trying on a metaphor
blake kathryn
DEAR READER
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Three Goblin Art
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if i look back, i am lost
@theartofmadeline
todays bird
noise dept.
wallacepolsom
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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shark vs the universe
d e v o n
Janaina Medeiros
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
taylor price
almost home
Xuebing Du
seen from United Kingdom
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@tangerineastronaut
Hello lovelies ~
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❣️Disclaimer: the figures I write about are fictionalized versions of real people. Their true morals/values/personalities/etc are NOT depicted in my work. Do not assume, judge, or harrass people based on fictional works.❣️
Poly SKZ!Fake Texts - No Nut November
ʚ Only one survived the month and more than half didn't even try ɞ
⤷ Crack | Suggestive [MDNI] ⤷ Content Count - 12 screenshots ⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆
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secret crush — stray kids hyung line
— texts where you send them a picture of yourself and they accidentally expose their big fat crush on you.
maknae line coming soon!
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https://www.tumblr.com/tangerineastronaut/774884286828527616/heavy-smingi
I come back to this more often than I can count. It’s so so good 😩🤩🤩
Awwww 🫣🥹 tysm lovely!! I'm glad you like it~🩷
I haven't posted in forever but I do see y'alls likes and reblogs and comments and it makes me so happy 😭
Can we get some fluff jongho takes care of reader on her period plsssss
soft 🐻 c.jongho
Let him take care of you. He insists.💕
Pairing: Jongho x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, Drabble, Texts + Written imagine Requested: Yes w.c. 780 Warnings: period cramps, reader is on her period, medicine (OTC pain meds) A/N: a jongho request? c'mere anon i'm gonna kiss you. I'm sorry this is short and sweet. I'd love more Jongho requests, I don't see enough content for our bear and I'd like to add to what we've got 😩 Anywho this hits home for me bc idk about y'all but my periods are HELL. I could definitely use a jongho 😭 This is my first time adding texts to a story, so I hope it's alright! Requests: Open (link below)
Requests | WIPs
Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids
You open one eye as someone knocks on your door, though quickly close it again as a swell of pain steals the air from your lungs. Your insides feel like mush, and everything below your belly button aches.
You feel something soft on your face, and when you open your eyes again, you’re embarrassed and incredibly relieved at the same time to find Jongho running his knuckles down your cheek.
“Jongho?” you ask weakly. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I was on my way, didn’t you see my last text?” he asks. You realize he’s crouched in front of the couch, where you collapsed an hour ago and haven’t moved since. You shake your head.
“N-No, ‘m sorry.”
“It’s okay. What do you need?”
“A hysterectomy.”
“Funny. What else do you need? Have you taken anything?”
Jongho clicks his tongue as you shake your head. He leaves for a few moments, so you close your eyes again. But then you’re being urged to sit up, and your face crumples in pain.
“Here,” he says, sliding onto the sofa beside you. You take the glass of water he’s holding, sipping it down as he drops something in the palm of your hand. Two tylenol; you take them, finishing off the water.
“Why didn’t you take anything earlier?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek. His palm is warm and you lean into it. Your head hurts. Your face hurts. Your back, legs, stomach. All of you hurts.
“I just kind of curled up to die,” you admit, looking up at him. “Didn’t wanna move.”
Jongho sighs and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his firm chest. Your arms go around his neck as you bury yourself against him.
He’s soft and warm and smells so good; his cologne isn’t overwhelming, just a note of something that could only be described as “manly.” It's amazing how a person could make you feel safe with just a hug, but that was Jongho.
“What can I do for you, baby?” he asks, brushing hair away from your face. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips rest there. You nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale, making him chuckle.
“Nothing,” you mumble. “Just be here.”
You open your eyes, blinking and rubbing at them. You're a little groggy and confused, but feel something firm and warm behind you. You tilt your head back, and Jongho kisses you below your ear.
"Hi," he hums softly. You groan, feeling a little more human but mostly still mush.
His fingers twitch and your face flushes—his large hand covers the softness of your lower belly, thumb gently brushing your skin. You were holding his wrist, very obviously not wanting him to move even in your sleep.
“What time is it?” you ask. You finally release him and move your hand to your stomach, resting it over his—still hurts, though not nearly as bad as before. Could’ve been the medicine, but you suspected it had to do with a certain someone as well.
You roll over so that you're facing him, squished together on your small couch. He doesn't seem to mind and wraps his arms securely around you, pulling you snug against his form.
“It’s close to 1 a.m., you haven’t been sleeping very long,” Jongho says, rubbing your arm. “How are you feeling? Need more medicine?”
You shake your head.
“It’s better now,” you say with a shy smile. Jongho smiles back, so cutely that you have to lean forward and kiss him. You move your hands to either side of his face.
He sighs against your mouth and hugs you tight, pulling back just enough that your noses are still touching.
“Wanna go to bed?” he asks, stealing another chaste kiss. He moves his hands down to your lower back, fingers firm yet gentle as he massages either side of your spine. You nearly melt with relief, moaning as you tuck yourself against him.
“No. Don’t wanna move. Feels good,” you mumble. Jongho hums a laugh. You rest for a few seconds until he begins to sit up. You grab his hoodie for purchase until he stands, smoothly lifting you up bridal style and adjusting you in his arms. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him, pouting at the sudden disruption.
When you open your mouth to protest, he kisses you, using soft lips to steal whatever complaints you may have wanted to file.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your cheek as he speaks. “Let's go to bed."
"Can you hold me?" you ask quietly. Jongho nods.
"Of course, baby. That's why I'm here."
heavy ♥ s.mingi
You're so very sorry.
Pairing: Mingi x Fem!Reader Genre: smut. just pure smut. slight fluff at the end, 99% smut. Requested: No w.c. 3.9k Warnings: Everything is consensual - rough sex, dirty talk and more dirty talk, choking/breathplay, deep throating, name calling, degradation, slight talk of somno, Mingi seems like an asshole, sort of noncon but not really, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, reader doesn't talk much during, established relationship If you notice other potentially triggering content please let me know so I can add it. A/N: I...I have no excuses. Requests: Open (link below)
Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids
“Mingi, I-I‘m sorry—”
“You fucking will be.”
You struggled with the key to unlock the door; he was bearing down on you, already grinding against your ass, but that was your fault, wasn’t it?
You thought it’d be cute to tease him—
> Might’ve forgotten my panties…wish you were inside me.
—but the look he’d given you after opening his phone…the way his jaw ticked, how he’d tugged at the crotch of his jeans. You knew you’d fucked up.
Finally, it opened, though you almost wished it hadn’t. Mingi grabbed your arm and slammed the door, throwing you against it.
“Wanna say it again?” he asks, one hand moving to your throat. He towers over you, plump lips forming a half snarl. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. You whimper, the sound dying into a squeak as he puts pressure on your trachea with his thumb. “Say it. I love when you do. It’s easier to fuck that pretty face when I’m mad at it.”
“I-I…” you begin with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”
Mingi curses, shoving you to your knees with his heavy grip. When he took his hand off your throat, you began taking deep breaths—it’d be a while before you weren’t gasping for air anymore. You glance up.
His dark eyes were half lidded, never leaving you as he worked at his jeans. You swallowed, an instinctual response to the sound of the button popping and zipper going down.
“Open that slutty fucking mouth, baby. Wanna see you drool,” he orders. You open your mouth and keep it open. It’s like muscle memory; you can already taste him.
Mingi pushes the material down his thighs, stopping half way. His spandex boxers go next, the snap of elastic making you jump. When his cock is freed, it springs into your face, already swollen and ready to be sucked and fucked.
That was your fault.
“Don’t look so fucking surprised, y/n,” Mingi says, one large hand fisting your hair and the other gripping his cock. “Wanna send me filthy texts during dinner? Hm? Tell me you’re not wearing panties? Did you think I wouldn’t make you choke on this fucking dick?”
You whimper, feeling drool beginning to leak down your chin. Mingi smirks, rubbing the thick head into your spit.
“Say it, baby. Say it again.”
You sniffle, eyes burning. Mingi is unrelenting, gently bumping your head back against the door.
“Say it for me, princess. Love that pretty mouth,” he coos in a deceptively smooth tone. You knew better; he was baiting you. You were nothing more than prey to him right now. “Please? One more time for me, be good just this fucking once.”
“I’m sor—”
The minute you try to speak, Mingi forces his cock inside. His hips thrust forward, pinning you against the door and stretching your lips open. He wants to fit it all in one go, to push the head into the back of your throat. When you gag, he grins.
Your hands go to his hips, shoving, as if that’d do anything. He moved his hand to get a better grip on your hair, tilting your head back.
“Mmn…hold still, pretty. Gonna use that mouth,” he growls. You dig your nails into his thighs, making him hiss, but that doesn’t stop him from beginning to fuck. In and out, in and out, his cock stretches your throat, giving you seconds to breathe between thrusts.
Mingi fucks your face until your gagging becomes more violent, pulling out in time to watch you cough and drool on yourself. He still had a tight grip on your hair, and the other went to his cock, now slick with your saliva.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums, stroking himself. It’s somehow menacing, the way his thumb rubs over the head. A threat. “You look scared.”
“I won’t do it again,” you whine softly, swallowing down a mix of spit and precum. “P-Promise.”
Mingi stares down at you until you squirm. He suddenly kneels down and you flinch, though he yanks you forward by your hair.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing the wet corner of your mouth. “You have ten different ways, baby. Half of them don’t need words. Tell me to stop treating you like a whore.”
Fuck.
You swallow, nails digging into your palms. Your cheeks flush red from shame and Mingi chuckles. He knew you wouldn't, that you know the signals, the ones you'd agreed on when someone decided it was too much, words and taps and gestures.
He was rubbing it in your face—just how much of a fuckdoll you turned into for him.
“No? Don’t tell me you like being treated like this,” he taunts you, a look of faux concern on his gorgeous face. “Nothing but a pretty collection of warm holes for me to choose from. I’ve got plans for you and this cock, baby. Gonna make you suck it some more, then it’s gonna go in that needy little hole between your legs. It’s not coming out of there until you’ve taken every drop of cum from me. Tell me not to do it, baby.”
When you don’t answer, refusing to look at him, Mingi yanks your face toward him with your hair. He forces his mouth over yours, groaning into you as his tongue slips inside. You feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he takes from you, rubbing his cock against your exposed thigh beneath your dress. He sucks and licks and nips the soft flesh of your mouth and tongue, holding you open by the jaw.
Mingi sucks your lower lip and bites it, making you squeak. He laughs and finally releases you, only for you to fall back against the door.
Strings of drool stretch between you, and you shudder when he licks his lips. But the sensuality is dampened as he stands to his full height, gripping his fat cock and staring down at you.
“Open wide, babygirl. That’s it…fuck yes. Stop moving, baby. Just take it. If I feel teeth, 'm gonna make it hurt, yeah?"
Your throat is numb.
Your jaw aches, your fingers are curled into the carpet, but your eyes haven’t left him. He’s standing over you as he’s been doing for the past half hour, though now both of his hands hold your head in place for him. They’re so fucking big, gripping tight as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight. When you’re lucky, you see him bite his lip and whisper that he loves you; otherwise he’s got his head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks into your mouth.
“That’s it, so fucking dirty,” Mingi groans, hissing as your teeth catch on his massive cock. “I should make you choke on my cum, baby. Should hold that pretty head down until I pump it right down your throat. Feed you like a fucking whore.”
Your dress is soaked in spit and precum, as it’s been dripping down your chin. You consider pulling it off, but you don’t want to expedite his plans for you. So you sit there in your ruined dress, letting the love of your life abuse your throat over and over.
Mingi looks down at you, thumb brushing over your lips where they’re stretched open, forced by his cock. He bites his lip, cursing under his breath.
“Say it again, baby.”
“Nnh…” you choke around him. He licks his lips and nods, so you do your best to please him. “Nnhn…nnh…”
Your eyes are wet with tears; drool leaks out around his cock, and you helplessly swallow as you try to speak with the obstruction in your mouth. Mingi watches as though enthralled, nodding the more you choke on words.
“Nnh…”
You finally give up when you splutter with a sob.
Mingi pauses and growls. He throws an arm against the door, taking the other hand off your face as he pulls out. You quickly gasp for air before he begins thrusting again.
Without his hands keeping you steady, your head hits against the door repeatedly. Mingi slides his hand behind your head, fisting your hair once again, then leans forward until there’s no space left between him, you, and the surface behind you. Each thrust is less than a few centimeters as he grinds against your esophagus. You weakly cry until he decides he’s had enough, stuffing himself down your throat for a few seconds before yanking it out. You gasp and fall onto your hands and knees, heaving for air.
Your throat feels raw, your cheeks are wet, your knees ache from sitting on them for so long, but Mingi pulls at you as though impatient.
You expect him to carry you to the bedroom, probably throw you on the bed, but while you catch your breath you feel his hand on the back of your head.
“M-Ming—”
“Stick that fucking ass up,” he grunts, shoving your face into the carpet. Your cries are muffled against the plush surface as he holds your head down.
Where you expect to feel his cock, you instead feel his tongue lick between your sticky cunt lips. You jolt, only for him to chuckle. He says nothing else before burying his face in your pussy.
You release a loud cry, your hips wriggling from the sensitivity as he sucks your clit into his mouth without waiting. You whine and gasp, fisting the carpet as you moan against it.
Mingi lets go of your hair only to hug your ass against his face. He sucks and licks, mouthing at your labia and lapping at your slit like candy. He groans and rubs his face between your legs, plush lips feeling like heaven as he french kisses your cunt.
When he suckles your clit again, you squeak, mouth falling open. He groans and teases the bundle of his nerves in his warm mouth, tongue sliding below the hood until you’re twitching from the overstimulation. He releases it only to lick up and down your vulva repeatedly, as though savoring a popsicle.
“Say something, baby. Tell me how it feels,” he says, slurping and smacking his lips. He moans before diving in again, throat working as he swallows your sweet juices. You shudder, licking your lips from where your front half is flopped against the carpet.
“Mm. G-good,” you mumble. Mingi smacks your ass so hard you cry out.
“Fuck, that’s right. Such a juicy cunt,” he murmurs, hands moving to your thighs. He grabs your ass and uses his thumbs to pull apart your pussy. You hear him suck a finger into his mouth before it prods at your hole, making you clench around nothing.
“Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen this pussy swallow all eight inches of me, baby. Gonna fuck up this little hole until you can’t sit right.”
You whine and jump when he begins sliding his index finger inside, long and firm, though not enough. Your pussy flutters and Mingi moans, thrusting his cock against your thigh.
“Got me rutting like a fucking dog after a bitch in heat,” he growls, roughly smacking your ass. “Put those legs together. Gonna use all of you.”
You do as he asks, a little dizzy as you shuffle to close your legs, ass still in the air. His finger begins steadily pumping into you, though you feel something slick and hard wedging itself between your thighs.
“Mmn…fuck, love your thick fucking thighs baby, takes my cock almost as good as your filthy little cunt,” Mingi groans, hooking the finger inside you. You yelp, and he does it again, and again, roughly poking the inner bundle of nerves. Each time you move, you grind on his cock, your thighs giving him a tight squeeze to fuck into.
You begin pushing back on his finger, so he adds another. The stretch is good, but nothing like what he’ll feel like when he’s inside you.
“Look at you,” he groans, watching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. He squeezes in a third and you moan, ass lazily bouncing against his knuckles. “My nasty little girl. Always wants to act so sweet, you just want me to climb on top and pick a hole to use, right?”
“Mmnn…” you mumble, feeling the pad of his finger stroke your inner walls. You were getting desperate, and you hated that. Desperate you is exactly why Mingi gets like this—he knows you.
“I love playing with this one, like how you scream and beg me to put something in that needy cunt at the same time,” he hums. His thumb rubs over your asshole, and you feel the tight ring of muscle respond to his touch. He chuckles quietly, leaning over you, fingers still fucking into you. “I think I’m gonna use my pretty girl’s pussy. See how she takes it when I fuck her like the horny bitch she is.”
“Mingi,” you whine, currently the only word in your sex-dumb vocabulary. He sighs, pulling his fingers out. You shiver at the cold emptiness, but then your boyfriend is suddenly getting ready to fuck you on the floor of your entryway.
“Bedroom?” you manage to ask, but a firm hand on the back of your neck silences you by smothering your face into the carpet.
“You think you deserve a soft bed right now?” Mingi asks darkly. You hear shuffling; he slips off his jeans and tosses them to the side. When you try to look back at him where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smacks your ass, nearly sending you rolling to your side.
“The bed is where I fuck my good girl,” he says, pulling you back against his hips. He nudges his cock between your thighs again, thrusting once, hard, and you feel the tip of his cock poking your lower belly. “You’re my bad girl, my little whore who’s desperate for this cock. You’re gonna get fucked right here in the floor.”
You moan softly, and Mingi peels you open again. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, toying with the way your pussy lips stretch open.
“So fucking wet, look how sloppy you are, baby. Your needy little cunt wants it,” he hums. Mingi flicks your clit, making you shudder violently; he moans in approval before sucking his fingers into his mouth.
He apparently can’t wait any longer, as he begins to mount you, pulling you beneath him with large hands gripping your waist. You try to lift your upper half, though he shoves you down again.
“Keep your fucking head down,” he growls, licking his palm and roughly jerking his cock a few times. “Don’t worry about this little cunt, baby. Just focus on staying conscious, yeah? Hate it when I have to hold you up.”
You whimper and wiggle your ass, earning another slap, though it’s not as hard as the last few. This is for a good reason, as he’s tugging you back to him.
Mingi uses one hand to grip your ass cheek, opening you up to him. He groans, gripping his cock and rubbing it up and down your lips, following the path of his tongue minutes ago. He uses two fingers to hold you open, revealing your hole—he slots his cock against it and begins to push.
You moan and arch your back, gritting your teeth at the sensation of being opened. Mingi’s cock is so fucking thick, it stretches you open deliciously. You can feel every vein, every dip in the swollen member as it slides inside of you, inch by inch. No part of your insides are left untouched.
You wince when the head nudges your cervix, though Mingi only laughs.
“You’re not done yet, baby. Open up that cunt for me,” he growls, thrusting once. You whimper as you’re thrown forward.
“H-Hurts,” you mumble, reaching back to push at his waist. Mingi grabs your arm and twists it around your back, putting pressure on you as he works himself deeper.
“I know it can fit,” he says, pushing harder. “I’ve been balls to pussy inside of you and had you begging for more. Now let me in before I make it fit. You don’t like it when I do that, remember?”
You shudder at the memories of being pinned down, Mingi’s fingers keeping your hole stretched as he wedges his cock inside, all the while telling you it’s gonna look so pretty, you being wrapped around him.
He was wrong. You loved that.
He begins rutting against you, ignoring your whines of pain as his cock somehow manages to slip further inside. It takes one last thrust before he breaks you open, and his balls are pressed tightly to your clit. You moan, able to feel him deep inside you.
“Fuuuuck,” Mingi groans, and you remember why you’re so willing to be used by him—that sound, the sound of him being buried inside his girl, caught between wanting to love her sweetly and fuck her like a whore.
“Feel it?” he asks, grabbing your hips and leaning over you. “Feel it inside, baby? Gonna split you open on this fucking cock.”
“I-I said I was sorry,” you whine. Mingi smacks your ass, this time grabbing the plump flesh and squeezing.
“You’re not sorry,” he chuckles, adjusting himself on his knees. “Not one fucking bit, y/n. You can fool every other bastard you’ve ever been with, but I know you, baby. I love you. That’s why I’m gonna fuck you up.”
Mingi saws into you relentlessly.
Your upper half is pinned to the floor as he drags you onto his cock like a broken doll. He leans over you, using his weight on your body as he grabs both of your arms, pinning them to the floor.
“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, hips working steadily to penetrate you. “You like to look dumb, baby. Like people to think you’re so fucking helpless. If someone saw this, saw what I’m doing to you…fuck, I’d be crucified. They’d say I’m taking advantage of a sweet girl, using her to feel good, like a pretty little cocksleeve.”
Mingi leans down, biting your shoulder until you yelp. His lips go to your ear as he grinds against your ass, his cock painfully knocking at your cervix.
“Little do they know, huh? I’d have to beg you to stop instead, beg you to let me pull out of this sopping pussy before you milk me for my fucking cum.”
You moan softly, and Mingi fists your hair. He painfully yanks you off the floor, bending you at an odd angle to lean over and kiss you. It’s wet and desperate, more tongue than lips on both ends, but he doesn’t pull away. He leaves his mouth against yours and fucks you harder, deeper, free hand gripping your waist and nailing you to the floor.
“Can I, baby?” he groans. “Can I pull out? ‘m gonna pull out unless you beg. Beg me to stay inside this little pussy and make it hurt, let me pump my cum so deep it makes you nervous.”
You whine at his words, unwilling to say much thanks to your pride. But then you feel him begin to slip out, throwing a hand back to grab his hip. Mingi laughs until you dig your nails into his ass, throwing yourself back against him until he fucking whimpers.
“Jesus fuck—”
“Don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly. “P-please, Mingi…keep going. Want you so bad.”
Mingi curses, using his knee to kick yours apart. You lose your balance and fall flat on the floor, though he curls an arm around your hips to keep you propped for him.
“Yeah?” he asks, nosing the back of your neck. “Want it that bad? Need me to keep stuffing that needy little cunt?”
“Yes,” you moan shamelessly. Mingi lies on your back, now pressing all of his weight on top of you. It’s hard to breathe, though you can tell he’s close.
“What if I fuck my load in your pretty pussy? Hm? Might put a baby or two in there,” he groans. You squeak and tilt your head back, surprised to find him right there. Your head rests against his shoulder and you bury your face against his throat.
“D-Don’t care,” you mumble. “Want it. Want you.”
“I’m gonna go deep, babygirl. Gonna make sure your slutty little body can’t stop it.”
“Yes, fuck, y-yes, Mingi…” you whimper. He curses, his chest against your back.
“G-Gonna cum, baby. Gonna put one inside you,” Mingi gasps. “You gonna take it? Make me pretty babies?”
You don’t have a chance to answer, as he suddenly groans, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart beneath him. He clumsily thrusts until he manages to snugly fit himself inside your body, head dropping against yours as he begins to cum. You feel his fat cock pulsing, pumping his sperm into you, raising a hand to his cheek.
Mingi tilts his head and kisses you, the softest kiss all night. His plump lips are gentle against yours, and you forget for a few moments that you’re pinned down in an awkward position with his cock stuffed in you.
A large hand slides beneath your bodies; before you can ask, Mingi’s thumb and index finger find your clit. He gently pinches, rolling the sensitive bud.
“F-Fuck, Mingi—”
“Want you to cum. Want that cunt to squeeze my cock ‘till there’s nothing left,” he groans against your ear. You moan as he rubs at your clit, though it’s not until he begins gently thrusting again that you feel yourself coming undone.
The minute your orgasm hits, it draws a sinful moan from Mingi as your muscles squeeze and work at his cock. You feel him try to pull out with a hiss of pain, though he’s unable to, forced to endure his sensitive cock being milked.
Serves him right, you think, wearily collapsing onto the floor. Mingi follows with a groan until you squirm, reminding him that he’s not a lapdog.
For a few minutes, the apartment is quiet aside from the heavy breathing. Mingi finally pushes himself up, nearly falling again on unsteady arms. He grabs your waist with one hand and the base of his cock with the other, gently easing out of your sore cunt. You still wince, though it’s not too bad, but he mumbles an apology anyway. He keeps his hands on your ass once he’s successfully pulled out and gently squeezes.
“Shit,” Mingi breathes. You ‘hmm’ curiously, unwilling to lift your head, but he crawls above you to lean down and kiss your cheek. “Nothing. Just like watching my cum drip out like that.”
“Gross.” You crinkle your nose.
“You okay?”
You glance up at Mingi, resisting the urge to smile. Only this boy could pin you to the floor one moment, and then look lost the next, like he’s not sure if he’s hurt you or not. The other Mingi wouldn’t care, the one who threatens to choke you and calls you a slut, that one was fun. But this one was yours, you loved this one.
“I think I’ve got carpet burn—”
“Me too,” he mumbles, looking at the redness on his forearms.
“—but I’m okay.”
“Good,” he says with a sigh. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head, letting him kiss you properly. He's careful, soft lips molding against yours and looking at you in between kisses to make sure you’re satisfied.
“I really am sorry,” you mumble against his lips. He hums softly, still kissing you. “For sending that text. I…I don’t know why I did that.”
“Please. Do not ever stop doing that,” he laughs, pinching your cheek. “That was hot as fuck.”
“Then why did you—did you have to throw me against the damn door?!” you huff, pulling back. Mingi sheepishly smiles, nosing at your cheek. You roll your eyes.
“You liked it,” he sings. You pout.
You liked it.
can you do a yunho reader thigh riding where shes his gf
Missed You | j.yunho
Pairing: Idol!Yunho x Nonceleb!Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff (MDNI) - mostly smut, very little fluff but still a main theme. Requested: Yes w.c. 3.5k Warnings: Thigh riding, established relationship, praise, slight degradation (nothing in a hateful way), size kink if you squint, namecalling, pet names, humping, I think that's it? If you notice any potentially triggering content not listed here please let me know. A/N: Hello lovelies ~ it feels so good to be back. I haven't written in a while but after browsing some of the amazing fanfic writers here it really made me miss it. Thank you to anon for my very first request! Also, this is poorly edited so please don't mind any errors. I will likely edit it in the future if I find any. Please excuse my rusty skills as well, I promise I'll get better! Requests: Open ~ please see the guidelines for requesting here.
5 months.
For 5 months, your gorgeous golden retriever boyfriend had been gone on tour, and you were expected to endure a meal with him and the members. They’d landed just hours ago and were no doubt exhausted, but Yunho looked as unfairly beautiful as ever. There were shadows under his eyes and he definitely seemed to be craving home, but the moment he’d spotted you when you walked into the restaurant…god. His tongue had slid over his lower lip, likely thinking about the way you taste, long fingers raking down his pants as if to stop the tingling spreading through him. He was wearing casual clothes, just a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but nothing could hide the art of his figure. Tall and lean, toned where it counts. His broad shoulders, his chest and stomach that you loved peppering with kisses. And those thighs.
You’d never really considered how sexy a man’s thighs were until you’d met Jeong Yunho. Muscular and thick, perfect for sitting on when he was in the mood to game for hours. Fine with you—was there anything more fun than teasing your lanky gamer boyfriend in the middle of a match? Squirming in his lap, making him fumble the controller and lose until you were bent in half, said boyfriend sinking into you?
Dinner.
Dinner dinner dinner.
You were proud of the boys and knew this was important, so despite wanting to jump his bones, you kept yourself in check and listened to the bickering between Woo and Jongho, beginning to wonder if Seonghwa had opted to dye his hair white to hide the grey caused by his children.
You were about to scold them yourself to give the poor Captain and His Wife™ a break, but a warm hand sliding up your thigh made the words die in your throat in an embarrassingly high pitched sound. You coughed to cover it up—thank god for Woo as no one was paying attention to you—and glanced up at Yunho.
“I missed you baby,” he hummed, low enough that only you could hear. His pretty lips formed a smirk that wasn’t as sweet as his words. You smiled up at him, placing your smaller hand on top of his and squeezing, silently begging him to leave you the fuck alone before you drag him to the bathroom.
“Missed you too,” you reply, making a visible effort to turn back to the conversation you weren’t part of.
You’d hoped he was just being coy, teasing you a bit, but he apparently wasn’t satisfied with your reaction as his hand slipped inward. He wasn’t far above your knee, but it didn’t matter, making you clamp your legs together and grip his wrist beneath the table. The smug bastard smiled, hiding it in his glass as he took a sip of water.
It was irritating, the mere fact that his large hand spanned much of your upper leg making you squirm. It was far too easy for him to rile you up, while he managed to maintain composure most of the time. You bit the inside of your cheek and released his wrist, your own hand moving to his lap. Yunho stiffened a bit, but that was it. You spread your fingers over his thigh, squeezing once before gently moving your hand side to side.
When he turned to San and casually asked about next week’s practice schedule, it felt like a slap to the face.
You’ve been dating for 3 years. You’ve fucked countless times on many, many surfaces. But when your fingers slid toward his crotch and found his cock already fully erect, you tore your hand away as though it had burned you. The bickering had died down, so to hide the flush on your face you took a sip of water. Yunho hadn’t even flinched, still conversing, unbothered, and wearing that cocky little grin.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
You almost felt guilty about the buzz you felt as everyone began to say goodbye, promising to rest before work started up again next week. You could’ve sworn Yunho was purposefully talkative tonight, as you knew damn well he didn’t care whether or not Yeosang’s apartment had more than one elevator. By the time he was willing to humor you, you were all but vibrating next to the company’s black SUV, the driver waiting much more patiently than you.
Yunho had the audacity to ask if you were ready to go, his warm hand sliding over the small of your back. You nodded so quickly you were almost dizzy.
The SUV was quite tall, and you were…quite not. So when he opened the door for you, you prepared to climb inside ungracefully, but your boyfriend placed both hands on your hips and lifted you into the vehicle. You had no time to react, as he was climbing in after you. You prepared to shuffle across the seat to give him space, but he easily caught your wrist and yanked you across his lap. One hand gathered both of your wrists, the other resting calmly over your ass. You both glanced over at the same time to make sure the divider was closed.
“Someone’s horny,” he chuckled warmly, the hand on your ass moving in a slow circle. You frowned, tugging your wrists out of his grasp so you could sit up. Your hands found his shoulders and you swung a leg over his waist, straddling him but not letting your full weight rest against his cock just yet.
“Jeong fucking Yunho—I have been waiting 5 months for you and not just so you can grope me in a restaurant,” you grumble, fisting his hoodie.
“Technically speaking, all I did was touch your thigh. You, however, grabbed my—”
You shut him up with a kiss, mushing your mouth against his so hard you could feel your teeth pressing the inside of your lips. Yunho’s large hands found your waist, squeezing, trying to pull you down against his aching groin. You resist by using your knees, the grunt of irritation escaping him making you laugh.
“What’s funny?” Yunho asked, sucking your lower lip between his teeth. The shock made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to buck off of the seat of the car, hips meeting the plush underside of your ass.
Unwilling to let him win whatever the hell this was, you moved a knee between you, coming dangerously close to his clothed cock.
“Nothing, just my desperate boy acting like a dog,” you hum breathlessly. “All worked up, trying to call me out as the slut here.”
“You fucking—” Yunho grumbled. He wrapped both arms around you, crushing you against his chest and leaving you no choice but to straddle him again. This time, he hugged you tight; you could hardly breathe as he rutted against you so hard that it made you squeak.
You wanted to do more than pitifully submit, but you thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a dress, as each dry thrust pushed his cock right against your clothed clit. It was shameful how needy you felt, already able to feel a second heartbeat between your legs, the familiar ache as your cunt woke up from its 5 month hibernation.
“Thought about you every night,” Yunho groaned, his breath coming out in pants as he did all he could to create friction between your bodies. “You have no idea, baby. ‘m gonna fuck you until we pass out.”
“Yeah?” you manage to weakly spit out, your fingers curling into the material of his hoodie. You knew you should do more, give more, but your head was spinning, mouth dry from moments of contact after so long.
“Yeah. You’re gonna make those sounds for me, just like you did over the phone. Want you to say my name,” he says, his head falling back against the seat. “Fucking pillows…nothing looks as pretty as you.”
“P-Pillows?” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him, his hips still working against your body. He licks his lips, eyes squinted as he looks over your face, nodding.
“Mm.”
“You…you fucked a pillow?”
“Mhm. ‘s soft and I can hold it down just like you, pretend it’s my girl taking me so good,” he rambles, not an ounce of shame in his tone.
Fuck.
You’d used fingers and toys, nothing doing what he could do for you. You assumed he used his hand—knew it, actually, based on the sparse dirty phone calls you’d managed to have. But the idea of Yunho, your gigantic boyfriend, desperately fucking against a pillow because it reminds him of you…it did something to you, woke something up that you were not proud of. You wanted to see it.
“Gonna hurt you…”
“H-huh?” you stammer, your cheeks flushing red despite your current state as you were caught daydreaming about Yunho and the poor pillow.
“It’s gonna hurt, baby. Need you wet,” he breathes. He reaches his hand between you, catching you off guard as he swipes beneath your panties, rubbing the sticky wetness of your cunt. You let out a broken moan, your hole clenching around nothing like muscle memory as you think of those long fingers pumping into you.
“I’m wet Yuyu,” you say, silently praying he gives you something, even just a finger to the first knuckle. But Yunho shakes his head, hands settled on your hips.
“Not enough…I’m telling you it’s going to hurt. Need you to cum first.”
“When we get home—”
“Now, y/n,” he says. His voice isn’t mean, not even commanding like it can be, but it still sends a shiver down your spine.
“O-Okay,” you mumble shyly, glancing back as if the driver might decide to open the divider. He didn’t, probably knowing better. “Use your fingers.”
“No,” Yunho mumbles. He easily manipulates your body until you’re perched atop one thigh. “Like this. Love it when you ride me.”
You exhale, situating yourself until your cunt is pressed against his jeans. Your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, and you meet his eyes as you begin to move, grinding against his leg. Yunho’s mouth opens, a gasped curse leaving his mouth as you lick your lips.
“Faster baby,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over you as you rut against him, “want you desperate. Want you to whine.”
“Fuck,” you say to no one, rolling your hips forward. Yunho grips the seat on either side of you both, fingers twitching like he wants to grab you and move you himself. But he just watches, licking his lips and nodding as you drive yourself to the edge on his thigh.
You feel him flex, the hardened muscle beneath you offering a firmness that makes you shudder. There’s a hotness between your legs as your juices coat his thigh, creating a wet patch on his jeans. After so many months, you’re sensitive, but unfamiliar with the movement as you struggle to hit the mark.
You falter, pausing to catch your breath.
“Don’t stop, baby,” Yunho says, his voice almost a whine. Your head falls forward on his shoulder, shame making your face warm.
“It’s been a while,” you mumble. “Sorry, yu.”
“Want me to help? Hm? Need me to make you feel good?” he whispers, lips catching your cheek. You nod weakly, fisting his hoodie again as his warm hands move to your waist, squeezing once before he begins to move you. Your body is like putty to him, and he grinds you down against his thigh like a doll.
“How’s that feel?” he asks, burying his face against your hair. You nod, unable to say much. He does it just right, somehow knowing your body better than you do.
Yunho reaches between you, hooking his thumb into the front of your panties and tugging them to the side. You gasp as your bare clit makes contact with his jeans, able to feel just how much you’d soaked through them. The thought makes you buck against him, catching the friction yourself with a choked gasp.
“That’s it, baby,” Yunho says, one hand going back to the seat while the other keeps your panties pulled to the side. “Like that. Let me see you use me to make that pretty cunt wet.”
“Fuck, Yunho,” you whimper, your hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. He hums in approval, biting his lower lip hard as he watches you carefully. You groan and wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing your eyes closed as you grind hard against his thigh. The scent of his cologne is stronger now that he’s sweating, the smell making you dizzy and needy. You lower your head to his throat and kiss him there, tasting the saltiness of his skin while your tongue leaves a wet trail.
“There she is,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. You whimper and mouth at his skin, nipping and sucking as you work yourself to destruction on him. He groans as you latch onto his pulse point, using his free hand to grip your hair and pull you off of him.
“Be good,” he chuckles softly. You bite your lower lip, eyes wide and brows tight, hands moving up to scratch gently at the nape of his neck.
All it takes is a few seconds of you staring at him like that, still rutting helplessly against his thigh, needing to mark him up. Yunho sighs and leans back to get his hands between you, grabbing both his hoodie and shirt and tugging them over his head. His chest and stomach are revealed, your hands immediately palming at his skin. He nods and runs his thumb over your lower lip.
“Go ahead baby,” he hums. “Nothing above my collar bones, yeah?”
You nod obediently and kiss him softly, his lips plush and warm as always. You want to cry at the sensation of coming home, despite the fact that you were currently humping your hot boyfriend’s thigh during the longest car ride to your apartment ever.
You go for his shoulders first, you bite down and get your hips back into rhythm, relishing in his hiss of pain. Your teeth leave marks as you let go, breath hot against his skin.
Your nails leave half moon crescents as they work with your teeth, leaving a trail of love bites over the expanse of his chest. You’ve momentarily forgotten the goal here, though Yunho has no trouble reminding you. When you go in to kiss him again, he catches a fistful of your hair once more.
“You don’t want my cock going in like this,” he murmurs, free hand gently smacking your thigh. “Running out of time, babygirl.”
“I’m wet, Yunho,” you whine, bouncing in irritation. “Jus’ wanna kiss you. I can take it.”
Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, eyes trailing over your form where you’ve paused your movement.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Since when can you not take his cock? He was huge, sure, but it’s not like you’ll break.
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much?” he repeats, his hand slipping between you again. You try not to react as his thumb goes beneath your sticky panties, easily sliding over your swollen clit.
“All of it,” you scoff, unsure of what he was saying. Yunho smiles.
“No, I mean how much? How long can you take it? I’m not gonna stop, baby,” he says roughly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Gonna fuck you until you can’t move…still gonna fuck you until you ask me to stop.”
You pause at this, licking your lips and jolting at the heat sprouting from between your thighs.
“I-I can take it still,” you mumble, grinding down against his hand. He moves it, tugging your panties again, the cooled wetness of his jeans making you shiver.
“I’m gonna take my fill, baby,” he says, watching you move against his thigh. “Been practicing. Edging myself for months. Gotta make sure I use that pretty pussy until it’s wrecked and full of my cum.”
You squeak, your brain trying to think of a good response to that. Yunho chuckles and lifts his knee, making you involuntarily buck against him.
“You gonna shut up now and make sure you can do that for me? Get that little cunt wet enough so I can use it as much as I need to?”
“Y-yes,” you stammer. His dark eyes drop to see the result of your grinding, the wetness beneath you.
“Good girl,” Yunho nods. “Come on. Harder baby, need you to make a mess on my jeans.”
You do as he asks, grinding hard against his thigh, biting your lower lip as he alternates, flexing and relaxing the muscle beneath you. You move your hand to his and push it away, tugging your panties aside in one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other, looking down with parted lips because holy shit—you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet.
He feels so fucking good, there’s so much more you need from him, want to do for him, but you promised you’d cum. So you rub and grind and clench your teeth until you’re mumbling incoherently, much to his delight.
“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So fucking pretty and stupid when she gets desperate, can’t understand a word you’re saying,” he says, hands finding your waist. You sob and begin clumsily rutting against him, no rhythm whatsoever, just desperation and chasing physical sensations. Yunho loves to see it, coaxing you over the edge the closer you get.
“That all you’ve been thinking about, baby? All your holes getting stuffed? Bet you miss waking me up with my cock in your throat.”
You whimper and nod, eyes shut tight as your orgasm remains just out of reach. You need him to do it, to finish you off, you’re not sure what that would be, just that you want him to help.
“M-More yu, gimme more,” you whine softly, mouth open like a dog as you pant.
“More? More what? I haven’t given you anything, babygirl,” he chuckles. You’re not in the mood to play with words, but Yunho suddenly grabs your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. You feel the burn of tears as you squirm and rut, his eyes full of satisfaction.
“You still gonna ask for more when I’m stuffed inside you?” he asks roughly. You nod eagerly, but Yunho only smirks.
“Knew you would, baby. Such a fucking slut for me. I tell you to ride me and here you are, too needy to realize we would’ve been home half an hour ago.”
“H-Huh?” you mumble out, that knot in your stomach untwisting. “F-Fuck, ‘m… g-gonna—”
“Gonna what? Ruin my jeans with your pretty pussy? All so I can get my cock inside as soon as I get you home?”
“Yunho,” you sob, a gasp on your lips as you begin to cum, eyes squeezing shut.
You ride out one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, mouth open, nothing coming out but pitiful squeaks and choked sobs. Yunho watches, lip caught between his teeth, holding you tight as you briefly leave this plane of existence in his arms.
“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes, releasing a mixture between a cry and a sigh. “My good girl. I’m the luckiest man on this planet, baby.”
You choose to breathe rather than respond, but he’s fine with that, hugging you to his bare chest and cupping the back of your head.
“I love you so much, you know that?” he says, words muffled as he speaks against your hair. “Can’t wait to get you home. Gonna show you how much I missed you.”
He runs his fingers through your damp hair. You know you look wrecked already, and you’ll be shocked if you last more than one round tonight. But you’ll try for him.
“M-Missed you too, yuyu,” you weakly reply. “Why…why aren’t we home?”
Yunho laughs, brushing your hair back to kiss your temple.
“Arranged for us to ride around for a bit beforehand. Figured one of us would cave at the restaurant,” he admits. You look up at him, the stupid boyish grin on his face making you smile.
“I love you,” you huff. He leans down, lips soft and unhurried against yours for what feels like the first time that night. He tastes no different, feels no different than he did 5 months ago, and it livens you up a bit, much to his amusement.
“I love you too, pretty.”
bibliophile ⟡ j. yunho
part two
you're stressed...your study buddy has an idea.
Pairing: Yunho x Fem!Student!Reader Genre: Smut - dark twist Requested: Yes/No w.c. 5.8k Warnings: heavy on the smut, semi public sex (ish), mutual pining, food? - THE SUCKER - he does...things with it. Yunho is a FREAK. Reader is desperate for yunho dick (yes YOU, reader) Spoiler warnings are in comments if you need them. A/N: So, this is sort of two requests in one, however I don't want to disappoint anyone so I'll post it solo. I hope it's okay! <3 god deleted my ticket to heaven with this one. Requests: Open (link below)
Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids
Taglist: @baby-stay92 If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please DM me or click here.
You release a tired sigh and rub your eyes, throwing your pen down. It bounces off of your ridiculously thick textbook and lands on the papers scattered around your study partner.
“Ah ah. No crashing yet, we’ve got three more chapters,” Yunho says with a laugh, tapping you on the end of the nose with his own pen. You pout, making a face at him before dramatically collapsing on the table.
“I give up. You can become a lawyer, I’ll go back to making sandwiches,” you groan, muffled against pages of your future.
“I thought you liked working at the sandwich shop?”
“I did,” you reply, tilting your head to look at him. “But sandwich shops don’t pay me six figures.”
“Then stop whining,” Yunho shrugs. You grumble words unintelligible even to yourself and sit up, fixing your hair. You stretched, yawned, checked your phone for the thousandth time that evening. Finals were next week. Then there was the Bar exam. You were so close to being y/n l/n, attorney at law…but you were beginning to feel nauseous at the mere sight of words on a page.
“Wanna take a break?” Yunho suggests, leaning back to stretch. You avoid looking at the way his sweater rides up, revealing inches of what appears to be a toned belly.
“No,” you mumble, forcing yourself to look away. “If I leave this library…I think I may never return.”
Yunho chuckles and nods, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index fingers. For a few minutes, you both just sit there, enjoying a rare moment of peace. Usually the library is filled with students, exactly like you—stressed, depressed, drowning in student debt and reading assignments.
“Yunho?” you mumble. He hums a response, looking over at you. You swallow. “If I start to cry, will you judge me?”
“Not at all,” he responds. You nod once, feeling tears burning in your eyes.
For the next hour or so, you take turns reading passages and summarizing them, going through various laws and statutes that you could barely comprehend. Your brain felt as if it might explode, and you considered calling it a night, but it was only 10 p.m. and you’d be damned if you gave out before midnight.
“What the hell are these ‘title 16 provisions?’” you scoff, crinkling your nose. “Were these even part of our assignment?”
“Let me see,” Yunho says. He scoots his chair over to your side of the table rather than just moving seats, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. And god, his arm slides over the back of your chair as he leans in to look at the tiny words on your page.
He smells like coffee and the peanut butter granola bar you shared earlier, and this close you can see that he has very light freckles on his cheeks. You kind of want him to never move.
“Ah, no this isn’t part of this assignment but we will have to know it for finals,” he says, words going in one of your ears and out the other. He begins talking about these provisions, but you must be numb to all forms of communication other than Jeong Yunho’s body heat.
“Y/n?”
“Huh?” you mumble, shaking your head. Yunho has a funny look on his face, one brow raised. Oh god. Oh god. He caught you staring like a fucking creep.
“...You good?” he chuckles. You swallow and quickly nod, brushing your hair back so fast you nearly hit him in the face.
“Yep, uh huh,” you mumble. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Oh,” he says as though relieved. “Good. Well, if you need to take a break, let me know.”
He begins to move; you panic and grab his wrist.
“Wait! You didn’t explain this part to me,” you say, pointing at a random section on the page. Yunho sits down again and tilts his head.
“You need me to explain…marital property to you?” he asks, sounding both amused and disbelieving.
Well, if you’re gonna be a bad liar, at least you’ll be persistent.
“Yes,” you nod. “Just like a refresher, you know? My brain is cooked.”
Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, and you feel your cheeks heat up. It feels like he knows something you don’t know, and you don’t like that. So you yank him back into his seat and let go of his wrist, pretending to be very interested in one of the most basic aspects of your degree.
Marital property is boring, even when the hottest guy in your class is explaining it to you. And what’s worse—he knows. You know he knows. He’s explaining basic concepts to you, and then explaining the basics of those basic concepts, all the while keeping a little smirk on his handsome face. You consider caving, thinking of any possible excuse for your behavior. You’re delirious from lack of sleep, that’s actually true. But you were too deep in this to give up now.
“That’s most of it,” Yunho finally says, long fingers splayed over the textbook. They nearly reach from one end of the open book to the other. You shiver. “I guess we should move into parental rights—”
“Yunho,” you begin with a sigh, ready to admit defeat. He smiles innocently, resting his chin in his hand.
“Yeah?”
“I—”
You freeze, having forgotten how to form sentences. Yunho’s still smiling at you, but his free hand is now resting on your thigh. You thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a skirt today.
His palm is large, warm, spanning much of the plush skin there. He’s not gripping it, but it’s still very obviously intentional. You feel your cheeks burn hot; you’re determined to remain unaffected.
“Nevermind,” you mumble. He chuckles and turns back to the page, though he doesn’t move his hand.
You don’t ask him to.
You go back to your respective chapters, thankfully far beyond the basics, but his hand stays right where it is. He even reaches over his other arm to sip his coffee, refusing to move it. Your skin burns in the shape of his fingers; you almost want to push him away simply because your body is reacting to his touch in a way that’s making you feel crazy. You’re practically feverish, just because he’s near you. Pathetic, honestly.
When you sigh and rub your eyes, those long fingers twitch, making you jump. You try to play it off, though you know he’s aware of your reaction, because he does it again. When you don’t react as dramatically, he squeezes gently.
Your knee jerks up so fast it hits the table, causing your belongings to rattle, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. Yunho chuckles, though doesn’t move his hand. You clear your throat as though everything is normal. As though he’s not currently squeezing your upper thigh.
“Yunho,” you say quietly.
“Hm?” He doesn't bother looking up from his textbook.
“What are we doing?”
He does look up this time.
“Studying,” he says, giving you a sweet smile. You narrow your eyes.
If he was going to do this, then so were you. You were sleep deprived, numb to the world, and horny as hell. So you parted your knees.
Not much, just an inch or so, but very obvious. You didn’t miss the way Yunho’s throat worked as he swallowed, clearly not expecting the reciprocation. You go back to your textbook, but your victory is short lived, however, as his large hand slides further inward.
You’re flustered. But you’re also stubborn. So you drop your pen and look him in the eyes as you open your knees. Yunho’s gaze is steady as he slowly moves his hand, as though expecting you to stop him. You don’t.
Yunho went back to reading and you did the same, just as his pinky brushed the crease of your inner thigh. You knew you were wet, knew he could probably feel the moist heat radiating from your body behind your pink panties, but you chose to be nonchalant. Until he rubbed the back of his knuckle against your panties, over your clit.
The soft moan that escapes you is mortifying.
Yunho quickly clamps a hand over your mouth, laughing breathily as your brows pull together and you shudder. He looks as shocked as you are, though now you’re hazy, focused only on how good it felt, and wanting more.
“Shh,” he chuckles nervously, glancing around despite the fact that you’re the only ones here. “No wonder you act like you’re walking around on thin ice. You’re frustrated as hell, huh?”
“P-Please,” you whimper pitifully against his palm, though it’s muffled. He moves his hand and you grip his wrist, looking up at him. You silently communicate your needs, praying he has mercy and doesn’t force you to say it out loud. Yunho glances around one more time, licking his lips before looking down at you like a fucking steak on a platter.
“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta be quiet for me,” he murmurs. You nod quickly, gasping when he effortlessly yanks your chair closer to him. He adjusts his glasses before lowering his hand to your thighs, gently stroking them.
“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly. You open your mouth, but he presses a finger to your lips. “Quietly.”
“Yes, yes,” you whine. “T-Touch me.”
Yunho bites his lower lip, as though imagining doing much, much more than that. When he rubs your thighs again, your knees fall open and you stifle a moan behind your sleeves. Yunho smiles at the sight of you, slipping his hand between your legs again.
This time, he’s more careful, though it’s much more frustrating for you. You squirm when he strokes either side of your cunt, making a ‘v’ and squeezing your plush pussy lips between them. You moan again, loudly, and Yunho scrambles to cover your mouth.
“Baby, you’ve gotta be—”
“Quiet, I know,” you pout, gripping his wrist. “C-can’t help it…feels good.”
Yunho swallows, letting his fingers brush against you again. You manage to stay quiet this time, but your mouth opens in a silent scream.
“So fucking sensitive,” he murmurs, drawing his hand back. You nearly protest, but he presses his index finger to your clit like a button and you jolt, covering your mouth just in time. Yunho smirks.
“H-Haven’t had sex,” you say, fisting the sleeve of his sweater as he pushes again. “In m-months.”
“Why?” he asks, beginning to rub slow circles against your panties. You feel your wetness spreading beneath them, but you don’t care. You grip the edge of the table and swallow.
“Busy,” you breathe, licking your lips. Yunho’s eyes follow your tongue. You don’t notice.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Y-yeah, yes,” you nod frantically.
Yunho uses the hand between your legs to turn your entire body toward him. You want to mention how attractive that is, but he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.
His kiss is nothing like his touch; there’s nothing dirty or hurried about it. His nose brushes the crease of yours as he tilts your heads to the side, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. It’s a sweet kiss that makes no sense when his fingers are currently resting against your panties beneath your skirt.
He seems to have forgotten what he was doing amidst your soft kisses, as you break away from his lips to impatiently bounce and whine. Yunho smirks and begins rubbing his middle finger directly over your clit, applying very little pressure. He kisses you again, and you throw your arms around his neck, trying to push your body into his. His knee prevents you from doing so.
“Nng…what are you doing?” you whine, fisting his sweater. “Wanna…wanna be in your lap.”
Your own admission makes your cheeks flush red, but you don’t care. You’re horny and your crush’s hand is between your thighs.
“Not yet, baby,” he mumbles, stealing another lazy kiss. “Wanna keep you like this. I like how desperate you are.”
“I…I’m not desperate,” you mumble. Yunho bites his lower lip and applies more pressure to your clit, you buck your hips and grip his sleeve. He’s laughing, but you don’t care, aching for more of him.
“Desperate,” he hums, pulling you in for another kiss. You don’t understand his obsession with kissing you; wasn’t he as horny as you were? But you kissed him back anyway, because you’ve had a crush on this guy since your freshman year and even the slut hormones clouding your brain couldn’t block that much out. He was a damn good kisser too, taking the lead and hardly giving you time to breathe.
In contrast to his soft mouth, Yunho’s index finger hooks your soaked panties, tugging them to the side. His finger brushes your bare cunt, though he knowingly silences your moans with a kiss.
“What can I do?” he asks once you finally break apart. You’re unwilling to let him go, however, pulling his lips back to yours..
“Don’t care,” you mumble between kisses, body buzzing with need. “Whatever you want.”
“Can I go in here?”
He prods at the needy hole between your folds and you fucking purr, clutching his sweater and pulling him close with a whine.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. He waits for you to eagerly nod, then brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. “Open.”
You do as he says and he slips his fingers inside. You nearly moan around them as you instinctively suck and lick his digits; they’re long and thick, two of them practically as big as a few hookups you’ve had in the past. Yunho watches, pupils wide as you act like an obedient doll a little too eager to be fingered in a library at midnight.
When he pulls his fingers out, they’re slick and shiny with your drool, and you see him suck in air. You blush, a little embarrassed at how thorough of a job you’ve done. You expect Yunho to go beneath your skirt, but he slides his wet fingers in his mouth, eyes never leaving yours.
It’s the filthiest thing you’ve ever seen, next to the look of pure bliss in his eyes as he sucks your saliva off of his fingers and replaces it with his own. You decide then that you do not want him to finger you.
“Fuck me,” you blurt out.
You barely register what you’ve said, but you’re damn near ready to jump his bones. Yunho blinks in surprise, obviously not having expected that. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth.
“Really?” he asks. He sounds surprised for reasons you don’t understand, but you nod.
“Yeah,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss. “Want you inside me. All of you.”
“Fuck,” Yunho groans. He grabs your face in his hands and kisses you back, harder. Your hands are shaky as they go for his jeans, but then he freezes like you’ve just slapped him.
“What?” you ask, breaking the kiss. Yunho curses and rubs his face with both hands, tilting back in his chair. “What is it, yu?”
“I don’t…fuck. I don’t have a condom.”
He runs a hand through his hair like this is the biggest mistake of the century. You bite your lower lip—the idea of leaving tonight and not getting fucked by him makes you genuinely want to cry.
“We could…you know?” you mumble, face hot. “I mean, I-I’m clean. Obviously, haven’t had sex in god knows when—”
“No,” Yunho says, shaking his head. “I don’t trust myself.”
“Don’t trust yourself to what?” you frown. Yunho looks at you,
“There’s no way I’m gonna be able to make myself pull out once I’m in you,” he murmurs. “We need a condom.”
You swallow. You really shouldn’t push; but you need to hear more.
“How do you know?” you breathe, licking your lips.
“C’mere.”
“What?”
Yunho reaches over, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you into his lap and you gasp, able to feel the rigid line of his cock beneath you. But he grabs your face and pulls you in for a kiss again.
“I’ve been thinking about you for so long,” he hums, and you mewl in response, grinding down against him. He kisses you again to stifle what was no doubt a moan.
“Y-Yeah?” you manage to squeak out. Yunho nods.
“Yeah. Not gonna be able to pull out if I’m balls deep in that little cunt with you fucking crying for it like this.”
Fuck. You needed him. To be honest, with or without the condom, but if he felt it was necessary.
“Let’s go get one,” you mumble dizzily. “A c-condom. There’s a convenience store down the street.”
Yunho frowns, looking at the clock on the wall.
“The library will be locked, won’t it? Don’t we have to lock up?”
You lean back in his lap, smiling.
“Yes. But I’ve got a key,” you chime.
The moment you stepped into the store, you immediately regretted it and felt all the horny escape you. Not really, but it was embarrassing as hell, and painfully obvious as to what you were doing here. Yunho didn’t seem to mind, his hand tightly clasping yours as he guided you toward the back.
You had a little trouble finding the condoms—it made you inexplicably happy when Yunho suggested asking the clerk as he didn’t know either, even though your answer was a firm NO—but eventually found the rack next to the sex pills and cold sore cream.
Hot.
Yunho squints, and you cross your arms impatiently. You grab a box and shake it.
“It’s not a shoe store, here,” you mumble, pushing the box into his hand. Yunho glances over the label and smirks, tossing it back on the shelf. You want to ask what the hell is so funny when you’re so fucking wet your panties are sticking to your thighs, but then he finally makes a choice and puts the box in your hands. Oh.
Oh.
XXL. Makes sense.
You make him grab a few more things as though that makes the purchase less shameful. When you go to check out, you look everywhere but at the clerk—until he has the audacity to speak to the man holding your hand, very obviously purchasing condoms so the two of you can go fuck in a library.
“Finals week?” the guy says. Yunho slides his card across the counter and squeezes your hand.
“Finals week,” he nods.
“I just realized we could’ve gone to my apartment,” you say, unlocking the library door. Yunho leaned against the wall, unwrapping the candy he’d apparently decided on last minute. A red round sucker. “It’s only a few minutes away.”
You’d been given a key to the library your second year here, as you were a trusted student who often pulled all nighters—and you lived in the shitty part of campus where the power often went out. You were aware this was a total abuse of that power, but you figured if you showed Yunho to Ms. Lin, she’d understand.
“Yeah, well, my fantasies during puberty weren’t at apartments,” Yunho shrugs, holding the door for you. You head inside and find your table, where you drop the bag of your purchased items. Yunho grabs it, immediately fishing out the box.
“Very boy of you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Let me guess, the hot librarian offers to help you find your dick? Is that part of the dewey decimal system?”
Yunho smiles. “Can we get back to you whining for me to fuck you? I liked that.”
“I was not—”
Your freakishly tall study partner grabs your wrist, tugging you against him. You swallow and look up, lips parted at the sudden contact.
“Not what?” he asks. You blink, but something is suddenly pushing at your lips. You open dumbly, feeling too obedient as you take whatever he’s putting in your mouth apparently. The taste of artificial cherry makes you grimace.
Yunho backs you up to the table, crowding you against it. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheek, thumbs brushing below your ears. You realize you’ve been staring at him wordlessly, sucker in your mouth.
“How’s it taste?” he asks.
“Good,” you mumble. It doesn’t taste good, you hate cherry, but if Jeong Yunho puts something in your mouth, you love it, you decide. Cherry is your new favorite flavor.
“I doubted if they sold gags, so,” he chuckles. “This’ll do.”
You frown, but he takes the stick of the sucker before you can respond.
“Open,” he says. You open.
You see his eyes twinkle, almost like he can’t believe how well you’re listening to him. If only he knew you’d do anything he asked.
Rather than pull it out, Yunho rubs the sucker around your mouth. He coats your tongue with the sticky flavor, then the inside of your cheek. By the time he pulls it out, you don’t realize you’re drooling, mouth open for him.
He pops the sucker in his own mouth, just like his fingers, and you shudder. Then he’s slipping his hands beneath your skirt, pushing your panties down your thighs.
“What are you doing?” you ask softly, more curious than concerned. Yunho takes the sucker out and kisses your cheek, then your lips. You can taste it on his tongue, just like yours.
Something sticky and wet prods at your clit and you gasp, but Yunho wraps an arm around your waist and keeps you from pulling away. You squeak helplessly in shock, caught between mind numbing bliss and disbelief. He’s rubbing the bulbous head of the sucker against your clit.
“Shh…figure it’s too risky to eat you out properly,” he hums in your ear, crushing you to his chest. You squirm, though not out of discomfort.
You have no idea how to react, hands gripping his sweater as he holds you in place. The candy feels warm and sticky, sliding through your cunt juices as he teases you with it.
“I wasn’t going to,” he says, voice strained as though he’s doing all he can to hold back. “But I saw it and…well fuck, baby, if I’m honest, I just wanted to see if you were desperate enough to try and fuck yourself on a piece of candy.”
You whine and bury your head against his shoulder, because you fucking are. You are desperate enough to try, because he slides the candy between your lips and you jolt when it brushes your hole.
“F-Fuck, Yunho,” you gasp, nails digging into fabric. You hear him laugh, and it sounds so fucking cocky, like he knew you’d end up like this, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you work yourself to ruin on a piece of candy.
He slides it beneath the hood of your clit, twisting the stick in his fingers. Your knees buckle, but he’s gripping you tight. He works it like a toy, rubbing up and down, focusing on your clit until you’re nearly there before he moves it again. It didn’t feel this big when it was in your mouth, but you’ve never wanted something inside you so bad.
“Oh my god,” you moan, thighs clamping together. It doesn’t stop his hand, or the candy, the rounded tip pushing against your hole. He starts rolling it again, and you gasp as you feel yourself snapping inside, the hot neediness spilling over the edges. You try to warn him, but only manage to squeak.
“Are you…are you cumming on a fucking lollipop?” Yunho asks, voice filled with awe. You nod.
Your ears ring, your vision blurs, and you feel something pushing against your mouth. It’s Yunho’s hand you realize, but you can’t stop, can’t stop shaking and screaming and there’s something wet on your cheeks.
You haven’t had a proper orgasm in months, maybe even a year, and were it not for Yunho holding you up, you’re pretty damn sure you would’ve fainted.
When you open your eyes, Yunho is laughing quietly and hugging you tight, rubbing your back.
“Fuck, are you okay?” he asks, sounding concerned and impressed. You sniff and nod, using the back of your hand to wipe your cheeks. Yunho cups your face and uses his thumbs to clean you up. You were crying.
“I’m sorry, jesus, I didn’t think it was that bad,” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You realize then that the damn sucker is in his mouth.
You whine, yanking him forward until you’re kissing him. It’s clumsy, but he takes the sucker out and tosses it on the table behind you. You begin working desperately at his jeans, and hear him release a cherry flavored groan.
“Still gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, keeping his lips against yours.
“God yes,” you say in a shaky voice. “P-Please.”
“I can do that,” Yunho breathes. He places a large hand on the softness of your belly, gently pushing you back.
Yunho towers over you, one hand moving to cup your thigh and open you up so he can stand between them. The other goes to his jeans, and you find yourself biting your lip and digging your nails into your palms.
XXL?
“Since you look like you’re about to fucking eat me,” Yunho says with a laugh, “why don’t you do it? Hm? When’s the last time you put a condom on?”
You feel yourself blush at having been caught, but sit up to snatch the box near you.
“Asshole,” you mutter, refusing to give him a proper answer.
Your hands are too shaky to open the box, so you end up ripping it down the side, condoms spilling out. You sigh anyway and grab one, slipping the foil packet between your teeth. You move your hands to his jeans, and realize that for the first time…you’re nervous.
Until now your brain had been sex focused; it still was, but your post orgasm clarity made you realize how fucking desperate you looked. You roughly popped open the button of his jeans.
Yunho was so damn tall that his hips were practically level with your face whilst you were on the short table. This meant that, as soon as you’d tugged his boxers down, you suddenly found yourself face to face with the biggest cock you’ve ever seen.
XXL.
For a moment you were too dumbstruck—why did they bother sculpting the soft dicks when the hard ones could look like…this? All veins and smooth skin and a pink mushroom head that looked perfectly designed for…use. You wanted it in your mouth. But he hadn’t technically put his mouth on you, and you were both in a library, and right now you were starting to get a little shaky at the idea of this thing going anywhere near your neglected pussy, so you swallowed your resolve and took the condom from between your teeth.
Yunho watched as you struggled to tear open the packet, biting your lower lip in frustration. You finally got it open, sighing as you placed the rubber at the tip. He grabbed your hands then, and you paused. Shit. Were you doing this wrong?
“We don’t have to do anything,” he mumbles softly, cupping your chin. “You wanna stop right now? We stop. Not trying to ruin the mood, just want you to know it’s okay.”
You shake your head.
“I’m okay, thanks,” you say quietly. “It’s just…fuck, Yunho.”
He laughs, his little ego having returned just a bit, you wanted to roll your eyes and kiss him at the same time. He bites his lower lip and strokes his thumb over yours.
“I’ll be gentle,” he hums. “You can take it for me.”
Fuck. Yes, you absolutely can.
Yunho guides you onto your back, though you settle on your elbows, propped up for him. You watch as he squeezes the rest of the lube from the packet onto his cock, giving a few tugs before nodding at you. You weren’t sure if you were excited or scared, but there were two heartbeats and one was between your legs.
He pushes your legs apart and guides his cock forward. You lick your lips and let your knees fall open, bunching your skirt around your waist, offering yourself to him. Yunho sucks in air through his teeth and curses.
“So fucking pretty,” he hums, supporting his weight on one palm as he brushes his cock against you. You shiver as the cold lube is smeared around your sensitive cunt. “Knew it from the day I saw you freshman year in a skirt just like this one. Thought I was gonna die when you smiled at me.”
“I didn’t know you remembered,” you mumbled. You were so nervous your first day, which wasn’t helped by the hot guy who approached you and asked if you were lost. Apparently you could stop feeling ashamed for having mind fucked him back then.
“Of course I do,” Yunho chuckles, teasing the head of his cock up and down your slit. “So cute, how you blushed when I talked to you. You still do that, you know.”
“Shut up,” you mutter. Yunho laughs, then licks his lips.
“Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it’s too much,” he says. You nod.
The swollen head of his cock catches on your hole, and Yunho uses his weight to lean forward and urge himself inside. It aches a bit, not just from the size but fuck it’s been so long since you’ve had something more than your own fingers in you. Your thoughts go from not so bad to okay damn to holy fuck there’s more? Because he keeps pushing and you keep taking, and you feel every inch of him filling your insides while his body offers more.
“Fuck, baby. Fuck,” Yunho whines, still gripping the base of his cock as he guides it into you. Your head falls back and you curse at nothing; his cock is somehow too big but perfectly sized at the same time and you’ve never felt so god damn full. “Look at you, that needy little cunt is swallowing me babygirl. Keep fucking taking it.”
His words make you dizzy, and you whine when he’s finally fully seated. You feel heavy, pinned to the table, as though you can’t move. You reach down and feel the rigid sides of his cock, shocked to feel just how much is inside you.
“How’s that, beautiful?” Yunho asks. He places both palms on the table, either side of your body, and you tense. If he started thrusting, it would fuck you up.
“Good,” you say, nodding. “Big, but good.”
“Knew you could take it. 'm gonna fuck you now. Stop me if you need to," he murmurs. You can take it.
"I can take it," you nod. He smiles, kissing you once, then twice.
You squeak as Yunho begins fucking you properly, ploughing into you hard and fast, moving with need and instinct rather than reason.
The table shakes with his heavy thrusts, pistoning into you so hard it makes you dizzy. You’re surprised you can take him like this, able to feel every inch of him when he’s seated inside, pressing deliciously on your walls.
Yunho ruts into you like an animal, unfortunately one with a very big cock as he struggles to keep every inch buried inside you. He wasn’t lying about not pulling out, as he refused to do so even when thrusting. You had no room to breathe, no chance for air, as he fucked into you repeatedly while trying to go deeper.
You’re at a loss for words, lips parted, eyes following his expression and movements. He’s desperate in his own way, obviously holding back, though you don’t know from what. You consider encouraging him to let go—until he groans loudly and snaps his hips, stealing the breath from your lungs.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby. So fucking…need you to hold still for me and take it,” he breathes. "Hold still. A-Almost done, fuck, keep taking it so good for me."
You do as he asks without question, clinging to his shoulders, nose to nose with Jeong Yunho as he forces his cock as far as it can go in your body and begins to pump a thin condom full of cum that should be you.
Yunho takes a few moments to breathe, arms shaking where he holds himself up on the table. You run a hand through his damp hair, watching as he moans softly and leans into your touch.
“You okay?” you giggle. He nods, tilting his head to kiss your palm.
“Just…You’re so fucking perfect. Want more of you if you’ll let me, wanna make you feel good every day," he says.
You blink at the surprising tenderness of his words, feeling they were more than sex related. You wanted to ask questions, but right now, you were both sticky with sweat and fucked out on a library table that would need to be wiped down with holy water.
You separated, which left you shuddering from the sudden cold emptiness inside of you. Yunho exhaled sharply, waiting a few moments before removing the condom and tying it off.
You both cleaned up and fixed your clothes as best you could—though you stuffed your panties in your bag because the sticky wetness was a little much.
“Do you want to come over?” you ask, making sure your skirt is covering your ass. “You know. To clean up.”
Yunho smiles, which makes you smile, and then you’re blushing and cursing at yourself. He nods and brushes your cheek with his knuckle.
“Sounds good,” he hums. You beam and gesture for him to follow you. Yunho watches as you collect your things with shaky legs, smiling to himself.
You were so damn pretty. Intelligent. He’d noticed right away that you were someone he was going to want.
He grabbed his own bag and walked past the table, pausing as he stepped on something.
The sucker.
You crinkle your nose when you notice it, too.
“Guess we need to throw that away,” you mumble. He nods, bending down and picking it up. He holds it in his hand for a few seconds.
What a good idea it had been.
He slips it into his pocket, for the memories.
Memories like, your name. Your favorite color. That skirt you wore on your first day. Apartment 2B, where you lived. You like the right side of the bed, don’t you? Yunho likes the left side.
The last man you slept with—11 months, 1 week, and 4 days ago.
Yunho hated that one.
You had waffles for breakfast this morning. You usually have oatmeal. You sleep with a nightlight on.
You’re afraid of the dark.
“You coming?” you ask with a shy smile, pausing at the door. Yunho looks up. You didn’t see him slip the sucker in his pocket. You never notice things like that.
“Yeah,” he says. He follows you out the door and waits for you to lock up. Then, without thinking too much of it, he takes your hand. You don’t pull away. Your hand is small compared to his, and he squeezes it. You squeeze back.
You like hot showers.
You sound so pretty when you moan, especially when you think you’re alone.
Your bathroom window is never locked.
You're never alone.
Yunho has a good memory when it comes to you.
Stray Kids Masterlist
Home | Requests
Guide:
Smut - 🔞 | Fluff - 🧸 | Angst - ⚡| Dark - 🥀
ot8
Fake texts - Accidental Pregnancy (hyung line) 🧸⚡ Fake texts - Accidental Pregnancy (maknae line) 🧸⚡ PDA - Kisses🧸
Bang Chan
Coming Soon...
Minho
Coming Soon...
Changbin
Coming Soon...
Hyunjin
Coming Soon...
Jisung
Coming Soon...
Felix
Coming Soon...
Seungmin
Coming Soon...
Jeongin
Coming Soon...
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Jealousy | GOT7 Fake Texts
Pairing: Reader x ot7 Genre: fake texts/reactions, fluff and smut Requested: Yes ❣️Warnings: Dirty talk/sexting, explicit language, jealousy, slight angst, power dynamics-ish A/N: Ty for a GOT7 request :)
Home | Masterlists | Become a Lovelynaut
GOT7 Lovelynauts: @cozypaint @ktt-nz @lezleeferguson-120 @ib022 @Cristy-101
Hi! I saw you take requests.
May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3
Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)
Part 2
The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).
Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)
Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids
🎧 FRI(END)S by V
“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”
Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees.
One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell.
And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone.
“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.
He was right. He had warned you.
You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?
“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”
You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot.
“You’re not special.”
Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.
But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.
It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen."
You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.
“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.
The fuck…? What does that even—
But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.
You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore.
He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful.
“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later.
“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee.
“When am I ever?”
“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”
“I didn’t say anything, pie.”
“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”
It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation.
“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”
“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble.
“Want a bath?”
You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked.
“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown.
“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”
“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”
That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.
Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook.
You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.
“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.
“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario.
“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”
“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him.
Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing.
“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”
Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?
“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall.
You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?
By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.
“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen.
The empty shelves make your eye twitch.
“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”
“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”
“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”
“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes.
“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum.
Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day.
The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks.
You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment.
You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done.
“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.
You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing.
“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster.
“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”
He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to.
“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief.
You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.
> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??
You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks.
You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never.
“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch, but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position.
“Ow…”
“Told you.”
“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!”
You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin.
“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.
“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”
“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”
“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”
You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers.
You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled.
“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”
You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean.
Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it.
“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply.
“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”
You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it.
“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice.
Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.
You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.
10:43 a.m.
Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.
Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.
Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.
Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?
He really was kinda...pretty.
No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.
The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.
So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.
You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.
"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."
"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.
"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."
"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.
"Where you going?"
"I need to pee, wanna come with?"
"It's early."
"It's almost 11."
"Yeah, early."
Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.
He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.
Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.
Mistakes like that.
His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.
"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."
You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.
Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.
"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"
Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.
"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."
"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."
"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"
"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"
Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.
"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"
You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.
"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"
"I....you're so fucking weird."
"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.
Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.
"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.
"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."
Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.
Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.
"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.
"Don't what?"
"You don't care who I fuck?"
His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.
"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"
"I don't know, should you?"
Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.
But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.
"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"
"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.
"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."
He sighs, moving a hand to his face.
"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"
"Wh—"
You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.
"Jackson, wait—shit."
You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.
"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.
"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.
"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.
You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).
After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.
"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.
"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.
Tears.
That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.
"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"
"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.
"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."
Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.
"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."
"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"
"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."
"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"
"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."
"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.
"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.
"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.
"Oh. How long have you been dating?"
"We're not."
"Then...?"
"She's an idiot."
"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."
"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.
"Maybe she's insecure?"
"She is. Very."
"Huh. Is she pretty?"
"Beautiful."
"Oh. Hm."
Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?
"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"
Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.
"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.
"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."
"Mhm."
"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.
"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."
"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"
"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.
Wait.
Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.
"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"
"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."
You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.
"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.
Is that oka—?
"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."
"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"
"Yep," you nod.
Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.
He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.
Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.
You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.
Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.
You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?
It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.
By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.
"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.
"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"
"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.
"Huh?"
"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.
"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.
"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."
Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.
"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"
He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.
"What's funny?" you puff.
"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.
"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."
"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.
Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.
Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.
"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"
"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."
"Gross. We are not."
"We split the bills, pie."
"Most roommates do."
"We cook together."
"Most roommates do."
"My mother loves you."
"Your mother loves everyone."
"Not true. And my father loves you."
You pause, then squint.
"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.
"I do," he says quietly.
You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.
"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.
You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.
"Y/n, I—"
"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.
"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"
"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."
His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.
"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."
You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?
"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.
"Please."
Part 2 is out now!
Double Knot vs. CREED
[ OT8.] SKZ AS YOUR SUGAR DADDY.
sugar daddy!skz x sugar baby!reader
[ (stray kids) ] 18+ | sugar dating, au, financial exchange, companionship/other services | warning/s: nsfw, spoiling you rotten
— bang chan.
this man is powerful, influential, and rich. committed relationships are a tad difficult due to his career of choice, however, he would spoil you so bad. he’ll give gifts he knows you’ll appreciate, rather than gifts that are for his own enjoyment.
you can expect sentimental things like custom jewelry with your name engraved on it. he loves to pamper himself and you whenever he can and is willing to reciprocate sexual favors too.
— lee know (minho).
you have no idea what the hell he does but the man is fucking wealthy!! long story short, he has the capacity to change your whole life around; he’s willing to do it too.
he’s a very possessive sugar daddy and made it very clear that he has to be the only man in your life. he expects to see your personal purchases on his bank statements, and expects to fuck you seven days a week.
— changbin.
he’s a world famous producer, owns his own company with famous artists + your sugar daddy turned boyfriend. he’ll only spend money on you once you’re in a serious relationship.
he immediately moves you out of your shitty apartment and buys you a car to ‘get around’ - would be as involved in your life as you would allow. <3 rough and passionate sex with a shopping spree as aftercare.
— hyunjin.
he’s more of a fuck buddy than a sugar daddy and won’t even tell you straight up that the main thing on the negotiating table is his dick. and somehow wealthier than minho. he’ll give you what you want and even extra as long as it’s within reason.
he probably won’t turn the dynamic into something serious. so the day you decide to cut shit off, he’ll probably hit it one last time, then bounce. he’s really just a “call me if ya need me.” type of guy.
— han.
he is a writer, a very successful one at that, and a rather lax sugar daddy. a bit childish, but his dick game (and black card) go crazy. you’d be sprung and in love before you knew what hit you.
if he’s taking you out expect to be dressed in the finest clothing to match his fly. he likes it when you send him photos of yourself, they don’t at all have to be nudes, but those are appreciated too. he wants you to have the sugar, spice, and everything nice.
— felix.
he’s looking for companionship more than anything, someone to come home to possibly? either way, sex would just be an added bonus for him. would fuck you like he had something to prove because he’s a service top, simply put.
dates are always special, and nights-in are even more so. he is very romantic and makes you wonder why he’s still single. he takes you all over the world. paris has seen your face more than your local chipotle. will give you the world as long as you’re loyal to him.
— seungmin.
100% on forbes korea 50 richest list. he’s nice and sweet in public, but as his financially struggling assistant you realized he was anything but. you honestly don’t remember how he became your sugar daddy because you literally cannot stand each other.
granted, it makes for superior hate sex. he ‘hates’ you but he gets jealous when another man is near you. he ‘hates’ you but he smiles like a fool when you text him. he ‘hates’ you but he has no issues making things official with you.
— i.n (jeongin).
he only made you his sugarbaby because he’s bored as hell and has all this money and no one to spend it on. he’ll ice you out, custom designer drip, jewelry, etc. won’t dig into your personal life, probably doesn’t even care, so there has to be a mutual respect of boundaries.
you won’t have to do too much, just when he wants a quickie, you better be ready. it’s really just a playful dynamic honestly, although sometimes you have to initiate skinship most of the time. he truly is a simple man that you found easy to learn.
save a horse, ride a cowboy
chan’s look in the new bleep trailer has you thinking things that are far less than appropriate.
pairing: bang chan x reader wc: 1.4k tags: established relationship. porn without plot
🩷: you already know i had to hop on this as soon as i saw it. literally i RAN to google docs to make this as fast as possible
you’re curled up in bed, phone in your hands, trying to keep your face neutral—trying not to let your boyfriend know that the second he appeared on screen in a cowboy hat and layered chains, something in your brain short-circuited.
(it doesn’t work).
chan steps into the room—wearing exactly what’s making you lost it, much to your chagrin—just as you’re biting your lip, pausing the clip like that will somehow make you look innocent.
“what’s that?” he asks casually, dropping onto the bed beside you.
“nothing.”
he tilts his head. “mm. really?”
you shake your head quickly, but your cheeks are warm. you can feel his eyes on you, the way they linger, the little knowing curve of his mouth.
“play it,” he says, voice soft but leaving no room to argue.
your thumb hesitates, then taps the screen.
there he is again. thick silver chain dangling from where he has it caught between his teeth. the frame bears kind of look that should come with a health warning.
you glance at him. “it’s just the bleep teaser.”
“and you’re flushed because..?”
“shut up.”
he laughs quietly. “oh, i see. you like the cowboy thing.”
“i didn’t say that.”
“you didn’t have to.” his voice drops, and he leans in until his lips brush your ear. “you want to ride a cowboy, sweetheart?”
you swallow. hard.
he doesn’t wait for your answer—just shifts back against the headboard, spreading his legs a little, the faintest challenge in his gaze. “go on then.”
“chan—”
“hat stays on,” he adds, smirking while he slides off the cable knit. “so do the chains. i know you like them.”
your pulse trips over itself.
you straddle him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. the rough denim of his jeans brushes your thighs, the cold weight of his belt buckle pressing between you as his hands settle low on your waist.
“look at you,” he murmurs, voice dipping into something almost fond—but laced with amusement. “so eager to climb on and use me.”
you flush. “i’m not—”
“mm, but you are,” he cuts in, squeezing your hips just enough to make you rock forward over the ridge of his cock. “but it’s cute. my pretty girl, getting all worked up over a hat.”
he tips it lower over his eyes, the gesture slow, deliberate, infuriating. “go on, then. show me how badly you want it.”
your hands find his shoulders for balance, but chan’s grip on your hips is firm; controlling just how far forward you move, how much friction you get.
“don’t rush,” he says, voice almost a purr. “let me feel you get desperate for it.”
you bite your lip, shifting against him, and he tilts his head like he’s studying you. “already are, aren’t you?” his thumbs press slow, tight circles into your hips, guiding you into a slow grind over the outline of his cock.
the brim of the hat dips lower, shadowing his eyes, and the chains resting against his chest sway faintly with every movement. you can’t stop staring at them.
he notices. “what’s got you more worked up, sweetheart? the hat, the chains… or the fact you’re sat right on me like this?”
you try to answer, but it comes out as a breathy sound instead. chan chuckles. “aww, can’t even talk now? and we’ve barely started.”
with an easy shift, he unbuttons his jeans just enough to free himself, the heat of him pressing against your centre through thin fabric. his voice dips lower. “go on. sink down on me. you wanted the cowboy—now ride him.”
your breath hitches as you take him in, the stretch making your thighs tremble. his hands move up your sides, not to help, but to hold you in place once you’re fully seated.
“look at you,” he murmurs, smirk curling. “all snug around me, sitting pretty. you’re using me just like you wanted, aren’t you?”
you glare at him, but it’s weak—your hips already starting to roll.
chan leans back, watching every movement like it’s a performance made for him alone. “that’s it. take what you need, baby. you’re adorable when you’re this greedy.”
he lets you set the pace at first, soft praise slipping out between low groans—until your rhythm falters, and he catches your hips, taking control. the bed creaks as he drives up into you harder, the brim of his hat still tipped low.
“mm, there’s my girl,” he breathes, thrusts sharper now. “use me all you want. just remember—” he pulls you down until your chest is pressed to his, the chains branding a cool sting against your skin—“i’m the one letting you.”
his thighs flex beneath you, each upward snap of his hips stealing a breath from your lungs. you brace your palms against his chest, fingers curling into the skin stretched over his muscles, but it does nothing to steady you. chan is relentless now—driving into you with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly how much you can take.
“that’s it,” he hums, voice honey-sweet even as his thrusts make your body jolt. “ride me like a good girl. make it worth my time.”
the praise sinks into you, but the mocking lilt in his tone lights something hotter. you try to match his rhythm, but the power is his—the grip on your hips makes sure of it.
“aww,” he drawls when you shudder around him, “my poor thing. you look so messy already… and we haven’t even started properly.”
the hat tips forward again, hiding the half-smile that tells you he is enjoying this far too much. “thought you wanted to use me. hm? now you’re just letting me fuck you, aren’t you?”
your nails drag down his chest in protest, but it only makes him laugh. “cute.”
he shifts, angling his hips so the next thrust has you gasping. he slows, teasing you with deep, measured strokes until you are whimpering into his shoulder. “say it,” he murmurs, “say you like being my pretty little cowgirl.”
you shake your head, embarrassment biting back the words.
his hand moves from your hip to your throat, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him under the brim of that damn hat. “say it, or i stop.”
the threat has you caving. “i like—i like being your… cowgirl.”
he grins, wicked and proud, and rewards you with a sharp upward drive that has your eyes fluttering shut. “good girl,” he breathes. “now, ride me properly.”
your thighs are burning, the ache in your muscles nearly matching the ache between your legs, but chan does not slow. the brim of that damned hat hides his eyes, yet you can still feel the weight of his gaze—steady, calculated, indulgent.
“look at you,” he drawls, tone dripping with mock-sympathy, “all worn out and you’ve barely done anything. thought my little cowgirl wanted to ride me.”
you try to keep moving, try to prove him wrong, but his hands clamp tighter on your hips. “mm… no,” he hums, holding you in place like you weigh nothing, “you’ve had your turn. now i’m going to show you how it’s done.”
the first upward snap of his hips knocks the air from your lungs. the next has you clinging to his shoulders, fingers slipping over his skin.
“ohhh,” he teases between thrusts, “so that’s what you needed? me doing the work?” his voice dips lower, his breath hot against your ear. “pathetic little thing. you’re only falling apart because i’m using you properly.”
you can’t even answer—each deep, brutal drive has you gasping, nails dragging down his chest. the chains at his neck bite cold against you when he pulls you flush against him, his chest rising with the effort of keeping his pace.
“that’s it. take it,” he murmurs, his tone softening but never losing that edge. you’re barely holding yourself together now, the pleasure flooding too fast to resist. you try to move, to do something, but his grip holds you exactly where he wants you.
“shh… let me,” he says, voice almost sweet, though the smirk curling his lips betrays him. “you just sit there and let your cowboy fuck you stupid.”
the brim of his hat dips forward again, shadowing the wicked glint in his eyes as he slams up into you one last time—hard enough to send you tumbling over the edge of your orgasm, shaking in his lap while his hands keep you exactly where he wants you.
your body sags against him, every muscle trembling, head lolling against his shoulder. the brim of his hat brushes your temple when he tips his head, voice dropping into something softer—still thick with satisfaction, but gentler now.
“there we go… all done,” he murmurs, one broad hand smoothing up your spine, the other still holding you secure in his lap. “look at you. all used up. barely even breathing properly.”
you make some faint, broken noise in reply—nothing coherent. it earns you a quiet laugh, warm against your hair.
“my poor little cowgirl,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “all that big talk about riding me, and now you can’t even sit up straight.”
his hand drifts down, stroking over the sore curve of your hip, grounding you. “just stay here for a bit,” he says, easing his tone into something like a lull. “i’ve got you.”
the catalogue
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