#zb1 x reader

[tysxbtht]

INTRODUCTION

NICKNAME: Yuki :3

AGE: 18!

INTERESTS: Kpop, manga, dancing and anime

GROUPS I’LL BE WRITING ABOUT: and2ble, txt and zb1

MY BIASES: Yujin (and2ble), Matthew and taerae (zb1), Taehyun (txt)

ARTISTS I LIKE: Pierce the veil, My chemical romance, Ado, Panic! At the disco

Hope you’re going to enjoy my works <3

[biellescouts]

hands in my hair

ft. shen quan rui

a/n; strawbelicky when i get my hands on you

cw: kissin, touchin, hair pullin, reader gets called pretty, ricky is sub leaning🥸

synopsis: how to be polite and respect the 10 date rule when ur girl starts playing with your hair, no borax, no glue

“i don’t want you to go home.”

your legs had been spread over ricky’s in the same position for so long that you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

“i don’t have to.”

you had overstayed your welcome. not that ricky didn’t love having you over. like he really loved that shit. but the later you stayed into the night, the more tempting it was for you to sleep over. and if you slept over? you could kiss your little 10 date rule goodbye.

propped up by your hands, you turned your head away from the television screen and to the left so that you were looking directly at his face. the blue light from the tv highlighted your big brown eyes and the peaks of your face. your forehead, your nose and your lips.

“it’s so late, though.” ricky’s hand reached to caress your face, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lip in the process. you could see it in his eyes, he was trying to fabricate some bullshit reason. “i saw you getting tired.”

“what are you talking about..?” you laughed at him. it may have been the latter half of 11pm, but you were nowhere near tired yet.

“i saw you yawn. it was in the middle of the movie too, so you’ve been fighting sleep this whole time.”

you swiped his hand off your face, silently congratulating yourself for not folding. “no i haven’t. and you just tried to lull me to sleep.” you raised an accusatory finger at him. “rubbing all on my face and shit, you’re not slick.”

he wanted to laugh so bad. “that was just me showing affection.”

“right. okay fine. i believe you.” ricky’s eyes darted off to the side and you jolted up. you knew you were right. you were always right. “i knew it! i just saw that little side-eye, don’t try and charm me now.”

“no i— you misunderstood my body language.”

“help me understand.”

“i couldn’t hold eye contact with you.”

you squinted at him. “uh. why..?”

ricky’s voice was soft. “you make me nervous, baby.”

damn him.. you couldn’t help but giggle nervously. “man, shut up.”

“i’m serious. you’re so pretty.”

don’t fold, don’t fold. “is this how you get out of all your problems?”

“no…” he looked off to the side again and you scoffed.

“you’re unbelievable. you’re not even real.”

“want me to pinch you?” smart ass.

“i want you to get out my face.”

the speed of your response shocked both ricky and yourself. after that, you were left staring at each other, blankly, emotionless. and you had serious faith in yourself for this unspoken staring contest until ricky drew his irises in towards the bridge of his nose, making himself cross-eyed.

you dropped your head to his chest in laughter. what a cheater.

“hah. i win.”

“i hate you, for real.”

“you don’t. you like me.” ricky practically sang this little claim to you.

you pursed your lips in denial and you didn’t miss how his eyes lingered on them before looking back up into yours. “do i?”

ricky leaned his face closer to yours. “uh huh. more than you’re letting on, i’d say.”

you pretended to be surprised. “woah. get a load of this smart guy.”

“i know, right. i deserve a kiss?”

your brows came together in feigned confusion. “what for, exactly?”

“for uh..,” ricky leaned in and pushed his lips against yours with a soft kiss, “my incredible think piece.” he cupped your face in his hands and pecked your lips again.

“you didn’t even explain yourself properly.”

“i couldn’t wait.” ricky pressed his lips back to yours. putting up no fight, he let you take the lead and parted his lips slightly to let your tongue into his mouth. your fingers pushed into his red hair, tugging slightly which pulled a whine out of the back of his throat. “ugh, fuck, i like that.”

“like what?” you scratched at his scalp and his eyes threatened to cross again.

ricky’s voice was low and breathy, “when you pull my hair like that? i like that.” unable to bare the lack of contact, he swiftly attached his lips to your neck, still mumbling against your skin. “i like your hands in my hair.”

“you do?” absentmindedly, you started playing with some of the lose strands red hair on his head. “why didn’t i guess that?”

“i don’t know,” ricky grazed his teeth along the skin on your neck before sucking it into his mouth, making you keen. “cause, you’ve seen how i get.”

you pushed some of his hair back that was getting in the way of his mouth on you, “remind me, baby.”

as you continued playing with ricky’s hair, he continued mouthing at your neck, “like, when you fix or ruffle my hair and i kind of shy away? it’s because i get so horny for you…” he was breathless. “my mind just… wanders, yknow?”

“mhm..” you were so far gone, you didn’t even know what you were responding to. pulling away from sucking bruises onto your neck, ricky leant down press a kiss to your parted lips.

“i can’t be normal around you. it’s honestly embarrassing.”

“that’s why you wanna send me home, huh?” you tilted your head at him, chest still heaving from being kissed breathless by him.

he had honestly totally forgotten about you going home after… all that. but ricky was nothing if not a man of his word. you told him about your 10 date rule to avoid getting played and he took that shit seriously. ricky wanted you to know that he truly liked you, even if you swore you knew that already.

“yup, that’s why.” he patted at one of your thighs, signalling for you to move your legs off of his so you could both get up. “i’m trying to be courteous; i can’t just take you on this couch.”

you scoffed at his ‘chivalry’. “right.”

“when the time is right, i’ll make love to you.”

you hummed. “i’ll hold you to that.”

a/n; not only is he tall, rich, young and handsome; he’s also a gentleman 🙂‍↕️ we luv 2 see it

[hoondrop]

I really want gunwook fic but no one is writing…😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

what do you want me to write for him 🤭

[enhaeil]

@rickittys computa i need hanbin smut computa can u hear me and see me or see me and hear me hanbin smut sung hanbin and maybe one involving his tattoos

[jongst4r]

kiss me (k. jiwoong)

you stain your boyfriend’s face with your lipstick

pairing: jiwoong x reader || wc: 0.7k || cw: fluff!! established relationship, kissing, use of petnames, a bit suggestive but doesn’t escalate || warnings: none! || a/n: finally wrote something for my dear woongie 💔

the apartment is quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the soft patter of rain against the window. 

it’s one of those lazy sundays where neither of you have anywhere to be, so you’re tangled together on the couch under the same blanket, jiwoong’s head resting on your chest while some random drama plays on the tv neither of you is really watching.

you’re wearing the new lipstick you bought yesterday — cherry red, glossy, the kind of lipstick that stains a little. you keep forgetting it’s there because jiwoong keeps stealing tiny kisses every few minutes, mumbling something about how pretty you look, how he can’t help himself. 

your fingers are in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way he likes, and he’s practically melted against you, eyes half-closed, humming every time you move.

you tilt your head to kiss his forehead without thinking. then his temple. then the bridge of his nose because he scrunches it cutely when you do. each time your lips brush his skin, you leave behind little red smudges. you don’t notice at first. you’re too busy giggling at how his lashes flutter when you kiss the corner of his mouth, how he chases your lips like he’s starving for them even though you’ve been kissing for the past hour.

jiwoong shifts, propping his chin on your sternum so he can look up at you. his cheeks are flushed from warmth and affection, hair messy from your fingers.

“baby,” he says, voice soft and a little raspy, “look what you did to me.”

you blink, confused, until he turns his face a little. there’s a perfect lipstick print on his cheekbone. another on his jaw. a faint one near his eyebrow.

your hand flies to your mouth. “oh my god, jiwoong, i’m so sorry— i didn’t even realize—”

he laughs, quiet and fond, grabbing your wrist before you can wipe it away. “don’t you dare,” he says, eyes sparkling. “i love it.”

“you love it?” you repeat, incredulous. “i look like i attacked you or something.”

“exactly.” he grins, wide and boyish, the one that makes your stomach flip every time. “you marked me up. that means i’m yours, right?”

your heart does something stupid in your chest. “you’re already mine, silly.”

“yeah, but now everyone can see.” he tilts his head like he’s showing off. “look, there’s one on my neck too. very possessive. i like it.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands, but he tugs them away gently. “no hiding,” he murmurs, leaning up to nuzzle your nose with his. “do it again.”

“what?”

“kiss me more. leave more marks. i want them everywhere.”

“jiwoong—”

“please?” he pouts, dramatic and adorable, batting his lashes like he knows exactly what that does to you. “i’ll wear them all day. i’ll go buy groceries like this. let the cashier know i have the prettiest girlfriend who can’t keep her lips off me.”

you can’t help laughing, cheeks warm. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculously in love with you,” he corrects, guiding your face back to his. “come on. one on my throat. make it dark.”

so you do. you press your lips to the soft spot under his jaw, lingering longer this time, feeling his pulse jump under your mouth. when you pull away there’s a perfect red stain, bright against his pale skin. he sighs like you’ve given him the world.

“another,” he whispers.

you kiss his collarbone. the hollow of his throat. the corner of his mouth until he turns and catches your lips properly, kissing you slow and sweet until you’re both breathless and the blanket has slipped off your shoulders.

when you finally check, his neck and face are dotted with little cherry marks like a constellation. he looks wrecked in the softest, happiest way.

“perfect,” he says, tracing one with his fingertip. “gonna take a selfie and set it as my lockscreen.”

“you will not.”

“watch me.” he already has his phone out, angling it to catch the marks and your embarrassed face behind him. “say ‘jiwoong is mine forever’.”

you hide in his shoulder, muffling your laugh against the lipstick stains you left there. “you’re impossible.”

he kisses the top of your head, arms wrapping tighter around you. “and you’re perfect. keep kissing me, baby. never stop.”

so you don’t. you spend the rest of the afternoon painting him red, and he wears every single mark like a medal, smiling like he’s the luckiest boy in the world.

because really feels like he is.

© jongst4r, 2026

taglist: @enhypenlvrsstuff, @gchirpy, @k13endall, @kristynaaah, @d1m-cataclysm

[restlessmaknae]

Round 1: band poll

Which band do you want me to write the story for?

TWS

Big Ocean

CRAVITY

RIIZE

ALD1

ZB1 (OT9)

&TEAM

P1HARMONY

BOYNEXTDOOR

Other/you can't choose just one (let me know in the tags)

( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )

Voting ended onMay 7

As I've mentioned, I'm veeeery close to hitting another follower milestone, and I would like you to decide what you want me to write for this occasion. ❤️

So the first round will be for the band, the second for the member and the third for the au/genre/pairing.

I'm excited to see what comes out of this!!

[jongst4r]

human heater (p. gunwook)

your boyfriend clings to you even when you’re asleep

pairing: gunwook x fem!reader || wc: 679 words || cw: established relationship, clingy!gunwook, use of petnames, and that’s pretty much it! || warnings: none! all fluff! || a/n: guys i love gunwook sm he’s so dear to me </3 (also, frozen reference? yeah olaf was damn right)

gunwook is a certified human furnace disguised as the cutest boy alive.

it doesn’t matter that it’s august and you left the window cracked open. it doesn’t matter that you’re sleeping in nothing but panties and the thinnest tank top you own. the second gunwook crawls into bed, he finds you like a heat-seeking missile and attaches himself to your back, one arm slung over your waist, face buried between your shoulder blades, legs tangled so tight you’d need a miracle to escape.

you fall asleep like that every night because he’s warm. and because he smells like the peach body wash he steals from you. and because his breathing is soft against your spine. it’s perfect for exactly two hours.

then the sweating starts.

you wake up at 3:17 a.m. feeling like you’ve been slow-roasting in a gunwook-shaped shell. your back is wet, his chest is wet, there’s a damp spot where his cheek is smushed against your shoulder. his hair is somehow damp too.

you try to wiggle away and he makes the saddest little whine, tightening his grip like a koala who sensed danger.

“gunwook,” you croak, voice scratchy from dehydration, “baby, please, i’m dying.”

“mm… no,” he mumbles into your skin, not even opening his eyes. “just five more minutes and i'll let you go.”

“you said that an hour ago.”

he just nuzzles closer, pressing a sleepy kiss to the back of your neck that you would consider adorable if you weren’t literally melting.

you attempt the stealth escape: slow, incremental movements, sliding one inch at a time toward the edge of the bed. gunwook counters by rolling fully on top of you, cheek squished against your collarbone, both arms locked around your ribs. he weighs approximately a thousand pounds when he’s unconscious.

“gunwoooook,” you wheeze, patting his shoulder weakly. “i’m being cooked. i’m a rotisserie chicken. i’m chicken soup. please get off of me!”

he finally cracks one eye open, hair sticking up in seven different directions, lips pouty. “but you’re so comfy,” he whispers, like that explains everything. “and you smell good.”

“i smell like your personal sauna.”

he giggles, muffled against your chest, then has the audacity to snuggle harder.

you sigh, choosing to follow your fate until 4:28 a.m. when you wake up again, this time face-down with gunwook starfished across your entire back, one leg thrown over yours, mouth open and drooling on your shoulder blade. you’re sweating so much the sheets are damp in a perfect gunwook-shaped silhouette.

this time you elbow him gently. “park gunwook, i love you, but if you don’t let me breathe i will break up with you. right now.”

he makes a heartbroken noise but finally rolls off, flopping dramatically onto his side of the bed. you scramble away so fast you nearly fall off the mattress, gulping down the cold air like you’ve been underwater.

two minutes later a cold hand slides across your stomach. then a cold nose presses to your spine.

“baby,” he whispers, voice tiny and guilty, “i’m cold now.”

you groan into your pillow. “of course you are.”

you let him worm his way back under your arm, but this time you shove a pillow between your bodies like a border wall. he pouts, bottom lip trembling, eyes huge and sad in the dark.

“just… arms only,” you mutter, already softening. “no full-body contact. i need to live.”

he grins like you handed him the moon and wraps his arms around you over the pillow barrier, tangling your legs just enough to satisfy his clingy self, but not enough to boil you alive.

it works for approximately forty-five minutes.

by sunrise you’re awake again, pillow on the floor, gunwook once more plastered to your back like velcro. but he’s smiling in his sleep, whispering your name like it’s his favorite word, and you decide maybe being a little bit sweaty is worth it.

you kiss his knuckles where they rest over your heart and let yourself overheat in peace.

some things are worth melting for.

© jongst4r, 2026

taglist: @enhypenlvrsstuff, @gchirpy, @k13endall, @kristynaaah

[jongst4r]

home to you (s. quanrui)

your boyfriend comes home, tired and needy

pairing: ricky x fem!reader || wc: 1.4k || cw: smut! kissing, making out, subby, needy ricky, breast/nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (don't.), creampie, light grinding, body worship, praise, dirty talk || warnings: +18 content, mdni! || a/n: i love this man so much ugh :(

ricky opens the door like he’s been carrying half the rehearsal studio on his shoulders — hoodie damp with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes rimmed red from the day. he hangs his bag by the door with distracted, heavy movements and rides the couch like it might swallow him whole. when he sees you in the doorway, something in him thaws in a tiny, very human way: the taut line of his jaw loosens, his shoulders drop a fraction, and for a second he looks utterly, devastatingly small.

“you’re here,” he says, voice raw and low. it should be simple, but the exhaustion makes it sound like a plea.

you cross the room slowly, taking him in. the ordinary idol polish is gone — sweat-darkened collar, sore muscles, that hollow look in his eyes — and what you feel is immediate and tender. you kneel beside him on the couch, slip your hand under his chin, tilt his face up. “ricky,” you murmur, thumb brushing his lower lip, “hey. i’m here. you came home.”

he lets out a breath that’s half laugh, half sob. “i needed to see you,” he confesses, all sharp edges and honesty. he chews his lip, blush warming his neck. “i didn’t think i could— i just wanted you to be with me. is that dumb?”

“not dumb at all.” you kiss the corner of his mouth. your lips are a small, steady anchor. “come here. tell me about your day if you want, but you don’t have to. just stay.”

he shoves the last of his composure away and folds into you like a map being refolded. his hoodie smells like the studio, and it grounds you both. his hands, when they find your waist, are rough from work but trembling. he presses his forehead against yours. “i’m tired,” he says, voice small. “i’m so tired. my feet hurt, my head’s full of counts and steps and… i just want you. i want you to fix it.”

the way he says it — shy, pleading, the hint of a blush coloring his ears — does the thing you’ve always known it would: it makes your insides melt. you press your forehead back to his and laugh softly, the sound a caress. “then let me,” you whisper. “stay. don’t go anywhere.”

he nods, then buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling you like a medicine. “don’t leave me alone tonight,” he says, muffled. “can i… can i have you? please. touch me? kiss me? i don’t know how to ask without sounding pathetic.” his hands clench at your shirt, nails light and needy.

you cup his face, gentle but decisive. “you’re not pathetic,” you tell him. “you’re human. needy is okay. come here.” you let him climb into your lap, let his tired weight press into you. the couch creaks, the apartment hums, and for a heartbeat you’re both suspended in the small, private world of shared breaths.

he kisses you like a man who’s been counting seconds until this: soft at first, careful, a tentative apology in each press of lips. then he deepens it, clumsy with exhaustion and hunger, tongue slipping in like he’s forging a path back to himself. when he breaks away he’s breathless, cheeks red. “i missed you,” he whispers. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you too.” you stroke the nape of his neck. your hand is steady; your touch says you’re here to hold him together. “show me what you need.”

his eyes drop to your mouth then flick to your chest, hesitating like he’s shy about want but can’t hide it. “can i… please? can i touch you? i don’t even know where to start,” he admits, voice cracking and adorable.

“start wherever you want.” you guide his hand down, let his fingers find the hem of your shirt. he does it slowly, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he’s rough. when his palm lands on your bare skin he breathes out a small sound — part relief, part worship. “you’re so warm,” he says, as if making a discovery.

he’s needy but not clumsy: the exhaustion makes his movements tentative and soft, and the shyness makes every touch seem charged. he trails kisses from your collarbone down to your breasts, his breath hot, his lips leaving quick, needy marks. his tongue flicks a soft worship around the edge of your nipple and he looks up at you in a flash of vulnerability. “are you okay with that?” he asks, cheeks scarlet.

“yes,” you answer, low and steady. “i want this. i want you.”

your permission loosens something inside him. he begins to move with a patience that’s almost sacramental, hands learning the curve of you, mouth mapping with slow, adoring kisses. when he finally takes a breast into his mouth, he sucks with a quiet desperation that makes you gasp. he’s careful but greedy, alternating between soft licks and firm, intent pulls that leave you breathless. “god, you taste so sweet,” he murmurs against your skin, voice so small it makes the back of your knees go weak.

you grind lightly against him; the friction hums up through both of you. he grunts, a small, embarrassed noise, and then swallows, cheeks flushing deeper. “can i— i want to be inside you,” he says, each word measured and shy and urgent. “i want to feel close. please. i’ll be gentle. i’ll— i’ll be whatever you need.”

you bite your lip, everything bright and humming. his voice is ridiculous in the best way — a cracked, raw admission that strips you of any pretense. “i want that,” you say, smiling. “i want you.”

he moves with a tender clumsiness as he sheds clothes, fumbling the zipper with one hand because the other is busy holding you. when he situates himself between your legs, he kisses you long and slow, like an apology and a promise all wrapped up. then he enters you carefully, inch by inch, both of you making a wet, shared sound when he bottoms out. he stays there a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation of being fully present inside you.

“are you okay?” he breathes, forehead to yours, eyes searching.

“i’m perfect,” you lie smiling, and he snorts, breaking. “you’re perfect,” he corrects, voice already thick. his face is flushed, wet with exertion and the sheen of sweat.

the rhythm starts slow — deliberate, grounding. his hands cup your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles that tether you as his thrusts find a steady, comforting groove. he’s not rough; he’s tender, yet there’s a surprising edge to his need. when he speeds up, it’s like watching someone burn fuel — the exhaustion becomes propulsion, and he buries himself into the motion with a ferocity that is both surprising and breathtaking.

between thrusts he peppers kisses across your throat, murmuring things that make you laugh through your breath: “you smell like the studio,” he pants once, and later, “i never thought i’d want this so badly.” his shy little confessions tumble out in breathy bursts. at one point, when he hits that perfect angle and you cry out, he looks almost embarrassed at your sound and whispers, “you’re very loud. i'm sorry, but you sound beautiful.”

he begs softly when his body tightens. “i’m close. please, please let me come. can i? please let me.” the pleading is half-adorable, half-urgent, and when you let him, it breaks him open. he comes with a keening sound, shuddering, warm and sticky inside you, gripping your hips like you’re the only thing anchoring him.

afterwards, he collapses forward, forehead against your chest, breath ragged. his arms lock around you like your weight is the only thing keeping him upright. he’s quiet for a long while, just breathing you in, the world settling around the two of you. “sorry i was so needy,” he murmurs, a faint embarrassed laugh vibrating against your skin. “you took such good care of me.”

“i always will,” you tell him, running your fingers through his hair. you adore the little sighing noises he makes when he relaxes, the sleepy, sheepish smile that slowly spreads across his face.

he peeks up at you, eyes soft and glossy. “thank you,” he says, voice small and honest. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you pull him into a hug and let the warmth between you be the answer. “you don’t have to know,” you say. “just come home, and i’ll be here. always.”

he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and laughs quietly, sleep pulling at his lids. “deal,” he whispers, then, a beat later and with a bashful grin: “i love you. and i’m sorry for being such a mess tonight.”

you kiss his temple, smiling against him. “i love you too, idiot.” and in the quiet aftermath, with the city dim behind your windows, the exhaustion finally unwinds into a deep, contented sleep — together.

© jongst4r, 2026

taglist: @enhypenlvrsstuff, @gchirpy, @k13endall