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wonho; infatuated crush

every blushing glance and sweetened word and stuttering heartbeat is on fire.

the kind of crush that the word crush was chosen for; powerful and alive and constantly pounding for more.

obsession, addiction, a total fool for you.

seeing all the beauty, healing all the aches, breaking all the rules.

scent coaxing him awake in the morning, touch weaving dreams into his soul at night - you’re the only thing on each other’s minds.

asking you out shyly, wooing you brazenly.

would give anything in the world to see you smile, and would give anything in the universe to be the one who kissed it onto your moaning lips.

sweet serenades and sensual secrets that lead to the most tender confessions; giving in to one another with sloppy kisses and reckless regret.

midnight calls and low quality nudes; do you miss me? do you want me? tell me how badly you need it, tell me what you’d do to me, make me yours with your touch.

not coping well with another man’s interest or advancements; becoming broody, pessimistic, fatalistic.

“The first night we met, I dreamed about you.” you mumble against Hyunwoo’s neck, enclosed and cradled in his arms. “And then every night after that for like a whole week.”

The heavy duvet presses you down, keeping you locked to his long body. Your eyes are closed, but you smell the scent of his expensive shower gel in the dark air and feel the soft cotton of his pyjamas between your fingers, familiar and sweetly comforting.

“I didn’t know that…” he muses gently as you’re lulled towards slumber by the way his fingers rhythmically circle your lower back. “What happened in them?”

You exhale a little contented moan that makes him squeeze you tighter and press his lips to the top of your head. You’re just so warm and so safe, and you feel sleep round the edges of the darkness covering your eyes, calling you to numbness. “We…” you begin, struggling. “We talked and walked and I ate all your chips.”

“Wow.” he breathes, tone playful and affectionate. “I must have really stolen your heart.”

You nod against his shoulder, not registering his facetiousness. “Yeah.”

His chest shakes with a little laugh, and he kisses the top of your head again.

“Did… did you ever dream of me..?” you manage to say before you fall deep into the silent dark, deep into the serenity of nothing.

Kisses your beauty marks:

There’s no secret of your body that Wonho isn’t prisoner to, and his lips are on you nearly constantly; craving your contact, your softness, your sweetness… lips against your neck, lips against the corner of your mouth, lips against those little marks he loves so dearly. When you’re naked in bed at night and he lies against you, he likes to press his cheek against your bare skin.

When he’s in that kind of mood, Hyungwon’s lips are hungrier than anything else you’ve ever known. He wants your skin covered in all of his kisses, the room filled with their wet noises. Things get heavy quickly, his kisses pushing the the straps from your shoulders and the hem of your shorts so they ride up your thigh… but the sweetest thing for him to kiss is that little mole you didn’t know you had until the night he discovered it.

Jooheon can’t help himself, and often isn’t even aware of the way he smothers your little freckles and beauty spots in light, doting little kisses that leave your body blushing. There’s something about the way you lie against him, the way you give yourself so completely to his care and the fact that you’re his to kiss, that makes him needy to indulge it, prove it.

Traces patterns into your skin:

Shownu loves to hold you, and when he does his fingers always return to those spots of your body that he loves most, tracing the same old sweet swirls into their familiar lines. When he’s been on tour or busy with schedules that have kept you apart, his fingers find these places as soon as your bodies reconnect. It’s his greatest comfort.

Your skin is like a canvas that Minhyuk’s fingers need to paint. When you’re walking together, his arm is often across your shoulder so his fingers can brush your neck. When you’re lying together, you feel the soothing stroke of his palm against your arm. His big hands often spread out across your body, leaving prints that burn with heat.

Kihyun’s touch betrays his mood. You know whether he’s happy, needy, sad, angry, frightened all from the way his fingers kiss your skin. When he’s cuddling you, you can always tell what kind of day he’s had and what it is he needs from the way his fingers either trace or grip your body. When he can’t find the words, he speaks through touch.

the night is so dark— filled with heavy rain, rumbling thunder, the slow drip of echoed trap music and all of hyunwoo’s deepest fears. you’d promised him, baby. promised that you wouldn’t make him fall in love.

yet here you were, beautiful liar, drowning him in it; the gentle press of your bare breast against his arm, the soft kiss of your thigh rubbing between cotton sheets, the rosy smears of your lips painting his shoulder… shit, he’d never known anything so perfect.

his cheeks flame, pulse dancing on the flushed surface of his skin. he wanted to slide his fingers between your legs and explore, to bring his lips to the flutter of your throat and drink…

he felt like a boy again, caught in virgin teenage fantasies and forbidden pleasures. you made him so nervous, made him ache so fucking bad.

you look up into his eyes through black lashes and a broken promise, your finger reaching through the night to press the dip of his tan chest, to trace the muscle and draw a slow ♡ over the primal pound of his body.

he’s sure you steal some of his heartbeats, some of his life, on the the tip of your nail as you bring that finger to your own heart and copy the little ♡ around the bud of your nipple.

you smile shyly, sweetly, coyly, dragging your lip through your teeth in the kind of way that made him pulse.

you take his fingers between yours and bring them to your skin, sliding his touch deeper as rain drowns the music and thunder drowns his heart.

do i feel good? you whisper as hyunwoo’s vision blurs, as the heat of your body scars the tips of him. do i feel the way you wanted me to? the way you’d imagined i would?

he pushes the sheet away from your thighs, breath hitching in his heart as his fingers spread the damp heat of you and feel everything. the sound that leaves his throat is unholy— seeped in sin.

shownu;

the classic romantic

the would do anything for you type, the just wants to spoil you and see that pretty love kiss your lips type

believes that expensive gestures, sensual touches and toe-curling kisses speak louder than any shy, stumbling words

tucking your hair behind your ear and making your cheek burn with the most beautiful little blush

one hundred crimson roses for the one hundred days you’ve allowed him to love you, delivered straight to your heart

little velvet boxes of dripping jewels, always engraved with his initials

handmade chocolates crafted especially for your sweet little tooth

dark lingerie laid over your sheets, always in the correct size. be good to me tonight, the messy handwriting pleads

wonho;

the bleeding heart romantic 

the he doesn’t love you like i do type, the let my tongue explain how bad i crave you type 

all-too-easy confessions and heartsick praises, passionate kisses and whirlwind promises, sex as the art of love and love as the art of sex

crying when you cry and loving every touch of his tongue to the salted tears you shed

worshiping you like the world lives and dies on your lips— anything you want, baby

flying halfway across the world just to lie beside you in bed for one lost little night

just to sink into that tight heat, tell you he loves you, and leave a part of himself inside you

little pink post-it notes attached to nudes left stuck to your body, remember me

minhyuk;

the eternal romantic 

the romance is the reason my heart beats type, the i fell straight out of the pages of your favourite poetry type 

kissed by that slight air of danger, so playful and provocative, a daydream believer always looking for the one in you and a forever on your lips.

dark baths sparkling and swirling with oils named something like ode to a nightingale or sex bomb

fixating on the softness of your hair; touching and teasing it and braiding it through his own

sharing the wildest stories with you, sending you to sleep with scandal on your lips

jealous words and jaded kisses, he doesn’t like those other boys

kihyun;

the devoted romantic

the leave god and fall for me instead baby type, the he’s poison but he’s so irresistible type. 

woos you with the kind of ease that’s scary, the kind of overtly sexual yet beautifully soft serenades that make your heart do dangerous things. 

shares every last secret of his soul with you, and expects you to do the same

you seem to always find the best parts of yourselves on the other’s lips

dark nights wining and dining and surprising you with something you told him you liked in a tiny anecdote months ago

knowing, just knowing, that he would kill for you if you asked him to.

hyungwon;

the practical romantic 

the i want to be a heart and a home for you type, the i’m not playing around with this type

isn’t in love with you for the extremes of it or the gestures of it

he’s in love with you for the depth of it— for the way you make him feel in a world that’s otherwise barren

lazy nights spent lying in one another’s arms and reading one another’s minds

not leaving bed on the dark and dreary days when you don’t need to

kisses that last until your lips are numb and sex that lasts until your legs give out

jooheon;

the grand romantic 

the i love it when you say my name type, the let’s have a love for the ages type 

wants the whole world to know you’re his– that it’s his honey you get high on and his body you belong to and his heart you own. 

public displays of love and longing, come sit on my lap and purr for me

spending every moment of his time on stage showing off, solely for you and the sweetness between your legs

conversations through kisses, wet noises and steamy laughter

melodramatic moments of heated words leading to heated sex leading to those dark, heated dreams

i.m;

the fantasy romantic

the at night i tell the moon about the way you moan type, the i’m broken come and fix me type

a romance crafted from black and broken heart emojis

a romance crafted from behind the lens of rose-tinted glasses

a romance crafted from the melancholy of always missing you

speaking almost exclusively in song lyrics, dirty talk and those deep three-am thoughts

the most tender, sinful moments of making out and the wildest, most raw moments of making up

addicted to that way your mind gives him brain orgasms and your body gives him constant little scandals