. . . in my 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝘀, you love me back

latest work : sweet home  ( park wonbin )

hope y’all like reading heeseung being manhandled because i’m actually writing it right now (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

sweet home  ( park wonbin )

❛ content 1.3k words, male reader, boyfriend!wonbin, fluff, casual kisses, massage / physical affection, requested here!

the second you stepped through the front door, the weight of the day hit you like a wave.

your body ached, your shoulders felt stiff, and all you could think about was falling into bed and never getting up again. work had drained every ounce of energy from you, and right now, you wanted nothing more than to shut the world out and just exist in peace.

but before you could even take a full step inside, a familiar warmth wrapped around your waist from behind, and a soft voice hummed against your shoulder.

“welcome home,” wonbin murmured, his arms tightening around you as he leaned into your back.

just like that, the exhaustion didn’t feel so unbearable anymore.

you let out a slow breath, tilting your head slightly so it brushed against his. “hey, my love.”

wonbin didn’t let go right away — he never did. instead, he pressed himself closer, his bare skin warm against yours, and let out a content sigh.

“you look exhausted.”

“you have no idea,” you muttered, reaching down to squeeze his hands where they rested on your stomach.

he made a soft sound of sympathy before finally loosening his grip just enough to pull back and look at you. his dark eyes flickered over your face, taking in the tension in your brows, the way your shoulders still hadn’t fully relaxed.

without another word, he took your hand and led you toward the bedroom.

“you need to let me take care of you,” he said simply, his voice gentle but firm.

you huffed out a small laugh, letting him guide you. “oh yeah? and what exactly does that involve?”

wonbin glanced over his shoulder with a teasing smirk.

“you’ll see.”

as soon as you stepped into the bedroom, wonbin turned to you and tugged lightly at the hem of your shirt. his fingers skimmed your stomach briefly before he looked up at you expectantly.

“shirt off,” he instructed.

you raised an eyebrow, smirking. “if you wanted to see me shirtless so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

wonbin rolled his eyes, but the slight pink dusting his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

“stop talking and take it off,” he muttered, trying to sound unimpressed, but the way his fingers played with the fabric gave him away.

you chuckled but obeyed, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside. the second it was gone, wonbin’s eyes shamelessly roamed over your chest, his lips parting slightly as he took you in.

“you’re staring,” you teased.

his gaze snapped up, and he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“no, im not.”

“sure,” you drawled, reaching out to tug him closer by the waistband of his sweatpants.

that’s when you realized — he was already shirtless, too.

the smooth expanse of his skin was on full display, warm and inviting under the dim lighting of the room. you ran your hands over his sides absentmindedly, feeling the way he shivered under your touch.

“you didn’t answer my question,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. “what exactly are you planning to do to me?”

wonbin let out a small, breathy laugh, his hands sliding up to rest against your shoulders.

“lie down, and you’ll find out.”

you gave him one last lingering kissm before doing as he said. stretching out on your stomach, you let your body sink into the mattress, exhaling deeply.

the bed felt nice, but the second wonbin straddled your lower back, his warm hands pressing against your shoulders, you knew this was going to feel even better.

“you’re so tense,” he murmured, his thumbs digging into a particularly stiff knot. “i can feel it just by touching you.”

you hummed in response, already melting under his touch. “long day.”

“then stop thinking about it,” he said softly, his fingers working expertly over your muscles. “just relax.”

easier said than done — until he really started working his hands over you. wonbin knew exactly where to press, how much pressure to use, and before long, your eyes had slipped shut, your breathing slowing as the tension slowly ebbed away.

his hands trailed down the length of your back, kneading with firm yet careful movements.

“you’re so strong,” he mused after a moment, his voice filled with quiet admiration. “it’s kinda unfair.”

you cracked one eye open, smirking. “jealous?”

wonbin scoffed, though his hands never stopped moving.

“i mean, a little. have you seen yourself?” his fingers ran down the ridges of your spine, tracing the muscles there. “you’re built like a damn superhero.”

you chuckled, shifting slightly beneath him. “mhh, and you like that?”

his hands paused for half a second before he muttered;

“shut up,” and resumed his work.

the warmth in your chest spread.

wonbin had always been sweet, but something about the way he touched you — so careful, so deliberate — made you feel something even deeper. his hands weren’t just massaging you; they were memorizing you. mapping out every inch of skin like he wanted to know it by heart.

a soft sigh escaped you as his fingers worked down to your lower back, pressing just right.

“damn, bin… where did you learn to do this?”

“you,” he answered simply. “i just pay attention.”

something about that made your heart flip in your chest. you reached back blindly, finding his thigh and squeezing it gently.

“you’re too good to me, you know that?”

wonbin leaned down, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“i like spoiling you,” he murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss just behind your jaw. “especially when you let me.”

you hummed in appreciation, turning your head to steal a kiss from his lips. it was slow, unhurried — just the way you both liked it.

when he pulled back, his cheeks were a little flushed, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he finished massaging the last bit of tension out of your lower back before sliding off of you. without a word, he lay down beside you, his bare chest pressing against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

you immediately pulled him closer, letting your fingers trace the curve of his spine.

“you’re warm,” you murmured, pressing your lips to his forehead.

wonbin sighed, melting into you completely. “that’s the point. now you can just rest.”

you huffed a soft laugh. “you make it sound so easy.”

“it is easy,” he insisted, shifting slightly so he could nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “you just had to stay here with me.”

like you’d ever want to be anywhere else.

you tightened your grip on him, pressing another kiss to his hair. “alright, fine. but only because you’re cute.”

wonbin groaned dramatically. “ruined the moment.”

you laughed, the sound rumbling in your chest, and wonbin let out a little smile against your skin. he tangled his legs with yours, fully pressing himself against you as if he wanted to disappear into your warmth.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. there was no need to. the room was quiet except for the steady sound of your breathing, the occasional soft rustle of the sheets as one of you shifted closer.

eventually, wonbin tilted his head up to look at you, his expression soft, open. “you feeling better?”

you brushed his hair back, letting your fingers linger against his cheek.

“yeah,” you admitted. “a lot better.”

a slow, satisfied smile spread across his lips. “good.”

you kissed him again, just because you could, and he melted into it without hesitation. when you pulled away, he stayed close, his forehead resting against yours.

“i love you,” he murmured.

you ran your thumb over his cheek, your voice just as soft. “i love you too, love.”

and as your eyes slip shut, your fingers still tracing soft, lazy circles against his skin, you realize — this is home.

eyes don’t lie  ( jake sim )

❛ content 1.4k words, male reader, bestfriend! jake, college au, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, profanity, sexual tension, detailed heated kissing.

jake sim had spent way too much time trying to figure you out.

ever since college, you’d been on a mission to make his life difficult. not in the way that a bad roommate or an annoying classmate might, but in a way that kept him up at night, staring at his ceiling, wondering what the hell you were trying to do to him.

you flirted with him like it was second nature — words dripping with innuendo, casual touches that never felt quite as casual as they should. you did it so effortlessly, so consistently, that everyone around you had stopped questioning whether there was something going on between the two of you and had just accepted it as fact.

jake had tried to ignore it. he had tried to convince himself it was all a joke, just your personality, just another one of your stupid little games.

but the problem was if this was a game, jake was losing.

and tonight, at this godforsaken party, he was about to lose real bad.

the music was pounding through the walls, bass shaking the floor. the air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and some kind of overly sweet fruit punch that was definitely more vodka than juice.

jake had been standing by the couch, half-heartedly listening to a conversation about a football game he didn't care about, when he felt it ; you.

sliding up beside him, arm draping over his shoulders like you’d been waiting for the perfect moment to make his life a living hell.

“hey, pretty boy,” you murmured, voice dangerously smooth. “you look really good tonight.”

“jesus christ,” jake exhaled sharply.

you grinned. “what? not used to compliments?”

“not from you.”

that was a lie. he was way too used to them, which was exactly the problem.

you laughed, leaning in just a fraction closer, and jake could feel you. the warmth of your breath against his skin, the press of your chest against his arm — it was insane how little space there was between you, and it was even more insane how much jake wanted it.

“you always get this flustered?” you teased, fingers brushing against his when you reached for the drink in his hand. “or just with me?”

jake clenched his jaw. “do you ever shut up?”

“you really love it, huh?”

and the worst part was — you were so fucking right.

jake had spent years letting you get away with this, letting you flirt and touch and push every single one of his buttons without ever calling you out on it. because deep down, some stupid part of him did love it. some stupid part of him wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t joking.

that maybe he wasn’t the only one overanalyzing every touch, every look, every barely-there moment that felt way too real.

“hey, guys! we’re playing truth or dare,” someone called from across the room, waving people over. “get over here!”

“you in?” you turned to jake, eyes gleaming with mischief.

jake stared at you for a long moment. he should say no. he should make some excuse, leave before this night got even more dangerous.

instead, he found himself exhaling a resigned, “yeah, sure.”

big mistake.

the game started off simple enough. stupid dares, embarrassing questions, the usual. but jake should’ve known that it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

because then it was your turn.

and of course, because the universe hated him, someone had to ask, “who in this room would you most want to kiss?”

jake’s stomach dropped.

the whole circle erupted into whistles and laughter, and you — cool as ever — just leaned back on your palms, tilting your head in mock thought.

“hm,” you mused. “that’s a tough one.”

jake’s heart was pounding.

you were doing this on purpose. you had to be.

then, your eyes flicked to his. just for a second. just long enough for him to feel it. and that was all it took for his brain to short-circuit.

“i’d tell you, but i think i’d rather show you,” you smirked, again.

jake felt his face heat up, a mix of frustration and something he didn’t want to name burning in his chest. you were so full of shit, and yet—

why did he want you to mean it so badly?

the game went on, but jake wasn’t paying attention anymore. all he could think about was the way you’d looked at him just now. the way your gaze had lingered, just a little too long.

and then, just when he thought the night couldn’t get any worse… you leaned in, voice dropping into something softer, dangerous.

“hey.”

jake swallowed hard. “what?”

you studied him for a moment, like you were debating something. and then—

“you ever notice how you never stop me?”

jake froze. his breath hitched, heart slamming against his ribs. he turned his head slowly, meeting your gaze, and suddenly… fuck. you were so close.

closer than you should be. closer than friends should be. and your eyes — dark, hooded, devouring him whole.

oh god. jake’s grip tightened around the beer bottle in his hand. “what are you trying to say?”

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you reached out, fingers grazing his wrist. the touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shockwave through him.

“i think you know,” you murmured.

jake felt like he couldn’t breathe.

maybe it was the alcohol. maybe it was the heat of the room. or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in years, you weren’t laughing.

you weren’t turning this into a joke. you were so serious. and that — more than anything — was what did it.

before he could stop himself, jake’s hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist. tight. firm. the way your breath hitched did something to him, something dangerous, something unstoppable.

his voice was suddenly low, rough. “what if i do want to kiss you?”

your eyes flickered down to his lips. and just like that, jake was gone.

the second his lips crashed against yours, the world tilted.

it wasn’t soft. it wasn’t careful. it was desperate — months, years of built-up tension snapping all at once. the air between you burned, and neither of you wanted to waste another second.

your hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him closer, and jake melted into it, pressing back with just as much hunger, as if he could drown in you and still come back for more. you tasted like beer and something sweeter, something unmistakably you, and it was intoxicating.

jake groaned into your mouth, a low, needy sound that sent a shiver down your spine. you — cocky bastard that you were — smiled against his lips, like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. like you’d been waiting for this, savoring the anticipation, knowing you had him wrapped around your finger.

and fuck, maybe you had.

jake didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly, his back hit the nearest wall with a dull thud.

it barely registered, because you were everywhere — your hands in his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp against your lips; your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw before sliding down his throat, pressing against his pulse like you wanted to feel just how fast he was unraveling for you.

his grip tightened on your hips, rough and possessive, dragging you against him like he needed you closer, like there was still too much space between you. the heat of your body, the way you pressed flush against him — it was dizzying. your teeth grazed his lower lip, teasing, and his breath hitched before he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, chasing the taste of you like he was starving.

you pulled back just enough to whisper, breathless and smug against his lips, “took you long enough.”

jake let out a shaky laugh, but his fingers dug into your waist, eyes dark with something molten.

“shut up,” he muttered.

and then, he kissed you again. harder, deeper, like he was making up for every second he’d spent holding back.

pretty when u cry ( song mingi )

▍ a completely stupid argument, and now mingi is crying for your attention.

content : 1.1k words, male reader, boyfriend! mingi, desperate! mingi, angst & fluff (?), mingi whine…, really suggestive at the end lol, mingi calls reader 'baby', requested here!

it was supposed to be a nice, chill night.

you and mingi were curled up on the couch, watching some random show, when the dumbest argument of your entire relationship broke out. it started with you casually mentioning how good pineapple tasted on pizza.

mingi had gone rigid.

“you like pineapple on pizza?” he had asked, turning to you so fast it was like you’d just confessed to murder.

“…yeah?”

silence. then, pure disgust settled over his face.

“you’re serious?”

you frowned. “what’s wrong with that?”

“what’s right with that?” mingi countered. “that’s, like, the worst topping ever. it’s soggy. it’s wrong.”

you scoffed. “it’s sweet and salty. it’s delicious.”

“it’s an abomination.”

“mingi, it’s not that serious—”

“it is that serious,” he pointed at you, eyes narrowing. “i don’t know if i can look at you the same way after this.”

and that? that was where he fucked up.

because now, you were annoyed.

he had been dramatic over stupid things before, but this was next-level. you had half a mind to kick him off the couch, but instead, you decided on something worse.

you ignored him. full-on silent treatment.

and mingi was not handling it well.

for the past twenty minutes, he had been trying everything to get your attention.

he had tried whining. he had tried cuddling into your side. he had even pouted — full lips jutted out, eyes wide and pleading — but you refused to acknowledge him.

at first, he had just been playfully frustrated.

but now? now, he was genuinely suffering.

“baby,” he whined, dramatically draping himself across your lap. “please, just look at me.”

you didn’t move.

he groaned, shoving his face into your stomach. “you’re really mad over this?”

more silence.

mingi sighed and pulled back, staring at you. you were still facing the tv, arms crossed, expression blank.

he swallowed. “you’re really not gonna talk to me?”

nothing.

mingi inhaled sharply. “okay.”

then, to your absolute shock, you heard a small, shaky sniffle. your brows twitched. another sniffle.

you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and—

oh.

oh, shit.

his eyes were glossy, his bottom lip trembling. his lashes fluttered rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were already beginning to spill.

he sniffled again, then rubbed at his face with his sleeve.

“i just… i don’t know what i did wrong,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

you blinked. “mingi…”

his head snapped up, eyes wide, hopeful. “you’re talking to me again?”

you frowned. “are you crying?”

he sniffled. “i am not.”

you stared at him.

he sniffled again, rubbing at his eye with his sleeve.

“i just… i hate when you ignore me.”

your chest tightened.

but then, you noticed something else.

his lips were slightly swollen, from either biting them or pressing them together to hold back sobs. his nose was red-tipped, his expression soft, vulnerable, desperate. his wet lashes glistened under the dim lighting of the room, making his eyes look even bigger.

he looked stupidly pretty.

mingi sniffled, staring at you, waiting.

you exhaled, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek with your thumb. he shivered slightly at the touch.

“you really cried over this?” you murmured.

mingi sniffled again, then nuzzled into your palm, blinking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

“i don’t like when you ignore me,” he admitted quietly.

his voice was soft, raspy, broken.

something in you snapped.

before you could think twice, you grabbed his chin and tilted his face up further. his breath caught as you ran your thumb over his lip, feeling the warmth, the slight dampness from his tears.

mingi’s lashes fluttered. “baby…”

your grip tightened.

“you look really pretty when you cry,” you muttered.

mingi froze.

a visible shudder ran through his body. his breath shuddered, eyes flickering between yours and your lips.

then—

“do you like it?” he whispered.

your fingers flexed against his jaw. “like what?”

mingi swallowed thickly. “when i cry.”

your pulse quickened.

he inhaled, shaking slightly as he leaned in. “because i’ll do it more if it means you’ll touch me like this again.”

fuck.

you clenched your jaw, gripping his face tighter, thumb pressing against his lower lip.

“you’re really pushing it,” you muttered.

mingi exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch. his hands found your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make your skin tingle.

“is that a bad thing?” he murmured.

you didn’t answer. instead, you moved.

in one swift motion, you grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him forward, crashing your lips against his.

mingi moaned.

it was soft, breathy, but fuck, it was there.

his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. his lips were warm, needy, moving feverishly against yours as if he was trying to make up for the time you had spent ignoring him.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly — he whimpered. something dark, hungry, settled in your stomach.

you deepened the kiss, pushing him further back against the couch. mingi let out a small gasp as your tongue slid past his lips, his grip on your hips tightening.

“fuck,” he whispered against your mouth. “you—”

you cut him off by biting his bottom lip.

mingi whined.

you smirked. “what was that?”

his breath shuddered. “you’re—”

another kiss. this one harder.

mingi’s head hit the armrest, his body pliant beneath yours. his chest rose and fell rapidly, his fingers trembling against your skin.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face — his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, his half-lidded, desperate eyes.

he looked wrecked.

and you weren’t even close to done.

“you’re not crying anymore,” you teased, voice low.

mingi swallowed, lips parting slightly. “maybe you should keep ignoring me, then.”

you huffed a quiet laugh. “you’re such a fucking brat.”

he smirked. “but you love it, right?”

you pressed your knee between his thighs.

mingi gasped.

his eyes flew open, cheeks burning. “oh, fuck—”

you leaned down, lips brushing against his ear.

“if you keep acting like this,” you murmured, “i might have to make you cry again.”

mingi shuddered.

“fuck,” he whispered, voice breathy. “please.”

his grip on your waist tightened.

and just like that, your forgotten argument about pineapple on pizza?

didn’t seem so important anymore.