PEACE OF MIND ⭑
PAIRING: Yoon Keeho x Reader
SUMMARY: After a long day, your boyfriend barely has the energy to do anything, but it’s a good thing you don’t mind taking the lead and doing all the work!
WC: 2.9k words
DISCLAIMERS: smut!!! [ minors / ageless blogs dni :p ] kissing, straddling, dry humping / ab riding, oral (m receiving), keeho deadass just lays there sorry. anddd p in v, no protection (PLEASE WEAR IT OKAY.) + riding :p . “good girl” Shhhh… INSPIRED BY HIS POST TODAY 051126. CUZ WHATS HIS ISSUE. hi eni shoutout
You and your boyfriend's bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp on the nightstand, casting everything in warm amber. Keeho had collapsed onto the bed the moment he arrived, still in his practice clothes which was just a loose black tee and sweats that hung low on his hips.
He had back-to-back schedules all day: morning dance practice, afternoon recording sessions, then a late variety show filming that ran over. You could see the exhaustion written across his face, and in the way his shoulders sagged, especially how he'd immediately sprawled back against the pillows with a heavy sigh.
"Long day?" You asked softly, and he just nodded, one arm coming up to drape across his eyes.
"Too long," He mumbled. "Choreo today ran like three hours over. I'm so fucking wiped."
You nodded in understanding, considering the idea of giving him space, but when you moved to leave, with the intent of getting him water or something to energize himself, his hand had shot out to catch your wrist. "No wait, stay," He whined, peeking out from under his arm with those warm eyes. "Please? I missed you."
That was twenty minutes ago. Now you were straddling him as he looked up at you with that lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, though you could see the tiredness still lingering in his expression. He admired you, already wearing nothing but his old T-shirt and a cheeky thong.
You'd honestly been thinking about this all day. About him and getting your hands on him. The want had been building since this morning, a low simmer of desire that had only intensified as the hours passed. And now here he was, tired but willing, looking at you like you were the only thing that could make this exhausting day worth it.
He doesn't make a move to flip you over or take control —he's too tired for that, and honestly? You didn't mind one bit. You had your needs!!!! And you were more than happy to take care of both of you tonight.
His hand came up to caress your cheek, the movement slow and deliberate, like even that small gesture required effort. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you could feel the slight calluses on his fingertips — evidence of all those hours holding a mic, dancing, working himself to the bone.
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He murmurs, voice low and sleepy, roughened at the edges from overuse. That tone always turned you on.
God, he's beautiful like this. You thought, taking in the relaxed set of his features and the way his light hair falls across his forehead, slightly damp with the remnants of the day's exertion. The shadows under his eyes only made him look human. You just knew you were the luckiest girl in the world.
He was all yours.
"Just thinking about how good I’m about to take care of you," You whispered, leaning down so your lips brushed against his ear. You felt him shiver beneath you, and the way his breath hitched despite his exhaustion.
"Baby, I don't know if I have the energy to—"
"Shh," You cut him off gently, pulling back to look into his eyes. "You don't have to do anything. Just lie back and let me, okay? I want to. I've been wanting to all day."
Something shifted in his expression — relief mixed with desire and affection mixed with gratitude. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," You confirmed, rolling your hips slightly against him, feeling the first stirrings of his interest despite his tiredness. "I've got you. Just relax."
His hands settled on your hips, grip loose and trusting. "Fuck, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” He breathed, and that made you smile.
Without another word, you leaned forward, capturing his mouth in a slow, languid kiss. His lips were soft, yielding, parting under yours with a quiet hum of approval that vibrates against your mouth. There's no urgency, rather just gentle slides of tongue against tongue, the wet sound of breath mingling, and the warmth of his exhale ghosting across your cheek.
His free hand slid into your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a tenderness that made your chest ache, but he doesn't pull you closer. He lets you set the pace and explore his mouth at your own leisure, content to receive whatever you want to give him.
The kiss deepens gradually, like honey dripping from a spoon. You tilt your head, tasting him, savoring the faint hint of mint and something uniquely him. His tongue curls against yours lazily, as if he's got all the time in the world, and like there's nowhere else he'd rather be. Both of his hands now came down to rest lazily on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles through your clothes, the repetitive motion both soothing and arousing.
You could feel his heartbeat against your own, steady and strong. "Mm," He hums against your lips, breaking away just enough to speak, his breath warm on your mouth. "Could do this for hours."
"I’m not opposed." You murmur back, and he grinned — a genuine smile that he flashed just for you.
You break away just long enough to pull his shirt up, exposing his stomach. The fabric whispers as it slides over his skin, and he lifts his hips slightly to help, letting you peel it off over his head. His hair gets mussed in the process, and you can't help but admire the view.
Then you were on him again, kissing down his jaw — the slight scratch of stubble against your lips — his neck, where his pulse jumps beneath your mouth, the hollow of his collarbone where you can taste the salt of his skin. He lets out a soft groan, head tilting back, exposing the long line of his throat, eyes fluttering shut.
"You okay with doing all the work tonight?" He breathes, a hint of amusement in his voice.
You hum against his skin. “Fine by me.” You say through a soft giggle. Because, of course it was okay, you thought to yourself. Keeho was your lazy, beautiful boy.
Your lips trailed lower, now across his chest, down the defined line of his abs. Each one of his muscles was defined, creating valleys and ridges that you trace with your tongue. You press a kiss to the dip between his ribs, then another lower, right above the waistband of his sweatpants, where a thin trail of dark hair disappears beneath the fabric.
His cock was already hard, straining against his bottoms, and you can see the outline clearly. You ignore it for now, shifting your weight forward so your clothed cunt could press against the ridged muscles of his stomach. The friction sends a jolt of pleasure through you, even through the thin layer of your panties.
Keeho watches you through half-lidded eyes, his hands still on your hips. His palms are warm, fingers spreading wide to grip you. "Go ahead." He says, voice relaxed, still with that lazy drawl. "Use me all you want."
His permission and encouragement alone made your head spin.
You grind against his abs, slowly. The fabric of your underwear was a barrier, but the pressure felt perfect.. the friction delicious. You rock your hips, finding a pattern, and his hands held you gently, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your waist. The sensation builds with each roll of your hips; heat, pressure, and the slow climb toward pleasure.
"Fuck," He groans, watching the movement with rapt attention, his eyes dark. "So fucking pretty."
You can feel yourself getting wetter, your panties clinging to you. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and pick up the pace. You lean forward to pepper kisses along his jaw before sloppily connecting your lips with his — soft moans slipping out.
The friction at your core builds, a slow heat coiling in your belly, tightening with each movement. His skin is warm beneath your palms, slightly damp now, his heartbeat quickening. Every time you roll your hips, his cock twitches against his sweatpants, gradually forming a taller tent. Keeho didn't rush you, instead, he let you take what you needed, his gaze heavy and appreciative, drinking in every movement and expression that crosses your face.
"Close?" He asks, voice a low rasp that sends shivers down your spine.
You nod, breath coming faster, little gasps escaping you. He smirks, those lazy eyes crinkling at the corners, and the sight of him — still relaxed, content, and watching you with such obvious desire — pushes you closer to the edge. "Take your time, baby. I'm not going anywhere."
A flush creeps up your neck as you sit up slightly, your hands drifting from his chest to your own body. Through the thin fabric of your shirt, you cup your breasts, feeling the weight of them in your palms, your thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. The sensation sends another jolt straight to your core, and you bite your lower lip, unable to suppress the small smile that spreads across your face as you watch his reaction.
His breath catches. You can see it in the way his chest stills for just a moment before his breathing deepens, his eyes tracking every movement of your hands. Something felt intoxicating about performing for him like this — you grope yourself slowly and calculated, letting him see how much you want this anfd how much you want him.
"God," He breathes, his lazy hands tightening on your hips. "So fucking beautiful."
You grind harder, chasing the edge, your movements becoming less controlled, and more desperate now. Then it hits — a soft, shuddering orgasm that ripples through you like waves. You gasp, your hips stuttering, your whole body tensing before releasing. Keeho's hands slightly tighten on you, holding you steady as you ride it out, his eyes never leaving your face.
"Good girl." He smiles as you collapse against his chest, pulling you in for another kiss; his lips were soft once again. "That's my good girl. So pretty when you cum."
You're still catching your breath, your limbs loose and languid, when you slide off him, moving down his body. His cock is a prominent bulge under his sweats still, and you quickly palm him through the fabric, feeling his heat and hardness, and the way it jumps at your touch. He lets out a sharp exhale, his hips twitching involuntarily.
"You don't have to—" He starts, but you're already tugging his waistband down, freeing his cock. It springs up, flushed and slick at the tip, a bead of precum already forming. The sight makes your mouth water.
"Shut up." You say softly, grinning up at him. "I need it."
He laughs to himself, settling deeper into the pillows, his hands coming to rest on his stomach. "Don't blame me if I get too comfortable."
"You won't." You promise.
You lower your head, licking a stripe from the base to the tip. His breath hitches, and his hand finds your hair again, not to pull, but to just rest there, fingers threading through the strands once more.
"Jesus christ." He breathes.
You wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip. Keeho groans — a long, drawn-out sound that seems to come from deep in his chest, vibrating through him. "Fuck, your mouth is perfect. So fucking perfect."
You take him deeper, inch by inch, bobbing your head at a leisurely pace. His cock fills your mouth, the weight of it familiar and satisfying, and you relax your throat, letting him slide in until your nose presses against his pelvis. The scent of him is stronger here — his clean skin and arousal. He moans, hips bucking slightly, but he forces himself still, his thighs tensing beneath your hands.
"Don't want to... push." He mutters, voice strained, rough with pleasure. "But you're making it really fucking hard not to."
You hum around him, and his grip in your hair tightens possessively. You set a rhythm, savoring every inch of him. Every time you pull back, you swirl your tongue around his tip, lapping at the slit where more pre-cum is leaking, before taking him in again. The wet sounds fill the room, mixing with his ragged grunts and soft gags.
"Love watching you." He manages, eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing between your lips. "So fucking pretty with your mouth full of my cock."
You reach down, cupping his balls, gently massaging. They're drawn up tight, hot and heavy in your palm. His hips jerk, and he groans louder, his hand tightening in your hair. "Holy shit, just like that—“
You double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks, taking him as deep as you can, using your hand to stroke what you could no longer fit. His hands are in your hair, but he doesn't push. He lets you work as you bring him to the edge at your own pace, his thighs trembling now.
"I'm about to—" He warns, voice breaking, desperate. "Baby, fuck, I'm close—"
You suck hard, taking him deeper, and he lets go with a shuddering groan. His thick and salty release fills your mouth, coating your tongue. You swallow, taking every drop, still working him through the aftershocks, your hand stroking him gently as he pulses.
He pants, chest heaving, his skin flushed and damp. "Come here."
You crawl back up his body, and he kisses you immediately, deep and messy, tasting himself on your lips. His tongue slides against yours, and he groans into your mouth. He whispers against your lips. "So amazing."
You're already aching for more. The first orgasm took the edge off, but now you're burning, empty, and needing to be filled. You reach down, pulling off your messied panties before positioning yourself over his spent cock. He's still half-hard, softening but not completely gone, and you were not waiting.
"Not done?" He asks, a lazy grin spreading across his face, his eyes crinkling with amusement and renewed interest.
"You just lie there. Sit still, and look pretty for me." You say with a cheeky grin and stupid wink, quickly sinking down onto him with a soft moan. The stretch was sensational, his cock sliding into your slick, ready cunt. You both gasp as he fills you — the feeling overwhelming. He hisses, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.
“So fucking tight."
You start to move, rocking your hips. He's still sensitive, and every twitch of yours makes him hiss, his fingers digging into your flesh. But he doesn't complain — instead he just watches and lets you set the rhythm once again as his thumbs stroke your skin in soothing circles even while his cock hardens inside you, responding to the tight, wet heat.
"Come on, pretty." He murmurs, his voice rough and low. "Use me."
And you do. You rise and fall, finding a tempo that's deep and unhurried, savoring every inch of him. The room fills with the wet sound of your bodies meeting, soft moans and sighs, with the creak of the bed beneath you. Keeho's eyes never leave you, his gaze hazy with admiration. He watches the way your body moves, the way your face contorts with pleasure.
"God, I love you," He breathes, his voice reverent.
You lean forward, pressing your chest against his again, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. Your lips meet in a messy, open-mouthed kiss, all tongue and breath and desperation. Your hips grind in a slow circle, his cock hitting deep inside you with every roll, pressing against that perfect spot.
"Keep going.” He whispers against your mouth, his breath hot and damp. You whimper as you lose yourself in the rhythm, the warmth of his body, the slide of your skin against his, and in the low, steady stream of praise he murmurs into your ear. "That's it... just like that... so good... my good girl."
The second orgasm builds slowly, a wave that swells and crests. It's different from the first — deeper and more intense, radiating from your core outward. You tighten around him, and he groans, his hands squeezing your hips, helping you move.
"Let me feel you."
So you shatter, crying out against his neck, your body shuddering and your cunt clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. The pleasure crashes over you in waves, stealing your breath. He holds you through it, his cock still buried inside you, his own release long spent but still hard enough to keep you satisfied, to give you something to clench around.
When you finally still, breathless and trembling, your body limp and sated, he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek — soft, tender kisses that make your heart swell.
"Such a hard-working girl." He murmurs, a sleepy laugh escaping. "I'm exhausted just watching." You laugh softly, nuzzling into his neck, breathing in the scent of him — sweat, sex, and satisfaction. "I love you."
He hugs you tighter, his hands stroking your back in long, soothing movements. "I love you more."
💌 mika’s message yoon keeho what’s ur issue lowkey. Anyways…. Just be nice to me ok. i’m feeling vulnerable and sensitive today. Anyways who else a keeho happy trail / bush truther Lmk in the comments down below ❣️❣️❣️💕💕
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