honestly, screw him for this. you bring him to your family so he can be introduced to them, and this is how he repays you? by forcing you to hush up your sounds of pleasure in your childhood bedroom?
he’s quite pleased with himself. you can feel his growled laughter against your puffy folds, his pupils wide and blown as he occasionally looks up at you. he flattens his tongue, running it from your spasming hole to your clit before he parts from you. chin dribbling and his plush lips curled into a smile. he’s made you come once, and he doesn’t plan on stopping now.
he loves a good personal record.
you can barely breathe, and he’s tormenting you. taking a delight in it. he sat there during dinner as the perfect spectacle of a man, helping your mother, impressing your father. and now he’s got your sweetness on his tongue like ambrosia. you knew that joke he made at the table about innocent “cream pies” for dessert was too good to be true.
he nudges his nose against your thigh, kissing the junction between your mound and leg crease.
“still with me…? silly girl, letting me eat you out in your cute little room you grew up in...”
you’d throw a curse at him if you had the energy, but his words make something churn delightfully in your stomach. a wanton sound bubbles up in your throat and escapes, making you slap your hand over your lips. his hands are snaked up your shirt, kneading at your breasts in his palms. warm and soft. just like the rest of you.
you did homework on this bed. gossiped to friends about who was doing what, the people you had crushes on. and here he is, the man of your dreams giving you a nice night cap involving his drooling tongue to end the perfect day.
he dives back in with good vigor and an obnoxious slurping sound. why does he get to be loud? with his lips closing around your sensitive bundle of nerves, chan’s own eyes close as your thighs squeeze around his head. it makes his head dizzy and his cock twitch against the mattress. he laps soft, gentle kitten licks, mimicking your whining and mewling back to you before laughing with a rolled out tongue.
“shh… don’t wanna wake up your family…”
chan blows cold air against your folds as you twitch, stifling your hiccuped little moans behind your hand. he grins and nudges your clit with his nose. you smell too good, he wants to burrow his face in you forever.
“slutty pussy… dripping all over your sheets…” and because chan can never degrade you without feeling like a monster if there’s no praise—
“so pretty down here… pretty everywhere… you taste so good, i could eat it for hours. will you let me, baby? let channie love on this pretty cunt all night?”
his hands slide up and down the sides of your torso, and you’re not even sure what he’s saying. your head is spinning, on cloud 9. but you nod, staring up at the glow in the dark stars on your childhood bedroom ceiling.
if you look down at him you swear you’ll come again. the sounds are already too much, his grunts and groans with the wet clicking and squelching every time his tongue laves down on your pussy. he’s painfully throbbing in his boxers. you have that affect on him.
“there she is… letting me do whatever i want… you worked so hard to make tonight go smooth… looked so sexy in your pretty outfit… let me treat my girl…”
chan purses his slick covered, thick lips and kisses your clit. a soft suck to it, drawing back. he can feel sinewy strings of your juices and his saliva connecting his lips to you. he repeats the feverish kisses, his hips rocking against the mattress every time your hips buck and you let out a little soft cry. “yeah? mm? like it when channie kisses your soft pussy? oh, look at you, darling… you must feel so good… precious little thing.”
you babble a slew of moans as he gathers saliva in his own mouth and rolls his tongue out, letting it fall onto your slit with his expression of pinched brows and a begging eyes. oh, he knows what he’s doing.
he flattens his tongue, licking a long, pressured stripe up from your perineum to your suck a kiss onto your throbbing clit with a dramatically drawn out moan of his own. chan repeats it a few more times, making sure the round tip of his nose catches under the hood of your cute little button.
your hole is clenching around nothing, hips writhing a bit. he’s got you, don’t worry. he laps at your folds, shaking his head around and moans at the taste of you once more before drawing back. chan rests his head against your thigh and brings a hand up to play with your pussy while he talks to you, finding it amusing how you gasp for air and try to keep quiet.
“so soft… so wet and warm f’me… you love my tongue, don’t you, baby? mmm… fuck yeah… my tongue loves you too, sweetheart.”
chan rubs three fingers in gentle, petting circles around your folds, making sure his middle finger catches on your clit with sticky sounds at every rounding gesture. he could play with you like a fidget toy all day and never get bored. call you in during studio sessions, he’d feel relaxed just from making you feel good. his mouth waters at how aroused he’s made you. chan’s breathless from both devouring you like a starved man and humping the corner of the bed to relieve himself.
but you haven’t come again yet. he’s been edging you on that peak for a while like a heartless man. in chan’s defense, he thinks he can get you to gush more for him. if it isn’t messy, he didn’t do his job. he loves making you feel good, and he’s obsessed with making you come as hard as possible. it’s his best devotion to you.
“you look exhausted… ‘s okay, you’re okay… so fuckin’ gorgeous like this, fuck me… ‘m gonna… ‘m gonna rock you to sleep… fall asleep full of me…”
all you do is nod, a squeak of a whine. your fucked out expression is all he needs to sit up on his haunches and stare down at you. you’re leaking like a broken faucet all over the sheets, staining them a darker patch under your ass. it’ll be easier to slide into you like that. all pliant and soaked and craving him inside of you—
“actually, baby… you wanna try something new? be my good girl…? you’re gonna sit that pretty pussy on my face.”
—
author’s note: thank you for 500 followers, i can’t believe it! i wanted to write something as a treat in between drafting requests ^-^*
warnings: y/n has a vulva. power play, begging, oral (both giving and receiving), cockwarming, spanking, slapping, pinching, rough sex, piss play, orgasm denial, overstimulation, shoe humping and licking, i.n’s part can read as dubcon, but this is part of a pre-established dynamic. not proofread.
this is pure fiction for entertainment purposes only. minors dni.
bang chan
you might call him old fashioned, but chan really can appreciate a good old spanking.
there’s just something about having you over his lap, the tender skin of your backside warming up under his palm when its harsh strikes make your blood rush. something about the way you squirm and wiggle, but to no avail, there’s no escape when the fingers of chan’s other hand keep your hands crossed at your wrists behind your back. something about the way your voice shakes when you count every slap out for him, breathless and wound up, interrupted by quick gasps for air and then finally - a moan.
chan can’t stop himself from fingering you right after that, releasing your wrists in favor of digging the pads of his boney fingers into your spongey walls while his other hand soothes over your abused ass over and over again. it’s easy for both of you to get lost in this - the lingering sting of chan’s merciless treatment of your ass contrasting the indulgent pampering of your aching cunt leaves you dizzy and chan can’t get enough of the sounds you make for him, unabashedly desperate as he winds you up to your release.
make sure to not cum without his permission though, unless you’re ready to restart counting your spanks.
leeknow
he likes to go for the more mentally draining and - sorry for the wording but - unhinged punishments.
minho’s favorite is probably to have you kneeling for him with a clothespin on your tongue, reciting his rules back to him as slowly and clearly as you can. you sound ridiculous with the pin hindering your ability to articulate and you can’t help but drool pathetically the more you try to enunciate for him.
minho looks so mean when he looks down on you like that and you have to avert your gaze because of the shame and arousal you feel from just being beneath him. it takes a while, but sooner or later you feel yourself going all mindless and floaty, eyes closed as you listen to minho’s steps circling you, still trying to repeat his rules back to him, to be good. minho kneels down to your height when he considers your job well done, one hand resting on your thigh, the other removing the clothespin from your numbing tongue with diligent fingers. you wince when he runs his fingers over the sore muscle and minho’s eyes sparkle.
“aww, are you sensitive? i’ll give you some medicine for that,” he promises with a devious lilt in his words.
he gets up unceremoniously and unbuckles his pants and you obediently keep your mouth open for him, numb but oh so inviting, ready to take whatever reward - or additional punishment - minho is willing to give you.
changbin
i feel like it actually takes a while to get changbin to the point that he truly feels like he needs to discipline you. it takes a day or maybe even two of consistent bratting and selfishness until you finally see that gleam in his eye when he tilts his head at you disapprovingly and you know that you finally got to him.
changbin asks you if you’ve forgotten the most basic training, musing that he needs to start it all over and go back to the very first thing he taught you: sucking dick. changbin is way harsher in his throat training now than he was when you started sleeping together. now that he knows just what you can take he has no reservations pinching your nose closed between his fingers and jerking his hips against your face until you gag for him. changbin groans that he’s close and he pulls out when you get ready to swallow, jerking off into his palm with quick, firm strokes until his release streaks his cupped palm white. your throat is sore but you can’t help letting out a sassy remark to hide the disappointment of not getting to swallow his cum this time. “what? was that my punishment?” you giggle.
“no,” changbin smiles. “this is.”
you don’t even get a second process this before he’s slapping you across the face with his cum, the impact stinging more than it actually hurts you. as your now sticky cheek flushes in the aftermath, it doesn’t take long for the rest of your body to heat up from the humiliation blooming just beneath your skin.
“what?” changbin challenges, mimicking your bratty attitude from before. “aren’t you gonna say thank you?”
hyunjin
as your dom, hyunjin can be strict and he can be demanding - but he would never outright punish you.
why would he? both of you know that he’s above getting his hands dirty to discipline you, especially when he can just make you do it yourself.
whenever you misbehave you can already tell that hyunjin is displeased with your antics, but it doesn’t quite show until the next time you get intimate, when you’re already naked and ready for him, lips swollen from his hungry kisses and cunt dripping with the desperate need for hyunjin’s undevided attention. “you know what you did, baby, don’t you?” hyunjin mumbles and that’s your sign. he wants you telling him exactly what you did wrong, that you understand why it was wrong. then he wants you begging for forgiveness while humping his shoe. if you cum then that’s your problem, both of you know you’re not giving your swollen clit a break until hyunjin accepts your apology. you know that moving away only makes hyunjin press the sole of his boot against your harder, so you accept your fate and obediently move your drippy cunt over the shiny leather just for him.
you can try not to make too much of a mess of hyunjin’s expensive shoes all you want while you’re at it, but you know hyunjin will make you clean up after yourself regardless.
han
one word: overstimulation.
you’re still giggling when jisung cuffs your wrists to the headboard, the dissatisfied crease between his eyebrows not deterring you at all from you delighting in the fact that everything is going your way. it almost feels like a reward when jisung situates himself between your legs, resting your thighs on his shoulders.
“i don’t want to hear another sound out of you,” he huffs and it’s only then when dread begins to set in. because even with the countless times you’ve had the luxury of being at the receiving end of your boyfriend’s talented tongue you cannot remember a single instance where he hasn’t reduced you to a moaning mess within mere minutes. there’s no time to brace yourself when jisung’s soft tongue meets your cunt, gently parting your folds before swirling an indulgent circle around your clit, already sensitive and swollen in your excitement. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and roll your hips up against jisung’s face, a silent plea for him to continue despite your self-control already slipping with just one touch. it doesn’t take him long to get you on the brink of your first orgasm, sucking and licking at you just the way you need him to with the most obscene sounds that only add to your arousal somehow.
you try to hold it together, try to keep yourself from humping against his face in desperate anticipation, try to not moan out it pleasure and agony. it’s a lost battle when jisung renews his efforts between your thighs, two fingers slipping into your sopping cunt and curling upwards, tongue swirling over your clit at a rapid pace that has sparks of please shooting sll throughout your body. “jisung,” you gasp, any worries about the consequences of the smallest sound thrown out the window. “please.”
his indulgence is almost threatening. jisung - usually so teasing, so slow - just keeps up his pace for you, your pussy squelching around his digits as he keeps curling them into you, tongue flattening against your pulsing clit until your orgams crashes over you, tingly and strong.
“two more,” jisung grins while you’re still clenching around his fingers, trying to come down from your high. you can’t help but whimper in response.
“make it three.”
felix
he doesn’t like punishing you, he tells you adamantly, his deep voice sweet like syrup. doesn’t like punishing you at all but now he’ll have to, won’t he? he’s spoilt you too much, given you too many liberties, too much time to form your own selfish thoughts in your silly little head. thoughts that - much to his chagrin - aren’t centered around how much you need him. felix needs to remind you of your place, he fears. that’s why he has to punish you, despite how much he swears up and down he hates seeing you like this.
and so felix makes you edge the whole day, has you send him pics and videos of your arousal coating your fingers and staining your underwear, but never giving you permission to bring yourself over the edge and fully soil your underwear for him. he has you touch yourself in public restrooms and under your desk at work, anywhere you can get away with staying on the edge without getting caught. and then, finally, when you come home to him felix edges you for him some more. first with tender touches of the tips of his fingers, then the teasing flick of his tounge, and finally with just the tip of his cock, shallowly fucking himself in and out if your tight entrance while he makes you play with your aching clit some more, catching your wrist in one hand whenever you get too frantic.
it’s only when he sees tears brimming at your lash line and you insist you’ll never take an orgasm granted again through gritted teeth, that felix deems it a lesson well learned and finally grants you release. and the orgasm that crashes over you like a tidal wave after anticipating it for an entire day makes the torture worth it.
seungmin
another dom that likes to consider himself a fan of the classics.
you’ve forgotten a specific rule of his? he’ll have you writing it out over and over again for up to an hour to see if maybe some repetition will ger it into your head.
you’re not just writing lines of course. you’re also sitting pretty in his favorite skirt, perched in seungmin’s lap with your panties pushed to the side and his thick cock buried between your slick walls.
seungmin doesn’t let you move, even the slightest shift earns you a warning slap to your cheek. he might play with your clit a bit, just to throw you off, harshly laughing at you when your pen slips on the paper or his sudden touch causes you to misspell a word. it’s so clear that seungmin is getting off on this just as much as you are, his cock hard and throbbing inside of you whenever you ask him to let you stop writing, you swear you’ve learned your lesson and you’ll be good now. but he still doesn’t budge until at least an hour has past.
you’ll just have to keep cockwarming seungmin until he decided he can’t take it anymore and fucks you over the table right then and there. seungmin doesn’t care if the ink hasn’t dried yet when he holds your head down against the table, the other hand finding leverage at your waist as he pistons his hips against your ass at a relentless pace, still repeating his rules to you when his cock bullies your cunt until you think you can feel him knocking at your cervix with all that force.
i.n
jeongin knows a little bit of denial, a tap on your ass or a stern talking to would never be enough to get a message across to a brat like you. no, jeongin has learned over the months and years that the only way to teach you a lesson is humiliation.
he keeps you guessing - and you wouldn’t have it any other way - you know you’re getting punished today, but you don’t know with what.
relization sets in soon enough when during a night of partying and drink after drink after drink you tell jeongin you’re going to the bathroom and he tells you “no”. it sets in further he tells you “no” again, until he finally takes you home only to push you up against the wall in your hallway, rough fingers finding their way into your jeans while his other hands presses against your bladder until you’re forced to release everything all over the tiled entryway in a mortifying reminder that jeongin still controls you.
realization sets in when drawn out foreplay turns into your hands cuffed to the headboard, desperate and needy, with the only release jeongin grants you is a pillow that he lets you hump your sopping cunt agaunst while he films your embarrassment for future use.
it sets in when a “you up?” text leads you to where jeongin is clocking in overtime at the studio with the sole mission to relieve his tension with some head, only to be greeted by the other members waiting for you with him, already half hard and ready to inflict their own punishments on you.
pairing. han jisung x f!reader. genre. smut, minors dni, college!au. warnings. unprotected sex, public sex, oral (female receiving)
perv!nerd!jisung who’s grades start to slip cause he just can’t seem to focus in lectures - not when you’re sat pretty beside him, cute little skirt splayed across plush thighs that he wants to bury his head between
perv!nerd!jisung who can’t seem to meet your eyes most days, not when just the night before he was rutting his cock against his pillow, muffling whimpers of your name with his palm as he imagined it was your tight cunt he was fucking instead. and you just look so sweet staring up at him from beneath your lashes, not a single clue about the effect you have on him and he almost feels guilty for thinking about you like that
perv!nerd!jisung who follows you around like a lost puppy. hoping, praying, that one day you’ll finally give in and let him have a taste
perv!nerd!jisung who sits under the bleachers after his lectures, conveniently the same time you have practice, peaking over the book he was ‘reading’ just in time to catch the way your tank top stuck to your tits with sweat, the way he can tell you’re not wearing a bra, the way your shorts keep riding up your ass everytime you move. and he likes to delude himself into thinking you’re doing it all for him to see
perv!nerd!jisung who catches himself staring at you more than he’d be willing to admit. zoning out in conversations when you walk by, eyes following the hem of your short skirt and wondering what you’re wearing underneath, glancing at you from the corner of his eye during class just to catch you chewing on the end of your pen in thought, thinking about how pretty those glossy lips of yours would look wrapped around his dick
perv!nerd!jisung who’s so loud when you finally let him fuck you. all messy whimpers and groans and strangled whines the second he sinks into your cunt, hands trembling from where they sat on your hips, nails digging into the soft skin as he struggles to not cum from the mere heat of your pussy alone. “f-fuck baby, so tight. so much better than i imagined.” he won’t stfu. the sweet, gentle boy who can’t even string a sentence together when he’s in your presence was now making a mess of your cunt, cursing under his breath like it’ll keep him from losing his mind, so fucking pussy drunk he can focus on nothing but the sight of his cock stretching you out
perv!nerd!jisung who a little inexperienced. you’ll have to teach him how to kiss, where to touch, how to fuck - he’s a bit clumsy at first, but he makes up for it with his eagerness
perv!nerd!jisung who offers to tutor you when you mention you’re failing - only to have his fingers stuffed deep inside your pussy with every answer you get right, hardly able to concentrate when he’s curling them just right, when his thumb is pressing down on your clit and when he’s looking at you oh so innocently through his glasses, coaxing more of those cute gasps from your lips. stops moving them as soon as you stutter out the wrong answer, tutting under his breath when you squirm on his digits, resisting the urge to fuck yourself on them. “c’mon my smart girl, i know you know the answer.” he loves the power it gives him
perv!nerd!jisung who rewards you by eating your pussy raw when you get full marks in your next test
perv!nerd!jisung who you make keep his glasses on when you ride him, loving how nerdy and downright pathetic he looks underneath you - head thrown back and eyes rolling into the back of his skull everytime you sink down onto his cock - skin flushed a lovely pink and hair a mess when he begs you to let him cum, toes curling when you deny him once again, cooing something about how he’s such a good boy for you but he can’t really pay attention when all he can focus on is the intense need to fuck his cum into you until your cunt is a creamy mess
perv!nerd!jisung who loves when you degrade him. manhandle him, slap him around, call him a loser, make him beg, cry, until his throat is raw. he turns into such a freak the second he gets a taste of your cunt. he’s just thankful you’re even paying the slightest bit of attention to his pathetic cock
perv!nerd!jisung who cums way too fast and way too much. he’s so apologetic about it though :( fills your cunt up so much that he’ll have to pull out and finish on your thighs too, choked little apologies falling from his lips but he just can’t stop, screwing his eyes shut in embarrassment as hot tears sting his eyes, feeling the last drop fall from his cock and he’s afraid to open them again to see the disappointed look on your face. will even offer to eat you out after when you don’t cum, not even caring his own was dripping out of you, he’ll just pull his limp cock out of your neglected pussy and get straight into making out with it, groaning and working his jaw taut the second your mixed juices coat his tongue. could probably get hard again just from eating you out tbh
perv!nerd!jisung who constantly looks up at you from between your legs for approval when he’s eating you out, fingers pumping into you while his tongue sucks on your clit, pulling away every few minutes just to ask, “is this okay? am i doing it right?” urgh he’s just so 🥺
perv!nerd!jisung who thanks you for letting him fuck you
i have a request to send in about changbin (he has been on my mind nonstop as of this week and i need my fill of him 🤭)
i fear i need sub!changbin where he just got back from the gym and is all sweaty and reader snaps and rides him until he’s whining and begging to stop bc he’s cum so many times…
-anon 😗
Sub!Changbin Propoganda (18+)
A/N: Ohhh twin you know me so well. I love a whimpering desperate man. ESPECIALLY when they are built like they could throw me. I genuinely don’t know if this is good. I got a bit of tunnel vision when I wrote it so feel free to tell me it sucks but I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Sub!Changbin, whining, moaning, whimpering, slight crying kink, male tears (we love to see them), overstim, description of sex, MINORS BE GONE
He knew better than this. How dare he come back from the gym looking like absolute sin and expect you to act like you had home training?
“It’s just a tank top!” “They’re just sweatpants! What’s the big deal?” “I don’t understand why you always act like that!”
All things he would say if he could talk at all.
If his heart wasn’t pounding and his legs weren’t trembling, he swear he’d let you have it for being so needy.
Too bad cause all he can manage past his lips is a whiny, “Fuuuckkk…” while thick ropes of cum spill over your hand and decorate his abs.
It’s number two out of…well let’s say until he starts shooting blanks.
“Feels good, Binnie?”
“Uh huh.” He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels your tongue on his skin, no doubt licking up the mess he’s made. “I- fuck..”
You grin as he shudders under your tongue, every lick and kiss met with a flinch. “Don’t tap out on me yet. You haven’t even fucked me.”
His head lifts as you climb on top of him, straddling his lap with a sneaky smile. “I don’t think I can.” He admits and it’s not often he does.
“Your dick thinks otherwise.”
You make your point when you drag your wetness up his length and slip it in with practiced ease.
The sound that leaves him is one for the books as you watch his eyes roll back and his fists clench at his sides.
You rest your forehead on his with a hum as you lift your hips, clenching your pussy around him while his length drags out of you and smacks his belly.
“Please..”
It’s so quiet you nearly miss it but if the needy thrust of his hips were anything to go by, you could have sworn you heard him say,
“Please..put it b-back in..”
“Ohh, baby. You ask so nicely. I thought you said you couldn’t do it? Hm?” You wait for his explanation as you maneuver his length back into you.
“I-I know I said that but I need you to-“ He chokes on his words when you shift your hips down.
“You need me to what, Binnie?” You kiss his cheek. “Need me to keep making you cum?”
“Yes! Yes please!” He pants, as you adjust your position, bringing your knees up and leaning back to brace your hands on his thighs
From there you can ride the hell out of him with his rigid length held hostage in your walls as his voice starts to crack with every moan he lets out.
It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before he’s cumming again without much warning. All he’s knows is there are stars in his vision and tears brimming his eyes.
His load leaks out as you keep fucking yourself on top of him, barely letting him come down from the clouds before you’re coaxing him towards another one.
You watch a tear slide down his cheek as his lip juts out in a pout, silently pleading you to let him have a break.
But every time you think about stopping and letting him breathe, the image of him coming through the door in that fuck ass tank top and low hanging grey sweats flashes across your mind and you clench around him.
“Okay! Okay! Fuck, baby please!” He cries, like actually cries.
His tears are never ending and his throat feels raw. “Please please please…” He pleads, lip trembling as he feels that pressure in his abdomen again.
His hands are shaking as he grips the sheets beside him and god he is just so…
“Pathetic. You can’t give me another one?”
He shakes his head so hard you think it’ll fall off.
“I-I can’t- fuck it hurts!”
“That’s too bad, Binnie. I’m so close and I can feel you twitching inside me so I know you are too. You don’t want to cum with me?”
You don’t need the answer, not when he forces his hands off the sheets and onto your waist, guiding you up and down no matter how much it hurt.
“That’s my boy! It’s right there.” You bring a hand to your clit, rubbing the bud just enough to feel that pressure release and leave you breathless.
Changbin follows hopelessly, his muscles flexing as he fills you again, his fingers digging into your skin as he whines.
Note to self: Changbin is no longer allowed at the gym
you finally get to see hyunjin after his return home from tour. seeing his new messy, grown out buzz in person just hits different. let’s just say, you really like how a mullet looks on him.
pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader
wc: 2.9k
tags: established relationship. smut/tiny fluff. dry humping, unprotected sex, slight overstim, breeding kink if you squint.
🩷: if i said mullet hyunjin was probably my favourite hyunjin hairstyle would u call me crazy
you were not expecting the sound of his keys attempting to breach your door’s lock.
hyunjin’s return home from tour wasn’t supposed to be until tomorrow. not until tomorrow evening, in fact—you remember having plenty of time to clean, to wash the sheets, to rehearse exactly how composed you would pretend to be when he walked through the door.
but then the aforementioned keys hit the bowl by the entrance.
and the rolling of suitcases echoed through the hall.
and an excited, familiar voice calls out, soft and slight scratchy from exhaustion—
“baby?”
you don’t allow yourself to even think. you just run.
your socks sliding over the floor, arms already halfway raised, you catch him just as he’s pulling off his hoodie—warm skin, tense forearms, and the dizzyingly real weight of him all at once, as you throw yourself into his arms like gravity never existed.
“oh my god—” you breathe into his shoulder, “what the hell, you’re a day early—!”
he laughs against your neck, breath hot, arms wrapping tight around your waist as your feet lift off the floor slightly. “surprise?”
you pull back just enough to look at him—and then you freeze.
because there it is. in front of you, for real. the hair. the mullet.
short, blunt ends at the base of his neck, shorter by his ears and temples. soft flyaways, flicking out at the ends. messy enough to look like he slept in it, still sexy enough to make your stomach flip.
when he puts you down, you rake your fingers through it on instinct, threading from the crown down to the base of his skull, curling into the ends—tugging, just a little. he hums, pleased by your ministrations. you don’t mean to do it again, but you do. it’s a subconscious action at this point. and when his eyes drop to your mouth, you melt.
“you’re obsessed.”
he says it with a smirk, but there’s a lowness in his voice. a strain. because you aren’t just taking it in. you’re devouring. hungry eyes tracing his silhouette like you could etch him into your teeth.
“you like it that much? this isn’t really a surprise, you’ve seen it already, many times,” he teases.
“only on facetime.”
“it still counts.”
instead of replying with a typical quip, you kiss him.
the first, fast and grinning. a gleeful ‘welcome home’. the second, slower—still excited—but taking the time to experience him. the third, deeper, more intimate. because you have to—because something about this moment feels like it will end you if you don’t taste it right.
his hand finds your jaw. your grip tightens in his hair. you kiss until your breath comes ragged and the space between you dissolves completely—hips flush, chest tight, your back arching under the press of his hand.
his mouth parts against yours. his tongue meets yours—slow, deliberate. he kisses like he’s been starved. and you moan like you might let him devour you.
you pull away just barely, lips wet, voice trembling. “this fucking haircut…”
he chuckles when you say it—low, rough, like gravel laced with smoke—and you hardly have time to catch your breath before his hands shift beneath your thighs and he lifts you properly.
you yelp, clinging to his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist. you take a second to shamelessly feel his muscles up—he’s definitely gotten bigger since he left. you’ll have to thank changbin later.
“bedroom?” he says, already walking like he already knows the answer.
your arms cling to his shoulders, fingers not leaving the hairs on his nape, mouth pressed to the curve of his jaw. you nod frantically, eagerly. “bedroom.”
the hallway blurs, all wood and light and the heady scent of him, travel-worn and masculine, fresh and sharp like airport cologne and him. his hair brushes your cheek, his breath is hot in your ear, and his grip on you is tight, like he will not be putting you down for a long, long time.
the bedroom door bumps open with the kick of his foot, and then—softness. the bed, the scent of clean linen, the familiar shape of home all around you as he lays you down.
not gently. like he wants to watch it—all of it—your chest rising, thighs parting, hair splaying across the pillows.
“look at you,” he murmurs, crawling over you, knees bracketing your hips, one hand already slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “missed this. missed you.”
you try to say something, anything, but he dips down before you can—and kisses you again, deeper this time. slower. his body sinks against yours, all heat and weight and muscle, and you groan as his hand smooths over the plushness of your stomach, fingers skating the edge of your waistband like he is debating whether to be sweet or selfish. or both.
your hands find his hair again. it’s worse here, worse up close, worse now that it is real—thick, soft, just long enough to curl into your fist when he starts rocking against you with a barely-there grind that makes your toes curl.
“this hair,” you whisper, dazed, pulling at it just to see him shudder. “you know i love all your hairstyles, but jinnie, i swear to god—”
“what?” he breathes, grinning. “you gonna lose your mind over a few inches?”
you moan, rolling your hips up into him. “i already have.”
he growls. actually growls. and then he kisses you hard, like he wants to see how far gone he can get you before he even takes your clothes off. he manoeuvres you both so that your legs are now wrapped around his hips.
you feel the shift of his weight, the flex of his thighs, the way his body rocks into yours—not subtle, not teasing, but needy. a low grind that makes your breath catch and your knees fall open, thighs framing his sides like your body has been waiting for this rhythm since the second he left.
he swears against your mouth. “fuck, baby…”
his voice is thick. guttural. his hand slides beneath your shirt and spreads over your ribcage, fingers splayed like he is memorising the shape of you, like he forgot how soft you are and now he needs to map it with his palm.
you arch. he groans.
your legs wrap tighter around him, and when your hips lift, the friction is blinding in the best way—just his denim against your cotton, rough and unbearable. he feels huge like this, clothed and pressing down with slow, delicious weight, like every thrust is a threat to your sanity.
“been dreaming about this,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “about you. every night.”
you whimper, dragging your nails up his back. “then take it off. take it all off—”
“no,” he says low, grinding harder, jaw clenched. “not yet.”
you cry out softly, back arching as the pressure brushes on you just right. again. and again.
“feel that?” he pants, hips circling slow, his cock in his jeans grinding perfectly against your soaked core. “you feel what you do to me? just from this—just from seeing you, hearing your voice, touching my fucking hair—”
his mouth crashes against yours, tongue deep, messy, uncoordinated like he needs the taste of you to stay sane. your moans slip between kisses, high and broken, and he shudders when your fingers tug at his short, tousled hair again.
“shit, baby—keep doing that,” he groans, thrusting harder now, rutting into you like he might lose his mind if he stops. “you keep pulling my hair like that and i swear i’ll cum in my pants before i even get to see you naked.”
you whine—helpless, breathless—and the friction only grows sharper, hotter. he is full on humping you now, desperately, mouth on your neck, hand sliding lower—
“hyune—,” you gasp, voice cracking. “please—”
he pulls back just enough to look down at you—eyes wild, lips wet, hair a mess, his voice wrecked.
“you want me that bad?”
you nod, frantic.
“then beg for it,” he says. “say you missed my cock more than anything.”
you hesitate just a moment too long.
and that—that—makes him smile.
not the soft smile that you know, that you fell for. not the sweet, lovesick one that says i missed you.
no. this one is dangerous. dark. teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he slows his hips, grinding in lazy, devastating motions now, just enough friction to ruin you and not nearly enough to let you cum.
“what’s wrong?” he murmurs, voice low, mocking. “shy now?”
your hands are fists in his shirt. your thighs are trembling. he leans in so close you feel his breath on your mouth when he says, “say it.”
your lips part, nothing comes out.
his hand slides between you, cups you through your underwear—and presses. your back arches instantly, a high, broken moan ripping out of you, and his eyes darken.
“say it or i’ll stop. right now. i’ll get up and go take a fucking shower while you lie here soaking on our sheets.”
you whimper, desperate, your hands flying to his wrist.
“i—i missed you,” you gasp, but it is not enough. his eyebrow lifts.
“missed me?” he repeats, tone all mock-affection. “missed what, sweetheart?”
you squirm under him, panting. his fingers stay right there. no movement. just pressure.
taunting.
“your cock,” you whisper.
he leans closer, nose brushing yours. “louder, i can’t hear you.”
you whine. your whole body burns from embarrassment.
“i missed your cock,” you say again, louder, clearer. “i missed how it feels—how you feel inside me.”
his breath catches—just for a second. you feel it.
then he growls.
“good girl,” he mutters. “fuck, you’re perfect.”
he crashes down to kiss you again, deeper than before, and this time his hand moves—dragging your panties to the side, fingers finally slipping through your slick, teasing your entrance.
you cry out into his mouth. he swallows every sigh.
“god, you’re so fucking wet—did that make you wet?” he pants. “just begging for it?”
you nod desperately, hips rolling against his hand.
and then he pulls away, fast. stands up at the edge of the bed, breath heavy, eyes wild as he yanks his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, shoves down his jeans with barely restrained urgency.
“stay still for me,” he commands, voice gone hoarse. “legs open. and keep begging.”
he drops between your legs like it is second nature.
not rushed. not sloppy. just that slow, dangerous confidence—the kind that comes from his practice, from knowing exactly what you need and exactly how you like it.
he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh first, then another, then another—until your hips are twitching and your fingers are tangling in the sheets, already desperate.
and then he looks up at you through his lashes.
his hair is a mess. strands falling over his forehead, curling just past the tops of his ears, a few sticky from sweat where his shirt used to cling to his nape. tousled and flattened in places like he has been running his hands through it all day—he probably has—but up close, like this?
lethal.
“this?” he says, voice low, head tilting just a little to emphasise his black mop of hair. “this what had you whining on the phone?”
your thighs clench around him involuntarily.
he grins.
and then he licks one long, slow stripe up the centre of your soaked panties—pressing in with the flat of his tongue, just enough to make your back arch and your mouth fall open in a gasp.
“fuck—jinnie—”
“what?” he teases, mouthing over the fabric, eyes still locked on yours. “just want you to admire the hair while i ruin you.”
and then he pulls your underwear down. slow and torturous. kisses every inch of exposed skin like he is reminding you that he belongs here—between your legs, head shoved between your thighs, hair wild and entirely yours.
he licks again. bare now. straight to your clit, slow and warm, his tongue lingering there before he wraps his lips around it and sucks.
you cry out—loud, helpless, one hand flying to your mouth while the other goes straight to his hair, gripping onto each strand like they’re your last earthly tether.
he groans. actually groans into you, because your hand fisting in his hair is his favourite thing, and you’re doing it without even thinking.
“that’s it,” he rasps against your pussy, breath hot. “fuck, pull on it, baby—show me how much you like it.”
and you do. god, you do—twisting the strands, tugging just enough to make him moan again, and when you feel the vibration of it in your core, you nearly come undone from that alone.
he flattens his tongue, licks slow and deep, then seals his mouth around you again, suckling, slurping, devouring—and all you can do is moan his name, over and over, louder every time his hair brushes your thighs, every time his tongue finds that perfect rhythm again.
“i missed this so fucking much,” he growls between licks. “missed you. missed having your thighs around my face, your hands in my hair, this fucking pussy on my tongue—”
you sob, hips rocking against him helplessly. and he lets you.
lets you ride his face. encourages it. pulls you closer with his arms wrapped tight around your thighs and his mouth never relenting—not even when your legs shake, not even when you cry out his name one last time and fall apart all over his tongue.
he eats you through it, groaning like he’s tasting the pure essence of life itself.
and when your hand falls from his hair, limp and shaking, he finally pulls back—chin wet, lips swollen, hair even worse than before.
“so you like the haircut?” he asks, breathless, smug.
you just whimper.
he grins. “good. now turn over.”
he does not wait for you to answer. he just climbs back up the bed, grabs your waist, and flips you over like your body is weightless—like he needs to be the one in control again, after losing himself between your legs.
your cheek hits the pillow. your hips lift upon instinct. you hear his breath stutter behind you, feel the way his fingers grip your ass like he’s not sure whether to praise you or break you.
“fuck,” he growls, more to himself than to you. “look at you—”
you start to turn your head, but he presses a palm to the small of your back.
“stay there.”
you do. trembling. wet. waiting.
and then you feel him—his cock, hot throbbing, and heavy, dragging through your folds. he’s not even in you yet and you already feel full.
“been thinking about this for what feels like a lifetime,” he mutters. “jerking off in hotel showers to the sound of your voice. fucking myself into my hand just trying to remember what it feels like to be inside you.”
he presses the tip in—just enough for you to cry out, high and broken.
“hyunjin please—”
his hand slips up your back, tangles into your hair. “you still like it, huh?” he grits, yanking your head back just enough to hear you moan. “still obsessed with this messy fucking haircut while i ruin your pussy?”
you whimper. nod.
“tell me.”
“yes,” you choke out. “i love it, love how it looks while it’s messy—i love feeling it when your face is between my legs, i love pulling on it when you’re—ahhh—fucking—”
he thrusts in fully, hard and deep, cutting you off with a strangled scream into the pillow.
“there she is,” he groans. “that’s what i needed. that fuckin’ voice.”
he sets a brutal rhythm from the start—deep, fast, needy. his thighs slap against yours, his fingers digging into your hips like he’s trying to brand you with his name. the bed creaks. the air is hot. and all you can do is take it—hands fisted in the sheets, jaw dropped open, hair clinging to your damp forehead.
“missed this so bad,” he pants. “this pussy. these sounds. you.”
every thrust hits something devastating inside you. every slap of skin on skin sends another whimper tearing out of your throat.
“so fucking good for me,” he grits. “so fuckin’ perfect. you want me to fill you up, baby?”
you sob. “yes— please—hyunjin, please—”
he growls and leans down, chest to your back, hand slipping around to rub your clit in tight circles as he fucks you even harder.
“then cum for me,” he hisses in your ear, hair falling into your face like a curtain, breath all over your neck. “cum on this cock and let me feel it. then i’ll give you what you want.”
you cum hard. the kind of orgasm that rips through your spine like a strike of lightning, clenching around him so tight you hear his breath punch out of his chest. you hadn’t gone entirely without orgasm while he was away by any means—you two weren’t strangers to phone sex—but anything your hand could do can never hold a candle to the effect hyunjin has on you.
“oh my god, baby—fuck, fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—shit—”
but he doesn’t stop.
he slows just enough to feel it—feel every twitch, every shake of your thighs, every gasped moan into the pillow as he fucks you through the aftershocks with the kind of precision that borders on reverence. his cock drags through your oversensitive walls, wet and relentless, and your moans turn messy, unfiltered, wrecked.
“still with me?” he pants, voice shaking, hand coming up to grip the back of your neck.
you nod—barely—cheek pressed to the pillow, drooling, delirious.
“good,” he breathes. “stay there. i’m not done.”
his hips pick up again—faster now, rougher. not frantic, not rushed—but that perfect kind of desperation that only comes from weeks of fantasising, of building it up, of missing you so badly his body aches for it.
“you feel that?” he growls, moving his hand to press your lower stomach. “feel how deep i am?”
you nod again, crying out from overstimulation as he grinds into you—just once, hard, slow, his cock buried to the hilt.
“your pussy’s so fucking wet, baby. made for me. just mine.”
your legs shake beneath him. he moans when your walls flutter around him again, like your body is trying to give him another orgasm without you meaning to.
“fuck,” he leans forward, chest to back. he pants, almost delirious himself now. “please pull my hair again.”
your arm reaches back blindly, fingers sliding through those soft, sweat-damp strands, tugging them back into your fist—and the way he thrusts in response, the noise he makes—
you swear it makes your vision go white.
“atta girl” he gasps, fucking you harder now, hair tangled in your grip, eyes shut tight. “you want it? you want me to cum inside you? to fill you to the brim?”
“yes,” you whimper, sobbing it now, “want it—need to feel it, please—please, hyune—”
he groans. “fuck.”
one more thrust. then another. and then he buries himself deep—hips locked, body trembling—and cums.
hot. thick. endless. he moans your name like a chorus of sirens, forehead falling to your shoulder as his whole body jerks and shudders against yours.
you both stay there. panting. sweating. tangled.
his cock twitches inside you once more before he finally breathes out a long, wrecked sigh.
“…shit.”
you laugh. a breathless little thing, muffled by the sheets. “you sure you don’t wanna shower first next time?”
he chuckles—low, still dazed—then leans in and presses a slow kiss to the back of your shoulder.
“no,” he murmurs, lips dragging up to your ear. “i like this better. sweaty. messy. hair ruined. you full of me.”
you whimper.
his hips roll again.
“round two?” he whispers, already hardening inside you. “you’ve got more in you, right? we’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”
@strangezeroz welcome to tumblr where the app decides when you can be gifted with the sight of og memes, you cannot look for these yourself via the search engine, you won’t find them, you have to wait to be gifted them
For those of you who might be new here, Tumblr has no algorithm, legendary memes are brought to your dash by mutuals like pet cats bringing you dead birds.
“you’re okay baby. you don’t have to worry about anything right now. you don’t have to stress about anything. just be here with me, yeah? just let me hold you.”
you curled up against his side, your arm draped over his waist, your head on his chest. he gently scratched at your scalp, petting your hair. you let out a deep exhale. like the weight of everything was starting to lift off your shoulders.
“there you go baby. you’re safe. we can worry about everything else later. but right now, just give your sweet heart a break. okay?”
he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head.
“i know everything is heavy. and i know you’re struggling right now. but i promise you’ll get through this.” he held you a little tighter, squeezing you closer to his warmth.
“and i know that you hold stuff in sometimes because you feel like you’re going to push everyone away. but im not going anywhere baby. you can’t push me away. i love you.”
“i love you too.” you answered softly.
“i love you when you’re depressed and anxious and struggling to take care of yourself. and i love you when you’re at your best. that’s what love is. and i promise you, you’re okay. i’m always here.”
lets talk about chan and his painfully obvious kink - choking
he has to have a hand on your neck somehow - anyhow, just so he can feel that tiny little pulse run and throb under his wide palm, to feel you are there with him right by his side. let it be on the nape of your neck, his fingers teasing the sides as he walks beside you or you are simply just sitting next to him, or -
he usually doesn't care if someone sees him or gives him weird looks for it, he does it for you. and for obvious reasons, himself. but when an insignificant nobody tells him it's weird and comes off overbearing, he beats himself up for it. do you feel that way? does the thought cross your mind that he is being pushy and violent with it? but then again how could he give something so pleasureful to the both of you up so easily?
does it feel like i'm using your body,baby? would you let me use your body,hm?
it literally gives chan shivers when you try and pry at his veiny hand from the pressure of his fingers digging into your skin at the side of your neck, eventually moaning at the feeling when he feels you fighting back the urge to roll your eyes and get another whip of air into your lungs before it's all over.
it's the choked sobs that gets him going. that gets him feeling like a starved animal.
hearing you moan and splurt all over his cock when he pushes your head a tad far down, drool pooling around his base and your lips nearly makes him fuck your poor throat raw right there and then.
yes baby, keep it tight for me, come on
he would groan under his breath, hot and demeaning. a push and pull - the way he controls your body just by grabbing you by the base of your neck and moves you just how he wants it. how he controls your cries because he is the one making you let out those beautiful sounds, and chan is the one controlling them.
you cum so hard when i choke your little neck like this, is this what you want?
it makes him ram deeper inside you due to the feeling of your walls fitting around him like a glove - grabbing your chin and telling you to behave when neccesary, and good girl when even the pressure is prickling at your throat you swallow everything he gives you.
in the end, he is not apologetic about his actions, because he knows you are just as a fuck up as him.
taking the threshold of adulthood as 18, you are likely to spend at least 52 years as a fully grown adult
at the age of 30 you have lived less than one quarter of your adult life (12/52 years)
'middle age' is typically considered to be between 45-65
it is extremely common to switch careers, start new relationships, emigrate, go to college for the first or second time, or make other life-changing decisions in middle age
it's wild that I even have to spell it out, but older adults (60+) still have social lives and hobbies and interests.
you can still date when you get old. you can still fuck. you can still learn new skills, be fashionable, be competitive. you can still gossip, you can still travel, you can still read. you can still transition. you can still come out.
young doesn't mean peaked. you're inexperienced in your 20s! you're still learning and practicing! you're developing social skills and muscle memory that will last decades!
there are a million things to do in the world, and they don't vanish overnight because an imaginary number gets too big
it is an incredibly joyous thing to look around at your friends as you're heading into your 40s and everyone is so much more themselves than they were when you were all scared and fragile 20-somethings. we're different genders now, we've gotten out of bad relationships and into good ones, we worked shit jobs and got better ones, we all cook a lot better and we eat better too, we casually pull off the kind of art we could only dream of as kids, we've figured out who we are and we do it on purpose now. the self-harm scars have all faded away and we complain about our bad backs and picky digestions instead.
