#cute yunho | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imissjoongsmullet · 1 year

Text

you belong to me

Pairing: Yunho x reader

Genre: idk man, soft angst, good amount of romance, and a dash of sexy

Summary: Your boyfriend takes you to a themepark with his friends but things take a turn when his jealousy takes over

Warnings: cuteness, possessive boyfriend Yunho, haunted houses?? honestly this is pretty chill, nothing too crazy babes, just read this if you like cute boyfriends that get a bit jealous ok

Word Count: 2K

Author’s Note: um yeah so first of all sorry for disappearing for so long, honestly I don’t know if i’m coming back just yet. This was just something that had to get out of my system so I wrote it (you know how it issssss), and i wanted to share with a friend so I figured I might as well post it. The writing was incredibly rushed and perhaps messy but it’s somethingggggg! I just hope someone out here enjoys it ^^

Also if you’ve left me a request that I haven’t gotten to yet, I send my apologies and one million good vibes your wayyyy

***

The sun shone bright, kissing the skin of your bare arms. You smiled up at your boyfriend, who was walking beside you — a tall teddy bear of a man by the name of Yunho. He gave a shy smile back and took your hand in his. You couldn’t help but blush a little. This was the first time he’d taken you out in a group setting and you weren’t sure how his friends would react to the two of you together.

It wasn’t long before you realized you had little to worry about. One carousel ride in, the ice was broken when the oldest of the group got so dizzy he ran into a trashcan. His friends were all really easygoing, it seemed, and they made you feel part of the team in no time. One of Yunho’s friends in particular took the time to make you feel comfortable — a dark-haired boy with a sweet twinkle in his eyes. He asked you how you’d met, where you were from, and made light-hearted jokes when the others were talking amongst themselves.

“Ever tried these?” he said, holding up a roll of candy.

You were all in line for the log ride; a 40 minute wait, and you had to admit you were starting to get hungry.

You let him drop a single gummy-like thing into your palm. “What are they?” you asked.

“They’re chewy,” he replied as he popped one into his mouth, “a bit sour at first but sweet on the inside.”

“She doesn’t like sour things,” someone said behind you.

Yunho’s hand slid slyly around your waist and he left a quick kiss near your temple.

“No, it’s okay,” you said, putting the candy in your mouth with a smile, “it looks delicious.” You didn’t want Yunho’s friends to think you were a difficult person or anything.

A long half hour later the entire group was facing the safety bar to board the ride. The gates opened with a creak and everyone moved toward the boat. Just as you meant to step in beside your new friend though, Yunho took hold of your wrist and bent down to your ear.

“You go sit in the front. I’ll be right behind you.”

He moved you over to the front of the ride, getting in after you, one leg of his on either side of you. Even though the front seat usually scares you, feeling his arms wrap around you tightly made you feel secure. You leaned back against his warm chest and let the scary things come.

This was the way it was with Yunho. Nothing could ever be frightening as long as he was with you because you knew he would always protect you. Just as you’d expected, he held you tight the entire ride, his large frame shielding you from wind and water alike, leaving you the only member of the group to not come out the log ride soaking wet.

He was being touchy, you could tell — more than usual, even. You weren’t entirely sure why but you definitely weren’t going to complain. You loved feeling his love this way. His gaze lingered on you as you chatted to his friends, his fingers coming up to run absent-minded tracks along your arm, asking for attention. You hoped he was proud of you for being social and mingling like this.

“Let’s go in the haunted house!” the dark-haired boy exclaimed, pointing excitedly to a large structure that looked like an abandoned castle.

“I don’t know about this,” you started, limbs stiffening. You meant to turn back to Yunho but before you could face him, the other boy grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you toward the entrance.

“Come on!” he said, smiling from ear to ear, “we can all go together!”

Once at the entrance, Yunho appeared before you, blocking you from the rest of the group.

“I know you don’t like haunted houses, baby,” he said, taking your hands in his, “but don’t worry, I’m right here. Nothing is going to happen. Just hold on to me,” he explained, before giving you a small peck on the forehead. Then he turned so he was in front of you and all you could see was his broad back.

Your heart pounded as you all started walking together. You didn’t want to disappoint your boyfriend, so you held onto his waist, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, and followed.

“Shit,” you heard an animated whisper next to you, “it’s so dark.”

A hand came to rest on your shoulder. You flinched for a second but realized it was only one of the friends trying not to get seperated from the group.

All of a sudden, thunderous clap rattled the room and everyone screamed. There was a flash of light and the next moment, sounds that could only be described as undead, roared from behind.

“Run!” the voice next to you yelled and you all scrambled forward. There was a mess of hands tugging and pulling at you as you ran and you suddenly had no idea where Yunho was. You could tell he was still around somewhere — you knew his scent and aura all too well — but soon you weren’t sure which limb belonged to who and you didn’t have the courage to care.

Another flash broke the dark for the blink of an eye, showing a zombie-like creature standing at the end of a hall you’d just entered.

More screaming and tugging and pure chaos erupted and all you could think was how you didn’t want to be left alone. You grabbed hold of the first person you could find and together you ran screaming until, at last, you came upon a large, dimly-lit chamber.

It took no less than a second for Yunho to appear. Without a word, he pressed himself between you and the dark-haired friend, forcing you apart rather harshly. A guilty hot flush ran to your cheeks but there was no time to ponder what had just happened because the next moment, a band of monsters ran into the room, sending panic through your body once again.

“Up!” Yunho ordered as you felt him tap your thigh. Without another thought, you jumped up onto his back, letting him carry you swiftly from the room and into another dark hallway. You buried your face into his neck, squeezing you eyes closed until finally, you felt a breeze of fresh air in your hair.

“Ahh, today was so nice!” the dark-haired friend grinned as he slid onto the bench next to you and Yunho, “I don’t want to go back home.”

The theme park had just closed and you were finishing off the day with comfort food at a nearby family restaurant. You hadn’t had a proper meal all day and were pretty much starving at this point so you ordered a large size pizza. Another good thing about being with Yunho was that he would most likely finish whatever food you couldn’t eat. Big boys need big meals, you always said.

Low and behold, you started feeling full about halfway through your meal.

“Can I have a piece?” the dark-haired friend asked, leaning close to you with a smile.

“Sure!” You nodded, allowing him to grab a piece from your plate. You were always glad to share.

“You can try some of my fries too if you want,” he mumbled through a mouthful of pizza, “the sauce is amazing.”

They did look good, you thought, so you agreed.

“Here.” He smiled and picked up some fries with his fork. Chuckling gleefully, he moved closer to feed you but before the fork could reach your lips, high-pitched shrieks rang out all around the table as one of the drink glasses had just fallen over, spilling soda everywhere.

“Sorry,” you heard Yunho say as you and the others leaned over the table to grab tissues, “my hand slipped.”

“Be careful, baby,” you said gently, noticing a whole bunch of it had spilled in your lap as well.

“Oh no,” the dark-haired boy laughed, “that’s gonna get sticky.” He started laying tissues in your lap, patting them down with his hands when—

“I think you should go clean up in the bathroom.” Yunho’s voice was strained and dead serious. Taken off guard, you stared at him. He stared right back, eyes harder than you’d seen them all day.

“Right,” you said, scrambling up, only to realize you were still sandwiched on the bench between Yunho and the dark-haired guy. “This way,” Yunho said, taking your wrist and pulling you toward himself, making you squeeze by him.

Your face was hot as you left the table. Yunho was angry, that much was clear. Feelings of guilt flooded you. All you ever wanted was to be good to him. On a deeper, more secretive level though, you couldn’t deny the look he’d just given you made your knees weak in quite a pleasurable way.

Pull yourself together, you thought as you entered the hallway to the bathrooms. You stopped for a second to catch your breath, wondering what exactly was going on. You thought everything had been going great; you were getting closer to his friends and you were really starting to—

Someone gave you a push. You gasped as a hand tugged your shoulder, turning you around and shoving you against the wall.

“Yunho,” you whispered breathlessly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” your boyfriend said in a low voice. His hands were on either side of your face and his large frame towered over you, trapping you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, staring up at him hopelessly. Yunho was not a scary guy. He was like a golden retriever; happy-go-lucky, playful and so so sweet; so the rare times something did piss him off, it made your heart thump a million miles an hour.

He shook his head, brows furrowed. “Baby girl, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” One of his hands left the wall to caress your cheek, gently, though his eyes were still intense as ever. “I had to watch my princess, all day, getting ju—-st a little too close to my friend.” His fingers moved down your chin, trailing you neck so lightly and so slowly you had to hold your breath. They traveled down to your chest, where one finger poked you. “Do you know how that makes me feel?”

Realization hit you like the strike of lightning. In all your anxiousness trying to get his friends to like you, you hadn’t stopped to consider your boundaries as much as you probably should have.

“Yunho, I—”

“Do you know how hard it is for me to watch you be touched by anyone else?” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear—”

“You were going to let him feed you.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Do you know who you belong to?”

You stared at him with desperation in your eyes. “I’m yours, baby, I promise.”

“Say that again,” he said darkly, hand coming to hold your chin.

“I’m yours, Yunho. Yours only—” you let out a gasp as his other hand ran down your side to your thighs momentarily, then back up, landing at your waist and squeezing softly.

“That’s good,” he said and you could tell the fire in his eyes was dying down. He pulled you close by the small of your back and let out a breath against your ear.

“Yunho,” you whispered, barely audible. He felt so overwhelmingly good against you.

Fingers caressed your back as he trailed little kisses down the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“You like that don’t you?” he murmured and all you could do was hum in response.

“You want more of that, don’t you?” he went on.

“Yes, please.” Your answer was automatic.

“Well,” he went on exploring your body, “if you want more of this, you’re going to have to be a very good girl for me.” He turned his head to face you, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. “Can you do that for me princess?”

You nodded and finally, he smiled again, love flooding his features once more. He gave you one soft, slow, lingering kiss that made your legs feel like they might give out, before pulling away and grabbing you by the hand.

“Let’s finish dinner quickly so we can get home soon.”

You knew what that meant, and suddenly, you couldn’t wait to leave.

#yunho #ateez #yunho drabble #yunho imagines #yunho imagine #yunho angst #yunho fluff #cute yunho #ateez imagines #yunho x reader #yunho x you

434 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 5 months

Text

sudden + (a)cute | jyh

jeong yunho’s got a serious case of downbaditis — oh, and also a cold.

pairing: jeong yunho x reader au: hurt/comfort, sick fic, friends to something type: drabble (f) word count: 2k rating: pg13 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: gn!reader; illness (obviously); ft. clueless roommate!mingi a/n: my inaugural ateez fic! inspired by my own sick day today + my own personal love sickness re: jeong yunho, lmao. a/n 2: reposting for the fourth time because it's not in the fucking tags, lmao. 📍permanent taglist(s). @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @bahng-chrizz

You realize too late that days off and the “do not disturb” feature should go hand-in-hand.

Because you didn’t think to silence your notifications, some form of unsolicited contact slips through the cracks. Just like that, your Netflix binge is unceremoniously halted; hopes are dashed; and your phone vibrates so many fucking times in quick succession that it starts scooting its way across your coffee table, hellbent.

With a grunt of abject displeasure, you tear your half-glazed eyes off the television screen ahead. They flick down to the source of the sound to identify the caller before you commit to sitting upright off the couch. It’s a lost cause, not unlike your eagerly-awaited plans to do nothing. The nuisance lays face-down against the tabletop, buzzing relentlessly as it runs out of real estate.

Tragically, you don’t have a choice.

Before your phone can drive itself over the edge Thelma-and-Louise style, your hand darts out to catch it. You glower as your fingers curl around it, sharp tongue ready to lash out at the co-worker you told no fewer than 809 times that you were giving yourself a long weekend.

“For fuck’s sake, Yeosang,” you mutter to yourself.

Pulling the phone up to your face for closer inspection, you realize with a scoff that it’s not an incoming call at all.

It’s — one, two, three, four, five six, seven — eight rapid-fire texts and counting, all of which were sent within seconds of one another; and none of which came from the lovable doofus in the office next to yours.

You Know? [10:03 AM]: Tell… You Know? [10:03 AM]: My…. You Know? [10:03 AM]: Story….. ! You Know? [10:03 AM]: 🤧 You Know? [10:04 AM]: 😷 You Know? [10:04 AM]: 🏨 You Know? [10:04 AM]: ☠️ You Know? [10:04 AM]: 🪦

Oh.

Immediately, your tight-lipped scowl cracks wide open.

Different doofus.

In the time it takes for you to convince your phone’s facial identification that you are, in fact, a human being, the bombardment continues.

You Know? [10:05 AM]: 👼🏻

This one pulls an unexpected chuckle out of you that’s still ringing out when you tap on his contact card and start dialing.

With your hands full and your wrists weighed down with plastic pharmacy bags, it takes three tries to barge into your best friend’s apartment like you own the place. Having underestimated your own clumsy strength, you watch in mild-to-moderate horror as the door flies open, cringing as you await the sound of the knob smashing into the hallway wall.

You get a yelp instead, followed shortly by a huffy, “Aish!”

The newest addition to the apartment steps into view with a pink mark in the center of his forehead. His eyes are as wide as they can get, both blinking slowly. As he rubs gingerly at the blooming bump, you wonder if the look on his face is any more dazed than usual. It must be, you conclude. He wasn’t expecting you any more than you were expecting him.

“Sorry!” You squeak, shuffling the tupperware in your grip from one hand to another. Your warmed palm reaches out to pat his forearm apologetically. “Are you okay?”

Mingi shrugs, already over the heart attack you’ve given him. Now, it’s intrigue that lights up his face. His eyes scan over the goods you’re toting. Soon enough, they stick on the samgyetang that’s scorching through its plastic confines to your fingertips.

As it turns out, Yunho’s new roommate is just as blatant as the previous one.

Where the hell does he find these people?

“You brought me soup?” He beams, teeth and tone both as bright as the fucking sun.

Your mouth opens to respond, but all that comes out is some useless sound that vaguely resembles a groan. You bite your lips together, searching for some way to let him down gently. In the end, you come up with exactly nothing.

“I —”

Withdrawing your hand from his arm, you gesture over your shoulder in the direction of Yunho’s bedroom. “It’s for, um… He’s —”

Mingi looks to where you’re pointing. His eyebrows raise, signaling his arrival at confused. “Yunho’s home?”

Jesus Christ.

“You didn’t… notice?” Your tone matches his. So does the altitude of your eyebrows, you assume.

For far too many seconds, the pair of you eye each other in stupefied silence. The person who would normally interject to save you from this hell doesn’t arrive to do so, leaving you without an escape route.

This is what happens when you find all your roommates on the internet.

“So, I should — Um.” You wave once again towards your friend’s door. “Yeah.”

You bow — you’re not sure why — and shuffle a step backwards, turning slowly on your heel the second you’ve created enough distance.

Propelled by your own awkwardness, you rocket away from your friend’s roommate and fling open your second door in as many minutes. You shut it behind you with your eyes closed tight. For good measure, you keep your back pressed to the wood, as if your own embarrassment is something you could ever lock out.

“Took you long enough,” comes the rattle of Pestilence itself.

Without unclenching any part of your body, you mutter, “I had my second run-in with your Craigslist roommate, and it went exactly as well as the first. You need a better screening process — seriously.”

A loud laugh is quickly replaced by a cough that you feel in your own chest. Frowning, you open your eyes to take in the lump in front of you; and within seconds, you have to fight off your own laughter.

Sprawled out over an unmade bed, Yunho sports an outfit you couldn’t defend if your life depended on it. Dark brown waves peek out from underneath a beanie, leaving only his eyes to crinkle up at you above a black surgical mask. Even without his mouth visible, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that he’s grinning at you.

Well, damn.

You could stand there all day, basking in the way he looks at you, but you don’t let yourself revel in it. Cheeks already burning, you can’t risk getting caught swooning.

You’ve embarrassed yourself enough, haven’t you?

To avoid detection, you shake your head to clear it and beg yourself to focus on the absurdity before you. In doing so, you note immediately that Yunho didn’t bother with a shirt; however, he did opt for gym shorts. They clash wildly with the pair of fuzzy, striped socks on his feet. That discovery flusters you to no end because they’re yours.

“You’re dressed for, like, three conflicting seasons,” you muse, gesturing from head to toe with your free hand. The plastic bags you’ve been wearing like bracelets rustle with the movement. “Couldn’t decide on a climate?”

“Hey!” His whine is muffled by his mask, though his congestion certainly doesn’t help. “One-third of me is freezing.”

Before you can nudge his right leg out of the way, Yunho moves it for you, freeing up the corner of his mattress for you to sit down. In fact, he takes all his limbs with him; summons all his strength to sit upright in front of you. You quickly avert your eyes from his flushed chest and focus on your stupid little soup, as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

When Yunho clocks what you’re holding, he damn near gasps. His eagerness barrels through his hoarseness, making your heart flutter. “Is that your mom’s samgyetang?”

“It’s her recipe,” you correct him. “She’s visiting friends in Sydney, remember?”

For someone with a skull full of snot, Yunho’s quicker on the uptake than you would’ve thought to give him credit for. His eyes crinkle even further into a smile as they flit between your hands and your face — and shit, do they sparkle.

Before he can confirm that you not only brought him soup but hand-made it, you wrestle your arm free from the non-recyclable trap cutting off your circulation.

“I — uh, didn’t know which of the five thousand types of decongestants to bring you.”

You shove no less than four of them towards him, smiling sheepishly.

“Choose your fighter.”

It’s something you thought for sure he’d laugh at, that stupid little joke, but Yunho is uncharacteristically quiet. He just stares down at the over-the-counter medications in his hands, wearing a look you’ve never seen before. One that suggests you’ve given him your beating heart instead of Guadenesin, wrapped it in a bow instead of a kilometer-long pharmacy receipt.

It’s not a look you know what to do with, so you shut up and do your best to ride out your galloping pulse.

Without looking up from your offering, Yunho eventually says, “I didn’t even tell Craigslist Roommate that I was sick. He would’ve grabbed Albothyl or something equally useless and called it a day.”

“That tracks.” You nod. A small smile works its way over your lips. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have trusted him with your sinuses, either.”

Another pause settles in the space between you. It’s not uncomfortable, sitting quietly with your person, but you can’t help wondering after that wrinkle between his brows.

“I didn’t even think to ask him,” he admits, like he’s forgotten that he’s your first call, too.

Some sort of realization must hit him like a lightning strike because Yunho suddenly looks up from his hands. That’s all it takes to stir up the butterflies in your stomach. Unfortunately, it takes far more effort from you to ignore them.

“You made me soup,” he sighs, sounding disappointed.

Or frustrated.

Both — or maybe neither?

Whatever it is, it makes your palms sweat more than you ever plan to admit, so you simply nod again.

“I made you soup,” comes your unhelpful echo.

Silence.

Staring.

You offer a reminder that neither of you needs, “You’re sick.”

More silence and staring.

Then, a conclusion that nobody asked for: “You’re sick, and you should therefore have soup.”

Yunho drops his face into his hands, groaning loudly. The various layers of interference make him twice as difficult to understand, but you don’t miss a single, spilling word.

“I’m sick, and you made me soup; and I can’t kiss you about it because then you’ll be sick; and I don’t even know how to make you soup.”

Stunned to silence, you just sit there — blinking dumbly, all the while— like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

That’s not true.

You know what you want to do, and now you know you’re not alone in that. Most importantly, you know that acting on any of it will cost you several days of sneezing your brains out.

The groan you let out is twice as loud as Yunho’s was and three times’ as frustrated. It erupts out of you, and when you’ve expelled it fully, you crumple into a heap at the foot of his bed, thoroughly defeated. You curse him through the hands that now cover your face, “You rat bastard.”

Yunho snorts. “Excuse me?”

“What even is this timing?” You tear one hand away from your face and land a light smack on his knee. “You really waited to tell me any of this until you were contagious? Be fucking for real.”

His laugh shakes his shoulders, leaves him in the form of squeaks.

“The nerve of you, Jeong Yunho.”

The mattress dips when he drops himself into the space in front of you. Propped up on his elbow, he looks at you with one eyebrow raised.

“You bought out a pharmacy and made me soup,” he counters. “You brought this on yourself.”

You roll your eyes, although it does nothing to distract from the way you’re giggling.

“Did you not wanna get kissed?” Yunho challenges, “Because that’s how you get kissed.”

With a grin, his knuckles nudge yours, returning your earlier knock far more affectionately than you sent it. “Babo.”

“You’re the babo,” you sniff.

Despite your childish rebuttal, you take the opportunity to slip your hand fully into his. It’s not the first time, by any means, but the difference is clear; and when you squeeze gently, you feel it come right back.

With your laughter faded out, you sigh, “Yunho?”

He hums in acknowledgement, likely too exhausted by your ill-timed antics to power up a proper response.

“Can you please eat your stupid soup and get better already?”