BOYFRIEND TEXTS Ft. Wen Junhui

BOYFRIEND TEXTS ft. wen junhui

♡⸝⸝ just junhui and reader being a wholesome couple who bully each other

.ᐟ crack. fluff. light angst. swearing.

a/n - junhui is such a sweetheart i love him with all my heart. feedbank is appreciated <3

masterlist | taglist

thank you.

Disconnected | ljh x reader

It's been three weeks since Jihoon spoke to you for longer than a few minutes, since he came to bed before you were asleep, since he looked you in the eyes and told you he loved you. 

You know he does, of course, but you haven’t felt any evidence of it lately. 

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.0k | Pairing: ljh x reader | Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, smut

Warnings: distant!neglectful!jihoon, eating issues, marriage problems, anxiety, partial solving of marriage problems, small mention of pregnancy/having kids (like one part of a sentence)

Smut Warnings: body worship, breast play, biting/marking, oral f. rec., fingering

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, there’s a shower scene where reader takes care of their hair and i believe it should work for different textures but if it doesn’t lmk, chubby

You look across the dining table at Jihoon, finding him absorbed in his phone as he chews and taking the chance to stare at him for just a bit longer. 

He doesn’t spare you a glance, and your eyes go to your untouched food. You haven’t been hungry lately, eating is the last thing on your mind when you’re feeling like this, when he’s spending most hours of the day at the studio, and devoting the remaining time to anyone but you. 

It's been three weeks since he spoke to you for longer than a few minutes, since he came to bed before you were asleep, since he looked you in the eyes and told you he loved you. 

You know he does, of course, but you haven’t felt any evidence of it lately. 

This is the life you signed up for, you try to remind yourself, but that doesn’t make it better. It doesn’t soothe the caustic burn in your throat that always comes when you’re suppressing tears, or make his side of the bed warm when you slide under the covers alone, and it especially doesn’t remind him to text you more than the stilted responses you’ve counted yourself lucky to receive. 

But here he is, tapping away at his phone and shoveling bites of the food you cooked for him into his mouth, too engrossed in whoever he’s texting to even notice your gaze on him. You doubt he’ll realize you’ve gotten up until he’s finished eating, so you scoot away from the table and take your food to the kitchen. 

There’s no point in letting it sit out when you’re not going to eat it, and you’re beginning to find you can hardly even bear the smell with your stomach roiling like this. You tilt your plate over the glassware, scraping your dinner into the dish and closing the lid with a click before storing it in the fridge with a sigh. 

Now that Jihoon is home and fed, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. 

While he’s gone, you take care of things around the house, do some freelance writing, tell yourself that maybe today, he’ll come home and be like he used to be. 

Then when he does come home and greets you with a distracted hello and a flash of a kiss on the cheek before heading into his home studio, you find yourself feeling bereft, listless, just like you do now. 

You suppose you could take a shower, maybe let a few tears slip under the cover of the water, blame your red, swollen eyes on shampoo, not that he’d bother to ask. Or even notice. 

With your mind only half made up, you float on mindless feet to the bedroom and peel the clothes from your body, stopping by the dresser to grab some pajamas. You can hear utensils clacking against porcelain, so you know he’s still eating and likely won’t be coming into the bathroom at least until you’re done. 

You don’t know why, but when he’s distant like this, you don’t like to let him see you naked. 

Maybe it’s because you already feel stripped to your nuts and bolts, maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel like your Jihoon. Either way, you prefer to be clothed around him, to at least have one extra barrier between him and you lest he see how vulnerable and unguarded you are. 

The shower is comforting, warm enough you can almost pretend it’s his arms around you instead, though you stop yourself every time, unwilling to endure the pain once the fantasy fades. You hug yourself, try to hold your broken pieces together as water rains down on you and tears start to bubble over. 

Biting back a sob, you take in a shuddering breath and reach for your shampoo, telling yourself that you’ve gotten through this before and you will again. Every time you hear those words in your mind, they feel a little less true, a little less sure. 

You step back under the flow of water, rinsing the suds from your hair and squeezing out the excess moisture before coating the strands in conditioner. It needs to sit for a few minutes so you let yourself sink down to the heated tiles of the shower basin, shifting out of the spray and resting your back against the bench. 

You tuck your knees up, loosely wrapping your arms around them and staring into the mist as if it contains the solutions to all of your problems. Your mind wanders back to Jihoon, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach as you wonder how much longer you realistically can take this. 

It’s not like you haven’t talked to him about it before. The first time it happened was early in your relationship, maybe around the one year mark. You suffered in silence for a month, wondering if something had changed, if he’d met someone else, if he didn’t want you like he used to. You were close to breaking it off when he finally came out of it, apologizing for going radio silent on you and telling you it wouldn’t happen again. 

And for two years, it didn’t. For two years, he was perfect, and present, and near ecstatic to show you his love. Then, it happened again, though you only let it last for two and a half weeks before you sat him down and told him you needed him to come back, to figure out how to balance music and you, how to make his life with you work with his life outside of you, even when it gets busy. 

He agreed, and instantly made a change for the better, showing you how willing and able he was to manage his relationship with you and his work. That’s partially why this time is so painful - you know he’s capable of putting in the effort, you just don’t know if he can recognize when he’s not. 

And it might be immature, it might be selfish, it might be both, but this time, you want him to figure it out on his own. You want him to see that he’s neglecting you, and make the change without you having to ask him to, even if it means you suffer in the meantime. 

You grab your comb from the ledge and start detangling your hair, almost thankful for the tears that arise because they mean you’re crying about something other than him, for once. When the comb glides, you hold it under the water to clean it off, setting it back on the ledge and begrudgingly rising to your feet. 

Your head tilts back as you rinse, your hands smoothing over your hair until the silky feeling of the conditioner washes out. You give your body a good scrub, rubbing with your exfoliating gloves until you feel brand new before stepping back under the water and letting it all wash down the drain. 

You stare at the running water for a while, your thoughts as difficult to pin down as the droplets racing toward the small grate in the floor. The shower won’t run cold, not with the two heaters Jihoon had installed when you were building the place, so there’s nothing but the fear of wasting water keeping you from staying in the safe, spacious cubicle for the rest of the night. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t grow up in a wasteful household so you can’t linger, shutting the shower off now that you’re done and reaching for your leave-ins. You layer them into your hair and squeeze out the extra water, wrapping your head up in a turbie twist and grabbing a towel from the warmer. 

Draping it over your shoulders, you hug yourself again, staring at your shivering form in the slowly defogging mirror and wishing you had Jihoon to hold you instead. 

Even with that wish, you still jump and suck in a sharp gasp when he appears in the doorway. Immediately, you tuck the towel around yourself, hiding your body from him and looking anywhere but into his eyes. Your shoulders bunch up in discomfort, the skin fully exposed thanks to your wrapped hair, the lingering drops of water feeling like ice under his gaze. 

His eyebrows furrow, his mouth opening as if to speak, before he closes it and averts his eyes, murmuring, “I, uh… came to tell you I would be in my studio for a few hours.” 

You don’t know why he’s warning you, he never does when he’s absent like this, but you quietly say, “Okay,” waiting for him to leave so you can get dressed. 

Except he doesn’t. He just stands there, halfway in the door, halfway out, his gaze barely to the left of you and suddenly deep, dark, like a bottomless well. 

You feel like you can’t breathe trapped in here with him like this, with your ghost of a husband. More than that, you feel exposed, your frayed nerves sparking with the urge to flee, his presence eliciting your fight or flight response. You should leave out the fight, this time, considering the fact that you’d almost rather perish than speak to him further at this moment. How far could you get, you wonder, before he’d notice? 

Tomorrow, when he’s wrapped up in his work again, maybe you’ll catch a train, a plane, go somewhere warm and sunny, somewhere that isn’t here. 

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” He asks slowly, his dark eyes sharp on you through the mirror, knowing. 

And this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted him to figure it out on his own, to put it together without you spelling it out for him, but now that he has, you don’t know what to do. So, you just nod, grabbing your pajamas off the vanity and locking yourself in the closet so you can finally change, finally cover yourself up, finally have another barrier between you and Jihoon. 

You’re almost scared to open the doors, not knowing what will be waiting for you when you come out. Still, you take a deep breath and wade through the anxiety, pushing open the doors and stopping short when you realize the bathroom is empty. 

Maybe he went into his studio anyway. 

Maybe he doesn’t care, maybe he’s tired of having someone who requires his attention, his affection. Maybe he doesn’t love you like he used to, and just doesn’t know how to say it. 

You’ve worked yourself into a state of numb teariness by the time you enter the bedroom and find him sitting on the duvet, his head in his hands and his back to you. He jumps to his feet when he hears you, rushing over and taking hold of your hands to guide you to the bed. Confused, you let him push your shoulders down, watching as he settles on his knees in front of you and takes your hands again. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he says emphatically, his voice choked up and his face tight with anguish. “I - I never should have let myself get so focused on work. I knew that I missed you, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until you left in the middle of dinner.”

Huh. You didn’t think he’d notice. 

“I finally looked up from my stupid fucking phone and you were gone, and I could hear the shower running so I came to check on you, and I heard you crying,” he bites his lips between his teeth and looks away, his eyebrows pushed together and his face slowly reddening. You realize he’s trying not to cry, himself, and start to pull your hands from his so you can cup his face. 

He doesn’t let you, his grip too strong for you to break and his eyes angry when he looks back at you, though you know better than to think he’s angry with you. “You shouldn’t need to comfort me right now, I should be comforting you. I’m the one that fucked up, that’s been fucking up.”

You don’t speak, assuming he wants to get all of this out at once. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “When I heard you crying, I started thinking about the past few weeks, and I realized how absent I’ve been. I can’t even remember the last time I really kissed you, and that’s ridiculous. I’m your husband, I should be kissing you and telling you I love you every single fucking day, cherishing you like you deserve, reminding you how grateful I am that you’re in my life.”

“I’m lucky you didn’t fucking leave,” he all but sobs, his face crumpling as he turns and hides his face from you in his shoulder. Again, you try to take your hands back, and this time, he lets you. He lets you cup his cheek and swipe away the tears that fell, he lets you pull him up until he’s sitting next to you, he lets you tug him into your arms and hold him close. 

He shudders against you, burying his face in your neck and wrapping his big arms around you, lifting and rearranging you so you’re sitting in his lap instead of next to him. You wish you could get closer but you can’t, your chest is already pressed to his and your hips are aligned, your knees folded on either side of his body as he holds you. 

“I love you too much to ever leave, Jihoon,” you sigh, leaving out the fact that you did briefly consider it before bundling him up in your arms when that just makes him shudder out a sob and hold you tighter. 

“I love you so fucking much, and I swear on everything, I will never let this happen again,” he promises, and this time, you really think it might be true. 

.

You spend the rest of the night together, laying in bed. Sometimes you just stare at each other, sometimes you talk, sometimes you laugh. You even cry once out of sheer relief, a brief catharsis that makes Jihoon tear up and hold you so tight, you can’t breathe. 

When it’s time to go to sleep, he strips to his boxers and wraps himself around you, his body more on your side of the bed than his. It’s like he can’t stand to be separated from you now that he’s brought himself back, now that he’s realized how far away from you he was. You think he might even climb into your skin, given the chance. 

You rest better than you have in weeks, sleeping soundly through the whole night with his breaths on the back of your neck and his arms wrapped around you, and when you wake, he’s still there. 

You’ve changed positions, shifted to lay on his chest with an arm and a leg thrown over his body. He’s awake already, one elbow bent behind his head as he stares at you, and after you check the time, you ask, “Don’t you have to go into the studio today?” 

“No, I told them I wasn’t coming in when I woke up,” he smiles softly, tracing his fingers up and down your back, making you shiver against him. 

“When did you wake up?” You ask, slightly confused because you normally rise before him, especially on days he has to work. 

“Like an hour ago, had a nightmare,” he murmurs, making your eyebrows furrow in concern. His fingers stop drifting over your back and come up to smooth away the wrinkle in between your eyebrows as he says, “It’s my own fault.” 

“You can’t be at fault for having a nightmare, Jihoon,” you remind him gently, tilting your face into his hand when he cups your cheek. 

“I can be when the nightmare is that you packed a bag and left,” he says distantly, like his mind is far away. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since it woke me up.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise him. “This just can’t happen again, especially now that we’re married.”

“I know,” he agrees in a soft voice, his face pensive. “I think we, or maybe I, should go to couples counseling.” 

You hum, biting your lip as you think it over. His thumb tugs at it, pulling down until you’re no longer digging your teeth into the flesh. “I think that’s a good idea. For both of us.” 

“I’ll do some research then,” he smiles down at you, brushing his thumb over your slightly indented bottom lip. You smile back, rising up on your elbow to lean in and press your lips to his. 

This is the first kiss you’ve shared since the rushed, absentminded peck you got yesterday morning, and Jihoon must realize because his hand forms around your cheek again and his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer and holding you there. 

You can feel all the love, the devotion, the adoration he’s pouring into it, his sunshine glowing through the fractures in your heart and slowly filling them in, like dandelions growing in the cracks of a sidewalk. 

Time slips away and your thoughts do too, your brain empty but for Jihoon as he kisses you breathless. Your elbow starts to shake, the position a bit awkward for you to be putting all of your weight on it, and he, of course, notices. You don’t expect him to roll over and brace himself above you, his body held away from yours by sheer strength, so you gasp when you find yourself under him, surrounded by him. 

It’s slightly overwhelming, being so utterly ensconced by him, but you love it, would stay here huddled under him for the rest of time if you could. The world could be falling apart around you and you wouldn’t have a clue, you’re so entranced by him. 

“Baby, I don’t deserve it, but… I want to show you how much I love you. Can I?” He asks sincerely, his voice wavering with emotion. You’re about to answer with a vehement yes before he continues, “If you’re not ready, I won’t ask again, I’ll let you come to me.” 

You won’t remind him that this is (partially) what you’ve been wanting for the past month, instead telling him, “I’m ready, Jihoon. I want you to show me.”

His smile is nearly blinding, so wide and bright you want to shield your eyes, though you wouldn’t miss a second of this, of him, for anything. 

He kisses you again, sipping from your lips like they hold the nectar of the gods, like you’re his salvation, and you kiss him back in much the same way, your eyes fluttering shut and your arms coming up to wrap around his neck. 

One hand delves into his hair when he trails kisses across your cheek and over your jaw, his mouth suctioning over your pulse point so he can feel your heart beat for him. And maybe it does, maybe that’s why you feel so lifeless without him, so faint, as if a strong gust of wind could blow you away. 

But it’s also why you feel so vibrant now, why you’re lit up from the inside, why the effects of his love shine through every pore. 

His mouth meanders to the spot under your ear that always makes you shiver, and he spends eons there, licking and sucking and biting until you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist and his name on your lips. 

By the time he moves on to your breasts, you’re dazed, barely able to help him take off your pajama shirt. He has to straddle you to free up his hands and tug it off, and you come back online just in time to watch his eyes darken as they drag over your exposed skin. You’re not shy anymore, content to lay there and let him look his fill, your hands resting above your head, lifting your breasts. 

His hands cover them before his lips do, his palms warm and soft where they cup the weighty flesh, squeezing gently as his thumbs brush over your pebbled nipples. He leans down to suck one into his mouth, taking deep pulls that make your back arch into him as the sensation sparks through you. He can’t seem to settle on one side, always switching so neither are neglected, your breasts marked up and spit slick by the time his kisses start to dot your stomach. 

He’s always been vocal about how much he loves your belly, loves the soft pudge and the way it contracts when you laugh, loves filling it with food and covering it with kisses, would someday love to watch it grow with life. It’s no surprise when he settles between your legs and spends almost as much time on your stomach as he did on your breasts, his lips tracing every stretch mark and his teeth sinking into every curve. 

You’re trembling when he finally moves on to your hips, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your pajamas and starting to pull. You lift your ass to help, remembering at the last second that you put panties on too last night, unlike usual. Jihoon doesn’t seem to mind, kissing you over the fabric before pushing your legs apart and nipping a line up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

He soothes the sting with his lips and tongue, working his way up to the apex of your thighs and licking you over the fabric when he gets to your covered cunt. You’ve grown wet enough for a small patch to form on the seat of your panties, and Jihoon uses the damp material to his advantage, firming his tongue and digging it into where he knows your entrance is. 

The feeling is soft, muted, but still good, and you can’t help but bring a hand down to tangle your fingers in his long, loose hair. He turns his head and presses one last kiss to your thigh before reaching up and starting to pull your panties down, his eyes heated and dark and laser focused on your pussy as it’s revealed to him. 

The underwear has barely cleared your feet when he pushes your legs apart again and leans down to suck in a deep breath through his nose, smelling your arousal and groaning before dragging his tongue through your folds for a taste. The noise that escapes him now is more like a whine, a punched out sound that comes from deep within his lungs, his fingers spasming on your thighs as he dips his tongue into your entrance. 

He’s barely started but you’re already moaning, already wanting for more, already on the verge of begging for his mouth around your clit or his fingers inside. He gives you neither, relearning the shape of you with lips and teeth and tongue, one of his hands shifting to your pussy so he can spread you apart and taste every square millimeter. 

It feels like a lifetime before he finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and your response is instantaneous. Your back arches, your fingers clench in his hair, and your thighs snap closed around his head, making him push them apart with both hands, your pleasure soaked muscles no match for his. 

He brings you up just like this, with his palms pressing your thighs apart and his mouth on your clit, sucking and tapping and licking until you feel waves of bliss wash over you in a gentle release that leaves you floating. 

That’s just the beginning, you learn, as he lets one thigh fall so he can slide a finger into your still fluttering walls, his lips vibrating around your throbbing clit in a groan that you echo softly. He moves slowly, letting his finger glide in and out even though you both know you’re more than ready for another. 

“Jihoon, please” you begin, lightly tugging on his hair, about to ask him for more.

“You don’t need to beg, baby,” he murmurs into you, sinking a second finger inside on the next stroke and spreading them to open you up. It’ll take more than two fingers to prepare you for his cock after three weeks of nothing, so you lay back and relax, content in the knowledge that soon enough, you’ll have everything you want. 

His fingers crook inside of you, stroking along your front wall, feeling for that patch of nerves inside that makes you gush for him. He finds it easily, his calloused, practiced fingertips rubbing and grinding into it, and you can feel the arousal seeping out of you, know it’s probably gathering in his palm now. 

He doesn’t care, doesn’t ever care how messy you get him, has even said he loves being coated in you by the end, loves tasting and feeling the physical evidence of how much you want him. It’s obvious in the way he moans when his mouth returns to your pussy, his tongue dipping between his fingers to get a taste at the source before laving up to your clit and wrapping his lips around it. 

He sucks hard, and you can tell that he’s starting to lose patience, to lose control, his hunger for you beginning to overcome his desire to be slow and gentle and sweet. That’s more than alright with you, Jihoon has spent enough time showing you how much he loves you, now you’re ready for him to show you how much he wants you too. 

When he withdraws his hand and returns with a third finger, you know it won’t be long before he’s filling you with his cock, and you can feel yourself get wetter at the thought. You almost want him to just give it to you now, to work himself inside even if you have to stretch around him, even if it hurts a little. 

But you know he’s on a mission so you let him carry it out, sighing at the sensation of false fullness as that burning coil starts to form in your stomach. It winds tighter and tighter as he slides his fingers in and out, every dig of his fingertips into your sweet spot making you gasp and pull his hair. Soon enough, you’re holding him in place and he’s letting you, grunting and groaning as you begin to roll your hips into his movements, his fingers precise and his mouth devastating. 

Finally, the coil catches flame and snaps, making your back arch and stealing every last thought in your mind as you cum so hard, you almost force his fingers out. He’s still stronger than you though, so he fights through your tightness to keep fucking you with them, bringing you through your orgasm and slowing only when you release his hair and pet his head with clumsy hands. 

When Jihoon comes to hover above you, you’re close to crying, so wrought with feelings and passion and love, you almost can’t handle it. But his face is glistening with you, practically dripping, which makes you choke out a laugh and sweep your finger along his jaw. 

You had planned to wipe it off on the duvet but he takes your hand and sucks your finger into his mouth, his eyes locked with yours, the darkness in them vast enough that you fear you might get lost. 

He releases your finger and presses his slick lips to yours, his tongue delving into your mouth so you can taste yourself. He cups your cheek with his non-sticky hand and tilts your head, changing the angle of the kiss and making it even deeper, eliciting a quiet moan from you as your legs hitch up on his waist and your arms wrap around his neck. 

You flex your legs, trying to bring his hips down to yours, but he stays braced over you, his body still inches away when you want him to be so close, you can’t tell where he ends and you begin. 

“Jihoon, I want you,” you break away to breathe, gazing into his eyes and watching as he wars with himself. 

“I don’t feel like I deserve you right now,” he admits solemnly, his eyelids fluttering when you shift one hand down to touch his rock hard cock. 

“What if I think you do?” 

“I’m glad you feel that way, but I just wanted this to be about you. I think we should wait,” he gets quieter at the end, as if he’s afraid of your response, and you can’t push him, not when it seems like he thinks you’ll be upset with him for saying no. 

“Okay,” you sigh, only the slightest bit of dejection seeping into your voice, though you try not to let it come through. 

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers before kissing you again. “Why don’t you get the bath started while I deal with this? I’ll come join you after.” 

“That’s a good plan,” you smile softly up at him, craning your neck for one last peck before he climbs off of you and lets you go. 

You slide to the edge of the bed and stand, about to hobble on shaky knees over to the bathroom when he catches your hand and pulls you between his legs. 

“I love you, so fucking much,” he says, his voice wavering and his eyes watery when they meet yours. 

You let the words wash over you like an ocean wave, the sentiment cleansing and healing and refreshing to your still-bruised spirit. 

“I love you, Jihoon,” you squeeze his hand and lean in when he pulls you, his lips meeting yours before they press to both of your cheeks and your forehead in sweet kisses. 

With your heart full of love and light, you make your way into the bathroom and start the tub, focusing on the sound of rushing water and valiantly trying to ignore the muffled noises coming from the bedroom. 

You’ve waited for Jihoon before, you can wait for him again. 

AN: don't look at me im self soothing

My Masterlist

fandoms i write for —

one direction :: sixth member of one direction

k-pop :: seventeen, tomorrow x together k-drama :: song kang

tv shows :: the umbrella academy

genres i write —

fluff :: angst :: hurt/comfort :: suggestive :: nsfw

you can request for —

fics :: drabbles :: timestamps :: headcannons :: most/least likely to :: thoughts and general asks [ please specify which type of writing you're requesting for in your ask ]

...to be updated

Sales Pitch

Pairing: Moon Junhui x fe!reader

Genre: Smut, 21+

Warnings: dom reader, sub/brat jun, anal sex (m. receiving), pegging, oral (m & f receiving), degradation, sex toys, impact play, breath play, freak deakys fr!!!

Length: 3.6k

Note: for my bestie @wenjunehui i hope its all you dreamed of and more pookie

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“Do you think these make my boobs look big?”

You turn to find Jun modeling the new shipment of nipple clamps over his shirt, the metal chain glinting across his chest from each peaked bud. His hands lift behind his head to further highlight the adornment.

“Gigantic.” You quip, diving back into the box filled with an assortment of lube.

In the six months you’ve been working at Bad Kittyz, you’ve discovered more about your coworker's weird fetishes than you really should. 

Even in snippets of conversation with customers, you hear him recommend toys and gadgets like he’s tried them all. Products that haven’t moved off the shelf since you started and look like they’ve sat there even longer than that he talks about like old friends. The day Jun discussed the installation of a sex swing with a woman pushing sixty you came to the conclusion the sex dungeon under his apartment must be stocked beyond belief.

A crash from behind you makes you turn, finding Jun stumbling as he struggles into a harness.

“What are you doing?”

“We got these strap ons and—”

Cutting him off, you eye him with confusion. “I can see that but why are you trying it on? You have a dick.”

“Sorry I like to give our customers my most informed opinion.” Jun rolls his eyes, going back to fidgeting with the straps.

“Please don’t say that.” You wince. “Not when you sold that sex machine yesterday.”

“What do you mean? You don’t think we should try the products before selling them?”

You blush at the implication that he’s tried everything he’s sold. Including the sex machine.

“I didn’t say that. But you don’t even need a strap.”

“I’m not gonna sell it without first hand knowledge.”

“I think that means you should get pegged then.” You sniff, turning back to your work.

You don’t want to be honed into his body. Every breath, every creak of the old floor boards as he moves closer. Even the heat of his body against your back wouldn’t register under normal circumstances but now it's overwhelming. 

Jun seems hell bent on making it even worse.

“Is that an offer?”

An entire day of preparation only serves to fan the flames of nervousness. Wrinkled laundry from weeks ago gets folded, every dish you own sits spotless in the cabinets; you’ve even lint rolled your couch. It’s more than you’ve done for any hookup before and it makes you jitter with embarrassment. 

The day barely dips into the afternoon by the time you're done. It gives you too much time to think. Your bedroom is off limits. Already prepped with fresh sheets, towels, and condoms. If you have to see the set up you might start scratching at the walls.

A shot of liquor helps take the edge away. Just enough you can sit on the couch without shaking out of your skin. But not enough to stop you from rotating through the same apps over and over in hopes a distraction will take your brain away from thoughts of Jun bent over the edge of your bed with his ass displayed.

When he finally arrives, you nearly puke. Because now its real and you’re about to fuck your hot coworker with a fake cock like its just another normal Thursday for him.

Jun smiles as you open the front door. It’s innocent at face value, only the edges tilting into something fouler. 

“What's up?”

“Please don’t try to act casual.” You warn, stepping aside so he can enter.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

He flings himself onto the couch and somehow manages to still look hot despite the awkward angle of his limbs. The bag full of contraband sits on the floor, unassuming despite carrying a menagerie of who knows what. 

Crossing your arms in faux nonchalance, you nod towards the opposite end of your apartment. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

“Okay?”

“Listen, it's not that I don’t trust you.” You sigh. It's a lie. You trust him as far as you can throw him. For all you know that tote bag could have cuffs and collars and a sex swing tucked away. “But I’m about to be closer to your ass than should be legal so I want to make sure.”

“Fine.” Jun shrugs, slipping past you while removing his shirt. “Are you coming too?”

The broad expanse of his back disappears behind the bathroom door. A creak preceding the patter of the shower vaguely registers in your brain still operating a mile behind. You don’t follow immediately, unwilling to bear to witness what he needs to get done. And maybe you want him to sweat for it, knock him off balance the same way you’ve been since he asked for this. 

But after a few minutes your feet move you his way, clothes falling with each step closer to the cracked door. But not before you snag the bottle of lube out of his bag. You’re almost disappointed by the lack of oddities beyond the strap on.

The hum of his voice bubbles behind the curtain. You find him lathered up when you duck into the stall, foamy tendrils lacing across his back and down his legs. 

“Wow, you don’t waste any time.” He jokes, turning over his shoulder to spot the bottle still squeezed tight in your palm.

Shouldering past him into the spray, you scoff.  “You asked me to pop your cherry and now you’re complaining?”

Jun doesn’t respond, scrubbing at his skin while following the streams of water webbing over your chest. You don’t object when he pulls you into his orbit, following until your mouths meet with ease. The nudge against your thigh feels juvenile against what you’re about to do but it doesn't stop you from taking advantage. 

Water doesn’t provide the smoothest glide but Jun doesn’t seem to mind, bucking into the catch of your palm. He turns pliant with a lazy swipe against his slit and a lick between his teeth. His shoulders shelter you from the downpour as you turn him, slowly dropping down until you’re face to face with his cock. 

Blinking lazily, you tongue where he leaks against your fingers, glowing at the twitch muscles across his stomach. Steam shrouds around his face but it can't hide the grind of his jaw.

“Good?” 

Jun nods, hands limp at his side. Finding the bottle again, your fingers shine with excess as you reach underneath and glide them across his ass. You suck him down to soften the stretch but Jun doesn’t so much as flinch when your finger slips in without resistance.

Popping off his cock, your eyebrow arches. “Have you done this before?”

“Umm,” he swallows, pinking from the neck up. “Define ‘this’?”

“Had fingers in your ass.”

He hesitates; bashful despite still being stretched over your knuckle. “Yes.”

“Wow, and here I thought I was special.”

Jun’s rebuttal is lost to a groan, ripped out by the curve of your throat against the head of his cock. The timidity of taking his first time evaporates through your veins, replaced by the hunger to be the best he’ll ever get.

A second finger proves little challenge either and you almost pull back to goad him but one glance at Jun’s face hints he might cum if you degrade him too much. Instead, you take the satisfaction of his taste on your tongue as a win and keep curling your fingers until his hips kick.

“More lube,” he croaks.

You rush to do what he asks, pouring so much onto your fingers it drips down his legs when you press back in with a third finger. The new stretch has you gagging on him again.

“Fuck yeah. Oh shit.”

Replacing your mouth with a hand, you lap at the raised vein running from his base to his abs. “How big is the dildo you brought?”

His Adam's apple bobs with your next stroke. “I–Mhmmm.”

“Jun, how big is it?”

The water creeps cold and you're about to start humping his leg if you don’t find something new to distract yourself with. So you stop until he answers.

“Small.” 

You reward him with a quick glide but that's all. “Think you’re ready?”

A quick inhale and a nod has you rising to your feet, rinsing off your used hand before turning the faucet and exiting into the chilly air.

“Grab the lub—” 

Jun cuts you off with his mouth. He laps away his own taste, nearly bending you in half with enthusiasm. The idea of lifting your leg and letting him fuck you against the counter whispers in the back of your mind; how easy he can fill you before you take him back to your bed and give him the same treatment. But, just based on how he kisses, you can tell if you indulge now then you’ll be much too tired later.

His stomach bows when your nails find his nipple, scraping the sensitive bud on a whim. Something about the way he responds, whiney and breathless, sends you into a frenzy. 

“Go grab,” a pass of his teeth, “your bag and,” another draw of his tongue. “Meet me in my room.” 

You almost cave to his attempt at drowning you in his affection but you break away, turning back to the shower for the bottle. Jun’s hand ghosts down your spine, fingers digging into the swell of your ass for a second until he dissolves through the door.

Unable to prolong the charade, you follow only a few seconds behind. 

Jun sprawls across your bed like a renaissance painting. Nothing but long limbs and lean muscle. Damp skin shimmering like liquid golden in the light of the singular lamp. One leg bent at the knee, not so subtly bringing your gaze to his length; stiff and sticky against his thigh. The harness rests at the foot of the bed, more daunting than the naked man only feet away.

Tossing the bottle of lube down, you grab the tangle of straps and try to orient yourself. It’s straightforward but the crawl of eyes over your body makes you falter. 

“Stop staring at me.” You bite when you nearly drop the entire thing.

Jun huffs, an arm flinging over his face. “I grabbed the one with a vibe built in. But you can use the normal one if you want.”

You refuse to dwell on the sweetness in such a vulgar scenario. The thick purple vibrator rests next to a smaller black one, both sleek silicone. If he’s offering you equal pleasure you’d be a fool not to take it so you snatch up the larger of the two and set to work. 

The harness shimmies up your hips almost too easily. All it takes is a tug here and a pull there and you’re ready to dick down your hot coworker with a fake cock and too much lube. And its when you notice the ring of plastic on the nightstand.

“What's this?”

You know what it is. Unpacked a box of them a few days ago while he helped a customer pick out a fleshlight. But getting Jun to admit it makes you salivate.

He peeks from behind his hand, eyes dropping to your finger donned with the cock ring. The smirk on your face refuses to be concealed under his view.

“A dick in your ass isn’t enough?” You ask, feigning innocence as you round the bed and sink the cushion under your knees. “Or are you really that much of a freak?”

Jun sinks back. Crawling over him, you plant on his thighs, savoring the twitch of his own cock when you drop the piece of silicon on his stomach. Your fake dick and his real one clash beautifully next to one another. You worry you’ve pushed too far, growing hesitant under his moon eyed gaze.

Raking your nails across his stomach, and Jun finally answers your goad when you reach the crease of his hip.

“I’m—I’m a freak.”

It’s completely silent as you eye one another up. Pupils blown and chest heaving at the cliff you’re about to jump off of.

“Then show me.”

Creeping up his chest, you rest the tip of the strap against the pink of his mouth. He doesn’t miss a beat, leaves no room for any more nerves as he sucks it in, the purple disappearing inch by inch behind his lips. 

You should have known he’d be messy, anticipated the way he drools and moans. But it hits you like you can actually feel any pleasure through the faux extension. Even if you don’t feel physical stimulation, his hands at your ass, pushing your hips until you catch his hint and give a few shallow thrusts of your own, makes your ears ring.

Jun campaigns for gold, swallowing around the intrusion like he loves nothing more than taking cock. Like he could cum like this, untouched, gagging on a fake dick while you watch him.

“Shit,” you curse as his nose meets your stomach, bottoming out in the softness of his throat like he’s sucked more dick than you’d believe.

You curse again when one of his hands drops to find the button that’ll make the end of the cock buried inside you vibrate. Hips rutting into the stimulation, tears bead in his eyes while he chokes. 

Rising away you push him back when he attempts to follow, “Fuck, thats enough. Jesus Christ.”

You find the bottle of lube and the cock ring. Dribbling a generous dose on his cock, you wait until he starts rolling it down.  Jun doesn’t resist the urge to jerk off, knuckles brushing against the spit soaked plastic of the strap.

Tangling your fingers with his own, you squeeze him through a tight fist until he’s kicking. 

“Turn around,” you breathe. “Don’t stop, but if you cum I will.”

He doesn’t tell you that he can’t cum with the new addition but the idea that he is staving off licks up your spine. 

More lube shines across his ass and you slide the head of the dildo through the mess in a tease, barely nudging at his entrance before moving away. The way he attempts to force you in is nothing compared to the curve of his spine when his chest falls to the sheets.

“C’mon,” he whines.

A fist stops him from sinking back, giving him just an inch of pure frustration and nothing more.

“How bad do you want it?”

“So bad.” Jun groans, gifted with another inch of stretch before you stop him again.

Draping over his back, you nip at his earlobe before whispering, “Then ask for it.”

Rising up, you give a harsh tug of hair, a broken cry cracking through the air.

“Please, please, please,” he chants.

Annoyance taints your sigh, sending you back to square one with the fake cock resting between his cheeks. It’s hard to pretend you’re not just as desperate. Between the heaven blessed image of Jun on his knees, begging for cock, and the vibrations making your thighs twitch, you’re nearly on the verge of begging him to fuck you instead.

You squirt more lube, making it messier like some cheap porno. Clean up will suck but right now you don't care.

“Please what?” You sing, hand massaging the lube between his cheeks.

“Please fuck me!”

You don’t wait for more, rewarding the bare minimum by letting him take as much as he wants as fast as he wants it. There’s no way he’s never done this before. Jun rides dick better than you, keeping pace without faltering and rocking with so much enthusiasm you itch for your phone to record such depravity.

Each clap of his ass against your pelvis rocks the toy just right inside you, until you're seizing. Part of you hates he’s getting you off so easily. And you take it out by leaving a red copy of your hand on his ass. 

Jun collapses with a squeak and you follow. Each rut of your hips has him rippling with one of his own, destroyed between the fullness of his ass and the roughness of your sheets against the sensitive tip of his cock. 

“Harder,” he whines.

You try. But few pathetic cants leave him crying for more than you can provide with the angle you’re in. 

Jun’s limbs shoot out when you sit back, scrambling to be full again. He looks over his shoulder, tears in his eyes as he opens his mouth. No doubt to curse you to high heavens for edging him.

“Flip over.”

On autopilot he flips to his back, knees rising to his chest to show off the damage you’ve done. His cock sits wet and aching, stiff in the confines of the cock ring. 

You slip back in, only teasing with more light strokes while working off his confines; the insatiable hunger to see him covered in his own cum infecting your every move. Jun’s lips are bruised, worried between his teeth at ever pass against that spot inside him. It’s worse when you circle his cock. Each jerk in time with your hips sending his head further back into the pillows and baring his throat for whatever marks you want to leave.

But Jun doesn’t crave the sting of your teeth or the plump drag of your tongue. Instead, without an ounce of reserve, he pulls your hand up the dip between his collar bones, blankets your hand with his own, and squeezes.

“You’re such a slut,” you spit, delighting in cutting his next moan off before it can even begin. “Say it. Say you're a slut.”

“I’m a slut!”

“Can’t hear you.”

Flailing under the beratement, Jun groans again. “I’m a slut!”

He’s so easy. So eager to roll in the pleasure and pain you provide. It bleeds through his features, the way his body contorts and his face shifts. It makes you itch to stretch him so far he has no choice but to snap. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Your voice is hopeful. Its all you want. All you need. “Is this all it takes? Getting called a slut with your ass full and you’re ready to blow your load?”

Another violent curl of his back until he’s nearly in half. “Shit, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

This time when you stop, Jun takes over immediately. The tip of his cock peaks through his fist, pearly beads dripping until he seizes. Rope after rope paints his chest, crude gems in the low light. Face twisted in pure agony. He looks like a dream. Like a model in the magazines tucked away in the backroom of the shop. 

The end of the vibrator buried inside you keeps you at a dull hum. You bubble just on the edge of your orgasm but watching Jun twitch and writhe is better than anything you can possibly think of. Except dipping down and lapping away the stains on his skin, sucking his cum coated nipples until he drives you on to your back. 

It takes some maneuvering but he manages to wedge his tongue under the toy and find the patch of nerves like he’s been there a thousand times. 

He laps at your clit, hot and languid and dirty; all while he angles the vibrator buried inside you to bully against your front wall, breaking you into a twitching sweaty mess.

“Fuck, oh fuck—don’t stop.”

Your back curves, spine bending almost in half when Jun sucks and delivers another harsh push bordering on cruel. His free hand lands flat on your chest, forcing your shoulders back into the pillows with ease.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, curling your hips up into Jun’s face. He abandons his previous grips, focusing on guiding your body across his tongue until your thighs spasm.

His groans echo loudly despite his face being buried in your cunt; scorching into your muscles until it hurts. Cruel fingers pluck at your nipples, tugging until you yelp and then pinching some more.  Jun doesn’t stop until you wedge your fingers between your pussy in his mouth, continuing to lick and suck until he opens his eyes and realizes you're swatting him away.

Croaking an intelligible nose, you collapse; only focused on the soaking kisses across your hips and up your breasts. The tickle of Jun’s bangs against your neck don’t even elicit a response. The room spins as you return to your body. Only the weight of the man on top of you keeps you from floating away. 

Later, after another shower that is really only an excuse for some lazy groping and equally lethargic kisses, you cuddle up on the couch. Jun decides your chest is his new home, happily buried between your breasts while the movie drones on in the back. Weed still reeks in the air but it makes the edges hazy, glowing like the sun beats through your veins. 

“Ya know,” Jun whispers into your sternum. “Next week we’re getting ball gags.”

It doesn’t throw you off. Your fingers continue combing through his hair, nails scratching his scalp until goosebumps bloom on his bare back. “Let me guess, you wanna try them out?”

“If you’re offering.”

Your next exhale carries you to sleep. “Only if I get to wear it.”

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

Should i say fuck it and post another junhui fluff, hurt/comfort fic?

Jun’s shenanigans in Going Seventeen ☆

#문준휘_생일이라_행복이_원플러스원 #FallInLoveWithJunDay