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sluttywoozi · 1 month ago

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Jihoon lazy morning sex

You wake up entangled with each other from last night and what started out as innocent good morning kisses turns into his tongue in your mouth.

Gentle massages to your hips where he gripped you so hard you had faint bruising. Those turn into feeling you up and a tiredly groaned out. "Fuck, still so wet for me?"

That's all I've got. My brain is mush now

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.2k

Warnings: lil bit of fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, bruises from night before felt but not seen, cockwarming

AN: in my head, this is the somewhere in the middle couple but you don't have to read that to read this (you should read that tho i think it's my fav work of mine, for jihoon at least)

Warmth is the first thing you register as you start to awaken. The warmth of the early morning sun streaming in through the curtains you forgot to close, the warmth of the duvet that covers your naked body, the warmth of an arm curled around your shoulders and a chest beneath your head, the heart inside of it beating steadily.

The chest vibrates, a low, satisfied hum filling your ears as Jihoon stirs. His arm tightens around you, his other hand taking hold of your waist and shifting you over until you rest fully on top of him in a straddle. Still sleepy, you lift your head and stare at him, watching as he blinks his eyes halfway open and smiles softly at you before puckering his lips.

Taking that for the request you know it to be, you inch up until you can press your mouth to his in a good morning kiss. It’s gentle, chaste, as are the three others you share immediately after. The next, however, is decidedly the opposite, his hand leaving your waist to cup your jaw and pull it down as his tongue slides between your lips.

The arm wrapped around your shoulders moves, his touch going first to the back of your neck where he squeezes gently before dragging his hand down the length of your spine, ending with his fingers gripping the flesh of your hip. The tips dig in, finding bruises you didn’t know he gave you, making you whimper into his mouth and reach down to cover his hand with yours.

“Sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, immediately gentling his grasp and instead massaging at the fat of your hip with soothing fingers. He pets your soft skin, his hand inevitably meandering to your ass where he caresses and kneads before tugging the cheek to the side to open you up.

You gasp at the feeling, knowing what his destination is but not knowing how he’ll get there. His touch leaves your face, drifting down your body to skim between your legs, his fingers gliding when he drags them through your folds.

“Fuck, still so wet for me?” He groans raspily, exhaustion and lust evident in his voice.

“I‘m always wet for you, Jihoon,” you mumble back, long past denying it to him or to yourself.

“God, you get me hard so fuckin’ fast,” he shakes his head, dipping two of his fingers into your entrance as you feel his cock twitch beneath you. It’s stuck between your body and his, and if you could just get your hips up, you’d be able to sink down and let him fill you and then you wouldn’t feel empty like you do.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you beg before he decides to draw this out, well aware that if he gets it in his head to eat you out and/or fuck you with his fingers first, it’ll be an hour or more of sweet, terrible torture.

You don’t think you can wait that long, not when he’s hot and hard and leaking against you.

“I should stretch you out,” he says, sliding his fingers in as far as they go and scissoring them to push apart your walls.

“You fucked me less than twelve hours ago, I can take you now, I promise,” you plead quietly, consciously relaxing so he can feel for himself just how pliable you are. He moans like he can feel the difference, and maybe he can because he pulls his fingers out and returns his hands to your hips, grasping carefully this time.

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, holding you up so you can reach down and align his cock with your opening, groaning in unison with you as your pussy swallows him inch by inch.

He always makes you feel so full, so whole, so complete, and sometimes, it’s enough to bring tears to your eyes. He knows you, though, knows you’re a bit of a cry baby so he doesn’t get concerned, just wraps one arm around your waist to hold you flush to his chest and fills the other hand with your ass cheek to help you move, his fingers digging in harshly.

You won’t mind having more sore spots later, not when they’re all evidence of him fucking you.

That’s what this is, even with you on top. You’re still not in control of anything, not the pace, not the intensity, not the depth, but that’s how you like it. You like that all you have to do is listen and be good, and he’ll take care of you like you know you deserve.

On the next roll of your hips, he thrusts up into you, hitting so deep, you swear you can feel him in your guts. It makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes shut, your nails clawing at his chest when he does it again. His abs tense against your stomach as he holds you in place and starts bucking into you, the rhythm of his hips almost lazy but the force behind them fierce.

He fucks you into some sort of trance, the wicked push of his hips and pull of his hands hypnotic, especially with how tired you still are from last night. You think you could even fall asleep like this if it didn’t feel so damn good, his cock dragging against every sweet spot you have as he slides in and out of you.

Your fatigue makes you even more susceptible to the pleasure, and when he works a hand between your hips and his and sets his fingertips on your clit, you know it’s over. He doesn’t even have to move his fingers, the rocking of your bodies providing enough stimulation that you’re already whining, already fluttering around him, already right there on the edge.

Jihoon can’t last in the mornings either, and you’re sure that as soon as you start to cum, he’ll follow you. It almost makes you want to hold out just so you can feel this bliss for a bit longer, but there’s also the option of breaking now, going back to sleep, and waking up to do it all over again.

You like that option, love it, in fact, so it’s easy to let the building wave of euphoria wash over you, a sharp gasp escaping your parted lips as your pussy ripples and squeezes around him. Just like you suspected he would, he groans raggedly and buries his face in your neck, his cock jumping against your walls as his cum spurts inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

The come down is slow, with syrupy sweet kisses and affectionate words being dreamily exchanged, bringing you closer and closer to slumber.

“Do you want to get up?” He asks quietly, grinning when you sleepily pout and answer, “No.”

“Good, me neither. Let’s just stay like this.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

#are these pictures two years old? yes #will i ever let go of them? no #esp when he never fucking posts selfies #he looks so round so soft i need to bite his cheeks #then i need him to **** me into the mattress #n e ways thank u for this anon #wanted to write woozi so bad for so long #✨emily writes✨#✨emily answers✨#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #kpop smut #jihoon smut #jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #woozi smut

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tojisun · 1 year ago

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thinking about biker! simon going out with his girl and the other guys at a biker bar. reader hasn't really seen how scared people are of simon - who they all call ghost - until she goes to get him another drink. while she's at the bar, a guy comes over trying to hit on her. then this hulking, 6'4 guy in a skull mask appears and the guy is ready to run out of the bar. simon didn't even have to talk just glare. while readers like ???

ITS BEEN YEARS SINCE THIS WAS SENT IM SORRY FOR JUST REPLYING NOW :(( BUT YES ABSOLUTELY YES!! my stomach swooped when i saw this hhhhh im actually kicking my legs n twirling my hair n everythingg!!

naturally, im bad at making drabbles because this turned out long again :’) im sorry

biker!simon mlist // star divider by @/plutism <33

simon’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you further into the bar. you shuffle along his languid steps, head swivelling as you try to find familiar faces in the crowd – so far, none yet.

simon chuckles from beside you, and you peer up at him only to see his eyes crinkled from underneath his balaclava, no doubt smiling at you. he bows his head closer towards yours, trying, in vain, to devour as much of the space made by the height difference between you two.

“what?”

“nothin’, sweet girl.” he presses his covered lips on the top of your head, breathing you in. “come on, i see ‘em.”

he shifts the two of you, the hand that’s settled on the small of your back gliding until it hooks around your waist, pulling you ever so closer to him. protective. possessive. it makes you hum in delight, happiness thrumming underneath your skin.

(you don’t notice the way many people shift to get out of simon’s way; heads downturned as though afraid of even meeting his eyes. you don’t notice the way they turn to each other when you two passed by, as though making sure that it was simon they saw. simon – ghost – with a sweet darling pressed to his side, his bulk warding away stray gazes. you don’t notice the way they huddle with each other, whispering promises that ghost’s girl should always be protected. because yes they fear ghost, but more than that, loyalty to each other is stronger.)

he leads you towards a small pack by the far side, the table doused less in light than the rest of the bar. johnny’s already turned towards you and simon, watching with a grin as you two make it across. kyle’s seated beside him, the younger man leaned to watch the ongoing hockey game. then you see the back of john’s familiar head, his beloved boonie slung around his neck.

“finally made it, huh lass?” johnny says in greeting, snagging the attention of both kyle and john, the two of them chiming in their own hello’s. you smile, waving at them as you claim the empty seat between simon and john.

“had to make a quick stop at 7-11,” simon responds, his hand curling at one of the legs of your chair before pulling you towards him. the metal squeaks against the tiles, the sound thankfully drowned out by the loud bass.

“oh did you?” john asks, ignoring whatever simon did given how they’re all so used to his soft displays of possessiveness. he offers you a smile when you turn to him with a nod.

“had to buy, um, medicine for my stomachache.”

it’s endearing how their faces shift so fast, little smiles falling as worry takes over. even simon, whose hand is draped on your thigh, tenses, gripping as though he was remembering how he heard your pained whimper or saw you sniffling as the ache echoed, throbbing just below your ribs, choking you up.

“are you feeling any better? did it subside now, at least?” kyle asks.

you nod, quick to reassure them. “the medicine worked! i’m feelin’ better, i promise!”

they relax, tensed shoulders going lax as life flutters back into the table. you smile before sinking ever so closer to simon’s side, shying away from the intensity of their affections for you – your own little band of brotherhood, visceral in the way they care for you.

simon’s grip loosens on your thigh, choosing instead to massage the muscle tenderly. you hum, turning to ask him what he’s getting.

“whiskey, maybe,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by his mask. “you getting your bellini today, love?”

“yes please,” you reply, blinking up at him.

his eyes crinkle again, a telltale sign of his smile, before he pats your thigh and gets up to place the order.

you turn to the group, tuning into johnny’s rambling, listening to him recounting his rally. it was the one you weren’t able to go to because of work, johnny having to reassure you multiple times (even through text) that it’s fine that you’re missing it. so you listened, enraptured, nose scrunching in confusion whenever johnny slips into heavy scottish in his excitement.

“english, mactavish,” simon sighs as he falls back to his seat, startling you. you see johnny flip him off and you make eye contact with kyle, sharing twin looks of exasperation.

simon slides you your bellini and you whisper a thanks, trilling when he noses the top of your head again – your clingy boy.

the conversation rises and falls, sometimes leaving your mind wandering when they start talking about shop, sometimes catching your attention so much that you find yourself leaning on the table, breathless and wide-eyed as you listen to their bike stories – johnny had continued about his rally, kyle talked about the repairs he did for a client who he’s sure is on the run, and john shared that horrifying experience he had on his way home where he thinks he saw a floating woman by the east side highway.

“your turn, big guy,” you say, tapping simon’s knee.

simon finishes his whiskey – his balaclava tugged just enough to show his chin and his lips – before plopping the empty glass on the table with a sigh. you huff a fond laugh, knowing that one glass isn’t enough to satiate the thirst so you dust imaginary dirt off your skirt before standing up.

he tilts his head up in question, arm still hooked around your waist.

“gonna grab us more drinks,” you say. “oh, tell ‘em about the gas station incident!”

he grunts, nodding, and yet he refuses to budge. you fondly roll your eyes and turn to the others. “drinks?”

they all shake their head, johnny specifically saying he’d have to order for himself because he’d want to try the house specialties. you nod, pinching simon’s arm as you dance away from him with a bitten grin, before making your way to the bar.

you prattle away your order, telling the bartender to add the tab to your table, and hover, swaying to the music. it’s a foreign rock band playing, the bass and drums reverberating loudly, you can feel the vibrations pulsing along your body, and you almost get lost in your own thoughts when a hand slides to your back.

you startle, mind quickly cataloguing that this isn’t simon. because simon, for all his impressive silence and his displays of possessiveness, never sneaks up on you like this. he has never let you doubt your safety while with him. so you back away from the stranger’s touch, your hands pressed close to your chest before finally turning to see who went up to you.

the man, who seems to be about your age, smiles upon seeing your face. “hey there, angel.”

the pet name makes you nauseous and your stomach churns once again. you have to ask for the medicine from simon when you return to the table.

“hi,” you squeak, not letting him off your sight.

“you seem new here. i am too.” he laughs, scratching his neck. then, “it really ain’t my scene.”

“uh-huh,” you say, not knowing what else to tell him.

his chuckles peter out, a suave smile replacing what had been an awkward display of forced laughter. he clears his throat. “so, what’s a sweet thing like you doing alone here?”

“she ain’t alone, kid,” the bartender answers for you and you turn to him, surprised, before thanking him as he presents you with your whiskey and bellini.

the bartender nods to you in reply before crossing his arms in front of his chest and addresses the stranger again. “go bother someone else.”

the man arches a brow in question, his lips pursing in distaste. “oh yeah? she seems pretty available to me.”

the phrase hits you badly.

your anxiousness bleeds away to make room for your ire and you snarl, dropping your hands from where they’re pressed on your chest to rest them on your hips.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice a measured anger. “i’m fucking what now?”

he raises his hands up like he’s pacifying you. “hey, hey. didn’t mean that, my pretty girl-”

“she’s not your anything, you mad wanker.”

the sound of simon’s voice makes you settle, a wave of safety and comfort washing over you, dousing the angry churning in the pit in your stomach. simon steps from behind the stranger, towering over him, before moving to stand beside you. his hand hovers, questioning, and you give him a soft nod that gets simon pulling you close to him. his hand falls to the small of your back, caressing, and you wonder if he knows that the man had grazed his hand there just minutes ago. if simon’s doing this to overwrite the unpleasant feeling that was sticking to you.

“oh,” the stranger breathes out and you notice the way his hands are trembling, the tight balls of his fists turning his knuckles white. “i, uh, i’m sorry, ghost.” then he’s off, running out of the bar with his tail tucked between his legs.

you huff at the realization that the mad man didn’t even apologize to you. what a fucking prick.

“you doin’ alright there, baby?” simon asks, pulling you to him. he settles on an empty bar stool – you are sure those were filled just minutes ago… – and tugs you so that you are standing between his legs.

he cups your cheeks, thumbs tracing lines just underneath your eyes, and it makes you drag a shaky inhale.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i should’ve accompanied you.” simon sounds distressed, his eyes furrowed in the intensity of his worry.

you coo at him, it’s your turn to cup his jaw this time. “i’m alright, si. i promise.”

he shifts his eyes between yours, searching for anything besides the truth, and he folds himself into you when he sees that you mean it. you laugh, patting at his head, wishing that he doesn’t have his balaclava so you can play with his hair, before turning to the bartender who, in the sudden absence of customers by the counter, is watching you two with a pinched smile.

“thank you again,” you tell him and he grunts, nodding. simon straightens up and groans as he stands, his big body unaccustomed to the tiny bar stools.

“yeah,” he says, addressing the bartender. “thanks for bein’ here for my girl, alex.”

the bartender – alex – just waves his hand around in dismissal. “it’s nothin’, really. now go away, i want customers.”

simon and alex laugh, sharing an inside joke, and you swivel your head around in confusion because now that alex had mentioned it, where did everyone go? and why are they all huddled together, far from the bar?

simon closes his hand on your wrist and pulls. you barely manage a goodbye to alex who waves at you in reply.

…alex?

“wait. that’s alex?”

best believe that simon has connections anywhere he goes. if not for himself, it’s for his girl!!!

me, shamefully staring at the word count (1.8k) of what should’ve been a drabble: well now…

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #anon #ask #suns #deviously screaming!! i love scary ghost but a sweetheart to his girl <333 thank u sm anon for this i hope u like it hhhhh

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