synopsis 𝄢 You get a new boring office job but struggle to make friends there. One day you meet a guy named Dean and suddenly ask him to be your pretend boyfriend so you can fit in with the others at work better. 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋
content 𝄢 fake dating trope, hooking up mentioned, that’s it ♬⋆.˚
💬 𝄢 I just started watching the romance anime Wolf Girl and Black Prince so yes this is inspired by that. Also this is the first part to a series
You walked back to work with a cold milkshake in your hand. A perfect treat for you after your boss gave you a stressful time in the office. Though it didn’t cheer you up as much as you hoped. You still felt extremely sad. Why? Because when you left for your lunch break you saw a group of girls who work with you planning to go out to a restaurant right in front of you and you didn’t get an invite. You know you’re know to the job so of course everyone else is going to be more closer to each other than you but it still hurts to be left out. It feels like everyone is doing it on purpose too. You’ve tried to butt into conversations but they just give you a weird look and then ignore you. You just can’t wrap your head around why. Is it the way you talk? Do you sound too desperate? Or maybe it’s the way you dress. People don’t really see hyperfemininity as professionalism unfortunately.
You wondered how you could fit in better without changing yourself. You don’t want to change the way you act or dress just to be accepted. Maybe you just need to find something you have in common with some of your co workers. You think back on the group of girls making lunch plans in front of you. What’s something they talk about often? They usually talk about their boyfriends. Actually that’s kinda all they talk about. One problem: you don’t have one. Unless… You get a fake one. Your eyes brightened when the idea popped into your head. It was great! Not only could you make friends but it’s also one of the most popular tropes in rom com media. Meaning if you have one he might actually fall for you and you’ll get your happily ever after!
As the idea bounced around in your head it was suddenly interrupted when you accidentally crashed into a stranger spilling your drink all over him. Great, your sweet treat is gone now…
“Oh em gee, I’m so sorry!” You apologized quickly as you picked up your drink and the man’s phone off the floor.
“It’s fine…” He grumbled, wiping the liquid off his clothes.
You walked away from the man, wishing you got to talk to him more, but couldn’t because you had a destination to get to. He was pretty attractive though. Tall, plumped lips, pretty eyes, and when he was wiping his shirt you saw his bicep bulge out. He wasn’t even trying to flex either. You couldn’t help but do a double take just to see his face again. It’s not everyday you see a gorgeous man on the street.
The rest of your work day was boring as usual. People gossiping to each other about stuff you don’t know, typing until your fingers cramp up, and constantly hearing the paper shredder every 5 minutes. You hated it but it’s what paid the bills.
When you got back to your apartment you flicked on the light, whipped up some ramen, and sat in front of your tv. You flicked the tv on trying to find something to watch but then it suddenly shut off. “That’s weird…” You muttered to yourself. You got up to try to check if it somehow got unplugged or something but you couldn’t find anything. Everything looked okay to you. So why exactly is this happening? “Great, now I need to find some professional tv person who’s going to charge me my whole bank account!” You grunted annoyedly, smacking your hand against the screen.
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“You seriously think this is our kind of job?” Dean asked Sam who was skimming through papers.
“Man dies in his apartment then everyone else who moves in afterwards eventually moves out because they face unexplainable electricity issues. It’s probably a spirit.” Sam explained to his brother.
“Alright… Fine we’ll do it. Find out who’s currently living in his place.” Dean instructed boredly.
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
You have some electricians coming over today to not only help with the tv but also the light that started flickering randomly. You sat on your couch eating a nice sweet bowl of cereal. In comfy sweatpants and tank top, something you’ve been yearning to wear. Ever since you got a job it’s been so long since you wore something nice and cozy like this.
You heard some knocks on the door and hopped off the couch to the door. When you opened it you were met with two men, one of them flashing you a charming smile. Your eyes gazed at the smiley one for a little too long, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.
“Hello there, my names Dean and this is my brother Sam-” The man got interrupted by you speaking up.
“I know who you are!” You exclaimed louder than expected, pointing a finger at him.
“You do?” He looked extremely confused from your sudden finger pointing. He was thinking you were some chick he hooked up with and forgot about later.
“Well… Not really.” You said more quieter now, moving your hand back down to your side. “I just bumped into you like yesterday. Remember I spilled my drink on you.”
He perked up a bit when you reminded him of that memory. “Oh yeah I do remember that!”
Suddenly you got reminded of something too. The fake dating plan. And this guy, Dean, is the perfect candidate! Looks about your age, tall, handsome, and seems nice. You looked over at his fingers. Not a ring in sight. Great!
When they stepped inside your place you didn’t let Dean go that far into the apartment when you suddenly shouted out, “Wait!” They both turned over to face you.
“Dean I need to ask you something…” You said, scratching your head slightly. You felt a bit nervous asking him this. In your mind you were going to be smooth about it but now that it’s actually happening it’s much harder to say than expected.
“Yeah, what is it?” He asked back.
“Well… I can’t really ask you here.” You said timidly.
“Why not?” You didn’t answer his question. Instead just yanked him into a closet quite aggressively. Shutting the door right behind you leaving his brother Sam with utter confusion, wondering ‘what the hell just happened?’
“Woah there woman! Don’t get me wrong I’m flattered but I’m not that easy.” Dean chuckled, putting both his hands up clearly making a boundary.
“Wait what?”
“Do I gotta spell it out for you? I’m not hooking up with you in a closet. I don’t even know your name yet.” He explained. ‘This pervert!’ You thought to yourself, but you can’t blame him for thinking you’re trying to have sex with him. You forcing him into a closet maybe wasn’t the best approach.
“I’m not trying to hookup with you either!” You replied frustratedly. “Sorry for shoving you in here… I just have a proposal for you.” You said in a calmer tone.
“Alright let’s hear it…” Well he seems interested. Good enough.
“Okay so I need you to be my fake boyfriend!” You revealed the idea. From the way his brows furrowed you could tell he had mix opinions. “Alright let me explain. I work somewhere but nobody seems to get along with me. There are these group of girls at my job and they seem so cool! I’ve been trying to befriend them but it’s hard to talk to them cause we don’t have much in common. Something they talk about a lot is their boyfriends. So that lead me to the idea that I should get a fake one so I can talk about him with them and then they’ll be like, ‘we should go on a date with our boyfriends together!’ And I’ll be like ‘oh my gosh yes!’ And then I’ll have great friends!” When you finished explaining your plan you looked back up at him. He was staring at you like you’ve gone insane.
“You think it’s a terrible idea don’t you?”
“Not necessarily terrible… I can tell you put a lot of thought into it. I’m just confused about one thing.” He said shaking his head slightly.
“What is it?” You tilted your head. In your opinion you made yourself very clear.
“Why do you need a fake one? I know you already explained it but you’re a pretty attractive girl, many guys would love to be your actual boyfriend.” He said. Hearing him call you attractive made you feel bashful. You get compliments like that a lot but this one didn’t feel as empty for some reason.
“Well I don’t really enjoy dating…” You answered, not really wanting to explain why.
A few seconds of silence passed by before he finally said, “sure i’ll do it.” You jumped up and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug.
Spending the summer at your best friend’s coastal house was supposed to be about sun and relaxation—until a scorching, late-night affair with her impossibly handsome 45-year-old father turns a simple vacation into a dangerous game of secrets.
PAIRINGS | Choi Seungcheol x F. Reader
GENRE | smut, comedy, drama, fluff, angst in the next few parts
RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked
CONTENT/WARNINGS | non-idols au, best friend's dad, age gap, dilf!Cheol, swearing, kissing, caressing, female masturbation, sexy toy, protective sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, hair grabbing, body worship, dirty talk, praising, daddy kink, pet names
AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi and bye. working on a part 2 lmao
Seventeen Masterlist | Main Masterlist
"Hi baby girl," Choi Seungcheol's deep voice makes your body shiver but you know his greeting isn't towards you. He's hugging his daughter, your best friend since middle school, after not seeing her for a few weeks. The both of you have been stuck in your shared apartment pouring over books and finishing up assignments and projects for university.
"You look tired," he comments, pulling away from the hug and giving his daughter an inspecting look.
Jinmi whines at her dad's comment, "I am! You try finishing all your finals in one week, all while trying to prepare a portfolio, and dealing with someone as annoying as her," she teases, thumbing over at you.
"Excuse you!" You scoff at the comment but let out a small laugh at the same time. "You're the annoying one!"
Seungcheol just chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls you in for a hug too. He smells so good. His cologne is so intoxicating that you have to take a deep breath as he pulls away. He smiles down at you, a smile that makes your heart flutter every single damn time. "Good to see you too, Y/N. How's Jeonghan?" He asks, ruffling your hair, a habit he's had since you were a kid.
The ruffling of your hair has always been a friendly gesture from him. But it feels different now. Maybe it's because you're older, or maybe it's just because you're more aware of him now. You're more aware of how handsome he is, how good he smells, how his smile makes your heart beat a little faster.
"Dad's good," you manage to say, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "Still working too much as usual. He wanted to take a vacation and come along too but he couldn't get the days off work."
You had planned a two month long beach vacation with your best friend. A much-needed break from the stress of university life. Her dad, Seungcheol, owns a beautiful beach house that you would vacation in back when you were kids and he had offered up for the both of you two to use. The only catch? He'd be staying there too with Jongho, his son and Jinmi's twin brother. A vacation for you and Jinmi, but also a family vacation for them.
Jongho isn't the issue. As your best friend's twin, you would've expected him to be opposite of her in all respects, but boy were you wrong. Built like his father, with the same gorgeous eyes, and the same stupid charming smile and floofy black hair, he's equally as charming as well. Jinmi thinks you have the biggest crush on Jongho, because who wouldn't? But you two had tried being a couple years ago back in high school but agreed that you worked much better as friends. You never even told Jinmi that you dated because it wasn't really anything to talk about since it only lasted like a week before you got on each other's nerves.
The real issue is Choi Seungcheol. Your best friend's father. The man you've been crushing on since you were sixteen years old. The man who is now, at forty-five years old, even more handsome and charming than he was when you were a teenager. Your father, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol became friends when you and the twins started middle school. Being single fathers to children the same age had brought them together. Your mother had left when you were young, leaving your dad to raise you on his own. Seungcheol's wife had passed away shortly after the twins were born, leaving him to raise two children by himself. They bonded over their shared experiences, and their friendship had only grown stronger over the years. Their close bond had, in turn, made you and the twins grow incredibly close, and you had become a constant fixture in the Choi household.
That's how your crush on the Choi patriarch had started. You'd spend countless nights over at their house, and you'd see him walking around in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy, a cup of coffee in his hand. He'd always greet you with a warm smile, a ruffle of your hair, and a "How's my favorite girl?" (besides Jinmi, of course). You'd watch him interact with his kids, with your father, and you'd feel your heart swell with an emotion you couldn't quite name at the age of sixteen.
Now, at twenty-five, you can name that emotion. Desire. You desire him in ways that make you feel guilty, make you feel like you're betraying your best friend. But you can't help it. He's everything you found attractive in a man. Mature, responsible, kind, and so damn handsome. His salt-and-pepper hair only adds to his charm, making him look distinguished, experienced. His broad shoulders and muscular build, a result of years of working in construction, makes him look powerful, safe. His deep, rumbling voice makes your core clench every time you hear it.
So now, here you are, about to spend two months in close quarters with the man of your desires. Two months of seeing him in swim trunks, of possibly sharing meals, of watching him interact with his kids in a relaxed, vacation setting. It's both a dream come true and a nightmare. A dream because you'd get to see him in a different light, a nightmare because you aren't sure if you can control yourself around him.
You definitely can't control yourself in your dreams, that's for sure. Your sleep is plagued with images of him. Images of him pinning you against a wall, of his hands roaming your body, of his lips on yours, of him whispering dirty things in your ear. You can practically feel his thick, muscular thighs underneath you as you rode him, can hear him groaning in your ear and praising how good you feel around his cock. You can even feel his wide tongue gliding down your folds, sucking and licking up every single drop of you before pushing himself into your waiting hole. Your dreams left you sweating and hot, heart pounding in your chest and panties soaked. Yeah, this is going to be a real test of your sanity.
Yeah, there's no way you can tell your best friend that you're down bad for her dad. You have to keep your crush under wraps. For the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of your own sanity.
The car ride to the beach house is a three-hour stretch of highway that feels both infinitely long and agonizingly short. Seungcheol drives, one large hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console. You're in the passenger seat, a choice you now deeply regret. Every bump in the road, every shift of gears, has his arm brushing against yours, sending jolts of electricity through your body that has nothing to do with the car's static charge.
Jinmi and Jongho are in the back, in a world of their own. Jinmi is animated, chattering about everything and nothing, her hands flying as she recounts some dramatic story from her literature class. Jongho is quiet, nodding at the appropriate times, letting his sister take the floor and occasionally laughing at the absurdity of her story.
You try not to look over at Seungcheol. If the warmth of his bare arms against your skin has this effect, who knows what else will happen if you start looking.
Seungcheol engages with them, deep chuckles rumbling from his chest at Jinmi's dramatics. "You need to learn to pick your battles, kiddo," he says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. Then, he turns his attention to you. The shift in focus is palpable, like a spotlight has just been aimed directly at you. "You're quiet, Y/N. Tired from all that studying?" His gaze lingers on you for a second too long before returning to the road. You can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, a physical warmth.
"Just enjoying the peace," you manage, your voice a little too high. You turn your head to stare out the window, focusing on the blur of green trees and gray asphalt. "It's been a hectic few weeks."
"Hmm," he hums, a low sound that vibrates through the car, through you. "Well, you can relax now. No books, no deadlines. Just sun, sand, and the ocean."
And you, you think. Sun, sand, the ocean, and you. The thought is so dangerous, so tantalizing, you have to physically restrain yourself from squirming in your seat. You clasp your hands together in your lap, your nails digging into your palms. The leather of the seat feels cool against your bare thighs, a stark contrast to the heat building inside you.
The rest of the drive passes in a similar fashion. Snippets of conversation from the backseat, the low thrum of the engine, and the occasional, devastatingly casual question from Seungcheol. Each one is a test of your composure, a small probe that you have to parry with practiced nonchalance. By the time you turn off the main highway and onto a coastal road, bordered by wild grasses and weather-beaten fences, you feel like you've run a marathon.
The beach house appears suddenly, perched on a slight rise overlooking the sea. It's not a mansion, but it's substantial, all weathered gray wood and large glass windows that glint in the afternoon sun. It looks solid, welcoming, like it has stood there for a hundred years and will stand for a hundred more.
"Home sweet home," Seungcheol announces, killing the engine. The sudden silence is deafening, filled only by the distant cry of gulls and the rhythmic shush of the waves.
Everyone piles out of the car, stretching and groaning after the long journey. The salty air is a cool balm on your skin, and you take a deep breath, trying to use it to clear your head. It doesn't work. You can still smell the faint, clean scent of Seungcheol's cologne clinging to your clothes.
Jongho silently grabs their bags from the trunk, heading inside with a nod, while Jinmi bounces on the balls of her feet, her energy renewed. "Come on, I call dibs on the one with the balcony!"
"You and your balconies," Seungcheol says with a fond roll of his eyes, popping the trunk. He pulls out your suitcase, the one with the bright pink ribbon tied to the handle, a gift from Jinmi so you'd "stop losing your boring black luggage." His muscles flex under the thin fabric of his t-shirt as he heaves it out with an ease that makes your stomach do a flip. He sets it down on the gravel driveway, turning to you with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Let's get you settled in." He gestures for you to lead the way, but his presence is right behind you as you walk up the wooden steps to the porch. So close you can feel the warmth radiating from him, so close you could lean back a fraction of an inch and be pressed against his chest.
The inside of the house is even better than the outside. It's open and airy, decorated in shades of white and pale blue, with driftwood furniture and soft, comfortable-looking rugs scattered across polished wooden floors. The entire back wall is made of glass, offering a stunning, uninterrupted view of the ocean.
"It's beautiful," you breathe, stopping in the middle of the living room. "Can't believe you remodeled the beach house, Uncle. I haven't been here since I was a kid."
"Yeah," Seungcheol agrees, but he's not looking at the view. He's looking at you. His gaze is heavy, appraising. It lingers for a moment too long before he clears his throat and looks away, toward the hallway. "The rooms are down here. Jinmi and Jongho already know where they're going. You can take the one at the end of the hall."
He leads you down the hall, his footsteps echoing slightly on the wood floors. He stops at the last door on the right and pushes it open. The room is perfect. A queen-sized bed with a crisp white duvet, a small writing desk overlooking a small, private garden, and an open door leading to a pristine, tiled bathroom.
He carries your suitcase in and sets it down at the foot of the bed. "Is this okay?"
"It's more than okay," you say, a little too quickly. "It's amazing. Thank you, Uncle."
He flinches almost imperceptibly at the formal address. "Seungcheol," he corrects you, his voice lower than before. "We're on vacation. And you're not a kid anymore." The statement hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. He looks at you for another long moment, his eyes tracing the line of your jaw, the curve of your neck. Then, as if breaking a spell, he takes a step back, turning toward the door. "I'm right across from you if you need anything. Rest for awhile and I'll have one of the kids grab you for dinner."
He leaves, closing the door softly behind him. You're alone, but the room still feels full of him. You press your palms against your cheeks, and they're burning. You walk over to the window and look out at the garden, but all you can see is the reflection of your own flushed face, and the memory of the way he looked at you.
You begin pulling out stuff from your luggage. You start hanging up your clothes in the closet and setting a few of your bathroom necessities in the bathroom. As you're pulling stuff out and unpacking, something falls to the ground, hitting the wood floor with a dull thud.
You kneel down, picking up the sex toy you forgot you packed. You packed it on a whim. A couple rounds of alcohol in you and Jinmi a few weeks prior, and you had declared you'd pack it "in the case something happens," referring to the hypothetical beach babe you'll no doubt meet on the beach.
But that was way before you knew Seungcheol and Jongho would be joining you guys. You're glad you kept the toy. You'll need something to help take the edge off the constant lust you'll most definitely feel towards the older man. You lie in bed, the vibrating dildo in your hand, and you turn it on.
You take a few deep, steadying breaths. This is going to be a very long two months.
Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair as he closes his bedroom door behind him. "Fuck," he mutters, leaning against the wall and letting out a heavy sigh. He's fighting an internal battle with himself, a battle he knows he's already lost. He'd kept his distance, played it cool, pretended he hadn't noticed your tank top slipping down to reveal a sliver of cleavage as he brought in your suitcase.
"Fuck," he says again, closing his eyes and taking a long, slow breath. It doesn't help. His mind is filled with images of you in his house, in his arms, in his bed. Your voice, the delicate scent of your perfume, your goddamn long, shapely legs. "I'm so fucked."
He's never had thoughts about you when you were younger because he watched you grow up. He never thought about you, inappropriately, until now. Sure, you were a pretty girl growing up. He'll compliment you on your outfit or hair, which he finds help put a stop to Jinmi from teasing you so much about what you're wearing. But never anything beyond the limits of what a father should think of their daughter's best friend.
Now though, you're twenty-five. Old enough for him to notice and take notice. The same tank top that you thought was "modest" shows way too much of you, in his opinion. Far too much, which made the decision of carrying your luggage rather difficult to do.
He doesn't want to be the pervy old man checking out his daughter's best friend, his friend's daughter, but damn. Damn did he want to run his hands over those curves and kiss the tattoo-marked skin on your collarbone.
He stands up straight and takes another long breath in through his nose. "Pull yourself together, Cheol," he grumbles to himself. He has no right to think about you in any way that goes beyond friendly, parental concern. He should get his shit together and prepare dinner for his kids and you. They all needed some sort of meal after that long car ride.
He walks down to the kitchen and is greeted by Jinmi, already rummaging through the cupboards. She's clearly not finding much, judging by the growing frustration evident in her groans.
"Bagels," Seungcheol says, sliding open a small door on the side. "Mini frozen pizzas in the freezer, and canned soup here."
"Yes, dad! All I wanted! How did you guess? Did you get some telepathic message from my brain?" Jinmi bounces.
Seungcheol chuckles at his daughter and shakes his head. "I just know you."
"Mhm," Jinmi hums in a teasing manner, "or I left a grocery list, you finally followed it, and have stocked the cabinets the way a responsible human adult would do, and not with only one type of ramen flavor."
"Yeah, okay, you got me," Seungcheol huffs, unable to hide the proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Where's your brother? Is he up in his room?"
"He's in his room," she tells him, tossing a bagel into a bowl before heading towards the microwave. She preps her bowl, slamming the buttons aggressively until a beeping noise fills the silence.
Seungcheol leans back on the counter and folds his arms. He stares out the glass, looking at the view from their vantage point, looking over the top of the hills towards the ocean. The sky is fading to a light purple as the sun dips closer and closer to the horizon line. "Are you going out tonight?" he asks, turning to face her, one eyebrow slightly arched in a knowing expression. "With that new boy who's been texting you constantly?"
Jinmi pauses, almost embarrassed. But she isn't really embarrassed. More like, caught off-guard. She shoots her father a knowing, devilish grin before reaching out to open the microwave doors. "How'd you know? I haven't said anything to you!"
"Do you seriously think I haven't seen his name, 'Lee Chan' with a million emojis around it, constantly appear on your screen?" Seungcheol snorts. "Every time he texts, you make the biggest goo-goo face before texting back, or whatever it is you kids do. And you just smiled the other day, your eyes, squinty and everything, when you checked your phone," he teases, raising a challenging eyebrow as the bagel pops loudly in the background, interrupting the father-daughter conversation.
Jinmi clicks her tongue in feigned annoyance. "Shut up! It was only a smile! Whatever, yeah, fine! I'm going out tonight, not like I'll miss anything. He's cute. Maybe I'll get laid, see if I can make some seagull jealous when it sees us making out on the pier," she challenges, before looking at her watch and downing half her water bottle.
"What about your best friend that you're so, incredibly desperate to be with the entirety of this vacation?" Seungcheol immediately winces when he realizes that, as the words came out, he sounded way too invested.
"Y/N knows about him," she shrugs, already wrapping the bagel in a napkin and placing it in her mouth, readying herself to eat in one giant bite. "She knows we're going to meet up in town. It's fine, dad, we both talked about it when we planned this vacation. Because who knows, Y/N might hook up with a handsome stranger, too."
"Really? Well, that's just...fun."
"You're ruining the fun, dad. You and Jongho," she adds, not missing a beat. She places a finger over Seungcheol's lips, threateningly. "It was just supposed to be me and Y/N. Girl time, beach babe time, maybe hook up with hot locals time," she says, dragging her hands away from Seungcheol's face with a shrug. "But no, my dad and twin brother had to insert themselves into the girls' trip and now they've taken away the vibe."
"M-hm, go. Get going. Do whatever you want," Seungcheol rolls his eyes. Jinmi nods at him, pleased at having the final say and walks out the back patio door, not wanting to interrupt your sleep in her exuberance. He calls after her, "Don't get too drunk."
"I'm not planning to," she calls over her shoulder as she jumps over a low wall onto the beach, sand flying everywhere. She yells loudly over the roar of the sea, her voice growing fainter and fainter with each passing step she takes, "Bye, dad! Love you, have fun!"
Seungcheol shakes his head. Where did the time go? Just yesterday Jinmi was three, sitting on his shoulders and yanking on his hair. Now she's an adult, off on her own and living life the way she wants. It feels a bit weird, but his baby girl is becoming a woman before his eyes.
He pulls his phone out and shoots a text over to Jongho, wondering when his son is planning on leaving his cave to venture into the real world. Jongho's text comes back, surprisingly. His son doesn't waste time telling his father that he's planning on leaving shortly. He tells Seungcheol that he'll be meeting up with some friends at the local bar to play pool. Seungcheol asks about his plan of returning home that night. He lets his father know that he'll be late or crash at a friend's house. Seungcheol reminds his son of drinking responsibly and making sure he's back in the early morning and not tomorrow afternoon, like the previous year's vacation had entailed. Jongho assures him that everything would go smoothly, and promises to be home the following day, or call if his plans change.
Once he hears Jongho leave, the house is now empty. You must still be sleeping in your bedroom, after the long drive and all. But you definitely need to eat something, at least, while everyone's out. Seungcheol goes to your room to check on you. Your door is slightly ajar, he knows he closed it earlier. Maybe you had to grab something from Jinmi's room or something and forgot to close your door. When he peers inside, a delicious sight meets his hungry gaze.
There you are, naked now, your head thrown back in the throes of pleasure, his name tumbling from your parted lips as one hand clutches the sheets. The other is pressing a vibrating dildo to your glistening cunt. You moan and mewl, eyes clenched shut, not yet aware of Seungcheol watching you, as the dildo finds that magical spot that only he should.
Fuck, he shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be staring. Definitely shouldn't be growing painfully hard at the sight of your delicious tits bouncing, your pussy leaking, as he's sure you imagine it being him pounding into your wet cunt. But he can't turn away. Can't resist watching you cry out for him, your whole body arching as you desperately beg for him.
And fuck, he wants you too.
"So that's what you think of me, huh?" He growls. He knows it's not a good idea to sneak up on you like this. You startle so suddenly, causing the toy to fall out of your wet pussy. You immediately slam your legs together, your face a mixture of shock and embarrassment, the object slipping off the side of the bed, but not before revealing how juicy and creamy your core is.
"H-how long-" you breathe, clenching the sheets against your exposed chest.
"Long enough," Seungcheol replies, the deep timbre of his voice resonating inside you and spurring on another wave of arousal.
"I-I'm so sorry…"
"Why do you need to be sorry?" he interrupts. He walks over, looming large and imposing in your bedroom. For a moment, neither of you move, neither of you breath. He picks up the fallen toy, not breaking eye contact with you. "Don't know how a good girl like you got hold of such a naughty toy," he muses. He drags his eyes slowly down your body, taking in the sight of your thighs pressed tightly together. "How long have you been thinking about me, Y/N?"
"For awhile..." you admit, your cheeks flushing. "I didn't want you to find out this way, that I want you."
"I don't mind," Seungcheol rumbles, a devious look in his eye. "In fact, I like it."
Seungcheol moves quickly, his large hand pulling the bed sheets down and exposing your naked form. You yelp in surprise and try to cover yourself but the sight of his stern frown makes your hands stop.
"Uncle—"
"That's not what you were screaming a few moments ago." His hand travels up your soft thighs, and he revels the little shivers and goosebumps you get in his touch. "No more uncle. Tonight, you're gonna call me daddy."
"Yes, daddy," you whimper, bucking your hips forward, hungry for his touch, your mouth curving into a smile.
"That's my girl." Seungcheol smirks. "Come over here and help daddy out." His fingers grasp the hem of his white shirt and pulls it off, throwing it behind him somewhere on the floor. "Take care of your daddy."
With shaky fingers, you crawl forward on your hands and knees toward the foot of the bed, where the man that's tormented your dreams and fantasies for months stands. You reach for the band of his sweatpants and lower them slowly to reveal his raging cock. A thick bead of precum beads on his tip. Seungcheol stands still and allows you to take over, as the power imbalance was never the problem, the only problem is how much both of you needed the other. He closes his eyes, groaning in ecstasy and finally succumbing to the sensation of you slowly running your tongue down his shaft.
"Good girl," he praises.
You hum in approval, looking up and catching his lust-filled gaze. His eyes darken, watching as you begin taking him into your mouth. He sighs a long, deep moan of pleasure and gently strokes your hair as you bob your head over his dick, your warm and wet mouth enveloping his rock-hard cock, his eyes train on you the entire time.
He cups your face and pushes himself all the way in your mouth, allowing you to take him all the way down, which you did. You hold it for a few seconds and allow him to pull away as you inhale the air you need so badly. Saliva drips from the corner of your lips, dribbling down your jaw and between your tits.
He grabs the back of your head and gently begins thrusting himself inside your mouth. "That's a good girl," Seungcheol breathes, cradling your face with his rough palms and encouraging your movements, "show daddy how much you want this cock."
Seungcheol swallows harshly when he see how his words make your eyes glisten with tears, a streak of saliva down the sides of your face and neck and dripping down your bare tits and belly. The lewd, slick noises, coming from between your mouth and his cock, made his eyes roll. "G-good g-girl," he praises as he bites his bottom lip and forces himself to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss the view as his cock disappears into your sweet, little mouth over and over. "Suck my cock, good fucking girl."
You fondle his heavy balls in one hand, as you maintain steady strokes up and down his thick length, your spit making the slide of your lips so obscenely loud. "Daddy," you breathe, continuing to stroke him while keeping eye contact and fluttering your eyelashes seductively, "do you like it when I swallow your big, fat cock?"
Seungcheol looks over and gives you a very sexy grin before whispering, "Open your mouth, doll. I'm gonna feed you." You're quick to comply, your lips parting and tongue extending ever so slightly out. He groans softly at the sight, moving his hand faster as his hips start to thrust forward, trying to increase the amount of friction. "Open wide, baby girl. Swallow all of your daddy's milk, okay?" You moan your consent, continuing to suck him, hoping he doesn't have any longer to hold off and release, wanting to see and taste him cum.
"And after that, we're gonna get to the fun part, where daddy gives my favorite girl a new toy to play with," he snarls as the first jet of thick cream hit your lips. You let out a sharp, desperate whine at his promise and grip his thighs, using them to brace yourself for his warm liquid. "Now swallow every last drop," he whispers, running his fingers through your hair lovingly.
You do as you're told, making sure your tongue doesn't miss a drop, his tip still nestled snugly in your mouth. His cum is thick and creamy, with just the right amount of saltiness mixed with sweetness, a perfect combination that was utterly delicious.
He slips out of you with a slight pop, giving you a quick pat on the head and grinning happily as he watches you stick your cum covered finger in your mouth, tasting every inch of him on your tongue. "Go lie down, baby," he said in a thick voice, already helping you back onto the mattress, his palms kneading your ass and coaxing out a few giggles of happiness. "God damn, your ass," he groans as he looks at the soft curves of your body, "it's beautiful. Makes me want to absolutely destroy it."
You felt your breathing getting shallow and fast with anticipation as you see him getting off the bed to grab something in his wallet, before returning and holding the condom for you to see. "As much as I want to fuck you raw and give you the fucking you deserve," he explained, ripping the top of the foil, "we have to be responsible. Got it, baby girl?"
"Yes, daddy."
The whole time he rolls the condom down his cock and grips the base tightly, his gaze never leaves you, looking like a god, standing naked, unashamed and glorious as he looks at his little plaything and fantasies begin to come true. Seungcheol grabs your dildo, placing it beside his cock, he moans a little at the size comparison and slides the toy along your wet, drooling slit.
"Hate to say this," he watches as you push your body up the bed when the dildo glides effortlessly and sinks deeply inside you with ease, your pink folds closing around the silicone, "but good choice on your part, baby girl. But after my cock? None of these will satisfy you."
You whimper from the praise and the fullness of your toy. Your juices are flowing, spilling around the toy and sliding down the sheets as he pumps the silicone length into you with a squelch. His eyes drink the sight of you, moaning as your fists ball the sheets tighter. He throws the dildo on the other side of the bed.
"Turn around."
You're so, lost in the intense, feeling and sensation, but the voice is demanding and you obey. On your hands and knees, your chest laying flat and ass sticking up in the air. He lines the head of his cock against you. Without hesitation he sinks his throbbing head all the way in, eliciting a whine from you. You're tight, delicious, and he doesn't know how long he'll last after all the tension that's built up.
"Shhh, baby," he hisses, pushing in more of himself, feeling your walls sucking him in deeper and deeper. "Does my good girl love her daddy's fat cock?"
He's big, bigger than your dildo and so, unbelievably real. You grip the pillow in front of you as he pushes all the way inside and fill you in a way that not even your sex toys can satisfy. "Y-yes, I love it," you manage, gritting your teeth as you struggle to cope with the sudden feeling of being completely full. It hurts so good.
"Yeah you do," Seungcheol leans to hover on top of you, and kisses your earlobe as he rocks his hips to test your limits, "but do you love it more than that toy, baby? Do you feel fuller?" You mewl and push back to meet his thrusts, desperate for more. "Tell daddy. What feels better? Tell me which big, thick cock, you prefer."
"Your cock, daddy! Fuck! So fucking good..." you trail off, burying your head further into the mattress and crying out when the older man grips your hips to slam your backside more firmly against him as he pumps you in an achingly slow, delicious tempo.
The older man groans in pleasure, savoring how hot and wet you are as his dick slides smoothly and effortlessly within you. "Oh yeah, you like that, huh, baby?" He gasps, leaning closer until he can kiss the top of your back. "You want more? I can hear it in those filthy words falling from your pretty lips. Come on, don't hold back baby, tell daddy how bad you want my cock."
Seungcheol doesn't take a break, not slowing as his muscles start to burn. You're begging for him to move. Your request is granted when a needy whine escapes your throat as your hole tightens around the older man's pulsing member. "What is it, baby girl? Say it loud and clear. Do you want me to fuck that sweet pussy?"
"Mmm... daddy, please," you whimper as you try to angle your hips just right for the best possible access and ride, Seungcheol knows exactly what you're asking for, his desire building even more to fuck you the way a daddy should fuck his naughty, little girl.
You bite your lip as you feel his hand slide under you to toy with your clit. "Such a desperate slut you are," he says as he pins your small hand onto the bed with the other. "Taking my dick, rubbing yourself like the horny brat you are." You're whining now as Seungcheol begins thrusting his hips forward. "Come on, baby girl, come on daddy's cock," he murmurs. "Such a pretty little cock slut." His hips begin to buck erratically. "Be a good girl and cum for me, huh? Make daddy happy," the older man groans in between thrusts. He can feel himself growing impossibly harder at the way you clench his shaft with every word, every promise and whisper.
His finger is mercilessly playing with your sensitive bundle of nerves, circling and brushing it against his cock. The mix of sensations are overwhelming, the wetness and his thick length rubbing against every nerve, has you already ready to burst, but he won't stop. It's a drug he can't stop craving.
"Cum for me."
"F-fuck!" You scream, losing control as you grip the pillow for dear life, Seungcheol's rocking forcing the air out of your lungs and leaving you breathless as the older man continues to push his way deeper inside you. He pounds hard and relentlessly, with the confidence and ego to match, with no fear that he'll ever hurt you. "Fuck, fuck," you whine.
"Yeah baby girl. Daddy's got you," he reassures you, chasing his own high and nearly purrs at the delicious clench and fluttering of your pussy around his length. "Good girl," Seungcheol commends as you shake in a toe curling climax. It isn't long until he releases himself in the condom with a groan.
It takes the two of you a minute to catch your breaths before Seungcheol slowly pulls out. You watch as he pulls off the condom, tying it shut before he settles back into bed.
"Did I hurt you?" Seungcheol asks, lightly running his fingertips up and down your arm and pressing soft, delicate kisses against your neck and jawline, as if to coax the answer out of you. You feel his heart rate slow, beating rapidly against your back in sync with the pulsing of his hot, cumming member.
You hum and turn to face him. "No, it's just..." you look up at him nervously, his deep-set eyes glossy and glazed over, like melted chocolate.
Seungcheol starts to look nervous. "It's just what?"
"This changes things, doesn't it?" you ask softly, afraid to hear his response and he stops breathing for a moment. "We'll never be the same."
"Not unless you want things to be the same, Y/N," Seungcheol cautions. The gentle giant carefully lifts his arm to allow you to slip beneath the cozy cover of his strong embrace. He intertwines his calloused, working man fingers, with yours and wraps his large body, around you as you snuggle against his solid chest, drawing on the security you needed in his arms. "Or am I misinterpreting this?"
"I've never done this. Fucked my best friend's dad."
"I've never wanted my best friend's daughter before. Kind of a surprise for me too." You rest your chin on his chest to look up at him through half-lidded eyes, the familiar warmth of sleep about to whisk you away, content that, for the next two weeks, the man holding you isn't going to let you go, no matter the circumstances or repercussions.
Seungcheol settles under your familiar touch and looks at you with a soft smile, and a twinkle of delight. He leans in and kisses you chastely before snuggling, pressing a kiss on your hair. "Rest, baby. I promise we'll talk about this later. Together."
You wake up in the middle of the night to your phone vibrating insistently. Blearily you pick up your phone and answer without looking. You shouldn't have answered since you were in the middle of such a great sleep, and you wanted your warm body next to you.
"H-hello?" you yawn.
"My precious daughter!" You hear your father cry through the other line.
"Daddy?" You're bit more awake now that you hear your father's voice on the other line.
Jeonghan heaves a heavy sigh and you hear some background voices calling to your dad, making sure everything is all right. "Are you at the beach house already? I tried calling Cheol but he didn't answer. Maybe he fell asleep in the other room."
At the mention of the name of the man beside you, your cheeks burn brightly. He's sleeping naked with his arms under the pillow, exposing his strong, toned body. As if he hear his name, he sleepily reaches around until his hand meets your body and he's pulling you into his arms. You yelp softly as your father hears the noise.
"Everything okay, darling?"
"Yeah, of course daddy," you grin and nuzzled the back of your head against his muscled chest. "Just tired since it's like 2am."
"Oh my bad," your father said. "I thought you would be raging all night with Jinmi, Jongho and whatever folks you were planning to meet for the night. Sorry for waking you."
You shook your head even though he couldn't see it. "I was tired. Didn't really want to stay out that late, it was honestly a nice night by myself."
Seungcheol wakes behind you. Not fully, just enough that you feel the pressure of him sliding his large, warm body around you so you are enveloped in his arms. And his hot, naked erection slides along the seam of your ass.
"Did you need anything, Daddy?" You shiver a little, whispering the last word softly and noticing the slight tension in the man holding you and the slight stir. You hear him inhale sharply. You turn your head, lifting a sleepy gaze at Seungcheol. His eyes are still closed, although the slight smirk on his lips is there. Did he realize who you're speaking with?
"Oh yeah!" Jeonghan snaps. "I actually managed to get a few days off and I'm heading up there as soon as I can. Probably be there sometime tomorrow afternoon. Wanted to be a part of that old beach house gang! Can you tell Cheol? The dude needs to pick up his damn phone."
You pressed the mute button quickly and look up at the man cradling you, eyes wide.
Seungcheol shifts, rising slightly onto his elbow, his eyelids heavy with fatigue and a boyish glint, as he gazes down at you. "Yes, doll?" he says in that voice that sends tingles straight to your core.
"Seungcheol...my dad is coming to the beach house."
Written for A Midsummer Carat’s Dream collab by @studiosvt
Pairing: SlightlyCriminal!Soonyoung x FBestFriend!Reader
Genre: Idiots to lovers, Hoshi is mildly involved in some criminal activities, both reader and Hoshi are #clueless, crack, fluff, mild angst, smut
Summary: Kwon Soonyoung has been in love with you since he could remember. He believed in soulmates simply because of you. Now, as an adult whose career choice is certainly less than legal, he’s made it his life’s mission to provide you with every possible convenience just to say he loves you. You, on the other hand, are completely clueless to both his feelings and his job. What could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: 18+ MINORS GO AWAY, criminal activities, some drinking, mentions of drugs, Hoshi is #downbad, literal crack fic I’m not sorry, eventual smut
(Smut warnings below the cut)
Smut Warnings: Sex but sloppy style, whining Hoshi, he’s so vocal I can’t, so much cum, sweaty sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), sloppy kisses, body worship (come on we love a man who knows his place), just whatever nasty smut my brain can think of bc I’ll probably come back later and edit the tags since this is just a promo
Summary: The cruelest hunger is not the one that cannot be fed, but the one only a single soul can satisfy.
Warnings: incubus!seungcheol x f.reader, mentions of other partners,teasing,smut! MDNI!, slight power imbalance dynamics, some degrading language, edging/orgasm denial, he’s a bit of an emotionally unavailable asshole who’s very self-aware about it, mild possessiveness/jealousy, dubcon, as usual i might be missing some things
W.C: 5.3k
A.N: This is loosely inspired by a bunch of my favorite supernatural tv shows mainly TVD/The Originals, Charmed, Angel, Buffy when it comes to some of the characters
By ten o’clock, the fraternity house had reached its usual state of controlled chaos. Music bled from every room, competing with laughter and shouted conversations that carried over the bass. Someone had enchanted the lights to pulse in time with the beat, bathing the living room in shifting blues and purples, the kind of cheap party charm that always burned out by midnight and left half the ceiling dark. A pair of witches argued over a card game at the kitchen island, slapping hexed tarot cards down like poker chips. Mingyu stood beside the refrigerator, arms crossed, complaining—not for the first time—that someone had stolen his labeled blood bags again, as if a Sharpie and a strip of masking tape had ever stopped a single person in this house.
No one paid much attention, it happened every other weekend or so. Someone in the backyard shifted halfway into a wolf before immediately being shoved back behind the fence by his friends, all elbows and panic.
“Not again, Intak!”
“It was an accident!”
“Bullshit!”
The party carried on as if nothing had happened because it hadn’t, not really. Supernaturals had been attending Sopro University for almost two centuries, ever since the founding charter quietly amended itself to admit “students of exceptional and varied nature,” which was as close to an honest sentence as any university document had ever produced.
By now, a partially transformed werewolf on the back lawn ranked somewhere below a spilled keg on the list of things worth interrupting a conversation for. Leaning against the arm of an old leather couch that had survived at least three generations of pledges, he watched the room through half-lidded eyes.
There was always a rhythm to parties.
Excitement, Alcohol, Magic and Desire.
Every emotion had its own texture if you knew how to taste it, its own particular weight settling against the back of your throat. Most people walked through a crowded room and felt only the noise. He walked through and felt the room itself, each cluster of bodies its own small climate, distinct enough to name blindfolded.
Fear tasted metallic, a coin held too long on the tongue. Jealousy was sharp, citrus gone sour. Pride was warm and heavy, like standing too close to a fire. Lust, when it came, didn’t have a taste so much as a pull. It didn’t sit on the tongue more so it moved through the room like perfume drifting from an open door and it found him whether he was looking for it or not.
Tonight, it found him early and it found him easy. Someone settled onto the arm of the couch beside him, the leather creaking under new weight, a glass of something sugary-sweet balanced between two fingers.
“I was wondering when you’d finally notice me.” He looked up and there she was, conventionally pretty, confident. A second-year witch, if he remembered correctly, dark curls pinned back on one side, a green dress that had clearly been chosen with tonight in mind rather than comfort. She’d spent the better part of an hour finding reasons to wander into his line of sight; refilling a drink she hadn’t finished, laughing a half-beat too loud at a joke two feet from where he stood and angling herself so the light from the kitchen caught her jaw just right. He’d clocked it twenty minutes ago and let her work for it anyway. It was only polite.
“I noticed.” He replied playing up the glamour.
“You gonna do something about it?”
One corner of his mouth lifted, unhurried. “Depends.”
She laughed. “There he is.”
“There who is?”
“The guy everyone keeps warning me about.”
He sighed, dramatic, a hand pressed briefly to his chest like she’d wounded him. “They really need new material.”
“So it’s not true?”
“Depends on what part you’re talking about?”
She leaned closer, close enough that he could count the shimmer of glitter someone had charmed into her eyeshadow. “That you’re trouble.”
“I think that’s subjective.”
She rolled her eyes but she didn’t move back. “You flirt like you rehearsed it.”
“I don’t rehearse.”
“No?”
“It comes naturally.”
“You say that to everyone?”
“I don’t have to.”
She laughed again, something easy, bright and unguarded in the particular way of someone who’d already decided how her night was going to end and was simply enjoying the walk there. The emotion unfurled around her, warm enough that he could almost feel it settle against his skin like sun through a window.
Almost.
Not yet, it never quite landed the way it was supposed to. It hovered just out of reach, close enough to smell and too thin to actually hold onto and he’d long since stopped letting that show on his face. Across the room, movement caught his attention anyway, the way it always did. A familiar figure stood near the dining table, balancing a plastic cup in one hand while half-listening to someone recount a story that required far more hand gestures than the story warranted. You weren’t the loudest person in the room, you never were. People simply gathered around you anyway, drawn in without seeming to notice they’d been drawn, the way moths don’t notice the specific moment they start circling.
Someone bumped your shoulder, one too many drinks into the night to apologize properly. You nudged them back without even glancing over, more reflex than annoyance. Another student tried—and failed—to steal the chips you’d claimed and set possessively on the table in front of you. Without missing a beat in your own conversation, you smacked his hand away and the guy retreated looking genuinely wounded, like he hadn’t seen it coming despite it being, statistically, the single most predictable outcome of the night, at least to him anyways.
He knew how long he spent looking at you, counted them and then looked back at the woman beside him.
“You’re distracted.”
“Hm?” He hums lightly.
“The party’s over here.” She replies shifting just a bit closer to him.
“My mistake.”
“It better be.”
He smiled, easy and practiced, the kind of smile that had gotten him out of more trouble than it had ever gotten him into. “No one’s ever accused me of having good attention.”
“Really?”
“Frequently.”
She leaned forward and hooked a finger through one of his belt loops, tugging just enough to make her point without needing words for it.
“So…”
“So?”
“You gonna kiss me or keep talking?”
He looked at her for a moment—just a moment, just long enough that if she’d been paying closer attention she might have noticed it wasn’t quite the look of a man who’d already made up his mind—before standing.
“Come on.” Her smile answered for her, and she slid off the arm of the couch and followed him toward the stairs, already reaching for his hand.
He led her up the stairs, past the second-floor landing where the music still thrummed through the floorboards like a second heartbeat. She kept her fingers laced through his, her pulse already quickening against his skin. He didn’t take her to any of the bedrooms, those were off limits unless you lived in the house or you were dating one of the members, for the few fragile hours when the house pretended to be ordinary. Feeding required distance, control and privacy that only the upper ranks of the house truly understood.
At the far end of the third-floor corridor, behind a heavy oak panel carved with the fraternity’s original crest, was the hidden room. Only seniors and a handful of trusted pack members knew the charm to open it, the right combination of pressure and whispered intent. To everyone else it was just another stretch of wall. The door slid open soundlessly at his touch, revealing a low-lit space that felt more like a secret lounge than a closet; deep leather seating built into one wall, heavy velvet drapes, a single antique mirror and enough enchanted wards to muffle every sound. The air carried the faint trace of old incense and power.
The lock sealed behind them with a soft, final click. A few witch-light orbs drifted overhead, casting a warm, intimate amber glow. She turned toward him immediately, eager, already rising onto her toes to chase his mouth. He lets her have a kiss—slow, controlled, the kind that promised everything and delivered nothing. When she tried to deepen it, he pulled back just enough to speak against her lips.
“Greedy tonight.”
Her responding laugh was breathless. “You started it.”
He guided her backward until her legs met the edge of the wide leather bench and she sank onto it willingly, tugging him with her. The green dress rode high on her thighs as she parted them for him to settle inbetween—one knee braced beside her, the other foot still planted on the floor—close enough for heat but not close enough for mercy.
Her hands moved fast, sliding down his chest, tracing his belt before cupping the growing bulge in his jeans. She stroked him with confident, hungry pressure, palm rubbing firmly over the hard line of him, thumb teasing the ridge. He let her feel how much her touch affected him physically, but he gave nothing back except the steady weight of his gaze.
He fed.
The first curling threads of lust rose off her like warm smoke—sweet, heady, shimmering with the belief that this was mutual. He drew it in slowly, letting it coil in the hollow of his chest, never enough, never real but delicious, nonetheless. She squeezed him harder, stroking with clear expectation which he answered by sliding one firm thigh between her legs, pressing the muscle right against her heated core through the thin barrier of her panties. She gasped, hips rolling instinctively.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and edged with mockery. “Use my thigh like a desperate little slut. You haven’t earned anything more.”
Her eyes widened, then darkened with unmistakable arousal. She liked the bite. She rocked against him again, grinding down with deliberate friction, her hand still working his cock through his jeans in tight, needy strokes. He rocked his thigh up to meet one particularly needy roll, then went still.
She whined, a desperate little sound from the back of her throat as her hips bucked up towards him.
“Problem?” he asked, brushing a curl from her flushed cheek with false gentleness. “You think you deserve my cock after twenty minutes of batting your lashes downstairs? You haven’t worked for it at all.”
She shook her head, then nodded frantically, hips moving faster. The lust pouring from her thickened, shot through with sharp, delicious frustration. He drank it greedily, letting the power warm his veins while his expression stayed cool. He built her up slowly; small, controlled shifts of his thigh that gave her just enough pressure to climb, watching her mouth fall open as her breathing turned ragged. When her thighs started to tremble and her strokes on him grew erratic, he pulled back just enough to deny her.
“Not yet.”
“Please—” she gasped, chasing his leg.
“Please what?” He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “You want to come? You think you’ve earned it?”
He edged her twice more like that—bringing her right to the shaking, whimpering edge with the firm pressure of his thigh and the low, cruel words in her ear and then stopping cold each time. Each denial made her lust spike brighter, richer, more desperate. She was begging properly by the third climb, voice breaking.
“P-please, I’ll do anything—please let me come, I need it—”
Only then did he finally give it to her. He pressed his thigh up hard and held it there, rocking in tight, relentless little movements while she ground down frantically. When she shattered—thighs clamping around his leg, a broken, keening moan spilling from her throat—he drank down the bright, explosive surge of her release like cool water after a drought. The feeding flooded through him, warm and heady, filling the hollow for a few precious seconds.
He held her through the aftershocks, one hand steady at the small of her back, letting her tremble against him. Her hand had gone slack on his still-hard cock, still trapped behind denim. When her breathing finally slowed, he eased back and gently removed her fingers.
“Good girl,” he said, the praise laced with cool amusement. “You begged so prettily, maybe next time you’ll actually earn my cock.”
She blinked up at him, dazed, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with satisfaction and lingering want. He brushed his thumb across her swollen lower lip, almost fondly, then made himself comfortable on the couch. “Fix your dress before you go back down. Wouldn’t want everyone knowing what kinda fun you got up to.”
He sat there on the leather couch and watched her flushed and already craving more expression while she fixed herself up before she slipped back into the hallway. The feeding hummed under his skin, pleasant but already thinning.
When he came back down twenty minutes later, the party hadn’t changed. That was the strange mercy of a house like this—time moved differently upstairs than it did in the living room but the living room never seemed to notice the gap. Someone had started karaoke. Badly. A werewolf pledge was murdering an old pop song with more enthusiasm than pitch and a small crowd had gathered less to appreciate the performance than to film it for later blackmail purposes.
A gargoyle had somehow ended up asleep on the pool table, stone-still in the literal sense, one wing draped over the eight ball like a blanket. His friends were crowded around the television arguing over a football game none of them actually cared about, the kind of argument that existed purely to have something to yell about.
He accepted a beer someone handed him out of habit, but he didn’t drink it, just held the cold of the can against his palm and let the noise of the room wash over him while he took stock. The warmth settling beneath his ribs should have been enough, but it wasn’t. Barely a flicker, a single match struck in a room built for a bonfire. He’d felt more from a genuinely good song than he had from twenty minutes upstairs, and that fact alone told him more than he wanted to know about how the rest of the week was going to go.
His expression didn’t change. It never did given that he’d had a long time to practice that particular kind of stillness. He’d learned a long time ago not to expect more.
“You disappear a lot.” Chan, one of his fraternity brothers dropped onto the couch beside him, sprawling the way only someone with nothing left to prove could sprawl.
“I come back.”
“Fair.” Silence settled between them for a moment, comfortable in the specific way built over years of living in the same house, eating the same terrible late-night food, covering for each other’s worst mornings.
“You look disappointed.”
“I’m thinking.” He responds.
“Dangerous.” The younger man grins before taking a sip of his drink.
“It usually is.”
Chan laughed, low and easy. “Someone reject you?”
“No.”
“Worse?”
“…maybe.” He left it at that because there was no good way to explain it that rejection would have been simpler, in a way. Rejection had a shape you could brace against but this was something else entirely, something with no edges to hold onto and there wasn’t a version of the explanation that didn’t end with someone looking at him like he’d grown a second head.
I fed, I should feel full but I don’t. It’s not her fault…it’s never anyone’s fault but no one would understand, so he didn’t try. He finally set the untouched beer down on the side table, condensation already pooling beneath it and let the noise of the room fill the silence where an explanation should have gone.
Monday mornings were universally terrible, a fact that transcended species, ancestry and however many centuries a person had walked the earth. The lecture hall buzzed with low conversation as students shuffled through the doors carrying coffee, notebooks and varying degrees of regret. Somewhere near the back, a witch was very obviously nursing a hangover cure that smelled faintly of burnt sage and orange peel and not doing a particularly convincing job of hiding it.
He claimed his usual seat halfway up the auditorium, the same seat he’d had since the first week of the semester, close enough to look attentive and far enough back that no one expected him to answer questions. Two rows behind him, someone whispered loudly enough for half the room to hear. That was the thing about a campus this size, nothing stayed contained, least of all gossip.
“Didn’t you leave with him Saturday?” He hears but doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t need to because he knows he’s who they’re talking about and who they’re interrogating given that he had only disappeared with one person last Saturday night.
“Who?” Comes a soft voice, trying to sound coy.
“The incubus from Sector 17.”
“Oh, uh…nothing happened. We just talked.”
A pause, the kind that always came loaded with more judgment than the words themselves.
“Wonder how long that lasted, Choi Seungcheol doesn’t do talking.”
He ignored them. He’d gotten good at that, too; filing the comments away in some back room of his mind where they could sit alongside all the others and gather dust, undisturbed, uncounted. The professor arrived precisely on time—the same rigid punctuality every Monday—as if daring the room to be late and give her a reason to make an example of someone.
Attendance, announcements an the beginning of another lecture that would blur within the hour, into every other lecture he’d sat through that semester. He copied notes without really seeing them, pen moving on some kind of muscle memory while the rest of his attention drifted somewhere just outside the room, then it came. A dull ache beneath his ribs—small, familiar—the kind of ache that started as background noise and only grew louder the longer it went ignored.
He straightened almost imperceptibly, shoulders squaring on instinct, not now. The feeling lingered anyway, indifferent to his schedule, the way it always was. His father’s voice surfaced from memory with infuriating clarity, uninvited, the way it always managed to arrive exactly when he had the least patience for it.
An incubus who cannot govern his appetite has already lost the battle.
He kept writing, pen moving steady across the page even as the words on it stopped meaning anything.
Control is discipline.
The ache sharpened, a slow twist just under the sternum.
Need is weakness.
His pen snapped, the sound echoed louder than it should have in a lecture hall of almost a hundred people, a small crack that felt enormous in the half-second before conversation swallowed it back up. Several students looked over, more curious than concerned.
“…Sorry,” he muttered, setting the broken halves down and reaching for another pen from his bag like this happened to him all the time. It did, more than he’d ever admit out loud.
The professor continued talking, entirely unbothered and no one asked questions. He spent the rest of the lecture with his jaw tight and his hand steady around a fresh pen, counting down the minutes, doing the math he always did on days like this—how long he could reasonably last, how long he should have to last and how wide the gap between those numbers had already grown by nine in the morning.
The fraternity house was unusually quiet by midnight, the kind of quiet that only ever settled in after a weekend loud enough to earn it. Most of the others had gone to bed hours ago. Someone had left a pizza box open on the kitchen counter, one sad slice curling at the edges inside it. Vernon was asleep on the couch downstairs with a documentary still playing, the narrator's voice droning on about deep-sea creatures.
He tried reading, it didn't work, he’d read the same paragraph, four times, none of it landing. Tried watching television, that didn't work either; he made it through half an episode of something he couldn't have named five minutes later. By one-thirty, he'd walked the length of the upstairs hallway enough times that Minghao cracked open his bedroom door, hair sleep-flattened on one side, squinting into the hall like a man personally offended by consciousness.
"Hyung." He calls rubbing his eyes.
"What?"
"Either commit to the haunting or go to sleep."
"I'm fine."
"You've paced up and down the hall at least five times already."
"I'm still fine."
The door closed, unconvinced and his Minghao’s footsteps retreated back toward his bed with the particular grumbling of someone who'd get over it by morning and probably not remember the conversation at all. He stood in the hallway a moment longer, then gave up the pretense of pacing and went back to his room. He looked at his phone, the screen was too bright in the dark and he squinted against it out of habit rather than necessity.
He could call someone else. There were names, numbers; people who would answer and wouldn't ask questions, those who'd assume exactly what they were meant to assume and be more than happy to help with it. That was usually the easiest math to do at one-thirty in the morning but tonight it wasn't.
He stared at the screen for a long moment before scrolling farther down, pass names he could have called with no hesitation at all until he reached the one name his thumb always seemed to find its way to eventually, no matter how long he tried to talk himself out of it.
Your name.
He frowned at it, like the frown might make him change his mind but it didn't, it never did and so he pressed call. You answered before the second ring which was either a very good sign or a very bad one, depending on what you'd been doing.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, gatinho?"
He pinched the bridge of his nose before he sighed heavily. "Don't call me that."
"You respond awfully fast to it for someone who claims to hate it."
Before he could get a word in edgewise, he heard movement on the other end of the line—fabric shifting, a chair scraping—followed by a man's voice, low and a little breathless, somewhere in the background.
"Who is it?"
There was a beat of silence just long enough to be suspicious before you replied to the person.
"My daddy."
There’s another beat of silence much longer this time and then he laughed despite himself, the sound surprising even him, some of the tightness in his chest easing just from the sheer absurdity of it.
"You're insufferable." He says to you, not hearing what the person with you replies with.
"Thank you, it’s a cultivated the skill."
He let the humor fade because there was no point drawing it out any longer than he had to. "...I'm hungry."
The teasing dropped out of your voice instantly, replaced by something else. Not concern, exactly but recognition—the particular kind that only came from years of learning to tell the difference between the version of that sentence that meant I could eat and the version that meant something closer to I am running out of road.
"Mmm." A thoughtful hum, considering. "Bit inconvenient, I'm kinda busy." There’s more rustling on your end and a low murmur he couldn't quite make out.
"Seriously?" the man in the background asked, not quite managing to keep the disbelief out of his voice. "You're leaving? Right now?"
"You'll live, daddy needs me." A door opened and closed followed by brisk footsteps already moving somewhere. You sighed into the phone, the sound equal parts exasperated and fond. "Okay. my place, twenty minutes."
He leaned back against the headboard, some of the tension finally easing out of his shoulders for the first time all day, like a held breath finally allowed to go. "Not so busy anymore, Princess?"
"You don't get to sound smug about this."
"I wasn't trying to."
"You absolutely were, Choi."
He smiled to himself, alone in his dark room and in a way he wouldn't have let anyone else see. For the first time all day, the hunger didn't feel quite so unbearable, it wasn’t gone—not even close to gone—but bearable, in the way that knowing help is twenty minutes out makes almost anything bearable.
He never examined too closely why it was your name his thumb found first. He'd learned better than to open that particular can of worms while he was still hungry. It never ended anywhere good so he waited a bit before he pulled on a hoodie over his tshirt and left for your place. You lived a bit away from campus which he liked and he knew that wherever you were coming from you'd most likely shower before you let him near you.
You stepped out of the shower, skin still warm and damp, towel wrapped loosely around you. Twenty minutes exactly. You knew he’d be on time, he always was when the hunger got bad enough for him to call. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside your window when he let himself in without knocking.
You had heard the sound of your keypad unlocking, then his measured footsteps crossing the living room. When he appeared in your bedroom doorway, his pretty face was composed but his jaw was tight and his eyes lingered too long on the water still sliding down your collarbones.
“Gatinho,” you drawled, leaning against the bathroom doorframe with a smirk and deliberately letting the towel slip an inch. “You look like you’re starving.”
“Don’t start,” he warned, voice already rough at the edges but he stepped closer anyway.
You laughed softly and reached out, tugging at the front of his hoodie until he was in your space. “Why not? It’s just so easy to rile you up and you came running to me, didn’t you?”
He exhaled through his nose, hands settling on your hips, fingers digging in. “You’re infuriating.”
“You like it though.” You let the towel drop completely and his gaze darkened as it dragged over your bare skin. You pushed him backward toward the bed and he let you; until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he sat, pulling you down to straddle his lap in one smooth motion.
Your mouths crashed together. The kiss started heated and only got messier, years of this dance letting you skip straight to the good parts. You nipped his bottom lip hard and he answered by sliding a hand into your damp hair and tugging your head back so he could mouth down your throat.
“You always come running when you’re hungry,” you teased, rocking your hips against the growing hardness in his pants. “Makes a girl feel special.”
“Shut up,” he muttered against your skin but you felt him smile. You worked his belt open with practiced fingers, slipping your hand inside to wrap around his cock. He was already rock-hard, hot and heavy in your palm. You stroked him slowly, thumb circling the head on every upstroke exactly the way you knew made his control fray.
He groaned quietly, hips pushing up into your fist. One of his hands cupped your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until it pebbled. The other slid between your legs, fingers finding you slick and ready. He pushed two fingers into you without hesitation, curling them just right while his thumb circled your clit with perfect pressure.
You moaned, pressing closer, stroking him faster. “That’s it…fuck, you’re so needy tonight.” He fed as you touched each other—slow, controlled pulls at first that quickly turned deeper. Your lust hit him like thick, golden wine laced with cinnamon and brown sugar much richer and stronger than any he’d had before. It always filled the hollow inside him better than anyone else’s, settling heavy and lingering for days. He hated how much he needed it, needed you.
You rode his fingers shamelessly, grinding down while your hand pumped him. “You gonna ask me yet?” you breathed, nipping at his ear. “Or are you just going to pretend you don’t care who I was with?”
He thrust his fingers deeper, a sharp, possessive edge to the motion. “Why would I? After all, you left someone else just to come spread your legs for me, didn’t you?”
You laughed breathlessly, even as pleasure coiled tighter. “Maybe. Are you jealous, baby?”
“No.” He nipped sharply at your collarbone. “Just reminding you who makes you fall apart like this.”
He edged you once, then twice, bringing you right to the trembling brink with his fingers and the steady grind of his cock against your thigh and then slowing until you were snarling and digging your nails into his shoulders.
“Stop being a bastard and let me come,” you hissed, eyes flashing with that fiery temper he secretly craved.
He smiled against your neck, sharp and dangerous. “Beg nicer.”
You did, bratty and filthy and sweet all at once, calling him every name you could think of between gasps until he finally gave it to you. He curled his fingers just right and kept the pressure on your clit until you came hard, shuddering and clenching around him. The fresh wave of your pleasure crashed into him and he drank it down greedily, eyes half-lidded but he wasn’t finished.
He flipped you onto your back, settling between your thighs. His mouth found your breasts, sucking and biting while his fingers worked you up again. You arched into him, nails raking down his back, legs wrapping around his waist. His jeans were shoved down just enough for you to keep stroking him—long, firm pulls that had him breathing harder against your skin.
“You always unravel so fucking prettily for me,” he said, voice dark.
“Only because you’re so fucking greedy,” you shot back, squeezing him tighter. “Wouldn’t want you wasting away on cheap little party snacks.”
He growled and nipped your nipple in retaliation but his fingers never stopped. He brought you right to the edge again, then slowed just enough to draw it out, savoring the way your lust spiked brighter with frustration. When you finally begged—reckless and perfect—he let you tumble over a second time.
The second orgasm hit you harder. Your vision blurred, limbs going heavy but you didn’t tell him to stop. You never did, only gripping him tighter, stroking him with sloppy determination until he spilled hot over your fist with a low, guttural groan.
He kept feeding through all of it, deep, steady pulls that left him fuller than he’d felt in weeks. The constant ache inside him finally quieted but he could feel the toll it was taking on you. Your pulse was slowing, your responses turning sluggish. He eased his fingers out of you and gently cleaned you both with the discarded towel and then he pulled you against his chest, your head lolled against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering.
“…Too much?” he asked quietly, the lethal edge of his nature carefully hidden behind that pretty face as his hand stroked down your spine.
You hummed, already half-gone, voice sleepy and defiant. “As if. Don’t tell me you’re worried about me, asshole…”
He didn’t get a chance to bite back as your breathing evened out into sleep, holding you closer than he would ever admit. He brushed a kiss against your temple—too light for you to remember—then carefully disentangled himself. He pulled the blanket over you, dressed quietly and slipped out the way he came, now fuller, steadier and already dreading how much he’d want to call you again the next time the hunger crept back in.
You always filled him better and he hated how much that mattered.
PAIRING: TA!wonwoo x TA!reader
GENRE: college au, e2l, smut/suggestive [18+ MDNI]
WC: 5,699
WARNINGS: kissing sloppy style, semi-public sex but like barely, light breast play, dry humping, they're a lil toxic but it's fine, fade-to-black sex
A/N: requested by @minisugakoobies for my milestone event!! sorry i made him so annoying in this asfkhasjfdf but i hope you like it ♡ (not beta'd)
SUMMARY: Your TA job would be perfectly fine and well if it weren't for your pretentious, nearly-insufferable coworker. Wonwoo seems to have made it his life mission to do everything in his power to irritate you, which is why you're blindsided when he asks you on a date completely out of the blue one day.
Every single thing Wonwoo Jeon does pisses you off.
It's bad enough having a co-TA that's pretentious as fuck. You studied English in undergrad, and every single male English major you ever met was a big-headed know-it-all, so you're (unfortunately) used to the type. But on top of being full of himself, Wonwoo has apparently made it his life's mission to do everything in his power to one-up you in every regard. No matter how early you show up to anything, he is somehow always already there; no matter how fast you grade papers, he's always finished well before you; no matter what the discussion subject is, he always has to repeat everything you say in a way that sounds smarter than the way you said it. There are seven trillion nerves in the human body, and he manages to get on every single one of them.
So when you walk into your own office hours one day to see him sitting at your desk, talking to your students, it takes everything in you not to snap.
"Wow, I wasn't expecting to see you at my office hours!" you say with a forced grin, your words dripping with sarcasm.
"Y/n, how lovely of you to show up," he smiles smugly at you. "I thought I'd use my free time to actually help out our students."
"Well aren't you a saint."
"Just doing my job."
"That's funny, because you seem to be doing my job right now."
"Well now, I wouldn't have to do your job if you were capable of showing up on time."
"I am only," you scowl, lifting your wrist to glance at your watch. "Four minutes late."
"You're right," he waves his hand dismissively. "It's fine to waste people's time if it's only four minutes."
The two undergrads sitting between the both of you look visibly uncomfortable. There's a lot of things you wish to say right now, none of them polite — but since you have an audience, you refrain.
"Well, since you clearly don't need me here, I'll just go home then," you tell Wonwoo with a huff. "Have fun running my office hours."
You storm off before he can say anything else, letting the door slam shut behind you.
You're fuming all the way home. Normally, you are very patient with others, even when it comes to jerks with less than savory personalities — but something about Wonwoo grinds your gears like nothing else. The problem is that he knows he can get under your skin with bare minimum effort, and, for whatever fucking reason, he takes every opportunity he can to weaponize this against you.
With your unanticipated bit of free time, you decide to channel your rage into productivity, working on your thesis for the remainder of the afternoon. Thankfully, it works, and by dinnertime you've forgotten all about your annoying coworker.
The next day is off to a great start. You got up early, giving yourself plenty of time to stop by the campus cafe and grab a bagel and coffee. You sip the hot beverage as you walk to the Literature Hall for your 10am discussion, strolling along with an extra bit of pep in your step as you enjoy the peaceful, pleasant morning. Everything is going great — until you step into the classroom and see Wonwoo sitting at one of the desks in the back, stretched out casually like he fucking lives here.
"Oh, what are you doing here today Wonwoo?" you ask with a faux grin, playing dumb. There's already a handful of students in the room, so despite the fact that you're suddenly seeing red you are forced to be civil.
"Oh, just had some free time this morning," he answers blithely. "Thought I'd pop in and join the discussion."
"You sure seem to have a lot of free time for someone in grad school," you remark.
Wonwoo shrugs arrogantly. "What can I say, I'm efficient at managing my time."
You would love to walk back there and slap that dumb look off his dumb face. Instead you decide to ignore him for the remainder of the hour — a task that proves to be unfeasible, due to his constant self-insertion into the conversation. Unfortunately, he is extremely smart and articulate, so the students eagerly engage with his bullshit.
It's the fucking Great Gatsby, you think to yourself. Does he really have nothing better to do than flex his knowledge on a boring, easy book to a bunch of clueless freshmen??
The remainder of hour passes at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you wish to bang your head against the wall about it. At five-til Wonwoo decides to bring up a completely new topic, seemingly trying to get this session to drag on forever, but you're not having any of it today.
"Very interesting points you bring up there, Wonwoo," you loudly interrupt him. "But class is over now. Next week we will discuss the remaining chapters, so be sure to finish reading the book before then."
The students begin to shuffle out, and Wonwoo is quick to make his exit.
"Oh, Wonwoo, I had a question for you," you call out to him before he can make it out of the room, but he doesn't stop.
"Sorry, gotta run," he replies smugly. "Feel free to shoot me an email if you want to talk!" With a wave he zips out the door and disappears.
Needless to say, you did not shoot him an email; but by late-afternoon, much to your chagrin, he is in your inbox anyway.
Dear y/n,
You had a question for me earlier, however I noticed that you hadn't reached out to me about it yet, so I figured I'd contact you since you clearly forgot. What can I help you with?
Best,
WJ
"Pretentious little fucking prick," you grumble to yourself. You delete the email and shut your laptop.
After a lovely, Wonwoo-free weekend, you have the misfortune of starting off your week with him in your weekly TA/professor check-in first thing Monday morning. Of course, despite you getting there ten minutes early, Wonwoo is already in Professor Sosa's office, balls deep in some bullshit conversation about whatever bullshit book he's been reading recently. You sit down in the remaining chair, without a word, waiting for them to be done so you can get this painful meeting over with — but to your dismay, neither one of them seem to be in any rush. You peek at your watch a couple times, trying not to appear as annoyed as you currently are. Wonwoo definitely notices, though.
"I could talk about Wallace's use of the unreliable narrator for days," he grins, turning to you. "But I don't want to bore y/n any further. Shall we get started on the midterm?"
You take a deep breath as the professor begins to discuss the essay topics. You're going to try your hardest not to let him get on your nerves this early in the day — a task that's already proving itself to be a challenge. The next thirty minutes drag on at the slowest imaginable pace; you do your best to focus on the work at hand, but of course Wonwoo keeps going off on ostentatious tangents, and purposefully dragging you into the conversations no less. When the meeting finally ends, you're ready to book it out of there; you reach for your notebook sitting on the table beside you, but despite you just sitting it down a few moments ago it's not there. You look around, but you don't see it on the floor anywhere. Maybe you put it away already — but a peek into your backpack comes up empty-handed.
You notice Wonwoo watching you, wearing his usual arrogant expression, but you ignore him. The moment the professor leaves, he leans over to you.
"Looking for this?" he asks smugly, holding your missing notebook out to you. You go to grab it, but he quickly pulls it back out of reach.
"Seriously?" you ask, not bothering to hide your exasperation.
"What's the rush?" he taunts. "I know you don't have anywhere to be until 2."
"And how would you know that?" you narrow your eyes at him.
"I memorized your schedule."
You stare back at him, looking genuinely confused. "Why??"
He shrugs. "Figured it'd be good to know."
You'd love to know exactly what he means by that, but you don't want to make this conversation any longer than necessary.
"Well isn't that just wonderful," you say as sarcastically as possible, rising to your feet; Wonwoo follows suit. "Now will you give me my notebook back?"
You reach for it again, but he lifts it above his head — well out of your reach.
"What the actual fuck is your problem?!" you raise your voice. He looks surprised, but a cocky grin spreads across his face.
"It's okay, y/n, I'm just messing with you."
"Well, don't!!"
You glare at him, but he still wears that dumb, satisfied smirk.
"You don't have to act like you hate me, you know."
"It's not acting."
"Of course it's not," he smiles, unbothered. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something."
"Okay," you sigh exasperatedly. "What do you want to ask me, Wonwoo?"
"What's your favorite restaurant?"
"What??"
"Your favorite restaurant," he repeats. "I'd like to take you out to dinner."
You stand there aghast. "You're not serious," you say to him.
"I am."
"What on earth makes you think I want to go on a date with you?!"
"It doesn't have to be a date," he responds. "We can go as friends."
"We are not friends," you reply coldly, snatching your notebook out of his hands and shoving it into your backpack before he can stop you.
"See you in class tomorrow!" he calls out warmly as you storm out of the room, clearly not affected by anything you said.
You want to tell him to go fuck himself, but you hold your tongue, instead letting the door slam behind you as you exit the office without another word.
The next day you show up to class right on time, and not a moment sooner. You figured if you got there right as the lecture begins, Wonwoo wouldn't be able to talk to you — and thankfully, you were right. He's sitting two chairs down, and you feel his eyes on you the whole hour, but you do not turn to look at him even once. When the lesson finally concludes, you book it out of there, but apparently that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.
"Y/n!" he calls out as he hurries after you. You keep walking, pretending not to hear him, but he catches up to you quickly.
"Hey, I was wondering if you—"
"The answer is no," you cut him off.
"You don't even know what I was going to ask," he smiles at you.
"Whatever it is, I'm not interested."
"Alright, guess I'll find someone else who's interested in first row tickets to Death Cab for Cutie on Saturday."
You stop in your tracks, your head snapping over to him.
"You do not have first row tickets to Death Cab for Cutie," you call him out. "That show has been sold out for weeks."
"I have connections."
"Right. Do you even like Death Cab?" you ask doubtfully.
"I don't know, I've never heard any of their songs," he answers matter-of-factly. "But I know they're your favorite band."
"And why do you know that??"
He shrugs. "I pay attention."
"So let me get this straight. You bought concert tickets to my favorite band in hopes that I'd go on a date with you?"
"It doesn't have to be a date if you don't want," he replies. "We can go as friends."
"I already told you," you glare at him, lowering your voice so none of the students passing by can hear you bickering. "We are not friends."
"But we can be," he smiles softly. "Just give me one chance. We have more in common than you think, y/n."
You roll your eyes. "I'm not having this conversation with you," you tell him, walking away.
"Think about it," he calls out as you head off down the hall.
"I won't" you grumble quietly under your breath.
Unfortunately you're not able to get Wonwoo and his concert tickets off your mind. You even end up ranting to your roommate about it, but to your dismay she thinks you should accept the offer.
"Are you crazy?!" Sana asks. "You're not seriously going to pass up free concert tickets to your favorite band just because you don't want to go on a date?"
"It's not even a date," you complain. "He just wants to go as friends."
"Okay, even better! What's the issue then?"
"The issue," you answer, "is that he's the most pretentious, insufferable douchebag to ever walk the face of the earth."
"He can't possibly be that bad."
You roll your eyes. "You'd be surprised."
"Come on, y/n," she insists. "You can literally take advantage of him! Just go to the concert and then never talk to him outside of class again. You know you'll regret it if you don't."
You grimace, because she's right. It's not even just concert tickets — it's front row concert tickets, for free. You'd be a fool not to accept the offer. But you can't help that spending an entire evening with Wonwoo genuinely sounds like your own personal hell.
"I'll think about it," you reply to Sana with a deep sigh.
You do think about it — far too much, perhaps. By Thursday, despite hating yourself a bit for it, you come to the conclusion that when he asks again you will accept. So you wait for him to inevitably send you an email, or show up unannounced at your office hours, but you don't see or hear from him once. Strange, considering how much he usually goes out of his way to bother you, but honestly you're enjoying the peace while it lasts. You've all but given up on the concert when finally, late in the Friday afternoon, you get an email from Wonwoo.
Dear y/n,
I assume you've changed your mind about the concert by now, so I will plan to pick you up at 5pm tomorrow — that way we can go to dinner before the show. Please let me know your favorite restaurant so I can make a reservation accordingly.
Best,
WJ
With a sigh, you type up your reply.
Hello Wonwoo,
I like Thai food — you take your pick of restaurant. See you tomorrow.
—y/n
It pains you to hit send, but you do anyway. You're getting a free dinner and concert out of this, you remind yourself. You can suck it up and deal with Wonwoo for one night.
And you know it's true. You've dealt with bigger bullshit before than spending a few hours with one annoying man — besides, like Sana said, how bad could it possibly be? Still, you can't shake the anxious feeling that he has some ulterior motive here. Maybe he's just doing this to fuck with you, maybe he's going to do everything he can to make your night as miserable as possible. But maybe he's not. You can't fathom that he's doing this out of the goodness of his heart — if anything, he's probably just trying to get into your pants. But, you suppose there's only one way to find out.
True to his word, Wonwoo showed up to your apartment at 5pm on the dot to pick you up. You were lowkey regretting agreeing to go to dinner with him — at least at the concert you won't have to engage in actual conversation, but an hour or so spent one-on-one with him, making small talk? What were you thinking?? But it was too late to back out, so here you are, sitting across the dinner table from your mortal enemy at a Thai place on the other side of town that you've never even heard of before.
"How did you even find this place?" you ask him as you peruse the menu. "This is so far from campus."
"I'm attempting to try every restaurant in town," he answers casually, not looking up from his menu. "It's something of a hobby of mine."
"Oh, really?" you reply. Wonwoo glances up at you, a peek of a grin poking at his lips.
"You sound surprised."
"I guess I just didn't know that about you," you shrug.
"What did you think I do for fun, then?"
"I… Well, I don't know," you answer truthfully. "I guess I never thought about that before."
"So you assumed I sit in my house all day reading books," he jests.
"I didn't say that!" you protest.
"I know, y/n, I'm just teasing you," he smiles. He nudges his head toward your menu. "What are you thinking of getting?"
"I'm debating between the pad see eiw and the green curry," you answer, still staring at the page.
"The curry is really good," he tells you. "It's got the perfect amount of spice, if you like spicy."
"I do," you nod, setting your menu down too. "What are you getting?"
"I'm going with the khao moo deng."
"Oh my god, like the hippo!"
"What?" he asks, raising his brow at you.
"You know, Moo Deng! The baby hippo who went viral," you explain. "She's from Thailand — they named her after the dish."
"Oh, I don't use social media," he replies plainly.
"Now that doesn't surprise me."
Wonwoo grins. "What are you implying? That I'm uncool and out of touch?"
"I mean yeah, pretty much," you admit.
"I can live with that," he chuckles.
You order, slightly worried about the quality of the food considering that there is only one other occupied table in the whole restaurant; but as soon as the server sets the aromatic dish in front of you, your mouth starts watering. The curry is incredible — some of the best you've ever had, even. You hate to admit it, but Wonwoo did manage to pick a great restaurant. By the time you finish eating, you realize you've been yapping nonstop the whole time. A bit annoying, considering that you more or less hate his guts, but you're just glad the evening hasn't turned out to be a complete disaster yet.
Despite your protests, Wonwoo pays for your dinner, and it is time to head to the concert. Stupidly, you have butterflies in your stomach the whole way there, but you chalk it up to your sheer excitement over finally seeing your favorite band for the very first time. Making your way into the theater, you walk with Wonwoo all the way to the front of the auditorium, suddenly becoming very self-conscious about possibly being perceived with him of all people. But, you don't want to think about that right now, so you just hope and pray no one you know is here.
"Holy shit," you remark as you take your seats. "I've never been this close at a concert before."
"Me neither," Wonwoo replies. "Though, I suppose I've never been to any concert before."
"Wait," you say, turning to look at him. "Are you serious?"
He turns to face you, making you realize that the two of you are currently very uncomfortably close to each other.
"Yes," he answers. "Though, I suppose I did see the New York Philharmonic while I was visiting NYC a few years ago."
"I mean, sure, but that's not a concert concert."
He grins at you. "What would you consider a concert concert, then?"
"You know, like a band that's on tour. That you would buy albums of."
"Well, I suppose most of the artists I listen to aren't touring so much these days."
"Yeah I think Beethoven's a little dead at this point."
Wonwoo laughs. "I meant more so that I listen to a lot of classic rock from the 60s and 70s," he explains. "So you're not entirely wrong about them being dead."
"I didn't know you were into the classics," you respond, surprised to find out that you have that in common. "I grew up listening to that era of music too."
"You never asked," he shrugs.
The lights in the theater dim, and the crowd begins to cheer as the shadowy figures of the band take to the stage in the dark. As the first song begins, you suddenly feel overwhelmed — you're not much of a concert person usually, but hearing the music you've been listening to since you were young live and in person is making you feel inexplicably emotional. You quickly blink the tears from your eyes, and the sensation soon dissipates, returning you to the music and the atmosphere of fans singing along to all the lyrics. The show is so incredible that for the remainder of the night you barely even recall who it is you came here with in the first place. You're having too much fun to notice, but Wonwoo's eyes keep flickering over to you, a soft look of affection etched onto his face.
The concert-goers flood out of the theater in droves, chattering and laughing as everyone is still riding the rush of adrenaline from the show. You and Wonwoo make your way across the parking lot, the chill of the night air refreshing as it tingles against your cheeks.
"So, how was it?" Wonwoo asks as you walk in the general direction of his car. Free of the joyful environment of the concert, you remember now how much he has always annoyed you. But, much to your surprise, the annoyance you typically feel around him is not present, nor is the smug attitude that usually colors his voice.
"That was amazing," you admit, smiling blissfully. "I still can't believe I actually got to experience my favorite band live."
"Good," he smiles at you. You approach his car, Wonwoo brushing past you to open the passenger side door for you. You give him a confused look, but you just thank him and let yourself into the car. Once you're in he shuts the door, and you watch him as he walks around to the driver's side. You don't particularly want to inflate his ego any further, but you know you have to genuinely thank him for the whole experience.
He gets in the car, turning the keys in the ignition, the engine coming to life.
"Thank you for the ticket, Wonwoo," your voice comes out softly as he reaches for the gear shift. His hand pauses atop it, looking over to meet your gaze. You were standing next to him all night, but the distance between the two of you suddenly feels extremely close; yet, it's not uncomfortable.
"You're welcome, y/n," he smiles at you.
"I have to ask, though," you continue. "Why did you do it?"
He cocks his head at you slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" you start hesitantly. You don't want to be too blunt, but you also don't feel the need to beat around the bush.
"I mean, why buy me concert tickets when I've made it very clear I don't even like you?"
Wonwoo grins slightly. "Why do you think?"
"Honestly?" you reply. "Probably to get in my pants, I don't fucking know."
"Well, that's certainly not something I'd be opposed to," he chuckles. "But that's not why."
"Okay," you concede. "Why, then?"
He gazes back at you with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter anxiously.
"Because I knew it would make you happy," he answers. "And I want you to be happy whether you like me or not."
You feel your stomach drop, your face suddenly burning hot. That was not the answer you were expecting, and you quite frankly don't know how to respond.
"I—" you stammer quietly. "I… Sorry, I don't know what to say to that," you admit, trying to hide your embarrassed face behind your hand.
"You don't have to say anything," he tells you gently, shifting the car into reverse and pulling out of the spot. You sit there silently as he waits in the slow-moving line to exit the parking lot, wishing you could disappear. You're considering hopping out of the car and finding another ride home, but the line finally starts moving. As Wonwoo heads toward the exit, he turns to look at you.
"Can we take a brief detour on the way home?" he asks casually. "I want to show you something."
"Sure," you answer after a few seconds of silence. Wonwoo nods, switching the turn signal from right to left, pulling out into the street and driving off in the opposite direction of home. He drives for a few minutes in seemingly the wrong direction away from anything, and you're starting to wonder if you should be worried.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see in just a minute," he replies nonchalantly.
"Is this when I find out you're actually a serial killer?" you joke. Wonwoo laughs.
"No, definitely not a serial killer, I promise."
"Ooookay," you say, still unsure.
True to his word, in about another minute or so he turns onto a dirt road you didn't even see from the main road. He drives slowly as the road turns into an incline, clearly going up a steep hill.
"Sorry," he says, having noticed that you look a bit nervous. "This part of the road is a bit nerveracking, but we're almost there," he assures you.
The surrounding trees soon begin to become more sparse, eventually opening up to what looks to you like a small clearing at the top of the hill. A big metal guard rail wraps around the area; as Wonwoo pulls up to it to park the car, you gasp. Beyond the guard rail is an incredible view of the whole town, the orange glow of the streetlights and houselights making it look so warm and picturesque that it seems like a scene straight out of a movie.
"Holy shit," you say softly, awestruck by the unreal sight. Wonwoo grins, then hops out of the car. You follow suit and join him by the railing, taking in the stunning view.
"I had no idea there was anything like this around here," you say softly.
"Isn't it beautiful?" he asks. Your eyes flicker over to him, finding his gaze fixated on you.
"How did you find this?" you ask, the same rush of heat as earlier returning to your cheeks.
"My roommate last year told me about it — he grew up around here, apparently it was a popular place for high schoolers to take their dates."
"So you've brought me to a make-out point," you reply, raising your brow at him.
"I suppose so," he chuckles. "But genuinely, I just wanted to show you the view."
"So you don't want to make out with me then."
Wonwoo smiles, his eyes still locked onto yours. You feel a wave of heat overtaking you again, this time burning achingly in your core. If this had happened yesterday, you would be peeved; but the usual feeling of displeasure you feel in his presence is nowhere to be found.
"I don't want to do anything you don't want to do," he answers plainly.
"And what if I do want it?"
The words feel foreign on your tongue, your voice so soft you almost didn't recognize it as yours. But you said it, and for reasons you cannot explain, you meant it.
Wonwoo takes a small step toward you. "Want what?" he asks, the cheekiness in his words not going unnoticed.
"Want you to kiss me," you say, taking a small step toward him. Your mouths are mere inches apart, and Wonwoo's eyes definitely keep flickering down to your lips.
"You do?" he asks, a grin overtaking his face.
"Yeah," you answer, the words coming out in barely more than a whisper. "I do."
Wonwoo smiles, then the next thing you know his lips are crashing into yours. The kiss starts out soft, sweet — his mouth presses against yours delicately, savoring your taste for the first time, his fingers brushing lithely over your jaw, sending a rush of electricity coursing through your body as you accept the kiss. His hands slowly drift to your sides, slipping into your open coat and resting upon your hips. Before you can even think twice you're leaning into him, the warmth of his torso instantly blocking the chill of the late autumnal air. He kisses you slowly at first, but that doesn't last long — not with you being tangled up in each other's grasp. His lips start tugging at yours with sudden urgency, and you eagerly reciprocate. The ridiculousness of you making out with the coworker you up until tonight absolutely could not stand is not lost on you, but right now you could not care less.
His lips depart yours far too soon, his hands maintaining their grip on your waist as you stare up into his eyes. You've never seen Wonwoo from this close up — why would you have? But you don't recall his eyes ever being so soft and warm as they are gazing back at you through his lenses right now. A chill overtakes you, and you shiver slightly as the wind cuts through your layers.
"C'mere," he tells you, taking hold of your hand and starting to pull you back toward his car. "It'll be warmer in here."
He opens the door to the backseat, gesturing for you to enter first; you slide across the soft leather to the other side, allowing him room to climb in after you, but as soon as he's inside with the door closed he grabs you again, taking hold of your arms and dragging you into his embrace. Without the wind now, inside the car quickly becomes a bit too toasty. Wonwoo hastily removes your coat, tossing it into the front seat and following suit with his own jacket. He pulls you over onto him, your thigh swinging over his legs as you sit straddled across his lap, your arms draped over the top of the backseat as you lean in to kiss him again. This time his tongue swipes at your lips; you part them, allowing him entrance, your tongues now dancing against each other with fervent need. His hands slip beneath the hem of your sweater, running up your stomach and resting atop the cups of your bra. You break the kiss momentarily, the corners of your lips twisting into a sly smile.
"Go on," you say to him, nudging your head toward your sweater. "Take it off."
He grins back at you, the red glow of his cheeks apparent even in the dim lighting. Grabbing the hem he lifts the garment over your head and practically flings it onto the seat next to him. Shirtless now, he stares at your cleavage before him, his hands grasping at the soft flesh through your bra.
"I've thought about this exact scenario a thousand times," he mutters, licking his lips. "But god, it's even better than I imagined."
He peers up at you again, staring at you hungrily for the briefest of seconds before he suddenly reaches for his glasses, ripping them off his face and tossing them onto the seat with your sweater before diving back into your lips. He kisses you as his hands wander to your lower back, and your grind your hips against him — an involuntary action, but it causes your clit to press into the stiff bulge forming in his trousers. You let out a soft sigh at the sensation, exhaling against his lips as he holds you tight in his arms. Eventually his fingers return to your boobs, grazing gently over your cleavage, sending a delicious chill up your spine.
"We don't have to do this if you don't want to—" he starts breathily, but you shake your head immediately.
"I want to," you tell him softly, and a mischievous grin flickers at his lips. "What?" you laugh.
"Nothing, just remembering how much you hated my guts a few days ago and here we are now," he replies cheekily, squeezing lightly at your boobs.
"I didn't 'hate your guts'," you refute as you roll your eyes. "I just found you annoying and insufferable."
"Oh, is that all?" he smirks.
"Shut up," you mumble, leaning your forehead against his as you hover your lips right above his mouth. "Do you wanna kiss me or not?"
"I do, very much so," he smiles, lightly dragging his bottom lip across yours. His hands slide to your hips, pressing your core into his erection again as he grinds you against his lap.
"Fuck," you gasp, followed by an embarrassed laugh. "Sorry, I just… it's been a little while," you admit.
"Don't apologize," he says, kissing down your down your chin, nudging his face into your neck as he places a delicate string of kisses onto the tender skin. The sensation makes you melt, sinking your clothed cunt further into his bulge. "We can take this as slow as you want."
"Who said I want to go slow?"
He lifts his head, meeting your eyes again, finding them eager and needy.
"God, you're gonna drive me crazy if you keep saying stuff like that," he says with a lazy smirk.
"Good," you reply with a grin, muttering into his lips. "Then we'll be even."
"Is that so?" he mumbles back. "Guess I'll just have to try harder to get on your nerves now."
"Oh god, please don't."
Wonwoo lets out a laugh — the sound warm and hearty.
"So, do we have a truce then?" he inquires.
"I suppose so," you answer. "Who knew all it would take for you to leave me alone is for me to fuck you?"
He grins. "A bit toxic of us, don't you think?"
"Probably," you reply with a shrug, dragging your hand down his torso, reaching for his belt and tugging at the buckle, making his eyes widen excitedly.
🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. “There’s a tether of fate between us, one that she can physically see in the waking world,” Wonwoo explains to Mingyu. “She knows we care about her, and she can correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like our little recruit wants two of her captains to fuck her brains out in a dream realm free of consequences.”
tw/cw. Unprotected dream realm sex, sub/dom themes, power imbalance/power play, semi-tyrant all-powerful dom!Wonwoo, threesome, foreplay, pussy eating, oral, deep throating, slight pain kink, nipple clamps, fingering, squirting, breast/body worship, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, cum/squirt kink, voyeurism, dirty talk, cumming on demand, praise, finger sucking, fingers and cock in pussy at the same time, stretching kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby. (Wonwoo’s) Captain. (Mingyu’s) Sir.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.1k
🍭 aus. Fantasy au, knight au, magic user au, polyamory au, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. “Quiet vice-captain Wonwoo, a sexual tyrant in his own dream world” I feel like most of the Mingyu/Wonwoo threesomes I write have Wonwoo being not the most vocal of participants, so I had a lot of fun with this one.
Prologue:
You can feel your heart practically beating out of your chest during your trials to get accepted onto a magic knight squad. With so many amazing teams to join, you hardly know what to expect. Will you be joining SKZ? Or perhaps ITZY? Or maybe even NCT?
No, NCT hasn’t recruited in years, but ITZY is a contender… if they choose you, that is.
You have no hopes of getting recruited by SVT. They’re the powerhouse squad. In fact, they’re so adept at magic that when their last Captain had stepped down, the young vice captains had created a whole new structure for the squad, with three teams focused on defence, offence, and dual-wield uses for power.
Seungcheol, the head Captain of SVT, stands regal on a platform looking down at the recruit arena. With him are Hoshi, the offensive captain, who wields an ability called animal instinct; he can communicate and even become animals at will, and Woozi, the regal defence team leader, who is as adept with plant healing magic as any of the top mages who provide the Capital with hospital assistance.
Behind the three head members of SVT are a few of the extra vice captains. You recognise Wonwoo and Mingyu, of the dual team, arguably the most dangerous of the three subgroups, as their magic can act as both defence and offence.
There are rumours about these men, about the power they wield. Wonwoo with his dream magic, the ability to trap enemies in a dreamscape that they can never leave, and Mingyu, with blood magic that can shake a man to his very core, incapacitating with one hand and healing with the other.
No, there’s no way you’ll make it onto SVT with your thread magic… and yet, their eyes are on you.
The power that radiates from their gazes alone makes you falter, but you adjust, intent on proving yourself.
You won’t mess this up, you can’t afford to.
You’re eighteen, and this is your first recruitment trial. Many of the people around you are fifteen-year-olds, having come to this event at the first opportunity, but not you. You haven’t lived a life with a silver spoon. Your family comes from the outskirts of the kingdom, where farming is a way of life and no one ever gets to join the royal guard. You have been working hard for three years to convince your parents to allow you to come to this, and you won’t waste the opportunity.
You suppose your thread magic has both offensive and defensive uses, but you’re more comfortable with your protection magic, so that’s what you showcase.
Fine black threads appear in the air, and they can be woven thick enough to create a barrier that blocks most magic. It’s not easy work to summon and weave at the same time, but you’re proud of yourself for what you’re able to accomplish, and when the trials are done, you wait patiently for a result, fingers crossed.
“We will take the girl with thread magic,” Seungcheol’s voice booms over the crowd. “She is our third pick today.”
None of the other Captains even bother to argue, because everyone knows that the right to join SVT is not easily won, and even harder to refuse.
You can’t believe your luck, but as you stare at these domineering magic users, you wonder if this is a good thing or not. ITZY is an all-female squad, and part of you had been hoping to join them… but you suppose that string of fate has spoken, and you must now walk the path in front of you.
SVT seems to be your destiny, and as a wielder of thread magic, which touches on fate itself, you’ll be damned if you resist.
One:
Wonwoo never sleeps, and at times, that can be tiring. As a dream magic user, when he closes his eyes, he’s transported into his own world, where he’s the king and in control of everything. He’s as awake in the dream world as in the real one, and there’s only so much he can do while ‘asleep’ to entertain himself.
So, Wonwoo often slips into the dreams of those around him. He knows it’s invasive, but he can’t help himself. The unconsciousness of others is something he can bear witness to, without the need to control or dictate.
Often, Wonwoo finds himself in Mingyu’s dreams; they seem to be the most entertaining.
Seungcheol dreams of battle and blood, Woozi dreams of science and plants, and Hoshi… well, his dreams are almost exclusively of himself in tiger form running through forests and giving in to his animal instincts.
Mingyu, on the other hand, is more creative in his subconscious. He enacts bizarre scenarios that always keep Wonwoo guessing. One time, he dreamt of fishing in a small boat on the coast. Then a tsunami hit, the waves a coppery orange colour. The ocean erupted with pretty mermaids who took Mingyu to shore, only for the mermaids to transform fully into disgusting, blubbering fish when they touched dry land. Mingyu had woken from that dream as if it were a nightmare, and Wonwoo had laughed about it discreetly to himself for weeks afterward.
Wonwoo generally makes it a rule only to enter the dreams of other vice captains. But even that is starting to get boring.
Wonwoo is just so bored.
He sighs as he walks down the dark corridors of the SVT headquarters. Everyone else is asleep, and he can sense the inkling of dreams as he walks past bedroom doors.
Soft echoes of screams and the sound of attack magic permeate from Seungcheol’s room, and Wonwoo lets out another deep breath. How can someone have such a one-track mind that their entire life is dedicated to battle?
Outside of Mingyu’s door, Wonwoo takes a peek into his best friend’s subconscious and finds Mingyu trekking up a mountain made of gold and diamonds, battling wind as the sky flares orange and purple behind him.
Climbing a mountain isn’t exactly enthralling today.
Wonwoo continues, seeing glimmers of dreamscapes as he passes each room, but then something catches his attention.
The colours are what stand out to him first. Moody purples, royal blues, flickers of crystalline light. Wonwoo licks his lips, temptation flaring over him as he stands outside your door. He knows it’s your room, and this isn’t the first time he’s been tempted to take a peek inside your mind.
You’re hard not to notice. It’s been a year since SVT recruited you, and in that time, you’ve been a star pupil. You follow commands with a determination Wonwoo has never seen, and you push yourself to be better every day. You’ve never caused any problems on expeditions or quests, and Wonwoo has always gotten a sense that, behind your quiet, rule-following demeanor, there’s more than what meets the eye.
His fingers twitch, and he aches to take a peek into your dream.
Then Wonwoo hears his own voice, a barked command, followed by a ‘Yes, Sir!’ that is unmistakably you.
So… you’re dreaming about him?
Well… It’s as if he’s being invited into your head.
It would be so easy for him to just… slip into the version of himself that you’re seeing in your unconscious mind’s eye.
So that’s exactly what he does. Wonwoo leans against the wall outside your door, and a moment later, he transports himself into your subconscious.
Two:
The first thing Wonwoo notices is that the location of your dreamscape appears to be inside a cave. But the walls are covered in glittering gems. He can see amethysts and lapiz lazuli, and the precious stones glow as if a light resides within their cores. The whole cavern is illuminated with these glittering, vivid colours.
It seems to be some kind of dungeon, the type that the squad has cleared before, except it’s the most beautiful dungeon he’s ever seen. Wonwoo’s power is all about creativity, but he’s not sure even he could have ever dreamt up a scene like this.
On a raised platform sits a massive treasure chest, and it seems to be made out of a sparkling crystal material that glitters even brighter than the gemstone walls.
“Sir!” Your voice captures his attention, and Wonwoo whips around to find you standing there. Your hands are raised, delicate black strings weaving through the air toward the ceiling of the cavern, which is when Wonwoo notices the bat-like creatures flying there.
With eyes like rubies that glint viciously, the circling enemies are thwarted by your magic, but Wonwoo can see you are struggling.
“Your dream magic!” you insist.
Wonwoo lifts a hand, ready to use his power to completely pacify the enemy- but then, he would be in control of this dream. He would take ownership as the creator, stripping your unconscious of the work it’s doing.
Another rule Wonwoo doesn’t like to break: tampering with the power one holds over their own subconscious.
“I can’t,” Wonwoo tells you, lowering his hand.
“You must!” you insist, your gaze shifting down, and that’s when Wonwoo notices Mingyu is lying at your feet, his throat bloodied as if from an animal bite. “I can’t hold them off on my own! And I can’t help Mingyu while fighting off this attack!”
So you dream of both him and Mingyu… that’s interesting.
Not another royal guard is in sight.
Wonwoo sighs; he can sense your panic and can see that this dream is swiftly becoming a nightmare with his inability to perform.
Rules are arbitrary anyway.
Wonwoo flourishes his wrist, and a moment later, every single bat creature comes crashing to the floor of the cave, incapacitated and seemingly asleep.
You sink to your knees, your hands finding Mingyu’s throat, where you weave your thread magic to stitch up the wound.
Wonwoo stands there awkwardly watching the way you cradle Mingyu against yourself. He suddenly feels as if he shouldn’t be here, as if he’s witnessing an extremely intimate moment. It’s rare to find himself in sexual or even sexually adjacent dreams, and Wonwoo can feel the tension radiating off of you even from underneath the cloud of concern.
But… the real Mingyu, the one dreaming about climbing mountains… he’s not in a relationship with you.
Wonwoo would know if his best friend were keeping secrets.
So this is an unrequited love, the kind of love you can only experience in your dreams like this.
“Mingyu, wake up,” you urge, staring down at the bloodied man.
With a twitch of his fingers, Wonwoo wills dream Mingyu to wake, and the man’s eyes flutter open.
Wonwoo turns, not wanting to see what happens next, and his gaze lands on the glowing treasure chest. He begins to walk toward it, tuning out the words exchanged between you and Dream Mingyu.
“Sir, wait!” you call. “There might be traps!”
As the words leave your mouth, Wonwoo steps on a stone, and a fire arrow shoots through the air toward him. Wonwoo lifts a hand, stopping the magic before it hits him.
He hears a gasp, and he turns around to see you holding Mingyu up, your gaze locked on him.
“You… you stopped the arrow,” you whisper.
At first, Wonwoo’s not sure what you mean, and then he realizes, in your dreams, he has the same powers he has in real life. He can put things to sleep, but he shouldn’t have been able to stop that arrow… except that you’re currently in a dream, so he can control anything he wants.
Surely there’s no way your slumbering mind can comprehend this, right?
Before Wonwoo can consider it further, the whole world goes black, and Wonwoo’s eyes snap open in the real world.
You’ve woken up in a panic, and he can hear your bedsheets shifting.
Without a second thought, Wonwoo quickly retreats down the corridor.
Three:
You’ve been a vivid dreamer for your whole life, but nothing has been more vivid than the final minutes of the dream you had last night. You can’t get it out of your head; the image of Wonwoo stopping an arrow with the wave of his hand.
With an analytical mind, you can always count on your dreams following logic. Sure, the locations might be fantastical, and the situations are sometimes not the most likely, but without fail, when you dream of your squad mates, they always have the same powers and personalities they do in real life.
So, how was Wonwoo, a user of sleep magic, able to stop an arrow in your dream like a man with telekinetic powers?
There seems to be only one true answer; the real Wonwoo was in your head last night.
You don’t want to believe it.
Has this happened before, or was this the first time?
How often does he go into the dreams of others?
Do other people allow him into their dreams?
What has he seen in your mind’s sleeping eye?
What secrets has he borne witness to?
What desires has he observed in your most private moments of slumber?
You sit at breakfast hunched over your meal, unable to look up to meet the gaze of anyone around you. But you can feel eyes on you, dark eyes, the eyes of the man who intruded in your subconscious last night.
There’s a connection between you now, a thread of fate that wasn’t there before.
In your time training, you’ve come to the understanding that you may weave threads and make them visible, but you can also see the invisible strings of fate that tie everyone together.
There’s been a tie between you and Mingyu for some months now, a thread that grows thicker week by week, building with every interaction, but you’ve hardly spoken to the silent vice-captain who wields dream magic.
There’s never been a thread with Wonwoo, and today, all of a sudden, there’s a string connecting you to Wonwoo that is as thick as the one between you and Mingyu.
You suppose the only question is, where do things go from here?
Four:
It’s been a week since Wonwoo has visited your dream, and every night, you go to bed with a tingle of anticipation, wondering if you’ll see him again.
In your waking hours, Wonwoo continues to play the part of regal, silent vice-captain. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t say a word, but something tells you that when he does decide to visit your unconscious again, there might be movement in this whole debacle.
Tonight, you’re dreaming about Hoshi for some reason, except he’s in tiger form. You know it’s Hoshi because even as a tiger, he’s on his hind legs dancing, and it’s quite the spectacle.
Time is fuzzy when you’re asleep, and the vividity of your dreams comes and goes.
Something is making this scene very clear, and it only takes a few moments for you to realize what.
Standing across the field is a familiar man: Wonwoo.
He’s watching you, like he does every day in the mess hall and during training.
You force a wave and begin to approach him.
Wonwoo turns to leave.
“Wait! Please!” you call, your pace quickening. “I need to talk to you!”
Wonwoo pauses, and you see him release a sigh. “I just wanted to say I was sorry for invading your dream,” he tells you when you reach him.
“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I uh… is this something you do often?”
“Not with anyone but other captains,” he assures you.
“Why?”
“Because it’s intrusive.”
You consider his words. “So why did you come into my dream?”
Wonwoo stares at you. “The other captains get boring.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I don’t… I don’t get to sleep like you do. I’m awake every moment of my life. I can go into my own dream world and create what I want to see, but there are limits to my own imagination. It gets so very boring.” He pauses. “I saw the colours of your dream, and they drew me in. You have a sleeping world that’s different from any I’ve ever been in.”
His gaze shifts past you to tiger Hoshi, who is still dancing. “Don’t mind him,” you say, suddenly embarrassed.
Wonwoo laughs, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him smile.
God, he’s beautiful.
The string appears between your bodies, and Wonwoo’s laugh is cut short. He looks down at it.
“What’s this?”
“Oh, uh…” It feels like your throat is closing up. “I think it’s a string of fate.”
“You think?”
“It’s a new part of my power I unlocked a few months ago,” you try to explain.
“Do you see these when you’re awake?” Wonwoo reaches down and touches the string, marveling at the way it connects the two of you, heart to heart.
“Yes,” you admit.
“What does it mean?”
“I’m not entirely sure yet,” you confess. “I’ve read about soul ties, that sort of thing, but these appear gradually, and they build over time.”
“Hmm.” Wonwoo lets go of the string. “And are you tied to anyone else?”
Mingyu appears beside you, conjured by the suggestion Wonwoo has just sent to your subconscious. A matching thread connects you to the wielder of blood magic.
“I see.” Wonwoo nods. “Well, this is interesting.”
“It’s embarrassing,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself.
“Why?”
“I have a fate thread tying me to two of my Captains; it’s not exactly ideal.”
The edges of Wonwoo’s lips quirk slightly, as if he finds the whole thing so very amusing.
“There are no rules prohibiting captains from… being with their subordinates,” Wonwoo points out. “If that’s what you’re hoping for.”
“Well, how am I supposed to know if you or Mingyu are even interested?” you blurt out.
“This string goes both ways,” he muses softly, tracing the thread with his index finger.
“Well… we’re always so busy…” you insist, not wanting to believe what your captain is saying.
“You forget, I control dreams. If this is something you wanted to explore, we could all explore it while you sleep, and no one would ever have to know.”
“How would that work?” you ask, your inhibitions practically nonexistent as your unbridled unconscious takes control.
“I can put people to sleep and draw them into my dream realm. I could bring you and Mingyu into my mind, and in my dream world, you can feel every touch, as if it were happening while awake.”
“Into your dream realm…” you repeat. “Where you control everything.”
“Yes.” He nods, assessing your every facial expression with watchful eyes.
“I…” you swallow thickly, overwhelmed with this information.
Could you really… explore this soul tie with both Wonwoo and Mingyu while in a dream realm?
What would the exploration look like?
“You don’t have to answer now,” Wonwoo tells you. “I’d prefer to hear your decision while you’re awake. In here, in your own dream… well, your primal instincts often take over while your civilized mind is at rest.”
“My primal instincts,” you whisper.
“Yes.” Wonwoo steps closer, leaning forward until his lips are almost ghosting over your own. “Let’s talk about this again soon.”
The world collapses around you, and you sit up in bed, breathing heavily, the anticipation of a kiss leaving tingles on your lips.
Five:
You’re walking back to the training yard after lunch when you realize someone is tailing you, and you turn to see Wonwoo. He makes a motion with his head, indicating toward a storage closet that will take you away from the prying eyes of other members of the guard.
Your heart is racing practically out of your chest as he follows you into the small space.
“So?” he says when he closes the door.
“So?” you repeat.
“So what are you thinking?”
God, he’s standing so close to you, and now that you’re wide awake, you can even feel his breath.
The invisible thread between you is practically pulsing with your proximity, and you swallow thickly. “I want to,” you tell him.
“Want to what?” he grins.
“I want to have a dream with you and Mingyu,” you clarify. “I want to explore this. Without having to sneak around and hide in closets.”
“I kind of like it in here,” he muses, leaning closer.
Your whole body is tingling with desperation. You’re not a virgin, but you haven’t had sex since you joined the guard; you’ve been too focused on training and tasks.
God, you really need to get fucked.
Something tells you Wonwoo does as well. All this man does is work, day and night.
Having your dreams to explore sexual fantasies in would be amazing. Hell, half of your life is spent asleep. You can’t even imagine what it will be like to be able to partake in Wonwoo’s dream realm any night you want, without it impeding on your rigorous waking schedule.
You can’t help yourself; you grab his shoulders, pulling him to you.
Your lips smash against his own, and his hands tug at your hips, pressing you firmly to his chest.
Wonwoo has always been extremely handsome, but he’s kept to himself. This whole dream invasion thing has opened a door you never thought would be unlocked, and now, you want to dive in headfirst.
He’s quiet, but domineering, and obviously considerate. Intelligent men have a certain appeal, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the inherent power both Wonwoo and Mingyu have over you as vice-captains.
Your entire body is tingling as you kiss each other, getting lost in the throes of passion, squished secretly together in a closet at the SVT headquarters like teenagers kissing in a confession booth at church.
You grab the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss and allowing his tongue into your mouth. Wonwoo groans, and it’s the most delightful sound you’ve ever heard. You can feel your panties sticking to your core-
Someone coughs loudly outside of the storage closet, and you pull apart quickly, your heart racing.
“Sorry guys, but uh, that’s a broom closet, and as a vice-captain, I have to suggest you move it elsewhere.” The voice is unmistakably Mingyu’s, and the realization flashes in Wonwoo’s eyes as you stare at each other.
All it takes is a moment, and you know through the way the invisible thread jolts that you’re thinking the same thing.
Wonwoo throws the door open, grabs Mingyu, and tugs him into the closet.
“What the fu- Wonwoo?” Mingyu gasps in shock. “Y/N? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I just sensed rushing blood in here-”
“It’s okay,” Wonwoo assures him.
“Uh…” Mingyu swallows uncomfortably, pressing himself back against the wall of the closet. “So…”
“We all need to talk, but not here,” Wonwoo explains.
“Yeah, it’s kind of stuffy in here,” Mingyu notes. “Also… I’m not going to tell Cheol I saw the two of you in a closet.”
Wonwoo sighs, shaking his head at his friend. “That’s not what we need to talk about.”
“Is it something bad? God, I explained to Hoshi last month that my blood magic can’t be used as birth control-”
“What? No!” Wonwoo narrows his eyes at Mingyu. “That’s not-”
“You guys can talk it out, but Seungcheol is expecting me in the training yard. You two can be late, but I can’t,” you interject.
“Yeah, no one’s in the hallway,” Mingyu confirms, utilizing his blood sensing power.
“We’ll catch up to you,” Wonwoo assures you, opening the closet door so you can skitter out.
Your entire body is flooded with jittery energy as you run toward the training yard, anticipation a more intense drug than most.
Six:
You’re really not sure how this is going to work, so you wait patiently in your room. From what you understand, Wonwoo can enter dreams and take control, but for him to invite you into his own dream kingdom, he needs to put you to sleep, something that is easily done using his power.
It’s late when there’s a knock at your door, and you open it to allow Wonwoo to slip inside.
“I was worried you weren’t coming,” you confess.
“Had to make sure no one saw me come in here,” he explains. “Woozi patrols these halls like a guardsman.”
“I know we have no rules about fraternization, but Woozi definitely makes it seem like we do.”
“Yeah, that’s Jeonghan’s fault. He got one of our best recruits pregnant a few years back, and it took them both out of the game. He’s back now, but she decided to be a stay-at-home mom.”
“So pregnancy is a definite no,” you laugh awkwardly.
“I’m not planning on having kids anytime soon, are you?” he cocks a brow.
“Not even in my wildest dreams.”
“Good.” Wonwoo clears his throat. “Doing things this way, in a dream state, will protect us all from that nonsense; the only problem is, if I’m letting you into my dream world, I have to come and physically see you when we want to do this.”
“And then you put me to sleep?”
“Yes, and then I leave and join you in the dream world from my own room.”
“So there’s still an element of sneaking around,” you note.
Wonwoo shrugs. “I can be pretty quiet when I want to be.”
“Trust me, I’ve noticed. I thought you hated me this entire time.”
“I don’t hate you,” he laughs. “I’m just not as open about my feelings as Mingyu is.”
“Whatever the two of you feel for me, you’ve both done a very good job hiding it.”
“Well… we can’t have vice-captains making recruits feel uncomfortable if things are unrequited,” Wonwoo muses. “Could you imagine how horrible that would be?”
“It wouldn’t be the best,” you agree. “So how do we do this?”
“Lay down,” Wonwoo instructs. “Mingyu is already waiting for you.”
“Oh?”
“I figured you two should have a moment or two to talk privately before I get back to my own room. I know you and I are on the same page, but I probably didn’t do the best job explaining this to him in that storage closet.” Wonwoo laughs at himself, following you as you head to lie down.
“So… I’ll still be myself in the dream?” you ask.
“Yes. Unlike your dreams where I’m invading your subconscious, when you come into my dream world, it’s as if you’re completely awake just in a different realm. You will be able to touch, feel, taste… pretty much anything you can do in real life.”
“Except get pregnant.”
“Yes.”
You don’t want to bring it up with him, but you know the extra caveat he’s not mentioning; if you die in his dream world, you die in real life. That’s what makes Wonwoo so extremely powerful: he can wipe entire factions of enemies off the map just by trapping them in his dream world and summoning a tsunami, or a fireball, or anything he can imagine.
But you’re not afraid; you’re sure that wherever Wonwoo places you in his dream realm will be nice. After all, you’re going there to get secretly fucked stupid by two of your vice-captains.
Seven:
You find yourself transported to a large bedroom. The floor beneath your feet is dark marble, and large crystals jut out of it, their cores casting a glow around the room. It’s cavernous, almost, with what looks like a hot spring bubbling in one corner. And then your eyes find a massive bed, and your gaze meets Mingyu’s.
“Y/N!” he stands up abruptly.
“Hi,” you say awkwardly, not quite sure how to approach him given the circumstances.
“Can you explain what’s going on?”
Your words get caught in your throat, and you fight with yourself on how to do this, but you decide being honest is probably the best idea.
“Wonwoo invaded my dreams recently, and it caused a tether of fate to form between us, a tether that I’d only ever seen between you and me.”
“A tether of fate?” he repeats.
“Yes, like… a thread,” you try to explain. “From my heart to yours.”
“Oh.” You notice the way his cheeks turn a rosy pink. “Was I that obvious about liking you?”
“Without the tether, I may not have noticed. You and Wonwoo are both quite good at keeping your secrets.”
“We have to be; it wouldn’t be fair to put pressure on you like that.”
Both of these men truly are wonderful people. Here they are, vice-captains with an interest in you, but neither is willing to put you in a precarious situation due to the innate power imbalance that resides between you.
“I feel the same way, though. I’ve been interested in you both since the trials; I just never knew what to do about it,” you blurt out, then pause. “Is this weird for you that I like you both?”
“Not really,” Mingyu admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wonwoo and I grew up together; we’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember. When he jumps, I jump. I suppose it’s not the most surprising thing that we’d be interested in the same girl. And, well, sharing you is better than one of us being left out, I guess.”
Mingyu is adorable. This is a side to him you’ve never really seen.
Both men have always been quite reserved in speaking about personal feelings. All the Captains are strictly business, so it is nice to see Mingyu - and Wonwoo - in a new light.
“So… is this like a double date sort of thing? And by double, I mean, well, both of us with you,” Mingyu laughs awkwardly.
“I mean, it can be,” you tell him, embarrassment washing over you.
It’s clear you and Wonwoo have more sinful intentions, but you have never stopped to consider if Mingyu would want to take things slow.
“You two are cute,” comes Wonwoo’s voice, and you turn to see him standing by the bed. You’re not sure when he had appeared, but you’re happy he can handle this awkwardness now.
“Why are we cute?” Mingyu asks.
“We’re in a dream world,” Wonwoo responds casually. “We don’t have to take things slow here if we don’t want to. I understand you like to be a gentleman about these things, Mingyu, but y/n doesn’t want us to be. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’d prefer it if, while we’re in this realm, we behave the opposite.”
“Wait, so you’re saying…” Mingyu looks between you and his friend.
“There’s a tether of fate between us, one that she can physically see in the waking world,” Wonwoo explains to Mingyu. “She knows we care about her, and she can correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like our little recruit wants two of her captains to fuck her brains out in a dream realm free of consequences.”
Both of their gazes shift to you, looking for confirmation, and you manage a nod. “He’s right,” you admit. “Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but as a weaver of thread magic who is learning about the fate aspect of my power, there’s something inside of me that innately trusts the string that connects us all. I can’t explain it, but I know the universe wouldn’t steer me wrong on this.”
“And we’re all pent up from being too good at our jobs when we’re awake,” Wonwoo points out. “This seems like the perfect fit.”
“I just… are you sure you don’t want us to buy you dinner first or something?” Mingyu laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
You sneak a peek at Wonwoo, and both of you can’t hide your laughter. “You’re very cute, Mingyu.”
“I just mean…” the tall man says, clearly flustered, “I don’t want you to think we’re taking advantage of you.”
“I think she’s taking advantage of us, actually,” Wonwoo grins. “Very naughty of her.”
God, Wonwoo can be so sexy when he wants to be. Your core throbs at his words, and you’re shocked at how you can feel it so vividly. So the word about Wonwoo’s dream realm was true; you’ll be able to feel everything they do to you.
“So are you in or out, Mingyu?” Wonwoo asks. “I can always allow you to wake up, take her to dinner on your own time, and miss out on this.”
Mingyu glares at his friend. “Don’t you dare.”
“So we’re in agreement,” Wonwoo concludes. “Dream sex now, a proper dinner later.”
“You guys don’t have to take me out for a proper dinner,” you laugh.
Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Mingyu seems dead set on it.”
“I am!”
Your giggling intensifies, but it dies down when you see the way the men are staring at you. “So, Wonwoo,” you clear your throat. “What now?”
“So if we’re all consenting, then we’re all consenting,” Wonwoo clarifies, earning nods from you and Mingyu. “Now, you let me work my magic,” Wonwoo concludes. “Starting with your outfit.”
He raises a hand, and you feel the brush of air across your skin. When you look down, you find yourself in a black nightdress. It’s short, with a silky fabric that brushes your mid-thigh, and the cool air of the room caresses your bare shoulders.
You know Wonwoo controls everything here, but the fact that he’s dressing you up like his own personal doll leaves you breathless.
“She’s beautiful,” Mingyu says.
“What do you think, baby?” Wonwoo asks, directing his question at you.
“I’m not sure,” you admit.
Another twitch of his fingers and a massive mirror appears in front of you, giving you a full view of the outfit he’s chosen. You marvel at yourself in the reflection, shocked by how well Wonwoo has chosen a nightie for you. Had he spent a long time considering this?
The mirror disappears, and you stare at the two men, unable to help but smile. “It looks good,” you confirm.
“Now for us,” Wonwoo turns his attention to Mingyu, and the next moment, the vice-captain is shirtless. Mingyu jumps from the sudden change, and Wonwoo grins. “I think this is probably up our baby’s alley.”
“I feel… exposed,” Mingyu admits, clearly unused to being a puppet whose world is controlled by a sinful master like Wonwoo.
“Tell him you like this,” Wonwoo says, turning to you.
“I do like it,” you admit, taking in Mingyu’s body with hungry relish. God, he’s so ripped, but you suppose you have quite a physical job. His skin is marred in a few places with old scars, but you think it adds to Mingyu’s beauty.
“Well, what about you?” Mingyu asks his friend.
“I think I’m good like this for now,” Wonwoo responds, looking down at the black knitted sweater and pants that hide his body from your view.
The dynamic between these men is certainly interesting. You could get used to the friendly bickering, and you can’t wait to explore them more.
Wonwoo’s gaze finds you again, and with the simple crook of his finger, he uses his power to tug you to his chest. You release a gasp, your hands finding his shoulders as you look up at him.
“So, how rough do you want it?” he asks, a sly grin appearing on his lips.
“Break me,” you whisper, skin tingling at the admittance of just how far you want to go tonight. “Don’t hold anything back.”
“Is there anything you don’t like?” Mingyu questions, stepping behind you, blocking you in against Wonwoo while his lips trail just millimeters from your throat.
“I…” you swallow thickly. “I’m not sure yet.”
Wonwoo stiffens. “Are you a virgin?”
“No,” you assure him. “Just not the most experienced, and I haven’t been touched in a very long time.”
“If you don’t like anything, just say so,” Mingyu tells you, his hand stroking your arm. “I don’t think we need a safe word; just communicate with us.”
“I will,” you promise.
Wonwoo looks at the man over your shoulder, and it’s clear they exchange a wordless agreement. This is a duo of best friends; you’re sure they have an idea of what will work with each other.
They move in tandem, Wonwoo cupping your cheek and drawing your lips to his while Mingyu presses a kiss to your throat, easily narrowing in on your sweet spot.
A moan escapes you, and your whole body melts like jelly, your arms wrapping around Wonwoo to stay standing while they begin to worship you.
Mingyu’s hands find your hips, helping to keep you steady while they slowly explore you. The kiss with Wonwoo is hot and fiery, picking up where you’d left off in the storage closet. You can practically taste his lust for you, and it makes your body surge with pleasure. Mingyu, meanwhile, is slightly more tentative, licking and sucking on your skin.
You press your chest to Wonwoo, arching your back so your ass can brush against Mingyu’s crotch, and the man behind you groans, his fingers digging into your hips.
You can feel his bulge beginning to press in his pants, and knowing that both men want you is a huge turn on. You’d never imagined you’d be engaging in a threesome, let alone a dream threesome with two insanely hot vice-captains of your squad.
Mingyu’s hand rises from your hip, and he massages your breast through the slinky nightie that adorns your body. You groan, breaking your kiss with Wonwoo so both men can hear your sounds of pleasure.
Wonwoo’s lips find your throat, and now both men are kissing your neck while their hands trail up your body.
Mingyu continues to touch your chest, but Wonwoo’s hand slips between your thighs. “You’re soaked, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve never seen such a cute, needy little recruit before.”
So he’s leaning into the power dynamic… you’ve never been this turned on in your entire life.
“I just want to be good for you, Captain,” you whimper.
“You’re being so good for us,” Mingyu assures you.
“Yes, Sir,” you groan when Wonwoo begins to stroke your core through the flimsy piece of fabric between your legs.
Mingyu responds by slowly lifting the nightie off of your body, exposing your torso to both men, then, in tandem, they turn you so your back is now to Wonwoo. Mingyu cups your face, drawing your lips to his while Wonwoo continues to play with your pussy. His hand slips under the fabric of your panties, deft fingers circling your aching clit.
Mingyu’s not holding back anymore, and his tongue invades your mouth deliciously. He takes your breath away, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, loving the way he’s already groaning softly.
Wonwoo applies more pressure to your clit, and you gasp, pulling at Mingyu’s hair. You break the kiss to throw your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder, and Mingyu takes the opportunity to let his lips trail down your throat. His breath is warm against your exposed skin, and his mouth is hot when he sucks one of your nipples between his lips.
“Fuck,” you whimper, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.
“Look at you,” Wonwoo grins. “Such a sensitive baby.”
“It feels so good,” you groan, wiggling your hips, looking for more stimulation.
Wonwoo slips two fingers into your soaked core, and you release a deep moan, eyes shutting as you focus on the pleasure both men are providing you.
“What a warm, wet pussy, baby,” Wonwoo muses. “Is this all for us?”
“Yes,” you whimper, loving the way he’s still using his palm to stimulate your clit.
Mingyu sucks harder on your nipple, pinching the other between two fingers.
“You’re dripping all over my hand,” Wonwoo continues. “How close are you?”
“So close,” you admit, muscles clenching with need.
“I guess we should give you what you need.” Wonwoo’s lips find your throat, and he sucks on your sweet spot, his fingers working you open while his palm applies rough pressure to your clit. Mingyu worships your chest, teasing your nipples until you’re aching.
Your whimpers and gasps fill the room, echoing off the cavernous walls. Both men focus entirely on getting you to the edge, and soon, your entire body is throbbing with hot pleasure as you cum hard.
Your core clenches around Wonwoo’s fingers, your screams uncensored as your orgasm overtakes you completely.
“That’s it,” Wonwoo praises you, nibbling on your ear while they work you through your high. “What a good girl for us.”
Mingyu pulls away from your chest, cupping your face so he can press his lips to yours. He eats up your sounds while Wonwoo finishes you off, and the moment your orgasm subsides, Mingyu picks you up.
The tall man carries you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours as he lays you down on the plush mattress before getting on top of you. His hips rock, his hard cock nudging your core through two layers of fabric.
“How about we make this fun for all of us?” Wonwoo’s voice cuts through your lust. “Mingyu, you’re not used to a situation like this; threesomes require a bit of creativity.”
“Huh?” Mingyu pulls away from you, turning to look over his shoulder at his friend.
“I’m not some cuck who’s going to stand and watch,” Wonwoo reiterates. “Lay her across the bed, her head hanging over one side; you can use her mouth, but I’m going to eat her pussy one way or another.”
You swear; his words could make you cum on the spot.
Dominant Wonwoo is a sight to behold, and it delights you that he has control like this, and the foresight to imagine scenarios where all three of you can be experiencing pleasure in tandem.
“Okay,” Mingyu swallows thickly. “Yeah.” One adjustment has you with your head cocked off the side of the bed, and Mingyu fumbles with his pants. “You okay with this?” he asks.
“Yes, I told you, don’t hold anything back.”
While Mingyu pulls his cock out, Wonwoo gets onto the bed between your thighs. One snap of his fingers has your panties disappearing, and he groans at the sight of your wet core.
“Messy baby,” he taunts, kissing your inner thigh.
“You made me this way, Captain,” you retort, earning a sharp slap to your leg.
“I’m cleaning up after myself, aren’t I?’ Wonwoo reminds you.
Your core throbs, and Wonwoo presses a kiss to your clit that makes your toes curl. He adjusts your legs over his shoulders, his strong hands grabbing your hips to pin you to the bed while he licks your core.
A squeal escapes you, and you writhe slightly against the bed, only for Mingyu to capture your attention.
“Open your mouth, pretty girl,” he prompts, stroking his massive cock and looking down at you.
“Yes, Sir,” you respond, licking your lips before tilting your head back and preparing yourself.
Mingyu brings his cock closer, not pressuring you to go too hard too fast, and you start by licking his shaft. You bring a hand up, grabbing his base to make it easier for you to tease him.
Wonwoo takes your clit into his mouth, sucking lewdly, and you groan, closing your eyes and doing your best to continue licking Mingyu while Wonwoo pleasures you.
His size is daunting, but you finally wrap your lips around the head of his cock.
“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, taking over as he slowly thrusts the tip in and out of your mouth. “This bed is a little low.”
Wonwoo doesn’t even bother to respond, but you feel the mattress raise, making your head level with Mingyu’s hips so he doesn’t have to bend down in an awkward squat to face fuck you.
Thank god for dream magic.
Mingyu pushes a little deeper into your mouth, and you do your best to relax. Your drool is acting as a lubricant, making it easy for Mingyu as he fucks into you.
You close your eyes, enjoying this position and all that it provides. Both men are groaning now, and the vibrations of Wonwoo’s mouth on your clit has your legs twitching.
Mingyu reaches down, pinching one of your nipples and making you whine around his cock.
“What a view,” he muses, pushing his cock even deeper into your mouth with each thrust.
It’s then that you realize you don’t have a gag reflex, and you surmise this must be another one of Wonwoo’s little dream magic quirks. There’s no uncomfortable feeling for you as Mingyu face fucks you with his gigantic cock, and it allows you to focus on your own pleasure.
Two fingers slip into your core, and Wonwoo continues sucking on your clit, crooking his digits up to stroke your g-spot.
You whine desperately around Mingyu’s cock, grabbing the bed sheets to try to anchor yourself while the pleasure builds.
God, nothing has ever felt this good.
You can hear your pussy squelching, and that turns you on even more as you hollow your cheeks around Mingyu. Wonwoo isn’t letting up on your clit, and the lewd slurping has your mind going fuzzy.
Finally, you can’t take any more; you push Mingyu’s thigh, and he backs away. With a loud gasp that turns into a desperate moan, you warn Wonwoo that you’re close.
He stares up at you with dark eyes, finger fucking you even harder.
Something breaks inside of you, all the pressure releases, and you cry out. “Fuck,” Wonwoo groans, pulling away from your clit while his fingers continue inside of you. “You’re squirting all over me, baby.”
“Holy shit,” Mingyu whispers, and you throw your head back to look up at the man stroking his cock above you.
“Just like that, baby, keeping squirting,” Wonwoo coaxes you, his motions unrelenting as he draws even more juice out of your core.
You grab the bedsheets, gripping them hard as you try to stay anchored in this dream reality wherein you’re having truly the most sinful, wet, delicious sex of your entire life.
Wonwoo slows down his pace, removing his fingers from your core to lick them clean before putting his tongue on your pussy again. He groans as he licks up every drop of your orgasm, sucking your clit into his mouth and making you scream from sensitivity.
“I think she’s ready for more,” Wonwoo says with a satisfied grin, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.
“Who do you want first?” Mingyu asks.
“I don’t care; I just need someone inside of me, or I might die,” you whimper, mind feeling fuzzy with desire.
“You can fuck her first, Gyu,” Wonwoo sighs. “You look like you’re about to pop.”
“Do we need protection?”
“You can’t get her pregnant in a dream,” Wonwoo explains.
“Oh, right, yeah.”
The two men help you up, and the bed sinks to a normal height again so Mingyu can climb on with you. Although Mingyu’s the one who’s about to fuck you, Wonwoo’s the one who takes the lead with positioning, and he adjusts you onto your knees facing him while your back is to Mingyu.
“Come here,” Wonwoo grins, pinching your chin to draw your lips to his while Mingyu’s mouth finds your throat. His free hand slips down your spine, and he prompts you to arch your back, pushing your butt toward Mingyu.
Wonwoo groans as you kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. He pulls away, wordlessly tapping your cheek to make you turn and look over your shoulders, your lips meeting Mingyu’s.
The large man behind you moans lewdly, his hands wrapping around you so one can massage your breast and the other can slip down to rub your clit.
You tilt your pelvis and feel Mingyu’s cock prod your wet hole. Then you reach behind yourself, grabbing the base of his cock to hold it steady, which allows you to push back onto it.
The head of his cock stretches you out deliciously, and you both moan. It’s not the deepest position, but when Mingyu sinks down on his knees a little, he’s able to thrust up into you and fill you more.
Wonwoo, meanwhile, removes his shirt, and in a flash, he’s naked too. You can’t help but reach for his hard cock, and you break the kiss with Mingyu to focus on Wonwoo.
You’re sandwiched between these men, stroking off the one in front of you, while Mingyu ruts into you from behind.
Mingyu grabs your hips, anchoring you while he finds a good pace, and then something pinches hard on both of your nipples.
You gasp, your eyes flashing open to find Wonwoo has conjured a set of nipple clamps, connected by a beaded chain that he’s gently tugging, working both of your nipples simultaneously.
“How do you feel about a little pain?” he asks.
“I love it,” you groan, body tingling with pleasure.
“Yeah?” He reaches between your thighs, finding your clit so he can rub you while Mingyu fucks into you.
“Feels so good,” you confirm, biting your lip as the feeling washes over you.
Each gentle tug of the chain between the clamps sets your body on fire, and you love the way both men are worshipping your pussy together.
“So fucking wet,” Mingyu groans.
“I don’t even need to use my powers to make this pussy magic,” Wonwoo grins, leaning forward so his lips ghost over yours. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from us all this time.”
“I can’t believe neither of you wanted to make a move,” you retort, stroking his cock faster.
Wonwoo tugs on the clamps and you cry out. “What was that, recruit? Sounded like you were talking back to me.”
“I’m sorry, Captain,” you whimper, forcing your eyes open to look up at Wonwoo.
“And?” he tugs the chain again.
“Sorry, Sir, it won’t happen again.”
Mingyu clearly doesn’t give a fuck about this whole power play thing; he’s too busy railing into you to care, his moans filling the room.
“I wonder if you can fit more,” Wonwoo says, lifting a hand in front of your face. “Suck.”
You take two of his fingers into your mouth, meeting his eyes as you lewdly suck on them. With a groan, Wonwoo pulls his hand away, dropping it down to your core where Mingyu is entering you.
Your heart leaps with the realization of what he’s about to do, and Mingyu pauses to allow Wonwoo to push his two fingers inside of you, digits now snug along his best friend’s cock. Wonwoo crooks his fingers toward your g-spot, and you cry out, which is enough confirmation of pleasure for Mingyu to begin fucking into you again.
“I kind of like this view,” Wonwoo muses, tugging on the nipple clamps again. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to take both of us at the same time.”
The thought of having both of them stuffed inside of you makes you shiver, and you stroke his cock faster, panting with delight.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, baby?” Wonwoo’s smirk widens. “You know, from what I’ve seen in his dreams, Mingyu is quite the ass man.”
“Fuck you,” Mingyu grunts, clearly unaware that Wonwoo’s taken a peek in his dreams before and witnessed his innermost sexual proclivities.
“There’s no shame in it,” Wonwoo insists. “In fact, it kind of works in our favour… just not tonight.”
The idea that Wonwoo’s planning future sexual experiences makes you tingle with anticipation.
“You know, I can take away pain in this realm, as I took away that gag reflex of yours,” Wonwoo continues. “So I can promise that if you want to try us both at once, you don’t have to be afraid of anything.”
“Yes, thank you, Captain, next time,” you assure him, unable to think properly as he continues to stoke your g-spot while Mingyu stretches you out with his cock.
“I think you’re pretty close, aren’t you, baby?” Wonwoo asks, tilting his head slightly.
“Yes,” you gasp when he presses his palm to your clit.
“You want to know what else I can do in this realm?” His smirk widens. “Squirt for us.”
All the tightness in your body releases at once, and an orgasm slams into you like a tsunami. You let out a scream as your core clamps down on both men, pushing them out of you so your juice can flood onto the bed.
“Holy shit!” Mingyu groans, immediately wrapping a hand around your body to rub your clit, which only makes you cum harder.
“Wonwoo!” you whimper, grabbing his shoulders to stay upright on your knees while your orgasm rages through you.
“I like it when you’re messy,” he smirks.
When your orgasm begins to subside, Mingyu slips back into you, and Wonwoo moves out of the way to allow Mingyu to fold you over into doggy position. Rough hands on your hips keep you anchored as Mingyu plows into you, chasing his own release like a madman.
“Shit,” Mingyu moans. “I’m gonna cum.”
His sounds get louder, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then, as he’s buried completely inside of you, you feel him explode. The groan that escapes him is one of the sexiest things you’ve ever heard, and your body twitches, core trying to milk him as he fills you up.
After what feels like a long orgasm, Mingyu finally pulls back, releasing an exhausted huff.
“That’s the most I’ve ever cum,” he admits.
“Yeah, I wonder why,” Wonwoo says sarcastically, helping you back onto your knees.
You can practically sense Mingyu’s jaw drop as the realization floods over you both. Just as Wonwoo can make you cum on command in this dream realm, it appears he can elongate Mingyu’s orgasm too.
“Messy messy,” Wonwoo tuts, flicking his wrist and sending Mingyu toppling down onto the pillows. Wonwoo places you between Mingyu’s legs, and you use his strong chest like a backrest as you get comfortable.
Wonwoo looks over your body, and you stare up at him, wondering what he’ll do next.
“I don’t think I need these anymore,” Wonwoo admits, making a small motion that causes the nipple clamps to disappear. Another twitch of his fingers draws Mingyu’s hands to your breasts, and the man behind you groans at being puppeteered. “I kind of want to make you squirt again.”
“Please, Captain,” you gasp, “I’m so tired already.”
“I can make that go away.”
“No, just… I want to feel you,” you insist. “I didn’t envision a sex marathon tonight.”
“Right.” Wonwoo swallows the lump in his throat, gaze trailing up your body until he meets your eyes. “Another time.”
He lies on top of you, and your legs immediately wrap around his hips. You draw his lips to yours, and he kisses you desperately. The head of his cock prods your entrance, and you wiggle your hips, eager for him to stuff you properly.
Wonwoo adjusts, pushing himself inside of you while you both groan.
Mingyu’s hands continue on your breasts, and you can feel his racing heart behind you as he watches his friend begin to fuck you.
You tangle your fingers in Wonwoo’s hair, kissing him hard as he rails into you.
“You feel better than I could have imagined,” Wonwoo admits. “I don’t need to change a thing.”
What’s interesting is: Wonwoo is kind of a nerd.
He’s the ruler of this whole realm, but… he’s a nerd about it… sexually.
He’s so endearing, and it makes your body pulse with pleasure as he fucks you, his lips moving to your throat where he bites marks into you that won’t be there when you wake up.
One adjustment has your leg over Wonwoo’s shoulder, and he thrusts deep inside of you, making you cry out.
That’s when you notice Mingyu beginning to get hard again, and you struggle to grab his cock, stroking it to earn yourself a moan from your male backrest.
“Come here,” Wonwoo prompts, pulling you down slightly so your head is level with Mingyu’s length. “Now you can suck on it.”
You don’t even need Wonwoo’s power to prompt you to take Mingyu into your mouth, and you close your eyes, loving the feeling of pleasuring two men at once.
“This is insane,” Mingyu says under his breath, pinching your nipple and making you cry out around him.
“Trust me, it could be a lot crazier,” Wonwoo chuckles, his pace getting even quicker.
You don’t even want to think about the sexual fantasies Wonwoo could create for you to play a starring role in. You’re sure you’ll live them one night soon enough.
“I’m pretty close, baby-” Wonwoo begins, and you just know he’s going to ask if you want him to magically hold off from busting, so you pull off of Mingyu’s cock.
“Please fill me up,” you interject. “I need it.”
“Yeah?” Wonwoo stares down at you, eyes clouded with lust.
“Uh huh,” you nod, biting your lip as your toes curl with pleasure.
He watches you for a few seconds, motions unrelenting. “Okay, well…” He swallows thickly, chasing his orgasm. “I guess we can all cum one last time.”
Before you or Mingyu can cut him off, an unexpected orgasm surges through you, making you cry out.
“Fucking fuck!” Mingyu gasps, his cock exploding next to you and coating his chest with spunk.
Wonwoo doesn’t miss a beat; he only grins as he pushes fully inside of you, painting your inner core with his seed. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, gasping as he rides out his long orgasm, stuffing you to the brim with cum while your core tries to swallow him up.
Wonwoo shivers, coming down slowly.
“That last group orgasm was uncalled for,” Mingyu muses, still trying to catch his breath.
“It was funny, though,” Wonwoo grins.
Who knew he had a comedic bone in his body?
“What now?” Mingyu asks.
“Now, we all go into the hot spring that I conjured just for this; I figured it’s aftercare or whatever.”
Aftercare or whatever.
“Come on,” Wonwoo declares, sitting up and grabbing you. He tugs you off of Mingyu, who is still struggling to recollect himself.
“What about all this cum? Won’t it pollute the water or something?” Mingyu asks, scrambling onto his knees.
“It’s just cum,” Wonwoo sighs. “And it’s not even real. Here.”
With one twitch of his fingers, all the fluid on Mingyu’s chest disappears, and you feel the cum that was dripping out of you suddenly vanish.
“It’s going to take a while to get used to this,” Mingyu groans, following you and Wonwoo to the hot spring in the corner of the room.
Wonwoo slowly lowers you into the warm water, and both men join you with sighs of pleasure. “It’s fun to use my power this way,” Wonwoo admits. “I never thought about using it to fuck the shit out of people.”
You laugh and shake your head.
Quiet vice-captain Wonwoo, a sexual tyrant in his own dream world- who would have thought?
“You both had fun though?” Wonwoo asks.
“It was amazing,” you admit, turning your gaze to Mingyu.
“Yeah, it was pretty good,” Mingyu says, shaking his head, “but the next time you make me cum with your powers, I’m giving you a blood stiffy while we’re at a Captain meeting with Seungcheol.”
“Noted,” Wonwoo nods with a grin. “So next time…”
“Next time, surprise me; I don’t want to be part of the planning process,” you interject.
“Are you sure?” Mingyu blinks at you.
“Yes. I have to focus on the real world when I’m awake; if I spend too much time thinking of sexual scenarios to act out here, my training will suffer.”
“Spoken like a true recruit,” Wonwoo nods. “You’re cute.”
“I have some ideas,” Mingyu admits.
Wonwoo grins. “Like getting her dinner?”
“Yes!” Mingyu glares. “But other things too.”
You drown out their bickering, and your mind drifts to the thread that ties you all together. Now you know why fate brought you to these men, and you know you were right to trust your intuition.
You’re not sure where things go from here, but you know that as long as the thread of fate connects the three of you, everything will turn out the way it should, sexual dream magic and all.
☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I had so much fun with this one! I think I know I'm doing something right when my own fics make me laugh, so I hope you guys got a kick out of this one too :)
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🔮 preview. You will never get tired of their bickering, or Wonwoo’s nerdy little rules about the restrictions of his dream magic and the logical way in which a sex scene should play out within the parameters of his abilities.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.3k I teaser wc. 200
🌙 starring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader
bonus
In Wonwoo’s dream realm, the only limit is your own imagination, and with three extremely horny adults who all have different kinks they want to play out, you never get bored.
You’ve lived what feels like a thousand different lifetimes in your dreams with Wonwoo and Mingyu, and leaning into roleplay has spiced up your life in a way you never could have even dreamed of on your own.
You’ve been a siren to two pirate captains who fuck you stupid in an underwater palace. You’ve embodied a priestess welcoming erotic worship from her most devout followers. You’ve played the part of squad captain disciplining her subordinates when you’ve wanted to explore being on the more dominant side of the exchange.
And now, you sit on the bed in Wonwoo’s marble palace, discussing what you want to explore tonight.
“I just think it would be fun if I was a werewolf,” Mingyu says for what feels like the fifth time.
Wonwoo sighs. “You do understand that I couldn’t just will your body to have werewolf traits; I’d have to physically command the base of your cock to swell so you can do your whole knotting kink thing when you cum.”
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In which you slowly fall inlove with your possessive and flirty bsf who sees you two as nothing more than friends
Joshua x Fem!reader
Part 1
⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Notes/warnings: 18+, lingerie pic from Pinterest ofc, curse words, josh is REALLY unfair and toxic, possessive behavior, VERY much angst, josh calls reader petnames, seungkwan is your other bsf, josh n reader get into an argument mentions of reader crying, reader is lwk also possessive in her own way??, reader gets jealous, reader kinda has a roster??, that should be it?? Enjoy!(want a part 3? Lmk)
you and mingyu had been living together for quite a while now. in the beginning, it was only supposed to be temporary, but curiously enough, things just worked out, and this was already the second year in your shared apartment.
living with him was never hard. he had always been gentle, polite, and helpful, from the start, the division of chores and grocery shopping worked seamlessly between you two. that’s why, when the initial three months ended, you opted to keep sharing the rent with him.
mingyu was used to help you with college assignments, was right there by your side at your graduation, and always listened whenever you needed to vent about work. fuck, mingyu was a the best possible roommate.
except for one thing: he had a insatiable desire for you.
he never said a word, nor would he ever dare to speak it aloud, fully aware of the boundaries established in your relationship, especially since you never gave him any opening for things like that. but damn, he wanted you. he imagined your sweaty body against his, particularly when you both walked back up from the building’s gym. how many times had he gotten hard just listening to your soft whimpers while he massaged your back?.
“heyyyy, i’m leaving!” you snapped him out of whatever he was doing on his phone.
“did you strip your bed? i’m putting a load in the washing machine.”
oh, right. you and mingyu split the laundry duty: every week, one of you was responsible for washing the bed sheets, towels, and personal clothes.
“fuck, can you strip it for me, gyu? i’m soooooo late! the door is open!”
“i’m gonna charge you for this,” he chuckled, giving you the green light to leave.
after you left, he spent several long minutes scrolling through his phone before finally working up the courage to grab the laundry hampers in each room. the door to your bedroom was indeed open. even though your hamper was out in the hallway, he walked inside given the prior permission and pulled the sheet off your mattress.
he regretted it bitterely the very next second.
mingyu didn't know where it had come from, but it was impossible to miss the red lace panties caught right in the middle of the white sheet.
his lips went bone dry. as much as he fought it and tried to suppress the urge, mingyu couldn't stop himself from holding the fabric in his hand. he ran his thumb over the cloth, which felt slightly stiff, a sign that the liquid had dried there, even though there were still wet remnants of your ovulation.
he felt dirty, yet he couldn't stop himself from bringing the gusset of the panties to his nose, licking it lightly when he realized it wasn't completely dry.
“fuck…” he muttered.
not even mingyu could pinpoint when this all started. it was so natural, so automatic, that before he knew it, just thinking about you would wake up his lower half.
and right now, that was the only head doing any thinking.
overwhelmed by guilt, he sat on the edge of your bed and, without hesitation, pulled his cock out of his shorts. he began teasing his thumb over the tip while staring intently at your underwear. as if the red lace wasn't enough, the panties were tiny, they would definitely ride right up your ass. and that was the only thought consuming mingyu’s mind: fuck, what would it feel like to fuck you just by pulling this lace to the side? to thrust deep inside your wet pussy while you whimpered his name?
his tongue rubbed against the damp center of the lace once more, desperate to taste you. so pathetic. kim started to feel disgusted with himself, but he couldn't stop. not now. not when he could smell your sweet scent while the tip of his cock was already leaking and completely slick.
he lost all control. he wrapped the lace around his hand and dragged it across his face, picturing you, your body, your laugh, your voice, imagining how needy and soft you’d be in bed. he rubbed the panties along his thick shaft, accepting that this was the closest he would ever get to touching you like this. and when he blew his load, feeling the delicate lace chafe against his sensitive head, he felt utterly miserable.
his heavy breathing was the only thing bringing him back to reality, realizing he had just jerked off into your lace panties without any permission.
still, he couldn't resist bringing the worn underwear back to his face one last time, inhaling deeply until your scent completely dominated his senses.
“fuck, i shouldn't-” he whispered to himself.
the guilt hit him like a physical blow, coming on as fast as his recent orgasm. he had always been the perfect roommate, the organized and understanding guy, and there he was: with the scent of your fertile period trapped in his lungs after coming all over his own thighs.
he felt repulsive, yet he still couldn't stop himself from slipping the tiny piece of fabric into the pocket of his shorts.
taking a deep breath, he reached for the wet wipes on your nightstand to clean up the mess he had made, drowning in self-loathing while still unable to shake the image of you wearing that tiny piece of lace out of his head.
closing his eyes tightly, he let out a groan of pure agony and frustration. “i’m gonna go fucking insane!”
and from that moment on, he knew: looking you in the eye when you walked back through that front door was going to be the hardest challenge of the last two years.
Synopsis: Mingyu has an uncanny talent for running into you and spilling coffee on you in most random places.
Note: Writing short oneshots feels so weird after writing long ones. Anyways, I wrote this at 3 in the morning so the writing style is more simple than usual (also I doubt poetic style will go well with comedy). Enjoy! Dividers by bunnytoppop and strangergraphics.
Mingyu has an uncanny talent, and it's not for cooking, photography, nor for making every oversized sweater look like it belonged in a fashion campaign.
No.
His true gift is colliding with you in the most statistically impossible ways.
The first time it occurred was when you stepped outside the café under the glaring sun with your fresh iced latte and your eyes lost in your phone.
And he had stepped out with his Americano.
For a single, fatal second, while you're both glued to your phones, a tsunami of coffee drenched you to the bone.
Crash.
Your latte painted his white hoodie.
His Americano baptized your cream cardigan.
Silence.
Then he blinked.
"... I think we invented mocha."
You laughed despite the absurdity of the situation.
He apologized approximately forty-three times, bought you another drink, and insisted on paying for your dry cleaning.
You assumed you'd never see him again, but fate had other plans as you ran into him again in the bookstore three days later.
You reached for the same novel on the top shelf.
Someone else reached too.
Your fingers brushed against each other with a feathery touch.
You both stretched.
He lost balance.
The stack of books tumbled down like dominoes, and the other person shielded you with his arm.
You looked up.
"Coffee Guy?"
His eyes comically doubled up.
"Cardigan Girl?"
Neither of you had coffee this time.
Progress.
But that progress didn't last long, as only a week later, you stood under the weeping clouds on the crosswalk, opening your umbrella.
Someone sprinted towards you across the street.
"MOVE—"
It was too late.
Mingyu's ankle twisted on the slippery pavement as he lost his balance. Your hand instinctively grabbed him.
Both of you spun dramatically before landing on a nearby bench.
But his iced coffee held some grudge against you as it flew directly towards your white blouse.
"Seriously?" You deadpanned.
"I don't know how physics works anymore!"
By the fourth accident, your coworkers had begun asking if you secretly dated him.
"We don't!"
"You've mentioned him five times this week."
"Because he keeps attacking me with beverages!"
"That's flirting," they teased.
"It's an assault!"
And your laundry basket agreed in tears, because now half of your wardrobe smelled faintly of espresso.
By the seventh accident, you were turning a corner in a mart when a shopping cart rammed into yours.
"I swear this isn't on purpose," he cringed.
You look up to find Mingyu, of course.
His cart is filled with his weapons, which are also known the bags of coffee beans.
"Why do you always have coffee?" You queried.
"I like coffee," he replied, scratching his nape.
"You weaponize coffee."
"I don't mean to," he let a nervous laugh.
"You absolutely do," you refute.
He looked so genuinely distressed that your annoyance melted into laughter.
His shoulders slop down at witnessing your relaxed demeanor.
"There it is," he pointed out with a soft smile adorning his lips.
"What?"
"That laugh."
"… What about it?"
"I was hoping you'd laugh instead of reporting me."
And that intelligent attack succeeds in painting your cheeks red.
The tension between you both began to dissipate after the eighth collision and the eleventh apology for your wet laundry, making you expect to see him more.
The expection wasn't conscious, but it popped up whenever you entered a café, bookstore or a convenience store.
A part of your brain always wondered—
Is he here?
And he usually was, sometimes carrying coffee (unfortunately).
Your patience finally gave out one afternoon, not with a shout but with a sigh.
You stood in front of him after he'd accidentally splashed cold brew across your jeans.
Again.
You sighed toward the heavens.
"I think the universe wants us to fight," you heaved out for the third time, patting your poor, drenched jeans.
Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck, looking like a scolded puppy himself.
"I think the universe hates your laundry."
"My laundry basket has developed trust issues."
"I'll buy you a new one."
"You've already paid for dry cleaning six times."
"Seven," he mumbled under his breath.
"You keep count?"
"I have spreadsheets," he affirmed.
"You have spreadsheets?" You gawked.
He pulled out his phone and opened his very informative sheet, turning it towards you to witness his meticulous work.
There really was a spreadsheet.
Date.
Location.
Type of coffee.
Estimated stain severity.
Laundry reimbursement.
You stared.
"... You're insane."
"A little," he agreed with a lopsided grin.
"You categorized espresso separately," you call out with an arched brow.
"It stains differently," he clarified.
Doubling over with laughter, you clutched a nearby shelf for support.
A smile bloomed on his face as if he'd won the lottery.
"So..." he prompted carefully after a few minutes.
"What?"
"I've been thinking," he continued.
"Dangerous," you squinted your eyes playfully.
"Should I just... pay your monthly laundry bill?"
You crossed your arms.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I have a better idea."
His eyebrows lifted.
"If you're going to keep ruining my clothes..." you dragged on deliberately.
"..."
"... you owe me one date," you highlight your term of bargain with remarkable sangfroid, although your heart threatens to hammer your ribcage.
He froze completely.
The supermarket music continued to flow in the background while his brain visibly rebooted.
"... A date?"
"Yes."
"With you?" He inquired again, still not believing his ears.
"No, with the cashier," you deadpanned.
"Very funny."
"Oh, please, I'm hilarious," you sassed.
His ears turned pink.
"Is this pity?" He asked again for his thrumming heart.
"No," you demurred.
"Revenge?"
"Maybe a little," you admitted, flashing a grin.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I'll take revenge," he squared his shoulders with such confidence that it made you burst into laughter all over again.
The following Saturday rolled in with him arriving fifteen minutes early.
Of course he had arrived early; he had spent thirty minutes prior changing shirts more than models do for a high-end runway.
He'd double-checked weather forecasts and researched cafés with lids designed to prevent spills. And he didn't forget to stuff his bag with protective measures such as packed tissues, napkins, wet wipes, a spare shirt, and a stain remover pen.
And—
He didn't walk in chugging down coffee—not a single cup.
When you arrived, you immediately noticed the rare sight.
"You're empty-handed," you pointed out as you sat down.
"I quit coffee," he declared.
"You what?" You gaped.
"For today," he added.
"I don't believe you," you laughed and shook your head.
He pulled down the zipper of his bag slowly for extra dramatic effect and showed you his safety items.
Inside sat bottled water and a bundle of sanitary items, with no instant coffee packets in sight as he had proclaimed.
You chortle at the ridiculous amount of cleaning stuff.
"I refuse to become a public safety hazard," he announced with rosy cheeks.
The date followed wonderfully by visiting an art museum, browsing vintage shops and sharing ridiculous sunglasses.
Even arguing over whether dinosaurs would enjoy bubble tea.
"You can't prove they wouldn't," you refute.
"They're extinct," he objected.
"Exactly. No evidence," you concluded, slamming the table.
In the four straight hours... nothing spilled.
You actually began believing the curse had broken until the server approached during lunch.
"What would you like to drink?" The server asked.
"Water," Mingyu answered without a thought.
You stared.
"You're traumatized," you opined, trying not to laugh.
"A little," he admitted as he rubbed his nape.
You ordered lemonade—a harmless choice.
The server arrived back after a few minutes, placing water in front of Mingyu and your glass before you.
Mingyu let out a sigh of relief. "We made it," he cheered.
The restaurant door suddenly swung open by a mischievous child, who ran in laughing with a blaring red balloon in his hand.
The balloon's string got wrapped around another server's wrist, who also had a glass of lemonade on his tray.
The tray tilted and everything rolled in slow motion in Mingyu's eyes.
"No!" he whispered and shook his head.
The lemonade performed an elegant aerial flip before landing—
Directly onto his own white shirt.
Silence.
You stared.
He stared.
The server began apologizing profusely.
Mingyu looked down at himself.
Then at you.
"I think karma finally found me," Mingyu commented, looking dejected.
You burst into uncontrollable laughter with actual tears.
You laughed so hard that nearby diners smiled.
He watched you for a second before letting a laugh escape of his own.
"You know," he paused.
"What?"
"I think this is the first time you've laughed because coffee didn't hit you," he stated the fact as he flashed a grin.
"Lemonade counts," you grumbled.
"I'll update the spreadsheet."
"You still have it?" You snickered, taking a sip of your own lemonade.
"It has sentimental value now," he smiled, dabbing his shirt with a fistful of tissues.
After lunch, you two wandered through a nearby park as the golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees.
The air felt lighter and comfortable as you two synced in footsteps.
"So..." you prompted.
"Mm?"
"Can I ask something?"
"Anything."
"Why did you keep trying so hard?"
He blinked.
"Trying?"
"You apologized every single time."
"Because I kept ruining your day."
"You didn't know me."
"I wanted to."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
His eyes widened.
"... Well."
"... Well?"
"I guess I accidentally confessed."
You smiled.
"You kind of did."
"Should I pretend I didn't?"
"You could."
"I don't want to."
He scratched his neck nervously.
"I know meeting someone through repeated beverage crimes isn't exactly romantic."
"It is memorable."
"I genuinely started hoping I'd run into you."
"You manifested it."
"I might've visited that café more often."
"I knew it."
"... Maybe the bookstore too."
"I knew it."
"I didn't bump into you on purpose!"
"I believe... eighty percent of that sentence."
After a brief chuckle, his expression turned earnest, his eyes locking onto yours with a more serious mien.
"I really like you," he confessed with his heart running a mile.
You tilted your head.
"I know."
"... You do?" He gaped.
"You made a spreadsheet," you pointed out.
"Fair."
"And you gave up coffee."
"That one hurt."
"It was very brave."
"So..."
"So… would you maybe want a second date?"
You pretended to think. "Hmm," you drawled, making him wait and hold his breath.
"I suppose," you grinned and shrugged.
His grin arrived slowly before exploding across his face.
"Really?!" he asked with pure glee sparkling on his face.
"On one condition," you pointed out.
"Anything," he concurred.
"You are permanently banned from carrying coffee."
He placed a hand dramatically over his heart. " I solemnly swear."
"Good," you grinned.
"Although..."
"What?"
"If I accidentally spill tea—"
"Mingyu!"
"I'll run," he mirrored your grin from earlier.
"You should," you warned, making him laugh as you lightly nudged his shoulder.
This time, neither of you stumbled nor spilled anything. Instead, your fingers brushed together naturally and then intertwined.
Your laundry basket, for the first time in months, finally got a well-deserved break.
Mingyu's spreadsheet, however, received one final update.
Accident #12: No beverages spilled.
Unexpected outcome: Got the date anyway. ❤️
🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. “There’s a tether of fate between us, one that she can physically see in the waking world,” Wonwoo explains to Mingyu. “She knows we care about her, and she can correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems like our little recruit wants two of her captains to fuck her brains out in a dream realm free of consequences.”
tw/cw. Unprotected dream realm sex, sub/dom themes, power imbalance/power play, semi-tyrant all-powerful dom!Wonwoo, threesome, foreplay, pussy eating, oral, deep throating, slight pain kink, nipple clamps, fingering, squirting, breast/body worship, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, cum/squirt kink, voyeurism, dirty talk, cumming on demand, praise, finger sucking, fingers and cock in pussy at the same time, stretching kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby. (Wonwoo’s) Captain. (Mingyu’s) Sir.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.1k
🍭 aus. Fantasy au, knight au, magic user au, polyamory au, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. “Quiet vice-captain Wonwoo, a sexual tyrant in his own dream world” I feel like most of the Mingyu/Wonwoo threesomes I write have Wonwoo being not the most vocal of participants, so I had a lot of fun with this one.
TEASER
“Listen," you sigh, "I know this sounds crazy, but as a weaver of thread magic who is learning about the fate aspect of my power, there’s something inside of me that innately trusts the string that connects us all. I can’t explain it, but I know the universe wouldn’t steer me wrong on this.”
“And we’re all pent up from being too good at our jobs when we’re awake,” Wonwoo points out. “This seems like the perfect fit.”
“I just… are you sure you don’t want us to buy you dinner first or something?” Mingyu laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
You sneak a peek at Wonwoo, and both of you can’t hide your laughter. “You’re very cute, Mingyu.”
“I just mean…” the tall man says, clearly flustered, “I don’t want you to think we’re taking advantage of you.”
“I think she’s taking advantage of us, actually,” Wonwoo grins. “Very naughty of her.”
God, Wonwoo can be so sexy when he wants to be. Your core throbs at his words, and you’re shocked at how you can feel it so vividly. So the word about Wonwoo’s dream realm was true; you’ll be able to feel everything they do to you.
“So are you in or out, Mingyu?” Wonwoo asks. “I can always allow you to wake up, take her to dinner on your own time, and miss out on this.”
Mingyu glares at his friend. “Don’t you dare.”
“So we’re in agreement,” Wonwoo concludes. “Dream sex now, a proper dinner later.”
“You guys don’t have to take me out for a proper dinner,” you laugh.
Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Mingyu seems dead set on it.”
“I am!”
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Warnings: Smut, threesome, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (stupid idiots, don't be them), drinking alcohol, fingering, double penetration, strangers to ???, clubbing, creampie, lmk if I missed anything
Summary: You go stupid dummy in the club like an idiot (and take two cute boys home)
Collab M.list
Tags: @syluslittlecrows
@eclipsaria my pookie, beta read and fixed me being stupid
banner by @sanaxo-o ily
First collab done \ ^o^ /
Bright lights flash around you, drink in hand as you dance with your friends, laughing and smiling. The Saturday after finals has the club going absolutely stupid, drunk college kids going crazy as they celebrate– you being part of them. You jump, arm around your best friend as you sing obnoxiously, rapping T.O.P.’s part in Fantastic Baby with passion and energy.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom” She yells in your ear. You nod, following with her because that's just how it goes. You wait as she enters the stall, taking in your disheveled appearance and drunkenly giggling, fixing your lipstick and taming your hair as much as possible. Your friend walks out, washing her hands.
As you exit the restroom, you bump into someone wearing a shirt so bright green it sobers you for a second before you shake your head, “Sorry” the two of you say at the same time. You look at the man in front of you, dark hair, full lips, sharp eyes. Damn. He’s hot. His flushed cheeks also indicate that he is very, very tipsy.
You smile at him, noticing he looks slightly nervous, and introduce yourself. He smiles back and your heart melts because what the fuck his smile is precious. “Jihoon. Some people call me Woozi though. Do you go to HYU?” You nod and he smiles again, “Me too! I’m a music major, you?” You reply with your major– pre med– finding the guy to be precious.
“WOO TO THE JI TO THE WOOZIIII!!!” A voice behind you screams. A man with even sharper eyes and blonde hair comes up from behind you and slings an arm around Jihoons shoulders, extremely drunk. “Who’s this pretty lady?” He asks, smiling up at you. That's when you knew: you were completely and utterly screwed.
Jihoon looks at him annoyed, “Fuck off.” He mutters, but the other man just smiles brighter.
“I’m Soonyoung. Or Hoshi! Nice to meet you. I’m a zoology major and you’re hot.” You snort at his outgoing nature as his face flushes red.
“Nice to meet you Soonyoung. I’m a pre-med and you’re also hot.” His face goes even redder and Jihoon huffs. “You’re hot too Jihoon.” You say with a laugh as the man in question’s ears go crimson, pink dusting his cheeks. “You guys want to dance?” You offer. That’s how you ended up dancing with the awkward–but insanely attractive– guys, surrounded by lights and music so loud you can feel the bass in your chest.
The night goes by in a haze of laughter and drinks. You learn that Soonyoung is a total flirt and a bit of a party animal, but he’s got a heart of gold. And Jihoon? He’s shy, but incredibly sweet. You find out that he’s actually the lead singer of a popular cover band on campus. The way he talks about music with such passion makes your heart flutter. You share stories of your classes and hobbies, and even though you’re in completely different worlds, you find that you actually have quite a bit in common.
As the club starts to wind down, the three of you stumble outside into the cool night air, the music still pulsing through the walls. Soonyoung leans against a lamppost, breathless from your latest dance-off. “You guys are the best wingmen a guy could ask for.” You laugh, looping your arms through theirs, feeling a strange sense of camaraderie. “So, where’s the after-party?” Hoshi asks, grinning.
Jihoon looks at you, his eyes glinting with an unspoken question. “Well, we could go to our place,” he says shyly. “Have some fun.” You raise an eyebrow but agree, feeling a rush of excitement.
The walk to their apartment feels like forever as your legs beg for mercy under the weight of your heels. But the promise of more fun keeps you going. You enter their place, which is surprisingly tidy for two college guys– although there’s some questionable tiger print furniture you learn is Soonyoungs. Soft lighting and the faint smell of incense make it feel cozy and intimate.
Soonyoung puts on some music, something upbeat but not as loud as the club, and you all sit down on the couch, sharing stories about the most embarrassing things you’ve done in class. You blush at the thought of your anatomy faux pas while Jihoon tells a story that has you both in stitches. As the night progresses, the conversation turns more personal. You learn that Soonyoung’s dream is to work with animals, specifically endangered species, and travel the world to study them. Jihoon, on the other hand, dreams of composing his own music and performing in front of thousands of people.
The atmosphere in the room shifts as Soonyoung moves closer to you, his hand finding yours. He looks into your eyes with a smolder that could melt the polar ice caps. You laugh nervously, your cheeks growing warm under his intense gaze. Meanwhile, Jihoon seems to be getting more and more nervous, his leg bouncing to the beat of the music. You realize you’ve been leaning towards Soonyoung without even noticing.
“You know, for a premed, you’ve got some killer dance moves,” Soonyoung whispers, his breath hot on your neck. You turn to face him, your eyes meeting his. His hand slides up to your elbow, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. You can’t help but feel a pull towards him, his energy like a magnetic force that’s impossible to ignore.
Jihoon watches the two of you with a mix of amusement and something else—something you can’t quite put your finger on. He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours, and you feel a sudden jolt of electricity as your gazes lock. You blush and look away, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. The music shifts to a slower rhythm, and Soonyoung pulls you closer, placing your hand on his chest. You can feel his heart thudding beneath your palm, in sync with the bass of the song.
He leans in, his full lips so close to yours that you can almost taste the whiskey on his breath. “You’re not just a pretty face, you know?” He murmurs, his voice low and husky. “You’re incredible, really.” You laugh, feeling the heat in your cheeks, and look back at him. “Thanks,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not so bad yourself, tiger boy.”
Soonyoung’s smile widens, and before you know it, he’s leaning in for a kiss. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes flutter shut, his soft mouth pressing against yours. It’s a gentle kiss, full of promise and excitement, and you feel yourself leaning in, your body moving of its own accord. His hand moves up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as the kiss deepens. Your heart is racing now, and you can’t help but get lost in the moment.
Jihoon’s gaze burns into you from the side, and you can feel his tension like a palpable force. You pull back from Soonyoung’s embrace, your eyes darting to meet his. There’s a silent conversation happening between the two of you, one that’s full of confusion and desire. You realize that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the best idea. But the alcohol and the music and the sheer attraction you feel for both of them has your judgment clouded. Soonyoung’s hand is still on your waist, his eyes dark with want, but there’s something about Jihoon’s gaze that makes your stomach flip-flop.
You lean over to grab your drink, your hand shaking slightly. “You guys mind if I take a breather?” You ask, trying to play it cool. They both nod, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. You head to the kitchen, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. As you lean against the counter, you hear a soft footstep behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Jihoon. He’s always been the quiet one, the one who observes before he acts.
He’s so close now you can feel the heat radiating off his body. He gently takes the drink out of your hand, setting it down. “You okay?” He asks, his voice a soft caress. You nod, turning to face him. He’s even more handsome up close, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes you want to confess every little secret you have. “I just... I don’t know what’s happening here,” you admit.
Jihoon nods, swallowing hard. “I know. I feel it too,” he says, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His touch is gentle, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You lean into it, feeling the connection between you two growing stronger by the second. Soonyoung is still in the room, but it’s like he’s a million miles away. The only thing that matters is the way Jihoon’s eyes are looking into yours, the way his hand feels on your face.
Before you can say anything more, he leans in and kisses you. It’s different from Soonyoung’s kiss—slower, more deliberate. It’s like he’s trying to communicate something with every press of his lips, every stroke of his tongue. You melt into it, feeling your resolve to stay detached from this situation slipping away like sand through your fingers. You’re lost in the moment, lost in him.
As you kiss, Soonyoung’s presence fades into the background. He’s still there, watching with a look that’s part shock, part intrigue. You know you should stop, you know it’s not right to lead him on, but the alcohol and the chemistry between the three of you is a potent mix. And when Jihoon pulls away, you find yourself looking at him with the same want reflected in his eyes.
“Let’s go to my room,” he murmurs, and you nod, allowing him to lead you down the hallway. The music thumps through the walls, muffled by the thick layers of your desire. Inside the dimly lit space, you can barely make out the posters of musical notes and artists, a stark contrast to the passionate scene unfolding. Jihoon closes the door behind you, his hand finding yours again, and you know you’re crossing a line you might not be able to come back from.
Soonyoung has followed you both, his curiosity piqued. “Is this okay?” He asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You look into his eyes, the green shirt seemingly glowing in the dark, and nod. Somehow, the three of you end up tangled on the bed, limbs intertwined as if you’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s a dance of hesitation and want, a silent agreement that you’re all in this together.
Jihoon’s shyness dissipates as the night wears on. He’s not the shy guy you met at the club anymore—he’s confident, commanding even. His hands are everywhere, exploring, claiming. Soonyoung’s touches are more playful, his kisses peppered with whispers of sweet nothings that make you giggle. You find yourself in the middle, a delicious sandwich of desire, trying to keep up with both their advances.
Clothes come off in a flurry of motion, a blur of fabric and limbs. Hands roam, lips trace, and bodies are pressed together with heat and passion. You’re not sure whose touch is whose, and you don’t care. The room is a haze of pleasure, the only thing clear is the feeling of skin on skin. You’ve never been with two guys before, and it’s overwhelming in the best way possible. You feel cherished, desired, alive in a way you never have before.
Soonyoung’s mouth finds your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as he sucks in a breath. You gasp, arching your back as Jihoon’s hand slides down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. His kisses are deep, claiming, and you can’t get enough of the way he tastes—like whiskey and the sweetness of your drink. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer, as his other hand explores your body, teasing your nipples until they’re hard peaks.
Jihoon’s touch is gentle yet firm, his movements deliberate as he makes you squirm with pleasure. His fingers dance over your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Soonyoung’s mouth moves to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers sweet nothings that make you wet. You feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and the thought of having both of them inside you sends a bolt of desire straight to your core.
You kiss Soonyoung again, your hands running down his chiseled abs. His tongue plays with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of you. You can feel the anticipation building in the room, the tension tightening like a coil ready to spring. You straddle Jihoon, grinding against him as he watches you with hooded eyes, his hands on your hips, guiding your movements. Soonyoung kisses a trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone, making you shiver with pleasure.
Your bra hits the floor, and Soonyoung’s mouth finds your breast, his tongue teasing the sensitive peak. You gasp as Jihoon’s hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your soaked panties. He teases you gently over the fabric, his eyes never leaving yours. The room spins with pleasure, your heart racing as you realize you’re about to do something you’ve never done before. Soonyoung’s hands are on your hips now, his thumbs teasing your waistline. You can feel his erection against your ass, and you lean back into him, his hands coming around to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking your nipples in time with Jihoon’s movements.
Jihoon’s breath hitches as he watches Soonyoung touch your chest, and you can see the desire in his eyes. He leans back, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes off his shirt, revealing a chest that looks like it was sculpted by the gods. You reach out to touch him, your hand sliding over the smooth, firm planes of his torso. Soonyoung kisses down your body, his tongue tracing a line down your spine, making you arch against him.
Jihoon looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. You can see the struggle in them, the want to devour you whole. Soonyoung’s hands slide down to your panties, pulling them down and exposing you to both of them. Jihoon’s mouth finds your core, his tongue flicking against your clit, making you moan. Soonyoung kisses you, his hands still exploring your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. The combination of their touches is exquisite, an overwhelming feeling that has you writhing on top of Jihoon. He slides two fingers inside you, and you buck against his mouth, the sensation overwhelming. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension in your body coiling tighter and tighter.
As Jihoon’s tongue swirls around your clit, Soonyoung’s hand moves down to stroke his cock, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of him touching himself while watching you with Jihoon is almost too much to handle. You reach back, your hand finding his shaft, and you stroke him in time with Jihoon’s movements inside you. The two of them are in sync, their rhythms matching perfectly, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
You moan into Soonyoung’s mouth, your body trembling with the effort of holding back your climax. Jihoon’s fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot, and you know you can’t hold on much longer. Soonyoung breaks the kiss, his eyes locked on yours as he whispers, “Cum for us, baby.” And with those words, you do. Your orgasm crashes over you, a wave of pleasure that makes your vision swim and your body convulse. They both watch you with hunger, their desire for you palpable.
Soonyoung takes over, his mouth replacing Jihoon’s hand, as the latter kisses his way up your body. His cock nudges against your entrance, and you’re so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in with ease. You gasp as he fills you, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move. It’s a slow, deliberate rhythm, one that has you panting and begging for more. Jihoon kisses your neck, his breath hot against your skin as his hand finds your clit again.
You’re sandwiched between them now, Soonyoung’s mouth worshipping your breasts while Jihoon’s cock slides in and out of you, setting a pace that’s driving you insane. Your hand finds Soonyoung’s hair, pulling him closer as he sucks harder. The sensation is almost too much, your body tightening around Jihoon as you feel another orgasm building.
Jihoon’s hand leaves your clit, moving up to play with your hair as he picks up the pace, his hips snapping up to meet yours. You can see Soonyoung’s erection, and you know he’s not going to be left out for long.
Soonyoung’s mouth pops off your chest with a lewd noise, leaving you gasping for air. He positions himself at your entrance, and with a wicked grin, he slides in next to Jihoon, filling you completely. You moan, the feeling of having both of them inside you at the same time more than you ever thought possible. They move together, their rhythm matching perfectly, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoes in the room. You can feel every inch of them, the way their bodies move in unison, the way their breaths mingle with yours.
Jihoon’s hand moves to your throat, his grip firm but gentle, as he takes control of the kiss. His other hand slides down to cup your ass, pushing you down onto his and Soonyoung’s cocks. The sensation is intense, the fullness of them both making your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body begging for more. You’ve never felt so alive, so wanted, so completely consumed by desire.
Soonyoung’s thrusts become more urgent, his breathing ragged. He bites your shoulder, the sting of pain mixing with the pleasure as you rock against him. Jihoon’s eyes are hooded, his movements deliberate as he fucks you in time with Soonyoung’s. You can feel the tension in the room building, the energy between the three of you reaching a crescendo. You know you’re all going to cum together, and the thought sends you spiraling even closer to the edge.
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your body convulsing around both of them as you scream out their names. Soonyoung’s grip on your hips tightens, and you feel him tense as he follows you over the edge, his hot release filling you up. Jihoon’s hand squeezes your ass as he fucks you through it, his own orgasm shuddering through his body. You collapse onto him, panting, as they slide out of you, leaving you feeling empty.
You’re both a tangled mess of limbs and sweat, your heart hammering in your chest. Jihoon kisses the back of your neck, his breathing still heavy. “That was...” He starts, but the words seem to fail him.
Jihoon’s arms tighten around you, his heart racing beneath your cheek. “AMAZING!” Soonyoung yells from the bathroom, where he’d stumbled off to clean up. You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking through the haze of desire.
You sit up, feeling a bit awkward as you try to find your bearings in the mess of sheets and discarded clothing. Jihoon watches you with a soft smile, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “We should, uh, do this again sometime,” he whispers, his voice still a little shaky.
“I’d like that.”
Collab Admins: @sanaxo-o, @bella-feed and @dokyumms
🍀 svt reacts to you calling them your ‘current’ boyfriend.
includes ─── humor/crack, fluff, one (1) joke about death, established relationship, reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’, dramateen. ᯓ★ footnote ─── heyyy.. it’s me :-)!!! i’m a bit out of shape, so let me ease in a bit hehe.
› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao
summary: Seungcheol and you are bound in a nameless pact, existing only in confined walls of your apartment. The secret visits cease when either of you falls for someone else. Your confidence in this arrangement is put to a test as your crush, friends, and feelings get involved.
genre: Seungcheol xf.reader, friends with benefits au, smut, romance, fluff, angst, found family au.
prompt: As friends (even with benefits) they told each other if there was someone in their life they were crushing on. But the reactions to it changed over time. (@/creativepromptsforwriting)
warnings for this chapter: swearing, smut, oral (f.receiving), protected penetration (??? not me suddenly feeling shy after writing absolute filth), heavy use of daddy, dominant cheol, dirty talk, reader is diabetic, i might be missing something but this chapter is absolute filth thats it thats the warning and i dont wanna give spoilers
wc: 8k
c's note: the anon who asked if they should bring tissues, yes, but for completely different reason. let me go touch some grass and smell some flowers. Your comments, reblogs, or even anon asks helps in writing more, so please feel free to send any of those🥺
this is unedited and you will find grammar mistakes, please excuse me as english is not my native language
playlist: fallingforyou by the1975, moth to a flame by theweeknd, swedish house mafia, hey jude by the beatles, needy by ariana grande
ffy masterlist | masterlist
Choi Seungcheol is a man of pride. He comes from the Chois, a well-known name in the industry, and how dominating the Choi Enterprises is. He is the son of the man who runs that prestigious company. Not once Seungcheol looked back at people after they had done him wrong.
Some guy.
Seungcheol curls his hand into a fist, remembering every moment from the previous night. He exhales, running his hand through his hair, wet from the shower he took after a three long hour gym session. He did everything he is physically capable of to forget about your emotionless look, and how you have thrown him under the bus.
He sniffles, the cold night air doesn’t help him as he stands in the guest parking lot outside your apartment. The streetlights attract insects, and doing so little in illuminating the way. The aged apartment stands tall, few windows lit with people going on about their life, and his eyes move to the dark windows sitting on the fourth floor.
What is he even doing here? After what went down. And just like that he is angry again.
Seungcheol unbuttons his blue and black checkered shirt, letting the cool breeze do its magic in calming down his heated body. He smoothens the rumples in his white tee from spending an hour in the car, agonizing over his decision to drive here recklessly and with no plan or thoughts, unable to decide if he is an idiot.
He resumes pacing around the parking lot, kicking the stray rocks. He looks up once at your dark apartment, and turns away, staring at the insects hovering over the street lights. It is not late yet. He can go back to his apartment before you make it back home from the evening walk. Does he have no dignity to come back here after you ended it all? Does he have no spine to toss everything away just the way you did?
Seungcheol feels restless, covered in layers and it’s just so hot in and out of his body, he completely removes the shirt he has worn over the white tee, throwing it on his shoulder as he leans against his car, watching out to the road. Why can’t he fucking leave?
He checks the time on his watch, he licks his dry and cracked lips, chewing on his lower lip worsening the delicate skin more. You should be here anytime. He turns around, checking his reflection in the back windshield of his car, smoothening down his unruly hair.
A light flickers on in some apartment grabbing his attention. He watches the shadows move about, flickering of lights from a screen. He looks up to the dark window sitting on the fourth floor, his tense shoulders slouch as he leans against his car.
His heart slows down, going back to the normal tempo, he traces the cracks that adorn the building like a decoration, even hosting life in a few spots. The creepers are still young, and still spreading. His eyes flick back to your windows staring longingly. How much time does he have left? Or is he done already?
The angst in his heart melts away, making way to the true feeling he has been carrying. Betrayed. How can you do that to him? How can you tell the world despite him apologising? How can you not see him trying?
And still why does he want to see you one last time? If you have truly moved on from him.
The vibration of his phone breaks the agony in his heart, he pulls out the device from his pocket opening a text from his brother. His brother never sends a message and when he does it’s always bad news.
An image of his brother on his knee, proposing to his girlfriend. Fuck.
Seungcheol locks his phone, exhaling through his mouth, done with everything. His phone should be ringing soon, his mother demanding answers from him about his brother’s reckless and disrespectful behaviour.
He silences his phone and looks at the tiny plant taking life near your window.
A bark, sounds of paws running across the asphalt and Seungcheol is already on his knees, opening his arms wide. Clementine jumps up and down, licks his face before rubbing herself all over him.
A golden light fills his heart, a laugh tumbling out before he can have control over his emotions. Clementine is restless over whether to lick him all or just rub herself on him.
Seungcheol takes it all in with warmth blossoming in his chest. Human emotions are fickle, one moment he feels as if the entire world is showering its love and the next moment there’s a tense feeling uprising inside him.
He gives one pat on Clementine’s back, and stands up, picking his fallen shirt off the ground.
You are standing in front of him, lips parting in surprise, and closing. Your eyes take in his form, in a slow drag, and do a double take, still unable to believe that he really is here.
Seungcheol wrings the soft fabric in his hands, stumped over what to say first. It’s been so long since it has been just you and him, where he can look at you with no restrictions, no fear of someone catching his gaze.
The slow prickle of doubt stabs his heart. His eyes move to your neck, swearing under his breath, why today of all you chose to leave your hair.
You drop your head, your lower lip held hostage between your teeth. Seungcheol licks his lips, taking a step forward.
“Are you seeing someone?” Seungcheol winces at his foot-in-mouth move, and before he can stop himself, “is it Mingyu?”
The tranquility in the air shatters. You snap your head towards him, hurt written all over your eyes, intertwined with a hint of disbelief. You look at his lips once as if to see those words left your mouth and not one of your mind plays.
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head to yourself. Seungcheol holds Clementine’s leash you let go of as you turn away, cupping your face and dragging your hand down your face.
Before he can blink you are already in his face, a thunderous expression accompanying each push to his chest.
Seungcheol staggers back, his eyes widening as his right foot stumbles into his left, slipping his control. Clementine runs away, he tightens his grip on the leash, still taking your hits unable to understand your incoherent babbling.
You grab the lapel of his shirt, dragging him towards you, “you idiot,” you tilt your head, seeing him in the eye for the first time tonight, “you fucking idiot.” You grit your teeth, your nails digging into his skin, hurting, “how dare you—”
“No, no,” you let go of his shirt, walking away, laughing to yourself, “I am the idiot, aren’t I?” Your eyes water, looking at him, “a stupid girl who has been waiting and,” you sniffle, rubbing the sleeve of your sweatshirt against your nose, “you ask me what?”
Seungcheol marches towards you, “some guy?” Even saying the two words makes him want to scrape the disgusting taste off his tongue, “Of no importance?”
You meet him head on, “are you of importance, Seungcheol?” You push his chest again, “huh? Tell me? Are you? I hate you. I hate you so much,” and again, “so much, Seungcheol, I..”
The unshed tears in your eyes sparkle under the flickering yellow streetlamps. You grab the collar of his tee, stretching it from the sheer strength as you pull him closer.
He plays to the strings you pull, creating a harmony that has you two pause, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You sniffle, a lone tear falling down your cheek, and you brush it off so quickly he can’t understand if you are crying from the hurt or anger.
Your voice is barely a whisper, “I..”
Seungcheol traces your features, sidetracking from the emotions he is brimmed with, unable to rein in his urge to trail down his attention from the eyes that look so pretty, sparkling like a constellation, the redness on the tip of your nose and cheeks, before he can reach your lips he circles his arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest, done with the long game you two are playing.
—
You bounce on the mattress, “I am not doing anything with you!” You get on your hands and knees, crawling to the other side of the bed that doesn’t have a man hovering over you. “Mingyu? Mingyu?!”
Seungcheol grabs your ankle, holding you down. He has access to only one part of you and yet you are grabbing onto the bedding with all your strength, struggling to free your leg from him. “Leave, dickhead, leave. Go back to your place, oh wait, you do have a habit of leaving, how can I forget,” you grit out.
“Jieun was stranded, a woman was abandoned,” he has you sliding back to him with one strong pull and you are scrambling across the bed, “would you have left her and continued to fuck me if she has reached out to you? Would you do that to Sohyeon and Mina?”
You turn your head to the side, resting your cheek on the mattress watching him leaning over you.
“Tell me, will you?” His back presses into yours.
His weight knocks out your breath, you bury your face into the soft sheets, fingers digging into the mattress as your body comes alive. It takes a moment for you to remember what you were thinking, or feeling.
“You aren’t getting back with her?”
Seungcheol’s nose brushes side to side against your skin, “no, don’t care about her, even if she’s stranded in fucking Sahara now, I don’t care, not when,” he pulls your sweatshirt down, his fingers tickling as he brushes your hair to the side, baring your neck. His warm lips trail down from your ear, leaving tiny kisses in its pursuit, and stops, his finger pressing into one spot, “hickey, you have a hickey here.”
The growl in his voice invokes the dead butterflies in your stomach. You curl your knees into yourself, or try to, but he is already climbing on top of you, bringing you both to the middle of the bed.
His knees are on either side of your thighs, locking all of your movements to wiggle away from him. His chest presses into your back, teeth grazing around your neck, circling one spot. You press your body into the mattress, his sharp canines invoking thousands of feelings at once. Just the way his existence alone does.
He taps your cheek, a little rough and impatient. You open your eyes, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.
“Did you,” he swallows, “did something happen?”
You blink at his face hovering inches away from yours’ as if he can’t exist if he isn’t touching you. The desperation in his eyes is clear as the cloudless sky. It takes several moments for you to understand his question and not think about his chapped lips.
Seungcheol shifts, his hips pressing into your body and retreating as if he is electrocuted. He nudges his nose into your cheek, “hm?”
You grab onto the last of your common sense. “What?”
You swallow before you can drool over the sheets from being squished on the bed, and the awkward angle you are caught in. “Hickey?” You muster all the strength to push yourself up, but he presses down between your shoulder blades. “Seungcheol, I can’t think when you are on me.”
His other hand comes to the spot, brushing over gently, poking a faded memory. “This, where is it from?”
Red fills your vision all over again, burning away the butterflies and jittery feelings. You push him away, finding a sliver of opening, crawling away.
“Yes, its from Mingyu, we made out and fucked. All night long. You want more details? He has a very good stamina,” you sit at the other edge of the bed, “you wanna know how he did it?”
Seungcheol clenches his jaw once, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and he grabs onto your ankle like a shackle. The bedding comes along with you this time as he pulls you into the middle, hoisting you up and throws you down, your head hitting the pillows.
“Shut up.” He growls.
Your ego rears its head. “I bet he fucks good. The best, even.”
Seungcheol is sitting on his knees, hands on his thighs as he watches your lips, suddenly going calm. You should stop. But it only gets ugly.
“I think he can make me cum like no one ever did. Makes me feel good, hitting all the right places. And won’t even judge my kinks..”
Seungcheol gets down the bed, cracking his neck, his back turned towards you. Your heart is in your throat, or in your pussy, you feel it beating everywhere. You have done it. You see the tremble in his hands as he cups his mouth.
“You aren’t with anyone else then.” His voice is low and deep, calm.
You gulp. “I’m with—”
He looks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, “yes or no.”
You grab onto the sheets in support, a little scared and a bit excited knowing what’s about to come.
“No..” your own voice is feeble, trembling.
He gives one nod. You watch him move across the room, holding the handle, “Clementine isn’t fed yet right?”
You shake your head. He leaves, closing the door behind him, calling out to your dog lovingly. The switch. He babies her, praising her, you catch the hints of the words and the movement of his feet on the floor.
The brightness in your room makes your skin crawl. It was always dark whenever he is in your room, fucking you. Like a secret that exists only in darkness, and will wither away in light. But tonight he flicked it on when he dragged you here.
What is he planning to do?
The footsteps near your room. You hold your breath, fingers digging into your palm as you watch the door. His voice clearer now, “good night, baby. Let me go and play with your mom a little, okay? If you hear anything, your mom is just having a good time, okay, baby?”
You press your thighs together, an action done so smoothly like breathing, hearing him say those words.
The door knob twists, you are already arching your back, he closes the door behind him and locks it. His messy hair falls over his eyes that are staring at you with no emotion. The anger radiates off his body.
You remember, and you do your best to hold yourself stronger, you are too pissed at him. There’s this burning anger that is waiting for an outlet.
He struts towards the bed, laidback, taking his time. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, setting it down on the nightstand. The ritual starts. Next comes his wallet, there’s hastiness in his movements now. He unbuckles the metal strap of his watch, you await for him to cradle it with care. Your eyes widen as he recklessly puts it down on the wooden surface, climbing the bed in a second as if he can’t wait one more minute.
He pushes you down by your shoulder, straddling your hips. He runs his fingers through his hair, giving you one look at his expression before his hair falls back onto his face.
“What—what are you..” your words die down as he raises his thick eyebrow in challenge for you to complete that question.
Seungcheol moves down, pulls your sweatshirt up to reveal the elastic of your sweatpants. “You were saying,” he clears his throat hoping it helps with his rasp, “you didn’t have your best fuck yet.”
You raise your head from the pillow, watching his fingers brushing against the sliver of your bare skin visible, pushing the sweatshirt a little, revealing your navel.
He holds your thigh, turning you to the side suddenly, and strikes your ass once. “Answer me, did you forget the rules already?”
You mewl, burying your face into the pillow. Another slap. It stings as if your skin is on fire. He massages it, realising he lost control over his strength.
“Must have left a bruise,” he kneads the flesh with a delicacy at first, carrying his apology into his fingers, but the more he continues the stronger his hold becomes, again. You whine. He stops, “sorry, sorry.”
Even without looking you know you’ll see zero remorse on his face.
He releases his hold on you, making you rest on your back, letting you adjust. Your ass aches in the shape of his hand making you wince. His fingers are back to the elastic of your sweatpants, playing with the threads knotted in the middle.
The threads slip through his fingers as he ponders for a moment, “you wanna fuck Mingyu?”
His other hand is on your shoulder even before you can throw a tantrum or a punch. What is wrong with him today? Why is he obsessed with the idea of Mingyu?
“Yes or no.”
He pulls the thread, loosening the knot and drags it until the threads spill free from the binding. He is taking his time, each action crafted with care, gentleness and—he looks up from your pants and into your eyes, waiting—anger.
“Why do you care?”
He blinks at your response, thinking, as if he himself doesn’t know why he cares. You are not with anyone else right now, that’s all should matter. That’s all the equation between you two.
You expect him to drop the topic now. Move on. His fingers slip behind the elastic of your sweatpants, dragging them down, and with one strong pull he yanks it off completely and throws it on the floor.
The room stills. Whatever emotions you two have carried till now takes a back seat as a new one enters. Seungcheol sits back, his palm resting on your thigh, his gaze centered on your core, hunger swirling in them so much that it has him licking his lips.
His eyebrows pull down as he takes in the dark colored panties, his thumb brushing along the curve of your thigh meeting your core. You bend your knee, closing your legs at the sudden sensation, his hand trapped between your legs, restricting his movements.
You should have known you have least control in this room, on this bed, with him. He cups your pussy pushing his agenda despite you trying your best to clamp his hand down. You suppress the moan before it can spill out and give him satisfaction.
You raise your leg, pressing the foot on his chest, putting your all in pushing him away. Seungcheol looks down at your leg, hasn't even moved an inch, your efforts going in vain, he presses the heel of his hand into your pulsating core that hasn’t stopped ever since he started dominating the room again.
You press your face into the pillow right on time, muffling the sounds, not giving him any sort of pleasure. He doesn’t deserve it.
Or so you thought.
His other hand starts its pursuit. You snap your eyes open, your insides scrambling to grasp onto the emotions you have over him, you have been having over the past few weeks, have been simmering in them. He presses the meat of your thigh, then slides down your stretched leg, his lower lip caught between his teeth worsening the already dry cuts on the skin.
It dawns on you. He loves this, your little acts of rebellion.
He holds your ankle, pushing it more onto his firm chest, lets out a small chuckle and pulls it up, kissing once. Your stomach somersaults, or you don’t know, rips open apart from the overwhelming sensations you are feeling. You don’t have much time to dissect the workings of your body as in the blink of an eye, he is gripping your sweatshirt, pulling you up and ordering, “arms up.”
You follow without second thought, too used to do whatever he demands of you, too used to let go of any inhibitions or thoughts or feelings in his presence, let him do what he wants every time. You hold your hands up for him to slide your sweatshirt off.
He pushes your shoulder and throws your clothes somewhere in the room. You are blinking up at the ceiling processing what just happened.
He groans. His eyes are frantically moving across your body, his hand presses down your stomach to the mattress, “stop moving. Let me see.”
“You-you don’t,” you gasp at his hand slipping beneath your panty, “deserve,” his finger is against your core that convulses around nothing, “any—anythimm.”
“Yeah?” The smugness has your skin crawling but his nail delicately drags down your folds that sucks out all of your thoughts. “Deserve nothing?”
You give a weak glare. He doesn’t even care, too occupied by the action going on behind your panties. His nail scratches deliciously inside your folds bordering tickling or torturing you can’t decide.
Seungcheol removes his hand off of you, sliding back a little, his eyes roam all over your body once, his lip caught between his teeth as he tugs your panty down, you jostle, his jaw clenches, both of his hands hold the fabric ripping it in one tug.
You gasp, rising up from the bed to see if he did what you think he did. Seungcheol discards the scrap of your inner wear to the floor, now eyeing your bra.
“You idiot—” he lands another spank on your bare ass, morphing your anger into an unbridled moan. If your ass was stinging earlier, now you see stars dancing behind your eyelids.
“What did you call me?” Seungcheol lands another slap, “hm? Say it again.”
He massages your flesh, the coldness of his rings a stark contrast to your burning skin, “fuck,” he tends to your skin with utmost care, “so fucking soft.”
You whine, eyes fluttering, his hands continue its pursuit, grabbing your thighs, he nudges them apart until he can easily fit between your legs.
The room falls into silence except for your heavy breathing and tiny cries whenever the sheets beneath you rub against your burning skin in the wrong way. Seungcheol bends your knees, pushing your legs further apart, baring you to his watchful eyes.
His gaze strains on your core, his fluffy hair falls onto his face as he tilts his head to get a clearer view, “I’m,” he sounds strangled, pushing your thighs wider, the cold air hits your sensitive opening, “not even doing anything, and yet, you can’t stop convulsing,” his voice gets hoarser, a wet swipe of his tongue across his chapped lips, his breathing gradually turning heavier, and his hand drags up your thigh, settling on your mound.
The attention is getting into your skin, into your head. His want and need drips through his fingers and actions, building a desire in your stomach that crawls its way to everywhere, shaking your core feelings. The way his hands run down your arms and your legs, with a sense of respect, desire and worship makes you feel the most beautiful being in this world. But it is too much. Too much after a period of stagnancy, of inner conflict and feeling out of your skin.
What should one do when they are present with such devotion? A starved person can’t eat it all in spite of wanting it all.
You shut your legs sliding a little higher up the bed, escaping from the hands that are trying to pull you out of your own darkness. It should throw him off, he should be repelled from the fight you are putting in, withholding all of his favorite things. You look down at him, this beast of a man shielding the entire world with his broad shoulders and— why is he looking like a starved man? Why is he following you along crawling on his knees? And why is he—oh.
“Did I ever tell you,” he peels your legs open gently like talking a kid out of hiding, his hand a shackle now holding you open, “how I love your pussy.”
Your eyes flutter at the vulgarity of it, the praise humming under your skin, a moan threatening to spill out and you dig your nose deeper into your soft pillows softening any sound that might escape, your legs shaking from the urge to close your legs shut but his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, not letting you do what you want.
You harrumph, your entire body red, bruised and hot from being bare to his eyes, “Seung..”
His fingers flicker over your mound, a teasing touch as if a soft feather is brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, “such a pretty pussy, baby, look at it, fuck, look at it flutter at nothing. So responsive and so good to me.”
Your back arches, a moan caught in your throat as his nail scratches down your mound to the folds. Your toes dig into the sheets, a flutter of emotions surging past you at the touch. You whine, kicking your feet only for him to seize your movements. Your tantrum is met with his boyish grin. “I have dreams of this, woken up sweaty and so fucking turned on that I had to,” his lips are at your ear, dropping his voice, “you know.”
This devil is enjoying torturing you. To prove your assumptions further, his finger delicately parts your folds, toying with your nub. You whimper, his words and fingers hitting you right on the spot. His eyes shine a new light seeing your mouth part in a silent gasp or plea. The satisfaction in his face reminds you that you are still angry at him, shoving all your feelings into a bin and not giving him what he wants from you.
Seungcheol presses his fingers on your mound, massaging it. You swear you were feeling this burning volcano angriness a moment ago, you look at the man who is watching you with undivided focus, your eyes fluttering from the knuckles that presses into you, moving around your mound, almost as if he is relearning you.
Seungcheol’s breathing feels closer, the ragged sound of it hovering somewhere around you. You remember the bits of bitter feelings you were carrying, you try to hold onto them and not to get lost in the feelings of this man fondling with your folds. Why is it hard to stay mad at him?
“You are pretty in my dreams, so pretty that I have a hard time believing,” his deep rough voice whispers in your ear, “but damn,” he kisses the top of your ear, “you, in my arms, looking at me like I hold stars,” his finger plunges into your opening making you squeak not expecting it, he hums, “making sounds like that looking prettier than anything in this world,” he moves his finger in and out almost touching that one spot that has you seeing stars and moon, “yeah, just like this, you look like a fucking dream, baby.”
You snap your head away from him, biting on your lip, sinking in all your sounds before it can reach his ears. But he is so close. He purrs, that harsh breathing he has from rhinitis, he keeps following tonight as if he can’t stay away. He kisses on your cheek once, adding another finger stretching you open for him later, you whimper at delicious pain.
Seungcheol litters kisses all over your cheek, dragging his chapped skin across your soft skin making you shiver. “What’s this? Why are you stopping yourself?”
The slow drag of his fingers doesn’t help you in withholding. He adds up speed, touching that spongy spot that has you arching your back, your eyebrows knitting together, all you can see is pure white.
Seungcheol shifts, his leg resting over yours, his other hand sliding beneath your head as he pulls you closer to him, fully touching you everywhere. You look at him watching you with rapt attention as he drags you to heaven, a frown line sits between his eyebrows, eyes on your pressed lips.
You must be screaming by now, chanting his name over and over while he reminds you what to call him. Tonight, you are playing this game with him, struggling to keep up, but from the pissed off expression on him you seem to be winning.
“What are you playing at?”
He pulls out his fingers to see if you are gonna resist. You were so close and he snatched it away from you. He hovers over your face, analyzing each twitch of your muscles, you bury your head into his neck, sinking your teeth into his skin.
He snaps his hips against your thigh once, groaning. “What’s wrong?” He prods.
You whip your head away, your nose hitting against his arm that he’s using to hold himself up. His fingers find you again, playing with your entrance giving you shallow thrusts. He is annoyed. You can feel it. You brush your lips against his thick arm, he plunges into your core once before going back to giving shallow thrusts.
You bite onto his arm, your orgasm stirring in your nether region. He is breathing heavily over you, pulling the strings to his own tune and you can’t help but play along.
He hisses when you chomp onto his skin harder at a particular deep thrust. He pulls away his fingers again, you break out into a whine as he steals your orgasm again. He grins, going down on your body.
Before you can even let out all the expletives his mouth is on your pussy, his tongue licking your essence up. Your body keels over as a loud moan escapes the trenches and sits in the room like a fucking win.
Seungcheol looks up from your pussy, “that’s what I want.”
He kisses your folds with utmost admiration, he puts your legs on his shoulders, moving near and near, his tongue dipping into your core. He toys with your clit, flicking it and pulling on it, while his other hand snakes its way underneath your bra, and grabs onto your nipple.
It’s a losing game. You should have known it. His tongue and fingers are relentless in pulling out the delicious sounds he so loves. Your body writhes, begs for a release. He moans into you, lapping up the liquid flowing out of you, his eyebrows raising up at the taste.
You are undeniably close. Every nerve in your body is lit up, thriving and seeking a way out to release all the pent up desire. At one high whine Seungcheol nods, his nose nudging into your folds, you grab his hair pulling, too much, it’s getting too much. He grunts, shaking his head once not liking your request and nudges deeper into you.
“Seungcheol!”
He snaps his eyes open, meeting yours as he bites onto your folds, a warning. You scream at the sting, tugging at his hair hard.
White fills your eyes as you reach your climax at his relentless persuasion. He laps at your release, pushing into your body to not miss a single drop. Your stomach caves in, your body shaking at the pure bliss and pleasure, at the way he sounds so desperate to have it all.
The sounds of him eating you out are lewd to even your own ears. You clamp down on your arm to make it less obscene. Seungcheol pauses on slurping to glare at you, he grabs your hands, holding them hostage as he goes back to get the last drops of your release.
Heavy breaths fill the room, too silent after one rollercoaster ride he took you on. You try to catch your breath, blinking at the ceiling, calming yourself. You feel a delicate kiss pressed to your now probably swollen folds. Your heart swoops in like you just dived into a trampoline. Seungcheol emerges from between your thighs, mouth and chin covered with your arousal as he gently sets your aching legs down on the bed.
He litters kisses on your mound, your belly button, either side on the curve of your waist as he catches his breath and also lets you have a moment. He kisses the underside of your boobs, shaking his head against them, catching a nipple in his mouth, his tongue coming in to greet it. The rustle of jeans has you wide awake, you push his shoulder stopping him from sucking the life out of you.
“Condom.”
Seungcheol, who has been eyeing your nipple that is slick from his saliva, takes a good two minutes to understand what you have just said. “What?”
You inhale shakily, nervousness and determination sitting in the forefront as you repeat, “no condom, no action.”
He sits on his haunches, taken aback, “what? We never,” he gestures his hand between you two, “what? Have you been with someone?”
For a man he has a pea sized brain. “Not me. You.”
“I told you again and again,” he grits his teeth, “that I have not fucked her. Why are you acting like a brat tonight?”
You jut your chin high, “no condom, no action.”
He cups his mouth, glaring at you. You are not backing down, make an excuse and just believe in him. Your ex-boyfriends have made sure you learn the lesson the hard way. There’s no way exes can be friends, acquaintances that won’t find their way to their past. Seungcheol isn’t an exception to the fickle human emotions.
Seungcheol’s eyes roam across your sweaty body, closing his eyes as he groans into his hands. “Such a fucking brat you are today.” He climbs down the bed, grabbing his wallet from your nightstand, he grabs your chin, leaning down, “move an inch, you won’t walk for a week.” He pinches your lower lip before leaving you on the bed with a stinging lip.
—
You crane your neck watching at his buzzing phone that he forgot on the nightstand. You turn to your side watching the black device vibrating against the wood, you pull the comforter till your neck, cuddle into the softness of the cover. How did he forget to take his phone with him? When he comes will he tend to the unanswered calls and messages? Shoving you to last in his priority list?
He has assured you countless times tonight, but words are just words. Actions are what will speak louder than anything. A man who doesn’t want you won’t stop everything to get you what you wanted. Condoms weren’t in the equation ever since you and Seungcheol started this, he was meticulous in easing your worries by providing you his test results after brief break periods you two had.
You could’ve trusted his words, you may have, to some extent, but the anxieties won’t stop whispering and you wanted to piss him off too. The stricken face of his satiates your hunger, it does, but the short pause and his world calling for him, and you are back in square one overthinking your actions. You should have been pliable to him, so he can choose you over everything else, and you would be free from everything.
The door opens. You startle at the door banging shut, and the lock turning. Seungcheol is panting, sweaty and charged. He frowns at your comforter covering you, he walks towards your bed, throwing a black cover onto the nightstand over his phone, “fucking stores are shut. I had to run down the lanes like an idiot,” he pulls the comforter off of your body, the frown eases, he hums, running the back of his fingers down the side of your chest, “had to search through aisles, and when I found them,” he pulls the white tee with sweat patches off, he smiles down at your face, pinching your cheek, “look at you, baby, drooling already, so perfect.”
You reach over, dragging your fingertips down from the pecs to his soft stomach and the trail of hair into his jeans. How did you go without him for a week? The need is burning hot, throwing you into a restless state, you need him, you need his hands on you, touching you, taking places that have you forgetting the world and only remember the aftertaste of his touch. Seungcheol fucking you is the one activity that you love the most, right next to reading. He knows your body so damn well, and his needs align with yours that if there really are soulmates, he would be yours, and you will be his from the way he is getting turned on from your neediness alone.
You just know that he loves fucking you too, no man will be treating you like a delicacy, and also going rough at the same time.
The button on his jeans is undone, you pull the zipper down and look up at him, please.
Seungcheol reads your eyes, his own rolling to the back seeing the desperateness, he rakes his fingers through his hair, his jaw flexing. Control. He picks the black cover and showers boxes upon boxes on to the bed, you pick a random box, fingers moving deftly as you pull a condom out. Seungcheol is shoving his pants and boxer down by the time you are ready to roll it on him.
Seungcheol curls your hair behind your ear as you work the condom onto his erection, “my pretty girl.”
Your hands slip, butterflies erupting in your stomach, you exhale shakily before resuming to complete the task at your hand. Seungchol huffs in amusement, unable to not touch you, his fingers now at your neck, flicking at the marks he left. “But,” he pushes you down on the mattress, climbing over you, his lips hovering over yours, “aren’t you a pretty little brat? Hm?”
Before you can respond, he angles his head kissing your cheek, your nose, “Had me run an entire block with a fucking hard on.”
You moan, closing your eyes as his thigh presses into your core. He presses his cheek against yours, his lips at your ear, “and with you here, naked and wet, waiting for me, tell me, baby, were you waiting for me?”
You nod, his cheek rubbing against your skin, you wince.
He tuts, “words, baby, words, last warning, okay?”
“I-I was.”
“Good girl.”
You circle your hands around his neck, “put it in, please, Seungcheol.”
He leans back against your wishes, you whine, your nails digging into his skin trying to pull him back, “Seungcheol?”
You nod.
He raises his thick eyebrow at your stubborn behavior, “are you playing me tonight? Condoms, not using daddy.” He ponders, his eyes running across your face, a slow grin as he says, “lets play your game, baby, lets see who wins.”
Your heart thumps loudly once, you reach for his smile, tracing it beneath your fingers. “Let’s—” your words cut out into a squeak as he plunges inside you. “That’s foul,” your voice can’t seem to come down from high pitch as he thrusts hard. “Cheo—mmmph.”
The devil smiles.
Your protests breaks into a moan as he bends your knee, opening you wider for him to have more space to fuck you hard. “Slo-slow,” you drag your nails down his back, “that’s not—mmh—that’s not the bet.”
Seungcheol’s eyes are glazed over, he shakes his head, not breaking eye contact, “missed you.” His eyes flutter as you convulse around his cock, “missed you so fucking much.”
He grunts at the way you clasp around his erection, not making it easy for him to move, “fuck, baby, don’t,” his cock pulses inside you, he picked up thinnest fucking condoms, “I missed your pussy, always wet and ready for me,” he moans at particular thrust that meets with resistance as you can’t stop convulsing, “my pretty little dirty player.”
You arch your back, your nipples rubbing against his slick chest making you moan, he growls, his movements faltering at the small sounds of pleasure you let out.
He presses his lips at your ear, “do you hear yourself? Like a fucking angel singing.”
You throw your head back, his praises are hymns bringing you alive. Seungcheol grabs your chin, “look at me.”
He punches in a deep thrust, watching your face into pleasure, tears streaming down your eyes, little squeaks that always follow each thrust of his.
“Da—” you bite your tongue, almost tasting your blood from the sheer force it took to stop yourself.
Seungcheol is on alert, his eyes tracking your emotions, never leaving your lips, doing his best to win this game. He almost did. Almost.
“Brat,” the endearing lilt in his voice has you aching for him, wanting more and more, turning you into greedy and feral.
Seungcheol meets your eyes, watching you watch him. The time freezes in this moment, only you and him existing, you notice the spark in his eyes, the playfulness almost masking his dominance, almost.
His thrusts inside you slowly, each slide accentuating the feel of him inside you. His nose brushes against yours, his mouth open as he breathes heavily. If you just crane your neck a little higher you will finally know how he tastes, how the chapped dry lips feel against yours.
You two are nothing but deflectors. You lean in kissing the mole on his cheek, his elbow gives up, falling on you. You yelp, and Seungcheol laughs, a delicious rasp you want to feel with your hands.
He regains his balance, a sweat droplet travels down his temple, running down his cheekbone, and falls on your lips. You lick your lips, tongue sliding across quickly to get a taste of him.
Seungcheol growls, his thrusts picking up pace, “what should I do with you?”
You are pliant in his arms, letting him pull the chords to his music, and you are enjoying the melody.
There’s a faint buzz. You feel the energy break, apprehensions seep their way like a creeper between cracked cement. Will he?
Seungcheol frowns, feeling the change in the mood, whatever he sees in your face he doesn’t like it. He plays with your nipple, dragging you back to the wonderland he has created only for you. And just like that with few more thrusts and his fingers playing with your nipples, you are coming.
He watches you with rapt attention, his thrusts struggling from your clenching walls, and his lips parted seeing you the way you look at him. As if he brought you the stars.
“Daddy.”
He thrusts once and he is filling in the condom, biting your shoulder waiting for you two to land softly.
—
You are on your hands and knees, gasping for air, drops of sweat falling on the crumpled sheets. The pillows are scattered barely hanging on the edge of the bed, you scoff to yourself finding yourself in the same state as the pillows, just hanging there, you pull yourself up, your elbow shaking almost falling face flat onto sheets that are pulled out from the sheer strength you held on them and the man who didn’t hold back from taking you in every angle.
It’s gonna take a hell lot of time to bring your room back to its clean state.
A thunk sound has you looking in the direction of a blurry Seungcheol. He is handling his spent condom, his chest heaving like he ran a race and won. If you were sweating, he looks like he just came out of the sauna.
He meets your eyes catching you staring at his ass, a flicker of heat passes between you and you know you are not done yet. He walks over, picking up a stray condom packet from the floor. He tilts his head watching you get back onto your hands and knees as he rolls the condom onto his erection.
He squeezes your ass once, chewing on his lip that is bleeding from being held hostage the entire night, you hear a groan before you reach for a pillow and feel him climb on to the bed and thrusting into you, your scream muffled into the pillow.
The pillow is thrown in the middle by a disgruntled man, your screams answered by your dog barking.
—
The night eases into dawn. It has to be from the hours he spent drilling into you.
You muster your entire strength to move your hips, he holds your waist guiding you and extending strength to reach the orgasm that is almost within your grasp, almost.
“You can do it,” he kisses your neck, honing in on his favorite spot, “one more and we are done, baby.”
You whine, clasping onto his shoulders—he hisses at your nails digging his skin—as you try not to collapse on him, “too much.”
It’s a delicious drag, his cock inside you, making the entire play fun that you want to push yourself and give more and more—he cradles your cheek whispering how pretty you are on top of him—and receive more and more.
If it’s him, you want to do anything and everything.
—
Seungcheol runs his fingers down your hair, whispering sweet nothings as you struggle to stay awake. Your entire body is shaking, spent and so close to collapsing.
“Let me go for a minute, baby,” he kisses your cheek as you whine and clasp your hands around his neck tighter. He chuckles, “just one minute.”
“One minute?” Your voice comes out whiny like a child, all the walls you carefully constructed bulldozed by the man who is trying to suppress his smile. You pinch his back.
Seungcheol laughs into your neck, his hand resting over the curve of your waist, “you are cute, you know that?” He buries his face in your skin, “yes, one minute.”
“You are not leaving me, right?”
He reads the apprehension in your words. “No, just gonna grab pizza.”
“Pizza?”
He nods, “I know you are gonna get weak from using up all your energy, so got you food along with condoms.”
Your pussy clenches around him, Seungcheol groans, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, warning you, “don’t.”
He helps you off of him, and onto the bed before the situation gets out of your hand and he starts fucking you, again.
He is already up, removing and typing up the condom. “One minute. Don’t fall asleep on me.”
Your eyes flutter close, you hear a distant opening of a door and Seungcheol greeting Clementine with enthusiasm. You frown at his upbeat energy, you were not the only one fucking, he did most of it and yet he is full of life.
A hand pats your cheek gently, and a voice calling out to you, you turn to the other side going back to sleep. A raspy laugh followed by a cute and the footsteps recede. You are about to enter the dreamland when you feel a wet cloth between your legs, the ache startling you awake.
“Sorry, sorry,” he tries his best to be as gentle as possible, but you are unable to restrain the cries of pain, “done.”
Your stomach grumbles as the smell of pizza wafts, you turn to the other side following the smell to see the white cardboard on your nightstand.
Seungcheol is back even before you can move your leg to crawl towards the food. He sits against your bed frame, pulling you into his lap, and picks up the comforter from the floor, throwing it over your entangled legs.
You lean against his chest, cheek nestled near his collarbone as you gaze at the food. He snickers, helping you with a slice, holding it to your lips.
Silence sits around you two with him feeding you. Before you can realise it, you are falling asleep, unable to hold yourself awake, slipping into a dream of warm hands holding you that you don’t want to wake up from. Ever.
