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shina913 · 1 day
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You’re my favorite writer on this platform and I’ll wait as long as it takes for whatever you write next.
Aww, thank you, Anon đŸ„ș Writing has been much slower than normal and motivation has been low. Life has been
life as well! I still have many ideas and prompts, though. It’s just a matter of actually putting words on the doc. Still, I’m thankful that you took the time to send this note. I hope I can update my wips soon! Take care 💜
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shina913 · 2 days
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Thank you for reading 💜
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Coquet (Series) | JJK
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Coquet
\ kƍ-​ˈket Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.
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Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader
Rating: M (🔞)
Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut
Total word count: 77,727K words
Status: Completed ✅
Warnings (more to be written in individual chapters): cussing; explicit sexual conversations; hints of awkward family dynamic; fake-dating; hired escort; some anxiety; alcohol consumption
Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.
A/N: This is loosely inspired by The Wedding Date (2004) but with a slight twist. If you know the movie, I hope you'll still read along. I have a habit of getting prompts from random movies or shows that I revisit and then find some details that I'd like to switch up for my own personal wish-fulfillment bank so, I hope it does the same for yours as well! 😊
Comment, reblog, or send me feedback! đŸ“©--I love hearing from readers!
❗Please DNI if you're a minor.
➌Cross-posted on AO3
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Navigation:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Epilogue
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shina913 · 2 days
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shina913 · 6 days
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Idk why it took me so long to read this but better late than never and ohh—so, so worth it!
My god, I miss Namjoon! Reading about him, writing about him. This story just scratched that itch.
The entire first half, I just kept squealing to myself like a crazy person. Ma’am, it’s nearly midnight, wtf are you doing?! đŸ€Ą
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But ugghhh— I just have to quote these because
 UGGGHHHHH!!!!
Even the overhead sun couldn’t do a thing to dim his appeal. Sweaty or dry as a bone. Rain soaked. Something told you that Namjoon was all-weather handsome. 
And
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.
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Seriously—what even
?????
Your writing blows my mind. It’s so sexy without trying so hard, and I love that so much.
PS - Uhm
that outdoor soaking tub
mmm 🌝
Me Time (Namjoon x Yn/Reader)
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Word Count: 7.23k
Pairing: Namjoon x Y/n
Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit
Warnings: Kissing (french and other), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clit/pussy sucking, orgasms (multiple, yours and his), flirting, seduction, semi-missionary sex, intense sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, Namjoon has money/a nice place/is a rich guy in this one. If I missed one, it is what it is. 
Genre: Strangers to Lovers, PWP
AUs: None
Summary: You head to the woods for a Me Day. When you encounter a handsome stranger more than once, it becomes an ‘Us’ day that you could get used to. 
Author’s Note: Glad to be back and I’m happy to have my comeback be a Namjoon adventure. This was requested by @worldwideseal a bit ago and I've been trying hard to finish it.
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, let me know in a comment. 
Tag list: @askkrisachan @kiestrokes
It was a solid battle. A contemplation in the drinks aisle, door open and chilled air rolling over your sun warmed skin. If you were accused of debating too long, it wasn’t something you’d deny. The cool air felt nice on the sting of what had clearly proved a bit too long in the midday sun. 
A wonderful way to start your weekend: an unexpectedly challenging hike that was supposed to take less than 30 minutes from the parking lot. But that proved to be for those initiated types–the ones who made a hike with a considerable grade look like a jaunt. 
For you it was a bit more like a gauntlet of misery. So you’d more than justified it to yourself, leaning against the drinks cooler door frame, letting your profile crush against the frosted surface. 
You hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching but the voice came through. Clear. Amused. No need to look because a grin stretched the distance between the few words over your shoulder.
“Contemplating life or flavors?” 
You straightened, grip finding and holding the door handle. The chilly rush over your cheeks did something to help the panic, which helped a little. You couldn’t blame that kind of tell on lack of sunscreen or an unplanned too-long-hike in the sun.
“It’s rough.” You barely replied. Eyes popping, you grabbed the brightest color visible front and center: blue ice. Lowest on your list, but it was in your hand and you stepped aside.
A large hand grazed your own as grips traded on the door handle. 
The form stepping into your spot in front of the open case was just obvious enough: Big. Broad. Tanned just right. The kind of golden that said it was real deal stuff. No spray tan or tanning bed nonsense. 
The man leaned forward, eyes closing as he hummed into the same cold air your pores sucked up earlier. 
You swallowed, eyes lingering on the necklines. And the biceps, rounded, stressing the cuffs of his white t-shirt sleeves just enough. Suddenly you were hungry–the handful of crackers and cheese burned up long ago in the car. You’d eaten fast and should have prepared more, but now you saw something meaty. 
Something in a healthy, hunky shape, grinning your way, eyes finally open and meeting your nervous stare. Your eyes widened again. At least you kept your mouth neutral–an even line. 
He had a nice smile as selected the same flavor you’d chosen, nodding your way.
“Good flavor. You like it too?” 
You looked down, turned the bottle over in your grip, and looked back up.
Shrugging, you waved the bottle a little. “It’s up there.” 
One perfectly thick brow arched as the man offered a timid smile. He didn’t move much, but his bangs still lolled. The tips feathered his forehead, hypnotizing your senses for a moment. You’d barely noticed the world huffing up the winding trails outside the store, melting under your tank top and workout leggings.
He had the faintest sweat–something normally unappealing. He’d managed to make a biological response magical. The slickness on his skin looked good.
“Up there? Not your go-to?” 
In the middle of the only store for 45 minutes in either direction, there wasn’t room to be choosy.  Trade offs were made for a weekend away from your city apartment. A lot more space. A lot LESS amenities. 
But sometimes there were unexpected perks—exhibit A standing just within reach. 
Blue Ice traded hands as he reached into the case again. This time he selected a considerable bottle of Evian and shook it, like you’d done before. Both his cheeks developed dimples as he beamed.  
Your fingers tightened on the cold plastic bottle that you now gripped for dear life. Your throat was tight enough. It wasn’t the only part suddenly unable to relax. The reason was familiar and longer overdue: Attraction. Raw and unbridled. Washing over you.
“Can’t beat water. Perfect palette cleanser.” Murmuring, his fingers wrapped both bottle necks with room to spare as they overlapped.
“You’re not local.” He added once his assessing gaze finished at your face. 
A scoff dislodged the lump in your throat, allowing a breath.  
“Is it that obvious?” 
You boiled inside all over again–as warm inside as the surface of your skin felt outwardly when a wide, warm smile changed the entire handsome face in front of you. 
If he was a local you’d eat the map you’d grabbed from the gift shop ‘section’ of the store. 
“Maybe.” He added a wink, then looked beyond you, towards the clerk leaning into the counter by the register, yawning her way through the local paper with low lids. She hadn’t looked up when you came in, but she couldn’t have missed this guy.
“Are you?” It was natural to ask so you didn’t feel awkward about it. 
“Yes and No.” 
“I don’t live here year round. I visit now and then.”
“What’s that mean?” You watched his free hand go into a pocket, then come back out with a square of leather.
His head jerked towards the end of the aisle and you took a step, matching his as he walked and talked. 
“Family?” Your eyes scanned the shelves as you moved along, trailing the man but also debating just how hungry you felt before it was too late and you were back into the hike back to your car. It seemed just a touch too far away right now and those Oreos on the upcoming end cap looked all too tempting. 
“No.” He chuckled, glancing at you, then following your eyes to the Oreos. With a rakish grin, the man grabbed two packs and they joined the drinks, tucked against the inside, pinned in place by the inside of his arm. 
You suddenly wondered what that arm would feel like around your neck. Maybe bent over the counter, with his lips along your ear, his hips screwing slowly against your ass. Bold and full of fire. 
That kind of body heat wouldn’t be the worst thing to suffer. You were piping hot in a few places as it was. 
“I own a place up the hill.” He was stopped at the aisle end. You thought about going around, but didn’t. No need to end this encounter any sooner than it was going to be over. It wasn’t getting any less hot outside either. 
“Yeah?” You returned a smile. 
“Mmhm. What’s your name?” 
You hesitated, bringing the drink bottle to your neck and rolling it along one side. You kind of like it more than a lot that his eyes followed the motion. His patient smile didn’t falter but something flashed in his eyes. 
“Y/n.” 
“Nice to meet you.” He said. “I’d shake your hand but—”
Your hand shot out. Until now you weren’t the type for hand shakes. How quickly that changed. 
“Namjoon” He pumped your hand as he spoke again. That big palm was warm and smooth. Silky and dry. By contrast you wondered just how dewy your palm still felt. You’d spent quite a bit of time wiping palms on your thighs as you’d paused all too often on every hill during the hike. But he didn’t have to know that. 
Namjoon gave no indication he minded, if anything was amiss. “Nice to meet you.” 
Finally he moved again and you watched his back as he stopped at the counter. The employee barely looked up, coming away from the counter to situate herself mostly behind the register. The beep of each scan started. In between Namjoon made more conversation, which was a relief because you couldn’t keep your focus on talking with the way your eyes feasted on his ass and calves.
Everything from his hips down looked impossibly tight in his light gray workout pants. 
“You hiked up here then?” 
Leaning around him, you stole a look at your chosen drink still on the counter, then sighed. 
“Yeah.” 
Namjoon moved your bottle towards his selections. The girl was efficient, scanning so fast you had no time to protest. With a single blink you pointed. 
“...That’s mine.” 
He had to forget. That was it. Best to remind him. Just like him, you’d queued up to pay. Reasonable for how you expected things to go. Even if you hadn’t expected to meet someone in the middle of choosing. But that was life sometimes: unplanned, bringing pleasant surprise on the back of undesired situations.
“I know.” Namjoon opened his wallet. 
You noted several cards in various colors. Even black—you knew enough about people who owned a black card. It took a certain level of financial security and comfort to get one of those. 
He’d already paid and turned towards you again with your drink held out in offering. You took it. When he passed a pack of Oreos along after, you sputtered. It wasn’t an insult to injury for the extra sugar, or the worst thing. The cheap energy would help your dreaded trip back down the hill. 
Still
 How he’d decided to be so kind. To a stranger. 
“Why?” You inquired, low and confused. Feeling all kinds of knotted up inside at his kindness and that flame still going inside your chest. 
Namjoon stepped around you and started for the door, taking your focus with him as you turned, and paced him with your stare. Looking back, he held the door open and spoke. 
“I wanted to. Be careful out there.” 
---------------------------------------
You kept replaying things in your head, carefully shuffling sideways down the steep hill. There hadn’t seemed to be so many on the way up, but the grade felt a lot more intense going the other direction, towards the store. 
Now, having some distance from the store, you felt a little sheepish over quietly cursing your decision to come up here. It was a lovely day outside, instead of the boiling, sun soaked hell you’d sworn it had become earlier.
Unscrewing your drink cap you took another healthy swallow and swatted at the tinny whine of a mosquito hovering near your ear. You slapped another away from your shoulder and marched down the hill again, taking more cautious steps. 
As you came around a corner, you noticed a form and barely glanced further beyond, where the hill sloped down again, into the shadows of forest canopy. Darkness and coolness was promised and you couldn’t wait. 
You made your way by with measured steps, almost shuffling to keep from tumbling down the trail, treading on the loose gravel and natural divots of long dislodged rocks.
It wouldn’t be attractive to go the rest of the way down on your backside. 
“Y/n?”  A curious voice, tinged in muted surprise.
You looked towards the voice as your pace slowed and  the figure turned to greet your approach. Clear as day: the tall frame with white t-shirt impressively stretched over a broad front. 
Namjoon’s face, still fresh as it’d been meeting him a bit ago, beamed. 
His sunglasses were off, resting on his head and he wiped a hand on his thigh, then extended it. You tried wiping a hand too, missing a good amount of the dirt kissed palm. Namjoon shook hands anyway. 
As he glanced where you’d been heading, you stole a once over. Namjoon didn’t look any more sweat soaked than he’d been. The hill grades weren’t a challenge for him. If he’d hiked to get to that store too, he was in MUCH better shape. You’d never have guessed he’d just come up these hills, looking unflagged in front of the drink cooler.
“So you didn’t drive to the store.” You voiced the determination, earning a raised brow. 
“Is that bad?” 
“No.” 
“I DID drive to the parking lot down there.” Namjoon motioned in that direction. “The road is too long and winding through the woods to get up there safely. From the parking lot it’s an easier walk.” 
An easier walk. You scoffed softly and wiped the back of a hand across your brow. 
“You parked down there too?” He continued, casually wiping trail dust off his shirt. 
“Not quite.” When he looked up again, both brows rose. The least you could do was a little more explanation. Lamely you added “..My friend dropped me off. I have to meet her back down there in a little bit.” 
“That’s nice of her.” He murmured with a smile. His cheekbones had a brief glimmer. Even the overhead sun couldn’t do a thing to dim his appeal. Sweaty or dry as a bone. Rain soaked. Something told you that Namjoon was all-weather handsome. 
“Yeah.” You agreed.
You watched your sneaker toe bully through the dirt in an uneven line. Your muscles protested menacingly from this tiny action. Much too much. Burning and twitching had found a nice home there. The croissant and half a coffee you’d wolfed down for morning fuel hadn’t left a single ounce of energy by now. You were paying for it now, even with half a sports drink down. 
“You should walk down there with me.” 
You were equally surprised and thankful he asked. The  company was welcoming and you needed to see his car. Having several cards in his wallet and looking so good even after a moderately intense hike? Namjoon wasn’t driving a beater. 
“Sure..” You responded, waiting just long enough to look like it’d been a little debate. 
Namjoon pushed upright from the leaning he’d been doing against a tree just off the trail and stepped towards you. Turning to face downhill, he strode forward and you followed, falling into pace. His strides were long, but he went slow enough. It was like he sussed your flagging energy and mounting fatigue. You weren’t exactly projecting boundless energy.
However long the hike felt going uphill, time bent again and it seemed over all too soon as you paced Namjoon to the parking lot’s asphalt edge after coming around the last trail bend a short time later. 
As you stood next to him, looking at the few cars in spaces scattered across the lot, Namjoon turned his face up to the sun and let his head fall back.
You slid your pack straps off both shoulders and brought it around to your front. Namjoon rifled through his pocket, doing the same to free himself from his mid-size backpack. The keys jingled as he looked away from you, to a far corner of the lot. 
“Your friend here yet?” He inquired, squinting.
You scanned. Nowhere did you see the familiar rust nibbled Isuzu. An antique by some measure but it served her father well in college and he’d maintained the interior parts enough to keep it going even now. The car got you up here and you were fairly confident it’d get you back to town. 
“Not yet.” You thought about calling but didn’t go for your cell phone, setting your pack at your feet instead. Namjoon noticed, double taking. 
“Well..” He began, leaning down and grabbing a strap, then lifting the pack like it was empty. It certainly hadn’t felt that way going up OR down the trail. “..Let me drive you? Where are we headed?”
“You don’t have to–” A tut cut you off toot suite.
“I want to, Y/n. Where are we going?” 
Inhaling, you almost choked on trail dust still lingering at the lot edge. The dread of the trip back home in a car without AC was pulling you down into despair. In spite of your friend's optimism, all the windows down had not helped nearly as promised and it wouldn’t be better now, sweaty and tired. 
You glanced at Namjoon after a moment.
“...Well.. Where are you going?”
Namjoon’s smile was cheeky. “Me? I have a place about 20 minutes drive from here. You’re welcome to hang out there and wait for your friend.” 
“I could do that.” You should, not wanting to go all the way back up that hellish trail, to the store. No way you’d make it. No need to even delude yourself. The Isuzu and the trail would not see YOU again, for now. 
“Yeah? I know it’s cliche. Stranger danger..”
“Maybe but.. What the hell. It’ll be nice to see your place and find out there’s more than a few damp cabins out here. So long as it’s not a rotting shack in the pines, we’re golden.” Your mind supplied endless visions of bugs, bears and poison oak. It was anybody’s guess what you’d encounter but there was 1 of those 3, minimum. 
“Hmm.” A playful glare leveled your way. “There’s not much land value in a moss covered single level dwelling these days. The market wouldn’t bear it and I’m not into that kind of ambiance.” 
“Thank goodness.” 
Namjoon reached where he’d been looking: the lot corner, and a cobalt blue sedan parked there. It was dusty but otherwise in great shape. MUCH better than no-AC and AM radio only.
You followed, keeping within a step or two. As you both made your way, Namjoon spoke again. 
“You can call your friend when we get to my place and hang out until they get there. Deal?” 
You nodded.
He opened the passenger door first and watched you climb in, then moved to that back passenger door and opened it. A gentle lob had both your packs situated across the back seat.
As Namjoon settled into the driver’s seat, you buckled your seatbelt,then let your legs stretch out. The footwell was roomy too. This was proving to be a good decision the more time went on. You wouldn’t have bet on this kind of luck turn hours ago.
Namjoon was smiling, watching you get comfortable. The car came to life. He adjusted the rearview mirror.
“I wouldn’t object to some food too.” You suggested, watching him study the mirror’s reflection, then glance back as he reversed out of the parking spot. He shifted to drive, jaw muscles briefly flexing before he spoke.
“I can take care of that.”
---------------------------------------
You finished the last bite of apple and chewed, staring out the picture window. 
Namjoon had more than a ramshackle place with walls, windows and a few doors. It was like something out of Mountain Living magazine–of which you were sure you’d seen a few issues neatly stacked on the coffee table in the living room when he’d led you through. 
This kitchen was spacious. More than any other cabin you’d spent time in.Even if that number wasn’t high, THIS place was impressive. It shouldn’t have been a shock, spotting all the cards in his wallet. That was plenty of foreshadowing. 
Even if assumptions weren’t fair.
You swallowed and turned away from the view, setting the remains of the apple on the kitchen table and headed for the living room. You took a loop around the perimeter, studying the bookshelf, paying close attention to the single shelf dedicated to what looked like photo albums. 
You were tempted to pull one off and go through it. But you didn’t, turning your attention to the photos on the nearby wall: lots of candid photos of nature. Namjoon’s selfies tended to be unique: his form standing in the distance of the shot, back to the camera. 
Or in silhouette barely at the edges. You liked a particularly vibrant one of his bare back to the camera, shorts soaked to the skin with water, flesh glistening in the sun against the expanse of a sky so blue it hardly seemed real. 
It looked like some kind of lake. You wondered where this body of water was, hopeful it wasn’t far, then went to work pondering how it would have been behind the lens, taking the shot.
...And what would happen after, when the picture was done and Namjoon turned around with that smile. 
A smile you’d grown to really like A LOT since the store. 
Hearing a door close, you turned towards the dark hall where the sound had come from. There was a little motion under the door at the far end, shadows moving across a sliver of light at the bottom. 
A moment later the door came open and Namjoon’s form filled the newly made space. Not long after his footsteps came towards you. When he came through from the dark into light, your senses reeled. 
Namjoon was flushed and smiling, hair wet and slicked back, cheeks plumped in a shy grin. He’d changed shirts. This one was thinner and more ivory than optic white. You knew that shape at the front of his chest and the tiny perking points. 
You blinked away the stun and smiled back. 
“You reach your friend?” He asked, walking towards, then around you, heading for the couch. 
You turned. “Yeah.” You’d hit voicemail. It wasn’t your best message and you probably sounded breathless, describing what had happened on your hike and trying to summarize Namjoon in the space of 30 seconds. 
Lord knows how your friend would take it. 
“I
” You paused and Namjoon’s head turned your way. 
“Hmm?” He’d paused arranging the couch cushions, even though they looked perfect to you. “What is it?” 
God you felt
dumb admitting this but it was best to spit the truth out. Time would betray you eventually. 
“I wasn’t sure of your address so I couldn’t leave one on the voicemail.” 
Namjoon chuckled warm and slow. You wanted to grab a throw pillow nearby and stuff your face into it, to swallow up the responsive squeal aching to escape your throat. 
“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” He motioned to the magazines. “You could have done it the sneaky way.. That’s got my address.” 
“I’m not a sneaky type.” You replied. Namjoon nodded. 
“Appreciate that. Well.. “ He inhaled and picked up one of the smaller pillows, then lobbed it at the far end of the couch. “...If you want to call them back, I’ll give you my address–officially.” 
Did you REALLY want to call your friend right now? This place was pretty damned nice and so was the company. Mulling it over, you finally shrugged. 
“In a little bit.” Namjoon’s brows dropped. You fumbled, continuing. “...If that’s okay? I mean
I can—” 
“It’s fine.” His brows were soft arches over dark, comforting eyes again. “I like the company.” 
“Me too.” It was exciting how the confession sent heat through you. Rubbing at your neck, you realized how sweaty and icky you still felt. Namjoon’s head cocked as he walked closer to you. 
“I’m really glad we met today, Y/n. I like the isolation here but
Having another person around is even better, when I’m in the mood.” 
“Is it?” You croaked, swallowing a lump. Your nod was almost a twitch. “..You’re in the mood to have someone around today?” 
“I wasn’t at first.” Namjoon’s pause dragged on until you met his stare, gazing into the depths of his eyes right there, just above you. “..That changed
” He snickered and softly murmured “...for some reason.” 
You could tell he was being cheeky and it was delightful. You couldn’t help giggling too. 
“I wonder why..” You sighed. 
After a minute, Namjoon looked around. “Let’s get a little more comfortable then. You want to go clean up? My shower’s back there..”
He indicated where he’d come from, with a nod. As if you hadn’t watched him go there prior, the apple pressed to your lips and heart pounding as you drank in this entire place. 
“Thanks..” Was all you managed, head bowing a little. You slipped past him. Namjoon’s turn to watch you go briefly clear in your peripherals. 
“Just pick whatever out of my dresser. Plenty to choose from. See you soon.” 
“You have a beautiful bathroom.” You confided, watching Namjoon standing next to you. It was getting to a really nice addiction: you and he, just sharing this space. It’d only been a few hours but it was like a lifetime away from the rest of the world.
Namjoon looked away from the living room window and smiled at you. “Thanks.” 
What you’d WANTED to say was ‘This whole place is amazing.’, but you weren’t psychic or brave enough to voice that–just yet. 
Combing wet strands back, you shook your hair out again. It was still a little damp from the shower, but you felt so much better with the grime and sweat washed away.
You hadn’t realized just how much you’d collected tromping up and down the hills out there. Not until you’d felt the rivulets of perfectly hot water winding down your body under the massive shower head, did you really conceive how messy you’d gotten. 
The whole shower experience here left your skin humming and nicely warm. A far cry from your apartment’s modest water pressure and scalding or ice cold temperature poles. If you were honest, you could get used to this. 
“I appreciate the compliment.” Namjoon finally said. “I wasn’t sure about the head but it’s got your approval. Think I’ll keep it.” 
When you locked eyes, he winked, grin wider than before. He was more handsome with dimples. 
“What else do you do out here, alone?” You voiced your curiosity this time. Maybe it was the inhibitions washed away with the sudsy heat or something else at play, but it was out before you could regret.
Namjoon took it well.
“Alone? Hmmm. Sometimes I sit out on the back deck or soak in the hot tub outback and stare at the sky. Listen to nature. Ponder the big questions in life..” 
It all sounded pretty damned good. Beat the hell out of your couch and the usual television fare. 
“Hmm.” You stared at him again. Another question slipped out as quickly as it had popped into your mind. “...And when you’re not alone?” 
You matched the way Namjoon raised a brow. When he chuckled your chest went light. 
“Bit of an intimate kind of question, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.” You retorted. “If what you do is something intimate.” 
Like storm clouds rolling across a sky, darkening the beauty with impressive danger, a shadowy energy flitted through Namjoon’s eyes. But you weren’t scared. You were absolutely riveted. For once in your normally gun shy, socially conservative life. 
“And if I said it was something intimate?”
He was good, dodging a direct answer just enough. He knew just how to feed your interest with words and the things between them. You licked your lips, feeling them twitch as your tongue rolled along. 
“..Sounds like a good time. Care to share?” 
Who were you, suddenly digging for details? Normally this was kosher for your friends. You’d earned the right, but with a basic stranger like Namjoon? You knew you had a lot of nerve. And you were taking a HUGE gamble. 
“Mmm.” Namjoon stepped close again, not much space now between the front of his body and your own. You didn’t back up, lifting your chin to keep eye contact. His smile shrank. 
“I do whatever I want. Or..my guest wants. I’m interested in being the best host I can, if I have company.” 
“Yeah?” 
Namjoon nodded. He let you take another breath, then continued.
“You’re my guest. What do you want to do? What’s your pleasure?” It was really, REALLY sexy the way Namjoon was opening his place to you. And from the energy you detected, he was willing to give himself too. 
“Have you ever done it here?” 
“Done ..’it’? What’s it?” He queried, teasingly. Your forehead felt hot again. You blinked and Namjoon leaned down a little.
“..You mean sex? Are you asking me if I’ve fucked here?” His breath washed across your lips. You couldn’t help nodding or the whine that escaped. Namjoon’s hungry stare burrowed into your soul. He nibbled briefly on his lip.
“I have. Plenty of times. It’s been a while, though.” 
“Has it?” You squeaked as he ran fingertips along your jaw and added pressure at your chin, tipping your face up more. 
“Mmnhmm.” Namjoon’s smile unfurled again. “..Has it been long for you?” 
You stammered, suddenly amnesiac over the last time you’d properly fucked. Of course you had, and the experiences rated ‘okay’ by usual standards, but work and life wedged a lot of time between each session. Forgettable was too perfect a way to describe how it all seemed now.
“It’s been a minute.” You finally managed. 
“Want to remedy that?” 
Maybe it sounded corny coming from anyone else, in a dark, muggy club dancefloor or bar, but Namjoon’s suggesting it now came off only as unadulterated heat. And something you wanted so very much. 
“Yes.” It was a gasp. Maybe a plea. 
“God Y/n..” Namjoon watched your fingers circling his broad wrist. You pulled his hand closer to your lips and grazed them over a few fingertips. You tingled as his lips parted and his lids lowered.
Whatever he was trying to say you were sure it was the same feeling flooding through your entire body. Pulsing inside you, ending right between your legs as they trembled like they’d never done before. More than any hike could ever induce. 
You cut him off.  “..Relax me, Namjoon. Make me forget everything for a while.” 
It was like the shadow darkened hallway stretched on forever as Namjoon moved, carrying you. You couldn’t wrap around him more, but you wanted to try, tightening your thighs around his waist. 
He didn’t have wide hips, but they were sturdy as he walked, pacing slowly across the wood floor in a leisurely path to the bedroom. You dimly knew the space waited beyond that doorway at the far end. And you wanted time to condense again, to bring you both where nature said you should be: in Namjoon’s bed. 
Doing things that nature intended for two people at the mercy of attraction were fated to do. 
Namjoon didn’t pause kissing you as he opened the door, then bumped it wider with a hip. You were in the bedroom, the setting sun’s rays barely filtering through the treetops outside the nearby window. 
As he paused at the bed, then leaned over it, the kiss broke. Reds and fiery orange hues outlined Namjoon’s triangular upper body as he braced a palm into the bed, finally leaned over enough that your back met the mattress. 
“Let go.” He whispered. 
You fell entirely into the bed, grateful for the cushioned fall. Your hair and limbs splayed. Namjoon’s eyes stayed on your, enjoying your slow wriggle as he grasped his shirt and hauled it up, then off. It met the bed nearby. 
Your own hands clutched down the length of your body, finding the shirt you’d chosen from his offered selection.
“Don’t.” Namjoon growled, dropping his bottoms next. Then his briefs, unbothered at the ferocity of his erect cock springing vertical on escape. He mounted the bed on one knee, outside your hip, then the other one joined and he loomed over your again, head to toe bare of a stitch of clothes. 
Sure you’d pondered how he looked in that shower when he’d taken his turn. And under those tight workout pants in the store. Now all was coming clear. All was on a platter, right in front of you—or over you, as it were. 
Your body arched, breasts jostling. Namjoon cupped the outside of a breast and stroked his thumb across the nipple. It perked and he studied the shape through the t–shirt. A garment you desperately wanted to lose. 
In the game of ‘naked’, he was leagues ahead of you. 
“I’m
Namjoon, please–” You sputtered, then groaned loudly when he pinched that tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then tugged. His touch was gone in a blink and he gathered your shirt, pushing it higher, up to your neck. Head bowed, he backed down towards the foot of the bed a bit more, until his mouth stopped above your navel. 
“Let me.” He purred, peeling down the boxers you’d borrowed too, and taking them to your knees. While one hand pushed them to your ankles, then off, Namjoon’s nose spiraled your mound. 
You heard his inhale. The groan he let out was sinfully needy too. You bent your right knee, drawing that leg up a little more and lifting your ass off the bed. Delivering your pussy right against his wide open mouth, swooping in to latch onto your clit. 
Namjoon sucked deep and tight, lips perfectly sealed. Then the pulsing started. He was quiet enough, only making a pop sound when he pulled away now and then. 
It wasn’t like he needed to suck your clit or slide his tongue through your folds to open them. It already felt hot and slippery. Your flesh ached in a way that said making out had long since done the trick. 
But Namjoon was enjoying himself and explored with his pointer finger, tracing it through you, stopping down at your opening. Teasing the winking muscle until it clenched again and your thighs shook. 
“You’re so wet..Y/n. You like this don’t you? Are you always this ready when it’s been a while?” 
You nodded. You couldn’t be sure it was true but if that’s what he wanted to hear, if felt like the truest answer you could give. He seemed to accept it diving down to lick, then stab his tongue deeper into you, pushing through your muscle. 
He scooped your widening thighs up and wrapped them over his shoulders. Hugged them against the sides of his neck as he moaned, jaw dropping wider open. Pushing into you, lifting your hips higher and bringing your ass off the bed again.
A lake of heat was swirling in your belly. You wanted to tell him you were close because you felt like the edge was right there, you precariously toes over and staring down into the fall. 
But you couldn’t get the words out. It was only a long, confused hiss of pleasure as fingers slid into you. Pulled out and dipped in again. Namjoon’s fingers worked to stir you up inside, drawing slick out from the depths, slathering it all over you on the outside. Making a delicious mess. 
When you couldn’t take it anymore and your chest heaved, Namjoon pulled back enough and shrugged your legs off his shoulders. He joined them together and turned you onto one side, hooking them neatly over the bend of one elbow, palm planted deep into the bed with an impressive divot.
It was so much concentrated weight focused into one point, you felt the bed sink just a little. Namjoon’s face came into view over you. He groped between your bodies, finding himself and guiding the tip to nest perfectly against you. 
When his bare cock slid inside you, it was done in a single, firm stroke. It wasn’t about the power of his thrust. It was the unhesitant drive in his hips, planting his cock deep and pushing a strangled gasp right out of you. 
Your upper body twisted, neck and head craning away. Profile bracing into the bed, you inhaled, head spinning off the scent of clean, fresh soap, light sweat and errant traces of Namjoon’s natural scent. 
You keened as he pulled back, slid a hand down your side and cupped the hip facing up, then sunk back in. The pumping was seamless. He flowed in and out of you, building speed but keeping the perfect depth. Hitting spots inside you that sent sparks across your scalp. Sent rails of fire down your spine. Curled your toes, when he circled into you and his hips snapped. 
“You feel so good on my cock.. God baby..that’s it..” Over you, Namjoon’s exhale coasted along your skin, burning hot as he muttered wondrously.
You could only whimper, nails sunk into the crook of his nearer elbow, head rolling back to keep your briefly open eyes focused on the ceiling beyond Namjoon’s rocking head. 
He murmured. Fucked. Pushed your knees high as he folded your twisted body up more. Condensed what little tight, wet space was inside you, more and more. There was only so much room and it was full–slick came out more and more as he pulled out and rammed back in. 
It was an unmistakable wet slap loud and clear over Namjoon’s huffing. He was putting in the work and you were back at the edge, now something invisible wrapping and pulling you over. You tumbled, cumming hard. Cumming quick, seizing around his cycling cock.
Namjoon’s head lolled backwards, but he kept going, through your rippling walls. Working up a froth through the creamy mess building as you squeezed and pulsed. Your throat opened as you groaned out a “P..Please..don’t s..stop
”
Your guts seized so hard you couldn’t cry out when Namjoon heeded your request and let himself really go, fucking you deeper. Harder. Jerking your whole body up the bed as he followed. You weren’t escaping–not from him. Not from the gut wrenching orgasm ripping through you. 
The world whited as your eyes rolled up entirely, leaving you sightless. Your purpose on this earth: to feel every bit of ecstasy rushing through you and sending you to the brink of human experience. 
With the release of pressure a trickle followed down to your ass. Namjoon faltered. His lips dove down to your ear.
“..Inside or
o..out..” 
No time to think meant no room for regret. You HAD to know. 
“Inside. Fill me up, Namjoon..” Your lips joined in a deep, ravenous kiss, gobbling up his moan as he shuddered. A few rough thrusts later, he was still, plunged deep, pulsing. Your twitching pussy probably felt like heaven to him as he emptied every drop into you.
When it was over, Namjoon carefully pulled back. His cock slipped out and you felt emptier. For a moment your muscles stayed open, then closed up tight. Like they were determined to hold onto every ounce of what this man had just given. 
“Holy
shit.” Namjoon wiped a forearm across his brow and laughed slowly, Adam’s apple dancing. 
“You felt..so good.” You blurted out. It took a few moments to see beyond the last rays of sunset through the window. The bouquet of colors was gone, leaving a muted, reddish haze. 
Namjoon’s shoulders flexed back as he rolled his neck. “..If you could understand how your pussy feels.. Fuck..” With a groan he combed his bangs back. 
“Worth the wait?” 
You tickled the downy trail running south, below his navel, then situated both calves on the outside of his hips. Namjoon’s hands rested loose on your hips. He wasn’t shy, eyeing your whole body and wearing the smirk of a job well done. 
There was no doubt he’d smashed your previous experiences. Your insides twitched and your head had barely cleared. You’d just come back to the present, cobbling together enough focus for basic conversation. 
“And then some..” Namjoon hummed, seizing your wrist and bringing that hand to his lips. He tucked a kiss into that palm. Leering down at you, he cupped that hand against the center of his chest. Right between those big, perfectly muscled pecs. 
“Ready to call your friend?” There was a distant hope sparkling in his eyes. You knew as well as he did: No was acceptable, again. 
“In a little bit.” You murmured, then glanced at his bedroom door. He’d left it open. His mouth shifted into a half grin. 
“Something else you want—maybe somewhere else around here?” 
“Well I noticed a hot tub outside.” 
“That’s right.” Namjoon’s muscles shifted under your palm. Your fingers curled along his skin, lightly pressing in, trying to feel more. You wanted more of him, not just the tour of his place. 
“We should try it out.” 
“We can do that. A soak is good for the muscles.” 
“I’ve heard that. 
.Got time to give me a full tour after that?” Whatever he might have planned for the rest of his night, he didn’t flinch and his expression stayed pleasant. Welcoming, like his gaze following your legs up to your core and taking a long time to linger there. 
“You’re really changing my mind about this whole cabin in the woods thing.” You added. Namjoon puffed his chest and leaned forward, releasing his hold on your hand as if he knew you’d keep that palm against him. 
You didn’t prove him wrong, adding the other palm as he pressed down over you. A kiss was on the horizon and you tipped your face up. His weight felt good on you–Namjoon’s large frame trapped you in the best way. 
He was warm. His cock was tacky but already semi hard as it inched across your belly. 
“I’m always up for a chance to change an opinion. We can go have a soak and you can think about calling your friend after.” 
You offered a faux pout. “Are you saying I have to leave?” 
“That’s not even close to what I said. Definitely wasn’t thinking it..” Even being faintly chastised felt good. You couldn’t say you had the same take away back at work, in front of your boss or direct report. 
“Good to know.” You snuck a look down to what you could make out of your body underneath Namjoon. It was still damp enough between your thighs. You knew it wouldn’t be as bad as it had been still in the act, but you knew a wipe down was in order before you dared stick a toe in his hot tub. 
Call it respect, but you also wanted a chance to explore what things looked like after you’d been daring enough to ask for and receive what had to be a healthy load inside. That hadn’t happened since your last committed relationship. 
You looked up again, watching Namjoon’s face disappear as he sucked a kiss at the bottom of your neck, where it joined your shoulder. Afterwards he sat up and backed down the bed. He offered both hands to help you up. 
When you stood upright face to face, the bed at your back, you felt shy. Your legs felt surprisingly weak. You swallowed, finding your mouth cottony. 
“Let’s grab a drink too. You can show off your kitchen and the living room? You’re into photography I noticed.”
“What makes you say that?” He tugged you along, taking a step at a time backwards towards the bedroom doorway. If it hadn’t been his cabin, you’d wonder if he’d walked around his place in the city like this. What was that place like? 
You wanted to know more about who Namjoon was beyond this big getaway spot in the woods and his generous many-card credit power. 
“I saw photo albums on your bookshelf.” 
“Yeah.” Namjoon’s features smothered darkness as he crossed the bedroom door threshold into the hallway. “I dabble now and then. Whenever I’m here.” 
“Would love to see it.” 
“We can add that to the tour. I do like to keep my guests happy.” 
“And I think I like this whole day in the woods. Might be time to find out about what a weekend away would be like.” 
Namjoon’s body was against you again as your travel paused midway down the hall. You didn’t have to see, only feel and you knew he was going for a kiss. You surrendered your mouth and he took his time, tongue exploring lightly. 
“A little Me Time
I can support that–in more than one way.”   
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shina913 · 6 days
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shina913 · 16 days
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[84/547] — until we meet again, jungkook ♡
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shina913 · 18 days
Photo
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S.Coups ✧ Hot on Love Music
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shina913 · 19 days
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some of my favorite moments of yoongi pushing his hair back at d-day tour concerts 😳 (cr. taee and jimimn) HAPPY YOONGI DAY ♡
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shina913 · 19 days
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Oh you know I’m dragging you into my DK brainrot đŸ«  He def has that subtle sexiness but also the domesticity?! Like??? Idk
he ruins me but I’m also so soft for him? Ugh!!! Maybe I’ll do another DK slice of life because he just fits right in đŸ„č but I’ll have to find another sexy bathroom photo to match 😅
That's Mine | LSM
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That's Mine
Pairing: Seokmin(Dokyeom) x Fem!Reader
Rating: M 🔞; NSFW
Genre: Established relationship; domestic au; smut; pwp; tiniest bit of fluff in the end
Warnings: clit play; oral (fem receiving); fingering
Word count: 913 words
Summary: "Do you think I’m worried about what you’ve put in your mouth?"
A/N: Phew, it's been a minute since I've posted a fic! Yes, yes, I know it's a pwp but this is huge for me as I haven't written anything substantial in a while. I was honestly afraid that I would just lose my love for writing but I got the perfect prompt. If you watch Nana Tour, you'll know! Anyway, I'll stop the dramatics there and hope you enjoy this. Happy Birthday, Carats! 💎
PS: Thank you @roaminginthenights for beta-reading đŸ„°
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You and Seokmin are spending two nights away at a hotel in wine country. You had a few wine tastings scheduled today and the shuttle was picking you up in about two hours. He’s up earlier than you, already showered, and now brushing his teeth.
You wander to the bathroom but stop short at the threshold.
"W-what the... hey! That's mine!" you exclaim, pointing at the toothbrush he had in his hand.
"How? I took it from–" He scans the counter to find a blue toothbrush by the sink and the empty glass container, where you left your toothbrush last night. He smiles bashfully. "Sorry, babe. I thought it was mine," he says, still keeping your toothbrush in his mouth.
You put your hands on your waist and sigh in mild exasperation. "Remember when I told you last night, when I unpacked the toiletries, that I have the orange one and you have the blue one?”
"I think I may have had that backwards in my head," he chuckles, then spits out his toothpaste and rinses his mouth.
Picking up the blue toothbrush, he presents it to you. "Here, why don't you just use mine?" 
Your brows knit and you slow-blink at his suggestion. “Lee Seokmin, are you for real?”
He laughs, dismissing your annoyance. “It’s just a toothbrush! It gets cleaned with toothpaste and water!” He says matter-of-factly. 
“Well
yeah but–” you say with hesitation. “It was in your mouth.” It’s not that you were a germophobe. It’s just that sharing toothbrushes felt weird to you, even though you’ve already been together for a while.
He cocks an eyebrow at you. “So? You know where my mouth’s been,” he says with his eyes flicking below your waist. “Do you think I’m worried about what you’ve put in your mouth?” His smirk in the end reminds you of what you were doing last night
on your knees.
You let your arms fall to your sides, chuckling nervously while you relax your stance–even though deep down, you’re anything but relaxed.
“I–that’s
that’s not even what I’m trying to say,” you stutter, slowly backpedaling into the bedroom.
Keeping his hooded gaze on you, he moves closer. He catches your waist, making your breath hitch. His voice lowers in that raspy, sexy tone that turns you on. "Then what are you saying?"
You gulped only to find that your mouth suddenly felt dry. “I’m just saying–stick with the blue toothbrush next time,” you respond a little breathily. Your pulse quickens at the feel of his body flushed against yours. You’re also mildly aware that all you’re wearing is a bathrobe. You don’t protest when he tugs the belt loose, exposing you for him.
“Okay,” he says softly, barely a whisper. He dips his head, nuzzling your jaw with the tip of his nose. “Do you want an apology?”
“I
” You're too distracted by his hands moving between your inner thighs to form a complete answer. Your core clenches in anticipation. When the tips of his fingers brush against your bare skin, you inhale sharply.
He places soft, wet kisses down your neck, his tongue licks at your fluttering pulse. Meanwhile, his fingers find their way between your slicked folds. You let out a pathetic moan. “I can get on my knees, if you want?” 
It takes you a second to gather your bearings before nodding wordlessly. The next thing you know, he backs you into the bedroom until you feel your legs hit the side of the bed. He slowly guides you, lowering your body to the mattress. Lost in dizzying pleasure, you manage to croak out, “But
the wine tasting–aah!” You gasp when his mouth wraps around a nipple and suckles on it.
“Relax. We have time,” he says calmly, moving lower until he settles between your legs. “I want to apologize first and promise to listen next time.”
Another moan escapes your lips, this time more guttural, when his tongue makes contact with your clit, licking and circling the pulsating bundle of nerves. As he slips two fingers inside you, your back arches off the mattress, your hands clenching the sheets while your hips churn against his hand.
“Yes
like that
make me cum.” You feel him smiling against your skin. He enjoys being praised for doing a good job, and you're happy to oblige by letting him hear just how good he makes you feel. His thumb rubs circles over your clit, pushing you to the brink of orgasm. Your body tightens as he thrusts his fingers into you, his tongue expertly teasing your folds, licking and sucking rhythmically.
You orgasm with a breathless cry, your eyes tightly squeezed in pure pleasure. He gently sucks on your clit once more, prolonging your high. The intense sensation makes your skin tingle, but soon overstimulation sets in and you have to wriggle away from his grasp.
You turn your head at the same time he collapses beside you. “Apology accepted,” you panted.
His lips curve into a smile, and you both burst into a fit of giggles. He rolls over onto his side, balancing his weight on his arm. His demeanor immediately changes into something soft and affectionate, as if he hadn't just done the naughtiest thing to you mere moments ago. It makes your heart squeeze.
He lowers his head and kisses you on the lips. "Sorry for putting your toothbrush in my mouth.”
“With an apology like that, you can put anything of mine in your mouth,” you laughed.
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Thank you so much for reading!
If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! đŸ“©. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜
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shina913 · 19 days
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Wow, thank you! That’s so nice of you to say đŸ„č
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Coquet (Series) | JJK
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Coquet
\ kƍ-​ˈket Definition: noun. a man who indulges in flirtation.
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Pairing: Escort!JJK x Fem-reader
Rating: M (🔞)
Genre: Fake-dating!AU; Strangers to lovers; fluff; angst; smut
Total word count: 77,727K words
Status: Completed ✅
Warnings (more to be written in individual chapters): cussing; explicit sexual conversations; hints of awkward family dynamic; fake-dating; hired escort; some anxiety; alcohol consumption
Summary: On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous.
A/N: This is loosely inspired by The Wedding Date (2004) but with a slight twist. If you know the movie, I hope you'll still read along. I have a habit of getting prompts from random movies or shows that I revisit and then find some details that I'd like to switch up for my own personal wish-fulfillment bank so, I hope it does the same for yours as well! 😊
Comment, reblog, or send me feedback! đŸ“©--I love hearing from readers!
❗Please DNI if you're a minor.
➌Cross-posted on AO3
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Navigation:
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
Epilogue
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shina913 · 19 days
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Mmm, have to agree with you there. This Mingyu was a dream to write. Thank you reading it 😘
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Code Blue | KMG
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Code Blue
Pairing: PFWeek!Mingyu x Stylist!Fem Reader
Rating: M 🔞; NSFW
Genre: Idol au; hints of FWB; fluff; angst; smut
Warnings: porn with a hint of plot; cussing; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-rcvng); penetrative, unprotected sex; creampie; soft aftercare
Word count: 3.8K words
Summary: Mingyu doesn't want any other sylist--he only wants you.
A/N: The story was prompted by this video clip and title is from The-Dream's song of the same title. I only meant for this to be something quick but the clown car stopped by my house--it was headed to Deluluville so I just got on, ofc. Nothing but horny word vomit featuring Dior/PFW Mingyu. Tiny bit of angst brought on by the song, and also because I'm me, and why the hell not? Enjoy!
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It’s fashion week and by some wild coincidence, many of your A-list celebrities are in town and they all have scheduled appearances at the big-ticket shows. Unfortunately, due to the location of a few shows and heavy traffic, you can't personally manage everyone's looks. So, you rely on your trusted assistants to cater to everyone's preferences, under your guidance, of course.
One of the clients you couldn't personally attend to was Mingyu. He called you, disappointed, when he saw your assistant, Monica, standing at his hotel room door with a clothing rack to present him with outfit options for tomorrow's show.
“Why did you send your minion here? I thought you were coming?” You hear the pout in his lowered voice.
“I'm at a fitting with another client at their hotel, and it's running late,” you whisper into the phone, then motion to an intern to approve your client's accessories. “Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her that. She's my second-in-command, and I trust her judgment. I can't be everywhere at once, so some compromises had to be made.”
Mingyu’s debut appearance at a major fashion show was a big deal for him and his career. Since his appearance was announced, you prepared accordingly, discussing options based on the fashion house's lookbook. Having worked closely with Mingyu for over a year, you're well-versed in his style preferences. Before he left for Paris, you had shortlisted two outfit options, which is why you felt confident leaving Monica in charge.
“So, I’m the one compromised? I heard you’re dressing a couple of people for Chanel and another one for Saint Laurent. You can’t do that for me?” He huffs out.
You hiss through gritted teeth and excuse yourself to take the rest of your call in the bathroom. “There’s no need to be childish! Those two shows are right next to each other, while yours is across town. I can’t reach you in that short timeframe. Have you seen the traffic?”
He eventually concedes, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I was just
hoping to see you since we're both in town. I thought that maybe we could grab dinner tonight at that restaurant we went to last time?”
You sigh, wishing it could be that simple. Instead of responding to his invitation, you run through tomorrow’s schedule. “I have another fitting tomorrow afternoon and a meeting after that. Olivier is also hosting a party tomorrow night after the Balmain show, so I don’t know—”
“I can meet you after your last event, just tell me where.”
“You can’t just show up randomly. There’s going to be other designers and stylists. You might feel out of place since you won’t know anybody,” you reason.
“You can always introduce me,” he suggests.
“As what?”
He’s silent for a few beats then says, “Your client?”
You chuckle, feeling a hint of embarrassment due to your presumptions. You've never clarified the nature of your relationship. Since you’re part of his team’s regular stylists, you have to stay professional, especially around staff and his other teammates. Occasionally, when he can steal a quiet moment, he whispers what he'd like to do when he gets you alone.
“Gyu—”
“Please? I miss you,” he pleads quietly.
Apart from the occasional sexy video calls, you haven't seen each other in over a month due to your busy work schedules. As much as you try to convince yourself that you don’t feel the same, hearing the need in his voice makes your chest twinge.
You open your mouth to answer but a knock on the bathroom door startles you. It’s the intern, telling you that your client needs your opinion on shoes.
You sigh, cursing under your breath. “I have to go. Just trust Monica, okay?”
You didn't wait for him to respond before you hung up. You didn't want to hear the disappointment in his voice. You wished you could leave all the work to your staff and head off to dinner with Mingyu, then go to bed with him. But there were too many eyes on Paris this week, especially on him.
This wasn’t like one of your clandestine meetings. He was more recognizable now, which meant photos could be snapped of you and him anywhere. When that happens, it’ll be all over.
After that call, you didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.
********
“So, how did you pick your outfit today?”
The question, posed by one of many journalists in the bustling press line of the fashion show’s venue, brings a warm smile to Mingyu's face.
“This outfit?” He took a moment before responding, his eyes had a hint of nostalgia as he revisited the process that eventually led up to the ensemble he was dressed in.
“Ah, well. My team put it together!” His response elicits laughter from both the photographers and the journalist.
“No, but seriously, I like clean, timeless looks with hints of detail and different textures to keep it interesting. My stylist knows me very well, and she has a great eye.” He finishes with that million-dollar smile of his, leaving the journalist flustered.
“Well,” the journalist says, “Sounds like someone out there deserves a nice bonus.”
“Oh, I agree!” He looks straight into the camera and gives a subtle wink at it right before the clip ends.
You chuckle and shake your head at your phone, swiping away to close out of full-screen mode.
Earlier this morning, he texted you a photo of his final look. He had chosen the blue suit and bejeweled button-down shirt, the ensemble you put together, and hoped he would go for. His choice delighted you, despite how sour your phone call ended last night.
You sent a text to Monica, thanking her for the link to Mingyu's interview clip and complimenting her on her first solo styling job.
She responded, saying that you did 90% of the work. She merely pulled together what made sense, and you approved.
You laugh. She's right, but she would at least get credit in the magazines and fashion blogs where Mingyu's photos would appear.
********
It was well past midnight when you got out of the limo with a couple of colleagues and walked into the hotel lobby, coming back from an after-party when your phone rang. You fish it out of your pocket and drunkenly squint your eyes at the caller ID.
It was Mingyu. You slide across your screen to answer it.
“Hey. Where are you?” His voice was gruff, like he had just woken up or maybe had a few drinks.
“I just got in from Olivier’s party.”
“Mm, how was that?”
“Good. We had fun. Nice way to cap off fashion week.”
He hums in response. “Are you back in your room?”
“Not yet but I’m heading up there soon. What’s up?” You step into the elevator and punch your floor number.
He sighs softly on the other line. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure that you were back safe.”
“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically.
The elevator dings and stops at your floor. You step out and follow the hallway toward your room. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”
As you look ahead, you slow down upon seeing someone leaning against your doorway. How did he even
 you stop that thought right away, not wanting to know all the details.
“I was hoping to say goodnight to you,” he says into the phone as you stop in front of him.
You glance at your watch and tell him, “But it’s already 2 in the morning.”
“So, good morning then?” he smirked. Then, his eyes rake you from head to toe. “You look nice.”
Judging by what you recall from your reflection in the elevator's mirror, you knew you were anything but. “Thanks. You look
clean.”
He was showered, barefaced, and dressed in sweats, his hair sticking out in every direction. Now this was the version of Mingyu you were used to seeing in private.
“Can I put you to bed?”
You bit your lip as he moved in closer. The thought was tempting, but you were aware that other staff members were staying on the same floor. But it was also late, and they were likely asleep. Perhaps a little nightcap wouldn't be too bad.
Before you can answer, you freeze when the door across the hall opens. Monica pops her head out, her sleep mask perched atop her head. “Oh, hey guys! I thought I heard voices. What are you doing here?” She directs her question at Mingyu.
“We were just talking,” he tells her with an innocent smile, relieved she didn't see him enter your room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?” She looks worried, assuming that Mingyu is there to tell you that she did an awful job, despite reassuring her that she did great filling in for you.
“All good! He and I just ran into each other in the lobby and started discussing an upcoming shoot,” you say apologetically.
“We'll try to keep it down,” Mingyu adds.
“No worries. I have a white noise machine,” Monica replies with a knowing smile. “You can be as loud as you want.”
Your mouth falls open as she casually turns back into her room and closes the door. 
Mingyu suppresses a laugh. “You think she knows?”
You smack him on the chest and roll your eyes, making him giggle some more.
“You're lucky I pay her well,” you say, reaching into your purse for your key card. You swipe it on the door sensor and step inside while he's still laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”
He laughs even harder, but he follows you right in.
********
“Did you like Monica’s picks?” you call out from the bathroom, as you finish up your skincare routine.
“You mean what you picked?” he retorts.
“I wasn't even there! That was all her.”
“He snorts at your comment. “You think she pulled those pieces all on her own without your sign-off?” He snacks on a few pomme frites that he ordered from room service during your quick shower.
“I've been training her for a couple of years. She deserves some credit,” you reply as you reenter the room in an oversized shirt, walking towards him on the couch, and taking some fries. 
“I mean, she's good, but she doesn't know me that well.” He pauses to watch you settle next to him. “You do, though.”
“Then let her get to know you! Help her out a little.” You suggest, barely looking up from your phone.
“You mean the way I got to know you? Is that what you want?” 
You tense up and purse your lips. However, considering you have no claim on Mingyu, you have no right to feel upset.
“I'm just saying—I can't always be where you need me to be and
you’re free to do what you want.” You clear your throat, attempting to sound nonchalant.
He lets out a sigh, pulling your phone down to get your attention. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anybody else to get to know me.”
You could hear the yearning in his voice, something you didn’t quite expect.
After years in the industry, you told yourself you’d never get involved with a client. And then Mingyu came along. People were naturally drawn to him, and even you weren’t immune to his charms. He was always sweet, and you assumed he treated everyone who worked for him the same way. It wasn’t until after an overseas photoshoot followed by celebratory drinks with him and his staff, that you let your guard down.
What you initially saw as a one-time slip-up gradually became a series of encounters, each growing more intimate than the last. But you couldn’t stay in that mindset. You couldn’t get your hopes up, especially with someone as famous as he was. Not only was it bad for business but it was bad for you.
“I’m not playing games.”
“Neither am I.” He says evenly. “The fact is, I want you and I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”
You scoff at his audacious remark. “Look, it’s my job—”
He shakes his head and interjects. “You know what I mean. I want to make things official
with you. Just you.”
You sigh. “You know that we can’t.” Even though everything in you wants to scream yes.
“You can’t or won’t?”
“I know that you can't,” you counter. He's just too... public. Not only are you concerned about your reputation, but you're mostly worried about the backlash if his fans ever find out about you and him. The stakes are higher for him.
“That’s not true. It’s not like I’m a prisoner.” 
You chuckle humorlessly, as if he doesn’t see how this won’t end well for either of you. “I know how this business works, okay?”
“You think I don’t know that either? I just want us to try. I feel that there’s something more between us. And I know you feel it, too.” He reaches out and rests his hand on your bare knee.
Your skin tingles with the warmth of his touch. It’s been too long since you last felt it, and you’re ashamed to admit how much you missed it. Craved it, even.
You stare at his hand, now snaking past the hem of your shirt. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”
“Then let’s do it for the reasons that we should,” he retorts, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You quickly realize that was a big mistake.
His eyes quietly pleaded, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. Things weren't going to be easy. A million questions swirled in your head, but he quieted all except one as his face drew closer.
“How would we even do this?” You ask softly.
“Let me worry about that. I just need you to tell me that you want the same thing.”
Your hand lifts to his neck, fingers grazing his jawline, then up his cheek. He sighs softly, melting under your touch.
After a few beats, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You know, part of me feels like I’m letting you off easy. Maybe I should let you work for it a little?”
A smile ghosted his lips. He lowered his head, his voice deep and sexy. “I’ll work for it now.”
Even though you see the kiss coming, it still knocks you out. Mingyu’s lips meet yours, his tongue stroking greedily into your mouth. “C’mere,” he says roughly before urging you onto his lap.
Your phone rings, but you silence it quickly before chucking it, not caring where it lands. You tangle your fingers in Mingyu's hair, holding his head while you kiss him ardently. God, you love kissing him. The feel of his lips and the rough sounds of pleasure he makes are music to your ears. He’s ravenous for you, just as you are for him. He catches one of your wrists and pulls your hand over his chest, pressing it flat so you can feel his heart pounding.
“This all you,” he breathes against your mouth.
And with that, your walls come down. You’re done for.
You tear at each other’s clothing, yanking off each other’s shirts. You’re desperate to feel him, your lips and teeth catching every inch of his golden skin. At this point, you don’t care if other staff hear you throughout this floor.
He urges you backward until you feel the armrest of the couch behind you. Kissing you deeply, he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it before pushing the bra cup down to touch your bare skin.
You fumble with the drawstring of his pants, whilst palming him through the material, feeling how hard he already is. You growl in frustration when he pulls your hands away.
He shakes his head and tuts. “You first.” Clever fingers circle your nipple and roll it, sending shocks of delight straight to your core.
The next moment, that mouth you love to kiss is on your breast, surrounding your tender nipple. His tongue flicks at the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. His other hand is between your legs, rubbing your aching cleft through your panties, teasing you even more by grinding his length against your thigh.
His scent surrounds you, just as his hands and mouth are all over you. You want some control, but he’s too strong, too quick, sliding lower before you can catch him.
He keeps his gaze on you as he tugs your panties down your legs. Your center clenches at how much that turns you on.
You sit up slightly to unclasp your bra, tossing it while Mingyu scoots back, lifting his hips to shove his sweats and boxer briefs out of the way. 
In an instant, he’s on you again–too impatient to strip all the way naked. He pins your hips down, urging your thighs further apart while he lines himself up to your center, and slowly pushes in. Lowering his head, he groans right in your ear, feeling how tight you are for him. 
You pant as he burrows deeper. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around his waist. You’re wetter by the moment, rendered helpless by the way his hips move, his body mindlessly seeking a deeper connection to yours.
You gasp when he slides in deeper, your hips fighting his hold, needing to arch upward.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, pulling back an inch and thrusting again.
He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, but not for long. His mouth is there between your legs, licking, sucking on your clit, and fluttering over the bundle of nerves. Your hands fist at the cushions, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You went from zero to sixty so fast that your orgasm takes you by surprise.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out.
Shivers of pleasure course through you as you suck in air. He keeps your legs spread wide with his shoulders, holding you in place, as he slips two fingers inside.  He moves them in and out slowly, circling your clit in between. He teases you a few more times, edging you, making you desperate for his cock.
The instant he shifts to slide over you again, you seize the moment to push him to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t put up a fight as you move to straddle his hips. He simply leans back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed from arousal, waiting for your next move.
You reach for his cock under you, fisting it slowly. He fights to keep his eyes open but the pleasure you give him feels too good. His chest heaves and he lets out a drawn-out groan. 
Fuck, he was hot. And the way his hands grip your hips tightly as you position him to your center drives you insane with the need to ride him hard.
You slide the tip between your folds, coating him with your slick before your hips sink in one swift move. Your mouths fall open when your ass hits the tops of his thighs, both of you relishing in the sensation. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and roll your hips toward him slowly. His neck arches, letting out a groan of pleasure between clenched teeth.
His hands reach up to cup your breasts, palming them, and pinching your nipples, making you hiss at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. “Ah
Mingyu...fuck, yes
”
Once you find your rhythm, he thrusts upward, meeting your hips. You push your fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to hold him close.
He nuzzles against your temple. “You want this?”
Your nodding wasn’t enough for him.
“Say it.”
So you say it loud and clear for him. “Yes, I want this. I want you.” 
With a shift of his hips, the tip of his cock notches into your opening. Pressure builds as he fucks into you. Slow, easy thrusts that work him into you with every lunge. Your entire body tenses, as he sinks deep into your core. You feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax.
Your grip on him tightens, and you grind your hips, matching his every move to direct him into where it feels good.
“Kiss me,” you gasp.
Soon after his mouth makes contact with yours, your body surrenders to him. Tears sting your eyes when the tension in you breaks, and you come harder than you did the first time.
The pulsing only deepens as Mingyu continues to pound into you, chasing his own climax. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he finally reaches it, tethering his orgasm to yours.
It's one of the most intense sensations you've ever felt. Despite your body's natural instinct to pull away, your mind resists. The steady thrum of your heartbeat soothes you. You stay there, quietly relishing the comfort in each other's arms for an indeterminate amount of time.
********
Reluctantly, you take a second shower, with him doing most of the work cleaning you up. Afterwards, you crawl into bed. You watch him, carefully tucking you in, mildly annoyed that he can move and think clearly while you're still stuck in a post-orgasmic haze.
When he finally flops into bed beside you, you turn to face him. “How are you still moving around?”
He props his head in his hand and grins, his fingers running lightly down your cleavage. “Did you forget the ten minutes it took me to get up?”
“I’m making sure you’re down for the count next time,” you pout playfully.
“Hmm...” Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours. “I’m just happy there’s a next time.”
You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lots of next times.”
Reaching up, you brush his hair back from his forehead. His post-sex look is even more breathtaking. His face is softer, his eyes are brighter, and that smile
 you sigh deeply. He looks so happy that it twists your heart to think that you had a hand in that without even really trying. Yet, this also worries you, knowing it would be devastating if that smile ever faded.
“I’m scared, you know,” you confess.
He lifts your hand and presses his lips to it. A few moments of silence pass before he replies, “Yeah. Me too.” You don’t even want to think about how the staff will react when they see him walk out of your room in a few hours.
His facial expression tenses, and you immediately regret bringing it up. You pull him closer, holding him tightly as a silent apology.
“Can we agree not to bring anything but us into bed?” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek before pulling away slightly to look at you. “I just want us to have some place where nothing else matters but you and me.”
“Okay.” You nod, your hands stroking up and down his back. Burying your face in his chest, you breathe in, letting the familiar scent of his skin ground you in the moment.
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shina913 · 20 days
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cute & cozy marketing tactic: super effective
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shina913 · 21 days
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Code Blue | KMG
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Code Blue
Pairing: PFWeek!Mingyu x Stylist!Fem Reader
Rating: M 🔞; NSFW
Genre: Idol au; hints of FWB; fluff; angst; smut
Warnings: porn with a hint of plot; cussing; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-rcvng); penetrative, unprotected sex; creampie; soft aftercare
Word count: 3.8K words
Summary: Mingyu doesn't want any other sylist--he only wants you.
A/N: The story was prompted by this video clip and title is from The-Dream's song of the same title. I only meant for this to be something quick but the clown car stopped by my house--it was headed to Deluluville so I just got on, ofc. Nothing but horny word vomit featuring Dior/PFW Mingyu. Tiny bit of angst brought on by the song, and also because I'm me, and why the hell not? Enjoy!
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It’s fashion week and by some wild coincidence, many of your A-list celebrities are in town and they all have scheduled appearances at the big-ticket shows. Unfortunately, due to the location of a few shows and heavy traffic, you can't personally manage everyone's looks. So, you rely on your trusted assistants to cater to everyone's preferences, under your guidance, of course.
One of the clients you couldn't personally attend to was Mingyu. He called you, disappointed, when he saw your assistant, Monica, standing at his hotel room door with a clothing rack to present him with outfit options for tomorrow's show.
“Why did you send your minion here? I thought you were coming?” You hear the pout in his lowered voice.
“I'm at a fitting with another client at their hotel, and it's running late,” you whisper into the phone, then motion to an intern to approve your client's accessories. “Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her that. She's my second-in-command, and I trust her judgment. I can't be everywhere at once, so some compromises had to be made.”
Mingyu’s debut appearance at a major fashion show was a big deal for him and his career. Since his appearance was announced, you prepared accordingly, discussing options based on the fashion house's lookbook. Having worked closely with Mingyu for over a year, you're well-versed in his style preferences. Before he left for Paris, you had shortlisted two outfit options, which is why you felt confident leaving Monica in charge.
“So, I’m the one compromised? I heard you’re dressing a couple of people for Chanel and another one for Saint Laurent. You can’t do that for me?” He huffs out.
You hiss through gritted teeth and excuse yourself to take the rest of your call in the bathroom. “There’s no need to be childish! Those two shows are right next to each other, while yours is across town. I can’t reach you in that short timeframe. Have you seen the traffic?”
He eventually concedes, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I was just
hoping to see you since we're both in town. I thought that maybe we could grab dinner tonight at that restaurant we went to last time?”
You sigh, wishing it could be that simple. Instead of responding to his invitation, you run through tomorrow’s schedule. “I have another fitting tomorrow afternoon and a meeting after that. Olivier is also hosting a party tomorrow night after the Balmain show, so I don’t know—”
“I can meet you after your last event, just tell me where.”
“You can’t just show up randomly. There’s going to be other designers and stylists. You might feel out of place since you won’t know anybody,” you reason.
“You can always introduce me,” he suggests.
“As what?”
He’s silent for a few beats then says, “Your client?”
You chuckle, feeling a hint of embarrassment due to your presumptions. You've never clarified the nature of your relationship. Since you’re part of his team’s regular stylists, you have to stay professional, especially around staff and his other teammates. Occasionally, when he can steal a quiet moment, he whispers what he'd like to do when he gets you alone.
“Gyu—”
“Please? I miss you,” he pleads quietly.
Apart from the occasional sexy video calls, you haven't seen each other in over a month due to your busy work schedules. As much as you try to convince yourself that you don’t feel the same, hearing the need in his voice makes your chest twinge.
You open your mouth to answer but a knock on the bathroom door startles you. It’s the intern, telling you that your client needs your opinion on shoes.
You sigh, cursing under your breath. “I have to go. Just trust Monica, okay?”
You didn't wait for him to respond before you hung up. You didn't want to hear the disappointment in his voice. You wished you could leave all the work to your staff and head off to dinner with Mingyu, then go to bed with him. But there were too many eyes on Paris this week, especially on him.
This wasn’t like one of your clandestine meetings. He was more recognizable now, which meant photos could be snapped of you and him anywhere. When that happens, it’ll be all over.
After that call, you didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.
********
“So, how did you pick your outfit today?”
The question, posed by one of many journalists in the bustling press line of the fashion show’s venue, brings a warm smile to Mingyu's face.
“This outfit?” He took a moment before responding, his eyes had a hint of nostalgia as he revisited the process that eventually led up to the ensemble he was dressed in.
“Ah, well. My team put it together!” His response elicits laughter from both the photographers and the journalist.
“No, but seriously, I like clean, timeless looks with hints of detail and different textures to keep it interesting. My stylist knows me very well, and she has a great eye.” He finishes with that million-dollar smile of his, leaving the journalist flustered.
“Well,” the journalist says, “Sounds like someone out there deserves a nice bonus.”
“Oh, I agree!” He looks straight into the camera and gives a subtle wink at it right before the clip ends.
You chuckle and shake your head at your phone, swiping away to close out of full-screen mode.
Earlier this morning, he texted you a photo of his final look. He had chosen the blue suit and bejeweled button-down shirt, the ensemble you put together, and hoped he would go for. His choice delighted you, despite how sour your phone call ended last night.
You sent a text to Monica, thanking her for the link to Mingyu's interview clip and complimenting her on her first solo styling job.
She responded, saying that you did 90% of the work. She merely pulled together what made sense, and you approved.
You laugh. She's right, but she would at least get credit in the magazines and fashion blogs where Mingyu's photos would appear.
********
It was well past midnight when you got out of the limo with a couple of colleagues and walked into the hotel lobby, coming back from an after-party when your phone rang. You fish it out of your pocket and drunkenly squint your eyes at the caller ID.
It was Mingyu. You slide across your screen to answer it.
“Hey. Where are you?” His voice was gruff, like he had just woken up or maybe had a few drinks.
“I just got in from Olivier’s party.”
“Mm, how was that?”
“Good. We had fun. Nice way to cap off fashion week.”
He hums in response. “Are you back in your room?”
“Not yet but I’m heading up there soon. What’s up?” You step into the elevator and punch your floor number.
He sighs softly on the other line. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure that you were back safe.”
“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically.
The elevator dings and stops at your floor. You step out and follow the hallway toward your room. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”
As you look ahead, you slow down upon seeing someone leaning against your doorway. How did he even
 you stop that thought right away, not wanting to know all the details.
“I was hoping to say goodnight to you,” he says into the phone as you stop in front of him.
You glance at your watch and tell him, “But it’s already 2 in the morning.”
“So, good morning then?” he smirked. Then, his eyes rake you from head to toe. “You look nice.”
Judging by what you recall from your reflection in the elevator's mirror, you knew you were anything but. “Thanks. You look
clean.”
He was showered, barefaced, and dressed in sweats, his hair sticking out in every direction. Now this was the version of Mingyu you were used to seeing in private.
“Can I put you to bed?”
You bit your lip as he moved in closer. The thought was tempting, but you were aware that other staff members were staying on the same floor. But it was also late, and they were likely asleep. Perhaps a little nightcap wouldn't be too bad.
Before you can answer, you freeze when the door across the hall opens. Monica pops her head out, her sleep mask perched atop her head. “Oh, hey guys! I thought I heard voices. What are you doing here?” She directs her question at Mingyu.
“We were just talking,” he tells her with an innocent smile, relieved she didn't see him enter your room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?” She looks worried, assuming that Mingyu is there to tell you that she did an awful job, despite reassuring her that she did great filling in for you.
“All good! He and I just ran into each other in the lobby and started discussing an upcoming shoot,” you say apologetically.
“We'll try to keep it down,” Mingyu adds.
“No worries. I have a white noise machine,” Monica replies with a knowing smile. “You can be as loud as you want.”
Your mouth falls open as she casually turns back into her room and closes the door. 
Mingyu suppresses a laugh. “You think she knows?”
You smack him on the chest and roll your eyes, making him giggle some more.
“You're lucky I pay her well,” you say, reaching into your purse for your key card. You swipe it on the door sensor and step inside while he's still laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”
He laughs even harder, but he follows you right in.
********
“Did you like Monica’s picks?” you call out from the bathroom, as you finish up your skincare routine.
“You mean what you picked?” he retorts.
“I wasn't even there! That was all her.”
“He snorts at your comment. “You think she pulled those pieces all on her own without your sign-off?” He snacks on a few pomme frites that he ordered from room service during your quick shower.
“I've been training her for a couple of years. She deserves some credit,” you reply as you reenter the room in an oversized shirt, walking towards him on the couch, and taking some fries. 
“I mean, she's good, but she doesn't know me that well.” He pauses to watch you settle next to him. “You do, though.”
“Then let her get to know you! Help her out a little.” You suggest, barely looking up from your phone.
“You mean the way I got to know you? Is that what you want?” 
You tense up and purse your lips. However, considering you have no claim on Mingyu, you have no right to feel upset.
“I'm just saying—I can't always be where you need me to be and
you’re free to do what you want.” You clear your throat, attempting to sound nonchalant.
He lets out a sigh, pulling your phone down to get your attention. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anybody else to get to know me.”
You could hear the yearning in his voice, something you didn’t quite expect.
After years in the industry, you told yourself you’d never get involved with a client. And then Mingyu came along. People were naturally drawn to him, and even you weren’t immune to his charms. He was always sweet, and you assumed he treated everyone who worked for him the same way. It wasn’t until after an overseas photoshoot followed by celebratory drinks with him and his staff, that you let your guard down.
What you initially saw as a one-time slip-up gradually became a series of encounters, each growing more intimate than the last. But you couldn’t stay in that mindset. You couldn’t get your hopes up, especially with someone as famous as he was. Not only was it bad for business but it was bad for you.
“I’m not playing games.”
“Neither am I.” He says evenly. “The fact is, I want you and I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”
You scoff at his audacious remark. “Look, it’s my job—”
He shakes his head and interjects. “You know what I mean. I want to make things official
with you. Just you.”
You sigh. “You know that we can’t.” Even though everything in you wants to scream yes.
“You can’t or won’t?”
“I know that you can't,” you counter. He's just too... public. Not only are you concerned about your reputation, but you're mostly worried about the backlash if his fans ever find out about you and him. The stakes are higher for him.
“That’s not true. It’s not like I’m a prisoner.” 
You chuckle humorlessly, as if he doesn’t see how this won’t end well for either of you. “I know how this business works, okay?”
“You think I don’t know that either? I just want us to try. I feel that there’s something more between us. And I know you feel it, too.” He reaches out and rests his hand on your bare knee.
Your skin tingles with the warmth of his touch. It’s been too long since you last felt it, and you’re ashamed to admit how much you missed it. Craved it, even.
You stare at his hand, now snaking past the hem of your shirt. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”
“Then let’s do it for the reasons that we should,” he retorts, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You quickly realize that was a big mistake.
His eyes quietly pleaded, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. Things weren't going to be easy. A million questions swirled in your head, but he quieted all except one as his face drew closer.
“How would we even do this?” You ask softly.
“Let me worry about that. I just need you to tell me that you want the same thing.”
Your hand lifts to his neck, fingers grazing his jawline, then up his cheek. He sighs softly, melting under your touch.
After a few beats, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You know, part of me feels like I’m letting you off easy. Maybe I should let you work for it a little?”
A smile ghosted his lips. He lowered his head, his voice deep and sexy. “I’ll work for it now.”
Even though you see the kiss coming, it still knocks you out. Mingyu’s lips meet yours, his tongue stroking greedily into your mouth. “C’mere,” he says roughly before urging you onto his lap.
Your phone rings, but you silence it quickly before chucking it, not caring where it lands. You tangle your fingers in Mingyu's hair, holding his head while you kiss him ardently. God, you love kissing him. The feel of his lips and the rough sounds of pleasure he makes are music to your ears. He’s ravenous for you, just as you are for him. He catches one of your wrists and pulls your hand over his chest, pressing it flat so you can feel his heart pounding.
“This all you,” he breathes against your mouth.
And with that, your walls come down. You’re done for.
You tear at each other’s clothing, yanking off each other’s shirts. You’re desperate to feel him, your lips and teeth catching every inch of his golden skin. At this point, you don’t care if other staff hear you throughout this floor.
He urges you backward until you feel the armrest of the couch behind you. Kissing you deeply, he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it before pushing the bra cup down to touch your bare skin.
You fumble with the drawstring of his pants, whilst palming him through the material, feeling how hard he already is. You growl in frustration when he pulls your hands away.
He shakes his head and tuts. “You first.” Clever fingers circle your nipple and roll it, sending shocks of delight straight to your core.
The next moment, that mouth you love to kiss is on your breast, surrounding your tender nipple. His tongue flicks at the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. His other hand is between your legs, rubbing your aching cleft through your panties, teasing you even more by grinding his length against your thigh.
His scent surrounds you, just as his hands and mouth are all over you. You want some control, but he’s too strong, too quick, sliding lower before you can catch him.
He keeps his gaze on you as he tugs your panties down your legs. Your center clenches at how much that turns you on.
You sit up slightly to unclasp your bra, tossing it while Mingyu scoots back, lifting his hips to shove his sweats and boxer briefs out of the way. 
In an instant, he’s on you again–too impatient to strip all the way naked. He pins your hips down, urging your thighs further apart while he lines himself up to your center, and slowly pushes in. Lowering his head, he groans right in your ear, feeling how tight you are for him. 
You pant as he burrows deeper. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around his waist. You’re wetter by the moment, rendered helpless by the way his hips move, his body mindlessly seeking a deeper connection to yours.
You gasp when he slides in deeper, your hips fighting his hold, needing to arch upward.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, pulling back an inch and thrusting again.
He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, but not for long. His mouth is there between your legs, licking, sucking on your clit, and fluttering over the bundle of nerves. Your hands fist at the cushions, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You went from zero to sixty so fast that your orgasm takes you by surprise.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out.
Shivers of pleasure course through you as you suck in air. He keeps your legs spread wide with his shoulders, holding you in place, as he slips two fingers inside.  He moves them in and out slowly, circling your clit in between. He teases you a few more times, edging you, making you desperate for his cock.
The instant he shifts to slide over you again, you seize the moment to push him to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t put up a fight as you move to straddle his hips. He simply leans back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed from arousal, waiting for your next move.
You reach for his cock under you, fisting it slowly. He fights to keep his eyes open but the pleasure you give him feels too good. His chest heaves and he lets out a drawn-out groan. 
Fuck, he was hot. And the way his hands grip your hips tightly as you position him to your center drives you insane with the need to ride him hard.
You slide the tip between your folds, coating him with your slick before your hips sink in one swift move. Your mouths fall open when your ass hits the tops of his thighs, both of you relishing in the sensation. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and roll your hips toward him slowly. His neck arches, letting out a groan of pleasure between clenched teeth.
His hands reach up to cup your breasts, palming them, and pinching your nipples, making you hiss at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. “Ah
Mingyu...fuck, yes
”
Once you find your rhythm, he thrusts upward, meeting your hips. You push your fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to hold him close.
He nuzzles against your temple. “You want this?”
Your nodding wasn’t enough for him.
“Say it.”
So you say it loud and clear for him. “Yes, I want this. I want you.” 
With a shift of his hips, the tip of his cock notches into your opening. Pressure builds as he fucks into you. Slow, easy thrusts that work him into you with every lunge. Your entire body tenses, as he sinks deep into your core. You feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax.
Your grip on him tightens, and you grind your hips, matching his every move to direct him into where it feels good.
“Kiss me,” you gasp.
Soon after his mouth makes contact with yours, your body surrenders to him. Tears sting your eyes when the tension in you breaks, and you come harder than you did the first time.
The pulsing only deepens as Mingyu continues to pound into you, chasing his own climax. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he finally reaches it, tethering his orgasm to yours.
It's one of the most intense sensations you've ever felt. Despite your body's natural instinct to pull away, your mind resists. The steady thrum of your heartbeat soothes you. You stay there, quietly relishing the comfort in each other's arms for an indeterminate amount of time.
********
Reluctantly, you take a second shower, with him doing most of the work cleaning you up. Afterwards, you crawl into bed. You watch him, carefully tucking you in, mildly annoyed that he can move and think clearly while you're still stuck in a post-orgasmic haze.
When he finally flops into bed beside you, you turn to face him. “How are you still moving around?”
He props his head in his hand and grins, his fingers running lightly down your cleavage. “Did you forget the ten minutes it took me to get up?”
“I’m making sure you’re down for the count next time,” you pout playfully.
“Hmm...” Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours. “I’m just happy there’s a next time.”
You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lots of next times.”
Reaching up, you brush his hair back from his forehead. His post-sex look is even more breathtaking. His face is softer, his eyes are brighter, and that smile
 you sigh deeply. He looks so happy that it twists your heart to think that you had a hand in that without even really trying. Yet, this also worries you, knowing it would be devastating if that smile ever faded.
“I’m scared, you know,” you confess.
He lifts your hand and presses his lips to it. A few moments of silence pass before he replies, “Yeah. Me too.” You don’t even want to think about how the staff will react when they see him walk out of your room in a few hours.
His facial expression tenses, and you immediately regret bringing it up. You pull him closer, holding him tightly as a silent apology.
“Can we agree not to bring anything but us into bed?” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek before pulling away slightly to look at you. “I just want us to have some place where nothing else matters but you and me.”
“Okay.” You nod, your hands stroking up and down his back. Burying your face in his chest, you breathe in, letting the familiar scent of his skin ground you in the moment.
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shina913 · 22 days
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HOSHI Rock With You '007'
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shina913 · 23 days
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Code Blue | KMG
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Code Blue
Pairing: PFWeek!Mingyu x Stylist!Fem Reader
Rating: M 🔞; NSFW
Genre: Idol au; hints of FWB; fluff; angst; smut
Warnings: porn with a hint of plot; cussing; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-rcvng); penetrative, unprotected sex; creampie; soft aftercare
Word count: 3.8K words
Summary: Mingyu doesn't want any other sylist--he only wants you.
A/N: The story was prompted by this video clip and title is from The-Dream's song of the same title. I only meant for this to be something quick but the clown car stopped by my house--it was headed to Deluluville so I just got on, ofc. Nothing but horny word vomit featuring Dior/PFW Mingyu. Tiny bit of angst brought on by the song, and also because I'm me, and why the hell not? Enjoy!
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It’s fashion week and by some wild coincidence, many of your A-list celebrities are in town and they all have scheduled appearances at the big-ticket shows. Unfortunately, due to the location of a few shows and heavy traffic, you can't personally manage everyone's looks. So, you rely on your trusted assistants to cater to everyone's preferences, under your guidance, of course.
One of the clients you couldn't personally attend to was Mingyu. He called you, disappointed, when he saw your assistant, Monica, standing at his hotel room door with a clothing rack to present him with outfit options for tomorrow's show.
“Why did you send your minion here? I thought you were coming?” You hear the pout in his lowered voice.
“I'm at a fitting with another client at their hotel, and it's running late,” you whisper into the phone, then motion to an intern to approve your client's accessories. “Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her that. She's my second-in-command, and I trust her judgment. I can't be everywhere at once, so some compromises had to be made.”
Mingyu’s debut appearance at a major fashion show was a big deal for him and his career. Since his appearance was announced, you prepared accordingly, discussing options based on the fashion house's lookbook. Having worked closely with Mingyu for over a year, you're well-versed in his style preferences. Before he left for Paris, you had shortlisted two outfit options, which is why you felt confident leaving Monica in charge.
“So, I’m the one compromised? I heard you’re dressing a couple of people for Chanel and another one for Saint Laurent. You can’t do that for me?” He huffs out.
You hiss through gritted teeth and excuse yourself to take the rest of your call in the bathroom. “There’s no need to be childish! Those two shows are right next to each other, while yours is across town. I can’t reach you in that short timeframe. Have you seen the traffic?”
He eventually concedes, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I was just
hoping to see you since we're both in town. I thought that maybe we could grab dinner tonight at that restaurant we went to last time?”
You sigh, wishing it could be that simple. Instead of responding to his invitation, you run through tomorrow’s schedule. “I have another fitting tomorrow afternoon and a meeting after that. Olivier is also hosting a party tomorrow night after the Balmain show, so I don’t know—”
“I can meet you after your last event, just tell me where.”
“You can’t just show up randomly. There’s going to be other designers and stylists. You might feel out of place since you won’t know anybody,” you reason.
“You can always introduce me,” he suggests.
“As what?”
He’s silent for a few beats then says, “Your client?”
You chuckle, feeling a hint of embarrassment due to your presumptions. You've never clarified the nature of your relationship. Since you’re part of his team’s regular stylists, you have to stay professional, especially around staff and his other teammates. Occasionally, when he can steal a quiet moment, he whispers what he'd like to do when he gets you alone.
“Gyu—”
“Please? I miss you,” he pleads quietly.
Apart from the occasional sexy video calls, you haven't seen each other in over a month due to your busy work schedules. As much as you try to convince yourself that you don’t feel the same, hearing the need in his voice makes your chest twinge.
You open your mouth to answer but a knock on the bathroom door startles you. It’s the intern, telling you that your client needs your opinion on shoes.
You sigh, cursing under your breath. “I have to go. Just trust Monica, okay?”
You didn't wait for him to respond before you hung up. You didn't want to hear the disappointment in his voice. You wished you could leave all the work to your staff and head off to dinner with Mingyu, then go to bed with him. But there were too many eyes on Paris this week, especially on him.
This wasn’t like one of your clandestine meetings. He was more recognizable now, which meant photos could be snapped of you and him anywhere. When that happens, it’ll be all over.
After that call, you didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.
********
“So, how did you pick your outfit today?”
The question, posed by one of many journalists in the bustling press line of the fashion show’s venue, brings a warm smile to Mingyu's face.
“This outfit?” He took a moment before responding, his eyes had a hint of nostalgia as he revisited the process that eventually led up to the ensemble he was dressed in.
“Ah, well. My team put it together!” His response elicits laughter from both the photographers and the journalist.
“No, but seriously, I like clean, timeless looks with hints of detail and different textures to keep it interesting. My stylist knows me very well, and she has a great eye.” He finishes with that million-dollar smile of his, leaving the journalist flustered.
“Well,” the journalist says, “Sounds like someone out there deserves a nice bonus.”
“Oh, I agree!” He looks straight into the camera and gives a subtle wink at it right before the clip ends.
You chuckle and shake your head at your phone, swiping away to close out of full-screen mode.
Earlier this morning, he texted you a photo of his final look. He had chosen the blue suit and bejeweled button-down shirt, the ensemble you put together, and hoped he would go for. His choice delighted you, despite how sour your phone call ended last night.
You sent a text to Monica, thanking her for the link to Mingyu's interview clip and complimenting her on her first solo styling job.
She responded, saying that you did 90% of the work. She merely pulled together what made sense, and you approved.
You laugh. She's right, but she would at least get credit in the magazines and fashion blogs where Mingyu's photos would appear.
********
It was well past midnight when you got out of the limo with a couple of colleagues and walked into the hotel lobby, coming back from an after-party when your phone rang. You fish it out of your pocket and drunkenly squint your eyes at the caller ID.
It was Mingyu. You slide across your screen to answer it.
“Hey. Where are you?” His voice was gruff, like he had just woken up or maybe had a few drinks.
“I just got in from Olivier’s party.”
“Mm, how was that?”
“Good. We had fun. Nice way to cap off fashion week.”
He hums in response. “Are you back in your room?”
“Not yet but I’m heading up there soon. What’s up?” You step into the elevator and punch your floor number.
He sighs softly on the other line. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure that you were back safe.”
“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically.
The elevator dings and stops at your floor. You step out and follow the hallway toward your room. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”
As you look ahead, you slow down upon seeing someone leaning against your doorway. How did he even
 you stop that thought right away, not wanting to know all the details.
“I was hoping to say goodnight to you,” he says into the phone as you stop in front of him.
You glance at your watch and tell him, “But it’s already 2 in the morning.”
“So, good morning then?” he smirked. Then, his eyes rake you from head to toe. “You look nice.”
Judging by what you recall from your reflection in the elevator's mirror, you knew you were anything but. “Thanks. You look
clean.”
He was showered, barefaced, and dressed in sweats, his hair sticking out in every direction. Now this was the version of Mingyu you were used to seeing in private.
“Can I put you to bed?”
You bit your lip as he moved in closer. The thought was tempting, but you were aware that other staff members were staying on the same floor. But it was also late, and they were likely asleep. Perhaps a little nightcap wouldn't be too bad.
Before you can answer, the door across the hall opens, startling you. Monica pops her head out, her sleep mask perched atop her head. “Oh, hey guys! I thought I heard voices. What are you doing here?” She directs her question at Mingyu.
“We were just talking,” he tells her with an innocent smile, relieved she didn't see him enter your room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?” She looks worried, assuming that Mingyu is there to tell you that she did an awful job, despite reassuring her that she did great filling in for you.
“All good! He and I just ran into each other in the lobby and started discussing an upcoming shoot,” you say apologetically.
“We'll try to keep it down,” Mingyu adds.
“No worries. I have a white noise machine,” Monica replies with a knowing smile. “You can be as loud as you want.”
Your mouth falls open as she casually turns back into her room and closes the door. 
Mingyu suppresses a laugh. “You think she knows?”
You smack him on the chest and roll your eyes, making him giggle some more.
“You're lucky I pay her well,” you say, reaching into your purse for your key card. You swipe it on the door sensor and step inside while he's still laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”
He laughs even harder, but he follows you right in.
********
“Did you like Monica’s picks?” you call out from the bathroom, as you finish up your skincare routine.
“You mean what you picked?” he retorts.
“I wasn't even there! That was all her.”
“He snorts at your comment. “You think she pulled those pieces all on her own without your sign-off?” He snacks on a few pomme frites that he ordered from room service during your quick shower.
“I've been training her for a couple of years. She deserves some credit,” you reply as you reenter the room in an oversized shirt, walking towards him on the couch, and taking some fries. 
“I mean, she's good, but she doesn't know me that well.” He pauses to watch you settle next to him. “You do, though.”
“Then let her get to know you! Help her out a little.” You suggest, barely looking up from your phone.
“You mean the way I got to know you? Is that what you want?” 
You tense up and purse your lips. However, considering you have no claim on Mingyu, you have no right to feel upset.
“I'm just saying—I can't always be where you need me to be and
you’re free to do what you want.” You clear your throat, attempting to sound nonchalant.
He lets out a sigh, pulling your phone down to get your attention. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anybody else to get to know me.”
You could hear the yearning in his voice, something you didn’t quite expect.
After years in the industry, you told yourself you’d never get involved with a client. And then Mingyu came along. People were naturally drawn to him, and even you weren’t immune to his charms. He was always sweet, and you assumed he treated everyone who worked for him the same way. It wasn’t until after an overseas photoshoot followed by celebratory drinks with him and his staff, that you let your guard down.
What you initially saw as a one-time slip-up gradually became a series of encounters, each growing more intimate than the last. But you couldn’t stay in that mindset. You couldn’t get your hopes up, especially with someone as famous as he was. Not only was it bad for business but it was bad for you.
“I’m not playing games.”
“Neither am I.” He says evenly. “The fact is, I want you and I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”
You scoff at his audacious remark. “Look, it’s my job—”
He shakes his head and interjects. “You know what I mean. I want to make things official
with you. Just you.”
You sigh. “You know that we can’t.” Even though everything in you wants to scream yes.
ïżœïżœïżœYou can’t or won’t?”
“I know that you can't,” you counter. He's just too... public. Not only are you concerned about your reputation, but you're mostly worried about the backlash if his fans ever find out about you and him. The stakes are higher for him.
“That’s not true. It’s not like I’m a prisoner.” 
You chuckle humorlessly, as if he doesn’t see how this won’t end well for either of you. “I know how this business works, okay?”
“You think I don’t know that either? I just want us to try. I feel that there’s something more between us. And I know you feel it, too.” He reaches out and rests his hand on your bare knee.
Your skin tingles with the warmth of his touch. It’s been too long since you last felt it, and you’re ashamed to admit how much you missed it. Craved it, even.
You stare at his hand, now snaking past the hem of your shirt. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”
“Then we should do it for the reasons that we should,” he retorts, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You quickly realize that was a big mistake.
His eyes quietly pleaded, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. Things weren't going to be easy. A million questions swirled in your head, but he quieted all except one as his face drew closer.
“How would we even do this?” You ask softly.
“Let me worry about that. I just need you to tell me that you want the same thing.”
Your hand lifts to his neck, fingers grazing his jawline, then up his cheek. He sighs softly, melting under your touch.
After a few beats, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You know, part of me feels like I’m letting you off easy. Maybe I should let you work for it a little?”
A smile ghosted his lips. He lowered his head, his voice deep and sexy. “I’ll work for it now.”
Even though you see the kiss coming, it still knocks you out. Mingyu’s lips meet yours, his tongue stroking greedily into your mouth. “C’mere,” he says roughly before urging you onto his lap.
Your phone rings, but you silence it quickly before chucking it, not caring where it lands. You tangle your fingers in Mingyu's hair, holding his head while you kiss him ardently. God, you love kissing him. The feel of his lips and the rough sounds of pleasure he makes are music to your ears. He’s ravenous for you, just as you are for him. He catches one of your wrists and pulls your hand over his chest, pressing it flat so you can feel his heart pounding.
“This all you,” he breathes against your mouth.
And with that, your walls come down. You’re done for.
You tear at each other’s clothing, yanking off each other’s shirts. You’re desperate to feel him, your lips and teeth catching every inch of his golden skin. At this point, you don’t care if other staff hear you throughout this floor.
He urges you backward until you feel the armrest of the couch behind you. Kissing you deeply, he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it before pushing the bra cup down to touch your bare skin.
You fumble with the drawstring of his pants, whilst palming him through the material, feeling how hard he already is. You growl in frustration when he pulls your hands away.
He shakes his head and tuts. “You first.” Clever fingers circle your nipple and roll it, sending shocks of delight straight to your core.
The next moment, that mouth you love to kiss is on your breast, surrounding your tender nipple. His tongue flicks at the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. His other hand is between your legs, rubbing your aching cleft through your panties, teasing you even more by grinding his length against your thigh.
His scent surrounds you, just as his hands and mouth are all over you. You want some control, but he’s too strong, too quick, sliding lower before you can catch him.
He keeps his gaze on you as he tugs your panties down your legs. Your center clenches at how much that turns you on.
You sit up slightly to unclasp your bra, tossing it while Mingyu scoots back, lifting his hips to shove his sweats and boxer briefs out of the way. 
In an instant, he’s on you again–too impatient to strip all the way naked. He pins your hips down, urging your thighs further apart while he lines himself up to your center, and slowly pushes in. Lowering his head, he groans right in your ear, feeling how tight you are for him. 
You pant as he burrows deeper. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around his waist. You’re wetter by the moment, rendered helpless by the way his hips move, his body mindlessly seeking a deeper connection to yours.
You gasp when he slides in deeper, your hips fighting his hold, needing to arch upward.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, pulling back an inch and thrusting again.
He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, but not for long. His mouth is there between your legs, licking, sucking on your clit, and fluttering over the bundle of nerves. Your hands fist at the cushions, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You went from zero to sixty so fast that your orgasm takes you by surprise.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out.
Shivers of pleasure course through you as you suck in air. He keeps your legs spread wide with his shoulders, holding you in place, as he slips two fingers inside.  He moves them in and out slowly, circling your clit in between. He teases you a few more times, edging you, making you desperate for his cock.
The instant he shifts to slide over you again, you seize the moment to push him to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t put up a fight as you move to straddle his hips. He simply leans back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed from arousal, waiting for your next move.
You reach for his cock under you, fisting it slowly. He fights to keep his eyes open but the pleasure you give him feels too good. His chest heaves and he lets out a drawn-out groan. 
Fuck, he was hot. And the way his hands grip your hips tightly as you position him to your center drives you insane with the need to ride him hard.
You slide the tip between your folds, coating him with your slick before your hips sink in one swift move. Your mouths fall open when your ass hits the tops of his thighs, both of you relishing in the sensation. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and roll your hips toward him slowly. His neck arches, letting out a groan of pleasure between clenched teeth.
His hands reach up to cup your breasts, palming them, and pinching your nipples, making you hiss at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. “Ah
Mingyu...fuck, yes
”
Once you find your rhythm, he thrusts upward, meeting your hips. You push your fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to hold him close.
He nuzzles against your temple. “You want this?”
Your nodding wasn’t enough for him.
“Say it.”
So you say it loud and clear for him. “Yes, I want this. I want you.” 
With a shift of his hips, the tip of his cock notches into your opening. Pressure builds as he fucks into you. Slow, easy thrusts that work him into you with every lunge. Your entire body tenses, as he sinks deep into your core. You feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax.
Your grip on him tightens, and you grind your hips, matching his every move to direct him into where it feels good.
“Kiss me,” you gasp.
Soon after his mouth makes contact with yours, your body surrenders to him. Tears sting your eyes when the tension in you breaks, and you come harder than you did the first time.
The pulsing only deepens as Mingyu continues to pound into you, chasing his own climax. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he finally reaches it, tethering his orgasm to yours.
It's one of the most intense sensations you've ever felt. Despite your body's natural instinct to pull away, your mind resists. The steady thrum of your heartbeat soothes you. You stay there, quietly relishing the comfort in each other's arms for an indeterminate amount of time.
********
Reluctantly, you take a second shower, with him doing most of the work cleaning you up. Afterwards, you crawl into bed. You watch him, carefully tucking you in, mildly annoyed that he can move and think clearly while you're still stuck in a post-orgasmic haze.
When he finally flops into bed beside you, you turn to face him. “How are you still moving around?”
He props his head in his hand and grins, his fingers running lightly down your cleavage. “Did you forget the ten minutes it took me to get up?”
“I’m making sure you’re down for the count next time,” you pout playfully.
“Hmm...” Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours. “I’m just happy there’s a next time.”
You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lots of next times.”
Reaching up, you brush his hair back from his forehead. His post-sex look is even more breathtaking. His face is softer, his eyes are brighter, and that smile
 you sigh deeply. He looks so happy that it twists your heart to think that you had a hand in that without even really trying. Yet, this also worries you, knowing it would be devastating if that smile ever faded.
“I’m scared, you know,” you confess.
He lifts your hand and presses his lips to it. A few moments of silence pass before he replies, “Yeah. Me too.” You don’t even want to think about how the staff will react when they see him walk out of your room in a few hours.
His facial expression tenses, and you immediately regret bringing it up. You pull him closer, holding him tightly as a silent apology.
“Can we agree not to bring anything but us into bed?” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek before pulling away slightly to look at you. “I just want us to have some place where nothing else matters but you and me.”
“Okay.” You nod, your hands stroking up and down his back. Burying your face in his chest, you breathe in, letting the familiar scent of his skin ground you in the moment.
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Thank you so much for reading!
Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox đŸ“© is open 💜💎
426 notes · View notes
shina913 · 23 days
Text
Code Blue | KMG
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Code Blue
Pairing: PFWeek!Mingyu x Stylist!Fem Reader
Rating: M 🔞; NSFW
Genre: Idol au; hints of FWB; fluff; angst; smut
Warnings: porn with a hint of plot; cussing; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-rcvng); penetrative, unprotected sex; creampie; soft aftercare
Word count: 3.8K words
Summary: Mingyu doesn't want any other sylist--he only wants you.
A/N: The story was prompted by this video clip and title is from The-Dream's song of the same title. I only meant for this to be something quick but the clown car stopped by my house--it was headed to Deluluville so I just got on, ofc. Nothing but horny word vomit featuring Dior/PFW Mingyu. Tiny bit of angst brought on by the song, and also because I'm me, and why the hell not? Enjoy!
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It’s fashion week and by some wild coincidence, many of your A-list celebrities are in town and they all have scheduled appearances at the big-ticket shows. Unfortunately, due to the location of a few shows and heavy traffic, you can't personally manage everyone's looks. So, you rely on your trusted assistants to cater to everyone's preferences, under your guidance, of course.
One of the clients you couldn't personally attend to was Mingyu. He called you, disappointed, when he saw your assistant, Monica, standing at his hotel room door with a clothing rack to present him with outfit options for tomorrow's show.
“Why did you send your minion here? I thought you were coming?” You hear the pout in his lowered voice.
“I'm at a fitting with another client at their hotel, and it's running late,” you whisper into the phone, then motion to an intern to approve your client's accessories. “Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her that. She's my second-in-command, and I trust her judgment. I can't be everywhere at once, so some compromises had to be made.”
Mingyu’s debut appearance at a major fashion show was a big deal for him and his career. Since his appearance was announced, you prepared accordingly, discussing options based on the fashion house's lookbook. Having worked closely with Mingyu for over a year, you're well-versed in his style preferences. Before he left for Paris, you had shortlisted two outfit options, which is why you felt confident leaving Monica in charge.
“So, I’m the one compromised? I heard you’re dressing a couple of people for Chanel and another one for Saint Laurent. You can’t do that for me?” He huffs out.
You hiss through gritted teeth and excuse yourself to take the rest of your call in the bathroom. “There’s no need to be childish! Those two shows are right next to each other, while yours is across town. I can’t reach you in that short timeframe. Have you seen the traffic?”
He eventually concedes, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I was just
hoping to see you since we're both in town. I thought that maybe we could grab dinner tonight at that restaurant we went to last time?”
You sigh, wishing it could be that simple. Instead of responding to his invitation, you run through tomorrow’s schedule. “I have another fitting tomorrow afternoon and a meeting after that. Olivier is also hosting a party tomorrow night after the Balmain show, so I don’t know—”
“I can meet you after your last event, just tell me where.”
“You can’t just show up randomly. There’s going to be other designers and stylists. You might feel out of place since you won’t know anybody,” you reason.
“You can always introduce me,” he suggests.
“As what?”
He’s silent for a few beats then says, “Your client?”
You chuckle, feeling a hint of embarrassment due to your presumptions. You've never clarified the nature of your relationship. Since you’re part of his team’s regular stylists, you have to stay professional, especially around staff and his other teammates. Occasionally, when he can steal a quiet moment, he whispers what he'd like to do when he gets you alone.
“Gyu—”
“Please? I miss you,” he pleads quietly.
Apart from the occasional sexy video calls, you haven't seen each other in over a month due to your busy work schedules. As much as you try to convince yourself that you don’t feel the same, hearing the need in his voice makes your chest twinge.
You open your mouth to answer but a knock on the bathroom door startles you. It’s the intern, telling you that your client needs your opinion on shoes.
You sigh, cursing under your breath. “I have to go. Just trust Monica, okay?”
You didn't wait for him to respond before you hung up. You didn't want to hear the disappointment in his voice. You wished you could leave all the work to your staff and head off to dinner with Mingyu, then go to bed with him. But there were too many eyes on Paris this week, especially on him.
This wasn’t like one of your clandestine meetings. He was more recognizable now, which meant photos could be snapped of you and him anywhere. When that happens, it’ll be all over.
After that call, you didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.
********
“So, how did you pick your outfit today?”
The question, posed by one of many journalists in the bustling press line of the fashion show’s venue, brings a warm smile to Mingyu's face.
“This outfit?” He took a moment before responding, his eyes had a hint of nostalgia as he revisited the process that eventually led up to the ensemble he was dressed in.
“Ah, well. My team put it together!” His response elicits laughter from both the photographers and the journalist.
“No, but seriously, I like clean, timeless looks with hints of detail and different textures to keep it interesting. My stylist knows me very well, and she has a great eye.” He finishes with that million-dollar smile of his, leaving the journalist flustered.
“Well,” the journalist says, “Sounds like someone out there deserves a nice bonus.”
“Oh, I agree!” He looks straight into the camera and gives a subtle wink at it right before the clip ends.
You chuckle and shake your head at your phone, swiping away to close out of full-screen mode.
Earlier this morning, he texted you a photo of his final look. He had chosen the blue suit and bejeweled button-down shirt, the ensemble you put together, and hoped he would go for. His choice delighted you, despite how sour your phone call ended last night.
You sent a text to Monica, thanking her for the link to Mingyu's interview clip and complimenting her on her first solo styling job.
She responded, saying that you did 90% of the work. She merely pulled together what made sense, and you approved.
You laugh. She's right, but she would at least get credit in the magazines and fashion blogs where Mingyu's photos would appear.
********
It was well past midnight when you got out of the limo with a couple of colleagues and walked into the hotel lobby, coming back from an after-party when your phone rang. You fish it out of your pocket and drunkenly squint your eyes at the caller ID.
It was Mingyu. You slide across your screen to answer it.
“Hey. Where are you?” His voice was gruff, like he had just woken up or maybe had a few drinks.
“I just got in from Olivier’s party.”
“Mm, how was that?”
“Good. We had fun. Nice way to cap off fashion week.”
He hums in response. “Are you back in your room?”
“Not yet but I’m heading up there soon. What’s up?” You step into the elevator and punch your floor number.
He sighs softly on the other line. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure that you were back safe.”
“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically.
The elevator dings and stops at your floor. You step out and follow the hallway toward your room. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”
As you look ahead, you slow down upon seeing someone leaning against your doorway. How did he even
 you stop that thought right away, not wanting to know all the details.
“I was hoping to say goodnight to you,” he says into the phone as you stop in front of him.
You glance at your watch and tell him, “But it’s already 2 in the morning.”
“So, good morning then?” he smirked. Then, his eyes rake you from head to toe. “You look nice.”
Judging by what you recall from your reflection in the elevator's mirror, you knew you were anything but. “Thanks. You look
clean.”
He was showered, barefaced, and dressed in sweats, his hair sticking out in every direction. Now this was the version of Mingyu you were used to seeing in private.
“Can I put you to bed?”
You bit your lip as he moved in closer. The thought was tempting, but you were aware that other staff members were staying on the same floor. But it was also late, and they were likely asleep. Perhaps a little nightcap wouldn't be too bad.
Before you can answer, the door across the hall opens, startling you. Monica pops her head out, her sleep mask perched atop her head. “Oh, hey guys! I thought I heard voices. What are you doing here?” She directs her question at Mingyu.
“We were just talking,” he tells her with an innocent smile, relieved she didn't see him enter your room.
“Oh. Is everything okay?” She looks worried, assuming that Mingyu is there to tell you that she did an awful job, despite reassuring her that she did great filling in for you.
“All good! He and I just ran into each other in the lobby and started discussing an upcoming shoot,” you say apologetically.
“We'll try to keep it down,” Mingyu adds.
“No worries. I have a white noise machine,” Monica replies with a knowing smile. “You can be as loud as you want.”
Your mouth falls open as she casually turns back into her room and closes the door. 
Mingyu suppresses a laugh. “You think she knows?”
You smack him on the chest and roll your eyes, making him giggle some more.
“You're lucky I pay her well,” you say, reaching into your purse for your key card. You swipe it on the door sensor and step inside while he's still laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”
He laughs even harder, but he follows you right in.
********
“Did you like Monica’s picks?” you call out from the bathroom, as you finish up your skincare routine.
“You mean what you picked?” he retorts.
“I wasn't even there! That was all her.”
“He snorts at your comment. “You think she pulled those pieces all on her own without your sign-off?” He snacks on a few pomme frites that he ordered from room service during your quick shower.
“I've been training her for a couple of years. She deserves some credit,” you reply as you reenter the room in an oversized shirt, walking towards him on the couch, and taking some fries. 
“I mean, she's good, but she doesn't know me that well.” He pauses to watch you settle next to him. “You do, though.”
“Then let her get to know you! Help her out a little.” You suggest, barely looking up from your phone.
“You mean the way I got to know you? Is that what you want?” 
You tense up and purse your lips. However, considering you have no claim on Mingyu, you have no right to feel upset.
“I'm just saying—I can't always be where you need me to be and
you’re free to do what you want.” You clear your throat, attempting to sound nonchalant.
He lets out a sigh, pulling your phone down to get your attention. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anybody else to get to know me.”
You could hear the yearning in his voice, something you didn’t quite expect.
After years in the industry, you told yourself you’d never get involved with a client. And then Mingyu came along. People were naturally drawn to him, and even you weren’t immune to his charms. He was always sweet, and you assumed he treated everyone who worked for him the same way. It wasn’t until after an overseas photoshoot followed by celebratory drinks with him and his staff, that you let your guard down.
What you initially saw as a one-time slip-up gradually became a series of encounters, each growing more intimate than the last. But you couldn’t stay in that mindset. You couldn’t get your hopes up, especially with someone as famous as he was. Not only was it bad for business but it was bad for you.
“I’m not playing games.”
“Neither am I.” He says evenly. “The fact is, I want you and I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”
You scoff at his audacious remark. “Look, it’s my job—”
He shakes his head and interjects. “You know what I mean. I want to make things official
with you. Just you.”
You sigh. “You know that we can’t.” Even though everything in you wants to scream yes.
“You can’t or won’t?”
“I know that you can't,” you counter. He's just too... public. Not only are you concerned about your reputation, but you're mostly worried about the backlash if his fans ever find out about you and him. The stakes are higher for him.
“That’s not true. It’s not like I’m a prisoner.” 
You chuckle humorlessly, as if he doesn’t see how this won’t end well for either of you. “I know how this business works, okay?”
“You think I don’t know that either? I just want us to try. I feel that there’s something more between us. And I know you feel it, too.” He reaches out and rests his hand on your bare knee.
Your skin tingles with the warmth of his touch. It’s been too long since you last felt it, and you’re ashamed to admit how much you missed it. Craved it, even.
You stare at his hand, now snaking past the hem of your shirt. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”
“Then we should do it for the reasons that we should,” he retorts, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You quickly realize that was a big mistake.
His eyes quietly pleaded, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. Things weren't going to be easy. A million questions swirled in your head, but he quieted all except one as his face drew closer.
“How would we even do this?” You ask softly.
“Let me worry about that. I just need you to tell me that you want the same thing.”
Your hand lifts to his neck, fingers grazing his jawline, then up his cheek. He sighs softly, melting under your touch.
After a few beats, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You know, part of me feels like I’m letting you off easy. Maybe I should let you work for it a little?”
A smile ghosted his lips. He lowered his head, his voice deep and sexy. “I’ll work for it now.”
Even though you see the kiss coming, it still knocks you out. Mingyu’s lips meet yours, his tongue stroking greedily into your mouth. “C’mere,” he says roughly before urging you onto his lap.
Your phone rings, but you silence it quickly before chucking it, not caring where it lands. You tangle your fingers in Mingyu's hair, holding his head while you kiss him ardently. God, you love kissing him. The feel of his lips and the rough sounds of pleasure he makes are music to your ears. He’s ravenous for you, just as you are for him. He catches one of your wrists and pulls your hand over his chest, pressing it flat so you can feel his heart pounding.
“This all you,” he breathes against your mouth.
And with that, your walls come down. You’re done for.
You tear at each other’s clothing, yanking off each other’s shirts. You’re desperate to feel him, your lips and teeth catching every inch of his golden skin. At this point, you don’t care if other staff hear you throughout this floor.
He urges you backward until you feel the armrest of the couch behind you. Kissing you deeply, he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it before pushing the bra cup down to touch your bare skin.
You fumble with the drawstring of his pants, whilst palming him through the material, feeling how hard he already is. You growl in frustration when he pulls your hands away.
He shakes his head and tuts. “You first.” Clever fingers circle your nipple and roll it, sending shocks of delight straight to your core.
The next moment, that mouth you love to kiss is on your breast, surrounding your tender nipple. His tongue flicks at the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. His other hand is between your legs, rubbing your aching cleft through your panties, teasing you even more by grinding his length against your thigh.
His scent surrounds you, just as his hands and mouth are all over you. You want some control, but he’s too strong, too quick, sliding lower before you can catch him.
He keeps his gaze on you as he tugs your panties down your legs. Your center clenches at how much that turns you on.
You sit up slightly to unclasp your bra, tossing it while Mingyu scoots back, lifting his hips to shove his sweats and boxer briefs out of the way. 
In an instant, he’s on you again–too impatient to strip all the way naked. He pins your hips down, urging your thighs further apart while he lines himself up to your center, and slowly pushes in. Lowering his head, he groans right in your ear, feeling how tight you are for him. 
You pant as he burrows deeper. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around his waist. You’re wetter by the moment, rendered helpless by the way his hips move, his body mindlessly seeking a deeper connection to yours.
You gasp when he slides in deeper, your hips fighting his hold, needing to arch upward.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, pulling back an inch and thrusting again.
He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, but not for long. His mouth is there between your legs, licking, sucking on your clit, and fluttering over the bundle of nerves. Your hands fist at the cushions, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You went from zero to sixty so fast that your orgasm takes you by surprise.
“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out.
Shivers of pleasure course through you as you suck in air. He keeps your legs spread wide with his shoulders, holding you in place, as he slips two fingers inside.  He moves them in and out slowly, circling your clit in between. He teases you a few more times, edging you, making you desperate for his cock.
The instant he shifts to slide over you again, you seize the moment to push him to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t put up a fight as you move to straddle his hips. He simply leans back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed from arousal, waiting for your next move.
You reach for his cock under you, fisting it slowly. He fights to keep his eyes open but the pleasure you give him feels too good. His chest heaves and he lets out a drawn-out groan. 
Fuck, he was hot. And the way his hands grip your hips tightly as you position him to your center drives you insane with the need to ride him hard.
You slide the tip between your folds, coating him with your slick before your hips sink in one swift move. Your mouths fall open when your ass hits the tops of his thighs, both of you relishing in the sensation. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and roll your hips toward him slowly. His neck arches, letting out a groan of pleasure between clenched teeth.
His hands reach up to cup your breasts, palming them, and pinching your nipples, making you hiss at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. “Ah
Mingyu...fuck, yes
”
Once you find your rhythm, he thrusts upward, meeting your hips. You push your fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to hold him close.
He nuzzles against your temple. “You want this?”
Your nodding wasn’t enough for him.
“Say it.”
So you say it loud and clear for him. “Yes, I want this. I want you.” 
With a shift of his hips, the tip of his cock notches into your opening. Pressure builds as he fucks into you. Slow, easy thrusts that work him into you with every lunge. Your entire body tenses, as he sinks deep into your core. You feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax.
Your grip on him tightens, and you grind your hips, matching his every move to direct him into where it feels good.
“Kiss me,” you gasp.
Soon after his mouth makes contact with yours, your body surrenders to him. Tears sting your eyes when the tension in you breaks, and you come harder than you did the first time.
The pulsing only deepens as Mingyu continues to pound into you, chasing his own climax. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he finally reaches it, tethering his orgasm to yours.
It's one of the most intense sensations you've ever felt. Despite your body's natural instinct to pull away, your mind resists. The steady thrum of your heartbeat soothes you. You stay there, quietly relishing the comfort in each other's arms for an indeterminate amount of time.
********
Reluctantly, you take a second shower, with him doing most of the work cleaning you up. Afterwards, you crawl into bed. You watch him, carefully tucking you in, mildly annoyed that he can move and think clearly while you're still stuck in a post-orgasmic haze.
When he finally flops into bed beside you, you turn to face him. “How are you still moving around?”
He props his head in his hand and grins, his fingers running lightly down your cleavage. “Did you forget the ten minutes it took me to get up?”
“I’m making sure you’re down for the count next time,” you pout playfully.
“Hmm...” Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours. “I’m just happy there’s a next time.”
You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lots of next times.”
Reaching up, you brush his hair back from his forehead. His post-sex look is even more breathtaking. His face is softer, his eyes are brighter, and that smile
 you sigh deeply. He looks so happy that it twists your heart to think that you had a hand in that without even really trying. Yet, this also worries you, knowing it would be devastating if that smile ever faded.
“I’m scared, you know,” you confess.
He lifts your hand and presses his lips to it. A few moments of silence pass before he replies, “Yeah. Me too.” You don’t even want to think about how the staff will react when they see him walk out of your room in a few hours.
His facial expression tenses, and you immediately regret bringing it up. You pull him closer, holding him tightly as a silent apology.
“Can we agree not to bring anything but us into bed?” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek before pulling away slightly to look at you. “I just want us to have some place where nothing else matters but you and me.”
“Okay.” You nod, your hands stroking up and down his back. Burying your face in his chest, you breathe in, letting the familiar scent of his skin ground you in the moment.
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shina913 · 23 days
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THIS LOOK! 
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