» Choso with fresh snakebites struggling with not being able to kiss you (+18)
“No-“ you giggled, pressing firmly against Choso’s chest. All afternoon you had to deal with a six foot tall puppy, all muscle and black eyeliner begging at your feet for something he knew he couldn’t have.
You cupped his face, thumbs brushing under the still raw piercings. Two silver hoops glimmered in the dim light of your room. “Just one kiss.” Choso whimpered, hands wrapping around your wrists. He moved his head, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before wincing. You watched at his eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowing from the sudden pain.
You rolled your eyes, “See? They’re fresh, Cho. You have to wait.” He looked so miserable, like a kicked puppy out in the rain.
It hurt to see him looking so sad, bottom lip swollen and begging for your lips against his. You had to distract him somehow…
“Is this better?” You purr from between his thighs, tongue licking the underside of his tip, humming when you wrap your lips around his leaky tip. Salty pre coats your tongue as he babbles, hands gripping your hair— begging for more. “This is what good boys get when they listen, don’t you want to be good for me?”
Choso nods, black spiky pigtails bobbing wildly as you take him back down your throat. Your mouth is so wet and warm and he wishes he could stick his own tongue into the wet cavern. He misses your sweetness, your hot breath and being able to hear your soft little moans so close to his ears— but hearing you praise him is just as euphoric. Each time you pop off of him, hand taking the place of your mouth, you can feel him twitch. “You look so pretty,” you coo, free hand sliding up his abdomen, feeling the way his abs flex under your touch, “I can’t wait to tug on those piercings with my teeth while you fuck me.”
Choso gasps, body tensing and cock pulsing beneath your fingers, “Oh-g-god—“ You look down at your now sticky hand, rubbing his warm cum with your thumb and middle finger critically. “Oh, Cho…” you giggle, popping your digits into your mouth, “it’s gonna be a really long couple of weeks.”
choso cries when he puts it in! (sub top!chocho) ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )
18+ mdni!
⋆⭒˚.⋆
“b-baby- haah- i— i just- hnngh!” choso whimpered out pathetically. his shaky, sweaty arms barely able to hold himself up as he hovered above you. he’s been like this for five minutes now, simply nudging and gently thrusting his tip against your sopping pussy and clit. “she’s just- ah- taunting me, angel...” his voice cracked in the cutest and most depraved way possible.
“choso, baby….we haven’t even put it in yet…” you cooed with a hand stroking his cheek, a bit concerned now, given how flushed his cheeks were.
choso leaned into your touch, glossy lips parted just enough for you to feel the humid air breathe against the palm of your hand. “i-i know. y’er- aah f-fuck! your pussy’s just so good to me…..too good, hnngh…”
luckily enough, you were just as depraved as him. you let him falter for far too long and you’re far too empty to be left like this, right? so, to his utter shock and surprise, you naughtily wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer into you.
choso mewled out. mewled. back even arched like a dirty little alley cat. his hands scrambled to grab onto something, anything: your biceps, your breasts, until they rested on your sides. A few seconds passed, choso still frozen above you.
“baby…? everything okay….?” you asked, starting to spiral that you had accidentally gone too far.
drip…drip…. a few rivulets of water trickled down your chest, cooling in comparison to the warmth of your skin.
your heart dropped, hands shooting up to push back some of his dangling sweat streaked hair. “ch-choso baby…?! what’s……wrong?”
oh I see. your eyes were met with the most wretched, pitiful, and glossy doe eyes that were choso’s. thick and heavy tears were welled up along his waterline, eyeliner dripping down his cheeks and looking utterly wrecked by you; his religion. his lower lip quivered, barely able to get a breath in.
“it hurts,” he whined. your eyes immediately widened, both hands cupping his cheeks. “it hurts how much I love you, angel- f-fuck!” you’ll never know what else he was going to say, as your legs tightened around him, forcing him to fully bottom out. it was your turn to whimper, having never felt this full and for his tip to fully kiss your cervix.
“you’re so dramatic, baby…” you chided with a loving chuckle, hand running through his hair. choso simply dropped his head onto your chest in response, letting out a long drawn out whine.
it's safe to say, your boyfriend is completely done for.
Choso is so needy he can’t resist fucking his gf in her sleep even if he feels wrong about it and she’s already told him she wants him to
trigger warning - somnophilia
choso x reader
He didn't mean to fuck you, he was just trying to slip his cock between your wet folds.
Just trying to feel your heat on his pulsing cock so he could finally cum. Your soft snores and his desperate whines and plea's to cum were all that filled the room at 4:23 am.
He had been at it for what felt like eternity. Too ashamed to wake you but too desperate to stay away. You spoke of somnophilia but it just wasn't right. He didn't get to use your body for his pleasure while you were out of it. You deserve to feel that too it was part of his pleasure but right now he was seeing clouds. Smelling colors and hearing numbers from how horny he was.
Soft sorrys left his lips, tears staining his desperate cheeks while choso shuddered at the feeling of your puffy pussy lips around his cock.
He swore he could hear you moan but he couldn't really focus on the sounds coming from your mouth when those slick wet sounds came from your pretty pussy. He closed his eyes. Nose digging into your hair.
"mm, it's too good- it's too good. Too good, baby, please I'm sorry, you're too good.." he softly whispered, teeth digging into his bottom lips as he desperately slammed his hips against your ass.
He can feel his cock slipping into your wet hole everytime his tip comes close. "Fuck, okay. fuck-" he groaned moving his cock from your pussy down to your thighs. But even then his hard cock stood up prodding at your entrance like he had to be there.
Like even his cock knew it, "okay, oh ur so warm and wet baby what the fuck, shit," he groans cursing under his breath, eyelashes sticking together from his needy tears as he slips his tip into your hole. "Ohymgod- oh yes, yes this is all I've wanted oh fuck." His lips find your neck. Desperately kissing you, marking you like he was in heat marking what's his because right now it actually felt like it.
Like he was on some super drug making him horny but that was just you. You and those cute pijamas shorts and your needing to cuddle all night right into his dick.
You drove him insane on purpose he was almost sure of it. You told him it was okay, it was okay to fuck you when you slept- he groaned. "Is that why you made me so fucking needy pretty girl? Knew I'd lose it and end up fucking you?" He whined his cock pushing all the way into you.
With a loud satisfied moan you nodded, "mhm, so a desperate Cho, just couldn't hold yourself back huh?" You chuckle nestling further into your pillow. He grunts almost agitated but he can't be. Not when you feel so good.
Not when he's finally cumming in your pretty pussy and not when he's about to make you cum a thousand times to make up to him..
a/n how long could I resist writing somno while absolutely excited and sleep deprived : 1 day kinda nervous ab writing choso ngl. Sorry for spelling mistakes I’m so tired
a/n: two fics in a week woah ria slow down; also slightly smutty be weary
boyfriend!choso who brags about you to everyone and anyone who’ll listen. You are truly his pride and joy. You mean everything to him and he makes sure everyone around him knows. You're his, and god is he thankful for that.
boyfriend!choso who loves involving you with his family. Choso holds his family very close to him and you getting along with them means the world to him.
boyfriend!choso who can't go to sleep without holding or cuddling you. No matter how often you tell him it's hot or uncomfortable he’ll still hold onto you. Nuzzling his head into your chest, trying to get impossibly closer.
boyfriend!choso who absolutely adores when you give him head scratches. He’ll always go out of his way just for head scratches. You could be laying on the couch and he’ll randomly appear begging for head scratches. Lips forming a slight pout and eyes looking up at you like he's a puppy. And of course you abide, it would be wrong of you to leave his cute face hanging.
boyfriend!choso who blushes or gets a little hard whenever you display any type of affection. Things as simple as hugs or laying your head on his shoulder get him excited in a way he can't explain. You're just so beautiful, so special to him.
boyfriend!choso who loves to kiss you between each sentence. Sure it's annoying but the cuteness of it overrights that. He’s just so desperately in love with you and doesn't know how else to express it.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Of course I am,” he places another kiss on you with soft, blush pink lips.
boyfriend!choso who can't help but jerk himself off whenever you aren't near. He misses your voice, your smile, your scent and jerking off helps him. Wiping his precum up and down his shaft as he inhales the scent of your panties. His strokes slow and long. Loud moans and whimpers leaping out of his mouth. He gets himself so worked up that he has to call you home for assistance not like you mind anyway.
boyfriend!choso who eats you out more for his enjoyment than yours. He could spend hours in between your legs and you’d let him. He somehow manages to lick and kiss all the right areas. The only downside is once he starts he can't stop. He’ll keep his mouth attached to your lips until you've came at least twice. He loves how you taste and you wouldn't have it any other way.
boyfriend!choso who loves cowgirl because he gets to look up at you. To him you are the most beautiful thing created. Watching you bounce up and down and take control of him fulfills him in ways he can't understand. He loves seeing the shape your mouth makes when you moan and the look of pleasure on your face that he gives you.
cw: unexpected pregnancy, angst w very little comfort... if you squint, pregnancy-related anxiety, canon-adjacent, slowww burn
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the florescent lights in the obgyn office were doing nothing to help the throbbing pain building steadily behind your left eye. the smell of antiseptic made you want to throw up the little bit of breakfast you'd forced down after spending the majority of your morning all alone and heaving over the toilet.
not because choso didn't want to help. if anything, he wanted to help a little too much considering the circumstances. it had been two weeks since you'd found out you were pregnant. pregnant… and still broken up. that was the only night you'd allowed yourselves the comfort of each other since you ended your relationship, but it didn't last long before you were standing, facing each other with unspoken questions swimming between you.
the breakup had been building for a while, the two of you doing everything you could to avoid the conversation you knew was coming. more date nights, less risky missions, time out with friends, and even the occasional weekend away if your schedules allowed it. but when you both had come back one night after a rough mission, battered and bruised in places you didn't even know could hurt so badly, bodies aching and chests tight with words left unsaid, you couldn't hold it in anymore.
"i can't do this anymore, cho."
choso sank onto the couch next to you, pulling your hands into his. his head dropped, his dark hair shielding his face but the shake of his shoulders told you everything you needed to know. you sat rigid on the couch knowing if you broke, if you moved to comfort him, you wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done. your heart twisted and you didn't even bother wiping away the tears sliding down your cheeks faster and harder than they ever have before.
"i love you. i love you so much that i can't keep watching you disappear but for weeks, months even, you've jumped in front of every curse, sacrificed every ounce of your time to make everyone else happy and—"
"i love you, y/n. i love my brothers! i love being there for my family, being someone they can depend on. is that so bad?" he lifted his head, eyes boring into yours as if he could find all the answers there.
"do you know who you are when nobody needs you?" you asked, gently pulling your hands from his grip. his mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
"i-i'm choso. i'm someone who takes care of—" you shook your head, holding up your hand to cut him off.
"that's not what i asked you, cho," you whispered, voice breaking with each word. "who are you? can you tell me who you are without mentioning anything about me, or your brothers, or taking care of other people?" his shoulders sagged as he pressed his back against the couch, turning his gaze towards the ceiling with a deep sigh. you scooched over, leaning your head against his shoulder.
"i don't know," he finally whispered, placing his head gently against yours.
choso kamo, who had spent his entire life knowing exactly what needed to be done. who could walk into a mission and make split second decisions. who could look at someone he loves and know immediately how to protect them. but ask him who he was when there was nothing to protect, nothing to fix, nothing to sacrifice? your chest felt tight at his confession that he simply didn't know the answer.
"i don't think i've ever had to think about that," he admitted, fingers slowly curling into fists. "there has always been something, or someone."
"i'm not asking you to love your people any less," his eyes snapped to yours. "i would never ask that of you, choso. i love them too, and i love the way you love people. that's one of the reasons i fell for you," you sighed, struggling to keep his gaze. "but i don't know how to be with someone who has no regard for his own life," your voice cracked as you gently stroked his cheek. "i don't know how i can make you believe that you matter so much more than just the times you're useful to others. you deserve to know who you are when nobody is asking anything from you."
a beat of silence passed between you before choso spoke again, so quietly you almost didn't hear him.
"i don't want to lose you," he whispered.
"i don't want to lose you, either."
"y/l/n?"
your name pulled you back into the present. you blinked, the memory fading beneath the harsh lights and for a moment, neither of you moved. then, choso stood first. you almost hated how naturally being the first to react came to him and how familiar it felt for you.
"come on," he murmured, holding the door open for you. you followed the nurse down the hallway with choso a step behind, not close enough to touch but definitely not far enough to pretend he wasn't there and that this wasn't happening.
the appointment itself passed by in a blur with questions asked and answered way too quickly, choso's own questions flying right back, forms you barely remembered filling out, and too many bodies packed in such a small room. a nurse was taking your blood pressure while choso sat quietly beside you, his knee bouncing relentlessly.
"any nausea?" the nurse asked, gently unwrapping the cuff from your arm. your eyes flicked to choso briefly before answering.
"a little."
"a little?" choso frowned. the looked between the two of you with an amused smile.
"first baby?" she asked, gesturing for you to climb onto the exam table. choso grabbed your arm to help you up, a slight red tint crawling up his neck as he very clearly realized that this was something he now probably should to ask permission to do.
"yes," you muttered. "first baby."
"alright then," she said with a too bright smile for the situation. "let's take a look!"
an awkward blanket of silence settled over the room as the ultrasound tech spread cool gel across the bottom of your abdomen. your eyes flicked between her hands and her face, trying to get some sort of inclination as to what she was doing. the silence was stretching too long, a small seed of anxiety starting to take root in your chest at the thought of something being wrong. you reached for choso's hand instinctively and he gave it a small squeeze.
"i'm taking measurements. just trying to get a feel for how big baby is, that's all." she gave a small smile before turning her attention back to the screen. choso leaned over you, brows furrowed as he tried his best to decipher what he was seeing.
"how can she see anything in there?" he whispered in your ear. "it looks like grey soup." you smiled, stifling a giggle.
"see that?" she pointed to the screen and you both leaned in, suddenly not amused anymore. "that's your baby," she whispered.
"oh." the sound escaped your mouth, a breathy one of disbelief that those two lines had become a strong heartbeat. disbelief that you were growing a real, actual life. you looked over at choso, tears welling up in his eyes as a small smile grew on his lips.
"and this…" she hit a key on her keyboard, filling the room with a rapid thudding that was so fast, your brain couldn't make sense of it at first. "…is your baby's heartbeat."
you felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you. you hadn't even noticed you were crying until a tear splashed onto your hand and couldn't help the grin that broke out across your face, the feeling of hearing your baby's heartbeat absolutely indescribable. you wished you could bottle the sound up and keep it forever.
"that's our baby," choso whispered. he stood impossibly still next to you, eyes wide as he just stared at the screen. neither of you were actually listening to what the ultrasound tech was saying. how could you when the sweetest sound in the world was playing on repeat?
"would you like pictures?" you nodded frantically, a sob escaping from the back of your throat. choso squeezed your hand so hard it started to hurt, but you couldn't possibly be bothered by it with all the adrenaline coursing through you. in a blur of movement, the tech printed the photos and wiped the gel from your stomach.
"the doctor will be in with you shortly," she grinned, pulling the door open to leave. "congratulations on your new addition."
"are you okay?" choso asked once she left, studying your face.
"i don't know," you laughed through your tears. "are you?" he nodded his head with a wide grin, taking his copy of the sonogram and flipping it in a few different directions before sighing.
"…i still don't know what i'm looking at." he confessed. you lifted your own copy, another watery laugh bubbling up.
it felt good to be laughing together again, but as it died down you couldn't help but grow anxious at the thought of raising a baby with someone you were no longer with. your heart ached because you knew choso had always wanted to start a family of his own, with you, always you. but you could never have anticipated your family starting so… separated and uncertain.
"i don't know what to do," you admitted, closing your eyes against the headache from earlier threatening to return.
"neither do i," he shrugged, facing you fully. "but i know i want to be here. for our baby." you nodded, finally dropping your hand from his grip.
you wanted him here, too, but you weren't ready to forget why you'd asked him to leave in the first place. wanting him beside you had always been easy. trusting that he actually wanted to be there for himself was the part that scared you.
so for now, you let yourself believe him.
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a/n: this slow burn is going to be the death of me lmao
You woke up first, still tangled in Yunho’s arms on his bed, his face buried in your shoulder, hair messy, breathing slow and warm against your neck.
You tried moving. Huge mistake. His arms tightened around you instantly. Like a seatbelt.
“No,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.
“Stay.”
“Yunho, I need to pee.”
“No.”
“Babe—”
He groaned, loosened his grip just enough for you to slip out… but the moment her warmth left his chest…
He woke up.
Eyes half-open. Groggy. Confused. Disoriented. Very much puppy mode. The ‘wait, where is my oxygen?’ look.
You walked towards the bathroom, still tying your robe, when you heard something behind you.
Soft footsteps. Shuffling. Low whining.
You turned around and face palmed.
Your six-foot-two boyfriend in pajamas was following you. All sleepy and disheveled yet still effortlessly good looking at 7am in the morning.
His hair sticking up in twenty directions making him look more puppy-er than usual. Your blanket still wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.
A feral golden retriever that had imprinted on his mate.
You blinked, “Why are you following me?”
He blinked back, like the question was offensive. How dare you ask that question?
“…Because you left.”
“I’m going to the bathroom.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
“No, you won’t.”
He nodded stubbornly. “Yes, I will.”
You squinted. “Are you… pouting?”
He immediately shook his head. He absolutely was pouting.
He padded after you all the way to the bathroom door, blanket trailing on the floor. When you tried to close said bathroom door, his fingers slipped into the doorway.
“Baby.”
“What?”
“I miss you.”
“You saw me thirty seconds ago!”
“I still miss you.”
You groaned, but not really complaining. “You’re impossible.”
He leaned his forehead against the doorframe, groggy and adorable.
“Come back quickly,” he murmured. “I can’t function alone yet.”
You laughed so hard that you nearly forgot why you went in there.
By breakfast time? Yunho was already in maximum Feral Puppy Boyfriend mode.
You headed to the kitchen. Yunho was exactly one step behind you.
No, not beside you. Nope, not even near you. God, never in front of you. Right behind you. Wherever you went.
You opened the fridge. He peered over your shoulder. You went to the sink. He followed. To the coffee machine? He kissed your cheek. You reached for a mug. He grabbed it for you like a loyal but unhinged butler. “I’ll get it for you baby!”
San passed by the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Stopped and stared. Half in disbelief, half in judgment.
“…Why the hell is he like this? Bro it’s 7 in the morning.”
You poured juice. “I don’t know.”
Yunho, still glued behind you, muttered, “I want cuddles.”
By the others start waking up, Yunho still stuck by you. Nothing new. Just their Yunho being a baby to his girlfriend in their home. Totally a normal Sunday. One by one, they wandered in, completely used to this nonsense.
Wooyoung walked in, too happy with life, immediately screamed, “Good morning—OH MY GOD HE’S IN PUP MODE.”
“Someone get the spray bottle.” Mingi cackled while receiving a glare from his bestie.
Hongjoong, absolutely done with this madness, rubbed his temples and waved the others off, “Leave him. He’s harmless until noon.”
Yeosang deadpanned, “That’s a lie. He bit me once.”
“He doesn’t bite. He nibbles.”, Hwa corrected, stirring his coffee, smiling apologetically at you, “You okay, sweetheart?”
Jongho walked in last with San back hugging him, “Hyung, let the poor girl breathe.”
You turned to look at Yunho. Only for him to tightened his hold around your waist, blanket swallowing both of you now.
“Don’t listen to them, baby,” he mumbled into your neck.
“I’m good. I’m warm. You’re warm. Everything is perfect.”
You giggled softly, patting his cheek before giving him a peak on the lips.
“My clingy puppy.” He made a sound. A little whimper.
The boys all screamed internally. Gagged internally. Or externally, seeing Hongjoong cringed at the affection early in the morning.
Wooyoung shrieked, shaking San by the shoulders, “That’s it. She broke him. He’s never coming back.”
Yunho nuzzled into your neck, finally awake enough to smirk. That cocky smirk that always made you want to either smack him or kiss him. Or both to be honest.
“If she calls me that again,” he murmured against your skin, “I’m carrying her back to bed.”
WARNING : actual p*rn links (be careful what you watch, i am not responsible for your media consumption), 5 links for each member, anal, squirting, fingering, riding, LOTS of doggy, some really rough ones, throat fucking, sub! idol (mostly wooyoung lowk), overstim, edging, even more!!! be careful!!!
a/n : you MUST be logged into x (twitter) to watch
THIS WORK IS WRITTEN BY A MINOR, BLOCK IF UNCOMFORTABLE!!!
★ seonghwa. p ⋆·˚ ༘ *
perv! seonghwa loves watching your tits bounce while he fucks you <3
should've known those fishnets drive him fucking crazy 😵💫
he likes showing you off and playing with your cunt in front of the members
"you said you could take it, baby"
he thinks you look so pretty sloppily making out with his dick <3
★ hongjoong. k ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he's fallen asleep on the couch, again, so you decide to wake him up with a treat
just him.
"keep going baby, good girl"
he's got you bent over the couch in the studio- letting off some steam
it's only right to help his baby out after letting him use your ass, right?
★ yunho. j ⋆·˚ ༘ *
yunho makes you take his fingers before he stuffs you with his cock
it's halloween and yunho sent you this video, followed by a text that says "be ready."
this.
yuyu loves to see how far he can push his baby <3
he's so mean :( not stopping until you beg him to
★ yeosang. k ⋆·˚ ༘ *
splitting you open on his cock is his favorite past time
stupid boy should've kept his mouth shut, now he's getting his throat fucked
long distance christmas present
finally letting him cum after teasing for hours
in the dorm w college student! yeosang
★ san. c ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he loves making you squirt
he can't help but want to breed you, even when it's 5am and he's fighting with jet-lag
"nu-uh, baby, don't fucking run from it"
making out with your cunt
"how're you gonna take my cock if you can't handle my fingers, baby?"
★ mingi. s ⋆·˚ ༘ *
he loves when you get so brainless you suck on anything you can get your mouth on
you didn't believe your best friend when she said he would rearrange your guts
"keep that arch baby"
mingi gets off to a video of yunho fucking you (poly! yungi)
you're not selfish
★ wooyoung. j ⋆·˚ ༘ *
wooyoung loves a good fight for dominance even if he wins every time
he looks so pretty cumming on his tummy
pretty boy misses you on tour
wooyoung loves being sandwhiched between you and san
you distract your gamer boyfriend mid-match until he completely falls apart.
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 2.9k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, heavy overstimulation, crying, spit as lube, multiple orgasms in a row, semi-public (mic is on), handjob, blowjob, begging, yunho is a trembling & whimpering mess, cum swallowing, grinding, body convulsions, hypersensitivity.
you're sprawled across the bed, chin propped on your palm, watching the back of yunho's head with an expression that's slowly curdling from patience into something sharper.
he's been at it for three hours.
three hours of him hunched over his gaming chair, headset clamped over his ears, fingers dancing across his keyboard like you don't even exist in the same room. the occasional curse slips out — "oh, that's bullshit" — or a sharp laugh when one of his friends says something stupid; you can hear them through the back of yunho’s headset, tinny and distant, a whole world you've been locked out of since eight pm.
and it's almost eleven now.
you've tried everything; you brought him a snack an hour ago — you set it on his desk, let your fingers trail across his shoulders, but yunho only mumbled "thanks, baby," without even looking away from his damn monitor. you'd stood behind him for a solid minute, watching the back of his neck, the way his muscles shifted under his loose t-shirt.
nothing, not even a glance.
you tried sitting on the bed and just... existing, prettily so. you're in one of yunho’s hoodies and nothing else, legs bare, socks with cute little hearts on them. usually that's enough to make him drop everything, usually he'd be on you within seconds, all long limbs and eager hands.
but valorant has your boyfriend in a chokehold tonight, and frankly, you're tired of competing with a video game.
so you wait, you watch, and you plan.
yunho's got this thing he always does when he's focused — his tongue pokes out just slightly, wetting his lower lip, and his eyebrows pinch together. he's so so beautiful like this, all sharp concentration, but you want him beautiful in a different way; you want him wrecked.
you slide off the bed quietly, padding across the carpet until you're right behind his chair. he doesn't notice. of course he doesn't notice; his friends are yelling something about a rotate, and yunho's voice is all clipped efficiency:
"i'm anchoring, i'm anchoring, just push—"
you drop your hands onto his shoulders.
yunho startles, just a little.
"oh—hey, baby. one sec," his eyes never leave the screen.
you don't say anythin, you simply start kneading the tension out of his trapezius muscles, slowly and cautiously. yunho’s shoulders are tight as rocks under your palms, and you feel him exhale as your thumbs dig into a knot.
"that's nice," he murmurs. "feels good."
you lean down, mouth brushing the shell of his ear.
"yeah?"
yunho shivers; you feel it travel down his spine, but his hands keep moving on the keyboard, and his brown eyes stay fixed on that glowing rectangle of chaos.
you could cry from frustration, but instead, you get creative.
your hands slide down from yunho’s shoulders, over his chest, dragging slow across his pectorals; you can feel his heartbeat under your palm — steady, but picking up just a little.
your fingers find the hem of his t-shirt and slip underneath, skating across the warm skin of his stomach.
yunho's breath hitches.
"babe, i'm in the middle of—"
"i know," you say sweetly against his ear. "you're doing so so good, yun."
his stomach tenses under your touch.
you slowly trace the lines of his abdominals, feather-light, watching yunho’s grip tighten on his mouse. his character on screen does something jerky — misses a shot, probably, and one of his friends groans over comms.
"yunho, what the hell was that?"
"nothing," he says, voice slightly strained. "misclick."
you smile, and your hands drift lower, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his gray joggers; they're soft, slightly worn, and they hang low on his hips, and it’s so fucking hot—
"baby," his voice has a warning edge now, but it's shaky. "can this wait? we're in overtime."
you don't answer, you simply slip one of your hand under the waistband, palm flattening against his lower belly, fingers trailing through the fine hair below his navel.
yunho is already half-hard; you can feel it, the way his cock twitches against your questing fingers, the way his hips push forward just a little, involuntarily.
"oh," you breathe. "someone's distracted."
yunho's jaw clenches. his character is standing still in a corner of the map, and his teammates are yelling at him.
"yunho! move! they're pushing A!"
your boyfriend forces his hands to move. you watch his fingers fumble on the keyboard, and something hot curls low in your belly. he's trying so hard to focus. it's adorable.
your hand dips lower, wrapping around his half-hard length through his boxers. he's warm, already leaking a little, and you stroke him once — slow, measured, from base to tip.
yunho makes a sound. it's barely a whimper, swallowed down fast, but you hear it, and your body responds instantly, a rush of heat spreading through your core.
"shh," you whisper. "don't want your friends to hear, do you?"
he shakes his head, a tiny, frantic movement. his ears are now completely red; you can see the flush creeping down his neck, disappearing under his t-shirt collar, and he's gripping his mouse so hard his knuckles are white.
you pull your hand out of his joggers, just for a moment, and yunho makes a confused, almost wounded noise — but then you're hooking your fingers into the waistband and tugging down just enough to free him.
yunho’s cock springs up, flushed and already leaking, the tip shiny and pink. he's not fully hard yet but he's close, and god, you love this part, you love watching him get there.
you spit into your palm, and you hear yunho's breath catch as you wrap your hand around him again, slick and warm.
"oh," yunho breathes. "oh—fuck."
"language," you tease, but your voice is lower now, rougher.
you start stroking him properly, slow and firm, twisting your wrist at the top the way you know he likes, and yunho's hips naturally buck into your hand.
his character is still standing in that corner, and someone on his team is screaming about a spike.
"yunho, what the fuck are you doing?"
"i—" his voice cracks. "i got—someone's at the door, hold on—"
he's lying, and it's terrible. you're both aware of how terrible it is, but you don't call him out, you just keep stroking him, steady and unrelenting, and watch him fall apart in real time.
yunho’s thighs are trembling; you can feel it through the fabric of his joggers, the way his muscles keep twitching, fighting the urge to just shove back from the desk and drag you onto his lap. but he doesn't. he stays in his chair, hands still on keyboard and mouse, because he's stubborn and competitive and he really wanted to win this game.
well… too bad for him.
you speed up just a little, and your thumb swipes over yunho’s slit, spreading the slickness there, and your boyfriend makes a sound that's almost a sob.
"baby, please," he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.
"please what?" you ask innocently, still stroking, still watching the way his stomach is clenching and unclenching.
yunho doesn't answer, because he can't.
one of his friends is yelling something about a flank, and yunho forces his character to move, running him across the map in a straight line that makes no tactical sense. he's not even trying anymore, he's just going through the motions, and you can feel how close he is — the way his cock is throbbing in your hand, the way his breath is coming in short, sharp pants.
"you're gonna cum," you murmur. "aren't you, baby?"
yunho nods frantically.
his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes are glassy, staring at the screen without really seeing it.
"not yet," you decide, and you let go.
yunho actually chokes; it was a desperate, punched-out sound that he tries to turn into a cough.
"what—why—"
"i want to taste you."
you don't wait for permission, you simply drop to your knees behind yunho’s chair, nudging his thighs apart with your shoulders, and then you're leaning in, your mouth closing over the head of your boyfriend’s cock. yunho tastes like salt and skin, that familiar warmth that makes your mouth water.
you swirl your tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that's beaded just there, and yunho's whole body convulses.
"oh my god," he gasps. "oh my god, oh my god—"
"quiet," you remind him, pulling off just enough to speak. "mic."
yunho slaps a hand over his own mouth, and his pretty eyes are huge, panicked and desperate all at once, and you don't give him time to recover; you take him deeper, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat, and you hear the muffled sound of his scream behind his palm.
his hand flies off the keyboard. his character is running into a wall now, and one of his friends is saying something like:
"yunho, are you okay? your character's just—"
but yunho doesn't answer. hell, he can't.
you're bobbing your head now, setting a rhythm that's relentless, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to stroke what your mouth can't reach. you're messy about it; spit is dripping down your chin, down his length, and you don't care at all. you just want to make him fall apart.
and he completely is.
yunho’s thighs are shaking violently, his hips jerking up into your mouth even though he's clearly trying to stay still. his hand is still clamped over his mouth, but the sounds are escaping anyway — whimpers, high and desperate, barely muffled by his palm. his other hand is still on his mouse, but he's not moving it; he's just gripping it like a lifeline, knuckles white, his whole arm trembling.
you pull off with a wet sound, just to watch him, just to see the way his chest is heaving, the way his eyes are screwed shut, tears clinging to his lashes.
"look at me," you say.
he does. yunho’s eyes open, and they're so blown out you can barely see the brown. his lips are wet and parted, and there's a tear already tracking down his cheek.
"so pretty," you tell him. "you're doing so well."
he shakes his head frantically.
"i can't—i'm gonna—"
"i know."
you take him back in your mouth before he can finish, and this time you don't hold back; you suck him like you mean it, hard and fast, your throat working around him, and you feel the exact moment he breaks.
yunho cums with a strangled cry, muffled by his own hand, his whole body arching up out of the chair. his release hits the back of your throat, hot and thick, and you swallow it down without stopping, without slowing, even as his hips are jerking and his thighs are trembling and he's making these broken, keening sounds that you know his friends can probably hear.
but you don't stop.
yunho's hand drops from his mouth.
"wait—wait, please, i just—"
but you keep going.
your tongue drags slow and flat over the head, and the noise yunho makes isn't human; it's a raw, punched-out gasp that cracks in the middle, and his whole body seizes — not just a flinch, but a real convulsion, spine bowing forward, shoulders hunching, his hips snapping back like he's trying to escape. but the chair traps him. there's nowhere to go.
"s’too much," yunho wheezes.
his hands fly down to your head, but his fingers don't push you, they just tangle in your hair, gripping hard, knuckles pressed against your scalp.
"s’too much, baby, please—"
you ignore him, and you suck gently, just the tip, and yunho’s thighs slam together around your ears; you have to push them apart again with your forearms, and you feel the muscles there jumping, spasming, completely out of his control.
"i can't—" his voice breaks into a real sob, wet and loud, and you hear one of his friends on the mic go quiet for a second.
"yunho? dude, you okay?"
you've taken him deeper again, and his hips are twitching in these short, jerky little thrusts that he's clearly not deciding to do. his body is just doing things now. his stomach keeps clenching and unclenching under his shirt, and you watch a bead of sweat roll down his temple, catching in his eyebrow.
you pull off to breathe, and the sound yunho makes is almost angry, and so so so desperate.
"please," he gets out. "please, it's so much—it's so much—"
your hand wraps around him again, loose and wet, and you don't move it, you just hold him, feel how hard he's trembling.
"i'm gonna die," yunho whispers, and his voice is tiny.
you laugh softly and lean back in, and this time you don't even take him all the way; you just mouth at the side of his shaft, lips dragging over the sensitive skin, and yunho jerks so hard his elbow knocks his water bottle off the desk. it hits the floor with a loud thunk, but neither of you look at it.
you can feel him softening a little, his body trying to retreat from the overstimulation, but you don't let up.
no, instead, you lick a slow stripe from the base of his cock to tip, and yunho’s breath hitches into a rhythm that's not breathing anymore — it's just gasping, open-mouthed and wet, his chest heaving like he's been running.
"one more," you say against his skin.
"i can't," he gets out, but his voice cracks on the vowel. "i can't, i literally cannot—"
you take him back in your mouth, just the head, and you suck.
it's not hard, it's almost gentle, but it's too much for him now, and you feel it the second his body gives up fighting. his whole frame goes rigid first — every muscle locked, his hands fisting in your hair hard enough to sting — and then he shatters.
it's not a normal orgasm; there's barely anything left, just a weak pulse, a few drops of fluid that you taste more than feel, but yunho’s body doesn't care.
he convulses like he's having a seizure, hips bucking off the chair, back arching so hard his shoulder blades press together. his mouth falls open in a silent scream, no air left to power it, and then the sound comes after — a raw, guttural cry that tears out of his throat and doesn't stop.
yunho’s legs kick out; one of his feet catches the desk leg, and the whole thing rattles.
his mouse skitters off the pad, his keyboard clacks as his chest slams into it, and he's still shaking, still convulsing, little aftershocks rippling through his thighs and his stomach and his hands, which are still twisted in your hair, holding on like you're the only solid thing in the room.
you stay where you are, mouth soft around his cock, but you’re not moving, you’re simply waiting.
it takes a long time for the spasms to slow down.
yunho’s breathing is all over the place — three short inhales, one long shuddering exhale, then nothing, then a gasp like he forgot how to breath. his long fingers loosen in your hair one by one, and his hand falls limp against the side of your face, palm sweaty and trembling.
you pull off slowly, carefully, and yunho’s whole body flinches at the loss of contact.
"hey," you whisper. "baby, you're okay."
he's not okay.
yunho’s is wrecked — tears and snot and spit all smeared together, his lips chapped and bitten raw. his eyes are half-closed, unfocused, the pupils still blown wide, and there's a wet patch on his shirt collar from where he's been crying.
you sit back on your heels and just look at him.
he's still shaking; little tremors, constant, running through his shoulders and his hands. yunho’s chest is hitching with these tiny, involuntary sobs that he doesn't seem to be aware of anymore. his character is dead on the screen — you notice distantly that his team lost, that the defeat screen is glowing on the monitor — but neither of you care.
finally, finally, you stand up.
you reach out and brush the damp hair off yunho’s forehead, and he flinches at your touch, too sensitive, still. but then he leans into it, just a little, his eyes flutter closed.
"baby," you say softly.
"you're mean," he whispers, his voice is completely destroyed, raw and cracked.
yunho just lies there, breathing in shaky hitches, while you stand up and grab a towel from the bathroom to clean him up. you're gentle this time, wiping away the mess, and he hisses when you brush against his cock but doesn't pull away.
you're tucking him back into his joggers when you hear it; a small, tinny voice from his headset.
"uh... yunho? dude, your mic is still on."
yunho's eyes snap open, and all the blood drains from his pretty face, then rushes back twice as fast, turning him crimson from his chest to his hairline.
"oh my god," he whispers.
you bite your lip to keep from laughing, you really do.
"oh my god," yunho says again, louder this time.
and you can hear his friends in the headset — someone is wheezing, someone else is saying; "i'm never letting him live this down," and the third person just keeps repeating "i heard everything, everything, i need therapy—"
yunho rips the headset off and throws it onto the desk, and he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and you can't tell if he's crying or laughing or both.
"i'm never playing with them again," yunho says, muffled. "i'm moving to a new country. i'm changing my name."
you climb into his lap, ignoring his weak little protest, and wrap your arms around his neck. yunho still trembling, still so so so oversensitive, but he holds you back, completely burying his face in your shoulder.
"you lost your game," you say, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"i don't care about the fucking game."
you grin. "good. because i want round two."
yunho groans, but his hips twitch against yours, and you feel him start to stir again, and you know he's definitely going to let you ruin him all over again.
you distract your gamer boyfriend mid-match until he completely falls apart.
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 2.9k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, heavy overstimulation, crying, spit as lube, multiple orgasms in a row, semi-public (mic is on), handjob, blowjob, begging, yunho is a trembling & whimpering mess, cum swallowing, grinding, body convulsions, hypersensitivity.
you're sprawled across the bed, chin propped on your palm, watching the back of yunho's head with an expression that's slowly curdling from patience into something sharper.
he's been at it for three hours.
three hours of him hunched over his gaming chair, headset clamped over his ears, fingers dancing across his keyboard like you don't even exist in the same room. the occasional curse slips out — "oh, that's bullshit" — or a sharp laugh when one of his friends says something stupid; you can hear them through the back of yunho’s headset, tinny and distant, a whole world you've been locked out of since eight pm.
and it's almost eleven now.
you've tried everything; you brought him a snack an hour ago — you set it on his desk, let your fingers trail across his shoulders, but yunho only mumbled "thanks, baby," without even looking away from his damn monitor. you'd stood behind him for a solid minute, watching the back of his neck, the way his muscles shifted under his loose t-shirt.
nothing, not even a glance.
you tried sitting on the bed and just... existing, prettily so. you're in one of yunho’s hoodies and nothing else, legs bare, socks with cute little hearts on them. usually that's enough to make him drop everything, usually he'd be on you within seconds, all long limbs and eager hands.
but valorant has your boyfriend in a chokehold tonight, and frankly, you're tired of competing with a video game.
so you wait, you watch, and you plan.
yunho's got this thing he always does when he's focused — his tongue pokes out just slightly, wetting his lower lip, and his eyebrows pinch together. he's so so beautiful like this, all sharp concentration, but you want him beautiful in a different way; you want him wrecked.
you slide off the bed quietly, padding across the carpet until you're right behind his chair. he doesn't notice. of course he doesn't notice; his friends are yelling something about a rotate, and yunho's voice is all clipped efficiency:
"i'm anchoring, i'm anchoring, just push—"
you drop your hands onto his shoulders.
yunho startles, just a little.
"oh—hey, baby. one sec," his eyes never leave the screen.
you don't say anythin, you simply start kneading the tension out of his trapezius muscles, slowly and cautiously. yunho’s shoulders are tight as rocks under your palms, and you feel him exhale as your thumbs dig into a knot.
"that's nice," he murmurs. "feels good."
you lean down, mouth brushing the shell of his ear.
"yeah?"
yunho shivers; you feel it travel down his spine, but his hands keep moving on the keyboard, and his brown eyes stay fixed on that glowing rectangle of chaos.
you could cry from frustration, but instead, you get creative.
your hands slide down from yunho’s shoulders, over his chest, dragging slow across his pectorals; you can feel his heartbeat under your palm — steady, but picking up just a little.
your fingers find the hem of his t-shirt and slip underneath, skating across the warm skin of his stomach.
yunho's breath hitches.
"babe, i'm in the middle of—"
"i know," you say sweetly against his ear. "you're doing so so good, yun."
his stomach tenses under your touch.
you slowly trace the lines of his abdominals, feather-light, watching yunho’s grip tighten on his mouse. his character on screen does something jerky — misses a shot, probably, and one of his friends groans over comms.
"yunho, what the hell was that?"
"nothing," he says, voice slightly strained. "misclick."
you smile, and your hands drift lower, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his gray joggers; they're soft, slightly worn, and they hang low on his hips, and it’s so fucking hot—
"baby," his voice has a warning edge now, but it's shaky. "can this wait? we're in overtime."
you don't answer, you simply slip one of your hand under the waistband, palm flattening against his lower belly, fingers trailing through the fine hair below his navel.
yunho is already half-hard; you can feel it, the way his cock twitches against your questing fingers, the way his hips push forward just a little, involuntarily.
"oh," you breathe. "someone's distracted."
yunho's jaw clenches. his character is standing still in a corner of the map, and his teammates are yelling at him.
"yunho! move! they're pushing A!"
your boyfriend forces his hands to move. you watch his fingers fumble on the keyboard, and something hot curls low in your belly. he's trying so hard to focus. it's adorable.
your hand dips lower, wrapping around his half-hard length through his boxers. he's warm, already leaking a little, and you stroke him once — slow, measured, from base to tip.
yunho makes a sound. it's barely a whimper, swallowed down fast, but you hear it, and your body responds instantly, a rush of heat spreading through your core.
"shh," you whisper. "don't want your friends to hear, do you?"
he shakes his head, a tiny, frantic movement. his ears are now completely red; you can see the flush creeping down his neck, disappearing under his t-shirt collar, and he's gripping his mouse so hard his knuckles are white.
you pull your hand out of his joggers, just for a moment, and yunho makes a confused, almost wounded noise — but then you're hooking your fingers into the waistband and tugging down just enough to free him.
yunho’s cock springs up, flushed and already leaking, the tip shiny and pink. he's not fully hard yet but he's close, and god, you love this part, you love watching him get there.
you spit into your palm, and you hear yunho's breath catch as you wrap your hand around him again, slick and warm.
"oh," yunho breathes. "oh—fuck."
"language," you tease, but your voice is lower now, rougher.
you start stroking him properly, slow and firm, twisting your wrist at the top the way you know he likes, and yunho's hips naturally buck into your hand.
his character is still standing in that corner, and someone on his team is screaming about a spike.
"yunho, what the fuck are you doing?"
"i—" his voice cracks. "i got—someone's at the door, hold on—"
he's lying, and it's terrible. you're both aware of how terrible it is, but you don't call him out, you just keep stroking him, steady and unrelenting, and watch him fall apart in real time.
yunho’s thighs are trembling; you can feel it through the fabric of his joggers, the way his muscles keep twitching, fighting the urge to just shove back from the desk and drag you onto his lap. but he doesn't. he stays in his chair, hands still on keyboard and mouse, because he's stubborn and competitive and he really wanted to win this game.
well… too bad for him.
you speed up just a little, and your thumb swipes over yunho’s slit, spreading the slickness there, and your boyfriend makes a sound that's almost a sob.
"baby, please," he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.
"please what?" you ask innocently, still stroking, still watching the way his stomach is clenching and unclenching.
yunho doesn't answer, because he can't.
one of his friends is yelling something about a flank, and yunho forces his character to move, running him across the map in a straight line that makes no tactical sense. he's not even trying anymore, he's just going through the motions, and you can feel how close he is — the way his cock is throbbing in your hand, the way his breath is coming in short, sharp pants.
"you're gonna cum," you murmur. "aren't you, baby?"
yunho nods frantically.
his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and his eyes are glassy, staring at the screen without really seeing it.
"not yet," you decide, and you let go.
yunho actually chokes; it was a desperate, punched-out sound that he tries to turn into a cough.
"what—why—"
"i want to taste you."
you don't wait for permission, you simply drop to your knees behind yunho’s chair, nudging his thighs apart with your shoulders, and then you're leaning in, your mouth closing over the head of your boyfriend’s cock. yunho tastes like salt and skin, that familiar warmth that makes your mouth water.
you swirl your tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that's beaded just there, and yunho's whole body convulses.
"oh my god," he gasps. "oh my god, oh my god—"
"quiet," you remind him, pulling off just enough to speak. "mic."
yunho slaps a hand over his own mouth, and his pretty eyes are huge, panicked and desperate all at once, and you don't give him time to recover; you take him deeper, sinking down until he hits the back of your throat, and you hear the muffled sound of his scream behind his palm.
his hand flies off the keyboard. his character is running into a wall now, and one of his friends is saying something like:
"yunho, are you okay? your character's just—"
but yunho doesn't answer. hell, he can't.
you're bobbing your head now, setting a rhythm that's relentless, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to stroke what your mouth can't reach. you're messy about it; spit is dripping down your chin, down his length, and you don't care at all. you just want to make him fall apart.
and he completely is.
yunho’s thighs are shaking violently, his hips jerking up into your mouth even though he's clearly trying to stay still. his hand is still clamped over his mouth, but the sounds are escaping anyway — whimpers, high and desperate, barely muffled by his palm. his other hand is still on his mouse, but he's not moving it; he's just gripping it like a lifeline, knuckles white, his whole arm trembling.
you pull off with a wet sound, just to watch him, just to see the way his chest is heaving, the way his eyes are screwed shut, tears clinging to his lashes.
"look at me," you say.
he does. yunho’s eyes open, and they're so blown out you can barely see the brown. his lips are wet and parted, and there's a tear already tracking down his cheek.
"so pretty," you tell him. "you're doing so well."
he shakes his head frantically.
"i can't—i'm gonna—"
"i know."
you take him back in your mouth before he can finish, and this time you don't hold back; you suck him like you mean it, hard and fast, your throat working around him, and you feel the exact moment he breaks.
yunho cums with a strangled cry, muffled by his own hand, his whole body arching up out of the chair. his release hits the back of your throat, hot and thick, and you swallow it down without stopping, without slowing, even as his hips are jerking and his thighs are trembling and he's making these broken, keening sounds that you know his friends can probably hear.
but you don't stop.
yunho's hand drops from his mouth.
"wait—wait, please, i just—"
but you keep going.
your tongue drags slow and flat over the head, and the noise yunho makes isn't human; it's a raw, punched-out gasp that cracks in the middle, and his whole body seizes — not just a flinch, but a real convulsion, spine bowing forward, shoulders hunching, his hips snapping back like he's trying to escape. but the chair traps him. there's nowhere to go.
"s’too much," yunho wheezes.
his hands fly down to your head, but his fingers don't push you, they just tangle in your hair, gripping hard, knuckles pressed against your scalp.
"s’too much, baby, please—"
you ignore him, and you suck gently, just the tip, and yunho’s thighs slam together around your ears; you have to push them apart again with your forearms, and you feel the muscles there jumping, spasming, completely out of his control.
"i can't—" his voice breaks into a real sob, wet and loud, and you hear one of his friends on the mic go quiet for a second.
"yunho? dude, you okay?"
you've taken him deeper again, and his hips are twitching in these short, jerky little thrusts that he's clearly not deciding to do. his body is just doing things now. his stomach keeps clenching and unclenching under his shirt, and you watch a bead of sweat roll down his temple, catching in his eyebrow.
you pull off to breathe, and the sound yunho makes is almost angry, and so so so desperate.
"please," he gets out. "please, it's so much—it's so much—"
your hand wraps around him again, loose and wet, and you don't move it, you just hold him, feel how hard he's trembling.
"i'm gonna die," yunho whispers, and his voice is tiny.
you laugh softly and lean back in, and this time you don't even take him all the way; you just mouth at the side of his shaft, lips dragging over the sensitive skin, and yunho jerks so hard his elbow knocks his water bottle off the desk. it hits the floor with a loud thunk, but neither of you look at it.
you can feel him softening a little, his body trying to retreat from the overstimulation, but you don't let up.
no, instead, you lick a slow stripe from the base of his cock to tip, and yunho’s breath hitches into a rhythm that's not breathing anymore — it's just gasping, open-mouthed and wet, his chest heaving like he's been running.
"one more," you say against his skin.
"i can't," he gets out, but his voice cracks on the vowel. "i can't, i literally cannot—"
you take him back in your mouth, just the head, and you suck.
it's not hard, it's almost gentle, but it's too much for him now, and you feel it the second his body gives up fighting. his whole frame goes rigid first — every muscle locked, his hands fisting in your hair hard enough to sting — and then he shatters.
it's not a normal orgasm; there's barely anything left, just a weak pulse, a few drops of fluid that you taste more than feel, but yunho’s body doesn't care.
he convulses like he's having a seizure, hips bucking off the chair, back arching so hard his shoulder blades press together. his mouth falls open in a silent scream, no air left to power it, and then the sound comes after — a raw, guttural cry that tears out of his throat and doesn't stop.
yunho’s legs kick out; one of his feet catches the desk leg, and the whole thing rattles.
his mouse skitters off the pad, his keyboard clacks as his chest slams into it, and he's still shaking, still convulsing, little aftershocks rippling through his thighs and his stomach and his hands, which are still twisted in your hair, holding on like you're the only solid thing in the room.
you stay where you are, mouth soft around his cock, but you’re not moving, you’re simply waiting.
it takes a long time for the spasms to slow down.
yunho’s breathing is all over the place — three short inhales, one long shuddering exhale, then nothing, then a gasp like he forgot how to breath. his long fingers loosen in your hair one by one, and his hand falls limp against the side of your face, palm sweaty and trembling.
you pull off slowly, carefully, and yunho’s whole body flinches at the loss of contact.
"hey," you whisper. "baby, you're okay."
he's not okay.
yunho’s is wrecked — tears and snot and spit all smeared together, his lips chapped and bitten raw. his eyes are half-closed, unfocused, the pupils still blown wide, and there's a wet patch on his shirt collar from where he's been crying.
you sit back on your heels and just look at him.
he's still shaking; little tremors, constant, running through his shoulders and his hands. yunho’s chest is hitching with these tiny, involuntary sobs that he doesn't seem to be aware of anymore. his character is dead on the screen — you notice distantly that his team lost, that the defeat screen is glowing on the monitor — but neither of you care.
finally, finally, you stand up.
you reach out and brush the damp hair off yunho’s forehead, and he flinches at your touch, too sensitive, still. but then he leans into it, just a little, his eyes flutter closed.
"baby," you say softly.
"you're mean," he whispers, his voice is completely destroyed, raw and cracked.
yunho just lies there, breathing in shaky hitches, while you stand up and grab a towel from the bathroom to clean him up. you're gentle this time, wiping away the mess, and he hisses when you brush against his cock but doesn't pull away.
you're tucking him back into his joggers when you hear it; a small, tinny voice from his headset.
"uh... yunho? dude, your mic is still on."
yunho's eyes snap open, and all the blood drains from his pretty face, then rushes back twice as fast, turning him crimson from his chest to his hairline.
"oh my god," he whispers.
you bite your lip to keep from laughing, you really do.
"oh my god," yunho says again, louder this time.
and you can hear his friends in the headset — someone is wheezing, someone else is saying; "i'm never letting him live this down," and the third person just keeps repeating "i heard everything, everything, i need therapy—"
yunho rips the headset off and throws it onto the desk, and he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and you can't tell if he's crying or laughing or both.
"i'm never playing with them again," yunho says, muffled. "i'm moving to a new country. i'm changing my name."
you climb into his lap, ignoring his weak little protest, and wrap your arms around his neck. yunho still trembling, still so so so oversensitive, but he holds you back, completely burying his face in your shoulder.
"you lost your game," you say, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"i don't care about the fucking game."
you grin. "good. because i want round two."
yunho groans, but his hips twitch against yours, and you feel him start to stir again, and you know he's definitely going to let you ruin him all over again.
the way you write sub semi-brat san is actually doing something to me you're crazy and im here for it (this is me requesting sub san + breeding kink + x reader 👅)
𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫 (sub!san x f!reader) mdni | brat taming, dom!reader, breeding kink, praise/degradation, bondage, overstimulation ── word count: ².⁶ᵏ
A/N: thank you so much for this request, it’s fun writing bratty sub san. longer than I anticipated but I hope this is in the ballpark of what you were looking for, and I’m glad you enjoy my crazy mind ^^ appreciate the support of my ateez thirst so enjoy my cherries ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊ feedback is always welcomed!
“Cut it out, I’m trying to finish this.”
“But I’m bored.” San whined, running his large hands along your thighs, and you rolled your eyes in response.
“Sannie, I mean it. Knock it off.”
Pouting like an insolent brat, he rubbed his cheek along your skin and gently placed a kiss on your knee. He was relentless and eager, not backing down or taking your words seriously. You were getting absolutely fed up with his behavior.
“Oh my god,” you huffed, fisting the front of his t-shirt and pulling him up to his feet, “don’t you know how to listen?!”
“Maybe you should teach me…” he whispered, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, one dimple peeking through.
“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
San nodded frantically, his skin rippling with anticipation, practically drooling. The sight stirred an equal mix of lust and exasperation. This was the problem with having a plaything like San: even when he was being punished, he enjoyed every second of it.
You shoved him roughly against the wall. Frustration etched across your face while his held nothing but surrender and bliss. This report was killing you. With the deadline looming Monday morning, your stress had reached its peak.
“Please…” San begged, completely unconcerned with the project you’d been trying to finish.
“Ugh, pathetic.”
Sliding your knee between his legs, you put pressure against his hefty bulge and a choked whimper pushed from his lungs. He was cute like this—needy and desperate, weeping for you to fondle him in the most obscene ways.
“Fine, I’ll teach you, my little brat…but it’s gonna hurt.”
You pressed your knee harder against his clothed erection, and he sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, his arms twitching at his sides. From the glassy appearance in his eyes, you knew he wouldn’t stop until you made him.
Taking his hand, you swiftly led him to the bedroom, pulling on his arm as he worked to keep up before nudging him inside and closing the door behind you.
“Get naked. Now.”
He scrambled to strip out of his clothes and undergarments, tripping over his feet as excitement blazed in his eyes.
Hopeless.
Such a simp.
The mere thought of touching you had his cock visibly twinging as he sat on the bed.
“Lay down on your back,” you ordered, grabbing the red ribbons from your dresser.
As instructed, San obediently laid on his back. You strolled over to the headboard, carefully tying each of his wrists to the porcelain bars. Admiring his vulnerability, blood buzzed in your ears, your gaze trailing up and down his body.
He looked good enough to eat.
Your stares met as you undressed slowly. You moved to stand over him, tracing your fingers along the tense muscles in his biceps. San growled low in his chest, tugging against his restraints to get to you.
“Behave.” Your stern voice calmed him as he settled against the sheets.
His hungry stare studied you in awe, catching his lower lip in his teeth, impatience clawing its way through him. It made you giggle—the way he became so crazed whenever he was needy and knowing the torture that awaited him only made it that much more thrilling.
“You haven’t been a very good boy, have you?” you asked teasingly as you kneeled onto the bed and straddled his waist.
Breath hitched in his throat as he shook his head, his body quivering beneath your hands splayed across his wide chest. San oozed devotion. He craved this—to be in service to no one but you. Your fingertips skimmed over the hard planes of his abdomen and he groaned in delight.
It earned a pleased hum from you, relishing in his submission.
You started by rutting your hips gradually, dragging your wet folds over his aching shaft at a tempered pace. His eyes glossed over while his lips parted slightly—he was gagging for it. Knuckles flexed as he helplessly grabbed at the air. Your movements were already driving him crazy, his gaze pleading for relief. Fuck, it was delicious.
“Be careful what you wish for, baby,” you cooed, caressing his hips in your palms, dripping along his length with ease.
“Fuck…p-please…” he breathed raggedly, throwing his head back against the pillow and cursing your name.
“Please what?”
“Please…please…p-please…”
He repeated the word over and over again, the pitch of his tone rising and falling as your hips rolled against him. The slower your rhythm, the more he gasped, shaking his head side to side as if that would help end his suffering.
“Please what, Sannie? Use your words.”
You leaned forward and reached between your thighs, gripping his cock tightly, forcing a strangled cry from his lips. All that followed was incoherent babbling, broken moans and weak attempts to gather more slick friction from your cunt.
“Yes, please, baby…y-yes…p-please put it—”
“God, I love how vocal you are,” you held him at the base and tapped the swollen tip of his cock over your entrance, coating him with your juices, “hmm…makes me so wet.”
“Mmm…yes, baby…please—put it in…p-please…”
Your hips rocked, gliding him along your holes and watching him fall apart at the seams. He squirmed relentlessly, desperate wails escaping him each time you pressed him to your hot core. San was losing his mind as you teased him, tears prickling at his lash line.
“Is this what you want?” Your mingled breaths filled the room as you flicked him along your pussy, still refusing to let him inside.
“Yes, p-please…yes, I want it—baby, I want it…” San rasped, fiercely yanking at the ribbons now.
“You’re not breaking free no matter how hard you try.”
Now here’s where it got good. You gave his cock one tender stroke between your curled digits before pushing just the tip inside your spongy walls. His body drew tight like a bowstring at the sensation, thigh muscles coiled and his forearms bulged as he strained.
“Fuck, please…please…more—please, put—more…”
His voice—dry and hoarse—echoed in your ears, the pitiful melody stirring the flames in your gut as your pussy clenched around him. You held your hips in place, not daring to sink down and satisfy his urges—no, he had to wait a little longer.
“You want to be inside me? Hmm, baby?”
“Yes, yes, yes, please!”
The rushed reply amused you a bit too much, and you couldn’t help but laugh, his cheeks blushing pretty pink in embarrassment. Suddenly, he bucked his hips up and drove himself a bit deeper into you but you instantly slipped him out of your flesh.
“Ah, ah. Tsk, tsk. Bad boy.” The realization flashed across his face, and satisfaction warmed your chest. The worry in his eyes was intoxicating.
You smoothed his tip in lazy circles over your throbbing clit, your arousal and his precum mixing sloppily and trickling onto his groin. Your bodies grew sticky with fluids and sweat that gathered, gluing your skin together.
“I’m s-sorry, please…” San grunted, chest heaving as he blinked away the tears blinding his vision.
Your nails dug into his ribs, a dark smile spreading across your lips as greed overwhelmed you, licking your lips with carnal desire.
“You think you deserve to be inside me?” you spat harshly through your teeth, taking in his trembling form as he shook his head.
“No, I don’t…but I need you…”
“And I needed to work, so now you’ll wait.”
San fumbled over his words, not making any sense or perhaps it was your brain not giving a damn about what he wanted. He wanted to play, and now you were. His head bowed back into the pillow as his back arched, grasping for more of you but you wouldn’t let him.
Still, you kept him on edge—continuing your torment and swirling your folds across his slit, tricking him time and time again by pretending you were finally granting mercy before sliding him along your soaked holes.
“Please…baby—please I want to be inside you…please!”
Something in you tiptoed closer to caving, your own orgasm knocking nearby as you used him to stimulate your own needs. San jerked his hips, luring your attention and his fingers curled into fists, every muscle driven by raw instinct. His insatiable appetite was something you were very familiar with.
You had him right where you wanted him.
“Mmm…like this, Sannie?” You slipped him up and down along your entrance, moaning low in your throat.
“Yes…yes, I want it…please, yes.”
“Yeah, you want it?” Pushing him against your tight hole, you popped his fat tip back inside, your center squeezing him with a sweet vice.
Eventually, you gave in and seated yourself around him, completely engulfing his cock in your wet heat. You pressed your foreheads together, caressing his face in your hands as you breathed heavily into each other’s mouth.
His cock stretched you inch by inch, your body swallowing him whole, the piercing hunger sweltering your bodies as you lay against him.
“Oh my god!” he cried out, still fighting to touch you with his hands, but you were in charge here and that meant only you were allowed to have that privilege.
“Mmm, that feels good, baby?”
Not giving him a chance to answer, you crashed your lips against his and collected his flustered moans into your mouth. The kiss was ravenous and fiery as you rode him into oblivion, bouncing your hips against him hard and stuffing his cock to the hilt of your pussy.
“Baby, don’t stop…don’t—” San cut his own words off by catching you off guard and biting your lip.
You straightened your back, narrowing your eyes at him. He paid no mind to your anger. His focus remained on escaping the binds, though each shift of your hips quickly stole his concentration.
It was unbelievable that today of all days he wanted to push your buttons and test limits.
“Is that how you want to play?”
“I want to touch you. Please let me.”
“No, and don’t ask again.”
Immediately, one hand wrapped around his throat while the other pinned flat down on his taut abdomen. The expression painted on his face was one of terror and ecstasy as you added more weight to his vocal cords. The blend of pain and pleasure only emboldened him—for now.
By the time he grew accustomed to the speed of your hips, you took it up a notch—working your thigh muscles faster, pounding and slapping your ass along his pelvis. The fractured gasps he inhaled every time his cock disappeared inside you gave you the motivation to keep it up.
Besides, he deserved it.
“Baby…baby…”
His breathless pleas went in one ear and out the other, the sizzling ache in your gut building to unstoppable heights as you massaged his cock in your stifling, tight walls. San’s arms inevitably go limp, unable to fight with the ribbons any longer.
Sweat gathered along your brows as your muscles grew sore, but you forced yourself to keep going, especially now that San was shaky and lightheaded, letting you use him entirely.
“That’s a good boy,” you purred, exhaling heavily as you drove his cock repeatedly into your g-spot like second nature, twisting the coil with reckless abandon.
The praise traveled down his spine—molten and bright—and he melted further into your touch. Whatever fight remained in him was no longer for freedom, but for another word of approval.
“Shit…fuck—baby…can I—can I…” he stuttered, his knuckles whitening as his chest heaved, attempting to ground himself.
“Spit it out, Sannie…”
“C-Can I—please…cum? Can I—c-cum, please?”
There was nothing he could do to stop it and the devilish smirk curling at the side of your mouth confirmed it—you had all the power. Just as a simple reminder, your hips ground down on him aggressively, kissing your cervix to his heated tip.
“Please…! Please, c-can I?”
The crackling strain snapped within you both, passionate moans falling from your lips simultaneously as your intense tempo gradually increased.
“Go on, then…” you mewled, pussy clenching onto his cock as a white haze invaded your vision, “…breed me, big boy.”
One, two more thrusts and San stilled, cock throbbing deep within your core and pumping his hot cum into your gut. He cursed and grunted your name as your cunt fluttered around him, the dripping tension sending your splintering orgasm to every nerve in your body.
The explosion knocked you off balance and your body collapsed on top of him, face nesting in the crease of his neck as you pulsed along his flaccid length. San’s exasperated pants ghost over your ear and he chuckled lightly, fading the dazed hue in your mind.
“Your pussy s’good baby…”
“Mmm…can’t get enough, can you?”
A pinch of fright shot through San as you sat upright, glaring down with a deadpan expression. His stare—dark and low—expressed a sort of…peace and you aimed to disrupt that.
“N-Never…y/n…?”
“Shh, baby, relax…” you murmured, tone reassuring but commanding at the same time, your thumbs tracing idle shapes on his hips as you spoke.
You leaned forward, acting as though you were about to kiss him, and lifted your hips in tandem. After sliding him out of you, keeping in only the tip as leftover cum leaked down his shaft, you sat your full weight back down and buried him deep inside you.
“Fuck—baby…wait, I—” You clamped a hand over his mouth, stopping his words in their tracks.
“No more talking, brat.”
The sex became utterly ruthless—milking his cock with the same brutal rhythm as before, and you were entranced every time he shattered into pieces. He’d dug his own grave, and now you were determined to make him lie in it. After losing track of how many loads he’d filled you with, the air grew thick with sweat and ragged breaths, your bodies refusing to cool.
His body had memorized the routine—dick goes limp, then half stiff to fully erect again until your pussy drains his balls empty, repeat.
He’d howl and cry into your palm, struggling against the ribbons until he accepted his fate. You imagined his nerves were being electrified until he was numb and fried.
All because your cunt owned him.
Truthfully, he made it too easy for you to get him hard and clearly his cock, overly sensitive or not, couldn’t shake his constant urge to be stuffed inside you. San’s hazy, fragile eyes sparkled and you finally removed your hand from his lips.
“I can’t- I—please, it’s t-too much…fuck.”
“Shhh…yes, you can. I got you, baby,” you cooed, splaying your hands across his wide chest.
San blinked away the tears, squeezing his eyelids shut as you rolled your hips against him, admiring the way his veins corded on his neck and his jaw set. Those were signs he was close without saying anything. He began to shake his head, jolting his body poorly.
He was at his limit, and it reminded you how you felt earlier.
Your cunt suctioned along his soaked flesh, securing him within your warmth and drawing out another raw sound from his throat. He wanted you off but you weren’t done with him quite yet.
“You’re gonna cum one more time for me, okay?”
He squirmed beneath you, overstimulated beyond reason, and his cock jumped at every brush of your walls. A painful sob ripped from his throat, face flushed red as his head tossed side to side.
“I—I can’t…baby, I—”
“Yes, you can,” you reassured, brushing the damp locks from his forehead before peppering kisses along his jawline, “you’ve been so good for me. Just one more, baby.”
“Promise?” San asked faintly.
Your head lifted in time for you to feast on the cutest pout adorning his lips. It softened something in your chest, and a part of you wanted to let him go right then.
A very tiny part.
He still needed this last lesson, and you needed to cum again.
Brats learned eventually. San simply required a little extra encouragement.
𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ⏤ “your bf catches a fever and won’t stop clinging on to you.”
📽️ ֹ ͏ james x f!reader’ ➜ established rls ⊹ wc . 450+ ⠀⌣⌣⠀fluff contentt<33
The kitchen is warm in that quiet, early-morning way, sunlight slanting across the counter while the pan hisses softly under your hand. You’re barefoot, hair still a little messy, moving on autopilot as you crack eggs and hum something tuneless, already thinking about how good the first bite will be.
Arms slide around your waist from behind, loose and heavy, Jame’s chest pressing into your back as his chin drops onto your shoulder with a soft, satisfied sound. His hair brushes your cheek when he nuzzles closer, like he’s half-asleep and fully determined to stay that way.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “you smell good.”
You laugh, shifting slightly so you don’t bump the pan. “I’m cooking. That’s the food.”
“Still you,” he insists, tightening his grip just enough to make it hard to move. He sways faintly, dragging you with him, as if standing upright is optional this morning. “You’re warm.”
“That’s because you’re freezing,” you say absently, reaching for the spatula. Then you pause.
Freezing isn’t right.
You turn your head just enough to look at him, and that’s when you notice it. His eyes are glassy, lashes fluttering like it takes effort to keep them open, his cheeks faintly flushed in a way that doesn’t match the rest of him. When you lift your hand to his arm, his skin is hot—too hot—and he makes a small noise at the contact, something between a sigh and a whine.
“You okay?” you ask, already knowing the answer.
James shakes his head immediately, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “No.”
That one word is dramatic, drawn-out, unmistakably miserable.
You sigh, turning off the stove and setting the spatula down. “How long have you felt like this?”
“Since I woke up,” he mutters. “Which was terrible, by the way. Everything hurts and I couldn’t find you.”
“You were asleep ten minutes ago.”
“I woke up emotionally,” he says, arms tightening again. “And you weren’t there.”
You can’t help it—you smile, even as concern settles in your chest. You press the back of your hand to his forehead, and he leans into it like he’s been waiting for permission.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “You’ve got a fever.”
He exhales, relieved. “Knew it.”
“Come sit down,” you tell him. “You shouldn’t be standing.”
James immediately resists, clinging harder, his weight slumping fully against you now. “But you’re standing.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is to me.”
There it is. The whining. Low, persistent, undeniably pitiful.
You turn in his arms, carefully, wrapping one arm around his back so he doesn’t lose his balance. Up close, he looks even worse—eyes unfocused, lips slightly parted, every expression exaggerated by exhaustion. When you brush his hair back from his forehead, he closes his eyes instantly, melting.
“Oh, you are sick-sick,” you murmur.
He opens one eye. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re going to abandon me.”
You snort. “I’m not abandoning you. I’m going to make you eat and then put you back in bed.”
James groans softly, resting his forehead against yours. “Can’t I just stay here with you?”
“You’re burning up.”
“You’re cold,” he counters weakly. “We’re balanced.”
You kiss his temple, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m ill,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
You guide him toward the table, hands steady on his shoulders, and he goes reluctantly, feet dragging like each step is a personal betrayal. Once he’s seated, he immediately reaches for you again, fingers hooking into the hem of your shirt.
“Don’t leave,” he says, quieter now.
“I’m right here,” you promise, pressing another kiss to his hair. “I just need to grab the thermometer.”
James grip loosens, but only barely. “Bring it back fast.”
You do, and he watches you the entire time like you might vanish if he blinks. When you take his temperature and confirm what you already knew, he makes a small, offended sound.
“That number seems rude.”
“It’s a fever,” you say gently. “We’ll take care of it.”
He nods, then leans forward again, resting his head against your stomach while you stand between his knees. His arms wrap around you, looser now, tired rather than insistent.
“You’re really nice to me when I’m sick,” james mumbles.
“I’m always nice to you.”
He hums, clearly unconvinced but too exhausted to argue. “Promise you’ll stay?”
You run your fingers through his hair, slow and soothing, feeling the tension ease out of him little by little. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His shoulders relax, breath evening out as he clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping him upright. Breakfast can wait. The world can wait. For now, there’s just this—your sick, whining boyfriend, warm and needy and safe in your arms, exactly where he wants to be.
٠࣪⭑ c. yufan x reader
&&. fluff. pre-relationship. mutual pining. clingy + loverboy james. fem implied reader. cortis 6th member reader. masterlist.
all content is purely fictional !
even though you aren’t quite as bad as five teenage boys, you still don’t exactly smell like roses after a full day of nonstop dance practices.
just when you’re about to collapse and give up for good, martin finally calls it off and it’s not an exaggeration to say that you sprint to the bathroom for the reprieve of a long, hot shower.
and for a second, surprisingly — despite the loudness of keonho and seonghyeon arguing, the beep of the microwave from whatever juhoon was heating up, and the instagram reels playing from martin’s phone at full volume — the dorm feels too quiet for james.
he was always to first to notice your absence. it was like he had a radar, some secret kind of sixth sense for you. what you were feeling, where you had gone, what you needed, and exactly when you didn’t feel like being bothered.
so naturally, he wanders into the hallway past the bathroom you’re currently showering the day off in.
even over the running water and the music playing out of your phone’s speaker, you hear the soft knock.
“yeah?” you call, exasperated. was it impossible to get a second of peace for yourself?
“you in there?”
you want to laugh. if it were anyone besides james, you would have.
“obviously.” you’re glad he can’t see the way you’re smiling when you answer.
a moment of thoughtful silence passes before he speaks again. “you almost done?”
“james, i just got in here five minutes ago.”
“this dorm only has one bathroom! and what takes you longer than five minutes?”
you hear his playful scoff and snort. “my hair is a little longer than yours, in case you haven’t noticed. takes a minute to wash.”
james heaves a dramatic sigh. “you’re going to use up all the hot water.”
“if you keep pestering me then yes i will!”
another lapse of silence falls, the sound of water droplets hitting the ground filling the bathroom once more. it doesn’t fool you.
“james? are you still there?”
“…no.”
“james!”
“what?”
“leave me alone!” you try not to let the laugh into your voice. “go sit in the living room and wait for your turn like a normal person.”
“aw, why?”
“because i don’t enjoy having conversations through the door while i’m trying to shower?”
another dramatic sigh. “fine, fine, whatever. but if you take any longer i’m going to use your fancy shampoo.”
“james!”
“going!” his melodic laugh fades as he disappears down the hall. it makes you feel warm, and not just from the hot water.
with james gone, you finish up your wash in peace and finally cease the shower to your juniors, who are about ready to fist-fight for the next in line to the bathroom. you laugh and bid them goodnight before heading into your room to wind down.
it quiets down after everyone’s showered and turned in for the night. the hallway light is dim, bleeding into your room lit only by your bedside lamp. you were fortunate enough to have landed your own room this time around, which of course meant that your peace was precious but momentary.
you’re leaned over in the middle of drying your hair when you spot james leaning against the frame of your door.
“i used your shampoo.”
“james!” you raise your hand and pretend to swat at him. he laughs, coming to plop down at the foot of your bed.
“i’m kidding! i totally would have though. it smells nice.”
you blame the way your cheeks heat up on the stuffiness of the room. you hang up your towel to dry and sit on your bed, kicking your feet up on top of james’ legs. you nudge him with your knee. “so what now? come to bother me again?”
he grins. “maybe. so what if i did?”
you smile at him from under your lashes, just a little bashful as you pull your knees up to your chest. “you know, if you want to hang out you can just say that.”
james sneaks an amused glance at you. “well, since you say…”
“oh, boy.”
you sigh dramatically as he scoots up closer, kicking his way under the covers as he settles down next to you. “juhoon and martin are being annoying, so i’m bunking with you tonight.”
you already know there’s no use protesting even if you wanted to, so you just sigh again and lean back against the pillows. beside you, james’ eyes are already fluttering closed where he’s laying just far enough to be respectful but close enough that you can still feel his warmth. you’re glad he can’t see the smile you can’t stop when you turn out the lights.
james clearly isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. and you know what? you don’t mind. not one bit.
more pining loverboy james <33 hope this finds the anon who requested more of this genre!!
synopsis you love teasing the hell out of your smartie boyfriend, who can never seem to focus whenever you both study together(or at least try to) ˙⋆ genre fluff, drabble contains teasing, swearing, kissing, reader is kinda extremely flirty
‧₊˚♪
JAMES IS FINDING IT INCREDIBLY HARD TO STAY FOCUSED.
How can he, when you're sitting right next to him? When your floral perfume is overwhelming his senses, your leg is brushing his under the table, how in the hell can he possibly think straight.
“How do I do this, James, hm?” You ask innocently. He knows damn well you can solve the problem on your own, and definitely knows you get a kick from flustering the shit out of him.
“Uh, well here you have to find the derivative of the function, so…” he trails off as he makes eye contact with you.
You're smiling. You're not even looking at the paper, y–you're looking at him with the most shameless grin in the world.
“Continue,” you say, resting your head in your palm. “I love listening to you talk.”
“Y/n…don't you have a calc test tomorrow?”
“Yes,” you keep smiling. “And?”
“So, we should probably stay focused, right?”
“Oh but, James, you just look so good today.”
To say he goes beet red must be the understatement of the century. Why do you always flirt with him like it's your last day on earth?
To top it off, your hand moves to his uniform tie and tugs it slightly. Your painted nails fiddle with the top and loosen the knot, all while James is frozen solid.
“Please continue,” you say softly. “I really really want to learn about derivative functions.”
Your hand is still on his tie, knuckles brushing the collar and a tiny sliver of his neck.
“You'll need to—” he gulps. “You'll need to let go for that.”
“Hm,” your hand reluctantly lets go of the tie, instead resting on his thigh. “Go ahead.”
James really hopes that nobody comes into the library study room. It's 8 pm, meaning most students have gone home—it's just the librarian at the main desk who's still here.
The reason he hopes nobody comes into the room is because he knows exactly how these ‘study sessions’ end. Every single one of them.
They always start out because you ask him for homework help. Who wouldn't ask their super cute, nerdy boyfriend for help whenever they got the chance anyway? James is smart enough, though, to know that you never actually need help. You're just always looking for an excuse to kiss him on school property—and he never says no.
And they always end with you in his lap, insisting he keep his glasses on whilst you press sweet kisses all over his face. The horror of someone walking in hasn't happened yet, and James hopes to god and all the angels above that it remains that way.
“I'm tired. Why don't we do something else?”
James knows exactly what you're trying to do.
“I–Uh, why don't we do one more problem?”
“Hm, why don't you do one more and I watch?” You offer.
“Y/n…we both know what you're trying to, you know, get at,” James says with a sigh.
You lean in closer, grip tightening on his leg. “What am I trying to get at?”
You're close enough to him that you can probably see all the emotions running through his head right now.
“I don't know,” He lies. The funny part is, you both know he's lying.
That's another thing. James is a terrible liar.
“Well–” you stand up as the wooden chair makes a sliding sound against the carpeted floor. “–explain away.”
You sit yourself comfortably—well, comfortable for you—on his lap, legs on one side, crossed. You snake an arm around his neck and loosen his tie some more. Just a smidgen.
“Um…” He's doing everything in his power not to look you straight in the eye. “...first you have to differentiate each of the terms.”
“Mhm,” you run a hand through his hair. “Go on.”
"And...then you take all the terms." His pencil wavers above the paper, as your hands find the nape of his neck.
"Y/n, what are you doing?"
You put your lips close to his ear and whisper, "Nothing."
He scoffs. How stupid do you think he is? James turns his head, lips inches away from yours. His hand drops the pencil on the abandoned calculus review paper and instead repositions to hold you tighter in his lap.
You waste no time closing the distance, kissing him softly while threading your hands through his hair.
"I knew you didn't actually need to study," He grumbles mid-kiss. "You never do."
You smile against his lips. "Oh, you're just so smart, James."
His hands hold your back close against him, lightly clutching your school uniform. Your hands move from his hair to his face, cupping it lightly as you deepen the kiss.
By the time you pull away, James is a mess. His hair is unruly, messy in a sort of hilarious way. His face is decorated in small pink splotches that resemble the shape of lips—your lips. His tie is very noticeably loosened now, and his glasses are almost at the tip of his nose.
a/n: this one goes out to my girl @hyuneskkami enjoy bbg
you had been practicing the choreography for an upcoming comeback, trying to nail one combo that for some odd reason, you just could not master.
the choreographer saw everyone’s tired faces and sloppy moves, knowing that they had been trying to nail this bit for half an hour. “okay. guys, take five. give your bodies a break.”
martin and seonghyeon practically fought in line for who got to use the water dispenser first. “everyone could’ve gotten water by now, idiots,” juhoon mumbled, pushing them both aside.
“back of the line,” keonho mumbled, pulling a bickering martin and seonghyeon to the back.
you just sat on the ground, trying to catch your breath as you tilted your head back against the wall.
“you good?” a familiar voice asked.
you could only nod, too tired to speak.
soon enough, you felt a heavy weight drop into your lap, james. he then moved your hand into his hair, a wordless way of asking for gentle head scratches.
“james we’re in practice. you’re gonna have to get up in a few minutes,” you mumbled.
“don’t care,” he replied, already half asleep.
well. looks like you’re stuck.
“did he do it again?” martin asked from where he was on his phone.
you nodded, one hand in james’ hair and the other scrolling on your phone.
origamiaround
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