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chokchokk · 9 months

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𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 | song mingi x fem!reader

an ao3 requested husband!mingi one-shot

"Are you trying to challenge me?"

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : You come home stressed, feeling like the world wants only the worst from you. Good thing that your husband wants the best, right? Right...

"Baby, I would never do such a thing."

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : fluff, smut

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 7.3k

𝚌𝚘��𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : established relationship, girlboss office worker!reader, stay at home husband!mingi, praise kink, hand kink, size kink, service top!mingi, use of the pet-name “baby”, starts rougher but then gets really soft and gentle, cunnilingus, fingering, over-stimulation, passionate sex; reader and mingi are in their late 20s/early 30s, reader is a bit bratty but mingi is a brat as well, it pains writer mingi is not a sub in this FUCK, he puts reader in place just a tiny bit, but the dynamics are pretty even, reader and mingi love each other deeply

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 : i wanted to make mingi wear a tanktop but when i digged for it THERE WAS NOTHING???? we never got tanktop!mingi selcas???? how do yall not die of hunger, no, THIRST?

anyhow. this was an ao3 request!!! i had lots of loving fun with it and i hope you do as well babes and bbies xoxo

masterlist link | join my taglist

Did you know married employees are respected more?

Well, that’s what statistics say, but you certainly have never had this observation be proven true. It’s been almost a year since the first time you’ve worn your ring at your work-place, but you still get weird looks for having settled down “too early in the relationship” at such a “young age”, as if they knew anything about your private life— so no, you don’t. You wouldn’t know anything about being respected more as a married employee, even if you’re a few working hours away from being promoted to General Manager.

You throw your keys into their respective tray and hold your nose-bridge, when you enter your house with the sound of your shoes immediately falling to the floor after you shake them off in frustration. Yes, you may have earned your money, but at what cost? To hear old people pick you out because “such a fragile thing can’t possibly handle life”, despite being their lead director, have their hairy fingers pointed towards you since “someone like Y/N needs extra checking” despite you never having missed a dead-line, and to be eyed by them while you’re just trying to get your papers— oh, fucking hell; that is, by definition, not respect, that is horror, and one more reason to finally just quit your job and—

“Baby, you’re home!”

You take deep breath.

“Here I am.”

“Allow me,” your husband hums, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his torso close to your back; he’s rubbing himself against you with the excuse that he’s helping you get that fucking bag from your hands, and you let out an exhale once the weight is removed from your grip and lands on the floor. He is masterfully not referring to the fact that you came a full hour later than the initial time you have texted him you would arrive, and rather focusing on the how your shoulders feel more tense than usual, massaging his strong thumbs into them.

“Thank you,” you sigh and lean the back of your head against his breast, for he’s towering over you like a guardian pressing gentle kisses onto your hair, making him one comfortable, cushioned wall. You feel a bit guilty for not having asked how his day went, but for all you know, he’s having a blast arranging his new studio that he wants to use in the future to produce with other music artists, but most importantly, help you earn money.

Your stay-at-home husband, Song Mingi. The man who makes it— the time, the work, the stress— all worth it.

“How do you feel, baby?”, he murmurs, kissing your temple while he’s at it. He brushed his teeth not too long ago, you can smell the remains of mint toothpaste at his lip. Is he being obvious? Yes, maybe. You're not complaining though. “Rough day?”

“Yeah,” you exhale and let yourself be touched by your husband, though it doesn’t make you as calm as it should in your heart. You’re not craving for any soft vicinity here, you want to smash something to the ground and stomp on it; you’ve spend the whole day surrounded by the loudest, noisy, dim-witted idiots who are certainly preying on your downfall if they don’t fucking—

“Tell me all about it, baby,” Mingi murmurs, his vocal chords vibrating against the back of your head, as he rests his chin on top of it. “I’m listening.”

Sometimes you ask yourself whether you would still be receiving the same comments, if your co-workers knew who Mingi was. Not because he’s some famous man to be afraid of, but because he is taller than all of them, has got a louder voice and could knock those douchebags out with his muscly arms— okay, maybe they should be afraid. Very afraid.

“No, it’s okay,” you breathe and turn around to get your arms around your husband’s waist and press your face into his collarbones that you didn’t realize were revealed. "Button up,” you murmur, almost annoyed that you can inhale Mingi’s comforting scent through the cleavage as well as you can. You wanted to stay angry for just a little bit longer, but your husband makes it nearly impossible. Not to say it doesn’t make feel you any less hot though.

“What do you mean?", Mingi pouts, "Is it not good? I showered! Just for you, baby.”

You chuckle and your lips graze his freshly-washed, freshly-lotioned baby-smooth skin. “No… It’s too good…”

Mingi gets his hands into your hair and rubs his finger tips across your scalp.

“What were you stressed about, baby?”, Mingi continues to ask you, applying a bit of pressure to his touch, his hand feeling like it’s ripping off the upper layer of your head in the best way possible.

“My co-workers hate me,” you murmur, teeth gritted. Your breast begins to slightly enflame at the thought of your co-workers’ faces, but your husband doesn’t seem to mind your tone as much, allowing your mind to roam freely.

“Hate you?”

“They, like, hate my existence.”

“What would they hate you for, baby?”, he asks, working his long fingers down to the lower side of your head, reaching for your neck to scratch it. His hand is well big enough to do all of it at the same time.

Preparing to answer his question, you inhale and exhale deeply, smelling the clothing and leaving it warm.

“They hate that… I’m already settled down at my age.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And that I am as confident about it and— and as hard-working as I am…”

Mingi chuckles and strokes your hair one time to get your hair in its right place after having mushed it. His touch expands warmly on your scalp and it spreads like a soothing wave of comfort.

“They hate that,” you inhale, and then —with revelation— exhale, “I’m such a strong, successful woman.”

“There you go. My strong,” Mingi murmurs, and he’s letting his hands glide down your back, “successful,” further down your ass, “wife.” Squeeze.

“Oh,” you chuckle, fully aware that nothing is on your husband’s mind rather than to persuade you to get into bed with him. Cleaning his teeth, showering, putting on fresh clothes— Did he even shave his beard by himself? Wow.

After almost a year of marriage, some clues become very self-explanatory.

His amazing hands work their amazing ways on your ass, and as it goes for Mingi, he always prides himself that he can make you melt under his touch, especially when you come home from work late on days like these.

“You should just let your anger out on them next time,” Mingi smiles, cupping your ass with the big surface of his hand and you can feel how he’s trying to figure out whether he can raise you up like this— spoiler: he can— and continues to encourage you. “Or on me.”

Were you implying your co-workers should be scared of Mingi? Yes, but also no. For someone your size, despite seemingly being ever-so tiny in your husband’s embrace, to make it so big in such a short time is astounding; ground-breaking, even. You may or may not know, but Mingi finds you are one cold-blooded woman whose blood only boils when she’s being provoked, and if there is one thing your husband wants you to prove to your co-workers, it’s that you won’t think twice once you’ve got the title of being their supervisor.

Too harsh? Maybe. But that’s something you can consider when they’re begging you to accept their apologies, no?

“Don’t edge me on, or I might actually turn into the Hulk or something,” you laugh hoarsely and raise your head up to him. Mingi looks down immediately and grins, continuously groping his hands into your butt.

“You can’t scare me,” he lulls and kisses your forehead, “because you’ll always be my little baby, Y/N.”

“Ohh, shut it,” you sneer and can’t deny that Mingi is the only one who can make you feel this small, “I wouldn’t be too sure I can’t scare you.”

“Do try, please,” Mingi insists with a cheeky smirk and gung-ho, you’re raised from the floor, being carried to the bedroom. Was that a challenge you heard?

“Be rough all you want tonight, alright? I don’t think your stress is gonna get away our traditional way today.”

“Really? ‘Traditional’?”, you huff and raise an eyebrow, Mingi kissing your cheek, as he opens the door to your bedroom.

“It’s almost our anniversary, let’s try something new, baby. I'll do anything you want. Don't care about me. I'll just be... you know. I don't know.”

“What? Is my husband getting bored of being in charge?”, you gasp theatrically, easing your hands into his shoulders, “Does hubby want me to order him around?”

“Let’s get rid of the terminology,” Mingi mutters, a bit sheepish, not wanting to admit that he read the term ‘service top’ somewhere in the deepest corners of the internet earlier this evening and had to ask you when you came home. You coming home an hour later just made him travel further the needy path, imagining how good he could make love to you, when his "own pleasure isn't the focus" (that's a quote from the website.)

“I just want my wonderful wife,” Mingi sighs, as he lets himself fall on the mattress backwards, with you landing on his hard-on, knees propped next to his hips, “And relieve you from all your stress.”

You’re still in your office attire, got your tie on tight around your neck, everything that screams ‘not ready for bed’, but Mingi doesn’t seem to care for your sheets to become dirty. In fact, he apparently wants you to be the dirtiest you’ve ever been, huh?

His long, slender fingers hold you by your jaw, as your husband roughly presses his lips into yours, immediately opening up his mouth to get a second taste with his tongue. While he tastes like mint toothpaste, you taste like bittersweet coffee, diligence and dedication; you are dancing heavenly on Mingi’s tastebuds, and his tongue laps over yours eagerly to not let any drop of your essence go to waste. He’s making you feel wanted, no, he wants you, and as Mingi takes your blazer off, your own desire to have him grows bigger with each passing second.

Your legs feel a bit tight due to the fabrics of your suit, but it doesn’t prevent you from grinding yourself into him, pants interrupting your greedy kiss. “Let’s get this off,” Mingi murmurs into your lips, hooking his finger into your tie, loosening it up, pulling it until he can wriggle your head through.

“Let’s get all of this off,” you reciprocate and his hands are on your waist, as Mingi watches you flawlessly open up the buttons of your blouse, tongue running over his lower lip. “Your co-workers don’t know you,” he chuckles, admiring you sitting on top of him with a look in your eyes that he could feast on for days, “But they should know that you are, fuck, breath-taking.”

You move your hips over his crotch, enjoying hearing your husband gutter out his thoughts.

“You are eye-candy in that, baby,” Mingi heaves, “I’m getting kinda jealous of your co-workers here.”

Cheeky, you let the blouse droop over your shoulders, revealing your lacy bra. Saying that you’re eye-candy doesn’t put it into words, Mingi thinks, and gulps at the sight of you stroking over your own torso and your breast that is just being so perfectly pushed by your lingerie, and— though it barely needs any convincing for him to swathe his tongue around your pretty nipples and get even more prettier sounds out of you— your slight gesture gets your husband’s head fuming with the things he wants to do to you to make you crumble and eat it all up deliciously, not leave anything behind.

“I bet they don’t get to see this though,” he grins and with a quick, studied flick of his fingers, the tightness around your torso is released and your tits are out for Mingi stare into. “Only I get to see this, don’t I?"

You nod and sigh, when he traces the red indents from your underwear with his thumbs and wets his lips; but before you think he's being too gentle, Mingi doesn't let you speak out the words 'yes, only you do' and interrupts you with his mouth, his hands holding you by your waist.

"Mingi," you pant. He has pushed you over on your back to the mattress without warning, caging you in with his frame. "Sorry, baby," he grins, pulls off his tank-top, throws it on the floor, quickly— he's got things to do here!— and then zips open your pants, kissing you from your cheek down to your collarbones, covering your body with his fresh breath. "Works better this way."

Mingi hooks his fingers into your trousers and pulls it off until your panties are revealed to him, but before he's able to wriggle it down to your calves and finally have it off your body, he's having a moment to look at his wife laying in front of him; your glowing eyes are glancing up, waiting, no, teasing, urging him on to do what Mingi has been planning to do since the first time he asked you when you would arrive back home.

"Please don't mention 'work'," you hiss, pushing your tongue against the inner space of your mouth.

He knows. He has never been there at your work-place, and he never asks you more about it than he should, because Mingi does think that his distraction works way better than to rant for hours, and he sees it, feels it— your anger, your frustration, your stress— but does he... well, how should he say this... care for it?

No.

"Why not?", is what Mingi whispers into your skin to make you roll your eyes and border him in with your thighs, the pants that aren't off yet keeping him between your legs. Fuck, you're so hot when you're stressed.

Okay, wait, wait, wait— hear him out.

First, please forgive him. You really have to. Mingi would never say this out loud, not under any circumstance that doesn't include you directly asking for it, but shit, look at yourself right now. Enveloped by your open blouse, your perfect breasts hanging out of it like a window luring him to peek like the shameful man he is, your facial expression judging him for his fawning— you are a goddess in his eyes, Y/N. And gods get angry. And then, when they're angry, they're the most powerful they ever are.

So there you go; Mingi, even though he's a husband that has never, ever throughout your marriage or your relationship, made you angrier for more than 24 hours, kinda enjoys it when you come home stressed, gritting your teeth, panting, groaning— talking to him with umph. The stress makes you riled up, makes you breathe fire, shoot flames out of your eyes that seduce him to be even more ignited, just for you.

"Are you trying to challenge me?", you huff and Mingi makes himself comfortable, placing his elbows around the sides of your body, anchoring himself on your lower abdomen with his forearm.

"Baby," he grins, kissing the inner sides of your thighs, "I would never do such a thing."

Except he is. When you get— and your husband thinks he's a genius to think of this— 'worked up', you become demanding, slightly sassy, playful, and there is nothing Mingi loves more than his wife to tell him exactly what she wants, because he knows he can be a bit dense sometimes. He tries his best, always, to do things according to your liking, but usually, you just let him do his thing since sometimes you need nothing more than his presence.

"I would never tease you like that, my," he pesters, "baby." With his lips stuck at the last inch before he's able to get it near your clothed cunt, you scoff, pressing your thighs together to squeeze his face.

"You better fucking not tease me tonight," you warn him and Mingi bites his lip, feeling his already-very-hard cock twitch inside his joggers at the cause of your tone.

"I love you too much," your husband answers and moves his head around, his pointy nose grazing against your covered clit. Like an automatic reaction, you gulp and throw your face to the side, your hand intertwining with Mingi's long fingers that are resting at the seam of your panties.

"Oh, please," you taunt, “dare to give me your worst performance,” and you think you're safe, since his hands are occupied with yours, but when you are in bed with him, and proceed to tease Mingi like this, then you are never safe with your husband.

(Except the part that you are safe, and safe with the thought Mingi is indeed going to relieve you.) Pressing his tongue against the fabric, Mingi curves it into the band, pushing it with ease, without any type of struggle to— and you should've seen this coming— plunge his tongue into your folds. "Fuck, Mingi," you breathe and he's chuckling against your wet cunt, as he laps his wet muscle over your slickness to gather what has been collecting in your underwear, slow and sensually, though his heavy breathing tells you that he's going to feast on it in no time.

He ‘loves you’, you know that, but ‘too much'? — Can there ever be too much?

"Ohh, fuck, that's good, right fucking there," you groan, gripping into Mingi's hand. With your feedback, Mingi continues to purl over your clit, sucking the fluid so it can spread on his tongue and melt in his mouth.

No. There could never be too much.

You taste so delicious, and it goes without saying that Mingi finds it fascinating that you look even better from this angle; he can see every lash of yours flutter with the slow flicking of his tongue, adding speed as he goes. “Yes,” you whimper, “‘feels so good.”

His heart and mouth are cooperating wonderfully, as his lips are spelling words of awe into your labia; He’s pronouncing how good it feels so good to be your husband, how good it feels to do good— and oh, it is so good to be yours, Y/N. You can’t even believe. The sounds you let out tingle all of his senses and he’s definitely going to have to hurry with his studio, if he wants to eternalise them.

Mingi holds the eye-contact to not miss any of your expressions, laving at your cunt with bizarre flexibility that makes you twist here and there, but his forearm is pressing you down to keep you on your back. "Squirmy," he grins, babying you while you are unable to open move your legs, since your own set of trousers is keeping them closed together, "am I doing you that well?”

Panting because of how constrained you are despite wanting to move around so much, you throw your head down on the soft mattress. "Uh-huh," you exhale, feeling his tongue circle around your clit and tease itself into your entrance, "so well."

Mingi's head is spinning. He wants to make you cum so fast, but he also wants you to beg for your orgasm until your voice is hoarse from the moaning, just so he can see your ribcage move up and down the bed one more time, no, please so many times, and maybe he could get his fingers in so he can— fuck, didn't he plan this out?

He makes it look easy, but in your husband’s mind, he's puzzling and figuring out the ways to pleasure you the best way he can. Mingi heaves and laughs, noticing how he's been cutting himself short of breath, too excited to be pleasuring you. "You’re so beautiful, baby," he says, voice having become raspy and an octave lower than usual; it appears to you that he's drunk on your taste, "you're making me insane with that view."

You inhale through your mouth with your lip-corners pointing upwards, a bit shy with your husband's praise, but you have no other way around than to listen to Mingi's dreamy words. "Unnh-huh," you react, but once your husband is laving at your cunt again, talking amidst of it, you are becoming a mindlessly noisy mess.

"My pretty baby," Mingi murmurs, and as he does so, his mouth is flocking in your slick, tickling your clit repeatedly, "my prettiest, loveliest baby, so whiny for me, fuck."

"More, Mingi," you grunt, feeling like the blouse is keeping you tight, so you push yourself up and get it off your arms— Mingi uses his chance to pull your panties over your knees— and after that, the male digs deeper into your crevice, thighs pressing him in which makes him gasp for dear air, "please."

Your pleads are meaningful to him, make his heart jump, make his head click like he's a dog being asked to obey, and okay, Mingi doesn't think he wants to be a pet, let alone an animal, but— you know what? Your pleads not only show what a considerate wife you are, it also makes Mingi know how much you want him, and that’s the best feeling in the entire world, and he would do everything to chase your pleasure and praise.

“Oh, I got all night, baby,” your husband chuckles, he’s grinding himself against the bed, huffing and panting, tongue delving deep into you on your command.

He drags the intertwined hands of yours down the tiny bit it needs for his thumb to meet your clit, and as Mingi rubs extensively over it, your knuckles go white from how strongly you grip into his fingers.

Oh god, this is exactly what you wanted. His tongue, his lips, his hands, oh, his hands— his fingers; those ridiculously long fingers that cover your whole pelvic bone when extended— slender and rapid, frantically incautious over your cunt, so eager to push you over the edge, pull you back up and throw you over again and again; you love how they look against your body, on your head, on your neck, on your cunt, everywhere they travel during your desirous journeys.

"Aren't I so scarily good?", Mingi huffs, nervy and immodest, talking to get himself to breathe, clearly confident that you are feeling the best you've felt the whole day given the way your muscle was contracting around his tongue, when it was still in you; unfortunately you're unable to answer him with words, just letting out another gutsy "unnnh" as feedback.

"I know, oh, I know," he grins, his thumb rubbing over your clit like he's racing with your stuttered breath, but ultimately, he’s making you feel quite empty with the lack of his mouth at your cunt, and he’s making you feel that way on purpose, "I'm the best, I can do you the best—"

"Mingi! Your Tongue! Please."

After his pant, his mischievous little chuckle, you understand it, understand it all clearly: your naughty Mingi loves to be ordered around by his wife. Loves being ordered around knowing that, once his tongue is inside you, you'll do absolutely nothing to hold him back, and it does make you want to fuck him even more, doesn’t it? You love your husband, you feel so young with him, so undisturbedly yourself— and how loved you feel, too.

Humming a fond "I got you, baby", Mingi shuffles himself together one last time, your thighs sitting perfectly on his shoulders, and there he goes, driving his tongue into you, even more ecstatic than before; now, that you even begged him to, it's like your husband has taken enough of a back to duplicate the amount of vigor, exponentially getting faster and more impassioned. "Oh, fuck," you breathe out and with Mingi's tongue rubbing your inner walls wild and avidly, his thumb sprinting across your sensitive clit, you are heading straight to your first orgasm.

"Just like that," you whine, knowing very well that it gets your husband riled up well across his usual efforts, and you continue with it just to chase your high, "just like that, baby, just like—"

Hey now, did you just call him 'baby'? And how sneakily you did it, too! You know how crazy it gets him, you tease. Your husband’s tongue raves against your sweet spots and your slick gets combined with his saliva, his thumb using the moisture as lube to not miss any of the chances to make you squirm and spasm on his touches, but Mingi’s cock, his poor cock, twitches in the short moment his sweet, desirous pet-name is exhaled out of your pretty mouth he’s definitely going to need to kiss a thousand times until he can only taste the word “baby” on his lips.

His own pelvis is grinded deep into the mattress, and pearls of sweat form on both your foreheads, your eyes rolling to where you can’t see Mingi concentrating on your face, when it cums with a movement of your pelvis bucking up.

“… That!”, you moan, and Mingi pants, shovelling your come into his mouth, slurping it up so long until you physically have to wring with him to get his tongue off your pussy, but the trousers at your calves make it impossible. It’s Mingi’s choice here. And he’s not letting go.

“Ba—,” you squirm, rocking your body from side to side, “—by, please! Fuck!”

“Call me ‘baby’ one more time, just for me,” he lisps, laving his tongue against your throbbing, pulsating clit, all the while you try yank your ass down, overwhelmed by your prolonged pleasure.

“Baby! Baby, baby, baby—“, you whimper, and Mingi kisses your inner thigh, when he finally stops, satisfied by your calling. With one last peck on your clit, he lets go off your hands and slips out your chokehold, pulling off your pants by hooking his fingers in and sliding them off your feet. “Aww, look at you,” he beams, grinning, going through his hair and stroking his swollen lip, “all blushed away, reminds me of the older days, baby.”

“You are the worst,” you sob, and lay lax on the bed, legs once in for all extending and relaxing. Strangely enough, your head feels light, and your body that was straining and trying to get Mingi off of it, is now feeling warm and calming down from the high.

“Aw, you think so?” Mingi smiles, kissing up your leg, your hip-bone, pressing his lips on your abdomen, your tummy, your ribs, marking all of your body with his love-soaked mouth. "I adore you so much."

Having wrung with your husband, you got rid of some of the fighting needs, but— as you’re being smothered by him and his sweet antics— you sigh into the gentle, feathery contact with your skin, and play molten with his soft hair.

You remind yourself of his words, ‘don’t care about me’, but your husband would be a fool to assume that his wife doesn’t want to give him anything back. “Mingi,” you murmur— noticing that you’ve been closing your eyes due to the relaxation you are experiencing, and he immediately answers an attentive “yes, baby?” back, as he repeatedly kisses your jaw.

“Do you really want me to order you around?”, you hum.

“Haha, no, baby,” he chuckles, “it's just…”

Mingi harrumphes in his thoughts, wrapping his arms around your waist, laying his head on top of your tummy and looking up to you— whispering, "I want to do what's best for you. Especially on days like these."

Your heart throbs at the sight of your husband's hair being dishevelled, his already plump lips seemingly looking more peachy, rosy, kissable after he's eaten you out with more than greed and thirst; something that’s more valuable to a healthy marriage than the phrase ‘good sex, no ex’— Love. And the sweetest love there could ever be.

"You would do that for me, baby?", you ask him, your voice coming out sighed.

"Yes, of course," he insists, kissing you down your sternum, your ribcage moving up and down in a slow rhythm. “Baby, you work so much for us… I feel like this is something I can do for you in return, you know?”

“But what if I don’t make you cum?”

"Huh?"

Mingi stops kissing you and glances upwards. You grin. You wanted to catch him off-guard a little bit. (Though you don't know whether that's surprise in the white of his eyes or something like... intrigue.)

“… Uh,” he gutters, thinking about his words very carefully, but ultimately failing to find something good to say.

You smirk and go through his hair, gently grabbing a handful of it. “I think you’d find it hot."

"Really?", he asks, nervously huffing.

"Mingi, didn’t I edge you all during our early twenties?”

“Baby, don’t—“

“What? Well, I thought it was hot. I remember it being really hot.”

“Those were trying times.”

“We did try a lot of things during college.”

Reminiscing and visiting your rather youthful, spry days, Mingi pushes his head deeper into your hand and smiles, having calmed down from the rather exciting idea that you would suggest something so risqué to him. How long has it been? More than ten years, wow.

"Look at us now, baby," Mingi murmurs, sub-consciously wandering up the silhouette of your body with the backside of his hands, making you rather ticklish, but in a way that goosebumps find themselves on your skin, your breath feeling lighter with each stroke of his finger-tips, "Look at you." He inhales, and then exhales, your thumb resting at his ear, "You are trying to kill me, baby..."

"Ohh, Mingi, I'm not!", you giggle, and you may not know what your husband is talking about, but through his lenses— though you would be right to assume that these lenses are painted a deep, deep red— he's seeing his wife be tempered, moderate, relaxed. If he finds you so hot when you're fuming, Mingi finds you enthralling, when your eyes are barely open, the slightest of smile decorating your lips, and an even more hidden pink daubed on your cheeks... You're his wife, Mingi repeats to himself, and his heart grows double its size because of it.

"I love you," he murmurs, and for the moment, he doesn't even know he said that out loud, “I love you so much”, and means it more the second time.

And there you lay, on the mattress, your husband beginning to kiss you again, his hands cupping your head, your fingers interlaced in his hair. "I love you too," you whisper, and as Mingi grabs you by your back, inviting you to get your body up, you're right in the zone again.

Soft, smitten contact— it’s your lips this time to cover Mingi’s neck with kisses, down to his shoulders, his collarbones, your knee working against his crotch, arms swung behind his head.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” Mingi whispers, his thumb caressing your jawbone, as you peck away the sweat on his skin, he will need another shower. “I want to make love to you.”

You smile in awe of your husband lulling the loveliest of words into your ear, soft rustling from your sheets accompanying his voice. The room you decorated together, the home you fill, and even sooner, you'll start a family— with Mingi as a father to be proud of. Who has done so much to keep you happy.

"But sometimes I think—”

“No, baby,” you interrupt him, his voice was dropping and you know you are preventing Mingi from talking bad about himself. He feels guilty, though you've told him uncountable times that you don't feel like you're the only one under this roof.

"But—"

“Baby, no.”

"Okay... I guess I just love you, then." Mingi chuckles, when your fingernails trail down his breast, drawing a line along his muscle definition, “what did you think I was gonna say?”

“Something that’s gonna take me off my mood,” you hum, hooking yourself at his joggers. Mingi sighs, loudly, not yet relieved, but still at peace somehow.

“Make love to me, Mingi.”

A slight gasp leaves his mouth. Oh…

“Y/N… You can’t say things like that.”

With a smirk, your hand disappears in his joggers, and then in his boxers; his thick, throbbing, struggling cock slicking in your grip, as you wrap your fingers around it.

“I can, baby, and I will,” you sneer, “I thought you wanted the best for me?”

He grits his teeth, but Mingi smiles, finding himself at your service. “Am I the best?”, he asks you, leaning forwards to rest his head against your shoulder, pushing you down again.

“You’re the absolute best, Mingi.”

You slowly glide your hand up and down his length nibbling at his ear, exhaling, seducing him. “You’re the best husband,” you purr, “with the most handsome face,” kissing his temple, “and”, with your other finger hooked at the waist band of his joggers, you reveal “the best cock.”

Mingi is touched. A bit embarrassed, yes, it’s been a while since he’s heard you talk like this, but to hear from the best wife that he is deemed the best husband is the highest compliment he could have gotten. What, his face still charms you? His cock is still alluring to you? Don’t judge him, but even after ten years he will be moved by your words.

Moved.

“Come on, Mingi,” you coo, feeling your cunt pulsate between your legs, his cock twitch between your fingers; your husband gulps and, with your command, roams against your body, "let's get you to work."

Maybe he's really revisiting things from the past, after all the talk about your college endeavours, because you definitely recognise his canine teeth ever-so slightly sunken into your shoulder, as Mingi grabs you by your thighs and spreads your legs gently. Your body remembers, and his cock surely does as well, glistening in pre-cum as it is positioned at your cunt. "God, baby," Mingi grunts, and you lick over your lips in anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pouts, and in an almost reverent tone, Mingi brushes away a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Not even your mom?”, you giggle, and while you think of your mother in law with utmost respect, your husband smiles, unfazed; “She’ll agree.”

And with that, Mingi is inside you, all of his length gliding into you with utmost caution; he’s driving in his pelvis unhurriedly, slow and deliberate, just so you can feel every inch of you inside expand for his girth, stretch for his entrance. "Fuck," you gutter and grab Mingi by his hair, pulling him close to you just as he begins to move, your moan coming out muffled against his lip.

"Never growing tired of it, are you?", Mingi grins into the kiss, and he's right, he's so, totally right, but your face is strained together in ecstasy, lascivious— aphrodisical to your husband. He's throbbing and he can feel how warm his own cock is, as Mingi pulls himself out of your tightness in his entirety and then, "fuck," pushes himself right back in inside you to experience it all again.

"I could never grow tired of my hubby," you chuckle and fuck, feel him, physically feel how he's getting excited about your words, something so enrapturingly hot boiling inside him; but while your personal heat ends up being your devilish little voice encouraging you to tease him, Mingi's does nothing more than to whisper him the most delicate ways of loving.

If he sucks on the spot right here at your pretty, graceful collarbone, will you sigh out an even more graceful breath? (Yes!) If he slides his tongue across your neck, just until your sensitive jaw, will you pull his hair with some type of feistiness? (Oh, god yes!) If Mingi, looking at you with sunken eyes, catches you off-guard and pistons his pelvis in at this exact moment, will you— "Fuck, baby!"

Oh, he didn't even need a voice for that one. Your husband slithers his arms under your armpits, one hand holding you by your back, the other resting on top of your head, so you don't hit the bedframe and hurt yourself, as it falls to the back with his thrust.

"Want me to say sorry?", he hums, again slowly driving himself out, knowing very well that once Mingi changes the direction, he will hit your sweet-spot again, and you shake your head rather weakly, drunken on the feeling of him filling you out.

"Good," Mingi confirms your answer, peppering kisses all around your forehead, as he quickens up his pace, breathing throughout it all. "Y/N," he sighs, you sighing with him for all the same reasons, "you feel so good."

You get used to the rhythm and let loose of the sheets, lightly scratching his skin at his waist. "You feel so good, baby," Mingi repeats himself and his eyebrows are pushed together, his grunts vibrating down your cunt. "Do you feel good, baby?"

Nodding, whispering a wispy string of a lot of 'yes'es, Mingi flashes his eye-smile and digs his face deep into the nook of your neck. He doesn't say it, because he's too busy panting, moaning, breathing out to his own thrusts, but your husband is overjoyed. You feel so tiny under his body— and maybe it's because you are, and yet the place you have reserved in his even bigger heart— which even in this moment, is beating for you and nobody else— is inexplainably huge. He wants to be yours as much as he wants you to be him, be with him, have all his life painted in your pretty colours until his canvas drivels over.

His cock is slipping in and out of you at fast speed now, your whiny moans encouraging Mingi to hold this angle since you're not stopping with it; "Are you close?", he asks and gets one arm of his out to rest his hand on the bedframe, towering over you, hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Yes, I'm close," you answer and search for another kiss, raising your hand to his cheek, Mingi immediately plunging his face into yours. He's close too, has been for a while now, but he had to get your confirmation that he was finally able to release himself into you— and then, when you nibble at his lip while a heavenly note of a moan leaves your opened mouth, Mingi's pelvis moves by itself.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he cusses, having to install one hand at your hips so he doesn't rock you around too much, voice becoming high and needy, greed messing with the practiced way he thrusts into you, becoming sloppy and all the while passionate, chasing the speed it takes to make you feel the best and even better. His other hand slides onto your clit, and it does so by muscle memory, knowing exactly where to rub so you clench around him, scream out his name.

"I love you so much, baby, I want you so bad, and I'm— fuck," he heaves, his voice catching up with his movement, "I'm going to love you until we grow old, baby, I want to be with you until the end of our days— I," and Mingi is rambling his free mind here, his whole body, mind and soul at your service, "I want you to have me forever, Y/N."

"Mingi," you whine, and his cock doesn't stop hitting your soft-spot, your clit tingling from his thumb, making you dopey, skipping you through time, to a future where you lay with Mingi in bed at the same late hour, both heads fuming from work, trying to your steam off together now, worried that your kids will hear your words, grunting silently into each other's ears, the words being, "I'm gonna cum!"

Oh, what good days await you two, and how straight you're heading for it, too— with Mingi's breathing being cut short, coming out stuttered from how fast he's ramming himself into you, not too rough, but fluidly and ceaselessly until you are gasping for air, feeling the string be stretched further and further, pulled for release, spiralled by your husband's vigor and his panting; "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum so fucking bad, fuck!"

Mingi soaks sweatily in your words, his hair chaotic, his abs glistening from the heat of it all— you yank your hand out his mouth, your lower body curling up— "Fuck, baby!"

And with your tightened cunt Mingi lets out a deep, whole-hearted grumble, falling flat on your body, as he spasms; his hot, thick semen shot seeps through along the tip of his cock out your cunt, needing to be fucked right back into you so it doesn’t get lost on your sheets— you seeing absolute bliss, as he pistons into you one last time, eyes focused on your husband.

“Baby,” Mingi pants, and with your gazes meeting, his lips rush over to your cheek, pecking you one, two, three times— and then, on your lips one, two— no, holding one long kiss with you, his plump, rosy softness making your body melt into the mattress, as it falls deeper in slumber. “I love you,” he whispers into your kiss, tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “my baby.”

He pulls out, infamously slow, making you heave on his length even after you both finished. “Mingi,” you exhale, feeling your eyelids close by themselves, your husband slightly chuckling.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, caressing your waist and cheek, “you need anything?”

“Oh, Mingi,” you laugh; Mingi can't help himself, can he? Will always ask for your wishes, wishing to grant them, like he's some wizard, a magician, a devoted believer of your enjoyment and happiness— "You did all you could have done, baby."

"Really?"

"Come on, Mingi, you big baby, c'mere."

He huffs, a bit sulky maybe, your silly husband, getting the blanket from the bed to throw it over his shoulder and wham, over you— cuddling you in, for now ignoring that the both of you need a hot, steamy shower, just breathing in and out your presence, your sweet, dulcet presence, which caramelizes in his warmth, against his body, melting.

"Thank you for being there for me, baby," you smile, voice dampened by the blanket, but Mingi understands you just well enough.

You don't need to thank him. Mingi knows you know that. He's obsessed with you, and though you could try and say you're just as obsessed, your husband will try everything to your favour to prove otherwise.

As Mingi throws his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his breast, making you listen to his heartbeat, beating just for you, you hear him whisper all kinds of affirmations. 'I'll never leave your side, I'll never make you feel lonely, I'll be yours forever.”

A career? A family? A happy life?

It's all waiting for you, patiently, each day and night you leave and come back home— in office clothes and a chaotic mind— watching, admiring, hoping to get the weight of responsibility off your shoulders, get you a taste of freedom, a taste of the fruits of your labour.

"Are you asleep?", he asks and you groan silently, pressing your face deeper down his armpit. "Baby..."

Mingi chuckles. You need this sleep, totally, but you also need to be cleaned up, which gives him the challenge to grab you by your leg the most gentle way he can, lift you up— and, when you lie in his embrace, head snuggled into his breast— he’s careful to not wake you up with the sounds of water splashing down his hand, as he soaps you in.

It’s difficult, this is difficult, it will all be so difficult— but Mingi, being your husband, your soul-mate, your everything, he’s putting his all on it to make it work.

(Work you up, make you work for it; until your voice is hoarse, until your body shakes, until your head is light and you can do it, all over again, the next day, evening and night.

“Happy wife, happy life!”

(Maybe Mingi embraces his new role as the father of your children too much.))

#song mingi smut #song mingi fluff #song mingi x reader #song mingi x y/n #song mingi scenarios #song mingi imagine #ateez x reader #ateez smut #chokkiwa #chokko

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heembie · 14 days

Text

𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌! ₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

𖦹ׂ 𓈒 🐇 જ⁀➴ riki helps you dye your hair on the floor of your bedroom, but did you really have to pick that color?

nishimura riki x fem!reader; wc 1.8k; genres pure fluff, established relationship; cw none; notes i edited a riki selca for this drabble who’s gonna congratulate me!!! + i listened to magnetic by illit 5000 times while writing

there’s a knock at your door, gentle, and then it’s swinging open, a chestnut colored blur with the tall, lanky figure of your blonde-haired boyfriend appearing behind it.

“‘kay, i got it,” he murmurs, slipping his shoes off and padding with socked feet over to where you’re sprawled on the floor of your bedroom. you push down against the carpet with your palms, groaning with the effort of having to sit up from the comfortable position you’d been in. riki sits down next to you, crossing his legs.

in his hand is a box of l’oreal hair dye, a light bubblegum pink. he fiddles with the packaging a little, his eyebrows furrowed as he tears the top part of the box off gently. you reach over in excitement, tongue poking out as you take the box from his hands and pull out the packet inside.

“it’s gonna look so cute,” you gush, reaching for the small extra bowl you and riki had brought into your room earlier when you’d bleached your hair. you’d long since opened the windows, the acrid smell of the bleach almost completely faded. it had been risky work, what with the running risk of dropping bleach onto the carpet, but you’d managed to pull through.

riki glances at you from the corner of his eye, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“i still can’t believe you want pink,” he murmurs, watching as you tear open the packet and pour the color into the bowl. he makes a face at the small mountain of rosy paste, the strings of his large, plush hoodie twirled around his finger. “it’s the worst color ever.”

you pout at him, handing the bowl to your boyfriend as per the usual routine.

“i think it’s pretty.” you maneuver your body around so that your back is facing riki, your freshly bleached hair freed from any elastics. “you don’t think it’s gonna look good?”

there’s a little sigh, and then you feel hands in your hair, pulling out a section at the bottom of your head and tying the rest up with an elastic. riki reaches into the bowl of color with a bare hand, ignoring the brush (he stopped using it after the first couple times he’d done this for you in the last years), and takes a small amount onto his fingers. a moment passes, and then he’s raking the color into your hair, tugging ever-so-gently at your scalp as he massages the dye into every last strand.

you hum contentedly, allowing the boy to help you as you fiddle absentmindedly with the fabric of his socked foot. he wiggles his toes—an action that he knows you find adorable despite its childish implications—causing a giggle to float out of your chest. sunlight from your open window beams against your face, yet it somehow isn’t as warm as your boyfriend’s presence behind you.

“since it’s you,” he starts, leaning closer to squint at a strand before thumbing on an extra bit of color, “it’ll look good. even if it’s pink.” he says the last part a bit downcast, eyes trained on the (no doubt sickening, in his opinion) pink bowl of dye sitting between his legs. the words come out like they’ve literally taken years off of his life, to which you’re only able to roll your eyes fondly.

a couple more minutes pass, and riki’s about halfway done with your hair. you’re rocking side to side, humming the tune to a random song as he works. eventually, you decide there’s no better pastime than to annoy your boyfriend.

“how much do i have to pay you to get you to say i chose the perfect color?”

there’s silence, and then riki is snorting, putting his hands up to your head again to massage slowly against your scalp.

“don’t push it.”

a smile creeps onto your face. your eyes flutter shut to the comforting feeling of his fingers in your hair, breathing in slowly through your nose.

“name a currency. dollars? gift cards? new jewelry?”

he starts to laugh, then. it’s a tinkly sound that sets a nerve alight in your brain, bubbling and fizzing like a little can of sweet, syrupy soda. your smile widens, and even though riki can only see your back, you’re sure he knows.

“i’m trying so hard not to call you an idiot right now.” his own smile is apparent through his voice, a lilt to it like he’s fighting to keep the corners of his lips down.

a warm feeling spreads in your chest. you have so much adoration for the boy carding pink fingers through your hair, from his way-oversized hoodie to his wriggly toes. it’s taking all the strength you can physically muster not to lean back and get hair dye all over the both of you, just to be wrapped in his embrace.

“what about kisses?” you supply cheekily. riki pauses, his hands stilling in your hair. after a moment, he says:

“...i can be persuaded.”

he pulls his fingers from your hair at the same moment that you start to turn around, resting with your knees to the floor as you come face to face with your boyfriend again. he’s giving you his best glower—although it’s definitely more of a goofy cartoon rendition, at best. you giggle at him.

“hurry up,” he mutters, a pink flush to his cheeks as he eyes the dye plastered all over your previously bleached-blond hair.

you wobble on your knees a little as you crawl closer, fitting between his legs and bracing your hands against his shoulders.

“i’m about to give you the best kiss of your life,” you tell him, your voice dripping in mock seriousness. he squints at you, a smile playing at his lips.

“pink is the greatest color of all time,” he blurts, like the words are acid, his eyes closing immediately in waiting. you gaze at his face for a second, mapping his moles like constellations, your eyes drifting over his pouty lips and landing square on the tip of his nose.

where you’ll do it is no contest, really, because you’re leaning in to press a sweet butterfly kiss against his nose without much more than a split-second decision. he waits for a beat longer, eyes still closed, before he pops one open to reveal a confused brown iris.

“you cheated,” he deadpans, his face cupped in your hands. you brush a thumb over his eyebrow before letting go, backing away from him with a teasing smile.

“no i didn’t. i kissed you, like i said i would.”

“that wasn’t a real one,” he grumbles, grabbing your shoulders and maneuvering you around gently so that you’re sitting with your back to him once again. you laugh, the sound sticky and sweet in your chest.

“i didn’t know there was such a thing as a fake kiss.”

“whatever,” he replies, swatting at your shoulder with no force. “i didn’t need one anyway.” then there are hands in your hair again, slipping against your scalp to finish the final section near your forehead.

“‘m sorry,” you giggle, even though you’re not.

he finishes shortly, and you stand up on wobbly, slightly numb legs. you pad across your room, turning on the light in your bathroom, with riki whisking away the empty bowls you’d left behind and bringing them to your sink. he works on washing them as you slip into the shower, rosy rivulets of water running down your body like unicorn tears. you can’t help but to shiver a little, the cold water rinsing your hair sending goosebumps all across your skin.

riki hands you a towel when you step out, one that’s already stained with a myriad of different dyes from your past hair adventures. you towel up your hair, dressing quickly in the pajamas you'd been wearing while riki finishes rinsing off his hands in the sink.

when he turns around he’s squinting at you, pulling the towel off your head even as you protest weakly. your fresh, pink hair tumbles down, and riki chuckles to himself as he grabs a hairbrush.

the motions are familiar, the comfortable silence permeating the routine tugging at your heartstrings like gentle rain. the brush runs through your locks with sweet fervor, smoothing any knots that might have formed in the shower. in the end, your hair air-dries, the color in its final form a lovely shade of shiny pink.

“oh,” riki says, staring at you with a completely blank look on his face. but his voice sounds like he’d just come to the realization of the century. “it’s pretty.”

something about it—the way he’s a steely revelation of nothing, and yet he’s brimming with something like fond curiosity, is so completely riki that you could die. happiness surges in your throat, and the soda can in your brain pops open again, the same sugary sweet bubbles from earlier zipping off like little candied neurons.

“yeah?” you mumble, fighting to keep a wide grin from invading your face.

he nods silently, blond bangs flopping against his face.

“i told you, didn’t i?

he purses his lips for a second before his mouth is twisting into a smile, a quiet laugh tumbling from his chest.

“you did.”

you walk closer to him, giggling. he reaches out, letting you clutch at his forearms for balance. and then you’re smiling at him, and neither of you are saying anything but it somehow feels like you’ve said it all.

he shifts, cupping warm, bubblegum hands over your cheeks. the staining reaches just past his palms—like raw, honest evidence of the way he loves you.

and then he’s leaning in, bumping his nose against yours intentionally before hes titling a little to the right, your lips meeting in a soft kiss.

his hands slip to the back of your head, blending in with your soft pink locks. as he kisses you, lips slotted against yours tenderly, his fingers twirl in your hair.

you break apart with shy smiles, heat in your face and a staticky buzz in your head. riki lips are pink, and he pulls his hands away from you to run them through his hair.

“transaction completed,” you giggle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“oh, shut up,” he replies, screwing his face up in gentle amusement, and then surging forward to tackle you with a hug.

.ೃ࿐

at the end of the day, when riki’s grabbing his stuff and getting ready to drive back to his house for the night, you decide to take a picture together.

he stands behind you, pink-stained hands wrapping around your torso to rest on your stomach. his head dips down to rest on your shoulder while you hold your phone up to snap a picture in the full-length mirror standing before you.

a lone, pink stripe of hair rests against riki’s face, a shock of color against the light blonde of the rest of his head.

he kisses you on the cheek.

click!

tags! @tyunni @vousty

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enha imagines #enha scenarios #riki enhypen #nishimura riki #nishimura riki enhypen #riki x reader #nishimura riki x reader #riki imagines #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen drabbles #riki drabbles #riki fluff #nishimura riki fluff #enhypen headcaanons

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lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— thirst trap ⟢

pairing: seungcheol x reader

summary: when your boyfriend posts a deliberate thirst trap for millions to see, you end up feeling just a little bit sulky.

word count: 2.8k words

tags: established relationship, fluff, smut

warnings: implied hand kink? graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: cheol ghosts us all on ig for almost a month then comes back and drops those fucking selfies like it's no one's business!?!?!?!?! i want to BITE him !! heads up that this isn't proofread :')

smut tags: phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose

seungcheol taglist: @changk6un - @renjunphile - @pluviophile-xxx

Seungcheol updates his Instagram page sparingly—this is a well-known fact.

Though he's, by no means, an inactive user, your boyfriend often leaves his fans and followers wondering when he's going to bother dropping his next selca because of how long the intervals between his posts are. He uploads an average of two pictures per month. Three if he's feeling generous.

So when he finally posts one after almost a month of radio silence on his socials, it's practically a godsent miracle.

You still have his post notifications turned on, despite the fact that he often asks you to choose from an assortment of shots before posting them altogether.

After all, there are instances where Seungcheol has to make quick PR, when he doesn't have the time to ask which boyfriend pics you'll allow him to post for the world to see, and which ones you wanted to keep for yourself.

Times like this, for example.

You don't get to check his latest post right away when your phone dings with the notification—as you were wrapping up some leftover work you decided to continue at home. Although, you were half-expecting another brand collaboration of some sort. He's been getting lots of those lately.

But when you finally find the time to pull up on his Instagram page, you're greeted by an adorable mirror selca on the first slide, and it has you pouting at him.

Well, adorable isn't the right word for it, really.

Seungcheol's head is tilted upward while he stares down at the screen of his phone—looking smug as hell especially with the way his dark hair fall over his eyes. But he's finally using the cherry patterned phone case you got for him last Christmas, as well as the Shin-chan popsocket that Jeonghan gave him as a souvenir from his trip to Japan. Coupled with his natural curls, you're able to overlook that tantalizing look on his face in favor of gushing about those other details instead.

You double-tap the picture before checking out the other photos. There are three slides in total, and you can already picture Seungcheol showing off his dimples or making a kissy face to balance out his borderline sultry expression in the first slide. He knows damn well that he's daddy-coded and tends to even that out with some aegyo here and there.

The second photo gives you a better view of his whereabouts—one of the boxing gyms just a few blocks away from their company's office building.

Seungcheol has taken you there once before to give you a feel of the basic training regimen, but after a few sessions, you concluded that you're just going to have to stick to your regular workouts after all.

You snicker when you realize he's wearing that silly designer Pop-Eye cardigan—showing off his dimples as expected. You've been together for so long, that you practically have Seungcheol's go-to poses engraved in your mind.

When you finally swipe to the last slide, however, the smile on your face vanishes in an instant.

The cardigan is off, and you're met with the sight of your boyfriend donned with a fitted gray shirt. It's not your first time seeing it, and it's not his first time wearing it, but you're pretty damn sure his followers have yet to see this particular form-fitting shirt while he's at the gym.

You puff out your cheeks in some form of indignance. It's only been three hours since Seungcheol posted the pictures, but he's already racked up 900,000 likes in that timespan. You're not sure if you feel happy about it or not.

Heat prickles the back of your neck as you scroll down to see the caption he attached to the post.

Mind over body🖤

"Mind over body my ass," you scoff before taking a nosedive into his comment section. If Seungcheol's showing something off here, it's definitely not his mind.

Reading through all the thirsty things his followers are saying about him used to be a past time of yours, where Seungcheol would turn red from embarrassment as you recited each one aloud with a scandalous tone. If you play your cards right he's perfectly easy to fluster.

But now, as you scroll through the fifth comment asking him for a headlock, you feel a nasty feeling coiling in your chest—one that you immediately realize is possessiveness.

You knew that dating an idol means that you're virtually sharing him with his fans until he decides to quit. Even if Seungcheol has never made you feel like he's anything but yours, the fact still stands that he's being perceived by thousands of people all over the world.

He knows that. He knows that damn well, so of course he'll treat everyone and their mothers to a goddamn thirst trap on what was supposed to be a quiet Friday night.

You scroll back up to the collection of photos Seungcheol decided to grace the world with—biting your lip when you realize just how well his biceps fill out the sleeves of that stupid shirt. If only he hadn't taken off that stupid Pop-Eye cardigan, you wouldn't be having such a dilemma right now.

It doesn't help that you're starting to notice how nice his hands look in every picture. Fuck.

Despite being on break from group activities, Seungcheol has had a couple of solo ventures keeping him occupied over the past few days. It's been about a week since you last saw him in person, and a month since the two of you fooled around in bed.

Surely, the jury won't condemn you for becoming all hot and bothered because of how tempting Seungcheol's thick fingers are in those photos, right?

Just when you're about to put your phone down and schedule a relaxing evening with one of your vibrators, a text notification hovers at the top of your screen.

Cheol: hey, baby, how was work? is it ok to call now?

God fucking dammit.

Me: just finished. yeah, you can call :)

It doesn't even take Seungcheol a full minute before your phone starts vibrating in your hand. You sigh, answering without another thought.

"Hi," Seungcheol says.

"Hi," you tell him back. "Aren't you tired? You went to Music Bank today, right?"

Your boyfriend sighs, and you hear some rustling on the other end of the line. He must be in bed by now.

"A little, but it's not like we were the ones performing at the music show today," he chuckles. "If anyone's tired, it's definitely Seokmin, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung. They haven't had a proper rest day since the album was released."

You sigh. "And you're having a group comeback in a couple of months, too. Poor guys."

"Yeah. That's why I asked Wonwoo and Mingyu to come with me to check on them. Idiots don't usually have a proper gauge of their own personal limits."

"That's rich, coming from an idiot leader who doesn't know how to take his own breaks either," you interject, rolling your eyes even though he can't see it. "Speaking of breaks, what made you hit the gym today? You usually don't go that late."

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment—probably trying to figure out how you found out about his plans for tonight, before realizing that he just dropped the world's most unsubtle thirst trap in the history of thirst traps.

"Oh, you know. Just to clear my head and stuff," he says, before quietly adding, "That, and Mingyu told me the fans were starting to miss me on Instagram."

You can't help the huff that escapes you. So Kim Mingyu is the mastermind behind this after all.

"What?" Seungcheol laughs airily. "Don't tell me the photos I picked were ugly."

"It's the exact opposite actually," you say before clearing out your desk so you can settle yourself on your own bed. "You did too well and now I'm going to have to fight the thirty-thousand people in the comments asking if you can suffocate them with your arms to establish dominance."

Another laugh—this time, a low rumble in his chest. "Oh? Did you like the pics I took that much, princess?"

Now that you're under the covers, you feel more comfortable—more inclined to be honest about the inappropriate reactions you had to those stupid fucking mirror selfies.

"Mhmm," you whisper. "Your fingers looked really nice in them, Cheol..."

The sound of him groaning at the other end of the line shoots straight through your core, making you clench your thighs together. These damn work schedules. If the two of you weren't so busy, he might already have those thick digits buried inside you by now.

"Yeah?" He questions huskily. "You've been thinking about my fingers, baby? Where do you want them?"

You take your lower lip between your teeth, inching your legs apart as your free hand starts to glide between your thighs. The gusset of your underwear is starting to get soaked by the minute, but you feel no semblance of shame for it.

"Inside my pussy," you gasp a little when you press down your clit through the fabric of your panties. "Love it when you finger me while we make out, Cheol. Always so hot..."

"Fuck," he sighs, and you hear more rustling in the background. "Put me on speaker phone, princess. I can't go to you right now, but I can still help get you off. That sound good to you?"

You whimper before removing your panties altogether spreading your slick along your glistening seam. "Yes, please."

As the two of you get comfortable, you hang onto the sound of Seungcheol's voice like a lifeline. There's just something so unbearably arousing when he's talking to you with his sex voice. Though it doesn't sound that different from when he's performing Hip-hop Unit songs, you know the desire laced in his words is reserved for you, and you alone.

Those people in his comments can only dream of getting what Seungcheol spoils you with on the regular.

"You all good, baby? Can you hear me well?"

You swallow thickly. "Uh-huh."

"Good. Now, I want you to tease yourself just a little. Make yourself wet enough first," your boyfriend commands, and you can practically picture him licking his lips.

In return, you let out a soft whine. "You already made me wet because of those pictures..."

"I did, didn't I?" He laughs, that evil, evil man. "But you're not wet enough, princess. I want to hear your cunt squelching around those tiny fingers through the phone when you fuck yourself. You can do that for me, right?"

You let out a shuddering breath when you gather some more of the slick trickling out of your hole—using that to rub your clit in tight circles. If you listen hard enough, you can hear a rather...suggestive noise on Seungcheol's end. Thinking about him pumping his thick cock in his fist sends another rush of arousal through you.

"'M playing with myself, Cheolie," you whimper. "Are you, too?"

He lets out a sigh so sexy, it makes you yearn for his presence even more. "You bet I am. Hearing you admit that you got all worked up because of those pictures made me so fucking hard, princess. Been so long since I last had these fingers shoved up your needy cunt."

"C-Can I put them in now?" You practically beg. "P-Please, Cheol. I need—"

"Go ahead, baby. Slide in two fingers for me. I know you can take 'em."

The soft moan that tumbles out of your lips is pornographic even in its subtlety—burying two digits to the hilt as you continue rubbing your clit with your other hand.

It isn't enough. Your own fingers can only reach half of what Seungcheol can, but you're going to have to make do.

"Shit. That's what I'm talking about," Seungcheol groans when he picks up on that telltale squelch he's been yearning to hear again. "Your pussy's always such a mess, isn't it? Doesn't matter if you don't have a cock to split you in half right now. You'll get wet from just about anything."

"That's not—ah! That's not true," you mewl as you curl your fingers inside in an attempt of finding your g-spot. When the pads manage to graze a sensitive patch of flesh that has you writhing on the mattress, you know the effort isn't entirely fruitless. "I only get wet for you, Cheolie."

"And I only pop a boner when my needy princess starts to get worked up without me," he growls. "You like the pace you've set right now, baby? Now, imagine it's my cock hitting you over and over—making a mess of that perfect cunt while you squeeze me like a vice."

Your rhythm falters at the image he plants in your mind. Fuck. It's just now occurring to you how much you missed being spread open on his cock.

"Seungcheol," you whimper, hips starting to gyrate on the mattress. "I miss you so much, fuck."

He hisses through his teeth. "I miss you, too, princess. Can't wait to see you again."

"Can I use one of my toys?" You ask, half-hoping he'll relent even though you know his answer's still going to be:

"No," Seungcheol replies firmly. "You're gonna get off to your own fingers and the sound of my voice like a good girl. You understand? Now get on your knees and lie on your chest."

His instructions confuse you a little, but you still do as you're told, pruning fingers never straying too far from your slick heat as Seungcheol mutters the dirtiest things on the other line.

"You always come so hard when I fuck you from behind," he growls. "Try fingering yourself again, princess. You'll understand why."

You press your cheek against the cold sheets, easing three fingers into your sopping entrance before establishing a pace you're comfortable with. The moment you finally settle into the new position, you curl those digits again before your back practically arches into the mattress—ripping out a pretty little moan from your lips.

"You can reach a lot deeper now, can you?" Seungcheol laughs but you're still floored by the pleasurable sensation and the fact that he knows your body so well, he can tell you how to make yourself fall apart even if he isn't with you. "Keep doing just that, princess. You'll be coming on the sheets in no time."

"Fuck, Cheol," you breathe, thighs quivering as you continue to thrust your soaked fingers in and out of your pussy. "Wish you were here with me... Want you to blow my back out so fucking bad, shit—"

"I will, baby. I will," he promises, just as breathless as you are. "It's sad that I'll end up coming on my stomach instead of inside you, but it's the yearning that makes it all worth the wait, right?"

Fuck. He's so...

"I'm so close, baby," Seungcheol continues. "Play with your clit and come with me."

You don't need to think it through—tireless moans spilling from your lips as you obey your boyfriend's instructions. The lovely angle that Seungcheol just introduced to you coupled with how hypersensitive your puffy clit has become is sending your brain into a frenzy that you didn't think you were going to experience tonight.

"Your cunt sounds so goddamn tasty, princess. You're close, aren't you?" Seungcheol babbles, and the deep sound of his voice only serves to turn you on further. "That's it. That's my good girl. You'll take everything in that greedy pussy. Be it your fingers or mine, those little toys or my cock—you take them all so fucking well. Don't even get me started about whenever I dump my load inside your needy hole."

How are you supposed to last long when your boyfriend has gotten the art of dirty talk down to a T? You didn't even think it's possible for you to get off without any of your toys, but the sound of Seungcheol's voice whispering all that filth into your ear has the electric impulses of an orgasm skidding across every synapse in your fucked out brain.

Your boyfriend lets out a long-winded groan on his end, and you can picture those white hot streams of cum dribbling from his tip and onto his toned stomach. And you're not even there to see it.

"That's it, let go for me, princess," Seungcheol whispers hoarsely as you slowly sink down from your high. "I promise I'll stuff you full next time we see each other."

"Promise me you won't post any more thirst traps, and we'll call it quits," you interject, still feeling a bit blissed out, but coherent enough to carry on your initial sulking.

"Hm? Why's that?"

"Because news flash: I actually don't like sharing my hot as fuck boyfriend to his own fans," you growl. "If you're gonna take pictures like that, send them to me and nobody else!"

Seungcheol barks out an incredulous laugh. "Aww, my possessive princess doesn't want me to post gym pics anymore? I don't wanna let down the fans, baby."

"Oh? Which one do you want more, your fans' attention or this pussy?" you proposition him.

Your boyfriend groans. "Baby, if you rile me up again, I might end up sneaking one of our cars out just so I can pay you a visit."

"What's stopping you then?"

Seungcheol sighs like he doesn't know what to do with you.

"Alright. I'll be there in twenty."

⟢ end notes: i...don't know what came over me tbh i saw those pics of cheol and thought, i NEED to write something and voila! honestly thought i was a jeonghan n shua stan but i've been feeling so rabid for cheol these days that i might just be a 95z stan after all 🥹 i hope you guys like this horny brain child i finished writing at exactly 2:43 in the morning of dino's birthday LMFAO i definitely did NOT plan to write this, so let's thank ig user sound_of_coups for sponsoring today's content 🤭 edit: i wrote a lil sequel of sorts here! the chelrot just won't stop yk...

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt fanfic #choi seungcheol #scoups #seventeen scoups #seungcheol #seungcheol smut #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #lovelyhan #🐇 500 #🐇 1k #full length fic 📚

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hanniluvi · 8 months

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💭 — SUNGHOON AS YOUR IDOL BOYFRIEND !

★ — what it’s like having sunghoon as your idol boyfriend !

PAIRING idol!bf!sunghoon x gn!reader GENRE fluff !

WARNINGS reader is an idol as well, brief mentions of pecks

NOTE tysm anon for requesting ! i decided to make the reader be an idol as well to kind of write a little bit more but it does seem a bit shorter than my usual hcs 😭 but anyways i hope you still enjoy reading it regardless :) <3

— he secretly sneaks into your practice room just to say hi to you and your members he only goes to see you tho or just make up excuses js to see you like “forgetting” something from that practice room or just to give snacks to congratulate you and your group members !

— isn’t the idol to be too open about your relationship with him (not that he could) but like i don’t think he would tell his members ? maybe he’d let it slip out or the members eventually find out bc hes sooo obv abt it 😕 let a guy be in love

— risks sneaking out so that you both could have your dates! but with limits, the most you both can do is walk outside together or do quick store runs. but you both mainly hang out at the company.

— def the type to secretly pull you away from staff/members just to give you a quick peck before letting you leave 😭 he probably gets caught doing this act though 🤷‍♀️

— when vlogging content, he’d be interacting with you so it’s like an idol interaction that fans r craving for when in reality he just wants to be able to talk to you …

— asks stylists to “match” with you discreetly during award shows or such so that fans can be their little nosy selves n assume you both are dating due to the same clothing … he enjoys the rumors bc he knows its true

— any variety shows you both are on, TRUST he will be getting all the interactions he can get with you. anyone could notice your chemistry between each other … do you vision the edits rolling in about every little thing you do tgt? yeah, he wants that 🤗

— like his wide smile whenever he watches you is so noticeable. what happened to keeping it professional park sunghoon 🤨⁉️

— the most you both can do to “show off” your relationship is matching phone cases / posting around the same time or place / item bc it makes the delulu fans wild 🤔

— DEFINITELY posts selcas of himself and then texts you afterwards like “posted this for u 😉” “did you see what i posted” he wants a reaction so bad so pls give him that 🫶

💭 — first idol hc idk how to feel

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @starcubes @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @dioroits @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @flwrshee @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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seowoobins · 1 year

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230107 : 🪐 pm

#he ......:(((#he hasn't done photobooth pics in ages I'm so :((#the hearts :(#I'm so sad he's so cute #he's so :(#he changed the first one to his universe pic 😢#woobin #seo woobin #ruby #cravity #🪐 pm #selca #photobooth camera #230107

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blue-jisungs · 1 year

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giving them flowers ♡

a/n. recently i bought my mom flowers and it made her so happy :”) i’m gonna have to do it more but meanwhile lemme imagine my fav boys getting some flowers they deserve 🤭

and before we move on here’s a bouquet you you as well, my lovely reader 💐💐💐💐

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

shy flustered chan = heart attack

from all of the things he did not expect you to give him flowers

at first his life is flashing before his eyes though because he thought he forgot about something

“knock knock!” you giggled and knocked at the door and when chan hummed softly, you opened them widely “hello, lover boy!”

chan turned his head towards you, pushing the headphones over to his neck. you watched his eyes widen in shock, glued to the beautiful flower bouquet you were holding in your hands.

“what’s that?” he chuckled and you stepped closer, placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

“those are flowers. for my very talented boyfriend” you grinned and handed him the bouquet. chan was frozen, staring at the colorful flowers in his hands with cheeks dusted pink.

“i… woah. i’m speechless, y/n, but what did i do to deserve them?” chan chuckled gently and looked at you. he noticed your features softening, grin melting into a sweet smile.

“you exist” you nodded and pressed a kiss onto his forehead, his heart banging against his rib cage a little too hard.

he brags about the flowers literally everywhere and to everyone – on live, bubble, to kids… even send a pic to his parents :”)

if he could he would keep them forever!! but he puts them in a pretty vase and takes care of them oh so tenderly <3

┆彡 MINHO [ 민호 ]

his eyes will go wide and ears as red as a tomato!!!

(even though you gifted all of his mc friends flowers, his heart is still fluttering)

he’s clearly taken aback but obviously he’ll act like it’s nothing

but you know better (and you’ll let him think that you don’t)

to be frank, lee know didn’t know it was you until he heard your voice.

“you all did amazing today!” you chirped and hoped it was minho, jungwoo and minju since yin couldn’t see them – maybe carrying three big bouquets wasn’t the smartest move.

“y/n? what are you–” minju giggled and suddenly you felt the flowers being took over. minho was looking at you, stunned, as minju and jungwoo admired the flowers.

“well i thought i’ll give you flowers. being an mc isn’t easy!” you grinned and handed the bouquet that stayed in your arms to minho. he blinked slowly, ears turning red. you sent him a warm smile.

“oh wow, y/n. i’m jealous, you’re such a great girlfriend” jungwoo joked and slightly pushed minho towards you, gesturing minju to go somewhere else and give you some time alone.

“those are really pretty” minho mumbled, looking at you “you didn’t have to, though”

you rolled your eyes and quickly pecked his cheek.

they will post a selca of them holding the flowers

stays will be pointing out how wildly lee know is grinning but only you knew the truth <3

expect to receive flowers the other day because it’s just his way of saying thank you 🥹

┆彡 CHANGBIN [ 창빈 ]

i am praying for you because that man will not let you live peacefully

by that i mean he’s constantly on your shoulder, cooing and whining his cute you are and how much you love him so that you gave him flowers

for like a WEEK

but honestly he just got such a buzz o as energy and love and just good vibes, he loves you sm :(

“oh! what’s that?!” you can hear changbin’s gasp when you enter the dorm, flowers in your hand.

“for you!” you grin and his jaw drops in shock as he sprints to you

“flowers?! for me?! aigoo, y/n you’re such a cutie, my heart can’t handle that!”changbin whines and dramatically drops to his knees, grabbing his heart. you laugh at his actions and help him stand up

“here, sniff them” you hand him the flowers and he takes a deep breath.

“they smell pretty! aish, y/n…” bin giggles and places a messy peck in your cheek only to sniff the flowers again with a grin.

even though he doesn’t know much about plant care, he tries his best

treasures the bouquet like his life depended on it 🥹🥹

┆彡 HYUNJIN [ 현진 ]

be honest, do you want him dead?

this man’s poor cannot survive this

YOU got HIM flowers because they reminded you of HIM

dead.

“jinnie, close your eyes!” you shout once you arrive home and he does, a goofy smile on his face. his mind races like crazy to figure out what did you do this time… but then he hears a soft ruffle and your hands grabbing his, then putting something in them.

“can i open them now?” he asks and you chuckle, letting out a quiet yes. as soon as his eyes meet the flowers, his features soften “huh?”

“when i was walking home i noticed a new flower shop opened! i saw those and they reminded me of you so i just had to buy them…” you mumbled and hyunjin hugged you tightly, heart almost ripping from his chest.

“y/n… you’re an angel” he murmured against your skin, not able to control the smile that grew on his lips

takes the pics with the flowers and of the flowers, posts them e v e r y w h e r e

he also painted them, using watercolours and hung the drawing in your living room – so even when the flowers sadly die out, he can still look at them <3

┆彡 JISUNG [ 지성 ]

he thought he did something… or didn’t do. or forgot to do something. or maybe you did something–

so yeah, you kind of gave him a heart attack

but once the realisation sets in, you have a melting quokka on the floor

literally.

“what’s… what… huh?” han is stuttering the second he sees those beautiful flowers in your hands. you giggle and peck his cheek as a greeting and then hand him the flowers. but he doesn’t take them yet.

“it’s for you!” you grin and he blinks twice, thrice… just to suddenly slide from his chair, his hoodie riding up and covering his face “what?”

“you… you bought me flowers?” jisung murmurs, now fully laying on the floor.

“yes, i did” you laugh, causing him to smile.

“i thought i forgot about anniversary or you did something– but woah, y/n they are so pretty” jisung sighs dreamily, sitting up and taking a sniff while looking at you with a cheesy smile on his lips. 3… 2… 1… “you’re prettier tho–”

you smack his arm jokingly and join him on the floor.

the boys tease him because he is WHIPPED!!!

but he doesn’t care, he just loves you too much and isn’t afraid to show it :”)

┆彡 YONGBOK [ 용복 ]

he almost kissed you to death

he finds it the most heart warming thing you’ve ever done and just melts on the spot

“hi baby!” you chirp happily, felix’s eyes widening as soon as he saw you backstage.

“hi, angel! what are you doing here?” he trailed off as he noticed the big, pretty bouquet in your hand. you smiled and gave him the flowers, ruffling his hair.

“i just wanted to congratulate on the sound, that’s all. hopefully the boys won’t be offended i didn’t give them flowers…” you giggled and yongbok’s cheeks dusted pink, heart rate speeding.

“they’re for me? oh… oh wow. you really want me dead, do you? you’re so adorable…” felix murmured and gently put the flowers away only to attack your face with kisses.

he could buy you (and will if you keep doing that) all the flowers in the world 🥹

as much as he loves his friends, he’s feeling superior because his girlfriend gave him flowers <3

┆彡 SEUNGMIN [ 승민 ]

oh seungmo ☹️

obviously he’ll act like he doesn’t care

a soft groan greets you and you can’t help but smile at the sleepy state your boyfriend is in.

“why did it take you so long?” he murmurs and stops in his tracks upon noticing the fresh flowers in your hands “oh”

“exactly, oh” you giggle and put the bag with snacks you bought on the kitchen counter and then hand him the flowers “these are for you”

“for me?” he asks in disbelief, rubbing his eyes.

“mhm. from the flower shop you bought me flowers when we went on our date” you grin and ruffle his hair. leaving the room to take off your coat and shoes peacefully, seungmin punches a pillow that’s nearby with a heart racing at inhuman pace.

he feels so fuzzy and sick with the love ugh 🙄🙄

the boys will ask him about the flowers but he’ll ignore the comments, murmuring something underneath his breath

(something meaning “you’re just jealous”)

┆彡 JEONGIN [ 정인 ]

literally goes :D

he loves u sm his heart is about to explode fr

if he could he would hide you in his pocket and never let go

jeongin was wondering what took you so long. sure, it started raining but you texted him you’re almost home like five minutes ago. he looked outside the window and that’s when the doorbell rang, causing him to jog excitedly to the door.

“come on in, i’ll make you some tea! what’s that?” he asked curiously when you entered the room, absolutely soaked with flowers in your hand.

“they looked so pretty i couldn’t resist. that’s why i was late” you breathed out, looking at the wet bouquet “sorry it’s… well, wet. do you have a vase?”

“wait, it’s for me?” jeongin’s mouth fell apart. you nodded with a grin and he hugged you tightly, almost crushing the flowers while doing so “aish? y/n! you’re such a cutie!”

then he leaned away and squeezed your cheeks. at least you warmed up a bit.

he’s watching over them like they’re his babies :(

also expect to be gifted a 3x bigger bouquet because he just loves you so much

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi ,, @jung0ne ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @moonacholy ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddenoudepression ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan

#skz fluff #skz bang chan #skz jeongin #skz minho #seungmin skz #skz han #skz hyunjin #skz felix #skz changbin #skz scenarios #skz reactions #skz imagines #skz soft hours #stray kids imagine #skz x reader

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