#junhoe requests

Enough is enough.

You slam your pen down and push yourself off the desk, sending your chair rolling to the middle of the room. One more second with this headache and you might break something.

Standing with a satisfying stretch, you make your way to the bathroom door down the hall, where you can hear the shower running.

“Junhoe?” You rap your knuckles lightly on the hardwood.

“What’s up, babes?”

You smile to yourself at the nickname. “I have to check the medicine cabinet, can I come in?”

“Come on in.”

The heat and steam that hits you as you open the door is somewhat soothing. You find exactly what you’re looking for, the Tiger Balm hiding on the top shelf behind the bathroom mirror. “Oh, thank god,” you mumble.

“You okay?” Junhoe’s back is turned to you. Your eyes have a hard time not following the soap suds that trail down his toned shoulders, the dip of his spine, his perky cheeks.

You swallow thickly, blush climbing up your cheeks. “Uh, I—uh headache. I’ve got a headache.”

He must’ve picked up on your fumbled words. His grin is smug when he looks over his shoulder at you, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “You look ready to eat me up, Y/N.”

You give a little shrug as you reach for the door handle, “I mean, I would, but I have to finish my assignment.” You gesture in the direction of the study.

“You’re sure?” Junhoe’s tone suggests mischief.

“Yes,” you insist.

“And,” he draws the word out as he turns to face you, raising an elbow to lean against the shower wall and placing his other hand on his hip. “You’re sure there’s no way I can change your mind?” He looks you dead in the eye, but he’s clearly resisting the urge to laugh. It takes you half a second to realize he’s rock hard.

Your hand flies to your mouth, but it does nothing to stop the scoff of shocked laughter. In the same instant, something swoops to the bottom of your belly and pools there. Junhoe’s just asking for it now.

“Fuck you, Junhoe,” You groan before whipping your t-shirt off and tossing it to the floor along with the Tiger Balm in your hands. “You really love making me suffer.”

You’re treated to a laugh. As you push your leggings down your thighs, Junhoe wraps a hand around his cock, stroking firmly as he watches you with eyes now dark with want. It’s ridiculously sexy and you feel yourself pulsing between your legs. Once you’re fully stripped, Junhoe steps away from the spray of the shower to pull you in. He reaches for the hair tie holding your loose bun in place as he claims your lips in a hungry kiss. His mouth is hot and slick, as is his wet skin against your own—you run your hands down his chest to rest on his hips. When your hair falls down your back, his fingers tangle themselves in it, only to tug your face gently away from his.

Junhoe’s face is deeply flushed, a lopsided smile lifting the corner of his lips. “Let’s get you wet.”

“I already am,” you grin, before he pulls you backwards into the stream of hot water. It barely has time to hit your face before Junhoe covers your mouth with his own, his tongue demanding entrance. You give in immediately as his hands, squeezes, pinches and soothes, finding their way to your breasts. Between you, his erection brushes against your stomach, and you shiver before reaching for it responsively.

With nothing but your fingertips, you stroke him gently from base to tip and back again. The feel of delicate skin, every vein and ridge, and the heat and hardness of him drives you mad. You want nothing more than to drop to your knees. But for now, you bask in the noises the touch provokes, the jerk of his hips into your hand.

“Such a fucking tease,” he hisses into your mouth. His thumbs ghost small circles over your hard nipples, and you gasp, fingers wavering in their slow path.

“You want this, yes?” He asks against your lips.

“Yes, please,” you breathe.

Junhoe breaks the kiss, and you have to blink water out of your eyes to meet his heavy gaze. His hand glides down your body to push your thighs apart, and you suck in a sharp breath as he runs two fingers through the slick of you, just barely grazing your clit and only teasing your entrance before he takes them away again.

You choke at the loss of his skillful fingers, but then they’re at your lips, and Junhoe’s watching you with dark, expectant eyes, so you take them into your mouth greedily. You don’t look away, your eyes fluttering closed briefly as you taste yourself. In your still hand, Junhoe’s cock twitches, so you suck a little harder and run your tongue along the underside of his digits, and he twitches again, this time with a soft moan.

With a pop, he pulls his fingers away from your mouth. “So fucking good,” he purrs as you coax him down by a fist full of his hair to kiss him again.

Junhoe wastes no time in slipping his hand between your legs, this time with full intention of depriving you of your ability to stand. You give a little hum as his fingers find their way to your clit. The smooth, soft pressure of his fingers is borderline euphoric, until it becomes maddening, and your hips start to jerk at each careful stroke. Your hands move from his hair to squeezing his broad shoulders. “Fucking—oh—Junhoe,” you moan between laboured breaths, words faltering when his fingers press just a little harder.

With no warning other than a low chuckle, Junhoe leans down to slide two fingers into the heat of you. You moan, deep and drawn out, and tip your head back into the spray of the shower at the satisfaction. When you look back at him, he’s watching you with hungry eyes, a smirk at the corner of his lips. You want to wipe it away with a kiss, but the hand working in you moves faster, harder, and you have to brace yourself on his shoulders as your knees buckle.

With a crook of his fingers in the perfect place, they give in again, and there’s the indecipherable string of moans and curses now leaving your mouth that you can’t stop. You glance at Junhoe as his brows are knit in concentration, the muscles in his arm and shoulder beneath your hand taut with effort. As some thought about perfection manages to register in the back of your mind, he looks up at you with a large shit-eating grin. He shifts slightly, his palm now grazing your clit with every pump of his hand, his fingers inside you working quickly, exactly where you need them.

He suddenly removes his fingers and you’re one second away from exploding before the sight of him getting down on his knees stop you, his head placed between your legs as he nibbles on your inner thighs and breathes intensely against your heat. The water drums on his back as he looks up to meet your eyes.

“Junhoe, please,” you beg.

“Please… what?”

“Your tongue. I want your tongue, please.”

Junhoe smirks and dips his head down as you feel his tongue swipe across your entrance. You lay your head back as he sucks on your clit and his tongue darting in and out of your pussy. Junhoe was already accustomed to your g-spot, flicking his tongue repeatedly and you’re trying your best to not slip in the shower. He lifts your left leg to rest on his shoulder so that he’s exposed to more access of your pussy as he continues his work with his mouth—his sinful tongue, and fuck, his plump lips. Your hands run to the ends of his hair and his neck while you try to maintain your balance and you find yourself pressing him deeper, further and forward as he drives you to another orgasm. Release begins to bloom, and his name joins the nonsense you’re spouting until it’s all you can say, louder and higher each time. Junhoe’s pace becomes vigorous, and it’s your undoing.

You come hard. The ecstasy that rips through your body deprives you of breath and balance—and Junhoe catches you in his arms when you stumble forwards, trembling, your thighs clamped around his finger that slipped in to your clit, slowly helping you near the edge of your climax. Hips bucking with the last waves of your release, you press your forehead to the crook of his neck as he holds you close as you come down. Junhoe presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“How’s that headache of yours?”

You tip your head back to smile up at him. “What headache?” you tease softly.

He laughs and shakes his head as he brings his lips to yours.

It’s gentle at first, Junhoe’s kiss, until he slides his hands down your back to grab your ass and coaxes your tongue into his mouth with his own. There’s an urgency about it, and you’re aware again of his erection pressed between your bodies.

“Proud of yourself?” He didn’t answer, only kept grinning, cocking his head to the side modestly.

Smug bastard.

“You’re still hard,” you noted, grabbing the body wash and lathering your hands with it, running them over his chest, the soapy water making it a tantalizingly slick glide. Your hands roam down to his sturdy thighs and around to his muscular ass, as your fingernails bite into the skin there. Back over his hip to his girth, swinging back and forth like an almost vertical baton as you stroked it in your hands.

And he was pulling you even closer—if that was even possible—pulling your legs so they were wrapped around him, as he effortlessly held your body in his arms, taking all of your weight as if you weighed nothing, restraining you with one arm while the other reached down and guided his cock against you—into you.

You let out a shout as he hitched his hips before driving himself into you, up until the thick hilt. Junhoe paused, not trusting himself for a moment as the both of you panted, the tip of his nose hidden in the crook of your neck. You felt him inside you, so tense, so hard, his pulse hot and throbbing. And then he moved, bouncing you against him, pushing into you over and over again. Your wet mouths met, swallowing the wails and whimpers escaping your throat, the growls of pleasure coming from him and the approaching fulfillment of both.

Junhoe pushed you up against the pipe of the showerhead that sat atop, one of your hands reaching up to cling onto it, to gain leverage to hitch your hips to meet his thrusts. You angled your body so your clit brushed against his furry groin, pushing deeper into you.

That moment, that perfect moment, lasted, and lasted, his big hands gripping your ass, confirmed to leave marks later but you didn’t care as his cock plunged into your clinging velvet lips over and over again, deeper, harder, until you felt his tip against your deepest insides, and that was enough for you to come once more. He followed right after, the first explosion of his cum surging into you so strongly that you were seeing black dots, the climax so intense as he pulled out and gushed in hot streams just inside your soft lips, against the wall, and against your marked thighs.

“Wow,” you panted, your brow furrowed, your small hands reaching up to touch his face, urging him to open his eyes he’d screwed shut in bliss. “Baby.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, holding your tremulous body to his.

He leans his backside against the countertop and pulls you with him, grinning cheekily at you. “What?” you asked with practiced, confrontational innocence. “I’m acting out because I have a famous boyfriend and he’s rarely home.” He chuckled and bobbed his head, acknowledging the point.

Junhoe wraps an arm around your shoulders and cradles you to his chest. His other hand cups your face, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone as he brings his lips to yours. Sweet and soft, you kiss him back and melt into his touch. When he pulls away, his eyes are warm and glassy, and full of something that gives you butterflies.

“I know. But I love you, and I’ll give you everything if I could,” he breathes.

Your heart is as full of tenderness as your stomach is of butterflies. “I love you, too, Junhoe,” you croak. The crack in your voice takes you by surprise and you cough into his chest.

“Are you okay?” He massages little circles onto your back.

“Never better, just a bit sore,” you pout.

His arm encircling your shoulders gives a small squeeze and he presses a kiss to your forehead. His voice is low in your ear, his smirk practically audible. “If it makes you feel better, I’m all yours for the rest of the week. Still sore?” He says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“It’s gonna be one hell of a week, huh?” You can feel a soft, stupid, dopey smile on your face, not unlike the one on Junhoe’s lips. “You wanna go take a nap first?”

“What about your work?”

“I’m over it,” you sigh, defeated.