He’d be such a gentle lover. He’d be the type of guy who would hold the back of your head up to his forehead, mouth hung open, looking at you with pure love & adoration as he moves inside you. He’d hold you so carefully through all of it too, his big hands grounding you every second like he's terrified of letting you drift too far away from him. & when you reached the peak, he’d shush you quietly, kissing your temple as you come down, his voice bringing you back down to earth with him.
“I know, I know. Breathe, baby, breathe for me. There you go. You’re so beautiful. So beautiful.”
Favorites: kissing, handholding, forehead touching, slow thrusts, body worship, carrying you around, reassuring praise, rubbing your back, holding you close after
Kihyun:
He’d be intense but passionate, the type of lover who knows what he wants & will absolutely love every second of using you to get there. He’d guide you a lot, making sure you knew how good you make him feel. He’d start off confident & in control, only to end up breathless & completely obsessed with the way you fall apart for him. The more worked up he got, the more praise would slip out naturally, like it's just impossible for him to keep it inside anymore. He’d lose control & then laugh about it, needing to soften any ounce of composure he'd just lost, pulling you close to him & catching his breath.
“Come here. Get on top, mm— yeah, now turn around. Just like that. Oh fuck… That’s perfect. You feel incredible, baby.”
Favorites: neck kissing, biting/marking, guiding/talking you through it, eye contact, overstimulation, making you look at him, possessive touching
Minhyuk:
He'd be both soft & sweet, yet able to be rough & passionate too. He’d be able to switch very easily, matching whatever vibe you’re giving him at the time. He'd love figuring you out, too, noticing which reactions make you melt vs. which make you lose your mind. One night he'd have you shaking from how gently he touched you, the next he'd have you bent against the kitchen counter laughing breathlessly because neither of you could keep control for more than five seconds.
You in the mood for slow & sensual?
"Relax for me, baby. I wanna take my time with you tonight."
Want it rough & fast?
"Oh? That's the mood you're in tonight, huh? Alright then... come here, pretty girl."
Favorites: neck kisses, teasing you, playfulness, making you laugh during, switching between rough & soft, shower sex, lazy mornings after
Hyungwon:
He’d be passionate as hell, light candles, play low music, setting the mood every time. Your touch alone would calm him. He’d be slow but calculated, needing you to feel every inch of him, eye contact, hand holding while you make love. He'd treat intimacy like its own little world, shutting everything else out the second he got his hands on you. Being with him would occasionally bring tears to your eyes, the feeling of him taking you there, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.
“You feel that? You feel how we fit together? God, you're so perfect for me… my home.”
Favorites: romantic mood, eye contact, slow thrusts, handholding, deep kisses, quiet praise, waist touches, making you come apart slowly, falling asleep tangled together
Jooheon:
He’d be so eager to please, obsessed with you in a way you never knew someone could be. Anything you’d want, he’d do it without hesitation, completely addicted to being the one who makes you feel good. He’d get hard just from kissing & he’d be so vocal too. Lots of groans, moaning, & whimpering. He’d watch you intently, every soft sound or expression that crossed your face would be noted & used, determined to make you feel good every time. He’d get completely lost in you too, kissing you between every breathless praise like he just can't believe he gets to have you like this.
“That feel good, baby? Mm, yeah, I can tell bc you’re squeezing me so tight. Damn, baby… right there?”
Favorites: watching you, praise, hearing your moans, messy kissing everywhere, making you come first, constant touching, whining when you tease him, needy cuddling afterward
Changkyun:
He’d be obsessed with you, but love it when you bite back. He’d make you work harder for it if you’ve been bratty, but he'd always cave eventually, too obsessed with you to deny you for very long. In fact, he likes to play the game almost just as much as he likes pounding you into the mattress after. Beneath the teasing though, as soon as you start to look too overwhelmed, he'd soften completely, talking you through it in that low voice that makes your entire body melt. He’d love hearing you, often encouraging you to be louder, forcing your eyes on him as he takes you to heaven & back.
“Take it, that’s it, baby. Don’t you dare hold back. Let them know who makes you feel this good."
Favorites: teasing you, forced eye contact, hair pulling, making you work for it, biting/marking, controlling the pace, hearing how loud he makes you, possessive touches, praise with a smirk, soft aftercare after intensity
Wonho:
He’d downright worship you. Your body, your mind, your soul. There wouldn't be a moment where you'd have to wonder where his heart is. Making love with him would be passionate, sweaty, clinging onto his arms, shoulders, anywhere you could reach, your nails digging & leaving red streaks in the muscles of his back, an all-consuming type of love. He'd always be determined to make you fall apart first, needing to see it, feel it, before he even thinks about himself.
"Yeah, let me feel you. Give it to me, baby. Let go, I got you. I've always got you... Damn, you look so beautiful when you cum for me."
Favorites: body worship, deep kissing, leaving scratches on each other, hearing you come undone for him, carrying you around, holding you close, sweaty aftercare cuddling
Jooheon x F! Reader | Idol x Staff
Mature | Explicit | MDNI | One-Shot
A signed NDA turns a morning show spark into a private midnight rendezvous with Jooheon.
The morning show studio was a hive of controlled chaos. Lights hummed, cameras rolled, and the air crackled with the caffeine-fueled adrenaline of a live broadcast. You stood at the center of it all, a petite figure with a voice that cut through the noise, your fingers adjusting the headset mic as you barked orders. “Camera three, tighten up on Changkyun. Audio, we’re getting feedback from the guest mic—fix it before the next segment.” Your energy was a calm, commanding storm, and everyone—from the frantic interns to the seasoned producers—reacted to it.
In the makeup chair, Jooheon watched. The blush being brushed onto his cheeks felt trivial compared to the magnetic pull of your presence. He saw you handle a segment producer who was on the verge of a meltdown—you didn’t yell. You smiled, a sharp, charming curve of your lips, and delivered a solution wrapped in wit. The producer deflated, nodding, and scurried off. To Jooheon, you were a paradox packaged perfectly: cute in your stature, confident in your dominion over this tiny, loud world. He felt a twist in his gut, a spark that wasn’t for the cameras.
During soundcheck, his eyes found yours across the set. He was testing levels, rapping a few bars into the mic, his voice a low rumble in the half-lit studio. You were checking a monitor, but you felt his gaze. You turned. Instead of the shy, flustered look most staff gave an idol, you met his stare directly. A playful, knowing smirk touched your lips. You gave him a thumbs-up—not a fan’s gesture, but a professional’s approval. His breath caught. Hooked.
The interview itself was a blur of practiced answers and bright smiles. The group moved as a unit, ushered by their manager and a wall of security toward the elevators, the SUVs waiting below to whisk them to the next obligation. As they passed the wings where you were finally unclipping your headset, Jooheon “forgot” his phone. It was a deliberate, smooth move. He left it on a low shelf near the lighting cables, a spot only you would see.
He broke from the flow, a single step that bypassed his manager’s watchful eye for a split second. He walked up to you. The noise of the departing crew faded into a sudden, intimate quiet. He didn’t stutter. He leaned in—close enough for you to smell his cologne, something woody and expensive that clung to his stage clothes. His voice was low, a private sound just for you. “Thank you for taking care of us today.” A pause, his eyes holding yours. “How do I find you when the cameras are off?”
You didn’t fawn. You didn’t blush. You laughed, a soft, genuine sound. You picked up his phone, your fingers moving with the same efficient confidence you used on the headset. You typed in your Instagram handle—no name, just the handle—and handed it back. He took it, his dimples appearing in a slow, deep smile. He gave you a wink that promised trouble, a silent pact, and then he was gone, disappearing into the elevator with his group as if he’d never stepped away.
A few hours later, the notification chimed on your phone. You were in your apartment, the paperwork from the day spread before you. The account wasn’ verified. It was private, a profile picture of a blurred mountain range, zero posts.
The DM read: “It’s Honey. This stays between us.”
The afternoon dissolved into a stream of messages. His boredom in the hotel suite was palpable through the text. “They ordered room service. I’m staring at a steak I don’t want to eat.” Your own complaints about paperwork felt shared, not vented. “I have to file three different incident reports because someone tripped over a cable.” The power dynamic of idol and staff evaporated. It was just two people now, voices in a digital space, the flirtation growing warmer, more direct.
He asked what you were wearing. You told him—sweatpants, an old t-shirt. He sent back: “I’m imagining it. Better if you weren’t.”
You asked if he was always this bold. He replied: “Only when I see something I really want.”
The shift was seismic. The professional distance collapsed into a craving, a mutual need for a distraction that was far more tactile than textual.
Around 10:00 PM, the pin drop arrived. A luxury hotel downtown, a room number. The message was simple: “I have wine, peace, and a spacious room. Come over?”
No question mark in your mind. You changed. Simple black jeans, a silk camisole underneath a leather jacket. The glamour of the morning show was gone, replaced by the quiet, heavy atmosphere of late-night high-security. The hotel lobby was a cavern of marble and muted light. You took the elevator to his floor, the silence pressing in on you.
Outside his suite stood a bodyguard. Stone-faced, immovable. He didn’t say a word. Just held out a sleek leather folder.
You expected this. You were a professional, after all. You opened it, skimmed the legal jargon—confidentiality clauses, NDAs about photos, social media, disclosures. The language was cold, a stark contrast to the warm, flirtatious texts. You signed your name with a steady hand, the pen gliding smoothly. The bodyguard took the folder, nodded once, a mechanical gesture, and opened the door for you. You stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind you, a sound of finality. The suite was vast, dimly lit by the ambient glow of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. It smelled of expensive cologne—his—and the lingering, clean scent of expensive room service. Quiet, deep.
Jooheon was waiting. He stood by the window, having traded his stage outfit for a black tank top and soft, black shorts. The lights of New York painted silhouettes across his shoulders, his arms. He turned as you entered.
The confidence you showed on set was still there, a core part of you, but as he walked toward you, the air in the room changed. It got thick, charged, every molecule seeming to slow down. He noted that you actually showed up. His smile wasn’t the stage smile. It was slower, more intimate, tinged with a palpable satisfaction.
He crossed the space between you, his steps silent on the plush carpet. He stopped close, his dimples peeking out as he looked down at you. The height difference was there, but it felt intentional, not accidental.
“You looked dangerously charming with that headset on,” he said, his voice a low, warm ripple in the quiet room. His eyes traced your face, your lips, the line of your jacket. “But I prefer you like this. Without the noise.”
His hand rose, not to touch you yet, but to gesture around the silent suite. “Just us.”
You let your leather jacket slide off your shoulders, dropping it onto a nearby chair. The silk camisole underneath was a pale contrast to the dark room. “No noise,” you agreed, your voice steady, matching his tone. “No cameras.”
“No rules,” he added, the words hanging between you like a promise.
He reached out then, his fingers brushing your arm, a touch so light it was almost a question. The contact sent a jolt through you, a sharp, pleasant shock that started at your skin and radiated inward. You didn’t flinch. You leaned into it, a slight, deliberate movement.
His other hand came up, cupping your cheek. His thumb stroked the line of your jaw. “I’ve been thinking about this since you smirked at me,” he confessed, his gaze locked on yours. “About how your mouth looks when you’re not giving orders.”
He leaned in, his breath mixing with yours. The kiss wasn’t sudden. It was a slow approach, his lips hovering just above yours for a heartbeat, letting the anticipation build until your skin tingled with it. Then he closed the distance.
The kiss was deep, claiming, but not rough. His lips were warm, soft, and they moved against yours with a confident rhythm. His tongue teased the seam of your mouth, and you opened for him, a silent surrender. The taste of him was clean, minty, with the faint undertone of wine. His hands slid down your arms, then to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You felt the firm heat of his body through the thin fabric of his tank top, the hard lines of his stomach and chest pressing into you.
One of his hands slid lower, over the curve of your hip, down to your thigh. He gripped you there, his fingers strong, anchoring you to him as the kiss deepened. Your own hands found his shoulders, the muscles there tense and defined under your touch. You trailed your fingers up to his neck, feeling the pulse there, fast and strong.
He broke the kiss, only to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. “You feel even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his voice husky. His hands began to move, exploring. One stayed on your waist, the other trailed up your side, over the silk of your camisole. His fingers brushed the lower curve of your breast, a light, testing touch. You gasped, a small, sharp sound that filled the quiet room.
“You like that?” he asked, his dimples showing again in a smirk.
You nodded, unable to form words. The professional composure you wielded all day was melting, dissolving under the heat of his touch, the intent in his eyes.
He kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue plunging deeper into your mouth as his hand fully cupped your breast over the silk. He squeezed gently, his thumb finding your nipple through the fabric, circling it until it hardened into a tight peak. The sensation was acute, a direct line of pleasure that made your back arch slightly, pushing your chest more fully into his hand.
He guided you backward, walking you slowly toward the large, low sofa that faced the windows. The city lights became a blur in your periphery. When your legs touched the sofa, he gently pushed you down, you sinking into the soft cushions. He didn’t join you immediately. He stood before you, looking down, his eyes dark with desire.
He peeled off his tank top, a slow, deliberate motion. His torso was revealed, lean and muscular, the skin smooth under the ambient light. He knelt then, one knee on the sofa between your legs, the other foot still on the floor. He leaned over you, his hands going to the hem of your camisole.
“Let me see you,” he said, his voice a command wrapped in velvet.
He lifted the silk, pulling it up over your stomach, your ribs, until it cleared your breasts. He didn’t remove it fully; he let it bundle around your neck, leaving your chest bare to the cool air of the room and the heat of his gaze. His eyes dropped to your breasts, taking in the sight, the hardened nipples. A low groan escaped him.
He lowered his head, his mouth finding one nipple. He didn’t just kiss it; he licked it first, a slow, wet circle that made you cry out. Then he sucked, drawing the nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive tip. The pleasure was intense, a pulling, electric sensation that shot straight to your core. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping the soft strands as he worshipped your breast.
He switched to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, his sucking rhythm deliberate, intense. One of his hands slid down your stomach, over your jeans, to the button of your pants. He popped it open with a deft flick, then the zipper, the sound harsh in the quiet. His hand slipped inside, under the fabric of your underwear, and found your heat.
You were wet, soaked, and his fingers slid through the slickness with ease. He didn’t push inside yet. He circled your clit, his touch firm, knowing. The dual sensation—his mouth on your breast, his fingers on your clit—was overwhelming. Your hips bucked against his hand, a helpless, rhythmic motion.
“So ready for me,” he muttered against your skin, his words muffled by your flesh. His fingers finally pushed inside you, two of them, curling upward as they entered. They filled you, stretching you, and you moaned, a long, loud sound that echoed in the spacious room.
He fucked you with his fingers, a slow in-and-out motion that matched the rhythm of his mouth on your nipple. The coiling pleasure built in your belly, tight and urgent. You were panting, your head thrown back against the sofa, the city lights a dizzying swirl outside.
He withdrew his fingers, making you gasp at the sudden emptiness. He looked up at you, his lips wet, his eyes blazing. “I want to taste you everywhere,” he said, his voice rough.
His mouth moved lower, a slow, deliberate descent. His tongue traced a warm, wet path down your stomach, leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He paused at the button of your jeans, his fingers working the metal clasp with a soft click. The zipper hissed as he pulled it down. He slid your jeans off, his hands gentle but firm, peeling the denim from your thighs, your calves, until they were discarded on the floor. He knelt on the ground before the sofa, and you were spread wide for him, your legs draped over the cushions.
His eyes locked on yours, dark and hungry. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick. Then he leaned in.
His mouth found your core, his lips pressing against your slick heat. He didn’t rush. He explored you with his tongue, tasting you, savoring you. A long, slow lick from bottom to top made your entire body shudder. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, a teasing, precise motion that coiled pleasure tight in your belly. He loved that you were hairless, the smooth skin allowing him to feel every nuance, every tremor. He groaned against you, the vibration adding a layer of sensation that made you gasp.
One of his hands came up, his fingers sliding into you effortlessly. He fingered you slowly, two fingers curling inside you, stretching you, filling you while his mouth worked on your clit. The dual stimulation was overwhelming—the wet, rhythmic pressure of his tongue, the deep, internal thrust of his fingers. You arched off the sofa, your hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer as you moaned, a continuous, breathy sound of pure need.
He pulled his mouth away for a moment, breathing heavily. He kissed the inside of your thighs, soft, worshipping kisses that felt like promises. “You taste perfect,” he said, his voice ragged. Then he returned, his mouth more urgent now, sucking and licking with a fervor that pushed you toward the edge. Your hips moved against his face, riding his mouth, chasing the climax he was building. It crashed over you suddenly, a sharp, stunning wave of release that made your legs tremble and your vision blur. You cried out, your body convulsing against his mouth as he kept licking, gentler now, soothing you through the aftershocks.
When you finally slumped back against the sofa, breathless, he stood up. You took your cue. You sat up, your eyes meeting his. You reached out, your hand palming the hard bulge in his shorts. You felt him—the length, the heat, the firmness straining against the fabric. A low groan escaped him. You slowly pulled his shorts down, letting them fall to his ankles. He was fully naked now, his cock hard, erect, a flushed pink against the lean muscle of his body. It stood proud, glistening slightly at the tip.
You leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. He was warm, silky smooth. You tasted him, a clean, salty flavor. His hands immediately came to your head, not pushing, but guiding, his fingers threading through your hair as you moved. You sucked him, your tongue swirling around the head, then sliding down the shaft. He moaned, his hips shifting slightly. “So good,” he breathed.
But then he stopped you, his hands gently pulling your head back. “Wait,” he said, his voice strained with desire. He lifted you, his arms strong and sure, carrying you from the sofa to the large, king-sized bed in the center of the suite. He laid you down on the cool sheets, your body sinking into the softness. He climbed over you, his weight settling beside you, his eyes studying your face.
He was gentle, sensual. He kissed you again, a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of yourself and him. His hands roamed your body, mapping your curves with a reverence that felt almost worshipful. “I want to make sure you feel everything,” he whispered against your lips. He positioned himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. He looked into your eyes. “Okay?”
You nodded, pulling him closer with your hands on his shoulders.
He entered you slowly, an inch at a time, letting you feel every bit of him stretching you, filling you. The sensation was exquisite—a deep, full pressure that made you gasp. He moved in a gentle rhythm, rocking into you, his hips rolling with a smooth, patient pace. Missionary, face to face, his eyes never leaving yours. He watched your reactions, adjusting his speed when you moaned, deepening his thrusts when you arched your back. His hands held your face, your hips, anchoring you to him. The pleasure built again, a warm, spreading glow that started in your core and radiated outward.
After a while, he pulled out, helping you turn onto your hands and knees. Doggy style now. He entered you again from behind, his hands gripping your hips. This angle was deeper, more intense. Each thrust hit a new spot, making you cry out into the pillow. He reached around, his hand finding your clit, rubbing it in sync with his movements. The combined sensations pushed you toward another peak, a trembling, urgent climax that he coaxed from you with his relentless, gentle fucking.
Before you could fully crash, he shifted again. Sideways, both of you lying on your sides, your legs tangled. He slid back into you, this position lazy and intimate. He kissed your shoulder, your neck, as he moved inside you, a slow, grinding motion that felt like a secret shared in the dark.
Then he helped you straddle him. You sank down onto his cock, taking him fully inside you. You bounced on him, controlling the pace now, riding him as he lay beneath you. His hands came to your breasts, cupping them, his mouth sucking and licking your nipples with a hungry devotion. The change in power—you above him, driving the rhythm—sent a new thrill through you. You could see his face, his eyes closed in ecstasy, his dimples showing as he moaned.
This position, he said, would make him cum. His breath grew ragged, his hips lifting to meet your downward strokes. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady. “I’m close,” he warned, his voice tight.
You kept moving, bouncing faster, driven by your own rising need. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, and then he pulled you off him, sliding out of you just as his climax hit. He spilled over your tummy and thighs, hot and slick, his body shuddering as he released.
He didn’t stop. He pulled you back down beside him, his fingers finding your wetness again. He fingered you while you lay atop him, your head on his chest. He kissed your shoulder, your collarbone, your breasts as his fingers worked inside you, curling and thrusting. He whispered praise against your skin, his words a warm haze in your ear. The stimulation was relentless, gentle, and perfectly aimed. Another orgasm washed over you, softer than the others, a prolonged, sighing release that left you boneless and breathless against him.
You slept wrapped together in the sheets, his arms around you, the city lights fading into dawn.
You woke up extra early. The room was dark, silent. It was a work day. You had to be at the studio before 4:30 AM. He was asleep beside you, his breathing deep and steady. You didn’t wake him. You slipped out of bed, gathered your clothes, and dressed quietly in the dim light. On the hotel notepad by the bed, you wrote a simple note: Thanks for the peace. You left it on the pillow and slipped out, the bodyguard outside nodding silently as you passed.
Later that day, your phone buzzed. The private account. A new DM.
“You should’ve woke me up,” he wrote. A pause, then another message. “We have until tomorrow in NY. What are you doing tonight?”
*
"NDA: The Series is a collection of one-shot stories, each featuring a member of Monsta X and a plot centered around a Non-Disclosure Agreement."
All of these are more or less the same conversation in a different context. Feel free to read all or just your fav members.
Fluff and comfort. Topics of weight, body size, exercise and insecurities related to those. Pet names.
~
Hyungwon
After a long day of work, Hyungwon finally reaches the front door of your apartment. He unlocks it and yells out a ‘hey babe’ before taking off his coat and shoes. No answer. Instead, he hears upbeat music from behind the bedroom door.
Stepping to the living room, Hyungwon is met by a pile of cardboard boxes. A few of them are stacked on top of each other, accompanied with a couple more on the floor. He goes to see a box that is open, and finds it full of clothes and accessories just thrown in there. Some of the clothes are still on hangers.
Something sinks in Hyungwon’s chest. He hurries to the bedroom door, and the music gets louder. Careful to not make noise, he pushes the door open. He is not sure what he expected, but it for sure was not you standing there, surrounded by piles of what seems to be the entire content of your closet.
In front of you, there is another box. You close the lid, push a little to make it fit better and bend down to pick it up. That is when you lock eyes with Hyungwon.
“Hey”, Hyungwon says. You find your phone to stop the music before turning back to him.
“What’s going on”? Hyungwon speaks again when you say nothing.
“I’m just getting rid of some clothes”, you reply, lifting a garment from the box at your feet, “I’ll take these to goodwill or something.”
“All of this?” Hyungwon asks, scanning the room. Then, he gestures at you, “I thought you loved that one.”
You look at the piece of clothing in your hand, sigh and drop it back in the box.
“I did”, you hesitate, “but it doesn’t fit me anymore.”
“Huh”, Hyungwon says, just to say something. You sit on the bed, lowering your head. Hyungwon walks in, careful not to step on anything, and sits down beside you.
“The issue is”, you continue, “that those are all that fits.” You point at a small pile of clothes in the corner. “But, to be honest, I hate all of them.”
“Babe”, Hyungwon whispers, offering his hand for you to hold. You accept, and he squeezes yours, hoping it will cheer you up a little. “If you really don’t want any of these clothes anymore, I will take you shopping”, he says, “We’ll find something nice for you to wear, I promise.”
You look at him, but lower your eyes again. “I think I should just put everything back and lose some weight to fit into them again.”
“Nonsense”, Hyungwon waves your words away. “Clothes are meant to fit you, not the other way around”, he says before standing up, “Come on now.” He pulls your arms to help you up as well, and leads you to the hallway and out the door.
Joohoney / Jooheon
It was getting late, and the final battle of the movie was settling down. Jooheon threw a chip in his mouth and offered the bowl for you. You, sitting on the couch beside him, refused.
Jooheon placed the bowl on the coffee table, leaned closer to you and wrapped his arm around your middle. With a content sigh, he relaxed, melting against your body, while his fingertips drew mindless circles on your stomach. Just as he got back on track with what was happening in the movie, he felt your palm on top of his hand, stopping him.
“Did it tickle?” Jooheon asked, playful mischief in his voice.
“No”, you said and moved his hand away from you.
Jooheon sat up, his dimple smile overdriven by a confused frown. “Is something wrong, love?”
“No”, you repeated.
Wrong answer.
“Let me rephrase”, Jooheon said, turning towards you. When you did not mirror the gesture, he grabbed the remote and shut the tv.
“What is wrong, love?”
First, all you gave him was a long sigh. He waited, trying to find any clues about what you were thinking. After a while, you met his eyes.
“It’s just”, you started. “Oh god, this is dumb.”
“It’s not”, Jooheon hurried to protest, “tell me.”
“Since I got these new clothes, I have been feeling a little weird about my body”, you whispered, lowering your gaze.
“How so?”
“I just feel like I’m too big to wear them. I know I have gained weight, but it seems like now, people only see my stomach, arms and thighs.”
“And it makes you uncomfortable?” Jooheon finished your train of thought.
“Well, yeah”, you admitted, “I know you liked what I had in my cart but now that the clothes are on me-”
“Stop, stop”, Jooheon interrupted, “What do I have to do with all this? Did I say or do something that made you feel like this?”
“No, of course not”, you shook your head, “It’s just that I am not sure if you find me attractive like this.”
“Excuse me?” Jooheon said, not coming up with anything more suitable, “What do you mean? I am quite a big boy myself.” He enhanced his words by lifting his arms to his sides, exposing his upper body covered by a soft, blue hoodie.
“But you look good doing it”, you insisted, waving your hand like his argument was irrelevant.
“Pardon my French”, Jooheon said, grabbing your hands in his. He adjusted his position on the couch, sitting cross-legged towards you, “but have you fucking seen yourself?” He squeezed your hands, pulling them a little to convince you to turn to him.
You let out a sound half laughter and half frustration, but gave in to your boyfriend, mirroring his sitting position and looking him in the eyes.
“Love”, Jooheon spoke, his voice softer than before, “Is this something you have felt only lately or for longer?”
“I think I noticed this after starting to wear the new clothes.”
“Then fuck the clothes”, Jooheon said. He stood up and pulled you with him. He walked you to the bedroom, to your closet.
“Get out of those”, he ordered. You hesitated for a while, watching him go through his shelves, filled with bright-colored hoodies, black t-shirts and baggy jeans. In the middle of pulling out a piece of clothing, he stopped for long enough to glance at you with questioning eyes. You understood the message and reached for the buttons of your shirt.
Soon, you stood there in your underwear, facing Jooheon, who was holding a pile of soft, dark fabrics. “Here”, he said, handing the garments to you, and you accepted them without a word.
“Can I kiss you?” Jooheon asked, flashing you a bright smile when you nodded. He brushed your cheek with his thumb before pressing his lips to yours.
“I’ll be right back”, Jooheon said after a while, “I’ll put the coffee on.” After kissing you on the cheek once more, he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
When Jooheon came back with two mugs of coffee, you were dressed in a pair of his sweatpants and a loose black t-shirt with a colorful print in the front. Jooheon smiled brightly at you, handing you your coffee. “Better?” he asked, even though the answer was written all over your expression.
“Come here”, Jooheon said, leading you in front of a full-body mirror in the corner of the room. He stood behind you, wrapped his free arm around you and kisses you on the cheek. “Looks perfect to me”, he said before another kiss and a dimple smile.
I.M / Changkyun
Changkyun reaches over the white-clothed table to hold your hand. The dim lighting of the space casts sharp shadows on his face, but his eyes sparkle with the candlelight. You two just finished your main courses, and Changkyun ordered you a dessert to share. Everything seems to be just perfect, but you are distracted by whispers from another table near you.
“Look at the difference between those two”, says a male voice from behind Changkyun’s back, “Opposites attract, I guess.”
You stop yourself from looking at the one speaking, but the scoffing and laughing from the group are weighing you down.
“One of them is quite nice-looking”, says a female voice, “He could do so much better.” She keeps her tone down, but you are sure you were meant to hear her words.
Changkyun turns in his chair to see the group talking, but you pull his hand to stop him. He shoots you a questioning look, and you shake your head.
“I know”, the male voice from earlier continues, “He is wasting his money wining and dining someone like that. I am sure they are just a placeholder for someone that takes care of themselves.”
Another look from Changkyun, but this time the question in it is gone, replaced by a flame in his eyes. He gives your hand a squeeze, stands up and walks the few steps to the group’s table.
“Huh”, Changkyun says, exaggerated flatness in his tone, “Where did someone like you get the confidence to say that out loud?”
The man in front of him glances at his entourage, then back at Changkyun. Anger is frowning his brows and pulling his mouth into a tight line. He moves to stand up, but Changkyun pushes him back down by his shoulder.
“Don’t bother”, Changkyun says with a sickly sweet smile, allowing his hand to rest where it is.
“If you’ll excuse me, I will take my partner home and show them just how loved they are.”
He lets his gaze wander towards you, but soon turns back to look down at his opponent. Giving him a playful wink, Changkyun turns around, walks to you and grabs your hand. He makes sure to pull you in for a long, deep kiss before leading you out the restaurant.
warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, mention of pregnancy (but no actual pregnancy), mention of joo’s military enlistment
word count: ~2.1k
synopsis: you and your idol bf tenderly enjoy one more night together before his enlistment
a/n: dedicating this to my fav jooheon stan @carronpatrick 💕 hope you enjoy it 🫂 also, there’s not much of a breeding kink aspect to this, i’ve realized, so i removed that from the tagline 🙃
posted: october 7, 2023
kinktober masterlist
So here it was. The day you had been dreading ever since you and Jooheon first started dating. On top of dealing with the hardships of dating an idol—a very successful and famous one at that—you also had to deal with his leaving for military service. He reminded you of it every once in a while, and for the longest time it felt so far away. But now the day had arrived on your doorstep with no remorse, no empathy.
“Don’t look so sad,” your boyfriend tried to lighten the mood as you two sat at the edge of your bed. He had come over to spend the night with you and pick up some of his things from your apartment. He was set to leave for his enlistment two days from now, so this was the last day you had him all to yourself until he would go, “Eighteen months will pass faster than you think. And it’s not like we won’t be able to see or talk to each other.”
“I know,” you put all your energy into speaking with no sign of distress, but your voice betrayed you with a wobble. Jooheon frowned a little, resting his arm around your shoulders as you started to sniffle and tears pricked at your eyes.
“I’ll talk to you as often as I can. That’s a promise. You remember I made you that promise the first year we dated,” he reminded you of that night. Of course, the memory was engrained in your mind like a movie you had just seen yesterday—most of your memories with him were. You recalled you two sitting on the couch, sipping on some beer and eating take-out. He had just finished a media run for Monsta X’s most recent comeback, and he had finally got a night off to spend with you. The topic of his enlistment came up and brought down the mood, but somehow Jooheon always knew what to say to make you feel better.
“_________, I promise, on everything I own and love, that during my enlistment I will use any means and any time I have to talk to you, first and foremost,” even a little tipsy, with his hands jokingly on his chest and in the air (respectively), he managed to say those words so sincerely. You had no choice but to trust his words back then. And even now, you trusted him with everything you had.
“I feel so dumb for crying. It’s not like you’re leaving forever,” you wiped your eyes with the back of your hands, and the smallest smile finally cracked your lips when his laugh sounded from beside you.
“Exactly,” he said, “I’ll be back sooner than you think. And I’ll be sure to set aside lots of time just for us. Just for you,” he corrected himself, pressing a kiss to your head. When you looked up at him, his eyes softened at the redness and teariness in your own. His hand reached up to hold your chin still while he leaned down to give you a tender kiss.
It was a wonder that Jooheon always knew what to say in every situation, but especially without saying anything at all. It was like he spoke with his body language too. Because the kiss he gave you then seemed to whisper it’ll be okay. His other hand holding your waist assured you i’ll always be here when you need me, even if i’m not physically here. The way he rested his forehead against yours after pulling away said i’ll always be yours.
“When you get back-” you started speaking tentatively, and to your surprise, your words came out more confident than before, “-we’re not leaving this bed for a few days, at least. You understand?”
His brows raised and his dimples made an appearance as he chuckled. He nodded, biting his lip subtly before replying, “I was already planning on that. Make sure you have the condoms stocked when I get back.”
As he leaned in for another kiss, your hands were holding onto the fabric of his shirt, feebly attempting to keep him closer, “But I wanna feel you when you get back. Not latex.”
You tried not to smirk against his lips when you felt a low rumble from his chest into his throat.
“Fuck, don’t get me started, _______,” he whined, his hand already going back to your face. His fingers caressed your jaw as his eyes traced between your eyes and lips. Everything in him was begging to have you in that moment.
“Come on, Joo. One more time before you go?” you breathed out against his cheek in between the kisses you pressed to it.
You could feel his breathing getting heavier, and one glance at his lap let you know he was at least considering it. You tested the waters by leaning down and kissing under his jaw, his weak spot. You hummed, “Please.”
Your boyfriend merely groaned in response before he was taking your face in his hands, bringing your lips to his in an abrupt, smashing kiss. He took control easily, you always melted into putty in his hands. You molded to him in any way he manipulated you. He had eased you onto your back, your thighs at the edge of the bed as he continued to make out with you fervently.
Despite how tender and careful he was in his touches, there was an underlying, waiting sense of ferociousness. Like he was waiting for the perfect moment to unleash on you. And you couldn’t wait for the moment to come. You tried to coax it from him, using your fingers to grip at his back. You urged him closer with the rocking of your hips, with the nudging of your feet against his ass. He simply chuckled at your attempts, finding you cute when you were so desperate for him.
He whispered sweet nothings to you as you both discarded your clothing, utters of how beautiful you looked. How good you would feel. How he already couldn’t wait to come back even though he hadn’t left yet. Before the sadness could settle in you again, you were moaning at the feeling of his bare cock resting over your pelvis. His lips peppered kisses all over your chest as his hand pumped his erection in preparation for you. He smiled to himself when you started to move your hips up, quietly exhorting him to fuck you.
“Are the condoms still in the drawer?” he asked you, starting to peel himself away so he could go get them.
You stopped him, hands holding onto his biceps for dear life, “We don’t need to use them. If this is the last time we do this before you go, I want to feel you, Jooheon. Just you.”
Your boyfriend’s dick twitched, and he leaned back down to capture your lips again. He was so whipped for you. His heart skipped a beat when he felt your body pressed up against his. When he heard the sounds you made for him. When he felt how wet you were already. His fingertips swiped up your slit, and he relished in the airy moans you let out before he circled your clit.
“I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me,” he said, watching your resolve crumble beneath his touch, “It’s been so long since we did it raw.”
It was; over a year, in fact. And it nearly didn’t happen at all. The two of you were getting hot and heavy in his car one day on a road trip, and had gotten to the best part before realizing neither of you had a condom on you. After a minute of panic, you decided to say fuck it and went through with your actions anyway. But you lived in anxiety afterwards. You weren’t really nervous about getting pregnant with Jooheon’s kid, though being pregnant at all did make your stomach sink. But you were more so nervous about tarnishing Jooheon’s career and/or reputation. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you were the cause of such turmoil. Luckily, you didn’t fall pregnant, but you two swore not to do it with condom again until you were both sure that’s what you wanted to do. Now just felt right.
“I want to feel you,” you repeated eagerly, getting impatient. You could feel him lining up at your entrance, his hand still stroking his erection.
“You’ll feel me, baby. All of me.”
Boy, did you. You sucked in a breath as he sunk between your folds, filling you to the brim with his thick length. You watched his face screw up with a disgruntled expression as he felt your tight walls constrict him. He forgot how good you felt like this.
“Holy shit,” he grunted.
You smiled, urging him to start thrusting by pulling on his waist with your hands. Your nails lightly dug into his skin. He hissed while he pulled out, barely keeping his tip in before thrusting back into you slowly. His hips bucked into yours in a growing rhythm. Heavy breaths and the sounds of wet kissing surrounded you two. It was like the two of you made lustful music when you made love. That’s what it always was with him. “Fucking” didn’t sound right to Jooheon. If he was going to have sex with you, he was going to pour in every ounce of his love and appreciation for you that he could muster.
He drilled into you, but his lips were soft and smooth in the way they touched your body, wherever they could reach. He made sure to tell you how good you made him feel and how well you took him. Little did you know that it was mostly because he could feel the effect it had on you. Every touch, every kiss, every word had your insides fluttering, your pussy clenching on him as if he would disappear if you didn’t. In a way, he was going to disappear, you supposed.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” you pouted, feeling that sinking sensation in your stomach as you felt tears welling up in your eyes again.
Jooheon’s hips faltered as he made eye contact with you. His orbs began to mirror yours briefly before he pulled himself together. He continued to thrust into you, softer than before, “I’ll miss you so much more, trust me. I’m gonna think about you every second of every day. Gonna count down the minutes until I can see you again.”
“Joo,” you moaned as you felt your climax building in your lower belly. Your leg muscles were tensing up from the impending sensation.
“Baby,” he whimpered, on the brink of his own release. This was the only bad part of not using a condom; you felt too good. There was no way in hell he could last as long as he usually did. All he could do was hope that you would want round two, and maybe a round three, or four . . .
“Want you to cum inside.”
“I will,” he nodded, eyelids closing tight as he shuddered. He was so close, “Gonna take it all?”
“Mhm,” you hugged around his shoulders, drawing him close until his forehead was on yours. He pressed a haphazard kiss to your nose out of passion, and you chuckled softly.
“Fuc-“ he couldn’t even finish before he was cumming, painting your core. He shook under your touch, his strength wavering under the weight of his orgasm. “Holy shit, that feels so good. You feel so good. I wish you could feel this the way I do.”
Your head was spinning from the way he talked you through it. You could only moan out his name as you came after him, his warmth filling you up sending you over the edge, “Oh my God.”
“That’s it,” he kissed your neck, then he leaned down to hug you properly. It felt oddly nice having his body weight on you, like a comforting blanket.
You would miss this. Not just the love-making, but all of it. Him. You would miss him. It was hard enough being away from him most days due to his job, but having him be unavailable for long periods of time was going to be a form of hell. All you wanted to do was have him like this all the time. All to yourself. You wanted to be able to kiss him and hold him whenever you felt like it. You didn’t want to worry about him up and leaving at any time for any reason. You wanted to have him completely. Was it still selfishness if it was out of pure, uncontainable love?
“Eighteen months,” you didn’t realize you had said it out loud until Jooheon pulled away to regard you with a crestfallen nod.
“Eighteen months,” he confirmed. You prayed that it would be the fastest year and six months of your life.
“I think I want to set you up with someone.” Changkyun said as we rested on my couch, a sitcom playing in the background.
“Really? Who?” I asked, turning to face him.
“It’s a secret, I am totally going to set you up on a blind date.” Changkyun grinned.
“Okay, but how will I know who they are when we are supposed to meet?” I asked.
“Trust me, you’ll know who he is. I don’t know, I have just been thinking about you and him for a while and how compatible you would be.” Changkyun shrugged.
“That totally isn’t weird at all.” I said looking at Changkyun with my face twisted in confusion.
“Just leave it to me, I’ll send you the information for the date.” Changkyun pulled out his phone and began typing away.
“So I have no say?”
“You can thank me in your wedding speech.” Changkyun grinned.
My humble brag that I never use is that my best friend is Changkyun of Monsta X. We met when he moved to Chesnut Hills and we clicked immediately. We have stayed in contact over the years and do our best to see each other when we can.
I spent years hearing about the other members of Monsta X, from the time they met during N.O. MERCY and they hated him, to now where he is their beloved Maknae. However, I never had the pleasure of meeting them.
I recently moved to Korea for work and I am beyond elated to spend more time with Changkyun. But it looks like he is pawning me off to… God knows who.
A week had passed and Changkyun remained annoyingly tight lipped about my upcoming blind date. All I knew was where to go and how to dress. Also that I would immediately recognize him.
So per Changkyun’s instructions I got ready in a nice but not too fancy outfit, did my hair in my favorite hairstyle, and my favorite makeup look. Simple but pretty.
I took a taxi to the restaurant, I went in, and the reservation was under Changkyun’s name.
As I followed the hostess and approached the table, I could see my date was already there. He looked up from the menu and our eyes met. His deep brown eyes were so light and nearly disappeared as he smiled at me. He stood and pulled out my chair, I sat and smiled back at him.
“It is nice to finally meet you after all these years of hearing about you, Jooheon.” I said truthfully.
“It is an honor to finally meet you. I have heard so many good things from Changkyun.” Joohen said.
“I am surprised our first meeting is a blind date, and not just a casual meeting with the rest of the group.” I said truthfully and Jooheon chuckled.
“I agree, I wasn’t expecting Changkyun to introduce us this way.” Jooheon said.
“Do I have to go on a blind date with each of you? Is that how I am finally introduced to Monsta X?” I asked with a laugh. Jooheon laughed as well.
“No, I am the only lucky one to go on a date with you. Changkyun is arranging for a hangout soon.” Jooheon explained. I nodded and then we looked at the menus and ordered.
Conversation flowed freely, and I was shocked to learn that since Jooheon and Changkyun began getting close that Changkyun has been dropping hints that he thinks we would hit it off well when I haven’t heard a peep about anything like that on my end.
He was right though, I liked how easy it was to talk to Jooheon.
“Do you want to go to the park for a walk?” Jooheon asked.
“That sounds delightful.” I replied.
Jooheon paid the tab and we left heading to the closest park. It was late enough there weren’t many people around.
“I don’t want to assume anything, but there will be a second date, yes?” Jooheon asked.
“One of my character flaws as a person is wanting Changkyun to be wrong about things, but he never is.” I said.
“So that is a yes?” Jooheon asked.
“Yes, I would be honored to go out with you again, Jooheon.” I smiled. Jooheon smiled brightly.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He replied.
I am grateful for my best friend Changkyun, and for the fact he knew a good match for me, my sweet Jooheon.
you expected to be stuffing your mouth with food not jooheons cock, inside of the bathroom with your entire family roaming around. you both ended up slipping off together after the intimate glances and dirty text messages, this wasn't a good idea but the outcome was.
you couldn't help but be distracted by the rock hard bulge in his pants, casually pulling it out, stroking him watching the precum fall onto your fingers. he took in a deep breath once you started bobbing your head back and forth along his shaft. his hand gripped the edge of the sink, as he's been waiting for hours to get you alone, he could literally bust any second. the lipstick that you chose to wear was now smeared along your face, fingers, and his lower half.
his low deep grunts and moans filled the bathroom every time you hummed against him, your spit starting to drip down his leg. he grabbed a fistful of your hair beginning to fuck your face. both of your hands grabbed each side of his legs as his tip repeatedly hit the back of your throat, tears filling your eyes as you gag around him. “you fucking slut” he whispered, the puddle between your legs grew more and more, as the degrading words spill from his lips. as much as you struggled for air, you just wanted to make him feel good. you looked up to see his head thrown back and his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
"im gonna c-" his words were cut off by a knock at the door.. multiple knocks. "who's in there, I have to pee!" you both stopped in your tracks looking at each other, knowing that if you opened that door you're done.
A/N: one of my biggest inspirations to write comes from music, mainly because music is ingrained in everything I do. So Ive been playing with different ideas and drabbles inspired by RnB.
IdolJooheonXDancerReader. Highly suggestive and sexy. I hope you enjoy❤️
Say what you will about the artist, but there was something overwhelmingly sexy about the way this song made you feel. The production. The lyrics. The shamelessly eager tone of the singer’s voice as he bared his soul to his lover. A perfect execution of what it meant to truly be drunk or high off someone's body.
So when it came on that night, vibrating the speakers with its opening electric guitar strumming you to life, it was a no-brainer when he told you to dance for him.
Jooheon watched you with an unwavering focus, seated in a foldable chair he dragged over the glazed wood floors that was now pushed against the practice room mirror. He leaned back in the seat with his hands resting casually in his lap, one of them curving over the apex of his manspread. A smirk played on his lips, his deep dimples winking at you under the purple LED’s above him.
He was dressed far more modest than you in his fitted black tee and baggy Nike joggers. If one would call the way gray sweats were notoriously unforgiving in the crotch region. Your oversized pants hung low on your hips with its waistband rolled to fit, revealing the way your bikini style panties’ elastic hiked over your hip bones. Your bra matched the bottoms, cupping your humble (somewhat) bust while you moved with ease.
Jooheon’s eyes track your every move as you step towards him slowly, one bare foot in front of the other. Your feline gate matched the music’s rhythm as you ran your fingers through your hair, elongating your curvy torso and pulling his attention there as you whined your hips in slow circles.
Baby, you can
Ride it, ooh, yeah
Like a conductor, Chris’ melodic croons guided the motion of your hips, and Jooheon’s lips tucked against each other as he watched your knees part and bend all while winding your waist.
Bring it over to my place
And you be like
"Baby, who cares?"
With knee’s blessed by the twerk god’s themselves, you drop slowly into a squat, not even sparing them a bounce before leaning forward, sliding your palms over the floor. You gave Jooheon a sideways view of your body, deepening your arch before grinding against the floor sensually.
But I know you care
Bring it over to my place
Your siren eyes pin Jooheon as you simulate exactly how he planned to stroke your body later, accenting the masculine move with your own feminine flare that his jaw clenching and relaxing every time your pelvis kisses the floor.
You don't know what you did, did to me
Your body lightweight speaks to me
You sit back on your knees, flipping your hair back sexily before sliding to face him head-on. Your brief stare matches the tension building in the song, and Jooheon matches it seamlessly. He licks his lips, narrowing his gaze and tilting his head as you lean forward to be on all fours again.
I don't know what you did, did to me
Your body lightweight speaks to me
You lift a hand and curl your finger in a ‘come hither’ like motion, taking your bottom lip between your pretty teeth teasingly.
Mouthing the lyrics, Jooheon leans forward and tips his chin, his wordless command to beckon you to him. And you obey, similarly to how you stepped towards him seconds ago, moving with the sultry grace of a poised panther.
You don't know what you did, did to me
Your body lightweight speaks to me
The famed RnB singer goes silent to allow the instrumentation to breathe, a symphony of synths and percussion soundtracking your descent towards the man waiting for you at the mirror. Placing his elbows on his knees, Jooheon smiles as you crawl between his legs, dipping his head slightly to meet you halfway.
Your hand comes up to grasp his face, your fingertips falling into the grooves of his dimples as your other hand curls over his thigh. You push yourself up to press your forehead against his, locking eyes with the beast you tamed inside of him.
Despite him keeping his hands to himself, per your instructions, you felt Jooheon in every cell of your body when he looked at you this deeply. A knowing look creeps into his expression and his tongue lashes out to tease your lips before you push his face away.
Jooheon smirks wickedly with that same tongue tracing his inner cheek as you stand, bringing his face level with your navel, another part of hee he was so tempted to lick. Even now, the tip of his nose skims over your belly on his way to looking up at you with adoring eyes. How was it that a man so angelic looking at time could be such a demon deep down. So deep that you felt your walls clenching at the thought of him touching. Put his lips on you and worshipping you where you stand.
Perhaps another time.
Right now, all he asked for was a dance.
You roll your eyes in at him in amusement before nudging his shoulders, encouraging him to sit back and give you enough room to straddle him for verse 2.
