow knew exactly what would make my breath catch. Then I remind myself that creating that illusion is literally her job. My fingers fumble with the buttons of my nicest shirt. I've pictured this meeting so many times that the reality feels surreal, like I'm moving through one of my own fantasies. Will she have that same magnetic presence offline, away from the carefully positioned ring lights and curated background?
I recheck my phone, rereading her message with the meeting location. My pulse quickens; I need to leave soon. I inhale deeply, willing my nerves to settle. After months of watching her through a screen, I'm about to meet her in person. I hope to keep my cool and not embarrass myself. As I step out of my apartment, the late afternoon sun hits my face. I squint, adjusting my eyes while my heart races. I can't help but wonder if she'll recognize me from our interactions in her chat. Will she be disappointed? I shake my head, trying to dislodge the doubts.
I make my way to the coffee shop where we agreed to meet, each step bringing me closer to the woman who's occupied my thoughts for months. The familiar storefront comes into view, and I pause, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Through the window, I catch a glimpse of her, or at least, I think it's her. She never shows her face, but she told me where she would be sitting. My palms start to sweat. Pushing open the door, the smell of coffee and pastries washes over me. I scan the room, and my eyes fall on a familiar face. There is no way that DancingCutie_94 is also Yn from dance class. I couldn’t be that lucky, could I? My heart nearly stops as I take in Yn's familiar features. The same soft eyes that have captivated me through a mask in countless livestreams now widen in recognition. A blush creeps across her cheeks, mirroring the heat I feel rising in my own face.
"Jaebum?" she says, her voice a mix of surprise and... is that nervousness? I nod, unable to form words for a moment. My mind races, trying to reconcile the Yn I know from dance class with the sultry online persona I've spent months fantasizing about.
"I... I didn't expect..." I stammer, finally finding my voice. "You're DancingCutie_94?" Yn bites her lip, a gesture I've seen her do countless times on camera. It's surreal to witness it in person, knowing the context behind it now.
"And you're Defsoul_J?” I feel like I've been struck by lightning. Yn, sweet, shy Yn from dance class, is the same woman I've been fantasizing about for months? My mind reels, trying to process this information. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. Yn looks equally stunned, her eyes darting around the coffee shop.
"I can't believe it's you," Yn says softly, her eyes darting between mine and the table. "I never thought... I mean, I hoped, but..." My mind reels. She hoped it was me? Does that mean she's noticed me in class? I have had a crush on her for so long, and now that she is also who I have been fantasizing about for just as long, I can’t seem to find the right words.
“You know,” she says softly, “every time I stream, I always imagine it’s you doing all those things to me. I have secretly had a crush on you for months, but was just too scared to tell you.” My mind goes blank. Did she really say that? I struggle to process her words as my heart hammers in my chest. Yn, the girl I've been pining after in dance class, has been fantasizing about me, too? And she's the camgirl I've been obsessing over for months? It feels too good to be true.
"I... I can't believe this," I finally manage to stutter out. "I've had a crush on you since the first day of dance class. And then when I started watching your streams, I never imagined..." Yn's cheeks flush an even deeper shade of pink.
"So you really are Defsoul_J? The one who's always in my chat, saying the sweetest, dirtiest things to me?" I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
"Yeah, that's me," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought... I mean, you're so incredible on camera. I couldn't believe someone like you would even notice me in the chat." Yn's eyes soften, and she reaches across the table to touch my hand. The contact sends a jolt through me.
"Jaebum, you have no idea how much your messages meant to me. They were always so thoughtful, so... intense. I looked forward to seeing your username pop up every time." My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure she can hear it. I turn my hand over, intertwining our fingers.
"I meant every word," I say, surprised by my own boldness. "Watching you... It was like you were performing just for me. I couldn't get enough." Yn bites her lip.
“Even the part where you said you’d fuck me till I can’t walk straight?” My breath catches in my throat. Hearing those words come from Yn's lips in person, rather than through a screen, sends a shiver down my spine. I lean in closer, lowering my voice.
"Every single word," I murmur, my eyes locked on hers. "And so much more that I didn't dare to type." Yn's eyes darken with desire, and I feel the atmosphere between us shift. The busy coffee shop fades into the background as tension crackles in the air.
"Maybe..." Yn hesitates, then seems to steel herself. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private to discuss this further?" My heart races at the implication. Is this really happening? I nod, not trusting my voice. I stand up, my legs feeling slightly unsteady. Yn follows suit, her eyes never leaving mine as we make our way out of the coffee shop. The busy street outside feels surreal, the mundane backdrop a stark contrast to the electricity crackling between us.
"My place isn't far," Yn says, glancing back at me with a shy smile. "If that's okay?" I nod.
"Lead the way." We walk in charged silence, our hands brushing against each other with each step. My mind races, replaying all the times I've watched her perform, imagining what it would be like to touch her, to taste her. Now, knowing it's Yn, sweet, graceful Yn from dance class, it feels even more intoxicating. When we reach her building, Yn fumbles with her keys, her hands shaking slightly. I place my hand on the small of her back, giving her gentle encouragement. The feeling of her body heat through her shirt sends a thrill through me. As we enter her apartment, the reality of the situation hits me. I'm alone with Yn, the girl I've been crushing on for months, who I now know is also the camgirl I've been fantasizing about. My heart pounds as she turns to face me, her eyes dark with desire.
"So," she says softly, "what should we do now?" I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. Then, I recognize the corner where she films her streams, though it looks different without the lights and camera setup.
"I... I want to do everything we've talked about in chat. Everything I've imagined while watching you." Yn steps closer, her body nearly pressing against mine.
"Show me," she whispers. Without hesitation, I close the distance between us, capturing Yn's lips in a passionate kiss. She melts against me, her body molding to mine as if we were made for each other. My hands roam her curves, tracing the lines I've admired from afar for so long. The feeling of her warm skin under my fingertips is intoxicating. I break the kiss, trailing my lips down her neck as she lets out a soft moan.
"Jaebum," she breathes, her fingers tangling in my hair. The sound of my name on her lips sends a shiver down my spine. I guide her towards the familiar corner, my heart racing as I realize I'm about to live out my deepest fantasies. Yn looks up at me, her eyes dark with desire.
"As much as I want to savor this just for us, should we go live now?" she asks, her voice husky. “I want everyone to know I belong to you.” My breath catches in my throat at Yn's suggestion. The thought of sharing this moment with her audience, of claiming her publicly, sends a thrill through me. I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. Yn gives me a quick kiss before turning to set up her equipment with practiced ease. I watch, fascinated, as she transforms into DancingCutie_94 before my eyes. She puts on her usual mask and hands me one that matches hers. I put it on and can’t help but notice how my heart swells at the perfect fit of the mask, almost as if it were made for me.
"Ready?" she asks, her finger hovering over the 'Go Live' button.
“Ready,” I tell her with hunger and excitement. Yn clicks the button, and a red light blinks on. My pulse quickens as I realize we're now live, broadcasting to her eager audience. I swallow hard, suddenly aware of the enormity of what we're about to do.
"Hey everyone," Yn purrs, slipping effortlessly into her DancingCutie_94 persona. "I've got a special treat for you tonight. Remember that giveaway winner I mentioned? Well, he's here with me now." She turns to me, her eyes sparkling behind her mask.
"Why don't you introduce yourself, handsome?" I clear my throat, channeling the confidence I've always had in the chat.
"Hey, I'm Defsoul_J," I say. "Long-time fan, first-time guest star. Hopefully, a permanent guest star." Yn giggles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. The chat explodes with excited messages. I can't help but grin, feeling a surge of pride at being recognized. Yn steps closer to me, her body pressing against mine.
"Now, what should we do to celebrate?" she asks, her voice dripping with seduction.
"I have a few ideas," I murmur, loud enough for the microphone to pick up. I pull her close, my hands roaming her curves as I capture her lips in a passionate kiss. She moans softly against my mouth, and I can feel the vibration in my chest. I break the kiss to trail my lips down her neck, savoring the taste of her skin.
"Tell them," I whisper against her ear. "Tell them who you belong to." Yn shivers in my arms, her breath catching. She turns her face towards the camera, her voice husky as she speaks.
"I'm all his," she says, her fingers tangling in my hair and pulling gently. My heart races as I hear Yn's words. The possessiveness I've always felt watching her perform for others surges through me. I can't believe this is real, that she's actually mine.
"That's right," I growl, loud enough for the microphone to pick up. "You're all mine now." I spin Yn around, pressing her back against my chest. My hands roam her body, caressing her curves as I've imagined doing so many times. I lock eyes with the camera, a thrill running through me as I realize I'm living out my deepest fantasy.
"You've all watched her for months," I say, my voice low and husky. "But I'm the only one who gets to touch her like this." Yn moans softly as I cup her breasts, her head falling back against my shoulder. I can see the chat exploding with messages, her viewers adding suggestions on what I should do to her. I can't help but smirk, feeling a surge of confidence as I see the reactions pouring in. Yn's body is warm against mine, her soft curves fitting perfectly in my hands. I lower my lips to her ear, whispering just loud enough for the mic to pick up.
"What should I do to you first, baby? Show them how good I can make you feel with my tongue?" Yn shivers in my arms, her breath catching.
"Please," she moans, pressing back against me. I slide one hand down her stomach, teasing at the waistband of her shorts. My other hand moves to her throat, tilting her head back so I can kiss along her neck. The taste of her skin is intoxicating, better than I ever imagined.
"Tell them what you want," I growl, nipping at her earlobe. "Let them hear how desperate you are for me.” Yn's body trembles against mine as she obeys my command.
"I want your tongue on me," she whimpers, her voice filled with need. "I want you to taste every inch of me while everyone watches." My cock twitches at her words, straining against my jeans. I spin her around to face me, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Without breaking eye contact with the camera, I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of her.
"You heard her," I say to the audience, my hands caressing Yn's thighs. "She wants my tongue. And I'm going to give it to her until she's screaming my name." I hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, slowly dragging them down her legs along with her underwear. Yn steps out of them, and I can see how wet she is already. I can't help but groan at the sight of Yn's glistening folds. The scent of her arousal fills my senses, making my mouth water. I lean in, running my tongue along her slit in a slow, teasing lick. Yn's legs tremble, and I grip her thighs to steady her.
"Oh god," she moans, her fingers tangling in my hair. I glance up at her, then at the camera, feeling a thrill of excitement knowing that everyone is watching as I pleasure her. I delve deeper, my tongue exploring every inch of her. The taste of her is intoxicating, better than I ever imagined during those late nights watching her streams. I focus on her clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue before sucking gently. Yn's hips buck against my face, her moans growing louder. I continue my ministrations, losing myself in the taste and scent of Yn. Her thighs quiver against my hands as I explore her most intimate areas with my tongue. The sounds of her pleasure fuel my own arousal, my cock straining painfully against my jeans.
"Tell them how it feels," I growl against her sensitive flesh, pausing briefly to look up at her flushed face. "Let everyone hear how good I'm making you feel." Yn's eyes are half-lidded with pleasure as she gazes down at me. Her chest heaves with each panting breath.
"It's... It's amazing," she moans, her voice thick with desire. "His tongue feels so good. I've never... oh god!" Her words dissolve into incoherent cries as I redouble my efforts, determined to bring her to the edge. I slip two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that perfect spot. Her walls clench around me, and I can tell she's getting close.
"Oh god, Def," she moans, loud enough for the mic to pick up. "I'm gonna come..." I can feel Yn's body trembling on the edge of release. Her fingers tighten in my hair as I continue my relentless assault with my tongue and fingers. The taste of her arousal floods my senses, driving me wild with desire. I glance up, taking in the sight of her flushed face and heaving chest. Knowing that our audience is witnessing this intimate moment sends a thrill through me.
"That's it, baby," I growl against her sensitive flesh. "Let go for me. Let everyone see how good I make you feel." With a cry of ecstasy, Yn's orgasm crashes over her. Her thighs clamp around my head as her body shakes with pleasure. I don't let up, drawing out her climax with gentle licks and strokes until she's whimpering from overstimulation. When I finally pull away, my face is dripping with her. I'm achingly hard now, my cock straining painfully against my jeans. Yn's hand trails down my chest, her fingers toying with the button of my pants. She pops the button and slides down the zipper. All the while making direct eye contact with me through hooded lids. I inhale sharply as Yn's delicate fingers brush against my aching erection. The sensation sends jolts of electricity through my body, and I have to fight the urge to thrust into her hand.
"Your turn," Yn purrs, her eyes locked on mine as she frees my cock from the confines of my underwear. I groan at the feeling of cool air on my heated skin. Yn wraps her hand around my length, giving it a slow, teasing stroke. I bite my lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But when she drops to her knees in front of me, mirroring my earlier position, I can't help the low moan that escapes me.
"Tell them what you want me to do," Yn says, her breath hot against my sensitive skin. I swallow hard, my mind racing as I try to form coherent thoughts.
“I want you to take all of me in your mouth and swallow whatever I give to you.” I groan as, without another word, Yn's lips wrap around the tip of my cock. The wet heat of her mouth is indescribable, better than anything I've ever felt before. My fingers tangle in her hair as she takes me deeper, her tongue swirling around my shaft.
"Fuck," I moan, my eyes flicking between Yn's face and the camera. "Your mouth feels so good, baby." Yn hums in response, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. She begins to bob her head, taking me deeper with each pass. I can't help the little thrusts of my hips, desperate for more of that exquisite sensation.
"That's it," I pant, guiding her movements with my hand in her hair. "Take all of me." I watch in awe as Yn relaxes her throat, swallowing me down to the base of my cock. The sight of Yn taking my entire length is almost too much to bear. I struggle to keep my eyes open, torn between watching her incredible performance and maintaining eye contact with the camera.
"You're so good at this," I groan, my voice husky with desire. "Show everyone how well you can take me," Yn responds by hollowing her cheeks, creating an intense suction that makes my toes curl. Her tongue works magic along my shaft, tracing patterns that drive me wild. I can feel the pressure building at the base of my spine, my orgasm approaching fast.
"I'm close," I warn her, my fingers tightening in her hair. "Are you ready to swallow it all for me, baby?" Yn nods as best she can with her mouth full of my cock. With a few more bobs of her head, I am releasing all of my cum into her mouth. She pulls away with a pop and swallows every last drop, which is so hot it has me hard and ready all over again. I turn to the camera.
“What do you guys think, how should I fuck our little princess?” I hear the chat exploding with suggestions, my eyes darting between the screen and Yn's flushed face. The power I feel in this moment is intoxicating. I pull Yn to her feet, spinning her to face the camera.
"What do you think, baby? How should I take you?" I purr in her ear, loud enough for the mic to pick up. Yn shivers against me.
”Please... from behind. I want to feel you deep inside me." I growl low in my throat, the sound primal and possessive.
"You heard her, everyone. She wants it hard and deep." I maneuver Yn towards her bed, bending her over the edge. She arches her back, presenting herself to me and the camera. I take a moment to admire the view, running my hands over her curves.
"God, you're beautiful," I mutter. I can't believe this is really happening. Yn is bent over in front of me, her perfect ass on display. My hands roam over her smooth skin as I position myself behind her. I line up my cock with her entrance, teasing her folds.
"Are you ready for me, baby?" I ask, my voice husky with desire. Yn nods eagerly, pushing her hips back against me.
"Please, Def. I need you inside me." I groan at her words and slowly push into her tight heat. The sensation is overwhelming, better than anything I've ever felt before. I have to pause once I'm fully sheathed inside her, taking deep breaths to maintain control.
"God, you feel amazing," I moan. "So tight and wet for me." I start to move, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in deep. I set a steady rhythm, my hands gripping Yn's hips as I drive into her. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by our moans of pleasure. Yn's moans of pleasure spur me on, driving me to thrust harder and deeper. I can feel her walls clenching around me with each stroke, drawing me further into ecstasy.
"Tell them how it feels," I command, my voice rough with desire. "Let everyone hear how good I'm making you feel."
"Oh god, it's amazing," Yn cries out. "You're so deep... filling me up completely. I've never felt anything like this before." Her words send a thrill through me. I lean over her, pressing my chest against her back as I continue to drive into her. My lips find her neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there.
"You're mine," I growl against her ear. "Say it. Tell everyone who you belong to."
"I am yours,” She cries, “God only yours, you feel so good, I am gonna cum already.” I groan as I feel Yn's walls tightening around me. Her impending orgasm spurs me on, and I increase my pace, pounding into her with abandon. My fingers dig into her hips as I chase our mutual pleasure.
"That's it, baby," I pant. "Come for me. Let everyone see how good I make you feel." With a cry of ecstasy, Yn's orgasm crashes over her. Her inner muscles clench rhythmically around my cock, nearly pushing me over the edge. I grit my teeth, determined to draw out her pleasure as long as possible.
"Oh god, Def!" she moans. "Don't stop, please don't stop!" Her words send me over the edge. With a guttural moan, I thrust deep inside Yn one last time, my release hitting me like a tidal wave. I feel her walls clenching around me as she climaxes, her body shuddering beneath mine. For a moment, we stay frozen in ecstasy, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room. Then slowly, reluctantly, I pull out of her. Yn whimpers at the loss of contact, and I gather her into my arms, pulling her close against my chest.
"That was..." I trail off, unable to find the words to describe what just happened.
"Incredible," Yn finishes for me, her voice muffled against my skin. I glance at the camera, suddenly remembering our audience. The chat is exploding with messages, but I can't bring myself to care about what they are saying. I walk closer to the camera.
“Sorry to cut this so short,” I say to the audience, “But we gotta go. I need to hear her scream my real name.” I end the stream and turn off the camera, my heart still racing. Yn looks up at me, her eyes shining with a mix of desire and something deeper. I can hardly believe this is real.
"So," Yn says softly, "you wanted to hear me scream your real name?" A shiver runs through me at her words. I nod, suddenly feeling a bit shy despite what we just did. "Yeah, I... I want this to be just us now. No audience, no personas. Just you and me." Yn smiles and pulls me in for a deep, passionate kiss.
When we break apart, she whispers against my lips, "Besides, I can still walk, and I remember you saying we’d keep going until I can’t. Take me to bed, Jaebum.” I swallow hard, my heart racing at Yn's words. The way she says my name sends a shiver down my spine. I scoop her up in my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to the bedroom.
"I intend to keep that promise," I growl, laying her down on the bed. I hover over her, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin and tousled hair. "I'm going to make you feel things you've never felt before." Yn's eyes darken with desire as she pulls me down for a searing kiss. Her lips are soft against mine, but there's an urgency to her movements that sets my blood on fire. I trail kisses down her neck, savoring the taste of her skin. We did not leave that bed for a long time that night.
Warnings: Pet names ( Mommy, good boy, baby, beautiful, pretty boy, sweetheart), begging, sucking, licking, light biting, teasing, handjob, whiny!Kai (I am so here for it!), no protection, creampie, lots of cute fluff, and aftercare.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
You feel a delicious shiver run through your body as Heuningkai gazes up at you with those big, pleading eyes. His soft lips are parted slightly, practically begging to be kissed, but not yet. You trace a finger along his jawline, savoring the way he leans into your touch.
"Such a good boy for Mommy," you murmur, your voice low and honeyed. "Tell me what you want, baby." A pretty blush spreads across Heuningkai's cheeks. He squirms a little under your steady gaze, but you can see the excitement dancing in his eyes. This is the Heuningkai only you get to see, vulnerable, needy, desperate for your praise and affection.
"Please," he whispers. "I want you to take care of me." A fond smile tugs at your lips. "Of course, baby," you coo, running your fingers through his soft hair. "Mommy's going to take such good care of you.” You lean down and capture his lips in a tender kiss, swallowing his soft whimper. Your hand slides down to cup his cheek as you deepen the kiss, your tongue gently probing, tasting the sweetness of his mouth. Heuningkai melts against you, his body going pliant as he surrenders to your touch. You can feel the neediness radiating off him in waves, his desire to be wholly enveloped in your care and affection. Breaking the kiss, you trail your lips along his jaw and down the column of his throat.
"So beautiful," you murmur against his skin. "My pretty boy." Your praise makes him shiver, a breathy moan escaping his parted lips. Your hands trail down his body, sending more shivers of pleasure through him.
"Let Mommy take care of you," you purr, your fingers deftly unbuttoning Heuningkai's shirt. You push the fabric aside, revealing his smooth, toned chest. Your hands glide over his warm skin, exploring every dip and curve. Heuningkai arches into your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips. You lean down to press open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, savoring the taste of his skin. Your tongue traces lazy patterns as you work your way lower, pausing to lavish attention on each of his nipples. Heuningkai squirms beneath you, little whimpers of pleasure spilling from his mouth.
"That's it, baby," you encourage, nipping gently at the sensitive skin of his abdomen. "Let me hear how good I'm making you feel." Your hands slide down to the waistband of his pants. You run your fingertips along the edge, not quite dipping beneath the surface. He whines softly again.
“What is it, baby?” You ask, continuing the motion of your hands.
"I want more, Mommy," Heuningkai breathes. "Please touch me." You smile, pleased by his eagerness.
"Patience, baby," you coo, running your palm over the prominent bulge in his pants. "Good boys wait for Mommy's permission." Heuningkai whimpers but nods, his eyes fluttering shut as you continue to tease him through the fabric. You can feel the heat of his arousal, the way he twitches beneath your touch. It sends a thrill through you, knowing how affected he is by your ministrations. Slowly, deliberately, you undo his zipper. The sound seems impossibly loud in the quiet room, punctuated only by Heuningkai's ragged breathing. You pull his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving him bare and vulnerable beneath you. Your eyes roam over his exposed body, drinking in every beautiful inch of him.
"Look at you," you murmur, running your hands up his thighs. "So perfect for me." Heuningkai whimpers at your praise, his cock twitching against his stomach. You wrap your hand around him, giving a slow, teasing stroke. His hips buck into your hand on pure reflex.
“What do you think, my sweet boy? Should we try the blindfold like you wanted?” You ask, grinning at how his cock twitches at the suggestion. Heuningkai's eyes widen with excitement at your suggestion. You can't help but smile at his eager reaction.
"Yes, please," he breathes, his voice filled with anticipation. You reach for the silky blindfold you'd set aside earlier, running the smooth fabric through your fingers. Leaning forward, you gently secure it over Heuningkai's eyes, plunging him into darkness.
"How's that, baby?" you ask softly, trailing your fingers down his cheek.
He shivers at your touch. "Good, Mommy. I like it."
"Remember your safe word if you need it," you remind him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. With his sight taken away, you know Heuningkai's other senses will be heightened. You trace random patterns across his skin with feather-light touches, delighting in the goosebumps that appear on his skin and the way his breath hitches. You lean down to whisper in Heuningkai's ear, your breath hot against his skin.
"I'm going to make you feel so good, baby. Every touch will be a surprise." Your hands roam his body, alternating between firm caresses and barely-there brushes. Heuningkai gasps and squirms beneath you, never knowing where your touch will land next. You trail kisses down his neck, pausing to suck a mark just above his collarbone. The moan he lets out sends heat pooling low in your belly.
"Such pretty sounds," you murmur against his skin. "Let me hear more." You wrap your hand around his cock again, stroking him with a maddeningly slow pace. Heuningkai's hips buck up, seeking more friction, but you use your free hand to pin him down.
"Ah-ah," you tease, your voice low and sultry. "No rushing, baby. We're going to take this nice and slow." You continue your languid strokes, drinking in every gasp and whimper that falls from Heuningkai's lips. His hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white with the effort of staying still. You lean down to press a kiss to his trembling thigh.
"That's it," you murmur. "Such a good boy for Mommy. So patient." Your free hand trails up his body, fingers ghosting over his nipples before coming to rest at his throat. You apply the slightest pressure, just enough for him to feel it. Heuningkai's breath hitches, a needy whine escaping him.
"M-Mommy," he gasps, arching into your touch. "Please, I need more. I wanna feel you around me. Please.” You feel a rush of heat at Heuningkai's desperate plea. His neediness only fuels your own desire.
"Since you asked so nicely," you purr, shifting your position. You straddle his hips, the heat of his cock brushing against your inner thigh. Heuningkai's breath catches in anticipation. Slowly, teasingly, you lower yourself onto him. The stretch and fullness as you take him in make you both moan. You pause for a moment, savoring the sensation.
"Feel good, baby?" you ask, voice husky with arousal.
Heuningkai nods frantically. "So good, Mommy. You feel amazing." You start to move, setting a languid pace. Your hands roam Heuningkai's chest as you ride him, feeling the way his muscles tense and relax. The sensation of Heuningkai inside you is exquisite. You roll your hips, relishing how he fills you. His hands find your waist, gripping tightly as if to anchor himself. You lean down, pressing your chest against his as you continue to move.
"How does it feel, baby?" you murmur against his ear. "Being inside Mommy like this, not able to see anything?" Heuningkai's breath hitches.
"Amazing," he gasps. "So good, Mommy. I love feeling you all around me." You smile, nipping gently at his earlobe.
"That's right, sweetheart. Focus on how I feel. On my voice." You pick up the pace slightly, feeling the familiar tension building in your core. Heuningkai's fingers dig into your hips, his own rising to meet your movements. You grind down harder, relishing the way Heuningkai gasps and arches beneath you. You moan at the increased friction, your own arousal building rapidly.
"That's it," you encourage, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. "Take what you need." Heuningkai's movements grow more frantic, his breathing ragged. You can tell that he is starting to get close, and so are you. You feel the tension coiling tighter in your core as Heuningkai's movements become more urgent. His cock hits that perfect spot inside you with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, swallowing his moans.
"Are you going to come for me, baby?" you purr. "Show Mommy how good you feel?" Heuningkai nods frantically, his hips bucking up to meet yours.
"Please, Mommy. Can I? I'm so close." You grind down harder, clenching around him. Heuningkai lets out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back. You can feel your own release about to fall over the edge.
"Come with me, sweetheart," you command, your voice breathy with arousal. With those words, you both tumble over the edge together. Waves of pleasure crash over you as your orgasm washes through your body. You feel Heuningkai pulsing inside you, his back arching as he cries out in ecstasy. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you close as you both ride out the intense sensations. As the aftershocks subside, you collapse onto Heuningkai's chest, both of you breathing heavily. You nuzzle into his neck, pressing soft kisses to his flushed skin. Gently, you reach up to remove the blindfold, revealing Heuningkai's dazed but blissful expression.
"How was that, baby?" you murmur, stroking his cheek tenderly. Heuningkai gives you a dreamy smile.
"Perfect, Mommy. You always know how to make me feel so good.”
“I am glad you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.” You say. “Shall we go get cleaned up and then go to sleep?”
"That sounds perfect," he murmurs. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you carefully lift yourself off him, both of you letting out a small gasp at the loss of contact. You stand and extend your hand to help Heuningkai up.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," you say, leading him to the bathroom. You turn on the shower, letting the water warm up as you gather some soft towels. As you step into the warm shower with Heuningkai, you can't help but smile at how he leans into your touch. The water cascades over both of your bodies as you gently wash him, your hands gliding over his smooth skin. You take extra care with him, knowing he's still sensitive from your earlier activities.
"Turn around for me, baby," you murmur, and he complies without hesitation. You massage shampoo into his hair, your fingers working out any tangles. Heuningkai lets out a contented sigh, relaxing under your ministrations. Once you've both finished washing up, you step out of the shower and wrap Heuningkai in a fluffy towel. You dry him off tenderly, pressing soft kisses to his skin as you go. His eyes are heavy-lidded, clearly ready for sleep.
"Let's get you to bed.” You lead him back to the bed and cuddle him close to you as you both finally drift off to a peaceful sleep.
A/N: I am so sorry I got so far behind. Some of the ones I wrote, I got more than a little carried away with, so I will be back on track tomorrow. Please enjoy! Don't forget to send in requests if you have them!
Warnings: Descriptions of fem presenting significant other, cursing, slight edging, slight voyerism, moaning, mention of baby as a nickname, cumming to explicit pictures and videos.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
I have the most beautiful girlfriend. The hardest thing about being on tour is that I don’t always get to bring her with me. Some nights are more difficult than others when she isn’t here. Nights like tonight, when I am in my hotel room all by myself and hard as a rock. I can't help but think of her soft skin, her delicate curves, the way she moans when I touch her just right. My hand drifts down to my aching cock as I imagine her here with me. I close my eyes, picturing her straddling me on this too-big hotel bed.
"Baby, I need you," I whisper into the empty room, stroking myself slowly. It’s too late to call her, but I have some pictures of her saved. I reach for my phone and pull up the hidden folder of her naughtiest pictures. My breath catches as I swipe through the photos, each one more tantalizing than the last. There she is, posed seductively on our bed back home, wearing nothing but a coy smile. God, I miss her. I zoom in on her perfect breasts, imagining how they feel in my hands, how her nipples harden under my touch. My strokes quicken as I scroll to the following picture - a close-up view that makes my mouth water. The heat builds low in my belly as I pump faster, lost in memories of her taste, her scent, the way she writhes beneath me. I can almost hear her breathy moans, urging me on. My hips buck involuntarily as I chase my release, picturing her wrapped around me. I don’t want to cum yet, so I stop entirely, edging myself. My whole body trembles with need as I try to regain control. I take deep breaths, willing my racing heart to slow. After a few moments, I resume my self-pleasure, this time at a more measured pace. I swipe to the next photo - a video clip that makes my cock twitch in anticipation. Pressing play, I'm greeted by her sultry voice.
"Miss you, baby. Wish you were here to touch me like this..." The camera pans down her body as her fingers trail along her skin. I groan, completely captivated by the sight of her pleasuring herself. My hand moves in rhythm with hers, imagining it's her silky warmth enveloping me, not my own grip. The video ends too soon, leaving me aching for more. I scroll frantically through my phone, searching for another clip to fuel my fantasy. Finding one, I prop my phone up to watch as I continue to slowly stroke my cock. The video shows her lying back on our bed, legs spread wide. My breath catches as she slowly teases herself, running her fingers along her inner thighs. I match her languid pace, savoring every moment. When she finally touches herself, I can't help but moan softly.
"Fuck, baby," I whisper, imagining it's my fingers exploring her silky folds. My hips rock involuntarily as I watch her pleasure herself on screen. The way she arches her back, the little gasps and whimpers, it's almost too much. I'm painfully hard now, pre-cum beading at the tip. I pause the video, not wanting this to end too quickly. Closing my eyes, I conjure vivid memories of being with her. The taste of her skin, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. I let my hand resume its rhythm, picking up speed as the memories flood my senses. My fingers tighten around my shaft, imagining her warm, wet heat enveloping me. I can almost feel her nails raking down my back, hear her breathy moans in my ear.
"God, I need you," I groan, bucking into my fist. The pressure builds rapidly now, my release coiling tighter with each stroke. I'm so close, teetering on the edge of bliss. My free hand grips the sheets as I arch off the bed, chasing that final push over the precipice.
"Baby, I'm gonna-" I choke out, as if she can hear me. White-hot pleasure explodes through me as I cum hard, spilling over my hand and stomach. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me as I milk every last drop from my throbbing dick. Panting heavily, I collapse back onto the bed, my body still tingling with aftershocks. For a few blissful moments, the ache of missing her subsides, replaced by a warm, sleepy contentment. But as my breathing slows and my heartbeat steadies, reality starts to creep back in. The bed feels too big, too empty without her here beside me. I grab some tissues from the nightstand to clean myself up, then curl onto my side. Pulling a pillow close, I breathe in deeply, wishing I could catch even a hint of her scent.
“Soul, can I come out of the bathroom now?” a voice calls from the bathroom. I had totally forgotten that my roommate for the night, Keeho, was taking a shower.
"Oh shit," I mutter, feeling my face flush hot with embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry, man. You can come out now." I quickly pull the covers over myself as the bathroom door opens. Keeho emerges in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. He gives me a knowing smirk as he crosses to his suitcase.
"Have a good time?" he asks casually, rifling through his clothes. I groan and cover my face with my hands.
"Dude, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot you were in there."
Keeho laughs. "No worries, bro. We've all been there. Tour life, you know?"
I peek through my fingers at him. "You're not mad?"
He shakes his head, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. "Nah. Maybe give me a little warning, and I can be gone for longer.” I chuckle nervously, still mortified but grateful for Keeho's understanding.
"Thanks, man. I'll definitely give you a heads up next time."
Keeho flops onto his bed, scrolling through his phone. "No big deal. We've got an early morning tomorrow, though. You should probably get some sleep." He's right, of course. We have a packed schedule, with interviews and a photoshoot before our evening concert. I nod, settling back against my pillows. "Yeah, good call. Goodnight, bro."
"Night," Keeho replies, already engrossed in whatever's on his screen. I roll onto my side, facing away from him. Despite my lingering embarrassment, I now feel more relaxed. The release has eased some of the tension in my body, making sleep seem possible. In a matter of minutes, I am drifting off to sleep.
Stay out of the mystical garden, your Grandmother always warned. She would say that some dangerous spirits and sprites lure attractive young souls and use them for their devilish games. Despite the warnings, you have always been drawn to the forbidden. As you stand at the edge of the mystical garden, your heart races with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The air seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly energy, and strange, melodic whispers drifted on the breeze. You take a hesitant step forward, leaves crunching softly beneath your feet. The garden's beauty is intoxicating, with flowers in impossible colors, trees with silvery bark that seem to glow. Something tugs at the edges of your awareness, a presence that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You pause, remembering your grandmother's stern warnings, but curiosity burns within you. You bite your lip, wavering between caution and the irresistible pull of the unknown. The whispers grow louder, almost forming words.
“You're a natural beauty, so unique. My perfect dear, be my muse.” The eerie words send a shiver down your spine, yet you find yourself leaning forward, straining to hear more. Your heart pounds in your chest as you take another tentative step into the garden. The vibrant flowers seem to turn towards you, their petals unfurling in welcome. Breathing in deeply, inhaling a sweet, intoxicating scent that makes your head swim. The silvery trees whisper and sway, though there is no wind. Something brushes against your arm. Is it a leaf, or something else? You spin around, but see nothing there.
"Who are you?" you call out, your voice trembling slightly. "Show yourself!" Silence falls over the garden. Even the whispers cease. You stand frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flicker of movement. You turn slowly, and that’s when you see him. A tall man in a purple suit stands opposite you. He carries a cane, and his hair is spiked up and juts out in every direction. His eyes glittered with an unnatural light, one of them being brown, and the other looked like a cat’s eye with a white iris. A wide grin split his face, and the man twirled his cane playfully, then bowed with a flourish.
"Welcome, my dear," he purred, his voice deep and smooth as honey, "I've been waiting ever so long for someone like you to wander into my little paradise." You take an involuntary step back, pulse quickening. There was something not quite right about him, something that sets off alarm bells in your mind. His proportions seem slightly off, his movements too fluid to be entirely human.
"Who... what are you?" you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. The strange man's grin widens impossibly further.
"Oh, I go by many names," he says, taking a step closer, "but you may call me Seunghyun, the Master of the Garden, and you, my lovely, are to be my newest muse."
"I-I'm sorry," you stammer, "I didn't mean to intrude. I'll just be going now." As you turn to leave, vines suddenly burst from the ground, wrapping around your ankles. You yelp in surprise, struggling to free yourself as panic claws its way up your throat. Seunghyun's laughter echoes through the garden as you struggle against the vines. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You tug frantically at your legs, but the vines only tighten their grip, thorns digging painfully into your skin.
"Now, now, my dear. There's no need to rush off so soon," Seunghyun coos, his mismatched eyes gleaming with amusement, "we've only just met, after all." He saunters closer, twirling his cane with impossible grace. The air around him seems to shimmer and distort, as if reality itself bends to his will. You can't tear your gaze away from his otherworldly features, mesmerized and terrified in equal measure.
"What do you want from me?" you gasp. He chuckles and pulls out what looks to be a giant syringe filled with a creamy white liquid.
“I want to play with you, my darling,” He says, and before you even have a chance to object, he squirts the mysterious liquid onto your face. It seeps into your skin, causing you to feel slightly dizzy and warm. The colors of the garden become more vibrant, and your body starts to buzz, leaving your skin hypersensitive. You try to focus on Seunghyun, but his form seems to waver and shift.
"What... what did you do to me?" you slur, tongue feeling thick and clumsy in your mouth. The garden spins around you, and you would have fallen if not for the vines still holding you in place. Seunghyun's laughter echoes strangely in your ears, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Just a little something to help you see the world as I do, my dear. Isn't it magnificent?" He walks closer to you, running his hand through your hair. The sensation was overwhelming; every touch was magnified tenfold. A small part of your mind screams in alarm, but it is quickly drowned out by waves of pleasure. You find yourself leaning closer to Seunghyun, craving more of his intoxicating touch.
"That's it, my dear," he murmured, his voice seeming to caress your very soul, "let yourself go. Embrace the wonder of my garden." The vines loosen their grip, slithering up your legs in a sensuous dance. You shiver, torn between fear and desire. The flowers around you pulse with vibrant colors, their scent filling your lungs with each breath. Everything felt alive, connected, pulsing with an energy you have never experienced before. Seunghyun's mismatched eyes bore into yours, and you find yourself lost in their depths.
"Come closer," he whispers, his breath ghosting across your cheek. You find yourself obeying, drawn in by an irresistible force. His fingers trace the contours of your face, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake. The garden seems to pulse in time with your racing heart, colors swirling and merging in a dizzying dance.
"What are you going to do with me?" you ask, your voice barely audible over the symphony of whispers that fill the air.
Seunghyun's grin widens, revealing teeth that seem just a bit too sharp. "Oh, my dear, we're going to create such beautiful art together," he purrs, "your essence, your very being, will fuel wonders beyond your wildest imagination." A small part of you wants to resist, to run, but the drug coursing through your system makes everything feel dreamlike and slow. He guides you to a giant, lush flower in the middle of the garden. It is so big it looks like it could fit both of you. He lays you down and begins kissing down your neck. The sensation of his lips on your skin sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You gasp, arching into his touch despite yourself. The flower beneath you seems to pulse in time with your racing heart, its petals soft as silk against your bare skin. Seunghyun's mismatched eyes gleam with hunger as he looks down at you.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, tracing a finger along your collarbone, "you'll make the most exquisite masterpiece." You shiver; the drug in your system makes everything feel heightened. Colors swirl at the edges of your vision as Seunghyun's hands roam your body. You try to speak, to ask what he means, but your tongue once again feels heavy in your mouth.
Suddenly, tendrils from the flower begin to coil around your wrists and ankles, gently but firmly securing you to the flower's soft surface. A thrill of fear mixed with excitement courses through you as you realize you're entirely at Seunghyun's mercy. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear.
"My little flower, you're about to bloom," he whispers. A shudder runs through you. The drug heightens every sensation, making you hyper-aware of Seunghyun's proximity, the softness of the flower beneath you, the sweet scent filling your lungs. His fingers dance across your skin, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake. You struggle weakly against the tendrils holding you in place, but your body feels heavy, unresponsive. Part of you wants to resist, to cry out for help, but another part, growing stronger by the moment, craves more of Seunghyun's intoxicating touch. His hand trails lower, and you realize that you are no longer wearing the old t-shirt and jeans you came in with, but a sheer, toga-like cloth that leaves little to the imagination. His hand continues its journey downwards to your most sensitive area. Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers brush against your most intimate area. The touch sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your drug-addled body. You struggle to form coherent thoughts as Seunghyun's skilled hands work their magic, drawing gasps and moans from your lips.
"That's it, my dear," he purrs, his mismatched eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "let yourself go. Give in to the pleasure." You writhe against the flower's soft petals, torn between ecstasy and a nagging sense of danger. The garden around you pulses with vibrant colors, the flowers seeming to sway in time with your racing heartbeat. Seunghyun's touch becomes more insistent, and you feel something building within you, a crescendo of sensation threatening to overwhelm you. Just as you teeter on the edge of release, Seunghyun suddenly pulls away, leaving you gasping and trembling on the edge of climax. A whimper escapes your lips at the loss of contact.
"Not yet, my little flower," he chuckles, his voice low and seductive, "we've only just begun." You watch through half-lidded eyes as Seunghyun begins to disrobe, revealing a built, otherworldly body that seems to shimmer in the strange light of the garden. Your breath catches in your throat as he positions himself above you.
"Are you ready to bloom for me?" he purrs, trailing a finger down your cheek. Before you can respond, he enters you in one smooth motion. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation. The drug heightens every feeling, making you hyper-aware of every push and pull of his massive cock inside you. Waves of pleasure crash over you as Seunghyun sets a relentless pace. The flower beneath you seems to pulse in time with his thrusts, its petals caressing your skin. You're lost in a haze of sensation, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy. Seunghyun's mismatched eyes bore into yours, hypnotic and otherworldly.
"You're exquisite," he purrs, his voice seeming to reverberate through your very being, "your essence will create such wonders." You can't focus on his words, can barely think at all as the pleasure builds to unbearable heights. The garden around you swirls in a kaleidoscope of impossible colors. Flowers bloom and wither in rapid succession, vines writhe and dance. You feel energy building inside you as you reach your impending climax. The energy surges through you, building to an explosive crescendo. Your back arches off the flower as waves of ecstasy crash over you. Colors burst behind your eyelids, more vivid than anything you've ever experienced. You cry out Seunghyun's name as your orgasm washes over you, your inner walls clenching around him rhythmically. As you come down from your high, you feel strangely drained. The garden around you seems to pulse with renewed vibrancy, as if it has absorbed some of your essence. Seunghyun's mismatched eyes gleam with satisfaction as he looks down at you.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, caressing your cheek, "you've given so much of yourself to the garden already, but we're far from finished, my little flower." You try to speak, to ask what he means, but exhaustion weighs heavily on you. You want to sleep but are jolted awake by the feeling of slight pressure on you, where you are still sensitive from your last orgasm. You gasp as you feel Seunghyun's fingers teasing your oversensitive flesh. Despite your exhaustion, your body responds eagerly to his touch. The drug still courses through your system, making every sensation feel amplified and electric.
"We're not done yet, my dear," Seunghyun purrs, his mismatched eyes gleaming with predatory hunger, "the garden hungers for more of your essence." You try to protest, to tell him you're too tired, but only a weak moan escapes your lips. The flower beneath you pulses, its petals caressing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. Tendrils wrap around your thighs, gently spreading them wider. Seunghyun's fingers are replaced by something larger, and you cry out as he enters you once more. The stretch is delicious agony, your body still sensitive from your previous climax. Seunghyun sets a punishing pace, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your overstimulated nerves. The garden around you pulses and writhes in time with his movements, flowers blooming and withering in rapid succession. You feel yourself building towards another peak, the sensation almost too intense to bear.
"Give yourself to the garden," he commands, his voice resonating through your very being, "let it consume you." As if responding to his words, tendrils from the flower beneath you begin to caress your skin, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake. You gasp as one tendril finds your most sensitive spot, circling and teasing in perfect rhythm with Seunghyun's thrusts. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as pleasure builds to an almost unbearable intensity. You feel tears stream down your face as the pleasure becomes too much. The garden seems to pulse around you, colors swirling in dizzying patterns. You feel the energy that is building within you once more, stronger than before. As Seunghyun's thrusts become more erratic, the tendril increases its ministrations. Your back arches off the flower as a powerful orgasm crashes over you once again. Waves of ecstasy ripple through your body, each one seeming to drain more of your essence. The garden flares as it absorbs the energy released by your climax.
You feel yourself fading, growing weaker with each pulse of pleasure. The garden around you grows more vivid, more alive, feeding on your life force. Seunghyun's laughter echoes in your ears as darkness creeps across your vision. As your consciousness fades, you feel yourself merging with the garden. Your senses blur, and suddenly you're not just lying on the flower, you are the flower. You can feel the soil beneath your roots, the sun warming your petals. The garden's energy flows through you, a vast network of life and magic. Seunghyun's voice echoes distantly, "Welcome home, my little flower. You're part of something greater now." You try to hold onto your human identity, but it slips away like water through your fingers. Memories of your life before the garden grow hazy and indistinct. Time loses all meaning as you cycle through growth, blooming, and dormancy alongside the other plants. Occasionally, you catch glimpses of other lost souls trapped in the garden - a tree with eyes peering from its bark, a rosebush with hands reaching out from its thorny stems. You wonder if they, too, were once human, lured in by the garden's beauty and Seunghyun's promises.
Jooheon always liked to try and distract you with little gentle nibbles at the most inconvenient times. You never really had a problem with it but sometimes it is so distracting because it feels so good. Today you had had enough. You were getting ready to go to dinner with Jooheon and his friends when he came up behind you and gave you a kiss on the cheek.
“You look beautiful,” he said, “Good enough to eat.” Then, he started kissing your neck before biting down on the sensitive area at the junction of your throat. You gasped, a shiver running down your spine at the sensation. But you were determined not to let him derail your plans this time.
"Jooheon," you said, your voice a mix of warning and breathlessness, "we're going to be late." He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you.
"They can wait," he murmured, his hands sliding around your waist. You turned in his arms, ready to protest, but the look in his eyes made the words die in your throat. His gaze was dark with desire, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.
"We have time," he insisted, leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Your resolve weakened, hands coming up to tangle in his hair. Maybe being a little late wouldn't hurt... Just then, Jooheon moves from kissing your lips to leaving searing hot kisses down your throat gently nibbling on every inch he can.
“Please Honey,” you whine, “More, I need more.” Jooheon chuckled against your skin, the sound low and seductive. "More?" he teased, his breath hot against your neck, "I thought we were going to be late." You couldn't help the small moan that escaped your lips as he continued his ministrations, his teeth grazing your collarbone.
"I... I changed my mind," you managed to gasp out. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice husky with desire, "Because once I start, I'm not going to want to stop." You nodded frantically, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm sure. Please, Jooheon." With a growl, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed. He laid you down and continued his assault on your neck. Now, he is biting harder and you’re pretty sure it’s going to leave a mark but it feels so good that you can’t be bothered to care. Your head falls back against the pillows, giving Jooheon better access to your neck. His teeth graze your skin, alternating between gentle nibbles and firmer bites that send jolts of pleasure through your body. You can feel the heat of his breath, the wet slide of his tongue soothing the marks he's leaving behind.
"Jooheon," you moan, your fingers threading through his hair, encouraging him. He responds by pressing his body closer to yours, the weight of him a delicious pressure. His hands roam your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress. You arch into his touch, craving more contact. Jooheon's lips travel lower, leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. "I can't get enough of you.” He continues to travel lower until he has his head between your thighs. He gives gentle kisses to your inner thigh before roughly biting into one. It hurts and you whimper in pain but it also feels so good you can’t help but urge him to keep going. You need him inside you. Jooheon's eyes flick up to meet yours, dark with lust. He soothes the bite with his tongue before moving higher, his hot breath ghosting over your most sensitive area. You squirm in anticipation, your fingers tightening in his hair.
"Please," you whimper, beyond caring how needy you sound. He smirks against your thigh.
"Patience, baby," he murmurs, "I want to savor every inch of you." His tongue finally makes contact where you need it most, and you cry out in pleasure. He alternates between broad strokes and focused attention on your most sensitive spots, building you up slowly but steadily. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them in a way that makes you see stars.
"Jooheon," you gasp, your hips bucking against his face so wildly he has to use his free hand to hold you still.
"That's it, baby," Jooheon encourages, his voice muffled against your skin. "Let go for me." His fingers continue their relentless pace, curling and stroking inside you as his tongue works magic on your most sensitive spot. The dual sensations are overwhelming, pleasure building to a crescendo that threatens to consume you entirely. You're teetering on the edge, so close to release, when Jooheon suddenly pulls away. You whimper at the loss, your body aching for completion. But before you can protest, he's hovering over you, his eyes dark with desire.
"I want to feel you," he growls, positioning himself at your entrance, "I want to be inside you when you come." With one smooth thrust, he enters you, filling you completely. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his back as he sets a punishing pace. The sensation is overwhelming, Jooheon's thrusts deep and powerful. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer as you match his rhythm. The room fills with the sound of your gasps and moans, punctuated by the slap of skin on skin.
"God, you feel amazing," Jooheon groans, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His teeth graze your sensitive skin again, sending shivers down your spine. You can feel the tension building, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your core.
"I'm close," you pant, your fingers tangling in his hair, "Please, Jooheon, I need—" He cuts you off with a searing kiss, swallowing your words as he increases his pace. One of his hands snakes between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with practice. With a cry of ecstasy, you come undone beneath him, your body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over you. Jooheon follows soon after, his rhythm faltering as he reaches his own climax with a deep groan of your name. For a moment, you both lie there, panting and intertwined, basking in the afterglow. Jooheon peppers soft kisses along your jawline and neck. Just then, Jooheon's phone buzzed loudly on the dresser, breaking the spell. You pull away as he reluctantly checks the message.
"It's Changkyun," he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "They're already at the restaurant." You let out a small groan, reality crashing back.
"We're so late," you murmured, burying your face in Jooheon's chest. You could feel his chuckle rumble through him.
"Worth it though, right?" he asked, his voice a mix of smugness and genuine curiosity. You couldn't help but smile, looking up to meet his eyes.
"Definitely worth it," you agreed, leaning in for a quick kiss, "But now we really need to get ready." Jooheon nodded, reluctantly releasing you from his embrace. As you both scrambled to get dressed, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and gasped.
"Jooheon!" you exclaimed, examining the trail of dark marks along your neck and collarbone, "How am I supposed to cover these up?" He appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Awe,” he coos, “I was hoping you’d leave them.” You roll your eyes at his reflection in the mirror, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips.
"You're impossible," you mutter, but there's no real annoyance in your voice. Jooheon grins, pressing a soft kiss to one of the marks on your neck.
"That's why you love me," he teases, giving you a quick squeeze before releasing you, "I'll find you a scarf or something to cover them up." As Jooheon rummages through your closet, you finish touching up your makeup, trying to make yourself look presentable despite the rush.
"Here," Jooheon says, draping a silky scarf around your neck, "This should do the trick." He adjusts it carefully, making sure all the marks aren’t visible. Then, you both head out the door to go to the restaurant and hope your friends won’t be too mad.
Warnings: Roomate!Hobi, Male Stripper!Hobi, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
You loved watching Hobi dance. That's why you come to this club every night that he works. Hoseok has been your best friend for years and he's always wanted to dance. That's why you support his side hustle of working at the club. This support has so far only had one drawback. Every time to see him dance you can't help but wonder what his hips would feel like grinding against yours. So many years of friendship and you've never thought of him that way until now. Tonight, as you sit at your usual spot near the stage, you can't tear your eyes away from Hobi's fluid movements. The pulsing lights accentuate every roll of his body, every graceful gesture of his arms. Your heart races as he locks eyes with you mid-routine, flashing that brilliant smile that always makes your knees weak. After his set, Hoseok bounds over to you, still flushed and breathless from dancing.
"Did you like the new choreography?" he asks eagerly, running a hand through his damp hair.
"It was amazing," you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady, "You're incredible up there." He beams at the praise, then leans in close to be heard over the thumping music.
"Want to grab a drink? My shift's over." You nod, not trusting yourself to speak as his warm hand grabs yours so he can lead the way.
“What do you want to eat,” he asks when you are sitting at the bar with your drinks, “do you think that good chicken place is still open.”
“Yeah, I think so,” you reply.
“Great,” he says with that smile again, “then we'll get that on the way home.” As you follow Hoseok out of the club, the cool night air hits your flushed skin. Your mind races, torn between the familiar comfort of your friendship and the new, electrifying tension you feel. The walk to the chicken place is filled with Hobi's animated chatter about his dance routines and upcoming performances, but you find it hard to focus on his words. Instead, you're hyper-aware of his proximity, the way his shoulder occasionally brushes against yours. At the restaurant, you both order your usual favorites. Sitting across from each other in the small booth, you can't help but notice how the warm lighting softens Hoseok's features, making him look even more handsome than usual. He catches you staring and tilts his head, a curious expression on his face.
"Is everything okay?" he asks, concern evident in his voice, "You've been quieter than usual tonight.”
“Yeah,” you start but you’ve never been a very good liar, especially with Hoseok, “Okay no, I just…you move so…and I just wonder…ya know what forget it it’s nothing I am just being silly.” Hoseok leans forward, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right? We've been friends for too long to start keeping secrets now." His sincerity makes your heartache. You take a deep breath, knowing you're about to cross a line you can't uncross.
"It's just... watching you dance tonight, I couldn't help but think about... us. In a different way." You can feel your cheeks burning as you struggle to meet his eyes. Hoseok's expression shifts from concern to surprise, his eyes widening slightly. For a moment, the only sound is the low hum of the restaurant around you.
"Oh," he says softly, then pauses. You brace yourself for rejection, for awkwardness, for the potential end of your friendship. But then, unexpectedly, a slow smile spreads across his face. This smile you recognize as the mischievous one he gives when he has something planned.
“Finish up,” he says, “I have been working on some new material and I can’t wait to get home and show it to you.” Your heart skips a beat at his words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flooding your system. You quickly finish your meal, barely tasting the food as your mind races with possibilities. The walk back to yours and Hoseok's apartment is charged with a new energy, the air between you crackling with unspoken tension. As soon as you're inside, Hoseok turns to you with that same mischievous smile.
"Make yourself comfortable," he says, gesturing to the couch, "I'll be right back." You sit down, your palms sweaty as you wait. When Hoseok returns, he's changed into a loose tank top and sweatpants that hang low on his hips. He connects his phone to the speakers, and a slow, sensual beat fills the room.
"This is a new piece I've been working on," he says, his voice lower than usual, "I hope you don’t mind but I have been saving this for something special and I think this is the perfect time to bust it out.” As the music begins to pulse through the room, Hoseok's body starts to move in a way you've never seen before. This isn't his usual club routine - this is something far more intimate, more sensual. His hips sway hypnotically, his hands trailing down his body in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. You can't tear your eyes away as he dances closer, his movements fluid and purposeful. The dim light of the apartment casts shadows that accentuate every curve and angle of his body. Suddenly, he's right in front of you, his hands braced on either side of your head on the back of the couch. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. He leans in close, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispers, "Is this what you were thinking about?" You can only nod, your voice lost somewhere between your racing heart and dry throat. Hoseok continues his dance now slightly grinding against you every now and then. You almost couldn’t believe you were getting a lap dance from your very talented, very attractive best friend. Your hands hover uncertainly, wanting to touch but unsure if you're allowed. Hoseok senses your hesitation and gently takes your wrists, guiding your hands to his hips.
"It's okay," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, "Touch me." With permission granted, you let your fingers explore the planes of his body, tracing the muscles you've admired from afar for so long. Hoseok's movements become more fluid, and more intimate as he responds to your touch. The music seems to fade into the background, replaced by the sound of your shared breathing and the rustle of fabric. Hoseok's fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back slightly. His eyes, usually so bright and playful, are dark with desire.
"I've wanted this for so long," he confesses, his voice husky, "I just never thought you'd feel the same way.”
“I have wanted this too,” you reply, “I just didn’t want to ruin anything. Although, lately when you’re on stage it drives me crazy.” Hoseok's eyes sparkle with delight at your confession.
"Really? I had no idea," he says, his voice low and teasing, "Maybe I should have been putting on private shows for you all along." His hips continue to move in mesmerizing circles, the friction between your bodies building an exquisite tension. You can feel the hard planes of his abs under your fingertips, the strength in his thighs as he straddles you. The air between you is electric, charged with years of unspoken desire finally finding release. Slowly, deliberately, Hoseok leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.
"Is this okay?" he whispers, giving you one last chance to back out, to preserve your friendship as it was. But you're past the point of no return. Instead of answering, you close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a kiss that starts soft and tentative but quickly deepens with pent-up passion. Hoseok responds eagerly, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that matches your own. His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he deepens the kiss. The taste of him is intoxicating - a hint of the fruity cocktail he had at the club mixed with something uniquely Hobi. You run your hands up his back, feeling the muscles flex under your touch. Hoseok breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw and down to your neck. His breath is hot against your skin as he nips and sucks, surely leaving marks. You don't care - all you can focus on is the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the way his hips continue to move in that maddening rhythm.
"Hobi," you gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot, "I never knew you could move like this."
He chuckles against the skin of your neck, “Wanna see how else I can move?” Your breath catches at his suggestive words.
"Yes," you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse with desire. Hoseok pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The playful glint is still there, but there's something deeper too - a tenderness that makes your heart swell.
"Are you sure?" he asks softly, "This will change things between us."
You nod, cupping his face in your hands, "I'm sure. I want this. I want you, Hobi." His answering smile is radiant. In one fluid motion, he stands, pulling you up with him. His strong arms wrap around your waist as he guides you towards his bedroom, never breaking eye contact. Once inside, Hoseok's hands find the hem of your shirt, fingers skimming the sensitive skin of your lower back.
"May I?" he asks, ever the gentleman.
“Please,” you reply, “I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Hoseok slowly lifts your shirt over your head, his eyes drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. His fingers trail down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shiver at his touch, overcome with the intensity of the moment.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your collarbone. You reach for the hem of his tank top, eager to feel his skin against yours. Hoseok raises his arms, allowing you to pull the garment off. The sight of his toned chest and abs makes your mouth go dry. You've seen him shirtless before, but never like this - never with the promise of more. Hoseok gently guides you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. You sit down, looking up at him with a mixture of desire and awe. Hoseok stands before you, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts shadows that accentuate the defined muscles of his torso. You reach out, tracing a finger along the lines of his abs, feeling them twitch under your touch.
"Like what you see?" Hoseok asks, his voice low and teasing. You nod, unable to find words. Hoseok leans down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as he gently pushes you back onto the bed. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms as he deepens the kiss. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance which you eagerly grant. As your tongues dance, Hoseok's hips begin to move against yours, recreating the rhythm from his earlier dance. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through you both. You moan into the kiss, your hands roaming over Hoseok's back, feeling the muscles flex as he moves above you. His lips leave yours to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your collarbone.
"Hobi," you gasp as he finds a particularly sensitive spot, "Please, I need more." He lifts his head, eyes dark with desire.
"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, voice husky.
"You," you breathe, "All of you."
A slow smile spreads across his face, "Your wish is my command." With practiced grace, Hoseok sits back on his heels, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants. He maintains eye contact as he slowly pushes them down. Your breath catches as Hoseok's sweatpants slide down, revealing more of his toned body. His movements are deliberate and sensual, a private dance just for you. As the fabric pools at his feet, you drink in the sight of him - all lean muscle and golden skin. Hoseok steps out of his pants and crawls back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours once more. His hands trace the curve of your waist, fingers teasing at the waistband of your own pants.
"May I?" he asks softly, his breath warm against your skin. You nod eagerly, lifting your hips to help as he slowly removes the last barrier between you. Hoseok's eyes roam over your now fully exposed body, his gaze filled with admiration and desire.
"You're breathtaking," Hoseok whispers, his voice filled with awe. His hands ghost over your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You shiver under his touch, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Hoseok leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His body presses against yours, skin to skin, and you gasp at the sensation. Your hands roam his back, feeling the muscles flex as he moves above you.
"Are you sure about this?" Hoseok asks, breaking the kiss to look into your eyes. His gaze is tender, giving you one last chance to back out.
"I've never been more sure of anything," you reply, cupping his face in your hands, "I want you, Hobi. All of you." A slow smile spreads across his face, and he leans in to kiss you again. Hoseok's lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of tingling sensations in their wake. His hands explore your body with reverence as if memorizing every curve and contour. You arch into his touch, craving more.
"Tell me what you like," Hoseok murmurs against your skin, "I want to make you feel good." You guide his hand lower, showing him exactly where you need his touch. Hoseok follows your lead, his skilled fingers quickly finding a rhythm that has you gasping and clutching at his shoulders. As the pleasure builds, Hoseok watches your face intently, drinking in every expression of ecstasy. When you're teetering on the edge, he slows his movements, drawing out the sensation.
"Hobi, please," you whimper, hips bucking against his hand.
"Not yet," he says, “I want you to cum on my cock.”
"Yes, please," you moan, desperate for more. Hoseok positions himself between your legs, the tip of his length teasing your entrance. He captures your lips in a deep kiss as he slowly pushes inside, allowing you to adjust to the stretch. You gasp at the sensation of fullness, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
"You okay?" Hoseok asks softly, his forehead resting against yours.
"More than okay," you breathe, "You feel amazing." Hoseok begins to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm that has you both panting. His hips roll with the same fluid grace he displays on stage, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper.
"Faster," you plead, and Hoseok obliges, picking up the pace.
The room fills with the sounds of your shared pleasure - soft moans, gasps, and the rhythmic creaking of the bed. Hoseok's movements become more urgent, his thrusts deeper and faster. You can feel the tension building in your core, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you.
"Hobi," you gasp, "I'm close..."
"Me too," he pants, his rhythm faltering slightly, "Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you." His words push you over the edge. Your back arches as waves of pleasure crash over you, Hoseok's name falling from your lips like a prayer. The sensation of your release triggers Hoseok's own, and he buries his face in your neck as he reaches his peak, his hips stuttering against yours. For a moment, you both lie there, breathless and tangled together. Hoseok gently rolls to the side, pulling you close against his chest. You can feel his heart racing, matching the rapid beat of your own. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin as you both come down from your high.
"Wow," you finally manage to say, your voice slightly hoarse.
Hoseok chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, "Yeah, wow is right."
You lift your head to look at him, suddenly feeling a bit shy despite the intimacy you just shared, "So... what happens now?" Hoseok's eyes soften as he gazes at you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender.
"Now? Well, I was hoping this wouldn't be a one-time thing. I meant what I said earlier - I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time." Your heart swells at hearing those words.
"I want that too," you whisper, a smile spreading across your face, "I never imagined this could happen, but now that it has, I don't want to go back." Hoseok's eyes light up, his signature sunny smile returning.
"Good, because I don't think I could bear to pretend this didn't happen." He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, "You know, I've choreographed so many routines thinking of you. Imagining your reaction, hoping to catch your eye."
You laugh softly, snuggling closer to him, "Well, it certainly worked. I couldn't take my eyes off you tonight."
"Mission accomplished then," he says with a playful wink. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your skin, sending pleasant shivers down your spine, "So, does this mean I get to give you private performances more often?" You feel a blush creep up your cheeks at Hoseok's suggestive question.
"I'd love that," you reply, your voice is soft but filled with anticipation, "Though I'm not sure how I'll ever be able to watch you perform at the club again without thinking about... this." Hoseok's eyes sparkle with mischief.
"Maybe that's the point," he says, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, "I'll be thinking about you too, you know. Every move, every gesture - it'll all be for you." The intimacy of his words makes your heart race. You trace your fingers along the line of his jaw, marveling at how familiar yet new this feels.
"I like the sound of that," you murmur, leaning in to capture his lips in another kiss. This one is slower, more languid, as if you both have all the time in the world to explore each other and now you kind of do.
Warnings: Surprising him, lingerie, alcohol consumption, nickname (baby), oral m/f receiving, hickeys, unprotected sex, creampie, fans see your hickey.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
Today was the day that Hwiyoung was coming back from the tour. After months of texts, video calls, and small surprises from fans sending encouraging messages to both of you it was finally time for him to come home to you. You decided that you were going to surprise when he gets home. So, you went to the mall to get yourself something new to wear for him. You treated yourself to a new ensemble - a sleek, black bra with delicate lace detailing and matching panties that hugged every curve. And to top it off, a daring red dress made of sheer mesh that left little to the imagination. With these pieces, you felt confident and alluring. With a determined step, you made your way to the local flower shop and carefully selected two dozen long-stemmed roses. Their vibrant colors and sweet scent filled your heart with joy and anticipation. And then, with the bouquet held tightly in your arms, you made one last stop at the store to pick out the perfect bottle of wine. The shelves were lined with a variety of options, each with its own unique label and promise of a good time. You took your time browsing and finally settled on a deep red Merlot, knowing it would pair perfectly with the dinner you had planned for later. As you left the store, your arms were full and your heart was light with excitement for the evening ahead. After arriving home, you headed upstairs to change into the new underwear and dress that you had purchased earlier in the day. Once dressed, you went back downstairs and prepared an ice bucket for the wine. Checking on the progress of dinner, you took a moment to apply makeup and style your hair. As a final touch, you scattered half of the roses' petals in a trail leading from the entrance to the bedroom, while the other half remained in a stunning vase on display. You were putting the finishing touches on dinner when you heard Hwiyoung finally walk in.
You come out from the kitchen, "Hey baby," you said and went up to him giving him a kiss. Hwiyoung's eyes widened as he took in your appearance, his gaze traveling slowly from your perfectly styled hair down to your daring red dress. A smile spread across his face as he pulled you close, his hands settling on your waist.
"Wow," he breathed, his voice low and filled with appreciation, "You look absolutely stunning." You felt a blush creep across your cheeks at his compliment.
"I missed you so much," you murmured, running your fingers through his hair, "I wanted to make tonight special." Hwiyoung's eyes sparkled as he noticed the trail of rose petals leading further into the house.
"You did all this for me?" he asked his tone a mixture of surprise and delight. You nodded, taking his hand and leading him towards the kitchen.
"I have dinner ready, and there's wine chilling. Shall we?" He nods and follows you into the kitchen. You spend time catching up on all the things and after a full meal and half a bottle of wine it is time for the rest of the surprise. You both followed the rose petals to your shared room and laid down on the bed with him beneath you. Without wasting a moment, you immediately set to work on kissing his lips, then trailing down to his neck. With each kiss and touch, his body responded eagerly, encouraging you to continue. You deftly removed his shirt, revealing the toned muscles underneath, and continued your descent down his chest, pausing to leave teasing kisses along the way. When you reached his stomach, you couldn't resist the urge to move back up and find his sensitive spots. Your tongue flicked over one of his nipples, causing him to moan in pleasure. Suddenly, he took control and flipped you around so that he was on top. His hands skillfully pulled off your dress in one swift movement, exposing your skin for his eager mouth to explore. He hungrily sucked on your neck, leaving love bites in their wake. You arched your chest up to his and moaned slightly telling him to hurry, but Hwiyoung was more of a tease than you were. Hwiyoung's fingers deftly unclasped your bra, slowly sliding the straps down your shoulders. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you. Leaning down, he placed feather-light kisses along your collarbone, working his way lower. You shivered in anticipation as his lips brushed the swell of your breasts.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his hot breath sending tingles through your body. His hands caressed your sides, fingertips trailing along your curves. You arched into his touch, craving more. Hwiyoung took his time, savoring every inch of you. His tongue swirled around your nipple before taking it into his mouth. You gasped at the sensation, threading your fingers through his hair to hold him closer. As he lavished attention on your breasts and nipples you were getting impatient. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. You couldn't take the teasing any longer. With a low growl, you flipped Hwiyoung onto his back, straddling his hips. His eyes widened in surprise and arousal at your sudden assertiveness.
"My turn," you purred, running your hands down his chest. You ground your hips against him, feeling his hardness through his pants. Hwiyoung groaned, his hands gripping your thighs. Slowly, agonizingly, you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. You maintained eye contact as you slid down his body, pulling his pants and boxers with you. His erection sprang free, and you licked your lips in anticipation. Without warning, you took him into your mouth. Hwiyoung's head fell back against the pillow, a strangled moan leaving his lips. His hands moved to your hair gripping tightly which made you moan around him. You loved it when he pulled your hair the pain and pleasure mixed together spurring you on. As you worked your mouth along Hwiyoung's length, his moans grew louder and more desperate. His hips began to thrust upwards, seeking more of the wet heat of your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and were rewarded with a deep groan from Hwiyoung.
"Wait," he gasped, roughly tugging at your hair and pulling you off him, "I don't want to cum like this." You look up at him through your lashes and with saliva running down your chin. Hwiyoung's eyes were dark with desire, his chest heaving. In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back and settled between your legs.
"My turn," he whispered, echoing your earlier words. Hwiyoung's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs. He began kissing down your stomach then he moved to your thighs kissing slowly towards your folds.
"Hwi, stop teasing," you whine. Hwiyoung chuckled softly against your skin, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs.
"Patience, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "I've been dreaming of this for months." Without warning, he ran his tongue along your slit, causing you to gasp and arch your back. Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer as he began to explore you with his mouth. His tongue circled your clit before sucking it gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
"Oh god, Hwi," you moaned, your hips rolling against his face. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right as his tongue continued its relentless assault on your sensitive bud. The dual sensations were overwhelming, and you felt yourself rapidly approaching the edge. Hwiyoung could sense how close you were and pulled away. Before you could whine again he flipped you over again. Now you lay on your stomach with him behind you. He pulls your hair roughly again so you are now on your hands and knees before him. Hwiyoung's grip on your hair sent shivers down your spine as he positioned himself behind you. You felt the heat of his body against your back, his breath hot on your neck. With agonizing slowness, he teased your entrance with the tip of his length, coating himself in your wetness.
"Please, Hwi," you whimpered, pushing back against him impatiently.
He chuckled darkly, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, "What do you want, baby? Tell me."
"I want you inside me," you gasped, desperate for more contact, "Please, I need you." With a low groan, Hwiyoung finally pushed into you, filling you completely in one smooth thrust. You both moaned at the sensation, savoring the feeling of being joined after so long apart. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust and then he was moving in and out of you with speed and skill. You both were moaning and cursing and saying each other's names. He still had his hand in your hair using it to pull you back against him. The room filled with the sounds of your passionate reunion, skin against skin, breathy moans, and whispered endearments. Hwiyoung's thrusts became more urgent, his grip on your hair tightening as he neared his peak. You could feel your own release building, a coiling tension in your core threatening to snap at any moment.
"Hwi, I'm close," you gasped, pushing back to meet his thrusts.
"Me too, baby," he panted, his rhythm faltering slightly, "Cum for me." His words were all it took to send you over the edge. Your body shuddered as waves of pleasure washed over you, Hwiyoung's name falling from your lips in a breathless cry. The feeling of you clenching around him pushed Hwiyoung to his own climax. He buried himself deep inside you with a final thrust he came sending spurts of warm cum deep inside of you. As the rush of pleasure subsided, you both came down from your highs and took a moment to catch your breath. He lovingly helped clean you up, wiping away any remnants of the passionate encounter. Then, slipping into comfortable clothes, you snuggled onto the bed together, his strong arms enveloping you in warmth and safety. After a few blissful moments of simply being in each other's arms, you decided to capture this special moment. You posted an Instagram. In the photo, he held you close, resting his head on your shoulder as you melted into his touch. The caption read 'I am so grateful to have my baby back from tour!!' At the time, you didn't realize it, but when someone commented, "Girl, I would be happy too if Hwiyoung left me with such obvious hickeys LOL." You felt a bit embarrassed. You showed Hwiyoung and he laughed before kissing you and saying, "I do give pretty good hickeys, don't I?" You playfully hit him and he giggled. Later on, the two of you watched a movie before falling asleep in each other's arms.
A/N: I am all caught up again and before 11pm woohoo! If you have any requests for things you wanna see after kinktober please leave them for me and I will get to them asap.
Warnings: Established relationship, Nickname (baby), slight begging, praise, hand stuff, only the reader cums.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
“You’ll let me know if it hurts right,” your boyfriend asks slightly worried.
“Of course, baby,” you reply. You and your boyfriend Xiumin have been wanting to explore new things in the bedroom. One of the things you really wanted to try was wax play. You heard that it could feel nice as long as you didn’t get a wax that burns really hot. You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Xiumin carefully lights the first candle. The warm glow illuminates his concentrated expression. He tilts the candle, letting a small drop fall onto his own wrist first to test the temperature.
"Okay, I think it's ready," he says softly, "Where should we start?"
You lie back on the soft towel you've laid out, your heart beating faster, "Maybe try my stomach first?" you suggest. Xiumin nods, positioning the candle above you. You both hold your breath as the first drop falls, landing just below your navel. The sensation is intense - a quick, sharp heat that quickly fades to a pleasant warmth. You let out a small gasp.
"Is that okay," Xiumin asks quickly. You nod, smiling reassuringly. He tilts the candle again, creating a trail of wax across your skin. You arch into it, savoring the heat and the way it cools and hardens almost instantly. Xiumin's eyes darken as he continues to watch pleasure fill you with the sensation of the wax.
"More," you breathe, captivated by the intricate pattern forming on your skin. Xiumin obliges, his steady hand guiding the candle in swirling motions. The wax creates delicate rivers across your abdomen, each new drop eliciting a soft moan from your lips. Xiumin's free hand traces the outline of the cooling wax, his touch feather-light.
"You're beautiful like this," he murmurs, voice thick with desire. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows that dance across your bodies. Emboldened by your reactions, Xiumin moves the candle higher, hovering over the swell of your breast.
"May I?" he asks, seeking permission. You nod eagerly, anticipation building. The first drop lands just above your nipple, and you gasp at the intensified sensation. The heat blooms across your sensitive skin, sending a shiver of pleasure through your body. Xiumin watches your reaction intently, his eyes dark with desire. Encouraged, he lets another drop fall, then another, creating a delicate pattern around your nipple.
"How does it feel?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
"Amazing," you breathe, arching into the sensation, "Don't stop." Xiumin smiles a mix of tenderness and passion in his expression. He continues his artistry, alternating between quick drops and slow, deliberate streams of wax. The contrast between the sharp heat and the cool air on your skin is intoxicating. As he works, you feel yourself becoming more and more aroused. The wax trails down your sides, and across your ribs, creating a web of sensation. Xiumin's free hand explores the soft skin of your thighs creeping closer and closer to where you need him most. Xiumin's fingers dance along your inner thigh, teasing and tantalizing as he continues to drip wax across your body. The dual sensations of his gentle touch and the intense heat of the wax send shivers of pleasure coursing through you. Your breath comes in quick, shallow gasps as the anticipation builds.
"Xiumin," you moan softly, your hips lifting slightly off the towel, seeking more contact. He understands your unspoken request, setting the candle aside for a moment. His hand moves higher, fingertips barely grazing your most sensitive areas.
"Tell me what you want," he whispers, his voice husky with desire.
"Touch me," you plead, your body trembling with need. Xiumin obliges, his fingers finally making contact where you crave it most. You cry out in pleasure as he begins to pleasure you with his hand.
Xiumin moans in your ear, “Mmm baby, you’re already so turned on for me. Did I get you this excited?”
"It's all because of you," you whisper back, your voice breathy with arousal. Xiumin's skilled hand continues its ministrations, building the pleasure steadily. He leans down to kiss you deeply, swallowing your moans as his touch becomes more insistent. With his free hand, Xiumin reaches for the candle again.
"Are you ready for more?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for consent.
You nod eagerly, "Yes, please." He tilts the candle, letting a stream of wax fall across your collarbone. The sensation, combined with his hand still working between your legs, is almost overwhelming. You arch your back, crying out in ecstasy. Xiumin continues his dual assault on your senses, alternating between dripping wax on your skin and pleasuring you with his hand. The room fills with the sound of your breathless moans. Xiumin's movements become more urgent, his hand working faster as he senses you approaching the edge. He drips another stream of wax along your ribcage, the heat intensifying the building pleasure.
"Oh god, Xiumin," you gasp, your body trembling, "I'm so close."
He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, "Let go, baby. I want to see you come undone." His words, combined with the exquisite sensations coursing through your body, push you over the edge. Your back arches off the towel as waves of pleasure crash over you. Xiumin continues his ministrations, drawing out your orgasm until you're a quivering mess beneath him.
As you come down from your high, Xiumin gently sets the candle aside and pulls you into his arms. You nestle against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart matching your own. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, carefully avoiding the cooling wax.
"That was incredible," you murmur, still catching your breath. Xiumin presses a soft kiss on your forehead.
"You're incredible," he replies, his voice filled with awe and affection, "How do you feel?"
You take a moment to assess your body, reveling in the lingering sensations, "Amazing. A little sensitive, but still amazing."
He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest, "I'm glad. I was a bit nervous at first, but seeing you enjoy it so much... it was beautiful." You tilt your head up to kiss him gently. You wouldn’t want to try this with anyone else.
A/N: Now I have officially finished all the requests I had. Starting from this one on I let a few of my friends pick who the story would include. They had no context I just pulled up pictures of the group and said pick one so at least you all know my friends have impeccable taste.
Warnings: Arranged marriage, virgin!reader, possessive!Chanyeol, nickname (Angel), mentions of multiple rounds, He basically makes you cum over and over till the sun comes up.
=Let me know if I missed any.=
18+ MDNI
PROMPT LIST
MASTERLIST
Chanyeol didn't like the idea of marrying someone he didn't know. He thought that the practice of arranged marriages between wealthy families was weird and unnecessary. In fact, he was planning on ruining this dinner to save you both the trouble later. He thought he had it all planned out perfectly until the moment he laid eyes on you. You looked so soft and innocent. He instantly wanted to protect you from the world. Hide you away in his own personal bubble and never let anyone else touch you. It unlocked something in him that he never knew was there. Something that made him want to ruin your perfectness. All he could imagine was watching as your adorable makeup got smudged and smeared because he had you in tears from pleasure you'd never known until him. Chanyeol's heart raced as he approached you, his earlier plans of sabotage long forgotten. He bowed slightly, taking your hand and brushing his lips across your knuckles. The touch sent electricity through him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice low and husky.
You blushed, averting your eyes shyly. "Likewise," you murmured. As dinner progressed, Chanyeol found himself captivated by your every word and gesture. He watched the way you delicately sipped your wine, imagining those lips on his skin. When you laughed at something he said, the sound was like music. Under the table, his hand found your knee. You jumped slightly at the contact but didn't pull away. Chanyeol's thumb traced small circles on your skin, relishing how soft you felt. Your eyes met his, a mixture of surprise and intrigue flickering across your features. Chanyeol felt a surge of possessiveness, wanting to be the only one to ever see that look on your face. As the evening wore on, the tension between you grew palpable. Every accidental brush of hands, every shared glance, felt charged with electricity. Chanyeol found himself leaning in closer, drinking in your scent, memorizing the curve of your neck. When dinner finally ended, he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go. Luckily he didn't have to wait long. It is customary in these arranged marriages for the couple to meet for the first time the night before the wedding and no sooner. So he would see you again tomorrow, walking down the aisle, looking even more pure and angelic than you did tonight.
As Chanyeol lay in bed that night, his mind raced with thoughts of you. He tossed and turned, unable to shake the image of your innocent face, your gentle smile. The need to possess you, to claim you as his own, consumed him. When morning finally came, Chanyeol dressed with meticulous care. His hands shook slightly as he adjusted his tie, anticipation building. This was it - the day he would make you his forever. The ceremony passed in a blur. Chanyeol barely heard the words being spoken, his eyes fixed on you. You looked ethereal in your white gown like an angel descended from heaven. His angel. As you said your vows, Chanyeol's voice was thick with emotion. Not nerves, as the guests assumed, but raw desire. He slipped the ring on your finger, relishing how soft your skin was beneath his fingers calloused from playing guitar. When the officiant finally pronounced you husband and wife, Chanyeol could barely contain himself. He pulled you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other cupping your face. His lips met yours in a kiss that started gently but quickly intensified. You gasped softly against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, giving you a taste of the passion that had been building since he first saw you. The reception was torture for Chanyeol. All he wanted was to whisk you away, to finally have you all to himself. But social obligations kept you both busy, greeting guests and participating in various traditions. His eyes followed you constantly, drinking in every smile, every laugh. Whenever possible, he kept a possessive hand on you - at your waist, on your arm, clasping your hand in his. As the night wore on, Chanyeol grew increasingly impatient. All he wanted was to finally claim you as his. He wanted to be the devil to tempt you, his angel, into lustful sin. Finally, the last guest departed and you were alone. Chanyeol's eyes darkened as he turned to you, his new bride. Without a word, he swept you into his arms and carried you to the honeymoon suite. Once inside, he set you down gently. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for you, cupping your face.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip, "So pure and innocent. I want to corrupt you in the most delicious ways." You shivered at his words, a mixture of nervousness and excitement coursing through you. Chanyeol's lips found yours in a searing kiss, more passionate than the one you'd shared at the altar. His tongue sought entrance, which you granted with a soft gasp. Chanyeol's hands roamed your body, caressing every curve through the delicate fabric of your wedding gown. You whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch. Chanyeol growled low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine.
"You're mine now," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot on your skin, "All mine." With deft fingers, he began unlacing your dress, his lips never leaving your skin. As the gown fell away, Chanyeol's eyes darkened with desire. Chanyeol's eyes raked over your newly exposed skin, drinking in every inch of you. He reached out to touch you, reverent and possessive all at once.
"Perfect," he breathed, "You're absolutely perfect." You shivered under his intense gaze, a blush spreading across your cheeks and down your neck. Chanyeol tracked the rosy color with his eyes, fascinated.
"So innocent," he murmured, "But not for long." In one swift motion, he pulled you flush against him, claiming your lips in a searing kiss. You gasped at the sudden movement, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Chanyeol walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He gently lowered you onto the soft sheets. His eyes never left yours as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing toned muscles underneath. You couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by the sight. Chanyeol smirked, noticing your wide-eyed gaze.
"Like what you see, angel?" he purred, voice low and seductive. You nodded shyly, unable to form words. Chanyeol's smirk widened as he finished undressing, leaving him in just his boxers. He crawled onto the bed, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, trailing kisses along your jawline, "So pure and perfect. I can't wait to ruin you." His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. You gasped and arched into him, overwhelmed by the new sensations. Chanyeol growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin.
"That's it, angel," he murmured, "Let me hear you." His hands roamed your body, touching and caressing places no one ever had before. You whimpered softly, torn between shyness and growing desire. Chanyeol's eyes darkened at the sound.
"No need to be shy," he said, voice husky, "You're mine now. All mine." He captured your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as his fingers found sensitive spots. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Chanyeol hissed in pleasure.
"You're so responsive," he murmured against your skin. "So sensitive to my touch. I love it." Chanyeol's hands continued to explore your body, each touch igniting sparks of pleasure. You trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses.
"Ch-Chanyeol," you gasped, your voice breathy and uncertain. He paused, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes, "Yes, angel?"
"I've... I've never..." you trailed off, blushing furiously.
Understanding dawned in Chanyeol's eyes, followed by a flash of possessive hunger. "You've never been touched like this before, have you?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. When you shook your head, he groaned softly. "Oh, angel. I'm going to make this so good for you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I'll be gentle, I promise." His lips found yours again in a tender kiss as his hands resumed their exploration of your body. You gasped and whimpered at his touch, overwhelmed by the new sensations. Chanyeol took his time, savoring every reaction, every soft sound that fell from your lips.
“That's it, angel," he encouraged softly "Let go. Feel everything I'm doing to you." Slowly, carefully, he began to push you towards the edge. Your breath came in short pants, your body trembling beneath his. Chanyeol watched your face intently, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crossed your features. Your back arched as waves of pleasure washed over you, Chanyeol's name falling from your lips in a breathless cry. He held you close as you shuddered against him, murmuring words of praise and adoration. As you came down from your high, Chanyeol peppered your face with soft kisses. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. "So perfect." You blushed at his words, still shy despite what had just transpired between you. Chanyeol smiled tenderly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.
"We're not done yet, angel," he said, his voice low and full of promise. "I'm going to worship every inch of you tonight." True to his word, Chanyeol spent hours exploring your body, bringing you to the heights of pleasure again and again. By the time the sun began to peek through the curtains, you were a trembling, exhausted mess. Your skin glistened with sweat, and your hair mussed beyond recognition. Chanyeol looked down at you with a mix of tenderness and pride.
"Look at you," he murmured, tracing your swollen lips with his thumb. "Thoroughly fucked out, and all mine." You managed a weak smile, still catching your breath. Chanyeol gathered you into his arms, pulling you against his chest. His fingers combed gently through your tangled hair.
"Rest now, angel," he said softly, "You'll need your strength for later." As you drifted off to sleep, Chanyeol's arms wrapped protectively around you, you realized that maybe arranged marriages weren't so bad after all. You had found your perfect match in this man who could be both tender and possessive.
