⤷ in which four lives intertwine quietly beneath the spotlight, loving each other in plain sight while the world only ever sees what they’re meant to.

dividers by @arlerts-angel

huntr/x intro by @vampmira

this was slightly inspired by @mona-risms's polytrix x rookie idol reader au ^^

fanart used (left to right): phan4t (on x), shibah_art (on ig), hadalogic (on x)

cw: fluff! light emotional intimacy, implied off-camera/pre-established relationships, gentle tension, subtle physical contact (non-sexual), restraint and longing

the stage lights glow in gentle gold, warm enough to soften every edge. the studio feels hushed beneath them, as if the room itself is holding its breath.

you stand at center stage with your cue cards folded neatly in your hands, posture effortless and poised. there is a careful elegance in the way you hold yourself—the slight tilt of your head, the relaxed set of your shoulders, the way you take up space without ever seeming to demand it. on camera, your voice is light and sweet, polished into something comforting, almost familiar.

“please welcome tonight’s special guests,” you say, a quiet smile lifting at the corners of your lips as you turn toward the entrance. your eyes shine—not with excitement alone, but with something gentler, more personal.

“huntrix.”

the name leaves your mouth softly, like it’s meant to be kept close rather than announced.

for a brief moment—too fleeting for the cameras, too subtle for the audience—you let yourself linger there, warmth blooming in your chest before you straighten once more, composure seamless.

the reaction is immediate. screams ripple through the studio, lightsticks rising and falling like a tide. the sound swells until it feels alive, anticipation humming through the air.

rumi enters first, composed as ever—shoulders relaxed, expression calm yet assured. she bows deeply, precise and respectful, every movement carrying the quiet authority of a leader. mira follows close behind, confidence sharp but effortless, eyes bright with focus even as she smiles. zoey comes in last, all boundless energy and easy charm, waving enthusiastically to the crowd as if feeding directly off their excitement.

"2, 3 – don't miss! hello, we are huntrix!”

they look untouchable.

polished. brilliant. carefully distant in the way idols are meant to be.

and they look nothing like the three women who lingered with you long after the lights were off two nights ago—voices low, laughter soft, warmth shared in the quiet hours when no one else was watching.

your eyes meet rumi’s for just a fraction of a second too long.

she notices.

she always does.

the interview flows smoothly, your cue cards barely needed.

“so,” you begin, tilting your head slightly as you look between them, “your latest release has been getting a lot of attention. the choreography, the concept—everything feels very intentional. what was the focus this time?”

rumi answers first, voice steady and calm. “we wanted it to feel grounded. powerful, but sincere. something that would still feel like us, no matter the stage.”

you nod, your expression softening just a touch. “absolutely. you should all be really proud of this one.”

you turn slightly toward mira. “there’s also been a lot of talk about how busy huntrix has been lately. promotions, schedules, travel…” you pause just a beat longer than necessary, your smile turning almost knowing. “how do you balance touring with your other responsibilities?”

mira’s grin sharpens, just a little.

“we’re good at multitasking,” she says lightly. “and we make sure to look out for each other. that part never changes.”

zoey leans forward eagerly, resting her elbows on her knees. “yeah! it helps when you have people who keep you grounded. even when things get crazy.”

you laugh softly, the sound bright and easy. “it sounds like teamwork is really important to you.”

“it is,” rumi says, her gaze flicking to you for the briefest moment before returning to the camera. “we don’t do anything alone.”

the audience hums in approval.

to them, it’s chemistry.

to the four of you, it’s restraint.

during a brief pause between segments, when the cameras pan away and staff move in to adjust lighting and microphones, zoey leans closer under the excuse of needing help fixing her mic pack.

“you’re doing amazing,” she murmurs, voice low enough to disappear beneath the studio noise. “your hands stopped shaking.”

you don’t look at her. “they weren’t shaking.”

mira catches the exchange and smirks. “they were.”

before zoey can reply, rumi clears her throat gently—quiet, controlled, a reminder rather than a reprimand. as she steps back into position, her hand brushes your wrist. innocent. fleeting.

you feel it anyway, warmth blooming straight through your chest.

“ten seconds,” a staff member calls.

the cameras come back on.

you lift your gaze, smile settling into place like it always does—graceful, practiced, flawless.

no one notices how carefully huntrix watches you.

like you’re the most fragile, precious thing in the room.

It happens on a day he doesn’t expect. He comes home thinking you’re just in the shower or taking a nap, but instead he finds you sitting on the kitchen floor — knees pulled to your chest, hands shaking, breathing uneven, eyes glossy like you’re trying so hard not to cry.

At first he freezes.

Not because he doesn’t care — but because he’s never seen you like this. You’re always the one who laughs, who hugs him, who hides your struggles behind a small smile. Seeing you crumble like this hits him harder than any villain ever has.

“Baby?” His voice drops instantly, rough but cautious, like he’s afraid you’ll shatter. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

You flinch when he kneels in front of you, and that’s when he realizes how overwhelmed you are. Your breath is too fast, your hands are trembling, and you can’t even get words out.

And Bakugou—your loud, explosive husband—goes soft.

He gently takes your wrists, lowering your hands from your face.

“It’s me,” he murmurs, leaning closer, forehead almost touching yours. “You’re okay. I got you.”

When your breath hitches, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you straight into his chest. No hesitation. He sits on the floor with you right on his lap, one arm around your waist, the other stroking the back of your head.

“You should’ve told me you were feelin’ like this…” he whispers into your hair, voice cracking just a little. “You don’t gotta hide shit from me.”

You try to apologize — but the moment the word “sorry” slips out, he shuts it down.

“Oi. Don’t you dare apologize,” he says, pulling back just enough to cup your cheeks. His thumbs wipe your tears before they even fall. “You’re allowed to break down. You hear me? You’re allowed to have bad days. I’m your husband — let me take care of you.”

Then he does what he rarely does: he kisses your forehead, slow and lingering.

Your breathing slowly evens out as he rocks you in his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head.

He whispers, barely audible, “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Not now, not ever. You don’t deal with this alone.”

And for the rest of the night, he stays glued to your side — cooking for you, helping you shower, wrapping you in a blanket, holding your hand until you fall asleep on his chest.

Because Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t just love you loudly.

He loves you gently, too — especially when you need it most.

a/n: i made a bakugo version since a lot of people liked the robert one, and my friend asked me to do a bakugo one lol

“ please, don’t hate me ”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ requested :3 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Dae-ho thinks you hate him and mistakes your shyness as you having something against him. Truth is, you just like him more than as a friend.

Pairing — kang dae-ho x shy!fem reader

Setting — post-squid game, modern setting au

Word count — 1.5k

warnings: NONE !! only fluff

X won the vote. Finally, everyone could go home without worrying about the next deadly game. You were all relieved, mostly X. O, on the other hand, were disappointed.

That didn’t matter to you. What did matter was Geum-ja, player 149, who you’d met while on the same team. She’d invited you, along with the rest of the X group, over to her home for dinner.

That meant you, Gi-hun, Jun-hee, Young-il, Jung-bae… and even him. Dae-ho, player 388. You’d hardly spoke to him during the games, barely more than a exchanged introduction. Your names, maybe a few polite words, that’s it.

It wasn’t because you didn’t like him. If anything, it was something else. You liked him a lot. More than just a teammate. More than just a friend. But there was a problem, you weren’t the outgoing type.

Dae-ho was the complete opposite. Next to him, that contrast left you a little intimated. Still, there had been moments. The glances. The looks you shared with him, the kind people toss between strangers and a half smile, then both of you looking away like nothing happened.

But even when you looked away, he always followed with another glance. A little side flick of his eyes catching you when it was safe. And if he ever tried to sit next to you during meals, you’d shift just a little further away.

Of course, he probably thought you were avoiding him for another reason. Maybe he figured you didn’t like him, or worse, that you thought he smelled. (which honestly he prob did. let’s be real.)

And here you all were, gathered in front of Geum-ja’s home just like you all promised. Young-il couldn’t make it, sadly, but you hoped he was doing alright. The rest of you waited outside in the night, chatting in little groups.

You found yourself with the girls. Jun-hee, Young-mi, and Hyun-ju, making small talk to pass the time.

But your eyes kept wandering, while the others were laughing together, you were searching for someone who also wasn’t there. Dae-ho.

You couldn’t help it. You were really hoping he’d show. You hadn’t gone through all the effort of fixing yourself up for nothing.

Part of you was curious too. What did he look like outside of the games? what was his style? did he finally get a haircut? you didnt know, you were hoping this man actually showed up.

A car pulled up. You looked over just in time to see a tall man step out, casual clothes, hair styled differently than before. Dae-ho.

He walked toward the group, and Jung-bae’s face lit up. “Dae-ho!” he shouted, waving.

Dae-ho couldn’t help but grin at that, offering quick hellos to everyone he passed. And then he stopped in front of you. That little tension stirred in your chest. He gave you a small, closed-mouthed smile.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound polite but casual. He still thought you didn't like him, so he played it safe, didn’t want to push you and risk an eye roll.

You gave him a shy smile. He shifted on his feet, patting at his pants like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. His eyes darted around then back at you.

“Soooo… how’ve you been?” he asked.

“umm.. fine,” you managed, voice soft with shyness.

“Fine? just fine? not good?” his grin widened.

You tried to give a little laugh, but your eyes kept tugging back at him. The closer you looked, the more you noticed. The haircut. The way he carried himself.

“You… got a haircut?” you asked.

He touched the back of his neck. “Oh. Yeah. Do you not like it? because if you don’t, I'll just shave it all off and go bald.”

“It suits you,” you said quickly, and it did. Honestly, you were still intimated and shy around him. How could you not be? the man was tall. And, well… cute.

“Aw man,” he laughed, brushing his hair back. “I thought you’d say more than that.”

Oh my god, she hates it. She hates me. The haircut did nothing!

Geum-ja finally opened the door, apologizing for making everyone wait. She waved you all inside, and you followed. Dae-ho letting you slip past him first before trailing behind.

For a while, it was easy to forget everything that happened before. Dinner in a real home, back in the normal world.

Dae-ho ended up sitting across from you. Not beside you, across. And he only did that because he was convinced you seriously hated him. His hair. His guts. Probably his entire existence.

You kinda wished he’d sat next to you instead. Because the whole time, he kept sneaking glances across the table. Over and over. And every time you caught one, it was obvious he couldn’t stop looking your way.

When everyone slowly drifted off, you and Dae-ho stepped outside together. Here’s the thing, you came here by uber. So while he started toward his car, he noticed you standing there.

He paused. “Are you… waiting for someone?”

“I’m just… gonna call an uber home,” you admitted.

His brows pulled together at that. “Why? i can drive you home. Leaving you out here alone at night doesn’t sit right with me.”

“uhhh—” you started.

“Cmon,” he pressed gently. “I don’t care if you live far. Seriously, let me take you.”

Then for a second, you gave in. “…Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

Relief flickered across his face. Maybe, just maybe, this was his one chance to finally have you warm up to him.

The ride was silent. You sat stiff at first, hands fidgeting in your lap. Dae-ho kept his eyes on the road.

He let out a small laugh. “You don’t have to look so uncomfortable. I don’t bite.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “I- I’m not uncomfortable,” you said quickly.

You wanted to tell him the truth, that you weren’t avoiding him, that you actually liked being near him way too much.

So instead, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Thanks… for the ride.”

“Dont mention it. I just didn’t want to leave you out there alone. Even if…” his voice dipped quieter. “… Even if you don’t really like me that much.”

You stuttered. “Wait- what?”

You stared at him in panic. How could he think that?

“Please,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the road. "Don't hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

He glanced at you quick. “…You don’t?”

You shook your head. “I’m just… intimidated by you.”

“Me???” he smirked faintly, his voice cracking. “Why me???”

You swallowed hard, twisting your hands together. “Because i like you. And I don't know how to act around you.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “…Huh. You like me? like… like like me?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “i’ve liked you more than just a friend since… since back in that place.”

His jaw dropped. “YOU DID?!?”

You jumped, swatting at his arm. “Eyes on the road! you’re gonna get us killed!”

He laughed, his gaze fully focused forward, but the smile wouldn’t leave his face.

As the car finally pulled up to your place, you reached for the handle, only for the door to swing open first. Dae-ho had already jumped out and hurried to your side.

“After you, m’lady” he said with an exaggerated politeness, even offering his hand.

“… Thanks?” you muttered, stepping out, confused but amused.

He had the biggest grin on his face, and then—

“Let me walk you inside!” he blurted.

You stared at him. “Oh, you don’t really have to. It’s fine.”

“Please?” his voice went high, almost whining. “Pleasepleaseplease?”

You sighed, pointing at the house. “My house is literally right there.”

He clasped his hands dramatically. “Do I need to get on my knees and beg?” he actually started to crouch before you grabbed his arm.

“Okay, fine! walk me to my door. happy now?” you laughed.

He straightened back up, that dumb smile still stuck on his face. “Very.” he said.

You could feel him sneaking glances again, the same way he had across the dinner table. By the time you reached your front step, your stomach was in knots.

“See?” you gestured toward the door. “Safe and sound. You can relax now.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. His grin softened into something less dumb and more sincere. “…I’m glad i got to drive you home. And walk you here.”

You chewed your lip, heart thudding. “Well, thanks. For… all of it.”

He gave you a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

And for a second, it felt like he might say something else or maybe get a step closer, but instead he rocked back on his heels, playing it safe. “Guess i’ll let you go before your neighbors think i’m creeping outside your door.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Goodnight, Dae-ho.” (gn fine shyt)

“Night.” He lingered one last moment, then turned back toward his car, still smiling to himself like he couldn’t stop.

hanta’s voice is casual, breezy, like he’s turning down a movie he’s already seen. except the movie is an invite to hit this new ramen spot downtown, something the group’s been trying to plan for weeks.

denki, leaning against the kitchen counter with a stolen capri-sun in hand, blinks at him in utter disbelief. “you literally just said she’s asleep.”

“exactly,” hanta says, like he’s pointing out the obvious. “she’s asleep, and i don’t wanna wake her.”

denki’s eyes narrow. “you’re at your house.”

hanta doesn’t flinch. “the vibes are asleep, denki. don’t mess with the energy.”

in the corner of the room, bakugou lets out a sound so sharp and pained it’s honestly impressive it’s not lethal. “you are so full of shit.”

hanta just grins, throwing his phone lazily onto the couch and stretching like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s draped across the sectional like he lives there—which he kind of does, when you’re around. the hoodie he’s wearing still smells like your shampoo. his legs are tangled in a fuzzy blanket you left behind two days ago, the one you claimed clashed with his “whole aesthetic” but brought over anyway. your socks—those ridiculous yellow ones with the tiny strawberries—are balled up under the coffee table.

everything in here is steeped in you. your perfume still hangs faintly in the air. your laugh echoes if he thinks about it too hard.

it’s not that he can’t go out.

it’s just—okay. no. it’s exactly that. he can’t go out. not when he could be here, waiting for you.

“look, i’m sorry,” he says with all the sincerity of a man who is not sorry in the slightest, “missus said no. y’know how it is.”

denki frowns at him, straw still in his mouth. “you don’t even call her that to her face.”

“i call her worse,” hanta replies proudly, just before a throw pillow comes flying from bakugou’s corner of the room and smacks him in the head with practiced precision.

“you’re so annoying when you’re in love,” bakugou mutters, already reaching for another pillow like it’s open season on sentimentality.

“thank you!” hanta chirps, catching the first pillow and hugging it to his chest like a trophy. “finally, someone’s noticing the effort I put into being an incredible boyfriend.”

“you’re lying to avoid social plans,” denki points out flatly. “you bailed on us last week too.”

“that time she really did say no.”

“no she didn’t.”

“she could have!” hanta says, like that somehow justifies it. “i just… preemptively respected her boundaries.”

bakugou makes a noise like he’s seriously debating whether homicide is worth the paperwork.

hanta settles deeper into the couch, gaze flicking briefly to his phone screen—already lighting up with a little preview of your goodnight text, the one you typed before your post-shift nap knocked you out. he doesn’t open it. just smiles at it. lets it sit there like a quiet little warm thing in his chest.

you’re coming over later. you mentioned it in passing this morning, half-asleep and brushing your teeth. said something about bringing that stupidly specific kind of candy he likes from the store near your work. he knows you’ll show up smelling like body lotion and a long day, probably steal another one of his hoodies and complain about the lack of snacks in his pantry like you don’t eat them all.

and if you’re even a minute late, he’ll act like he’s not checking the window every five seconds like a dog waiting for the mailman.

but right now, you’re asleep. and you’re still the best excuse he’s ever had.

“y’know,” he says, propping one foot up on the coffee table, “i just think it’s important to prioritize your partner. i’m choosing love. you guys are choosing noodles. i’m making mature decisions.”

“you’re eating half a pack of gummy worms and wearing her fuzzy socks.”

“maturely.”

denki sighs and checks the time. “whatever. i’m leaving in ten.”

“send me pics,” hanta calls after him, already fishing for the remote. “unless they’re ugly. then keep them to yourself.”

bakugou, on his way out, doesn’t say goodbye—just mutters something that sounds like simp and slams the door harder than necessary.

hanta doesn’t care.

he’s got a show paused right where you left off. your blanket. your scent. your goodnight text warming the screen like a promise.

the vibes are asleep, yeah.

Baby Fever

Just girls having a baby after seeing you with your niece. Ft. Bobby, Celine and Saja boys

Rumi

When Rumi sees you cradling your niece—soft smile on your face, rocking the baby gently—something inside her cracks open. She’s always been so serious, so focused on training and hunting, but in that moment she can’t look away. The protective streak that already burns in her heart? It multiplies tenfold.

At first, she’s quiet about it, but you catch her lingering near baby clothes in stores, running her fingers over tiny socks and dresses. She tries to play it off like, “They’re cute, that’s all,” but then she’s saving nursery décor ideas on her phone.

When Huntr/x does fan lives, eagle-eyed fans notice Rumi getting distracted whenever babies appear in comments or gifts. Soon rumors swirl: “Rumi wants a baby???” She and you eventually confirm it—straightforward but warm.

Pregnancy brings out her fierce protector side. She fusses over you endlessly: “Sit down, you’ve been on your feet too long.” “No, you’re not training today.” After the birth, she’s your shadow, always carrying the baby, glaring at anyone who gets too close.

Zoey and Mira spoil the child rotten, but Rumi makes sure to balance it—discipline mixed with endless affection. Even Jinu (to her horror) sneaks in to see the baby, acting softer than she’s ever seen him. Celine cries when she first holds her “grandbaby,” and Bobby shows up with strollers and toys, beaming like the world’s happiest uncle.

Mira

Mira reacts differently. The second she sees you with your niece, she blurts: “Damn, you’d look hot pregnant.” No filter. No hesitation. She starts teasing you nonstop, “accidentally” leaving her search history full of baby shoes, cribs, and “punk baby onesies.”

Unlike Rumi, Mira doesn’t hide her baby fever. She flat-out tells you she wants a kid. Her tough, sarcastic exterior softens around the thought—she imagines teaching your future child how to fight, dance, and stand up for themselves.

Fans catch her staring dreamily at strollers on the street or mentioning babies in interviews. Eventually, she shrugs and confirms it during a fan Q&A: “Yeah, I wanna have a kid. With Y/n, obviously.” Fans lose their minds.

During pregnancy, Mira is protective but in a more aggressive way. She’s the type to threaten anyone who stresses you out: “Say one more dumb thing to her and I’ll end your career.” She wants you pampered 24/7, spoiling you with food cravings, massages, and kisses.

When the baby is born, Mira is obsessed. She’ll hold the baby against her chest, rocking them while muttering about how no one will ever hurt them. She trains them like a mini soldier the moment they can crawl. Zoey sneaks in to dress the baby in frilly outfits, and Rumi tries to keep order, but Mira just smirks like a proud mama wolf.

Even the Saja Boys end up spoiling the kid—Abby jokes about teaching them how to flirt, Romance insists the baby has his “natural charm,” and Baby secretly lets the kid tug on his hair. Mira pretends to hate it, but deep down she likes that even demons melt around your child.

Zoey

Zoey has always been bubbly, but when she sees you holding your niece for the first time, she melts. Tears brim in her eyes as she whispers: “Omg… Y/n, we should totally have one.” She immediately starts imagining family outings, lullabies, and baby photoshoots.

She’s the most obvious about her baby fever—she drags you into baby stores, squeals at every onesie, and posts cryptic Instagram stories with emojis 👶💖 that fans catch onto instantly. Rumors explode until she finally blurts it out during a livestream, “Yeah, I wanna be a mom one day. With Y/n.”

When you get pregnant, Zoey is sunshine embodied. She sings to your belly, writes little lullabies for the baby, and talks to them as if they can already understand. She insists on decorating the nursery herself, covering it with cute stickers, pastel walls, and stuffed animals.

After the baby’s born, Zoey is both the playful mom and the doting aunt. She takes thousands of pictures, introduces the baby to fans during streams (with your permission), and even writes a song dedicated to them. She’s the one spoiling the baby with every toy imaginable.

Celine is moved by Zoey’s pure heart and calls her a natural mother. Bobby shows up with diaper bags and jokes about how this makes him “Grandpa Bobby.” Even Mystery, normally cold, is seen awkwardly holding the baby once—and the whole room falls silent because it’s the softest thing they’ve ever seen.

everything you need to know about hwang junho...

warnings: nsfw (obvs), sub/dom dynamics, oral (m/f rec), ejaculation and cum, manhandling, size difference, pet names (inc. daddy, appa, etc), masturbation, foreplay, sex, description of sexual positions, groping, sexual limits mentioned, drunk sex (consensual), brat taming, sexting, dirty talk, teasing, toys, you're still here? it's a nsfw alphabet there's gonst to be sex..

wc: 3.7k (got carried away, fineshyt junho's fault not mine)

i can only write junho as the emotionally intelligent protector who destroys you in bed. sorry not sorry. also he's so experienced. i can't even pretend, facecard goes crazy. based on season 2/3 junho.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

junho reverts to softness. with touch, words, and presence all the same. it still feels dominant, the way he lifts you carefully to place you more comfortably on the pillows, but it's gentle, considerate. he always takes control of cleaning you both up, but won't leave your side without pressing a long, tender kiss to your temple first. after everything's in order, he's back at your side grounding you with his non-smothering but immeasurably tender embrace. he lets you call the shots of what comes next—be it sleep, quality time, or leaving the bedroom entirely.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he is tall, broad, physically intimidating. it's what makes him a good detective, in a way. no matter how clever you are, how good your theory, it's a lot harder for a captain to dismiss you when you could lift and throw them across the room. but this isn't what he likes about himself most. he'd never admit it, not even after hearing you praise it hundreds of times, but he likes his smile the most. he thinks it makes him look softer, younger. less... scary. sometimes after brushing his teeth, he lets the smallest little smile flash in the reflection of the mirror, and he sees the gentleness buried behind all those muscles.

meanwhile, in his partner, he enjoys when they have smaller hands. it's not sexual, and it's certainly not a strange fetish buried deep down. it's so much more than that. it's grounding when your hands intertwine casually when walking down the street, draws him out of overthinking when he strokes the soft skin of your wrist. a palm to his cheek never fails to calm him, either. he likes it most when you do this after sex. makes him feel so seen, so strangely protected.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

by the time his orgasm hits, he's so close to the edges of the rigid restraint that he lives by, that he sometimes forgets to be gentle. if you've just finished around him, he'll forget you might become overstimulated while he quickly hurries the pace of his thrusts to follow you over the edge. other times, when his length's between your lips and you're stealing an orgasm from him, he'll sink your head just a little lower on his bucking hips until tears prick your eyes as he finishes in your throat.

it's never intentional. he just gets carried away sometimes. when he does, he's always consistent to softly and regretfully ask, "i'm sorry baby, was i too much?"

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

enjoys the size difference between you a little too much. he's so used to towering over people, manhandling perps that put up fights they can't win but think they can. even you, so small, so fragile, so in need of someone like him to protect your safety. it's like all he ever does is hold back. from treating perps with the physical care they sometimes don't deserve, to gently holding back his strength and weight with your smaller, delicate body.

sometimes he just wants to let that power out. pin you under him, his hands on your back transferring all his weight to crush you against the mattress. strike his hips into yours with enough power to draw gasps, whimpers, pleas of his name that sound like no's but really ask for more. it's the only thing that makes him finish so hard he nearly goes blind from rolling his eyes back for too long.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he's always been married to work, not women. there was a high school sweetheart once, but that fizzled out quickly when he started his high school exams. then one or two girlfriends who reached the one or two year mark, before fizzling out, too. after that, he understood his dedication to his work took priority over his personal life. that he wasn't what girls wanted when they realised how little time he takes off, how even when he's home, he's still clocked in at work in his mind. that no matter how considerate, handsome, how loving he is, they will never change him.

after that, it turned casual. he's not quite one for meaningless one night stands, and only indulges occasionally when drunk and sexually pent up. situationships aren't quite the right word to describe the majority of his experience either, he's too sentimental for empty sex like that. but every now and then he'd have one girl he could occasionally eat dinner with, have sex with, and not speak to for a week from being busy, and things would still feel comfortable.

by the time you cross his path, he knows what he's doing from his broad range of experience. knows where to put his hands, what words to say, how to build you up and break you apart the way you need him to. but what really stands out is the effort he puts into learning, guiding, and working for you in sexual intimacy.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he enjoys dominating you physically, and there are two positions that take the cake. when it's rough, harder than usual, fuelled by emotion or frustration, he has you in prone bone. hands on your back, weight fully on you, hips slapping down into the cheeks of your ass as he fucks the stress out of himself.

the other is mating press. legs over his shoulders, eyes locked on you gasping and open mouthed from the heavy crush of his hips on yours. it's here where he can't stop switching from eye contact to watching himself disappear inside you. it's dizzying, and takes effort to hold out long enough for you to finish before him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he leans more serious, out of focus more than anything. he likes to work for your pleasure, and a lot of the time the knot in his brows is from observing the reactions your body gives him. or from the strain in his hand, tongue, or hips. but there are times where he cracks.

when he slips out in between thrusts, your hips moving just enough that he ends up missing re-entry and grinds over your clit instead. the way your eyes light up in surprise, gasp slipping from your lips, hand catching the bicep bracketing your head. junho always pauses, hips slowing as his eyes find yours. the smile is always slow to form, laugh gentle but amused, like the glint in his eyes. he finds it especially amusing when you whine and lightly slap his bicep, half-needing him back inside, half-embarrassed he's laughing at you. he'll always tease, something like "so needy," grinning when you whine and cover your face, but he's quick to drag your hands above your head, the other guiding himself back into you.

the grin edges into the territory of taunting, as his hips slowly ease him length back into you. "ah," a mocking breath he drags out, "feels better now, right baby?"

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he doesn't over do it.

he likes a sprinkle of stubble, even thinks it looks better on him than clean shaven. the way his pubic hair blends perfectly into his happy trail on his lower abdomen, it just looks right. masculine in a way he likes, but not unruly. but when his pubic hair starts growing that little bit too long, he’ll clean it up with an electric shaver, the kind you shave the hair on your head with.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he tends to lean away from romantic during sex. it's not always rough, but generally there won't be hand holding or tender words exchanged. he does plenty of romantic acts outside the bedroom, like buying you flowers, making dinners to share a tender moment together in your busy schedules. he's so thoughtful and considerate of you that in the confines of the bedroom, you just need him to ravish you. to roughen up that softness. to use his height, strength, weight. to let go of all that control.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he can go a couple days without sexual release. he's not a teenager anymore, and his sexual urges have gradually become less urgent in his thirties. but by day three, he finds himself wound up. snappy at work over little things, more affected by you brushing past him during pre-work morning routines in the hallway, that he just can't fight it anymore.

he'll steal a quick five minutes between you leaving for work and him having to leave, too, and work the sexual frustration out just fast enough to still make it in time for work. other times, when you're too tired for sex, he cups your cheek in bed, brings your lips to his, and pumps himself until he cums. most of the time he'll have you swallow his cum, just so he doesn't have to leave you to clean up. then you'll fall asleep together.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

to him, anything to do with speech always increases the quality of sex. if it's talking you through it, praising the way you take all his length in your mouth or between your legs, it works. even if all you do it say his name, call him daddy — or "appa!", if he's hitting that spot just right — it ignites a switch in his brain that has him moving his hips better, speaking his own string of words clearer. as an added bonus, it makes your orgasm stronger, and because he makes you finish first, it lets him cum to the blinding sensation of you clamping down on him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

junho's relatively spontaneous, so when you're initiating or he's too desperate to wait for somewhere specific like your bed, he gives in to the urges. movie isn't gripping either of you? there's something else ready to be gripped right there on the sofa. your hand's riding too his on his thigh while he's driving? "head down, baby, suck it for daddy." one he likes more than expected is the bathtub. he likes showering together, but sometimes you end up on all fours crying out as he grips your wet hair from behind.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

it takes just a little more than casual touch to light that spark in junho. he's pretty touchy as it is, so just holding his hand or pulling him into a hug won't override his love of casual affection. you'll have to tease it out of him. hand on his shoulder, sliding across the muscle in a way that's just too curious to be casual. pressing your hips back against his in bed just a little too wriggly to be innocent. that'll wake him up.

but if you can't wait, standing close and casually dragging your hands down his abdomen with an innocent flick of your eyes up to his will do it. especially if the tips of your nails run over his skin. or sliding your hands over his thighs, gripping onto that thick muscle in his powerful legs, sliding up slow enough for his eyes to lock on yours. or just reach out and grab him by the crotch. the first time you did it was the first time it happened. when you saw something awakening in his gaze, like a predator's hunting sense activated. that was the first time he really unleashed himself on you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything dangerous is strictly prohibited. no ropes in risky positions. no knifeplay. and absolutely no choking, spanking or hitting that goes beyond a light hand at your neck, cheek, or ass. not even if you request it in the heat of moment. not even if you're both about to orgasm and that higher pain tolerances kicks in. just simply no.

he is your guardian in all matters safety, and the thought of harming you in such a way physically or sexually nauseates him. it upsets him, actually. deeply. he might fuck you like he's punishing you sometimes, but it's more calculated than you know. he brushes limits in your size difference to excite you, but he would never violate you with the full brunt of his physical capabilities. absolutely non negotiable, and he will become upset if you push the matter.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

junho's a service!dom, so getting on his knees to put yours over his shoulders excites him nearly more than it does you. he takes it so seriously, too. teases you with kisses along your thigh, lets his breath breeze over your heat, hovers to make you desperate for it, before taking one long, light brush of his tongue from your entrance to your clit. he starts slow, doesn't rush it, and lightly chuckles against your heat when you become eager for more. he knows what he's doing.

but he's still a man, and having his length in your mouth will be a weak spot that you will able have an easy time taking advantage of. just don't ask for that designer bag you want, or a new car, because when he's in your mouth he'd nearly agree to anything.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it varies. what stays the same is that he's always in control, dominant, usually towering over your body unless he's bouncing yours on top of him. he likes controlling the tempo, let you sit back and just focus on your own pleasure. what changes is the tempo. he's nearly always some degree of rough — hands holding your body in position, thighs slapping against the backs of yours. but sometimes it's slower, passionate. almost emotional sometimes, letting his body claim yours in a way that feels like ownership. he's like this when he's tired, in need of emotional connection, or when he just needs you to feel his love.

other times he's less merciful. he'll fuck you to the fast, steady beat of a song in the background, not deterred by the desperate moans he draws from you, so loud it drowns out the music and he loses track of the rhythm. he gets like this when he's stressed, when you've shared too much wine over a dinner date, or when you've acted like a brat and he's putting you back in your place.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

while junho has a preference for building up with foreplay, he can be easily swayed by spontaneity. if there's a spare ten minutes before you have to go to work, and you're walking around in that towel he just wants to tear off, he will. and you'll show up to work on time, but those heels get harder to walk in after he's done with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he's up to try almost anything once, as long as safe words are in play. he has a healthy range of experience, so he's the kind of partner you want when you're trying something new together — he has that natural instinct to sense what works for you and what doesn't, too.

he enjoys risk within reason, too. he won't stop wearing condoms until you both get tested, just for reassurance, and after a few months he'll give in to you asking mid-sex for him to finish inside. he stubbornly resists and uses the pull out method for a while, enjoying the thrill of timing it just right and finishing on your body. it feels like a form of ownership, and it's nearly arousing enough for round two. but finishing inside without protection is one entirely new experience for him, and one that sticks after he does it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

generally he goes for one round at a time, but he isn't shy to taking you more over the course of the day. just usually not in the same session. he finds he can't last as long for round two, and it bothers him if you don't get to finish together in the same method. him finishing during sex and eating you out is something he just doesn't feel is fair to you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

toys aren't really junho's style during sex. for the positions he likes, vibrators become difficult to use in a way that offers enough pleasure to warrant using them. but sometimes he has you in missionary, just to personally hold the vibrator to help you finish on him.

in foreplay, he's nearly strictly against it. only because he'll help you masturbate with the use of a vibrator when he's too tired for sex. in foreplay, he wants to personally build the connection between your bodies with his hands and mouth. but if you do ask, he won't always disagree.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he enjoys teasing. sensations are one of the primary methods. the pressure of his tongue dragging lighter and lighter across the side of your neck, before pulling away just to blow on the wet trail. kissing up your thigh, gradually letting his teeth brush, scrape, then bite at your skin. he understands how to build you up, and he takes advantage of it all the time. sometimes in casual touch. like after guiding you with a hand between your shoulder blade, he'll let the tip of his finger slide down the length of your spine. and when you look at him accusingly, he'll tilt his head. innocent raise of a brow, filthy pull of a smirk as his lips.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

junho likes the sound of skin slapping skin, and you will never have sex without hearing just how filthy your bodies sound when he's inside you. but in terms of his mouth, he's pretty vocal — not as much as he makes you, but it's there, always. grunts when you stroke him just right, low moans from the back of his throat when you have his head tilting back. when he's driving his hips into yours, his moans are louder, deeper, matching the rhythm he sets. and when he finishes, he's always chanting out an "oh baby, baby, babyyy,"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he has a thing for sexting.

in the beginning of your relationship, you'd quickly learn how restricting his career can be with the way it clashed with your own steady routine. late nights, shifts that should've ended so many hours ago that it was now the next day. it made dates a headache to pencil in, let alone ravish each other like you so desperately needed when everything was all so fresh and exciting. so you learned to compensate in other ways.

on nights where your beds were one person down, you'd exchange pictures from work bathrooms to heated bedrooms. an unbuttoned blouse from a stall, the flash of abs under a shirt in the mirror over the men's bathroom sink, an upskirt under the desk. all saved in folders and put to good use.

and later down the line, when your schedules continue to misalign in ways you'd grown used to, spoiling plans that ache between the legs, he always brings it back. slips into the bathroom at work to send you a video of him sliding up his shirt, and he'll save the video you send showing just how much you like it for when he finally decides to clock out.

and when he's home alone, he likes telling you how much he needs you. likes showing it, too. always ends with "look what you did to me." brings a hit of nostalgia, too, thinking of how badly he wanted to learn the secrets of the body you pictured for him all that time ago. the one whose secrets were now his to carry, too.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he's in the gym often, and it shows. broad shoulders, thick thighs, every muscle in his body swollen and carved to sculpture levels of perfection. and beneath those gym shorts or dark detective jeans, he's packing heat. above average, without bordering on inconvenient. girthy, straight not curved length, and exactly what every girl wants in a boyfriend. ego stroke if you compliment it. "yeah, baby?" he'll ask with a smirk as you spill compliments about it on your knees. "go on, show me how perfect it is."

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

medium-high. he doesn't need sex all day every day without fail, but likes a balance of once every day or two. if you ask or initiate, he very rarely turns you down. he's your provider in all matters sexual, and he will always deliver. don't leave him waiting for too long, though. he gets a little carried away when he's all pent up.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

typically only if you do first, or if he's neglected sleep lately. otherwise, he prefers laying together or shifting to another room to share each other's company. put on a film, cuddle on the couch, or talk over a hot drink if it's late. all to re-establish emotional intimacy. reassure you in his subtle, thoughtful way that he loves you beyond sex. but whenever he does fall asleep on a night where you've been intimate, it's never without a kiss and a long, meaningful embrace.

what i wouldn't give for one chance with this perfect fictional man. like, comment, reblog. love <3

read more bf!namgyu headcanons here! warnings: 18+, smut. a little bit ooc bc it's soft!namgyu but i love him so much a/n: so we are going to ignore the fact that i haven’t posted in so long right… 💔 college is way too fucking hard that i haven’t had time to even breathe but i did have time to write this 🙂‍↕️ also these were supposed to be way longer but oh well

p.s. now that i’m kind of (?) back, i def won’t be committing to all days of kinktober but if you guys have any freaky ideas drop them in my inbox and i’ll do my best to get to them 😛

sfw  ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 

• namgyu’s love language would be physical touch. at home, he loves to lay in your lap while you play with his hair, or just hold you in general. in public, it’s the small things— holding hands, intertwined pinkies, and a soft kiss on the cheek. (and he always teases you when your cheeks flush)

• he will definitely try to get clean for you, but will never show that he’s struggling. as long as you’re supportive and understood that recovery isn’t linear, he’s glad you’re by his side. small words of praise, like “i’m so proud of you,” and celebrating milestones, like one month clean, mean a lot to him (although he’s very nonchalant about it).

• a subtle gentleman!! and i will stand by this. he’ll open doors for you without a second thought and instinctively follow the sidewalk rule, hand always hovering on your lower back.

• namgyu loves domestic moments with you more than anything. slow weekend mornings where you cook breakfast together (although it’s usually just him cutting simple vegetables and following your instructions) are his favorites.

nsfw under cut  ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 

kang sae-byeok x f!reader

synopsis: you keep catching your girlfriend offsides during a match, and it sparks a heated moment after the game.

warnings: MDNI 18+ smut with plot. strap (r receiving). orgasm denial. angry sex/punishment elements. basic knowledge of soccer/football needed. sae-byeok is your opponent. established relationship. implied enemies to lovers. mature content.

authors note: i love my footballer!saebyeok

evening makes the sun hang low over the pitch, casting long shadows across the grass as you adjust your shin guards and glance down the field.

halftime is almost ending, and the score sits at 1-1.