jiriwoos

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ built for you

- pairing: kyrell x f. reader

- contents: body worship, reader obsessed with kyrell’s arms/hands, oral sex (f receiving), soft dom!kyrell, praise, teasing, gentle size kink

- a.n: obsessed w kyrell lately wc 720

he’s too much sometimes.

too tall. too broad. too solid under your hands.

and worst of all — he knows it.

“you’re staring again,” he says, voice low and amused as he leans back on your bed, one arm tucked behind his head. his shirt is off, jeans slung low on his hips, and you’re curled between his thighs like it’s your rightful place — because it is.

you blink up at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “am not.”

his bicep flexes — just slightly — when he stretches, and you swear your brain short-circuits.

“mm. sure you’re not.”

your fingers trail over the veins in his forearm, following them up to his elbow, then to the thick swell of his upper arm. he watches you — eyes soft, half-lidded — like he’s letting you look your fill. like he enjoys it.

“you’re… insane,” you murmur. “how are you built like this?”

kyrell huffs a quiet laugh. “good genes?”

“shut up,” you whisper, crawling up to kiss the curve where his shoulder meets his neck. “you know what this does to me.”

“yeah?” he murmurs, dragging his knuckles down your spine. “tell me what it does.”

your face heats. your lips press against his skin again, reverent and warm.

“makes me need you.”

he hums, low and rough. “you always do, baby.”

your hands roam — over his chest, down the dip of his stomach, then back to those perfect, thick arms. your fingers barely wrap around his biceps and your thighs press together just from the feel of them.

“i think i have a problem,” you whisper. “i can’t stop thinking about your arms. or your hands.”

kyrell smiles, slow and dangerous, the kind that makes your stomach flip.

“you like my hands, huh?”

he brings one up — palm calloused, fingers long — and brushes his thumb across your bottom lip.

you nod, lips parting.

“use them on me.”

he doesn’t ask where. doesn’t need to.

his hand dips beneath the hem of your shorts, cupping the heat between your thighs. he groans at what he finds — how soaked you already are.

“fuck. all this from a little flexing?”

you whimper, squirming closer. “stop teasing—”

“not teasing,” he says, dragging your underwear down slowly. “just appreciating.”

you’re panting by the time he has you bare and spread in his lap, legs shaking from the anticipation alone. and then — his hand’s on you again.

two thick fingers glide through your slick folds, teasing your clit in soft circles. his touch is steady, practiced — the kind of slow burn that has your head falling back with a breathless moan.

“pretty little thing,” he murmurs. “you always get this wet for me?”

you nod helplessly, grinding down on his hand.

he hums, pleased. “gonna fuck you open on my fingers. make you feel every inch.”

he keeps his gaze on you as he presses the first finger inside. your body clenches around him instantly, eyes wide.

“that already feel full?” he whispers, voice full of heat. “you’re so fucking tight.”

you whine when he adds a second — the stretch delicious, the pressure perfect. his other hand grips your thigh, grounding you as he pumps his fingers slow and deep.

“k-kyrell—fuck—”

he curls his fingers just right and your vision blurs.

“that’s it. let me make you come, just like this. let these hands do all the work.”

his palm rubs your clit with each stroke, your thighs trembling now, breath stuttering in your chest.

you can’t even speak. you’re unraveling too fast, melting around his fingers as he murmurs praises against your temple.

“so perfect,” he breathes. “so easy to ruin.”

your orgasm crashes over you like a wave — sharp and hot, your body jerking against his. he keeps his fingers deep as you ride it out, gasping, trembling in his lap.

he finally pulls them free, watching your cunt flutter around nothing.

“god,” he mutters, staring at the mess on his hand. “look what you did.”

he presses one of his slick fingers to your lips, and you moan as you suck it clean.

“not done,” you whisper, breathless. “need you.”

his eyes darken. “yeah?”

he leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“then let me show you what else these hands can do.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ office hours

- pairing: professor! leehan x f. reader

- contents: soft dom, innocent-ish reader, desk sex, unprotected sex, light breeding kink, power dynamics, dirty talk, praise

- a.n: he teaches marine biology btw w.c: 1.2k

you don’t even knock — just slip through the door of his office with your tote bag slung over your shoulder, pretending not to notice the way he looks up at you like he wasn’t expecting this at all.

“hi, professor kim…” you say softly, chewing the inside of your cheek. “um. sorry to just show up—i saw your light was still on and thought maybe…”

he sets his pen down. straightens the stack of papers on his desk. looks at you over the rim of his glasses, that same unreadable expression on his face that always makes your knees a little weak.

“you’re here about the midterm?” he asks.

you nod. “kinda. i just… i don’t really understand the last section. i’ve been rereading it and it’s not clicking. maybe i’m just dumb.”

his brow lifts — subtle, but enough. “you’re not dumb. don’t say that.”

“i know, sorry, i just—”

“come here,” he says, motioning you forward. you step closer until your thighs brush the edge of his desk. his voice drops, warm and low. “show me which part you’re stuck on.”

your fingers shake a little as you dig through your bag, pulling out your notes and sliding them across the desk. he shifts his chair closer. his knees part and your breath catches when his thigh brushes yours under the desk — like he didn’t mean to. like maybe he did.

“you’ve been doing well in my class,” he murmurs, scanning your writing. “this isn’t like you.”

you shrug. you’re painfully aware of how close he is, how quiet the office is. the tick of the clock. the heat simmering between you.

“i guess i just… can’t focus lately.”

leehan looks up at you — slow, deliberate. he takes his glasses off, sets them aside, and leans back in his chair with a low exhale.

“that so?”

you nod.

“tell me what’s distracting you, then.”

you swallow hard. “i…”

his gaze drops to your lips.

“i think you already know.”

he’s silent for a beat too long. then?

“lock the door.”

your heart stutters. your legs nearly give out.

“professor—”

“lock it.”

you do.

when you turn back around, he’s already pulled his chair out. already looking at you like he’s been waiting for this. like he’s starved.

“come sit,” he says, voice calm but firm, patting his thigh. “you wanted my attention, didn’t you?”

your body moves before your mind can catch up — hands trembling, thighs clenching as you settle into his lap. you can feel him beneath you, already half-hard under his slacks. your skirt rides up, your chest brushes his, and he exhales through his nose like he’s trying not to lose it.

“this what you needed, baby?” he murmurs against your neck. “my help?”

“yes,” you whisper.

his hand cups your jaw. tilts your head so you’re looking at him.

“then be good for me.”

his mouth finds yours — slow, deep, like he’s savoring you. his fingers trail up your thighs, push your panties aside, drag through your slick folds with a soft groan.

“fuck. already soaked?”

you nod, gasping. “wanted you—been thinking about you—”

“yeah?” he smirks, slipping two fingers inside you, curling them just right. “sitting in my class all sweet and quiet while this little pussy’s begging for me?”

you whimper, hips grinding down. he’s relentless, stroking deep until you’re shaking.

“you gonna let me fuck you right here, sweetheart? on my desk like the desperate little thing you are?”

“please—yes—”

he lifts you off his lap just long enough to push your panties down and unzip his pants. he doesn’t even fully undress — just pulls himself out, thick and already leaking, and lines himself up beneath you.

“look at me,” he says softly. “take it slow. really feel it.”

you sink down inch by inch, eyes fluttering shut, mouth parting in a silent moan.

“fuck—professor—feels so big—”

“shhh. you’re doing so good, baby. there you go.”

he bottoms out and you tremble in his lap, completely full. his hands settle on your hips, guiding you as you start to move — soft and slow at first, grinding down onto him with a desperate rhythm. he groans into your neck, teeth grazing skin.

“feels like this pussy was made for me,” he pants. “fuck—need to fill you up, baby. let everyone know who you belong to.”

you moan — high and sweet and breathless — and he snaps his hips up into you with a little more force, fucking up into you now, desk creaking with every thrust.

“you want that?” he growls. “want me to breed this perfect pussy?”

“yes—god yes—want your cum, professor—”

“say my name.”

“leehan—fuck, leehan—”

he slams into you one last time, spilling deep inside, holding you down on his cock while you clench and flutter around him, coming with a whine as your whole body shudders.

you collapse against his chest, hearts pounding, breath tangled.

after a moment, he presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “i hope that helped clear things up.”

you giggle into his neck. “mmm… might need another session next week.”

he smiles.

“my door’s always open for you, sweetheart.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ ruin me, won’t you?

- pairing: bad boy! taesan x innocent! reader

- contents: soft dom!taesan, thigh riding, praising, corruption kink, slight possessiveness, marking, light overstimulation, p in v, aftercare

- a.n: red hair taesan u will forever be famous wc: 1.6k

MINORS DNI

he always looks like he doesn’t want to be here.

hood up, headphones in, arms crossed. he never talks in class unless he has to. you’ve seen him fight — twice — and each time it left your heart hammering in your chest, unsure if it was fear or fascination or something dangerously in between.

everyone says to stay away from him.

so naturally, you end up tutoring him.

he doesn’t say much during your first session, slouched in the library corner like he’s allergic to being helped. but he listens. and when you drop your pen, he picks it up before you can.

“thanks,” you whisper, brushing his fingers.

he just hums, low in his throat. doesn’t look at you. but later, when you leave, he waits until you’re a few steps ahead before following. not close enough to walk with you. just… close enough.

like he’s making sure you get home safe.

you don’t ask. and he doesn’t stop.

⸻

you spend the next three weeks pretending the tension isn’t getting unbearable.

he never flirts — not really. but he looks at you like he wants to, and you can feel it in the way his eyes trace your mouth when you talk. he’s quiet, but never when you laugh. that’s when his lips twitch — just barely — and he tilts his head like he’s trying to figure you out.

then one night, after a late study session, it happens.

you’re both in your apartment. you made tea, like you always do, and he drank it even though you know he doesn’t like it. you’re curled up on the couch beside him — far enough that you aren’t touching, but close enough that you could.

and maybe that’s what makes you bold.

“can i ask you something?”

he glances over, one brow raised.

“why do you always look like you hate being around me?”

his gaze lingers a little too long. then he looks away, jaw tight.

“because i don’t,” he mutters. “and that’s a problem.”

you blink. “why?”

he doesn’t answer.

but his eyes find you again — darker this time, narrowed and sharp.

and then, quietly:

“you really don’t get it, do you?”

you shake your head, heartbeat already picking up. “get what?”

he leans in, voice barely above a whisper now.

“you’re too fucking sweet. too good.”

his hand lifts to your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. you freeze.

“you smile at everyone. wear those stupid bows. bring me snacks like i’m not the same guy people cross the street to avoid.” he huffs a breath, thumb now tracing the corner of your lip. “you shouldn’t want someone like me.”

you whisper, “but i do.”

and then he’s kissing you — rough and slow at the same time, lips pressing yours open like he can’t decide if he wants to savor you or ruin you.

you whimper when he tugs you into his lap.

his voice is hoarse, mouth against your neck:

“ever done this before?”

you shake your head, cheeks blazing. “n-no.”

taesan groans like he’s in pain. “fuck. of course not.”

you flinch — but he cups your face with both hands, gaze steady.

“not judging you,” he says, gentle. “just… didn’t expect you to let me be the first.”

you look up at him, wide-eyed. “should i not?”

his lips part, breath catching.

then he shifts — sits back on the couch and pulls you forward with him, settling you on his thigh. the pressure makes you gasp.

“you can change your mind anytime,” he murmurs, voice lower than before. “but if you’re gonna keep looking at me like that… you need to know what you’re asking for.”

your fingers twist in his shirt. “i want to know.”

he grins — sharp and slow.

“then ride my thigh.”

your breath stutters. “what?”

he pulls you closer, until the seam of your panties is pressed right where you need it. your hips twitch instinctively, grinding down just a little. it’s already too much.

taesan groans. “that’s it. let me see how good you get when you’re messy.”

you hide your face in his neck, but he just grabs your hips and guides you.

“don’t hide,” he whispers. “you’re so fuckin’ cute like this.”

you moan as the friction builds — dragging your clothed pussy against his thigh, trembling as you chase your first high. you’re soaked already, and he feels it. his hands squeeze you tighter.

“look at you,” he says, voice tight. “already falling apart. haven’t even fucked you yet.”

you gasp, hips stuttering. “t-taesan—i think i’m—”

“come for me,” he groans, rocking you harder. “make a mess. be a good girl.”

and just like that, you do — back arching, cunt pulsing through your panties, thighs shaking.

he doesn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

“take these off,” he growls, fingers tugging at your waistband. “now.”

you nod, still hazy, fumbling out of your underwear. he’s already undoing his jeans, pulling himself free — flushed and thick, tip slick. your mouth parts at the sight.

“you okay?” he murmurs, suddenly softer again.

you nod, breathless. “please, taesan… i want it.”

he curses under his breath, lining himself up.

“you’re sure?”

“yes. please.”

he pushes in slow, thick head breaching your tight heat. you whine, walls fluttering around him.

taesan’s jaw clenches, hand gripping your hip.

“shit—so fuckin’ tight. fuck, you’re perfect.”

you’re gasping as he slides deeper, stretching you inch by inch. his other hand cups your cheek again.

“you’re doing so good,” he murmurs. “look at me, baby.”

you do. and it’s almost too much — the way he watches you fall apart, hungry and tender all at once.

he bottoms out with a groan, and you shiver.

“you okay?”

“mhm,” you breathe. “full.”

taesan smiles, slow and crooked.

“yeah? wait ‘til i start moving.”

and then he does.

slow at first — hips rolling up into you, thick cock dragging against your walls just right. you cry out, clinging to him as pleasure builds again, too fast.

his voice stays low, breath hot against your throat.

“so innocent,” he pants. “letting me fuck you on your couch like this. how long were you thinking about it, baby? how long were you waiting for me to take what’s mine?”

you whimper. “a while.”

“yeah? me too.”

his hands roam your body — squeezing your waist, tugging your shirt off, palming your tits while he sucks bruises down your neck. you’re melting in his lap, overwhelmed and aching and on the edge.

“you gonna come again?” he asks, breathless.

“i think so—feels so good—”

“fuck, that’s my girl. soak my cock, baby. make it yours.”

your second orgasm hits harder — walls clenching, mouth open in a silent cry, body trembling in his arms.

taesan doesn’t last much longer.

“gonna fill you up, baby,” he groans. “you want that? want me to come inside?”

you nod, dizzy. “yes, yes—please—”

he spills with a deep groan, hips stilling, forehead pressed to yours.

you’re both shaking when he pulls you close again, wrapping you in his hoodie like you’ll break if he lets go.

“you okay?” he whispers, lips brushing your temple.

you nod, already half-asleep against his chest.

he kisses your forehead.

“ruined you, didn’t i?”

you giggle weakly. “a little.”

taesan smiles. “good. you’re mine now.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

hi just wanted to tell you your chubby reader jae fic killed me and i'm barely recovering. i don't know if i should be blushing or tearing up because he was so sweet

omg i’m so glad you enjoyed it!! 🥹🥹

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ like heaven

- pairing: myungjae x chubby f. reader

- contents: soft smut, implied first time, fluff, body worship, nudity, reader insecurity about her body, oral (f receiving), p in v, heavy praise kink, emotional vulnerability, aftercare

- a.n: this one’s for my fellow chubby girls <3 i lit almost cried while writing this w.c: 1.5k

MINORS DNI

it starts slow—almost unspoken. the kind of silence that hums between two people when they both know something is about to happen. you’re curled up on his couch, legs tangled, a movie long forgotten on the screen. jaehyun’s hand rests on your thigh, warm and grounding, rubbing gentle circles that make your heart stutter.

you lean in to kiss him, and he kisses you back like he’s been waiting all night. and maybe he has.

your lips move slowly, mouths melting into each other like syrup, soft and sticky and deep. his fingers dig slightly into your thigh as he pulls you closer, his voice low between kisses.

“come here, baby. let me take care of you.”

you follow him into the bedroom, heart pounding, nerves buzzing under your skin. he lights a lamp—warm and dim—then turns to you with a smile so soft it makes your chest ache.

you stand there for a moment, unsure. your fingers curl into the hem of your shirt, then fall. it’s not that you don’t want this—god, you do. you want him more than anything. but standing here, your body fully visible in the low light, you feel… exposed. vulnerable.

“hey.”

his voice cuts through your thoughts. jaehyun is in front of you now, close enough for you to feel his warmth.

“you don’t have to hide from me.”

you look up, unsure what to say. your voice comes out small.

“i just… i’m not like the girls you could have, jae.”

his expression softens instantly. his hands reach for yours.

“don’t say that. don’t even think it.”

he gently lifts your hands and helps you remove your shirt. you’re left in your bra and soft shorts, breathing shallow, eyes flickering away from his.

his eyes, though—they never leave you.

he looks at you like you’re art.

“you’re so beautiful.”

you roll your eyes, half embarrassed, half deflecting.

“jae—”

“no. you are.”

his hands trail up your arms, to your waist, to the soft curve of your belly. he leans in and presses a kiss just above your navel, his voice reverent.

“i love this. all of this. your softness. your warmth. the way you feel under my hands…”

you gasp as he kneels in front of you, slowly pulling down your shorts. he presses kisses to your thighs, the inside of your knee, the stretch marks that stripe your skin.

“every mark on your body? it’s mine to kiss. every part of you? it’s perfect.”

he looks up at you with wide, honest eyes.

“let me show you how much i want you.”

you nod, unable to speak.

he guides you back onto the bed, his hands never leaving your skin. your bra comes off, and he moans softly at the sight of you—like it physically affects him.

he kisses your chest, your tummy, your hips. his tongue traces over your curves with the same care he gives your lips. it’s not rushed. it’s not hungry. it’s worship.

and when his mouth finally finds your center, he groans like he’s been starving for it. his tongue moves slowly, savoring the way you taste, the way you gasp and moan and grab at his hair.

“so sweet, baby… you’re perfect like this.”

your thighs try to close around his head but he holds them open, gently, his eyes locked on yours.

“don’t hide from me.”

you don’t. not anymore. your back arches, and you cry out as he takes you higher, lips and tongue working like he’s trying to memorize every reaction.

you come undone on his tongue with a sob, hands gripping the sheets, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. jaehyun doesn’t stop until you’ve stopped trembling.

then he kisses his way back up your body, whispering praise against your skin.

“you’re incredible.”

“so good for me.”

“i need you.”

he lines himself up, looking into your eyes.

“can i?”

you nod, pulling him close. “please, jae.”

he pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch. you both gasp when he bottoms out, his forehead pressed to yours.

“fuck… you feel like heaven.”

his thrusts start slow, deep and steady. he moans every time you clench around him, his hands holding your hips like you’re something delicate, precious.

“you’re everything i’ve ever wanted, you know that?”

you cry a little—not because it hurts, but because you believe him. for once, you believe someone could see you like this and love you all the more for it.

he makes love to you like it’s the only thing that matters.

when you both finally fall apart, tangled and breathless and undone, he pulls you into his arms without hesitation.

“stay here,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “don’t move. i want you right here.”

you nestle into his chest, the steady beat of his heart under your ear.

“i’ve never felt this beautiful before,” you whisper.

he kisses your forehead.

“that’s because you’ve never let someone look at you the way i do.”

and in the hush of the afterglow, under the soft hum of the lamp and the quiet of the night, you believe him.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ sweet surprise

- pairing: soft dom! jiho x f. reader

- contents: birthday lingerie surprise, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, body worship, established relationship

- a.n: for jiho day!! wc: ~700

MINORS DNI

jiho’s not expecting much when he gets home. maybe takeout and a quiet movie night — that’s more your style anyway. but when he opens the door and hears nothing but soft music and the low flicker of candlelight coming from the bedroom, he pauses.

and then he sees you.

sprawled across the bed, legs crossed and lips parted, wearing the prettiest pale pink lingerie he’s ever seen — sheer, lacy, barely-there. like a present he doesn’t even know how to unwrap.

“happy birthday,” you say, all soft and sweet.

his mouth goes dry. “you… you planned this?”

you sit up slowly, letting the light hit your curves just right. “mmhm. thought my birthday boy deserved something a little extra this year.”

he’s already toeing off his shoes, crossing the room like he’s in a daze. when he reaches the edge of the bed, he just stands there for a second, looking at you like he can’t quite believe it.

“can i touch you?”

you nod, smiling. “you can do whatever you want to me tonight.”

and it’s like something clicks. he kisses you slowly, hands roaming over the delicate fabric, like he’s afraid it’ll fall apart under his fingers. and then he’s easing you onto your back, kneeling between your thighs like he’s worshipping you.

“fuck,” he breathes, dragging his fingers over the lace between your legs. “you’re already wet.”

“been thinking about you all day,” you whisper, voice barely there.

he doesn’t make you wait. pushes the fabric to the side, kisses the inside of your thigh, and then lowers his mouth to your heat like it’s instinct.

he moans the second he tastes you. sucks your clit gently between his lips, licks slow and deep, fingers sliding into you like he’s done it a hundred times — like he knows exactly what you need.

you’re gasping, thighs trembling, his name slipping past your lips in a shaky breath.

“that’s it, baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “just like that. let me take care of you.”

and when you come, back arching and fingers in his hair, he doesn’t stop. not right away. just slows down, soft kisses between your legs as you come down.

he presses one last kiss to your thigh, then looks up at you, eyes glassy and full of want.

“my turn?”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ birthday boy

- pairing: kamden x f. reader

- contents: soft dom!kamden, teasing, light begging, oral (receiving, m), praise, use of “good girl” / “good for me,” established relationship

- a.n: a lil something for kamden day!! w.c 570

MINORS DNI

he’s been so good all day. polite smiles at surprise gifts, blushy thank yous, and a hundred texts from friends and family — but the whole time, his eyes keep drifting to you. like he’s just waiting.

and when the door finally closes behind the last guest, his whole demeanor shifts. soft turns to smoldering in an instant.

“come here,” he murmurs, voice low, fingers curling around your wrist as he pulls you into him. “been thinking about this all day.”

you smile against his neck as he presses you back toward the bed. “what, me?” you tease, playful.

his lips brush your jaw. “you. your mouth. your knees. take your pick.”

he sits down on the edge of the bed, legs spread lazily, already half-hard in his sweats. his voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it — the kind that sends heat straight through you.

“on your knees, baby.”

you drop for him without hesitation, hands already tugging his waistband down. his cock springs free, thick and flushed at the tip, and you can’t help the way your mouth waters. he’s already so hard, twitching slightly as your fingers wrap around the base.

“you don’t even need to ask,” you whisper.

“still like hearing it,” he breathes. “say it. tell me what you’re about to do.”

you glance up at him through your lashes. “i’m gonna suck your cock, birthday boy.”

his jaw clenches.

“fuck. go ahead, then.”

you lick a slow stripe up the underside before taking him in, letting him slide over your tongue inch by inch. he groans, hand slipping into your hair — not pushing, just holding, grounding himself.

“you’re so good for me,” he whispers, hips twitching slightly. “just like that, baby, don’t stop.”

you work your mouth over him, head bobbing, spit pooling at the corners of your lips. every groan, every breathy praise makes you wetter, needier. he’s so vocal, so soft and desperate, unraveling for you with every flick of your tongue.

he’s close when his grip tightens.

“fuck—gonna come,” he gasps, voice breaking. “can i? come in that pretty mouth?”

you nod around him, moaning as he thrusts gently, hips stuttering. he spills into you with a deep, shaky groan — and you swallow everything, like the good birthday gift you promised to be.

he pulls you up into his lap right after, still breathless, hands sliding up your thighs.

“that was just part one,” he says, smiling. “you didn’t think i’d spend my birthday without making you come too, did you?”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ what you do to me

- pairing: riwoo x f. reader

- sleep touching (with prior consent), masturbation, fingering, subby!riwoo taking quiet initiative, light begging, praise, established relationship, soft dom/sub dynamics

- a.n: i am so obsessed with riwoo. wc: ~1.9k

MINORS DNI

he’s not used to taking the lead. not in the way that has him hovering over your sleeping form, heart pounding, painfully hard beneath the sheets.

but you said it again — his name, in that breathless little moan you only make when you’re needy, and something inside him snapped.

you’ve always been close. always patient, always soft with him, especially when he blushes too hard or looks away when your hands slide down his stomach. when he admitted that he didn’t always know how to ask for what he wanted — that sometimes he just wanted you to tell him what to do — you’d kissed his cheek and told him it was okay. you’d figure it out together.

and you’d also said something else. months ago, curled up against him after a night that left you both aching and sated.

“you know, if i ever fall asleep and you get hard or… want to touch me? it’s okay. you have my permission. as long as you’re gentle.”

he’d nodded back then, face red, filing it away. thinking maybe he’d never be brave enough to try. until now.

you shift in your sleep, legs brushing his under the covers, and he hears it again. a soft, sleepy little breath that turns into a whimper of his name, hips pushing forward just slightly, like your body’s reaching for something you haven’t quite woken up for yet.

riwoo swallows thickly. his cock is already hard — so hard, pressed uncomfortably against his boxers. he lets out a shaky breath, glancing down at you, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. your face slack and soft, lips parted just enough to let out that next sigh.

he moves slowly, gently sliding a hand beneath the blanket, fingers ghosting over your stomach, then lower, watching your face the whole time. no protest. just a little twitch of your brow. a shiver.

his hand keeps going.

you’re not wearing anything under your sleep shorts. and when his fingers reach your center, they find you warm and wet — already soaked. his lips part in surprise, a quiet, involuntary groan catching in his throat.

“fuck,” he whispers, barely audible. “you’re—”

he cuts himself off as you gasp, so quiet, so breathy. your hips twitch again, tilting just enough to give him better access.

he takes it as a yes. because he knows your body. and he knows the sound of that gasp — it’s the one you make when you want.

slowly, he traces your folds, sliding a finger through the slick there. testing. teasing. your breathing stutters, chest rising more sharply. still asleep, but reacting. aching for it.

he’s shaking, just a little, as he circles your clit with his thumb, then gently presses a finger into you. you’re tight and hot and dripping, and he almost loses it right then and there, cock straining against the fabric of his underwear.

“so wet for me already,” he murmurs, lips brushing your shoulder as he leans over you. “even in your dreams, you want me, huh?”

he moves his finger in and out of you, slow and steady, and your body reacts instinctively — back arching slightly, a quiet moan spilling from your lips. he adds another finger, spreading you open, biting back a moan of his own when your walls clench around him.

you finally stir, eyes fluttering open. your gaze meets his, sleepy and dazed, but not alarmed.

“r-riwoo?” your voice is hoarse, thick with sleep and need. “what are you—”

“you were moaning my name,” he says, breathless, pressing soft kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “i remembered what you said… that i could touch you like this. i couldn’t help it, you sounded so—so needy.”

you whimper, hips pushing down onto his fingers.

riwoo lets out a breath of relief, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he fucks his fingers into you deeper, curling them slightly to find that spot that always makes you gasp.

and when you do, your body tightening around him, he groans — so soft and desperate.

“god, you feel so good,” he breathes. “wanna make you come like this. can i?”

“yes,” you pant. “please.”

he speeds up just a little, thumb circling your clit in tight, practiced motions, fingers pumping into you deep and steady. your moans get louder, higher, that perfect mix of dreamy and ruined. he’s throbbing in his boxers, tempted to touch himself, but all he wants right now is you.

“you’re so perfect,” he murmurs against your skin. “taking my fingers so well, even half-asleep. fuck, baby, you make me feel…”

he trails off with a shudder as you cry out, coming hard around his fingers, body clenching, hips rolling as he keeps working you through it, not stopping until you’re squirming from the overstimulation.

he finally pulls his hand away, eyes wide as he watches you catch your breath, skin glowing, chest rising and falling fast.

you reach down lazily, brushing your fingers over the hard bulge in his boxers. he gasps, hips jerking at the touch.

“you’re hard,” you murmur, lips curling into a lazy smile. “need help?”

“only if you’re okay,” he says immediately, voice quiet.

you nod, leaning up to kiss him. slow. warm. wanting.

“i want to return the favor,” you whisper against his mouth. “just lie back.”

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

୨୧ welcome home

- pairing: jiho x f. reader

- contents: soft dom/sub dynamic, marking, grinding, p in v, praise, creampie, jiho is clingy

- a.n: first post!! lmk what u guys think <3 w.c 1.3k

MINORS DNI

the apartment is quiet when you step inside, soft lamplight flickering from the bedroom down the hall. everything feels still, like it’s holding its breath. and then—

“you’re home.”

jiho’s voice carries from the doorway, low and hesitant. he stands there in a loose shirt and sweatpants, eyes wide like he can’t believe it’s really you. the second your bag hits the floor, his arms are around you, wrapping you up tight, burying his face in your neck.

“missed you so much,” he murmurs into your skin, voice trembling. “been going crazy.”

you smile gently, threading your fingers into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“i’m here now, baby. you were so patient.”

and he was. countless facetime calls and whispered voice notes. late nights in unfamiliar hotel rooms with only your voice in his ear. you could feel the tension in him now—every shaky breath, the way his hips subtly pressed into you, aching for more.

you take his hand and lead him to the bed.

“sit,” you say softly, and he obeys instantly, legs spread slightly, chest rising and falling with anticipation.

you straddle his lap, hands resting on his shoulders, eyes locked with his. he looks wrecked already—dark eyes hooded, lips parted. his fingers twitch where they rest on your thighs, and you can feel him throb beneath you, hard and heavy even through his sweats.

“you’ve been waiting for me like a good boy, haven’t you?” you murmur.

he nods, unable to form words, just a soft whimper escaping his throat as you begin to kiss along his jaw, down his neck. his head falls back, exposing that tempting column of his throat, and you take your time there—licking, sucking, leaving little marks in your wake.

goosebumps rise along his arms, his hands tightening on your waist.

“y/n…” he breathes, hips bucking up when your lips ghost over a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear. “please…”

you giggle quietly, teasing, kissing up to his mouth, brushing your lips against his but not quite kissing yet. “so needy.”

“i missed you,” he groans, voice breaking. “need to feel you. please, baby…”

your lips crash into his finally, deep and hungry, tongues sliding against each other in a kiss that speaks of every night you spent apart. you feel his desperation in the way he kisses you back—his whole body chasing yours, fingers digging into your skin, like he still isn’t sure you’re real.

you start tugging at his shirt and he lifts his arms, letting you pull it over his head. he helps you out of yours in turn, tossing it aside. your bra follows. the heat between your bodies intensifies with every layer removed. your chests press together, skin to skin, warm and electric.

he moans when you press down against him again, your bare heat grinding against the obvious bulge in his sweats. his cock twitches beneath you and you smile against his lips.

“god, you’re so hard,” you murmur, nipping at his bottom lip. “this for me, jiho?”

“always for you,” he pants, eyes dark and half-lidded. “fuck—need you.”

you slip your hand between you and slide his sweats and boxers down just enough to free him. his cock slaps up against his stomach, flushed and leaking. you bite your lip at the sight of him.

you slide your panties to the side, already soaked, and grind against him again, letting his cock glide between your folds, slicking him up with your arousal. he groans—deep and ragged—hands flying to your hips as you rock against him slowly.

his head drops to your shoulder, body trembling. “gonna cum if you keep doing that…”

“you can hold it, right?” you whisper into his ear, taking him in your hand and lining him up with your entrance.

he nods frantically, breath hitching as the head of his cock pushes into you.

you sink down slowly, inch by inch, moaning as he stretches you open. he’s thick, and the way he fills you makes your toes curl. he lets out a strangled sound, gripping you tighter, barely breathing until you’re fully seated on his lap.

you both sit there for a moment—foreheads pressed together, lips parted, panting softly.

“fuck… feels so good,” he whispers.

you begin to move, slowly, rolling your hips in gentle circles, savoring the way he hits every sensitive spot inside you. his hands roam your body like he can’t decide where to touch—your waist, your back, your thighs. every part of you burns where he holds you.

“you feel like heaven,” he gasps, burying his face in your neck again. “i’m not gonna last.”

“it’s okay, baby,” you whisper. “you’ve waited long enough.”

his lips find yours again—sloppier this time, desperate—and you moan into his mouth, your rhythm faltering slightly as your own pleasure builds.

his thrusts start meeting yours now, hips snapping up into you as his grip tightens. you feel yourself getting close, his cock hitting just right, the tension in your belly winding tighter.

“c-cumming—” he warns, and you nod, pressing your forehead against his.

“inside,” you whisper. “want to feel it. give it to me.”

he groans loud and long as he cums, spilling deep inside you, his hips jerking up with every wave of pleasure. you follow right after, crying out his name as your body tenses and trembles around him.

you collapse against his chest, both of you still connected, breathless and sweaty. his arms wrap around you immediately, holding you tight.

for a while, you just sit there in the quiet, his hand running slowly up and down your spine, grounding you both.

“missed you so much,” he whispers again, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you whisper back.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[jiriwoos]

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