#kyrell fluff

Co-written with 🌧️ because I can't write smut to save my life

Warnings: fem!reader, fingering, mdni!

Letting out a huff, Kyrell plops down onto the bed next to you. Both of you are completely spent and focusing on catching your breath from the toe curling orgasms you just experienced. 

“You did so good for me, let me get you cleaned up” he says before placing a quick kiss to your forehead and heaving himself out of bed. All you can muster is a nod as you watch him gather clothes for the both of you. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, and quickly reappears to scoop you up in his arms. 

After effectively placing you down on the bathroom counter he starts to run a bath, humming a tune of his own while he works on getting the temperature just right. Once the tub is filled, Kyrell guides you into the water stepping in after you. He places himself behind you and rests his head against the cool tiled wall. You can’t help but lean back into him, a content sigh escaping you as your muscles relax in the warm water. 

“You’re so good to me,” you say in a whisper. He wraps his arms around your waist and pecks the top of your head in response. The quiet peace doesn’t last for long though. Your boyfriend’s lithe hands start to move up and down your thighs, getting awfully close to your already spent core. You grab his wrist with a gasp when his fingers graze over your clit. 

“Ky I can’t..” you trail off in a whimper. He shushes you, breath ghosting your ear. 

“The sweet sounds and the faces you make when I make you cum drive me crazy. It’s all I can think about. Let me make you feel good, you can give me one more, pretty.” Your grip on his wrist loosens and a small moan slips from your lips. He trails open mouthed kisses down your neck and teasingly slips the first finger into you. 

“Fuck, you’re still so tight” he groans out. He curls his finger which has you letting out a quiet gasp and laying your head back onto his shoulder. He pushes in another finger while his other hand trails up to flick at your nipple. 

“God this pretty pussy is sucking me in, feels good pretty girl?” he questions. A strangled moan leaves your parted lips as you clench around his fingers. He lets out a small chuckle at the feeling, knowing how much his words are turning you on. 

“You like when I talk to you like the slut you are?” he says before quickening his pace and pressing his thumb to your clit, his long fingers abusing your walls. His hot breath fans over your ear as his teeth reach out to nip at your lobe. He feels your gummy walls begin to flutter around him and your breaths come out quick and uneven. Your choked moans come out quicker and louder as each second ticks by of his brutal pace against your already sensitive core. 

“So close, don’t stop Ky” you stutter out. Your nails dig into his thighs trying to keep yourself grounded. Your hips start to involuntarily grind into his hand, causing the water to splash around your pressed bodies. 

“Good girl, make a mess on my fingers,” his pace never faltering. Your walls clamp down around his fingers with a loud moan as your release crashes into you like a tidal wave. He whispers praises into your ear as he helps you ride out your high. Once you catch your breath, he slips his fingers from your core moving to massage your thighs. You turn around in his hold, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his breathless lips. 

Separating to lean your forehead against his, “Can I take care of you?” you ask. His cheeks flush and he avoids eye contact, a shy smile stretching across his face. You look down and notice his release painting his stomach and mixing with the now cold water around you both.

“Good morning. You're frowning again,” he said lightly, watching you prepare products through the mirror.

“I'm working.”

“You can work and smile though.”

“I don't want to.”

Kyrell smiled brightly, turning around to watch you pour foundation onto a palette. “You should try. It wouldn't hurt anyone, y’know."

You uncapped a tube of primer with more force than necessary, leaning over him. “No. Tilt your head up.”

“Yes, ma'am.” 

He obeyed immediately, a soft smile still on his face. That was your problem with Kyrell. He never seemed bothered by anything. Not their overwhelming schedules, not their exhausting rehearsals, not even when their manager accidentally forgot to order his coffee one early morning. He never seemed to be sad or tired, despite everything.

Meanwhile, you've been awake since 11 PM, had to take an hour to commute to work, and had already considered quitting your job five times since you've stepped into the dressing room.

“You look tired,” he said softly.

“You tell me that way too often, Kyrell.”

“Because it’s true.”

You dabbed concealer under his eyes. A thin layer, it’s not like he needed much to cover up, anyway. Sometimes you wonder how his skin looked so good when you know idols barely get two hours of sleep in a day. “Maybe I keep frowning because people keep talking to me.”

Kyrell laughed quietly, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. You hated how much you liked hearing it. 

“Close your eyes.”

Your fingers lightly brushed his cheek as you tapped a champagne-colored shimmer onto his lids. Kyrell stayed still, probably because he’d learned early on that you’d threaten to poke him in the eye with a mascara wand if he moved too much.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “you’re gentler today.”

“I’m always gentle with my clients.”

“You poked my eye yesterday.”

“That was your fault for moving and talking too much.”

His lips twitched, threatening to break into another smile. “Wow, and here I thought we were bonding.”

“We're not.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

You ignored the sarcasm in his voice and continued on fixing his eyeliner. Kyrell watched you carefully now, watching you work on his makeup through the mirror like every little thing you did fascinated him. It was…unsettling. Usually, most idols would be on their phones or asleep while you worked on them.

“You keep staring,” you muttered as you carefully smudged his eyeliner with your finger.

“You're pretty.”

The pencil eyeliner nearly slips out of your hand as you freeze. 

Kyrell's eyes flick up to you innocently. “What?”

“You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'll ruin your eyeliner and I'll have to do it all over again.”

He laughed again, closing his eyes compliantly when you bring the eyeliner back up to his face.

By lunch break, you were one convenience away from a breakdown. Someone spilled foundation on your sleeve, a stylist tipped over a liquid blush you'd been using on Kyrell, and one of the managers kept asking you about a group's coffee order that was definitely not your responsibility to handle. 

You escaped to the corridor outside the dressing room to eat your lunch in peace, hoping to get at least five minutes alone. 

Unfortunately, you hear a familiar voice behind you as you sit down to eat.

“Found you.”

Kyrell sat down beside you before you could protest, holding two iced coffees. An iced americano, probably for you, and a caramel macchiato for him. After working for his group for months, you’ve learned that his taste in food is as sweet as himself.

You stared at the coffee he placed beside you. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know. That’s why it’s called being nice.”

Hm. Suspicious. Still, you took it. It would be a waste, anyway.

Kyrell beamed, a look you've seen often after successful performances.

“You’re really easy to please,” you said.

“You accepted my coffee. This is basically you accepting my marriage proposal. I've finally gotten through that ice-cold heart!”

You regret how your cheeks immediately flush, turning away to hide your embarrassment. A defensive scoff escapes your mouth as you glare at him.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“But you like it.”

“No.”

“But I'm a little cute, aren't I?”

“You’re delusional.”

Kyrell sighed wistfully. “You always say the sweetest things to me.”

Despite yourself, a tiny smile tugged at your mouth, threatening to break out into a full grin.

His eyes widened immediately. “There it is!”

You flattened your expression at once, turning away. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Nope. I saw it.” He pointed excitedly. “Tiny smile. Barely, but still there.”

“You’re annoying me.”

“And yet you smiled.”

You took a long sip of coffee to avoid answering, the bitter americano helping to jolt you awake.

Kyrell leaned his head against the wall, close enough that your shoulders brushed every few seconds. Neither of you moved away. 

“I gotta make you a playlist,” he muttered suddenly.

“For what?”

“You don't listen to music while working. That's one of the reasons why I talk so much when you're doing my makeup.”

“You could play your own music if it's too quiet.”

“Oh, I don't think you'd like that.”

“I wouldn't. Who even listens to pop at two in the morning?”

“It's fun! Drowns out the sound of my manager screaming at the staff.”

You let out a soft giggle before you could stop yourself.

Kyrell’s eyes flickered to your lips, a grin appearing on his own face. “No longer Oscar the Grouch, huh? I see we’re making progress today.”

“You’re insane.”

“Yet you still like me.”

You opened your mouth to deny it automatically, yet nothing came out. Because the horrible thing was maybe, just maybe, you did like Kyrell.

Maybe it was because of the way he always bought you coffee whenever you worked on him, or how he was respectful enough to thank every staff member by name. Or how he somehow noticed when your hands hurt from holding brushes all day and silently opened bottled drinks for you afterward. Maybe it was because of that stupidly warm grin he’d always have on his face whenever he eagerly sat in the makeup chair.

As you watched him leave to prepare for yet another performance, you realize that your heart’s been pounding ever since his voice rang out from behind you. The breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding finally escapes you as you quietly mutter to yourself.

“Fuck, this is so unprofessional.”

Their last showcase ended a bit after midnight.  You were packing palettes into your kit when he suddenly appeared beside you, still dressed in stage clothes, a tissue plastered across his sweaty forehead.

“Good work today,” he said.

You zipped your bag shut. “You too. Shouldn’t you be taking photos with the members?”

“I already did.”

“Okay.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

The room suddenly felt strangely warm. Or perhaps it was just your face.

Kyrell leaned against the table, watching you with that same unbearably fond expression, his eyes locked onto your face. “You know,” he said carefully, “I think I figured something out.”

“What?”

“You act grumpy when you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m leaving.” You slung your bag over your shoulder quickly, attempting to scramble out of the room. “Goodnight, Kyrell.”

He caught your wrist gently before you could escape. Your breath caught as you turned around to face him. After always working on him while he’s sitting down, you’ve never really realized how much he towers over you.

Kyrell’s smile softened immediately. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

“Would it be okay if I took you out sometime?”

Your brain stopped functioning for a few seconds as your cheeks reddened yet again. “You’re…asking me on a date?”

“Yes.”

“You?”

“Yes,” he repeated, laughing softly as his hand squeezed your wrist lightly. “I think I was direct enough, pretty.”

You stared up at him, trying very hard not to notice how handsome he looked under the dim dressing room lights.

“How long have you liked me?” you asked breathlessly.

“Since you threatened to make my eyeliner crazy long when I wouldn’t stop moving.”

“That was the first time we met, Kyrell. It’s been that long?”

“I’m committed.”

You shook your head slowly, but there was no hiding your smile now. Of course, Kyrell noticed instantly. 

“There it is again,” he muttered triumphantly.

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

“Sorry.” He paused. “So…date soon? Please?”

You definitely should’ve made him work harder for it. Instead, you sighed softly and said, “Fine. I’m free next Thursday. Don’t make me regret this.”

Kyrell stepped closer, his grin so fond it made your chest ache as his hand on your wrist moved to your waist. “Trust me, I’ve been thinking about this for months. It’ll be perfect, I swear. I’ll see you soon, pretty.”

You watch as Kyrell walks back to his group, practically beaming with delight. And for once, you don’t regret taking this job.

Even if you bring up the economical reasons why taking the bus or subway is better, he will not buy it. He'll try to not make it too obvious that the real reason he likes driving you is to spend a few extra minutes in your company, but to you, it's pretty obvious.

He likes to have his hand on your thigh or to be holding your hand while driving. Whenever he has to leave your hand to hold the wheel again, he'll reach out to grab it again as soon as possible. Also does the little protective arm out across your body during sharp turns or sudden breaks, but it's really out of habit. Of course, he lets you have the aux.

Speaking of music, he cherishes the little playlists that you've made together. You would absolutely have a whole folder of shared playlists that are the go-to's for hanging out. They have the goofiest covers that sum up you and Kyrell's shared sense of humour. But the contents of the playlists are really quite cute. Your music taste is very similar, and Kyrell gets excited about any new artist that you discover and want to share with him.

He loves cringy pickup lines or flirty comments that maybe aren't the most clever thing ever, more toeing the line of dad jokes, but they still make you crack a smile. That's the reaction Kyrell lives for. Especially when you're feeling down. His stupid sense of humour always gets you whether you like it or not, and your boyfriend will always use this to his advantage.

As for physical affection, Kyrell likes hugs where he can rest his head on top of yours. Since he's tall, it's the perfect height difference to be comfortable for both of you. He also just really likes the scent of your shampoo. Your perfume, as well. He gets fixated on the scents that remind him of you, even if it's just your favourite food.

One of his favourites is when you steal his hoodies (which he is secretly obsessed with you doing) and they still smell like you when he gets them back. When your perfume is still clinging to the garment even after he washes it—he dies for that.

One of his favourite types of date nights is just watching a movie together. It's low stakes and doesn't require a lot of effort, which is perfect after an exhausting day. He'll prepare all the snacks while you usually choose the movie. Of course, he'll slip in teasing jokes about Netflix and Chill, although you both know it's not gonna lead to anything. If when you fall asleep during the movie, he likes playing with your hair. Makes sure you're comfy in his lap and lets one of his hands thread mindlessly through your strands. It's relaxing for both of you and helps you sleep longer.

You have so many inside jokes together that it's almost impossible to even count them all. Most of them start from his habit of making stupid puns or cliche lines, or some ridiculous moment that happened early on that you've learned to laugh at later on. A lot of your favourite memories are created when you're both deliriously sleepy at 3AM. Everything seems funnier at that time of the night. Your relationship in general is full of giggles. Laughter is the thing you associate most with Kyrell.

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“You know, when I was little, I had this pirate ship. It was huge and super detailed, but I’m sure some of the pieces were missing. I used to play pirates versus sea monsters with my brothers.” You pieced together the roof of the house from ‘Up!’, smiling as it fit perfectly onto the body of the house.

“Who won?” Kyrell asked.

“Usually the sea monsters would destroy the ship at some point.” You giggled, the nostalgia filling your body. 

“Are you almost done with that set? I finished Wall-E.” He leaned on your shoulder, cheek bumping against the hood of your hoodie.

“Almost. Gotta do the balloons.” You poured the bag of balloon pieces out, flipping to the page in the instruction manual. 

“Looks nice— Wait, do you even have Doug?!” The lilt in Kyrell’s voice caused your heart to leap in your chest. Cute.

“Yeah, right here.” 

“He’s adorable!” Ky’s exclamation makes you laugh, sneaking your arm down to his waist. You squeezed him closer to your side, adoring his squeaky giggle.

“You’re adorable.” You counter, unable to resist the urge to press a kiss to his cheek, the little dimple forming on his skin at the touch of your lips. 

The little date finished with 4 sets complete; the house you had built, Wall-E and eVe that Kyrell lovingly put together, insistent that it was you two in robot form (“cause they’re in love! and we’re in love, so it’s us!”). And, finally, two star wars themed ships complete with clone troopers and a little darth vader. 

“We should do this more often. It’s so relaxing.” 

You nodded, “Whenever you find cute sets, let me know. Let’s build them together.” 

“Alright. Lego date night every other week then?” Kyrell proposed.

“Don’t have to ask me twice for me to be there.” You assured him.

That’s what you loved about your boyfriend. He made even the most simple activities romantic. Setting the mood with your favourite K-Pop songs, giving you little compliments and teasing remarks just to get you to laugh, he knew every way to your heart.