Ta3baee - 𝓒𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 ᡣ

୨⎯ 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 ⛧

彡 EACH ! fic will come with its own warning!

♱ bahng chan ♱ lee know ♱ seo changbin ♱ hwang hyunjin ♱ han jisung ♱ lee felix ♱ kim seungmin ♱ yang jeongin

Copyright © 2023 ta3baee ! All fanfics belong to me and only me, I don’t give permission for my work to be translated, published to another site, or copied.

🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼

Did you know that your plus sized body is capable of everything a thin body is?

There are plus sized people who are talented dancers, ice skaters, swimmers, yoga instructors, models, artists, musicians, etc.

Not only that, your plus sized body is deserving of everything a thin body is.

Plus sized people can find love, success, have beautiful sex lives, get married, have meaningful friendships, have families (whatever that looks like for them 💜), etc.

Never let anyone tell you that your size means you can’t have the life you want because they’re lying to you.

could i request a lee know where reader tries to get his photocard but also gets a changbin one and she seems more excited about the changbin one because she already has a lot of minho but he doesn't know that and gets jealous and fucks her roughly and afterwards she shows him all her photocards of him and he gets so shyy.

Warning: smut below! mdni.

“I cannot believe you actually bought that shit,” Minho says with an amused chuckle as he stands behind you, his arms wrapped lazily around your waist.

“I buy one any time I see them,” you retort. “It’s called supporting my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well your boyfriend feels plenty supported without you wasting money on albums he could’ve given you for free,” Minho replies, pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder as you undo the plastic cling wrapping.

It’s a tradition at this point, to pick up an album whenever you see one in stores, enjoying the simple pleasures his fans feel when they eagerly try to collect all the little photocards inside. You know already that Minho has access to stacks of these at his disposal, and that all you have to do is ask for one. But just as his fans enjoy it, you love the thrill of collecting a random photocard to add to your collection, even more special if it’s one of your boyfriend’s.

“Who do you think it is?” You ask with a smile, lifting the cover of the box to reveal the contents inside. The card is hidden behind a poster, face-down to add to the anticipation, and you pinch it between your fingers, turning your head back to face him.

“Me,” Minho replies confidently. “I’d hate to see your reaction if it was anyone else, considering this thing is worth like five coffees or something.”

You slap his arm playfully, thumbing the thin cardboard in your hand and closing your eyes.

“I’ll be happy with whoever I get.”

“Yeah, right,” Minho responds, leaning his face down to rest on your shoulder, his gaze fixed on the card in your hand.

“Ready?” You ask, and he chuckles lightly.

“Let’s see it.”

You make a big show out of dramatically flipping the card over, slapping it into the palm of your hand, and then you open your eyes to examine which member you’ve received.

“Oh my god,” you say, a smile growing on your face as you bring the card up to eye-level to inspect. “It’s Changbin!”

Minho chuckles lightly, a little indifferent to it, but you can’t seem to stop smiling.

“This is such a cute one, too,” you say, flipping the card over once, and then back to examine his face.

It’s a more recent photo of Changbin, his sculpted biceps visible in a white cutoff tank, a playful pout on his face and forming a half heart on his cheek with his hand.

“I need to add this to my Changbin page,” you say enthusiastically, and Minho’s grip around you loosens.

“Changbin page?”

“Yeah,” you reply casually. “I only have three of him. This one makes four- oh my god, I finally have a full page for him!”

“What the hell is a Changbin page?” Minho asks with a disheartened chuckle. “Why are you so happy to be collecting pictures of someone you’re not dating?”

“Minho, it’s part of the culture,” you reply with a chuckle of your own. “It doesn't mean I’m dating him or something.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it- you’re not dating him. You’re not even trying to pretend to be sad that you didn’t pull me.”

“Of course I’m sad,” you reply. “I only collect these to support your career. But it’s a randomized process, in case you forgot.”

“Yeah, right,” Minho says with a nervous smile. “I think this conversation ends here.”

You open your mouth to argue back with him, promptly shutting it before a smirk grows on your lips.

“Are you jealous?”

“Jealous of Changbin?” He retorts. “As if.”

“Jealous that I’m happy I pulled Changbin,” you correct him. Minho says nothing, keeping his gaze on the cabinets behind you.

“Oh my god, you’re jealous. That’s hilarious.”

“Would you stop?”

“You’re so jealous I pulled Changbin! You can’t even look at me!”

“I said stop-”

“What if I start buying Changbin’s merch, too? Should I bring a poster for him at the next tour?”

“Stop!” Minho exclaims, an equally amused smile tugging at his lips. He wants to maintain his serious composure around you, but he can’t, knowing very well that he is jealous, and that this whole argument is undeniably stupid.

“So what if I’m jealous?” Minho retorts, nearing you with a long stride as you hoist yourself up to sit on the granite kitchen island.

“I’d say that’s really fucking hot,” you reply, letting your legs part on the surface below you as he slots himself between them and lets his hands find your waist.

“There’s nothing hot about it,” Minho replies, although he can feel his cock swelling in his pants.

“There is,” you say. “It’s hot that you’re so possessive when it’s a literal piece of cardboard. Kinda want you to fuck me since you’re so mad about it.”

“I can do that,” Minho says sternly, leaning in to graze his lips against yours. “I’m sorry Changbin’s not around to do it instead, though.”

And he closes the gap between the two of you, his lips working eagerly against yours as his hands massage little circles on your inner thighs. You let your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him down to graze the crook of your neck, where he sucks a trail of bruises there and groans into your flesh. Your legs part a little further now, indicating for him to move faster, which Minho quickly takes notice of and pulls away to undo the strings of his sweatpants.

“Fucking Changbin,” Minho grumbles, pulling down his gray sweatpants and letting them pool at his ankles.

“Jealousy looks so good on you,” you say to him, pulling him in by his t-shirt for another kiss. “Get jealous more often, will you? I’ve never seen you get hard this fast.”

Minho’s boxers fall with his pants, his dripping cock angling straight at your entrance as his kisses turn sloppier and more hungry. His hands snake to the hem of your panties, tugging harshly, before he’s pulling them off of you entirely and discarding them on the kitchen floor.

“You want to collect your silly little pictures?” Minho inquires, wrapping his slender fingers around the base of his cock and beginning to pump gently. “Go ahead. I could care less about what you do.”

“Really?” You reply, amused with his stubbornness. “See how I react next time I pull Changbin, then. Maybe I’ll ask him to help me out instead.”

And Minho shuts you up as he finally guides himself inside of you, his hand remaining on the base of his cock still.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Minho groans, his hand finding the small of your back as he begins to fuck you with force. “Do whatever you want.”

“Maybe I will,” you say, your parted lips grazing over his drooly ones, as he pumps his cock in and out of your cunt, bottoming out with ease as your pussy enwreathes him in its wetness. His eyes shut instinctively, groans leaving his mouth as he pulls you closer by your waist and grinds your pussy further against him, his tip caressing a new angle that drives you crazy.

“Jesus Christ,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Feels so fucking good,”

“Yeah?” Minho asks, panting heavily into your ear. “Maybe you planned this little stunt just so I’d fuck you.”

You’re hardly able to reply to him, muffled whimpers escaping your lips as he continues to fuck you, your legs coming around to wrap around his torso. And he can make all the jokes he wants, but he knows at the end of the day it’s him who gets to fuck you like this, him who gets you to cream all over his cock and whose name you’re screaming for the whole neighborhood to hear.

You know it too, confident enough in your relationship to know that a quick, rough fuck will pacify any ounce of Minho’s jealousy once his seed is dripping out of your cunt. It’s like all he has to do is fuck you like he’s trying to breed you, so that you both set aside this immature game and rekindle your differences.

“Tell me how it feels,” Minho groans, increasing his pace now.

“So good,” you breathe, one hand tangling in his brown tresses again. “God, your cock drives me insane.”

“Bet my photocards do too, huh?”

“Jesus Christ, Minho, can’t you just-”

“Say it,” he orders with a grin, his dick continuing to work itself in and out of you. “If you’re so fucking sure you don’t care about Changbin.”

“I don’t give a shit about him,” you say breathlessly, only because you’re desperate for release now. “Or his stupid photocards. Just cum inside me already.”

“Say you hate the guy,” he orders, working a trail of kisses up your neck. “Say you don’t give a fuck about his stupid photos.”

“I hate them,” you echo. “They’re nothing compared to yours. Nothing compares to you fucking me like this- god, it’s so fucking good.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Minho whines, his grip tightening around the small of your back. “Finish at the same time and I’ll forgive you.”

And you clench your entrance around him as he moves even faster now, the sound of skin teeming all around you as he moans desperately into your ear, the volume amplified as you hug him close.

His cock twitches once inside you, pace slowing just a little, before he finally shoots a generous load of his release into your sopping cunt, painting your walls white with his release and placing open-mouthed kisses along the bruises in your flesh.

And you reach your release in tandem with his, clenching around his still-hard cock as you feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, your head spinning as he fucks your own cum out of you with the remainder of his stamina before pulling out and readjusting himself.

You steady yourself on the counter with your hands as Minho pulls on his clothes again, catching your breath momentarily before hopping off and collecting your album from the table.

“I’m gonna go add this to my Changbin page,” you say casually, exiting the kitchen to your bedroom, where all your album paraphernalia is stored,

“Oh my god- really?” Minho calls out with a groan, running his hands through his hair frustratedly. “I thought this was over.”

When you return, there’s a small blue binder in your hands, clear dividers stacked cover-to-cover and filled with photocards.

“What is that?” Minho asks, coming around to examine the book with you.

You place Changbin’s card into a plastic sleeve, flipping open to your designated page for him and slotting him among your other three photocards.

“It’s my photocard binder,” you reply, flipping to the start of the binder.

And Minho can’t help the smile that grows on his face at the sight of it- pages upon pages, rows upon rows of his photocards, all different eras, all different poses, neatly organized in your binder and the majority of your collection.

“Is that all…”

“You?” You say amused. “I told you I only collect these for you. This one’s my favorite. And this one’s my favorite hair on you. This one was really expensive-”

“Oh god,” Minho says shyly. “I can’t even look at them.”

But his chest feels warm, overrun with love for you and your little collection of his photocards.

“This one’s your hottest one,” you continue. “And this one I bring everywhere with me…”

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Y'know one thing Han would love? Dinner with you. You'd guys would start dinner normally, just talking about your day. Then he'd bring up the most random topic ever and you'd playfully argue with him. The conversation escalates to something so absurd that you are both laughing until tears fall down and the food is already cold. That's just a silly tradition of you, but Han would love these domestic moments with you

This blog is officially my fav sweet home writer🤞🏼

your imprint's on my soul || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: When Hyun-Su's monster shows up at your door, he teases you and implies that Hyun-Su wants more with you than what you've shared before so, when Hyun-Su wakes up, you decide to act on that.

word count: 4.1k

warnings & tags: canon-typical angst, fluff, smut, explicit consent, dry-humping, thigh-riding if you squint, handjob (male receiving), they're both virgins and are both painfully awkward, this is very soft tbh

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: sooo, we've reached the first smutty installment for this series, though this feels so tame and so soft I don't even know if it deserves that name. It's what felt right to me for the development of their relationship and what I think makes sense for their characters! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Hyun-Su always knocks. It doesn’t matter that you’ve told him he didn’t have to anymore, doesn’t matter that you’ve offered to give him a key. He still knocks, a soft rap against your door that you’ve learned to recognize from anywhere you are in the house — it’s probably the first time ever that you are truly thankful for the terrible soundproofing in there. When Hyun-Su isn’t there, you spend your time waiting to hear it again, whether consciously or not.

So when you hear something brutally hitting your door, the sound echoing through your silent house, it doesn’t cross your mind that it could be him.

You stumble through the house to grab your bat, heart beating so fast it’s threatening to fall out of your chest. Whether it’s a monster or a desperate survivor trying to get in, you need to be ready to defend yourself.

You’re slowly approaching the door when whoever — or whatever — is outside hits the door twice more.

“C’mon now, I haven’t got all day.”

You still. You recognize the voice instantly, of course you do, but what you don’t recognize is the tone, or even how loud it is, for that matter.

“Hyun-Su?” you call out quietly.

It’s not the smartest decision, because if it’s not him, it lets whatever’s out there know you’re here, but you can’t see yourself leaving him outside.

“You could say that,” the voice answers, and it’s still obviously Hyun-Su, and it’s still wrong, somehow.

But, after a couple seconds of further hesitation, you decide to open the door anyway. You’ve heard it before, that tone, you think, even if it’s blurry now. Plus, you cannot bear the thought of letting Hyun-Su out there, if it really is him. You tighten your hold on your bat, and carefully open the door.

The second you do, Hyun-Su walks in like he owns the place. It is so unlike him that you get ready to swing, but he spots you and grabs it from your hand easily, using his pull on it to get you closer to him, his other hand coming to your waist to stabilize you with a gentleness that contrasts with the abruptness of his movement. Once he does, he shoots you a grin that makes you knees weak, and, as his blue eyes stare straight into yours, you finally understand what is going on.

“All that for me?” he asks, glancing at the bat.

You don’t bother to answer him. You remember too well the state he was in last time you saw this— well— version of him, and your eyes run over his body, followed by your hands, checking for injuries. But while his sweater is in worst shape than usual, and you find blood that you think is fresh on there, his skin is intact under your fingers.

When you look into his eyes again, you find him staring at you, amused.

“You can keep going,” he teases. Your face starts burning and you take a step back, embarrassed, but he follows right after you, eyes devouring you. “Come on, you know you want to. Why not just give in?”

Your back hits the wall, and he leans closer, like a cat playing with a mouse. The difference is, though your heart is hammering in your chest, you don’t feel that scared. Nervous, sure, but there is no actual threat to his tone, or even to his attitude.

“I’m not— I’m not doing anything Hyun-Su wouldn’t want,” you answer, and you somehow find it in yourself to lift your chin defiantly as you do.

Meeting this version of Hyun-Su’s eyes sends a rush of heat through you once again. Beneath the amusement, there is so much more. Fascination. Adoration, even.

He lets out a brief laugh at your words.

“Please,” he practically purrs, “you can’t think that he doesn’t want this.” You stare at him, and his grin widens. “Maybe you should ask him, then.” He leans closer to you, mouth so close to your ear you can feel his breath tickling your cheek. “Ask him what he thinks about when he’s alone at night.” Your cheeks are on fire. “Ask him what he thinks about when you’re lying in bed next to him.” Your breath catches in your throat. “Ask him what he thinks of doing to you.”

He laughs again, and Lord, you don’t know how your legs haven’t given up underneath you yet.

“Come back to me if he still doesn’t have the guts to do anything,” he whispers in your ear. “For now, I think we’ll take a nap.”

That’s all the warning you get before he collapses into you and you can do nothing but slide down to the floor, holding Hyun-Su’s now unconscious body in your arms. You curse the monstrous part of him under your breath, but you know, deep down, that it’s less about that and more about the fact that he’s leaving you with your whole body practically vibrating with feelings and desires you’ve been having more and more as of late.

Your relationship with Hyun-Su is good. It’s great. It makes you happy, so much happier than you thought would ever be possible after the world ended.

But you’d be lying if you said there hasn’t been a— yearning, a longing for more. Something you haven’t put precise words on, something that is almost fully new to you, because though you had fooled around with the boyfriend you briefly had at the beginning of college, the two of you had never gotten really far. You suspect it’s even more foreign to Hyun-Su.

You do know you have an effect on him, you’re not blind. You know how he can get when he loses himself in you, when he finally lets go of all the weight he carries on his shoulders. You, however, also know how embarrassed he gets when his body reacts to you in ways he can’t fully control. You’re just not sure he’s ready for taking the relationship further and, if you’re being honest, the fear of rejection has kept you from bringing up the subject.

Except that after this conversation, the monster’s words are swirling in your mind, and you can no longer pretend that the desire that makes your pulse quicken isn’t there.

Now’s not the time for that, though. You do your best to carry Hyun-Su to the couch, something you doubt you could have done before the Apocalypse forced you to put on some muscle, cover him with a blanket, just in case, because his sweater is starting to have more holes than fabric, and sit by his side so his head rests on your lap. All that’s left to do now, is to wait for him to wake up.

It’s fine, though.

You’re used to waiting for him.

Hyun-Su opens his eyes, and at first, he just feels warm and good and safe. For once in his life, nothing hurts. Your hand’s in his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp pleasantly every now and then and—

And he doesn’t remember coming to your place or seeing you.

He jumps up, eyes surveying the apartment, which looks the same it always does, then you when he turns around. All he sees there is mild confusion.

“Did you have a bad dream?” you ask.

“Did you see him?” he asks in reply.

You frown for a second, before understanding passes on your face, and Hyun-Su feels the blood draining from his face.

Last time, the monster had been with you for a couple minutes, at most. This time…

He hadn’t thought he would come here. He’d been far away, when the group of humans had gotten attacked. Intervening had been the right thing to do, he’d thought — until he’d started getting shot at. The words they’d hurled at him, he’d all heard before, during a time of his life he wished he could forget. With his attention split between the monsters still trying to get past him on one side, and the arrows and bullets coming from the other side, the monster had managed to take over.

And maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t fought it as hard as he should have.

He had never thought you’d get caught in the crossfire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Are you— Are you—”

Hurt. Angry. Disgusted.

“I’m fine,” you answer him. You don’t hesitate to reach out to gently touch his face, and your smile is so sincere it’s almost blinding. “Nothing happened.”

He leans into your touch, unable to stop himself, and though he still feels the need to protest, it gets easier to believe you each time you reassure him you don’t despise him.

“It didn’t do anything to you?” he asks, voice low and quiet.

You shake your head, but he can’t miss the way you glance away briefly, avoiding his eyes at first.

“He didn’t hurt me,” you tell him, and he can tell it’s true, but—

“What did it do?” There’s urgency in his voice, panic even. He grabs your arms to look into your eyes, the window to the soul, they say, but he cannot read into you, no matter how much he searches.

“Nothing,” you say, but again, he can tell that there’s more to it, and he doesn’t let go, until you cave in. “He just said something.”

“What did he say?” Hyun-Su presses on. Fear is invading his every bone, wrapping its vines around his heart and squeezing it.

“Nothing important,” you insist, but it only makes him more desperate, because if you don’t want to tell him, it must be something bad, must be something deep and dark and twisted, must be something that could make you hate him. When he doesn’t let up, you sigh. “He just said to ask you something.”

Hyun-Su’s mind goes quiet.

“Ask me what?”

His mouth is dry, his lips move painfully.

“Just— He said, I should ask you what you want to— to do to me.”

It’s like a bomb just went off.

Hyun-Su lets go of you. It feels as if his whole face is burning. Shame and embarrassment overtake him, and suddenly he can’t look at you anymore, just wants to run out the door, but his body is refusing to move. He’s stuck in place like a rabbit in headlights.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, whipping his head in the other direction, since that all he can do.

“So, you, um, you… are thinking about it?” you ask, your voice piercing straight through his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“No, no, I’m, uh—”

You grab his hand, scooting closer to him on the couch, until your knees touch his. And it grounds him. Slowly, reason starts to creep back up from under all the thoughts, and he hears the eagerness in your question.

“J-just so we’re on the same page,” you say, as he slowly turns his head to look at you once more, “you’re thinking about… having sex. With me.”

It’s precious, how you lower your voice to say ‘sex’, and then frown in annoyance at yourself. Hyun-Su still wants to tear his hand from yours, run away before you can tell him how much of a freak, of a monster you think he is. But he can’t.

He thinks he’d rather you rip his heart out, as long as you do it with your bare hands, than to live without your touch ever again.

Slowly, he nods. His face and ears are tingling, and he’s sure he’s bright red by now.

“I shouldn’t,” he mumbles. You’ve given him so much already. So much he hadn’t dared to hope for in years. He shouldn’t ask for even more. He doesn’t deserve more.

But your hands tighten around his. Your mouth opens, closes, your tongue comes out to wet your lips as you hesitate and fidget nervously.

“No, you, uh, you should,” you stutter before catching yourself, closing your eyes like you don’t want to see what’s in front of you before you take a leap of faith. “I mean— I think about it. About you.”

A light buzz starts again in his ears.

“I didn’t know,” you keep mumbling. “I mean, I wasn’t sure that you—” Your gaze goes from his hand to the floor, everywhere so you don’t have to look at him. “That you wanted me. So I’m— It’s, uh, it’s good to know.”

“I want you,” Hyun-Su blurts out without thinking, and of course then you look at him, with wide, pretty eyes, and if he wasn’t blushing before, he sure is now. His face could burst into flames any second. “I hate that I can’t—” His eyes fall on your legs, with the dress you’re wearing riding up on your thighs. “—touch you.” If he wasn’t so scared, if he was braver… “I just…” A whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you say patiently. “I trust you.”

“But I don’t,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor. “You’re so— fragile. If I lost control for a second…”

He sees you hesitate. He expects you to tell him, again, that he wouldn’t lose control, maybe that the monster inside him wouldn’t hurt you. Thing is, you might be right, but it doesn’t matter how unlikely it is. That’s not a risk he can take.

“Okay,” you say instead. “Okay. But what if— what if I was the one touching you?”

He almost wishes you hadn’t said it, with how badly he immediately wants it.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. His throat is dry. His whole body is aching for you.

“And if I want to?” You tilt your head, all pretty, and oh, how can he deny you anything?

“Please,” he whispers.

Your lips part and your breath seems to stutter, before you lean in and kiss him, and it’s like he’s finally come home. It starts off soft, slow, no different from any kiss the two of you have shared in the past weeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek.

Hyun-Su melts. He parts his lips to welcome in your tongue, lets you take the lead and set the pace for the kiss without thinking about it twice.

Then he feels you move. It’s barely there at first, your hand that’s not on his face coming to rest on his shoulder, and all that is known territory. Even if your fingers actually touch his skin there, because of the numerous holes in his clothing, he can handle that.

His eyes snap open again, though, when you move your leg over his so you can come sit in his lap, straddling him. You notice immediately.

“Is that okay? We can stop—”

“No, I—”

He doesn’t want you to stop. He wants more with you, so bad, and though he would never say it out loud, he’s desperate for you to show him that you’re not disgusted in him. Every time you kiss him, every time you touch him, every time you take his hand and lead him in bed with you, he comes closer to truly believing it.

But, ah, with this last conversation, even if it’s not the first time he’s had you in his lap, he feels— heated. He can feel himself growing hard, and he’s still embarrassed at the thought that you can feel him. Despite what he said, his hands are on your waist, holding tight. He doesn’t remember if he chose to do that.

After all, his desire for you aligns with what the monster wants so closely that he’s— scared. He’s so scared of losing control. But you’re looking at him so lovingly, and he wants you so bad… Can he be selfish? Just this once?

“Don’t stop,” he almost begs, and seeing how eagerly you nod in reply is like an explosion of warmth in his chest.

Your lips crash against his again, harder, with more purpose. Your fingers card through his hair, and the feeling of your light pull on them goes straight to his core, more enjoyable than he thinks it should be, though he’s in no position to linger on it, not when the next thing you do is to experimentally roll your hips on top of him.

From your perspective, it’s a clumsy movement, one you’re unsure of. From his, it’s a rush of pure pleasure when you rub against his hard cock, one that makes him openly moan, his mouth falling open enough that he breaks the kiss. The second he realizes what kind of noise came out of him, he raises his hand to cover his mouth, cheeks turning crimson.

He’s not daring to look at you, not at first anyway, until he feels your lips brushing against his fingers, pressing soft kisses against his hand.

“Still good?” you ask.

And he is, but he’s not trusting his voice all that much for now, so he just nods. A smile dances on your lips as you kiss down his jaw.

“Also,” you add, “I’m not— I don’t have much— experience, in all, uh, that. So you should— you should let me know. What feels good. What doesn’t.”

“That felt good,” he admits quietly, and your smile turns into a grin against his skin.

“I could tell.”

What you don’t say is how hot you found both the sound and the thought that you could affect him like that, how badly you want to press your legs together so you can alleviate the ache you’re feeling down there, how you’re worried you actually want him even more than he wants you.

Instead of saying all that — it would make you feel so naked and so vulnerable, and disarm you completely, which doesn’t seem like a good idea for now —, you start trailing your kisses down his neck. There’s one spot there that makes him whimper, more discreetly than before, but you latch onto it all the same, tongue coming out to flick against the skin, pulling on it softly between your teeth. He writhes and whines under you, and when his cock rubs against you just right, you gasp against him.

You’re delighted to see reddish skin when you pull away. He’ll heal, and there will be no trace of it by morning, but there’s something satisfying about it — and the glassy look he gives you, lips swollen and parted, hair a mess on the back of the couch, with that proud mark right above his collarbone… is purely sinful.

Your fingers hook in his hoodie.

“Can I?” you ask.

He’d go to the moon and back for you.

He nods.

You pull it over his head, struggle a little when it gets caught in his hair, then manage to pull him free and kiss him again with a giggle. It’s sweet. You’re still wearing your dress, but it’s the first time he feels your hands directly on his skin all the same, and even if his body’s burning up, your touch sets him ablaze.

You explore his body with hungry eyes and hands, follow the shape of his pectorals, then move down to his abs. You trace the muscles, slowly, and as you move down, closer to his crotch, he can no longer suppress a shiver. You still for a second, and he watches you with wide eyes, waiting for you to keep moving, so badly wanting you to keep going. Finally, your fingers brush against the button of his jeans. Silently, meeting his eyes, you ask for his permission. He swallows, nods again.

He’s nervous, almost painfully so, but he notices that your fingers are shaking as you have to try three times to get it open, and it reassures him, in some ways. It reminds him that, for all the issues he has, this is new for the both of you. There are no expectations to meet, just the two of you discovering, together, what works for you.

Once the button isn’t in the way, you, very carefully, move your hand under his jeans, but over his boxers. The second he feels your hand hesitantly closing over his cock, even through the fabric, he throws his head back, trying his best not to moan again and only half-succeeding.

You watch his reactions closely as you keep touching him, slipping your hand under the boxers after a few seconds. This time he does moan, a high-pitched noise that you take to mean you’re doing something right — even if you have no idea what you’re doing. How tight should your grip be? How fast should you move? Should you be saying something? Should he be saying something?

His cock is rock hard between your fingers, harder than you’d have expected; larger, too. It seems to have been that way for a while, maybe since you’ve started kissing, based on how wet with precum it is. You tighten your grip around it a little, then slide your hand down, slowly, down to the base. He moans again, and you feel him twitch between your fingers.

“Um,” you mumble, “I, uh, I don’t really know— is that— is there anything I should—”

Hyun-Su’s looks up at you, flushed and panting. One of his hands comes to your thigh, and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. You don’t think he even notices though. You’re dripping wet yourself, but for now you just want to make him feel good. If things go well, if he stays open to this sort of things, there’ll be plenty of time to deal with that… later. At the moment, all you want is to show him that pleasure doesn’t have to lead to anything negative.

“J-just, keep going,” he mumbles. “You can, ah, you can go a little faster, if you…”

The rest of his words gets lost in the next moan as you follow his advice, moving your hand up and down his cock, the wetness helping the movement. Despite yourself, you rock your hips against his leg, the pressure of it between your legs feeling so delicious, you can’t deny it to yourself at the moment.

Under you, Hyun-Su is lost in pleasure. Your rhythm is hesitant, you’re not holding him quite as tight as he’d like, but oh, your hand is soft and gentle, and it still feels so much better than his own. The fact that you’re all pressed against him, your breath against his neck, your scent filling him, it’s all much more than what he had imagined — because, yes, in shameful moments, he’d pictured this kind of scenes, but they had never felt as good, pleasure running through his veins and flooding his body.

Any time he indulged in them, though, he came faster than usual, and now, with the real thing, he realizes too late how quickly he is approaching his climax.

“Wait,” he hears himself mumble, “I’ll—”

But he’s already coming, and the strength of the orgasm leaves him breathless as he humps against your hand, trying to make it last longer.

“Oh,” is all you comment, and even through the haze, embarrassment spreads through him as he realizes that there’s cum on your hand and on his stomach. At least he cannot turn any redder now.

“Sorry,”  he mumbles, “sorry, I—”

“No, I— I thought that was pretty hot, actually,” you say, giving him a smile, and thank fuck you’ve taken his hand off him, because he wouldn’t want to have to explain why that’s making him twitch again. “I’ll just— you probably want to get cleaned up.”

“I’m— Yeah, but—” He glances down at your body. He felt you rocking against him earlier, even if he wasn’t exactly in the right mind to say something about it. “Don’t you— Don’t you want to, uh…”

“Ah, I’m fine, I just— I just wanted to make you feel good for now.”

And just as he thought his heart rate might go back to normal at some point, there it is, spiking again.

“We can do that— some other time. If you’d like to.”

There is nothing he wouldn’t give to you.

“I would. I would like that.”

Your smile is a promise for more, your kiss is sweet, and for the first time in forever, Hyun-Su forgets about the monster.

He’s in your arms, and it’s all that matters.

i’ve been trying to figure out what to put here. i already feel like i’m kinda begging for comment on my posts, which i don’t like doing, but i figured i’d try to explain at least once what i’ve been feeling lately — plus i'm starting a new job on Monday and i don't know how much time i'll have to write after that. truth is, the lack of interactions i’ve been getting on here, on these stories, has been kind of depressing to me. i know people are reading them, considering the amount of notes, and it’s hard not to question whether it’s my writing that’s not good enough to make people want to leave a comment, or if it's just how fandom is now and in that case it just might not be for me anymore. i mean, i write for myself first, but i post because i want to share with others, i want to see their reactions, know how my writing makes them feel… and lately it just feels like i’m screaming in the void and nothing else. it’s been hard to stay motivated honestly. so, yeah. you don’t have to leave a comment, especially if you didn’t like it, i get it, i’m not trying to guilt-trip you. i just. feel the need to explain this at least once, in case it changes someone’s mind, and if it doesn't, i'll know i tried. if you've ever commented, reblogged with tags, sent an ask, know that i'm so thankful for you and you truly keep me going.

dumb/random things skz would do while ur dating

a/n: don’t ask me what this is or why i came up w it these are just Thoughts That I Have Sometimes 

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chan: if he has spare time and gets bored, he’ll splice up voicemails or voice messages you’ve sent him to make you say random shit and then he sends it to you out of nowhere with absolutely zero context. it could be anywhere from the raunchiest, dirtiest things you’ve ever heard, to just straight up dumb things, to him making you say how amazing and great he is and how much you love him. either way, he thinks he’s hilarious

minho: literally just stares at you for no reason. you’re on your phone across the room and he’s staring. just deadpan staring. and once you notice and make eye contact he gives you a mean look like you were staring at him first and he’s mad about it. even after you look away, he’s still staring. if you ask what he wants he’ll be like “why tf are you staring at me?? get a hobby, freak”

changbin: actually expects you to open doors for him and pull out his chair and lay your jacket out over a puddle. if you don’t, he just stares at you and eyes the thing he wanted you to do for him. obviously you’d never put your jacket over a puddle when he could literally walk around it but he’ll scoff and dramatically roll his eyes and make some comment about “guess romance really is dead” or something dumb

hyunjin: maybe he used to actually sketch you really nicely at one point but now he’s comfortable with you and now the only times he draws you is a really rough and quick sketch that’s so poorly done and it’s always you making ugly faces and he just slides it over to you and goes “this is you rn" and it’s you looking very pissed off and with a unibrow and you’re shrimp-backing so hard

jisung: keeps making those powerpoint presentations for you about different topics but he only makes them between like 11pm-3am so the farther into it he gets, the weirder it gets and the less sense it makes. usually the topics don’t really make sense either, though. like the time he showed you ‘101 reasons why you should still love me as a worm :)’. but there was the time he presented you with ‘69 reasons why i love you’ and even though 25% of them were weird things like ‘your breath smells normal’ and ‘you haven’t committed a felony so i don’t have to have a long distance relationship with someone in prison’ you still thought it was pretty sweet

felix: if you think he won’t act like those cringey gamer couples, you’re so fucking wrong. whether he’s doing it ironically or seriously, he’s going to drag you into his shenanigans. your names on different games have to match. they’ve been shit like ‘their dps / his pocket’ and 'grilled cheese / tomato soup’ to unhinged things like ‘mike huchie / mike hunt’ and ‘blowing smoke / smoke’. he always thinks it’s so fucking funny but you want to die. your discord names are ‘their daddy / his kitten’ and whenever you change it, he changes it back

seungmin: he does literally anything and pretends it wasn’t him. plays with your hair while you’re cooking dinner, but when you turn to look at him, he looks around and starts whistling. he’ll knock your closed water bottle straight out of your hand for no reason and then shrug at you like it was the fucking wind. even when he kisses your cheek he’ll gasp and be like “who did that?”

jeongin: he’ll act cute or whatever when he wants something but god forbid you do it back. the amount of judging he’ll do will make you want to leave the house. “please don’t ever do that again, you’re embarrassing me” as if you didn’t just copy everything he’s ever done to you. he’s gone so far as to pretend he doesn’t know you out in public over this. only he can be cute to get his way. if you do it, it’s cringe