Starting To Make Long Repost Texts For Authors Because Even Though I Lack Words And What To Say. I Want

starting to make long repost texts for authors because even though i lack words and what to say. i want to put an effort and show them that we appreciate them just like they put effort in their writing for us!

if you’re a writer, thanks for everything you do. drink lots of water, stay healthy and do it at your pace. you’re the backbone of our fangirl culture♥️✨

Tattoo Cherry

Summary: You've been working as the receptionist for Deja Vu Tattoo for about two years now and you still haven’t gotten a tattoo. But recently, you've been playing with the idea in your head so what's the plan? Oh right, ask your friend and the owner, Hongjoong, to do the honors. Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Hongjoong x F!Reader Words: 4k Warnings: corruption kink highk, fingering/oral (fem receiving), vaginal sex, no protection (please... use protection), a bit of dirty talk, they're horny idiots, mutual pining, besties with tension Genre: smut

You didn't hate tattoos. Quite the opposite, actually. You thought tattoos were amazing. You couldn't wrap your mind around the idea of someone committing to something so personal for the rest of their life. Marriage was a similar concept in that area but even that wasn't as permanent.

You've always wanted one in the back of your mind. Despite the pain, despite the scariness of keeping it on your skin, and despite the fact that you didn't have a single clue what you'd get. A butterfly was too basic and so were flowers and lions and whatever else. The more you thought about it, the more it made your head hurt. It had to mean something for sure but you didn't think anything was worthy enough to be tatted on your skin.

You thought working for your best friend Hongjoong would help with this. He had come to you a few weeks after he had opened his shop called Deja Vu Tattoo and asked if you needed a job. You didn't, really. You had a job at a boring office working a simple nine to five but you also had a Hongjoong and after knowing him for a few years, you knew working for him would be better than any office job.

It was an easy job, for sure. You answered calls, booked appointments, ordered supplies, and made sure the shop was running when Hongjoong got too overwhelmed. He paid you decently and through him, you met his seven other best friends who were absolute dreams. Not only were they insanely nice to look at but they were sweet guys who made you feel included. It was a family.

"Y/n, you should've been here! The client was practically screaming and I didn't even pierce her yet." Jongho huffed as he threw himself on the couch in the waiting area. He was ranting about some client that was so sensitive. You just wanted to order masks in peace but you decided to listen anyway. "And get this, it was just her ears. Can you imagine?"

"You sound extra bothered today, Jongho." You pointed out, your fingers stilling over the keyboard just so you could give him a look. He pouted at you.

"I get that it's my job but I don't understand how you can be so squeamish over an ear-piercing. She even brought her boyfriend and he just kept apologizing the entire time. I didn't even get to pierce her." Jongho's the youngest of the bunch and while he was mature in a lot of ways, his age seemed to show whenever he was feeling petty.

"Are you bothering y/n again?" Seonghwa asked, running a hand through his hair. "You know she's busy."

"Busy, my ass. She's probably playing tetris or something."

You gasp and put your hand on your chest as if you’d been shot. “I would never.”

"And what if she gets calls?" The elder scolded, "Or someone comes in and hears you talking shit about a client. Can you at least wait till we close?"

Seonghwa's the oldest of the eight men. While you made sure the shop was in tip-top shape whenever Hongjoong was busy, Seonghwa made sure the boys kept their heads on straight. He was the official second in command and he didn't hesitate to keep the boys in their place.

"Seonghwa, you can relax. Let the little boy rant." Seonghwa immediately burst into a fit of laughter but Jongho stayed silent with crossed arms and a frown.

"I'm literally twenty-two years old!"

"Then you should probably act like it!" Hongjoong called from his office. You and Seonghwa were practically hollering as Jongho stomped back to his tattoo station. Hongjoong came out of his office shortly after, standing beside you as you continued to order things. "Hello, Beautiful." He greeted.

"Hello," You smiled up at him, "Is there anything else you need from me before we head out?"

"Head out? Where are you guys going?" Seonghwa asks, making himself more comfortable on the couch and taking out his phone.

"We're going to get some lunch. We'll be out for a little bit." Hongjoong replied.

"So a date?" Seonghwa teased. You choked on your spit. A date with Hongjoong?

He shifted slightly in his spot, "We're going out for a good meal. Hold down the fort till I get back?"

Seonghwa finally looks up from his phone, "I always do."

It wasn't a date. Hongjoong didn't think of you like that but you couldn't really say that you didn't think of him like that. The guy was dripping with charisma. He was a talented tattoo artist who always made sure that his personal clients and the other boys' clients felt comfortable. He took his craft seriously and treated everyone with respect. Not to mention, the man was a walking example of sex appeal. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that much.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, making sure to walk around with confidence but staying humble. Maybe it was the way that he was comfortable in his masculinity to the point where he wasn't afraid of painting his nails or occasionally showing up to work with makeup on. Or maybe it was that not-so-random neck tattoo of the flower you drew for him when you first met. You'd love to date Hongjoong, you just didn't know if he wanted to date you and you sure as hell weren't going to make the first move.

The restaurant you pull up to is small and cozy. The atmosphere was nice and you were well aware that you and Hongjoong looked so out of place. It was like Beauty and the Beast but only if the Beast was covered in black ink and not brown fur. Hongjoong didn't seem to mind the staring though so neither did you. They were probably staring because he was so good-looking.

"What are you going to order?" He asks, flipping through the menu.

"I'm thinking this kimchi plate. You?" It wasn't unnatural for Hongjoong to take you out on your lunch break. In fact, it was pretty common. He didn't take you out when he was super busy but those were the days that you would bring him food to make sure he had something in his system. You cared for each other.

"This curry ramen looks really good."

Any situation that involved Hongjoong flowed really well. There was never a dull moment when you spent time with him. He carried the conversation if there was even a moment of awkwardness.

"So, I've been thinking..." You start, leaning back in your chair.

Hongjoong laughs, "That can't be good."

"I'm being serious, right now." You shot back even though you laughed at his joke, "I'm thinking of getting a tattoo."

"Finally! You've been working at the shop for some time now. I'm surprised you didn't want one sooner."

"I still have no idea what to get but I want you to tattoo me."

Hongjoong's eyes widened as he sipped his soda. He felt a sudden foreign feeling... was it nervousness? Sure was. He's tattooed hundreds of people. It wasn't a matter of whether or not he thought he was good enough. He was just scared to fuck up your first-ever tattoo, especially because you meant so much to him.

He also felt strangely turned on at the idea of being your first. Your skin's as smooth as porcelain, and even though you weren't a virgin by any means, he'd be the first to permanently taint your skin. There'd be physical proof that he had been there. It was sick to think this way, he knew. You weren't an object that needed to be branded but it sparked a sudden sense of possessiveness.

He wasn’t blind either. You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever laid his eyes on. Your hair was always styled so nice and your makeup on point, although he preferred you without. You were such a sweet woman too, occasionally getting the guys coffee and snacks in between clients.

When Hongjoong’s tattoo shop was a mere dream, you encouraged him. You were actually the first person who didn’t laugh in his face. You’d been there for every step and whenever he felt like he’d fail, you’d be there in a flash to lift him up.

"Are you sure?" He asked, still on the fence. "You're not really good at making decisions."

"What are you even talking about?"

"Remember when you thought that office job was your dream?" He was trying his best to be smooth. He felt gross about the dirty thoughts that were coming up in his head.

"Remember when you wanted to be a poet?" You sassed back. "You even wrote me a poem."

"You don't need to remind me of Star 1117. I really did want to be a writer but I was more passionate about tattooing people." He rambled. Star 1117 held a special place in your heart mostly because he dedicated it to you. You could recite it word for word if he asked, not that he would. Hongjoong thought that was his worst poem.

"Hey, Star 1117 was, and still is, iconic."

____

Hongjoong tells you that you'll get the tattoo in a week so you can think of what you want to get. He was going to give you a few months, more than a few, but you insisted that you wanted to get it as soon as you could because you were so excited.

"I heard you're letting Hongjoong pop your cherry." Yeosang mused. He started working at the tattoo shop a year after you did, already having a few dainty tattoos scattered on his right arm. Now, he's covered in bigger, more elaborate, tattoos all over his body.

"I'm kind of hurt. I thought we were besties." He pouts at you as he leans over the counter in front of you. You roll your eyes but don't spare too much attention. You were trying to find space in Hongjoong's schedule. Your design, even though it took you the full week to come up with, was small so you knew it wouldn't take long but you knew Hongjoong. He'd probably take his time and make sure you were comfortable.

"No offense, but I wouldn't trust you to even draw with a sharpie on my skin."

"You do realize I work here too, right? I tattoo people daily like, that's what I get paid to do?" Yeosang's head tilted to the side as he sarcastically asked. You laughed to yourself.

"I do know that. I'm the one who fills up your schedule with clients. I just... I trust Hongjoong more." Which is true. While you did trust the men in the shop with your life, Hongjoong was on a different level for you. You wouldn't feel right if you had someone else tattoo you.

"No, I get it. I'm just teasing."

"Thank you."

"We all want our first time to be special." The man walked off before you could say anything, not like you could come up with anything in the first place.

____

"So, you're sure about this?" Hongjoong asked, his hand gripping the tattoo machine tightly.

"For crying out loud, Hongjoong, I will literally go to a different shop." Actually, you wouldn't. Plus, no other shop was going to give you the tattoo for free.

"Alright, fine." He didn't want to admit he was nervous but he was. He could feel the sweat in his pits. "But don't blame me when you regret it. Now, let me see the design."

You feel a rush a giddiness take over as you giggle like a child and take out the folded piece of paper from your back pocket. Hongjoong takes the paper and his eyes go wide.

"No way. No. I'm not tattooing this." He pushes the paper back to you and you whine.

"It's my tattoo, on my body. Please?"

"You want me to tattoo lines from a poem I wrote four years ago?" You knew he wouldn't like the idea at first but you thought he would just roll his eyes before silently tattooing you.

"I gave you the paper, didn't I?" You roll your eyes, "Come on! I love this part." You point it out for him and he sighs to himself, visibly struggling to wrap his head around the idea.

“…Fine.” You shriek with excitement and clap. “Just shut up and tell me where you want it.” You point to the inner part of your upper left arm.

Maybe it was because this was your first time or the location of the tattoo but it was way worse than you thought it’d be. Your eyes were screwed shut underneath your right arm which you had wrapped around your head in response to the pain. You tried to calm yourself down with breathing but they came out like whimpers.

It was torture for Hongjoong. As much as he wanted to hear all the noises you were making, it was getting difficult to tattoo you. He wanted so badly to be on top of you, to be doing not so holy things to elicit this same response.

He doesn't know how he did it but he finished the tattoo and heaved a heavy breath.

"It looks great." Hongjoong compliments. "You did really... well."

"I was crying like a baby." He laughs at this and stands in between your legs in front of you. You sit up and let him wrap up the new tattoo, all the while watching it get wrapped in cellophane. It looked so pretty.

"You were really loud but you did so well for me, babygirl." His hand reached to caress your cheek and you felt yourself gulp. Kiss me. Kiss me. KISS ME.

"Did I?" You ask, playing into his playful tone. "I should be rewarded then, right?" You hook your pointer fingers into his belt loops and pull him closer, feeling his warm breath fan your face.

His eyebrow quirks as he looks down at you. Your silent prayers seem to be answered when his lips finally collide with yours. It's messy and hot, teeth hitting each other as all the built-up tension takes over your bodies. Hongjoong's hands are all over you, touching you everywhere his hands can reach while your hands are too busy messing up his hair.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and pull it off of him and yours follows suit with your bra. You pull away just far enough to take him in. You knew he was fit but damn, you could stare at him all day. You rake your hands over his abs softly and relish how they contract under your touch.

His tattoos were no joke, either. You never knew he had so many on his upper body. There was a huge dragon that started on the left side of his ribcage and disappeared as it wrapped around his back, its tail resting on his right shoulder. You never noticed his collarbone tattoo which read 'eight makes one team'

Hongjoong snatches your hand and breaks you out of your haze, your worried eyes snapping up to see if you had done something wrong.

"I'm gonna reward you now, beautiful." He said, kissing your palm softly before letting it go. He helps you out of your shorts, tossing them to some corner of the room and getting on his knees. The new cool air hits your skin, helping you sober up slightly from the intoxicating moment. You're just about to feel nervous when you feel that first small lick to your clit.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling. Your hands immediately find Hongjoong's head, pushing him further into you. He feels pride take over at the way you react, your moans egging him on as he lets himself go. His arms wrap around your thighs, locking them onto his shoulders as he dives in, lapping up every bit of your arousal and making sure you're legs stay open.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry, pulling his hair.

"You're so wet, baby." He replies, pulling away so he can drag a single finger along your lower lips, occasionally circling your hole just to drag his finger back up. "… so pretty."

"Hongjoong, please..."

"Please what? I'm not a mind-reader." His finger stops right at your hole again and your back arches with anticipation. But he doesn't enter you, he stops completely.

You look down at him and the sight alone makes you need him even more than before. His chin is still wet from your juices, his eyes dark and dilated with want. He looks so good between your thighs and the thought of him eating you out all night has you clenching on nothing.

He chuckles lowly, "Did you need something from me?"

"Please touch me."

"Where?" He taunts, standing up and putting his hands on your chest, playing with your nipples until they get hard. "Here?"

You shake your head no.

He hums as he plays dumb, his hands tracing the curves of your body, "Maybe you want me to just hold you here?" His hands resting on your hips.

"Baby, please, I need your fingers inside me." You rush out.

"Ah, that was going to be my next guess." His two fingers finally enter you slowly and your head falls back again. His thumb rubs circles into your clit and your hands are gripping the sides of the chair.

"Joong, I'm- I'm gonna-" You stutter, your mind slowly slipping away.

"I know, baby. Go ahead whenever you're ready." He encourages, his fingers continuing to bring you to your high. His voice sounded like pure aphrodisiac to you. How could you refuse? You came in an instant, painting Hongjoong's fingers with your juices.

"I gotta be in you, right now. I feel like I'm going crazy." His hands fiddled with the buckle, his excitement clouding his mind and making him struggle. Maybe this was a mistake but you guys were flowing so well. You had to feel the same way, right? He had to know before you continued.

"Tell me how you want it." Hongjoong huffed. He was above you now, his dick rubbing between your wet folds. It was driving you crazy; you just wanted him to fuck you but the words weren't coming out. He pulls away slightly, his eyebrows knitting together and eyes pleading. "No, look at me and tell me you want this... want me."

The vibe was suddenly very serious. You almost forgot why you were in this position. You didn't even have to think though. You knew what he meant even though he didn't explain himself. You did want him. You've wanted him since you met him.

You look into his eyes and cup his face. You give him a small smile. "I've wanted you, in every possible way ever since I laid eyes on you."

You can feel him relax as he sighs, "Thank god... I'm definitely gonna fuck you now."

You mutter out a please and Hongjoong's entering you without another beat. His dick is big, bigger than in your wet dreams. He bites his lip, forcing himself to take it slow despite really not wanting to. The look on your face is what keeps him strong though. He hated knowing you were in pain even if would only last a second.

Even when he was all the way inside, he waited until you were fully adjusted. You looked into his eyes and gave him a reassuring nod. His hips moved slowly as he gripped your waist like he wouldn’t ever let go. You knew you’d have bruises and the thought of this moment having physical proof on your body was making you more excited.

"Move, please, faster" You look up at him and move your hands to rest on his shoulders, trying to speak through the cloudiness of pleasure. Hongjoong wanted to imprint the look you were giving him into his brain. It was better than anything his wildest fantasies could come up with. But he obliged before you completely lost your patience. You both had been waiting too long.

He moved quick just like you asked, burying his head in your neck and occasionally leaving soft kisses. His hips were pistoning into you just right.

"Oh, fuck, baby. You're so fucking tight." His hands moved from your hips to the back of your legs, pushing them up so you were bent in half on the chair. Your hands instantly grabbed the sides of the chair, trying to keep yourself from flying off from the strong thrusts.

Hongjoong felt so good inside of you. He was filling you just right and you wanted to watch so bad but your eyes wouldn't stop rolling. You were reaching your limit but you didn't want it to stop. It was too good.

Hongjoong was fighting his own battle. You felt like a glove, warm and tight. You looked so beautiful under him. It all felt like a dream to him. He wasn't going to last long.

"Hongjoong!" You cried, feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst, "Please,"

"I know. I got you. I'm almost there" He replied back between moans. He shoved his head between your breasts, planting hickies along your chest. You didn't think it was possible but his thrusts were becoming faster and harder.

Your orgasm hit you in a flash. It caught you by surprise but Hongjoong was right there with you. He let you ride out your high before pulling himself out with a grunt and releasing on your stomach.

He let out a heavy sigh of satisfaction and put his hands on the side of the chair, shifting his weight on his arms so he could rest while standing.

"That was..." He started, taking deep breaths.

Post nut clarity started to hit you as you closed your eyes, trying your hardest to calm down from the high.

"Did you hate it?" You asked, your eyes practically glued shut so you wouldn't have to see the look of disapproval if he really did hate it.

Instead, he laughed... really loud. The sound surprised you enough to make you look at him. "Did I like it?" His tone was sarcastic. "Y/N, I have wanted this since we saw each other."

You felt your face warm up at this. "Me too."

"I know." Hongjoong said, feeling cocky. "You said something like 'I've wanted you since the first time I saw you! Muah, muah, muah." His tone was high-pitched in an awful attempt to mimic you.

"Hey!" You sat up and pushed him lightly. "I don't sound like that."

He just smiled warmly at you before kissing your lips and getting you a few napkins to clean up. After you wiped all the sex off your body, you got up and looked in the mirror, holding your arm out in a way to look at your new tattoo.

It's exactly the way you wanted it, in his handwriting and everything. You smiled to yourself.

"Do you like it?" Hongjoong asked, coming up from behind and wrapping an arm around your waist. Your head nods fast like a child who's just been asked if they want ice cream.

"It means everything to me."

____

"You look different." Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at you.

"I got a new tattoo!" You beamed, extending your arm so he could see.

"No, no, this is different."

"You're crazy."

"No he's right... There's something about you." Jongho joined in, narrowing his eyes too and shaking his finger at you.

"Hongjoong gave her head!" Wooyoung screamed from his station. You gasped, your head whipping in his direction.

"Woo!" You cried.

"Dicked her down too!" Hongjoong screamed back from his office.

"Hong!"

"Yeah, you thought you were the only two in the store but you weren't! But don't worry, I left and locked the door the moment I heard." Wooyoung explained, walking over to your desk.

"What's the tattoo say?" Jongho asked, grabbing your wrist and coming closer.

Thinking of you. That’s the greatest happiness for me.

— ꒰ 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗕𝗘𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 ▪︎ KANG YEOSANG [1]

★ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: kang yeosang + fem!reader

★ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: mafia!yeosang, manhandling, dom!sang, petnames, degradation, husband!yeosang + suggestive office!sex... this man will drive you crazy...

★ 𝗮/𝗻: inspiration of the day was misbehava from ziya! she's a underrated artist, i recommend listening to while reading, it's another level. maybe smut in chapter.2

It was not from today that you wanted to spice up your relationship with your husband, Yeosang. It's not that the sex is bad, on the other hand, he makes you feel like no one else, but, on a date with friends, they all commented on how good it was to be handled by their partners that you couldn't get out of your head.

The scene of a Yeosang, treating you degradingly, being rough with you, handling you in the position he wants was quite tempting. You were frustrated because you didn't know how to say that to him. Lucky for you, your best friend Wooyoung knows how to work things out very well.

"My love, you're going to put this lingerie on here, fix your beautiful hair, put on a make-up you know is successful, and put an overcoat over the lingerie. Don't ask me how I know this." he joked, sorting out the suggested pieces for you. You guys had known each other for years so you had a great intimacy, it was like you were blood brothers.

"But…what if he doesn't like it?"

"I'm absolutely sure he's going to love it, you showing up in his office during some phone call or video call and revealing what you intend to do, it can be like winning the lottery." he commented, fixing his hair to look charming.

"Oh alright Woo. What would I be without you?" I commented, smiling sweetly at the boy in front of me.

"I know you love me but it's time to get ready. And be a brat, don't let him win you over with his sweet words." he said before leaving the room and closing the door.

Sangie might even be the leader of a mob, but he treated me like I was the queen of this world. From opening car doors for me, helping me with my dress at important events, to always helping me out when I need help or am in pain. He really is an angel. But what would the dark side of this angel look like?

I bit my lip at the scene that popped into my head, the way he would look at me, making me feel small next to him, the way he would impose orders. The way he's going to tell me to stay in the position he wants...

Okay, before I start having an attack, I need to get ready or he's going to arrive in the room and see everything I intend to do.

I stripped off my clothes and underwear, getting ready to shower first. One weakness I know he loves is fragrant people, he spends hours and hours laying behind me with his nose on my neck, telling me how good it feels to smell me.

When I got out of the shower, I noticed that on top of our bed was a note along with a pair of black pumps, black fishnet tights and a garter belt. The note was from Wooyoung, who told me to wear this if I want my husband to lose control.

Yeosang killed people, exterminated his enemies, he was totally different than he is with me. So what would become of me if I teased him a little?

I put the pantyhose together with the pair of pumps, throwing the black coat over my body and finishing with a strap. On my lips the red lipstick highlighted my feminine features very well, I looked at myself in the mirror one last time before starting to walk to his office.

When I arrived in front of the huge dark oak door, I gave two taps followed by a slow one, so he would know it was me. He whispered something under his breath before giving me permission to enter. Great, he was on the phone.

When I walked in, there he was. My vision blurred with lust. Yeosang was in the leather chair, a cigarette in his fingers while his expression was serious. It seemed to be solving something.

His long black hair was parted, in front of his face, from afar I could see the birthmark that I loved to look at when he was sleeping. As soon as he looked up and stared at me, he stuttered.

"Sir, is everything okay?"

He frowned before averting his eyes and turning his chair so he wouldn't be looking at me. I haven't even opened my coat yet, the weak point was the red lipstick. It's like a code that tonight would be extensive.

"Yes. Continue."

But on the bright side, the glass in his office overlooking the garden was mirrored both inside and out. In short, he was watching me. He brought the cigarette up to his mouth again, before settling back in his chair and spreading his legs. His eyes glazed over me by the window's reflection.

I smiled innocently, before leaning a little closer and opening my coat, revealing my lingerie and tights. I threw the overcoat on an armchair that was there and walked around, fussing with my hair. He turned his chair around again, staring at me as if he expected me to say something.

"I need to hang up, I have a serious matter to attend to." he said before hanging up the phone and throwing it somewhere. "What is the occasion of this?"

I gave a weak laugh, sitting in the armchair as he followed me with his eyes. I smiled sweetly at him as I placed my finger in my mouth, biting slowly.

"Sangie...you know i love you, right?" I started, watching him get up and adjust the sleeves of his black shirt. We all loved that color. It was luxurious, tempting, irresistible.

"Hm...I know my princess. But I'm sure there's something hidden in that sweet little face." he whispered, heading to a small counter that held several drinks.

"I wanted to ask you something but if you don't want to do it, that's fine." I started, I needed to calculate my next steps. He brought the glass of liquor to his lips, nodding for me to continue. "I wanted you to be rough with me today. "

He set the glass back on the counter and crossed his arms. As he didn't say anything I continued. God forgive me.

"I've been thinking about what it would be like to be manhandled by you for a while and it made me very horny and wet." I sighed. He straightened his spine, getting incredibly taller. "And I thought I'd tell you this but..."

A laugh echoed through the room. He ran his hands through his hair before approaching me and placing his hands on either side of the chair, cornering me and making me smaller. His expression clouded with desire, he licked his lips before whispering.

"So my little wife wants to be manhandled? She wants me to make her swallow everything in whatever position I want, is that it?" he said, the smile never leaving his lips. "Answer my love."

"Y-yes..."

"Oh yes, now I see. I always treated you like you were the queen of the world but deep down you want to be treated like a real whore, don't you?" he said, his hand roaming my body making me shiver. "So...I'm going to fuck you and you're going to take it all quietly. I don't want to hear your voice. You understood me?"

"Yes..."

"You're usually pretty communicative, what happened? Hm?" his fingers climbed to the back of my neck, squeezing a little, his gaze filled with desire. "Are you shy baby?"

"I...I thought you wouldn't like it..." I said, my voice calm and my eyes averting his. Kang Yeosang, I'm ready to be yours.

"Perfect. From what I can tell you're already pretty wet, so it'll be easy to get in..." he said. His arms went around my waist, lifting me roughly from the chair, one of his hands went to my hair as he turned me around, leaving me with my face on the upholstery and my ass in the air.

He tugged at my hair, his lips touching my ear managed to have the power to make me even wetter. Fuck, since when is he like this and he never showed me?

“If you're a good little bitch, maybe I won't be so hard on you. But if you disobey me...Well, pay to see." he said, his erection pressed against my pussy made me weak. And right in front of us there is a fucking mirror.

"Sangie..."

"No no sweetie, it's sir to you."

He unbuttoned his shirt, his ripped abs showing. The hand continued to tug at my hair, making me look at his reflection as he ran his other fingers along his happytrail. Damn, what a man.

"You're going to stand still while I take my clothes off, understand? Isn't that what you wanted?" he growled. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This man is driving me crazy!

"Y-yes sir..." damn, I couldn't even speak properly. The lust level was high in my body.

"Hm, how cute. I see you still have manners, don't you my love?" He smiled. His words alternating between sweet and rude. Really, I didn't believe that that angel in human form, all charismatic with me, all cute and always respecting me, would reach this level.

I think we all commit sins, don't we?

"You'll take it all without complaining. And if you move I'll put you back where you belong, got it?"

— taste

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, soft!dom minho. content: 18+ minors dni. profanity. unprotected intercourse. afab!reader. hurt/comfort. hints of jealousy. hints of possessiveness. pet names. dirty talk. grinding. hints of breeding kink. word count: 4.3k

summary: your boyfriend has been working out, but when you notice his appeal for praise being ignored by his friends, you decide to show him how beautiful you think his body is.

It had been awhile since your boyfriend’s friends had come around to the apartment you shared together. So when Jisung mentioned wanting to do a Scream marathon, Minho had suggested doing it at your place. You didn’t mind; you liked his friends. You also didn’t mind the idea of cuddling up to your boyfriend on the couch for hours. It’s not that he wasn’t affectionate but he was so busy all day; the only opportunity you really had to be close to him was in bed each night. He usually got home after you’d gone to bed, waking you with a whisper in your ear and a kiss on your forehead. 

He had a few days off over this weekend so here you were; cuddled on the couch, well into the second Scream movie. Honestly, at this point you were just doing your best to stay awake, and by the look of Changbin nodding off across the room, so were the others. You looked up at your boyfriend’s face to see him still watching the screen.

He didn't watch movies very often, but when he did, he would watch the entire time and still somehow forget every single character's name by the end. You'd once joked about how you wanted him to write up a report reviewing the film you'd just finished: Pride & Prejudice, your favourite. He'd asked you when you wanted it finished by and when you'd replied Sunday night and tapped him on the nose he'd said nothing. You promptly forgot. 4 days later you were getting into bed after feeling a little down all day. Minho was working late as usual and you hated going to bed alone. Your phone vibrated from the nightstand and you reached over to grab it. 

     my review of that movie

     pretty music

     wanna go to that big fancy house with my pretty girlfriend

     5/5 stars

     my pretty girlfriend has pretty taste

You had fallen into bed and tucked yourself into the blankets, smiling to yourself and forgetting your bad mood.

     i love you

You stared at the screen, waiting for his response. It took a little while, he must have been busy.

     love you too my pretty baby

     go to sleep

Smiling to yourself at the memory, you wondered if he was absorbing anything about the movie right now. You suspected he was often far away, thinking about something else. He was good at that. Zoning out; always deep in thought.

“I think everyone’s getting a bit sleepy,” you whispered. 

He looked down at you, taking a second to process what you'd said before smirking.

“Oh yeah?" he squeezed you a little tighter. "Everyone? Or you?” 

You couldn't help smiling back at him, you loved his teasing, not that you'd ever admit it. 

“Everyone.” You nudged him with your knee. “Look at Changbin.” 

He looked over at his friend sleeping with his head tilted back, mouth hanging open. You shifted a bit as he reached to grab a cushion with the arm that had been draped over your shoulder. 

“Hey! Sleeping beauty!”

The cushion found its target, Changbin startled awake, looking around the room for his attacker. Noticing everyone laughing at him, he grabbed the pillow and flung it across the room where it hit Jisung directly in the face. You watched the falsely accused pillow thrower jump up and march across to Changbin where he proceeded to attempt to suffocate him with the cushion.  

“They’re awake now.” 

You looked back at your boyfriend who grinned at you before returning his attention to the attempted murder in progress.

“Okay! Jisung! Enough!” Chan shouted, struggling to sound assertive through his own laughter.

Jisung and Changbin were now on the carpet between the couch and the coffee table, Changbin holding Jisung down with his arms above his head. 

“You think you’re stronger than me now, huh?” Chanbin asked, teasing the boy he was sitting on. “How many times have you even worked out this week? You’ve been looking a little.. frail.”

Jisung, who hadn’t been putting up much of a fight, suddenly pushed Changbin off him and into the couch you were sitting on with Minho. 

“Watch it.” Minho shoved him away from the couch and into Jisung, amusement still clear on his face. 

You probably should have known something like a brawl on the floor would be the outcome of your seemingly innocuous comment about everyone’s tiredness. Minho had a way of stirring his friends up for his own entertainment, and yours. 

“Arm wrestle me right now.” Jisung was kneeling down at the coffee table, challenging his older and clearly bigger friend. 

“Nah, it’s made of glass,” You watched Chan get up from the couch and lean down to grab one end of the table. “Help me move it. Have a push up contest instead.”

You sighed as you watched Chan and Jisung carry your table to safety, clearing a space on the carpet for an impromptu battle of the gym bros. Changbin was on the floor preparing himself before they’d even put it down safely in the kitchen. Your apartment was pretty small, you could just imagine tripping over it in the dark later when you inevitably forget the small glass table in the middle of your kitchen. 

“You joining or what?” You hear Jisung ask Chan as they re-enter the living room. 

“Yeah, may as well.” 

Your boyfriend readjusts his position on the couch, pulling the blanket away so he can lean forward; likely preparing himself for more stirring.

“Why’d you do that? You wanna lose to two people now, Jisung?” 

You laughed. Yep, more stirring. You watched Jisung getting more and more worked up. He looked between you and Minho. 

“Fine, I’ll beat all three of you! You’re joining.” 

Your boyfriend leaned back, spreading his legs and putting his hands behind his head. 

“Nah, I'm good. I beat you last week.” 

“Pussy. You just don’t wanna lose in front of your girlfriend.” Jisung smirked. 

Minho dropped his hands from behind his head and brought them to rest on his thighs. He was silent as Jisung stared him down, raising an eyebrow. 

"Fine. You get to lose to three people.” 

Before rolling off the couch onto the carpet to join them he leaned over to kiss you on the cheek, “You can referee.”

5 minutes later Jisung was being held down by Changbin again while Minho and Chan celebrated around them, flexing their biceps and feeling themselves up. You watched as your boyfriend approached each member hands on each pec, attempting to get their attention. It wasn’t long ago Jisung probably would have beat him. You remembered when you first met how insecure he was about his body. When he discovered boxing and met Changbin they’d started going to the gym together practically every night. His body had transformed and he’d gained some confidence but you’d always notice him seeking praise. You watched him approach each of his friends obviously fishing for compliments. 

You got up to get a drink, giving them all a moment for their testosterone levels to normalise and settle down. As you reached for the light after walking into the kitchen your shin collided with the glass table. 

“Fuck!”  You dropped to the floor, holding your shin and beginning to rock back and forth. 

“What is it?! What happened?”

The lights flicked on and your boyfriend was crouching down beside you. You felt his hands in your hair, attempting to brush it away from your face. 

“Are you okay? Did you stub your toe?” 

“My shin.” You took your hands away from your leg. No blood. “It’ll be fine in a minute.” 

He moved around to kneel in front of you, looking up into your eyes and smiling before leaning down and kissing your leg where the small mark was visible. 

“Gross.” You looked up to see Jisung on the doorway, the others crowded behind him looking over his shoulders.  

“Oh, fuck off,” Minho grumbled as he stood up, pulling you with him. “Move this table back while you’re at it.”

It wasn’t long after that Minho called it a night and you’d gone to shower while he showed his friends out. You found him in the kitchen a little while later, cleaning the dishes and humming to himself. You approached him slowly and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his back. 

“I enjoyed spending time with your friends.”

“Did you really? I know they’re a lot.”

“I like them. Even when they’re a lot.” 

“Not more than me though, right?” 

He’d teased you once about liking Changbin more than him. He’d found out he’d taken you to give boxing a try. When you told your boyfriend he asked why you’d never gone with him. You told him the truth: he’d never asked. He was silent for a second then said, “Fair enough.” You thought it was all over and settled but when you turned away from him he grabbed you from behind, lifting you off the ground. He refused to put you down until you’d promised you liked him more than Changbin. When he eventually released you, he had a cheesy grin on his face. 

You smiled at the memory. It seemed most of your memories were happy ones since you’d met him. 

“I like you more than anyone.” You reassured him.

He put the last glass in the drying rack and turned around to face you.

“Really?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah.” You looked down, feeling a little shy, before looking up into his eyes. “Come to bed and I'll show you.” 

He picked you up, laughing as you wrapped your legs around him. He carried you to your room and dropped you on the bed before kissing you gently. 

“Let me have a quick shower,” he pulled his shirt over his head, “and then you can show me how much you like me.” 

You watched as he walked into the ensuite, tucking yourself under the covers and preparing to give yourself a pep talk. You weren’t very outgoing in any aspect of life, including in the bedroom. Minho was always praising you, making you feel comfortable and beautiful. You often wished you had the courage to do the same for him. You weren’t great with words, same as him. He seemed to manage to use them well enough when it came to praising you though. It felt like as soon as you two were alone, he had no problem making you feel loved with words. You were going to try, too. You’d make sure he knew. 

The bathroom door opened and Minho walked out with a towel around his waist, hair still dripping onto his bare shoulders. 

“You haven’t fallen asleep have you?” 

You sat up and watched as he walked to the chest of drawers, fishing out a pair of boxers. A drop of water dripped from his hair and rolled between his shoulder blades… and then down his back. Just as you watched it disappear behind the towel around his waist, the towel was dropped to the floor. You trailed our eyes from his ass to his thick thighs. God you loved his thighs. Your ex-boyfriend was pretty good looking. But his thighs.. well they weren’t… thick. They were pretty thin really. You didn’t realise you minded much until you slept with Minho the first time. Even back then, before he’d got really into the gym his thighs had been beautiful. He’d pulled his jeans down and you’d short-circuited. So much so, that he’d asked you if you were alright, if you were sure you wanted to do this; you’d pushed him onto his back, climbed onto him and kissed him until he was convinced you did. You wanted him very much.

“Enjoying the view?”

You snapped your eyes back up to his. Maybe zoning out was another thing you had in common. 

“Yes.”

He raised his eyebrows. He was expecting you to tell him to shut up, like you often did when he teased you. He crawled up the bed to where you were leaning against the pillows. 

“Do you think I'm pretty?” He smirked. 

"Yes. Very. I think… I think you’re the prettiest.” 

“You’re being very nice to me tonight.” He pulled you around so he was leaning against the pillows, you in his lap. “What have I done to deserve it? Hm?” He leaned forward and kissed your neck softly. “Was it the push up competition?” His kisses trailed up your neck, to your jaw, making a path towards your lips. “Did winning make you proud?” His lips found yours, making you forget what he’d been saying. You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer to his body. He hummed into your mouth before pulling back. 

“So it was that then?” 

“What?”

He chuckled, “The push up contest.”

"Oh. No. I just… I'm showing you how much I like you, remember?” You played with the hair at the back of his head, unable to make eye contact. 

“Does it make you shy? Being nice to me?” He wasn’t making fun of you but you couldn’t help being frustrated with yourself. 

“You know I'm not good with words.” 

“I know. You don’t have to use words.” His fingers under your chin lifted your gaze to his. “I know how much you love me.”

“But I want to show you.” Determined, you climbed off his lap. “Lay down.”

He studied your expression for a second before adjusting himself so he was laying down fully, head on the pillow. You climbed back onto him, sitting on his crotch so you could run your hands up and down his torso. He rested his hands on your hips, thumbs playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

“Take these off for me. Let me see you.”

You pulled his hands off your hips. “Not yet, I want to look at you first.” 

“You are looking at me.” 

“I want to kiss you.” 

“Okay, come here and kiss me then.” He went to grab you again and you pushed his hands away. 

“No, kiss you… elsewhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “...Elsewhere?”

“Everywhere else.” You leaned down and attached your mouth to his neck before he could respond. It was an easy place to start. He loved when you kissed his neck. Sometimes, when you were trying to get your way, like when he wanted curry and you wanted pizza, all it took was pulling him close and giving his neck a few soft kisses. Even now you could hear his breathing getting a little shallower. You let your lips rest on his skin, barely touching, just letting your breath tickle him. 

“I want to kiss you everywhere… because you’re so beautiful… everywhere.” You paused and when he said nothing, you continued. “Your neck,” you kissed his skin. “Your ears…” You brought your lips to his ear. “Close your eyes.” 

You pulled back to look at his face. It was easier to speak when he couldn't see you. You traced your fingers over his face, from his forehead, down his cheek, across his lips. Then you kissed his closed eyelids, his nose, then his lips. The second your lips touched his, you felt his hands grab you around the waist and you were flipped onto your back. 

“Let me see you now.” 

“No.” You looked up into his eyes. “I wasn’t done. Let me finish.” 

“Why?”

“I’m trying to show you.” 

He sighed and flopped back down onto his back next to you. “If I knew ‘showing me how much you like me’ meant I couldn’t see or touch you, I wouldn’t have encouraged it.” 

"Shut up.” You climbed back over him.

“Oh, so you’re still in there then.” 

“Shut up, pretty please.” 

He grinned. “Okay, since you’re being so nice to me.” He put his hands behind his head. “Go ahead.” 

So you did. Starting from his chest this time. You kissed each of his pecs a few times each, making a circle around each nipple. You imagined marking a line with kisses as you went. You took your time, you wanted him to feel how much each kiss meant. Around each nipple… between his pecs… down his abs… around his belly button… down to the waistband of his boxers. You shifted down the bed, taking the moment’s pause to listen to how his breathing had changed, his chest rising and falling much quicker than it had when you’d started. You were too afraid to look up at his face though, so you began again, at the hem of his boxers. His thighs. God, his thighs. You touched your lips to his skin, then slowly, you trailed kisses down one, feeling the muscles tighten and loosen as he clenched. Before you started the same treatment for the other thigh, you couldn’t help but tell him: “You know, when I first saw them, that was the first time I thought you were perfect.” 

“Them?”

He hadn’t said anything in so long his voice startled you and you found yourself looking up at his face before you remembered you definitely were trying to not do that. Well, too late now. You were looking. And god, he was beautiful. His cheeks were flushed, his hands had moved from behind his head to grip the sheets by his side. His hands, you couldn’t forget those. Those were next. You looked back at his face.

“Your… your thighs.”

His mouth opened slightly. You quickly look back down. Restarting your mission. The left thigh this time. You got half way down before you felt his hand on your arm. 

“Sweetheart?”

You looked up. He was sitting up. 

“You can stop now. I want you now.” His hands moved to tug at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please.” 

“But I haven’t finished.” 

You let him pull your shit up over your head, sitting up in his lap so you could lift your arms up. 

“I know, but you did so well. You’re so perfect.” He muttered, kissing you the moment your shirt was over your head. 

“So are you,” you murmured, between kisses. “so, so perfect.”

You felt him smile. “You’re being so good for me…” his mouth went to your neck and he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. “so sweet.” He pulled the shorts down over your ass. “Lift up for me.. hm? Good girl.” 

“But I haven’t finished,” you repeated.

“What were you gonna do next?”

“Your hands.”

“My hands?” He lifted his left hand from your waist so he could inspect it. “They’re always calloused and bruised from the gym.”    

“They’re beautiful.” You took his hand and lifted it to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm, then turning it so you could kiss each knuckle. “They’re strong, and beautiful and…” You’d been doing so well so far, you couldn’t really believe how much you’d managed to say to him. 

“And..?”

"They make me feel nice.”

“Yeah? How?” He gathered your hair and brushed it behind your shoulders. 

“When they… when you touch me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

His left hand was still in your grip. You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye—keeping your gaze fixed on his left hand as you traced patterns on his palm. He brought his fingers to your lips, touching them so lightly it almost tickled. You looked up at his face. His eyes were fixed on your mouth. He pushed the tip of his index finger between your lips pausing for a moment and then pushing it into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around him and sucked. Feeling his calloused fingertip on your tongue. 

“How about here? Do you like when I touch you here?” He breathed. You nodded, mouth occupied. 

“So pretty,” He pushed his finger further in, “So sweet for me,” then out, “Hot little mouth” and in again. “All mine.” He was muttering now, like he didn't mind if you heard him or not. Then his finger was gone and you were on your back again. His mouth was on yours, holding himself up with one arm while the other worked to get his boxers off. 

“Can I feel you now? You’ve done so well. Got me all hard for you, hm? So good.” 

You felt like your brain had been switched off, all that progress to tell him how you felt with words. And now you’re brainless. You felt him kiss down your body, giving you the same treatment you’d given him but much faster, much more urgency in his movements. When he reached between your legs he sat back, his gaze fixed on your cunt. He brought his finger to trace from your clit, down to your entrance, “All wet for me…”, he pushed his finger into you. “Does it feel nice when I touch you here, too?” He was looking at your face now. 

“Ye-yeah. So nice.” 

“Yeah?” He pulled his finger away and wrapped his hand around his cock. “What about this?” He stroked himself, up and down slowly. “What if I touch you with this? Does my cock make you feel nice, too? You kissed me nearly everywhere, except here.” 

You nodded, pushing yourself down the bed, attempting to get closer to him. 

“You were being so good with your words before, honey. Where have they gone? Hm?” 

“I want it. Minho, please.”

“What do you want?”

“Your cock..please..it makes me feel so nice… I.. I love it. Your hands, too. Your thighs… and your arms and .. and-”

"Shhh, shh, baby. It’s okay. You’ve been so good.” He brought his hand to your leg. “Bend your knees for me.” He pushed them back towards your chest so he could move closer before touching your cunt with the tip of his cock. He tapped it a few times, groaning as he did it. Then he fell forward pushing your legs back down so he could hover above you. He brought his lips to yours, being much rougher than he had all night, tongue in your mouth almost straight away. With one arm holding himself up, he used the other hand to guide himself through your folds. Grinding himself on you while he desperately kissed you until you were out of breath. 

“Inside.”

“I know, baby. I’m just getting myself all ready for you yeah? You’re so wet for me… gotta get my cock all wet too, hm?” 

He guided himself to your entrance and put his face in your neck as he pushed in, groaning as he went. “All mine.” He stayed still when he bottomed out and brought his hand up to hold you behind your neck. “Just suck me right in, so good.” He liked having a hold of you there when you were in this position. Sometimes he’d hold your hands on the bed beside your head, each of his gripping yours. When you were on top he would always hold your waist or hips, sometimes your ass. He always kept a grip on you somewhere.

He was moving now, slow and deep at first. You wrapped your legs around him. You pushed your fingers into his hair, his face was still buried in your neck, leaving sloppy kisses. 

“You’re so perfect. You make me feel so good.” You were murmuring into his ear. “I love you. All of you.”

He was speeding up the more you spoke, his moans in your neck getting louder, encouraging you to continue. This was the bravest you’d felt all night. 

“I love your thighs, so thick and strong and pretty, hm? The prettiest.” His arm moved from the back of your head, to your waist, pulling you into him even closer. “Your hands too, so pretty. I want them touching me all the time. When you aren’t here I just think about your hands, how much I miss them on me.” He was sucking on your neck now between moans. “Your cock, too. I love when you fill me up; like you are right now. So full. You know what I love most though? I love when you cum inside me. I love feeling full of you. Can you fill me up baby? Please?” 

He lifted his head from your neck and attached his mouth to yours, moaning as he sped up. The sounds of him entering you filling the room. He was barely kissing you now, more like sharing your breath; panting into your mouth.  

“You’re so good to me. Love you so much. Cum for me.. wanna feel you.” He reached down and circled your clit as he spoke. “Gonna show you how much I love you, just like you did for me. I promise. I’ll show you.” He sat back on his heels and pressed his palm on your lower stomach. “Go on, come around me. Cream all over my cock.” He pressed a little harder on your lower stomach and you threw your head back as you came. He pressed himself on top of you and thrust himself into you, mouth hovering over yours again. 

“Good girl. Gonna give it all to you. You can take it all, yeah? Keep you so full. Promise, baby. So full.” You watched his face as he stilled, his cheeks flushed, brows furrowed, sweat dripping down his temples. “So pretty.” You murmured. Then his face dropped into your neck again. You listened to his breathing. Heavy at first, then slowly returning to normal. 

“Do you believe me now?” 

“Hm? Do I believe what..” His voice was muffled. You pushed at him until he rolled over onto his back. 

“That I like you most.” 

He turned to look at you, then wrapped an arm and leg around you. “Yeah baby, I believe you. I like you most too.” 

reblogs mean so much more than likes! please reblog and leave feedback. send me an ask, support on ao3 or buy me a coffee if you enjoy my work ♥ thank you ↳ masterlist

seeing the taste performance fucked me up, clearly.

early hours (j.yh)

summary: you run into him in the hallway of the hotel, it's late and you're exhausted from the concert, but he thinks you should grab a drink and you can't help but agree

prompt: Hi! Sooo it might gonna be a little similar to into the aurora, but I kinda let my mind wander about what would it be like (probably really really lucky) to bump into yunho after a concert (like you know as a fan) and eventually have a one night stand with him..

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // i hope this is what you were looking for!! honestly it got away from me there in the middle, i'm just also very in love with this man. i hope you enjoy!! <3

warnings: idol!yunho, fem!reader, one night stand, slight injury and brief description of a bloody cut, oral (f receiving), protected sex, semi rough sex, free use kink, praise, *slight* brattiness / teasing, size kink, use of the pet name 'tiny', big dick yunho. please let me know if I missed any.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: idol x non idol, self insert, smut-a-thon with some fluff

word count: 8.8K

my masterlist 

Everything about your night feels absolutely electric, the feeling of the music still buzzing in your skin, your legs exhausted from standing, your hands numb from clapping. Now, laying in your hotel room after the show on top of the

 comforter, you replay the little moments in your mind. It was lucky you were able to go, a ticket given to you from a friend who could not longer make it, a VIP seat almost at the barricade. It had been perfect, it didn’t even matter that you went alone.

Flipping over onto your stomach, you pull your phone back out and scroll through the videos you were able to take during the show – every second of footage shockingly good quality. They’re handsome, of course, but the power in their dancing and the magnetic charisma of each and every one of them is overwhelming, the videos paling in comparison to the feeling of being mere feet from the stage’s edge.

Glancing at the clock, you see that it’s already twelve-thirty in the morning. You have a bit of a long drive to make in the morning, especially if you’re going to make it back to your apartment to get some work done, and you really should get to sleep. If you didn’t start winding down now, you never would.

Despite your sore muscles, you drag yourself off the bed and into a warm shower, washing off the show and trying to relax. You keep your hair dry, already freshly washed and dried that morning, but take your time removing your makeup and refreshing your skin before you get dressed for bed. You’re tucked in already, cozy in your gray sweats and oversized black hoodie, when you realize how hoarse your voice feels after the show.

There’s nothing in the mini-fridge and no little bottles of courtesy water left on the dresser, so you’re stuck with tepid tap water. With a sigh, you pull on a pair of fluffy socks, pick up the small empty ice bucket, grab your room key, and head out into the hall. It’s late, and the hotel is quiet around you, everyone in their respective rooms fast asleep.

The ice machine is around the corner, down the hall, and set back in an enclave next to a vending machine. You fill your bucket up, stifling a wide yawn, before shaking off the sleepy feeling and closing the lid of the ice dispenser. Turning on your heel, you turn the corner and collide directly into a chest.

The man was walking at a good clip, turning the corner himself, so you rock back on unsteady footing, tripping backwards and colliding with the floor hard. The ice bucket in your hand slips, and the sharp metal edge of the lip of the bucket cuts across your palm, flaring a sharp line of pain in your hand.

“I’m so sorry!” the man exclaims, immediately reaching down for you.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head, brushing off some wayward cubes of ice that landed on you, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

When you look up your breath catches in your throat.

“Still,” the man says, crouching at your side and softly gripping under your forearms to help you to your feet, “I was too busy looking at my phone. Are you okay?”

“Uh,” you fish in your brain for anything to say, “yes, yeah, I’m fine.”

Now on your feet, you realize just how tall he is, especially standing so close. His eyes are kind, soft and brown, an embarrassed blush across his cheeks, and he keeps his hands resting on your arms as he looks down at you.

“I really am sorry,” he says again.

The shock of recognizing him is wearing off and you take a small step back, waving him off, “I promise, it’s fine. Thank you for your help though,”

His eyes widen suddenly and he reaches for you, taking your hand in his and turning it over in his wide palm, “Your hand!”

Across the heel of your hand, a deep cut runs across the fleshy base of your thumb where the sharp edge of the ice bucket dragged across it. Blood wells over, smeared across your skin where you skidded on the floor when you fell. Looking at it now, you can feel it, a slow throb of pain radiating out.  

“Oh,” you manage, grimacing.

“Now, I’m really sorry,” he says, and when you glance up at him you can see how red his ears have gone.

“I think it looks worse than it is,” you pull your hand back and smile, “you don’t need to worry.”

His eyebrows are knit together in concern and as you lean down to pick up the discarded ice bucket, he glances down the empty hall, and then back to you. “Let me do that,” he drops down, gathering the ice that has scattered on the hotel floor and dropping it into his own empty bucket to discard.

You rock back on your heels and watch him as he fusses around you, clearly embarrassed, and you take the moment to look him over. He’s much more handsome up close, but without the makeup and styled hair, he looks so real.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you say.

He looks up, meeting your eyes again and smiles, “I’m Yunho,”

“I know,” you say, and now you know you’re blushing yourself.

“Oh,” he helps you to your feet again, “you’re a fan?”

“Kind of,” again, you wish for nothing more than a filter over your mouth.

His eyes widen a bit as he takes in your words, “Kind of a fan,”

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “my friend gave me her ticket, I only knew some of your songs before, but the show was amazing. I’m a fan now,”

He grins, “Oh, well that’s nice, thank you.”

There’s a bit of a pause between you, and you know it’s time to let him off the hook. You should go back to your room and figure out the cut on your hand and go back to your original plan of going to sleep. You should let him get back to his room and whatever his plans were for the evening. You should.

“Well, I should let you go,” you take a step away, and his hand leaves your elbow, “but it was nice to meet you, and really, the show was incredible.”

You start to step away, but he stops you, “Wait, wait,” Yunho steps in front of you, blocking your path back up the hall, “at least let me take care of your hand, I feel terrible.”

“Oh, no I think it’s honestly fine,” you smile, “like I said, it looks worse than it is.”

“You have a first aid kit in your room?” He asks, and something in his expression tells you that he already knows you don’t.

“Not exactly,”

“Then let me patch you up,” his smile is warm and inviting, everything about his presence easy and comfortable, “it’s the least I can do.”

“You travel with a first aid kit?” You raise an eyebrow, but let him take your hand again so he can take a look at the cut.

“No,” he shakes his head, “but our managers do,”

“Fine,” you concede, “I guess it can’t hurt.”

“Good,” he nods and gestures with his arm for you to follow, “my room’s just down here.”

A flutter of anxiety washes through you, the idea of being in his room strange and sudden. You had been minutes from sleep not that long ago, and now here you are walking into Jeong Yunho’s hotel room. It feels a little like a dream, but think that at least in a dream you wouldn’t have embarrassed yourself in front of him and cut open your hand, you would have said something cool and flirty, so definitely this is just reality.

He opens the door with a keycard and holds the door open for you, “Come on in,”

You thought he would have a roommate or at least a manager in the room, but when you step over the threshold and the heavy hotel door shuts behind you, you realize that his room is just like yours, empty with one queen sized bed and clothes and travel supplies littered around.

“Obviously I didn’t think I’d have company,” he jogs across the room and grabs the clothes up off the floor, tossing them into an open suitcase and flipping it shut. He sweeps away some wrappers off the counter top too and pushes them into a waiting wastebasket.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you laugh, “you haven’t seen my room.”

It’s cute how nervous he seems to be, and when he’s done clearing away the clutter he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. He looks up, and realizes that you’re still standing in the entryway. “Sorry, here, take a seat and I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He physically steers you into the room and back towards the edge of the bed. He ducks into the bathroom, and you hear him shuffle around, clearly digging through items, before he comes back with a handful of supplies. “This should be good,”

“I appreciate this, by the way,” you tell him, “I’m sure that you’re exhausted after the show.”

 He sits next to you on the edge of the bed and drops the first aid items between you, before taking your injured hand back into his and sweeping a warm wet washcloth across your skin. “Honestly, after a show I can never sleep.”

“Really?”

“I’m always too keyed up,” he shrugs, carefully wiping away the blood away from your hand, staining the washcloth pink, “it’s such a rush of energy and then suddenly nothing,”

“They have a word for that,” you say, hissing slightly when he presses a little too hard across the cut itself.

He lifts the cloth and looks up from his work to your eyes, “Sorry, sorry,”

“I’m good,” you assure him.

He nods and more carefully sweeps the cloth over your skin, “You were saying?”

“Oh,” you run back through the thoughts, the conversation from a moment ago, “Oh! Yes, that feeling, they call it post concert depression.”

“That’s accurate.” He says, pointedly.

“Everything and then nothing,” you nod, “it must be overwhelming for you.”

He shrugs, but you can see he’s nodding too, and as he squeezes out a bit of ointment to apply to your hand he says, “It can be. You go from thousands of fans telling you they love you to your own thoughts alone in a hotel room within an hour. Nothing can really prepare you for how that feels.”

“I’m sure,” you murmur. With a glance around the room you realize how empty it must be, on tour with no one but your crew and group mates, far from home in strange places, sometimes with a heavy language barrier. The words leave you before you can catch them, “It seems kind of lonely,”

His fingers still and he looks up to you, “Sometimes,”

This close, he really is just a boy. Your stomach flip flops and you lean back a bit, blush heating your cheeks again. You can’t quite stop thinking about his beautiful mouth.

You can almost touch the pause between you, the silence stretching out and enveloping you both, but he clears his throat softly and looks back down to your hand, “I think you were right, it’s really not too bad.”

“I thought so,”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” He asks, peeling open a bandaid.

“Not too much,” you shake your head.

He turns your hand over in his, the back of your knuckles resting in his palm, and you realize just how large his are and how small yours looks held in his. “Did you come to the show with someone?” he asks suddenly.

“No,” you shift, angling towards him a bit more to make the position more comfortable, “I came by myself, my friend only had the one ticket.”

              He hums in acknowledgement and pauses briefly before he says, “Did you travel far? By yourself?”

You catch his eyes, your eyebrows raised, “Not too far, and yes. It’s only a three hour drive, I just didn’t want to drive back so late in case I was tired.”

Yunho nods, and refocuses on his task to apply two large bandaids over the cut, his long fingers smoothing out the edges of the adhesive tightly over your skin. He examines his work carefully to make sure it fits comfortably over your hand and murmurs, “There we go,”

You pull your hand back, flexing your fingers and testing out the feeling, “That’s perfect, thank you so much.”

“It was my fault you got hurt anyways,” he smiles, “I’m just glad it wasn’t too bad and I could help.”

You’re pretty sure you should get up and leave, but his smile is kind and warm and you can’t quite make your legs move. His eyes flick over you, his fingertips lingering on your injured hand, and when his ears flush red again he stands and clears his throat, “Well,”

“I should get back to my room,” you interrupt, jumping up and pulling down the sleeves of your hoodie, “but thank you so much.”

He steps back and towards the door, pulling it open and holding out an arm to let you pass through it into the hallway. When he follows you out into the hall and shuts the door he says, “Let me walk you back to your room, it’s late.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him, but you smile up at him anyways.

 “I want to,” he assures you.

There’s a pause, and you remember yourself, “Oh, right! It’s this way,” you wave him to follow you and start down the hallway back towards the ice machine, walking in step with each other slowly.

“So,” he glances down at you, “what do you do?”

“I’m a student,” you tell him, “in graduate school.”

“Oh,” he nods, “that’s impressive.”

You shrug, “I wouldn’t say that,”

“I would,” he shakes his head, “I was never very good at staying attentive during school let alone doing post grad. I had too much energy,”

“It makes sense you’re a dancer then,” you note, and with every sidelong glance up at him your stomach flutters. He isn’t flirting with you, he’s just being kind, but he’s still just as charming and it makes you wish for just a little more time with him.

“Mm,” he nods, “I have to be moving, I can’t help it.”

You’ve noticed that already, in the short time you’ve spent together. Even after the long show it seems like he is overflowing with energy. His leg bouncing, his fingers dancing, something unconscious vibrating under his skin.

Now that you’ve turned the corner on the hotel floor, you can see your door just ahead and you wish there was just a little more hallway. “Do you leave soon?” You ask him.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he nods, “you?”

“Sometime in the morning, I think. I have some work to get done tomorrow and shouldn’t leave too late,”

As you approach your door, you slow your steps and he realizes you must be at your room. “This is me,” you gesture towards the door and turn to face him, “thank you for everything.”

He waves your thanks off and smiles, “It’s really the least I could do,” he says again.

“It really was nice to meet you,” you tell him honestly, “I’m just sorry I ran right into you to do it.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he says, and then you watch his expression shift as he backtracks, “well, I’m sorry I knocked you over, but I’m not sorry I met such a pretty girl.”

Heat flushes your face instantly at his words and you glance down, fighting a smile.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he clears his throat and shifts from foot to foot, “I’m sorry, it’s late and I’m clearly making a bit of a fool of myself.”

 You laugh immediately, looking back up to him, “Hardly. You’re actually very charming, it’s kind of annoying.”

He laughs, covering his mouth with one hand and taking a step away, “I’m annoying you, am I?”

“No, I just meant,” you sigh, covering your face with your hands, “I really just don’t think before I speak, I swear.”

“y/n,” your name on his lips sends a chill through you and you look up at him, “Don’t be embarrassed, I like it.”

“You like me calling you annoying?”

Something passes over his face at your words, a shift, and he says, “I do, it’s cute.”

Your stomach clenches, the conversation drifting into a new space you feel wholly unprepared for. You cross your arms, tucking your hands away and looking up to him, “You’re not what I expected,”

“No?” He grins, leaning on the wall next to your door.

“You don’t seem like an idol,” you explain.

He shrugs, “We are just people,”

“I’m getting that,” you say honestly. At a beat between you, you sigh, “How late is it?”

He pulls his cellphone out of his sweat pants pocket and checks the time before quickly returning it, “Almost two,”

You sigh, nodding and reach into your pocket for your keycard, “It’s late… I should go,”

He nods and watches as you swipe your card over the door lock and prop open the heavy door. Something is stalling you, pulling you back into the hall, but he makes the leap for you. He reaches out and gently touches your forearm, “Maybe I’m feeling bold because it’s so late,” he says and you look back to him, “but I’ve enjoyed talking to you, if you’re not too tired maybe we could have a drink or something?”

“You want to have a drink with me?” You can’t help the look of shock that crosses your face.      “Well, yes,” his hand rests more comfortably on your forearm now, his thumb stroking your skin softly, just once, “if you want to.”

You shift back towards him, the door closing behind you now that you’re no longer propping it open, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he nods.

“Do you want to have a drink with me because you want to have a drink with me, or because you don’t want to be alone after the show?”

His eyes flick away, and you can see him think before he looks up and says, “Can it be both?”

His honesty makes this easier, knowing that he wasn’t feeding you a line just to be a flirt or trick you into something. You smile, “Yeah,”

“What about you?” He asks, taking a step towards you and closing the space between you, “If you say yes is it because you want to have a drink with me, or because you’re alone in a strange hotel room?”

He has a warm, flirtatious smile on his lips, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the proximity between you both and between you and the door behind you. “Both,” you answer. It’s entirely possible you’re reading into things, but it’s also entirely possible Yunho is making a move and this night might end with him inside you. Warmth curls in your belly at the thought.

“So, what do you say?” He shifts a little closer, and you press a hand to the center of his chest to keep him where he is.

“Let’s have a drink.” You agree, “But I don’t have anything inside.”

He steps away and thinks a moment, “Give me ten minutes and I’ll come back,”

“You’re not going to disappear on me, are you?” You tease with a sly smile.

“Definitely not,” he squeeze your arm softly before he drops it, “I’ll be right back.”

 He steps back and you move to open your door again. His eyes flick up to the number on your hotel room door and you watch him silently repeat the number to himself and commit it to memory. He tells you he’ll see you soon, and you watch him jog down the hallway in the direction of his room.

Once he disappears and you slip back into your own room things feel suddenly incredibly surreal. Meeting him like this felt like meeting anyone, bumping into a stranger and making a connection just like you would at a bar. The ten minutes between your door closing and Yunho knocking is fast, and you spend it picking up your space and cleaning up the bedding, quickly brushing your teeth, fluffing your hair and discarding the oversized sweatshirt.

His soft knock on your door has you jumping out of your skin, but you pull the door open and can’t help but laugh. He’s holding up a six pack of obviously cold light beers, and two bottles of soju, an incredibly cheeky grin on his face. He’s a flirt, then.

“Come in,” you wave him in, and he crosses by you to set the drinks on the desk and turn back to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that his eyes flick over you, your body more on display in a fitted tank top now that your sweatshirt was off.

“I’m not sure what you like,” he pulls a beer from the sleeve and holds it out to you, “but this is pretty light,”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, popping the top off the beer and discarding the twist off in the trash, “where did you get this anyways? It’s two in the morning.”

“The downstairs bar is open until three,” he explains.

“Ah,” you take a swig of the beer and watch him follow suit. It’s easier to watch him now that you both have acknowledged the heat between you, and you find yourself appreciating a lot of little things. His hands are large, making the bottle in his grip seem smaller. You find yourself staring at the soft edge of his jaw when he tips his head back for a drink, and noticing the broad set of his shoulders when he stands at his full height.

Yunho takes a few more sips of his drink, and once he’s had about a third of his beer, he reaches for a bottle of soju to mix in a shot. You hop up from your perch on the dresser and reach out to him, “Oh, wait, let me.”

His brow is a little furrowed, but he hands the unopened bottle of soju to you. “Okay?”

“I’m not a very seasoned drinker,” you explain, “but I do have a party trick or two. I think everyone should,”

With practiced hands you flip the bottle quickly, the alcohol inside spinning quickly into a whirlwind. Taking the neck of the bottle in one hand, you tap your opposite elbow firmly on the base of the bottle before twisting it cleanly around in your hands, all the while untwisting the cap. You present the open bottle with a flourish, the soju still whirling inside, and take a small playful bow. He’s grinning, and he claps at the trick, “That’s expertise,” he says.

“In opening bottles, maybe,” you pass it over to him so he can add his shot, and then add one to your bottle too, “in drinking, not so much.”

“Me either,” he confesses, “a drink here or there, but I’m not really one to overdo it.”

“You’re probably too busy,” you take a drink, and sidle closer to where he sits on the edge of the hotel room’s desk.

He shrugs, “it’s that, but also it makes your body feel terrible. If I don’t have a clear head it shows up on stage.”

“That makes sense,”

“Yeah,” he takes another drink, but you can see he’s already slowing down, “we have to be very conscious about our health, so drinking occasionally is fine but I don’t normally do it.”

“But you wanted to drink with me?” You ask, turning towards him more fully.

He smiles, “I thought it might be weird if I asked you to just keep talking in your room at two in the morning. Drinks are a good excuse,”

His honesty strikes you again, “I think I still would have said yes.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow.

You nod, taking another drink, and say, “Maybe I’m reading this wrong, but I don’t think you’re here just to talk, right?”

Yunho is quiet, his eyes flicking over you, “You’re very direct.”

“I’ve been told,” you smile, shrugging.

“I like direct,” he clarifies.

“Yunho,” you murmur, and you watch his eyes flicker at the sound of his name, “what do you want?”

He swallows, takes another drink, and swallows again, his throat tight, “If you’re saying yes, then I’d like to fuck you.”

The bottle in your hand slips a little and you grip down on it to keep it from falling, Yunho watches and smiles at your reaction. It cannot be overstated that this is not how you thought the night was going to go.

“Yes,” you decide not to think.

His hands are on you in a moment, one braced on your hip and the other cupping the back of your neck so he can drag you forwards along the desk and crash his mouth into yours. You like direct too.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he breaks the kiss, “I’m sorry, I was going to be cooler about this, but you’re very cute.”

You hum a laugh against his mouth, feeling his smile, and shake your head a little when you break away, “I really don’t think we have to pretend if it’s just tonight,”

“Yeah?”

“Be yourself,” you kiss him again, “I’ll be myself. It’s only one night, so why be nervous the whole time?”

“I like you,” he grins, “I’m really glad I met you,”

“Ran into me,” you tease him.

“Ran into you,” he nods, “now come here,” The way he kisses is fast, firm, and insistent, his tongue dipping into your mouth and running along yours, a huff of warm shared breath between you. His hands hold you perfectly, fingers applying perfect pleasure as he squeezes you and it sends a dizzy rush through your brain when you realize just how small you are in his grip.

When you shudder a moan against his mouth, heat pooling in your core, he pulls back and stands up. Moving in front of you, he hooks his fingers in the top of your sweats and yanks down, taking your underwear with them. You brace your hands on the desk to lift your hips up so he can pull them all the way off and toss them to the side.

“Arms up,” he says, soft and firm, when he starts to pull your shirt over your head, and you comply immediately.

You can see the outline of his hard cock through his own sweatpants, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. He takes a step back to regard you and smiles, reaching down and catching one of your feet in his hands, still wearing your fluffy, colorful socks. “These are too fucking cute,” he teases you, and you blush.

“Stop it,” you laugh.

“I don’t know,” he drags a hand up your calf, under the hook of your knee, the top of your thigh, “Maybe you should leave them on, they’re kind of hilarious.”

“I clearly wasn’t expecting to get laid,” you start to say, but when his fingers dip down and brush your inner thigh, mere inches from your core, you gasp a breathy inhale.

“Still cute,” he smirks, and before you can retort he’s on his knees.

Looking down at him sends a rush of instant heat through you, and you barely register the fact that he’s slipped your socks off now and tossed them aside, leaving you fully naked and exposed to his gaze. His hands grip your backside and drag you forward on the desk, lining your hips up perfectly with the edge, and he pushes your thighs open to move forwards between them.

He’s moving fast, rocketing past teasing kisses and harmless groping, but you don’t seem to care. There’s a time clock on the night, and you’re sure once he’s had his fill he’ll leave and move on with his tour and his life, but you’re oddly okay with it. He dips low, hooking your legs over his shoulders, “Lay back,” he instructs.

You ease back on the desk, still staying propped up on your forearms so you can look down between your legs and see the dark mop of his hair, but providing him the access that he needs. He presses close to the apex of your thighs but doesn’t quite touch you, softly he blows a stream of cool air over your exposed clit and you jolt. “You have the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen,”

His words make you arch your back just slightly, involuntarily, and you let out a breathy moan, “Oh my god,”

“Do you want my mouth on you, pretty girl?” he asks, pressing wet kisses to your inner thighs.

An image of his mouth flashes in your brain, his plush bottom lip, his perfectly curved cupid’s bow. The way his tongue juts into his cheek when he’s teasing. You’re surprised at how easily you beg for him, “Please, please,”

He chuckles, bringing his arms under your thighs now and reaching around to brace your hips. His hands settle over your stomach and lower ribs, and he presses firmly down with his hands when he realizes you’re still propped up and not laying flat like he wants you. You drop back, letting your head rest against the hard desktop, the cool chill of the wood adding to the prickling sensation of goosebumps across your body.

“Say please again,” he tells you, and your words catch in your throat when he licks a firm stripe up your slit.

“P-please,” you shudder, and he listens.

He devours you, hungry for every drop of your slick arousal, and desperate to hear every little pant and moan you make when he focuses on sucking softly at your swollen clit. He dips his tongue inside you, hot and pulsing, and you groan, trying to rock your hips but finding that his hands are holding you exactly where he wants you.      

When he delivers a sharp suck, your brain whites out, “Fuck, fuck,” you’re reaching for something to grab, to hold, and you desperately grip one of his hands. He twists it, catching your hand in his much larger one, intertwining your fingers and keeping it pressed to your stomach as he works you.

“There you go,” he pants when you arch against his tongue, flicking your clit perfectly from side to side.

“Yunho,” his hands grip down on you when you say his name, and pleasure curls tight inside you, ready to burst. “Yunho, I can’t,”

He doesn’t respond, simply works his mouth against you faster, firmer, his nose bumping your clit. Your free hand laces into his hair, gripping tightly and he groans against your heat. Your hips are bucking softly, chasing the sensation, and he shifts the tempo of his tongue to match your needy thrusts and perfect the pace you need. It’s seconds before you’re about to fall over the edge, your thighs shaking and your legs tightening around him. You pant his name again, and he presses closer, the added pressure tipping you over into a tidal wave.

The sound that leaves your lips is desperate, a crying choke of pleasure as you arch back, legs locked tightly around him, and your hand slipping out of his hair to come down hard on the table and brace yourself there. When your moans turn to soft whimpers, he slows, lapping at you softly through your aftershocks and pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

“Oh my god, you’re good at that,” you manage, recovering your breath.

He leans back, untangling his hand from yours and gently unhooking your legs from his shoulders. He holds you up, since you had wriggled off the edge of the desk a bit and helps ease you up to a sitting position again. He looks overwhelmingly pleased with himself, a wet glisten of your arousal across his mouth and chin. His hair is mussed from where you grabbed it, his cheeks flushed pink, and you want nothing more than to tackle him and kiss him soundly.

Yunho stands to his full height and offers you a hand, “Let’s move somewhere more comfortable,”

“Yeah,” you nod, a little breathless still.

He steers you to the bed, tipping you backwards so you can collapse onto the mattress and you watch him as he undresses. He pulls the loose tour t-shirt over his head and you can’t help but admire him, watching him carefully as he moves to shuck off his sweats. He’s incredibly lean, taut sinewy muscles that jump with every flex of his hands or shift of his body. Bruises litter his shins and knees, and you catch more along his elbows and forearms, a collection you suspect is from how hard they dance.

When he drops his boxers, you can feel your eyebrows jump up and he laughs at your expression. “What?” he teases.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “you know exactly what.”

He blushes, his ears running red, and he clears his throat a little awkwardly before moving forwards to kneel on the mattress between your open legs. He sweeps a broad hand up your thigh, kneading your skin softly and says, “You still good?”

He’s nervous, you realize. You suspect that in his past he’s had a few negative experiences given his expression, girls who maybe shied away or feigned some excuse to end things early. Despite his intimidating size though, you’ve never wanted anything more, and you can feel the low throb of your core return as you look at him.

“I’m still very good,” you assure him, reaching up a hand.            

His expression clears slightly, “Yeah?”

You change tactics, shifting up fully to a sitting position and reaching up to catch the back of his neck and pull him down, “Don’t be so full of yourself,” you tease him, hoping to lighten the tension, “I can take you just fine.”

He smirks, falling over you easily and holding himself suspended above you, “you think so?”

You really hope you can, but you double down, “Easy.”

The head of his cock connects with your entrance suddenly with a shift of his hips and you jerk, surprised at the sudden sensation, and he pushes forwards just enough to slip the head of him inside you, a hungry sly smile across his face now that he knows you’re back to playing. He pulls back when you gasp, a laugh on his lips and shakes his head, “You’re not ready yet.”

You want him so badly it makes you feel needy, a squirming urge to rock yourself against his cock until you come or until he fucks you into the floor, and you push him back with a hand on his shoulder just slightly so you can better meet his gaze, “Yes, I am,”

He smiles down at you, pleased with your bratty insistence, and shifts back up to kneel between your open legs again. He pulls you up by your hips, dragging your body into a better position, and for a moment you think he’s about to throw hesitation out the window and do it, but he doesn’t. He strokes himself with one hand as he looks down at you, and then lines your hips together, positioning you so he can let the hard straight length of his cock rest on top of your mound.

From here you can feel the hot length of him, from the base against your pubic bone to the tip that just covers your navel. Yunho squeezes your hips in his hands as he looks down at you, “You really think you’re ready for this, tiny?”

The nickname has your muscles clenching around nothing, your fingers tightening in the sheets, and a breathy groan slips out of your lips.

“Oh,” he smiles, “you like that, don’t you?”

Before this minute you didn’t, but here with him above you, proving with every inch of his body just how much larger he is than you? You want nothing more than to be caged in by him and used just the way he wants you. “Yes,” you manage, “please,”

“Please?” He chuckles, sliding back.

You nod, your hips jerking up and trying to catch some friction against your clit as he drags his cock back off you.

He shakes his head, “I’ve got to work you up to it, tiny.”

You want to respond, you want to say something teasing and clever, but the words die on your lips when he dives two of his long fingers inside you. He reaches the tender soft spot inside you easily, something that you could only hit just right with your favorite vibrator, but he catches it with ease and flicks his finger against it perfectly, his thumb landing on your clit to deliver punishing circles.

Your hips work against his hand, grinding down desperately for more pressure and he delivers it, picking up your needs immediately.

“Please,” you blink up, catching his eyes, “please fuck me,”

He shakes his head, “Only if you come again,”

“But,” you start to say, but a firm push of his hand and the addition of a third finger has you choking back a moan and arching into his hands.

“Are you close, pretty?” his low voice sparks pleasure up your body.

All you can do is whine a yes, nodding as you press your eyes shut and let the sensations roll over you. Heat flushes your chest, spreading a blush up your neck and face, and all you can hear is the wet sounds of his fingers working your sopping core. He hums softly in approval and it sends you over again, wrenching your body tight and up, your hips raised and bucking as you crest into your second orgasm.

Yunho’s wide palm comes down quickly over your lower stomach and he presses you down hard to force your hips back to the mattress and he continues pumping his fingers, holding you steady through your release. You barely register it when his fingers leave you, your head spotty and dazed, but you come back to yourself at the feeling of his cock nudging your clit.

“Wait, wait,” you’re panting, clearing your vision with furious blinks, “condom?”

“Shit,” he backs up immediately, “of course, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,” you shake your head, “I’m on birth control, we should just… we don’t really know each other,”

He hops off the bed, reaching down for his discarded sweatpants and searching through the pockets. “No, no,” he tears open the foil packet in his hands, “I have one, I just got a little carried away.”

“Perfect,” you sigh.

He rolls the condom over his length, checking the tip and smoothing down the base to fit snugly around him before tossing the empty packet back over the side of the bed and returning to his original position.

“Ready?” He presses the tip of his cock to your entrance again.

“Yeah,” you grip his shoulder, “yeah, I’m good.”

He nods, and seems focused. He takes one of your knees and presses it up, folding you back and opening you up wider, and then lines up his hips perfectly. “Fuck,” he breathes, shifting forwards and pressing into you just a bit, “you’re so tight,”

The press of him already is overwhelming, and it’s no longer his length that you’re focused on but how thick he feels, stretching you wide and sending a hot flush of pleasure up your chest. “You feel,” you stutter out, unable to finish your thought.

His hips jut forwards again and you whine, his forehead dropping against yours for just a moment as he holds himself controlled and steady, “Tell me,” he prompts you, moving in deeper.

“It’s so much,” you manage, and he smooths the damp hair back from your face to get a good look at you.

“Too much?”

“God, no,” you didn’t know it could feel quite like this.

“Yeah, tiny?” He sinks in further and groans.

“Please,” your hands shift down and you pull him closer, your nails digging in to his firm backside, “more,”

He’s losing his composure now, and his eyes roll shut when he finally thrusts forwards more sharply, sinking his entire length inside you and bottoming out. He’s stretching you fully, filling every little warm place inside you that you didn’t even know you had, and fleetingly you wish you could feel him more fully, no thin latex separating your warm wet walls from him.

“Fuck,” he starts to roll his hips, fucking you softly as he works your body up to taking more, “tell me how you feel, baby,”

“Full,” you answer immediately, “I can feel you everywhere,”

“God,” he chokes, his hips stuttering, “can you take more?”

“Yunho,” you catch his cheek in your hand and bring his eyes to yours, “I need it,”

“Yeah, tiny?” He teases, thrusting just a little more firmly.

The need inside you for more is deep though, and you can’t wait any longer. “No, Yunho,” you level him with your look, clenching your muscles tight around his hot length, “Fuck me, do whatever you want to me, I just,” you search for the right words, “just please,”

He answers with a firm thrust, and when he watches your eyes roll back and hears the moan that leaves your lips he understands. “Is that what you need?” He holds you firmly and ruts into you, “you like it harder?”

You’re sure you answer him because you hear him laugh softly in response, but your mind is hazy and disconnected, nothing but the feeling of his thick heat hitting every place you need it to, bringing you up faster than ever.

“Yeah, pretty?” He’s everywhere, collapsed over you and desperate, one hand on your thigh to hold you open, the other locked now in your hair, his breath hot over your damp skin, his pace never faltering, “you just want me to use you?”

Your body arches deeply, shifting the position of him inside you and you choke a whine out, gripping onto him tightly, “Please, please,” you can’t stop.

“Shh, shh,” he kisses you hard, his hands holding you roughly, “you’ll take what I give you,”

You nod against him, unable to find anything but pleasure and the tight feeling inside you. He dips his thumb into your mouth, running the pad of it along your tongue, and you suck his digit gently, before he pulls his hand back and firmly flicks his wet thumb over your pert nipple.

“God, Yunho,” you thrust up to meet him, your hips connecting fast and firm, “I’m- I’m,”

“Come for me,” he directs, “come and I’ll fill you up,”

Your brain shorts out, and the hot sensation that you’ve been chasing turns stifling, crashing into you and turning you into a quivering mess, your muscles locked and jerking against his hold as you come hard and fast.

He tumbles over behind you, the feeling of your walls pulsing down on his length sending him into a spiral, and you hear him curse, panting, losing his grip on you and fucking into you desperate and fast until he comes, collapsing over you and pressing your cheek into his sweaty chest.

His heart is beating hard and fast against your cheek, and it takes a moment before you both recover and he can ease himself off of you, out of you. He discards of the condom in the waste basket, and turns back to you, realizing you haven’t so much as moved an inch since he left you.

“Hey,” he sighs, sweeping a hand through his damp hair, “you okay?”

“So perfect,” you sigh.

He smiles, “Can I get you anything?”

Your limbs start to come alive again, and you ease yourself up into a sitting position against the headboard, pulling the sheets over you, “Water?”

“On it,” he slips his boxers back on and returns with a glass of cool water.

You’re not sure what his next move will be, staying or going, but you know what you wish he would do. He surprises you when he collapses back onto the bed next to you with a sigh, resting a wide hand on your thigh and squeezing you, “You’re amazing,” he says.

“You did all the work,” you chuckle, “I feel like I should be telling you that.”

He shakes his head, “No, it was great,” you look down at him and his eyes are gently shut, his mouth open softly as his breathing evens out.

You watch him for a few minutes, and it’s clear he’s not going to be moving any time soon, he looks spent, a second away from sleep, and judging by the late hour you figure it’s better to let him stay if he wants to. You grab your phone off the nightstand and start to set an alarm.

“Yunho,” you murmur, prodding his shoulder gently, “what time do you need to be up?”

He hums, shrugging.

“Hey,” you nudge him again, “you can sleep here if you want, just tell me what time to get you up.”

“Nine?” he blinks his eyes open, “I can go if you’d be more comfortable,”

“No, no, stay,” you ease down into the covers, and he shifts to slide in beside you, “I’d like it if you did.”

“Good,” he sighs again, reaching across the empty space between you and pulling you back into his chest. He snuggles into you, spooning you close and relaxing against you, “because I really hate sleeping alone.”

Warmth heats your chest, and you finish setting the alarm before you relax back into his embrace, “Me too.”

You sleep, but you wake twice before the alarm, the first time to Yunho’s hips rolling against your backside, his cock hard again and straining against his boxers and looking for friction. He fucks you soft the second time, spooning you still and holding you open, gentle thrusts and his fingers massaging your swollen bud until you come gentle and easy against the warm plane of his chest.

The second time he’s gone, and you think for a moment that he’s left entirely. You’re not necessarily surprised, but he had seemed nice enough to at least say goodbye after fucking you twice and holding you all night. 

The sound of your hotel room door makes you jump, and you pull yourself up, holding the fluffy white comforter to your front and running a hand hastily through your hair.

Yunho’s back, freshly showered and already dressed for the day in stylishly baggy light wash jeans and an oversized blazer. “Oh,” he smiles, “you’re up!”

In the light of day, seeing him cleaned up like this has the reality of the evening crashing into you sideways. You had made fun of him, flirted with him, begged him, fucked him, and now you’re still sitting naked in front of him like a mess while he’s looking like what he is, an idol.

“Hey,” you manage.

He holds up a hand and you see now that he has a coffee cup and a small white pastry bag, “I brought you some breakfast,”

You’re really not even sure what to say he’s being so sweet, but you smile, watching as he drops the bag and coffee cup off on your side table. “Thanks,” you take the coffee happily, and he pulls a few packets of sugar out of his pocket.

“I didn’t know how you like it,” he says, a little sheepish, “but I didn’t want to wake you,”

“No, no, this is perfect, thank you so much.”

“I have to get going,” he sits on the edge of the bed, turned towards you, his hand resting on your knee with such easy familiarity, “but I wanted to make sure you got up too, I know you have a long drive back.”

Something inside you melts, “Thank you, Yunho, that’s so nice of you,”

“I also,” he shifts, a smile on his lips, “I had a lot of fun last night.”

“Me too,” you nod, resting your hand on his.

“It was really nice getting to know you,” he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his other hand coasting down your bare back.

You sigh against his lips. It had been a long time since you had had a soft morning like this, and the feeling of his hands on your skin again and his warm kiss on your lips has you feeling weightless and dizzy.

Yunho leans back and squeezes your knee gently, “I really do have to go,”

“It’s okay,” you smile, “I get it, but yeah, I had a good time too.”

Yunho takes your hand in his and turns it over, “How’s this feel?” he nods his head towards your injured palm.

You had honestly forgotten about it, “Completely fine, don’t worry,”

“Good,” he drops a kiss to your palm with a teasing eyebrow raise and stands, smoothing down his jacket.

“Well,” you would get up and see him to the door, but you blush and hold the comforter a little higher over your chest, “have a safe rest of your tour,”

“I will,” he nods, “you have a safe drive,”

You nod, and you expect him to go, but he shifts, glancing at the floor for a moment and then back up to your eyes. “I put my number in the bag,”

The sentence doesn’t quite make sense to you, “You what?”

“My number,” he explains, looking at you a little more clearly as if that will explain, but he says, “if you want,”

“Want to what?”

He laughs at your expression, “Text me, if you want to message me sometime.”

“Oh!”

“Only if you want,” he says, and when you start to open your mouth to respond he gestures for you to stop, “otherwise we can leave it here. Either way, I’m glad I met you.”

“Me too,” you nod earnestly.

His phone dings in his pocket and he sighs, his eyes closing in annoyance for a moment, “Okay, that’s my cue. Drive safe,” he says again and starts to slowly head for the door, “and maybe I’ll talk to you,”

“Maybe,” you respond, noncommittal but you already know your decision.

He smiles, “Okay,”

“Okay,”

He pushes himself towards the door with a groan, “Alright, I’m going. You look pretty in the morning by the way,”

A laugh breaks out of your chest, “Thank you?”

“I just thought you should know,” he shrugs, flirtatious and teasing, but with the sound of the door opening and swinging shut you know he’s gone.

It takes you about three seconds to tear the bag open and see if he was being serious. Tucked into the pastry bag, nestled on top of the wax paper, is a little card with his number written out and his name, Jeong Yunho, as if you wouldn’t remember his name.

You key it into your phone immediately, a message open and waiting. You bite your lip, nervous and unsure of what to say, but then you hear his parting words ringing in your ears again. You type the message out and send it immediately, not pausing long enough to think too hard or overanalyze the decision.

You look handsome in the morning too, just so you know.

You toss the phone aside and leap out of the bed, needing suddenly to walk far away and clear your head. You pull the hotel robe around yourself and sigh into your hands, recounting the night and the way his soft sweetness made your stomach flip flop. You start to walk towards the bathroom, ready to start a warm shower and clear your head, when you hear the soft ding of an incoming message, and you can’t help but smile.

YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT JONGHO IS A BEAST IN DISGUISE *inaudible screams*

i beg u do a jongho morning smut story oh my lord

Teddy 》 C. Jongho

𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅: 𝒀𝒆𝒔/𝑵𝒐

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Choi Jongho x Female Reader

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: swearing, perv!Jongho, masturbation, dry humping, oral (f receiving), dirty talk

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: bit of fluff, smut

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 3.9k

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: No matter how long you have been living with Jongho, he still gets quite surprised at your boldness. Other than that, Jongho really likes living with you. Until recently, when he came back from the tour and an odd feeling appeared inside his stomach. Just the sight of you makes his stomach feel funny, sometimes even in the lower part. Your dirty jokes are starting to affect him, but he can't seem to find out what has changed.

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Choi Jongho is a beast in disguise and nobody can prove me otherwise.

❧ All my works are currently written in second/third person point of view, until I figure out what works best for me. Sorry for the messy POVs in the meantime. You can pick which a POV you want, including first person, while requesting. The reader doesn't have a name or any tags similar to Y/N. Please check my masterlist to see directions for requesting.

❧ Notice a grammar mistake? Wrong choice of a word? Anything that doesn't make sense? Please reach out to me and tell me! English is my 4th language and sometimes my brain literally translates some things, so they don't make sense.

❧ Please do not hold back from leaving reviews. More reviews or reblogs mean more motivation for me and more content for you. That is, if you enjoy my content of course. Thank you for supporting me!

❧ IMPORTANT! My works are purely fictional and do not represent the boys in any way.

༻♡༺

Somehow, you had convinced yourself that if you went through the channels on the TV over and over, something interesting might appear. But the same shows and boring movies kept playing, resulting in an annoyed huff from you. It is way past midnight, and your roommate and best friend had just gotten back from the tour. He has found his comfy space in the armchair, while you occupied the sofa. The way he sat on it made your heart warm. Outside of the apartment, you were only used to seeing him in heavy dark clothes and with a serious look on his face.

You are helplessly laying on your stomach, head turned toward the TV in hopes of finding something interesting. Jongho didn't complain about you taking up his space. Instead, he dropped his bags to the side so he could properly greet you and place a kiss on your forehead. Currently, he sat with his legs over the armrest and the side of his body leaning against the backrest. His striped red socks were a contrast to his black hoodie and dark ripped jeans, and his toes would occasionally do a small wiggle after winning a match on his phone.

"And just what are you grinning so hard about?" Jongho asks, eyes not leaving the screen.

"Cute socks." You admit.

Your eyes don't miss the way his lips press into a thin line to avoid smiling. You also don't miss the tint on his cheeks, almost matching the socks. You wished you could hug him whenever you wanted. Jongho didn't like skinship before, but since you moved in, it had gotten worse. You weren't sure if it was because of all your unnecessary ass poking or because Wooyoung had gotten more bratty than usual. Jongho ran away from your spread arms, avoided your nicknames and acted unphased by your unintentional cute behaviour.

Truth is, Jongho has a soft spot for you. He loves to catch you smiling at him, pouting when something isn't going the way you've intended, struggling to open or fix something while you try to not disturb him. He loves to watch, but from a distance. He isn't sure if you've noticed, he hopes you didn't, but your presence makes him feel... weird.

It makes his stomach feel funny, and his cheeks and ears heat up. He tenses up when he smells your summer perfume, even when you put it on during the winter. He tenses up when your hands go near him in an attempt to hug him. He wishes he can be natural around you. He wishes he can let you hug him whenever your heart desires, even poke his ass if necessary. After all, he did work for that ass.

The boy's eyes carefully followed the ball on the screen, so close to reaching his goal, when a noise made his eyes widen.

"Ah, fuck," you cussed from the sofa. His eyes landed on your figure, now standing up straight and fidgeting with the remote. "Fucking shit, shut it down!"

Then, his eyes met the big screen. He wishes he didn't look. His breath stopped in his throat, and his stomach felt fuzzy again. This time a bit lower than usual. The scene unfolding wasn't something Jongho hadn't seen, but seeing it in your presence made his head so heated that he thought he might explode. The batteries of the remote were already at the verge of their life before Jongho left, which is why the remote isn't obeying you tonight.

Wet noises and fake moans shamelessly traveled to your ears, each louder and more uncomfortable for Jongho.

"Jongho, it's not working!" You whine, rushing over to the TV to find the shutting down button.

Too caught off guard to even blink, Jongho only managed to let out the breath he was holding. He gulped a bit louder than he intended, then watched your figure bend over to reach the button. And there it was, the fuzzy feeling again. A click was heard, and the room fell dark. Except the light from Jongho's phone perfectly illuminating his flushed face.

You let out a stressed huff, then finally turn around to face him.

"Great. Now I'm horny."

You being straightforward wasn't anything new to him. Still, you always managed to catch him off guard. Whether you said it as a joke or not, a small piece of Jongho's brain caught that sentence and made sure to remind him later.

"Jjong?" You called.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think a dick can feel that good?"

Jongho had a shock after a shock. Letting you stay as his roommate was surely going to end him one day.

"Nevermind. I'll stick to my pillow and that teddy you bought me. Good night, love!"

And with a kiss on top of his head and a hair ruffle, you disappeared inside your room. His phone turned off from lack of activity, leaving him in the dark alone with his thoughts. He could hear his own heart pound. You treat self pleasuring as a normal conversation around him, once even apologising if you were too loud the previous night. Jongho would only laugh it off. But now, Jongho can't stop thinking about what you said. Did you really use his present to...?

Deciding to call it a night, the boy picked up his bags, checked if everything is off or locked, then entered his own room. The gap under your door was a bright purple and blue, meaning that you had turned on your colourful lamp and you are probably choosing your outfit for your planned breakfast tomorrow. He remembers that you told him the colours make you feel sexy.

Jongho decides for a quick shower, which always helps him get rid of the funny feeling at the bottom of his stomach. His clothes are thrown in the washing basket, and he takes a moment to stand in front of the mirror. He had gotten bigger in his muscles. Even he sees the difference. Perhaps he should wear something a bit tighter tomorrow, just to fish for a few compliments from you. Jongho then discards his underwear too, then hops into the shower.

He shivers at the cold liquid falling down his back, then down his chest. He groans in relief. As weird as it sounds, it felt weird to have a calm shower without Wooyoung or San barging in with an excuse to brush their teeth. In reality, they all love to tease their youngest one in all ways they can.

The idea of a calm shower stops once Jongho's ears pick up something through the noise of the water falling. It is a gasp, then a moan. A soft moan coming from the opposite door in the bathroom, the one leading into your room. Jongho shut the water down, then gently opened the glass door to make sure he heard correctly. He hears shuffling, buzzing, then another moan. His mouth parts, and eyes fall down to his crotch. His cock is proudly sticking up, amused by the noises more than Jongho's brain.

Jongho's brain is working against him. You must be doing this on purpose. You aren't really pleasuring yourself. Surely, you heard the water run. Why would you do something so risky? But then again, Jongho underestimates you. Often times something that is horrific to him is normal to you.

His hand grips his cock for the first time in so long. He simply didn't have a right place, time or energy to do so. He gives it a slow pump, and his head is already falling back against the tiles. Your moans are muffled, probably from burying your head into your pillow, but your shuffling is faster and harder with each second that passes. The bed is creaking, and Jongho finds himself getting horny from the thought of you riding something he gave you. And that's when it clicks.

He can be horny, yes. But this doesn't feel the same. It feels more powerful. Every time he thinks of you, he has a desire to have you. He just wasn't aware yet. He wants you, but is afraid that he might ruin it. No, Jongho doesn't want you. He needs you. As soon as possible.

"Jongho—"

Jongho chokes on his own spit. His eyes widen, and his legs carry him outside of the shower. His ear is pressed against the wooden door in hopes to hear that again. The bathroom is almost flooded, but the boy couldn't seem to care.

"Jjong—" you breathe out, "ah—".

And just like that, he finds himself thrusting into his own hand in hopes to reach his orgasm. The nickname you had given him was adorable to him, but now, he will remember this night whenever you call him that. And he doesn't mind.

"Can I cum? Pretty please?"

You were... begging him? Begging to cum? Him? Jongho breathed out. His eyes rolled back as your soft gasps continued. You were close, and so was he. His breathing became shallow, and his pace messy.

"Fuck— please? I was so good while you were gone—" It almost sounded like you bloody knew. But how could you know? It sounded so needy, Jongho was sure that it was just your need to finish speaking. "So, so good. Please, please, please—"

"Cum for me," he whispered, caught up in the feeling of ecstasy.

And just like that, as if you heard him, a series of moans and gasps left your mouth. Jongho felt warm liquid pour over himself, and his body fell into a hole of pure pleasure. He saw white before his eyes.  But in the middle of that, he saw you. He saw your face between his legs, his seed painting your cheeks as you stuck out your tongue to catch some of it. Jongho wasn't innocent, but he never allowed himself to go too far. He was impatient.

"I wish you knew how fucking hot you are, Choi Jongho."

༻♡༺

Jongho was in deep sleep when he felt something heavy on top of him. It felt too early for his own liking. He opened one eye, scanning around the room for any signs of already being morning. The sunrays fighting their way through the blinds made him groan. His attention then fell on the figure on him. You laid on top of his chest, just like a few times before he left for the tour. You had become much lighter, or maybe he became stronger. Your hands rested on his chest, thumbs innocently rubbing circles into his skin over the t-shirt.

His arms carefully placed themselves on your upper back, as if testing if you'll rip them off if they touch you. Jongho was in the middle of enjoying the steady breathing and calm atmosphere, when you decided to abruptly sit up with a wide smile.

"Morning!"

Jongho smiled as a greeting. He adored your enthusiasm and wished he had some of it.

"Slept well?"

"I did."

"Good. I need you to be smiley and ready for all the pictures I'll be taking today."

Jongho hummed as a response. His voice was still too raspy to speak, so he relied on hums and nods. You went on about all the food you wanted to try, and all the stories you heard about the new café which offers chocolate cake with an espresso. He smiled fondly at you, loving the way your voice sounded at any time of the day. Then, something got you in a very excited mood, because you started shuffling and jumping on top of him. The skirt you wore did nothing to help his self control.

"Stop moving," Jongho warned, a smile still present on his lips.

You listened, but after remembering another detail, the shuffling started again. The creaking of his own bed sounded similar to the one last night, and watching your hips move like that, he felt his mouth go dry.

You're in fucking deep.

"Idiot," he warned again.

"But Jongho, how can you not be excited about cotton candy cloud raining in your coffee?"

"I don't know. I prefer my coffee in a mug. Drinkable."

"But this is drinkable too!" Hip roll.

"Stop that."

"You didn't even listen. How about that macaron shop?" Hip roll.

"Stop that."

"No macarons either? If you want scrambled eggs might as well stay—" Hip roll.

You gasp in the middle of the sentence. His hands are on your waist, fingers digging into it to keep your body still. You never felt his hands on you in such way. They were huge and warmed up your skin from the cold morning just right.

"I mean— Did you want— Uh—" You never stutter around him. The way his eyes pierced into yours has you a stuttering and embarrassing mess. Jongho's tongue peeks out enough to wet his dry lips. You gulp. "I uh—"

Jongho removed one of his legs from the space between yours. Now you hovered above him. You forgot one thing about him, and it was how good he looked in the morning. You even told him once, resulting in a flustered Jongho and not seeing him almost two days.

"You look so fucked out in the morning. Hot."

And he is hot. Shallow breathing, messy hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, half closed eyes, and the hottest of all, the veins on his arms in the morning. Jongho has a habit of suddenly sweating and getting hot right before morning, which means all of his blankets and additional clothing eventually end up on the floor, and you get to enjoy the view of him in boxers and short sleeved t-shirt only. It's enough to make your stomach fuzzy and your thoughts sinful.

"Sit," he orders.

Never in your life did you so quickly obey to someone. You sat on top of his thigh, your hands resting on his lower stomach for support. He lets out a low sigh when you press into in unintentionally, then strengthens the grip on your waist.

"I told you not to move," he says, voice low and raspy, "and you still did. Now—"

His thigh flexes underneath you. A gasp leaves your mouth from surprise and the sudden pang of pleasure. "Jjong—"

"—you're going to move."

And just like that, the boldness left your body. You were at his mercy now, all weak and ready to do whatever he wanted you to. One glance at him and you knew he had a lot on his mind. Your hips start moving, slowly but forcefully. Jongho's eyes carefully examined your body language. You were already falling apart on top of him, and he wasn't doing anything. Yet.

His hands started moving your hips faster, and his thigh occasionally flexed just to hear those delicious gasps from your lips. You were not moaning yet, which didn't satisfy Jongho. He made it his mission to make you say all those things from last night right in his face. How good you were for him, how you want to cum with his permission, and how absolutely perfect his name sounds from your fucked out figure.

"Skirt up," he whispers.

Your hand reaches towards the front of it, then lifts the material up. You can't see well from your position, but by the way Jongho let out a small, almost unnoticeable hum, you figured the sight was surely something. You lowered yourself more into his firm leg, your clit deliciously rubbing against the warm skin of it.

"Your panties are drenched," he notices, a slight smirk on his lips, "or did you cum already and are aiming for the second one?"

Shaking your head is the only thing you can do. You feel your orgasm in the distance, and you don't want to distract yourself and lose it.

But then, Jongho stops your body from moving. You look at him in disbelief. All of this is slowly proving you that Jongho is exactly what you thought he was: rule giver, watcher, silent enjoyer and in need for controlling. You always imagined Jongho to be the merciless dominant, which you wanted to get a taste of so bad. But now that you're here, and just at the beginning, you realise how difficult it will be.

You feel his fingers on your inner thigh. He slowly drags them up to your wet folds, his thumb giving your clit a few gentle rubs before moving the panties aside.

"Ah, fuck." He sighs.

The glistening wet folds before him were so inviting, but Jongho had time. He had all day. He knows damn well you aren't leaving this bed any time soon.

Unable to wait any longer, you start moving again. The feeling of your exposed and sensitive clit rubbing against his skin felt heavenly. Your arousal left a trail on his leg, but Jongho didn't seem to mind. It made your moves smoother and more pleasing for you. Jongho noticed that you enjoy slow but intense moves a lot. The way your eyes flutter every time you move your hips forward makes the bottom of his stomach feel fuzzy. As if it didn't already feel enough.

His hands leave your waist, allowing you to pick your own pace and use him the way you needed. He laid back, eyes fixed on the way your brows furrowed and teeth bit the bottom lip. His thigh flexed again and again, every time you rolled your hips forward.

"Do I make a good enough pillow for my needy roommate?"

The words caught you off guard and you slipped a bit forward, your leg accidentally brushing the spot between his legs. He smirks at your surprised reaction. The way his voice changed from suppressed and unsure to confident and teasing drove you crazy.

"You fucking my thigh the way you fucked that teddy bear last night?"

The first moan escapes your lips. The thought of him listening to you last night made your knees weak. Now, you didn't hold back. Loud and breathy moans filled the room, along with the creaking of his bed.

"You imagined it was me, didn't you?"

Your body dropped on top of him, hips still mercilessly working on top of him as he spoke. You held onto the pillow behind his head for dear life. It's been so long since you felt pleasure this intense. You wanted it to last as long as possible.

"I did," you admit.

"How long?"

"Since you gave it to me." You whisper, knowing exactly what he means.

As moments pass, your body grows tired. Your orgasm doesn't intend on showing up any time soon. It is time to do what you usually do behind closed doors and alone only.

"Please," you beg.

And it's enough for Jongho. He switches the positions, quickly spreading your legs and pressing his knee against you. The way he looks at you from above is a sight you wish to preserve. His hair is all fluffy with slight waves in them, his eyes are half closed and his mouth is slightly open. His hands are on your inner thighs, keeping your legs spread so he can do his work in peace. He removes his knee, just to replace it with his tongue over your panties.

"Jjong—" You moan, just like last night, only louder.

His teeth pull your panties aside, and his tongue finds its place right on your clit. He is moving it up and down, his eyes fixed on your face. He experiments, moving his tongue in circles, sucking at your bud, biting it, and whatnot, until he realises he has you falling apart with almost anything he does. So he settles for sucking and kitten licks. He swears you taste and smell like watermelon, which only gives him one more motive to keep going.

You look down at him, and just when you thought he couldn't get any hotter and you couldn't get hornier, you see his dark eyes looking up at you from your pussy. He flattens his tongue to cover more area, and you try to close your legs in an attempt to stop. You already felt overstimulated, even though you didn't finish yet.

Jongho stop for a moment, just to deliver a sentence that absolutely destroys you:

"Can your teddy bear do this?"

At that moment, you think nobody but him can do this. Your hips roll up into his mouth, as if silently asking for more. Jongho takes the message. His fingers spread your lips apart, so that the attention can fully be on your sensitive bud.

"Fuck—" You moan, hand dropping down to grip onto his hair.

"Look at me," he mumbles, then goes back to his task as soon as you do.

You watch him eat you, and you watch him enjoy it. His fingers delicately spread your lips, while his other hand is pressing your thigh into the mattress to give him more space. Who would've thought that Jongho eats pussy for his own pleasure?

His lips close around you clit, gently tugging it and sucking. You are at the verge, right there. You do not want it to end, but you need to orgasm as soon as possible.

"Please, please, please—"

And this time, Jongho can say it to your face.

"Cum for me."

And a few moments after, you do. Multiple wave of pleasure splash your body, each stronger than the other. Your body is trembling, yet he doesn't stop his tongue movements. He deliciously licks every single drop of your arousal, humming along the way and admiring the work he did. You have a tough time catching your breath.

More than that, you have a tough time trying to connect that this Jongho is the same Jongho who got flustered at a porn movie last night.

He pulls your panties up, still drenched with your cum and his saliva, and pressed a kiss on your lower stomach. He pulls your skirt down, flattens your shirt, then gets off the bed. He might just get used to you spread on the bed, all fucked and breathless, even though he didn't really fuck you.

"Don't fire the bear now because of me. You might still need it when I'm away."