#Lee Re | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eoieopda · 4 months ago

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insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you.

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him.

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts.

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him.

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy.

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?”

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound.

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know.

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there.

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —”

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry.

You don’t, thankfully.

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling.

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again.

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case.

He said he’d fix it, didn't he?

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to.

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach.

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers.

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely.

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway.

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded.

He doesn’t.

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge.

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full — for as long as he gives you.

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —”

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say.

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea.

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

svt taglist: @ashonheavenscloud @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rasparagus @bouclesdefeu @ourkivee @sourkimchi @gyuguys

multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

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emotionalsupport-ljh · 4 months ago

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<It'll Last Longer>

Take a picture. A few pictures. And some videos, too.

Smut - woozi x fem!reader

This is probably going to be the tamest smut I write about him.

AO3 link

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: pwp, teasing, filming, cunnilingus, blowjob/facefucking, p in v, creampie

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Jihoon’s soft lips slowly kiss every one of your knuckles. You cuddle close to his side lying comfortably in his bed, watching anime on the laptop that sits on his legs. He isn’t paying any attention to the bright lights and colors flashing on the screen nor the overpowered protagonist announcing the name of his next attack. No, Jihoon can only focus on your slow breathing and the way you’re absolutely engrossed in the shonen that plays in front of you. You feel a hand move from your shoulder to rest on your hip. The hand that once held yours was reaching for your face, pulling your attention from the show and toward lips that hungered for more than knuckles.

It takes you by surprise how deep and needy the kiss becomes. The heat of Jihoon’s lips against yours threatens to melt you where you sit. His mouth opens slightly against yours for his tongue to beg for entry past your lips. You use all of your strength, both physically and mentally, to pull away from the sudden fervent desire of your boyfriend. You scan his face and find that his eyes have darkened, staring into yours as if his vision tunneled hyper focusing on you, you, and only you.

“What has gotten into you?” you ask breathlessly.

“I want you,” he answers simply. He quickly closes the laptop and places it on the floor on the side of the bed.

“I was watching that! It was getting good!” You protest his unprovoked urge, but only meet strong arms and hands around your waist manhandling you until you are underneath him.

He kisses your lips then trails down to your neck while speaking in between each gentle peck, “I realized… my schedule… in a few weeks… is packed…” One of his hands makes its way up from where it held your waist until it’s gripping one of your covered breasts. He settles into a kiss on the side of your neck that turns into a hickey as he latches his teeth and sucks hard at the skin.

The sensation causes you to moan softly. You weave your fingers through his hair as he moves to make another mark on your collarbone while your other hand rests on his that has taken hold of your breast. You press your hand onto his, guiding it in squeezing you. The act sends a shiver through your spine.

Jihoon lifts his head and chuckles with pride as red marks bloom and hooded eyes stare back at him. “I’ll miss you…” he continues his earlier thought, “...so I decided that I need to be inside of you as much as possible until then. Starting tonight.”

Your judgment is taken over by the electric feeling between your legs. It’s not like you didn’t want to have spontaneous sex with Jihoon. You feel the smallest tinge of sadness at his realization that you wouldn’t be able to hold him like this in just a couple of weeks. You agree that you need to spend as much time with him as possible. “Well, when you put it that way…” you let the sentence fall off in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss, immediately allowing his tongue to explore your mouth.

Jihoon takes the opportunity to pull your shirt up. You almost can’t bring yourself to disconnect from him to allow it to come off. You whine when he pulls back and tosses the shirt haphazardly to the floor. He takes a moment to let his vision linger on you, drinking up the beautiful sight of his now half-naked girlfriend writhing underneath him. He reaches down toward your chest, still covered with a simple bra and plays with the cute little bow on the front. Perfect. He moves to cup both of your breasts, admiring the way the simple but cute bra accentuates them. He leans down to kiss both of them one at a time then begins to suck on the soft skin aiming to leave a mark.

“Ji…” you squeal out as he works at creating another hickey. You hold his head down to your chest. He turns you slightly so he can reach the clasp on your back. He unhooks it and, in one swift motion, removes the whole thing without taking his mouth off your chest. He licks the red spot he made then sits up to look at his work, again.

Jihoon bites his lip and grunts. “God, you look so good.” His gaze alone brings the heat up in your body. He has only teased you thus far, and you’re aching for him to venture further south.

“I have an idea.” He breaks away from your hands and leans to grab his phone from the charger on the side table. A flash goes off as you are just staring at him. Jihoon grunts again, shows you his masterpiece, and says, “See? So good, baby.” On his phone, you are staring at yourself, but it’s a version of yourself you don’t see often. Your lips are red and parted, eyelids hooded, and there are red spots on your skin marking you as Jihoon’s property. You look like a proper slut.

Jihoon puts the phone on the bed next to you and takes off his shirt. Your breath hitches like it always does when you see his naked chest. You don't have time to admire it as he reaches for your knees and pushes them up effectively folding you in half. Your legs fall on his shoulders and he leans in for a kiss. While your lips connect, he reaches into your pants and rubs the growing warmth between your legs over your panties. A thumb pushes the underwear between your labia, using the fabric to massage your clit.

A moan rips from your throat, breaking the kiss. A deep chuckle erupts from Jihoon’s chest, and you feel his thumbs move down from your clit to the patch of growing wetness on your panties.

“I've barely touched you,” he whispers against your lips. He kisses the insides of your thighs, bending closer and closer to the heat emanating from you until he pulls his hands away from you again, reaching for his phone. You can’t stand the teasing, but there is a devilish smirk stuck on his face as he clocks your writhing as he pulls your pants to rest on your legs then positions the camera in front of your pussy. The phone flashes again with a shutter noise right in front of your wet underwear. Jihoon shows you the picture: wet panties pushed between glistening lips.

“Stop teasing me, Ji, please!” you beg. Your legs are still on his shoulders and they begin to shake. He holds you in place and looks down his nose at you.

“I like it when you beg. Tell me what you want, baby.” The phone is still in his hands pointing at you. He’s filming. Your arms fly to cover your face, and your ears ignite. It’s already hot with your boyfriend’s furnace-like body over you and the arousal boiling your body, but the embarrassment brings it to a fever pitch.

“Please,” you breathe out from under your small cover. Though you feel semi-protected from the camera with your arms over your face, Jihoon sees the rest of your mostly exposed body beneath him. His smile only grows, watching you writhe and act all shy when he knows exactly how dirty you can be.

He rips the cover from your face with one of his hands while saying, “None of that, baby. I need you to be a good girl and tell me what you want loud enough for the camera.” He looks at you through the screen, and you don’t know whether to focus on him or the device in his hands. He’s holding both of your wrists in one hand. They rest on your stomach and are close to the bulge in his sweatpants. They move faster than you can think, straining against Jihoon’s grip to get to the prize you desperately seek.

“Use. Your. Words.” The grip tightens around your wrists. The longer you hold out, the rougher Jihoon will get with you. Just as much as you want all the pleasures his hands, mouth, and cock can bring, he wants to capture all of you on his phone for future use.

“I want you,” you say, almost pleading.

“You want me to what?”

“I want you to eat my pussy, then fuck me. Please. I want you in me so bad!” The whine that comes out of you is loud. It merges with a moan that erupts when Jihoon’s hands let go of you and find their way into your panties as fingers pinch your clit. In a moment, Jihoon moves to more easily rid you of the rest of the fabric that once created the barrier between him and what he craves.

“Well, when you put it that way…” he says, using your line against you. With his phone in hand, he gets close to your naked pussy and kisses your clit hard, darting his tongue out to dig into it. He's trying to get the camera angle just perfect to catch all the action, but it proves too difficult since he can't look at the screen and focus on you with his mouth at the same time. He catches your wrist and puts the phone in your hand. Without a word, he uses both of his now free hands to position your legs open.

“Go ahead and film from your perspective, baby. I want you to use the video, too.” Jihoon's gaze finds the camera pointed toward him. You see him on the screen and nod vigorously, very excited about the prospect of watching him work on you. You prop yourself on your elbows and try to get a good angle that includes the red lips, flushed cheeks, and fluttering eyelashes.

The hitched breath gets closer and closer, then suddenly a flat tongue licks its way between your lips all the way from your taint to flicking your clit. Catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you unconsciously stifle any sounds that want desperately to escape your chest. You don't know whether to look through the screen or directly at him, almost in the same way you wouldn't stare directly at the sun. The sight might send you over the edge too soon.

Jihoon isn't aware of any of your struggles not to instantly climax. He's too focused on his ministrations with his fingers rubbing your nub as he sinks his tongue inside you resolving to lick away all of the liquid that just keeps flowing. The sounds his tongue makes as it moves every which way inside you are deliciously vile. He does start to notice that it is entirely too quiet for his liking. He retreats and raises his head to meet your eyes. You see that his mouth and chin are slick with spit and the wetness from inside your pussy.

“Don't be shy, baby. You know how much I love to hear you.” His fingers haven't stopped flicking your clit for a single moment. You can’t let go of your lip to tell him how close you are, how this restraint might be the only thing keeping you grounded and focused enough to not come undone so quickly.

Jihoon never cares much for restraint when it comes to pleasure, especially if he’s pleasuring you. Two fingers find their way inside you, digging deep to find the spot then prodding it without restraint. It’s as if the chains that are keeping you on Earth break all at once, finally letting you float freely to cloud nine. It’s relentless and continuous pleasure that makes your hands go limp. You barely notice the phone drop down on your belly only to be picked up by a swift hand to capture the incredible and fap-worthy scene that Jihoon knows he’ll replay over and over and over. He closes in on fingers that disappear and reappear from the depths of you then pans up to your heaving chest and head lolled back as wanton moans cascade from your lips like a waterfall. Jihoon can’t help but chuckle softly admiring the mess he’s making of you and the fact that he has the privilege of catching it all on his phone.

Your eyelids close hard and you cry your boyfriend’s name to the sky as your first orgasm hits in pleasurable waves. The fingers inside you slow down, letting you ride it out comfortably. As you crack your eyes open you first lock your gaze on the camera and lick your lips. You notice how dry your mouth is from inhaling the air needed to keep up with the sounds your lungs had been itching to make from the start. You need to quench this thirst somehow.

“Jihoonie…” you mewl out in a small voice somewhere between a plea and a question. You meet his eyes briefly then stare down at his hips where his sweats still sit, and a tent has long been standing unattended. Jihoon notices your eyes drop to his pants and begins to palm his aching cock through them.

“You know what I’m going to say.” Jihoon’s voice is deep and seductive and commanding. You love the way he gets when he’s horny. He gets so particular and controlling. He wants you to beg, to say every dirty thought that comes to your mind. He likes your devolution from his good little girlfriend to an insatiable slut.

Whatever restraint or pride you were once holding onto is long gone after cumming on your boyfriend's fingers while he records you. That dirty persona takes over as you say, “Come here, baby, let me help you with that hard cock. Put it in here,” then you open your mouth wide. Jihoon smiles and scoots up so his legs straddle your face. He finally pulls down his sweats just far enough that his long, hard cock can stand proudly outside of its confines. He has the camera pointing at his hard dick in front of your open mouth, and he’s almost salivating at how good it looks on the screen. He takes his time guiding his cock to your mouth, trying to savor the moment and make the video run a good amount of time. You become a bit impatient and take the tip between your lips and suck hard while giving his slit a good lick. Precum coats your tongue; you swallow it to quench the lustful thirst.

“Shit,” Jihoon gasps. His mouth hangs open as you slowly take each inch, making sure your tongue slides against the vein on the underside. What you can’t take in your mouth, you jerk with your hand and bob your head at a comfortable pace. Jihoon’s eyes are glued to the screen. He watches as you open your hooded eyes and wink toward the camera, giving it a very good show. He can’t help but thrust lightly in your mouth to chase the heat so languidly caressing him. You let him set a pace; he never goes too hard and actually has his eyes trained on you to make sure you're okay the whole time.

As the tight feeling in his stomach gets more and more intense, Jihoon pulls away, even though he doesn’t really want to. A line of precum and spit connects your mouth to him, and you lean toward him to kiss his tip and lick it up. He groans hard and maneuvers to get his pants all the way off, finally rendering you both naked. Jihoon settles himself between your legs, and you finally let your head rest on the pillows. With his dick in one hand, and his phone in the other, he guides it to your awaiting sex while filming the whole thing. He takes a moment to capture rubbing it between your wet lips, enjoying the way you squirm under him.

“What’s wrong, hm? Tell me,” he teases in a fake concerned voice.

“I already told you, Ji!” you get more and more impatient with his teasing. His cock rubs your clit and up and down between your labia which get impossibly wetter, threatening to drip onto the sheets. It does feel good, but you spite the way Jihoon likes to slowly see you come undone as he teases the hell out of you.

“I forgot,” he lies with a big smile on his face. He doesn’t even look you in the eye; he’s too focused on watching his cock slide on your beautiful, wet pussy. “Can you remind me?”

You want to groan and try to torture him as much as he has tortured you thus far, but his resolve is too strong. He gets more pleasure from the service of it all more than anything. He does like to receive, but giving - well, in cases like this one, almost giving - is his true passion. He does it smiling over you, under you, and all around you. And he’ll be doing it every day for the next couple of weeks.

You give in, “Please, fuck me! Please, plea-” You are cut off when Jihoon slides his full cock into your awaiting hole. It bottoms out, and he waits a beat before thrusting rhythmically. Your moans accompany the sound of skin slapping skin. Jihoon got the whole thing on video, up close and personal. The camera lingers on your entrance as his long cock slides in and out, in and out. He makes sure to pull all the way to the tip before re-entering, getting every inch on the screen before letting it disappear again into the heat of your pussy.

You look at Jihoon who has his eyes glued to the screen. Hooking your legs around his waist, you pull him closer and gently grab his chin with your thumb and forefinger, guiding him to face you rather than the device in his hands. Your eyes meet his and your wet lips beg for a kiss without having to say anything. He obliges and abandons the phone on the bed to meet you in a searing kiss. His tongue expertly explores your mouth, and he maintains his pace thrusting into you. You moan through the whole kiss.

While placing sweet kisses to the side of your mouth, Jihoon angles to hit your g-spot head on. His thrusts are shallow and hard as he stimulates it waiting for the moment you lose your breath. “Cum for me, again, baby girl.” The simple words have you convulsing in an instant, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend pulling him until he can’t get any closer. Watching your face and body writhe in ultimate pleasure helps him as he chases his own orgasm. He can’t take his gaze off your face that had a blissful expression stuck on it.

“Go ahead,” you breathe out, “Cum inside, baby.” You smile lazily at his surprise that turns into a jaw-dropping orgasm as he ruts his hips against you, emptying his load inside of your hole and filling you to the brim. Jihoon once again grabs his phone. He begins to document himself pulling out slowly, revealing your cum-covered hole. He takes his thumb to spread the opening more which allows more of the white liquid to drip out. Satisfied, he finally stops the video and ventures to gather some towels to clean you up.

When you are both clean and comfortable snuggling under the covers together, you hear noises coming from your boyfriend who is focused on his phone. He isn’t scrolling through social media or texting. A familiar voice speaks through his phone, “Go ahead.Cum inside, baby.” You cringe hearing your freshly fucked self through the speaker. You never thought you would be confronted by that version of yourself until now.

“Are you really watching that right now?” you ask incredulously.

Jihoon turns the screen toward you and displays your own pussy dripping with his cum. “Doesn’t that look so delicious? You did so well for me. So pretty.” He smiles and laughs as you lightly push him, turning red from embarrassment.

You turn to face away from him and he finally puts his phone down for the night. He wraps his arms around you from behind and buries his face in your shoulder. “Send me that video when you get a chance.” You feel a smile creeping onto Jihoon’s face.

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