Summary: You and Seungcheol both run hot. It doesn’t help that you share everything important: a job, friends, office supplies, and a deep burning hatred for each other. While competing for the same work promotion, you slowly start to confront the realization that maybe Seungcheol isn’t as terrible as you thought. Maybe he’s the spark that will keep you from burning out.
Genre: Office!AU, Enemies to Lovers
Pairings: Seungcheol x Reader, Mingyu x OFC, Joshua x Jeonghan
Word Count: 52,314 😱
Warnings: Alcohol use, angst, tattoos, pining, jeonghan is a highly questionable HR manager, microsoft powerpoint hate space, named reader, smut, oral sex, safe sex, masturbation, romance, seungcheol and the reader fall so hard for each other and end up disgustingly in love
Read on AO3: Fire and Fire
All four chapters are available as of today!
Playlist: AURORA (feat. Crush) - Penomeco | Picky Baby (feat. BIBI) - Owell Mood | End of the World (feat. GSoul) - Epik High | Tattoo - ELO, Jay Park | Problem (feat. pH-1) - Jiselle
Comments/reblogs are always super appreciated! There may be spinoffs to this so if you have any interest in more, please let me know!
(Im)maturity Level (seungcheol x f!reader - THIRST Series #2)
The second fic in my ongoing THIRST Series: What if you accidentally (or purposely) sent nudes to your best friend (or perhaps worst enemy)?
Summary: When you try to send a stranger your nudes, Seungcheol takes matters into his own hands and sparks a fight. So you send them to him instead.
Genre: Smut PWP, friends to lovers, make up sex
Word Count: 9.2k
Tags/Warnings: References to nudes, arguing, make up sex, rough-ish sex (consensual), oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, marking/hickeys, dirty talk, jealousy, slight dom!seungcheol/switch! seungcheol, brat reader, both cheol and the reader are obnoxious pouty babies
Read on AO3: (Im)maturity Level (#2 in the THIRST Series)
Thanks for reading! Full upcoming list available on my Masterlist.
There’s a guy on campus who girls go to for stress relief. Sleazy bastard, but he obviously knows what he’s doing. When everything becomes too stressful for you, you decide you wanna do the same. Just a one time thing. Meaningless sex.
You never banked on him getting attached to you.
wc: 7.6k
warnings: college au, physiotherapy student!jeonghan, medical student!reader, reader is an overthinker and tends to spiral, fuck boy!jeonghan, pussy drunk!jeonghan, smut, nsfw, multiple orgasms, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, semi (?) public sex, both of them are horny as fuck
masterlist
Some part of you wishes you had stayed illiterate all your life. It’s the same part that loathes the thought of early morning classes, endless labs, assignments and presentations. Clinic hours. Procedure logbooks. Fuck, it’s just neverending. At any given point in time, you have at least six different things going on, all of them top most priority. Which isn’t possible. The top most priority can only ever be one thing. That’s what the word ‘priority’ means. You can’t have six priorities, it isn’t possible-
“Do you have a copy of tomorrow’s case for discussion?” Jihyo sounds like she’s about ready to cry. Not surprising to you at all, because you’re the same right now. You blink at your laptop screen a few times, trying to get out of your own head. Long, rambling thoughts have always been your biggest vice. And you do it even more when you’re stressed.
You grab a sheet of paper on your bed next to you and lean over the side of it, meeting Jihyo halfway from her own bed.
“Thanks.” She mumbles, looking down at the sheet. She reads it over once, twice, then one more time, before her distraught eyes meet yours.
“What’s the diagnosis?”
You shrug.
Jihyo nearly wails, scratching at her head. “I can’t do this shit. God, I’m going to kill someone.”
You can’t even laugh. You’re too stuck on the presentation open on your own laptop, trying to make the font small enough to fit everything on it, but not so small that it can’t be seen. It’s proving to be way more difficult than you thought.
“Come on. We’re going to grab dinner.” She swings her legs over the bed, ignoring the many papers scattered around her as they wrinkle under the movement. You don’t even question it, clicking ‘Save’ on the presentation a comical number of times to make sure you won’t lose it, then following Jihyo’s footsteps.
It’s colder outside than you anticipated, but it still feels nice. The goosebumps on your skin wake you up a bit, which you desperately need after the fog you’ve been under for the last few hours. Realistically, you know that neither you nor Jihyo can afford to take time off. But enough is enough. You need a break, even if it means you will crash and burn tomorrow.
The campus dorms are separate from the actual university, located across the road from it and scattered over a large area. Every building is more wide than it is tall, only three stories but sprawling over a large area. Medicine, Dentistry, Nursing and Physiotherapy. The backbone of the future healthcare system. When you walk past the park, there’s a small bonfire going on, surrounded by many cheering students egging on three guys holding kegs.
Yup, backbone of the future healthcare system.
Right outside the gated walls of the dorms are many places to eat, catered especially for the thousands of students beside them. You and Jihyo are standing on the sidewalk, wondering what you are in the mood for eating, when a familiar face catches your eye.
“Can’t work either?” Mina smiles, giving you both hugs. Jihyo pouts and shakes her head.
“Do you know the diagnosis for tomorrow’s case?”
Their voices fade as they continue to talk, and you stare off into space. One half of your brain is wondering if you want pizza or something Chinese. The other part is contemplating cutting some info from your presentation so you can fit it on the slide. Someone nudges you, and when you blink back to the present, both Jihyo and Mina are looking at you.
“What’s up with you?” Mina asks.
“Nothing.” You reply almost automatically.
Jihyo huffs and rolls her eyes. “She’s been like this for days, just checking out.”
Mina frowns. “That’s not like you at all.”
“Sorry.” You sigh. “I’m just stressed.”
“You need to take more breaks.”
“Doesn’t help.” Jihyo has her arms crossed and she’s shaking her head. “She’s still thinking of work. I guarantee you she’s thinking about that presentation she has due tomorrow. Aren’t you?”
Caught red handed. You feel your face grow warm and you pout. “…… No.”
Jihyo snorts and Mina laughs a little. You sigh defeatedly.
“Can we just eat?”
The three of you end up at the first place you can see, a small diner where you order burgers, fries and milkshakes. Any food that’s greasy enough to take your mind off the mountains of stuff you have left unfinished. Mina watches you closely as you stare out the window.
“You need to relieve stress.” She says. You hum noncommittally.
“Thanks for the suggestion. I never would’ve known I had to do that.”
Jihyo snorts and elbows you. Mina doesn’t seem fazed.
“I have a solution, but I don’t think our goody little princess will take it.”
That gets your attention. You’ve always hated being perceived as that. Sure, you’re mostly a homebody. You don’t like attending parties too much unless you know a lot of people there, which is almost never. You like spending most of your time in front of a screen, and you’re not very athletic either. You haven’t had anything remotely romantic since university started, even though all your friends have indulged in hookups. And because of all this, since the start of university, you’ve been branded as the kind of risk averse girl who doesn’t really enjoy anything fun. You know it’s all in jest. Your friends love you very much. But it still irritates you.
“What is it?” You ask. You know she’s baiting you, but you want to know anyway.
“There’s this guy in DPT,” she begins, “Totally flaky. Kind of full of himself. But he’s amazing in bed.”
Jihyo’s already in a fit of giggles. She obviously knows who Mina is talking about. You frown.
“Okay. So?”
Mina leans forward, her elbows on the table. “He jokingly put an ad up on the university Facebook group a while ago. Offering….. services…… to any girl that’s interested. It got taken down almost immediately but apparently it actually became a thing, because I’ve heard a lot of girls say he’s always down to hook up as stress relief if you ask.”
By this point, your mouth has dropped open in shock and a small amount of disgust. Both Jihyo and Mina have stupid grins on their faces.
“So he’s a glorified prostitute.”
Mina gasps “He is not! He’s a good guy, actually. A little sleazy but, aren’t all college guys like that? Also, it’s not like he’s asking for payment.”
You gawk at her. “Oh my god, you too?”
She holds her hands up in defense. “Anatomy was really difficult last year, okay?”
You groan and lean down, forehead hitting the table with a dull thunk. Jihyo laughs.
“Thank you for the suggestion.” You give Mina a withering look. “But I’m fine.”
Mina shrugs. “I’m just saying, he's really good. And he’d probably blow your virgin mind.”
Your face flames. “I’m not a virgin.”
“Eight second sex doesn’t count.”
Jihyo is nearly doubled over, face red with laughter. You thank every god in the universe when your food finally arrives.
Mina is wrong, objectively. You aren’t a virgin. In fact, you had a boyfriend in high school. You took each other’s virginities. Of course he came in eight seconds, it was his first time. The fact that you never had sex again and he broke up with you a month afterwards didn’t change anything. You are not a virgin.
No one says anything to you after that day, but the thought annoyingly lingers. You cannot believe a guy would just do that. And even more shocking that girls would agree to hook up with someone who has a reputation like that. Another notion plagues you: how good is he in bed to even have all these girls keep coming to him?
Fuck. These are dangerous thoughts. Especially for someone like you, who can spiral in your mind so easily. And almost like sugar on top, with every passing day, work keeps ramping up. You retreat farther and farther in your mind, thoughts racing and contorting from one shape to another, taking up lives of their own, and before you know it, you’re wondering. What if you were to hook up with this guy too?
In every sense of the word, you are stressed. You don’t know what he does, but it clearly works. Maybe you can take just one night and instead of stuffing your face with greasy food as an outlet, you can have sex. It sounds like an intriguing option.
Maybe it will shut your friends up about you being a prude.
Tracking DPT people isn’t easy as someone in Medicine, and especially as someone in Medicine who doesn’t know more than four people and would rather set herself on fire than talk to new faces. Luckily, those four friends of yours are insanely well connected. There’s no way in hell you’re asking Mina. You won’t give her that satisfaction. So when you call Mingyu about what Mina told you, he has a name for you immediately.
“Yoon Jeonghan.” He says over the phone. Behind him, you can hear a lot of talking and laughing. He’s likely at a party. On a weekday. Figures. “Really cool guy. I’ll send you his number.”
“That would be great.” You reply.
“Y/N, are you sure about this?”
You immediately go rigid. “Why? Is he suspicious?”
There’s a small silence before Mingyu snorts. “You know what, this is good. You need this. Desperately.”
You don’t like his implication, so you just hang up. He sends you Jeonghan’s number mere minutes later, and you reply with a middle finger emoji. He only sends you kissy faces back.
Once you click on Jeonghan’s number and stare at the blank text box, you’re at a loss. What do you even say to him? How do these things go? You really don’t want to ask Mingyu again. He already thinks you’re a loser (affectionately).
You end up sending a small text introducing yourself and telling him which department you are from. He replies around ten minutes later.
[yoon jeonghan]: what can I do for you?
Now you’re at a true loss. What do you say? You type and erase, type and erase for many agonising minutes. Then, another text comes up.
[yoon jeonghan]: im in B wing. DPT. last door on the second floor.
You blink a few times, staring at his text. Fuck, he knows. You feel a little embarrassed, but you think this is more of a reflection of him than it is of you, so you just shut your phone and scramble to get dressed.
Half an hour later, you’re climbing the steps of an unfamiliar building across campus, feeling nervous and jumpy. Your eyes dart around your new surroundings rapidly, but no one is really wandering around. It’s a weekday, so there’s not much activity. The corridors are easy enough to navigate, and you find the room at the end of the hallway very quickly. You shake your hands out, breaths coming irregularly. This is so out of left field for you, and half your mind can’t even process that you would do something so impulsive. You’re not this person at all. But what can you say? Medical school hath changed you.
You knock on the door so quietly that you immediately wonder if you should knock again. He probably didn’t hear it. You’re just thinking of doing it again when the door swings open, catching you off guard. You freeze.
He’s tall, and kind of skinny looking in his oversized t-shirt. But he has this gorgeous, jet black hair that falls down the sides of his face in effortless waves. Hell, it looks even better than your hair freshly out of the salon. He has pretty, almond eyes, a thin nose bridge, and lips so plump that you immediately wonder what they would feel like.
Okay. You get the appeal now.
“You must be Y/N.”
Your head jerks with a nod. “Jeonghan?”
He smiles, and it nearly takes your breath away. God, he’s painfully attractive. He looks you up and down in a way that makes you want to turn around and book it immediately.
“In the flesh. Come in, sweetheart.”
You can feel the back of your neck burn hot at the petname. No one has ever called you that. You step in hesitantly, looking around. It’s a cubicle, with a single bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. Lucky him, he doesn’t have to share with a roommate. You don’t know anyone in the Medicine building who has a single room. Damn physiotherapy people and their many perks.
It’s surprisingly neat. There’s a gaming setup on the desk, a lot of wires, but they’re all stacked neatly. There’s a few books on the side tables and on the floor next to the desk. The bed is made. There’s some posters on the walls. The room has a lot of character. It catches you a little off guard. You don’t know what you were expecting. Maybe a shady dungeon with chains and a mattress as hard as stone.
Jeonghan watches you expectantly. You fidget.
“I- I heard… I mean, someone told me. About- about you.”
He hums, and you can see the amusement on his face, the corner of his lip ticked up just a little bit. You wish the ground could swallow you whole. He huffs out a laugh.
“Should’ve known you’d be shy. You couldn’t even say it over text.”
Your face burns more. You avoid his eyes. When he walks closer, your heart races. You nearly jump away in shock when he leans down, nosing at your hair, brushing over your neck.
“Should we loosen you up a bit?”
Your heart is beating so fast it makes you a little dizzy. He smells really good up close. Fragrant aftershave and something like pine. Your mouth drops open when his lips press to the skin below your ear.
“Yes?” He whispers.
“Yes.” You breathe.
Your consent is all he needs, large hands brushing over your hips before moving up to grip your sides. He presses more kisses over your neck, then up your jaw. Something twinges in your lower stomach, making your insides clench. Your heart is pounding so loud you are scared he will feel it through your rib cage. He keeps traveling up, until his lips brush the corner of your mouth. You turn your head with an instinct that surprises even you, and he hums in approval.
That first kiss makes your knees buckle. Luckily, his hands are giving you enough support to keep you from collapsing. It’s languid, like he’s taking his time with you, and yes, his lips are just as soft as you imagined. His nose nudges yours, making you tilt your head and deepen the kiss. You can’t help your moan, hands fisting his shirt. You can feel his smile on your lips.
When he pulls away, you have to blink furiously to compose yourself. He watches you closely, like he’s trying to figure you out. But you should be the one doing that, if your brain wasn’t completely scrambled right now. You need him to kiss you again, so you lean up on your tiptoes towards him. He chuckles.
The second kiss is even more charged, though you didn’t think that was possible. His tongue comes out to play this time, and you arch into him at the feeling. His hands have become more daring too, exploring your body. He squeezes your ass a little, digs into the plush of your hips. He fiddles with your shirt until he’s coaxing you to put your arms up, pulling it off you. You feel shy suddenly, but he doesn’t seem to notice, going back to kissing you, and his lips wipe away any hesitation that you might have.
He plays with the clasp of your bra a bit, running his fingers over the straps. It sends shivers up your spine. He finally undoes it and pulls it off. He disconnects your lips enough to look down at your chest, whistling low.
“Pretty.” He says. You flush hard, tugging at his own shirt.
When Jeonghan pulls it off, you’re a little surprised. He’s not nearly as skinny as he looks when he’s swimming in his loose clothes. He’s lean, nicely carved muscle, just enough meat on him to feel good when your hands begin exploring. He lets you, doesn’t even flinch when you run your fingers over his abs. Your eyes dart further down, and you can see his erection over his sweatpants. You bite your lip.
“How do you want me, pretty?” He asks, lips running lazily over your shoulder. You flush.
“I- I don’t know.”
He pulls away at that a little, looking at you curiously. “You have done this before, right?”
You scowl. “Of course I have!”
“Okay.” He placates you, hands running up and down your bare sides. “So how do you want it? I can eat you out. Or do you just wanna fuck?”
Well, shit. You didn’t expect him to say all that. You’re caught off guard by how vulgar his words are, by how hot he sounds talking like this. Like it’s nothing. Fuck, you’ve never been eaten out before. Are you even ready for something like that? But then again, from what you can see as you look nervously down at his bulge, he’s not exactly small. Mina was right. Eight second sex really doesn’t count. There’s no way you can take all of this.
Jeonghan laughs lightly as he follows your gaze before humming and nodding. He goes back to kissing your shoulder and neck.
“I’ve got you. Just relax.”
That’s exactly what you’re struggling to do, but you don’t tell him that. He walks you both backward until you’re pushing yourself up the mattress to the head of the bed, him on top of you. His fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans and panties before pulling both of them down in one go. You flush at the thought of being completely naked now, his eyes running over you. There’s a heat in them that you didn’t expect, but welcome it regardless. It really does look like he wants you. You don’t know how much of it is an act, or if he really thinks you’re worth looking at like this.
He kisses over your ankle before traveling up slowly, laying his lips on your skin every few beats until he reaches the apex of your thighs. This is entirely new territory for you. Even the thought of a guy down there is mortifying, so yes, maybe your friends aren’t too far off in their assumptions of you. It’s so hot in theory, but here, now, in practice, you’re so nervous it makes every muscle in your body stiffen. Maybe this it too-
You yelp when you feel it, his lips brushing over your slit. Jeonghan is taken aback, pulling away and blinking up at you from between your legs. It’s a strange sight, strange enough to knock you out of your thoughts. He breathes out a laugh.
“Either you’re very distracted, or you really haven’t done this before.”
You peer down at him, held up by your elbows so you can look properly. You hesitate before sighing.
“I haven’t.” You mumble, but you’re quick to clarify. “I didn’t lie. I’ve- I’ve had sex. But no one’s ever….. I’ve never had-”
“Well that’s a shame.” Jeonghan mumbles. He runs his hands over your inner thighs, slow strokes that loosen your muscles a little bit. He thumbs at your outer lips and you flush deeply, but it’s nothing compared to what he says next.
“Anyone who got close enough to have sex with you but didn’t eat out your pretty pussy must’ve been a real asshole.”
He kisses your folds, sucking on them a little. Your mouth drops and your elbows give out, back hitting the mattress. God, this is way hotter than it needs to be. He’s probably just saying all this to make you relax a little and get it over with. You feel something hot, wet and alive run over your lips again before dipping inside, lazily licking over where you’re most sensitive. He tongues at your clit until you let out your first moan. His grip on your thighs, holding you open, tightens.
“That’s it.” He whispers. “Just relax.”
Never in a million years did you think head would feel this good, but Jeonghan shatters all your illusions. He’s so meticulous, discovering parts of you that you didn’t even know could feel good when stimulated. He has no shame about it either. He moans into you when you try to close your legs around his head, or when your fingers thread through his hair. His tongue dips inside you too, swirling, before pulling out and licking upward so he can suck on your clit some more. You get close to your high embarrassingly quickly, and you’re nearly crying when you warn him about it. He only keeps going, consistent in his pace, until you’re jerking and shuddering, cumming hard in his mouth. He doesn’t slow until you’re desperately pushing him away, overstimulated.
“Fuck.” His voice is raspy, ragged. His face is drenched. You can see, even through your teary vision, that his pupils are dilated. “That was so hot, the way you came on my tongue.”
You flush, not knowing what to say. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You jerk back when Jeonghan’s thumb runs over your abused clit. He smirks.
“You gotta do that again for me, pretty. I need to feel that again. On my fingers this time.”
He’s leaning over you before you can even process his words. He presses his forehead to yours, and you feel something prod at your entrance.
“Oh, fuck.” You arch when a solitary finger slips inside you. You’re definitely wet enough, between your orgasm and his spit, so there’s next to no resistance. Jeonghan watches you closely, too closely. You try to turn your head, feeling shy, and he only chuckles, curling his finger inside you. You shriek when something zips through your core.
“Found it.” He grins. It’s so sleazy but so hot. God, is this why your girls are lining up for him?
He sinks another finger inside you before curling it up to the same spot, and this time, you see stars. You writhe and tremble under him, feeling so full with just this. He fucks the soul out of you with his fingers, moving rapidly while his thumb rubs over your clit. The noises turn wetter, sloppier, and Jeonghan bites his bottom lip as he watches you fall apart under him.
Your second orgasm is quicker but even more intense, leaving you near speechless. You can’t even make a sound, mouth open in a silent cry as you feel blood rush roar in your ears. You seize and shudder so much it feels almost animalistic. He doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“Jeonghan.” You weep, grabbing his wrist when it’s too much. Well, it was too much from the minute he put his mouth on you, but two orgasms in, you genuinely feel like you’re about to faint.
“My name sounds so sweet from your lips, pretty.” He says. He keeps calling you that, and it makes your heart race a little. You just turn your head to the side. You’re too bashful to even look at him. He lays a soft kiss on your cheek.
“You want more?”
The thought of more makes your heartbeat pick up again. You turn back to him a little, nose nudging against his. He knows he has your attention. He smirks.
“Come on, tell me. You want my cock?”
Your pussy clenches. You bite your lower lip. Jeonghan thumbs at it, releasing it from your teeth. You nod timidly. He chuckles again.
“Gotta do better than that, pretty. Ask for it like a good girl.”
The thought of saying it out loud lights your face on fire. Your hands fist the sheets, and you feel so nervous. Jeonghan watches you closely in that unnerving way of his. Then, he pushes down, and you feel his hard on press into your cunt, right between your spread legs. Your jaw goes slack.
He wastes no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and filthy, all tongues and teeth, and he grinds slowly into you, over and over. He’s hard as a rock, throbbing even through the thin material of his pants. You clench pathetically around nothing. You can’t take it anymore.
“Want your cock.” You whine into his mouth. “Please fuck me.”
Jeonghan giggles, honest to god giggles, into the kiss. “So polite. How can I say no?”
When he finally shucks off his pants, your head spins a bit. He’s way bigger than your ex, longer, and he curves just at the tip in a way that you know will feel so good when he slides into you. There’s a large, pulsing vein running up the underside that makes your mouth water a little bit. Never before have you felt the urge to suck a dick until now.
A lot of firsts happening today.
Jeonghan’s eyes are locked on yours as he pumps himself, long fingers wrapped gracefully around his shaft. You watch him with a look of fascination that amuses him, you can see it on his face. He dips his fingers inside you again and you jerk a little. When he pulls out, they’re wet and sticky. He runs them over his cock. You’re shell shocked at his brazen action, and he smirks. Is he just doing all this to see how far he can push you?
When he finally sinks into you, every single thought in your head goes blank. All that incessant thinking and worrying for so many months becomes muted until there’s nothing but static, and the beat of your own heart. You can’t process it, can barely breathe through it. He stretches you like he’s carving a path for himself, dragging over your walls. By the time he sinks all the way to the base, you feel like you can feel him in your throat.
“Holy shit.” He curses, and you see his face crumple in real time, the first sign of his composure breaking. You can’t even moan. You have no air in your lungs.
“You sure you’re not a virgin, pretty? So tight, squeezing the life out of me.” His voice cracks at the end, and he bites his bottom lip hard.
“Move.” You manage to gasp out, hips jerking. He chuckles.
“Hold on. I don’t wanna cum too quick.”
Now that gives you PTSD. Jeonghan takes a few deep breaths, his chest rising and falling. He toys with your clit, like he’s trying to get you to relax around him a bit. Finally, he pulls out and thrusts back in, hard. Any air you may have finally breathed, he knocks right back out.
He sets a fast pace from the start, thrusts hard and deep inside you. You barely have the chance to miss him before the head of is dick is pressing into your sweet spot again, stroking it with even more force than his fingers previously had. You feel so full, like you’re ready to explode just from the force of the pounding you’re taking. You claw at the sheets, and when that isn’t enough, you claw at his arms that frame both sides of your head. His eyes move between your face and your pussy, watching you swallow him greedily, over and over again.
“Jesus, where have you been hiding?” He chokes out. “Can’t believe I missed out on this cunt for so long.”
“God.” You whine, eyes teary. “Don’t stop.”
He shakes his head and grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby. Not until I milk all that stress out of you.”
Frankly, you can’t even remember what you were stressed about. You can barely string two words together except a mantra of Jeonghan’s name over and over. Your orgasm is no surprise, body locking and cumming hard around him, walls fluttering desperately as you cry and gasp through it. Jeonghan groans long and low, eyes squeezing shut before his thrusts turn sloppy. It takes a few more hard slams of his pelvis into yours before he’s pulling out and shooting ropes of his cum all over your stomach. He pumps himself through it, breathing hard, and you can see his shoulders shake, glistening with sweat.
What a sight.
The come down is dizzying. Jeonghan pulls his clothes on quickly before he grabs a towel and leaves the room, coming back with it wet enough for you to wipe yourself with it. You feel awkward as you dress yourself again. Jeonghan flops down on the bed with a tired sigh. You shift on your feet when you’re done.
“I’ll- I’ll go.”
A slow smile spreads on his face. “Don’t get all shy on me now.”
You shake your head and frown. “I’m not. I just don’t know what to say.”
He laughs, nodding. Just before you turn to leave, he gives you a wink.
“Text me any time.”
…………………………………….
Jeonghan’s stress relief programme works wonders for you.
You spend the next week practically buzzing. Your body is a little sore, not enough to actually notice, but enough to keep you alert. The night you come back from his room, you manage to crank out every assignment due in the week because you’re so desperate to not let your mind wander to what you just did. The next day, you get started on work from the coming week. Jihyo is so surprised when she asks you for help and you send her notes that are neat and well compiled.
“Are you taking something?” She narrows her eyes at you. “Ritalin?”
You roll your eyes. “Just say thank you.”
She grumbles out a ‘thanks’. You can’t tell her about Jeonghan. You just don’t have it in you to share that. Your night with him was beyond anything you had experienced before. You know it was casual. You’re sure you would never see him again. So you dont want to make it a big deal by talking about it.
Except, you run into him organically soon after this.
A week and a half later, on a Friday night, you are lounging in bed with a textbook. You’re almost caught up with work, enough that you can take a breather and do some light reading instead. Unfortunately, this gives Jihyo the perfect opportunity to drag you out of the room, claiming you have no excuse to stay home because you don’t have anything due. Dammit.
The party you end up at is outside the dorms at a house a few blocks away. You can’t tell who threw it, but there are a lot of Med and DPT people there. When you see Mingyu standing in the center of the room chugging a bottle, you roll your eyes.
“When does he even get time to study?” You mumble when Jihyo shoves a red cup in your hands. You sniff it and make a face. Disgusting.
“Dunno. But he manages just fine, so don’t worry about him. In fact, you need to shut your brain off for once.”
Before you can reply, she’s throwing her drink back and grabbing another, leading you farther into the room. Mingyu spots you two quickly, and it’s all chaos from there. He knows almost everyone, and he introduces you to people at lightning speed. You won’t remember any of them, but you just nod and smile along. When he reaches the couches in the living room, your heart skips.
“You know Jeonghan.” Mingyu grins, arm around your shoulder shaking you teasingly.
The man in question is sprawled over one corner of the long couch, and his eyes find yours almost immediately. He looks stunning even in the dim light. His hair is half up and half down, some of it falling over his eyes. He’s dressed in all black, and his leather jacket makes him look dangerously inviting. His eyes run over you in a way that makes you shiver. You should’ve worn something warmer. A crop top and skirt were not the way to go.
“What do you mean she knows him?” Jihyo frowns. You stiffen.
“He means I know of him. From what Mina told me.” You lie smoothly. Mingyu squeezes you a little in apology. Obviously he didn’t know you were keeping it a secret.
Jihyo really isn’t in the mood to slow down, because she throws back any alcohol she can get her hands on. This forces you to remain sober so you can take her back when the time is right. You’re so busy with her that you manage to steer clear of Jeonghan. The whole place is too loud, too overstimulating, that you have no time to think about him. Hours later, you’re tired and more than a little cranky when you finally manage to drag Jihyo out of the house. She’s stumbling a little, giggling at something completely normal that she finds exceedingly funny. You huff. How the hell are you going to do this?
“I have a car.” You hear a familiar voice. You don’t expect to see Jeonghan. You hadn’t seen him all night except at the very beginning, so you assumed he left, probably with someone else. But he’s here now, hands buried in the pockets of his dark jeans. You are half inclined to say no, but just the thought of taking Jihyo back like this is enough to make you cry, so you simply nod.
Jeonghan brings the car around and helps you put Jihyo in the backseat, where she promptly falls asleep. You sit in the front with him, and you feel awkward all over again.
“You didn’t text me, pretty.” He says. You forgot how the nickname makes your face flush.
“I didn’t think you were serious.” You mumble. Jeonghan looks confused.
“About what?”
You sigh, hesitating a little. “I’m not really….. a casual hookup person. So I think it’s best if we stay away from each other.”
Jeonghan chuckles. “Damn, I’m getting broken up with.”
You try to shake your head but Jeonghan just brushes it off. He’s clearly joking. And it’s not like this means anything. So you don’t say anything more, hoping the uncomfortable air dissipates a bit. Thankfully, you aren’t far from the dorms at all. Jeonghan parks in front of Med and offers to help you take Jihyo up. You can’t say no even if you want to, since she’s fully dead weight now.
He’s great support in dragging her to the room. In fact, he does most of the heavy lifting, which you are grateful for. You dump Jihyo on her bed, pulling her shoes off and covering her with a blanket. She doesn’t as much as flinch. You straighten a little, sighing.
“Thank you.” You smile at him. He shrugs it off. You walk him to the door. When he puts his hand on the knob, he pauses.
“So, we’re really over?”
You blink, surprised. “We were never really a thing.”
“I know.” He hums, watching you with heated eyes. “But it was fun. Shame that it’s ending before it even properly began.”
You fidget a little, staring at your hands. Jeonghan steps closer, his fingers find your chin, tilting your head up.
“Can I get a goodnight kiss?”
You consider it a little before nodding. “Okay.”
One kiss won’t hurt. Except it’s not one kiss. Jeonghan deepens it the second your lips meet his. His hands run over your hips, over the sliver of skin between your skirt and your tiny top. You shiver, hands squeezing his biceps. His tongue slides into your mouth and you moan. The same heady feeling from that night comes back, the one that leaves you dumb and brainless with him. His tongue runs hungrily over yours. You clench around nothing.
“W-we should stop.” You manage to whimper into his mouth. He moans.
“Neither of us want that.”
He crowds you into the wall until you’re pressed between it and his chest. He kisses you harder, deeper, and you feel like you’re high on him, all consumed by him. He smells so fucking good it makes your head spin. Your fingers bury themselves in his hair and you tug harshly, and he seems to like that, because he groans into your mouth.
“You had to wear the tiniest little skirt, didn’t you?” He bites your bottom lip. “Wanted to bend you over right in the middle of that house.”
“You-” Your breath stutters. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why?” Jeonghan pulls back enough to lick down your jaw and nibble at your neck. You arch into him. “Does it turn you on?”
You don’t want to tell him that yes, it does turn you on. The raw need he says he has for you is so foreign, but so welcome. Before you can say anything, Jeonghan pulls off your neck and sinks to his knees.
You gape at him, shocked. His hands are urgent, pushing your skirt up and hooking a hand under your knee so he can hook it over his shoulder.
“Jeonghan!” You hiss, but you can’t say a thing further. Your hand flies up to clamp over your mouth when he runs his tongue over your clothed core. He wastes no time in pulling your panties aside and tonguing right at your slit, finding your clit immediately to suck on it.
It’s so much all at once, an assault on the senses. You tremble, nearly losing your balance if it weren’t for Jeonghan’s hands holding you tight to him. He chases after you with his mouth when you try to jerk away. He laps at you like he’s starved for your taste. It feels so good that you can’t decide if you want to pull away (Jihyo is right there) or if him eating you out like this is a thrill you want to lean into. It feels so dirty, so all consuming. You buck into his mouth and his resulting moan is depraved. Your orgasm is fast approaching. You can’t stop it even if you try.
“Fuck, Jeong- Jeonghan-…. Hannie.”
You have to bite your hand to keep from crying out, your high tearing through you with the force of a car crash. You shake and shudder over him, his hands holding you up with a strength that surprises you. He doesn’t stop until you’re whining and pushing his head away, cleaning you up until you can feel his spit cooling on your skin.
He lets your leg down gently, soothing a hand over it and laying a kiss on your thigh before standing up. His hair is no longer tied up, messy around his head. He is soaked down his chin and to the column of his throat. Your cheeks flame, breaths still coming heavy. He lays a kiss on the heated skin.
“Thanks for the meal.”
You can’t even say anything before he’s kissing you one last time and quickly leaving. You blink harshly, wondering what the fuck just happened.
You find his hair tie on the floor the next morning.
………………………………..
You can’t stay away from Yoon Jeonghan. You tried once, and it ended with him on his knees in front of you, making you cum on his face. Since then, you’ve forgotten the amount of times he’s made you cum. On his tongue, on his fingers, and most gloriously, on his cock. He’s made you feel things you genuinely didn’t think were possible. He whispers into your ear such filthy words that you have a hard time even processing them. Says he’s ‘pussy drunk’. That he can’t live without his fill of you. So he finds you, once or twice a week, and he drags you back to his room because it guarantees privacy. Or he fucks you on your own bed when you know Jihyo is out for the night. Either way, he’s around you a lot more than you ever expected him to be.
Jeonghan is whip smart. You deduced that he was witty a long time ago, but he is a rare combination of book smart and street smart that you didn’t know even existed. You both have the same anatomy course, so you study together sometimes. Of course, he’s horny all throughout it, but if you make it interesting, he is more than willing to participate. His favourite is when you strip off one piece of clothing with every question he gets right. It always ends with sex, because everything with Jeonghan ends with sex, but it feels more charged like this, when he’s talking and laughing with you, that sweet little twinkle in his eyes that makes your heart race.
Jeonghan has an unhealthy obsession with fast food, which works out great for you since stress makes you crave greasy food too. You will often find yourselves in some fast food place outside campus, usually spicy fried chicken, late at night between studying and making assignments. He isn’t a big drinker, and neither are you, but you like sharing a beer with him sometimes. Jeonghan is just so comfortable in his own skin. He has no guilt or shame about anything he does, or any choice he has made. It contrasts with you, who always has ten different things playing in your head at one time, doubting, analysing, restructuring. He’s perceptive. He can tell when you’re about to spiral, letting out a disapproving little tut before tapping your forehead.
“Don’t fly away and leave me here alone.”
He says weird stuff like that.
It means nothing. It can’t. Jeonghan is notoriously a fuck boy. Everyone knows it. Hell, he advertised it in the university Facebook group once. What more is there to say? He likes sex, you like sex. You give it to each other. That’s it. Getting closer to him like this is the natural consequence of spending time together. There’s no deeper meaning here. But then you hear something, a floating rumor, and you almost can’t believe it.
“Didn’t know he was being picky.” Some girl who was having lunch on the same table as you said. You’re sure Mina told you her name when she introduced you guys, but you were, once again, lost deep in thought. You didn’t catch it. “He’s never rejected me before.”
Mina rolls her eyes. “He’s never rejected anyone before.”
“Miyoung says he hasn’t hooked up with any of her friends either. He’s been ignoring everyone’s calls or messages.”
You’re rock still as you stare at your plate. This can’t be true. You and Jeonghan are just…… messing around. Relieving stress. It’s not anything more. Before you can think, you’re pulling your phone out to text him.
[me]: where are you
The reply is instant.
[hannie]: dorm. u coming?
You reply with an affirmative, and half an hour later, you’re knocking on his door. He opens it with a lazy smile, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled. It seems he was still in bed. You’re mad at yourself that he looks even more attractive to you like this.
“Hi, pretty.” He hums, pulling you in and shutting the door, planting a kiss on your neck. He wraps his arms around you, hands already wandering under your shirt. You huff.
“I heard a rumor.”
“Hm?” He seems distracted, fingers dipping just a little in the waistband of your jeans. You plough forward.
“Some girls complaining that you have been dodging their calls.”
He snorts into your neck. His teeth dig teasingly into your skin. You push at his stomach a little, trying to put distance between you two.
“Jeonghan, are you only sleeping with me?”
He pulls off your neck briefly, but lays a kiss on your jaw instead. “Yeah.”
Now you really push him away. He takes the hint and detaches, but he looks confused.
“Why? Why aren’t you sleeping with other girls?”
His face twists into something more amused. “You know, it’s usually the other way around. Girls are mad when their boyfriends are sleeping with other girls.”
Your heart stutters at the statement. “You’re not my boyfriend.”
He pouts. “Hurtful. Are you sleeping with other guys?”
You balk at him. “No!”
“So you’re only sleeping with me, and I’m only sleeping with you.” He hums, looking thoughtful. He’s clearly being unserious. You don’t appreciate it. “Some people might say that we’re…… exclusive?”
“We’re not dating.” You say, dryly.
“We spend time together. We study together. We have sex. We talk to each other all the time either in person or over texts.” He’s listing things off on his fingers. You are growing more irritated with every point. He seems to notice, because he gives you one of those sweet smiles of his that make you melt. You try to hold strong.
“Okay, pretty. We’re not dating. But I would like to.” He grows more serious, stepping forward again to caress your sides.
“You like me?”
Jeonghan huffs, leaning forward so his forehead touches yours. “Darling, I’m obsessed with you.”
So many pet names. It’s always endless pet names with him. You love it. Your heart beats fast. You fiddle with his shirt.
“You really haven’t been with anyone since then?” You mumble.
Jeonghan’s lips brush on the corner of your mouth, an action laced with affection. “Only you. Can’t get enough of you. You drive me crazy.”
You giggle a bit. “Okay.”
“Hm?”
“Fine. I’ll date you.”
His smile is blinding. This time, his lips taste even sweeter against yours.
Summary: It is one of those days when you and Seungcheol are both working from home. Notoriously, no work gets done on days like this one.
Word count: 6.6k
Genres/warnings: smut, pwp (plot? what plot?); non-idol au, loser!nerd!perv!seungcheol, established relationship, honestly i can stop at pwp, cheol is a simp and we're not surprised; lmk if i skipped anything important
Smut warnings: Minors DNI, thicc dicc!cheol, implied size difference, dirty talk (of course), slow piv sex, unprotected (this is how we roll here; but please be safe irl), creampie, they continue being horndogs, reader takes charge, light hints of pet play; oral (f rec), face sitting, some brief hand job (m. rec), orgasm denial/control, edging, kinda ruined orgasm, cheol is down bad as always, he's sweetly pathetic, reader is on the phone with her manager when cheol fucks her (oops, don't do it irl kids); see anything i missed? please lmk
A/N: everyone say thank you, seungcheol for that live he held. it gave me the idea of writing a full scene of what i only mentioned briefly in the main fic, though the action here takes place after the main story. as always, enjoy your read and i’ll be happy to see your feedback in any form you’re comfortable with: comments, asks or reblogs. and i will see you in my next fic ᙏ̤̫
You can read it separately but I would recommend reading all of it for the full experience of this couple :)
If you see any mistakes: I try to proofread but English isn’t my first language, proceed at your own discretion.
Masterlist. | PART 1
Seungcheol is forty-seven minutes deep into this video call and he has absorbed precisely none of it. His manager's voice comes through the headset like a monotone hum. He can swear this woman's voice is designed to sandpaper the edges of his sanity. On screen, a grid of eight faces, all feigning attention, and his own small rectangle in the corner shows a man who hasn't blinked in thirty seconds because he's too busy tracking a silhouette moving past the doorway.
That's you. Just a flicker of movement—bare legs, the hem of an oversized t-shirt he knows is his, the soft grey one you stole three months ago and never gave back—and his concentration detonates. His cock twitches against his thigh, a slow, traitorous swell that has nothing to do with whatever the hell his manager is droning on about.
Seungcheol leans back in his chair, the springs groaning under his weight, and tilts his head just enough to catch a sliver of the kitchen through the gap in the doorframe. You're at the counter now, back to him, reaching to open the microwave. The t-shirt stretches, outlining the curve of your butt. Suddenly, the fabric rides up as you tiptoe to grab something from the cupboard above and the very bottom of your ass peeks out, bare and soft-looking, and he has to swallow a sound that would get him fired.
"—and moving forward, I think we need to restructure our code reviews which are taking two days on average," his manager drones, and Seungcheol wants to scream. Fuck them code reviews. He's going to lose his mind. He's going to combust in this ergonomic chair and they'll find him as nothing but a pile of ash and a half-hard dick.
His fingers drum against the armrest. He risks another glance. You're bent over now, rummaging in the fridge, and the t-shirt has ridden up so high he can see the crease where your thigh meets your ass. Seungcheol knows exactly how that crease tastes. He knows the sound you make when he presses his tongue flat against it and drags upward. He knows the way you shudder, the way your hand fists in his hair, the way you always whisper his name in a mix of a curse and a prayer.
Fuck. His cock is fully hard now, a rigid line trapped in his sweatpants and boxer briefs in a way that's becoming painful. He shifts in his seat, trying to find relief, and accidentally knocks his knee against the underside of his desk with a dull thud that makes his microphone—that he forgot to mute—spike.
"You okay there, Seungcheol?" His manager's voice cuts through, and for one horrifying second his heart stops. But he quickly realises that it's just the noise that drew her attention. Just the thud.
"Yeah, fine," he says, and his voice comes out strained, a little too tight. "Just—hit my knee on the table."
He mutes himself. Lets out a breath that shakes. Rubs his palm over his face and tries to think about spreadsheets. Deadlines. Anything except you currently being in the kitchen or the way you looked this morning when you rolled out of bed, hair a disaster, his t-shirt swallowing you, and kissed him on the forehead before padding to the bathroom. Domestic shit. Soft, sweet, married-couple shit that still makes his chest ache even now, months in, even after everything.
It's worse now. That's the thing. He thought it would level out—the insatiable, clawing need that's been devouring him since that first drunk night on the couch. He thought once the novelty wore off, once you'd had each other in every conceivable position on every conceivable surface, the fever would break and you'd settle into something manageable. Normal.
It didn't.
It got so much worse.
Last Friday, for instance. You both worked from home. By his generous estimate, you managed three hours of actual productivity between you. The rest of the day dissolved into a blur of skin and sweat and the obscene, wet sound of his cock sliding into you over and over. He bent you over your desk during what was supposed to be a fifteen-minute coffee break and didn't pull out for forty-five. You sucked him off under his desk during a monthly team call on Google Meet, his teeth sinking into his fist and leaving marks just to keep from moaning into an unmuted mic, his eyes watering with restraint of not rolling back into his skull. Seungcheol fucked you against the hallway wall on the way to the bathroom, one hand clamped over your mouth, your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails carving trenches into his shoulders through his shirt. By the end of the day you couldn't walk straight. Neither could he. You ordered pizza and ate it cross-legged on the floor of your living room, half-naked, feeding each other slices and communicating with humms and grunts because forming full thoughts and voicing them felt like mission impossible. And then he got hard again just from watching you lick grease off your thumb, and you let him lay you back on the soft carpet and fill you up again, until you were both too wrecked to move.
So yeah. It didn't level out. It metastasised.
And now it's Tuesday, and he's been on this call for almost an hour, and you are a room away, in the kitchen, heating up leftovers, and his entire body is humming with want. He can smell you from here. He swears he can—that faint, familiar scent of your body wash and underneath it, the warm scent of your skin that makes his mouth water and his brain go syrupy and stupid.
"—so if everyone could have their reports in by Thursday," his manager is saying, finally, mercifully, "that would be great. Any questions? No? Great. Thanks, everyone."
The call ends. Seungcheol doesn't even say goodbye. He yanks the headset off, tosses it onto his desk, and is out of the bedroom before his chair stops spinning.
You hear him coming. He's not particularly secretive about his arrival—the heavy, purposeful tread of a man who spends too much time at the gym and hasn't learned to move quietly in a shared apartment. But you don't turn around. You're standing at the counter, reaching for the microwave handle, when his arms wrap around you from behind and his body folds over yours like a collapsing star.
He's so big. That's the first thing you register, the same thing you register every time—the sheer, enveloping mass of him. His chest presses against your back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of your—his—t-shirt. His arms circle your waist, thick and possessive, and his face buries into the crook of your neck with a sound that can only be described as a whimper.
"You're done?" you ask, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice.
"Finally," he mumbles against your skin. His lips move as he speaks, brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you have to suppress a shiver. "Thought she was never going to shut up. I was losing my mind."
"Yeah, I could hear her from here. That voice is something else. Like a sadistic lullaby."
Seungcheol huffs a laugh, his breath warm and damp against your throat. "It's not funny. I was suffering."
"Poor baby." You tilt your head, giving him more access without thinking, your body responding to his proximity the way it always does—on instinct, on autopilot, like your nerve endings have been rewired to recognise him as a primary need. Purely Pavlovian response. "My heart bleeds for you and your very important corporate meeting."
"Don't be mean." He pouts. You can't see his face but you know he's pouting—you can hear it in the way his voice goes soft and petulant, the way his lower lip juts out. "I missed you."
"I was literally a wall away."
"That's a wall too far."
The microwave beeps. You reach for it again, but Seungcheol's hand catches yours first. His fingers slide between yours, locking them together, and he pulls your hand back down, pressing it flat against the counter top. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt and settles on your lower belly, palm warm and broad and possessive.
"Food can wait," he murmurs.
You open your mouth to argue, to tease him about being a needy, insufferable menace, but then his palm presses down. Just a little. Just enough to apply pressure, to make you aware of the heat pooling low in your abdomen, of the way your body responds to him on a level that has nothing to do with conscious thought. An involuntary sound escapes your throat—small, breathy, embarrassing—and you feel your pussy clench around nothing.
"That's what I thought," he says, and there's a smile in his voice now, satisfied and soft and infuriating.
His lips find the junction of your neck and shoulder. He kisses you there, slow and open-mouthed, and then his teeth graze your skin and you stop breathing for a second.
"Cheol."
"Mm?"
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?" He does it again—a gentle scrape of teeth, followed by the wet, soothing press of his tongue—and your knees go weak.
"That thing where you—where you turn me into—" You can't finish the sentence. His lips have found a new spot, just above your collarbone, and he's sucking a bruise into existence with the kind of focused intensity he usually reserves for boss fights in Elden Ring. Your brain fills with static. Your hands grip the edge of the counter. "—into a—fuck."
"Into a what?" He pulls back just long enough to speak, his voice low and rough and dripping with false innocence. "Use your words, baby."
"I hate you."
"No you don't." Kiss. Bite. Suck. "You love it. You love when I make you all dumb and shaky. When I take my time and turn you into a little mess before I've even touched you properly." Another kiss, this one pressed to the shell of your ear. "I know you're clenching even without touching you, baby. You think I'm not aware? Oh, I am. I know your body better than I know my own at this point."
You think of saying something sharp, to cut through the haze and reassert some semblance of control. But Seungcheol is right. He does know your body. He's spent months mapping every inch of it with his hands and his mouth and his cock, learning every spot that makes you gasp, every rhythm that makes you fall apart. And right now, with his palm still pressing on your lower belly and his lips trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, the only thing your brain can produce is a stream of increasingly pathetic sounds.
You think, distantly, about the irony of it. Months ago you called him a loser to your friend. You rolled your eyes at his compression shirts and his anime figures and his inability to talk to women. And now here you are, melting into a puddle of need because he's kissing your neck and breathing on you. Your friends have noticed, of course. Because you can't exactly hide it. You walk into every brunch, every cafe meetup, wearing the unmistakable glow of a woman who's getting thoroughly, regularly, devastatingly fucked. Loud and proud as they say.
Seungcheol's fingers have trailed lower while you were lost in thought. They're resting on the waistband of your underwear now, tracing the elastic edge with a maddening lightness that makes your hips twitch.
"Mmm, bet you're so wet already," he murmurs, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the smug, reverent delight. "I haven't even done anything and you're soaking through your panties, aren't you? What am I going to do with you?"
"I don't know," you manage, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathy. "Maybe actually fuck me instead of just talking about it?"
"Impatient." He nips at your earlobe. "I like it."
His fingers dip lower, pressing against you through the damp cotton of your underwear and finding his theory to be true. The pressure is light, teasing, nowhere near enough, and you can feel your pussy clenching and throbbing again, desperate for more, desperate for anything. Behind you, pressed against the curve of your ass, his cock is a hard, insistent weight. He's been half-hard since the call started—you could guess from the way he was squirming in his chair, the way his eyes kept cutting toward the kitchen—but now he's fully erect, thick and hot even through the layers of his sweatpants and your t-shirt that barely covers your ass anymore. He rocks against you, a slow, deliberate grind, and the friction makes you both groan.
"Thought about this the whole call," he says, his voice dropping into that lower register that makes your stomach flip. "Thought about bending you over this counter. Thought about pulling these little panties to the side and sliding into you while you're still trying to heat up your stupid breakfast leftovers. Thought about filling you up so full you'd be leaking me all afternoon while you sit in your meetings pretending to be a professional."
"That's—" You swallow, hard. "That's what you were thinking about? During a work call?"
"Every second." Seungcheol grinds against you again, and this time you can feel the full length of him, the girth that still makes your mouth water even after all these months. "Couldn't focus. Couldn't think about anything except your tight little cunt and how bad I need to be inside it. How bad I need to use it."
He says that and lets out a shameful pathetic mewl.
The word "use" and the desperate sound that escapes him land in your chest and detonate. You know what he's doing—he's working you up, talking filth the way he knows you like, the way that makes you weak and pliant and ready to let him do anything. And normally you would let him. Normally you would let him spin you around, bend you over, and fuck you stupid right here against the kitchen counter, and you would come apart on his cock and thank him for it afterwards.
But thanks to his little pathetic display you're feeling something else. Something sharper. Seungcheol spent an hour squirming in his chair thinking about using you? Fine. But you spent that same hour catching glimpses of him in his stupid soft flannel shirt, his hair messy, his brows furrowed, his plush lips wrapped around his water bottle, and you've been simmering with your own kind of want. And maybe it's the oncoming ovulation hormones, or maybe it's the way he whimpered when he first wrapped his arms around you and mewled just now, but something in you decides that today, you're not going to be the one who gets reduced to a mindless, begging mess.
Today, that's going to be him.
His fingers have slipped under the waistband of your panties now, tracing through your slick folds with a slow, exploratory pressure that makes your breath hitch. He's about to push inside—you can feel the tension in his wrist, the way his breathing has gone ragged against your neck—when you reach around with your free hand and squeeze his cock through his sweatpants.
Hard.
Seungcheol makes a sound you've never heard before. A choked, strangled yelp that's half surprise and half something else entirely. His whole body jerks against you, his hips bucking into your grip, and his fingers freeze where they are.
"What—" he starts, but you squeeze again, and the word dissolves into a whimper.
"Here's what's going to happen, baby," you say, and your voice comes out breathless but somewhat steady. "You're going to take your hand out of my panties. You're going to get on your knees. And you're going to do exactly what I tell you. Got it, hmm?"
Seungcheol doesn't answer immediately. His chest is heaving against your back, his cock throbbing in your grip, and you can feel the war happening inside him—the instinct to take over, to reclaim control, wrestling with the part of him that loves this, the part that goes soft and eager and desperate when you turn the tables.
"Got it?" you repeat, and you twist your wrist just enough to make him gasp.
"Yeah," he breathes, voice going a little higher than usual. "Yeah, okay. Got it."
"Good boy."
The words hit him like a physical blow. You feel the full-body shudder that runs through him, the way his cock kicks against your palm, the way his breathing goes even more ragged and uneven. He pulls his hand out of your panties slowly, reluctantly, and you release your grip on him just long enough for him to step back.
"Strip," you say as soon as you turn around to see him.
He does. He pulls his t-shirt over his head first, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the thick shoulders and defined pecs, the trail of dark hair that runs down his stomach and disappears into the waistband of his sweats. Then his pants go, pushed down over his hips, and his boxers with them, until he's standing naked in the middle of the kitchen with his cock jutting up toward his belly, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking.
You take a moment to look at Seungcheol. It never gets old—the sheer size of him, the thickness, the way his cock curves just slightly, so pretty. The way it twitches under your gaze like it's begging for attention—and you bet it is. The way his balls hang heavy and full, a reminder that he hasn't come since yesterday morning, which in his case means he's already backed up and desperate and so, so easy to break.
"You're so pretty," you murmur, and you mean it. "Look at you. Standing there dripping for me. Such a desperate pathetic mess already and I haven't even touched you."
His cock gives you an eager reaction, twitching and bobbing up and down at your words, and you smile at how it throbs, almost like it's whining and jumping for you to touch it. Seungcheol's ears go red. That very deep, mortified flush that you've been watching since the very first night, except now it makes your chest ache with something tender and possessive instead of irritated. "Baby—"
"On your knees," you order softly, lips stretched in the sweetest of smiles.
He drops so fast you hear his knees hit the tile. You wince, breaking character just for a moment, worried, but Seungcheol doesn't seem to care at all, he is looking up at you with those big brown eyes, pupils blown wide, lips parted, and he is so fucking wreckable in this very moment that it makes your pussy clench and you don't even notice as you slip back into the little play the two of you are orchestrating.
"Please," he whispers, and he doesn't even know what he's asking for. He just knows he needs something, anything, as long as it is from you.
"Please what?" you hum, watching his eyes turn even shinier than before. He's so pretty like this it is unfair. Not for the first time he's giving you aggression urges.
"Please let me taste you. Need to put my mouth on you. I've been thinking about it all morning—thinking about how you taste, how soft and warm you feel on my tongue—please, baby? I need it—"
"Shh." You step forward, close enough that he can smell you again—his nostrils visibly flare when he silently inhales you—and you can feel his exhale ghost against your thighs. "I know. I know you've been a desperate little puppy all morning, couldn't even pay attention to your stupid meeting because you were too busy thinking about my pussy. Isn't that right?"
He nods, frantic, his hands twitching at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from grabbing you. You wouldn't mind if he did, to be fair. "Yes. Yes, that's right. Couldn't—couldn't think about anything else. Just you. Just your sweet pussy. Just how bad I wanted to be inside it." He whimpers and squirms on his knees, and his cock twitches again at the image growing vivid in his head.
"And instead you're on your knees." You reach down, thread your fingers through his hair, and tug—not hard enough to hurt, only to tilt his head back and make him look at you. "Because you're not in charge right now. I am. And I decide when you get to touch me. I decide when you get to cum. Understood?"
"Understood." His voice is wrecked already, and you haven't even started.
"Good." You release his hair and hop up onto the edge of the counter, spreading your legs. "Now be a good boy and get to work."
You pat your thigh and Seungcheol doesn't need to be told twice. His hands find your thighs, tugging your underwear off with urgent impatience before spreading you wider to make room, and then his mouth is on you and the world dissolves into sensation for both of you.
Seungcheol eats pussy like he's been starving for years and you're the first meal he's been served. His tongue is broad and wet and relentless, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit with a pressure that makes your hips immediately buck against his face. He genuinely moans when he tastes you, like the flavour of your arousal is the best thing he's ever experienced—and the vibration against your clit sends a shockwave up your spine, makes your soles tingle and toes curl.
"Fuck," you breathe, one hand bracing against the counter, the other fisting in his hair. "That's it. That's—right there—"
He stays there. His tongue circles your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, and then his lips close around it and he sucks, and your vision whites out for a second, an involuntary squeal leaving your mouth.
"Oh my god—" you pant, voice getting strained and high-pitched with pleasure.
He hums against you, pleased, and the vibration makes you jolt again. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks, holding you open for him, and his tongue keeps working you in a rhythm that's devastatingly precise. He knows exactly what you like. Of course he does. He's spent months learning your body like a language, and now he's fluent.
But you're not going to let him make you come just yet. You tug on his hair, pulling him back, and he looks up at you with his face slick and shining, his lips swollen and wet, his eyes hazy and half-lidded with want.
"Why'd you stop me?" he whines. "I wasn't done. You taste so good, baby, please let me finish—"
"Because I want to sit on your face."
His eyes go wide. Then darken. His cock, which has been bobbing neglected against his stomach, twitches and throbs visibly, a fresh bead of precum welling at the tip.
"Fuck," he whispers. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I want that. Please."
"Get on the floor then."
He lies down on the kitchen tiles without a shred of dignity, his cock standing up like a flagpole, his chest heaving. You slide off the counter and stand over him for a moment, looking down at the picture he makes—this big, muscular man, sprawled on the cold floor, looking up at you like you're the sun and the moon and every star in the sky, his cock leaking all over his own stomach.
"You're so pathetic," you tell him, and you mean it as the highest compliment.
"I know," he breathes. "I'm your pathetic little puppy. Now please—please sit on my face. I need your cunt on my tongue. Need you to smother me with your sweet pussy, baby."
Gosh, you both are so fucking nasty for each other, you chuckle and lower yourself down, kneeling carefully over his head. The first contact of his tongue against your pussy makes you both groan—him from the taste, you from the sensation of his mouth working you open while you settle your full weight onto him. Your thighs bracket his head, and his hands come up to grip your ass, guiding you, pulling you down harder, to sit your entire weight on him.
You let Seungcheol work for a while. Let his tongue fuck into you, let his lips close around your clit, let him moan and whimper against your flesh while you rock your hips in slow, lazy circles. But you have other plans for him, so you twist just enough to reach back, your hand finding his cock where it's standing rigid and neglected.
The sound he makes when you wrap your fingers around him is muffled by your pussy, and you feel the desperate, broken groan that vibrates through your entire body. You stroke him slowly, from base to tip, your thumb swiping over the slick, swollen head to collect the precum that's been pooling there just to massage his frenulum and make the man twitch and jerk his hips uncontrollably, losing all pace of his oral ministrations.
"Look at you," you murmur, looking down at him. "So hard for me. So wet. You're dripping all over yourself. Such a pretty mess, hmm."
He can't answer. His mouth is full of your cunt, his tongue buried inside you, and all he can do is whine and buck his hips into your grip, either encouraging or just sensitive.
"Is this what you wanted? When you were sitting in your meeting with your cock all hard and aching? You wanted to be on your back on the kitchen floor, being used like a toy?"
Seungcheol nods frantically, his nose bumping against your clit, and the sensation makes you gasp.
"That's what I thought. You're nothing but a dumb mutt when I get my hands on you. What a sight, huh? A big, strong man reduced to a whimpering mess on the floor. Your friends have no idea, do they? Do they think you're this alpha male now? That you're the cool guy of the group after you bagged me, hmm?” You apply more weight onto his face and Seungcheol groans against you, soft tongue licking deeper into your heat, coaxing a moan out of you. "Should we let them know that you actually love getting on your knees for me? Love being a good puppy for me?"
You twist your wrist on the upstroke, and his hips stutter, his cock pulsing in your grip. He's close. You can feel it in the way his thighs are tensing, the way his breathing has gone ragged and uneven, and the way his tongue has lost its rhythm against your pussy because he can't concentrate on anything except the pleasure you're wringing out of him.
"Are you going to come?" You ask sweetly. "Are you going to spill all over yourself and make a mess like a good little slut?"
He tries to nod again, but you're already pulling your hand away.
"Too bad," you say, and his desperate, wounded keen is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "You don't get to cum until I say so. And I haven't said so."
"Please," he gasps, his mouth finally free of your pussy because you've lifted your hips just enough to look down at him. His face is a mess—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, chin slick with your arousal. "Please, baby, I need to cum. I've been thinking about it all day. I can't—"
"Oh, but you can." You climb off him, and he whines at the loss of contact, his hands reaching for you instinctively. "Get up. Bend me over the counter."
Seungcheol scrambles to his feet so fast he nearly slips and you snicker, telling him to be careful. His cock is an angry red, throbbing visibly, a steady stream of precum dripping from the tip on every twitch. He looks ruined already, and you haven't even let him inside you yet.
You turn around and brace yourself against the counter, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. You're soaked—your thighs are glistening, your pussy is swollen and dripping with a mix of your juices and his spit, and you know exactly what he's seeing right now.
"Now you can fuck me," you tell him. "Slow. Exactly the way I want it. And you're not going to come. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he breathes, steps closer behind you. "Yes, I understand. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you."
He lines himself up. You feel the blunt, thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and even though you're wet and open and ready, the stretch is still overwhelming. Seungcheol pushes in slowly, inch by inch, spreading your walls, filing the empty space that begged to be filled, and you both groan in unison as he fills you.
"Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're always so tight. How are you still so tight?"
"Shut up and move."
He pulls out almost all the way, making you feel the way his veined shaft drags against your sensitive walls, and then pushes back in. Seungcheol fucks you exactly the way you told him to—slow, deep, each thrust deliberate and measured. His hands are gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and you can hear the effort it's taking him to hold back, the way his breathing is coming in ragged gasps, the way he's trembling against you.
"You feel so good," he babbles again. "You feel so fucking good, baby, I can't—I don't know how much longer I can—"
"You can last as long as I tell you to last." But your voice is shaking now too. The angle is perfect, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every slow, grinding thrust, and you're getting close yourself. "Don't you dare cum without permission. Don't you fucking dare."
"I won't. I won't, I promise, just—please, can I go faster? Please?"
"No. Keep it slow. I want to feel every inch of you."
He whimpers, but he does what he's told. His thrusts stay slow and deep, his cock dragging against your walls, and you can feel the orgasm building in your core, coiling tighter and tighter—
Your phone rings.
Your intuition immediately screams at you that it must be someone from work.
"Fuck," you hiss in half frustration, half panic. "Fuck, Cheol, stop, I have—have to take this—"
You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens. "No," he whines. "No, baby, please, I'm so close, don't stop me—"
Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel bad for the man, he sounds so ruined.
"I'm not asking." You pull yourself off his cock with a wet, obscene sound, and Seungcheol makes a noise like you've stabbed him. His cock bobs in the air, angry and neglected, throbbing and jumping with denied orgasm. A thick strand of your combined fluids connects him to your pussy for a brief moment before it snaps. He whines out a sob.
"You ruined it," Seungcheol breathes, and he sounds genuinely devastated. "You ruined my orgasm. Baby, why? I was right there—"
"Stay here," you order, already grabbing your phone from the kitchen table where it was resting forgotten all this time. "Don't move."
You answer the call as you walk toward your room, your voice switching to a semblance of something professional and pleasant even though your thighs are still wet and your pussy is still aching and empty. "Hey, yeah, sorry, just give me one second—"
You don't get your one second. Because Seungcheol, your sweet, pathetic, desperate boyfriend, has followed you despite what you told him to do.
You feel him before you see him—his body pressing up behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock sliding between your thighs, still slick with your arousal. You're standing in front of your desk, phone pressed to your ear, and he's already bending you forward, already lining himself up.
"No," you mouth silently, turning your head to glare at him. "Don't you dare."
Seungcheol meets your eyes. His are dark and wild and desperate, and there's something almost feral in his expression. He doesn't stop. He pushes inside you in one smooth, harsh thrust that jolts your entire body, and the sensation of intrusion is so sudden and overwhelming that you have to bite down on your own hand to keep from crying out. This leaves you with no support, which means you pretty much topple over, suddenly pressed into your desk with Seungcheol's hand that was applying pressure between your shoulder blades.
"—and so I was wondering if you could take a look at this document before the meeting this afternoon," your team lead is saying in your ear, her voice cheerful and oblivious. "I know it's last minute, but I think there might be an error on page five."
"Of course," you manage, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady considering the fact that your boyfriend is currently buried balls-deep inside you, his hips already starting to move. "I can—I can do that. No problem."
Seungcheol fucks into you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel how close he still is from before, how desperate. One of his hands slides up and down your back, pressing you down onto the desk before you can even think of lifting your upper body into an upright position, and the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you in place.
"Great, thanks," your team lead says. "Also, I wanted to ask about the client presentation next week. Have you had a chance to—"
He chooses that moment to thrust particularly deep, his cock hitting your cervix, and a tiny, strangled sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.
"You okay?" your team lead asks.
"Yes," you say, and your voice is definitely too high. "Yes, sorry, I just—stubbed my toe. On the desk. It's fine."
Seungcheol leans down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing your free ear. "Little liar," he whispers, so quiet only you can hear. "What will your boss do if she finds out you're getting fucked during your working hours?” He can't help a chuckle that escapes him when he comes up with his next question. "Hmm, does it make you a slut for fucking me and getting paid while doing so? Technically…" he trails off and your pussy clenches traitorously as soon as your brain registers what he just said.
You want to kill him. You want to kill him and then marry him and then kill him again.
"—and if you could send me the updated slides by end of day, that would be perfect," your team lead is saying.
"End of day," you repeat, barely processing the words. Seungcheol has picked up his pace, just slightly, and the sound of his cock sliding into your wet, messy pussy is so loud in the quiet room that you're sure your team lead can hear it if the line stays silent for a moment too long. "Yes. Slides. I'll—I'll send them."
"Are you sure you're okay? You sound a little off."
"I'm fine. I'm great. Just—writing it down."
Seungcheol muffles a laugh against your shoulder. His hand leaves your hip and snakes around to your front, finding your clit with devastating accuracy. Your whole body jolts.
"That's the spot, isn't it?" he breathes in your ear. "That's the spot that makes you stupid. You're going to come on my cock while you're on the phone, aren't you? You're going to soak me and she's going to hear it."
You shake your head frantically, but you can't speak. Your team lead is still talking, something about deadlines and team meetings, and you're nodding along and making vague sounds of agreement while your boyfriend rubs circles on your clit and fucks into you with deep, punishing strokes. You're trying so hard not to start panting or moaning, and your brainpower continues to slip from your grasp.
"I'm going to fill you up," he whispers. "I'm going to pump you so full of cum it'll be dripping out of you for the rest of the day. And you're going to sit in your meetings and feel it leaking into your panties, and you're going to think about me. About this. About how I ruined you while you were trying to be professional."
"Okay," you say into the phone, and you have no idea what you're agreeing to. "Okay, sounds good. I have to—I have to go now, I'll send those slides."
"No rush," your team lead says. "Talk later!"
You hang up with confused fingers, missing the red button on the screen a couple of taps before you finally manage to end the call. The phone clatters onto the desk.
And then you let yourself fall apart.
"Cheol—" It comes out as a loud sob, half fury and half desperate, overwhelming need. "You—you fucking—I can't believe you—"
"You loved it." He's not even trying to hide the smugness in his voice, but it's undercut by the way his hips are stuttering, the way his rhythm is falling apart. "You loved every second of it. I could feel you getting wetter and clenching around me when she asked if you were okay."
"I'm going to kill you—after—after I come—"
"Yeah?" He presses harder on your clit, circles it with the perfect pressure that he knows you enjoy, and the orgasm that's been building since the kitchen finally, finally explodes. "Then come for me. Now, baby. Let me feel it."
You shatter with a mewl. It rips through you like a thunderclap, your whole body seizing up, your pussy clamping down on his cock in rhythmic, pulsing waves. You scream—you can't help it, the sound tears out of you raw and unguarded after long minutes of trying to suppress it all—and Seungcheol groans and buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in hot, copious pulses.
He keeps thrusting through it, fucking his cum deeper into you, and you can feel it flooding you, filling you, leaking out around his cock in a white obscene ring and dripping down your thighs. He doesn't stop until he's completely spent, and then he collapses over you, his weight pressing you into the desk, his breath hot and ragged against the back of your neck.
For a long moment the room is silent. The only sounds are your mingled breathing and the faint, distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen.
Then: "You're a menace," you whisper, swallowing thickly and heaving a sigh.
He laughs, breathless and giddy and a little bit wrecked. "Yeah. But you're the same. And you love me."
You don't argue. You can't. Not when his cock is still inside you, still half-hard, still plugging you full of his cum. Not when you can already feel it starting to drip out despite his best efforts. Not when your legs are shaking so badly you're not sure you can stand if you try.
"Next time," you manage, "I'm locking you to a piece of furniture before I take a work call."
"Hmm, I think next time," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade, "you'll let me do it again. Because you're just as depraved as I am."
You hate that he's right. You hate it even more that you don't hate it at all.
*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.
Summary: Drunk you has no filter and your husband has always been a weak, weak man when it comes to you. He just didn’t expect your family planning conversation to awaken the caveman part of his brain or a raging breeding kink in both of you.
Warnings: smut!MDNI, established relationship, trying to conceive, pregnancy, soft dom!cheol, domestic fluff, humor, healthy communication, breeding kink awakening, enthusiastic consent, multiple + creative locations and one very smug husband who knocked you up in paradise, married life, baby fever, hormone-induced chaos, obsessed husband!Cheol x obsessed wife!reader, as usual I might be missing something.
W.C: 18.1k
Sometimes being married to Choi Seungcheol felt like a fever dream as you often wondered how you managed to bag a man that ticked every box. He had his moments, his little beige flags as you liked to call them, but you knew that man loved you which is why you’re seeking him out as soon as you stumble through your front door. You had an itch only your husband could scratch and if you were right, he would still be holed up in the home office.
Seungcheol had been reading reports in his home office when he heard the front door slam. A quick look at his watch alerts him to the time, 1:47 AM.
His eyes narrowed. Why didn’t you call him to come pick you up? He gets out of his chair when he hears the unmistakable sound of heels being kicked off carelessly and soft humming.
“My husband!” your voice singsongs from the down the hall. “Where are youuu?”
He barely has time to make it to the hallway before you stumble into the room seconds later, eyes glazed and clutching your purse like it’s plotting against you.
“Babyyyy,” you gasp, “There you are.”
His brows draw together. “You’re drunk.”
You blink at him, smile growing. “Nuh-uh, just a tiny bit tipsy.” You measure with your fingers before breaking into a fit of giggles. Seungcheol can count on one hand how many times he’s seen you drunk—it’s still one hand—as you can hold your liquor very well.
You walk—well, sway—across the room and launch yourself at him. He stumbles half a step back, catching you as your arms wrap tightly around his waist, face burying into his chest.
“You smell expensive and…sexy,” you mumble.
“What happened?” he asks, voice low.
“Work has been shit,” you whisper. “Needed a—” you hiccup, “—a break.”
He exhales slowly before his hand finds its way to your back. His grip tightens as he studies your lightly smudged eyeliner and flushed cheeks. The scent of your favorite wine lingers on your breath but beneath it lies your usual perfume, brown sugar, coconut, vanilla.
“You’re a mess,” he murmurs, though there’s no bite in his tone.
You giggle against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt. “You married this mess.”
A beat of silence passes before his lips twitch despite himself. “What am going to do with you, huh?”
The weight of you against him is familiar, grounding even, despite the alcohol-fueled abandon in your movements. Seungcheol’s hand moves in slow, deliberate circles against your back, a habit he’s developed over the years; one that always seems to settle you.
“Do with me?” you repeat, pulling back just enough to look up at him through your lashes. Your eyes are glassy but focused entirely on him, pupils blown wide. “I have some ideas.”
He catches the shift in your tone immediately, the way your fingers stop their aimless fidgeting and instead trace deliberate paths along his chest. His jaw tightens.
“You’re drunk,” he repeats, firmer this time, even as his treacherous body responds to your proximity.
“In loveeeeee” you respond as you attempt to sing lyrics from Drunk in Love.
Seungcheol’s resolve wavers as you butcher the Beyoncé song, swaying in his arms with unselfconscious joy. Despite everything—the late hour, the worry that had knotted in his chest when he heard the door slam, the very valid concern about your current state—he feels his lips curve into a reluctant smile.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says, but his hands have already moved to steady you, one sliding to your hip while the other cups the back of your head.
“Ridiculously in love with you,” you counter, poking his chest for emphasis. The motion throws off your already questionable balance, and you stumble forward again.
He catches you easily, muscle memory from years of being your safety net. “Alright, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Ooh, bed,” you waggle your eyebrows in a way that would be seductive if you weren’t also hiccupping. “See? You do have ideas.”
“To sleep,” he clarifies, already guiding you toward the bedroom with his arm firmly around your waist. “We’re going to bed to sleep. You’re going to wake up tomorrow wondering why you thought drinking on a work night was a good idea.”
“Tomorrow me’s problem,” you declare, then immediately contradict yourself by clinging tighter to him. “Don’t you dare leave me alone tonight, Choi Seungcheol.”
Something in your voice—beneath the alcohol and the playfulness—sounds small. Vulnerable.
His expression softens. “Never,” he promises quietly. “Now come on, let’s get you changed.”
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You stop and ask randomly as he sits you on the bathroom counter and tries to remove your makeup.
Seungcheol blinks. This was getting more surreal by the second. You were sitting before him, arms hanging off his shoulders with your head tilted with genuine curiosity and you wanted to know if he’d love you…as a worm? He’s quiet for a moment. Then, his hands curve around your waist.
“A worm?” he repeats, deadpan. “Seriously?”
“Yahhhh, you wouldn’t?” You pout.
Seungcheol sighs, the kind of deep, put-upon sigh that somehow still sounds fond. He reaches for the micellar water and a cotton pad, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can start wiping away your makeup.
“Hold still,” he murmurs, ignoring your question as he gently swipes at your eyeliner.
“You’re avoiding the question!” you accuse, though you do hold still,mostly. “That means you wouldn’t love me. You’d just…leave me in the dirt somewhere. Alone. A poor, lonely worm—”
“I would build you a terrarium,” he interrupts, deadpan, moving to your other eye. “With the best soil money can buy. Organic, the expensive kind.”
You gasp, eyes flying open and nearly getting makeup remover in them. He gently presses them closed again with his thumb.
“I said hold still.”
“You’d really build me a terrarium?” Your voice has gone soft, touched, as if he’s just promised you the moon.
“Mhm.” He’s focused on removing your mascara now, touch careful and practiced. “With a heated lamp. Perfect pH balance in the soil. I’d probably hire someone to monitor your…worm health.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m answering your question.” His lips twitch as he tosses the used cotton pad aside and reaches for another. “You’d be the most spoiled worm in existence. I’d make sure of it.”
You’re quiet for a moment and when he glances at your face, you’re smiling at him with such open adoration it makes something in his chest squeeze tight.
“I love you,” you whisper.
His hand pauses mid-swipe. Then he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, soft and lingering.
“I love you too,” he murmurs against your skin. “Even if you ask me stupid questions at two in the morning.”
“Not stupid,” you mumble but you’re already melting into him again, arms tightening around his shoulders. “Important worm logistics.”
“Right. Very important.” He pulls back just enough to finish cleaning your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “Now let’s get you into pajamas before you ask me what I’d do if you were a dolphin.”
“Ooh, would you—”
“No.”
You cup his cheeks in your hands squishing them together, looking at him with those eyes before you kiss him. “Please, Cheollie? Want you?”
“Not tonight, princess.” It’s utterly amazing, the way you switch from asking him unhinged shit to asking him to fuck you. It should give him whiplash but it’s not the first time it’s happened.
“‘m not drunk…” you pout. “Can’t a girl just want her hot husband?”
Seungcheol’s jaw flexes under your palms, his eyes darkening despite his best efforts to maintain composure. He gently pulls your hands away from his face but doesn’t let go, instead intertwining his fingers with yours.
“You can,” he says, voice lower now, rougher around the edges. “And you will, tomorrow. When you’re sober and won’t regret it.”
“I would never regret you,” you protest, leaning forward until your forehead rests against his. “Not possible. Scientifically impossible.”
“Scientifically impossible,” he repeats and there’s amusement threading through the restraint in his tone. “Is that so?”
“Mhm.” You nod seriously, the motion making you slightly dizzy. “Did research. Very thorough.”
His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand; that same grounding gesture, keeping himself anchored as much as you. “Your research involved how much wine exactly?”
“Irrelevant data,” you whisper, then press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “The conclusion is still valid.”
He inhales sharply and for a moment you think you’ve won. His free hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing your bottom lip but then he’s pulling back, putting necessary distance between you even as everything in his expression says he doesn’t want to.
“I’m not doing this while you’re drunk,” he says firmly. “I don’t care how much you pout or how many times you tell me you’re fine. This is non-negotiable.”
You study him for a long moment, his set jaw, his dark eyes that are clearly affected despite his iron will, the way his hand trembles just slightly against yours.
“You really won’t?” you ask, quieter now.
“I really won’t.” His expression softens. “Ask me tomorrow. When you can look me in the eye without the room spinning. When you’ll actually remember every detail.” His voice drops to something almost possessive. “Because when I do touch you, I want you to remember all of it.”
The promise in his words sends heat pooling low in your stomach despite your alcohol-hazed state. You bite your lip and his eyes track the movement with dangerous focus before he deliberately looks away.
“Evil man,” you mutter. “Making me wait.”
“Responsible husband,” he corrects, then slides you off the counter and scoops you up bridal style in one smooth motion. “Now come on. Pajamas, water, bed, in that order.”
“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “But I’m picking the pajamas.”
“As long as you actually put them on instead of trying to seduce me again.”
“No promises.”
He huffs what might be a laugh as he carries you toward the bedroom. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Y’know everyone thinks I married you for your status and money.” You say switching the subject again as he starts unbuttoning your shirt.
“No, you didn’t. You had no idea who my family was when we met so I know it’s not that.”
“I married you for that fat ass.” you reply, hands drifting down and grabbing his ass. “don’t need your money.” You grin at the look on his face.
“God, I forgot how handsy you get with alcohol in your system.”
“Horny too but I guess I don’t do it for you cause…what kinda hisb—” you hiccup “husband doesn’t like his wife t-throwing herself at him? Is it Jeonghan? Is Hannie prettier than me?”
Seungcheol freezes mid-button, his eyes snapping to yours with an expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief.
“Did you just—” He stops, takes a breath, then continues with strained patience. “Did you seriously just ask me if I want Jeonghan?”
“Well, you don’t want me,” you say, bottom lip trembling in a way that would be more effective if you weren’t also still squeezing his ass. “He’s got nice hair,” you say defensively, words slurring slightly. “And that whole…pretty boy thing going on. Maybe you like that better than—”
“Jesus Christ woman,” Seungcheol mutters, catching your wandering hands and firmly moving them to your sides. “Okay, listen to me very carefully.”
He cups your face with both hands, forcing you to meet his eyes.
“First of all, Jeonghan is my best friend and I love him like a brother, which means the thought of anything else makes me want to bleach my brain.” His thumbs stroke your cheeks as he continues, voice firm but gentle. “Second, I always want you. Every single day. Sometimes so much it’s inconvenient, like in the middle of board meetings when you text me something cute.”
“Really?” you sniffle.
“Really.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “The reason I’m not touching you right now isn’t because I don’t want to. It’s because I respect you too much to take advantage when you’re drunk. Do you understand the difference?”
You’re quiet for a moment, processing. Then, “So, you do think I’m prettier than Hannie?”
A laugh bursts out of him, unexpected and genuine. “You’re completely ridiculous, you know that?”
“But am I prettier?”
“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he says and the sincerity in his voice cuts through your alcohol-fogged brain. “Drunk, sober, first thing in the morning, all dressed up, doesn’t matter. It’s always you. Only you.”
Your eyes well up. “Cheollie…”
“Oh no.” He recognizes the signs immediately. “No crying. We’re not doing drunk crying tonight.”
“But you’re so nice to me,” you warble, tears already spilling over. “And I love you so much and you built me a theoretical worm terrarium, and you think I’m pretty—”
“I think we need to get you in pajamas right now,” he says, already reaching for the shirt buttons again with renewed determination, “before this spiral gets worse.”
“’m not spiraling,” you protest, even as another tear rolls down your cheek. “Just got a lot of feelings about my hot, respectful, worm-loving husband.”
“Worm-loving,” he repeats under his breath. “What is my life?”
“Your life is amazing,” you inform him, helpfully (unhelpfully) trying to unbutton your own shirt and just making the process more difficult. “You have me. And my ass. Which is also amazing.”
“I’m aware,” he says dryly, gently batting your hands away so he can actually finish unbuttoning. “I married it, remember?”
You gasp, delighted. “You do remember! See, we’re perfect for each other. You married my ass, I married your ass—”
“That’s not how marriage works.”
“—it’s like…ass-tronomy. No, wait. Ass-trology? We’re ass-trologically compatible.”
Seungcheol pauses, shirt halfway off your shoulders, and just looks at you. “Did you just—you can’t just put ‘ass’ in front of words and expect them to make sense.”
“Ass-olutely can,” you say with complete conviction.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly praying for strength. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“You love it,” you singsong, finally cooperating enough to let him pull your shirt off. “You love meee and my drunk ass puns.”
“I love you despite your drunk ass puns,” he corrects, reaching for one of his old t-shirts from the drawer. “Arms up.”
You obey, lifting your arms like a toddler as he slides the shirt over your head. It’s enormous on you, falling nearly to your knees and smells like his cologne and laundry detergent. You immediately burrow into it with a happy sigh.
“Now pants,” he says, reaching for your waistband.
“Ooh, taking my pants off. Scandalous.”
“We’re literally married.”
“Still scandalous.” You boop his nose as he efficiently unbuttons your pants. “You’re being very professional about this. Very doctor-y. Do you do this for all your patients?”
“You’re my only patient and you’re testing my patience,” he mutters, helping you step out of your pants. “Other leg. Good.”
“Such a good caretaker,” you coo, patting his head as he kneels in front of you. “Gonna leave you five stars on MangoPlate. ‘Husband refused to have sex with drunk wife. Very responsible. Would recommend.’”
He looks up at you with an expression of pure suffering. “Please never write that review.”
“‘Also has a great ass,’” you continue thoughtfully. “‘Ass-ceptional, even.’”
“I’m begging you to stop.”
“‘Ass-tounding restraint—’”
He stands abruptly and just picks you up, cutting off your commentary as you squeal in surprise. “Okay. That’s enough. Water and bed. Now.”
“You can’t silence me!” you declare, even as you wrap your arms around his neck. “The people deserve to know about your ass!”
“The people know plenty,” he says, carrying you toward the bed with the long-suffering patience of a saint. “Now drink this.”
He somehow manages to grab the water bottle from the nightstand one-handed and present it to you. You take it obediently, suddenly realizing how thirsty you are.
“Good girl,” he murmurs and even in your drunk state, you don’t miss the way his voice dips on those words.
You lower the water bottle, eyes narrowing. “You can’t just say things like that and then refuse to—”
“Drink,” he interrupts firmly, tipping the bottle back up toward your lips.
You drink, plotting your revenge but the cool water actually does help clear some of the fog. When you’ve had enough, he sets the bottle aside and carefully deposits you onto your side of the bed.
“Stay,” he commands, pointing at you like you’re a mischievous puppy.
“Woof,” you respond because apparently the filter between your brain and mouth has completely dissolved. He huffs what might be a laugh and disappears into the bathroom. You hear water running and then he’s back with a damp washcloth, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Come here,” he says softly, and when you scoot closer, he gently wipes your face; getting the spots he missed earlier, cooling your flushed cheeks. It’s tender and intimate in a way that makes your chest ache.
“Cheol?” you whisper.
“Mm?”
“’m really glad I married you. Not just for your ass.”
His lips twitch. “Good to know.”
“For your heart too. And your face. And the way you take care of me even when I’m being ridiculous. Oh, and that dick, can’t forget about that.”
“Woman, I swear to—”
“Just lemme keep it warm, please?” Your hand moves to rest low on his stomach. There you go trying to get him to fuck you, again.
“Baby, no. We both know you won’t stop there.”
You open your mouth to protest—to make very compelling arguments about your self-control and how you would totally just keep things innocent—but he cuts you off by pressing his thumb gently against your lips.
“Don’t,” he warns, though there’s affection in his eyes. “Don’t make promises drunk-you can’t keep. I know you.”
You deflate slightly because, fine, he’s right. Sober-you has minimal self-control around him. Drunk-you has absolutely none which is exactly why you keep asking.
“Just wanna feel you inside, promise I’ll behave.”
Seungcheol’s composure cracks visibly, his breath hitches, his grip on the washcloth tightening as his eyes darken with want. For a moment, you think you’ve finally broken through his resolve.
Then he closes his eyes, jaw working and when he opens them again his expression is pained but firm.
“You’re killing me,” he says roughly. “You know that?”
“Good,” you mumble, though you’re already yawning. “Suffer with me.” You say pressing your lips to his.
“I shouldn’t have to deal with my ovulation alone.” And suddenly the wheels are turning in Seungcheol’s head. He goes completely still against your lips, his brain clearly short-circuiting as he processes what you just said.
“Your…what?” He pulls back to look at you, eyes wide.
“Ovulation,” you repeat matter-of-factly, like you’re discussing the weather. “Why d’you think I’m so horny? It’s science, Cheollie. Biology. Nature.” You wave your hand dramatically. “My body wants a baby and it’s making me crazy and you’re—you’re just sitting here looking all hot and responsible and—”
“Okay,” he interrupts, voice strangled. “Okay, we’re not, you can’t just drop that information on me while you’re drunk and expect me to—”
“To what?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious despite the alcohol. “Finally give your wife what she wants?”
His eyes flutter closed and he takes several deep breaths, clearly fighting an internal battle. When he opens them again, there’s a new tension in his expression; want, restraint, and something darker all tangled together.
“That’s not fair,” he says roughly. “You can’t use the ovulation card. That’s playing dirty.”
“Everything’s fair in love and baby-making,” you counter, then giggle at your own modification of the phrase.
“We are not having this conversation right now,” he says firmly, even as his hand unconsciously tightens on your hip. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. When you’re sober, when we can have an actual discussion about—about family planning and—”
“Already know I want your babies,” you interrupt, cupping his face. “Known that for years. Since like…our third date probably.”
“Third date,” he repeats faintly.
“Mhm. You were wearing that gray sweater and you laughed at my joke and I just thought—” you sigh dreamily, “—‘yeah, I want tiny humans with his laugh and dimples.’”
Something shifts in his expression; it goes soft and vulnerable in a way that makes your heart squeeze even through the alcohol haze.
“You’re not playing fair at all,” he whispers.
“Don’t wanna play fair,” you whisper back. “Want you. Want your baby. Want—” another yawn interrupts you, “—want you to stop being so responsible and just…”
But exhaustion is finally catching up with you, the alcohol and emotional rollercoaster of the evening taking their toll. Your eyes are getting heavier despite your best efforts.
Seungcheol notices immediately, his expression gentling. “There we go,” he murmurs, carefully maneuvering you under the covers. “Finally.”
“’m not tired,” you protest weakly, even as you burrow into the pillow.
“Sure you’re not.” He slides in next to you and immediately you roll toward him, seeking his warmth.
“Cheol?” you mumble against his chest.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Tomorrow…we can talk about it? The baby thing?”
His arm tightens around you, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. “Tomorrow,” he promises. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow.”
“And you’ll actually consider it? Not just…say we’ll talk and then avoid it?”
There’s a pause, and then, “I’ve been considering it for months,” he admits quietly. “I just wanted to wait for the right time. When we were both ready.”
You manage to pull back just enough to look at him, suddenly feeling more alert. “Months?”
He smiles, a little embarrassed. “Why do you think I cleared out the guest room last month? I’ve been planning…thinking about turning it into a nursery. Eventually.”
“You—” your eyes well up again, “—you sneaky, wonderful man.”
“Don’t cry,” he says, but he’s smiling as he wipes away the tears with his thumb. “Save it for tomorrow when you can properly yell at me for not telling you sooner.”
“Gonna yell and cry,” you inform him. “And then jump your bones.”
“Looking forward to it,” he says dryly. “Now sleep. You’re going to feel terrible in the morning.”
“Worth it,” you mumble, already drifting. “Got you to admit you want babies…”
“I want your babies,” he corrects softly. “There’s a difference.”
But you’re already asleep, a small smile on your face, wrapped securely in your husband’s arms. Seungcheol lies awake a little longer, looking down at you; his drunk, ridiculous, beautiful wife who just ambushed him with baby talk and ass puns in the same conversation.
“What am I going to do with you?” he whispers, echoing his earlier question.
But this time, he’s smiling as he says it. Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow they’ll talk—really talk—about the future. About expanding their family. About all the things he’s been too cautious to bring up, worried about timing and readiness and a thousand other factors.
But tonight, you’re here, safe and warm and his, talking about wanting his babies since the third date.
Yeah. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.
He presses one more kiss to your forehead before settling in, keeping you close. His ovulating, drunk, perfect disaster of a wife. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
The next morning, you wake up to three things; a pounding headache that feels like a marching band has taken up residence in your skull, blinding sunlight streaming through curtains you thought you closed and the smell of coffee and something sweet wafting from the kitchen.
You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. Your mouth tastes like something died in it and when you try to sit up, the room spins just enough to make you regret every life choice that led to this moment.
“Oh god,” you mutter, flopping back down.
Fragments of last night start filtering back through the haze. Coming home late. Seungcheol’s concerned face. The bathroom counter. Worm terrarium? You definitely said something about worms. And then—
Your eyes fly open.
“Oh no.”
The baby conversation. The ovulation announcement. Your very detailed commentary about your husband’s ass. The—you bury your face in your hands—the begging.
“Kill me now,” you whisper to the empty room.
“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”
You nearly jump out of your skin. Seungcheol is leaning against the doorframe, holding a mug of coffee and wearing an expression that can only be described as deeply amused.
He’s already somewhat dressed for the day in a simple white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, hair slightly damp from a shower, looking infuriatingly well-rested and attractive. Meanwhile, you’re pretty sure you look like a gremlin who lost a fight with a bottle of wine.
“How long have you been standing there?” you croak.
“Long enough to hear you bargaining with God.” He pushes off the doorframe and walks over, setting the coffee on the nightstand. “How’s the head?”
“Like I deserve it,” you admit, gratefully reaching for the mug. “How much did I—” you pause, coffee halfway to your lips, “—how bad was it?”
His smile grows. “On a scale of one to ten?”
“Cheol.”
“You asked if I’d love you as a worm,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You accused me of wanting Jeonghan. You made approximately ten puns involving the word ‘ass.’ And—” his expression shifts to something more heated, “—you made some very compelling arguments about baby-making.”
You choke on your coffee. “Oh my god.”
“Also, apparently you decided you married me for my ‘fat ass’ and not my money or status, which is good to know.”
“I hate everything,” you moan, setting the coffee down so you can bury your face in your hands again. “I’m never drinking again. I’m becoming a nun. I’m moving to a remote island where I can’t embarrass myself—”
“Hey.” His hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling your hands away from your face. His expression is soft now, affectionate. “You were cute.”
“I was a disaster.”
“A cute disaster.” He coils a loose curl around his finger. “You always are when you drink. It’s part of your charm.”
“There’s nothing charming about drunk me telling you I want to—” you can’t even finish the sentence, heat flooding your face.
“Keep me warm?” he supplies helpfully. “Just want it inside you, you’d behave, you promised?”
“Seungcheol.”
He’s grinning now, clearly enjoying your mortification. “Or was it the part where you said your ovulation shouldn’t be a solo activity?”
You grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it. He laughs, catching it easily and tossing it aside before catching both your wrists in his hands.
“I’m just saying,” he continues, eyes dancing with mischief, “you were very…articulate about your needs.”
“I’m going back to sleep,” you announce, trying to pull away. “Wake me in ten years when I’ve died of embarrassment.”
“Can’t do that either.” He releases one wrist but keeps hold of the other, his thumb tracing circles on your pulse point. “We have things to discuss. Remember?”
Your heart skips. The amusement in his expression hasn’t faded, but there’s something else there now; something serious and warm and a little nervous.
“The…baby thing?” you venture quietly.
“The baby thing,” he confirms. “But first—” he reaches over to the nightstand and retrieves two pills and a glass of water you hadn’t noticed, “—pain meds. Then breakfast. Then we talk.”
“Cheol, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or—”
“You didn’t.” He’s firm about that, waiting until you take the medication before continuing. “You surprised me, yeah. But uncomfortable? No.” He pauses. “Turned on while trying desperately to maintain my morals? Absolutely, but not uncomfortable.”
Despite everything, you feel a smile tugging at your lips. “I really tried to break you, huh?”
“You almost succeeded,” he admits. “The ovulation thing was a low blow.”
“It’s true though,” you say, then immediately want to take it back because…
“I know.” His voice drops, eyes darkening. “I checked the calendar while you were sleeping. You’re right in the middle of your fertile window.”
The air between you shifts, charges. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in bed, wearing only his t-shirt and he’s looking at you like,
“Breakfast first,” he says firmly, standing up. “You need food and hydration. Then we’ll talk. Really talk. About timing, readiness and what we both want.”
“And if we decide we want the same thing?” you ask, unable to help yourself.
He leans down, bracing one hand on the mattress beside you, bringing his face close to yours. “Then I clear my schedule for the rest of the day,” he murmurs. “And give you exactly what you were begging for last night.”
Your breath catches.
“But sober,” he adds, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before straightening. “And enthusiastically consenting to every single detail.”
“That’s—” you have to clear your throat, “—very responsible of you.”
“Someone has to be.” He heads toward the door, then pauses. “Oh, and baby? For the record?” He looks back with a devastating smile. “I’ve been ready for months. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
Then he’s gone, leaving you sitting in bed, headache temporarily forgotten, heart racing with possibilities. From the kitchen, you hear him call, “French toast or pancakes?”
“French toast!” you call back, already scrambling out of bed.
Suddenly, you’re feeling much better about facing this day and the conversation that could change everything.
You pad into the kitchen after finishing your morning routine. He’s plating the last of breakfast before sitting down and as you go to take your place beside him, he pulls you onto his lap.
“Cheol?”
“You asked me to keep it warm last night,” he whispers. “Think you can do that while we sit and have breakfast, love? Bet I’d be able to slide right in.”
You freeze, every nerve ending suddenly awake and hyper-aware. Your headache? Gone. The lingering nausea? Vanished. There’s only Seungcheol beneath you, solid and warm, his breath hot against your ear.
“I…what?” Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy.
His hands settle on your hips, fingers slipping just under the hem of his t-shirt you’re still wearing. “You heard me.” His voice is low, rough in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. “You wanted this last night. Said you’d behave. That you just wanted to feel full.”
“I was drunk,” you manage, even as your body is already responding, already leaning back against his chest.
“And now you’re sober.” His lips brush the shell of your ear. “So, I’m asking properly. Do you want this? Want to sit here, keeping me warm while we eat breakfast and talk about our future?”
Your breath hitches. This is…it’s obscene. It’s intimate in a way that makes your head spin and you want it so badly you can barely think straight.
“What about the talking?” you whisper. “The responsible conversation?”
“We can still talk.” One hand slides up your spine, settling between your shoulder blades. “I can be very articulate, even when I’m buried inside you. Question is, can you?”
It’s a challenge. One you’ve never backed down from.
You turn your head just enough to meet his eyes. They’re dark, intense but there’s a question there too. Real consent. Making sure this is what you actually want and not just lingering drunk decisions.
“Yes,” you breathe. “I want this.”
His grip tightens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You shift in his lap, feeling him already half-hard beneath you. “Want you. Always want you.”
He makes a low sound in his throat. “Lift up a little, baby.”
You obey, bracing your hands on his thighs as he shifts beneath you. You hear the rustle of fabric, feel him pushing his sweatpants down just enough, and then,
“No underwear?” His voice is strained as his fingers trace up your bare thighs, discovering you came to the kitchen in just his shirt and nothing else.
“Seemed inefficient,” you manage, gasping when his fingers brush where you need him most.
“Fuck,” he mutters, and you feel him stroke himself once, twice. “You’re already so wet.”
“Told you,” you say breathlessly. “Ovulation. Biology. Can’t help—oh—”
He’s guiding himself to your entrance, letting you feel the blunt pressure of him. “Slow,” he murmurs. “Take your time. We’ve got all morning.”
You lower yourself gradually, inch by torturous inch, feeling the stretch and burn and perfect fullness of him. His hands are steady on your hips, helping you and his breathing is harsh against your neck.
“That’s it,” he encourages roughly. “Just like that, baby. So good for me.”
When you’re fully seated, both of you still for a moment. You’re trembling slightly, overwhelmed by the intimacy of it; sitting in his lap in your bright kitchen, completely joined, the morning sun streaming through the windows.
“Okay?” he asks, voice strained.
“So okay,” you breathe. “So…Cheol, you feel—”
“I know.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “I know, baby. Now—” he reaches around you for the plates, sliding them closer, “—breakfast.”
You laugh, slightly delirious. “You can’t be serious.”
“Completely serious.” He picks up a fork, cutting a piece of French toast. “Open.”
This is insane. You’re sitting on your husband’s lap in the kitchen, full of him, while he feeds you breakfast like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
You open your mouth and he slides the fork in. The French toast is perfect, crispy outside, soft inside, with just the right amount of cinnamon and syrup. You chew slowly, hyper-aware of every small movement, how even that makes you shift slightly on him.
His breath catches. “Don’t,” he warns.
“Don’t what?” You shift deliberately, just a little and feel him twitch inside you. “I’m just eating breakfast.”
“You’re playing with fire,” he growls but he’s already cutting another piece. “Now, let’s talk about this baby thing.”
You nearly choke on nothing. “Now? You want to have this conversation now?”
“Why not?” His free hand settles possessively on your lower belly, thumb stroking just above where you’re joined. “Seems like the perfect time. Can’t run away. Can’t deflect. You’ve got my undivided attention.”
His voice is teasing but there’s an edge of seriousness underneath. He really does want to talk about this. Like this. Your utterly insane, wonderful husband.
“Okay,” you manage, reaching for your coffee with shaking hands. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
“So,” Seungcheol says, his voice remarkably steady despite the situation, “you said last night you’ve wanted this since our third date.”
You take a sip of coffee, trying to focus on the conversation and not the fact that you can feel every minute shift of his body. “I—yeah. I mean, not immediately, obviously but I knew. Knew that I wanted a future with you. Kids. All of it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” His hand is still on your belly, thumb tracing idle patterns that are absolutely not helping your concentration.
“I don’t know. Timing? We were building our careers, and I didn’t want to pressure you, and—” you gasp softly as he shifts slightly beneath you, “—are you doing that on purpose?”
“No,” he says but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Just getting comfortable. Keep talking.”
“You’re evil.”
“You’re stalling.” He offers you another bite of French toast. “Come on. I want to hear this.” You accept the bite, chewing while trying to organize your thoughts, which is nearly impossible when you’re so acutely aware of him inside you, stretching you, filling you so completely.
“I was scared,” you finally admit. “That maybe you didn’t want the same things. That I’d bring it up and you’d feel trapped or obligated and then months kept passing and it felt like the moment never came up naturally and—” you laugh shakily, “—I guess drunk me decided to just rip the bandaid off.”
“Drunk you has terrible timing but good instincts.” His lips brush your shoulder. “I’ve been wanting to have this conversation for months too.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He sets down the fork, both hands coming to rest on your hips now. “I meant what I said earlier. About clearing out the guest room. I’ve been thinking about it constantly…what it would be like. You, pregnant. A baby. Our baby.”
Your heart stutters. “Cheol…”
“I think about you with a bump,” he continues, voice going rougher. “About feeling them kick. About watching you become a mother.” His hips shift up slightly, making you gasp. “About putting a baby in you.”
“That’s—oh god—that’s not fair,” you whimper, fingers digging into his thighs.
“What’s not fair?”
“Saying things like that when I can’t move, can’t—”
“Who says you can’t move?” His grip tightens on your hips. “I said sit still during breakfast. We’re done eating now.”
Your breath catches. “Are we?”
“Mhmm.” One hand slides up to cup your breast through the thin t-shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple. “I think it’s time for dessert. Don’t you?”
“Seungcheol—”
“Tell me what you want,” he demands, voice dropping to that commanding tone that never fails to undo you. “Use your words, baby. Sober words.”
You’re trembling now, desperate. “Want you. Want this. Want—” you break off as his other hand slides between your legs, finding where you’re joined.
“Want what?” he presses. “Say it.”
“Want you to fuck me,” you gasp out. “Want you to put a baby in me. Want…please, Cheollie, please—”
“There she is,” he murmurs approvingly. Then his grip shifts, and he’s lifting you slightly before pulling you back down, finally, finally giving you the friction you’ve been craving.
You cry out, head falling back against his shoulder as he sets a devastating rhythm. The breakfast dishes rattle on the table with each thrust and you distantly think you should care about the mess you’re probably making but then he angles his hips just right and all thoughts scatter.
“That’s it,” he growls against your neck. “Take it. Take all of me.”
“Yes, god, yes—”
His hand on your breast squeezes while the other works between your legs and the combination is overwhelming. You’re already close, wound too tight from sitting still for so long, from the filthy intimacy of it all.
“Gonna fill you up,” he pants. “Gonna give you exactly what you want. What we both want. You want that, baby? Want me to get you pregnant?”
“Yes,” you sob and you’re not even sure if it’s the hormones or the moment or the fact that this is your husband, your partner, your person and you’re finally talking about this, finally doing this…
“Come for me first,” he demands. “Let me feel it. Show me how much you want this.”
His fingers press harder and that’s all it takes. You shatter, clenching around him, crying out his name as pleasure crashes through you in waves.
“Fuck, baby—” his rhythm falters, becomes erratic and then he’s following you over, groaning against your neck as he pulses inside you, holding you tight against him. For a long moment, neither of you move. You’re both breathing hard, trembling, still joined together as aftershocks roll through you.
“So,” Seungcheol finally says, voice rough and satisfied, “I think that’s a yes? We’re doing this?”
You laugh breathlessly, turning your head to kiss him. “Yeah, we’re doing this.”
“Good.” He nuzzles into your neck. “Because I meant every word. I want this. Want you. Want our family.”
“Even though I ambushed you while drunk?”
“Especially because you ambushed me while drunk.” You can feel his smile against your skin. “Shows you trust me. Even when you’re not in control.”
You shift slightly and he groans. “Don’t move yet. Just…let me hold you like this for a minute.”
So, you do, sitting in your dining room in the morning sunlight, still connected, still close, talking softly about the future you’re going to build together.
About nursery colors and baby names and how you’ll tell your families and whether you want to know the gender or be surprised. About all the beautiful, terrifying, wonderful possibilities ahead and when he finally, reluctantly slips out of you, he immediately scoops you up and carries you back to the bedroom.
“Again?” you ask, surprised but definitely not opposed.
“We’re optimizing our chances,” he says seriously but his eyes are dancing. “It’s just good planning.”
“You’re a fein.”
“You’re ovulating,” he counters, laying you gently on the bed. “And I have months of baby-making fantasies to work through. So,” he crawls over you, settling between your thighs, “we’re going to be here a while.”
“What about our schedules?” you tease. “Don’t you have meetings? I have work.”
“Cancelled everything,” he says, leaning down to kiss you slowly, deeply. “Told them I have important business with my wife.”
“Very important business,” you agree, gasping as he enters you again.
“The most important,” he murmurs against your lips. He flips you on your hands and knees first, arched just the way he wants you.
“Stay just like that,” Seungcheol commands, his hands spreading across your lower back, pressing down slightly to deepen the arch. “Perfect. So, fucking perfect.”
You’re trembling already, forehead pressed against the sheets, completely exposed to him. You feel vulnerable like this, open, but the way he’s looking at you; you can practically feel the heat of his gaze dragging over every inch of exposed skin.
“Cheol—” you start but the word cuts off into a moan as he runs his hands up your sides, thumbs tracing your spine.
“Shhh,” he soothes, though there’s nothing gentle about the way he’s positioning you, adjusting your hips exactly where he wants them. “Just feel.”
One hand wraps around your hip while the other slides between your legs, finding you still wet, still sensitive from before. You jerk at the contact and his grip tightens, holding you steady.
“Still so ready for me,” he muses, almost conversational, like he’s not currently destroying your composure with just his fingers. “Even after I just filled you up. You really do want this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you gasp into the sheets. “God, yes, please…”
“Please what?” He’s teasing now, the head of his cock brushing against you but not entering, just barely there, making you crazy.
“Please fuck me,” you whimper, trying to push back against him, but his hand on your hip keeps you in place. “Please, I need—”
“Need what, baby? Use your words.”
“Need you inside me,” you practically sob. “Need you to…to get me pregnant, need you to—oh fuck—”
He slides in with one smooth thrust, burying himself completely, and the angle is devastating. You can feel him so deep like this, stretching you, filling every inch.
“This what you need?” His voice is strained now, control slipping. Both hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise and you hope they do, want to see the marks tomorrow, proof of this.
“Yes, yes, don’t stop—”
“Not stopping,” he growls, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. “Not until you’re dripping with me. Not until I know it took.” The pace he sets is brutal, desperate, his hips snapping against yours with a force that has you crying out with each thrust. One hand leaves your hip to fist in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding you.
“Gonna look so good pregnant,” he pants. “Gonna love watching your belly grow. Knowing I did that. That you’re carrying my baby.”
“Cheol—” you’re incoherent now, can only hold on as he takes you apart.
“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me what you want.”
“Want your baby,” you gasp out. “Want you to…to come inside me, want—god—want everyone to know I’m yours.”
His rhythm stutters at that, becomes somehow even more intense. “Mine,” he agrees roughly. “Always mine. My wife. Mother of my children. Mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice, the certainty, sends you spiraling. Your second orgasm hits harder than the first, whiting out your vision and you feel yourself clench around him rhythmically.
“Fuck—baby—” he groans and then he’s there too, pressing as deep as he can go, holding you against him as he fills you again. This time when he pulls out, he immediately maneuvers you onto your back, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your hips before you can protest.
“Elevate,” he explains breathlessly and you can’t help but laugh.
“You really did research.”
“Told you.” He collapses partially on top of you with his head resting on your chest. “Months of thinking about this. I’m prepared.”
Your fingers find his hair, feeling satisfied and tender and so completely loved. “How long do I have to stay like this?”
“Twenty minutes at least.” His hand finds your belly again, splaying possessively across it. “Maybe thirty to be safe.”
“And what are we doing for the next twenty to thirty minutes?”
His eyes darken again and you feel him already starting to harden against your thigh. “Well,” he says thoughtfully, “I can think of a few ways to pass the time. After all—” he rolls you on your side carefully, mindful of the pillow, settling behind you and lifting your leg up and over his hip, “—we should really make sure we’re being thorough.”
“Thorough,” you repeat breathlessly.
“Very thorough,” he agrees, kissing down your neck. “It’s important to be thorough about these things.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“You’re irresistible.” He nips at your collarbone. “And ovulating. And my wife. Who I’m trying to get pregnant. So yes—” he enters you again, slow and deep, making you both groan, “—insatiable sounds about right.”
And as he begins to move again, slow and intimate and perfect, you think that maybe drunk you had the right idea after all.
Sometimes the best conversations happen in the most unexpected ways.
Seungcheol folds you with both legs to your chest and you know your body is going to complain about it later.
“Wait, Cheol—” you gasp as he pushes your knees toward your chest, folding you in half.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, his hands hooking under your knees, spreading you open as he presses them down. “This angle—fuck, baby, you have no idea—”
And then he’s sliding back in, and oh—he’s right. The angle is incredible. Overwhelming. He’s somehow even deeper like this, hitting spots that make stars explode behind your eyelids.
“Oh my god—” you can barely breathe, pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy.
“That’s it,” he groans, watching where you’re joined with dark, hungry eyes. “Take it. Take all of me.”
Your flexibility has never been your strong suit and you can already feel the strain in your hips, your thighs protesting the position but the pleasure overrides everything else; the way he’s grinding against you with each thrust, the delicious pressure, the intimacy of being folded completely under him.
“You’re so deep,” you whimper, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his forearms. “I can’t…it’s too much—”
“Not too much,” he counters, but there’s a question in his eyes even as he maintains the brutal pace. “Color?”
“Green,” you gasp immediately. “So green, don’t stop, please don’t—ah—”
His thumb finds your clit, circling with perfect pressure, and you nearly scream. Everything is heightened like this, every nerve ending on fire, every thrust punching the air from your lungs.
“Gonna keep you just like this,” he pants, sweat dripping down his temple. “Gonna fill you up so deep it has to take. You want that?”
“Yes—yes—Cheol, I’m—”
“I know, baby. I can feel it.” His movements become more purposeful, grinding deep rather than thrusting, the friction against your clit constant and maddening. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock. Show me how much you want my baby.”
The combination of his words, his thumb, the relentless pressure against that spot deep inside, it’s too much. You shatter with a cry that’s probably too loud for the morning, clenching around him so hard you see white.
“Fuck, just like that—” Seungcheol’s rhythm falters, his hips jerking erratically as he follows you over the edge for the fourth time, groaning your name like a prayer as he empties himself inside you.
He stays buried deep for a long moment, both of you panting, trembling. Then carefully—so carefully—he releases your legs, helping you straighten them out with gentle hands.
“Ow,” you whimper immediately as your hips protest, muscles cramping.
“Sorry, sorry—” he’s already massaging your thighs, pressing kisses to your knees. “I got carried away.”
“Worth it,” you manage, even as you wince. “But I’m definitely going to feel that tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you a massage later,” he promises, still working the tension from your muscles. “A proper one. With oil and everything.”
“You better.” You reach for him, pulling him down into a kiss. “I’m going to be walking funny for days.”
“Good,” he says against your lips, unrepentant. “Let everyone wonder why.”
“You’re terrible.”
“You love it.” He rolls to the side, immediately pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. His hand finds your belly again; it’s apparently his new favorite spot. “Think it worked?”
“Cheol, we can’t possibly know that yet—”
“But do you think it worked?” he insists, almost childlike in his eagerness.
You soften, covering his hand with yours. “I don’t know, maybe. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“And if not?”
“Then we try again,” you say, smiling. “And again. As many times as it takes.”
His answering grin is devastating. “I love this plan. Best plan we’ve ever had.”
“Of course you love it,” you tease. “You’re getting sex on demand.”
“I’m getting to start a family with the love of my life,” he corrects, suddenly serious. “The sex is just a bonus. A really, really good bonus, but still.”
Your throat tightens with emotion. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He kisses your forehead. “Now, twenty more minutes with your hips elevated, and then I’m running you a bath.”
“And then?”
“And then lunch. Hydration. Maybe a nap.” His smile turns wicked. “And then round whatever we’re on.”
“Again?!”
“Baby,” he says solemnly, “we’re not leaving this bed until tomorrow. I told you, I’m being thorough.”
You should protest. Should remind him you both have lives, responsibilities, that you can’t spend an entire day having sex no matter how appealing that sounds but then his hand starts tracing patterns on your belly again and he’s looking at you with such love and want and hope that all protests die in your throat.
“Thorough,” you agree weakly. “Right, very important.”
“The most important,” he confirms and as he settles beside you, already planning the rest of your day—which apparently consists entirely of various positions and strategic pillow placement—you think that maybe, just maybe, drunk you deserves some credit.
After all, she got the conversation started, even if her methods were…unconventional. Your husband certainly isn’t complaining and neither—despite your aching hips and the knowledge that you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow—are you.
The shower was supposed to be innocent, just washing off, getting clean, maybe some gentle aftercare. That lasted approximately three minutes before Seungcheol’s hands started wandering from “helpful” to “decidedly unhelpful.”
“Choi Seungcheol,” you warned but it came out breathless as his fingers traced your hip. “We’re supposed to be cleaning up.”
“We are cleaning up,” he murmured against your neck, pressing you forward until your palms hit the cool tile. “Very thoroughly.”
“That’s not—oh—”
His hand slid between your thighs from behind, finding you still sensitive, still wet with more than just water. “Still ready for me,” he observed, voice dropping an octave. “Even after all that.”
“It’s the hormones,” you managed, even as you arched back into his touch. “I told you, ovulation makes me—fuck—”
“Makes you what?” He was already lining himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “Insatiable? Desperate? Willing to let me fuck you against the shower wall?”
“All of the above,” you gasped as he pushed in, the slide easy despite how much you’d already taken him today.
This time was different, harder, more primal. The tile was cold against your breasts, your cheek, contrasting with the hot water and his body pressed against your back. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly, keeping you in place as he took you apart.
“This is what you do to me,” he growled in your ear. “Walking around, talking about my baby, being so fucking perfect—”
“Cheol, baby please—”
“Please what?”
“Please don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need.” His other hand found your clit, and you nearly sobbed. “Need me to breed you. Need me to pump you so full—”
You came with a sharp cry, clenching around him, and he followed immediately after, groaning against your shoulder as he held you pinned to the wall.
The water was starting to run cold by the time you both caught your breath.
You genuinely thought he’d be tired after the shower. Thought maybe you’d eat, cuddle, take that nap he’d mentioned.
You made it halfway through your sandwich.
“Come here,” Seungcheol said suddenly, pushing his chair back.
“I’m eating—”
“You can finish later.” There was something almost feral in his eyes as he stalked around the table toward you. “Right now, I need you bent over this table.”
“Choi Seungcheol—” but you were already standing, already letting him turn you around, already bracing your hands on the polished wood as he flipped up the oversized t-shirt you’d thrown on.
“No panties again,” he noted with approval. “It’s like you want me to fuck you at every opportunity.”
“Maybe I do,” you shot back, then gasped as he entered you in one smooth thrust.
The angle was perfect, the table the ideal height and he took full advantage of it. His fingers dug into your hips as he set a punishing rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin obscenely loud in your quiet dining room.
“Look at you,” he panted, gathering your hair in one fist. “Taking it so well. So eager for it. Bet you’d let me fuck you anywhere right now, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, god, anywhere—”
“Kitchen counter? Bedroom floor? Against the windows where the neighbors might see?”
The thought shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but combined with his relentless pace, it pushes you over the edge. You came with a strangled moan, and he wasn’t far behind, but he didn’t give you time to recover. Just pulled out, ignored your whimper, and guided you to the couch.
“Hands on the back,” he instructed. “Ass up.”
You were shaking as you obeyed, gripping the back of the couch as he positioned himself behind you again. This angle was even deeper, and you could feel him in your belly with each thrust.
“Too much,” you whimpered, but you didn’t use your safeword, didn’t actually want him to stop.
“Not too much,” he countered, one hand sliding up your spine. “You can take it. You can take everything I give you.” And you did, you took it until you were crying with pleasure, until your legs gave out, until he had to hold you up as he finished inside you for the—you’d lost count at this point.
When he finally pulled out, your legs couldn’t support you. You collapsed onto the plush living room carpet, and he followed you down, immediately positioning you on your hands and knees.
“One more,” he said, voice rough. “Just one more, baby, and then we’ll rest.”
“Can’t—” you protested weakly, but your body was already responding, already arching for him.
“You can.” He slid in easily, and the stretch was almost too much on your oversensitized flesh. “You’re doing so well. Taking me so perfectly. Gonna make such a good mother.”
The praise broke something in you. You dropped to your elbows, pressing your face into the carpet as he took you with long, deep strokes. There was something almost desperate about it now, like he couldn’t get deep enough, close enough, like he was trying to merge you into one person.
“Love you,” he panted. “Love you so fucking much. Gonna give you everything. Everything you want. Everything you deserve.”
You were too far gone to respond with words, could only moan and take it and feel yourself building toward yet another impossible orgasm.
When it hit, it was almost painful in its intensity. You felt him swell inside you, felt the warmth as he came again, and then everything went soft and hazy.
You came back to yourself slowly, aware of gentle hands cleaning you with a warm cloth, of being lifted and carried, of soft sheets against your skin.
“Did I pass out?” you mumbled.
“Just for a minute.” Seungcheol sounded worried now, the feral intensity finally broken. “I’m sorry, I got carried away—”
“Don’t apologize.” You caught his hand, pressing it to your cheek. “That was…I didn’t know you had that in you.”
He laughed shakily. “Neither did I. I just—when you said you wanted a baby, something in my brain just…short-circuited.”
“Clearly.” You shifted, wincing at the soreness. “I’m going to be feeling this for a week.”
“I’ll take care of you,” he promised immediately. “Bath, massage, whatever you need. I’m sorry—”
“Stop apologizing.” You pulled him down beside you. “I liked it. Loved it, actually. I just…didn’t expect the conversation about trying for a baby to turn my usually controlled husband into…that.”
“Into what?”
“Into someone who fucks me in every room of the house,” you say bluntly. “Who can’t go an hour without being inside me. Who looks at me like he wants to devour me.”
He flushed. “The ovulation thing wasn’t helping. Knowing you’re fertile right now, that any of these times could be the one—” he broke off, shaking his head. “It did something to me.”
“I noticed.” You traced his jaw. “For the record? I’m not complaining. I’m just surprised and very, very sore.”
“Nap now,” he decided. “Then massage. Then dinner. And then—”
“If you say ‘and then round whatever number we’re on,’ I’m divorcing you.”
He grinned, unrepentant. “I was going to say ‘and then we’ll see how you feel.’”
“Uh-huh. Sure you were.”
“But if you’re feeling up to it…” His hand slid to your belly again. “We should probably maximize our chances.”
You stared at him. “You’re actually insatiable.”
“Only with you.” He kissed your forehead. “Only ever with you.”
And despite the soreness, despite the exhaustion, despite the fact that you’d had more sex in one day than most couples have in a month, you found yourself smiling because this was your husband. Your partner. The father of your future children and if his method of “trying for a baby” involved fucking you in every room of the house until you couldn’t walk straight?
Well.
You’d had worse problems.
“Fine,” you conceded. “But after a nap and a massage, you’re carrying me everywhere for the next week.”
“Deal,” he agreed immediately, already pulling you closer.
Nothing came from that day of marathon sex but with how feral your husband had gotten that day you knew something had awakened in him that would be hard to reign in which is how you found yourself in your current position, bent over the balcony of your bedroom at the Airbnb that had been booked for his work trip to Hawaii which he insisted you come on. Something about a second honeymoon.
You should have known something was up when Seungcheol insisted you come on his work trip.
“It’s Hawaii,” he’d said, showing you the booking confirmation with an innocence that should have been your first warning. “We’ve never been. Plus, my meetings are only in the mornings. We’d have the afternoons and evenings together.”
“A second honeymoon,” he’d called it with that devastating smile.
What he’d failed to mention was that the “trying for a baby” conversation had apparently permanently rewired something in his brain.
You’d learned this over the past few weeks. The man who used to be controlled, measured, professional in every aspect of his life had developed a hair-trigger when it came to you. A lingering glance, your hand on his thigh at dinner, the way you bit your lip while concentrating—any of it could result in him finding the nearest private surface and bending you over it.
The office after hours? Check.
The car in the parking garage? Check.
The fitting room at the boutique where you’d been shopping for maternity clothes (optimistically)? Very much check.
But this—this was a new level, even for him.
“Cheol,” you hissed, gripping the balcony railing as he pressed against your back, his hands already pushing up your sundress. “We’re outside. Someone could see—”
“The nearest villa is hundreds of feet away,” he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. “No one can see unless they’re in a helicopter.”
“That’s not the point—”
“The point,” he interrupted, one hand sliding between your thighs to find you already wet—because of course you were—your body had learned to anticipate him now, “is that you’ve been walking around all day in this dress. This tiny, barely-there dress. Bending over to pick up seashells. Stretching in the sun. Driving me insane.”
“We were on the beach,” you protested weakly, even as you arched back into him. “What was I supposed to wear?”
“Nothing.” His fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them aside. “Preferably nothing.”
You were about to respond when he pushed inside you in one smooth thrust, and all coherent thought fled. Your fingers tightened on the railing as he set a deep, rolling rhythm that had you biting your lip to keep quiet.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, one hand gripping your hip while the other slid up to cup your breast through the fabric. “Take it. Take all of me.”
The view from the balcony was stunning; turquoise water stretching to the horizon, white sand beaches, palm trees swaying in the breeze. The sun was setting, painting everything gold and pink. It should be romantic.
It was romantic. Just also obscene.
“God, you feel so good,” Seungcheol groaned, picking up his pace. “So perfect. Made for me. Made to take my cock. Made to carry my baby.”
There it was, the thing that set him off every time. The baby talk. Ever since that day, since you’d opened that door, he couldn’t seem to help himself. It was like the idea of getting you pregnant had become an obsession.
“Cheol—” you gasped, trying to keep your voice down even as pleasure built in your core. “Someone might hear—”
“Let them hear.” His hand slid from your breast to your throat, tilting your head back. “Let them hear how good I make you feel. How well you take me. How desperate you are for my baby.”
“You’re insane,” you managed, but it came out more like a moan.
“You made me this way.” His lips brushed your ear. “Walking around, talking about wanting my babies, being so fucking perfect—you broke something in me, baby. Can’t think straight anymore. Can’t function unless I’m inside you.”
His hand left your throat to slide down your body, finding your clit with practiced ease. The dual sensation—him inside you, his fingers working you expertly—was too much.
“That’s it,” he encouraged as you started to tremble. “Come for me. Come on my cock while I fill you up. Maybe this time it’ll take. Maybe in nine months you’ll be here with my baby in your belly.”
The image he painted—you pregnant, round with his child—combined with his relentless pace pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry you couldn’t quite muffle, clenching around him and felt him follow seconds later with a groan. He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you breathing hard, the sound of waves crashing below mixing with your racing heartbeats.
“We need to talk about this,” you finally said, even as you melted back against his chest.
“About what?” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, still not pulling out.
“About this—” you gestured vaguely, “—thing that’s happened to you. This breeding kink you’ve developed.”
You felt him smile against your skin. “Is it a kink if we’re actively trying for a baby?”
“Cheol, we’ve had sex multiple times everyday in the last week. Everyday.”
“You’re counting?”
“Hard not to when I can barely walk straight.” You turned your head to look at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about the sex. The sex is incredible but you’ve been…intense. Ever since that conversation.”
His expression shifted, becoming more serious. He finally pulled out—you whimpered at the loss—and turned you around to face him, hands gentle on your waist.
“I know,” he admitted. “I’ve been…I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like something clicked that day, and I can’t turn it off. Every time I look at you, I think about getting you pregnant. About you carrying our baby. About our family. And it just—” he broke off, looking almost embarrassed. “It does something to me. Makes me crazy.”
“I’ve noticed,” you said dryly.
“Is it too much?” There was genuine concern in his eyes now. “Am I being too much? Because if you need me to dial it back—”
“No,” you interrupted quickly. “I mean, yes, it’s a lot but it’s also…kind of hot? Knowing you want me that badly. That you’re that desperate to start our family.”
His eyes darkened. “You have no idea how badly I want you. How much I want this.”
“I’m getting a pretty clear picture,” you teased, feeling him already starting to harden against your thigh. “Case in point.”
He huffed a laugh. “Can you blame me? You’re standing here, freshly fucked, my cum dripping down your thighs, the sunset making you glow and you’re surprised I want you again?”
“We literally just finished—”
“And I’m already thinking about round two.” His hands slid down to cup your ass. “And three. And four. We have all night, baby. No work tomorrow. No interruptions. Just you and me and this view and a very comfortable bed inside.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love it.” He kissed you, deep and slow. “Now, shower, dinner and then I’m taking you apart in that massive bed. Sound good?”
It sounded perfect, actually. Even if your husband had apparently turned into a sex-crazed maniac since the baby conversation. Especially because your husband had turned into a sex-crazed maniac since the baby conversation.
“One condition,” you said as he started leading you inside.
“Anything.”
“When we get home, we’re making a doctor’s appointment. To make sure we’re doing everything right. That I’m healthy. All of it.”
His expression softened. “Of course. Whatever you need. I’ll set it up as soon as we’re back.”
“And maybe—” you bit your lip, “—maybe we dial it back just a little? Don’t get me wrong, I love the enthusiasm, but I’d like to still be able to walk when we get home.”
He grinned. “No promises but I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
As he pulled you inside to the shower, his hands already wandering again, you thought about how much had changed in just a few weeks. Your controlled, measured husband had been replaced by someone who couldn’t keep his hands off you. Who fucked you on balconies and whispered filthy promises about getting you pregnant. Who looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
The test from last week had been negative. You’d both been disappointed but not surprised, these things took time but watching Seungcheol now, the way he touched you with reverence even as his eyes promised wickedness, you knew something had fundamentally shifted between you.
This wasn’t just about making a baby anymore. It was about the intensity of wanting something together. About the intimacy of trying. About how the goal had somehow made everything—every touch, every kiss, every time he was inside you—feel weighted with meaning and possibility.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, soaping your shoulders.
“About how that drunk conversation might have been the best terrible decision I ever made.”
He laughed. “Oh, it was definitely terrible. But yeah,” he pulled you close, “also the best.”
“Even though I asked if you’d love me as a worm?”
“Especially because you asked if I’d love you as a worm.” He kissed your forehead. “Now come on. We have dinner reservations in an hour and I plan on having you at least twice before then.”
“Twice?! Cheol, we just—”
But he was already lifting you, your legs wrapping around his waist automatically, and honestly? You weren’t complaining, not even a little bit.
Your insatiable, baby-crazy, utterly perfect husband. You wouldn’t change a thing.
You didn’t make it to dinner.
Well, not the reservation anyway. By the time Seungcheol had finished with you in the shower and then carried you to the bed still dripping wet, you were both too boneless and satisfied to even consider getting dressed and going out. Instead, he’d ordered take out—an absurd amount of food—and you’d eaten on the balcony wrapped in plush robes, watching the stars come out over the ocean.
“This is nice,” you murmured, stealing a bite of his dessert. “Romantic. Almost makes me forget you’ve turned into a caveman.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Caveman?”
“Mhm.” You grinned. “Me want baby. Me fuck wife constantly. Me carry wife everywhere because wife can’t walk—”
He silenced you with a kiss, tasting like chocolate and coconut. “I don’t hear you complaining when I’m making you come.”
“That’s because my brain stops working when you’re making me come.”
“Mission accomplished then.” His hand found yours on the table, fingers interlacing. “But seriously, are we okay? This isn’t too much?”
You squeezed his hand. “We’re more than okay. I promise. Yes, you’ve been insatiable. Yes, I’m going to need a week to recover when we get home. But Cheol,” you met his eyes, “I love seeing you like this. Passionate. Uninhibited. It’s like you’ve finally let yourself want something without overthinking it.”
“I want you,” he said simply. “I want our family and yeah, maybe I’ve gone a little crazy about it, but…” he shrugged, unapologetic, “I’m not sorry.”
“Good.” You stood, letting your robe slip off your shoulders. “Because I’m not done with you yet either.”
His eyes went dark, tracking the fall of fabric. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You moved to straddle his lap, the balmy night air warm on your skin. “We have four more days in paradise. Might as well make the most of them.”
“Four more days,” he repeated, hands spanning your waist. “Think we can set a record?”
“For what? Most times having sex in a single vacation?”
“I was thinking most creative locations, but that works too.” His thumbs traced circles on your hipbones. “There’s the beach at night. The private pool. That hammock near the—”
“You’ve been planning this.”
“Maybe.” He pulled you down for a kiss. “Can you blame me? My beautiful wife, a tropical paradise, and no responsibilities for four whole days? I’m going to worship you in every way possible.”
And he did.
You woke to his mouth between your thighs, the sunrise painting the room in shades of gold and pink. He brought you to orgasm twice before you were even fully awake and then pulled you into the shower where he took you against the tiles while water cascaded over you both.
Breakfast was served on the balcony, and you made it through most of your meal before he was pulling you onto his lap, pushing your sundress up, filling you while you clutched his shoulders and tried to keep quiet.
“Love you like this,” he murmured against your neck as you rode him slowly. “Sun-kissed, desperate and so fucking wet for me.”
“Always wet for you,” you gasped. “Can’t help it.”
“Good.” His hands guided your hips, helping you find the perfect angle. “Never want you any other way.”
Later, he kept his promise about the hammock. You’d been reading peacefully in the shade when he appeared with that look in his eyes and suddenly your book was forgotten as he stripped you down and arranged you across the swaying fabric.
“Cheol, this is going to tip—”
“I’ve got you,” he promised and he did, holding the hammock steady as he knelt between your legs and proved that his mouth was just as talented as the rest of him. By the time he finally entered you, you were already trembling, oversensitive, and the gentle sway of the hammock with each thrust was unlike anything you’d experienced.
“This is insane,” you laughed breathlessly.
“This is perfect,” he corrected and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in his universe—made your chest tight with emotion.
His morning meeting ran long and you’d gone down to the beach alone, content to swim and sunbathe and give your body a much-needed break. You should have known better. You were waist-deep in the crystal-clear water when you felt arms wrap around you from behind.
“Meeting over?” you asked, leaning back against his chest.
“Cancelled the rest.” His lips found that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. “Told them it was a family emergency.”
“Cheol! You can’t just—”
“Can’t just what? Choose my wife over a conference call about quarterly projections?” His hand slid down your stomach, disappearing beneath the water. “Pretty sure I can since y’know, I’m the boss.”
“Someone could see—”
“No one’s around.” And he was right—the beach was completely empty, the nearest people just tiny dots in the distance. “And you’re wearing this bikini. This tiny, barely-there bikini. What did you expect?”
“I expected to swim peacefully—oh—”
His fingers had found their target, working you expertly while his other arm banded around your waist, holding you against him.
“Can you be quiet?” he murmured. “Or are you going to let the whole beach know how good I make you feel?”
You bit your lip, trying desperately to stay silent as he worked you closer to the edge. The water lapped around you, warm and gentle and the contrast between the peaceful setting and what he was doing to you was almost too much.
“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Come for me, baby. Right here in the ocean where anyone could see how desperate you are for me.”
You came with a strangled gasp, your legs giving out and only his arm around your waist kept you upright.
“Good girl,” he praised, turning you around. “Now, think you can stay quiet while I fuck you?”
You couldn’t, as it turned out but the beach stayed empty, and Seungcheol didn’t seem to mind your breathless cries as he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he entered you in the warm, shallow water.
The private pool became his new favorite place. You’d lost count of how many times he’d taken you there; bent over the edge, pressed against the infinity wall overlooking the ocean, on the submerged lounger, against the smooth rocks of the artificial waterfall.
“We’re never leaving,” he declared as the sun set on your last full day. “I’m cancelling our flights. We live here now.”
“We have jobs,” you reminded him, though you were currently in his lap in the pool, still joined, neither of you in any hurry to move.
“We’ll work remotely. I’ll buy this villa. We’ll raise our kids here.”
“Kids, plural?”
“At least three.” His hands slid over your belly, possessive and tender. “Maybe four.”
“Let’s start with one,” you laughed. “See how we do.”
“We’ll do perfectly.” He kissed you slowly. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
“And you’re going to be an amazing father.” You cupped his face. “Even if you are a sex-crazed maniac right now.”
“Only for you,” he promised. “Only ever for you.”
You woke early, bodies tangled together, the sound of waves your only alarm. Seungcheol was already awake, watching you with that soft expression that still made your heart skip.
“Morning,” you murmured.
“Morning.” He brushed hair from your face. “Last day.”
“Don’t remind me.” You snuggled closer. “I’m not ready to go back to reality.”
“Me neither.” His hand found your belly again,it was becoming a habit. “But we’ll take this with us. This feeling. This certainty.”
“The certainty that you can’t keep your hands off me?”
“The certainty that we’re ready for this. For our family. For our future.” He shifted, rolling you beneath him. “And yeah, also the certainty that I’ll never get enough of you.”
The morning light filtered through the curtains as he made love to you slowly, tenderly, so different from the frantic desperation of the past few days. This was soft and sweet and full of promise.
“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “So much. More than I can say.”
“I love you too,” you breathed. “Even when you’re being insane.”
“Especially when I’m being insane,” he corrected with a grin and as you lay together afterward, wrapped in each other and the morning warmth, you thought about the past few weeks. The conversation that started it all. The shift in your relationship. The intensity and passion and sheer want of it all.
You still didn’t know if you were pregnant yet. Wouldn’t know for another week at least but somehow, it didn’t matter as much as you thought it would. Because you had this. Had him. Had the absolute certainty that whatever happened, you were in it together. Even if your husband had apparently developed a permanent breeding kink in the process. You could think of worse problems to have.
“Round two?” Seungcheol murmured hopefully against your neck.
You laughed. “We have to pack. And check out. And catch a flight.”
“So that’s a yes to a quickie before all that?”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
And because he was right—because you did love it, loved him, loved this new chapter you were writing together—you pulled him down for a kiss.
“Make it quick,” you warned. “We actually do need to pack.”
His answering grin was wicked. “Oh baby, I haven’t done anything quick with you since university.”
He was right about that too. You missed your flight but honestly?
Totally worth it.
The next few months go by in blur of your everyday life and the fact that you and your husband behaved like two virgins in a whorehouse at every given opportunity. He had somewhat simmered down, a work project keeping him busy and away from you for the past month.
You knew he was stressed so tonight you had planned to treat him, leaving work early to set up everything and it was well worth it when he comes through the door of your home calling out for you. He asks what smells so good before he stops when he takes in the way you’re dressed, in that cherry red dress he loves, and his mind starts wandering to important dates.
“Did I forget something?”
You turn from the stove, wooden spoon in hand and can’t help but smile at the panic already creeping into his expression. Seungcheol stands frozen in the doorway, briefcase still in hand, tie loosened, eyes frantically scanning you for clues.
“Did I forget—” he starts again, more urgently this time. “Is it our anniversary? Your birthday? Some other important—”
“Relax,” you interrupt, setting down the spoon and crossing to him. “You didn’t forget anything.”
“Then why are you wearing that dress?” His eyes drag over you, taking in the cherry red fabric that hugs every curve, the neckline that shows just enough to be distracting. “You only wear that dress for special occasions.”
“Maybe I just wanted to look nice for my husband,” you say innocently, reaching up to loosen his tie the rest of the way. “Is that a crime?”
His hands find your waist automatically, pulling you closer. “You’re up to something.”
“Maybe.” You stretch up to kiss him softly. “Or maybe I just missed you. You’ve been working so much lately.”
Something in his expression shifts, guilt mixing with exhaustion. “I know. This project has been insane. I’m sorry, baby. I’ve barely been home and when I am, I’m usually passed out or distracted—”
“Which is exactly why I wanted to do something nice tonight.” You smooth your hands over his chest. “So,no work talk. No stress. Just dinner, wine, and your wife who’s been very lonely without you.”
His eyes darken at that. “Lonely?”
“Mhmm.” You let your fingers trail down his abdomen. “Very lonely. Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve touched me?”
“Twenty-two days,” he says immediately and you blink in surprise.
“You’ve been counting?”
“Of course I’ve been counting.” His grip tightens on your waist. “You think I haven’t noticed? That I haven’t been dying every night, coming home to you already asleep, leaving before you wake up? I’ve been going insane.”
“Have you?” You press closer, feeling him already starting to respond. “Because you seemed pretty absorbed in your work.”
“The only reason I’ve been able to focus on work is because I’ve been channeling all my sexual frustration into spreadsheets and project timelines.” His forehead drops to yours. “I’ve missed you so much. Missed this. Missed touching you.”
“Well,” you slide your hands up to his shoulders, “dinner’s going to take another twenty minutes. Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”
“Twenty minutes?” He’s already backing you toward the counter. “I can work with twenty minutes.”
“Cheol,” you laugh as he lifts you onto the granite, “we eat here.”
“We’ve done worse shit here.” He’s already pushing your dress up your thighs, and his eyes go even darker when he discovers what you’re not wearing. “No underwear. You really were planning this.”
“Maybe I was planning to torture you through dinner,” you tease. “Make you wait. Make you suffer.”
“Fuck that.” He drops to his knees, pulling you to the edge of the counter. “I’ve suffered enough. Now I’m collecting.”
Your protest dies as his mouth finds you and suddenly the simmering pots on the stove are the last thing on your mind.
Dinner is slightly overcooked by the time you both make it to the table—flushed, disheveled, and thoroughly satisfied. Seungcheol keeps apologizing for ruining your perfect meal but you just laugh and pour more wine.
“It’s fine,” you assure him, serving the pasta that’s only a little too soft. “This was kind of the plan anyway.”
“To seduce me before dinner?”
“To remind you that I still exist.” You raise your glass. “That we exist. Outside of work and stress and trying to conceive and everything else.”
His expression softens. “I know we exist. I always know that.”
“But you’ve been distant,” you say gently. “And I get it, this project has been huge, and you’re under a lot of pressure but Cheol…” you reach across the table for his hand, “I’ve missed my husband. Not just the sex, though yes, definitely that but you. Talking to you. Laughing with you. Just being with you.”
He squeezes your hand, looking guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—I thought I was handling it okay, but I guess I’ve been shutting you out.”
“A little bit,” you admit. “And I know it’s not intentional. You get focused on work and everything else fades but we can’t let that happen, especially not now when we’re trying to start a family.”
“You’re right.” He stands, moving his chair closer to yours so he can pull you against his side. “I’m sorry. Really. The project wraps up next week, and then I’m all yours. No more late nights. No more missing dinner. No more—”
“No more twenty-two day dry spells?” you supply with a grin.
“Especially no more dry spells.” His hand slides up your thigh. “In fact, I think I need to make up for lost time.”
“We haven’t even finished dinner.”
“We can reheat it.” He’s already pulling you into his lap. “Right now, I need to apologize properly to my wife for neglecting her.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
His smile turns wicked. “I have some ideas.”
You’re curled up on the couch together, plates pushed aside, wine glasses empty, and you’re finally feeling like you have your husband back.
“So,” Seungcheol says, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your bare shoulder; your dress didn’t survive the transition from dining room to living room, “I actually have something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Hmm?” You’re pleasantly drowsy, content in a way you haven’t been in weeks.
“About the baby thing.”
That gets your attention. You sit up a little, looking at him. “What about it?”
He’s quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “We’ve been trying for almost three months now. And I know that’s not that long in the grand scheme of things, but…I don’t know. I guess I thought it would happen faster.”
Your chest tightens. You’ve been thinking the same thing but haven’t wanted to say it out loud. “Yeah. Me too.”
“And I was thinking—maybe we should make that doctor’s appointment. Like you said. Just to make sure everything’s okay. That we’re doing everything right.”
“Okay,” you agree softly. “Yeah, we can do that.”
“I’m not worried,” he adds quickly. “I mean, I am a little worried, but mostly I just want to be proactive. Make sure we’re giving ourselves the best chance.”
You cup his face, making him look at you. “Hey. Three months is nothing. The doctor will probably tell us to keep trying and come back in a year if nothing happens.”
“I know, but—” he breaks off, frustrated. “I just want this so badly. Want to give you this and every time another month goes by and the test is negative, I feel like I’m failing somehow.”
“You’re not failing,” you say firmly. “This isn’t something we can control. It happens when it happens.”
“I know that in my head. But in my heart,” his hand finds your belly, “I’m impatient.”
“I’ve noticed,” you tease gently. “The whole ‘acting like virgins in a whorehouse’ thing kind of gave it away.”
He huffs a laugh. “Was I that bad?”
“You were that eager,” you correct. “Which was actually pretty hot. Still is, when you’re not drowning in spreadsheets.”
“No more spreadsheets,” he promises. “Project’s almost done, and then I’m taking some time off. We’ll go somewhere. Relax. Maybe not having so much stress will help.”
“Maybe.” You kiss him softly. “But either way, we’re in this together, okay? Whether it happens next month or next year, we’ll figure it out.”
“Together,” he agrees, pulling you closer.
You settle back against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear, and try to ignore the small kernel of worry that’s been growing with each negative test.
Three months isn’t that long but it feels longer when you want something so badly. When every month brings hope and then disappointment. When you see the look on your husband’s face each time that single line appears instead of two.
“Hey,” Seungcheol murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. “No spiraling. We’re okay.”
“We’re okay,” you repeat.
And you are, you will be. Even if it takes longer than expected. Even if the road is harder than you hoped. You have him, and he has you, and that’s what matters.
Everything else will come in time, you just have to keep believing that.
Seungcheol had accompanied you to your usual checkup with your doctor and you’re currently waiting for your results to come back. When she enters with your files there’s a look on her face you can’t really read.
“Is there something wrong?” Seungcheol asks, his hand squeezing yours tighter.
“Well, that depends Mr. Choi,” she says before turning to you. “This happens quite often and I know it can be a shock, but I hope you both will make the decision that suits you best.”
The suspense is killing you and before you can ask what she means she says “Mrs. Choi, did you know that you’re three months pregnant?”
“Que?”
You must be hearing things. You took tests, hell you had a period two weeks ago. The room tilts slightly, and you’re glad you’re already sitting down.
“I’m—what?” Your voice comes out strangled, disbelieving. “That’s not—I can’t be. I’ve been having my period.”
Dr. Kim’s expression softens with understanding. “What you experienced was likely implantation bleeding and spotting, which can be mistaken for a light period. It’s more common than you’d think. Based on your blood work and the ultrasound we just did, you’re measuring at about twelve weeks.”
“Twelve weeks,” you repeat numbly. Your mind is racing, trying to do the math. Twelve weeks ago was…
“Hawaii,” Seungcheol breathes beside you, and when you look at him, his face has gone pale. “That was twelve weeks ago.”
Dr. Kim pulls up something on her computer screen, turning it so you can see and there it is. A tiny blob on the screen, barely distinguishable, but with a flickering white spot in the center.
“That’s the heartbeat,” Dr. Kim says gently, pointing. “Strong and healthy.”
Your own heart seems to stop entirely.
“But—” you’re struggling to process this, “—I’ve taken at least four pregnancy tests in the past two months. They were all negative.”
“How early were you testing?”
“I don’t know—a few days before my period? And then after what I thought was my period…”
“That’s likely why. Some women don’t produce enough HCG hormone early on for home tests to detect. It’s rare, but it happens.” Dr. Kim’s smile is warm, reassuring. “But your levels now are exactly where they should be for twelve weeks. You’re pregnant, Mrs. Choi. Congratulations.”
The word hangs in the air between you and Seungcheol.
Pregnant. You’re pregnant. You’ve been pregnant for three months and didn’t know.
“I—” your voice cracks, “—I’ve been drinking coffee. And I had wine at dinner last week. And I, oh god, I’ve been taking ibuprofen for my headaches—”
“Hey, hey,” Dr. Kim interrupts gently. “Let’s take a breath. Small amounts of caffeine are fine. One glass of wine before you knew won’t hurt anything. And occasional ibuprofen, while not ideal, isn’t going to cause problems at this stage. Your baby looks perfectly healthy.”
Your baby.
“I can’t—” you turn to Seungcheol, and the expression on his face nearly breaks you. He looks stunned, overwhelmed, and like he might cry at any moment. “Cheol—”
“We’re having a baby,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “We’re actually…holy shit, we’re having a baby.” And then he is crying, tears streaming down his face as he pulls you into a tight embrace.
“You said there was a decision to make?” Seungcheol asks suddenly, pulling back and looking at Dr. Kim with concern. “Is something wrong? You said—”
“Oh, no—I’m sorry, I worded that poorly.” Dr. Kim looks apologetic. “I just meant that unexpected pregnancies can be a shock, and I wanted to make sure you knew you had options. But if this is welcome news—”
“It’s welcome,” you say immediately, even as your hands are shaking. “Very welcome. We’ve been trying. We just—we didn’t know it had already worked.”
“Well then—truly, congratulations.” Dr. Kim starts printing out information. “I’m going to refer you to an OB for your ongoing care. You’ll want to schedule your first official prenatal appointment within the next week or two. I’m printing out the ultrasound photo for you, and some information about what to expect in your first trimester—though you’re already almost through it.”
Almost through the first trimester. You’re almost through the first trimester and you had no idea.
“Can you—” your voice is shaky, “—can you print two copies of the ultrasound? Please?”
“Of course.” Dr. Kim smiles knowingly. “Most parents want several.”
Parents. You’re going to be parents. The rest of the appointment passes in a blur. Dr. Kim goes over nutrition, what to expect, warning signs to watch for, answering questions that Seungcheol asks because you seem to have lost the ability to form coherent sentences.
By the time you make it back to the car, you’re both silent, clutching the ultrasound photos like lifelines. Seungcheol doesn’t start the car. Just sits there, staring at the grainy black and white image in his hands.
“We made this,” he finally says, voice thick. “In Hawaii. In that villa with the ocean view. We made our baby.”
“All those times,” you whisper, then laugh slightly hysterically. “All those months we kept trying, and it had already happened. We were already pregnant during—oh my god, we were pregnant when you bent me over the dining room table last month—”
“And in the shower last week,” he adds, then starts laughing too, slightly wild. “And on the counter. And—Jesus, we’ve been having incredibly athletic sex while pregnant.”
“Dr. Kim said it’s fine—”
“I know, I just—” he runs a hand through his hair, “—I can’t believe we didn’t know. How did we not know?”
“I don’t know.” You’re staring at your own copy of the ultrasound, at that tiny blob that’s apparently your baby. Your baby who’s been growing inside you for weeks while you had no idea. “I feel like I should have known. Like my body should have told me somehow.”
“Hey.” Seungcheol reaches over, taking your hand. “This is okay, right? This is—we wanted this.”
“We wanted this,” you confirm, squeezing back. “I’m just…I’m in shock. Are you in shock?”
“Completely.” He brings your hand to his lips. “But also, baby, we’re having a baby. We’re actually having a baby.”
The reality of it starts to sink in, and suddenly you’re crying too. Happy tears, overwhelmed tears, scared tears, all mixed together.
“We’re having a baby,” you repeat, and it feels more real each time you say it. “In—oh god, when? When am I due?”
Seungcheol scrambles for the paperwork Dr. Kim gave you. “It says…June. June tenth. Holy shit, that’s only six months away.”
“Six months.” You press a hand to your stomach, which still looks completely normal. “There’s a baby in there. Right now. With a heartbeat.”
“The fastest heartbeat in the world,” Seungcheol says, smiling through his tears. “Did you hear how fast it was going? Like they’re already excited to meet us.”
“They.” The pronoun makes it more real somehow. “We’re going to have a tiny human. Who depends on us for everything. Who we’re responsible for.”
“Are you freaking out?” he asks gently.
“Little bit. You?”
“Completely.” But he’s smiling, radiant, more happy than you’ve ever seen him. “But also,I’ve never been more excited about anything in my life.” You lean over the center console to kiss him, tasting salt from both your tears and his.
“We’re going to be parents,” you whisper against his lips.
“Best parents ever,” he promises. “This kid is going to be so loved.”
“So spoiled.”
“That too.” He pulls back just enough to cup your face. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. For giving me this. For—” his voice breaks, “—for making me a father.”
“Cheol—” now you’re really crying, “—you did half the work.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one growing them. Carrying them. Creating an entire human being inside you.” His hand moves to your stomach, reverent. “You’re incredible.”
“Ask me again in four months when I’m huge and miserable and demanding pickles at 3 AM.”
“Still incredible.” He kisses you again. “Now, we need to celebrate. And tell people. And—oh god, my mom is going to lose her mind. Your mom is going to cry. Jeonghan is going to make fun of me for crying earlier—”
“We don’t have to tell anyone right away,” you interrupt. “I’m only twelve weeks. A lot can still—” you can’t finish the sentence, but he understands.
“You’re right. We’ll wait. Just, maybe a little longer? Until we’re into the second trimester?”
“Which is only a few more weeks now,” you realize. “We’re already almost there.”
“We’re already almost there,” he repeats wonderingly. Then, more firmly, “Okay, new plan. We go home. We process this. We maybe have a minor freak out and then we start planning.”
“Planning what?”
“Everything.” His smile is infectious. “Nursery. Names. Parenting books. Baby-proofing. Everything we need to do in the next six months to get ready for this tiny human who’s apparently already been along for the ride.”
You look down at the ultrasound again, at that flickering heartbeat frozen in time. Your baby. Made in paradise, growing in secret, already loved beyond measure.
“Let’s go home,” you say softly.
Seungcheol finally starts the car, but before he pulls out, he looks at you one more time.
“I love you,” he says. “You and our little blob.”
“I love you too.” You press your hand over his on your stomach. “All three of us.” And as he drives home, both of you stealing glances at the ultrasound photos, you think about how everything has changed in the span of one appointment.
All those months of trying.
All that hoping and waiting and disappointment and it had already worked.
Your baby had been there all along, growing quietly, waiting to surprise you. Just like everything else with Seungcheol—unexpected, intense, and absolutely perfect.
Even if you had been doing very athletic things while pregnant without knowing it.
You’d probably need to apologize to your baby for that eventually but for now, you just hold the ultrasound close and let yourself feel it.
Pure, overwhelming joy.
You’re going to be a mom and Seungcheol is going to be a dad. In six months, your family of two is going to become three.
Best surprise ever.
You both still haven’t told anyone and it’s been two months since you found out. Your body hasn’t changed much but your need for your husband has which has made Seungcheol work from home twice now and this morning is no different when he wakes up with your mouth on him.
Seungcheol wakes slowly, consciousness returning in gradual waves. There’s warmth, wetness, and a familiar pressure that has him groaning before he’s even fully awake.
“Fuck, baby—” His hand instinctively goes to your hair as his hips jerk involuntarily. You’re under the covers, between his legs and the sight when he lifts the duvet nearly finishes him right there—your eyes meeting his as you take him deeper.
“What are you—oh god—what time is it?”
You pull off with an obscene pop, your hand replacing your mouth as you stroke him slowly. “About six thirty. You have a meeting at nine.”
“Then why are you—” his words cut off as you lick a stripe up his length, “—trying to kill me?”
“Because,” you pause to take him in your mouth again, working him in that way that makes his brain short-circuit, before pulling back, “ I need you…again.”
“Again?” His laugh is strained. “Baby, love we went three rounds last night. How are you—”
“Pregnant,” you finish, crawling up his body. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts and nothing else and when you straddle him, he can feel how wet you already are. “I’m pregnant and my hormones are insane and I can’t stop thinking about you inside me.”
“Not complaining,” he manages, hands gripping your hips as you position yourself above him. “Just concerned about your poor—Jesus—”
You sink down on him in one smooth motion and his concern evaporates. You’re so wet, so ready, that he slides in effortlessly despite no preparation.
“Fuck, you feel good,” you moan, starting to move. “So good. Why do you always feel so good?”
Seungcheol can’t answer because his brain has officially stopped working. You’re riding him in the early morning light, his t-shirt riding up to reveal the slight swell of your stomach, barely visible but there. Evidence of your baby growing inside you.
His baby. The thought still makes him feral.
“That’s it,” he encourages, helping you find your rhythm. “Take what you need. Use me.”
And you do, you ride him with an urgency that’s become familiar over the past two months. Dr. Kim had warned you that increased libido was common in the second trimester, but this was beyond anything either of you expected. Not that Seungcheol is complaining.
“Cheol,” you’re already close, he can tell by the way you’re clenching around him, “touch me, please.”
His thumb finds your clit, circling with practiced pressure and you come apart with a cry that could wake the neighbors. He follows seconds later, pulling you down onto him as he empties inside you. You collapse on his chest, both of you breathing hard.
“I’m calling in sick,” he announces.
“You can’t. You have that important meeting—”
“Then you’re coming to the home office with me,” he decides, rolling you both over so he’s hovering above you. “Because if the past two months have taught me anything, it’s that you’re going to need me again in approximately—” he checks his watch, “—two hours and I’d rather be here than trying to take a ‘lunch break’ or hoping my camera stays off.”
You laugh, remembering last week when he’d had to abruptly mute himself because you’d walked into his office wearing nothing but a smile.
“That was your fault for working from home in grey sweatpants,” you point out.
“Everything is apparently my fault now.” But he’s smiling as he says it, pressing kisses down your neck. “You needed water at 3 AM? My fault for getting you pregnant. Your jeans don’t fit? My fault. You cried at that commercial with the puppy? Definitely my fault.”
“It was a very sad commercial,” you defend, even as you’re arching into his kisses. “And yes, this is literally all your fault. You and your—” you gesture vaguely at him, “—your everything.”
“My everything?” He’s laughing now, working his way down your body.
“Your face. Your body. Your—Cheol, what are you doing?”
“Well—” he settles between your thighs, “—if I’m working from home anyway, might as well make sure you’re thoroughly satisfied before my first meeting.”
“You just…we literally just—”
“And you’re going to need me again soon anyway,” he points out reasonably. “Might as well get ahead of it.” His mouth finds you and your protests dissolve into moans.
Seungcheol is forty-five minutes into his video call when you appear in the doorway of his office. He sees you in his peripheral vision and tries to focus on the presentation his colleague is giving but you’re wearing that look. That needy, desperate, “I need you right now” look.
He mutes himself and mouths, After this meeting.
You pout. Actually pout. Then you do something that nearly makes him fall out of his chair; you pull up your dress to show him your stomach, running your hand over the small bump. It’s not fair. It’s biological warfare. You know exactly what seeing you like that does to him.
He unmutes. “Actually, I need to step away for a moment. Personal emergency. Give me ten minutes?”
His colleagues agree—they know he’s been working from home more lately—and he kills his camera and mic before you’ve even crossed the room.
“Ten minutes,” he warns as you climb into his lap. “That’s all we have.”
“Then you better make it count,” you challenge, already undoing his belt.
He does.
“We need to tell people,” Seungcheol says over lunch. You’re both in the kitchen, you’re eating pickles and bacon cream cheese spread—a combination that horrifies him but apparently makes perfect sense to your pregnant brain—and he’s trying not to watch in fascinated disgust.
“I know,” you agree around a mouthful of your horrible creation. “We said we’d wait until after the first trimester, and we’re at—what? Fifteen weeks now?”
“Sixteen tomorrow,” he corrects. He’s been tracking it religiously, has an app on his phone that tells him how big the baby is each week. Currently, the size of an avocado.
“Sixteen weeks,” you repeat. “And I’m starting to show. Like, actually show. I can’t hide it in loose clothes forever.”
“You look beautiful,” he says immediately.
“I look pregnant.”
“Beautiful and pregnant.” He comes around the island to wrap his arms around you from behind, his hands spanning your small bump. “Best combination ever.”
You lean back into him. “Your mom is going to cry.”
“My mom is going to plan the entire baby’s life before they’re even born,” he corrects. “Your mom is going to cry.”
“Both our moms are going to lose their minds,” you decide. “And then they’re going to become best friends over baby shopping.”
“Jeonghan is going to make fun of me.”
“Hannie’s going to be the uncle who teaches our kid bad habits.”
Seungcheol groans. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe we don’t tell anyone. Just let them figure it out when you go into labor.”
“Cheol.”
“Fine.” He kisses your temple. “This weekend? We’ll have both families over. Tell them together?”
“Together,” you agree. Then, after a pause, “Are you scared?”
“Terrified,” he admits. “But also, this is real now. We’re really doing this. In four and a half months, we’re going to have a baby. Our baby and I want to share that with people. Want everyone to know how happy I am.”
You turn in his arms, looking up at him. “Even though I keep attacking you at inappropriate times?”
“Especially because you keep attacking me at inappropriate times.” He grins. “Though maybe we should warn the doctor at your next appointment. Make sure this is…you know. Normal.”
“I already asked,” you admit, blushing. “Last appointment while you were filling out paperwork. She said it’s completely normal and actually healthy.”
“Healthy,” he repeats, smirking. “So really, we’re just being responsible parents-to-be.”
“Exactly, very responsible.”
“Speaking of responsible—” his hands slide down to cup your ass, “—I think I have another meeting in an hour. Which means we have time—”
“On the counter?” you ask hopefully.
“Wherever you want,” he promises, already lifting you.
The pickles and cream cheese are forgotten as he makes good on his promise and later—much later—when he’s finally back at his computer for his afternoon meetings, you curl up on the couch in his office with a blanket and one of your pregnancy books.
This has become your routine over the past two months. Him working, you nearby and periodic breaks for the insatiable need that’s apparently a hallmark of your second trimester. It’s chaotic and wonderful and occasionally makes him miss important conference calls but he wouldn’t change a thing.
This is his life now. His pregnant wife who can’t keep her hands off him. His baby growing bigger every day. His future taking shape in ways he couldn’t have imagined a year ago. All because of one drunk conversation about worms and ovulation and wanting his babies.
Best conversation ever. Even if it did result in him having to work from home regularly because his wife has turned into an insatiable pregnant goddess. He glances over at you, at the small bump visible even under the blanket and feels that now-familiar surge of overwhelming love.
Four and a half months until they meet their baby but first, telling their families this weekend and surviving whatever chaos that brings.
PAIRING: Alpha!Seungcheol x Omega! f.reader
SUMMARY: A heatwave in your city makes dealing with your hormones more difficult than usual. Getting locked in a lobby at work for an hour with an alpha makes it ten times worse. Thankfully, Seungcheol is there to help you - and maybe a little more.
WC: 18,512
AU: Omegaverse, Coworkers to Lovers
GENRE: Smut, A bit of Fluff, the barest hint of angst
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
WARNINGS: Mix of traditional and nontraditional Omegaverse dynamics in terms of heat cycles, social statuses, and body chemistry but this fic doesn’t really dip into it very heavily - including no knotting or any of the traditional lore. There are brief mentions of social discourse and discrimination across all three subgenders. Reader has some internal back and forth and moments of feeling embarrassed and frustrated with her body and hormonal fluctuations. Some internal stresses/anxieties on reader’s part about what comes after with Seungcheol. Seungcheol is a touch possessive in parts. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content including very gratutious smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, biting, a lot of spit/slick/fluids mentions, nipple play, vaginal fingering, lots of praise (use of good/good girl/baby often), not explicit dom/sub dynamics but more alpha/omega dynamics, no use of a condom as in - I just never wrote one in and they never talk about it tbh I just forgot lol - reader experiences some highs and lows through her heat emotionally… I think that’s mostly it. Please tell me if I forgot anything.
A/N: I don’t know how I ended up writing so much of this, but here we are. Reader’s struggles as an omega are inspired directly by my struggles with PCOS, especially living in a very hot climate and constantly having fluctuating hormones and just having to exist!!! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it.
A/N 2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for beta reading this - I love u thank u hehe.
SMUT NOTICE: This fic contains multiple smut scenes. If you don’t like reading smut, this fic will be complicated to understand if you skip multiple smut scenes.
MASTERLIST | ASK | NOW PLAYING: BAMBI BY BAEKHYUN
SWEAT TRICKLES DOWN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK AND THIGHS. Irritated, you wipe at the back of your neck for what feels like the hundredth time before pulling at the collar of your shirt, fanning it in hopes of cooling the rest of your body off. It’s unseasonably hot, a heat wave sweeping through the city and turning your office cubicle into a toaster oven.
The small fan on your desk whirs pitifully, barely offering any sort of respite. Adjusting in your seat does nothing but remind you how uncomfortable you are, the scratchy grain of the chair digging into the back of your sweating thighs, the underwire of your bra digging into your ribs, the heat rash forming where your underwear digs into the creases of your hips.
Unbearable.
A message pings on your computer and you open it, growling in irritation as you see a message from Wonwoo in the cubicle behind you.
Jeon Wonwoo: Ever heard of suppressants, diva?
You: IT’S FUCKING HOT IN HERE
You: Tell this company to BUY SOME FUCKING AIRCONDITIONERS
Jeon Wonwoo: Irritable… sweaty… irrational…
You grab the nearest pen and whip around in your chair, launching it at the back of his head. It hits with a satisfying thwack. He flinches, cursing as his hand flies up to rub the spot where you nailed him. Wonwoo turns in his seat, shooting you a dirty look over his shoulder.
You meet his glare with a stuck-out tongue and a very deliberate middle finger before turning back to your screen, face flushed, partially from the heat, partially from embarrassment.
He doesn’t get it. You know he’s just teasing, but it still stings. That old, familiar insecurity curls in your gut at his jest, no matter its innocence. Being an omega is hard enough. You’ve spent years unlearning shame, of trying to accept this part of yourself you never asked for. And you’ve gotten pretty far with that.
But then something as simple as a heatwave hits, the rise in temperature turning your body traitorous, unable to accommodate for a little bit of humid air and heat.
Of course, Wonwoo doesn’t understand - can’t conceptualize the level of difficulty it is to maintain a baseline for you. Betas don’t have to deal with this kind of hormonal chaos. Sure, they’ve got their own issues - media erasure, medical neglect, in general being left out - but it’s not the same. Not when your body actively works against you, not when your biology fights you.
You sigh. There’s no point in going down the rabbit hole and comparing omegas and betas. You’ve traveled that road since your subgender presented itself in your freshman year of college. Comparison is the thief of joy, but it’s also an endless torture device.
Your thighs rub together uncomfortably when you get up. You swipe your water bottle, unscrewing the cap as you duck out of your cubicle, head down and steps fast. You’re pretty sure Wonwoo is attuned to your scent more than others, having been one of your closest friends and cubicle-neighbor for the better part of five years. But still, you’re nervous about it, hand snaking up to touch the translucent patch on the side of your neck, meant to dampen the smell from your glands.
No one pays you much mind. You breathe a sigh of relief to find the break room empty. You make a beeline to the water cooler in the corner, sliding the water bottle under it and pressing the tap. As it fills, the air conditioning kicks on, the vent right above you.
Cool air hits the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter, a shiver of relief slithering through you. For a moment, you lose yourself, letting the cool wick away the sticky sweat, the first time you’ve felt a little relief all day. A small sound escapes your mouth, half whimper and half plea.
Someone clears their throat and you flinch, losing your grip on the water bottle. It crashes to the ground, water splashing up your legs but more importantly, all over the floor. You squeak in panic, diving to pick it up in an attempt to stop the outflow of water.
Hands dripping, you pivot on your heel, scanning for paper towels only to find them being offered. You blink in surprise, body going rigid as you become acutely aware of who is offering them.
Choi Seungcheol watches you with quiet concern, dark eyes steady behind his glasses. He keeps a respectful distance, arms extended with a roll of paper towels, waiting for you to take them. But you don’t move. Your pulse pounds in your neck as your gaze drops from his face to his hands, large and patient.
He has pretty hands, you think absently, staring a beat too long.
For a moment, all you can hear is the roar of blood in your ears. Then, he steps forward without a word, crouching down to wipe the water pooling around your feet. You jerk, startled, a sharp sound of protest escaping you as you drop down and snatch more paper towels from his hands. Apologies tumble out, disjointed and breathless, your thoughts scattered.
He doesn’t back away. Instead, he methodically dabs at the wet tile while trying to avoid soaking himself in the process. His proximity is overwhelming, his spicy scent nearly knocking you over. You grit your teeth and clench your jaw, irritated. He’s not supposed to affect you like this - never has before.
Seungcheol is always mild. Unassuming. He’s worked here as long as you have, one of the few alphas on your floor, and one of the most reserved. He keeps to his office, always dimly lit, always quiet. He greets you politely. Never lingers.
It surprised you when you first met him. Seungcheol looks like the type of alpha who is the opposite of quiet and shy. There’s a gravitas to him that you haven’t quite figured out and a body made to ruin. Broad shoulders, thick arms, a voice deep enough to rattle through your spine even on your best days.
Yet somehow, he’s never once made a pass on a single omega at work.
Which, he shouldn’t. You respect that about him, which feels ridiculous. You shouldn’t have to be flattered by the bare minimum of respect, shouldn’t need to be surprised when an alpha is able to be normal. To treat you like a human being.
You mumble a quiet thanks, focusing on the mess. It’s the only thing tethering you right now. It shouldn’t feel this intense, but the goddamn heat is getting to you. It’s baking you from the inside out, turning your cube walls suffocating. It makes you tired. Irritable. Prone to throwing pens at Wonwoo’s head.
“Thanks,” you mutter when you stand. You toss the soggy paper towels into the bin, avoiding his gaze. “Sorry again.”
“No need to apologize. I’m sorry I startled you.”
Seungcheol stands slowly. You don’t move, watching the way he wipes his damp hands across his slacks. You hate that you notice how the fabric pulls over his thighs. As soon as you have the thought, you avert your eyes, looking anywhere but him, afraid that he’ll see the embarrassment or the way your body reacts without your permission.
“It’s been a long week,” Seungcheol offers, voice soft. “You alright? I know Jeonghan had you working on that insane report.”
You swallow past the dry patch in your throat. “All good. Just tired. It’ll probably keep me here forever, but what can you do?”
“Mhmm. Don’t forget it’s Friday - cleaning locks the office and will trap you inside.”
“Sounds like you’re intimately familiar.”
His smile is soft, cheeks flushed. “Cannot confirm or deny.”
“I see.” You gesture to the watery floor. “Thank you, again. And sorry for being a bit clumsy.”
“No problem.”
You slide away from him, hoping that he can’t tell that you’re leaning, trying to avoid catching his scent again. He doesn’t seem to notice - or has the decency not to make it obvious - and you slip away from the break room, all but running to your cube.
Inside your little haven, you rip open one of your drawers, grabbing a pheromone damp nasal spray. You all but shove it up your cranium, putting it as far up your nasal passage as you can manage before squeezing and shooting a blast of medical grade dampener up your nose, inhaling sharply.
It helps a little, settling your nerves and erasing the lingering scent of Seungcheol. You breathe out a sigh, calm and collected. Carefully and quickly, you peel the suppressant patch off your neck and swap it for a new one. It tingles when you apply it, the microneedles that embed into the skin to deliver suppressant a cool sensation at first.
When you settle, you feel much better. It isn’t until you turn to start knocking out the rest of your report that you realize you never refilled your water bottle after dropping it, making you lean back on your desk and groan.
-
Working for Yoon Jeonghan comes with its challenges. He's incredibly sharp and a natural leader, but he tends to be a bit forgetful and brings a touch of chaos wherever he goes. Jeonghan is the reason you’d started working at this company, though, admiring that there was an omega in charge, defying the long-standing social norms that omegas could not lead.
It’s a silly stereotype, but you’ve been fighting stereotypes your entire life, unlearning your own and reminding yourself that there are still inherent biases to unlearn.
Like right now, when you're mentally cursing Jeonghan for tossing a last-minute report your way, even though he had multiple reminders in his inbox and just forgot he'd opened them. You only blame him a little. Work’s been nonstop, keeping him up at all hours, and if there’s one thing that truly makes Jeonghan unbearable, it’s sleep deprivation.
Jeonghan doesn’t have an assistant, but you’re the closest thing to it, one of the few people in the office he trusts to get things done. So when he’s on vacation and starts spamming your email that he dropped the ball, it’s on you to cover for him, like he’s done for you in the past.
The consequence of competency, he’d told you over the phone, the sound of the ocean in the background. I’m sorry, I owe you, please don’t quit.
You weren’t going to quit. Despite your irritation, you like working for Jeonghan, and despite the unbearable heat burning in your cubicle, you like being able to focus on pulling and building reports, inputting data into a spreadsheet and setting pivot tables and charts.
It makes you forget about the world for a little bit, including the oppressive office air and the way that the building’s air conditioner barely keeps up with the raging temperatures outside. Makes you forget about the incident in the breakroom, and about everything else, including the passage of time.
Above you, the lights go out. You flinch, looking up in surprise. Rubbing your eyes, you blink until your computer screen comes back into focus, looking at the time. You groan. It’s past seven, far later than you meant to stay at work. But you’re done with the report, dragging the attachment to your email to fire it off to Jeonghan with a less than happy emoji pasted in the body of the email.
Exhaustion weighs you down when you stand. Your joints pop and everything feels hot and itchy again, all of your irritations flooding back to pester you now that you’re not locked in on your work. You flip off the fan, lamp and computer at your desk. Immediately without air circulation, your cube is sweltering, the dress sticking to you, fabric itchy and clinging to your skin.
A sudden wave of dizziness makes the room tilt around you. You steady yourself with deep, measured breaths, trying to stay grounded. A spike in temperature is normal. You can deal with it. It’s manageable. Sure, the heat triggers a surge of estriolase, the hormone that kicks in during Stage 1 of an omega’s heat cycle. And sure, it leaves you flushed, restless, skin prickling with irritation, and-
“You’re still here?”
You shriek, whirling around, heart hammering as your hand flies to your chest in terror. Seungcheol takes a cautious step back into the hallway, hands lifted in surrender, quiet concern etched into his features. For a moment, the air between you is thick with silence, broken only by your uneven breathing, still reeling from the rush of epinephrine and cortisol.
Being an omega means constantly walking a tightrope of hormones. One shift sets off another, like dominoes toppling. Fear bumps into instinct, instinct stirs something deeper, until your body is a storm of tangled biochemistry.
Now, your body is caught in a storm of fear, annoyance, embarrassment and interest, each one fighting for dominance. You swallow thickly and lean off your desk, ignoring the way your body flashes between hot and cold, fear and something else.
“Just finished Jeonghan’s report.”
“Ah.”
Something passes his face. It’s unreadable, but he’s focused. Your skin prickles under the heavy weight of his stare, watching as his mouth tightens at the corner.
“You heading out?”
“Yeah.”
A beat passes. His gaze flickers briefly, so fast that you’re not sure you track the movement correctly, but you swear it drops to the patch on your neck, dampening your scent. His jaw flexes once before he offers you a tight smile, gesturing.
“Mind if I walk you out? It’s late.”
Your heart hammers. “Sure.”
You’ve walked out of work with Seungcheol before. He offers to walk anyone out when it’s after hours, even if he himself isn’t leaving yet. It has nothing to do with your subgender and everything to do with him being kind, a sort of stoic office guardian.
Grabbing the rest of your things, you follow Seungcheol in silence. The building is quiet, both of you the only people still around on a weekend. The lack of sound amplifies everything else: the sound of your own quickened breathing, the warmth pulsing under your skin, the spicy scent of Seungcheol as he steps onto the elevator, lingering at the threshold to hold the door open for you.
You murmur a thank you as you pass by him. You can’t help the shiver that snakes through you as you pass. You clench your fists, angry and willing yourself to calm down. This has never happened around Seungcheol, and you blame the fucking weather for the way your body overrides you now.
The forty five seconds spent in the elevator are borderline hell. Neither of you says anything. You’ve pressed yourself in the corner, trying to remain nonchalant, like your entire world isn’t spinning, like there isn’t a dull ache in the pit of your stomach, like there isn’t saliva pooling at the back of your tongue.
Seungcheol smells warm. Grounding. Something that lingers, sharp and clean with a bit of a bite. You breathe in, trying to figure it out. Perhaps bergamot and cardamom, spice touched by sweetness, a hint of earth.
The elevator dings and Seungcheol is halfway through the lobby before you realize it. You push off the elevator wall after him, steps stilted and uneven. It’s even hotter in the tiny lobby of your office building, making a bead of sweat trail down the back of your neck. You adjust your dress, licking your lips in an attempt to relieve the hot flash threatening you.
Seungcheol pushes on the glass doors at the front, but they don’t budge. Both of you stand and stare for a second before he curses low under his breath, voice like gravel. You ignore what your stomach does at the sound of it as he turns to look at you, expression wary.
“Remember what I said in the break room?” You definitely remember the break room, but not anything he said. “The cleaners come on Friday evenings and they lock the doors.”
“Oh.”
Seunghecol walks back to the elevator and swipes his badge at the scanner and presses the button. The metal doors do not open again, and the button doesn’t light up. He curses again, pinching the bridge of his nose right beneath his glasses.
“Badges don’t work after hours.”
“They don’t?”
“No. It’s not the first time I’ve been stuck here, unfortunately.” He adjusts the strap on his bag and pulls a cellphone from his pocket. “Thankfully I have security’s number saved for exactly that reason.”
Seungcheol’s words do little to bring you relief. He paces a few steps away from you, dialing a number on the phone. He holds the phone to his ear, waiting for security to pick up. His free hand is stuffed into the pocket of his slacks, thumb tapping idly. You stand a few feet away, arms crossed, trying to focus on the sterile, white glow of the lobby lights instead of the way your skin feels like it’s humming.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Seungcheol’s voice sounds loud, making you twitch. “Yes, I’m locked in the lobby again.” He glances at you. “I’m with another coworker as well. The badge isn’t working to get us back up. Can you come let us out?”
You barely register his words. A flush is working its way up from your stomach to your chest, your chest to your shoulders, shoulder to elbows. You feel it unfurl, the slow-burning petals of a flower blooming. The air feels thick and heavy, almost damp, and no amount of focused breathing seems to help with the pulse you feel throbbing in your neck.
Seungcheol’s voice momentarily pulls you from your daze. “They’re sending someone from central security. Might take about an hour, though. They were in the middle of a shift rotation.”
You nod, swallowing hard. “Alright.”
“Are you alright?” Seungcheol asks quietly, eyes fixated on you.
You open your mouth to say yes, but the word dies in your throat. Because you’re not. Not really. There’s a heat curling deep in your belly now, slow and insistent, and your clothes feel too tight, your skin too sensitive. You press your palm against the marble wall behind you, trying to ground yourself with the coolness of the stone.
“Yeah,” you manage, nodding and giving him a thumbs up.
You’re anything but. It hits you slowly, but when it does, it locks into place with terrifying clarity: the dizziness, the temperature spikes, the way everything around you sounds sharper, smells sharper, the bergamot and cardamom.
Your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of heat, triggered by the unbearable temperature spike across the city and the unbearable proximity of the alpha standing across the lobby from you.
You shift your weight, arms tightening around yourself, every nerve ending suddenly too aware of Seungcheol’s presence. He’s not even close, but you can feel him. Or maybe it’s just your scent receptors going haywire, both just as likely.
“You’re flushed,” he says after a moment, eyes not quite meeting yours now. “You sure you’re not getting sick?”
“No,” you say too quickly. “I don’t think it’s that.”
Seungcheol’s brows pull together, not believing you but not sure what to make of it. He shifts his weight, gaze scanning you, trying to figure you out. You refuse to meet his eyes, looking up at the lobby lights that are too bright, making you squint. But you can feel him watching you, his gaze intense.
“You look uncomfortable.” He shifts a little further from you. “I apologize if-”
“It’s not you!” You blurt, a little forceful. “It’s just hot in here. It’s… hard on me.”
When he doesn’t answer, you dare a look at him. Seungcheol tilts his head slightly, like he doesn’t believe you but won’t push it. He nods, leaning against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes track the way his biceps flex, the way his shirt compresses across his chest and your mouth goes dry.
He studies you carefully now, eyes narrowing just slightly—not in suspicion, but understanding. Something settles in his expression, the faintest flicker of recognition behind his eyes. Fuck. Fuck. He knows. He knows and the embarrassment is so overwhelming you nearly fold over and start crying.
Still, he doesn't call you out. Doesn’t voice what you’re sure he knows, what his instincts are telling him. Doesn’t corner you with it.
Instead, he says, “Tell me something you enjoy.”
“What?”
He watches you, eyes soft. “Anything. To pass time. I only know the basics about you. Tell me something you’re passionate about.”
Something you're passionate about? A million things run through your mind. You grab the first thing you can think of, a single subject that you’re well-versed in.
“There’s a theory that the Tyrannosaurus Rex didn’t roar.”
He looks confused. “The dinosaur?”
“Yes. Like you know in the movie how they… rahhh.” You imitate the noise, immediately wanting to smack yourself for the ridiculousness of it. He presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. He nods and gestures for you to continue, dark eyes focused only on you. “So it’s a total myth. Scientists think they made way lower sounds, like… you know when crocodiles do that weird purr?”
“Crocodile purr?”
“Yeah you know when they…” You hunch your shoulders. “Do that weird water rumble thing.”
“I think I follow.”
You nod rapidly, grateful for the distraction even as your heart beats way too fast. “Yeah, like a subsonic hum. They think it was more intimidating that way. A sound that could vibrate through the chest cavity of its prey. Honestly, it’s kind of genius.”
He watches you with quiet amusement, one brow raised but not mocking. “I didn’t know you were into dinosaurs.”
“I was obsessed as a kid,” you admit, shrugging, eyes still fixed on the security panel like it’ll spark to life if you ignore it long enough. “Used to correct people all the time. I was that kid. I got in trouble once for lecturing my cousin while playing with dinosaurs because Stegosaurus and a T. rex never existed at the same time. They lived millions of years apart! And he was trying to tell me they were best friends.” You scoff. “As if.”
You hear a soft chuckle across the lobby and you look up to meet his face. Your pulse flutters again, reminding you why Seungcheol asked you to distract yourself in the first place.
As though he can sense where your thoughts are going, Seungcheol asks, “So are you one of those people who thinks the Jurassic Park raptors were too big?”
You huff, a flare of irritation licking through you. “Well yeah. They were too big, thank you for asking. Plus, Alan Grant pointed out in the first movie that they were the size of turkeys, and then they get to Isla Nublar and they’re fucking six feet tall! And they were supposed to have feathers!”
“Not very intimidating.”
“I mean, I feel like a giant bird of prey is pretty intimidating.”
Seungcheol grins and you feel another shiver threaten to pulse through you. His grin is beautiful, turning his face from intimidating to soft in seconds. “I’m never going to be able to take them seriously again, I think.”
“You’re welcome.”
It’s quiet again. The tension from earlier hasn’t disappeared, but something in the air feels different. Sweat fills the creases behind your knees, beads on the small of your back, gathers on your thighs. Your rambling had made you forget about it all for a moment, but now it’s back, the awareness of the way your body is crawling toward Stage 1 of your heat.
If security gets here soon, you’ll be okay. It’s the lightest phase of the cycle, manageable with some effort and focus. But it’s unpredictable. Sometimes it lingers, sometimes it crashes into the next stage without warning. And while your body usually keeps a steady three-month rhythm, outside stimuli can trigger an early onset.
Like being trapped in an overheated lobby with an alpha just a few yards away. One who’s quiet, watching, aware.
Still, it’s not unmanageable. You’ve handled worse. If you can get home in time, the meds waiting in your cabinet will ease you through the worst of it, keep you from slipping into second and third stage alone, unprepared.
If not…
No, you can’t think about that. If you stray too far to the second stage of your cycle before getting home, your options are limited and grim.
You don’t like any of them.
You shift your stance again, ankles crossing and uncrossing, arms hugging your waist like that might hold everything in place. But it’s not helping anymore. Your skin feels too tight, like it doesn’t fit right on your body. The heat is building now, no longer a low thrum, but a steady pulse radiating from your core, licking up your spine and sinking into your limbs. Your breaths come shorter, faster, and there’s a dull ache beginning in your lower belly, something deep and hormonal and utterly beyond your control.
“Hey,” Seungcheol says, causing you to look at him. His face is soft. Concerned. “You still with me?”
The way he says it, soft and gentle, makes things worse. Makes you want to whine and cross the lobby floor to him, to let him pull you in tight and tell you it’ll be okay. To comfort you. The desire is so bad that you realize you’re much farther into Stage 1 than you thought.
Panic starts to nip at your heels. You’re unsure what to do. There’s nothing on you besides your nasal spray and your patches to help you out, but those aren’t what you need. Your patches protect others from your scent and the nasal spray protects you from others - from Seungcheol.
You try to answer, but your voice catches in your throat, coming out thin and shaky. “I’m okay.”
“Are you in prodrome?” he asks quietly, voice pitched low and careful.
You flinch when he finally says it out loud, letting the acknowledgement ring in the lobby. You close your eyes for a moment, your silence an answer in itself.
Seungcheol sighs and pulls his phone back out of his pocket, dialing as he lifts it to his ear. “Yeah, I know. Look, you need to expedite. My colleague needs medical assistance and we’re still locked in the lobby. No… no.” Seungcheol glances at you. “She’s experiencing prodrome. Can you please expedite? Yes. Thank you.”
He hangs up and turns back to you, stepping slowly so he doesn’t overwhelm, arms loose at his sides in a show of calm. “They’re sending someone now. Shouldn’t be long.”
You nod, but your breathing is uneven, shallow now. You can feel the sweat dripping down your spine, the pressure behind your eyes. Everything smells too sharp, too thick. Especially him. Spice and warmth and safety. It’s awful.
Seungcheol stays where he is, a careful distance between you, but his voice is steady when he says, “Tell me what you need. What I can do to help.”
“I’m fine.”
“I mean it. If you need space, I’ll back off. If you need something cold, we’ll figure it out. Just don’t… don’t try to pretend this isn’t happening. Let me help you.”
The kindness in his voice cracks something in your chest. No judgment, no pressure, just him, steady and solid, offering help while your body betrays you one symptom at a time.
You swallow hard. “I just need to get out. I just need to make it home before it gets worse.”
Seungcheol nods, no hesitation. “Then we’ll get you home. I promise.”
Time moves like molasses. The silence between you thickens. You give up on standing, sitting on the cool tile floor. It only offers momentary respite until you’re panting again, struggling to maintain your grip on yourself.
It’s not working. Your entire body is pulsing, tingling, burning in waves that crest and fall without rhythm. Your skin itches with hypersensitivity, every shift of your clothes unbearable, your breath slow and ragged. It feels like you’re melting, burning up from the forge in your chest.
You can feel Seungcheol watching you from his assigned corner. He says nothing, keeping a respectful distance. You steal a glance at him through bleary eyes. He’s just leaning against the wall, hands clenched and jaw tight. He’s doing his best to appear calm, but you see signs of irritation. His throat works and your eyes linger on the way his Adam's apple bobs for too long. You think about sinking your teeth into his neck, tasting him-
His scent, normally warm and grounded, spikes. You sense the shift and it makes you squirm, pressing yourself further into the wall. You look away from him, hiding your face in your shoulder while you squeeze your eyes shut as another wave of cramping crashes into you.
Seungcheol’s irritation is sharp. Shame floods you, thick and fast. Of course he’s annoyed. Today has gone from bad to worse. He’s now stuck in a lobby with an omega in prodrome, a liability that he now has to be responsible for, and you’re barely holding it together, shaking like a live wire. You’re stuck, and he’s stuck with you, and-
The lobby doors beep and hiss open. You don’t even lift your head. Don’t even hear the first few words from the guards. You only feel cool night air and the sudden shift in pressure, making you keen and melt into the tile.
Seungcheol appears at your side, his scent fading from acrid to soothing.
“Hey,” he murmurs, crouching down to your level. It’s the closest he’s been to you all day. You feel the heat of him, the nearness overwhelming. “They’re here. We can go.”
You don’t move. The thought of moving suddenly seems like an insurmountable task. Your world is tilting, your ears ringing. Your limbs feel detached from your brain and your body is locked, curled in on itself. Heat prickles across your skin like static.
Worst of all, you’re starting to panic. Fear sets in, stabbing deep. You don’t know how to get up and take the train home. Don’t know how to get yourself up the stairs and into your apartment. To the cabinet to take a suppressant. To the fridge for water.
Seungcheol’s voice sharpens. “Hey. Look at me.”
It’s a command. You blink up at him, barely able to focus. Something flashes behind his eyes and he’s on the phone again. “Hi, I need emergency assistance for an omega. She’s in heat prodrome and she’s deteriorating fast. No, she’s conscious. She’s overheating, but having trouble standing and struggling to focus. I have no idea what to do.”
You barely hear the voice on the other end of the line, but Seungcheol does. His expression shifts, each word they say tightening his jaw.
“She’s a coworker - we were locked in a lobby at work but I can take her to an omega hospital.” You whimper and shake your head vehemently, whining. He softens. “They said they can give you a heat inhibitor on-site.”
“No,” you pant. “It hurts.”
He nods. “I can’t do that, she doesn’t want to go.” The operator says something else and he nods. His eyes tighten at the corners and he glances at you. “I can take you to a service clinic. They can assign you-”
“Home,” you plead. “I just need to get home. I can- I can deal with it.”
“I don’t know… do you have, um. Do you have an alpha you usually…?”
“No.”
Tears well up fast and hot, blurring your vision, sliding down your cheeks in silent streaks. Your whole body feels wrong, like you’ve been unraveled from the inside, trembling and raw.
“I just want to go home,” you whisper, folding in on yourself. “I have my meds. I can manage if I can just get home. Please.”
He repeats what you say into the phone. They say something and he shakes his head and hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Okay. Alright. We’re going to get you home, okay?”
He helps you to your feet slowly, carefully, arms braced around you like he’s afraid you’ll break. You lean into him, weak and unsteady, but there’s no judgment in his touch, just quiet strength and a protective kind of focus that makes your throat tighten all over again.
The lobby fades behind you. The night air hits your overheated skin like salvation. Seungcheol doesn’t say a word as he guides you into the passenger seat of his car, buckles you in, and throws his jacket over your lap for warmth. His hands are shaking as he starts the engine.
“Can you give me directions?”
You mumble them. You’re not even sure that he hears you. He has no idea the bomb he’s given you, tossing his jacket over you. Your fingers curl into it, greedy. Inhaling deeply, you feel yourself drift as he drives, the hum of the engine lulling you into a half-daze. The smell of Seungcheol is overwhelming, but comforting. Steady. No longer a threat, but something you want. Need.
It isn’t until Seungcheol’s hands are gently shaking you that you realize you’re at your apartment. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes. He looks down at you, glasses a little askew as he asks you a question. His words are garbled and you don’t understand, shaking your head in confusion as he gazes at you.
“Come on,” he sighs, unbuckling your seat for you. His chest brushes across you as he does, bergamot and cardamom hitting you so hard that it knocks the senses out of you. You’re near catatonic for a second until you feel his hands pressed against your forehead. “Fuck, you’re burning up. Can I carry you?”
You must nod, because he bends low and scoops you out of the car. You jostle against his chest as he carries you bridal style toward the stairs. His scent is mind numbing. Your face is too close to his neck and he doesn’t have a scent blocker on, pheromones doing insane damage to your self control as he climbs the stairs, you in his arms like you weigh absolutely nothing.
Gently, Seungcheol places you on your feet. He slides an arm around your waist, keeping you upright and pinned to him as he unlocks your door. You have no idea where he got your keys, must have fished them out of your purse at some point.
Seungcheol guides you into your dark apartment, helping you to the couch like you’re made of glass. You collapse onto it, dazed. He crouches, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His eyes are devastatingly soft, touch featherlight.
“Let me call a doctor.”
“No.” Your voice is hoarse but immediate. “Please don’t. I can’t go to the hospital again. I don’t want to do this strapped to a bed, surrounded by strangers and white lights and IVs. I can’t.”
He exhales, hands flexing. “Okay. Okay. But—then what? Do you have anyone who can help you through it? Any alpha you-”
“No. I just do it alone with meds. They’re in my bathroom cabinet. If you could just get them, I can do this.”
“I don’t think meds are going to help.” His admission is soft. Regretful, almost. Like it pains him to tell you this.
You think he’s right, but you don’t know what else to do.
Seungcheol’s brows furrow. You watch the internal war play out on his face, concern and hesitance and something harder to name. His throat bobs as he swallows. “If… look, if there’s no one else. I can try to help.”
You suck in a sharp breath. “What?”
“I can try. Only if you want. Only if you need. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage, I just… I don’t want you to suffer. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m here. I don’t want to leave you like this.”
A fresh wave of tears hits you, shame curling hot in your chest.
“You don’t want to,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You’re just saying that because you feel bad. And I feel awful. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t want to put you in this position-”
“Hey.” His voice is firmer now, but not unkind. He shifts forward, his hands finding yours, wrapping them gently between his palms. Your skin tingles where he touches you, a fresh wave of heat licking through you. “Stop. Look at me.”
You do. Barely. His face is open and honest, his eyes warm. He’s so pretty like this, looking at you like you’re something he cares about - someone he cares about.
“I want to help you. Not because I pity you. Not because I feel obligated. Because I care about you. And you’re in pain. And I can do something about it.” He takes a breath, then adds, softer, “Even if that means the more intimate parts.”
Your face crumples, fresh humiliation rising, but he keeps holding your gaze, steady and calm.
“Only if you want to,” he says. “Only if you’re lucid and safe and sure. If you want me to sit on the other side of the apartment all night and just be here, I will. If you want to go to sleep and pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow, I’ll follow your lead.”
“I don’t want you on the other side of the apartment,” you admit. “I just feel embarrassed by what I need.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, especially for something out of your control. Your body isn’t your enemy.”
You press your lips together, fighting the emotions building in your chest, but it’s no use. A soft sob slips out before you can stop it, and Seungcheol is there in an instant, wrapping his arms around you with careful strength, cradling you against him like he’s anchoring you to the moment.
His scent hits you more fully now, warm and earthy beneath the sharp spice, like cinnamon bark and sun-warmed cedar. It fills your lungs and settles into the frantic edge of your nerves like balm, and it’s… comforting. Not invasive. Not overwhelming.
Just Seungcheol.
“I’m here,” he murmurs into your hair. “Whatever you need, we go slow. I’ll follow your pace. You lead.”
“Even if it’s more than you expected?”
“Even then.”
Seungcheol helps you sit back, propped with cushions on the couch, still watching you like you might unravel again, but not because he doubts you. Because he cares. Because he’s listening to every breath you take like it matters.
“I’ll need… a few things,” you say, quietly. “If this really goes into the full cycle. I have suppressants, but they won’t help much unless I can get them in the next hour, and I don’t think I have that kind of time anymore.”
“Okay. Tell me what you need.”
You breathe in. “Water. A lot of it. Heat spikes dehydrate fast, and I’ll probably get a fever if we don’t keep me hydrated. Heats are a game of chess except sometimes the board blows up.”
“Funny. Got it.”
“And blankets,” you add quickly. “I’ll feel cold, even if I’m burning. Like weight and softness. Like nesting.”
“Like a bird… or dinosaur.”
You scowl at him and he grins, dimples appearing in his cheek. It makes you want to lean forward and bite him, to sink your teeth in and never let go.
“What else?” He asks.
“I’ll need food eventually. Simple things. Broths, carbs. My body’s going to want to burn through everything at once.”
“Easy.”
“And proximity.” You hesitate here, voice wavering. “I’ll need closeness. I haven’t had a heat partner before, but probably a lot of sex. It uh - comes in waves but it helps. Obviously. So there’s that.”
“I can do that.” There’s no hesitation. Just firm dedication. “It’s not a problem. What else?”
You look at him, something stirring in your chest, still unsure how to express the storm of emotions bubbling beneath your skin. “What have you done for your omegas in the past? During heat? This is sort of new to me.”
He pauses. “I haven’t. I’ve never spent a heat with an omega.”
“What?”
“I’ve never been with an omega at all, to be honest with you.” The gravity of his statement makes you panic. You start to sit up, protests bubbling to your lips but he hushes you, eases you back down. “It’s fine. I’m fine, I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t totally sure.”
“Why offer at all?”
“Because it’s you,” he says simply. “And I’d rather learn how to help you than let you suffer alone.”
A beat passes.
“Okay,” you whisper.
“Okay,” he echos. “Let’s get you settled.”
Seungcheol stands, giving you one more lingering gaze before he sets himself to the task of readying your apartment. He sends you to your room to change into a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt before he lets you settle on the couch, sweaty and shaking.
Seungcheol moves through your space like he’s been here before, like he knows where everything is even when he clearly doesn’t. He opens cabinets and drawers gently, always looking back at you as though he’s seeking permission. You nod each time, endeared by his hesitancy.
You don’t know what to make of his admission of never being with an omega before. In your experience, most alphas would loathe to admit that, finding something wrong with it. But Seungcheol doesn’t seem to mind, admitting it as a simple fact, neither good nor bad.
You like that about him, his self-assuredness.
When he finds your largest pot, Seungcheol fills it with water and sets it over the stove. He pulls out ingredients for simple foods: rice, pasta, anything with carbs like you’d said. He hums under his breath as he moves, a soft, low sound that vibrates in your bones.
It’s soothing. Almost domestic. But every second that stretches between you builds like static, his very presence buzzing along your awareness like an exposed wire.
Seungcheol brings you a cool glass of water and kneels to hand it to you, his fingers brushing yours when you reach out to take it. You try not to flinch at the bolt of electricity that jumps up your arm. His eyes linger on your face, reading you. Not pitying. Not worried. Just seeing.
“You’re doing okay?” He asks, but by his tone, he knows you are. You nod, but your throat is dry again, so you take a few gulps of water, nearly emptying the glass. He laughs and reaches for it when some spills over, running down your chin. “Careful.”
Something in his voice changes. The softness of it ripples down your spine and you look at him over the brim of your glass. His scent is warmer. Closer. Still under control, but pressing at the edges of your awareness like velvet, his alpha instincts responding to your body chemistry, the need of your hormones begging for him.
Seungcheol rises, keeping a respectful distance, and yet his gaze burns where it rests on you. He takes the glass from you, fingers brushing yours again before heading to the kitchen to refill it.
It makes you unravel, every part of you unspooling wildly as you watch him in your kitchen, the muscles under his shirt flexing. He rolls his sleeves as he turns the stove off before coming back your way, forearms bare, veins throbbing.
Arousal unravels inside of you. You feel the tip from Stage 1 to Stage 2, your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your hands shaking more. When Seungcheol offers the glass, you don’t take it. You stare at your hands, willing yourself to stop, willing yourself to stop wanting him. The fear of making him uncomfortable is so sudden, a wave crashing into you.
Seungcheol notices. He drops to his knees immediately, putting the glass of water on the coffee table. This time, he doesn’t hesitate when he touches you, putting his palm to your forehead, his other resting on top of your wrist, his thumb tracing back and forth soothingly.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is like velvet. “What happened?”
Your lips part, but no words come. You try again. Nothing. You don’t know how to shape the words, don’t know how to tell him that a second ago, you thought he was domestic and sweet, and now you’ve strayed into dangerous territory, thinking that you’d like nothing more for him to pin you down and fuck you until you can’t feel anything but him anymore.
You don’t need to tell him. Seungcheol inhales and you see the shift happen, a shiver rattling through him. He closes his eyes, inhaling again. A knowing, almost pained sound grumbles in the back of his throat and you squirm in response. He drops his hand from your head to your shoulder, fingers squeezing.
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes snap open and he looks up at you, deadly serious. “Hey. No shame. Not with me. You told me to help, didn’t you? Let me do that.”
You nod, small and shaky. He lingers for a second longer, like he's giving you a chance to back out, then slowly rises, curling an arm around your back. You lean into him instinctively, your body already seeking contact, and he lifts you with ease.
Your bedroom isn’t far, but the walk feels endless, every footstep echoes with your racing pulse. You can feel his scent thickening around you, not overpowering, but present, comforting. It keeps you tethered, grounded. You cling to him in silence, your skin flushed hot, thighs pressing together in search of friction, your heart betraying you in its longing.
He places you gently on your bed, kneeling down beside you. For a long moment, he doesn’t touch you. He just watches, reading your every breath, every twitch of discomfort.
At first, you don’t do anything but stare at him. Seungcheol is so beautiful, with a plush mouth made for kissing, long eyelashes that frame gentle eyes, a dimple that appears each time he smiles. You’ve always noticed him, this quiet and soft alpha in your office. You’d never imagined you’d be here, looking up at him with want in your gut so strong that you can barely stand it.
Seungcheol senses it, because of course he does. He surges forward, catching your mouth in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and uncertain at first, hesitating to see if you pull away. You don’t pull away at all. Instead, you keen, a whine slipping between your mouths that makes him groan in response.
He deepens the kiss slowly, reverently. His lips are soft but sure, his hands careful as they frame your face. He tastes faintly of cherry chapstick, your omega running wild as you lean into him and lick into his mouth, eager to taste him.
“Is this what you want?” He asks, panting as he breaks the kiss. He’s leaning onto your bed now, pressing his nose against yours. You feel him pant against you, barely contained. You nod, unable to speak. “Even if this goes further?”
“Please.”
That one word seems to break him. He climbs up into your bed, hovering over you, pinning you to the mattress. You let out a sound of appreciation as he settles, his mouth meeting yours again. This time, there’s heat in it. One hand roams you carefully while the other is planted by your head, keeping him looming over you. Every touch eases the ache and stokes the fire in equal measure.
You can’t get enough of him, running your hands over his stomach and around his waist, pulling at him, desperate. It feels like you’re burning up, both suffering and relieved at the same time as his tongue finds the warmth of your mouth, drinking you in.
His scent is rich and spicy, unmistakably alpha. It makes your omega instincts claw at you, urging you to submit, to bare your neck. You tilt your head, exposing the sensitive skin, and Seungcheol growls low, his lips brushing the pulse point before he nips gently, not enough to mark but enough to make you shudder. Your slick pools between your thighs, the air thick with your arousal, and he groans again, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.
“Fuck,” he growls, burying his face in your neck. It might be the first time you’ve heard him curse. “The sounds you make… fuck.”
Seungcheol’s tongue darts out, sweeping against your scent gland. His head snaps up and he frowns, realizing there’s a scent blocker on your neck. His lip curls like he’s offended, and he gently peels the pad off your neck, soothing the sting as the adhesive tears off with his warm, wet tongue.
His tongue directly against your neck nearly makes you catatonic. Your eyes roll back, breath catching as he mouths at you before pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses up and down your neck.
“You smell so fucking good,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.
His hand slides down your body, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You arch into his touch, a needy whimper escaping as his fingers find your slick-soaked panties. He teases you, fingers circling slowly, pressing the fabric of your underwear into your messy cunt.
“Please,” you pant.
There’s that word again. It seems to make him malfunction, makes him bend to your will. He nods, peppering your collarbones with butterfly-light kisses as he pulls your underwear to the side. His fingers drag up and down your cunt and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your arms circle around his neck, clinging to him for dear life, hips canting as he leisurely circles your clit, applying subtle pressure.
“Feel okay?” He asks, breathing the words into your ear. His teeth nip at your ear playfully and you gasp, making him chuckle deep in his throat. “Do you want-”
“Please.”
He kisses your jaw. “Got it.”
Seungcheol presses a finger into your heat, wet and slow, aided by the arousal dripping from your entrance. The stretch is perfect, his fingers curling just right, and you gasp, hips bucking against his hand.
You whine, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his shirt. He hums in response, pleased at your reaction. He slowly starts to pump his fingers, restricted by the waistband of your sweats. His thumb swirls against your clit and you hurtle toward an orgasm from the barest stimulation, already too worked up, too fucked out on him and his fingers and the hormones.
Your body sings under his touch, heat coiling tighter, your omega keening for more, for him, for everything. His lips find yours again, mouths clashing as he slips another finger in, working you open until you’re shaking in his grasp and coming around his fingers. You hear the wet smack of his hand against your pussy, the way his fingers squelch.
You don’t have the wherewithal to be embarrassed by it. Instead, you’re floating in a fucked out haze, the world dulling. There’s just Seungcheol’s lazy tongue in your mouth and the smell of bergamot and cardamom. The weight of him on you feels safe, setting you in a trance.
Slowly, he pulls his fingers from you. You make a noise of protest but he hushes you with a gentle kiss. You feel a little more aware as the orgasm subsides, the ache you’d had a few moments ago dulled by the satisfaction. You know it’ll get worse and you’ll need more, but for now, you’re okay.
You open your mouth to give a shy thank you when you’re stopped, entranced by the way Seungcheol brings his fingers, shining with your cum, up to his mouth. Your lips part in shock as he pops them past his lips, sucking generously. He hums, eyelids fluttering shut as he licks them clean.
Never had you imagined that, imagined him like this. When he opens his eyes, his pupils are dilated. Starving. Feral.
“Taste so fucking good,” He murmurs, leaning down to give you a lingering kiss. You taste yourself on him, different but not unpleasant. “Can’t wait to taste you properly later.” That makes you whine and you reach for him, but he smiles and kisses your nose before standing up. You pout and he laughs. “Water. You need water.”
Seungcheol leaves your room but he leaves the door open just in case. You nuzzle into the bed, fisting the jacket he’d given you earlier as you nuzzle into it. You wish the bed smelled more like him. Right now it just smells like you, with bits of Seungcheol laced in.
You close your eyes, letting your body melt into the sheets, muscles pleasantly sore and mind hazy with velocetin, a neurochemical that heightens arousal and reduces pain perception during Stage 2 of an omega’s heat cycle. The room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the AC and the faint creak of the floorboards as Seungcheol moves through the house.
When he comes back, Seungcheol is holding a bottle of water in one hand and something else in the other. A bowl of mac and cheese. He brandishes both proudly before sitting on the bed next to you. You prop yourself up on the pillows, looking at him through your lashes.
"Figured you might need both,” he says.
You shake your head. “Just water.”
“You haven’t eaten dinner.”
“Don’t wanna.”
He levels a look at you. Switches tactics. “It would make me feel better if you did,” he urges gently. He puts the water on the nightstand, bowl of mac and cheese in his lap. He reaches out and brushes his fingers along your bottom lip. “Please.”
That word hangs in the air between you, both a pleasantry and a weapon. You feel the way he means it, the way it would make him feel better if you ate. You nod, sitting up with his careful assistance until you’re leaning against the headboard.
Seungcheol stabs some of the pasta and lifts his hand before pausing, realizing he was about to feed you. You both flush, averting his eyes and handing you the bowl awkwardly, you trying not to put it down and jump him at the thought of him wanting to care for you this way.
Instead, you bite into the mac and cheese. It’s a little salty, but it’s good. You eat the entire bowl in comfortable silence, Seungcheol holding out the bottle of water for you in exchange for your empty dish. You trade and you chug some of the water, letting it keep you cool.
“I guess I didn’t realize how much of an appetite I had,” you note, sagging into the pillows. You feel good. Far better than you ever have when dealing with your cycle alone.
He grins, cocky and unrepentant. “Guess I fixed that, huh?”
You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning too. “Shut up.”
“I could,” he says, climbing back into bed beside you, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you whine like that.”
You flush at the memory, at the way your body still responds to his voice alone. He notices, of course he does, and his smile softens. One hand finds your waist, tugging you closer until you're nestled against him again.
“Take a nap,” he murmurs, leaning back into the headboard. “You need rest.”
“What about you?”
He smiles softly. “I’m good right where I am.”
-
You wake to the sound of voices. For a moment, you're disoriented, wrapped in sheets that smell faintly like Seungcheol and sweat and a myriad of other scents familiar to you from years of heat cycles. It’s still dark in your room, only the glow of a neon sign outside slipping through your blinds a source of illumination.
You roll over instinctively, reaching for Seungcheol and you freeze. The spot where he was when you had fallen asleep is now vacant. Cold, like he hadn’t been there in the last hour.
Panic lances through your chest, so painful that it feels like a physical blow. You all but fall out of bed, heart hammering when you realize he left. He’s gone and you’re alone and you don’t know what to do, terror working its way up your throat.
Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe everything he said was just talk. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to silence the rush of doubt, of fear- until you hear it again. Voices. Voices that had woken you up in the first place, momentarily forgotten by a hormone-addled brain and sleep.
The door is shut to your room but you reach for it now, cracking it open. Dim light floods through the gap. All the lights in your apartment are off, but the single bulb over your stove is burning, a warm golden glow filtering down the hall.
Sticking your head out, you see Seungcheol standing at your door. It’s mostly closed, just enough for him to block the gap with whoever he’s talking to. His broad back is facing you and you cock your head, puzzled. You can see the tension rippling through him, the way his hackles rise and the rigid way he stands, like he’s barring entry to something important.
“Yeah, you’ve been really helpful,” Seungcheol growls. There’s a low, dangerous edge to his voice that you’ve never heard before. It sets the hairs on your arm standing.
“Relax, man.” You don’t recognize the voice on the other side of the door. It’s playful, distinctly male. “I brought you your shit, didn’t I? You’re acting like I came to steal her.”
Seungcheol bristles. “Out, Soonyoung.”
“Okay, okay,” Soonyoung - whoever that is - says. “Message received. You don’t have to piss on the doormat, Cheol.”
“I just might.”
You can’t help the small sound that escapes you, half laugh, half sigh of relief.
Seungcheol’s head whips around at the sound, eyes immediately softening when they land on you. “Hey,” he says, voice gentler now, but still tight with emotion. “You should be resting.”
You pad down the hallway toward him. Each step closer makes the fire inside of you return. You feel the throb come back, needing more, subtle but growing. “I thought you left.”
His entire expression changes, and he’s at your side in an instant. “No. No, baby,” he says, cupping your face with both hands. “I just went to the door. I called Soonyoung for some clothes and stuff. I wasn’t leaving. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”
Baby. He says it so naturally, so unconsciously, that you’re not even sure he realizes it slipped out. But it hits you like a warm wave, softening every edge of panic still clinging to your chest. Your knees wobble slightly, and he notices. His hands slide from your face to your waist, grounding you there, steady and sure. He pulls you closer, and you melt into him, breathing him in.
Not gone. Not alone. He’s right here with you, like he said he would.
“Sorry. I just panicked.”
“No, it’s my fault. I should have known you’d wake up.”
A throat clears behind him.
You both freeze, and then Seungcheol stiffens, the muscles under your hands tensing like a drawn bowstring. His eyes narrow behind his glasses as he turns his head, keeping you tight against him, chest to chest, like a shield. A low, warning growl rumbles from deep in his throat.
“Soonyoung was just leaving,” Seungcheol asserts.
“Soonyoung is leaving, but also says he hopes your cycle goes well!”
Carefully, you peek around Seungcheol to see Soonyoung in the doorway. He’s standing in the doorway with a duffel slung over his shoulder, unbothered and grinning. His dark hair is long around his ears, and his eyes curve into soft crescents when he smiles. He waves at you, the gesture so sincere it makes you falter, like he’s genuinely happy to see you, even though you’ve clearly never met.
“Nice to meet you!”
Another warning growl vibrates through Seungcheol’s chest. You feel it more than hear it.
Soonyoung just rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, relax.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender as he backs away. “Let me know if he starts brooding in corners or being unbearable. Happens when he doesn’t get enough attention.”
“Bye, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol grits out.
Soonyoung flashes one last wink and manages to pull the door shut just before Seungcheol fully turns to kill him. He exhales sharply and mutters something under his breath.
You look up at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “Territorial much?”
His ears flush instantly, color blooming down to his neck. He chews the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping. “I apologize,” he murmurs, stepping away. “I know I’ve overstepped and-”
“Don’t,” you interrupt, reaching to pull him back, hands curling into his sides. “I liked it.” His brows lift, uncertain. You offer a soft smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you before. You’re usually so calm. Quiet. Kind of unassuming. Not very…”
“Not very alpha.”
“Not in the way people expect. But that’s not a bad thing.” He studies you for a moment, searching your expression, and something in his shoulders loosens. “I like the way you are. And the possessiveness…”
You shiver and he grins, cockiness returning to you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
His hands slide back to your waist, gripping just a little firmer this time. “You shouldn’t have told me that. Now I’m not going to be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to. Please.”
Seungcheol forgets all about his bag by the door. He scoops you up in his arms, taking you back to your room. You let out a soft sound, something almost like a purr, keening under him, excitement and arousal flooding you overtime.
He notices, groaning when he catches the change in your body chemistry. He places you down on the bed gently, crawling over you, hand skimming up your t-shirt as he does. His fingers are warm and light, playful. You don’t want playful, though. You want greedy. Hungry.
The buzz of anticipation curls low in your belly, heat blooming under your skin like wildfire. You arch into him instinctively, hips twitching. “Don’t play with me,” you breathe, reaching up to fist the fabric at his sides. “Please.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Recognition, you think. Like he sees the hunger gnawing inside of you and he recognizes it as his own. You want it, want that fire in him. You want to dive in head first and never come up for air. You want him so bad it hurts, a physical pain manifesting between your legs as your thoughts drift away and your instinct takes over.
“Please,” is all you can whisper.
That’s all it takes. The control he’s been clinging to snaps like a thread pulled too tight. He crashes his mouth onto yours, swallowing your moan as his body presses down, heavy and solid, every inch of him demanding to be closer. His kiss is nothing like the ones before, this one is rough, consuming, all tongue and teeth and need. His hands slide up your sides, pushing the shirt higher, until the fabric is bunched at your ribs and he can finally touch bare skin.
His palms are searing, dragging up your waist to your ribs, brushing just beneath your breasts before he groans deep in his throat, your scent thick in the air now, laced with heat, need, you.
“You smell so fucking good,” he growls, mouth trailing hot, wet kisses down your throat. “It’s driving me insane.”
You thread your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again, his hips pressing into yours, and you gasp at the hardness you feel through his pants. He’s still in his work clothes, though they’re wrinkled and sweaty and a mess. You tug at them desperately, whining, trying to get them off.
He growls again, low and possessive, and then he’s kissing you hard, his body rolling against yours in slow, grinding movements. His thigh slots between yours, pinning you in place, and the friction makes your back arch, chasing more.
“Tell me what you want,” he mutters against your mouth, one hand cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your bra, his thumb brushing over your nipple. “I’ll give you anything, baby. Anything.”
There’s that nickname again. Baby. It sounds sinful on his lips, like he’d do anything for you, like he would give anything for you. It makes you dizzy with gluttonous power and you pant, pulling him as close as you can get him, a button popping on his shirt.
“I want you. Now.”
Seungcheol’s eyes darken, pupils blown, and he pulls back just enough to kneel above you. His gaze rakes over you, flushed, trembling. He makes a sound, something pitiful, hands trembling slightly as his fingers work the buttons of his shirt.
He shrugs his shirt off, the fabric catching on broad shoulders before it falls, revealing hard planes of his chest, skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. His muscles flex when he moves, every line of him radiating strength. Your mouth waters, arousal pooling between your legs, screaming to touch him, to taste him.
He doesn’t rush, though. His fingers linger on his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness, the clink of metal loud in the charged silence. Your hips shift, impatient. He tuts at you, narrowing his eyes and you still immediately, falling into line, eager to please. His mouth twitches and he drops a hand to give your thigh a squeeze as if to say good job.
It makes you want to pass out.
Seungcheol slides his belt free, letting it drop, and when he unbuttons his pants, the sound of his zipper is tortuous. You want him immediately, you want him now, but he seems dead set on doing this at exactly his pace. So you let him, letting the ache peak inside of you, shivering at what you know he’s going to give you.
He carefully shoves his pants down, kicking them alongside his briefs in one fell swoop. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the tip glistening with precum. Your core clenches at the sight, a fresh wave of slick dripping from you, and he groans, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent.
“God, you’re perfect,” he says, voice low. He peels your sweats down your legs, shaking his head as he goes, overwhelmed by the sheer need for him, to your body's reaction. “Fuck.”
He crawls back over you, hands skimming your sides, sliding up to peel your shirt off of you. The air is cold but Seungcheol’s touch is burning you up. He deftly removes your bra, tossing it somewhere behind him. He pauses, eyes locked on you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your breath catch. It’s like he can’t get enough of you, cannot fathom what’s in front of him.
Seungcheol shakes himself as if from a daze and then his mouth is on you, lips trailing fire down your throat, over your collarbone, until he reaches your breast. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling, and you moan, back arching to press closer.
His worship is meticulous, unhurried. He lavishes attention on your other breast, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, while his hand slides down, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You’re trembling, omega instincts in overdrive, and when his fingers finally find your slick-soaked folds, you cry out, hips bucking into his touch. He groans against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, and pulls back to look at you, eyes blazing.
“Yeah?” He asks, voice scratchy. “So wet for me.” His fingers tease, spreading your slick, circling your clit with maddening slowness. “All for me?”
“Yes. Yours.”
Hearing you say it makes something snap in him. His pupils dilate, fucked out and filled with an intensity you didn’t know was possible. He dips lower, kissing a path down your stomach, nipping at the soft skin above your hips. He settles between your thighs, spreading them wide, and the sight of him there, all broad shoulders, dark eyes, and lips parted, makes your core throb.
He doesn’t tease this time, reaching up with one hand to rip off his glasses and toss them to the corner of the mattress. He drops down and his mouth finds you, tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line through your folds, and you moan, loud and broken, as he tastes you. Relief floods through you. You feel yourself go boneless, the pain that was ebbing in you a moment ago dulling again as Seungheol leisurely tongues at you, groaning while he does.
Seungcheol is relentless, worshipful, every lick and suck a testament to his need to please you. His lips close around your clit, sucking gently, then harder, and you writhe, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard. He moans into you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine, and doubles down, tongue flicking with precision, lapping up every drop of slick. His fingers join in, two slipping inside you, curling against that perfect spot, and the stretch, the pressure, is overwhelming.
You gasp, hips grinding against his face, chasing the building heat in your stomach. He hums, pleased, and the sound pushes you closer to the edge. He’s messy, slick coating his chin, his lips. He doesn’t care. He seems drunk on it, one hand pressing your thighs to further open you up, pressing his face further into your cunt to drink you in.
His fingers thrust in time with his tongue, every curl and suck calculated to make you unravel. You shiver under him, your limbs unable to keep up, thighs twitching against his hand. It feels maddening, better than anything you’ve ever felt up until this point.
Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, dragging you under until you’re gasping for air. Your thighs clamp around his head and he lets you. He laps at your entrance as it drips, drawing out every shudder, every pulse, until you’re whimpering and overstimulated.
Even overstimulated, you want more. Need more.
Seungcheol pulls back, lips glistening, eyes wild. He pulls his fingers from you and crawls up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is filthy, desperate, and you moan into it, pulling him closer.
“Need you,” you gasp, hands roaming his back, feeling the muscles flex under your fingertips, your nails cramping. “Need you inside of me. Please.”
He nods, unable to respond. He lowers his waist and drops a hand down to peel your thighs open. You feel how wet and messy you are but you don’t care. Seungcheol seems to appreciate it, swearing when he looks between your bodies to fist his heavy cock and line himself up with your entrance.
The anticipation makes you tremble. He pushes in slowly, stretching you inch by inch, and you both groan, the sensation overwhelming. He’s big, filling you completely, and your walls flutter around him, slick easing the way.
“Fuck,” he grits out, dropping his forhead against yours. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
Seungcheol fights to keep still, fights to let you adjust around him. You’re stretched tight, gripping him like a vice, your breathing hitched as you struggle yourself, near ready to come from just this alone.
You manage to hang on, tangling your fingers in the damp hair at the base of his neck. You need more - always more. You start rocking your hips, urging him deeper. It feels so good you see spots in your vision. He moans and thrusts hard on instinct, bottoming out.
The pace builds, his hips snapping, each thrust precise and deep, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. The pressure builds so fast you barely register it, chasing your high and whatever he’ll give you, your omega instincts screaming for it.
He can tell. He quickens his pace, trying to get you there faster. It does the trick, because you come around him without warning. You pulse around him and he slows down, grinding his hips against you, letting you gush around him until your shaking subsides.
Seungcheol is still rock hard, cock throbbing. Your forehead rests against his forearm, Seungcheol leaning over you, caging you in.
“Can you take more?” You nod but he shakes his head, nosing your temple. “You have to verbally tell me.”
“Can take more.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
He kisses your temple and picks his pace back up.
It’s slower, but more defined. Deep. Seungcheol’s stroke is slow and deliberate, one of his hands slipping under your thigh to hike it up around his waist. That makes you whine, high-pitched and he loves it, mouth catching yours, drinking in all the sounds you make.
You’re close again, the pleasure building faster now, amplified by the way he watches you, eyes never leaving your face, like he’s memorizing every gasp, every moan. His hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, still swollen from his mouth, and he rubs tight, relentless circles.
“Want you to come again,” he murmurs, voice raw. There’s a bit of a command in his voice, laced with something you swear is devotion. “Wanna feel you, baby. Give it to me.”
His words and the relentless drive of his cock are too much. You whimper, nails digging into his back and he leans down, lips brushing against your neck. Not biting - that’s far too advanced for whatever this is - and his fingers press harder, circling faster.
The coil in your belly snaps and your second orgasm crashes through you, sharper and more intense. Your body locks around him, walls pulsing as you come again. He groans, low and guttural, pleased by the way you clench around him. But he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it.
You’re shaking and oversensitive, but he’s not done. His thrusts are slow and deliberate, keeping you tethered.
“So good for me,” he praises, kissing your sweaty forehead. “So fucking perfect. You did so good.”
The praise makes your omega sing, and you cling to him, breathless, as he chases his own release. His hips stutter, breaths growing ragged, and with a final, deep thrust, he comes, spilling inside of you. He groans, dropping his forehead against you, shaking in your arms as he comes down from his high.
Finally, he collapses over you, careful not to crush you. You stay like that, a pile of tangled limbs, panting. His lips find your neck, kissing softly, soothing spots he’d nipped.
“You okay?” He croaks, voice hoarse with disuse.
You’re only slightly coherent, somewhere stuck between a dreamlike space where your omega is satiated and reality. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Good.”
“I’m gonna grab water, okay? I’ll only be gone for a second. Just gonna get water and then we can sleep for a little.”
“Mhmm.”
Seungcheol is hesitant this time when he gets up, no doubt worried about what happened the last time you thought he left. This time, you’re too out of it to really register how long it takes him to get water. One moment he’s out the door and the next the bed is dipping under his weight as he cradles your head to feed you water.
It’s cool and you come back to life a little, opening your eyes as you gulp, greedy. He admonishes you to be careful not to choke, tilting the glass so that the water isn’t gushing into your mouth. When you drain the glass, he smiles and kisses you.
“Good,” he hums, happy. That makes you beam at him, thrilled that he’s pleased. “More?”
You shake your head. “Tired.”
“Okay. Let me change the sheets - don’t move. I’ll work around you, okay?”
Somehow, he manages to. With a careful series of rolling you to the side and lifting you to slide new sheets under you, Seungcheol executes an impressive sheet change without really bothering you. He disappears once more to throw the spent sheets in the wash.
Upon his return, you’re barely awake. You reach for him anyway, buried somewhere underneath piles of blankets that smell like him. Finally.
Seungcheol lets you pull him into bed, sliding across the mattress until you’re flush chest to chest, the beating of his heart against yours. He smells good. Content. Happy. Your eyes blink heavily as you breathe him in, all pain forgotten.
“Sleep,” he mumbles, just as tired. “I’m not going anywhere.”
-
When you wake up again, you’re not really sure what time it is. All you know is that there is orange light burning through your blinds, something like late afternoon. More important, there’s an ache between your legs and there’s sweat on the back of your neck, already restless from whatever dream had woken you up.
The room is quiet, save for the soft rhythm of your breathing and Seungcheol’s steady exhales beside you. His arm is draped loosely over your waist. His scent is warm and spicy, grounding you. But beneath that cool calm his presence brings is a restless heat simmering, starting in your core and spreading to your limbs.
You try to ignore it, shutting your eyes and willing yourself back to sleep. It doesn’t go away, an ache growing in its place. A whine slips through your lips, despite your best efforts. The sound is small, but piercing through the stillness and before you can tamp down on it, Seungcheol is stirring, arm tightening briefly before he’s hooking a chin over your shoulder.
“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks, voice low and rough with sleep. “You okay?”
His fingers brush back and forth across your waist. It’s supposed to be soothing but it’s almost maddening.
“Feel hot. Need you.”
Seungcheol presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. You feel the curve of his smile. “I’ve got you.”
He moves slowly, peeling the sheets back. His hands are reverent, skimming your thighs and parting them as he settles between them. The air feels electric, every brush of his skin against yours sending sparks through you.
Like always, Seungcheol takes his time. His lips start at your knee, kissing softly, then trailing higher, nipping the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You whimper, hips twitching, needy and desperate, and he hums, pleased.
“So needy,” he teases. You’re not embarrassed this time, knowing that with him, there’s nothing to be worried about.
He spreads your legs wider, exposing your warm, wet core. He bites his lower lip, teeth digging into the flesh as he groans, like he’s trying to fight himself on diving in and taking what he wants versus giving you what you need.
The first pass of Seungcheol’s tongue is slow and deliberate, a long, slow-soft drag through your folds that makes you gasp, hands fisting the sheets. He hums, the vibration making you twitch. His lips close gently around your clit, giving an experimental suck. You cry out and he grins, dragging his tongue to dip back down to your entrance for a taste.
Seungcheol is relentless, his mouth working you with a devotion that borders on obsession. His tongue traces every inch of you, slow and thorough, lapping up your slick like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He alternates between broad, languid strokes and precise flicks, learning your reactions, lingering where you tremble most. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you open, grounding you as you writhe, the slick coating his chin and lips only spurring him on.
“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling away for a second. He leans over your cunt and lets a string of spit and cum drip from his swollen mouth to your cunt before chasing it with his tongue. “I could stay here forever.”
He dives back in, tongue pressing into you, fucking you with slow, shallow thrusts of his mouth. Your moans are broken, and he takes it as encouragement, running his tongue in lazy circles, tasting all of you. Just as you start to near a soft high, his fingers join in, pressing in gently, making your vision blurry.
The first orgasm builds fast, your body already primed from the restless heat of your sleep. His fingers pump in time with his tongue, relentless, and when he sucks hard on your clit, you shatter. A cry tears from your throat, hips bucking against his face as slick gushes, your walls clenching around his fingers. He doesn’t stop, lapping through your tremors, drawing out every pulse until you’re shaking, oversensitive, whimpering his name.
“One more, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick. “You can give me one more.”
You can. He knows it. You know it.
His mouth softens, less intense but no less thorough, kissing your folds gently before returning to your clit with slow, teasing licks. Your body protests, too sensitive, but the heat is already building again, coaxed by his worshipful attention. He’s patient, methodical, every movement calculated to keep you on the edge without overwhelming you. His fingers slide back in, slower this time, curling lazily, and you feel the stretch, the fullness.
Your second orgasm creeps up, slower but deeper, a steady wave that builds as he works you with unwavering focus. His tongue flicks faster, lips sealing around your clit, and when he hums, the vibration tips you over. You come with a sob, less sharp but more intense, your whole body trembling as pleasure rolls through you, slick coating his hand, his mouth. He laps at you softly, easing you through it, until you’re boneless, panting, your omega sated.
Seungcheol’s kisses turn languid, worshipping, cleaning up the mess he made, savouring every drop. Your hands loosen in the sheets and he finally pulls back, crawling back up to the bed, pressing scattered, wet kisses up your body as he does.
“Better?” He asks when he reaches your face, nose brushing against yours.
“Thank you.”
He smiles, dimples flashing, and settles beside you, pulling you into his chest. His scent surrounds you, grounding, and you feel the bond pulse, warm and steady.
“Rest a little. Then we’ll shower.”
-
The shower fills with steam and the scent of eucalyptus. Fog covers the shower door as hot water runs over you and Seungcheol. His broad frame stands behind you, hands gentle but firm as he massages shampoo into your hair, working slow circles into your scalp. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed.
If only for a moment, it’s perfect. Almost too perfect, which makes your chest tighten with a quiet ache. This is just Seungcheol helping you through your heat, a temporary balm for a fire that will ultimately flare again.
You don’t know how you ever did this without him before. Don’t know how you’re going to manage to do it without him in the future. After just a day, Seungcheol has flipped your scope of the world upside down, changing your heat cycle entirely.
Typically, it’s days of foggy suffering with suppressants to numb you. It’s a listlessness that chases you for days until your hormones are right again, until you can feel the sun on your face and let it make you smile.
Now, you don’t know what it’s supposed to be.
You turn to face Seungcheol. Water is streaming down his chest, catching the sculpted lines of his front. Each droplet clings to him in a way you understand - you want to cling to him too.
Seungcheol is breathtaking, all strength and quiet care. It’s a wonder that someone so powerful can also be so gentle. He’s unlike anything you expected, and breaks the norms of what you thought having an alpha help you through your heat might be like.
You don’t fool yourself into thinking there’s anyone else like him. You already know that this is just him, just Seungcheol. It makes a flicker of fear come to life in your chest, wondering what will happen when your heat fades and the intimacy here dissolves like the water flowing down the drain.
You push the thought down. Gliding your hands over his chest, your fingers chase the droplets of water, feeling the steady pulse of his heart beneath your palm. It makes you ache with need again, an always there need for him coming back to life.
Heat cycles are like that. They’re made up of peaks and lows, moments where the need is so high it drives you insane followed by a near catatonic need to drift and sleep.
Now, you’re approaching another peak, pulse picking up, body thrumming.
Seungcheol senses the shift immediately. He’s attuned to you quickly, but you refuse to let yourself wonder what that means. He steps closer, hands pulling at your waist, dipping his head to brush his mouth against yours in an almost kiss.
His eyes darken with a mix of concern and something darker. “What’s that look?”
He steps closer, pressing you against the tiled wall, water pooling where your bodies meet. The warmth of him, the slickness of his skin, feels like a dream you’re terrified to wake from. You don’t answer, can’t. Your hands dip lower, tracing the hard ridge of his abdomen, and he tenses, breath catching.
“Baby,” he warns, voice rough. There’s no real protest there. Just a playful warning, edged with want.
The endearment hits you like a spark, igniting you. You can’t get enough of it when he calls you that, when he says it velvet-soft and purring, when he says it like you are his baby. His world. His omega.
You sink to your knees, tiles cold and wet beneath you. You look up at him through wet lashes, biting your lower lip, hesitant, wanting permission. His cock is already hard - has been the entire time you’ve been in the shower - and the sight pulls a whine from your throat. You want to taste him. Want to make him feel good.
“Please,” you ask, still unmoving, hands resting on your thighs.
The way he looks at you - everent, undone - makes you feel like you’re everything, even if part of you whispers that this is just your heat talking, just his alpha responding to your need.
Seungcheol nods. He places one hand to brace against the wall as you lean in to press soft kisses to the base of his shaft, lips brushing his warm skin. He groans, the sound deep and raw, and it sends a tremble of excitement through you.
Your tongue traces the underside of his cock, following a thick vein from base to tip. You swirl your tongue greedily around the crown of his cock, tasting the faint salt of him. It’s intoxicating, perfect, and you let yourself sink into it, humming pleasantly.
One of his hands comes down to rest on top of your head, not pulling, not pushing, just anchoring himself as you take him into your mouth. You go slow, savoring the weight of him. He’s big, stretching your mouth painfully to the limit, but you relax, breathing in through your nose.
“Shit,” he hisses. “Shit fuck. That mouth.”
The praise makes your omega preen. You hum again, the vibration making his hips twitch as you build a steady rhythm, head bobbing, tongue working the underside of his cock while your hand wraps around the base, stroking in sync.
Water rains down on you, making everything fluid. Your lips glide effortlessly around him, your grip on him firm, squeezing gently as your hand meets your mouth on the upstroke. His groans grow louder, more desperate, hips twitching but never taking control of your pace. His fingers tighten on your head, and yet he remains in control of himself, letting you take what you want.
“Fuuuck, just like that,” He pants, head tipping back. Water falls down his throat in rivulets. The sight of him, vulnerable and unraveling, makes your pussy throb, a wave of arousal running down your thighs and mixing with the water.
You take him in deeper until your nose brushes his pelvis, swallowing around him. He makes a broken sound, half growl, half moan, and his hips finally jerk. You welcome his shallow thrusts eagerly, moaning around him, encouraging him.
Seungcheol looks down, eyes locking with yours. His are fucked out and fazed, the raw edge to his gaze making your heart beat faster. You pull back a little, focusing on the tip, sucking hard, tongue swirling. Your hand pumps faster and his breathing turns ragged, muscles in his stomach twitching. You know he’s close and it makes you grin up at him, mouth full of spit and precum.
“Gonna - fuck - come,” he warns, voice strained.
You don’t pull away. You suck at him harder, desperate to give him this, to hold onto this perfect moment. With a guttural sound, he spills into your mouth. You swallow down every drop, lips sealed until he’s over sensitive and shying away from your mouth.
Easing back, you look up at him, your knees aching. He pulls you to your feet and to his lips, pressing you into a kiss that’s deep and messy, tasting himself on your tongue. He licks into you, uncaring as he pulls you close to his chest.
“So good,” he murmurs between kisses. “Such a sweet girl for me.”
You grin as he turns you around, walking you forward so that you're pressed against the warm tile of the shower wall. “My turn.”
-
Soft, neon light filters in from your window, washing your room in a smear of watercolor. You fidget in bed, body coming alive, arousal starting in gentle waves, building the more your body catches up. Seungcheol is already awake beside you, sensing your need. His warmth is a quiet anchor.
Seungcheol’s lips brush your neck, nuzzling and scenting, his gentle possessiveness soothing your omega. You let out a soft sigh, going pliant for him. He hums, pleased at your easy submission, tongue darting out to lick your neck playfully.
He’s tender, peppering your shoulder and neck with soft, wet kisses. Each one stokes the steady fire in your core and chest. The way he handles you is maddening, like you’re spun glass but he knows you can take whatever he gives you. Your omega preens and you shift closer, feeling the heat of him against you.
This is different from earlier. At this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve done this. You’ve lost track of time and the days. There’s just this: Seungcheol’s hand sliding down to lift your leg up for him, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance, weeping and wanting for him.
Then he slides in, slow and stretching you inch by inch, earning a dreamy exhale from your trembling lips. He grinds his hips against the curve of your ass, deep and languid, easing the ache between your legs. His strokes are measured and intimate, each one dragging against your walls, stoking the flames without rushing.
You moan, breathy, as your slick coats his cock, the wet sounds of your bodies obscene in the silence of the room. His hand slides up, cupping your chest, thumb brushing back and forth over your nipple until it pebbles under his rapt attention. You arch into his touch, whimpering.
“So good for me,” he murmurs against your neck. His voice is rough with sleep, just how you like it.
Seungcheol keeps the pace slow, hips rolling lazily. It builds a steady burn. His lips find the pulse point below your ear, sucking gently, not enough to make tender, but enough to make you shiver, cunt leaking down your thighs.
You reach back, fingers sliding in his hair to tug softly. He groans, low and raspy, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.
“Seungcheol,” you breathe, voice barely a whisper. “Cheol.”
He hums, pleased at the nickname. He grinds deeper, the friction perfect and overwhelming as the tip of his cock brushes against the soft spot inside of you, making you unwind.
Your eyes flutter open and you peer over your shoulder at him. The neon light catches the sweat on his skin, making him glow. You marvel at how beautiful he is, a powerful alpha, yours in this moment. Maybe not later, but you don’t think about that now, trembling as he brings you close to your orgasm like he’s done every time before.
His hand slips between your thighs, fingers seeking your clit, slick and swollen. He starts to circle the throbbing bud with agonizing slowness, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The sensation is devastating, punching the breath from your lungs. You rock your hips to meet his, desperate for your undoing, needing to come.
“Come on,” he urges, lips brushing your ear. He presses his fingers hard, circles them faster. Your breath catches and he feels it, deepening his thrusts, becoming more deliberate. “Come for me, baby.”
The words mixed with the intoxicating feeling of his cock makes you shatter, a soft cry spilling out of your lips as your pussy pulse around him, soaking him thoroughly. He groans, fucking you through it, slow and steady, drawing out the full length of your orgasm until you’re boneless and barely there.
But he’s not done. Seungcheol eases out carefully and shifts you onto your back. You blink, starry eyed and warm as you watch him slide down the bed and settle between your legs. Your thighs fall open at the sight of him and he groans, pleased at how you immediately know what he wants, ready to comply with your alpha.
No. Not your alpha. But he is right now and that’s all that matters.
Any fight on that subject vanishes as he kisses the soft skin of your inner thighs. His eyes are dark and burning when he looks up at you, pupils wide.
“Need to taste you,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.
Then, his mouth is one you, tongue dragging through your folds, lapping at the mess left over from your orgasm. It’s filthy, the way he moans into you, lips and chin glistening as he buries his face in your cunt. But it’s gentle, his tongue slow and worshipful, circling your clit.
It’s soothing, the way he moves, tongue tracing lazy patterns, circling your clit with no pressure, just presence. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there, grounding you further. Your fingers find his hair, threading loosely, not pulling, just holding, and he groans softly, the sound muffled against you. The ache in your core softens, not gone but eased, replaced by a warm, liquid comfort that spreads through your limbs.
Seungcheol mouths at you with no purpose other than to soothe and because he can. He doesn’t seem focused on getting you off, isn’t trying to overstimulate you. It builds a soft glow anyway, your breathing hitching as he keeps going, tongue dipping lower to taste your entrance, letting you drift toward the edge without pushing you toward it.
“Taste so good,” Seungcheol mumbles, mouth full of you.
This time, your orgasm comes like a tide, not crashing but rising, warm and steady. You whimper, hips shifting and he holds you steady, one hand sliding up to lace his fingers with yours. You squeeze his hand tight, letting him keep you tethered as you come undone, throbbing softly. He drinks you in, tongue lapping and slow, easing you until you’re limp and sated, the ache finally gone.
Seungcheol pulls back, mouth glistening neon in the low light. His eyes are heavy with something that you can’t read. When he crawls back up, you realize he’s come untouched, spilling his own release while getting you off. It makes your chest tighten, instincts purring at the proof of his want, his devotion to you.
He slides in beside you, kissing your temple before pulling you close.
“Better?” He rumbles, already half asleep.
“Better.”
-
“You have to eat.”
You huff. “Don’t want.”
You’re curled up on the couch in one of his jackets, inhaling deeply. His scent makes you tired, limbs heavy. You tuck your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them to make yourself small. The blanket over your shoulders is warm and smells like him, making you sink further into the cushions.
Across the room, Seungcheol watches with thinly veiled amusement. He holds a steaming bowl in one hand, a spoon in the other. You love him like this, hair fluffy and still damp from a shower, glasses pushed high on the bridge of his nose as he glares at you.
“You need to eat,” he repeats gently. It has to be the third or fourth time he’s said it, each time just as gentle as the last.
You grumble and turn away from him, hiding in your blankets. He sighs and pads over to you, dressed in nothing but sweatpants. Shirtless Seungcheol is a weapon in itself, but the way you smell him immediately, can tell he’s using pheromones against you, makes you growl at him. There’s no heat in it and he laughs.
“Yeah?” He teases. “Gonna growl at me?”
“I’m tired.”
“I know,” he coos, voice dropping into that low, soft register that always seems to settle you. “Your body is working hard. But you still need to eat something, baby. For me.”
“Meh.”
“I’ll feed you.”
That sparks your interest. You peek out from your blankets with one eye, peering at him. He smiles, dimples appearing when he sees he’s got you listening now. His scent wraps around you, luring you deeper into his spell.
“What if I say no?”
“Then I’ll start pouting. I don’t care if I’m an alpha, I’m good at pouting.”
You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. The image of him pouting is sweet. His smile grows, triumphant as he stands up to sit next to you on the couch. You sit up, squirming toward him.
“There she is,” he hums, happy. “Open up that pretty mouth for me.”
-
Blue light flickers from the TV while golden light of the afternoon sun washes the room, peeking through the blinds. You’re curled into Seungcheol’s side, his arm around your shoulders and your legs tangled together beneath the shared blanket. Jurassic Park plays quietly in the background because you asked for something familiar, something comforting.
Your heat is finally starting to fade, edging toward Stage 3. The decline leaves you exhausted, but the full haze of Stage 2 is lifting, leaving you with less thoughts of tangled bodies and tongues. You can feel it in the way your body no longer aches with desperation, clarity seeping in like a slow tide.
With the clarity comes unease. Because… Well, what now?
Neither of you have brought it up, the what happens next. Everything still feels good, but it also feels fragile, like you’re balancing in the quiet moment between inhale and exhale, waiting for the next breath to shatter whatever this little bubble you’re in.
Your fingers fidget lightly against his chest. He notices, as he always does, and his hand smooths down your arm in slow, comforting passes. You lean into him instinctively - you don’t know how you will ever unlearn this - basking in his warmth.
But your thoughts keep spinning.
You don’t know how to voice the big question, don’t know how to talk about it. Don’t know what the best approach is. So you pretend it isn’t there, staring at the TV screen with unseeing eyes, thoughts burning you from the inside out.
Seungcheol senses it anyway.
“What’s up?” He asks, lips pressed against the top of your head. His eyes are still on the screen, the movie reflected in the lense of his glasses.
“Did you know the stegosaurus had brains the size of walnuts?” You ask suddenly, eyes fixed. “Built like a bus with a very small brain. It was like two ounces.”
“Really?”
You nod, grateful he doesn’t question why you’re talking about dinosaurs again. “Yep. For years people thought they had a second brain somewhere near the anus.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m serious. There’s an enlarged area near their hips and early scientists thought it must have been for a second brain because they couldn’t believe something with so much mass could operate with such a small brain. Turns out it wasn’t an ass-brain.”
He huffs. “Ass-brain would have been cool.”
“Right? I always hated that people thought they were docile too. They literally have massive spiked tails as a built in morning star and could beat predators' asses. People need to put respect on them.”
“Hmm. Sounds like we’re talking about more than dinosaurs here.”
You go quiet. Your eyes flick toward the screen, but you’re not really seeing it. He’s not wrong. You chew your bottom lip, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket.
Of course it isn’t just about dinosaurs. You’ve always admired creatures like that, misunderstood, underestimated. Not flashy, not predators, not something people are afraid of on instinct, but fierce all the same. Stubborn. Ready to dig their heels in and fight if they had to.
Which is why you liked the stegosaur. You resonated with that. Maybe not the smartest or the strongest, but never easy to push over, always ready to bare teeth when push came to shove. It was why you liked working for Jeonghan, too, seeing a lot of that fight in him.
Which brings you back to thinking about work, and that tomorrow is a new work day, and your heat will most likely be fully complete. And you’ll have to go back to… normal?
You don’t know.
“Why are you so nervous?” Seungcheol asks, bringing you out of your reverie. You look at him, eyes wide. He gives you a soft smile. “What, think I didn’t notice?”
You hesitate. His face is open. Honest. He’s giving you no reason to hold back, no reason to hide from him. But what you have to say is scary.
You take a deep breath and think about the stegosaurus. “Because my heat is fading. And I know things felt intense and - to me - special. I just… what happens after?”
“What do you mean?”
Tears prick your eyes and you curse your hormones for making you emotional. “When my heat is over, what then? We go back to normal? I’m… I don’t know. Having a heat partner is new to me, and I’m not begging you to stay or make you feel bad, I just-”
“Hey,” he interrupts, catching your face in his hands. His eyes are round, gentle. “I’m going to be honest, nothing is changing for me when your heat is over.”
You blink in surprise. See nervousness flicker across his face when he says carefully, “I stayed because I wanted to help you. I - look, I was already a little soft for you. Now that I’m here, I like being with you, heat or no. Even when you’re talking about dinosaur ass-brains.”
That makes you laugh and his smile lights up the room. “Really?”
“Really, baby.”
His thumb brushes across your cheek, catching a single salty tear. “Unless you don’t want-”
“I want,” you insist. “I want so much. I have never wanted this much in my life.”
“Then I’ll stay. I’m yours.”
“Even if I start talking about ass-brains?”
“Even then.”
The air in the room shifts, charged with something warm and unspoken. You move without thinking, surging forward and climbing into his lap where he sits on the couch. The soft fabric of his shirt brushes your thighs as you straddle him, your hands settling on his shoulders. He feels solid and warm beneath you.
Seungcheol’s hands find your hips, pulling you closer. Your forehead rests against his, breathes mingling, and for a second, you just stay there. Savoring the intimacy. Savoring his scent, bergamot and cardamom.
“You’re sure?” You ask, voice small.
“Very sure.”
His hands slip upward, slow, under the hem of his hoodie. His fingers graze the sensitive skin of your waist, making you shiver as heat pools low between your legs. You lean in and kiss him softly, lips brushing, then pressing, slow and deliberate.
You deepen the kiss, unhurried. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, tasting you, opening you up. You shift, grinding down on him gently, feeling the hardening length of him through his sweats. He makes a sound, soft and low, and it buzzes through your mouth. You feel yourself grow wet against your underwear and he sucks in a sharp breath, catching it.
“Yeah?” He mumbles against your mouth, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are fathomless but warm. His hands push the hoodie up and over your head, baring your chest to him. His eyes flicker and he curses. “You’re so perfect.”
You flush, shy under his gaze. His lips find your collarbone, kissing softly before drifting lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your breast. Your head falls back as the cool air hits you, your eyes closed.
He takes a nipple into his wanting mouth, tongue swirling, sucking gently. You gasp, hips rocking instinctively, grinding harder against him. The friction is delicious. He groans against your skin, sending sparks through you.
Seungcheol’s hands stay on your hips, encouraging your slow, rolling movements. He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t push. It’s soft, the couch slightly creaking under the weight of you.
His mouth moves to the swell of your other break, lavishing it with the same care. His teeth graze just enough to make you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. You feel slick drip down your thighs, not as heavily as before, but still just as ready for him.
“Cheol,” you breath, voice shaky.
He hums, lips sealed around your nipple. The wet buzz of his mouth makes you grind on him faster, chasing the heat in your belly.
Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look up at you, eyes glassy. “Love watching you like this. Love feeling you. Want you like this.”
He pulls back just enough to tug at his sweatpants, shoving them down his thighs, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening. You bite your lip, the sight making your core clench, and he catches the look, a soft smirk tugging at his mouth.
Carefully, he helps you kick your sweatpants off. You sit back in his lap, not bothering with your underwear. He pushes them to the side with a careful finger, his knuckle deliberately dragging over the wet heat of your pussy.
“Fuck. Wet.”
You nod as he grabs the base of his cock, helping you sit high on your knees. He rubs the rib through your messy folds, both of you moaning in unison before the head catches your entrance and sticks. You sink down, taking him slowly, the stretch punching the breath from your lungs.
His shirt stays on, bunched where you fist it against his chest. It is work, sitting on him fully. You feel him deep in your stomach, your breath turning ragged. You savor the fullness, hands tangled in his shirt.
Taking a deep breath, you start to move. His hands grip your hips, not controlling but encouraging, letting you set whatever pace you want. His cock drags against your walls, smooth and fluid. His lips find your chest, mouthing at a nipple, sucking gently.
Your nails dig into him through the fabric of his shirt, the wet heet of his mouth, the press of his cock, all of it driving you mad, sticky with sweat as you continue to use him however you want.
He lets you, content to suck and mouth at your chest all the while. The couch creaks faintly, a quiet underscore to the soft filth of it all, your slick coating him, dripping down to soak his sweatpants, the way his shirt clings to his sweat-damp chest.
Pleasure builds, slow and warm, a glow that starts in your core and spreads. You grind deeper, chasing it, and he groans, head tipping back, eyes half-lidded but never leaving you.
“How could I ever wanna leave this?” He asks. “How could I ever want anything but the perfect omega?”
The words, the way he says them, tip you over, and your orgasm comes soft but deep, a gentle pulse that has you trembling, walls clenching around him, a quiet moan spilling from your lips.
The way you tighten pushes him to the edge, and he groans, low and broken, thrusting up once, twice, before he comes, hot and thick inside you. His hands grip you tighter, pulling you close, and you collapse against him, panting, forehead pressed to his, the fabric of his shirt sticking to your skin.
“Mine,” he assures you, giving you a gentle kiss. “Ass-brain and all.”
“Please,” you laugh.
That single word makes him melt, makes him all soft at the edges. “Anything for you, baby.”
-
The office feels noticeably cooler when you return, the hum of the air conditioning a welcome sound after days away. Cold air brushes the back of your neck as you step off the elevator, a stark contrast to the lingering warmth on your skin, not from the building, but from Seungcheol following close behind you.
Seungcheol’s presence is unmistakable. And people notice.
Jeonghan is the first. He’s perched near Wonwoo’s cubicle, half-lounging on the edge when he glances up and spots you. His gaze flicks from you to Seungcheol, then back again. His eyes widen. A slow grin spreads across his face, and he immediately points a finger.
“You-”
“Not a word,” Seungcheol warns, voice low as he slides a steadying hand to the small of your back and gently guides you toward your desk. Your cheeks heat, teeth sinking into your cheek to suppress a laugh as Jeonghan starts bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“We’re just walking, Jeonghan,” you mumble, feeling anything but casual.
“You’re glowing!”
Wonwoo straightens in his chair, peering over his cubicle wall. His brow lifts as he spots Seungcheol casting a warning glance back at Jeonghan, lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk.
“I knew it,” Jeonghan asserts, looking at you and nodding. “He’s always thought you were the cutest omega. Does he know you’re obsessed with dinosaurs yet?”
“Ugh, Jeonghan.”
“Yes,” Seungcheol confirms with a flat grin. “You remind me of a Stegosaur, Jeonghan. Very… you have similar brains.”
You snort before slapping your hand over your mouth in horror.
Jeonghan saints at him. “I don’t get it.”
Seungcheol ignores him, turning to you instead. He brushes his fingers against your arm, and his gaze softens instantly, all gruffness melted into something warm and fond. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
You nod, smiling despite yourself as he walks away calm. Sure. Unmistakably yours.
Summary: A seating chart mix-up has you crossing paths with a very good-looking pastry chef.
Pairing: pastry chef!Mingyu x fem!reader,
Genre: romance, fluff, smut (18+!! MDNI!), pwp, strangers to lovers, one night stand goes domestic lol
Word count: 6.7k
Warnings under the cut. 18+. MDNI!! You are responsible for the content you consume!!
Warnings: swearing, brief mention of drinking (nobody is drunk at any point), pet names [(hers: baby, baby girl, pretty, etc.), (his: big guy 🥲)], big dick!Gyu (I do not make the rules), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), oral (f. & m. receiving), SWALLOWING, brief mention of shower sex, UMM it is so cheesy?? (Yes, that is a warning), lmk if I forgot anything~!
~•~•~•~
“Ah, crap, how are we not seated together? Why would they separate me and Paul?” Your best friend is clearly frazzled, trying to decipher the complicated seating plan.
Her 3-year-old daughter, Sana, is attached to her hip. The little girl squirms, turning in her mother's arm, and makes a grabbing motion at you, “Auntie y/n!! Hugs!!”
You take the little girl, glad to give her mother a break. Securing her against your own waist, you squint at the seating chart. This was not going according to plan. Your best friend, Hana, is a renowned chef. She's receiving a prestigious award tonight, and her surgeon husband, Paul was supposed to accompany her. However, her husband had been called away for an emergency surgery, and her babysitter had cancelled and then Sana had thrown the biggest tantrum, refusing to be separated from her mother. In the end, the simplest thing had been for you to go with her in Paul's place and care for Sana.
Now…here you all were. Trying to figure out where to sit at this incredibly fancy gala. You feel out of place, uncomfortably adjusting your dress as Sana shifts against you.
“It looks like you and Paul weren't seated together for some reason. Why are these tables so long anyways? Who seats people at wide-ass rectangular tables like that?” You scoff at the lack of planning. Fancy or not, the gala planners had made some weird choices. Finally, you spot Paul's name on the chart, “Oh! It's here. But it's like…across from you and...down a couple of seats?”
Hana heaves an exasperated sigh, “Oh my God, I so did not need this right now. How will we manage Sana like that?” She rubs at her temples, clearly distressed by the entire day's chaos.
You rub her back soothingly, “Babe, look at me. Deeeeep breaths, yeah? You got this. We'll just ask the person beside you to swap with me, ok?”
Complying, she breathes in and out slowly, nodding. She's usually so level-headed, used to the chaos of a busy Michelin-star kitchen. But with everything that's happened today, and the nerves of accepting this award, she's a bit of a hot mess.
From your side, Sana gently reaches out to pat her mother's cheek, “No be sad, mama.” She parrots what Hana says to her when she's upset, nodding sagely, “Big feelings is ok! Gonna be okie dokie, mama.”
You both chuckle at her sweet gesture, so different from her earlier tantrum. You look back to the seating chart to find the name of the person you need to swap with. Kim Mingyu.
“Hey, Hana, do you know a Kim Mingyu?”
She tilts her head, thinking. “Uhmm, no, but I've heard of him. He's this young up-and-coming pastry chef, I think.”
“Alright, well, let's hope he's willing to trade me seats.”
You make your way inside, and find the adjacent seat still empty. You settle into Mingyu's seat, snuggling Sana into your lap. Surely, he wouldn't be a cold-hearted freak, right? He'd see you here with a toddler and immediately agree to swap seats…you hope.
Hana makes sure you’re both settled before she goes backstage to tend to some last minute logistics for her speech. The start time of the gala approaches, and still, nobody comes to claim the seat. You breathe a sigh of relief. But just as you feel Sana drift off to sleep in your lap, someone taps on your shoulder.
“Excuse me, I think maybe you're in my seat?”
You look over your shoulder, trying not to jostle the sleeping child in your arms. What you don't expect to see is the most gorgeous man you've ever laid eyes on. Tall and tan, with a sculpted physique apparent even beneath his well-tailored three-piece suit. The top few buttons of his dress shirt are open and you fight not to stare at the exposed skin, forcing your gaze up to his face. Black hair falls in soft waves around his perfect face. He even smells amazing, you realize, as the scent of his cologne finally registers in your mind.
“Oh, umm, yes. Hi.” You quickly try to explain the situation, hoping he's as nice as he looks.
When you finish, he nods, pointing “I see…so my new seat is that one?”
You nod back, “Yes. I mean…if that's ok. We'd really appreciate it.”
He glances at the sleeping toddler nestled into your chest and flashes you a dazzling smile, showing off the cutest canines.
“Hmm...” He pretends to think about it, leaning in a bit closer, “Tell you what…I'll do it, but I do have one condition.”
Is this man for real? You think, exasperated but intrigued.
“And what might that be?”
“Dance with me later. One dance.”
You gape at him in disbelief. The confidence. The audacity. “Uhh, sure. Yeah. Ok.”
“Good.” He winks, walking around to his seat. “Looking forward to it.”
Hana comes back shortly thereafter, taking her seat. “Dinner’s about to start soon! Did that guy ever show?”
“Uhh, yeah, he's in Paul's seat.” You jerk your chin in his direction, both hands occupied while holding the sleeping toddler. “Over there.”
Hana raises both her eyebrows at you, whispering, “Holy fuck!” Catching herself, she casts a quick look at Sana, to make sure she's still asleep.
“You talked to him? Was he nice? Holy fuck that's a beautiful man.”
You tell her his ‘condition’ for changing seats. “He's gotta be a playboy, right? You don't look like that and have that kind of confidence while ascribing to a life of chastity.”
She shrugs, “Girl, forget chastity. Get yourself some of that.”
“Maybe you've forgotten why I'm here,” you look at her daughter, “but it's not to hook up with hot pastry chefs.”
“Live a little, would ya? On behalf of us old, married folk who cannot.” She sniffs dramatically, “Plus, when was the last time you went on a date?”
“Don’t get too excited,” you roll your eyes at her, “it's just one dance.” But, you think to yourself, it might be nice.
You dare to glance at Mingyu across the table and, surprisingly, find him looking back. He smiles, leaning forward on one elbow, swirling his wine before raising his glass towards you, taking a sip. You turn away, blushing, surprisingly flustered. How did he manage to make a sip of wine look so good?
Needing to hide your face, you lean down to place a still-sleeping Sana into her carrier, tucking her beside your feet so you can keep a close eye on her. As the dinner progresses, you're glad that she stays asleep through the chatter and clinking of dinnerware. You really should have just stayed home with her. The whole thing was basically past her bedtime. The truth was, with Paul in surgery, you'd wanted to be there for your best friend. She couldn't receive this award alone when she'd worked so hard for it.
When it's time for Hana’s speech you smile proudly at her and give her two thumbs up. She glides up to the podium in her flowy satin gown and delivers her speech. When it's all said and done, she gets a resounding round of applause. A few minutes later she slips back into her seat, looking exhausted.
“Well, as exciting as that was, I think it's time for me and Sana to go home! I'm gonna call a cab.”
Catching the nuance in her wording, you narrow your eyes at her and query, “Just you and Sana?”
“Mhmmm…” She quips, “I don't believe you’ve awarded Mr. Kim with a dance, yet. Plus you're already here. Free gourmet food, free drinks, and a gorgeous man…at least stay for dessert?”
When you hesitate, she continues, “Think of it as the universe rewarding you for being the bestest friend and aunt ever?? Thank youuuu, auntie y/n.”
“Ok, ok,...” You begrudgingly agree, “Fine. God, you're cheesy! Let me help you carry Sana to the cab, at least.”
As you get up and move towards the doors, you notice Mingyu get up and follow suit.
“Need a hand?” He smiles at Hana, reaching out to grab the massive bag she's juggling. She hands it over and it seems feather-light in his grasp. You watch the muscle in his arm flex as he heaves the bag over his shoulder, and your mouth suddenly feels very dry. You swallow thickly. God, this man really had a talent for making mundane tasks look good.
“Congratulations on your award, by the way.” He beams at Hana, who also looks like she's about to swoon under his charms, “It's well-deserved. I only had the honour of dining at your place once but it was, well, honestly…kind of magical.”
“Thank you!” She beams back at him, “I’m Hana, but I guess you already knew that. Don't worry, I'm not stealing y/n away. Only Sana and I are going home.”
You glare daggers at her from behind him, but Mingyu just laughs, “Is that so? Y/n, huh?” He seems to savour the taste of your name as he says it for the first time. You find your face getting warm again. Damn him. He turns to face you, “I don't believe we've been properly introduced yet. I'm Mingyu.”
“Oh, we know!” Hana discloses, still fawning over him, “From the seating chart! But also, I've seen your work. You just opened that new pastry shop, Carat Patisserie, right?”
He looks taken aback that she's heard of his work, “Oh! Yes, actually…that's me.”
Hana nods, knowingly, “Your croissants are legendary. Hey, you know who loves a good croissant? Y/n! Right, y/n? Maybe if you're nice, Mingyu will let you taste his famous croissants.”
Mingyu suppresses a laugh, watching the mortified expression overtaking your face.
Oh. My. God. Could she be any more embarrassing? You grit your teeth, “Hey, Hana, isn't your cab here yet? Don’t want to keep the driver waiting, do we? Let's go.” You practically shove her forward, trying to keep her from saying anything else.
Once Hana and Sana are safely in their cab, you and Mingyu wave them off from the sidewalk before walking back into the gala.
“I'm sorry about Hana.” You venture, “She's, uhhh, a little bit quirky sometimes.”
“No worries,” he shrugs, laughing, “I kinda think all the best people are a bit quirky.”
You stare at each other for a second, smiling, before he asks, “Do you want a drink? Or a coffee?”
“Coffee sounds nice. I'm sort of exhausted from babysitting.” Feeling brave, you link your arm through his, placing a hand across his bicep as you head to the bar across the dancefloor. Mingyu acts like it's the most natural thing, bringing his opposite hand to rest on top of yours as you continue your conversation.
For the next couple of hours, you wonder if this man really is the universe’s strange gift to you. Time slips by as you enjoy each other's company. Being with Mingyu is so effortless. He's clearly a people person. He's funny and easy to talk to, and you quickly find yourself comfortable in his presence. In the back of your mind, you still harbour suspicions about him being a playboy, but you find no evidence of that as you get to know him. He seems…surprisingly soft. He's passionate about his work, and his friends and family, and even his dog. Next thing you know, the gala is ending, and you never end up dancing, too lost in conversation to care.
You wander outside together. Having exchanged numbers and reluctant to part ways, you linger on the sidewalk, enveloped in the cool night air. Without asking, Mingyu slides off his suit jacket and slips it over your shoulders, keeping hold of the lapels. Defined biceps ripple through the translucent whiteness of his dress shirt and your face heats up. “You’ve got some bold moves for a self-proclaimed shy person.” You squint up at him, suspiciously.
He scoffs, pretending to be offended, “Excuse me for thinking you looked a bit cold in that dress. Do you not want it?” He raises a singular eyebrow, looking mischievous, ”Cause I can…” He smirks, using his hold on the jacket to gently pull you closer, “...take it back?”
When you don't resist, stepping into him and pressing your bodies together, he smiles wide. Butterflies take home in your stomach as he looks into your eyes. He's so warm. Your insides have completely turned to mush, wrapped in the scent of this perfect, gorgeous man.
He wraps his arms around you, and you instinctively snuggle deeper into his warmth. “Y/n?”
Curious, you look up to meet his eyes.
“This is gonna sound a little bit out there, but…I do actually have some new croissant flavours I'm working on at home…Do you…maybe wanna come with me and try them out?”
You can't help the laugh that bubbles up, “Kim Mingyu, did you just proposition me with croissants?”
He looks a bit sheepish, “Too much? Too cheesy? Fuck. Sorry.”
“Actually, not too cheesy at all.” You smile up at him, leaning up on tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I happen to love a good croissant.”
He grins boyishly, canines out, and it reminds you of a golden retriever. Your heart pounds at the sight. Why's he so cute? God, this man was going to be the death of you.
~•~•~
Back at Mingyu's apartment, he stays true to his word. There are many, many croissants in various flavours. You'd kind of thought he was joking about the croissants, and you're slightly disappointed when he doesn't jump you the second you get through the door. But then he starts explaining the different flavour profiles, and his face lights up in a new way. Plus, you really do love a good croissant, so you listen aptly.
When he asks if you'd like to try some, you respond enthusiastically, and he beams in pride. He pulls off his suit vest and replaces it with a frilly pink and blue apron that says Carat Patisserie on the front. “A gift from my sister,” he explains, “It was kind of a joke, but I was wearing it when I invented our best-selling flavour, so now I always wear it to develop recipes.”
He rolls up his shirt sleeves again, and you're not sure what looks more delicious, the thick veins in his forearms or the croissants. Then come the taste tests. Each flavour is incredible in its own right, featuring a different and complex flavour profile, bundled in the lightest, flakiest pastry you've ever tried. It's a euphoric experience, made all the more enticing by Mingyu’s body heat radiating onto yours as he lingers, never more than a step or two away. Inevitably, you get a little pastry cream beside your mouth and you're fumbling with a napkin when Mingyu steps close and takes it from you. “Here. Let me.”
He leans in, caging you against the kitchen counter and the mood changes swiftly. Taking your chin in one of his very large hands and gently tilting it upwards, he uses his thumb to swipe at the cream, placing it against your lips. You part your lips and take his thumb into your mouth, gazing up at him, eyes heavy-lidded. He inhales sharply when you suck, pupils widening as you swirl your tongue around his fingertip. Fuck, he's so hot. You want to do so many terrible things to this saccharine sweet, incredibly sexy man and your body is aching to touch him and be touched by him. But you can't get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your head…You were not going to be able to fuck him and forget him.
“Mingyu?” You look up at him, suddenly serious, “Don't be offended, ok? I just need to ask you something if we're actually gonna do this.” You couldn't help yourself. You needed to know.
“Ask away.” He looks at you, curiously, pulling his hands back down to the counter, trying to maintain his composure.
“What's your issue? Like, how on earth are you single whilst being simultaneously the hottest and cutest man I've ever encountered?”
He looks taken aback before bursting into laughter, “Hottest and cutest! Why, thank you.” His damn ego. You're suddenly mortified that you even asked.
“To answer your question, it's actually pretty simple,” he shrugs, “I'm a workaholic.”
He moves away from you, leaving you bereft of his warmth, and starts to tidy up as he talks, removing his apron, “I wake up at 5 a.m. to go to work every day. Then I run the bakery until 5 p.m., and then I go to the gym before passing out in bed by 9. I do that six days a week. And on my days off, I'm usually too tired to go out, unless it's to see my family or my closest friends. I don't get out much.” He pauses as if he's not sure he wants to divulge the next bit of information, “It’s pretty lonely, if I'm being honest.”
Your heart suddenly hurts for him. God damn, you should not have asked. You feel like a jerk. You'd literally assumed the worst of this man because he was hot.
You feel ashamed. “Ah. Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It was a stupid assumption.”
He shrugs again, moving to cage you against the counter once more, “No, it was a fair question. How else would a catch like me be single, right?” He laughs but it's humorless, “But now that you know, I guess I'm just betting on your sympathy.”
When he smiles, it doesn't quite reach his eyes like before. “Stay the night. Pleeeease?” He rests his forehead against yours and pouts softly.
He looks like a sad puppy and it's awful. Overcome with a pressing need to make him feel better, you reach up and grab his face, pulling him into a kiss. It's soft and warm, and tastes of butter from all the croissants. He kisses you back gently, as if you'll change your mind any second. But your mind is made up, and when you lick at his bottom lip, he responds by lifting you up and setting you down on the counter. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Your dress rides up from the motion, and he can feel your heat pressed into him through the thin fabric of your panties.
“Fuck.” He groans softly into your mouth, hands wandering up along your bare thighs, grabbing at the flesh of your hips. You take the opportunity to tangle your tongue with his, biting softly at his bottom lip. He's so responsive to your touch; it makes you bolder than usual.
You begin to unbutton his dress shirt further, running your hands slowly down the chiselled expanse of his chest. “God, you're so fucking hot.” You mumble into his mouth between kisses. This man has the audacity to whine your name, leaning into your touch as you explore his body with your hands. You feel the wetness pool between your legs as he grinds into you, licking into your mouth with renewed vigor, wanting you as much as you want him.
You pull away from his mouth, trailing kisses up his jawline and nipping gently at his earlobe, feeling him lean further into your ministrations. “Mingyu,” you whisper into his ear, kissing softly, “I can think of one more thing I’d like to taste tonight.” You tangle your hands in his hair and pull back gently, looking into his eyes with a mischievous smirk.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, eyes wide, totally pliant in your hands, “Do I need to ask? Not the pistachio cream, right? Cause I know I hyped it up, but I left that one at the bakery, and…” You cut off his adorable rambling with a light push against his shoulders, hopping down from the counter.
He's being incredibly dense on purpose, but you decide to feed into it. “Show me your bedroom, big guy.” You pander, “I'd like to suck your dick now.”
He scrambles so fast, he nearly trips over his own feet. You have to stifle a giggle. It's really like watching an overgrown puppy.
When you enter the bedroom you get back to work on undressing him, removing his shirt entirely. Eager, he undoes his pants and pulls them off with his boxers, all in one go. You ask him to sit at the edge of the bed, settling on your knees between his legs. Your breath catches in your throat looking at his body. He's absolutely perfect. You let your eyes wander downwards from his perfect face to his broad shoulders and chiselled chest, taking in his sculpted abs and the thick muscle of his thighs before settling your gaze on his fully erect cock. It's long and thick with a pretty, pink tip. The sight of him sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you, has your mouth watering and your pussy throbbing.
Unable to help yourself any longer, you run your hands up his inner thighs, gently trailing your nails across the tender skin. He shivers under your touch, cock twitching as it begs for attention. You continue to trail one hand up across his abs while the other strokes his member languidly. He hisses a sharp breath when you kiss along the underside before tracing your tongue up and down a particularly delicious-looking vein. You tease him like that for a few moments, listening to the way his breathing becomes ragged. “Mmmhhh…” You mumble around his cock, “Are you sure you weren't sculpted by the Greek Gods, or something? Holy fuck.”
He whines your name again, hands coming to tangle in your hair, not guiding or pulling, just resting. You can tell he's holding back and trying to be patient which, for some reason, makes you want to destroy his resolve. You want him going absolutely feral, rutting uncontrollably into your throat.
With that thought, you take his aching cock into your mouth, sucking at the tip, swirling your tongue around it. He's too big for you to take all the way, so you stroke what you can't swallow as you bob your head, humming gently around him.
The feeling of your hot, wet mouth on him sends shivers down Mingyu’s spine. He props himself up onto one elbow, watching in fascination and groaning softly. His grip on your hair tightens, as if to ask for more. You oblige, bringing him deeper and deeper down your throat, sucking and licking with vigor. Saliva pools and drips down the corners of your mouth as he finally hits the back of your throat.
“So good. Fuck, you're so good at that. Fuck…” He's continuously rambling praise above you, breathing heavily, and the words go straight to your cunt. He's hot and heavy on your tongue and you can't wait to have him splitting you open. You press your thighs together, desperately seeking some friction.
When you bring a hand to fondle his balls, Mingyu feels as if he might burst. “Fuck…yeah…like that. Feels so good, baby.” He's stroking your hair so gently, saying such sweet things, and it feels like a stark contrast, juxtaposed against your lewd act. For whatever reason, you feel like you need him to lose control.
You bear down, taking him as deep as you can, throat spasming around him. It's wet and sloppy and Mingyu thinks it might be the sexiest thing he's ever seen. You look up, eyes watering, and the eye contact breaks him. You feel his thighs tense, signalling his impending orgasm.
“Baby…Holy fuck…I'm gonna–fuck–, I'm close.” He moans, tightening his grip even further on your hair. You can tell he's holding back, trying to be gentle, but he's starting to lose himself, bucking up into your mouth occasionally, despite his best efforts.
You lean into his neediness, moving as fast and deep as you can take him, and he takes note. “Fuck…that's good. So good to me. So pretty. Fuck, baby, I'm gonna–ahh.”
He tries to be a gentleman, tries to pull you up before he can empty into your mouth, but you double down, taking him back into your throat and swallowing around him. Now Mingyu knows this is the sexiest thing he's ever experienced.
“Fuck, fuck…holy fuck…pretty girl wants my cum? You're so hot, god damn y/n…” He rambles as he empties into your throat, hot and salty and bitter on your tongue.
When he's done, you look up into his eyes. Your chin is slick with saliva, eyes teary from how deep you'd taken him. When you open your mouth to show him the mess he's made, he thinks he might lose his mind. “Wow.” He whispers. You smirk up at him. Groaning, he pulls you up into his arms and collapses backwards, breathing hard.
“I think that was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life.” He confesses, and you're elated.
“Yeah?”
“Mmhhmm,” he humms into your mouth, kissing you again, not thinking twice of the mess, “but now…your turn.” And the next thing you know, you're pinned beneath him.
Sinking into the softness of the bed is a stark contrast to the hard muscle above you. You're still fully dressed, you realize, and you want nothing more than the feeling of his tan skin burning hot against yours. As if reading your mind, Mingyu pulls up your dress, shimmying it over your head and throwing it on the floor. Deciding he can't wait another second to have you fully bare beneath him, he makes fast work of your bra and panties. Done, he sits back on his heels to take in the sight. Completely captivated by your shape, he's not quite sure where to look or touch first, so he just….stares for a few moments, eyes dark with desire. You wither a bit under the intensity of his gaze, shifting uncomfortably.
“...Gyu?” You prompt, moving to cover your body with your hands.
He tsk's at you, grabbing your hands and pinning them to either side of your head, “Absolutely not. Don't you dare hide from me.” He interlaces your fingers, kissing at the curve of your neck, “I was just…admiring the view.” He meets your eye and winks, and you laugh again, heart fluttering.
“Most gorgeous girl I've ever seen and you're naked in my bed…Sorry. I got a little distracted.” Laying back down, he takes the opportunity to kiss you again, hot body pressed into yours, lighting your skin on fire. Still tasting himself on your tongue, he groans softly. You've never been with someone who wears their pleasure so openly and it's so incredibly sexy. He starts to explore, letting go of your hands in favour of caressing your body. He gently tilts your head to the side, kissing along your jaw and down your neck. “When I saw you in my seat at the gala, I should have known you'd be trouble.”
“Oh?”
He hums a reply into your collar bone, making his way down to your breasts to grope and suck at the peaked flesh. He gently rolls one nipple between his thumb and forefinger while taking the other into his mouth, sucking eagerly, flicking it with his tongue. You arch your back, moaning softly, fingers coming to tangle in his hair. He blows cool air across your chest and watches in fascination as you shiver, nipples pebbling.
“I really hoped you were single, but I figured, you know, slim chance with a kid sleeping in your lap.” He speaks into your chest before switching his ministrations to the other nipple. His hands come to your wiggling hips, stilling them easily with his strength, and you whine. He continues as if he hasn't registered your protests, “I couldn't believe my luck when you agreed to dance with me…never did get my dance, I suppose...Unless you think this counts?”
“Gyu, please…” He’s being such a tease and he's so fucking oblivious to it, going on and on about nothing of real consequence. He's completely absorbed in the exploration of your body and doesn't seem to be registering how badly you need him.
He continues kissing down your body, grazing his teeth across the tender patch of skin just above your hip bone, then licking across it as he kneads circles into the soft flesh of your hips. Everywhere he touches you feels like it's been set on fire.
“Gyu,” you breathe, “Need you to touch me now, big guy.”
“But I am touching you aren't I, baby?” He lays a chaste kiss just below your belly button, eyes twinkling up at you. He grabs gently again at the curve of your ass, as if to make his point.
“Need more, Gyu…” you whine, “please…” Your grip on his hair is getting tighter, and your desperation strokes his ego.
Eager to please, he leaves a parting kiss on your hip before moving on. His large hands grip your legs, fingers splayed against the flesh of your thighs to keep you still. His lips continue to trail hot, wet kisses down one leg, all the way to the knee before kissing back up the other. He bites into the sensitive flesh at the crease of your thigh and soothes it with his tongue, smirking at your needy pleas. Pulling back slightly, he surveys the mess he's made of your pussy. You're absolutely soaked already, glistening in the soft lighting of his room.
“Fuck,” he inhales shakily, voice barely above a whisper, “Haven't even touched you properly yet and you're dripping. Is that all for me, gorgeous?”
“Been soaked since I saw your massive cock, big guy. Now please, please, please do something, anything.”
Without waiting another second, Mingyu dives into you like a parched man who's found an oasis. He slides his hands inwards along your thighs, just far enough to spread your lips with his thumbs. He's skilled with his tongue, flicking it expertly at your clit in a way that has the pressure in your stomach building far too quickly. He's coaxing moans from you like it's nothing, sucking and licking in all the right places. And the whole time he's rambling into your pussy. “Fuck, baby…you taste so sweet. So sweet for me.”
He glides a long, thick finger easily into your dripping core, curving it gently into you, and you clench around it. “Fuck, you're so tight…gonna need to warm you up nice and good, hmm?” Despite his recent orgasm, the thought of burying his cock in your soft, warm pussy stirs his erection back to life. He grinds into the bed, impatient but realizing he needs you to cum before he fucks you senseless.
He adds another finger, curling them into you, searching, probing, seeking, until…”Gyu, ahh—fuck, Mingyu, right there, please.”
Gotcha. He thinks, victoriously. He continues to lap at your sopping wet cunt, crooking his fingers repeatedly into the soft, spongy spot inside your walls. The sensation is entirely overwhelming. You feel your pleasure build, legs shaking from the stimulation. Then, he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly, sending waves of pleasure up your spine. Mingyu is relentless, moving his other hand to splay against your lower belly as he prods you from the inside. The added pressure sends your orgasm ripping through your body, head thrown back in a soft cry.
You grip his hair and grind up into his eager mouth as he laps up your release in long, languid licks, wanting to taste every drop. He only relents when you finally pull him up, coming back to tangle your tongue with his, sucking your lower lip gently into his mouth.
“Good?” He queries between needy kisses, “Tell me.”
“So good, Gyu,” you assure him, still out of breath, “Absolutely perfect.” He's so eager to please, puppy-like cuteness contrasted by his hulking physique.
He seems to enjoy your reply, continuing his kisses, pulling you even closer into his arms. “So pretty when you cum for me.” He murmurs into your ear, grazing at it with his teeth. The sensation makes you shiver, still sensitive all over.
He shifts and you realize he’s fully hard once more, subconsciously rocking his hips into you, seeking friction.
“Gyu…?”
“Hmm?” He's preoccupied again, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses across your chest. You capture his attention, reaching down to stroke his erection gently, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Need you to fuck me now, big guy.”
His wolfish grin returns, canines on full display. He shifts aside to grab a condom from his nightstand. When he returns to the bed, he sits up beside you, languidly rolling the condom over his length.
He pats his lap invitingly, thigh muscles flexing for show, “Wanna come ride, pretty?”
He looks like a god seated against the headboard, abs taut, thighs flexed and glistening in the soft lighting. He clearly knows his size is…intimidating, to say the least, and he's letting you have control of how quickly you want to take him. At this point you’d do anything he asks, but the fact that he's being so gentle makes you want him all the more. Fuck, you were so screwed.
Once you're sitting in his lap, he reaches beneath you, positioning himself at your entrance. Teasing, he drags his member through your folds, coating it in your release. “Ready, baby?”
In reply, you simply meet his eyes, smiling, and start to sink your hips down.
“Fuck.” He breathes. It's dizzying, the way you suck him in. He watches your face twist in ecstasy as you take him inch by inch, head thrown back in a soft moan as you clutch at his shoulders for stability. “You're so pretty.”
He stretches you out so well, and you feel yourself pulsing around him. “So big, Gyu…feels so good.” You whimper.
“Yeah? You're taking it so well, baby. Just a little more.” He reaches out, hands roaming over your body, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You're squeezing him so tightly, sucking him in and fluttering around him, and it's driving him insane. It's taking all his self restraint not to fuck up into you. “That's it, baby. Take it all.”
You whimper, shuddering as you finally bottom out. He lets out a groan at the feeling of being entirely wrapped in your wet, tight cunt. Mingyu leans forward, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck, “Relax, pretty. You're squeezing me so tight.”
“S’not my fault your dick is huge, big guy.” you venture playfully. As a means of distraction while you adjust to his size, you kiss him slowly, sensually. He eats it up, kissing you back greedily, running his hands across your back, fingers dipping into each vertebra. When you're ready, you lean back and grind your hips in slow, shallow circles, stretching to take his girth. You watch his breath catch, abs tightening as he watches you grind on his lap. If he'd thought seeing you on your knees was incredible, this was perfection.
Ready for more, you lift up until only his tip remains sheathed in you before sinking back down, hard. Mingyu buries his head into the crook of your neck, biting down softly. “Fuck, so tight.”
He lets you set the pace, and when you pick fast, he's happy to oblige, thrusting up to meet you halfway. He's truly got no idea where to look. Eyes feasting on your form, he alternates between watching his cock disappear into you and the creamy ring forming there, to the bouncing of your chest, to the blissed out look on your face, and he can't decide which he likes best. His hands, like his eyes, continue exploring every part of your body in turn.
Meanwhile, you're lost in the intense stretch of his cock and the pleasure it brings. Each time you sink down, a wave of pleasure travels across every inch of your body, pussy throbbing around his massive length. He's filling you so completely and it's literally dizzying, knocking the breath from your lungs with each thrust.
You ride him until your thighs burn from the exertion, not wanting to slow down. When he notices you tiring, he takes hold of the curve of your ass, bouncing you senseless on top of him. You nearly swoon when you see the way his biceps flex from the effort.
You moan, a complete mess on top of him, telling him how good he feels and how sexy he is and how hot he looks under you. Mingyu’s ego flares. He wants you to feel so good and he wants it to be all because of him, and only because of him, thinking he'd bounce you like this every day, if you let him.
He can tell you're close when your legs start to quiver and you clench around him, squeezing impossibly tighter, soaking his cock even more than before. He reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit, wanting you to get there before he does. With just a few quick motions, you're cumming, shaking from the intensity as pleasure consumes you. Gripping his shoulders for dear life, his name spills from your lips like a mantra.
Between the sight of you cumming on top of him, and the way you're soaking his lap and milking his cock, Mingyu thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He crashes his lips into yours, groaning into your mouth. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, his hands roam your body, desperately trying to feel you even more, despite being buried in you, pressing you impossibly closer. He delivers a few more harsh thrusts, losing his rhythm, before he reaches his own climax, moaning into your mouth as your tongues meet.
You're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together as you recover. Exhausted, you roll off him to lay down. He quickly rids himself of the condom before returning to hold you. He's so cozy that it makes you want to doze off.
“Y/n…” he sing-songs gently, tickling your face with the lightest kisses, “We gotta get cleaned up, baby.”
You whine in protest, absolutely exhausted, and wrap him in a hug, hoping it will make him stop talking, for once.
He breathes a soft laugh, “So, that's probably a no on the shower sex, then?”
You crack one eye open and poke a finger into his pec. “Straight to jail, big guy…”
He laughs again, “Ok, you stay, then.” He presses a soft kiss to your hair, “I'll grab us something to clean up with.”
Despite your soft whines of protest, Mingyu manages to wiggle out of your grip and grab some warm washcloths to clean you both up.
Once you're all cleaned up, he peppers your face with butterfly kisses again and tucks you against him, tangling your legs. Such a puppy. When you open your eyes to look at him, you find him looking back at you so tenderly that it makes your heart pound again. You swear this man’s got some kind of magic power over you. It's barely been a few hours and you're already mushy for him. You smile, snuggling into his chest, somehow feeling completely safe in his arms. In a few short minutes, you're both fast asleep.
~•~•~•~
When you wake up in the morning, it’s because your phone won't stop buzzing on the nightstand. It takes you a moment to register where you are, with Mingyu glued to your back like a giant teddy bear. You want to simply snuggle back into his warmth and go back to sleep, but you also don't want him to wake up early because of your phone. It's his only day off, after all.
You try not to move too much, gingerly reaching out to grab your phone from the nightstand. After putting your phone on do not disturb, you notice you have 2 missed calls and about a million texts from Hana.
[8:15] On our way, babe! Be there in 15ish.
[8:35 am] Hellooooo. Can't you hear me knockingggggg.
[8:38] Open uppppppppp, sleepyhead. Sana and I are WAITING.
[8:39] I bought croissants. Hehe.
[8:45] Oh my GOD!!!! You aren't even here, are you???!!!.
[8:46] WHERE ARE YOU?? HAVE YOU BEEN KIDNAPPED?!
[8:46] OH MY GOD YOU'RE WITH THE HOT PASTRY CHEF AREN'T YOU?!!! You never came home.
[8:47] You slut. 😏 Good for you. I love you. Tell me everything later.
Smiling, you put the phone down and snuggle back into Mingyu, going back to sleep.
When you awaken again, Mingyu isn’t in the bed anymore and you miss his warmth. Peering around in a sleepy haze, you notice he's left you an oversized hoodie folded on the nightstand. You slip it on and pad out to the kitchen where he's making breakfast. It smells absolutely divine.
“Good morning,” he beams at you, eyes crinkling softly in the corners. “Didn't know what you liked but I figured croissants and coffee were a safe bet? I made some other things, too.”
“Morning, Gyu,” you move over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Croissants and coffee sounds perfect.”
You tiptoe up and place a chaste peck to his lips. You stay there for a few seconds, smiling at one another like idiots, both utterly enamoured.
Once the croissants are out of the oven, you make sure to snap a photo and send it to Hana, deliberately keeping one of Mingyu's large hands in frame. In response, she blows up your phone. You promise you'll fill her in later, and she finally eases off.
After breakfast, in a mysterious turn of events, you end up bent over the kitchen counter, with Mingyu snapping his hips into you from behind. You cum together again, fast and hard.
After that, he insists on driving you home for a shower and a change of clothes. After all, he reasons, you only have an evening gown. Except…he comes in with you, and ends up sweetly lathering shampoo into your hair…before sinking to his knees and eating you out yet again.
And then, once you're both finally dry and dressed he insists on making you lunch. So, you end up at the grocery store for ingredients before going back to his place, where he makes you a truly gourmet meal…And for dessert, you ride him again, this time on the couch.
You spend the whole day like that, in a state of constant, hazy, post-sex bliss. It feels strangely domestic for something so brand new.
By the time it's evening, you can tell he's getting a bit anxious. He's clinging to your time together, not wanting the day to end. If you're being honest with yourself, you don't really want it to end, either.
You're sitting on the couch, watching a movie, and he's laying with his head in your lap. You gently comb your fingers through his hair, loving the fact that he smells like your shampoo.
“Y/n?” He captures one of your hands in his own, leaning his face into it.
”Hmm?” You smile softly down at him.
He sits up, keeping a hold on your hand.
“Look, I know what I said yesterday about being super busy might be…off-putting.”
He takes a deep breath, “...But I can make time! For you. For us. I mean…if you want there to be an ‘us’.”
He doesn't let you get a word in before he keeps rambling, “and…uh…there can croissants? As many as you want!” He visibly relaxes when you laugh softly, tensed shoulders and brows falling back into place.
He looks at you with pleading, puppy eyes, bringing your hand up and pressing it to his lips gently. “Let me take you out for real?”
Your skin tingles where his lips brush over your hand. His touch is electric. You can’t even think about saying no.
“Okay.”
“Yeah? Really?”
You smile. “Really, really, big guy.” Leaning over, you seal your words with a kiss.
~•~•~• fin.
HI everyone!!!! It's here!! Wahhh. I had suchhhh feelings about this one ahaha. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but something bothered me so I edited and edited until finally...this emerged.
Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.
I am trying to publish one fic a month and...ur girl needs ideas, haha. Don't be a stranger!
cw — dry humping, making out, handjob, pet names ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’, best bf cheol (minors dni)
It’s a confession you make half-hoping Seungcheol doesn’t hear you: “you’re so hard. Let me jerk you off.”
You say it in the heat of the moment, utter it against his lips, reluctant partly because it’s perverted, it’s obscene, and it’s just utterly desperate of you, and partly also because you’re supposed to be taking it slow with him. You’ve had too many relationships go to shit when you fucked them right off the bat and found out after that you’d had nothing in common. Then you met Choi Seungcheol, who seemed a little too good to be true, and from the moment you’d told him you didn’t want to rush into any kind of intimacy just yet, he was more careful with your boundaries than you yourself.
For the last God-knows-how-long though, you’d sat in his lap, rutting yourself against him while he stole your breath with his lips, and fuck, he’s so hard against you that you think it must hurt, and he’s your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you help him out?
When you say it, he tugs you away from him by your neck, not harsh or rough at all but rather in the way that everything he does has an air of dominance. He stares at you with hardened features, his attempt to appear stern betrayed only slightly by his kiss-swollen lips and cherry red cheeks, and yet you’re not afraid to persist.
“I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he says, so soft and low that he could lull you to sleep.
“It’s fine, Cheol. It won’t even count because you’re not putting it inside,” you say with a shrug and a grin.
Seungcheol has never felt so torn in his life. He wants to build up tension slowly with you until you trust him, until you’re certain that you’re ready to go all the way with him, to take the next step and bare yourself to him. Saying no to you is impossible though, especially when you make him want to give you the entire world. He’s also so, so hard, and his only options are to give in to you or jerk himself off in the bathroom alone.
His thumb traces over your bottom lip, his boner growing worse from the soft suppleness of it, from the batting of your lashes, from the carnal gleam in your eyes. Fuck it, he thinks. You’re the one who wanted it in the first place, anyway.
“Alright,” he says, and he already sounds out of breath, like the mere thought of your hand around him is enough to make him lose his mind. (It is.)
He starts to shift beneath you, simultaneously grasping your waist to reposition you ever so slightly as he pulls his sweats a few inches down his hips while your ardent fingers help him along. “But the second you wanna stop, we stop, okay?”
“Not gonna wanna stop,” you say, humming. Seungcheol pauses and stares at you, unamused. It makes you roll your eyes. “God, okay, I’ll tell you if I wanna stop. Now can I touch your dick, please?”
He narrows his eyes at you in faux doubt, only to wink at you and finally push his boxers down enough to let his cock spring free.
You feel your insides literally warm at the sight of it. It’s darkened pink, veiny, long, and girthier than anything you’ve ever seen. How can you not think about how it would feel inside you, stretching you out? Because God knows it would stretch you out. You’re pretty sure you’ll need several weeks of foreplay for him to fit.
“Cheol, you’re huge…” you say before you can stop yourself, growing suddenly timid.
“Good thing I’m not putting it inside then, hm?” says Seungcheol, chuckling a little.
He notices the shift in your eyes—it’s not hesitation, you’re just stunned. His hand soothes up and down your back, a silent reminder to take your time. For a split second his heart drops when he thinks maybe you’ve changed your mind about this, about him, and then your hand reaches for his length.
“Can I?” you ask. So polite, as if you’ve never done anything like this before. It makes Seungcheol want to smother you with kisses.
“Please,” he replies, only hoping it’s not too desperate.
The relief when your fingers finally grasp him makes Seungcheol’s shoulder sag, and he finds himself sinking further into the couch when your thumb swirls over his reddened cockhead. Beads of precum drool from his slit and you smear them all over his tip, smirking softly when Seungcheol’s breath hitches in his throat.
With your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from making an embarrassing noise, you start to pump his member slowly. You drool at the heaviness of it, at the way your fingers don’t touch as they wrap around him, at Seungcheol’s tiny noises as he inhales and exhales.
“Think you could spit on it for me?” he asks and his voice has dropped about three octaves now. He’s careful with his words, wanting nothing but for you to do things on your own accord.
He has to stop himself from cumming on the spot when you give a nod and a sweet smile before bending forward to let a dollop of spit drop from your pretty lips and land perfectly on his tip.
“Show me how you like it, Cheol,” you say. His heart skips several beats and he wishes he could record your words and listen to them again and again. Fuck, you’re perfect. He already knew that, knew it after about two weeks of knowing you, but you just keep affirming it for him and he wonders if you know your effect on him.
Seungcheol’s hand is warm as it engulfs yours. His grip is much tighter—painful even, you would think, but as he starts guiding your hand up and down with vigour, he throws his head back and moans, and you can’t help the way your pussy aches at the sound.
He shows you exactly how he likes it: tight, and with a flick of the wrist to swirl around his tip.
“God, fuck, baby, that’s it,” he grunts and bucks his hips into your hand.
Heat creeps up the back of your neck. There’s a dash of timidness you get from being this intimate with Seungcheol for the first time, although it’s not even you who’s exposed, and then there’s desire. Wild, burning lust. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on, and he’s falling apart in your hands.
“Your cock’s so pretty, Cheollie,” you say. His already dark eyes have grown impossibly darker, riddled with want as they flicker between your intertwined fingers around his cock, and your face. “Can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”
“F-fuck, didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, pretty girl,” he moans, quickening your pace. His precum leaks all over your fingers, so wet that there’s an audible slick sound with every pump up and down.
“Only for you,” you say, and your gaze falls to his glistening lips, and you’re moving absentmindedly towards them until you’re kissing him. It’s even messier than before, more breathless, like neither of you are holding back your wanting anymore. Your tongue licks against his shamelessly. You’re hungry for him. He settles a hand at the nape of your neck, drawing you closer to him so that he can kiss you so hard your head starts to spin.
You’re not sure when you’d started grinding on him again, rutting your crotch over his hard thigh like a dog, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel ashamed of yourself when Seungcheol’s chest is starting to heave, his moans are growing more frequent, and his cock is throbbing against your hand.
“You’re twitching, Cheol. Are you gonna cum?” you tease, your cunt fluttering.
“Yeah, ’m close,” he says through gritted teeth.
And he’s certainly honest, because a few more strokes and he’s giving a deep, guttural groan and cumming in thick, milky white spurts all over his hoodie. His blissed out face is a sight to behold, although he doesn’t let you do so in favour of pulling you in for another kiss, one that’s soft and chaste this time.
Choi Seungcheol’s duality will kill you one day.
“Did so good for me, baby, thank you,” he says, giving you his sugary smile. “I’m gonna go… uh, change real quick and then I’ll return the favour, yeah?”
“Wh- return the favour? But- that- I wanted to help you out, though, so it’s fine!” you stutter, and he’s already plucked you off his lap like you’re weightless and stood up to his feet.
“Baby,” he says, taking your hand. “I felt you grinding all over my leg. Let me take care of you like you did for me.”
All That I Need pt.2 | Choi Seungcheol | angst, fluff, 🔞
Pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader
Summary: You and Seungcheol go way back. Way way back. So far back that there isn’t a day in your life you haven’t known him. But what happens when one careless outsider observation undermines everything you thought you knew?
Word count: 22.3k (39.8k in total)
Genres/warnings: fluff, angst, smut; non-idol au; bff2l, childhood friends to lovers, slow burn-ish?, overthinking, miscommunicatioooon yesss pleaseeee, lots of complicated feelings while growing up, questionable beliefs installed by parents, dealing with doubt (aka questioning everything you knew before) and friendship drifting apart, just a lot of friendship related thots and events; pretty much a coming of age story ig; mentions of recreational drinking; mild jealousy and self-deprecation for it; there’s a one bed trope if you squint hard enough; idk what else to put here so if you find smth hit me up
Smut warnings: Minors DNI, it’s all very gentle, first time, lots of touching, making out, consent king!cheol x virgin!reader, oral (f rec), cheol is lowkey an eater, they talk a lot, protected piv sex (wow can you imagine??🫢), basically lovemaking🥰, if i missed anything lmk
A/N: pt 2 is here!! enjoy your read and i’ll be happy to see your feedback in any form you’re comfortable with: comments, asks or reblogs. i will see you in my next fic ᙏ̤̫
If you see any mistakes: I try to proofread but English isn’t my first language, proceed at your own discretion.
Masterlist. | Part 1
The guy's head snaps to the side, and he goes down like a sack of stones, collapsing against the seat.
You don't scream. You just freeze, your hand flying to your mouth. The world narrows to the sight of Seungcheol standing over him, his fist still clenched, his chest heaving. The music is still pounding, but in your bubble of shock, it sounds muffled, far away. You've never seen violence like that. You've never seen him like that—all primal, protective fury.
Mingyu is already crouching, checking the guy's pulse with two fingers at his neck. He looks up, his eyes comically big but voice calm like nothing happened. "He's breathing. Out cold, but breathing." He stands, running a hand through his hair. "But I think it's better we're not here when he comes to or when security notices."
Seungcheol doesn't look at the guy on the floor. He turns to you, his expression shifting from furious to intensely focused. "Are you hurt?" he asks, his voice rough.
You shake your head, mute.
"Can you walk?"
You nod, even though your limbs feel like they belong to someone else.
He doesn't ask again. He just reaches for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours—his knuckles are split and bleeding, you notice distantly—and pulls you gently but firmly from the booth. His grip is iron-strong, grounding. "Gyu, get the others," he says over his shoulder, his voice low and urgent. "Meet us at the car."
Mingyu nods, already pulling out his phone, his thumbs flying as he presumably texts the group chat. "On it. Go. I'll get them."
Seungcheol doesn't let go of your hand as he leads you through the crowd, which parts instinctively, some people catching glimpses of the still form in the booth. No one stops you. The bouncers are at the front door, oblivious. It's not a movie-style escape; it's just two people walking very quickly, hearts hammering, trying to look normal while fleeing the scene of a profoundly stupid, rash decision.
The cool night air hits you like a slap as you burst out of the club's doors. You take a gulping breath, the relative silence ringing in your ears after the indoor roar. The city sounds—distant traffic, a siren—feel overwhelmingly loud.
Seungcheol finally releases your hand, but only to shove his own into his pockets. He's breathing hard, his shoulders tense. He looks down at his injured knuckles, flexing his fingers with a slight wince. "Shit," he mutters, more to himself than to you.
You're trembling, but not from the cold. You're trembling from the shock, from the violent rupture of the evening, from adrenaline. "Your hand," you manage to say, your voice so rough you have to clear your throat.
"It's fine," he shakes his head, but he doesn't sound fine. He sounds shaken, angry, and wired all at once. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours in the dim streetlight. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I just… I saw him in your space and you looked…"
He trails off, shaking his head. The adrenaline is still vibrating off him in waves. You look at him and realise you don't entirely recognise this person. This is your friend—the one who cried with you while watching Lion King, the one who used to need your help navigating conversations with strangers—and he just did something incredibly stupid and violent because someone scared you. The rational part of your brain worries this might have consequences though it probably won't. But the louder part is still stuck on the notion of what it means that he snapped like that.
You force yourself to look away and breathe. As many times before, you're not ready to dig into the implications of what this all possibly means. Right now you just want to go home, to the safety of your walls, to the warmth of your bed where nothing happens and no one gets knocked unconscious for you, because of you. It's too many things to process in one night.
"Hey. Let's get to the car, okay?" You pull his attention gently, taking his uninjured hand and tugging so he starts walking. Your fingers wrap around his, and you feel the fine tremor running through him. Seungcheol just nods and follows, his feet moving mechanically. You can tell he's in just as much shock as you are, maybe even more. The adrenaline that fuelled him is crashing, leaving hollowness in its wake.
Being the only sober person leaves you as the designated driver, just like you thought you would be. Mingyu emerges from the club with the others—Soonyoung looking bewildered, Violet and Ginger clutching each other's arms, Chan and Vernon bringing up the rear with matching expressions of what the fuck just happened. Mingyu takes charge of herding them to the car, his voice low and urgent. After everyone gets in you take time giving everyone a ride to their places. Then you drive to Seungcheol's apartment.
He's silent the entire ride, sitting in the passenger seat by your side. His split knuckles rest on his thigh, and you notice he's clenching and unclenching his jaw. The city lights slide across his face in rhythmic intervals, illuminating a blank, shuttered expression you've never seen before.
Only because he insists—a mumbled, slurred protest as you try to leave him at his door—you stay at his apartment for the night, taking his couch. He tosses you a blanket from the hallway closet, his movements heavy and uncoordinated, and disappears into his bedroom without another word. You lie there in the dark, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of his space, replaying the image of his fist connecting with that man's jaw until exhaustion finally pulls you under.
The next morning, you're up before him. Grey light filters through the blinds, painting stripes across the ceiling. You stay on the couch, unmoving, just staring upward and listening to the faint sounds of the city waking. Your mind is a static blur, too tired to process, too wired to rest properly.
When Seungcheol finally emerges from his bedroom, he looks like hell. His hair is a disaster, his eyes are bloodshot, and he's moving with the careful deliberation of someone whose head is pounding like a church bell. He pauses in the doorway, taking in the sight of you bundled on his couch, and something flickers across his face.
He shuffles to the kitchen, downs a glass of water, and then appears in the living room doorway again, leaning against the frame. "Hey," he croaks.
"Hey."
He rubs the back of his neck, wincing. "Listen. About last night. I'm so sorry." The words tumble out, raw and earnest. "I'm sorry you had to witness me like that. I was just—I was drunk, and I saw that guy, and he was in your space and you looked so uncomfortable and I…" He trails off, shaking his head. "I snapped. That's not who I am. I don't do that. I just couldn't stand the thought of some creep making my best friend feel unsafe."
Your heart sinks a little. It's a tiny, traitorous movement in your chest, but you feel it. Best friend. He says it so intentionally, so clearly, like he's reinforcing the walls between you. Not because he hated seeing someone bother you specifically, but because you're his best friend and that's what friends do—they protect each other. The distinction shouldn't matter. It does.
You don't let it show. You've had years of practice hiding these small, sharp disappointments. You just offer him a small smile, the one you've perfected. "It's nothing, Cheol. Really. That guy was a creep and he deserved what he got." You shrug, aiming for casual. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. I mean, sure, maybe don't make a habit of knocking people out for your friends, but I'd be more disappointed if you did nothing at all," you give him a small reassuring smile.
He exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." You swing your legs off the couch, stretching. "Now go shower. I don't want to go anywhere near you, I can imagine what you smell like just from one look."
He laughs, a small sound of relief, and disappears back into his room.
After all, if he's putting you in a specific box with a specific label, there isn't much that you can do about it, right? You can't argue with the way he sees you. You can't rewrite the definition he's settled on. So you don't. You just go back to what it was. The careful, precious friendship you rebuilt. The one you told yourself was enough.
You pull the blanket over your lap and wait for him to emerge, ready to be normal again.
Ready to pretend the box fits just fine.
It's only a couple of weeks later that you're hanging out with his friend group again. You really should consider calling them your friend group now, with how frequent a guest you've become in his circle. Sure, you don't really talk to them outside of these planned gatherings—no late-night texts, no shared memes, no inside jokes that don't involve Seungcheol as a bridge—but still, you think you're getting close to it despite your earlier judgment. The edges don't feel as sharp anymore. The laughter doesn't sound as foreign.
Tonight you're at a bar. It's still not your scene really, but at least it's quieter here, the music a background murmur instead of an obstacle to be overcome for proper communication. You can actually hear yourself think, which is a luxury you've come to appreciate. You'd be happy to say that tonight is nothing different from the rest, another easy evening of shared drinks and scattered conversation.
But it is.
And you hate it.
As your bunch waits outside for Soonyoung and whatever friend he's bringing—he'd been mysterious about it, which should have been your first warning—you really don't mind a single thing in the world. The evening air is warm but not sticky. The streetlights cast a soft glow on the sidewalk. You're chuckling at something Violet said, a ridiculous story about her cat learning to open cabinets, and the sound of your own laughter is loose and genuine. The guys are talking about their own thing—something about a video game, you think, catching fragments of Chan's animated explanations.
You're fully aware of Seungcheol, though. You always are. He's literally at your back, close enough that if you leaned just slightly, you'd press against his chest. His presence makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand, a physical awareness that you've stopped trying to suppress. It's just there now, a constant hum beneath your skin whenever he's near. Sometimes you feel his fingers play with the strands of your hair absentmindedly as he talks and it sends shivers up your spine, to the point where you have to hiss at him to stop because it's disturbing (you're just afraid you might whimper at one point).
This is when you hear Soonyoung's loud ass calling out to your group, his voice cutting through the ambient city noise and dragging everyone's attention toward him. He's jogging up the sidewalk, all long limbs and chaotic energy, and there's a girl by his side.
When she comes closer and beams a smile at everyone, you think she's pretty. Objectively, immediately, painfully pretty. She has the kind of face that makes strangers want to befriend her—open, warm, approachable. You also realize some of the group know her briefly. Introductions ripple through the circle: Mina is a friend of Soonyoung's, and she shares her major with Seungcheol. Business, you remember. She's in some of his classes.
You don't mind her. Not yet. There's no reason to.
Until the very moment your little group—since there are fewer of you tonight than usual—trickles into the bar and takes a booth. Which is no longer than five minutes.
You're absentmindedly heading for your usual spot, the one by Seungcheol's side that's become instinct by now. Your body knows where to go. Your feet carry you there without conscious thought. Only to suddenly find it… occupied.
By Mina.
Your brain buffers for a good, frozen second, processing the change like a computer with too many tabs open. She's sitting there, next to him, like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like she belongs there. Like she doesn't even know she's taken something that wasn't hers to take. To be frank she actually doesn't, but you think that to be beyond the point.
It's when she notices you standing there, hovering awkwardly at the edge of the booth, that she speaks. "Oh, I'm sorry—do you want to sit here? I can move, I didn't realize—"
She's already half-rising to usher Seungcheol to slide deeper into the booth, her expression genuinely apologetic, and that makes it so much worse.
You unfreeze, throwing out a hurried, "It's fine, don't bother," before your brain can catch up with your mouth. The words come out too bright and fast, and you're already turning away before you have to see her settle back into your spot.
You make a full one-eighty and zero in on Mingyu on the opposite side of the table. He's sprawled comfortably, taking up more than his fair share of space.
"Move," you say.
He looks up, blinking. "What? Why? There's room over—"
"Move your ass, Mingyu."
He starts to protest, a whine building in his throat, but you just stare silent daggers at him. You feel your patience running out, a thin, fraying wire ready to snap. Something in your eyes must convey this because he immediately shuts up, his mouth clicking closed. He hasn't seen you this annoyed since the club incident, and you do keep bringing that up every opportunity you get just to make Seungcheol groan and bury his face in his hands. So seeing you this mad now certainly means something, and Mingyu clearly doesn't want to find out what the consequences of pushing you further might be.
He scrambles to shift, grumbling under his breath, and you slide into the newly vacated space with a muttered, "Thanks."
The rest of your evening, you spend in a spoiled mood.
It's exhausting, this silent, secret surveillance you're conducting. From across the table, you watch them. You can't help it. Mina leans in to say something to Seungcheol, her hand brushing his arm, and you feel your jaw tighten. She laughs at something he responds with, her head tilting back, and you notice the way his lips quirk in response. She's just being friendly. You know this. She's new to the group tonight, of course she's going to gravitate toward the person she already knows best.
But jealousy that stems from insecurity is an ugly lens. It warps things to a degree that is difficult to unsee. It colours everything Mina does in this greenish, sickly tint. Every smile she gives to Seungcheol, every look, every brief, casual touch on his arm while she talks animatedly about something you can't hear—it all feeds the tight, hot knot in your chest.
You hate it. But maybe you hate yourself more. For feeling all of it at all. Because what right do you have? What claim can you possibly stake?
You're his best friend. That's the box. That's the label. You agreed to it. You told yourself it was enough.
But it's just so painfully clear now, watching her, how easy it could be for someone else. How uncomplicated. She doesn't carry two decades of history like a weight. She doesn't have a cracked foundation to rebuild from. She's not too much. And your history with him is too much, you realise. You're too much. All those summers, all those silences, all that shared, tangled past—it's not a foundation, it's a fortress, and you're trapped inside while she gets to walk in through the front door.
Of course he would prefer a girl like her. A blank canvas. Someone who doesn't come with a decade and a half of baggage, of fights and reconciliations and awkward apologies and unspoken questions. Someone he can just… like. Simply. Without the weight of everything that came before.
And of course, you shouldn't even bother thinking about it because it doesn't matter. You're his best friend. That's the role. That's the assignment. You don't get to audition for a part when you already have been cast for a role.
You aren't very talkative when you're in a group of people. It's just how you're wired. You always prefer to listen when there are more than three voices in the conversation. Seungcheol's friends have learned that about you, accepted it as part of the package. But tonight you're even more silent than your first time meeting them. The quiet has shifted from comfortable to conspicuous, and it reveals something you wish it didn't.
Your intolerance of Mina grows when, for some wicked reason, her attention falls on you. Maybe she's noticed your silence. Maybe she's one of those people who can't stand someone being left out. She starts trying to involve you in the conversation, asking your opinion on something someone said, turning her warm smile in your direction.
It happens when Violet pauses mid-story, reaching for her drink, and the conversation lulls for just a beat. Mina seizes it.
"So you've known Seungcheol forever, right?" Her voice is bright, genuinely curious. She's looking at you across the table with those warm, open eyes. "He just mentioned about that time you two got lost in the woods as kids. It's adorable."
The table's attention shifts. It's like a physical weight, settling on your shoulders. You feel heads turn, eyes land. Even Seungcheol glances at you, a small smile tugging at his mouth like he's anticipating some shared joke in response.
You force your lips into something approximating a smile. "Oh. That."
"I'd love to hear more," Mina presses, leaning forward slightly. Her elbow rests on the table, her chin in her palm. She looks genuinely interested. It's excruciating. "You must have so many stories. Growing up together like that. It's so rare."
Your skin feels too tight and heated. The warmth of the bar, comfortable moments ago, now presses in on you like a blanket that's too heavy and suffocating on a summer day. You're acutely aware of everyone listening, of the expectation hanging in the air. You feel a spike of irritation. Why don't you ask him then if he mentioned it at all? And who the hell finds getting lost in the woods adorable?
"It was just…" You search for words that will end this on the spot. "We were kids. We did kid stuff. Nothing exciting."
Mina laughs, a light, easy sound. "I'm sure it was more exciting than you're letting on. Seungcheol's told me a few things already." She glances at him, and something in her smile shifts—softer, more private. You might throw up or throw something across the table. "I think he's very fond of those memories."
Something hot curls in your stomach. He's told her things. Of course he has. Why wouldn't he? She's in his classes, he knows her, they do talk most likely. Or maybe he's been whispering stuff to her right now, smiling about it to her. Ether way, she gets to hear the sanitized, cute versions of your shared history while you sit here, the actual participant, reduced to an anecdote.
You know you're warping it excessively and still do it.
"Fond is one word for it," you manage. Your voice sounds strange to your own ears. Too flat. Too controlled.
Violet, oblivious, chimes in. "Tell the one about the mud cake! That one's hilarious."
You want to sink through the floor. Instead, you pick up your drink and take a long sip, using the moment to gather yourself. When you set it down, you keep your eyes on the glass.
"There's not much to tell. We made a mess. My mom was mad. The end."
It comes out dismissive. You know it does. You see the flicker in Mina's expression, the slight recoil. She wasn't expecting that. She was expecting warmth, camaraderie, the easy sharing of memories—that aren't hers to be shared, aren't anyone's but yours and his.
Seungcheol shifts in his seat. "It was a little more dramatic than that," he says lightly, trying to smooth things over. "It happened in her mom's flower garden and I don't think it fully recovered even to this day."
A few people chuckle. The tension eases slightly. Mina smiles again, though it's more hesitant now, her eyes studying you with a new, curious wariness.
You hate that she's studying you. You hate that she's trying. You hate that she's sitting there, pretty and kind and perfectly pleasant, and all you feel is a hot, irrational loathing that you have to choke down with every sip of your drink.
Not wanting to snap at her for no reason—not wanting to reveal the ugly, green thing clawing at your insides—you excuse yourself from the table. "Bathroom," you murmur, already sliding out of the booth before anyone can respond.
You escape. The bathroom is mercifully empty, a small, tiled space. You grip the edge of the sink and stare at your reflection. You look normal. You look fine. No one would know that inside, everything is churning.
He's very fond of those memories. The words loop, sticky and persistent. You press your palms against the cool porcelain and try to breathe. It's not her fault. You repeat it like a mantra. She doesn't know. She can't know. She's just being friendly, just trying to include you, and you're sitting out there like a cornered animal, snapping at kind gestures.
You run cold water over your wrists, watching it pool and drip. The hate you feel is ugly and unreasonable and you despise yourself for it most of all. She's pretty and warm and she makes him laugh. Of course she does. Why wouldn't she?
When you can't justify hiding any longer, you dry your hands and head back.
The walk to the booth feels longer than it should. You can see them from here—Mina talking about something, Seungcheol responding, the easy energy of their conversation. You slide into your seat by Mingyu's side, and you catch Seungcheol giving you a look. A crease between his brows, a question in his eyes as his brow raises. He noticed it took you long.
You respond with a smile, one you hope looks reassuring. It feels like a mask, stiff and unconvincing on your face, but he seems to accept it and turns back to whatever Mina is saying.
After that you deliberately take your attention off of him. You fix it on Soonyoung, who's talking about something you don't really care to catch up to. You just nod at the right moments. You even manage a chuckle when someone else laughs. You're physically present but everything inside you is silently screaming.
And across the table, Mina laughs at something Seungcheol said, and her hand finds his arm again.
You look away. Your eyes land on your glass, half-empty, condensation beading on the outside. You trace a finger through the moisture, drawing invisible lines, focusing on the cool wetness instead of of their interaction just across the table.
"So what do you think?"
Violet's voice cuts through. She's looking at you expectantly. The whole table is, actually. You missed the question entirely. In fact you don't even know how much of conversation you missed and what's the topic at the moment.
"Sorry," you say, shaking your head slightly. "Zoned out. What was that?"
"I said, don't you think Mina and Seungcheol would make a cute couple?" Violet grins at the two, clearly enjoying herself. "They've got that whole 'same major, same classes' thing going on. Would you approve as his childhood friend?"
Your stomach drops. You feel heat crawl up your neck and you pray the dim lighting hides it.
Across the table, Mina laughs, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh stop, we're barely friends." But she glances at Seungcheol when she says it, and there's something in that glance that makes your chest tighten and your skin crawl.
Seungcheol just shrugs, easy and unbothered. "We survive group projects together. That's the extent of it."
He doesn't say no. He doesn't say not interested or not my type or any of the things your brain is desperately scanning for. He just deflects, smooth and casual, and lets the moment pass.
Violet keeps teasing for a minute longer. Someone else joins in. The conversation shifts, buoyant and playful, and you're left holding your glass, smiling along, the cold condensation seeping into your fingers.
You don't look at them again. Not at her hand, not at his arm, not at the easy way they exist in each other's space. You keep your eyes on Violet, on Mingyu, on anyone who isn't them. You keep the smile fixed, a little tight at the edges, but passable.
No one notices. You hope no one does.
You came to the gathering with Seungcheol, and when the time comes that you decide you're done for the night and can't sit through this shitshow any longer, you don't expect him to leave with you. After all, he's been having a great time talking to Mina the entire night. You don't even think he spoke to you once outside the context of someone else starting a conversation, pulling you in like an afterthought. Oh, what do you think? And you'd answer, brief and polite, and he'd nod along before his attention drifted back across the table. Back to her.
It leaves you dumbfounded. Not in a dramatic, world-shattering way. Just in a quiet, hollow one. Like discovering a bruise you don't remember getting.
Yes, you think you have no right to feel jealous. Seungcheol is not yours. You've established this. You've accepted this. Or you thought you had. But is it really that unreasonable? He's been giving you mixed signals for months now. Playing this push and pull, this careful, confusing game. Putting you firmly in the best friend box with one hand while the other hand—the one that reflexively knocked out a guy for being too in your space, the one that plays with your hair when you're standing close, the one that throws an arm over the couch back so it rests right behind your shoulders—does things that don't fit that box at all.
He does things for you that you can obviously do yourself. Holds doors a beat too long. Opens bottles before you can reach for them. Touches your lower back to guide you through crowds. Small things. Nothing you could point to and say see, this means something. But they add up. They sink into your skin and settle there, a quiet accumulation of maybes.
So when you decide to be the first to leave and begin standing up, saying your excuses—it's late (it's really not), you're tired (you are, but not in the way they'll understand)—you unintentionally catch Seungcheol by surprise.
Mingyu grabs your forearm, his puppy eyes wide and his lower lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. "Nooo, you can't leave yet. The night is young. We haven't even done the thing where we all complain about our majors yet."
You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. "You can complain without me. I've heard it before."
"Not the point. The point is solidarity!" He tugs gently. "One more drink. Please? For me?"
It's in this moment that Seungcheol seems to snap out of whatever daze he's been under this entire evening. His head turns, his gaze sharpening as it lands on you—standing, bag in hand, clearly ready to go.
"I'll walk you," he speaks up suddenly.
The words cut through the ambient noise of the bar, through Mingyu's pleading, through the low murmur of conversation at nearby tables. They land directly in your chest, heavy and wrong.
You feel bile rise in your throat. The growing agitation and anxiety inside you coil tighter, a spring wound too far. Your eyes dart toward his and glue there, unable to look away. Your teeth clench to the point where your jaw aches, your tongue pressing against the back of your throat until you feel vaguely nauseous. Your eyes sting briefly, a prickle of heat you blink away furiously.
"No," you say. The word comes out firmer than you expected. "No, it's fine."
His eyebrows cinch together, a grim line forming between them. You don't need him to say anything to know he doesn't like this particular no he's receiving from you. His mouth opens, ready to protest, ready to insist.
You cut him off before he can start.
"Really, Cheol. You're having a great time. I'd hate to take that away from you." You let your gaze flick briefly off his face, a tiny shift to the left—just a flicker, just long enough—before returning to him. You don't need to look at her to express it. The underline is there, clear as day, written in the spaces between your words. You've barely looked at me all night. You've been entirely hers. Don't pretend otherwise now just because I'm leaving.
You see it land. The slight flinch in his expression, the way his jaw tightens. He reads you painfully well. He always could.
You also hate that you're saying it. Even though you're making yourself sound light and unbothered, a casual dismissal delivered with a small shrug and a tired smile. You know no one else at this table can read into it. To them, you're just being considerate, letting him stay and enjoy his night. But there's just enough space in your tone, just enough of a crack, for one person to squeeze in and see through.
It's just you and Seungcheol now. Reading between the lines. The rest of the table fades to background noise.
And you're being a stupid idiot. You know it. Letting him know in the most pathetic, passive-aggressive way possible that you're jealous. That you hate not being the centre of his attention, even though you have no claim to it. Even though you've spent years telling yourself you don't want it.
It throws you back. A childhood memory, sudden and sharp.
You're five years old. Seungcheol has been gone from the village for a few days—him and his parents visiting his grandparents. His house has felt empty, wrong. At some point, you cried about it. Not loudly, not for long, but enough for your parents to notice. They sat you down and taught you something then: you shouldn't cry because of boys. Even friends. Especially friends. And you definitely shouldn't admit that you did to Seungcheol. So when they came back and he asked, all earnest curiosity, whether you missed him and cried, you lifted your chin and said you didn't. Because you were a proud girl. And proud girls don't cry over boys.
And now here you are. Twenty-something years old, playing cypher mind games, unable to express your hurt because it's still too embarrassing. Too vulnerable. Too much like handing him the upper hand on your emotions, even after all these years. Even though it's him.
Your heart just stops beating entirely when he sighs.
He doesn't look at you when he does it. He looks down at the table, at his hands, at anything but you. Then he shifts, turning slightly toward Mina.
"Excuse me for a sec," he says, his voice low and polite. "Can you let me out?"
Mina blinks, clearly caught off guard, but she nods and shifts, sliding out of the booth to let him pass. She murmurs something—everything okay?—and he offers a tight smile, a quick reassurance you don't catch.
Then he's standing. He briefly brushes at his shirt, straightening it in an unconscious gesture you've seen a thousand times. His big, dark eyes find yours across the small space. There's something in them you can't quite name. Not anger. Not quite disappointment. Something much more tangled.
He nods his chin toward the door. Toward the exit. Toward the night air and the quiet street and the walk home that you were supposed to take alone.
"Let's go."
It's not a question. It's not even an offer. It's a statement, levelled and calm, that brooks no argument.
The stubborn side of you thinks you should argue. You should insist again, let him stay, let him have his night with Mina and her easy laugh and her hand on his arm. You should be the proud girl who doesn't cry over boys and doesn't need anyone to walk her home.
But your feet are already moving. Your bag is already over your shoulder. You're already stepping away from the booth, avoiding everyone's curious eyes, following him toward the door.
The night air hits you like a wall. Cool and clean and mercifully quiet after the noise inside. He's already a few steps ahead, his back to you, his hands shoved in his pockets.
You follow. Because what else can you do?
It's just a minute later that you feel the need to fill the silence. It feels oppressive, heavy as a physical weight pressing down on your chest. Like you're a child who messed up and is now walking toward punishment, the kind where you know you've done something wrong but don't fully understand what. And it's no fun at all.
He's walking a couple of steps ahead of you, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, his entire posture radiating tension. The set of his shoulders, the rigid line of his back—it all screams that something is wrong. You watch him with a frown as you follow, your feet matching his pace automatically despite the distance.
And because you're feeling defensive and prickly, because the silence is eating at you, what ends up tumbling out of your mouth is a repeat of earlier.
"You really should've just stayed back there."
This time, however, your tone isn't so thinly veiled. The careful lightness you'd manufactured at the table is gone. Your irritation is out in the open now, raw and unmistakable, loud enough for any passing ear to catch.
Seungcheol stops dead in his tracks.
You halt too, caught off guard, suddenly cautious as he turns to face you. You haven't walked very far. The bar is still behind you, its neon sign buzzing faintly if you listen closely, visible if you just turn your head. For a moment, you genuinely fear he might take on your offer. That he'll walk past you without a word, back to his friends and the warm booth and Mina's easy laughter, leaving you here with your stupid, confusing outbursts and the cold night air.
Instead, he does something worse.
"Do you actually want me to go?" His voice is quiet. Tired. Like he already knows the answer before you open your mouth, like he's asking just to hear you say it. Like he's giving you an out and daring you to take it at the same time.
You retreat. It's instinctive, a pulling back into yourself. Your eyes drop from his face, travelling down—past his jaw, his chest, the line of his torso—until they land on the tips of his sneakers. The bulky kind you teased him for last week, calling them moon boots, refusing to admit that you actually liked the way he styled them with his outfits. That they looked good on him.
You shake your head. "No."
It comes out quiet. Barely audible.
You'd hate yourself till the end of times if you actually made him leave. Because beneath the pushing away and the pretending to be fine, beneath the performance of independence and the insistence that he stay with his friends, you were begging for one thing: for him to choose you. For once, without you having to ask, without you having to make yourself vulnerable and pathetic and obvious. Just him, deciding that you matter more than the conversation he was having, more than the girl whose hand kept finding his arm, more than the easy flow of the evening.
And now that he has—or it seems like he has, you don't dare let yourself believe it fully, not yet, not when believing things like this has only ever led to disappointment—you don't know what to do with it. You didn't think this far ahead. You never do and that's on you.
"I'm sorry." The words slip out before you can stop them. You feel foolish. Tired. Confused. And beneath all of that, the familiar doubt is creeping in, cold and insidious. What are you even doing? What are you hoping for? What right do you have to hope for anything?
You feel inadequate. Inhibited. Like every emotion you've been trying to contain is pressing against your skin from the inside, looking for a way out.
You only know Seungcheol is moving because your eyes are still fixed on his sneakers. They shift, angle toward you. Step by step, they eat up the distance between you until they're right there, toe to toe with your own much plainer shoes.
It's too scary to look up. Your eyes travel only as high as your eye level, which lands you squarely at his collarbones. The collar of his t-shirt is low enough for that. You can see the faint pulse beating under his skin there, a small, vulnerable movement that feels impossibly intimate to witness.
He's standing so close now. Close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. That you can smell his ridiculously expensive cologne that you teased him about as well, yet again masking the way it made you feel dizzy when he wore it. Close enough that if you leaned forward just slightly, you'd press against his chest. The urge to take a step back, to create space, to regain some semblance of control, is almost overwhelming. His proximity makes you feel unmoored, untethered from your own body, like you're watching yourself from somewhere far away.
You think it shows anyway. In the way your breath hitches, shallow and uneven. In the way your heart hammers against your ribs like a trapped bird. You clench your hands at your sides to stop them from trembling.
"Look at me." His voice is low. Not quite a demand, not quite a plea. Something in between that makes your stomach tighten. You only make it as far as the spot on his cheek where you know a dimple appears when he smiles. It's smooth now, expressionless. You can't force yourself to meet his eyes. You can't. It's too much. "You can't even look me in the eye."
The disappointment in his voice cuts. But it also sparks something hot and defensive in your chest.
"Why should I?" The words come out before you can stop them. Sharper than you intended. Your eyes finally snap up to meet his, and the sight of him—the tension in his jaw, the furrow between his brows—makes your pulse hammer. "You haven't looked at me all night. Why should I?"
He blinks. Something flickers across his face, too fast to name. You think it's because your reasoning sounds childish. Even to your own ears you sounded too much like a child who was refused her favourite toy. You won't admit to it though.
"That's not—"
"It's not what?" You're shaking now. You can feel it, a fine tremor running through your hands. "Not true? You sat there for hours, Seungcheol. Hours. And I don't think you once looked in my direction unless someone else dragged me into the conversation first."
His jaw tightens. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" You laugh, and it sounds nothing like a laugh—hollow, breathless, wrong. "I was right there. I saw you. You were so wrapped up in her you didn't even notice when I stopped talking altogether." You don't mention that he did look at you that one time you returned from the bathroom. It was just once and he was quick to return to his conversation after you gave him a ghost of a smile. In your head it doesn't count for much.
Silence. He just looks at you, and the weight of his gaze is unbearable.
"What did you want me to do?" His voice is quieter now. Rougher. "She was sitting next to me. She was talking to me. Was I supposed to ignore her because you were on the other side of the table?"
"Yes." The word rips out of you before you can catch it. You feel your face heat. "No. I don't—I don't know what I wanted. I just know I hated it. I hated watching her touch your arm and laugh at your jokes and sit in my spot like it was nothing. I hated that you let her. I hated that I had to pretend I didn't care."
You stop. Your breath is coming too fast. The words keep tumbling out, unstoppable now.
"I've been pretending for so long, Cheol. Pretending I don't notice when you look at me a certain way, when you probe my boundaries. Pretending I don't feel it when you touch me. Pretending I'm fine with just being your childhood friend when half the time I want to—"
You cut yourself off, terrified of what slipped past. You hurry to shove the words back down where they came from. Where they should've stayed buried and unheard. But it's too late and Seungcheol is staring at you. His hands are still at his sides, but you see them curl into fists, then relax, then curl again. A war playing out in him.
"When you want to what?" His voice is low and careful. Afraid of spooking you.
You shake your head. Step back. The movement is instinctive, a retreat to safer ground where you can build up a wall once again.
"Forget it. Forget I said anything."
You turn to walk around him, to continue your path. You don't get away even two full steps because his hand wraps around your wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop you, to feel the heat of his palm against your skin.
"Don't." The way he says it, so pained, makes your heart stutter.
You don't turn around. You can't. If you look at him now, you'll break. You know it with absolute certainty.
"You've been doing this for months," you say to the empty street ahead. And your voice is much steadier than you feel. "Pulling me close. Pushing me away. Doing these stupid little things like I'm yours and then acting like nothing happened. And I let you. I let you because I'd rather have pieces and crumbs of you than none at all. But tonight—" Your throat closes up. You force the words through anyway. "Tonight I watched you give someone else the attention I've been starving for, and I can't. I can't keep doing this."
His grip on your wrist tightens. Just slightly.
"Look at me." His voice cracks on the last word. "Please."
It's the please that does it. The please that sounds as broken as you feel.
You turn.
He's closer than you expected. Close enough that you can see the sheen in his eyes, the way his jaw is working like he's holding something back. His hand is still around your wrist. His thumb presses against your pulse point, and you know he can feel how fast your heart is racing.
"I don't know what I'm doing," the admission comes out raw and stripped of anything that could've covered it before. "I don't know how to be around you anymore. Haven't known for a while. I don't know what I'm allowed to feel or say or want when it comes to you. Every time I think I've figured it out, I look at you and everything shifts."
You think you can barely breathe.
"Tonight." He swallows. Closes his eyes for a second. Opens them. "Tonight I spent the whole night trying not to look at you. Because when I look at you, I can't think about anything else. And I didn't know how to be next to her and pretend I was present when all I could think about was whether you were okay. Whether you were having fun. Whether you were watching me the way I was trying not to watch you."
The air leaves your lungs.
"You—"
"I know." He laughs, but there's no humour in it. Just exhaustion. Just the same soul-deep tiredness you've been carrying. "I know it doesn't make sense. I know I'm sending you mixed signals. I know I'm a coward who can't figure out how to want you without being terrified of losing you."
His hand slides from your wrist to your hand. His fingers thread through yours, tentative, hesitant.
"I don't know what to do with this." He looks down at your joined hands. Then back up at you. "I don't know what to do with you. With us. I don't know how to be your friend anymore."
The last statement makes your heart feel heavy as Seungcheol looks at you for a long, agonizing moment. His free hand comes up, hovers near your face, then drops back to his side like he's not allowed to touch you.
"I want to stop pretending," he finally says. "I want to stop pretending I don't notice the way you smell. I want to stop pretending I don't feel it when you lean into me. I want to stop pretending that when you were leaving the table tonight, I didn't want to dumbly follow you the second you stood up."
Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure he can hear it. Or see it. Certainly. With the way it beats against your ribcage so painfully there's no way it's invisible.
"So why didn't you?" The question comes out small. Vulnerable. "Why did you wait?"
"Because I'm scared." His honesty is a blade. "Because you're everything and I'm terrified of losing you. Because I've already lost you once and I don't think I'd survive it again."
Silence stretches between you, full of everything you've both been too afraid to say.
"I'm scared too," you whisper.
His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand. Small, soothing motions. You think he's doing it unconsciously, to soothe himself more than you. But you also know how tactile he can be, especially his intoxicated self. And while he isn't drunk in this moment there's still alcohol in his blood which means less inhibitions. Your chain of thought is cut off when he gives your hand a small squeeze.
"I know."
Neither of you moves. Neither of you speaks. You just stand there, hands linked, in the middle of the street with the bar glowing behind you and the night stretching ahead. The air between you is electrified, humming with possibility and fear of it in equal measure.
"I should go home." Your voice is quiet. Reluctant.
He nods but doesn't let go of your hand.
"Yeah."
You start walking. Together. Your hand still in his. Neither of you acknowledges it. Neither of you pulls away. The silence that stretches on the walk to your apartment building is different from the one that hung over you when you walked out the bar. It's not oppressive anymore. Instead it feels careful. Precious. Like something fragile that might shatter if either of you speaks. And so neither of you dares.
When you reach your building, you finally let go. The loss of contact is tangible. You feel it in the evident coldness around your palm and the way it registers so uncomfortably.
"Goodnight, Seungcheol."
He lingers. Just for a second. His eyes search your face for something and you stop yourself from wondering what it might be.
"Goodnight."
You enter the building and make it to the elevators. As soon as you step inside and the doors close behind you and lean against the mirrored wall, pressing your palm to your mouth to muffle the sound that escapes—half laugh, half sob, something caught between terror and relief.
Your hand still tingles where his was wrapped around it. You press it to your chest, over your heart, and feel it race.
You don't need to think too hard to understand that the line you've both been walking is egg-shell thin now. One wrong step and everything could change.
One right step, too.
Your morning starts with your phone ringing insistently. You don't remember putting an alarm on today. You never do on your birthdays. Especially not when there are no plans to meet your friends—it's often that they're too busy to gather that very week, so you've learned to schedule a week or two later before you actually see them. This time is no different, and you were planning to use the privilege of staying in bed until late afternoon since you stayed up late. Would've used, if your alarm hadn't gone off.
Your brain is scattered and confused before you realize it's not an alarm at all. It's your ringtone. Someone is calling you.
With a groan and a raspy curse, you reach blindly for your phone on the nightstand. Your fingers fumble against the wood, knock over a hair claw you don't remember leaving there, and finally close around the device. You swipe to answer without even looking at the screen.
"Mm?"
You're immediately awake when you register Seungcheol's voice on the line.
"Happy birthday." He sounds amused. Deeply, irritatingly amused. "That's a hell of a greeting."
You groan again, louder this time, pressing the phone against your ear while simultaneously trying to bury your face in the pillow. "What time is it?"
"Two."
"Two in the—" You pause. Your brain, sluggish and cottony, tries to process this information. "Two in the afternoon?"
"Mhm."
You want to be a grateful friend. You really do. But you're also very tired and absolutely not awake, and it's extremely tempting to hang up right now because you cannot muster a coherent response. Instead, you make a sound that's somewhere between acknowledgement and suffering.
He laughs. Actually laughs. The bastard.
"I'll let you wake up properly," he is still chuckling. "But I'm picking you up at six."
That does it.
You shoot up in bed so fast the world tilts and you have to quickly brace yourself against the mattress before dropping back down. "You're what?"
"Picking you up. At six." He's enjoying this. You can hear it in his voice, the way he draws out each word.
"What do you mean you're picking me up? Picking me up for what? Where are we going? Seungcheol—"
The questions tumble out of you in a rush, your heart suddenly pounding for reasons that have little to do with being startled awake. Your mind races through possibilities, each one more confusing than the last.
"I'm not telling you."
"Excuse me?"
"It's a surprise. That's how birthdays work." He sounds infuriatingly calm and entertained. "You'll find out at six."
"Seungcheol." You grip the phone tighter, imagining your hand closing around his neck instead. "I'm in bed. I haven't showered. I was planning to stay asleep for another three hours. I don't know what I'm supposed to wear. I don't even know where we're going!"
"Then you have four hours to figure it out." There's a smile in his voice. "Plenty of time."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "Wear something warm. And comfortable shoes."
The line goes dead.
You stare at your phone for a long moment, your reflection a dark smudge on the screen. Your heart is still racing. Your brain is still scrambling to catch up.
He's picking you up. At six. For your birthday. A surprise.
After everything. After that time at the bar, after the walk home, after the way he held your hand like it meant something and the way you both said nothing about it for weeks. After the careful, charged silence that's settled between you like a held breath.
He's picking you up at six.
You fall back against the pillows, phone pressed to your chest, and try very hard not to read too much into any of this.
You fail immediately and it makes you produce an irritated groan that morphs into throwing a fit quite literally—kicking the sheets off your body and flailing your limbs in the air like an overturned beetle until your elbow meets the wall with a sharp thud. You hiss, curl away from the impact, and spend a solid thirty seconds nursing your throbbing arm while throwing profanities under your breath.
Overwhelmed and irritated with yourself, you finally drag your body out of bed. There's no going back to sleep now. Not with the knowledge that he's coming in four hours and you have absolutely no idea what he's planned.
The shower takes forever. Not because you're procrastinating—okay, maybe a little—but because once you're under the hot spray, your brain refuses to shut up. You end up doing a full thorough routine from head to toes, the kind you usually reserve for actual important events, and you hate yourself a little for it. For caring. For wanting to look like you didn't just roll out of bed.
When you finally emerge, wrapped in a towel and dripping on the floor, you grab your phone from the bathroom counter. A message from Seungcheol waits for you.
Seungcheol: Pack an overnight bag. Just in case.
You stare at the words. Read them three times. Your heart does something complicated in your chest.
Just in case. In case of what? In case you're going somewhere that requires an overnight stay? In case he's actually taking you out of the city? In case—
You stop yourself. You're spiralling. You throw on a bathrobe and shove the phone into your pocket and focus on drying your hair instead of dissecting every possible meaning behind the written words.
Outside your room, your parents are occupying the living room, their voices a low murmur about something you can't quite catch when you walk out. Your mom spots you first the moment you emerge. Her face lights up.
"There she is! Happy birthday, dear!" She hurries over, arms outstretched, and pulls you into a tight hug that smells like her perfume and the faint hint of whatever she's cooking. You melt into it despite yourself.
"Thanks, Mom."
She pulls back, cups your face, studies you for a second. "You look tired. Did you sleep okay?"
Before you can answer, she's already disappearing through the hallway door, calling over her shoulder, "Don't move! I'll get your present!"
You wander over to the couch and drop down beside your dad. He grunts, shifts, and wraps a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a proper bear hug. His lips press against the top of your head.
"Happy birthday, kiddo," his voice is gruff with affection. "Can't believe you're another year older. Feels like yesterday you were running around our old apartment."
"Dad, no," you groan, but you're smiling.
"What? I'm allowed to be sentimental. It's your day."
Your mom returns with a wrapped package, slightly lopsided on one corner where it obviously pressed into something while being kept a secret. She hands it over with eager eyes, settling on your other side while you peel back the paper.
Inside is a pyjama set, a spaghetti straps top and wide leg pants. The fabric is soft, sage green with little embroidered flowers all over the top. It is the one you pointed out to her weeks ago during a casual shopping trip, never expecting her to remember.
"Mom," you look up at her.
"I know," she grins. "You kept coming back to it but pretending you weren't that interested. I'm your mother. I notice these things."
You laugh and lean over to hug her again. "I love it. Thank you."
You hold the pyjamas for a moment, soft fabric against your fingers, and an idea forms. You should take these. If you're going somewhere overnight—if—you'll want something comfortable.
That being said…
You lift your eyes from the garment to your parents, who are watching you with matching fond expressions. Your mouth opens before you can overthink it.
"Um. So. I actually have plans today."
Your mom's eyebrows rise. "Oh? With who?"
You hesitate. It's stupid. It's so stupid to hesitate. But it's been so long since you actually mentioned Seungcheol to them yourself that it feels alien. Yes, they know you're talking again. They know you're close friends again—they've seen you leave for gatherings, heard you on the phone, noticed the way you've been less closed off. But you realize, with a small jolt, that you've kept it all to yourself ever since your friendship with him renewed. You never brought him up at home. Never said his name in casual conversation. He became an unspoken subject, and talking about him now feels like talking about some random boy you've been interacting with—which you never bring up to your parents either. Not just because there aren't actually any boys you interact with. It's just an awkward topic. Always has been.
"Seungcheol," you finally say, the name feeling strange on your tongue in this context. "He's picking me up at six. We're going somewhere. I don't really know where. He said it's a surprise."
You brace yourself. For questions. For raised eyebrows. For that particular look parents get when they sense something you're not telling them or when they get overly protective because their daughter mentioned a guy for the first time in her life and now they suddenly feel the need to have the talk.
Instead, your dad just nods. "Tell him we said hi."
Your mom smiles, warm and unconcerned. "That's nice, honey. Have fun. Be safe."
And that's it. No interrogation. No knowing glances. No digging.
You blink at them, caught off guard by the normalcy.
Then it clicks. Of course. Why would they react any other way? He's Seungcheol. He's the boy you grew up with, the one whose birthday you celebrated every summer, the one whose parents they still chat with every chance they get. To them, he's not complicated. He's not confusing or charged or any of the things he's become in your head. He's just Seungcheol. Your childhood friend.
The relief is immediate and oddly disappointing at the same time.
You excuse yourself to go pack, the pyjama set folded neatly in your arms. In your room, you stare at your open bag and realize you have no idea what to bring. Warm clothes, he said. Comfortable shoes. Beyond that, you're flying blind.
You grab a few essentials like your toiletries, a change of underwear, roll the pyjamas into a tight bundle, add an extra sweater just in case. It takes you two freaking hours combined with figuring out what you're going to wear. Your phone buzzes on the bed.
Seungcheol: One hour. You ready?
You type back, your heart doing that complicated thing again.
You: Define ready???
Seungcheol: Shoes on. Pulse present. That's the baseline.
You snort. Shake your head. For the first time in three hours that you've been awake today you feel something other than anxious spiralling.
You: Pulse present. Minus the shoes.
Seungcheol: Wear the sneakers you always wear. The ugly ones.
You: The only ugly sneakers I know are your moon boots.
Seungcheol: They aren't moon boots!
You can literally imagine his pout in this very moment and it makes you laugh at the mental image. You lift your gaze off your phone screen and catch yourself in the mirror with a smile you can't quite suppress.
Sixty minutes. Then you find out what he's planned.
Sixty minutes feels like both no time at all and an eternity. You spend it finishing getting ready, moving through your room in a haze of indecision. The entire time, you're warring with yourself about whether you're being over the top or not.
On one hand, it's your birthday. You can be as dolled up as you want. There's no rule that says you have to look plain just because you don't know where you're going.
On the other hand, you're certainly going somewhere where there won't be anyone to judge the way you look. Besides Seungcheol, maybe. And you suddenly find that a much stronger motivation to be as presentable as possible than the prospect of some stranger's opinion ever could be.
So you compromise. Comfortable warm clothes—dark straight jeans that fit well, a soft sweatshirt in a colour he once said looked good on you. You do your hair in soft waves that look effortless even though they took twenty minutes. Your makeup is pretty but not heavy, just enough to make you feel put together. And you spritz on your favourite perfume, the caramel-coffee type of sweet that always makes you feel a little safer in your skin.
You catch your reflection in the mirror and pause. You look nice. You look like you tried, but not like you tried too hard. It's exactly the line you wanted to walk.
Your reasoning, the one you keep repeating in your head, is that you still don't really know where you're going. For all you know, he could have invited all his friends to surprise you. Because you know him—he probably thinks spending your birthday quietly is a sad prospect. You wouldn't mind it, after all it's all the people you know already, but a part of you, a part you're trying very hard to ignore, hopes that's not what he planned.
You hope it's not a group thing.
You hope it's just him.
The thought makes your stomach flip, so you shove it down and focus on checking your bag one last time to make sure you're not missing anything.
When your phone buzzes, you nearly jump out of your skin.
Seungcheol: Downstairs.
You stare at the word for a second too long. Downstairs. He's here. Right now, waiting for you.
You pull on your shoes—not the sneakers he calls ugly, but only because they don't look right with this outfit, not because you're listening to his opinion on your footwear—and grab your coat. Your bag. Your keys.
Your mom calls out a goodbye from the kitchen. You respond automatically, your focus narrowed to the front door, the elevator, the lobby, the street.
You step outside.
And there he is.
He's waiting for you right outside when you come out, and you startle internally. You can't help but note that he looks good even when he's wearing something more comfortable and simple—but you know that's a deceptive perception. It's Seungcheol. There's nothing simple about him, not really. The way his sweater fits across his shoulders, the easy confidence in the way he leans against his car—it all feels casual even when you know it's not.
His eyes sweep over you when you get closer, a slow assessment that makes your skin warm despite the cool air.
"You dressed up," it's not a question. An observation, with something in his voice you can't pinpoint.
You shrug, aiming for casual. "You didn't give me any clear instructions. Of course I dressed up. Just in case."
"Just in case of what?"
"I don't know. That's the point of 'just in case.'" You gesture vaguely. "If I knew, I'd dress for that specifically. Since I don't, I have to cover all my bases."
He hums, considering this. Then his head tilts slightly, and his voice drops, just a fraction. "You're beautiful."
The words land somewhere in your chest and short-circuit your brain entirely. You're beautiful. Not just you look beautiful. You are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Nothing comes out.
He just looks at you, a small satisfied smile tugging at his lips, and you want to hit him. You also want to kiss him. The competing urges leave you frozen and flustered, which he definitely notices because that smile widens just a little.
He takes your bag from your unresisting hand and turns toward the car, leaving you to gather yourself on the sidewalk like an idiot. You've been in this car before—a few times, actually, when you played chauffeur after he had too many drinks to get behind the wheel himself. But seeing it now, knowing you're on the other side of it, knowing he's driving you somewhere, feels different.
He opens the passenger door for you with an exaggerated flourish. "M'lady."
"You're such a dork."
"A dork who's holding your bag hostage. Watch your tone."
You laugh despite yourself and slide into the seat. The interior smells like him—clean and warm, with a hint of whatever cologne he uses. He shuts your door gently, circles around the front, and tosses your bag into the back before settling into the driver's seat.
The engine starts. The car pulls away from the curb.
Silence blankets you for a moment. Comfortable, but charged. It's the type of quiet that descends when something is waiting to happen.
You notice him glancing your way. Once. Twice. A third time. He thinks he's being discreet about it, but he's really not. The way his eyes flick toward you at stop signs, at red lights, whenever he thinks you're looking out the window—it's almost funny.
So the next time he steals a glance, you're already looking at him.
Your eyes meet.
Something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe, or embarrassment at being caught. And then you watch, with no small amount of satisfaction, as the tips of his ears turn bright red. The colour creeps up, undeniable and utterly endearing.
You huff a laugh.
"Shut up," he mutters, grip tightening on the steering wheel.
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face said something."
"My face said 'aw, how cute.' That's not an insult."
His ears get redder. Oh, you're definitely going to remember this. So, just to mess with him, you point out your observation. "Your ears are literally on fire right now."
He reaches up self-consciously, then drops his hand when he realizes what he's doing. "They're not."
"They're so red. It's adorable."
"I am not adorable," he sounds offended, which only makes you laugh harder.
The tension from earlier, the weird charged silence, has cracked open into something lighter. Easier. You lean back in your seat, watching the buildings thin out as you head toward the edge of the city.
"So," you say, drawing the word out. "Are you going to tell me where we're going yet?"
"Nope."
"Seungcheol."
"That's my name."
"You're an ass."
"I prefer 'charmingly mysterious.'" He glances at you again, and this time he doesn't look away immediately. "You'll find out soon. Just enjoy the ride."
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. You can't help it. There's something about being here, in his car, on your birthday, with nowhere to be and nothing to do but trust him—it settles something in your chest that's been restless for weeks since that last conversation.
"Fine," you sigh. "But if all of it is a stupid disguise and you're taking me to a club or something, I'm making you drive me home immediately and I'm never talking to you again."
He laughs and the sound of it curls low and warm in your stomach. "Noted."
The city falls away behind you, and the road opens up ahead.
It's a two-hour drive, and by the time you're off the main road and winding through the woods, the last traces of daylight have bled out of the sky. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating narrow stretches of gravel and trees that press in on both sides. You've stopped asking where you're going. At some point, you just started trusting that you'll end up somewhere.
Somewhere turns out to be a cabin.
He pulls up to it slowly, the tires crunching over gravel, and you lean forward in your seat to get a better look through the windshield. It's exactly the kind of place you'd picture when someone says "cabin in the woods"—wooden exterior, a small porch, dark windows that stare back at you like unblinking eyes. He rented a cabin. And by the complete lack of other cars, other lights, other any signs of life, it's just the two of you.
Your heart lurches upwards, getting stuck somewhere in your throat.
"I'm gonna turn on the lights and stuff," Seungcheol says, already reaching for his door handle. "Stay here for a sec. It'll just take a minute."
You manage a nod. It's belated and probably looks as dumb as it feels, but he's already getting out, jogging toward the front door with keys jangling in his hand.
The door closes. You're alone.
You're grateful, actually. Grateful for the minute to sit with yourself, to spiral through stages of sheer panic in private. It goes by at the speed of light in your head—one moment you feel nauseous and want to back out, actually consider asking him to drive you back home, the next you're arguing with yourself that this is exactly what you hoped for. Exactly. So why do you feel like throwing up?
When the house lights up—first the windows, then the small plot of land around it, warm light spilling onto the porch and the trees nearby—you realize your time is basically up. You can't run now. Not without looking incredibly stupid doing it.
So you settle on convincing yourself that it's really nothing. You shouldn't treat this any differently than you would if there were a dozen other people here. It's just a cabin. It's just Seungcheol. It's just your oldest friend taking you somewhere nice for your birthday.
In other words, you force yourself to be casual about it.
And for a long stretch of time, you succeed.
When Seungcheol comes back, you're out of the car and waiting by the trunk, your breath misting in the cold air. He pops it open and hands you your bag before grabbing his own and a hefty bag of groceries.
"I figured I'd grill some meat," he says, nodding at the groceries. "There's a grill out back."
"You're cooking for me on my birthday?" You raise an eyebrow. "That's either really sweet or really concerning."
"Why not both?" He grins to play along, and it's so easy and normal that some of the tightness in your chest loosens.
Inside, the cabin is warm and smells like pine and something faintly smoky. It's rustic but comfortable—a living area with a stone fireplace, a kitchen nook, stairs leading up to what you assume are the bedrooms.
You insist on setting your things up while he deals with the groceries, and he doesn't argue. You grab both bags—yours and his—and head upstairs, planning to scope out the rooms and pick the best one for yourself, playing the birthday girl card.
You're soon to discover that there's only one.
You stop in the doorway, your brain buffering at the sight. One bed. One single, decently sized bed with a worn quilt and too many pillows. Your skin prickles.
For a long moment, you just stand there, recalibrating. Adjusting. Telling yourself it's fine. It's fine. You're adults. You've shared spaces before. Not recently, not like this, but—
You set both bags down by the bed and escape to the bathroom.
When you come back downstairs, you're a projection of nonchalance. Unbothered and casual, like you didn't just have two mental breakdowns in the span of fifteen minutes. You find Seungcheol in the kitchen, shoving things into a mini-fridge.
"Need help?" you offer, leaning against the counter.
He glances up. "Yeah, actually. You can grab some wood from outside and start the fireplace if you want. Keep the place warm."
You nod. "On it."
You're out the door before he can say anything else, grateful for the task. For something to do with your hands, with your body, that doesn't involve thinking about the single bed upstairs or what it means or what you're supposed to do with that information.
The woodpile is around the side of the cabin. You gather an armful, maybe more than you need, and carry it back inside. The fireplace is already set up with kindling—you just have to arrange the logs and light it.
You dedicate yourself to the task. Two logs go facing you, then two facing sideways, then you again, then sideways. You settle a few extra logs aside and reach for matches. Your brain focuses on the scratch of matches, the smell of smoke, the way the flames catch and spread. On anything but Seungcheol.
Behind you, you hear him moving around the kitchen. The clink of bottles. The opening and closing of cabinets.
You don't turn around. And you don't think about the bed. And you certainly don't think about the fact that he booked a cabin with one bed and didn't mention it.
You just watch the fire catch on wood and think about absolutely nothing at all.
That is until Seungcheol calls your name and you're forced to pay attention.
"Hey. Little help?"
You look up from the fire, which is crackling nicely now, and find him in the kitchen doorway, holding a bag of potatoes like it's a peace offering.
"You're making me work on my birthday?" You plant your hands on your hips, aiming for maximum indignation. "That's bold. That's really bold."
"I'm asking for help, not drafting you into labour." He shakes the bag. "Potatoes need peeling. I thought you might want to supervise."
"Supervise." You snort. "That's what we're calling it?"
"That's what I'm calling it if it gets you off that floor and over here."
You help anyway. Obviously. Because it's him, and because the fire is doing its job, and because being near him is becoming a habit you can't break even when you're trying to protect yourself.
You don't notice how the two of you fall into it—the comfortable, familiar rhythm of doing something together. It's like being in the zone, all your worries and anxiousness suddenly dissolving into background noise. All that matters is the task at hand, the next thing, the easy back-and-forth that's always existed between you when you're not busy overthinking everything.
"Wait, wait, wait." You pause, potato peeler in hand. "He actually tried to do that? In front of everyone?"
"In front of everyone," Seungcheol confirms, grinning as he chops something on the cutting board. "The guy on the machine next to him almost dropped his weights. He was crying laughing."
"I can't believe Mingyu thought he could deadlift that much."
"I can't believe he tried and then pretended his back was fine for the rest of the day." Seungcheol shakes his head, but he's smiling. "He walked like a penguin. For hours. Refused to admit anything was wrong."
You laugh, and it feels easy and real. Like the last few weeks of charged silences and complicated feelings never happened.
And so the time passes.
By the time you come back to your senses, you two have basically cooked an entire three-course meal together. Seungcheol is outside now, grilling meat on the porch, and you're inside setting the table. Plates, cutlery, glasses—arranging them with a focus that feels almost meditative.
You've forgotten. That's the thing. You genuinely forgot, for a while, about the single bed upstairs, about the tension, about all of it. You were just... here. With him. Being normal.
As you finish setting things up, you glance out the window.
He's by the grill, bundled up in his padded jacket. The light from the porch casts him in warm glow, and the wind catches his hair, messing it up in a way that looks artful rather than accidental. His cheeks are rosy from the chill, and he's focused on the grill, tongs in hand, completely unaware he's being watched.
Your heart dives somewhere deep in your stomach. A tingle runs through you, low and insistent, and you press your thighs together without thinking.
You look away. Breathe. Try to occupy your brain with literally anything other than how devastatingly beautiful he looks right now.
You manage. For like a minute.
Then your eyes find him again, and the urge rises—unstoppable, physical, something you can't reason away. Before you know it, you're grabbing your own jacket and shoes, slipping outside into the cold.
You walk up to him slowly, stopping just behind. Then you lean forward, pressing your upper body against his back, and peek over his shoulder at the grill.
"Smells good," you murmur.
He startles slightly—just a small jump—then relaxes into you. "Yeah. Almost done."
If it weren't for the layers of warm clothes separating you, he'd feel it. Your heart hammering against your ribs, desperate and loud. You're sure of it.
He doesn't move. Neither do you as you start another idle conversation with him.
You just stand there, pressed against him in the cold night air, watching the meat sizzle like it's the most entertaining thing in the world.
When it's all done and ready, you return to the cabin, setting the meat as the finishing dish that was missing from marking it a complete meal. You step back, surveying the table—the plates, the food, the flicker of candlelight that you lit—and something settles in your chest. It looks like an occasion. It feels like one.
You sit down across from Seungcheol. You're aware that the previous tension is still there, coiled deep within you, but you also notice that the tinge of it has subtly shifted. It's not panicked or fearful anymore but anticipatory instead. You don't know what's going to happen, how the evening will play out, if anything is going to happen at all. But there's a strange longing in you now and you think it bloomed the moment you listened to that urge to step outside and be by his side. It feels warm and persistent, and you're not sure it will dissipate anytime soon.
Yet, the two of you return to this strange play of normalcy. You talk about past events—old stories from childhood, fresh ones from the past few months. It's easy in a way that feels almost dangerous. Like you're both pretending, and the pretending is so comfortable you almost forget you're doing it.
"So when are you celebrating with your actual friends?" Seungcheol asks, reaching for more food. "The real party?"
You arch your eyebrow at his choice of words 'actual friends' but answer nonetheless, giving him a shrug. "Sometime next week, probably. You know how it is—everyone's schedules are chaos."
He nods, chewing thoughtfully. "That sucks. Having your birthday spread out like that."
"It's fine." You pause, then add, "I mean, I'm kind of celebrating with a friend right now. So."
The words hang there and you observe his expression shift—just slightly, just enough—and something warm flickers in his eyes.
"Yeah," he says quietly, gaze trained on you before it flickers down to his plate. "I guess you are."
You're watching him with rapt attention. You don't mean to be, but you can't help it. Every small movement he makes, every expression that crosses his face—you're cataloguing it, storing it away. When you're not looking directly at him, your entire being is still attuned to his presence. You don't think you've been so painfully aware of Seungcheol ever. Not even during that summer camp, when your brain first started spinning out about him.
At one point during the dinner, he stands abruptly and disappears into the kitchen. You hear him rummaging around, and when he returns, he's carrying a small bento cake. One candle flickers on top, casting tiny shadows across his face.
"Happy birthday," he says, setting it in front of you. His voice is soft, intimate, and it makes your heart clench painfully beneath your ribcage.
You stare at the cake for a second, fighting the sensation of something swelling in your chest, something so big you might suffocate on it if you're not careful. Then you lean forward, blow out the candle and make a wish. You don't say it out loud, but it forms clearly in your mind: I wish you stay in my life no matter what. Regardless of how things turn out between us. I just don't want to lose you.
"So?" He's watching you, curious. "What'd you wish for?"
You give him an enigmatic little smile and you feel your cheeks heat up. "Can't tell you. It's a secret."
"That's not how it works. You're supposed to tell me so I can help make it come true."
"If I tell you, it won't come true. That's the rule."
He scoffs, but he's smiling. "That's not a real rule."
"It's absolutely a real rule. You should think back to your last birthdays, maybe you should change up your wish-making steps." You pick up your fork, aiming for faux nonchalant. "Besides, some things are better left unsaid."
He holds your gaze for a moment too long. You wonder if he's trying to read it in your eyes anyway. You wonder what he'd find if he could.
But you still don't tell him. Even if you didn't believe that speaking wishes jinxes them—and you're not sure you do—you wouldn't. This wish, this tender, vulnerable thing sitting in your chest—surrounding it with silence feels safer than putting it out in the open. Even for the object of that wish to hear.
You're both sitting there, the remnants of dinner between you, and the silence has stretched just long enough to feel heavy. The fire crackles behind you. The candles on the table have burned down to half their original size, trails of wax dripping down like tears.
"Can I ask you something?"
His voice is quiet. Careful. You look up from where you've been tracing patterns on the tablecloth.
Seungcheol's watching you with that expression again—the one that makes you feel like he's seeing straight through to the messy, tangled thing inside you.
"Yeah."
"The camp. Back then." He pauses, rubs the back of his neck. "I know you apologized for pulling away. And I know you were scared about what your friends said. But I keep thinking about it. About all the years we lost." His eyes meet yours. "Was it really just that? Or was there something else?"
You should probably put up a mask and deflect, make a joke, change the subject. That's what you do. That's what you've always done.
But you're here. In this cabin. On your birthday. And you're so tired of this stupid dance around the obvious.
"It wasn't just that." Your voice comes out smaller than you intended. You clear your throat. "At the time, I told myself you were just my friend. That's all. I had all these stupid unrequited crushes that summer—on other people, I mean—and this stupid fear of missing out breathing down my neck. Like if I gave something else a chance I'd be losing a chance with someone I had a crush on at the time." You shake your head. "I couldn't let myself think about you that way. About what it might mean if my friends were right."
He's listening. Not moving, not asking more questions. Just listening, giving you space to let it all out.
"I got scared," you continue. "If they were right, and you did feel something, and I kept being as close to you—I thought it would ruin us. That being that close to a boy wasn't normal for just friendship. That something would have to give." You swallow hard. "And I was terrified of catching feelings for you and ending up the one left on the side road. Like with all the silent crushes I had where I had no courage to confess and just waited for a miracle and ended up just observing it all go past me. Except losing you wouldn't just be losing a crush. It would be losing the only thing I'd had my entire life."
The words hang in the air between you. Raw, ugly and painfully true.
"So I pulled back." You finally look at him and smile bitterly. "And I ended up ruining it anyway."
Seungcheol is quiet for a long moment. His jaw works. You watch him process, absorb, file away.
"I didn't know," he says eventually. "I knew you were distant. I knew you were avoiding me. But I didn't know—" He stops and frowns. Starts again. "I thought it was me. That I'd done something wrong. That you were finally bored of me like I always worried you would be."
The confession hits you somewhere soft.
"You were never boring," you whisper.
He huffs something that's almost a laugh. "Could've fooled me."
Silence again. But different now. Charged.
"You asked me once if there was something or you just saw ghosts," he says slowly. "And I told you about the echoes."
Your heart stops.
"I lied." His eyes meet yours. "Not completely. It was complicated. But I didn't tell you everything."
You don't breathe.
"Those moments I mentioned—the ones that would flash through my mind and then disappear—they weren't nothing. They were real. I just didn't know what to do with them." He leans forward, elbows on the table. "You were my best friend. My only real friend. The idea of risking that for a feeling I didn't even understand felt like the stupidest thing I could do. So I buried it. Told myself it was nothing. That you were just you and I was just me and we were fine the way we were."
His voice drops.
"But it wasn't nothing. It was never nothing."
You feel tears prick at your eyes. You blink them back.
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I'm tired of burying things." He reaches across the table. Slowly. Giving you time to pull away. You don't. His fingers brush against yours, then wrap around your hand. "Because you're here. Because I booked a cabin with one bed like a love struck idiot and was ready to pretend it was an accident if you ever asked. Because every time I look at you, I feel fifteen again, confused and terrified and wanting something I can't figure out."
His thumb traces circles on your skin.
"And because I need you to know that I've never been able to let you go. Not really. Even when we weren't talking, you were there. In the back of my head. In every stupid decision I made. In every person I tried to distract myself with."
You're trembling. You can feel it, a fine vibration running through your entire body.
"Seungcheol—"
"I'm not asking for anything." His voice is gentle and his eyes are even more so, trained on yours and shining with all the light reflected in them. "I just needed you to know. For once, I needed you to hear it and know that it's there and it is real."
He lifts your hand. Slowly, deliberately, he presses his lips to your knuckles. The contact is soft. Barely there. But it sends electricity racing up your arm and down your spine, settling somewhere deep and warm.
You don't pull away.
Just sit there, trembling, watching him lower your hand but not release it, his eyes trained on yours. His thumb keeps tracing those slow circles against your skin, and you feel every single one like it brands you—the slight roughness of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the way it sends small electric shocks up your arm and straight into your chest. Your pulse hammers against your ribs, against your throat, against the inside of your wrists where he could probably feel it if he thought to check.
"Seungcheol," his name comes out wrong. Breathy. Broken. Nothing like the casual way you've said it a thousand times at dinner tables and phone calls and crowded rooms throughout your life. This version of his name sounds like a question you're afraid to ask out loud.
He looks at you. Just looks. And something in his eyes shifts, darkens, softens all at once. His gaze traces your face like he's committing it to memory—your eyebrows, your nose, the curve of your lips, the way you're biting the bottom one without realizing. His pupils are blown wide, making his eyes look almost black in the low light.
"Tell me you don't feel what I feel," his voice is low. Rough. Cracked at the edges. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll drop it. I'll never bring it up again. We can pretend this weekend never happened, this conversation never happened. I will just take you home tomorrow and we'll forget it all."
A 'rational' part of you knows you should tell him that you don't want it. You know you should. Every logical part of your brain is screaming at you to protect yourself, to protect him, to protect the fragile thing you've spent the last couple of years rebuilding. You could walk away from this. You could go back to being friends, to being safe, to staying in the box you've both agreed to fit in for so long.
But then you realise there's nothing rational about it. It's just fear of the unknown. Because it's always scary to leave what you already know, what you're used to. And it's even scarier to bridge the gap to what you really really want. So, you shake your head.
"I don't want us to pretend."
Something breaks loose in his expression. Relief, maybe. Or just the same desperate want you feel crawling under your own skin, coiling low in your stomach, making your hands tremble where they're still held in his.
Seungcheol stands slowly, giving you every chance to retreat, to say something else, to change your mind if you decide to. His chair scrapes against the floor. The sound is impossibly loud in the suddenly quiet cabin. You don't move. You can't. Your body has stopped listening to those self-preservation whispers entirely, all your focus on him as he rounds the table. Each step feels like forever and no time at all. You track his movement—the way his shoulders are tense, the way his hands curl and uncurl at his sides, the way his jaw is set like he's holding something back. The firelight catches the side of his face, illuminating his features, the way his throat moves when he swallows.
Then he's there. Standing over you. Looking down with those big brown eyes that have haunted you for years—in your memories, in your dreams, in the quiet moments when you let yourself wonder what if.
You stand too. You don't remember deciding to. You're just suddenly on your feet, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to count his eyelashes, close enough to see the tiny moles on his cheek. You can smell him—the faint scent of smoke from the grill, something clean like soap, and underneath it all, just him. The smell you've known since childhood but never let yourself breathe in like this.
His hand comes up. Hesitates. Hovers near your face.
You can see him thinking. Can see the war in his eyes—want versus fear, hope versus the memory of every time he held back. His fingers tremble slightly, barely perceptible, and the sight of that tiny shake undoes you.
"Can I—"
You don't let him finish. You close the distance yourself even as your own heart feels stuck right there in your throat.
The first press of his lips against yours is soft. Tentative. Barely there. Like he's still waiting for you to change your mind even though you just bridged the gap, like he's still not convinced this is real. His lips are warm and slightly chapped and they fit against yours like they were made to. And your heart is beating so hard and fast in your chest you think it might explode.
Your hands fist in his sweater, the wool rough against your palms, pulling him closer. You feel the fabric bunch under your fingers, feel the solid warmth of his chest beneath it, feel the way his breath hitches against your mouth.
Something in him breaks. The last of his resolve, you think.
His arms wrap around you—one hand fisting gently in your hair, the other pressing flat against your lower back, fingers splaying wide like he's afraid you'll disappear or even step away. He pulls you flush against him, and you feel it everywhere—the hard plane of his chest, the beat of his heart against your own, the way his whole body seems to tremble with the effort of holding back.
The kiss deepens. Still gentle, still careful, but hungrier now. His lips move against yours like he's learning you, like he's memorizing the shape and taste and feel of this moment. One of his hands slides from your hair to cup your jaw, thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone, and you lean into the touch without thinking.
You feel everything. The way his breath mingles with yours, warm and uneven. The heat of his palm on your lower back, seeping through the fabric of your sweater. The way your own hands have moved from his sweater to his shoulders to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
You're both shaking. You can feel it—a fine tremor running through his body, mirroring your own. Desperate. Pathetic. Years of wanting and denying and wanting anyway, finally pouring out through this one point of contact.
Seungcheol pulls back just far enough to breathe. Just far enough that his lips still brush yours when he speaks.
"I've wanted to do that for so long." His voice is wrecked. Cracks on every word. "So fucking long."
His forehead rests against yours for a minute and Seungcheol closes his eyes. His breathing is ragged as he noses your cheek between soft kisses that make you feel tender and like you're melting. You can feel the slight dampness on his cheeks and you don't know if it's yours or his and it doesn't matter.
You don't answer with words. You just pull him back in.
This time the kiss is different. Less tentative, more sure. Still gentle—and you think it's always going to be gentle with him—but deeper now, more urgent. His tongue traces your lower lip and you part for him without thought, without hesitation, pulling him closer, needing him closer, needing to feel all of him pressed against all of you.
One of his hands slides under the hem of your sweater, just barely—just enough that you feel the warm shock of his palm against the bare skin of your lower back. You gasp against his mouth and he swallows the sound, pulls you impossibly closer.
The fire crackles behind you. The cabin is warm. His hands are warmer. Everything is warm except the cold knot of fear that's finally, finally starting to thaw in your chest.
You break apart again, both breathing hard. You're pressed together from chest to hip, and you can feel how much he wants this—wants you—and the evidence of it sends a thrill through you that has nothing to do with fear.
"I thought I'd lost you," his voice is barely a whisper. His eyes are wet. "So many times, I thought I'd messed it all up and lost you."
"You didn't." You cup his face in your hands, feeling the warmth of his skin, the way he leans into your touch like a starving man. "I'm here. I'm right here."
He kisses you once more. Softer. Slower. Like he's savouring it and making up for every moment he wanted but didn't.
And you let him, of course. Because you're here, finally, and so is he, and nothing else matters right now except this—the press of his lips, the warmth of his hands, the desperate, beautiful fact that you both made it to this point.
The kiss changes. Shifts from tender and wondering into something hungrier, more insistent. His hands are still cradling your face like you're precious, but his mouth moves against yours with increasing urgency, and you feel it everywhere—the way his breath quickens, the way his chest presses against yours, the way one of his hands slides from your jaw down to your neck, thumb resting against your pulse point as if to remind himself that you're real, physical. Not just a figment of his starved mind.
You match him. Meet every movement, every press, every soft sound he makes against your lips. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and the small groan he lets out vibrates through your entire body.
"Upstairs," he breathes against your mouth. "Can we—"
You don't let him finish. You just nod, pull him with you and let him lead.
His hand is wrapped around yours, fingers intertwined, as he guides you up the stairs. The cabin creaks around you. The fire crackles below. Your heart is so loud you're sure he can hear it.
The bedroom door is already open, the way you left it when you brought in your bags. The bed is right there—the one you panicked over hours ago, the one that suddenly feels like a destination you've been walking toward your whole life, however dramatic it sounds.
Seungcheol doesn't rush. That's the thing. Even now, even with his pupils blown and his breathing uneven, he moves slowly. Carefully. Like he's afraid of startling you, of breaking the spell. He kisses you again at the foot of the bed. Then again. And again. Each one softer than the last, almost questioning, like he's checking in without words.
You answer by pulling him closer, by leaning into him with your entire body.
His hands find the hem of your sweatshirt. He pauses, lips still on yours, fingers just resting against the fabric.
"Can I?"
"Yes."
He lifts it slowly. So slowly you feel every inch of fabric sliding against your skin, every brush of his knuckles against your sides, every pause where he stops and bends to kiss whatever he's just revealed. Your ribcage, the swell of your breast, your collarbone, your shoulder. The spot just below your ear that makes you shiver.
You return the favour. Pull his sweater off, your palms pressing against the warmth of his chest, feeling the muscle and skin and the rapid beat of his heart. He shudders under your touch.
It's like this for a while. Minutes or hours, you can't tell. Just the two of you, standing by the bed, slowly undressing each other between kisses, between pauses, between moments where one of you just stops to look or touch.
Then his hands settle on your hips, and he walks you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He follows you down—slowly, carefully—until you're on your back and he's above you, braced on his forearms, looking down with an expression that makes your chest ache.
And something clicks in your brain and the magic breaks.
You tense. Just slightly. Just enough that he feels it, because his eyes immediately search yours.
"What's wrong?" His voice is soft. Concerned. "Did I—"
"No." You shake your head quickly. "No, it's not… I just—"
You don't know how to say it. How to admit that while he's been out there living, dating, probably doing this with people who actually knew what they were doing, you've been... not.
"I haven't—" You stop. Start again. "I've never actually..."
You trail off, simply can't finish the sentence, it's embarrassing and your face is burning with it. But you don't have to. His expression shifts. Not to pity—you'd hate that—but to something attentive, more careful. He lowers himself until he's resting on his elbows, face close to yours.
"Never?"
You shake your head. "I mean, I've done stuff. But not—" You gesture vaguely between your bodies. "This. All of it."
He's quiet for a moment. Processing.
"Okay," he says finally. Just that. Like it's simple. Like it doesn't change anything.
"You've—" You hesitate. "You've been with people. Right?"
He doesn't deny it. Just nods, a small admission. "Some. But that doesn't matter." His thumb traces your cheekbone. "This is you. That's all that matters."
You should feel relieved. Instead, you feel something prickly and uncomfortable—the awareness of your own inexperience, the fear of being clumsy, of not knowing what to do.
"I don't want to wait," you say quickly before he suggests that you take your time, do it whenever you feel ready, aka not today, not right now, not anytime soon. "I don't want to… postpone this. I just… I don't know what I'm doing."
He smiles. Not mocking—warm. Fond. Leans down to place a kiss in the corner of your lips, and surprisingly that does take some of your tension away. "That's okay. We go slow. As slow as you need."
"Slow is fine by me." You swallow, struggling to articulate yourself. "But not… I don't need you to treat me like I'm made of glass. I want to actually... you know. Be with you. Not just have you do things to me."
Something flickers in his eyes. Heat, yes, but also understanding.
"Then we'll go slow together." He kisses your forehead. "And you tell me what you like. What feels good. What doesn't. Deal?"
You nod.
"Deal."
He kisses you again. Slower, yes, but also more deliberate. His lips move against yours with a patience that should be frustrating but somehow isn't. His hand slides from your face down your neck, over your shoulder, tracing the line of your arm until his fingers intertwine with yours and he brings your hand up, beside your head.
Then he starts touching you.
Not anywhere that matters—not yet. Just your arm at first, his palm sliding up and down, feeling the skin, the shape of you. Then your side, over your ribs, his thumb pressing gently into the spaces between. Then your hip, fingers spreading wide, holding you like you're something precious. Every touch is reverent, worshipful, like he's memorizing you by feel. And it makes you feel so much you can barely breathe at times.
"You can touch me too," he murmurs against your lips. "Whatever you want."
So you do.
Your hands map him the way his map you. Shoulders first—broad and warm under your palms. Then down his arms, feeling the muscle shift and roll as he moves. Then his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of him, learning the way his breath hitches when you find a sensitive spot.
"Like that?" you ask.
"Fuck. Yes."
You file that away. Keep doing it.
His lips leave yours to trail down your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat. He kisses, then nips gently, then soothes with his tongue. Each small sound you make gets a response—a whispered "good" or "like that" or just a hum of approval against your skin.
"You're so responsive," he breathes against your collarbone. "So pretty when you react."
You squirm under the praise, equal parts embarrassed and hungry for more of it.
"I'm not—"
"You are." He looks up at you, and his eyes are dark. "Every little sound you make, every time you shiver—it's perfect. Don't hide it."
You don't know how to respond to that, how to react. Because you're still so not used to this kind of attention, it feels alien even if you wanted it and dreamed of it for a long time. So you pull him back up and kiss him instead.
The mapping continues. Gradual. Agonizing. His hands and lips continue to explore your body, still impossibly gentle but getting bolder at times when you arch into him or make a sound that lets Seungcheol know that you like what he's doing.
He pulls back just enough to take a breath and look, and you watch his Adam's apple bob as his gaze lands on you. Your baby pink lace. Pale and delicate and entirely intentional in a way you're suddenly embarrassed about.
"You wore this," he says. Voice rough. "Under your clothes. All day."
"Shut up, it's just underwear." If only he knew that you put it on only because you were shamefully hoping this day would end like this. You're not about to reveal this little fact.
"You wore this and didn't tell me." He ignores your protest with a tiny little smile in the corners of his lips. His thumb traces the strap at your shoulder. "Just walked around like nothing."
You feel your face turning red for the nth time tonight. If he continues like this you're going to die of embarrassment and never recover even in the afterlife. "It's just—it's only because it's my birthday," you argue, trying to salvage an ounce of dignity. "I wanted to feel—"
"Pretty?" His eyes meet yours. "You are. So fucking pretty."
You should respond with something sharp. Deflect. But his hands are on you, sliding under the lace, cupping you through the fabric, and your brain short-circuits into a breathless moan until you arch like a cat under his touch.
Seungcheol is still so careful. Still so slow. But you can see it costing him—the way his jaw tightens, the way his breathing gets rougher, the way his hands shake slightly when he reaches for the clasp of your bra.
"You okay?" he checks.
"More than okay. You can stop asking."
He undoes it. Slides the straps down your shoulders. And when you're bare before him, he just... looks.
For a moment, you feel exposed. Self-conscious. Then his expression turns so reverent it makes your breath hitch.
"Look at you," he whispers. Not really to you. Just... to the universe. To the silent space of the room around you.
You pull him down before you can overthink it. Kiss him hard. He laughs against your mouth—a surprised, happy sound—and then he's kissing you back, and his hands are on you, skin to skin, and it's so much better than you imagined.
His jeans go next. Then yours. Then you're both down to just boxers and thongs, and there's a pause—a moment where you both just look again, admire. He's beautiful. You knew that. But seeing him like this—bare, wanting, looking at you like you're the answer to something—it hits different.
Seungcheol makes a sound. Something between a groan and a whimper, low and desperate.
"You're so pretty." His voice is wrecked. "And you wore this," his fingers trace the edge of your panties that are matching the lace of your bra he discarded earlier, "today. On purpose."
You feel all hot. You didn't think he'd say it out loud. Hoped he'd allow you to pretend it was just because you wanted to feel pretty for yourself on your birthday. "I didn't—it's not—"
"You were anticipating this." He's almost smiling now. Teasing. "Weren't you? Hoping."
"I was not—"
"Liar."
You huff, trying to play it off like he's saying something ridiculous. "I don't just assume things are going to—"
He cuts you off mid-protest with his lips sealing over yours. And before you can gather your thoughts, his strong arms wrap around you and he rolls, pulling you with him, until you're on top and he's beneath you and you're both chuckling against each other's mouths.
For a while, it's just you and him making out. Hands sliding along skin, gripping, exploring. Him on his back, you straddling his hips and feeling the press of him against you through the last thin layers of fabric. Seungcheol holds you with so much care it makes you feel like you're something precious, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other tangled in your hair.
You could stay here forever, content with just this, just feeling his warmth against you, skin on skin.
But your body has other ideas.
At some point, you start moving. Just slightly. A shift of your hips that makes you both gasp. Then again. And again. The friction is maddening, not enough and too much all at once, and the sounds he's making—broken little groans against your mouth—are driving you insane and make you whimper in response.
"Fuck." His hands grip your hips tighter and you think it's going to leave marks on your skin. You want these marks to stay there just for your own knowledge of their existence. "You're going to—if you keep doing that—"
You don't let Seungcheol finish his sentence, you do it again. Deliberately. With a tiny shit-eating grin ghosting your lips.
He flips you.
One moment you're on top, the next you're on your back and he's over you, braced on his forearms, eyes dark and wild.
"I need to see you," he says. "All of you. Is that okay?"
You nod, eyes wide. Apparently, your speaking abilities fail you, too bewildered by the sudden change.
He sits back on his knees, hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls. Slowly. Watching your face the entire time. And when you're bare beneath him, completely bare, he just... looks, eyes trailing all over you with this silent appreciation that makes your skin prickle. You fight the urge to cover yourself. To hide. To make a joke.
"You're so beautiful," his voice is barely a whisper. "So fucking beautiful."
Then he touches you. Not with intention—just his palm flat against your stomach, warm and grounding, and you suppress the urge to writhe. Then higher, over your ribs, your chest, your neck, your face. Mapping. Learning.
"You have no idea," he murmurs, "how long I've wanted this. Wanted you."
His lips follow where his hands go. Kisses pressed to every inch of skin he can reach. Your shoulder. The curve of your breast. The space between your ribs. Over your navel, your hip bone. Each one soft, reverent, accompanied by whispered words that make your eyes sting.
"Pretty girl."
"So good."
"Mine."
You do cry, a little. Just a few tears that escape before you can stop them. Seungcheol notices immediately, pauses, looks up at you with concern.
"Too much?"
"No." You shake your head, voice thick. "It's just—you're—" Your breath hitches and you find it impossible to express what you feel in words. They seem to fail you all night, too insufficient when it comes to what you feel.
But Seungcheol still understands. You see it in his eyes. He crawls back up, kisses the tears from your cheeks, whispers that it's okay and he's got you and that you're safe until you're breathing evenly again.
And when he's absolutely sure that you're okay he keeps going. His mouth trails lower. Down your stomach, over your hips, further still. You tense when you realize where he's heading.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." He looks up at you from between your legs, and the sight of him there—dark hair falling over his forehead, eyes intense even through his pretty lashes, lips already parted—makes your stomach flip. "Let me?"
You nod. Swallow. "Okay… okay, yes."
The first touch of his mouth on you is so gentle it almost doesn't register. Then it does. His lips, soft and warm, pressing against you in an intimate kiss. Then it's his tongue, a tentative stroke that makes your whole body jolt with new sensation. Your brain is melting whenever you think too hard about what's going on, so you try not to be too much in your head, only focus on this moment, on what you feel.
Seungcheol hums against you. Pleased.
"Feelin' good, baby?"
"Y-yes."
"Tell me what you like." His breath fans over sensitive skin. "Guide me."
You try. You really do. But every time you open your mouth to speak, he does something that turns your thoughts to static and you just moan or whimper instead.
"Here?" A stroke of his tongue through your folds.
"N-no, a little—there. Yeah."
"Like this?" And then he's kitten-licking at you at a different angle. Applying more pressure. And you barely manage to gasp a response.
"God. Yes."
He learns you like that. Quickly and thoroughly. Every sound you make, every shift of your hips, every sharp intake of breath—he catalogues it, adjusts, gives you more of what works, less of what doesn't. And he talks to you the whole time. Praises you between strokes, making his voice vibrate right against the very core of you.
"You're doing so well." As he gives more attention to your clit.
"So responsive. So pretty like this." As his fingers breach your entrance and stretch you for him, scissoring and crooking against your gummy walls.
"Look at you. Falling apart for me." And you are falling apart. You can feel it building, a pressure low in your belly, coiling tighter with every movement of his mouth, of his tongue, of his digits. Your hands grip his hair, not pulling, just holding on and it makes him groan deliciously against you.
"Seungcheol—"
"I know." He doesn't stop, panting against you, licking and kissing, filling the room with obscenely wet sounds of your excessive arousal. "Let go, baby. I've got you."
You do. You break apart with a sound you don't recognize, your back arching, your whole world narrowing to the feeling of him drawing it out of you, gentling you through it with soft strokes of his tongue and steady hands on your hips. Your whole body tingles from your centre outward and your toes curl, making you kick gently against the bedsheets.
When you finally come down, he crawls back up to you, peppering every inch of your skin on the way. Then he's hovering over you and kissing you deep and slow, and you taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue. It should be weird. You think with anyone else you might have been disgusted. It's not. With Seungcheol it's intimate in a way you didn't expect.
You pull back just enough to look at him. His pupils are blown so wide his brown eyes look black. His lips are swollen, slick with you. He looks utterly wrecked and completely, fiercely happy about it.
"You're happier about that than I am," you manage to point out, voice raspy. You also can't hold back a smile at this sight of him.
Seungcheol grins and doesn't even try to deny it. And why would he if it's exactly where he dreamed to be for so long. "Maybe."
You laugh and shake your head in slight disbelief. You shouldn't be surprised and yet a part of you is. Because it's difficult to believe something is real when you spent ages thinking it to be impossible. The sound of your laughter quickly turns into something much softer when Seungcheol kisses your forehead. You smile up at him.
"That was—" you start and find yourself just heaving a breath because, yet again, you feel like putting it into words simplifies what you felt and that's just unfair to the experience.
"Yeah." He chuckles, presses a kiss to your jawline and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck, enveloping you in his arms, making you feel warm and loved just from being held. "I know."
The awkwardness you felt earlier, the self-consciousness, the fear—it's gone. Melted away somewhere between his first touch and your last breathless moment. You're bare beneath him, vulnerable in every way, and all you feel is safe, wanted and his.
You pull him for another kiss and feel him respond, press his hips into you and grind. You feel his bulge, the way he's already so hard for you and it makes you whimper with want. The thought that he got so painfully hard just from eating you out does something unspeakable to your brain and you feel your pussy flutter in response. Very suddenly you need to feel him for real or you might lose your mind.
"Need to feel you inside me, Cheol." The words tumble out against his lips, desperate and shameless. "Please?"
He folds. Actually folds, a full body shudder that starts somewhere in the centre of his chest and ripples through every inch of him until he's pressing his forehead against yours, breathing ragged, making a sound you didn't think a guy like him could make—a whimper, high and broken and so utterly pathetic that it should be funny. But it's not. It's the hottest thing you've ever heard, because it's real, because it's for you, because this is what he sounds like when you ask for him.
"Fuck," he's already moving, scrambling off the bed with none of his usual grace, grabbing for his jeans where they landed in a heap on the floor. You watch him fish through the pockets, watch his hands shake slightly as he pulls out a couple of foil packets, watch him toss one on the nightstand like an afterthought. Then he's shoving his boxer briefs down, kicking them away, and finally you see all of him.
Your breath catches. Your pussy clenches around nothing. Your skin prickles and turns into goosebumps—and you don't think that it's because you lost his body heat. You know it's not.
He's beautiful. You knew he would be—and maybe a deep, depraved part of you is also a tiny bit relieved that reality matched your imagination. But knowing and seeing are different things. He's longer than you expected, and thick—really thick—and suddenly your brain supplies a very clear image of that fitting inside you and your thighs press together instinctively.
He catches the movement. His eyes darken. Your eyes train on his hand that smears the bead of precum over his length and strokes a couple of times. You gulp.
"Scared?"
"No." You shake your head, because it's not fear exactly. It's anticipation with an edge of how is that going to work. "Just... trying to process."
He huffs a laugh, soft and fond, even as his hands work to open the condom wrapper. He rolls it on with ease that says he did it before, and you continue to watch every second of it—the way his fingers move, the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes keep flicking up to your face like he's checking you're still here, still okay, still want it, him.
Then he's settling between your thighs again, and you feel him—the hot weight of him, the slick slide of his cock through your wet folds, catching on your clit in a way that makes you buck and whimper.
"Easy." His hand presses gently on your hip. "Easy."
You see something flicker across his face—concern, maybe—or maybe he just reads you too well, because before you can say anything, he's leaning down, kissing you soft and slow.
"I'm going to go so slow," he murmurs against your mouth. "So slow. You tell me if anything hurts, anything at all, and we stop. Deal?"
You want to protest and say that no way in hell you're allowing him to stop but his eyes are so attentive and serious, like he needs you to promise him, and you end up agreeing. "Deal."
Seungcheol kisses you again, a quick peck on your lips for reassurance. Then he shifts, lines himself up, and pushes.
It's supposedly nothing. Barely a press of pressure, just the tip breaching you. But it's something, and you gasp against his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders.
"Okay?" He's already stopped. Already waiting.
"Yes. Keep going."
He does. An inch, maybe. Then stops. Then another inch. Each movement measured, careful, punctuated by soft checks—still okay? still good?—and you nod each time, breathless, because you can feel yourself stretching around him, feel the slow burn of it, feel the way your body is learning to accommodate something it has never had before.
By the time he's halfway in, you're trembling. Not from pain—there's some, a dull ache that edges toward discomfort—but mostly from the fullness, the strangeness, the sheer overwhelming reality of him inside you. And you can hear yourself chanting breathless profanities into the night, trying to come to terms with the fact that it's really happening.
"You're doing so well." His voice is wrecked. "So good. Taking me so good."
He pushes deeper. Stops. Lets you adjust. You feel your walls flutter around him, clenching and releasing, trying to figure out what to do with this new presence.
"Breathe," he reminds you and places a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Just breathe."
You do. Inhale. Exhale. And on the exhale, he pushes again, and suddenly he's seated—fully, completely, his hips pressed flush against yours.
You both moan.
He's still for a long moment. Just breathing. Just feeling. You can feel his heartbeat through where your chests press together, or maybe that's yours—you can't tell anymore. His forehead is against yours, eyes closed, jaw tight.
"So good," he whispers. "You feel—fuck. So good."
You can't respond. Your brain has stopped working entirely, caught on the singular fact that he's inside you, that you're connected like this, that there's no going back and you don't want to.
But just feeling him isn't enough anymore. Your body is greedy and so are you.
"Move." The word comes out strangled. "Please. Cheol. Move."
He pulls back. Slowly, excruciatingly, until only the tip remains, lodged in your tight entrance. The emptiness is almost worse than the fullness—you whimper, needy and desperate, and he answers by pushing back in. This time it's easier. The stretch is still there, still intense, but your body is learning, opening, welcoming him. He sets a rhythm—slow, deep, each thrust punctuated by a soft sound from one of you—and you cling to him like he's the only solid thing in a world gone liquid.
Your arms wrap around his neck. Your legs hook around his waist. You feel every muscle in his back shift under your palms that begin to wander all over just to have more points of contact because suddenly nothing feels sufficient, feel the sweat beginning to gather at his temples when you hold his face to pull him in for a kiss, feel the way his breath stutters every time you clench around him.
And he talks. The whole time. Praises and promises and sweet, broken nothings pressed into your skin between kisses. Telling you how perfect you are, how well you're taking him, how beautiful you are like this. Then his lips find your ear, and his voice drops even lower, rough and raw and so just-for-you it makes your heart stutter.
"I love you."
You freeze. Just for a second. Just long enough for him to feel it and still too.
"I love you." He says it again, like he needs you to hear it, understand it, because he's been holding it in for years. "I've always loved you. Even when I didn't know what to call it. Even when I was too scared to say it. I love you."
Something cracks open in your chest. Tears prick at your eyes again, but you blink them back, because you need to see him, need to watch his face as you say it back. "I love you too," your voice breaks on the last word. "I love you so much. Have loved you forever."
Seungcheol's lips find yours again. The kiss is deep and desperate and full of everything you've both been too afraid to express to each other. And then he starts moving again, harder, faster, because the words have unlocked the desperate, primal need in both of you.
"More." You gasp against his mouth. "Please, go harder."
He gives you more, gives you harder. His hips snap against yours with stronger force, rhythm deepening, and you feel yourself climbing toward your high, that familiar coil tightening low in your belly. The sensation makes you mewl and whimper. Your nails scratch down his back. Lightly at first, testing. He stutters—actually stutters, his rhythm breaking for half a second—and moans into your mouth.
"You like that?"
"Fuck. Yes."
You do it again. Harder this time. He groans, picks up pace, drives into you with an urgency that wasn't there before. The coil tightens. Tightens. You're close, so close, and he knows it—can feel it in the way you flutter around him and clench, the way your breath catches, the way you dig your nails in and hold on.
"Come for me," his voice is wrecked. "Come on. Let go. I've got you."
And you do. You shatter, crying out his name, your whole body convulsing under him as waves of pleasure crash through you. He follows a second later, with a broken groan and one final, desperate thrust, burying himself deep as he shudders through his own release. And then neither of you moves. Neither of you breathes—or it's the ringing in your ears that is too loud to hear it. You just lie there, tangled together, slick with sweat, still connected, still trembling. Then he lifts his head just enough to look at you. His eyes are soft, dazed, full of tenderness that makes your chest ache.
"Happy birthday," he whispers and nuzzles your cheek.
You laugh, disbelieving and delighted because happy birthday, indeed. The happiest you've ever had. You can feel Seungcheol smiling against your skin and it makes you happier still.
For a long time, you just stay like this. The fire downstairs has likely burned low by now, the logs probably reduced to glowing embers and soft ash, but you can't bring yourself to care. The warmth of him pressed against you is enough—his weight a familiar comfort that settles over your bones like a second skin, his breath slowing against the curve of your neck with each passing minute, his fingers still tracing lazy, absent patterns on your hip like he can't bear to stop touching you even now. You begin to feel sleepy.
And you know it is a trap. The longer you stay the less you want to move, the less will you have to pull yourself out of this bed, and not just lie here in the afterglow like two teenagers who've discovered something forbidden for the first time. But every time you think about shifting, about disturbing this perfect stillness, your body refuses to cooperate, makes your bones too heavy, mind to dizzy. It's like every muscle has decided that this—him, here, now—is exactly where it wants to be, and it's not going anywhere.
So instead, you pull him closer.
He makes a soft sound against your skin, content and sleepy and utterly unguarded, and nuzzles deeper into your hair. "Mm. Comfy."
"You're heavy," you whisper, but your arms tighten around him even as you say it.
"Don't care."
You laugh quietly, the sound vibrating through your chest, through him. Your fingers card through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, feeling the slight curl of it, the way it sticks to his skin. Seungcheol purrs quietly in response and you smile. The ceiling above you is wooden, rustic, catching the faint glow of the outside lights that neither of you turned off. You slowly realise that you don't remember a lot of the past hour, just flashes and feelings, sensations. His face above you, dark eyes gone almost black with want. The sound he made when you first touched him. The way he looked at you like you were sacred, precious, worth waiting for—and your heart tried to escape your chest under his gaze.
"I love you," the words slip out again, quiet and probing, barely more than a breath against his hair. Like you're still testing how it feels to say them out loud. Like you're afraid they might explode if you say them too loudly.
He lifts his head just enough to look at you. His eyes are soft, tired, impossibly fond—the same eyes you've known your entire life, but different now. Open in a way they've never been before. Looking at you in a way they never quite did.
"I know." He kisses the tip of your nose, soft and sweet. You scrunch it and he kisses again with a chuckle. "I love you too. Took us long enough."
You snort. "Yeah. Only, what, twenty-something years?"
"Fifteen, maybe. The early childhood doesn't count." He settles back down, cheek pressed to your chest, right over your heart. You feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin. "We were busy playing mud cakes in that puddle."
You laugh again, and feel it echo in your own chest, feel him smile wider at the vibration of it. The absurdity of it—the sheer, ridiculous, beautiful absurdity of ending up here after everything—washes over you in a warm wave. All those years of confusion, of fear, of dancing around each other and pretending not to feel what you felt. All those summers and winters and phone calls and silences. All of it, leading to this. To him, warm and solid and, most importantly, yours, pressed against you in a cabin in the woods.
Your hand finds his where it rests on your stomach, fingers slotting together like they were made to. His thumb reflexively resumes its lazy circles, now tracing over your knuckles instead of your skin, and the simple intimacy of it makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter in the best way.
"Hey." You poke his shoulder with your free hand. "What time is it?"
He groans, a long suffering sound that's entirely performative, and makes absolutely no move to check. "Don't know. Don't care."
"We should probably—" You gesture vaguely with the hand not trapped in his. "I don't know. Go exist outside of this bed for a few minutes?"
"In a minute," his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. "Five minutes."
"So in a minute or five?"
"Twenty," he says it into your skin, muffled and stubborn, and you feel his smile again.
You roll your eyes, but you're smiling too. Can't help it. Can't stop. It's like your face has forgotten how to do anything else.
The warmth of him seeps into your bones. The slight stickiness of cooling sweat, the soft cotton of sheets beneath you, the faint scent of him—smoke from the grill clinging to his hair and something warm and unmistakably him—all of it wraps around you like a blanket.
"This is nice," you murmur, almost to yourself. "Just... this."
He hums in agreement, a low sound you feel more than hear. Then, after a long, comfortable moment: "We have the whole cabin until tomorrow afternoon."
Your eyebrows rise. "Oh?"
"We could..." He trails off deliberately, and you feel his grin press against your skin. It makes you shiver. "I don't know. Make use of it. In various ways."
"You're insatiable."
"I'm celebrating." He lifts his head, looks at you with those baby cow brown eyes, and the sheer adoration in them makes your breath shallow. "It's your birthday. I'm contractually obligated to make it memorable."
"Pretty sure there is no contract."
"Should be." He kisses your collarbone. Soft. Lingering. Then your shoulder, his lips warm and dry. Then the spot just below your ear that makes you shiver involuntarily. "I'll draft it and send it to you via email."
You're laughing, but it's turning into something breathier as his mouth trails lower, as his hand slides from your stomach to your hip, as his thigh presses between your legs. "Cheollie—"
He pauses immediately, looks up at you through his lashes with an expression that's equal parts mischief and adoration. You could be sensible and responsible and adult about this. Instead, you tug him up by his hair and kiss him.
He makes a sound against your mouth—surprised, pleased, absolutely wrecked—and melts into you like he's been waiting for permission. His tongue traces your lower lip, and you part for him, pull him closer, wrap yourself around him like you never want to let go.
"One more time," you murmur against his lips. "Then we do all the responsible things."
He grins, and you feel it in the kiss, it makes you smile back at him. "Deal."
And when he rolls you onto your back, when his weight settles over you again—familiar now, wanted and yours—when his mouth finds yours in the dark and his hands start learning you all over again, it all feels painfully like coming home to something you've always had.
Just finally, finally letting yourself live in it.
*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.
› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader
› aus: dilf jeonghan, boyfriend jeonghan, jeonghan is a dad
› genres: fluff, smut (18+)
› word count: 9.7k
› warnings: porn with a sliver (🤏🏻) of plot, jeonghan is so down bad, he likes to dom you just a little, pussy eating, masturbation, reader is on birth control but this is not mentioned, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, creampies, light choking, dirty talk, daddy kink, after care. pet names: baby, babe, darling, sweetheart (hers) babe, daddy (his)
› author's note: i lost my mind and just wrote this. i never write drabbles but yoon jeonghan always changes my mind simply by existing LOL DRABBLE—THIS THING TURNED INTO A FULLY FLEDGED ONE SHOT HAHAKJDHKGJH THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE HAKJHF
› shoutout to @aeristudios for suggesting baby names, and for giving me the inspiration to do this, jskdfjh.
and to @coupsiedaisee for watching me spiral in real time for the yoon jeonghan. thanks. thank you for working out certain plot points with me and for proofing this! 🩵🥺
› disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂
It was only supposed to be a nap.
You and Yoon Jeonghan have been dating for a few months now. Ever since you met him, your life has turned around, and you’ve never felt luckier. Jeonghan walked into your life with the smoothness of a trainwreck—in the best way possible. One afternoon, you came out of work and started getting rained on out of nowhere. And he happened to be the only guy willing to share his umbrella.
You started talking, waiting for the storm to subside. He took your number, and you were surprised to receive a phone call the very next day. It wasn’t exactly easy to navigate the waters since you learned he was a single parent. Dating was hard enough already, and all of your friends thought you had lost your mind when you started dating a single parent in his thirties.
“I’m barely thirty,” he’d say with a laugh, the tips of his ears turning bright red whenever someone commented on it.
Jeonghan made things feel lighter, even if his life was a complete mess sometimes. He provided you with a sense of normalcy, a sense of security. Even though you were in your mid-twenties, sometimes you worried you were on different wavelengths. But as the months went by, you found that it was easier than breathing.
Both of you fell into a rhythm. Sometimes you’d visit him, sometimes he’d come to yours with his two-year-old strapped to his hip. You’d dine together, watch some mindless TV, or play games. And whenever he could get the chance to, he’d take you out on dates, just the two of you.
Tonight, you came to his apartment straight from work. It was pasta and pizza night, and it was one of the very first nights that you would stay so late at his house. Neither Jeonghan nor you would stay at each other’s places. You weren’t quite there yet.
Typically, you’d see him wearing his clothes from work—a button-down white shirt, black pants, slacks, belt that matched his shoes. Very clean cut in his work uniform, to the exception of the pair of wacky socks he wore—like salmon pink socks with cute little potted cacti. That’s the kind of man Jeonghan was.
But when he answered the door, you were surprised by what you saw. Sometimes you would see him wearing his uniform still, but with some bits already dishevelled, like his tie would be loose around his neck and his shirt with the buttons half-undone. No. This time, Jeonghan was wearing a white oversized white tee, with bright green shorts and a white cap on his head.
And something about it made your blood stir.
But you had to remain composed. You cleared your throat as you padded through his apartment barefoot.
“What are you cooking tonight, sir?” you asked playfully, following him into the open kitchen of his apartment.
The place was small, but perfect for him and Sohee—it felt lived in, toys scattered in the living room where most of life happened. There was a creamy white rug placed in the centre of the room, a baby chair where Sohee was hyper fixating on a bag of water and peas, while Jeonghan was busy in the kitchen.
Jeonghan eyed you briefly. A smirk broke into the frown he was previously wearing. “Cooking?” he drawled slowly as he appeared to be fighting to open a bottle of wine. “Pasta and pizza. I got up at the crack of dawn to make the spaghetti from scratch with my bare hands.”
“Oh, really?” you smirked, clearly catching on to his game.
“Yeah, obviously,” he said, masking a giggle with a cough. “What, did you think I would order food and then reheat it in the oven?”
You eyed the oven, which showed you the pizza that was currently being heated up. “I would never,” you giggled softly, pushing yourself to your tiptoes to reach for a kiss.
Jeonghan tilted his head to you, aiming for you to kiss him on the lips. But coordination between you failed. In the midst of him focusing on stopping the pasta from burning, and you standing on your tiptoes, you ended up kissing his cheek.
“Stay still,” you whined, making him chuckle. Bringing a hand to cup his cheek, you fixed him in place for you to prop a quick kiss on his lips.
Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Kiss me properly,” he complained, pouting and knitting his eyebrows in a frown.
“Pay attention to me, then,” you argued, laughing at his reaction.
“I can’t—I’m cooking,” he emphasized with half a laugh. But then he turned the stove off, quickly placing his hands on your waist to push you back against the kitchen sink. The movement was smooth, making you think that he had wanted to do this the moment he saw you walk into the kitchen.
“You are a kitchen hazard,” he huffed, his voice low, barely audible.
“Why?” you asked, laughing softly.
He tilted his head to yours, the tip of his nose bumping against your own. “Cause you’re distracting the chef,” he whispered, joining his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, almost as if he wanted just to feel your lips with his own and nothing else. Then slowly, as he kissed you again, his tongue brushed your bottom lip ever so slightly, drawing an airy moan from you.
But then, an alarm went off, snapping him back to reality. Jeonghan tensed at the sharp sound, but leaned his forehead against yours. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I’ll get Sohee,” you whispered without opening your eyes yet.
That gained you another kiss—this one was even more brief, fleeting. But it denoted the need he had to have his lips on yours. He stepped back, though begrudgingly.
This was the only push and pull you had with Jeonghan.
In all of the months you’ve been dating, you have never gone past kissing. The only times you both have been close to doing something other than kissing were the few make-out sessions where he dared to slip his hands beneath your blouse, only to feel your back or your waist.
Yoon Jeonghan was the only man in your life who exerted control over himself.
And it was confusing at times.
Not because you questioned his affection, or his desire for you. You knew he wanted you. But for some reason, he controlled himself every time things got a little too heated. And well you… you wanted this man. More than you allowed yourself to admit.
The boyish aspect he sported as he wore his cap, the laid back look… you found it too hard to resist.
But you resisted it anyway. You skirted through the living room, through the rug cluttered with toys that told a story—a train was on the ground, surrounded by little cowboys and ponies. You smirked to yourself, knowing what story Jeonghan might’ve crafted for baby Sohee moments before he got up to get dinner ready.
You lifted Sohee from her chair, mirroring the little squeal she let out as you wrapped her in your arms. “Hi, young lady,” you cooed, smiling at her as she clapped her tiny hands together. Sohee was a perfect little girl with big bright eyes, a head full of messy black hair and the cutest smile— just like her father’s.
Jeonghan had finished setting up the small round table and was approaching you with a small towel he normally used to wipe the drool off of Sohee’s chin. “She might not be hungry, though. Apparently, she ate all of her meals at day care, not just animal crackers,” he commented with a slight but noticeably contented look on his face.
You made a shocked expression, grabbing her attention fully. “She did?” you asked, and the baby giggled at your face. “That’s awesome! Daddy must be so proud of you!”
Jeonghan blinked, his gaze shifting from his daughter’s face to yours. Now, this wasn’t the first time you called him daddy, but you were beginning to notice that it had an effect on him. His eyes widened slightly, and he seemed to stumble over his words before he even uttered them.
He ended up just smiling shyly.
“Come on, let’s put you in your chair,” you said, pretending not to have seen his reaction.
As you safely put Sohee in her highchair, she held onto your hair, making fists around the loose strands and clenching them tightly as you placed her safely.
“Sohee,” Jeonghan sighed reproachfully, catching her tiny fists around your hair before you did.
“Oh—” you muttered.
But Jeonghan was quick, grabbing Sohee’s favorite cup and placing it in front of her strategically. “Look here, Sohee!” he cooed, his tone rising in a way that made you go a little feral with cuteness aggression.
But it did the trick—Sohee instantly went for her sippy cup, silently latching her mouth to it and started drinking from it.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he muttered as you stood back. Jeonghan was standing behind you, so you bumped back against him blindly, his hand falling on your lower hip by accident.
Your whole body became alight with excitement. A little too much of it. “Yeah!” you sighed, your tone sounding too high. You cleared your throat.
If Jeonghan noticed, he did not react. “Please,” he motioned to the chair for you to sit.
You sat down beside Sohee, looking at the table as Jeonghan placed the pizza at the centre. “Hawaiian pizza?” you arched an eyebrow.
Jeonghan stopped, two empty glasses in his hands as he was just about to place them on the table. “Isn’t it your favourite?” he asked, sounding horrified.
“Yes, i-it is,” you replied, face switching into a frown. “How did you know?”
He relaxed visibly, his shoulders going slack as he resumed putting the glasses on the table, then turned to grab the bottle of wine. “Well, you told me,” he said, smirking.
“I did?” you asked.
Jeonghan joined the round table, and it was small enough that he was close to you and Sohee at the same time. “Yeah, you did. Our second date, remember?”
“Uh, yeah. Totally,” you said, not hiding the evident unseriousness in your tone.
Jeonghan huffed. “Ah, you don’t remember,” he clicked his tongue again. “Maybe you should pay more attention to me,” he emphasized jokingly.
You giggled. “You’re right, it is my favorite,” you said, leaning in to place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for remembering.”
Jeonghan smiled shyly, looking down as you pressed your lips against his cheek. He directed a long look at you as you leaned back on your chair. “Let’s hope she likes it too,” he mumbled, cutting a small piece from his slice of pizza and pinching it with a fork.
“She might not be big on it,” you mumbled softly, looking at Jeonghan as he drove the fork in front of her face. “Not everyone likes pineapple on pizza.”
He glanced at you. “You’re right about that,” he huffed playfully.
“You don’t like it?”
He shrugged, still waiting for Sohee to take the bite. “I don’t mind it,” he replied. “I just think it changes the whole meal. A snack turned into a dessert.”
“So you think pizza is a snack?” you inquired, arching an eyebrow.
“I just don’t think it’s a meal on its own, you know? It needs to have company, like pasta,” he replied with a light smile, his gaze shifting between your face to his daughter’s as she finally took the piece of pizza into her mouth.
“Oh, moment of truth,” you muttered, completely forgetting what Jeonghan just told you.
Sohee appeared to be completely intrigued by the piece of food that had just entered her mouth. She chewed, her face progressively becoming more and more interested in swallowing just to get another mouthful immediately.
“It appears she likes it,” Jeonghan mumbled happily, exchanging a look with you.
“Of course she does,” you asserted. You gave him a confident wink. “Sohee’s like me. She has good taste.”
Jeonghan smiled, content that Sohee was liking the food she was trying for the first time. But there was more in the twinkle of his eyes as he looked at you—you were able to appreciate it.
He was happy.
After dinner, you offered to tidy the kitchen as he bathed Sohee and got her ready for bed. Usually Fridays were more relaxed for you both, since none of you had to work the next day—but something about that day had left you feeling tired, and sleepy. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was work, you didn’t know.
But you were feeling too tired to drive back home, and in all honesty, you didn’t want to leave yet.
You sat on the couch, waiting for Jeonghan as he put Sohee to bed, and then you could have a moment between you two—which was probably going to end up with you watching something on TV, occasionally stopping to kiss until it got too steamy for either of you. It was usually like this. And this rhythm had you slowly falling into a steady step—familiarity.
You realized you liked it. You could get used to it.
However, tonight, your body had other plans for you.
One moment you were waiting for Jeonghan on the sofa, shutting your eyes, and the next you opened them to find yourself in his queen-sized bed, covered with a weighted blanket.
You instantly tensed, scrambling to sit up.
Jeonghan was lying beside you, not completely asleep but not quite awake either.
The lights were off, but the curtains weren’t exactly fully closed, so you could see his face thanks to the sliver of light that slipped through the parted curtains. He lifted his eyebrows, blinking slowly at you. “Hey,” he croaked.
“Oh my god,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
In the darkness, you saw him frown. “Why are you sorry for that?” he asked, his voice soft, laced with tiredness.
You realized that he was still wearing the same clothes, sans the cap. Now, you could see his black hair, which he kept trimmed short. You gulped. “I—” you sighed, finding no excuses to give him. “I should go home.”
Jeonghan lifted his head from the pillows, still frowning. “It’s late,” he mumbled. “And you don’t have to go. You could stay.”
The air in your lungs seemed to vanish in an instant. You knew the implications of staying the night at his place—sharing a bed with him meant you taking things to the next level. A whole more intimate level.
“Jeonghan…” you muttered, but there was no reason for you to say no. You wanted to stay. And you were aching to lie down next to him.
He noticed something in your tone, the hesitation perhaps. Because he smiled softly, stretching an arm towards you. “Come,” he whispered, motioning over to his side of the bed.
You turned over, lying down in front of him. Jeonghan received you in his arms instantly, wrapping one arm over your waist and slipping the other under you, effortlessly pulling your chest closer to his.
Your breath hitched when you felt his warmth, instinctively finding his chest with your palm and pushing some invisible inches of distance between you. It was futile.
Jeonghan started giggling, crushing his lips on your face. “You’re nervous,” he finally realized, pressing his lips repeatedly against yours. “It’s not like we’ve never slept together before.”
“No, we’ve slept naps together,” you interjected. “And on a couch. Never on a bed.”
“Imagine this as taking a longer nap,” he said, shrugging slightly.
“In a bed,” you added shakily, skirting the pads of your fingers down his chest nervously.
Jeonghan laughed, aiming for another kiss. “Mm-mmph,” he hummed against your lips.
Your pulse quickened. The kisses Jeonghan was giving you were mere pecks, lips pressing against yours repeatedly, gently. It wasn’t until a grunt escaped him, the arm perched on your waist switching so his hand could park on your lower back. He tilted his head, pushing yours so you could part your lips, giving him access.
Jeonghan had a killer factor. And it wasn’t his good looks, or that he was a great kisser, no. Yoon Jeonghan had a duality that only you knew. He could appear composed to some people, fun to others. A good father. A good co-worker. But the thing that never failed to make you want to die a little was just how sexy he could be.
And given the fact that he’d never gone past kisses made you a little crazy.
He kissed you again, now locking his lips with yours, humming into your mouth as you dared to swipe the tip of your tongue on his bottom lip. His hand slipped from your lower back, circling your waist and sliding to meet your hip. Inches closer to your bottom.
“Jeonghan,” you whispered, bringing a hand to cup the side of his neck.
“Want me to stop?” he mumbled, his tone gentle and sweet.
You moved your hand from his neck, shaking your head in tiny motions as you cupped his chin. “No—just a bit longer,” you whispered, diving for another kiss.
Jeonghan returned the kiss just as heatedly, his hand on your hip pressing slightly so his fingertips dipped into the fabric of your skirt. You didn’t even realize that he’d pushed the blanket down, or had you done it?
The sweet pecks had turned into a make-out session. It became harder to breathe, your body felt heavier and hotter. His lips were losing their gentleness, his chest closer to yours to the point it was noticeable in the shift in his breathing.
He pulled away, just slightly, so he could speak. “Tell me when to stop,” he said, his tone rising a bit in desperation. As though he was getting closer to a line he wouldn’t be able to come back from.
“Just as long as you are comfortable, I’m okay,” you whispered, still unable to get a grip on your nervousness.
Now, you weren’t completely inexperienced in sex. You’ve had your fair share of experiences, multiple partners in the past. But there was something about Jeonghan, something about his kiss that melted you away completely—it made you feel like a beginner all over again.
“Me?” he whispered, chuckling softly.
“Yeah, dummy, you,” you said, frowning slightly. “I thought you didn’t want to…”
He pulled away, getting a better look at your face. “Didn’t want to what?” he asked, matching the frown on your face with his own.
“You know,” you mumbled, shrugging with reluctance. “You always pull away when the kissing gets too much, or when your hands go too far.”
He blinked. “I never realized you saw it like that,” he said, softer now.
“Well, explain to me how you think I saw it,” you mumbled, showing him a coy smile.
He seemed to slow down. “I thought you wanted to take things slowly,” he emphasized, still speaking gently.
The statement made your mind race. All the occasions that Jeonghan left you feeling a little too hot, panting, and wet have been because he thought you were the one pulling the brakes? “Jeonghan, what?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I thought you didn’t want to take things there yet,” you replied, hating yourself for speaking figuratively. Your face heated up.
He smiled fondly at you. “Really?” he mumbled, raising his eyebrows briefly as he leaned his forehead against yours. “You have no idea.”
Jeonghan kissed you again, your breath catching as his lips locked with yours. The arm that was under your body wrapped over your back, as the hand on your hip held you tightly. You never would’ve guessed what he was attempting to do, because when he turned over on his back, he brought your body with him too. Now, you were lying on top of him, your full body weight pressing down on his body.
You had no time to protest—not that you actually had something to protest. But this was the very first time you both dared to do something like this. And it wasn’t because of any kind of convictions you had, it was just because you both failed to interpret the assumed distance.
And now that he knew you also wanted him, it was as though he was released from a self-imposed prison.
Jeonghan let his hands roam free on your back, leaving your hips to press his palms on the line of your back, feeling you over your clothes. He hummed into your mouth as you continued to kiss him fervently, as though his lips were magnetic, calling you to him.
Suddenly, your clothes became too much. You wanted to get rid of his oversized t-shirt, the shorts. Everything.
And Jeonghan was thinking the same, apparently. Because his hands moved further down on your body, his fingers pinched the stiff fabric of your dress shirt from your work uniform, hiking it up so he could hide his hands beneath it.
Despite his touch being cold, you welcomed it. Your body was hot, feverish as his lips continued to explore yours, his tongue meeting your own in a seamless dance. Your heartbeat was going a mile per second, so fast and so hard you could hear it thumping in your temples. It was almost embarrassing how a simple make-out session could make you feel like you were running a marathon.
It was his effect.
“Hannie,” you called, your tone honeyed and airy.
“Should I stop now?” he asked again, and you realized from his tone that he was aroused as well. It sounded low, raspy.
“No, no,” you mumbled dumbly. “Please, just give it to me. Give me everything,” you pleaded, past caring how pathetic you sounded.
But again, you wanted this man.
Jeonghan didn’t need further confirmation.
His hands slipped from under your dress shirt down and over your skirt, fully cupping your ass over your clothes. “Sit on me,” he mumbled gruffly, swallowing hard.
You let out a strangled and tiny noise from your mouth. But you followed his instruction, moving your knees to each side of his hips—not caring that the movement was hiking your skirt up your thighs, to the point that it barely covered your butt anymore.
Jeonghan didn’t skip a beat, his hand circling your neck to motion you back on his lips. You were straddling now, so it was easier to lean over him to kiss him fully. You grabbed his face with one hand, while the other slipped on the side of his head, fingernails grazing his scalp, feeling his short hair in between your fingertips.
He moaned, the sound muffled by your mouth, reverberating in your chest. It made your blood dance, arousal sizzling under your skin, your heart race even quicker. Instinctively, you pressed your hips down, accidentally grinding your crotch against his. You could feel him through your panties, the hardening bulge beneath his shorts—its warmth.
His hands gripped you harder, motioning you to repeat that same movement by pressing your hips down on him, making you feel his growing boner. You broke the kiss, but only to feel his breath on your lips. “God, Jeonghan,” you whispered shakily.
Jeonghan knew you were nervous by your tone alone. “Tell me what you need, baby,” he told you, his voice still sounding raspy.
After hearing the word baby come out of his mouth, you could not speak past this point. All you knew was his hands on you, the very evident hard-on pressing against your crotch. And Jeonghan’s warmth, the need he had for you, all of that just robbed you of words.
But you could only utter one word. “More,” you said, already knowing that without your consent, he wouldn’t do anything.
You were sure that Jeonghan could feel your rapid pulse beneath his fingertips, his hand still parked around your neck. He motioned you to his lips again, a tiny gasp spilling from his mouth when you shifted on top of him, pressing your ass on his hardened cock. It made you moan too, the sound muffled by his mouth.
His hand slipped from your neck, fingers fumbling over the buttons of your dress shirt. The second his thumb went over the first button, your core started pulsing with need and heavy arousal.
You kissed his mouth, your hand feeling his short hair while the other one felt him up his chest. His heart was beating rapidly too. You could feel it vibrating beneath your palm. His fingers continued their descent down the buttons of your shirt, undoing each one of them with great care. Like giving you ample time to stop him if you changed your mind.
But you, on the other hand, were aching for him to get it done. To get your clothes off so you could start taking his. However, Jeonghan seemed to be taking his sweet time to the point that you began to think that he was doing it to fluster you more.
As soon as the last button of your shirt came off, you pulled back from his lips, leaning back on top of him so you could get a better view of his face. His eyes roamed all over your face and body as you let the dress shirt slip off your shoulders, taking it off your arms to then discard it somewhere on the floor.
Jeonghan’s eyes widened slightly when he saw your chest, covered only by the white lace bra that you were debating to take off at that moment. But Jeonghan sat up with you still straddling him, his hands switched from your hips to your back, palms feeling you up as he reached for the line of your bra.
He looked at your face directly, his eyes reading yours as his fingers unclasped your bra. Your skin immediately prickled, a shudder running down from your nape to your tailbone. You felt his hands move, fingers reaching the straps of your pretty bra to slide them down your shoulders, then your arms.
He paused, his eyes outlining the features of your face one more time before his gaze dove into your chest. Then he leaned over, pressing a sweet kiss on your collarbone, his wet lips brushing your skin made your eyelids flutter close.
Your mouth parted, his mouth continuing to kiss down your chest, was slowly driving you insane. “Oh, Hannie,” you moaned, the sound sweet and almost pathetic.
He responded with a moan of his own, but his sounded raspy, almost animalistic. It made your blood surge, pushing you to press down on him harder. Jeonghan grunted again, this time in protest, as though you were fighting for control, and he would not allow that.
In one motion, he flipped your body over, pressing your back against the mattress. You gasped, your eyes finding him. He never handled you with such force, let alone put you down like this, because he wanted to cage your body with his.
He made no comment about your alarmed expression, but a cheeky smile drew on his beautiful lips before he dipped his head to kiss you again. You were now lying on your back, Jeonghan was slotting his body between your thighs, which you were parting for him, careless that your skirt was already up your belly.
Jeonghan slipped his hands between the mattress and your butt, finding the zipper with his fingers all too effortlessly. It made you think that he had already located the zipper way before this, which meant he’d been looking at your ass as well. The zipper came down, and his hands quickly moved the skirt down.
“I love when you wear this,” he said gruffly, pulling away to remove the skirt from your legs. “But right now, it needs to go.”
He discarded your skirt somewhere in the bedroom, and you heard the metallic sound of the zipper hitting the floor, snapping you to reality. Your hands acted on their own, finding his oversized t-shirt and pulling it over his head, which he let you do all too willingly, even helped you with tossing the shirt to the floor as well.
You giggled softly, stretching your arms to him so he could come back to slotting his hips between your thighs. Once he pressed his bare chest with yours, you wrapped your arms around him, skirting the pads of your fingers along the line of his back, feeling his skin prickle as well.
You loved that he showed no hesitation. He wanted this as much as you did, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He initially bristled when your fingers started dancing on his bare skin, but as he let out a brief giggle, you realized that he was just ticklish and responding to your touch.
The sound alone made you go entirely feral, if you weren’t feeling like that already. You let your hands roam on his back, searching for the waistband of his green shorts, beginning to pull them down.
But Jeonghan seized your hands, grabbing them by the wrists and pinning them up your head. “Hold them right there,” he said, his tone raspy and laced with a hint of playfulness.
You did what he said, though not by obedience alone, but because Jeonghan had caged you with his body. He lowered his hips on yours, making you feel the size of his hard cock, then the warmth of his chest against yours.
He made a trail of kisses, starting from your cheekbone to your lips, then trailing down to meet the line of your jaw, the crook of your neck and your collarbones. Then, with a fleeting glance at your face, he dipped his head to kiss your chest, kissing your boobs with such deliberation that it made you think he wanted to do this for a long time. He hummed against your skin, tasting your skin as he wrapped his mouth around your left nipple.
You winced slightly under him, but then relaxed instantly when the tip of his tongue swirled around your areola, to then suckle at it and kiss it. Then he did the same with your other nipple, now the feeling was so sweet that you closed your eyes, moaning salaciously.
Jeonghan lifted his head, shushing you softly. But then he giggled bashfully. “We don’t want to wake the baby up,” he warned you, the same spark of playfulness making a return.
“Right,” you whispered, shame tingling beneath your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Jeonghan shook his head. “No, you’re alright,” he whispered back, pushing his forehead against yours before propping a light kiss on your lips. “You’re perfect.”
Your heart shuddered. You cupped his face with your hands, meeting his lips with your own with soft pecks. “Want to keep going?” you whispered, your tone rising a little, making you sound shy.
“Yes,” he replied with determination. He swallowed hard, but then you felt him raise his eyebrows slightly. “And you?”
“Yeah,” you replied, giggling at yourself. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” you admitted.
“Mmn,” he hummed, giving you another light kiss. “If only you knew how badly I wanted you,” he replied, matching your giggle.
“You can show me now,” you told him, your tone sweet and melted in arousal for him. “I’ll be quiet.”
“But not too quiet,” he said. “I like the way you sound.”
Something came over you, like a bright light bulb going on and off inside your brain. You smiled cheekily, even though he was still leaning his forehead on yours and couldn’t see you. “Yes, daddy,” you replied.
Jeonghan let out a sigh, and you knew that he was smiling just by the sound alone. He hummed, closing the space between his mouth and yours to kiss it. “You will be the end of me,” he told you, giggling softly.
But then he wasted no time, continuing to explore your bare skin with his lips. He returned to kissing your chest, teasing your nipples with the tip of his tongue, and he did this slowly, as though getting to know how your skin tasted, how it felt on his lips. You were sure now—Yoon Jeonghan had been wanting to do this for a long time.
You remained silent, feeling too aroused and too needy to get things done to even speak. You felt as though your tongue had grown heavy in your mouth, and you were submitted to only watch and feel what Jeonghan did to you. He saw back on his knees, his fingers hooking around the waistband of your panties.
You exchanged a glance with him, and you knew that he was asking for permission just with a look. You nodded, and he started to pull your panties in his direction, taking them off your legs. You retracted your legs, lifting your knees up for him to take your panties off completely, and left them aside on the bed.
Now, you were utterly naked on his bed. For a split second, you wondered how this situation would look from afar—pitch black in the dead of night, only a sliver of streetlight seeping through a crack in the curtains. Jeonghan, half-naked and crawling on top of your body, as you welcomed him in your arms, parting your legs for him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he drawled, pushing his lips against your own. “You don’t know how many times I imagined you here with me,” he whispered coyly.
“Yeah?” you replied in kind.
“Mm-mmph,” he hummed. “So many times. And even then, all those things I thought about don’t even come close to the beauty you are in real life.”
“Hannie,” you giggled sheepishly.
He laughed against your mouth. “My pretty girl,” he said tenderly, kissing you one more time. “So perfect. And sweet.”
Your eyelids fluttered close, as he kissed the underside of your jaw, then your neck. You sighed. “All yours, daddy.”
Now, you were sure that word had an effect on him. He let out a hum against your skin, moving to kiss your collarbones, your chest, your belly. “All fucking mine,” he said aloofly, leaving wet kisses around your belly button.
The room fell silent again, all to the exception of your quiet moans and sighs, and the smacking of Jeonghan’s wet lips as he kissed your lower tummy, inching closer to where you needed him the most.
Now, part of you was finding it hard to believe what he was doing. Even if you had experiences with other people, they were never close to the man Yoon Jeonghan was. All of your past partners seemed to shrink in comparison just by the confidence he exuded—every move was deliberate despite his initial nervousness.
And you attributed that nervousness to how much he cared about this—about taking this step with you. Because you were also nervous. You had never liked someone this much. And had never even waited to have sex with someone for so long while dating.
“Hannie,” you mumbled shakily when he kissed your mound, sending you furtive glances to check in on you.
He lifted his head, and you saw his face. His lips were swollen and wet from kissing you, his eyes darkened and half-lidded with lust. “Want daddy to eat you out, baby?”
“Oh god—” you gasped. “Yes, yes, please.”
Jeonghan only smiled in response. It was a small smile, drawing on his face slowly. He said nothing, keeping his darkened gaze on you as he moved his mouth to kiss the top of your pussy.
You blinked repeatedly, mouth parting to let out a tiny moan. Your body twitched, and you laughed at your own involuntary response as his lips pressed a kiss just an inch lower. “God, Jeonghan, please just do it already,” you pleaded.
Jeonghan grabbed your thighs, holding them open as he bowed his head between them, pulling out his tongue and running it against your outer lips. The feeling was exquisite, making your back stir on his bed, and your head sink on his pillow. Your mouth fell open, and you had to clamp your palm against it to muffle a moan.
He blinked, raising his gaze to look at you briefly before he continued licking your outer lips. You noticed he was doing this to tease you only, right before he did the real thing. He licked your outer lips, kissed them and nipped them with his lips until you were a squirming mess.
“Please, please, please,” you begged over and over, sounding even more pathetic than before.
And he obliged, even if you weren’t voicing what you actually needed. Which was his mouth on your clit. But he did this slowly, working up to it. He gave you a broad stroke with his tongue in between your folds, drinking your arousal straight from your core with a pleased moan on his part.
He licked you over and over until his mouth found your swollen clit, wrapping his lips around it once, as though kissing it only. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue, only to get you to moan and thrash under him.
But he did not comment on it, even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was enjoying this. He brought a hand to your tummy, placing it flat against the top of your mound and then he latched his mouth around your clit again, beginning to suckle at it.
“Oh—” you gasped, leaving your mouth open wide as he teased your clit with his lips around it, sucking and pressing his wet tongue against it, moving it slightly from side to side. “God,” you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut.
He did this for a couple of minutes, only switching the pace and motion of his tongue when your moans became raunchier.
The room was soon flooded with the sounds you made and the sounds of Jeonghan’s mouth against your dripping wet pussy. Other than that, it was dead silent in the house, and you were becoming addicted to this game of sorts, of trying and failing to keep quiet. And part of you began to think that this was why Jeonghan kept edging you with his mouth.
“Daddy, I want to cum,” you told him. Running your fingertips on his scalp, feeling his short hair underneath your fingernails. “Please, help me cum,” you pleaded, your tone raw and sweet.
Your thighs were shaking. The rest of your body was so tense with arousal, you were sure you would break. But Jeonghan gave you what you so desperately wanted—sucking and licking your clit until you reached your climax. Tension broke in your body, filling you up with sweet, sweet pleasure.
Your fingers coiled around his hair, back arching as you let your orgasm consume you. “Fuck! Yes, yes, yes, Jeonghan,” you whined quietly, pleasure robbing you of sanity as you started sobbing and shaking on his bed.
He didn’t stop, not until you began panting and heaving. He left a sweet kiss on your top mound again, lifting his head from your ruined pussy. “Felt good?” he asked.
You pushed yourself to sit on the bed, hands quickly finding the waistband of his shorts and started tugging them down with shaky fingers. “Yeah. Amazing,” you sighed, not caring how pathetic you sounded.
Jeonghan was on his knees, looking at you fumble with the remainder of his clothes. He brought a hand to cup your cheek once you got rid of both his green shorts and his grey boxers. You raised your head to meet his gaze, and you knew that he just wanted to have an image of you like this.
You bent down, grabbing his hard cock with one hand and propping a prim kiss on his cockhead. You sent him a glance, moving your lips to press them on his shaft. Jeonghan was well-groomed and had a pretty cock. It was long, and the tip matched the color of his lips. And it was warm, hard and leaking precum from his slit.
His eyelids fluttered slightly. “Lay back, baby,” he whispered.
You obeyed, moving to lie back again on the pillows as he moved on his knees slowly. His gaze roved all over your naked body as he placed his hands on each side of your head, and then lowered himself to his elbows.
You ran your palms down his chest, feeling the muscle of his abdomen clenching slightly when your fingernails grazed against his skin. But he was kissing you again, as though he couldn’t go for too long without joining his lips with your own. His breathing shifted, and your fingers wrapping around his hard cock again made him groan into the kiss.
You rolled your hand on his cock, stroking him languidly as he positioned his knees on the bed, making you open your thighs wide for him. And then you guided the tip of his cock to your pussy, rubbing his cockhead up and down your wet folds just to get a reaction from him.
Jeonghan groaned, but didn’t stop you. And when his cockhead finally notched against your entrance, he pushed his hips against yours, slipping his bare cock inside you all in one go.
The kiss was broken. Your head sank on the pillows, and Jeonghan pulled back to see your face as he stuffed you full of his cock. Your eyebrows knitted, mouth parting as you let out a silent cry.
“You’re good?” he asked you softly, but his breath was ragged already.
You wanted to say yes. You felt better than you ever had in your entire life. An exhale came from your nose; you were already fucked out.
Jeonghan nudged the tip of his nose against yours. “Mn?” he hummed gently. “Baby?”
“I’m good, Jeonghan,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. “Perfect,” you mouthed.
Jeonghan giggled, starting to move. “Yes, you are, baby,” he said sweetly. “So perfect.”
You wished you could say something just as endearing. But you were quickly robbed of speech completely. Your mind had gone blank, going from the shocking orgasm Jeonghan gave you with his mouth to stuffing you full of his cock.
Jeonghan let his head fall on the crook of your neck, using your hair to muffle a raw moan as he moved his hips against yours, thrusting his cock inside you at an insanely good and steady pace.
You had closed your eyes, letting him take you however he pleased. You were too gone, melted in a puddle of arousal—it was then you realized just how wet you were. Your skin was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, your face smeared with tears of pleasure, and you could feel your pussy dripping with a mixture of your arousal and his spit. So wet in fact that every time Jeonghan moved, you could hear it.
You had started to match Jeonghan’s moans, except that he could muffle them on the curve of your neck. You were trying not to be loud, but it was proving to be a harder task than it initially was.
Jeonghan moved his head, probably thinking the same thing you were, because he crushed his mouth against yours—kissing you so passionately that all you could think was that he was trying to get you to shut up.
But he leaned his forehead against yours, breathing raggedly as his thrusts picked the pace up. “You feel so good,” he whispered shakily. “I’m not going to last long.”
“It’s okay. I want you to cum,” you replied, letting your fingers feel his skin. His back, his lats, his hips as he rolled them on top of yours.
The moan he let out this time was raspy, but he was able to drown it out in your mouth. “Where do you want me?”
Your mind spun with the question. And you knew then—you were crazy. Because you had to be. “Cum inside me,” you said, hating the sound that came from your lips. Raw, honeyed, like a whine.
Jeonghan grunted in a near-animalistic way, his thrusts stuttering in their pace, but he kept ramming his cock in and out of your pussy. “Fuck,” he whispered. And he rarely cussed when he was with you, and that was how you knew he was growing more and more desperate. Closer to his orgasm.
“Jeonghan,” you whined, knowing now that he was just as insane as you were. You cupped the back of his head with your hands, feeling his trimmed hair in between your fingers. “I want you to fill me up, daddy. Please, please.”
He let out a long, raspy moan, his breath caressing your lips as he started gasping more, pushing his hips against yours in a languid manner. You knew he was cumming inside you, and the thought of it made you moan with him, tilting your hips for him to fuck his cum deeper into you.
Jeonghan opened his hand, finding your head to caress your hair. He was panting, his chest touching your own every time he drew in air through his mouth. His thumb started moving side to side, caressing your temple.
You were shaking, hands slipping from his head, but stopped at his neck, feeling his pulse.
Then you felt his lips over yours, making you part your lips for him to have access to your mouth. His tongue rolled inside your mouth, drawing an airy moan from you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, on his lips. The act alone made your walls clench around him.
And he felt it.
Jeonghan grunted. And for a split second, you thought you were beginning to go insane because you felt him move, pushing his hips ever so slightly against yours. But no, Jeonghan was thrusting inside you again, moving his hips languidly, so slowly.
But before you could utter a question, something, he pulled back. Now sitting on his knees, Jeonghan grabbed your hips, starting to fuck you down his cock, which was beginning to harden again.
“Fuck,” Jeonghan sighed, tilting his head back but only briefly. His gaze roved all over you, from your face to your body and down your pussy, where his cum was spilling out of your swollen and tight entrance.
You could only look at him. He had a fucked out look on his face, and you realized that his skin was also covered in a sheen film of sweat. Your gaze trailed down to his abdomen and the way it contracted slightly with each thrust of his hips against yours, to then his happy trail leading down his pubic hair, which was smeared with a creamy white string of your arousal. And he was also looking at you, where your bodies joined, where his cum was dripping out.
His cock slipped out of you, making you both emit a sound at the same time. You smiled softly at him, and he mirrored your smile back. He grabbed his cock, coated with his cum and your juices, only to drive it back in your pussy, pushing his cum deep inside your walls.
Your entire body was overtaken with an intense shudder. Jeonghan kept fucking you like this, moving your hips to meet his rapid thrusts. He was beginning to look tired, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing one of your thighs with one hand and hiking it up his shoulder.
You whined at the change in position, now you could feel his cock reaching deeper inside you at each thrust.
“Fuck,” he whispered tiredly, letting his head tilt back. “You feel so good, baby,” he repeated. “You’re squeezing me so good.”
You could only moan in response, which made Jeonghan smile, turning his face to press a kiss on the inner side of your knee. The feeling of his lips on your skin only intensified the pleasure building inside you.
“Jeonghan,” you called.
“Yes, baby?”
“Fuck me harder,” you pleaded.
It was at that moment you knew—you could never let go of this man. Because Yoon Jeonghan smiled at your request and gave in anyway. He grabbed your other leg and hiked it on his shoulder, now fucking you harder, driving his cock inside you deeper.
You let out a whine. The deeper he went inside you, the closer you felt to your second orgasm. And this time it was quicker, being so stimulated that pleasure built easily in your body. But it was the whole situation that drove you insane—trying to keep quiet while Jeonghan rammed his cock inside you, his cum spilling out of you, headboard slamming softly against the wall, everything.
“Jeonghan!” you gasped, a strangled noise coming out of you as your second orgasm barreled down your spine, so hard you had to squeeze your eyes shut and clench the blanket with your hands.
He let out a sound through gritted teeth, and you knew by the way his thrusts slowed down that he was cumming with you, too. “Fuck,” he whispered, thrusting tiredly now, sloppily. He eased your legs back to the bed, crawling back on top of your body to kiss you again.
The kiss was languid, heavy with the need to rest and go back to sleep. But you were both latched to each other, kissing passionately despite the urge to breathe properly again. You were tired, yes, but were also happy beyond belief.
You cupped his cheek as he broke the kiss with a gasp. “You okay?” he asked.
You giggled. “You have to stop asking me that,” you replied, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Yes, Hannie. I’m okay.”
He blinked slowly, bumping the tip of your nose with his own. “Do you want to sleep now?”
You nodded. “Definitely,” you said.
Jeonghan smiled fondly at you. “Okay. But before that, let me take care of you. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you replied, your tone tiny and so sweet.
It made Jeonghan smile. “Alright,” he said, kissing you one more time before he peeled his body off of yours.
He climbed off the bed and walked to the bathroom. Moments later, you heard the water from the shower running. As he came back to the bedroom, you got a better view of your boyfriend. He was glorious—wholly naked, fucked out look on his face. And all yours.
“Don’t give me that look,” he said as soon as he noticed you, smiling knowingly.
“What? What look?” you asked, playing coy.
He leaned over the bed, placing his hands at each side of your face. “The kind of look that makes me want to climb up here and keep making love to you all night long.”
You giggled amusedly. “Jeonghan, you’re threatening me with a good time.”
He smirked. “Oh, darling. And I haven’t even started with you,” he said, pressing a kiss on the corner of your mouth.
A tingling sensation shot down, straight to your core.
Jeonghan must’ve caught a reaction on your face, because he only giggled. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Once back in the bedroom, your tummy twisted anxiously when you saw the aftermath of what you had done—clothes scattered on the floor, the blanket tousled on one side of the bed and the messy covers and pillows.
You began to pick the clothes from the floor, gathering them in a neat pile while Jeonghan checked in on Sohee quickly. When he came back, your tummy fluttered again. He looked different, recently showered and ready to sleep, a different side to his confident face.
He had given you a t-shirt to wear and also offered to lend you sweatpants, which you declined, given that his t-shirt was already oversized and almost reached your knees.
A part of you felt different now. Not bad, exactly. Like you had reached the end of a chapter and were now beginning another. You and Jeonghan had had this routine of sorts for months before you started a sexual relationship, but it just felt so different now. It made you nervous.
Would he look at you differently now?
“Is something wrong?” Jeonghan asked, the sound of his voice snapping you out of your thoughts.
Jeonghan was opening the bedcovers and sheets for you both, motioning you over with his head.
“No. Nothing’s wrong,” you replied, trying your best to mask your self-doubt. You crossed the bedroom and slipped into the bed.
When Jeonghan clicked his tongue, you realized that you had taken a space that was far from his usual spot on his bed. “Come here,” he giggled softly, noticing your shyness now.
“Sorry,” you whispered, cuddling up to him. “Force of habit.”
“Mmn, yeah,” he muttered, looking at you as you leaned your head on his shoulder. He emitted a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around you. “Not anymore. Mkay?”
“Okay,” you replied, letting your worries go.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
You moved your head on his chest to look at him briefly. “Of course.”
“Why did you think I wanted to take things slow?” he asked. His tone was soft, quiet.
You blinked. “Because I thought you didn’t want to risk things changing between us…” You trailed off. “You know? You have a lot on your plate with Sohee and your ex.”
The last word spilled from you like a curse.
You and Jeonghan always skirted around that topic of conversation. All you knew was that Jeonghan had a very fleeting relationship with Sohee’s mother, and it ended up with her getting pregnant. Jeonghan had full custody of Sohee, and you had also come to learn that his ex only liked to appear in both Jeonghan’s and Sohee’s lives sporadically. But on those occasions, she always seemed to make it a living hell for him.
Jeonghan blinked, and you knew your words had left a heavy impact on him.
Your heart squeezed. “I shouldn’t have,” you added nervously, looking away. “I’m so sorry.”
A pause.
Jeonghan slipped his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet your eye again. “No,” he mumbled. “We can talk about it.”
“Okay,” you whispered shakily.
“I don’t want you to think that there are things we can’t talk about, you know?” he said, worry beginning to set into the features of his face. “And maybe I’m to blame here, because I didn’t want to bombard you with my stuff.”
“What do you mean?” you said.
Jeonghan sighed, and it wasn’t out of tiredness or exasperation. He was looking for the words to say. “When I met you, I was terrified of some things. I debated whether to tell you about Sohee on the first date. I just didn’t want to say something that would scare you away,” he lowered his gaze briefly. “And I debated even more on telling you about my ex.”
“But you did tell me about Sohee on our first date,” you reminded him, frowning a little. “And about your ex on our second date.”
Jeonghan smirked slowly. “So you do remember our second date.”
“Of course I do, dummy,” you said. And then it clicked. You didn’t remember telling Jeonghan about your favorite kind of pizza because he had just told you about his evil ex. And that was his way of changing the topic. “I must’ve been digesting a lot of information while we talked about Hawaiian pizza, you know?”
He offered you a solemn look. “And you still stuck around. You could’ve walked away, but you didn’t,” he whispered, looking at you longingly. “You still haven’t.”
You parted your mouth. “I don’t think I want to, Jeonghan,” you replied in kind.
His gaze softened. “If something happens, will you talk about it with me?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” you mouthed. “Can I ask you now?”
Jeonghan nodded, blinking at you sleepily.
“Why did you think I wanted to take things slow?”
“Same thing,” he responded reluctantly at first. He let out a sigh. “I thought you didn’t want things to get messy, you know? I have a kid and I’m alone in this. I didn’t want to hold it against you if you didn’t want to get sexually involved with me.”
A smile broke into the features of your face. You pushed yourself up to kiss him tenderly. “You’re such a dummy,” you whispered.
“Me?” he giggled, holding you closer so he could press another kiss on your lips. “What did I do?”
“I’ve wanted you from the moment we met,” you told him, and it was the truth.
“How was I supposed to know?” he said, clearly clueless.
“I thought you always noticed,” you said, still in disbelief.
“But you never said anything.”
“Jeonghan,” you deadpanned. “I really like you. Like really, really like you.”
He smiled sheepishly, blinking slowly. “Well, I know that. I really like you too. I just wanted to wait until you felt ready to take things to the next level.”
“Babe, I literally called you daddy and let you cum inside me not only once, but twice,” you told him with a flat tone.
Jeonghan almost choked on his laughter. “Sweetheart! You can’t just say those things,” he said, sounding both scandalized and amused.
“Why not?” you said, clicking your tongue. “You’re always saying weird stuff as well.”
“Really?” he said, and you nodded at him. “Am I weird?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’m weird then,” he said with a faux defeated tone.
“You’re weird like pineapple on pizza,” you said. “Sweet and salty at the same time.”
He emitted a low chuckle. “That’s really corny, babe. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you. I work hard on my metaphors,” you replied primly.
“I’ll give this metaphor a seven out of ten,” he smirked.
You gasped. “Admit it, you love my metaphors.”
“Yeah, like I love pineapple on pizza,” he said, letting the sarcasm coat his words. He brushed his fingers down the line of your jaw, looking at you fondly. “You’re weird too.”
“The kind of weird that matches yours,” you said confidently.
Jeonghan smirked, closing the space between his lips and yours. “Absolutely.”
› author's note pt. 2: i need to give him a kid. or kids, plural. like asap, please. i'm begging 😭
i literally wrote this in between calls from work. like it literally took me 24 hours to write this, no joke. jeonghan just drives me insane. i have no explanation for this 🧍🏻♀️ i might just be ovulating but let's be real — i'm always thinking about jeonghan, and right now the baby fever is going wild. you'll see in future fics lololol
i want to thank you all for being here and for reading so far!! i recently gave away 25 free spots on my patreon!! i'm so excited hehe, i might giveaway more spots in the future! thank you guys for joining! 🥺🩵
Summary: Somebody had been texting you about some group project and kept calling you “Cheol” for three days straight. You told the stranger he probably had the wrong number, but the stranger insisted he had the correct one. With that, the two of you started exchanging things about each other, unaware that neither one of you was as far away from each other as you originally thought.
Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!reader
Warnings/tags: 18+ MDNI, eventual smut, fluff, smidge of angst, romcom, college au, non idol au, best friend!Joshua & Wonwoo, Joshua calls the reader pipsqueak, strangers to friends to lovers, sexting, phone sex, masturbation, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking weed, shotgunning, having sex while high (but it's consensual), protected & unprotected sex, dom!Jeonghan, pussydrunk!Jeonghan, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (f receiving), multiple positions, couch sex, face sitting, they text a LOT, Jeonghan is a horny bastard.
A/N: LOL YOU GUYS THOUGHT I'D POST IT MID MAY. I lied. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, and I'm sorry it took me a month to write... wish me luck for my exams tomorrow, and as always, this is not how I depict the idols in real life! This is fiction!
Word count: 19.1k (I yap too much)
Dividers from @saradika-graphics & @chrisssiren
Your phone had been buzzing every two minutes, a message notification coming from an unsaved number appearing on the top of your screen. Your best friend glanced at the device before looking back at you. “Aren’t you gonna check who’s been blaring your messages for the past twenty minutes?”
“We’re in the lab right now, Shua. I’m not going to check my phone while I’m in the middle of perfecting a blood smear. Speaking of which, give me your finger, I’ve jabbed myself enough times already.”
You grabbed his hand only for him to swat yours away with a soft hiss. “Take Wonwoo’s hand, I’m not sacrificing myself for your experiments.”
“It’s a blood smear. We’re supposed to do this in pairs. And you’re my pair, by the way,” you deadpanned, grabbing your friend’s arm as he whined when you pricked his finger for some blood. You carefully placed the small drop of Joshua’s blood into the glass slide, grabbed the second slide and placed it at a 45-degree angle before your phone buzzed again, causing you to lose your focus and fail to do your task once more.
Taking a deep breath, you tried not to crash out and scream as you grabbed your phone, unlocked it, and checked your messages from the unknown number.
???: Cheol.
???: Cheol, check this out.
???: [sent 1 attachment]
???: I got sushi from that one place just outside campus. I was thinking we could go.
???: Cheooooooooooooooool
???: dude, stop ignoring me 😐
You: I’m not Cheol, and you have the wrong number.
???: There’s no way you’re not Cheol. This is literally the number he gave me.
You: You must’ve saved the wrong number then. Please stop texting me.
???: Why?
You: Uhhh, because I’m not your friend?
???: I mean, we could be :))
You snorted at the logic the stranger you were texting was showing. Glancing around, you continued to text the unknown number while your PI was busy with other undergrads.
You: How?
You: For all you know, I could be a 64-year-old creep.
???: You see, you wouldn’t be saying that if you were actually that old.
???: Plus, no old man would be able to text as quickly as you do.
You: Fair enough.
You: Still, you don’t know me, and you shouldn’t really be spamming a random person’s number.
???: I thought you were my friend, so 🤷
???: Anyway, new friend!
???: What are you up to?
You: I’m in a lab right now, actually.
???: As in you’re a scientist?
You: Undergrad in the Biology department.
You: How about you?
???: Now, now… It won’t be fun if I reveal everything about myself now, will it?
You: You’re so strange.
You: I’m gonna block you now. Nice meeting you, stranger.
???: WAIT WAIT
???: I’m a journalism major. I’m assuming we’re from the same uni?
You: Why would you assume that?
???: Idk, hunch.
You: Okay… I need to go. I don’t want to get in trouble with my PI.
???: Does that mean you won’t block me?
You: I’ll think about it.
You turned off your phone, shaking your head as you grabbed Joshua’s arm again. “One more time.”
“You pricked my finger in the same spot like four times! How consistent can you be?!” Joshua complained as he held his “tortured” finger, as he called it, after you had pricked him four more times during lab. The two of you were walking from the lab towards the exit of the Biology department building to grab lunch at your usual hangout spot, which was the campus cafeteria.
As you shrugged, you shook your head at your best friend and his antics. Your thoughts were too preoccupied with the stranger whom you had texted earlier, wondering what they were up to at the current moment. Deciding to pull out your phone, you checked if they had texted you, but there was nothing.
“Waiting for prince charming to message you?” Joshua peered over your shoulder, which he immediately regretted when you elbowed him.
“I don’t even know if he’s a guy or not.” You rolled your eyes as you pocketed your phone, walking ahead as your friend followed.
Joshua grabbed your phone from your pocket with ease, unlocked it, and checked your messages. “Totally a guy. No girl would message like this.”
“How do you know?” You muttered as you snatched your phone back from your best friend, smacking him gently as you looked through the messages again. He was right. A girl would typically not text like this, and it was just pretty obvious that a guy was texting you, but you didn’t want to assume.
The two of you continued to banter until you got to the cafeteria to meet up with Wonwoo, who had to leave earlier because of a student council meeting. Once all of you had your food, you sat down by the windows and placed your trays on the table. That’s when your phone buzzed, prompting you to check, only to get disappointed when it was an email from your professor about your data analysis report for Statistics.
Wonwoo raised his eyebrow at Joshua, who just shrugged with a fond smile before digging into his food. You noticed the glance your four-eyed friend was giving you and gave up on staying quiet.
“A random number kept texting me these past three days,” you grumbled, taking a bite out of your food. Chewing and swallowing, you continued, “And I just replied to them today during lab.”
Wonwoo raised his brows, intrigued by your situation before speaking. “So… You just ignored them for three days straight?”
“...yes?” You sounded uncertain as Wonwoo hummed, thinking before shaking his head. “What? You thought of something, tell me!”
“No, nothing. I just thought it was strange that you’d ignore them rather than just block them.” He shrugged, and you blinked at his words, realising what he meant.
Right. You usually did block random numbers, but that was when they called! And this guy did not call, so you didn’t feel obligated to block him. Plus, you were pretty curious about the mysterious texter who wanted to “befriend” you.
“Do we know any journalism majors?” You suddenly blurted out, causing Joshua to look at you with a cocked eyebrow.
“Uh, Seungcheol is a journalism major with his friend—what was his name…” he muttered, trying to recall the name of Seungcheol’s friend. “I don’t remember his name, but why?”
You shook your head, trying to dismiss Joshua’s growing suspicions. “Nothing, nothing… It’s just that he said we might be from the same uni.”
Joshua groaned at that, and you knew what that sound meant. You chuckled awkwardly, knowing it was probably a bad idea to meet up with this person without getting to know them first, but hey, at least you were trying to socialise, right?
“You are not going to meet him! What if he’s some serial killer?” You rolled your eyes at your friend’s tendency to exaggerate everything, but Wonwoo seemed to agree with him. A sigh left your lips before raising your hands, as if to say you were forfeiting the idea. For now.
“You should get to know this guy first before meeting him. Stranger danger and all,” Wonwoo murmured while cutting his pork katsu into bite-sized pieces. “We don’t want you to get into unnecessary danger.”
Your eyes softened at your friend, understanding that they were only looking out for you. Taking another bite of your food, your phone buzzed once more. Expecting another email, you unlocked your phone only to see that the unknown number sent you a picture.
???: [sent 1 attachment]
???: Lunch 😋
You: Huh.
???: What?
You: We are from the same uni, after all.
???: So, my hunch proves to be correct!
???: What are you up to?
You: I'm also in the campus cafeteria, with some friends.
???: OoOoh
You: ??
???: Nothing, nothing.
???: I'd say let's meet, but that's a little too early for that 😉
You: My friends and I were actually just talking about that.
You: Stranger danger, so… what's your name?
???: Wouldn't you like to know? What's yours?
You bit your lower lip as you looked up from your phone to check any students in the surrounding vicinity who were on their phones—almost everyone. A sigh left your lips before you typed out your name and hit send.
???: Cute name
???: I'm Jeonghan. At your humble service.
You: Jeonghan, huh? You know I could just search you up in the student files on the uni website, right?
Jeonghan: But what would be the fun in that, sweets?
You: ‘sweets’?
Jeonghan: You sound sweet, so sweets 🤷🏻
Jeonghan: Anyway, let's set up some rules!
You: For what???
Jeonghan: Since we're from the same uni and all, we're bound to bump into each other.
You: The journalism department and biology department are on opposite ends of campus.
Jeonghan: We could share classes, you never know, sweets.
Jeonghan: Anyways, rules! One, you're forbidden from searching me up on the school website and vice versa. It's more fun if we don't know what we look like for now.
Jeonghan: Two, no asking around people on campus if they know who we are. That'd be cheating.
Jeonghan: Three, we update each other on our day-to-day to get to know each other better until we're ready to meet. And wanting to meet needs to be mutual, so if one doesn't want to, we can't meet.
You: So, you want this to be like a game?
Jeonghan: Kind of? It'll be fun :)
Jeonghan: So, what do you say, sweets?
You: What if I say no?
Jeonghan: Then I will never text you again, and we will go on with our lives as strangers.
Jeonghan: But I know you're interested, so please say yes.
You: Whatever, sure.
Jeonghan: Perfect. I knew I could count on you 😗
You: Don't ever send that emoji again, or I'm blocking you.
Jeonghan: Got it 🫡
“Having fun texting the stranger?” You almost jumped out of your seat when Joshua spoke up, prompting you to smack him.
“His name’s Jeonghan.” You glanced back at your screen to check if he had sent anything else, but there was just a gif with confetti. A soft snort left your mouth at that before you shook your head. “He's strange, but I'm only a human, and humans get curious.”
Joshua rolled his eyes, finishing his lunch as he stole a fry from your tray. “Just eat your food, you've been texting the guy for the past ten minutes. We have Statistics after this.”
A groan left your lips at that, disliking Statistics out of all of your lectures for the day. You'd rather have lab all day with your strict PI rather than Statistics with your notoriously annoying professor. You finished your lunch quickly and said goodbye to Wonwoo, who had a different lecture from you and Joshua.
“Who's got you smiling like that, dude?” Seungcheol sat across from Jeonghan as the latter cleared his throat before pocketing his phone.
“No one, what are you talking about?” Jeonghan shoved a couple of fries into his mouth, pretending like he wasn't just giggling to himself like some moron after texting you. His best friend raised his eyebrows, unimpressed as he sighed.
“You were texting her, weren't you?” Seungcheol noted the way Jeonghan glanced away, neck and ears burning as he sighed. “Dude, I gave you her number so you could introduce yourself! Not that you could convince her you had the wrong number.”
“I did introduce myself, kind of…” Jeonghan muttered, looking back at Seungcheol with a pleading glance. “I made this whole thing—I'll get to know her through texting, and we'll meet each other once we're ready—”
“Or you could just stop complicating this for yourself and introduce yourself to her like a normal human being?” Seungcheol deadpanned, crossing his arms as Jeonghan groaned. Only if it were that simple.
Jeonghan didn't have the guts to approach you and talk to you as he usually would with other people. He wasn't sure why, but something was stopping him from acting like himself—maybe it was because he didn't want to give you the wrong first impression? He couldn't figure it out, but what he did want was to get to know you better, and this was one way to do it.
He was so surprised when Seungcheol mentioned that he knew you, having taken some classes together during freshman year. He was even more surprised when Seungcheol told him he had your number. That's what got him into the situation he was in—texting you without you knowing that he was just one person away.
“Seriously, Hannie… She'll like you. You're funny, and she's a simple soul, she's practical, and if you play your cards right, she might agree on a date.” Seungcheol looked at his best friend with a sympathetic smile, but Jeonghan was convinced his way was better.
And he'd go through with this plan until he was ready to actually reveal himself.
Statistics was as boring as ever, but you promised yourself you'd actually focus this semester. While writing down your notes in your notebook, you couldn't help but feel someone's gaze on you. You turned your head in the direction you could feel the gaze from, and met someone’s eyes before they hurriedly looked away. Strange.
That’s when you noticed the person he was sitting next to. Seungcheol.
You turned back to your notes, curious about the guy sitting next to the friend you had made during freshman year. They were both probably journalism majors, so maybe they knew Jeonghan. Not like you could ask—it was a part of the rules of the game your next textmate decided to make up.
When the lecture ended, you decided to walk up to Seungcheol and his friend, telling Joshua to go ahead, and that you’d catch up with him later.
“Hey, Seungcheol…” You greeted awkwardly, not having seen him in quite some time due to your busy schedule.
The man in front of you immediately perked up when you came up to him, greeting you back with a hug. “Hey, it’s been a while! This is my friend Jeonghan—augh…”
“He meant Jung Han. My name’s Han. Hi,” Jeonghan murmured after elbowing his friend in the rib before shaking your hand with a smile. You gave him a small one back, letting go of his hand after a beat.
“Nice to meet you, Han. I guess, uhm… I’ll see you guys around? I still have to head to the lab to check on my samples—”
“Hannie can walk you there! He has, uh, he has a class not too far from there, yeah.” Seungcheol nudged Jeonghan forward, making you blink at both of them. You weren’t really against the idea, and Jeonghan was quite the looker.
You decided and hummed, nodding. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
The two of them looked at each other, as if they were communicating with each other telepathically, before Jeonghan smiled at you and offered his arm. “Shall we?”
The bold action caused you to snort and take his arm, telling yourself that you could get out of your comfort zone just this once.
“So, Han,” you started, and he hummed, looking down at you as the two of you walked arms linked with each other. “How’d you and Seungcheol meet each other?”
“Hmm, I think it was kindergarten. Why?” He asked back, and you just shrugged, seeming to be curious about the guy you were currently walking with. Jeonghan had this charm to him that you couldn’t place, but he seemed to be a little awkward, even when he was just walking with you.
You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to ask questions you normally wouldn’t have. Jeonghan was just that type of guy you’d want to actually get to know for some reason. Usually, you wouldn’t even be this touchy with a person you just met, putting them at arm’s length, but he just made it a bit easier to open up to.
So, you talked. Asked questions about him like the curious researcher you were, noting everything down mentally as you listened.
When you got in front of the Biology department building, you unlinked your arm from his before smiling. “This is me… Thanks for walking me here. You really didn’t have to.”
“Nah, it was my pleasure. It was fun talking to you, swee—I mean, uhh… yeah, fun talking to you.” He scratched the back of his ear, giving you an awkward chuckle. “See you around!”
Jeonghan gave you a salute before he turned and hurriedly walked away. You faltered, wanting to call out for him to ask for his number, but he was already out of earshot. A soft sigh left your lips before you decided to head into the building to check on your precious samples in the lab with a giggle.
“Stop fucking giggling like an evil scientist,” Joshua muttered from behind you as he smacked you with his clipboard. You frowned, rubbing the back of your head as you glared at your best friend. “So, who was the guy you had your arms linked with~?”
You rolled your eyes, knowing Joshua would want to know about what he saw. “Nothing, Seungcheol offered him to walk me, and I agreed.”
“Just like that? You? Agree for some guy to walk you all across campus?” He raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Jung Han,” you murmured, and Joshua’s eyes widened.
“Jeonghan? Like the guy you’re texting?”
“No, no—Jung Han. Two separate people. His name’s Han.” You explained, and your best friend made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth before furrowing his brows and grumbling to himself. “What?”
“I was sure Seungcheol’s friend’s name was Jeonghan, though, but eh, I must’ve misheard.” Joshua tilted his head to the side, clicking his tongue softly before dragging you into the lab room, where a few people were already conducting their research in their own workbenches. You didn’t linger on your friend’s words, focusing on the bacterial samples you had in the small lab refrigerator instead.
Twenty minutes into conducting research and writing your thesis, your phone buzzed, distracting you from your task as you glanced at the device before looking back at your laptop. You contemplated whether it was worth getting distracted, glancing around as Joshua seemed to be preoccupied with sending you random memes on Instagram. So, you decided to abandon writing your thesis to check whatever Joshua might’ve sent you before seeing a message from Jeonghan.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: The sunset’s pretty.
Jeonghan: Like you probably.
You: Are you flirting with me?
Jeonghan: uhhhhhhhhh
Jeonghan: If I am, would you let me?
You: I don’t know.
Jeonghan: wdym you don’t know? :(
You: If you send me one more sunset pic, I’ll consider saying yes.
Jeonghan: [sent 7 attachments]
Jeonghan: Are these enough?
You stifled a giggle, covering your mouth before replying to his message. You found Jeonghan entertaining, so you indulged in whatever he was trying to do.
You: You’re weird, you know that?
Jeonghan: Yes, you’ve called me strange before, I know
You: [sent 1 attachment]
You: I’m in the lab conducting research right now.
You: Lowkey bored :// My best friend keeps sending me reels instead of helping me.
Jeonghan: That’s cute
Jeonghan: The Sanrio sticker on your laptop, I mean
Jeonghan: Who’s your fav character?
You: Cinnamoroll.
Jeonghan: Noted 😉
You: For what?
Jeonghan: That’s a surprise for the future, sweets.
You: What if I don’t like surprises? What then?
Jeonghan: Ehhh, I think that you do like surprises, you’re just trying to throw me off my game
Jeonghan: But that won’t work! Because I can foresee the future.
You: And that future is?
Jeonghan: You and me on a date :)
You: Right. I’m blocking you.
Jeonghan: NO— WAIT PLEASE
Jeonghan: I was too forward. I apologise.
Jeonghan: One more chance, I beg of you, sweets.
Jeonghan: No date. Unless you change your mind.
Jeonghan: Sweets?
You decided to leave him on read with that, wanting to cackle to yourself. Instead, you settled with a slightly off-putting giggle, prompting the people around you to send you side glances, which also happened to be your best friend. Joshua threw a pipette at you, hitting you square in the forehead, pulling you out of your weird state.
“Stop giggling to yourself like that, weirdo. You’re creeping me out.”
You flipped him off, grumbling to yourself as you dove back into your research with a soft smile on your lips when you glanced at the Cinnamoroll sticker on your laptop.
It was late when you got back home to your apartment, tiptoeing inside so as not to wake your roommate—Minghao—up. It had been a long day, and you were exhausted, so instead of scurrying to your bedroom, you crashed on the leather couch you and Hao had bought last year, deciding to invest in a good couch instead of keeping the old, ratty one that was provided by your landlord.
Your phone buzzed, surprising you. It was 1:04 AM. Why was he still up? You unlocked your device and pressed the notification.
Jeonghan: u still up?
You: Why are you up?
Jeonghan: Couldn't sleep 🤷🏻
Jeonghan: You?
You: Just got back from the lab.
You: I worked on my thesis and didn't realise it was late.
Jeonghan: Ahhhh, I see..
Jeonghan: Do you wanna play 20 questions?
You raised your eyebrow at that, sitting up and leaning against the backrest as you thought about it. Jeonghan was a complete stranger to you—but you just continued indulging him because he was interesting. You thought about the other Jeonghan—or Jung Han, as he insisted, but you couldn't really take it seriously. Probably coincidental that they had the same name.
You: What the hell, why not?
You: Who starts?
Jeonghan: You can :)
You: Were you serious about that date?
Jeonghan: Oho, straight to the hard questions, huh? I can't say I don't like it.
Jeonghan: Maybe… Why?
Jeonghan: U interested? 😉
You: Those two count as two separate questions, so I'll answer them and get two questions myself.
You: Nothing in particular, I was just wondering if you were serious or not, and no, I'm not interested. Not yet anyway.
You: What’s your favourite colour?
Jeonghan: 👀
Jeonghan: Woah, woah— backtrack, little lady
Jeonghan: wdym “not yet”??
You: I don't know you, so.
Jeonghan: Fair enough..
Jeonghan: Oh, and my favourite colour is black.
You: Hm.. why would you want to go out with me? You don't even know what I look like.
Jeonghan: Does it matter if I do?
Jeonghan: Don't count that as an actual question; it was rhetorical
Jeonghan: And to answer your question—why not? You're interesting, and I find texting you quite fun, even when you threaten to block me or text like a robot sometimes.
You: I do not text like a robot! 😡
Jeonghan: Sorry to break it to you, sweets, but you do, painfully so. But it's part of the charm that tugs me towards you 😉
You: Your turn.
Jeonghan: Right. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Jeonghan: Oh! What's your favourite movie?
You: I, uh… 27 dresses. And How to Lose a Man in 10 days. Both romcoms, yes.
Jeonghan: That's cute
Jeonghan: Will be sure to watch them and tell u what I think about them
You: What are your hobbies?
Jeonghan: Hmmm.. That’s a difficult question. But I like playing football (not the American one, I'm a little too unqualified for that), sleeping and taking care of my pet rock ^^
You: You have a pet rock?
Jeonghan: That's two questions, sweetheart, but yeah, I do.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: Its name is Doljjong :)
You: That's…
You: That’s cute.
Jeonghan: Thanks
Jeonghan: How about you? What are your hobbies?
You bit your lower lip at that, contemplating whether or not to share something so close to your heart with a stranger. Deciding not to linger on it, you typed out your answer.
You: I like to read.
Jeonghan: Just that?
You: And, uh, I guess I like to draw sometimes.
Jeonghan: Okay, okay, cool
Jeonghan: Can I ask a more personal question?
You: Uh, sure.
Jeonghan: Do you have a boyfriend?
You: No.
Jeonghan: Why not?
You: Too busy.
Jeonghan: Would you like to have one then?
You: Good night, Jeonghan.
Jeonghan: Worth a shot
Jeonghan: Night, sweets.
You sighed, chickening out before the questions got too intense, not wanting to reveal too much, too soon. Your cheeks couldn't help but warm at the incessant flirting from Jeonghan, unsure why he was so interested in your love life when he barely knew you.
“He's so weird…” You muttered to yourself as you lay back down on the couch.
“Who’s weird?” You shot back up when you heard Minghao’s voice, seeing him getting a bottle of water from the fridge.
You shook your head, dismissing his question with a wave of your hand. “Nothing, just muttering to myself.”
That seemed to satisfy Minghao's fleeting curiosity as he padded back to his room, leaving you alone once more, your head hitting one of the throw pillows while you thought about your new contact and Jung Han.
“Seriously, you’ve been texting the guy for five days now, and you're thinking about meeting him already?”
Joshua shook his head, still disapproving of the idea of you meeting your phone pen pal. You had been texting Jeonghan for almost a week, and you enjoyed talking to him more often than you didn't. You found yourself liking his free personality, the way he seemed to just be himself through the phone, open with you as he shared little moments of his life without revealing too much. And you did the same; you gave him a piece of your peaceful life, sharing small stories about your experiences at the lab or just talking about your day-to-day, just like you agreed upon.
You found yourself truly befriending the guy who accidentally texted your number.
A groan left Joshua’s lips as he sighed. “Give it more time, get to know him better before you actually agree to something serious. I don't want you coming home crashing out because he wasn't the guy you expected him to be.”
“What guy?” You suddenly hear a voice behind you, turning to see none other than Jeonghan Han. Your expression seemed to change when you saw him, your face a little brighter as he sat down beside you.
“Oh, uh, nothing. Just the guy I’ve been texting.” You shrugged as he rested his arm around the backrest of your chair before stealing a fry from your tray.
You and Jeonghan had also been spending some time with each other, getting to know each other as you talked through Instagram DMs. He sent you funny memes and made sure to remind you to drink water. He was friendly and charming, but not in the same way as the Jeonghan you’ve been texting over the phone.
Jeonghan felt bad for lying to you like this, wanting to come clean, but he was in way too deep within his two personas he was showing—the strange charmer over the phone, aka the real him, and whatever this ‘Jung Han’ persona was. It was baffling how you couldn’t connect the dots. He shook it off as he glanced at you with the usual look he always sent your way—yearning and admiring. Even Joshua could notice it, your best friend clearing his throat and coughing.
“I’ll leave you two alone. I don’t feel like third-wheeling. See you during lab.” Joshua got up from his seat, giving the two of you a wave before leaving with his tray. Jeonghan chuckled awkwardly at that, while you just hummed and continued eating your food in soft silence.
“Tell me about that guy you’re texting.” Jeonghan suddenly blurted out, prompting you to pause and look at him. He seemed curious, his eyes darting around before looking back at you.
“I… I mean, he’s nice. I like talking to him. He’s a little strange, but I guess that’s the part of his charm,” you murmured, smiling as you took a bite of your food, chewing and swallowing before continuing, “He’s asked me out about three times, but I turned him down since it’s only been five days. But we do have a few things in common.”
“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan’s heart seemed to clench at how enthusiastically you talked about him to him, feeling jealous of his own self for knowing more about you and not being able to voice it out. It was ridiculous.
“I know I shouldn’t want to meet up with him, but I really want to. I want to see him and talk with him about all the things I talked about. Do you… Do you get what I mean?” You fidgeted with the napkin on your tray, glancing at Jeonghan as he nodded. You didn’t seem to notice how he tensed up, his jaw clenching before he relaxed.
Jeonghan then decided to tuck a few strands of hair away from your face, making you blink and flush when he leaned in. “You like him that much?” He sounded a bit hurt, eyes softening as he continued, “What about me?”
“Wh–what about you?” You mustered out, not moving away as his fingers found your shoulder, gently touching.
“Nothing, nevermind…” He chuckled, but it sounded strained as he moved back, ruffling your hair. “I have a lecture soon, pretty, I’ll see you later, okay?”
You faltered, confused as he got up and grabbed his bag, leaving you all alone at your table, your thoughts filled with nothing but his words. What about me?
Jeonghan wanted to scream into his pillow—well, Seungcheol’s pillow. He was currently in his best friend’s dorm at Beta Sigma Tau’s fraternity house. They were supposed to be writing an article about some topic Jeonghan had already forgotten, focused on his phone instead.
“You should just tell her, man. Stop being a wimp.” His best friend turned to Jeonghan as he sighed at his whining.
“I tried, Cheol… But something in me just flaked out, and I couldn’t bring myself to break it to her. What if she hates me for it?” He sat up, hugging the pillow as he checked your messages—both on Instagram and on his number. Nothing. He wondered if you had figured it out and decided to actually block him—
Ding!
Jeonghan immediately unlocked his phone to see that you had sent him a picture.
He almost fainted on the spot.
It was you in a pretty, baby blue sundress that ended at your mid-thigh, the sleeves puffy, making you look like a modern-day princess. Your face was covered by your phone, obviously not wanting to reveal it yet, even if he knew what you looked like, but this was the first time you’d sent anything remotely involving your looks.
You: Does this dress look okay?
Jeonghan: Yes.
You: Woah, that’s a serious response.
Jeonghan: Sorry, I was just so uh
Jeonghan: Surprised, ig?
Jeonghan: But you look very pretty, sweets
Jeonghan: Are... are you going on a date, mayhaps?
You: Maybe.
You: Jk, I’m not, I just wanted to know what you thought of the dress.
Jeonghan’s heart almost dropped when he saw that first message, before you followed it up with the second one. He didn’t realise he was holding in his breath as he let it out, making Seungcheol side-eye him, but he was too focused on texting you.
Jeonghan: I think the dress is lovely
Jeonghan: Will you wear it on our first date?
You: Maybe.
Jeonghan: You and your ‘maybe’s, just say yes or no, baby
You: Pffft
You: Ask me out again.
Jeonghan: Are you fr right now?
You: If you don’t do it in the next 10 seconds
Jeonghan: Sweets, sweetheart, will you go out on a date with me?
You: Yes.
Jeonghan got up from Seungcheol’s bed, startling his best friend as he re-read your answer before screaming, “SHE SAID YES—”
“What?” Seungcheol grimaced when Jeonghan’s voice cracked as the latter started jumping around like some madman.
“She said yes, dude, I’m going out on a date with her—fuck.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, already thinking of the plethora of things he wanted to do before coming up with a whole idea of where to bring you and whatnot.
This was going to be the perfect date.
Your heart was beating out of your chest. You said yes. You said yes. To a date with Jeonghan, a stranger you just met five days ago. Usually, your instincts told you to run in the opposite direction, but this time, it was telling you not to run away. Like this was meant to happen.
The two of you had agreed that you’d see each other on Saturday, which was four days away, giving the two of you some time to prepare. Prepare for what exactly? You weren’t sure, but you definitely needed the time.
You were currently on your way home, listening to music as you managed to bump into Jeonghan. He seemed as surprised as you were; his face was slightly flushed as if he was in a rush. He murmured your name as you took your headset off.
“Hey—”
“Hi—”
The two of you said in unison as you paused and smiled with a soft giggle. Jeonghan scratched the back of his ear—something he did when he was nervous, as you noted a couple of days prior.
You spoke up first, your expression full of wonder. “Where were you headed from?”
“Oh–uh, from Cheol’s place. We were supposed to do this one article, but I forgot the topic.” He chuckled, standing there as he put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I’m guessing you were going home from the lab?”
“Bingo.” You did finger guns, also pocketing your hands into your jacket. Your thoughts lingered on that moment you had in the cafeteria earlier that day, but you didn’t bother mentioning it.
Jeonghan seemed to hesitate, but spoke up after a beat, “Do you want to come over to my place?”
He blurted out, prompting you to pause. You checked your watch before looking at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I’m running late. My roommate wants me to eat dinner with him and his friends. We’re having Chinese. Maybe next time, though?”
“Oh—uh, yeah, sure…” Jeonghan smiled, hiding his disappointment and understanding that you had prior plans. That’s when he remembered about the party that was going to be hosted at Seungcheol’s fraternity.
“Hey, wait,” he managed to grab your wrist before you could leave. “There’s a party at Cheol—I mean Seungcheol’s fraternity this Friday.”
You blinked at him, pursing your lips slightly before cracking a soft smile. “I’m not really the partying type, Han.”
“I–I know! But we don’t have to stay downstairs. I’m sure Seungcheol won’t mind if we stay in his room. We could play Uno, or something.” He rubbed his neck, looking at you hopefully.
You thought about it for a second before sighing softly and nodding, “Yeah, I’ll go. Just don’t leave me alone there, alright? I’m sacrificing my precious Friday lab plans for this.” You joked as Jeonghan let go of your wrist, letting you leave as he found himself groaning when you were out of earshot.
You, on the other hand, were groaning for another reason. Not only were you sacrificing your precious time at the lab, but you were also juggling between two guys at this point! You felt guilty, but at the same time, it wouldn’t hurt to go, right? You were going there as his friend.
Shaking your head, you decided to stop thinking about it as you headed back to your apartment so you could eat with Minghao, Jun, and Soonyoung.
“I’m home!” You shouted from the front door as you slipped your shoes off, padding over to the kitchen to see Minghao cooking, while Jun and Soonyoung were trying to beat your record in Mario Kart in the living room. You could smell the aroma of the food Hao was cooking, going over to the stove before grabbing a spoon from one of the drawers and trying the soup.
Your roommate smacked your hand before you could grab another bite of the meat. “It’s not done yet, you impatient—”
Soonyoung, who called your name from the couch, cut Minghao off from cursing you out, and you smiled innocently at him before heading over to where your roommate’s friend was. “I beat your record! Give me the crown!”
“Oh yeah? Watch me beat your record—” You were about to grab the console from him when your phone buzzed. It was Jeonghan. An involuntary smile formed on your lips as you sat down on the armchair, not too far from the couch, before unlocking your phone. Soonyoung looked at Minghao, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: I miss you, sweets
You: Are you in the bath, Jeonghan?
Jeonghan: Uhhhhhh
Jeonghan: Yes?
You: I—Okay…
You: Also, you can’t miss me.
Jeonghan: Why not?
You: We haven’t met yet?
Jeonghan: I can miss my future girl, yk
You: Bold of you to assume I’ll be your future girl.
Jeonghan: You already agreed to go out with me.
Jeonghan: No take-backsies
You: Yeah, yeah. I know.
You: Have you planned out the date or…?
Jeonghan: Ofc I have, sweetheart
Jeonghan: Don’t worry your pretty little head abt it
You: If you say so.
You: I trust you.
You then contemplated whether or not to tell him about the party he Han invited you to. Shrugging, you decided to tell him, not thinking much of it.
You: Also… There’s this party I’m going to.
Jeonghan: Oh?
Jeonghan: My sweet geek is going to a party?
You: I am, yes. Surprising.
You: A friend invited me, so.
You: Would you like to come?
Three dots appeared and disappeared as Jeonghan typed, making you feel anxious. Was it a good idea to invite him when you were supposed to hang out with the person who invited you? You shook your head, focusing when Jeonghan finally replied to your message.
Jeonghan: Sorry, sweets, but I’ll be busy this Friday ://
Jeonghan: As much as I wanna meet you faster, I’d rather see you during our date, having fun instead of getting wasted
You: Valid point.
Jeonghan: I do hope you have fun with your friend though :))
You: I mean… we’re probably going to his friend’s room and play Uno or something since I’m not a party person.
Jeonghan: So your friend is a him.
Jeonghan: Cool.
You: Jeonghan, it’s not like that.
Jeonghan: 🙁
You: Jeonghan, you can’t be serious.
Jeonghan: MY FUTURE GIRL IS ALREADY CHEATING ON ME 🙁
You: I AM NOT.
Jeonghan: Gotcha
Jeonghan: You agreed that you’re my future girl 😍
You: I’m literally gonna block you.
Jeonghan: No you won’t <3
You sighed and shook your head, unable to stop yourself from smiling as Soonyoung gently nudged you with his foot. “Yah, why are you smiling like that? It’s creeping me out—Hao, why is she smiling like that?”
“She’s got a boyfriend.” Minghao rolled his eyes as you glared at your roommate. “Tell me I'm wrong.”
“He's not my boyfriend!” You argued, huffing softly as your roommate scoffed out a laugh.
“Right, and you don’t text him almost every day when you have free time.” He deadpanned, causing you to groan and threaten to throw a pillow at him before he sent you a glare back. “Plus, you bought that new dress when we went out, which means that you’re probably going to meet him soon—I’m presuming Saturday?”
“I—” You sputtered before clenching your jaw, kind of expecting this from Minghao. He just knew things, forces of the universe or whatever. Before you could even linger on the fact that he knew about your date, Soonyoung and Jun were tackling each other over the last pocky stick.
When dinner was ready and served on the table, the four of you dug in, but not before you took a picture of it and sent it to Jeonghan Han’s DMs.
You: [yourusername sent a photo]
You: Dinner with the goofs :))
Hannie 🩷: Have a good dinner, pretty :)
You: thank you, Hannie :3
You: Have you had dinner yet?
Hannie 🩷: Yeah, I just got out of the shower and made some ramyeon
You: I’d say you should have more than just convenience store ramyeon, but we are broke college students.
Hannie 🩷: Exactly, pretty
You: What time should I come to the frat house?
Hannie 🩷: Oh! I’ll just pick you up from your place, if that’s okay with u
You: Yeah, I don’t mind :))
Hannie 🩷: Perfect :)) I’ll pick you up at 8, since the party starts at 9
You: Alright, I've got to go, my roommate is glaring at me.
You turned off your phone before you could see Jeonghan’s reply, and avoided eye contact with Minghao before he spoke up again. “Who did you send the picture to?”
“Han from Journalism…” You grumbled, and your roommate’s eyebrow cocked in confusion.
“You mean Yoon Jeonghan?” He asked, and you shot him a puzzled look. “That’s the only Han I know from Journalism. You know, Seungcheol’s friend?”
That made you pause. Jeonghan. Han. Seungcheol. Cheol. Cogs turned in your brain until everything clicked. Han was Jeonghan. You agreed to go on a date with the same person who asked you if you wanted to go to a party with him. That’s why he declined your invitation.
You groaned at not being able to realise it sooner, but you didn’t want to do anything about it for now. Jeonghan must’ve had his reasons to keep this from you, so you let it be for the time being.
You got up from your seat, Jun perking up and furrowing his brows slightly. “Did Hao say something wrong?”
“Oh—no, I just figured something out,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as you muttered to yourself. Before Soonyoung could add anything, your roommate shushed him.
“Leave her be, she probably figured something out about Jeonghan.”
You decided to call Joshua about this about three hours later. It was late—11:09 pm—and you couldn’t sleep. You were wearing a face mask, typing along on your laptop, when your best friend answered your call, also in the middle of his skin care routine.
“Jesus Christ, I thought you were a ghost,” he muttered, and you rolled your eyes at his eccentric comparison. “What is this about? You said it was important, but you just seemed bothered by something.”
“Jeonghan is Han,” you mumbled, and your best friend made a face, not being able to understand you.
“What? Can you repeat that? You literally mumbled it, and I’m not Superman, by the way.” He sassed, putting on his moisturiser. “Jeonghan is who?”
“He’s Han! Like—Like Han, Seungcheol’s friend!”
You explained everything to Joshua, filling him in on everything, and by the time you were done with your rambling, your best friend was done with his skincare routine, and you were removing your sheet mask.
“That’s a lot to unpack, pipsqueak.” He sighed, shaking his head as he sat down on his office chair, propping his phone up against something while probably opening his laptop to write his thesis, just like you. “What do you wanna do about it?”
“I don’t know! I mean, I like him, but which one is the real him, you know?” You groaned softly as you buried your face into your hands without realising what you had just said.
“Wait, go back. What did you say?”
“Which one’s the real him–?” You looked at your phone screen, confused.
“No, dumbass, the other thing.”
“That I liked—oh. Oh.” You finally got what he meant, realising that you liked Jeonghan.
You weren’t sure which version of him you liked more, but you liked him all the same. It made you realise that in the past few days, you’ve known Jeonghan as Seungcheol’s friend and as your phone pen pal, you’ve liked talking to both versions of him. The awkward dork side and the more flirty side of him.
“So, what are you gonna do about it?” Joshua repeated himself, looking at you with a knowing smile.
“I’m gonna go to that party and tell him how I feel?” You sounded unsure, feeling your insecurities grow. Jeonghan knew what you looked like all this time, but you still felt like you weren’t going to be enough for him. You also felt a bit betrayed at the fact that he knew who you were, but you didn’t know who he was—not fully anyway. But that didn’t really matter right now, your priorities set on the fact that you’d confront him during your date and not during the party, not wanting to ruin your chances with Jeonghan by cornering him.
Joshua noticed your conflicted expression and sighed. “You’re going to spiral if you overthink this, pips. And damn right you’re gonna tell him how you feel. If you get cold feet, you have to buy me those Prada sunglasses I told you about for my birthday.”
“Dude, your birthday just happened!” You whined, knowing there was no getting out of this. Not unless you wanted a dent in your bank account anyway.
Sometimes you felt like you called the wrong person when asking for advice, but Joshua was always real with you, and so was Wonwoo. But you didn’t want to impede the latter with your love life problems when all he did was game when he had the time with his busy schedule as both a biology and engineering major. It was surprising that he had time to get lunch with you and Joshua every time.
You continued to talk to Joshua until you finally decided to head to bed, bidding your best friend goodnight and ending the call. A soft sigh left your lips as you took a quick picture of your desk and sent it to Jeonghan’s phone number.
You: [sent 2 attachments]
You: Shit.
You: That second picture wasn’t supposed to get sent.
Jeonghan: Fuck, sweets
You: DON’T LOOK AT IT??
Jeonghan: YOU LITERALLY SENT IT??
Jeonghan: You look hot, though
You: I—thank you.
Jeonghan: Is it weird to admit that I got hard?
You didn’t reply to that, as you wanted to scream your lungs out into your pillow, but it was late, and Minghao would smother you with said pillow if you didn’t shut up. You were experimenting—it was supposed to be something you kept in your gallery and then deleted when you looked too hard at it.
It was you, after your shower, posing a little too riskily for the camera, on your knees in front of your full-length mirror, wearing nothing but a tank top with thin straps, and shorts that were a little too short for your liking. Your face was covered by your phone, but it was obvious that it was meant to be for Jeonghan. You were just too much of a wuss to send it to him now that you knew who he was.
You looked back at your messages, groaning at the fact that you couldn’t turn back time and be more careful with sending pictures from your gallery.
You: That’s rather a bold statement.
Jeonghan: Okay, good you’re back
Jeonghan: Thought you died from embarrassment
Jeonghan: Though there’s really no point in being embarrassed, pretty girl
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Oh, fuck. It was a picture of Jeonghan—wearing his sweats and a loose t-shirt that rode up from the position he was lying in. Bulge prominent in his pants.
You: Is that a current pic?
Jeonghan: Yeah
Jeonghan: I don’t send shit like this to anyone else, pretty
You: Do you really think I’m that hot…?
Jeonghan: Don’t do that
You: Do what?
Jeonghan: Belittle yourself. You’re pretty, hot and everything I could ever want, sweetheart.
You: Stop—
Jeonghan: You got me hard for fucks sake
Jeonghan: Do you want me to send myself jerking off just to prove it to you?
You: …
Jeonghan: Too far?
You: Send it.
Jeonghan’s breath hitched when he saw the message. Send it. Fuck. Were you really serious? He bit his lower lip as he palmed himself while looking at the picture you had sent, feeling like some creep for planning to jerk off to such a pretty photo of you. But he’d rather be sure as he typed on his phone with one hand.
Jeonghan: U srs?
You: Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?
Jeonghan: Idk, ppl usually don’t ask for dick pics, let alone someone jerking off…
You: You offered, I accepted it. Now send it, coward.
Jeonghan: You’re so mean to your boyfriend 🙁
You: Future boyfriend***
Jeonghan: I’ll take it
Jeonghan: Brb
Jeonghan shimmied his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his throbbing cock as he hissed softly at the cold air hitting his sensitive tip. He bit his lower lip as he opened the camera app, his cheeks flushed behind it as he hit record.
He touched his cock, stroking it gently as he rubbed the leaking precum all over his thick girth, grunting and whining softly as he imagined it was you and your pretty mouth sucking him off. Jeonghan groaned out your name as he closed his eyes before they fluttered open once more, so he could focus on recording himself fucking his fist, imagining your breasts that almost spilt out of your tank top and the short shorts that probably barely covered your ass.
“Fuck—” He grunted, feeling himself get closer as he teased his tip, but ended the recording before he could cum, just so he could edge himself. He quickly wiped his hand with a tissue from his nightstand before nervously sending the video to you.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan: There—
You: Holy fuck.
Jeonghan: ?
You: Nothing…
Jeonghan: Sweets, I just sent myself jerking off to you, speak up
You: It's embarrassing!
Jeonghan: More than me sending a video of myself?
You: …
You: I'm soaked
You: Like, I didn't know I could secrete so much slick
Jeonghan: Abandoning the punctuation marks, that's a sign
You: Aren't you gonna ask me for anything?
Jeonghan: Not unless you're comfortable with it, sweets
You: [sent 1 attachment]
Jeonghan physically groaned, seeing the picture that you'd sent—bent over, your ass facing the mirror as you took the picture from your bed. He could see the cute posters and knick-knacks you had in your room, but he was zeroed in on your panty-covered mound, slick coating your inner thighs and your panties were soaked.
Jeonghan could feel his cock twitching, and more precum leaked out of his tip. A strangled grunt left his lips as he went back to stroking himself, and making sure he reached his release with the sight of you.
Jeonghan: so fucking pretyy
Jeonghan: gnna bust a nut
You: Jeonghan, I wish you were here…
That was what unravelled him, a choked-out moan leaving his lips as spurts of hot cum shot out of his shaft, coating his lower abdomen and his hands. He embarrassingly snapped a quick photo of it before sending it to you in a post-nut haze.
Jeonghan: [sent 1 attachment]
You: Is that because of me?
Jeonghan: yws
You: ??
Jeonghan: Sorry, yes, I was typing with one hand
Jeonghan: Did you really mean it?
You: Yeah… I'm soaking wet, and I don't know what to do.
Jeonghan: fuck.
Jeonghan: Call me.
You bit your lower lip as you read his message over and over. Call him. Your stomach fluttered at hearing his voice through the phone, even if you knew what he sounded like, but this would confirm everything.
You hastily slipped off your panties, getting comfortable in your bed as you dialled Jeonghan’s phone number. He answered almost immediately, sounding strained and breathless.
“H–hello…?” You murmured, your phone pinched between your cheek and shoulder as you worked on teasing yourself, rubbing your inner thighs with one hand and tweaking your nipples with your other.
“Fuck… you sound so pretty.” Jeonghan's voice sent a jolt to your clit. It was him. Your theories were confirmed, but all you could do was whimper softly when you brushed your fingers against your slippery clit.
“Jeonghan—” You mewled, earning a soft groan from him as you teased yourself. “Need help…”
“I know, baby, I know… What are you doing?” He rasped out, hearing him shift on his bed.
“Teasing myself,” you mumbled, and Jeonghan hummed, listening along with your soft gasps when you rubbed your clit. “Rubbing my clit—”
Another soft grunt left Jeonghan’s lips as you started hearing soft fap fap sounds coming from the other side of the call. “Okay, baby, keep teasing your cute little clit, spread your slick…”
“Okay—hngh…” You mewled, eyes rolling back as you teased and rubbed yourself, your hole fluttering around nothing. “ I feel so empty, Jeonghan—”
“Fuck—put… put your fingers in, fuck yourself with two, scissor yourself, baby. Imagine they're my fingers trying to stretch you out for my cock.”
You whimpered at the command, doing as he said as you inserted two fingers into your sopping cunt, your toes curling as you started pumping your digits in and out and scissoring yourself as he told you to. You imagined him being in your room, talking you through it like he was now, touching you and whispering into your ear.
“Curl your fingers up for me, sweetheart. Come on, it’ll feel good, I promise,” he cooed, and you listened, curling your fingers up to that spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled, and you gasped, wanting to squeeze your thighs together as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers. The heel of your palm grazed against your clit, making you whine as you felt the knot in your lower belly forming.
“I'm close, Jeonghannie—” You whimpered out, while Jeonghan grunted over the other side of the line, the slick sounds of him stroking his cock getting faster and a bit louder. It made you imagine the video he had sent—how big and pretty his dick looked, how he moaned out your name. It was dizzying.
“Keep doing what you're doing, baby, you're doing so well for me,” he murmured, praising you as you got closer to your orgasm. “This really wasn't the way I was expecting us to do this, but fuck, this is hot. You're hot.”
You flushed, mewling his name once more before the band in your stomach snapped, and you let out a whiny moan as your walls convulsed around your fingers, coating them with your release. Your legs trembled as you panted, your vision blurry.
“Baby, you still there?” Jeonghan crooned, and you let out a soft “uh-huh”, still recovering from the intense release you had just gone through.
“I… holy shit—” you gasped as you pulled your fingers out of your slick hole, feeling how soaked you were everywhere; you probably ruined your sheets from coming so hard just now. “I—I think I soaked through my sheets.”
“Fuck, don't say that when I'm not there—” Jeonghan sounded whiny, hearing his pout through the phone as you giggled tiredly.
“It's… It's nice to finally hear your voice,” you murmured, your eyes softening as you closed your trembling legs. Jeonghan hummed, shifting in his bed as he put his sweats back on. You moved to the less ruined side of your bed before grabbing some clean panties from your wardrobe and putting them on.
Feeling slightly awkward, you were unsure of what to say to him now that you were done getting off. “Uhm…”
“Sweetheart, you sound tense. Is it awkward to put a voice to the text message?” Jeonghan chuckled, and you let out a soft huff in reply. “As I said earlier, I… I didn't expect to do it like this.”
“Do what?”
“Have phone sex? I'm more of a hands-on person.” He admitted blatantly, causing you to inhale sharply as you imagined Jeonghan’s hands all over you. He caught on to the silence on your end, a soft chuckle leaving him as you trembled at the sound.
“Now, now… Pump your brakes, little lady. We'll get to that point. Let me buy you dinner first.” He teased, and you whined, rolling your eyes but smiling either way.
You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, listening to his soft breathing before speaking up, “I'll see you Saturday?”
“Yeah, pretty. I'll pick you up, hm?”
“Mhm… goodnight, Jeonghan.”
“Goodnight, sweets.”
After that, you hung up, still trembling, but not because of your orgasm, but because of the excitement of seeing Jeonghan on Saturday and the dread of seeing him on Friday, pretending that you hadn't had phone sex with him. You groaned, the post-orgasm haze wearing off as your logical thinking came back.
Friday came faster than you’d expected. You were pacing around your living room like a worrywart while Minghao and Joshua played old maid. You were wearing a baby blue blouse and a white denim mini skirt with white sneakers, wanting to somehow look pretty to the party you were going to without overdressing or looking like a hooker.
Joshua groaned when you kept walking back and forth, having had enough of your worrying. “Dude, stop worrying. You'll confront him about it when you're ready.”
“What if he figures out I know?! What if I blurt it out or something—”
“You're worrying about the stupidest of things, you know that?” Minghao deadpanned, drawing a card from Joshua as the latter groaned when he lost. “The two of you are fucking idiots.”
“Hey—” you were about to argue, but the doorbell rang, prompting you to pad over to the front door and check the peephole to see Jeonghan. Unlocking and opening the door, you greeted him with a smile and a quick hug.
“Hi,” you squeaked, earning a raised eyebrow from him as you grabbed your purse and keys. “I'm leaving!”
You called out to your friends, and they bid you goodbye. “Don't get her near alcohol, she's a lightweight!”
Joshua warned Jeonghan, and you groaned, flipping your best friend off as you closed the door and started walking. Jeonghan offered his arm, and you gladly took it with a soft laugh.
“You look pretty,” Jeonghan murmured, his eyes softening as you flushed under his gaze. Was he always this handsome up close? Your heart couldn't help but flutter, and your body heated up a bit.
You could handle this. Maybe.
The two of you got to the frat house about fifteen minutes later, entering the loud establishment—music boomed from the speakers, and the place was packed with drunk college students, dancing and shouting at each other to hear what the other was saying. Jeonghan led you up the stairs, opening the door to what seemed like Seungcheol’s room.
“He lives in the dorm by himself?” You looked around, surprised to see only one bed, the rest of the vast space filled with a beanbag and a small couch, along with a desk in the corner by the windows.
“I mean, we used to live together before I decided to move out. And since he's the chapter president, he gets to have a dorm to himself.”
Jeonghan shrugged, humming uncommittally as he sat down on the bed, patting the free space beside him, causing you to gulp. Act natural.
You sat down beside him, pretending like the brush of his knee against yours didn't just ignite your skin on fire. He was acting fine, so you should too, right? You technically didn't know Jeonghan was Jeonghan, after all. Your hands were on your lap, and you sat there as Jeonghan looked around the room to see what the two of you could do while the party got crazier downstairs, the music getting louder, and students got rowdier.
“Do you have anything we can do—”
“We can play Uno if you want—”
The two of you said in unison, looking at each other before bursting into soft laughter, and that seemed to break the ice almost immediately. You nodded at the idea of a game of Uno.
“What does the winner get?” You asked, and Jeonghan looked up as if he thought hard about it.
“Hmm, how about a kiss on the cheek?” He offered, and you squinted your eyes at him playfully before he added, “And snacks.”
“You drive a good bargain, Han…” You murmured, touching your chin as you thought about it, humming and making a face that made him laugh.
“I'll take it. The winner gets a kiss on the cheek and snacks!”
At the start of the game, you seemed to have been taking the lead, managing to get to one card first before Jeonghan just smirked and shook his head.
“You underestimate my skills, sweetheart,” he cooed, the nickname sending a jolt down your spine as the memories of last night came flooding back before it got cut short when Jeonghan placed a wild draw four card on the deck.
You groaned, pouting slightly as you picked four cards from the deck, not having any colour Jeonghan had announced as he placed a blue eight. You picked another card, managing to place a red eight as he clicked his tongue. Your body froze when he shook his head again, placing a red skip card before a red draw two card, which caused you to retaliate with a yellow draw two card, and he clicked his tongue again.
“You sure you wanna play this game, pretty girl?” He tutted, and you looked at him with growing dread as he placed a blue draw two card, forcing you to pick up six cards, leaving him with five cards and you with ten.
Both of you went back and forth until you managed to get three cards left while Jeonghan had two. You bit your lower lip as you looked at your cards—a blue four and a red draw two card. The deck currently had a red eight card, and you were thinking whether or not to place the draw two card or to just pick another card from the deck.
Deciding to take a risk, you place the draw two card, glancing at his reaction. He kept a straight face before sighing. “Sometimes, I wonder if the forces are working against me.”
“Uno, Jeonghan. Your move.”
He picked out the first card from the deck before pausing and glancing at you. You held your breath as he picked out the two cards, having nothing to place in retaliation. He had five cards while you had one. Not like you could place the one you had, so you had to pick another card. A yellow stop card. You wanted to groan, but kept it in as you watched Jeonghan’s moves.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He looked at you with a pensive expression before he apologised, making you look at him confusedly.
“Huh–?” That’s when he placed two wild draw four cards, two wild cards and a blue reverse card, ending the game with your loss.
You just lost.
You lost Uno—the only card game you were probably good at—to Jeonghan.
“A kiss on the cheek is owed to me, my lady,” he teased, grinning as you groaned, rolling your eyes before leaning in and kissing his cheek. Jeonghan hummed at the action, and you couldn’t help but linger in his vicinity as you looked at him up close.
Jeonghan seemed to notice how you were looking at him, and his grin softened to a soft smile. “Careful, sweetheart, I might think you have a thing for me.”
That made you reel back with a flush to your cheeks, hitting his shoulder as he snorted out a laugh. That’s when he stood up, confusing you before he motioned towards one of Seungcheol’s drawers.
“He keeps his snacks here. We can eat them since he’s probably just hoarding them for when he feels like it.” He took out a bag of chips and a box of strawberry pocky. You grabbed the pocky and opened it, while Jeonghan continued to snoop in Seungcheol’s drawer before whistling lowly.
You looked at him with a quizzical brow, and he took out what looked like a blunt of weed. “Is that—”
“Sure looks like it…” Jeonghan murmured, glancing around the room before finding a lighter. “Wanna smoke it with me?”
The question hung in the air as you looked at Jeonghan. He seemed chill about the whole thing, probably had smoked weed before, but you never tried to in your four years of uni. He sat back down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, tilting his head to the side before offering you the blunt.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t smoked weed before.”
“I haven’t.” You admitted, and Jeonghan’s eyes softened. “But I’d like to try.”
Jeonghan lit the blunt soon after your approval, taking a drag out of it and handing it to you to try. You awkwardly held the blunt between your fingers, taking a drag before you started to cough, handing the weed back to him as he patted your back while you tried to recover from the burn down your throat.
“I—fuck, I underestimated the strength of it. Sorry,” Jeonghan apologised softly, still rubbing your back. “How about I shotgun you? It’ll be easier on you, but the effect will be weaker, so…”
“Y-yeah, I think that’ll be better.” You nodded, looking at him with teary eyes after practically coughing your lungs out. “How do we do it?”
You asked, and he glanced away awkwardly before patting his lap. “You’ll have to get close, sweetheart. I will be exhaling smoke into your mouth after all.”
Ah. That made sense. Something in your stomach flipped as you looked at his lap before back at his face, and you made your way to straddle him, slightly hovering.
“Inhale when I exhale into your mouth.” Jeonghan took another puff out of the blunt, taking your chin between his index finger and thumb, prying your mouth agape before blowing the smoke into your mouth. You did as he said and inhaled, taking in the smoke as you felt the weed affecting you already due to its potency.
With a couple of more exchanges, and you could feel yourself getting high, sitting snugly on Jeonghan’s lap while he talked about something random from his childhood, while you fed him pocky. The two of you had probably gone through half of the blunt before Jeonghan decided to place it down on the ashtray he had found earlier. His hands found your hips, and you didn’t mind the touch one bit as you fed him another pocky stick.
“Play the pocky game with me,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded as you hummed and agreed without a second thought. You placed one end of the long pocky stick between his teeth while you started biting the other end, getting closer and closer to his lips.
When your noses bumped against each other, and you were about to take the last bite, Jeonghan took the rest of the pocky stick into his mouth before stealing a kiss from you, prompting you to gasp. He didn’t seem to be sorry as he bumped his nose against yours.
“Was that okay?” Jeonghan whispered, and you nodded gently, already leaning in for more as his grip on your hips tightened. “Tell me, baby.”
“Yeah, Hannie, I liked it…” You murmured back before pressing another kiss to his lips, forgetting all about the pocky as your hands travelled to the back of his head and you tangled your fingers in his hair.
A groan left Jeonghan’s lips as he kissed you back, his hands roaming around your waist down to your thighs, pushing your skirt higher. “Fuck, is this okay?”
He muttered against your lips, fiddling with the hem of your mini skirt, his eyes searching your face for any hint of disapproval. There was none, and you only tugged gently on his hair.
“Touch me, Jeonghan…” you murmured, and a soft noise left him as you said his name. He was too high to realise, and too focused on pushing your skirt up to your hips to care.
When you ground yourself against him, he panted, his dick stirring in his sweatpants as he watched your panty-clad cunt grind against his growing erection. A curse left Jeonghan’s lips when you ducked your head down, kissing his neck as he guided your hips.
“Just like that, sweetheart, mnh…” He grunted as he saw the wet patch forming against his pants, and your panties were probably soaked from the stimulation. He leaned his head back against the headboard, dizzy with pleasure and the weed working through his system. “I want to fuck you so bad, but I can't—”
He choked out, and you whined. “Why not?”
Jeonghan's hazed brain cleared for a moment, knowing that he didn't want this to happen this way—not when you didn't know who he was yet. Not when he was pretending to be someone else.
“Jeonghan, please…” You nosed his jaw, and that's when he realised that you were calling him by his name.
“I– how did you—” He faltered, groaning when you ground down against him once more, his grip on your hips tightening once more to halt your movements. “Baby, tell me.”
“Minghao told me… I kind of confirmed it when we called that night.”
Jeonghan grunted, moving your head from his neck as he made you look at him. “You're… you're not mad?”
“Why would I be?” You murmured, a puzzled expression forming on your face. “You probably had your reasons, and I'm not going to get mad over you hiding your identity. I'm more mad at myself that I didn't figure it out sooner.”
You pouted, moving your hands from Jeonghan’s hair to his face, caressing gently. “Can you fuck me now?”
A choked-out noise came out of him as he faltered and got flustered by your blunt request. He shook his head in disbelief before shifting slightly to sit better against the headboard.
“You're something else, sweets…” He muttered, stealing a quick kiss from your lips as his hands travelled to the gusset of your panties and tugged them to the side to see your glistening slit. His cock throbbed at the sight, wanting nothing more than to be inside your sweet cunt.
Jeonghan opened the nightstand drawer to grab the box of condoms Seungcheol usually kept, seeing that there were two condoms left. He gently lifted you so he could shimmy his sweats and boxers down to his mid thigh, his cock leaking and hard.
You watched as he clumsily opened the condom and put it on himself. Once he was done, he tossed the empty foil and tugged you closer, positioning you above his aching dick. He paused as his tip teased your entrance, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.
“You sure you want—” Jeonghan cut himself off when you sank down on his shaft without warning, a moan leaving his lips as your wet heat clamped around him snugly.
He watched as your thighs trembled when he bottomed out, your hips pressed against his as he raised you up and gently slammed you down, causing you to make such sweet noises that had him immediately addicted.
“Jeonghannie—” you whined, riding him slowly as he guided you, rolling your hips just right as his tip nudged against spots you wouldn't be able to reach with your fingers. “S'good—”
You looked down at him as he seemed to be focused on watching his cock disappear into your warm cunt, a groan leaving him before looking up at your face. You looked so fucked out, and Jeonghan loved it, his hips starting to meet your downward motions, thrusting up into you.
“You're perfect, sweets… everything I ever wanted—fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. You like that? Being everything I want?” He panted as he pressed soft kisses to your jaw and neck, slamming you down harder on his cock as he fucked you faster, not being able to help himself.
You felt wrecked, getting fucked so good by the same person you’d texted for over a week in his best friend’s dorm room. It was something out of a fantasy, and you couldn’t help but whimper when Jeonghan’s thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the nub as he tried to lead you to your first orgasm.
“Jeonghan, fuck, I’m gonna cum—” You squeaked, feeling how your cunt got slipperier and the knot in your abdomen got tighter.
Jeonghan only grunted at that, his assault on your bundle of nerves not stopping as he kept thrusting up into your tightness. “Cum for me then, milk my cock for what it’s worth, hm? Come on—”
You cried out when his hips snapped just right, his tip kissing your cervix as your orgasm came crashing down on you like a wave. Your thighs trembled, but you continued to bounce on Jeonghan’s cock until he blew his spend into the condom he was wearing.
“Too hot…” You grumbled, tossing your blouse onto the foot of the bed, leaving yourself in your black lace bra. Jeonghan also shed himself of his hoodie and t-shirt, revealing his lean body. He pulled out of you as he tossed the condom into the box before grabbing another one. You were surprised how quickly he got hard again, not expecting it at all.
Jeonghan flipped the two of you over, so that he was on top of you this time, kicking off his pants while undoing your skirt to toss it into the small pile of clothes that you had made on the floor. Your bra and panties joined the pile soon after, leaving both of you naked. You panted softly as he ground his cock against your slippery folds, his cockhead nudging your pudgy clit before he pushed into your wet hole once more. His grinds were slow and lazy, but Jeonghan filled you up just right as he took one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, managing to hit deeper spots from this position.
A soft grunt left him as he watched you mewl and whimper under him, your arm covering your eyes as your breasts bounced back and forth with each thrust. “You look so pretty,” he murmured, moving your arm and pinning it above your head, seeing your eyes glazed with tears as he cooed.
“Why are you crying, baby? Is it too much—” He almost sounded panicked, and you shook your head, not wanting him to stop.
“No–no, it feels so good, Hannie, I just—fuck, it feels so good—” You whined as your back arched off the bed, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but lean down and press soft kisses to the valley of your breasts, worshipping your body as he continued to fuck you slowly.
Jeonghan relished the way your pussy clamped around his thick shaft, sucking him in and milking him with your gummy walls. Soon, his hips started to move a bit faster, feeling his release building up with each second of being inside your needy cunt.
“I’m gonna cum,” he rasped out, his pelvis rubbing against your clit with every rock of his hips as your velvet walls continued to spasm around him with increasing vigour, signalling that you were close as well.
It didn't take long for the two of you to reach your orgasms, with yours hitting you first and triggering Jeonghan’s as the two of you moaned softly.
“One more time, Hannie—” You keened out a whine when he pulled out, noticing how sweat sheened from his skin. He was softly panting, still holding your leg over his shoulder as he pressed a gentle kiss to your calf.
“Can't… We don't have any condoms left—” He crooked out, but you only tugged him closer when he threw the used-up condom into the box once more. His cock was still half-hard, and you were aching for more. Jeonghan murmured your name softly, chiding you when you angled your hips, so that your entrance would nudge against his bare tip. “We can't—”
“Hannie, please… I'm on birth control, I just need you inside me one more time, please.”
You begged, and Jeonghan was weak for you. He probably always had been, even when you didn't know him back then. He sighed, praying that his stamina would last one more time. “One more time, and we're done. I'm not gonna last much longer…”
He admitted, and you just nodded. He didn't have to last long, you just wanted to feel him—feel what it was like to have him raw and creaming your pussy instead of a condom. Jeonghan clenched his jaw as he pushed his tip into your bare hole and hissed softly at how wet and snug you felt without any barriers.
“Oh, fuck… I'm definitely not gonna last—” He grunted, filling you up with ease from how slick your walls and inner thighs were. “Fuckfuckfuck—”
Jeonghan groaned, his pace hasty as he drove his cock into your spasming cunt, gripping and sucking him in like a vice. His cock molded your insides, his cockhead abusing your cervix with each thrust as you squealed.
You could feel your release building up once more, the heat in your abdomen unbearable as you clamped down on Jeonghan’s shaft, the band snapping and releasing hot slick around his length. The pleasure felt like hot lava against your skin, burning you as your back arched off the bed, making a mess out of Seungcheol’s sheets. Your pussy milked him, a milky ring forming around the base of his cock, and Jeonghan couldn’t hold it in anymore.
A guttural groan left his lips as his hips stuttered, movements stilling as he came inside you in hot spurts. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, not being able to hold in your keen whine as he filled you up to the brim until both of your mixed releases were leaking out of your used cunt to your ass down to the already messy sheets.
Once Jeonghan recovered, he pressed a soft kiss to your throat, pulling out as he watched his cum and your juices leak out of you before pushing it back in with his fingers. The action made you whimper, but you let him do what he wanted, watching him with lidded eyes.
“We made such a mess…” He grumbled with a soft chuckle, “Cheol’s gonna kill me for fucking you on his bed.”
“Future us’s problem,” you murmured, groaning deliciously at the ache of your body as Jeonghan grabbed some tissues to clean you up before crashing on top of you. “You’re heavy—”
You complained, but Jeonghan was out like a light, his breathing heavy and rhythmic as you sighed with a soft smile, drifting to take a nap as well.
At about 3 in the morning, you could hear banging outside the door. Jeonghan stirred first as he groaned, grabbing his pants from the floor before tossing his t-shirt for you to wear. You put it on, along with your panties, and when Jeonghan saw that you were fully covered, he opened the door to see a disgruntled Seungcheol.
The disgruntlement immediately switched from shock to disbelief at the sight of his bedsheets. “Dude.”
“Cut me some slack, you invited me to this party. Plus, I didn’t expect we’d fuck…” Jeonghan murmured, sheepish as he glanced at you with a soft smile and a wink that made you flush in embarrassment.
“You smoked my weed!” Seungcheol hissed, groaning as he looked around his room, noticing the half-eaten snacks, the almost-smoked blunt and the messy sheets you were currently sitting on. “Man, I was saving that pocky…”
He sulked as you looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, Seungcheol.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s his—” He pointed at his best friend with a glare before rubbing his face. “I’m crashing at Mingyu’s. I’m not going to sleep in my room for the next week. It reeks of sex and weed in here.”
Seungcheol grumbled as he grabbed a few clothes from his drawer and opened the window before muttering something along the lines of “unbelievable” and “fucking in my room”. He closed the door after himself, leaving you and Jeonghan alone once more.
You pressed your lips into a thin line, stifling your giggles as Jeonghan covered his hand with his fist. “We should clean his room and head back.”
Jeonghan nodded at that, and you put your skirt on, still wearing his t-shirt, while he put on his hoodie before the two of you started tidying up his best friend’s room. Once you were finished, you held your blouse in your hand, leaving the room with a ‘sorry’ note with it.
Walking back to your apartment, you and Jeonghan had your arms linked together, giggling and talking about random shit. When you got to the bottom of your apartment building, he unlinked your arms, but didn’t let go of your hand just yet.
“I’ll see you later for our date?” He asked, looking at you hopefully, and when you nodded, he sighed in relief. You cocked an eyebrow at that before he spoke up again. “I thought you wouldn’t want…”
“Jeonghan, I just had the best sex of my life. I think I’d want to still go on a date with you.”
“Just because I’m sexy? Or because you actually want to date me?” He pouted, teasing you as you rolled your eyes.
“Can’t it be both?” You compromised as Jeonghan hummed and pursed his lips, pretending to think about it before nodding.
He pulled you closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away. “Both is good, sweets. I’ll see you later.”
You smiled softly, letting go of his hand before waving him goodbye and heading up to your apartment, still wearing his t-shirt.
“That’s one hell of a fashion statement.” Minghao deadpanned as you jumped once you closed the front door. You turned around to see your roommate, your two best friends, and Jun in the living room, visibly waiting for you.
“What does it say?” You entertained Hao’s sarcastic remark as you tossed your blouse into your room before coming back to where they were.
“It says, ‘I was clearly laid, ask me about it because I’ll definitely brag’. It’s quite obvious.” Joshua chimed in, watching as you grabbed a pillow and tossed it at his face. Your best friend let out an ‘oomph’ sound before throwing the pillow back at you.
You huffed at them, irked at the fact that they were all gathered in your apartment. “What are you guys doing here anyway? I get Hao, he’s my roommate, but you three? Wonwoo, how’d you get dragged into this?”
Wonwoo shrugged, pointing at Joshua, “He told me what happened, and as your friend, I came for support. So, are you going to tell us what happened during the party or what?”
“This is my sex life we’re talking about.”
“And? You’ve shared worse stuff, pipsqueak. Spill the tea.” Joshua seemed the most interested in the gossip, while Minghao just sat there, looking unbothered when he was lowkey listening. Jun and Wonwoo were too busy fussing over a game on the latter’s phone, but they were tuning in as well.
You sighed, sitting down on the free armchair by the sofa, before you started telling them about what had happened during the party. Deciding to leave out the three rounds of sex, Joshua was awestruck, Minghao was subtly judging, but at the same time, he was happy for you, while Jun and Wonwoo were still busy with the game on their phones.
“Now, get the fuck out of my apartment. I need to get some sleep before my date.” You pointed at the door, and Joshua whined but dragged your Wonwoo and Jun out of your apartment, but not before Wonwoo could say something.
“I hope he doesn’t break your heart, or he has four guys to deal with.” Your best friend offered you a smile before closing the door. You smiled at the thought of your friends beating up Jeonghan if he ever fucked up, and it warmed your heart, thankful to have such good friends.
After 6 hours of sleep, you woke up around 9 am, your phone buzzing being the reason why you woke up. You checked the notifications bar, seeing Jeonghan’s name on top.
Jeonghan: Good morning :))
Jeonghan: Can you come downstairs? I have something for you, sweets.
You: How are you downstairs???
You: We literally saw each other six hours ago.
You: I’m still in my pyjamas.
Jeonghan: Perfect. Could I come up then?
You: Yeah, I’ll open the door for you.
You got up from your bed with a soft grunt, looking at yourself in the mirror as you felt the soreness between your legs. A soft sigh left your lips when your intercom rang, prompting you to rush towards it and open the door for Jeonghan downstairs.
When he finally got upstairs, you opened the front door, seeing him holding two cups of what seemed like coffee and tea in one hand and breakfast from your favourite bakery. “Surprise?”
“You didn’t have to—” Your eyes softened as you let him in, closing the door as he took his shoes off after handing you the bag with your favourite pastries from the bakery. “How’d you know I liked these?”
“Well, uh…” He trailed off, his cheeks dusting pink as he strided towards your couch, looking around your space a little better. “I might’ve had a crush on you before the whole wrong number ordeal.”
You blinked at him, surprise filling you as you connected the dots further—the way he seemed to be awkward and nervous around you during the first few meetings when he was pretending to be Han and his flirty behaviour over text.
“No way—” You shook your head, sitting down beside him, surprise evident in your tone. “We didn’t even know each other back then!”
“Well, you didn’t know me, I knew you. We took Statistics together last year, too.” Jeonghan scratched his cheek awkwardly when you continued to look at him with an astonished expression. “I didn’t know Cheol knew you until a few weeks ago, and that was when I gained the guts to ask him for your number and message you, pretending that I had the wrong number.”
The explanation baffled you, but it made sense at the same time before you scoffed out a laugh.
“Jeonghan.”
“Mmm?”
“You couldn’t have made it any harder for yourself.” You snorted, and he groaned before laughing softly along with you. “Like, seriously. You could’ve walked up to me and talked to me.”
“It wasn’t that simple!” He covered his face, embarrassed, but he kept smiling, a little glad that you found the situation humorous. Jeonghan sighed softly when you finally stopped giggling, shaking his head at how cute you were before noting that it was quite quiet in your apartment.
“Is your roommate not home?” He asked as you hummed, taking a bite out of the pastry in the bag.
“Minghao usually goes to the gym before going for a three-hour nature walk around the campus park. He also takes his time to meditate by the lake, so he’ll be gone for a while. Why?”
Jeonghan just shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee as he watched you enjoy your food. He could get used to seeing you like this—dishevelled after sleep, face bare and hair sticking out from multiple ends. It was cute, and he’d been dreaming of this day.
You noticed his soft gaze on you, making you feel a little self-conscious. “Is there something on my face?”
“Huh-? No, no! I just… I’ve been kind of dreaming of this day, he murmured, smiling softly.
You tilted your head to the side, puzzled, before Jeonghan continued. “You know, uh, seeing you like this—dishevelled and whatnot. Just you.”
You swallowed the food in your mouth, blinking at him. “So, my usual grouchy morning self?”
“Yes.” He nodded, leaning back against the sofa.
“You’re even weirder in person, you know that?” You grumbled but cracked a soft smile. “I can’t say I hate it. Being my boyfriend and all.”
Jeonghan blinked at the words you just said, causing you to look at him with a confused expression once more. “What?”
“Say that thing again.”
“I can’t say I hate it..?” You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure, before Jeonghan shook his head and made a circular motion with his hand as if telling you to rewind.
“No, the other thing.”
“Being my boyfrien—oh.” Your cheeks flushed, looking down at your lap as you tried not to explode on the spot for saying that. “Is… Is that okay?”
“Is— Is being your boyfriend okay? Are you hearing yourself?” Jeonghan huffed softly before grabbing your shoulders and shaking you, “Of course, it’s okay. More than okay, actually—perfect, more so.”
You grabbed his arms and stopped him from shaking you, “Okay, okay—I get it!”
Jeonghan let you go and sat back down on the couch, grabbing his coffee from the coffee table before taking a long swig from it, and placing it back down as you finished your food. Once you were done, you crumpled the paper bag, and he wiped off the leftover crumbs from the corner of your lips.
“So…” You started, curious about what he had planned for today’s date, “What are we going to do today?”
Jeonghan only smiled, winking at you as he leaned back, “That’s a secret you’ll have to unfold later, sweets. I’m not fond of ruining surprises.”
A groan left your lips, too impatient, but knowing Jeonghan, he’d stay true to his word and not reveal anything until the date. You pouted slightly before taking a sip of your tea, humming at the hot beverage filling your system.
“Not even one hint?”
“No. Not a chance, sweetheart. Stop trying to ruin your surprise.” He squinted at you before flicking your forehead, prompting you to retaliate, but he didn’t let you as he grabbed your wrists.
“What if I don’t like surprises?” You argued and tried to tug yourself away from his grasp, and he rolled his eyes, keeping you close.
“Not my problem, sweets, you’re not getting any spoilers.”
Even with your insistence on having Jeonghan give you at least one hint, he only gave you one, very vague hint, which went somewhere along the lines of “you’ll love it” and “it’s something you really like”.
That hint didn’t really help, since he asked you to wear something casual yet pretty, so you were stuck between a white sundress adorned with tiny pink flowers or a loose V-neck sweater and jeans.
Deciding on the former, you put on the dress, matching it with your white shoes, before heading back out to the living room, where Jeonghan was waiting. He was scrolling through his phone when he glanced up and saw you standing there, your hands behind your back as you awkwardly rocked back and forth.
“Stop staring like that—” You huffed, feeling awkward as he gaped at you before snapping out of it.
“Sorry—fuck… I, uh… You look pretty.” He got up from the sofa, walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Like, really pretty.”
Jeonghan leaned down, nosing your cheek. “Wondering if we should go on that date right now or—ow, okay, okay, sorry.”
He snickered when you smacked him, grinning as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. That's when you heard a groan behind you, prompting you to turn around and see Minghao with squinting eyes.
“The two of you better not fuck on the couch,” He muttered accusingly before heading to his room, leaving you and Jeonghan alone once more. A giggle left your lips before you patted his chest.
“Let's go on that date, shall we, my lady?” He offered his arm for you to grab, and you smiled as you took it before heading out the door.
The two of you walked to one of your favourite bookstores near campus, which you hadn’t expected for your first date with him. “Bookstore date?”
“That’s not all, sweets.” Jeonghan grinned, opening the door for you as he let you enter the establishment. “I decided to ask the staff… And they let me rent the place out for two hours.”
Your eyes widened at his words, surprised at the fact that Jeonghan managed to rent the bookstore for a whole two hours. When you entered, you saw Kimmy—one of the workers in the store—by the register, winking and giving you a thumbs-up before waving a small green flag she held by the counter to promote books with green-flag men.
A soft giggle left your lips as Jeonghan led you to the small reading nook the owners of the store had agreed to make for you since you came by so often, and it was far from the main hall of the bookstore itself, so you had some privacy. The table you had there was set with a candle, and some food—takeout from your favourite Chinese joint that you frequented with Joshua.
“You thought of everything for this date, haven’t you?” You looked at him with a fond smile, and he hummed before grabbing a baby blue bag from behind one of the chairs.
“That’s not all. Sit down and open it.” He pulled the chair back for you, prompting you to giggle once more as you sat down comfortably and pulled out what seemed like a cinammoroll plush keyring. You glanced up at him with a slightly ajar mouth before he added, “Oh, there’s also an envelope, open it.”
Without another word, you grabbed the envelope and opened it to read, “Here’s my card. You have ten minutes to look around the store and five minutes to grab the books you want. Winky face, your boyfriend.” You looked at him, dumbfounded as he only chuckled.
“We’ll do it after we eat, it’s better to eat Chinese when it’s still hot.”
The two of you ate and conversed, giggling about the stupidest things as you reminisced about the things that happened a couple of hours prior. Jeonghan seemed to notice your flushed expression, grinning slightly. “You’re thinking about what happened last night, did you?”
“Shut up—” You squeaked, stealing a dumpling from his container, and he let you as he leaned his chin on his palm, looking enamoured by the sight of you. Feeling flustered, you took a sip of your drink before clearing your throat. “I’m full, so let’s do that thing, hm? I have a few books I’ve been eyeing, and I know the layout of this building like the back of my hand.”
“I’m going to be broke, aren’t I?” Jeonghan sighed with a soft laugh when you nodded, taking one last bite of his food before getting up and taking your outstretched hand, excited for whatever activity you had planned.
After the timer ended, you managed to snag about 8 books, two of which were textbooks, which made Jeonghan raise an eyebrow at you, but books were expensive as fuck, so if you had the chance to monopolise someone else’s money, you’d use it. The other six paperbacks were romance novels, with genres ranging from romantasy to standard romcom tropes.
“You sure like romance novels, huh?” He teased, looking through one of the books’ synopses, curious about the contents of the paperback, and opening a page where the main characters were having rough sex. Jeonghan whistled softly as Kimmy snatched the book from him, rang it up and put it in the paper bag. You thanked her as you waved goodbye while your boyfriend held the bag with your haul. “Are you sure you’ll manage to read all of these? Six novels are a lot, you know?”
You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head. “It’s the weekend, Jeonghan. I have a whole Sunday free, and my Mondays usually consist of theoretical science that I can miss because the professor sends video versions of the lecture anyway. I’ll manage to binge these in a day.”
That’s when you noticed Jeonghan’s slight pout, prompting you to raise your eyebrow at him before he sighed dramatically.
“Why are you pouting?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled, still pouting. “My girlfriend would rather spend time with books for the whole weekend instead of her boyfriend—” You smacked him, cutting him off as he stifled his chuckles. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I mean, I could kick Minghao out for the day, and we can hang out in the living room without him side-eyeing us.” You shrugged, not thinking much of it, as the two of you walked towards the cafe, where you bought your tea from and bought some drinks before heading to the park to sit down by the small pond.
“How are you enjoying our little date so far, sweets?” Jeonghan asked, looking at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. You shrugged, causing him to gently nudge you. “Come on, tell me.”
“Honestly?” You looked at him with a soft yet happy smile, “It’s the best date I’ve been on in a while. You’ve outdone yourself, boyfriend.”
Jeonghan grinned, clearly happy with the praise, before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, surprising you. “Perfect. How many boyfriend points do I get?”
“Boyfriend points?” You raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, like… If I get enough of them, I get a prize or something.” He shrugged, making you blink at him.
“Jeonghan, we are not doing that. What are you, a toddler?” You snorted, and he made a face which you almost smacked him for again, but refrained. “We are not doing that.”
“Worth a shot.”
After your date, Jeonghan walked you back home and gave you a goodbye kiss that made you feel like you were on clouds. You felt all giddy, and you were giggling to yourself on the way up to your apartment.
Once you entered the apartment, you saw Minghao lounging around in the living room, watching something on the TV. He glanced at you before sighing, “How was the date?”
“Perfect,” you chirped, still smiling, which made your cheeks hurt. “I think he’s actually not real from how perfect the date went.”
“I’m sure you’re itching to tell someone the details, so spill.”
“You’re the best roommate ever, do I ever tell you that?” You sat down beside him after placing your paper bag with your new books on the dining table.
“I’ve been told once or twice, yes.” He rolled his eyes, but Minghao was genuinely interested, wanting to know how your day with Jeonghan went.
“Okay, so…”
After talking about your date with Minghao and Facetiming Joshua and Wonwoo in the process, you managed to get some good night’s sleep. You couldn’t kick Minghao out for the day, so you had to cancel your plans with Jeonghan, but the two of you called for about three hours before you had to end the call because you needed food in your system.
While you prepared dinner, you found yourself texting your boyfriend, sharing memes or just talking about random messages.
Jeonghan: Whatcha cooking, good looking?
You: Just some cream pasta.
You: Reading was quite slow today. I only read 50% of the first book.
Jeonghan: That’s still a lot, sweets
Jeonghan: It’d take me about 3 days to get halfway through a book :/
Jeonghan: So, be proud of yourself for reading so much in one day
You: If you say so 🤷
You: Anyway, what are YOU up to?
Jeonghan: I’m playing video games with Cheol
Jeonghan: Kinda boring ngl
Jeonghan: Would rather talk with you ;)
You: Pfft, okay.
You: Play your silly video games with him.
You: And apologise about the weed.
Jeonghan: Just the weed?
You: And the pocky.
You: I don’t regret the sex, you know.
Jeonghan: Oh, I know ;)
Jeonghan: I’d so do it again even if we weren’t high
You: You’re evil.
Jeonghan: You like me so 🤷
You: Fair enough.
Jeonghan: I gtg
Jeonghan: Text you later?
You: If I don’t get immersed in reading, then yes.
Jeonghan: Okay, love u
You reread the message, trying to make sure you weren’t seeing things before turning as red as a tomato. He didn’t mean it like that, right? He meant it as a goodbye and not an actual ‘I love you’? You screamed into your hands, confused and flustered as hell.
On Jeonghan’s end, he was also screaming into his hands after sending you that last message, Seungcheol, looking at him with an ‘Are you fucking serious right now?’ expression. “Dude, you’re overreacting. It was just a text.”
“You don’t get it, Cheolie…” Jeonghan groaned as his best friend was more focused on the game he was playing rather than Jeonghan’s insistent whining. “I said ‘love you’ and not ‘I love you’ because I’m a fucking coward. And I wanna say it to her face, not over text.”
“Then do that?” Seungcheol paused his game, sighing softly.
Jeonghan only groaned, throwing his phone on his bed before rubbing his face from slight frustration. He wanted to do it so badly, but he felt like he’d be pushing it. “It’s too early for me to do it! I don’t wanna scare her off.”
He grumbled, and his best friend could hear his pout without even looking at him. “When did you become such a loser, Hannie?”
Seungcheol teased, and Jeonghan glared at him, throwing a pillow at his friend.
“Shut up.”
A few days passed, and everything between you and Jeonghan was going smoothly, going on quick cafe dates in between classes, sharing lunch with your friends, or just spending time together in general.
You were getting used to the whole boyfriend/girlfriend ordeal, not being used to having someone in your space besides your roommate. But you found yourself enjoying it more than you expected, liking the comfort of having someone to lean on for once. It felt lighter to have someone who could carry your burdens with you and vice versa.
It was a Friday afternoon, you had finished most of your lab work early and decided that Minghao had to go for the day because you wanted Jeonghan to stay over, and he just gave you an obvious look that meant ‘I know what you’re planning to do and I’m letting it slide’.
You were huddled up in a blanket, cuddling with Jeonghan on top of you while you played with his hair with one hand and read a book with the other, occasionally moving your hand from your boyfriend’s hair to flip a page.
A soft grunt left your lips an hour into reading, prompting Jeonghan to move his head from your chest. “What is it?”
“Nothing… I mean, not nothing, I just don’t wanna move at the moment,” you grumbled softly as your cheeks burned. You didn’t want to ask him for it. No way.
“Do you need to pee or something—”
“No, no! It’s just…” You trailed off, your cheeks and ears dusting red as you tried to spit it out. “There’s a sex scene I don’t really get.”
“Ah,” Jeonghan murmured, causing you to flush further from embarrassment, before he tutted softly, “Well, that can’t do, can it? What’s the scene? Read it for me, baby.”
“O–oh, uh, okay…” You cleared your throat. “Harlan angled my hips, spreading my legs wide, teasing his cock against my slit before pushing in—”
“Okay, I got the gist of it, geez. I forgot most of those romance books of yours are in first person,” he grumbled before taking the book from you and placing it down on the coffee table before shifting slightly between your legs. “That’s just simple missionary, sweetheart. Why are you so confused?”
“Because there’s more, Hannie. Let me finish, will you?” You huffed, grabbing the book once more, and he chuckled before nodding.
You cleared your throat again and continued, “Pushing in with one easy thrust, my pussy squelched from how wet he’d gotten me. I whined, trembling like a leaf as I pawed my enemy’s chest—”
“They’re enemies?” Jeonghan cut you off, gasping dramatically as you rolled your eyes and continued reading.
“—looking up at him so fucked out and dazed. He pumped his shaft into me a couple of times before flipping me around to my stomach without pulling out, burying my face into the pillows of my bed. He grabbed my hips up and started fucking me harder while muttering the lewdest things into my ear.”
You finished reading the part of the page, Jeonghan’s eyes half-lidded as he licked his lips. “I got the gist of it. You wanna…?”
Your thighs clenched around his hips, signalling him that you indeed wanted it. A soft groan left his lips as he slipped off the blanket from your bodies, his hands starting to roam along your hips and waist, pushing up the t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare breasts. He expected it, since the two of you were home, but he still enjoyed the sight.
A whine left your lips when he leaned down, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, suckling and gently biting while he rubbed your other nipple with his thumb, switching between them so neither would feel neglected. Jeonghan continued his ministrations until you were panting and your nipples were wet, coated with his spit and aching with pleasure.
“Gonna fuck you better than what that dumb book described, mmkay?” Jeonghan crooned against your neck, yanking your shorts and panties down your legs, and throwing them on the floor. His hand ghosted over your wet slit, teasing you as he spread your pussy lips open, watching as your tight hole clenched around nothing and gushed with slick that drooled down to the leather of the couch.
“Hannie, please…”
“Hmm? What is it, pretty baby?” He cooed. “You need to be patient. I wanna take my sweet time with your sweet little cunt this time.”
“But–but, you were gonna show me—”
Jeonghan shushed you softly. “I said I’m going to fuck you better than what was described in your book. So, be a good girl and take what I give you, hm?”
You moaned at that, nodding as he touched you with reverent caresses, whispering sweet nothings into your ear before pushing two fingers into your wet heat, scissoring your sopping cunt as it squelched lewdly at his movements. Jeonghan stretched your inner walls, feeling them snugly flutter and wrap around his digits. His palm grazed your clit just right, pulling soft whines out of you as your thighs tightened around his hips.
Once he was satisfied playing with your sweet pussy, he pulled his fingers out before shoving them into his mouth and let out a groan. When he finished sucking off your juices from them, he smiled at you. “So sweet…”
Jeonghan didn’t waste any more time, shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He looked at you, begging and reaching out for him, so he decided against looking for condoms, and it wasn’t like he had any with him to begin with.
Lubricating himself with your slick, his cockhead nudged against your bundle of nerves a couple of times, causing your legs to tremble and twitch before Jeonghan finally lined himself up against your entrance. Due to how slippery your hole was, he easily slipped in, a guttural groan leaving his lips as he felt your raw cunt around his cock once more.
“Fuck, fuck—you feel so good… Your pussy is sucking my dick in so good, sweets.”
“Hannie—Jeonghan, fuck—I, I, hngh—”
You whined out, grasping the material of the oversized hoodie he was wearing before he quickly shed it, so that he could feel your nails against his skin. You nailed his upper back, causing Jeonghan to hiss in both pleasure and pain from the sharp sting. He then started gently rocking his hips into you, each deep thrust knocking the air out of your lungs.
Your boyfriend’s eyes darted down to where the two of you were connected, and the sound of his cock bullying into your cunt was enough to make him grit his teeth and think of basketball statistics to prevent himself from coming way too quickly inside your spasming hole.
Jeonghan groaned your name softly, peppering soft kisses all over your neck and jaw before he flipped you onto your stomach without pulling out, just like what you had read in your book. Something about him easily manhandling you made your stomach flutter and your walls to squeeze around his dick as he pulled your hips up towards him, your ass up, while your face got buried in the throw pillows.
“This is what you wanted, right, baby? Getting fucked from behind like a pretty little thing in heat—” Jeonghan grunted softly as he grabbed the globes of your ass, the fat dimpling under his grip as he spread your cheeks apart to watch how his thick length filled you up.
You could feel how his dick twitched inside you when he saw the messy white ring forming around the base of his cock, his thrusts getting slightly sloppier and harder as he licked his lips. Your moans were muffled but still loud enough to spur Jeonghan on and made him drive his cock deeper into you—hitting spots you couldn’t reach yourself. The way his tip grazed against your cervix made you squeal and push yourself back against him, your back arching slightly from pleasure.
One of Jeonghan’s hands let go of your ass cheek, moving down between your legs to rub on your neglected clit, making you keen out a whine and your hole to clench around him tightly. Your toes curled as the heat in your gut expanded and licked at your tingling nerves.
“Jeonghan—I’m… I think I’m gonna—”
“Let go, baby, let go for me.”
You whined at that, letting go as you let your orgasm crash through you, making your back arch further as you pushed yourself closer to him, as Jeonghan’s hips stuttered when your velvet walls milked him for his cum.
A choked grunt left his lips as he stilled his motions, burying himself deep inside you as he spilt hot, thick spurts of cum into your messy cunt. Air was knocked out of your lungs as you recovered slowly, hearing your heartbeat in your ears as your vision was slightly blurred from the overwhelming pleasure.
You whined in protest at the loss of Jeonghan’s cock when he pulled out. Turning your head, you saw him panting softly, watching your leaking hole as he pushed his cum back into your used cunt. That was when he tugged you, turning you around as both of you were leaning against your heels. He caressed your cheek and kissed you softly, leading you to sit on his lap as he leaned back against the couch until he was lying down, before pulling away.
“Sit on my face.”
The request caught you off guard, unsure about sitting on his face after he had just come inside you. But he seemed set on you sitting on his face, gently yanking your hips, causing you to grind on his abs accidentally. Your sensitive clit grazed his skin, and Jeonghan moaned at the mess you were making on his abdomen.
“A–are you sure-? I don’t—”
“I’m sure, sweets, ride my face. Let me clean that cute little pussy up.” His grip on your hips gently tightened before letting go, so that you could crawl over and hover your dripping cunt over his face. Before you could even stabilise yourself, Jeonghan pulled you down, his mouth latching onto your sensitive cunt immediately. He didn’t care about your mixed juices, only wanting you and your sweet wetness.
A moan left Jeonghan’s lips as he lapped you up, tongue flat against your slit as he messily made out with your cunt. You grasped onto his hair, tugging and gripping for support as you started to grind yourself against him, his nose nudging against your clit just right, your release building up faster than the last as soft mewls left your lips as your boyfriend cleaned you up. His grip on your ass tightened, eating your pussy out with increasing vigour as he felt you clench around his tongue.
Your orgasm hit you like a wave, toes curling as you wailed in pleasure, your eyes fluttering closed as your hips stuttered against his face. Once Jeonghan was done with drinking up your juices, he easily lifted you from his face, shifting you onto his lap before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.
“I guess we broke the rule about fucking on the couch.”
The two of you went over to your room after the situation on the couch. Jeonghan was peacefully napping on your bed while you were silently admiring your boyfriend, playing with some strands of his hair. Noticing your sketchbook on your desk, you decided to grab it along with your pencil and eraser before you started to sketch.
Before you knew it, you had a sketch of Jeonghan with some details, smiling to yourself, and not noticing him stirring awake.
“Whatcha smiling about?” He rasped, his voice groggy after his nap. “Are you drawing?”
He seemed curious, so you showed him the sketch. Jeonghan’s eyes softened at the sight, in awe of the piece of art you had done in such a short time. “You’re talented, sweets.”
“Thank you… It’s something I took from my mother.” You smiled as you flipped through the pages, showing him more sketches, mostly of him, which surprised Jeonghan, but he was secretly very pleased.
After giving him a glimpse of your sketchbook, you closed it before placing it on your nightstand and huddling close to him.
Jeonghan pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, happy in your arms. “I love you.”
The confession was soft, but full of meaning, and you couldn’t help but hug him tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.
“I love you too, Hannie.”
“No take-backs. You love me.”
You could feel his grin against your skin, which made you roll your eyes before giggling.
Choi Seungcheol may be your parent's best friend's son, your next door neighbour for 20 odd years and the one face you saw every damn time, every damn where but that didn't mean the two of you wanted anything to do with each other. But a business trip - one room, three nights, and seven beds - might just be what it takes to change it all....
Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader
Word Count- 13k (don't ask me how I thought I could do this in 5k)
Genre - Rivals to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots, that's all. Oh and smut.
Warnings - one mention of blood cause of intense make out wew, other smut warnings under the cut!
Smut warnings - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, brief face fucking, thick dick cheol lol, slight choking, allusions to a breeding kink, unprotected sex (these two are digustingly in love, extremely horny and highly irresponsible, please don't be like them), creampie, mention of the word slut like once, and I'm hoping that's all?
“Absolutely not.”
“No way in hell.”
Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.
“I’m not sharing a room with him.”
“I refuse to even breathe in her vicinity.”
“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”
“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.”
You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.”
“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you, sweetheart.”
“That was a fact, darling.”
“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So, the two of you are dating?”
Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back.
“No!”
“No!”
“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday than date her-”
“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”
“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. I can give you something better to choke on-”
“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that skinny thing-”
“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.”
You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.
“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.”
And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking all three of its inhabitants aback.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder. Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.
Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out. Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in each hand, leading the way to your despair of the night.
Seungcheol followed quietly behind you, hands tucked in his pocket, his large headphones perched on his head as he swayed to the music, blatantly ignoring you. You were thankful for that. Since you were little children, you had always craved moments where you could pretend like this man didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t you? Everything about him was a pain in your ass.
You first met Seungcheol when you were five. Your fathers were college mates turned business partners and coincidentally, your mothers were best friends since high school. Naturally, everyone expected the children of both families to be just as close as their parents but alas, even at the age of five, you could not bear him for more than five minutes. He was so aggressive and unruly, always messing up your dolls, always pulling your hair, never giving you a second of peace when he was around. Albeit that behaviour got milder over the years but there were other things now.
Like the fact that your father always preferred to have a boy, a son who could be his heir, someone like Seungcheol. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you but a different side of him came out every time Seungcheol was around, a side not even you could bring out. He would laugh louder, his eyes would shine more, he would seem so carefree. Seungcheol too never missed the chance to rub that on your face, constantly sneering and claiming that your father would be happier if he was a part of the family.
Over the years, your displeasure and annoyance at Seungcheol only grew into a deep dislike. As though it wasn’t enough that the two of you did your entire schooling together (yes, all twelve years of it), he was always present anywhere and everywhere you went - the debate club, the swim team, the dance academy, the cafes, the libraries, the movies - there was no place you were free of him. Ever since you were young, you had longed to escape to a place far away from home just to be carefree and explore and reinvent yourself without the constant looming of a figment of your past. You had hoped that at least after school you’d have the chance to go away from him but as your luck would have it, the two of you were accepted into the same business school, were interning in the same company, were working on the same project, and had come out of town for the same three-day conference together. It was one thing to have to bear this man’s presence all day, now you had to do it all night as well, thanks to your cheapskate company.
As you got in the lift Seungcheol held the doors open for you before settling in the corner opposite yours, keeping as much distance in between as possible. The bell boy looked at both of you confused.
“I thought the two of you are dating?”
You groaned, rolling your eyes, and fished out your phone, scrolling through it instead.
Seungcheol glanced at you before scoffing at the absurd idea of dating you. He wasn’t foreign to that doubt though – people often wondered if they were together and Seungcheol wondered what on earth they saw between them that even resembled a speck of liking or even tolerance for one another.
Seungcheol had honestly not met anyone as stuck up as you. He never understood why his parents constantly considered you as the ideal role model for their son - ‘Look Cheol, she joined debate, you should too’, ‘She got selected in the swim team, you should try Cheol.’, ‘What do you think about dancing Cheol? She’s really good at it.’. Seungcheol was sick of being dragged into everything you were in, only to always be second. He hated debates, he would rather play football than swim, and though he liked to dance, ever since he joined the academy with you, even dancing was not giving him any solace.
Yet he gave his best all the time. He tried and tried and tried but he was always second to you who was evidently a natural at everything. For example, back in the school days, Seungcheol would almost get the same grades as you but at the cost of sacrificing nights of sleep and putting hours and hours into teaching himself. Meanwhile, you would breeze through the notes a day before the test, get a full 8-hour sleep and still score higher than him. As if that wasn’t enough, you’d invite him home, offering to “tutor” him only to constantly berate him about his ignorance, drop snide comments about how you were better, subtly challenge him in a battle that the both of you were well aware he could not win.
No wonder you had no friends while Seungcheol was as popular as could be - who would even want to be friends with you when you were always so cold and condescending towards anything that moved or breathed. If your parents weren’t joined at the hip, forcing Seungcheol to be a constant presence in your life, he wondered who would ever even talk to you? You should have been thankful for him, that he was the one human presence in your life who was always there despite it all, yet you treated him like he was beneath you. He had hoped that at least after graduating the two of you could part ways but the universe apparently loved playing cosmic jokes, putting the two of you together yet again, at the same workplace. And completely up in each other’s space for the next few days as well.
It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t ever shared a room before - whenever your parents would meet up at each other’s house to drink and talk all night, the two of you had no choice but to crash in the same room, sharing the same bed even but thank God it was usually queen size, allowing the both of you to take two opposite ends, not even your breaths mingling. It had been years since that though…..Seungcheol felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He had no idea how he was to spend tonight in this room. Or the next few ones.
Neither did you.
As all three of you stood before the door and the bellboy fumbled with the keys, you glanced at Seungcheol. He looked unbothered as one could be. Perhaps you were overthinking this whole thing. It was a matter of four nights, surely the two of you could at least try to be courteous right?
“What in the...?”
Seungcheol’s voice rang in the empty corridor and you leaned to see what had him so shocked. Your own jaw dropped in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and relief.
Room 68 was no average hotel room. It was as big as the entire lobby, 7 heavily pillowed and blanketed single beds aligned from one end to the other almost military barrack style, only small bedside tables putting space between them.
“Room 68 is uh our bachelorette party suite.” The bellboy clarified. “For, you know, those big groups of girls who are hell bent on partying all night together?” He looked away like he was recalling a horrifying memory. “Since it’s holiday season, the lodge is booked out, this was the only room we had left. Is... is it not good?”
Seungcheol looked at you and for the first time in nearly 25 years, the two of you could finally agree on something.
“No.” You stepped in. “It’s perfect.”
It had been years since you had seen Seungcheol half-naked.
Well, you frequently saw him during swim practice in those tight speedo shorts of his, ass all plump and taut but you were not talking about that. You were referring to the sight before you right now, him with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he searched for something in his bag frantically – most likely his aftershave. You knew he must have cleaned up given the conference was starting tomorrow and also that his cheeks were burning because you couldn’t smell the subtle cinnamon spice aftershave that usually followed in his routine.
Seungcheol strangely felt a pair of eyes on him as he rummaged through his things and suddenly remembered he was not alone in the room. He quickly turned, looking for you, finding you curled up in your bed, writing in what he guessed was your journal, unbothered by his presence. You were wearing that cute nightgown with little tomatoes drawn all over it which Seungcheol found funny given how much you hated tomatoes with all your heart and soul. Realising he had been looking for too long, Seungcheol gulped, quickly grabbing the aftershave he finally found and rushed back into the bathroom.
You flinched as you heard the door of the bathroom slam shut, looking up from your journal. Shaking your head exasperated, you returned to your writing. Seungcheol always handled things around him roughly like he was just not built to be gentle - slamming doors hard, breaking at least one coffee mug a month, causing rips in most of his clothes when he would gym because he was so big…. And muscular…. And built…..You bit the back of your pen thinking about how good he looked in his gym wear but if you were being honest, he looked best in a suit.
He’s going to be wearing one tomorrow.
You snapped out of your thoughts realizing you were entering dangerous waters and turned your attention back to your writing. Seungcheol made that process slightly harder as he walked out, furiously rubbing his towel against the back of his head, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweats.
As he sat down on his bed, he looked at you sitting six beds across, all the way in the other end of the room, right by the window. The moment the two of you entered the room, he took bed 1, the one against the wall and you took bed 7, the one against the opposite wall, putting the maximum possible distance between the two of you. He let you use the bathroom first, not because he knew you preferred using it when it is dry but because he thought this was the best time for him to call his parents and wish them goodnight….. even though it was still 7:30.
He showered after you did but even now, despite being so far from you, he could still smell your bodywash, the fragrance of lilies, the mildest kind because strong fragrances irritated your sensitive nose. Throwing his towel on the chair he kicked his legs off the floor and lied on the bed, turning to the wall, hearing the faint annoyed click of a tongue. Seungcheol knew exactly what triggered it - you hated it when he tossed damp towels like that. But honestly, he couldn't care less right now, not when there were more important things to deal with tomorrow, not when he was so tired already.
You shut your journal, irritated by his behaviour remembering exactly why being in the same vicinity as this man infuriated you. Flipping the lights off and pulling the covers over your shivering body, you realigned your thoughts towards your goal - Tomorrow’s conference was crucial. You had to look your best and do your best so clocking in 8 hours of sleep was the priority, Choi Seungcheol's character development be damned.
But as you lied down turning towards the window, lightning flashed across the sky, a loud thunder following. You turned to see Seungcheol and his back was facing you, the outline of his figure moving up and down rhythmically like he was already in a deep sleep. Slightly relieved yet still unconvinced, you turned towards him before the sleep and tiredness took you away.
Seungcheol simply stared at the wall all night.
Seungcheol most definitely did not sleep all night.
You could tell by the fact that one, he was up without you waking him and two, he was not there in the room right now. That meant he was out for a run which in turn meant his face must have been all swollen which definitely meant he didn’t get enough sleep. You did notice though that his bedding had shifted from bed 1 to bed 2 and guessed it was because of the coldness of the wall - Seungcheol had the habit of tossing and turning at night and there was nothing he hated more than his bare skin accidentally brushing the cold walls. Considering you were still five beds away from him, you ignored it as you went to wash up and prepare for the day.
When he saw the time on his watch as he finished his last lap, Seungcheol realised he was way behind schedule and that you probably were already at breakfast, sitting with a dozen snide remarks, waiting for him. True enough, as he quickly showered, dressed, and headed down to the buffet, you were there already, going through the proposal, the plate beside you nearly empty. Quickly grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it in his mouth he walked over, putting on his suit jacket in a hurry. As you saw him approach, you shut your laptop, looking at him top to down in an ensemble that fit him all too well. Seungcheol’s eyes wandered over the pretty way you did your hair, and the plunging neckline of your blouse, a sliver of your pink bra peeking from underneath the fabric-
Both of you cleared your throats and looked away.
“We should leave, the cab should be here in-” He glanced at his watch. “-should have been here ten minutes ago, fuck.”
“It’ll be here in ten.” You pushed a cup of coffee towards him, looking at him pointedly to take a seat. Seungcheol glanced at it then back at you.
“You changed the time on my watch.” He huffed annoyed. “Again.”
“Glad to know you are still capable of basic comprehension.”
“You vile woman.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth, sitting down. “I showered so fast I thought I was going to pass out.”
“But you didn’t.” You shrugged. “And learn to be grateful Seungcheol, you’re only ever on time when I meddle, so say thanks to me.”
“I’d rather die before I thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee before the extreme bitterness hit his tongue, making him spit it out right back into the cup. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“You did say you’d rather die.”
“Fuck you.”
“I know ten minutes is more than enough for you but personally, I prefer longer.”
Every single time. Every single time you flashed him that sweet, mocking smile and every single time it pushed his buttons like no other. One day he swore to put you in your place but right now he was too low on energy for that.
Well aware that you loved strawberries more than anything, he grabbed the last one on your plate and walked off to the taxi stand, ignoring the way you whined behind him.
“Oh, real mature of you Choi Seungcheol!”
You knew in your stress about perfecting the proposal early in the morning you had forgotten something important and the moment you stepped into the room that night, you knew exactly what that was.
To close the windows.
Thanks to the pouring rain, the water had drenched your entire bed, not to forget, your bag full of your clothes which was conveniently placed right on the mattress, soaking nearly every piece of clothing you owned. Thank God the laundry in the lodge said they would handle it for you so you still had an outfit for tomorrow’s conference but there were still two major concerns - one, what to wear tonight and two, where to sleep tonight.
You solved the first problem (almost) by grabbing your umbrella and heading to the nearest clothing store as instructed by the receptionist only to find out it sold barely any ‘cloth’ at all. It was an adult shop, filled majorly with lingerie of all kinds which were aiming to cover as little as possible. Groaning inwardly, knowing you didn’t have a phone on you to go any further in this weather, you grabbed the most decent nightgown you could find and rushed back.
A hot shower, a change of clothes and a quick meal later you decided to deal with your second problem, moving your things from bed 7 to 6, not too displeased considering there were still three beds between the two of you. You glanced at Seungcheol’s empty bed and then at the time - it was well past 10. Sighing, you settled under the covers pulling out your journal to write but got lost in your thoughts instead.
You were pretty proud of what you presented today - people praised you, congratulated you for a well drafted proposal and even went so far as to offer you jobs in their company. Yet you were not satisfied. Somehow, the one thing constantly running in your mind was the swarm of women who had flocked around Seungcheol the moment the conference was done, ‘mindlessly’ touching his arms, ‘casually’ brushing their chests against his, ‘genuinely’ laughing too hard at whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.
This was not new to you, Choi Seungcheol being the centre of attention wherever he went. He enjoyed it, basked in it, and chose to make a show of it whenever he got a chance. It was all so fake and superficial; you could not bear to stand it. That’s why even though everyone decided to go out for dinner and drinks tonight, yes, all twenty-seven of them, you politely said goodbye citing a headache and took a cab back. You were not interested in casual conversation and definitely not interested in seeing Seungcheol’s pathetic flirting.
Just as you begin to relish his absence and the beautiful silence that came with it, a loud knocking on the door and his voice screaming your name ended your perfect night. Grumbling, you opened the door to a fully drenched Seungcheol looking absolutely frazzled.
“What the hell-”
He stopped when his eyes fell on you dressed in a white floor length satin gown, the material seductively clinging to the curves of your body, your leg slightly visible between the slit. You crossed your arms to cover yourself up, feeling conscious under his gaze as he gulped audibly.
“What the hell were you thinking?” He met your eyes, a slight worry flashing behind the anger. “You just disappeared without letting me know-”
“I told you I was leaving.” You walked into the room rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you could see something beyond all that pathetic fangirling you’d have heard.”
“Fangirling?” He looked genuinely confused, following you in as he stripped off his jacket. You tried your best to not stare at the way his pecs were so perfectly outlined under the wet shirt sticking to his body but Seungcheol caught you peering, his features lighting up with amusement.
“Would you look at that?” He smirked. “Someone is jealous.”
“Please.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t be jealous even if we were the last people on Earth.”
“Obviously, if we were the last people, who would you even be jealous of?”
You sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“I actually don't, sweetheart. If a little action is all you want, you can just ask for it you know?”
“Funny coming from a guy who kissed me just because another man was talking to me.”
The first tea break of the conference had led to an introduction that was surprising to you considering people did not really tend to approach you on their own. It was even more shocking that this man chose to speak to you in the lunch break as well, completely unprompted. He was sweet, not egging you too much with conversation, simply limiting it to work and the conference and then Choi Seungcheol appeared out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist, uninvited. Before you could glare at him and send him away, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, excused himself and led you away from there, only to abandon you the very next second without an explanation.
“You call that a kiss?” Seungcheol scoffed. “You were so swept off your feet, you were this close to spilling details on our quotation for the project. That was actually me shutting you up.”
“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you really wanted to shut me up, then you should have kissed me on the mouth.”
Seungcheol stared at you wordlessly.
As you began to walk away, he pulled you by the elbow, putting you against the wall, trapping you between his hands on either side.
“Is that how?” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses. “Because there is nothing I’d love to do more than shut you up.” He cocked his head with a small smile. “And maybe also show you what a kiss really is.”
You tried not to gulp the phantom lump in your throat, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze. Somehow, as though it had a mind of its own, your hand traced his exposed collar bone, trailing down his chest slowly, eyes following. Seungcheol held his breath under your touch. You stopped your tracks at his hard pecs, right above his heart beating just as fast as yours and looked up at him.
And then twisted his nipple.
Shrieking in pain, Seungcheol stumbled back, clutching his chest.
“What the hell mate?”
You walked towards your bed, grabbing your matching satin night robe and slipping it on. “It's ridiculous that you even think you of all people could show me a real kiss.”
“You forget sweetheart, I was your first one.”
You turned to Seungcheol as he brought up a memory you had actually done a great job forgetting. It was during your senior year - your parents had forced you to accompany Seungcheol to a house party so you could “get more involved in the social scene” instead of holing yourself up in your room all the time. It was a classic game of truth or dare and the worst dare of your life - to kiss Seungcheol for a minute.
Now the last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you every day about how you were too scared to kiss him so you held him by the collar and pulled yourself into his lap straddling him, your mouth meeting his in a frenzy. If you were being honest, something about that kiss served as your sexual awakening - maybe it was the way he moaned into your mouth, or his hands gripped your ass, or hands entangled in his soft hair or your chest pressed up against his. Whatever it was, there was a video of it that your classmates took circulating somewhere out there, timed around five and a half minutes as opposed to the one minute it was supposed to be.
“Don’t take too much pride in yourself Cheol.” You sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands planted in the mattress. “Only I know how many other guys I had to kiss after that to know what kissing truly is.”
Seungcheol felt his jaw tighten.
Something in you had changed in junior year. Yes, you were still the same antisocial, inhospitable, unapproachable person you always were but somehow every other day, he found you in a new location with a new guy's tongue shoved down your throat. They were not boyfriends, Seungcheol knew that much, and it was the fact that they weren't that made his blood boil with anger.
“You shouldn’t take pride in yourself either sweetheart.” He looked at you with a strange mixture of anger and pity. “There's nothing to feel accomplished about not forming a single real bond in your life.”
The moment the words left his mouth Seungcheol regretted it, knowing he had hit a soft spot. It was too late now; the damage was done - pain was flashing in your eyes.
You looked at the insensitive man before you and laughed at him sadly, mirroring his hurtful words.
“No real bond? I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.”
And with that you turned away from him, tucking yourself under the sheets, turning off the lights on your side of the room. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, Seungcheol locked himself up in the bathroom, your words piercing his heart like no other. Over the years yes, the two of you argued and fought and annoyed each other and couldn’t stand one another but hate? He didn’t ever think that’s what you felt for him. Perhaps he deserved it - he had after all crossed a line with that comment.
He knew you had always struggled around people. He knew that even though you detested taking his help for anything, in every social setting, you would always choose to hide behind him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact, you just couldn’t. You were a sick child since birth, constantly brought down by various illnesses that often confined you to your room - you didn’t go out to play with the other children, you didn’t join the kids on their trips to the ice cream shop, you didn’t go late night camping with your classmates, you didn’t do a lot of what kids your age did.
And when you were old enough, when you were healthy enough to step out into the world, you didn’t know how to anymore. Hence you continued to stay in your own shell, closing yourself off from everyone, wary of any and all interactions. Seungcheol knew all this, that’s why when he couldn't lay his eyes on you in the crowd of the conference, the panic he felt was like no other. He never thought he would ever feel his heart stop but Seungcheol felt it twice today - once when he lost you and the other when you said that. I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.
You stared out of the window, mildly annoyed by all the light falling in your face, Seungcheol’s words ringing in your ears. It might have sounded harsh but he was right. You never formed real bonds with anyone, you could never bring yourself to. Having spent years all by yourself, you didn’t know what it was like to let another person into a space that was entirely yours. That’s why, though you engaged in all sorts of flings and hookups, you never let it go beyond that - you never let yourself lose your heart to someone, walking away from them before they could walk away from you.
In that sense, Seungcheol was indeed the realest bond you had - just a constantly present, mildly irritating, oddly comforting white noise in your life. It was easy with him - you never had to think in his presence, you never had to wonder whether anything would drive him away, never had to worry about keeping him by your side unconditionally - he was always there. Somehow what you felt for Seungcheol was liberating in a way you hadn’t even realized. Hate could hardly define that; you were unnecessarily harsh earlier.
Seungcheol stepped out of the bathroom, eyes falling on your unmoving figure which he just realized was on bed 6 instead of 7. Noticing the damp sheets and piecing it together, he didn’t think too much of it as he switched off the lights and crawled into his bed.
Hearing the sounds of him shuffling, you turned towards him.
“Are you not going for the dinner?”
“It’s too late now. I would have eaten there if I didn’t have to run back here to check up on you.”
“You could have just called me.”
“I did.” He turned to you, looking at just your silhouette in the darkness. “A few hundred times.”
You checked your phone immediately and it wasn’t a hundred times but there were some fifty odd calls from him and two dozen messages.
“I put my phone on silent during the conference and forgot to take it off.” You mumbled, just a little guilty that he was missing out on a gathering because of you. “Did you at least eat?”
“I’m not hungry, thanks to all the Americanos you kept feeding me all day.”
“If not for that, you would have been snoring in the conference barely an hour after it began.” You turned to lie on your back, facing the ceiling. “And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just obediently drank that double shot espresso in the morning.”
Seungcheol remembered you sliding the coffee cup to him and smiled to himself in the dark.
“Then maybe you should also listen to me and stop munching on those strawberries every chance you get, especially when you know they flare your allergies.”
You remembered Seungcheol gobbling up the last berry and smiled to yourself in the dark.
“Goodnight, you obnoxious prick.”
“Goodnight, you insufferable fiend."
When you woke up in the morning, two things had changed - one, Seungcheol had moved from bed 2 to bed 3 in the middle of the night and two, his shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the mess on the floor. He was lying sprawled on his bare stomach, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his tattoo shining as the light hit it. Ignoring the sight before you with much difficulty, you shook him awake.
“Get up Cheol, we’re going to be late.”
He groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly blinking open, falling on you first thing in the morning. Even though you were dressed in the sultriest thing he had ever seen on you, Seungcheol controlled himself and tore his eyes away.
“The radiator is right across the other bed; I was literally burning all night.” He mumbled, stretching awake, justifying his move.
You turned towards it noticing how it was in fact between bed two and three, closer to three than two to be honest. Considering Seungcheol was still drenched in sweat, his move in the middle of the night was actually quite pointless, but you chose not to say anything about it. Quickly washing up, the two of you rushed for breakfast, skimming over the presentation notes one last time. Today, neither of you noticed but Seungcheol drank the coffee and you didn’t eat the strawberries.
Day two went by in a flash much like day one. Only this time, you didn’t talk to the gentleman from yesterday, choosing to sit quietly by Seungcheol in the break and he didn’t leave your side either, regardless of all the ladies calling him to join them. In the evening, as the team headed to the city’s best karaoke bar, inviting you and Seungcheol again, Seungcheol brushed them off claiming the two of you had a little more work to do on the proposal. To his surprise, you shot him down, agreeing to join everyone, looking at him with a small smile.
“Don’t be such a killjoy darling.”
Seungcheol knew you were compensating for last night so he followed, well aware that you would most likely want to leave the moment the singing started. Well, he was almost right - you actually wanted to leave the moment you stepped foot into the room, turning to him with pleading eyes. Seungcheol turned you by your shoulder, laughing as he led you in.
“Don’t be such a killjoy sweetheart.”
You sat patiently as the beers poured in and people around you fought for the photobooth props. Seungcheol was sitting right beside you, his thigh a comforting weight against yours, laughing with everyone. As the night progressed, you had downed a beer or two, a slight buzz taking over, not noticing the way Seungcheol had his arm around you now or that you were warmly cuddled against his torso. Soon, one by one, everyone settled on the couches, tired from all the screaming, resorting to chatter instead and deciding on an old-fashioned game of truth or dare. Seungcheol smirked at you and you turned his face away with a soft push.
“So Seungcheol,” The man beside him spoke. “Truth or dare?”
“Neither actually. We should leave now.” He stood, pulling you up, stumbling slightly. “I’ve had too much to drink and it's late, Y/n needs to sleep.”
“Didn’t realize wacky wallflower here also had the bedtime of a toddler.” One of Seungcheol’s many fangirls piqued, jealousy stark on her face. “We can book her a cab, why don’t you stay a little longer, Cheolie?”
You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nickname, and at her jealousy but Seungcheol did not find anything about her words even remotely funny.
“No thanks, I go where she goes.”
“I thought you guys weren’t dating? Then why-”
“That doesn’t change what I said.” His voice dropped an octave. “I go where she goes.”
“Cheol.” You placed a hand on his chest, sensing his anger rising. “It’s fine, let’s stay for a few rounds, yeah?”
Seungcheol looked at you frowning as you sat down, pulling him with you. The girl you already disliked but quite vehemently hate now, spun the bottle with a giggle.
“We don’t have to stay.” Seungcheol whispered as the guy beside you excitedly asked the one across him a question. “You stayed long enough, you need sleep-”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not.” He spoke between gritted teeth. “Just looking at that foul woman makes me mad. I already said I wasn’t interested in her, she had no reason to be a bitch.”
“Well then don’t you want to put the bitch in her place Cheol?”
You looked at him with big doe eyes which terrified Seungcheol even more. What on Earth were you up to?
“Y/n, you get to ask Yuri!”
You looked at the bottle to see it pointing between you and your little conquest of the night. Hook.
“Truth or dare?” Line.
“Dare.” And Sinker.
“Okay Yuri, then I dare you to not take your eyes off.”
You pulled Seungcheol by the collar, smashing your lips on his, swallowing his audible moan. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer, up against his body, teeth roughly tugging your lower lip. Hand sliding up his neck and across his jaw, you entangled your fingers in his hair, drawing him even closer denying even air the right to come between the two of you. Yes, it was all a show for Yuri or whatever her name was, but at a point, she stomped her foot and got up, running out of the room. Perhaps the two of you should have stopped then or at least when you were running out of breath. But you only broke apart when someone dropped a beer bottle, smashing the glass loudly on the floor. Seungcheol and you looked at it, faces flushed, lips swollen. A low whistle echoed in the room.
“We-” Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. “We should get going.”
“Y-yeah.” You agreed, getting up and grabbing your things as Seungcheol smoothened his hair with his hand, muttering a small goodbye to everyone. As the two of you stepped out of the room, you found Yuri crying at the entrance, her friend trying her best to console her. Not sparing her another glance, you walked away, Seungcheol following you close behind. As the cold air hit you when you reached the taxi stand, you felt a painful sting on your lower lip, making you hiss. Hand cupping your face, Seungcheol wiped the trickle of blood with his thumb.
“Guess you desperately did need a real kiss huh?”
“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “I had to help the poor girl get over her pathetic taste in men.”
“By getting a taste of me?” Seungcheol smirked as you rolled your eyes. Before you could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl making you laugh and look around, spotting a burger joint.
“Let’s get you a taste of that big boy.”
“Sometimes I wonder-” You stared out of the window at the large clouds rolling in. “-considering our parents are best friends and we are not, do you think our children would be good friends or enemies?”
“Wow, children.” Seungcheol munched on his burger furiously. “I never thought that far.”
“Then think about it now.”
“I don’t know.” He hummed. He hated thinking when he was tipsy. “Siblings tend to have a love-hate relationship.”
“I was talking about our children Seungcheol.”
“So was I.”
“No, I mean, my own children and your own children.”
“Yeah, same thing.”
You looked at him exasperatedly.
“Let’s be honest here Y/n. Who else out there can put up with us for long enough to start a family?”
“We can barely put up with each other-”
“But we have, for almost 25 years.” He slurped on his drink. “There’s a reason why you have never been in a relationship and I have never been in one that lasts. Because whatever it is we share, it’s you and I, till the end.”
“Till the end.” You muttered, reaching for his burger, taking a bite from it. Judging by your expression, Seungcheol could tell you liked his better, like you always do. That’s why he made sure to get it without the tomatoes he usually loved and settled to eat your meal instead. He was just about to ask why exactly you were so lost in thought when a loud thunder boomed across the sky sending a shiver running down Seungcheol’s spine.
Shoving the last of the burger down your throat quickly washing it down with some soda, you began gathering your things.
“We should go before the rain starts.”
Seungcheol nodded, finishing up his meal as you threw the trash in the nearby can. As the two of you left, muttering your thank yous to the waitresses, you laced your fingers with Seungcheol’s, gripping him tight as another lightning flashed across the sky. Thank God it wasn’t too hard to flag down a cab because the moment the two of you sat inside, rain began pouring like there was no tomorrow. As you glanced at the obscurity outside the window, Seungcheol stared at his hand, the one that you hadn’t left in all this time.
There were times when he used to stay over in your room, unable to sleep due to all the thundering while you dozed away oblivious to his presence. Those days, you’d turn around, reaching for his hand, holding it in your sleep. Seungcheol now wondered if that might have been a conscious effort to comfort him.
Perhaps not he thought as you began to nonchalantly hum his favourite song. He wondered if you knew he loved that piece because of how beautiful you looked when you danced to it. He wondered if you knew that the reason he was always around you was to make sure you were alright. He wondered if you knew he always carried an extra inhaler for you, that he had written a long list of your allergies in order from ‘can handle’ to ‘keep away from at all times’, that he was constantly alert about everything you ate, smelt and touched. He wondered if you knew, deep down how much he cared about you…..but sleep dragged him away before he could wonder anymore.
Sensing Seungcheol had fallen asleep, you stopped humming, turning to him, smiling at his half open mouth. Scooting closer, you slowly pulled his head to rest against your shoulder, and he groaned softly, nuzzling into it. The driver looked at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, making your cheeks go red as you looked away.
“Is your boyfriend afraid of thunderstorms?”
You nodded, ignoring the title. “Since he was a child. I don’t think he’s been sleeping too well the last few days.”
“The forecast shows it’s going to be worse today.” The driver sighed. “Look out for him.”
You nodded again. You did look out for him. In your own ways you always did - you always challenged him knowing that was what pushed him to do better. You always made sure to wake him up or at least meddle with his clocks so he was always on time. You always made sure he ate and slept enough, knowing how it threw him off whenever he was deprived of either. Even now you were humming his favourite song knowing it calmed him down. You wondered if Seungcheol knew, that deep down you really cared about him…..perhaps more than anything.
When the taxi reached the lodge, you softly shook him awake after paying, dragging his sleepy self through the lobby. The receptionist's eyes followed the two of you, stumbling away hand in hand, mouth curling into a small smile as you disappeared. You only let his hand go when you reached the room and that’s what jolted him awake.
The silence that descended the room today was different. It wasn’t because the two of you were too tired to say anything to each other, rather neither of you knew what exactly to say given there was so much to. So instead, you resorted to washing up and filling in your journal for the day while Seungcheol worked on a few changes in the proposal for the final pitch tomorrow. Just as he shut the laptop and you shut your diary, the two of you looked at each other before quickly looking away, settling in your own beds, for the night.
You were almost ready to drift off to sleep, before the driver’s words rang in your mind - the forecast shows it’s going to be worse today. Without thinking much, you moved your things from bed 6 to bed 5, muttering that the light from the streetlamps was falling in your face there. Seungcheol did not point out that you could just close the curtains instead and curled up in his own bed, glad you were closer to him now.
He looked at you across the one bed that was in between and suddenly you felt too far, like the distance was too much.
You looked at him as his eyes fluttered shut, thunder rumbling across the sky, wondering if he could hear you across all this space, humming louder than usual, lulling the two of you to sleep.
When you woke up, Seungcheol was surprisingly awake and fully dressed, trying to knot his tie unsuccessfully in front of the mirror, expression focused with a small pout. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you stared at his reflection, eyes skimming over the beautiful features of his face which you never really consciously admired - his thick hair, thicker eyebrows, plump, pillowy lips, his jawline sharp and chiselled. He was indeed handsome, in a way you really liked….a lot.
You wondered why you always looked at him like he was the bane of your existence. Was it because it was easier to bury the unresolved tension under pointless banter? Or did you wantonly show him your worst side, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, hoping he would stay despite every flaw, every shortcoming. What did it mean if in 25 years, he didn’t leave even once?
Seungcheol groaned, annoyed at his futile attempts, eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. You slid off your bed, walking up to him as he turned to you. Yawning, you took his tie in your hands, tying it for him. Seungcheol’s eyes drifted over the features of your face as he held his breath.
He could get used to this, the sight of waking up to a sleepy you, your hair all over the place, your eyes slightly droopy, nose red. God you were so beautiful - he knew that, but why didn’t he ever think about it? Why did he choose to fight every remote thought about you with irritating banter? Was he scared that the tension would remain unresolved? And what did it mean if you were still here, right by his side, helping him out in everything big and small, always making sure he was going the right way and doing the right thing, every single day for the last 25 years?
You pushed the knot up to his neck, smoothening the material, patting his chest with a proud smile. Seungcheol gulped as you walked away to wash up, trying to get his breath under control.
When the two of you came down for breakfast, you pointedly avoided the receptionist's gaze. There was no time to deal with more thoughts.
The rest of the day went like that, thoughtlessly. It was a little awkward at the conference considering the little show you two put up last night, so the moment it ended for good in the evening, you bid everyone goodbye, citing you had an early flight and had to leave soon. It was true though, you did have to travel in the wee hours of the morning, but leaving from the conference so soon also meant having to spend longer with Seungcheol, all alone. He agreed with you though, stating his social battery was at an all-time low and that he just wanted to go back.
Today the two of you were somehow sitting on two ends of the car backseat, bodies pressing against the door, in complete contrast to last night. It was a silent ride, a silent walk to the room and a silent session of packing up. Suddenly there were very conscious efforts to not brush hands, or accidentally walk into each other or catch the other person randomly staring, lost in thought. It was only when you were finally done that you asked Seungcheol if he wanted to order dinner. He agreed, leading to a very small and very efficient discussion about what dishes to eat and then silence descended upon the room again. While waiting for the food to arrive, Seungcheol muttered that he was going for a quick run, leaving you alone with the thoughts you could no longer stop from plaguing your mind.
Something had changed over the last 3 days. It wasn’t you or Seungcheol - he was still throwing his damp towels on dry clothes and you were still meddling with his clocks. No, the two of you hadn’t changed. Neither did the arguing, neither did the banter, neither did the subtle flirting, neither did the silent support. No…. nothing had changed. It was all the same. It was all the exact same except now, you were finally willing to acknowledge something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself since the age of five, that-
“I’m in love with him.” You whispered, smiling to yourself.
Seungcheol on the other hand thought running around the lodge would mean those thoughts wouldn’t run in his mind anymore. He was wrong - even though you were not there, like always you were on his mind, in his every thought, in his every breath. Seungcheol didn’t know of a life without you. He also knew that you would be there with him for the rest of his life but for the first time in 25 years, he finally found himself owning up to it - that he truly wanted you be a part of his future, that he could not bear to think of one without you in it, that-
“I’m in love with her.” He whispered, smiling to himself.
By the time Seungcheol had returned, dinner had arrived. Between each bite you searched for the right words to say, noticing that Seungcheol was trying the same. Somehow, neither of you could bring yourself to say anything.
You couldn’t peacefully finish up your journal and Seungcheol couldn’t take a relaxing shower, both muttering under your breaths, practicing long speeches, determined to confess everything before sleeping tonight.
But when all was done for the night, both of you laid down on your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, unable to talk, unable to sleep.
Seungcheol turned his head as you did towards him, making his heart clench a little.
Sighing, he grabbed his pillow and put it on bed 4, lying down, facing you.
You looked at him blinking slowly.
Seungcheol held his breath.
Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your duvet and joined him on the fourth bed, throwing it over the two of you, lying down, facing him.
Seungcheol slid his hand over your waist, pulling you closer.
You gripped the material of his shirt, snuggling into the warmth of his neck.
Nothing was said that night.
Nothing had to be said as the two of you drifted off to sleep.
It was the harsh morning sun and the annoying chirping of the birds that woke you up.
You stared out of the window surprised at the bright light given the last few days were as gloomy as it could be. Seungcheol’s soft breaths tickled your shoulder as his arms held you tight, your back against his chest. Smiling you wiggled in his grip turning towards him, taking in how much more stunning he looked in the morning light-
Morning?
“Cheol.”
He hummed softly.
“Cheol!”
“What?”
“It’s bright outside.”
“That’s how mornings are Y/n.”
“Oh thank you for enlightening me.” You rolled your eyes. “Might I return the favour by reminding you that we had a flight at 5am?”
Seungcheol’s eyes flew open.
He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, 11am flashing on the screen.
“Fuck.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck, I can’t believe we missed the flight!”
You took the phone from him and scrolled through the app. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning, same time, 5am.”
“But the company hasn’t paid for the room tonight, where will we stay?” Seungcheol groaned. “How could you not wake me up?”
You frowned at him. “And why is it my job to?”
“Because, you don’t like it when I put alarms on my phone.”
“Uh no, I don’t like it when you continue to sleep through the dozen alarms you put on your phone.”
“Whatever your reasons are, I think its been established that you are the one who's supposed to wake us both up.”
“Yeah well thanks to you I forgot to set an alarm.”
“Thanks to me?” He looked at you bewildered. “What did I do?”
“Who asked you to..” You pointed at everything around with the wave of a hand, the two of you only just registering the situation you were in.
“You were the one who came to my bed.” Seungcheol shrugged. “This is on you because you were desperate.”
“Says the one who’s boner poking into my back woke me up.”
Seungcheol gawked at you, stuttering. “M-morning wood is a scientific phenomenon, okay? I can’t help it-”
“I could have.” You muttered, slipping out of the bed.
Seungcheol pulled you back under him, half hovering over you.
“Oh yeah?” He bit his lower lip with a small smile. “How exactly?”
You hummed, “I happen to know some good meditation techniques-”, running a finger down his abdomen, tracing a random design.
Seungcheol grabbed your hand and pinned it to the mattress by your face, leaning close.
“Think of a better way, baby.”
The nickname sent a delightful chill down your spine as you slightly squirmed under him, smiling.
“How about I get you some ice-”
“That’s not what I want right now.”
“Then what do you want right now?”
His eyes ran along the features of your face.
“I want to kiss you.” He whispered. “So bad.”
“And what are you waiting for?”
Seungcheol groaned, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, needy and ravenous, like he had been waiting eons for this. Well, so had you.
Pushing him off you and onto his back, you straddled his hips, kissing him again, rolling your tongue over his. Seungcheol moaned into your mouth, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other holding you by the nape of your neck, taking back control. When you ran your hand over his thick pecs, he pulled away with a dreamy sigh, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat.
“Strip for me.”
Sitting up immediately, you lifted your hips a little letting Seungcheol push the material of your nightdress up your thighs and you pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere. In the ten seconds it took you to do that, Seungcheol was a changed man. The old him wanted to take his time unravelling you slowly, pushing you to the edge but the new Seungcheol felt the animal in him come alive with a throbbing, insatiable desire. It became exponentially worse when you pulled your hair up, tying it with the hair tie on your wrist, baring your neck, perfect breasts, soft stomach….unable to reign it in anymore, Seungcheol lunged forward, hungrily sucking a tit into his mouth, making you lose your balance over him a little, grabbing his bicep half laughing.
“Huh, I really thought you were more of an ass guy.”
Seungcheol let go with a wet pop, looking up at you from between his thick lashes. Oh wasn’t that a sight.
“For you, I’m an everything guy.” His hands gripped your ass hard. “Your derriere does take the cake though.”
You laughed, “Who even uses that word?”
“I don’t know, I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth right now.” He confessed, his tongue running up the gap between your boobs, the sweet and salty taste of your skin driving him insane. “I just know what I want in it.”
“Yeah?” You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him back with a harsh grip, before he latched onto your other tit. “I have better things to put in it.”
Seungcheol grinned like he couldn’t wait, flashing his canines, biting his lower lip.
God he was going to be the end of you.
But you’ll beat him to it.
Palms planted behind you, you slid yourself back off his thighs and sat between his legs, lifting your own up for him. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened in an instant and the moment he saw the wet spot in the middle of your pink panties, he could not hold himself back anymore. With a swift movement he was up on his knees before you, hooking his fingers in the elastic by your waist and slowly dragging your underwear along your legs. Like a man starving he crumpled it in his hand, breathing it deeply, eyes fluttering shut like he was intoxicated by your scent.
“I’m going to be borrowing this, for whenever you’re not there.”
“Pervert.” You whispered as he tucked it in the back pocket of his tracks. “But I’m never not going to be there. I’m afraid you’re stuck for life now.”
Seungcheol fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, flinging it somewhere before he put his hands between your knees and spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight before him. You were quite literally hiding his paradise between your legs.
“Trust me,” He reached for a pillow behind him, throwing it to you. “I want to be stuck here.”
The moment you tucked it under your head lying back, Seungcheol wasted no time in crawling between your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, descending on your sex. You felt your back arch off the mattress as he devoured, his tongue, mouth, lips all showing you stars in daytime.
“Fuck Cheol.” You whimpered as his tongue slipped into your hole, his moan sending a wild vibration against it. Bringing your hands to his head, your fingers gripped his hair, pushing your hips up against him “Give me more.”
Seungcheol smirked, pressing your hips down, continuing his ministrations in a way that made your toes curl. Damn he knew what he was doing. For a split second you wondered how he knew so much and an ugly jealousy began coursing through you but it was lost almost immediately, when he began to suck on your clit.
“Cheol….” You moaned, the sudden stimulation too intense for you, a tightness growing deep inside. “F-fuck that’s good.”
Seungcheol knew he was good. Not because he was experienced, not exactly - more because he was desperate to taste every inch of you. If he thought the taste of your arousal was heavenly, the moment your legs trembled and your breaths got harsher and you came against his mouth, Seungcheol knew he’d cast aside the heavens for it. This wasn’t enough.
This was probably the fastest orgasm you ever had, waves of the buzz washing over as your jaw fell slack. You rode it out against his mouth, tense shivers running down your body as his nose grazed your clit before falling limp into the softness of the bed, chest heaving.
Seungcheol was so noisily devoted to making you fall apart on his tongue, he wasn't sure if you didn't moan his name or if he was too entranced to hear it. Either way, he had to go again, keeping in mind to put his eyes on you this time. When he looked up at you, your face was flushed, lips curled into a blissful smile and Seungcheol thought he fell more in love with you, if that was even possible.
“We're gonna have to talk about why you're so good at that.” You half laughed, trying to sit up. Seungcheol pushed you back down, throwing another pillow at you, humming.
“How good was I exactly?”
“Nice try big boy,” You stacked the pillow over the previous one, leaning back against it. “I'm not going to feed your ego.”
“I'll feed myself then.” He smirked before licking a long strip between your folds making you tremble with over stimulation.
“Cheol not yet-”
“If I don't hear you I'm not going to stop.”
And he descended upon you like a mad man again, making you gasp in surprise. You did not think he'd go through with it.
“Cheol I really can't-”
but Seungcheol did not stop.
When he didn’t listen, you reached to pull him off you but Seungcheol was quicker as he grabbed both your wrists in a flash and held them against your heaving chest, continuing to eat the life out of you.
“Seungcheol please.” You couldn’t even squirm if you tried to, held down hard by his brute strength. “I really can’t-”
He looked up, his mouth wet with his spit and your arousal as he licked his lips. Fuck you really loved this man.
“Do you actually want me to stop?”
He was taunting you but there's a slight concern laced in his voice.
You shook your head slowly.
“I thought so.” He chuckled before continuing his act of wolfing down on you.
Your second orgasm began to rush in with an unreal speed and you don't know how Seungcheol could read your body so well already but the little bitch backed out before you could cum again.
“Cheol…”
You whined, frustrated at the feeling ebbing away, desperately clenching to hold on to it.
“I said I wanted to hear you.”
You glared at him, not used to him having the upper hand. He knew he's got you under control when he finally loosened his bruising grip on your thigh to sit up and you opened your mouth on your own accord to let him slip his fingers into them.
“What a pretty little girl.” He sighed as you sucked on his digits. “My pretty girl.”
“Yes yours.” You moaned, as he pulled them out of your mouth and pushed them into his, wetting them more as you practically panted below him.
“I'll do what you want, just put them in me Cheol.”
“You're quite demanding baby.” He leaned over you looking amused. “I hope you deliver as well as you talk.”
“I'll suck the life out of your dick after this I swear, just let me cum again.”
Enticed by the idea, Seungcheol captured your mouth in another one of his messy kisses, his fingers slowly slipping into your heat. You gasped into his mouth, surprised by how thick his fingers were. Oh his dick would probably make you pass out and god were you ready for it.
“Say my name baby.” Seungcheol pressed his forehead against yours, still holding your wrists between both your bodies with his other hand. “Tell me who's making you feel so good.”
“You.” You moaned as he pumped his fingers, slowly stretching you open, your arousal dripping down between your thighs. “Fuck Cheol, faster.”
He obeyed, picking up the pace as you babbled a string of curses, legs squeezing his hand desperate to feel more. Seungcheol sucked on your neck, enjoying the way you were crumbling apart for him. How was he ever going to be away from you after this?
“Oh god yes.” You sighed, as his fingers curled hitting the spot, eyes rolling back. Seungcheol looked at you in awe.
“I apologise if I ever told you that it was annoying when you rolled your eyes.” He continued to push you over. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”
“Yes yes yes.” You chanted not hearing him, too lost in your own pleasure building. Pleased with himself, Seungcheol finally put his thumb over your clit and that was all it took for you to cum all over his fingers with yet another silent scream.
Seungcheol let your hands go and sat back on his heels, admiring his artwork. Your chest heaved erratically like you had forgotten how to breathe, squeezing your tits, hands desperate to claw something. Hair sticking to your forehead, sweat running down your neck next to the bruises he marked, you were a vision to behold.
Seungcheol sucked his fingers clean, relishing the taste of you yet again. You stared at him wide eyed, curious.
“Have you never tasted yourself?”
You shook your head.
“Oh sweetheart.”
Seungcheol pushed his tracks down just a bit, enough to pull his dick out. It's not the longest you've seen but God was it thick, a stark vein running down the length which looked painfully hard. The thought of having him fill your mouth and choking around it literally made you drool.
He pumped it a few times before hooking his hands under your thighs and pulling you towards him with unsurprising ease. You scrambled to raise yourself up on your elbows, watching as he ran it up and down your slit, gathering your release on it.
“Come taste.”
You blinked at the man holding out his dick to you like it was a treat, like he expected you to crawl to him, stunned at just how cocky he had gotten in 20 minutes. Hell no.
You shook your head, tilting it in challenge.
“Come fuck my mouth.”
If Choi Seungcheol had a fatal flaw it was how much he desired control but right now, there was nothing he desired and craved more than you.
Moving over not so gracefully he aligned himself by your mouth, knees planted on either sides of your waist, looming over you.
You immediately wrapped your lips around his tip, humming at the weight on your tongue as he pushed your hair off your face softly.
“I know baby, you taste fucking divine.”
Giving him a half nod, running your tongue over his slit before hollowing your cheeks around him. The mix of your and his arousal indeed tasted….right, like they belonged together.
You tried to take in more of him but you might have underestimated his girth and overestimated your ability. Pulling back with a pop, you licked your lips.
“You're too thick.” Mumbling you tried to push him off you, onto his back. “Let me move over-”
“Oh no no.” Seungcheol clicked his tongue, grabbing the back of you neck, forcing you to look up at him. “It can't be that bad, someone claimed they could stack fruit loops on it.”
You rolled your eyes realising he was a bit too proud of himself. “I still can. I just don't have the cereal to prove it.”
“I'll buy some on the way back and when we go home that's the first thing you're going to do.” He wiped the spit leaking around the corner of your mouth with his free hand. “And if you don't manage to prove your point, that's grounds for punishment.”
You grinned at him.
“Oh you like that.” He hummed, guiding your head back to his cock. “We'll see how much of it you can take baby.”
A lot apparently.
Seungcheol should have known. You were like him - you didn't like to be challenged. That's why the moment he thrusted himself into your mouth, you held onto the back of his thighs with both hands, pushing it in a lot more than Seungcheol had thought you were capable of. Throwing his head back with a satisfied moan, he began moving his hips ever so little, slowly fucking your face, but you had other ideas, taking him as far back as you could, your throat constricting around his dick.
“Alright that's it.” Seungcheol pulled you off him, staring at your confused face. Somehow you had no gag reflex and Seungcheol suddenly had the endurance of a teenager. “Want to actually fuck you.”
He muttered drawing back, kicking off the remaining of his clothes and sitting up, trying to hide his breathlessness.
“Aw Cheol, was I right again?” You laughed, getting up and clambering onto his lap. “Is ten minutes really enough for you?”
“You'll see.” He pulled you into a deep kiss before abruptly breaking away, leaving you confused yet again. “Or not.”
“What?”
“I just realised… I don't have a condom.”
You waited for him to tell you he was kidding but he looked serious.
“Cheol….” He looked at you apologetically. “Ugh Choi Seungcheol, why not?!”
“One, don't call me that and two, I don't know, maybe because this was a work trip and the conference dress code didn't mention dick envelopes.”
You sighed annoyed. “I just always thought you'd carry one on you, xl sized.” You shot his overconfidence down before it even grew on him. “you know, for your head.”
“Oh because I'm a dick?” He rolled his eyes at the comment you had used on him too many times already. “Well, wouldn't that make you a little slut? Since you’ve been in love with me for so many years.”
“Who said I was in love with you?”
Seungcheol looked at you with the biggest, fucking cutest eyes. “Are you not?”
You smiled, surprisingly shy despite all that transpired so far. Honestly, you didn't have to answer that question. What you felt for each other was clear as day.
Putting a finger on his mouth, you whispered. “Less talking, more fucking please.”
Seungcheol groaned. “What do you want me to do? Go buy them now?”
“No…” You hated the thought of him leaving.
“Or…. I could pull out?”
“The last thing I trust in this world is your timing.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, don't you want to be inside me when you cum? Squeezing you tight? Milking you dry?”
“Kinky.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted. “And shoot me if I ever say no to that, but you're not on birth control are you?”
“No…” You drawled. “But I can get plan b?”
“Baby, you realize how reckless this is-”
“I know.”
“-we've barely just-”
“I'm aware.”
“-plus your health-”
“Choi Seungcheol.” You pushed him back into the bed, annoyed. “Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if you don't then I'm gonna do it myself and all you get is to watch-”
Seungcheol, tucked his arm under his head, looking like he liked that idea a little too much.
“-while I cum taking someone else's name.”
His eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you down to his eye level, “Try me sweetheart.”
“You know how I feel about challenges.”
“And you know how I feel about sharing what’s mine.”
“Then fuck me like I’m yours.”
Seungcheol smiled, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth, much in contrast to what followed. “Remember, you asked for this.”
One arm wrapped around your waist, he flipped you over, putting you below him once again, the hunger in his eyes burning a lot more now. As he shifted to push your legs apart, hand leaving your neck, a soft whine left you and Seungcheol caught it immediately.
“You’re into that too?” Seungcheol smirked as you frowned at him, annoyed.
“Apparently. I just found out as well.”
“I wonder what else you’re into.”
“You can wonder all you want, after you put that dick into me.”
Seungcheol clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t like how you think I’d listen.”
Yet before you could talk back, he slid his cock along your folds, the tip slightly dipping into your hole, pulling out the most exquisite moan from you.
“Now that’s something I’d listen to.” He pushed himself a little further, your hands immediately coming to grip his biceps, gasping again at just how big he was. Seungcheol had been dying to listen to you sound like this and god was it so worth it.
You attempted to relax, adjusting around his girth as he eased himself in, but gave up even trying to maintain the facade of composure when he bottomed out, pressing all the way in.
“Fuck yes Cheol.”
He hissed softly, feeling your soft walls flutter around him. He had never fucked anyone raw and after this, how was he expected to just not spend his whole life buried in you?
“Please, move.” You begged, and he folded immediately, his hips slowly picking up pace as he kissed you along your neck.
“We should have done this years ago.” He groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, pounding faster, harder. “We should have been doing this for years now.”
You nodded half listening, half submerged in your pleasure, nails running down his back. “Let’s just never get out of this bed.”
Seungcheol chuckled, absolutely agreeing with that idea, snapping his hips faster, delighted by the way you were reacting under him.
He wanted to flip you around and take you from the back, mark your ass with the red prints of his hand. He wanted you sitting on him, fucking yourself on his dick while he watched, your head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to eat you out till you cried, fuck your throat and make you swallow, pull every moan and every whine and ever chant of his name out of you. God he wanted so much but Seungcheol wasn't capable of any of those right now - he had been hard for almost an hour now and your grip around him was like a vice.
“Seungcheol more.” You whined, despite him already railing into you like there was no tomorrow. He still listened though, sliding his hand down between your bodies and finding you clit, well aware that you would probably go unbelievably tight the moment he touched it, rendering him absolutely helpless. Sure enough, you keened, clamping down on him hard the moment he began rubbing circles, a string of curses leaving your mouth.
“Cum for me.” He whispered, hips rutting against yours harshly, holding his own release back desperately. “Cum all over me.”
And you did, the pleasure washing over you in waves, legs tightening around him before they finally went slack, exhausted. Seungcheol pulled them off him, gripping your thighs instead, shifting from an erratic rhythm to quick, deep strokes as he finally came inside you, collapsing on top.
He was careful enough not to crush you under his weight, holding himself up a little so you could regain your breath, watching your eyes flutter tiredly.
“We need to get you cleaned up.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mixed arousals dripping out of you. “I don’t know how long the statute of limitations for ejaculate is….”
For the first time in your life, Choi Seungcheol had managed to turn you dumb, as you nodded mindlessly, not having registered the stupidity that just came out of him.
He chuckled, rolling off you, but you dragged him back by the wrist, wrapping your arms around him.
“Hold me.”
And as though the universe hated you, a sharp knock on the door made you two jump apart. Seungcheol still proceeded to hold you but the knocking only repeated, louder this time. He huffed annoyed, sliding off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and threw it on. Opening the door just a little, half hiding behind it, lower half specifically, he peaked out but his plan was foiled when the receptionist pushed the door fully open and came barging in, throwing her hands around.
“Check out time was 12! You’re late-”
She froze as Seuncheol quickly covered himself with a towel from nearby and you scrambled in a hurry, hiding under the sheets, squirming in embarrassment.
The old woman slowly, still shocked to the core, muttered an apology and walked out of the room as Seungcheol smacked his head against the wall, regretting not wearing his pants.
“You…” She cleared her throat from the other side of the door. “You have till 2. Get it together and get out of my lodge.” She then walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading, before they suddenly got louder again. “I would also like to add that I knew this was going to happen from the moment you two stepped foot in here!”
You covered your face trying not to pass out from the embarrassment as Seungcheol locked the door laughing.
"Why does she sound so happy?"
“I cannot believe she saw us." You groaned. "Who walks in like that-”
“Who cares?” Seungcheol walked over to you. “I cannot believe we still have two more hours.”
“You’re not even ready to go again.” You looked pointedly at the softened dick in his hand that he was pumping lazily. “Besides, we're going to have to book the room again, for tonight.”
“2 hours isn’t enough for you? Oh baby-”
“Our flight is at 5am tomorrow you idiot, we still need a place for the night.”
“Right.” Seungcheol recalled, “I forgot we had to go… that this had to come to an end.”
“Nothing’s ending.” You clarified, putting a rest to his worries. “Didn’t you say, you and I, till the end?”
Seungcheol nodded as you held your hand out to him. He walked over taking it, dropping a soft kiss on your knuckles.
“Say.” And you knew an unholy thought was brewing in that head of his. “We have all this time and there are seven beds here.”
“I don’t care how many there are.” You laughed, pulling him into the softness of the sheets. “I only want one to share with you.”
A/n - this was supposed to be out a few hours ago but tumblr was being a bitch to me. Im adding the tags in the comments! Reblogs with tags, comments and asks are much appreciated, thank you for reading :)
ꨄ︎ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Seungcheol is quite needy this morning. Will you give in?
ꨄ︎ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: husband!Seungcheol x f.reader
ꨄ︎ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: pwp, smut, a lil fluff, 18+
ꨄ︎ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (missionary, riding), nail digging, overstimulation, clit stimulation
ꨄ︎ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.8K words
ꨄ︎ 𝐀𝐍: Randomly thought about Seungcheol begging for it randomly this weekend and I needed to write it haha. Thank you @hannieoftheyear for looking at this so quickly. Love youuuuu <3
“Come on, baby—”
“No, Cheol. I have to go to work, and I cannot be late again.”
“Just the tip, please—”
“Cheol.”
It’s one of those mornings when your husband, Seungcheol, can’t keep his hands off you. It started early this morning when he woke you up with kisses before your alarm went off five minutes later. Not wanting to risk being late, you slipped out of bed and ran into the shower, hoping it would stop his antics. But then you catch him watching you as you dry off, discreetly palming himself under the blanket. You feel him creep up on you as you’re bent over, rubbing your body with your favorite lotion that leaves you smelling divine. You throw him a look in the mirror, watching him gaze at you with a mix of love and lust.
“It’s not happening, sir,” you warn, turning to face him. “I can’t be late to work today.”
“Why?” He raises his brows. “Do you have an important meeting today?”
“No,” you say carefully, acutely aware that you are still naked. “I just don’t want to be late today.”
You are putting up a brave front, stepping around him and into the closet. His hand brushes against your hips on the way, and tiny jolts of excitement spread throughout your body. Despite you saying no, your body says the opposite, your insides practically screaming to let him put in said tip. It doesn't help that Seungcheol looks the sexiest in the mornings, with his sleepy look and slightly disheveled hair. You imagine your fingers running through it, tugging it tightly while you kiss his perfect lips, riding him—
“Ahem.”
Snapping out of your reverie, you glance at Seungcheol before praying your perfume and body mist. He saunters toward you, his hands caressing your hips as his lips grace your neck. Your breath hitches involuntarily, your body betraying you as it reacts to his touch. He knows what he is doing, and you want to give in, but you must stay strong and stick to the schedule.
“Seungcheol,” you softly murmur, attempting to free yourself from him gently. “Not now.”
His fingers sneak lower, flirting with your bikini line. You turn, squinting your eyes at him before successfully unwrapping his hands around you and walking away. You had to leave for your own sake, because if you stayed a minute more, he would have you bent over the bathroom counter, again.
“I don’t know why you’re fighting it,” Seungcheol’s voice carries from the closet. “I know you’re thinking about it.”
A slow smirk plays on your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the vivid imagery playing in your head. Your body tingles with excitement and lust, thinking of the last time he suggested ‘just the tip.’ You hear shuffling in the closet, and you pretend to look busy, digging for something imaginary to deter Seungcheol on his conquest. Unfortunately for you, when you turn around, Seungcheol is shirtless, twirling the matching set of bra and panties you had set out for today. He has a mischievous glint in his eye that makes you gulp. God, you are in trouble.
“Are you looking for these?” Seungcheol asks, feigning innocence.
“Possibly…” your voice trails off, squinting your eyes at him. “Not sure how you ended up with them.”
“Maybe I wanted to help you get dressed, since you don’t want to be late and all.”
You scoff, moving towards him and attempting to grab your undergarments. “I’m a big girl,” you roll your eyes. “I can dress myself.”
“I know, I know,” Seungcheol nods in agreement. “But wouldn’t it be so much quicker if you had help?”
You raise your brow at him, aware of the game he is trying to play. You watch him lower himself to his knees, lifting your leg and sliding your panties through it. His eyes are pleading, practically begging for what he wants. He licks his bottom lip at the sight of your naked center, a small sigh escaping his lips. Heat surges through you like a blue flame, your cunt undoubtedly wet and craving his tongue.
“Stop,” you murmur, locking your gaze with his. “You know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?” Seungheol teases, kissing your inner thigh. “Tell me.”
“Don’t be coy with me,” you say with a resigned sigh. Looking at the time displayed on your digital clock, you gently grab his chin with your fingers. “Do it before I change my mind.”
“With pleasure, baby.”
His tongue graces your folds, tasting and playing with your clit in ways that make you gasp, clutching onto his hair. He doesn’t break his contact with you, carnal lust taking over him as he hums in your pussy. Pleasure courses through your body at the littlest movements, your hips slowly riding his tongue.
Seungcheol grips your thighs tighter, and he delves deeper, slurping and moaning sounds echoing in the room. The vibrations of his lips make you twitch, gripping his hair tighter. “Fuck, Cheol,” you grit your teeth, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.
“You look divine on my tongue, baby,” he murmurs, not letting up. “Give me more.”
With renewed vigor, Seungcheol slips two fingers inside of you, and you see heaven. Your pussy clenches around him, his tongue flattening against your clit as he thrusts into you relentlessly. You’re coming undone, legs shaking as his name spills from your lips like a mantra. You make the mistake of looking down, his lips and cheeks covered with your nectar, and it sends you over the edge, screaming colorful obscenities as you fall into an abyss of pleasure.
Seungcheol is earnest, lapping up everything you offer him, gripping you tighter until your legs give out, your bed being your saving grace as you fall back. He chuckles, licking his lips incessantly as your wetness is spread all over his face. Mind fuzzy from the pleasure, you lie back on the bed, your sheets giving you a soft, cool reprieve to the hot sensation spreading all over your body.
“Are you okay, love?”
You make a minimal effort to lift yourself, studying your husband as he licks his lips, completely satisfied.
“I am… a puddle,” you burst into a giggle, in disbelief. “I can’t believe I let you rope me into that.”
“I can be creative,” Seungcheol gloats, running his fingers through his hair. The bed creaks as he climbs on, towering over you and kissing you deeply. You’re in a daze, his lips and your taste on his tongue putting you in a trance. You feel strung out, overflowing with a lust that only your husband can fix, and it doesn’t help that his tip is poking at your entrance through his boxers.
“So,” he clears his throat, drawing lines across your chest. “Did I earn it?”
You throw him a look before letting out a silvery laugh. Seungcheol, ever the pleaser since you first met him, will always make sure he does a good job. “I think you managed.”
Seungcheol looks at you, surprised, amusement etched on his face. “Managed?”
“Yes. Managed,” you tease him. “You could always be better.”
You roar into laughter as Seungcheol lifts your legs, shoving down his sweats and his large cock springing free. He taps it on your clit, oversensitivity and pleasure shooting through your thighs. Your nails dug into his arm in retaliation, a fire burning your belly as you crave to be fucked.
“Just the tip?” He asks, sliding slowly into your wetness. Your fingers cling to your sheets, your eyes rolling back as his girthy cock goes in inch by inch. You shouldn’t have teased him, you know this, because now he has you where he wants you, just as he planned.
“More than the tip,” you purr, accepting the inevitable. “All of it.”
Without warning, he snaps his hips into you, fucking you without mercy. His strokes are long, deep, the kind that fill you up with joy and leave you with tears in your eyes. He pulls you closer, tasting your skin as your nails dig deeper into his back. Your walls spasm around him, loving every minute of the dick he is dropping off, for sure punishment for your teasing earlier.
“Fuck,” you rasp, feeling your peak reaching once more. “You feel so fucking good.”
You feel him grin against your neck, hitting you with a final stroke before lifting you and turning you over. He scurries to the baseboard, beckoning for him to come to him, wiggling his glistening cock. You crawl over to him happily, climbing over and sinking on him slowly, both groaning in unified satisfaction.
“Come here,” Seungcheol mutters, pulling you closer. “Give me your lips.”
His kiss is gratifying, your tongues interwining with another as you ride him, bouncing on his cock the way he likes it. Your pussy gushes as he fucks back, his fingers rubbing your clit vigorously like he owns it. Hit with a shock of pleasure that courses through your veins, you increase the pace and pull his hair, chasing your second orgasm. As if he read your mind, he pounds into you harder, taking your nipple and sucking on it fervently.
“Fuck, I’m close,” you whimper, everything turning white.”Don’t stop.”
“Never, baby,” he grunts. “Give it to me.”
It comes sharp and quick, your legs shuddering and your moans throaty and wet. You cling to Seungcheol as he talks you through it, whispering songs of praise and peppering you with kisses. His thrusts become rigid, signaling his own release as he lets out a loud guttural moan, your walls still pulsating as he empties himself into you. Relishing in each other, you still, your hearts beating as one, as he caresses your back. Love can’t describe what you feel.
“Are you still going to go in?” Seungcheol asks, drawing lines along your back. “Stay home and make it a 3-day weekend.”
Chuckling in the crook of his neck, you gaze at him, kissing him softly. “This was all a part of your plan, huh? Fuck me good and leave me too tired to move?”
Seungcheol peals into laughter, caressing your cheek. “And if it was?”
You lock eyes with him, a knowing look on your face as you lift off him slowly. “Do you remember the last time you begged for ‘just the tip?’” You point at the nightstand, your finger directed at a shiny baby monitor on display next to your wedding portrait.
“So?” Seungcheol shrugs with a smug look. “We can always have another.”
You shake your head with laughter, making your escape before you give him any ideas. A baby’s cry is heard through the monitor, and your heart pangs with guilt. The sunlight shines through the blinds, casting a soft glow that promises a peaceful day. You silently laugh, your shoulders shaking heavily as it dawns on you that at the end, Seungcheol is going to get what he wants.
Have you ever taken anyone’s virginity before? Well, yeah, your first time was both losing your own and taking someone else’s but, that was a long time ago. Have you ever taken the virginity of a twenty-six-year-old man who probably should have gotten laid by now anyway? Nope. Are you about to? Yep.
or the one where soonyoung has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising himself on a dating app and decide to help him out.
ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.
WORDCOUNT― 12.2k
PAIRING― soonyoung x afab reader
CONTENT― virgin guy who lives with his parents!soonyoung, he’s not shy but he is very clumsy, a lot of texting so be prepared for that format for a lil bit (THIS IS NOT A SOCIAL MEDIA AU), facetime-sex, real life sex
SIDE CHARACTERS― Vernon as reader’s best friend and roommate, Seungcheol briefly as Hoshi’s friend.
WARNINGS― he’s made fun of by his friends for being a virgin, this is not an indication that you shouldn’t remain a virgin if you still are one! it’s fictional and i do not agree with mocking someone for their virginity in real life.
NOTE― i love him and i like the idea of him being clumsy during sex, i also like the idea of him being inexperienced but suuuuuuper eager to pretend he knows what he’s doing. shoutout to my redacted wife @onlyseokmins for proof reading this <3
smut tags under cut::
smut tags―big huge dick soonyoung, phone sex (ish), face time sex, masturbation, pet name: baby, making out, he eats you out twice, fingering, whining and whimpering, deep throating, premature ejaculation, desperate man wants his dick wet lmao, grinding, tit fondling/licking, clit stimulation, he bites the fuck out of his tongue to try and distract himself from coming too soon again, no condom aka cream pie, soonyoung gets feelings like immediately when u touch him
~
“Check this shit out,” you laugh, presenting your phone to Vernon with a chuckle. “right or left?”
Vernon snorts, nearly spitting out the bite of food in his mouth as he reads the bio of the man you’re showing to him.
“Depends, you trying to take his innocence or are you trying to get railed so hard that the entire building can hear?” He narrows his eyes at you, making a point to call you out for keeping him awake last weekend.
You wave him off with an apologetic look. To be fair, the dude from before knew how to make a girl moan, it’s not your fault that you managed to find a decent lay in this city. Even if he ghosted you, you assume you may have been a bad lay for him, if anything.
“I wouldn’t mind trying something new, dude seems desperate.” You swipe through his photos, seeing that he appears to be just a normal dude with normal interests. “He’s cute too, so I’m swiping right.”
Vernon groans this time, slapping a hand to his forehead and glaring at you.
“You’d better warn me if you end up bringing him home, I’m not about to listen to some guy start crying over a blowjob.”
You nod to him, sending a message to the eighty-six-year-old Soonyoung and feeling delighted at his near-instant response to you.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure you’re out of the apartment if I invite him over,” You wiggle your brows as you stand to your feet and turn toward your room, eyes now glued to the open dating app’s messages. “Maybe you should go out and find a nice girl to rail to get back at me.”
“You’re so fucking weird.” Vernon laughs but feels kind of shitty because it’s not like he hasn’t been trying to get back at you for the loud sex. Guess he just doesn’t have the magic dick to make girls moan the way you do.
Not that he wants to make you moan or anything, he definitely doesn’t. If anything, he wishes you were more like the girls he brings home.
~
You: i’ve never seen a virgin grandpa on this app before
Soonyoung: ….i’m 26, it says that in my bio
You: I think you’re lying.
Soonyoung: do u know how to change it, my bitch friends won't tell me lol
You: why would i help you lie to the women in our city
Soonyoung: i’m not lying!!1
You laugh to yourself as you text the new sex interest in your life, wondering if he’s lying about his presumed virginity.
You: ok, twenty-six-year-old “hoshi” who is five miles away from me, you’re actually a virgin? Like for real?
Soonyoung: yea….are u here to make fun of me for it too? all the girls here just turn me down even if i offer to cook for them after
You: you’re really just looking to get laid for the first time, ever? and you’re offering to cook dinner too?
Soonyoung: yea
You: you’ve never had a blowjob or anything like that? you can’t seriously think I can believe you’re 26 and have never been laid, it’s not like you’re ugly or anything
Soonyoung: u don’t think im ugly? :)
Soonyoung: and yea I’ve had a blowjob before
You: why didn’t you sleep with her then?
Soonyoung: can we stop talking about why im a virgin
You: for now, but im gonna ask again eventually.
You’re smiling at your phone, finding him charming and awkward in how he communicates with you via messenger. Of course, you’re curious as to why he’s a virgin, even more, curious as to why he’s on a dating app looking to lose said virginity.
You: do you want my number? it’s embarrassing to have the app open in public if i wanna talk to you.
Soonyoung, on the other hand, is quite literally kicking his feet and checking your profile every few minutes just to look at you. He didn’t even think too hard about you calling him attractive then not following up on it, because the fact that you just offered your number to him in case you want to talk to him? Butterflies. Given, it’s juvenile for someone of his age to still be experiencing the typical high-school crush feelings, would anyone blame him? It’s just how he is, with or without having had sex. He can’t imagine not feeling giddy inside when he’s talking to someone that he thinks is pretty.
Soonyoung: yea :) u can text me whenever [redacted phone number]
You respond to him by texting his number rather than using the app messenger, screenshotting his contact info, and sending it to him with a sly smile.
You:
Grandpa Hoshi: :|
Grandpa Hoshi: im 26
~
Okay so, here’s the thing. Soonyoung is undeniably funny, witty, and kind. Another thing, he’s wildly attractive. Especially upon fulfilling your request for a workout selfie from him. So, what gives? You read the texts he’s sent that made you laugh out loud, you look at his pictures, stare at the workout selfie, and you genuinely cannot understand how he doesn’t have women waiting in line to have at him.
You: it’s been like four days since we started talking
Grandpa Hoshi: yep, almost five
You: four days of being friends but no mention of your bio on the app, yknow, where you’re begging to have sex for the first time ever?
Grandpa Hoshi: right, yea. you wanna do it? i didn’t wanna assume lol
You: not answering that til you explain why. i mean, it’s totally ok that you are but like, you’re a green flag all around so im a little worried you might have like a micropenis or something
Disclaimer, if he had a micropenis, you’d still let him use it on you. After all, hooking up is something you enjoy doing regardless of size.
Grandpa Hoshi: i do NOT have a micropenis
You: prove it
Grandpa Hoshi: right now???
You laugh to yourself but also like, it’s the first time the two of you have done anything more than bully each other. Or rather, you bully him and he defends himself constantly.
You: answer my question first
It takes a few minutes for him to respond, but you’re doing coursework anyway so it’s not a huge deal. Totally not like your ears perk up and a smile creeps across your face every time your phone goes off or anything. Definitely not.
Grandpa Hoshi: um… i still live with my parents and before u make fun of me for that pls understand that its not like i wanna be here
Grandpa Hoshi: i have a job and everything!!! im not a mooch!
He’s getting off track again. You could honestly care less if he still lives with his parents. You wish you still lived with yours, to save money at least.
You: they won’t let you have anyone over?
Grandpa Hoshi: well, that too but
Grandpa Hoshi: listen this sounds real stupid but it just never happened? even when i tried or things almost happened, it never did
You: damn, you’re unlucky. so what happened with the girl who gave you a blowjob?
Grandpa Hoshi: her boyfriend walked in
You: WHAT
You’re trying to pity him, honestly, but damn. Did he go for a taken girl? Yikes. You hate to admit the ick that just flooded your mind.
Grandpa Hoshi: its not like i knew she had a boyfriend
You: phew
Grandpa Hoshi: so yea. do u wanna help me out or not?
The whole reason you started talking to him was specifically to help him out. Now that you know he’s not some weirdo, and is definitely super hot and funny, hell yes.
You: yeah, sure.
You: about the micropenis though,
Grandpa Hoshi: right…um
A few minutes of silence, your coursework is long forgotten in the anticipation of receiving your first nude from Soonyoung. You wait, and you wait, and you wait.
You: i mean if you can’t prove it that's ok
Grandpa Hoshi: just give me a sec damn
He’s doing his best to get the most attractive angle. It’s not like he’s never sent nudes to anyone or anything, but like– this is you. The first person to actually agree to take his virginity. Should he hold it? Put a remote next to it for size? Should he have his face in the pic? Take a mirror pic?
Of course, as he’s taking several pictures of his length to try and impress you, he had to get hard first. He can’t imagine you’d want a flaccid cock pic in your inbox, and that would also mean that he’s working himself up with the amount of touching, holding, and groping throughout the past sixteen photos he’s taken and deleted. It’s at the point that now it’s actually hard to care about taking a photo, pre-cum already dripping out of him as he continues to try.
He’s entered the realm of his regular horny self, only this time he’s texting you. Someone who wants to see what he’s packing. Taking a dick pic is insanely easy once he stops thinking with his brain, and he’s quick to send you a photo of himself this time. His chin at the top of the picture, face entirely hidden, hand wrapped around his thick and leaking cock, sweatpants shoved down.
Grandpa Hoshi: [image attachment]
In all fairness, you’ve never actually cared much for dick pics. Men always look too confident even with the smallest of girth being offered through the pixels. Soonyoung though. He looks a bit desperate even with his face hidden. His cock looks desperate, his fingers wrapped around it look desperate, the way his sweatpants hug against his thighs look desperate. And now, you feel desperate. You keep your cool though.
You: oh, you were jerking off, got it.
Grandpa Hoshi: sorry can’t help it
Then he doesn’t text you back. Which is kind of a drag because he looks to be quite big in the photo alone. Maybe you’d be okay just this once to look like the desperate one. Mostly because you’re about ten seconds from trying to figure out which direction five miles away he resides so you can go palm his cock for him. Plus, the idea of an absolute simp virgin like him seeing you act a little desperate would probably be one for the books.
You: you know i can help you out with that, right? especially since you definitely don’t have a micropenis
You’re still being ignored. The silence from your phone makes your belly flip around inside of you at the image of him doing it too. He probably does it a lot. He’s probably desperate to feel good, you can imagine how he’d act if you were in front of him right now, the very idea of taking his virginity becoming entirely too attractive.
Shrugging, knowing full well what he’s doing right now in order to ignore you, you press the call button and wait. You’re a little bit nervous, mostly because you’ve never actually heard his voice before, or better yet how he sounds when he’s getting off. You’re shocked that he actually answers.
“Hello?” He says, muffled through the phone and trying to sound not-so-out-of-breath. It’s not like he looked at who was calling him anyway. With his luck, it’s probably Seungcheol or some shit.
“Don’t hello me,” You gripe, narrowing your eyes at yourself in your mirror. “You’re just gonna jerk off without me after I agreed to help you fix your little problem?”
The silence on his end is a bit nerve-wracking until you hear the frantic sound of his palm clearly wreaking havoc on him. You smirk, leaning back on your chair and sighing. On his end, processing that it was you on the other line sent his entire body into a state of burning with arousal. Your voice is sweet even when you speak with the same sarcasm as usual. God, this alone is enough for him right now.
“Were you at least thinking of me?”
He hums into the phone, indicating that yes, that’s exactly what he’s doing. His voice is kind of soft despite only hearing one word and a hum, you want to actually hear him talk to you, or moan, whichever he decides.
“Were you looking at my pictures?”
He nods his head, forgetting that you’re not able to see him and instantly responds with a small and breathy yes instead. It’s a bit difficult for him right now to talk, especially now that he can put a voice to the photos he’s been jerking off to. It’s a bit overwhelming, actually.
“Do you want better ones?” You ask, encouraging him to speak a bit more.
“Oh god, really?” He asks through the speaker, his hand pausing on his length as if to hold off until you confirm. “Like, nudes?”
“Mhm, yeah. If you want.” You smile as you speak to him, already standing to shimmy your pajamas off of you and stand in front of the mirror. “Or, you know what would be better?”
Letting me come over and actually do it? That’s what he wants to say to you, but he doesn’t, he simply raises a brow.
“What?” He asks, still keeping his responses short because despite how into this he is, he’s a bit shy about it.
“I can facetime you.”
He panics. That means you’ll be watching him too, right? Sure he’s sent nudes, he’s received nudes. He’s sent videos too, and received them. But never has he like, you know, live masturbated on facetime so someone else can watch.
“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” You backtrack at his silence, but you’re cut off almost immediately.
“No! no, we can facetime–”
Your stomach flips again as you fix yourself quickly in the mirror before setting your phone against your desk and rolling back a bit in your chair to determine if it’ll work this way or not. It’s not like he’s expecting you to do it too, he probably just thinks you’re gonna sit here naked for him to stare at. You’re kind of excited to see him in action, to hear him in action for you.
You hit the button to switch the call over to facetime and once again adjust your phone as you stare at yourself in the camera. Then you’re needing to catch your breath at the image of him.
There he is, his camera angled towards his face and not at all toward what's going on below his waist, but you don’t mind at first. Look at him, the lighting clearly shows that he’s a fan of mood lighting. You watch his eyes briefly, staring through the screen at you before moving your eyes to his arm, the one that clearly isn’t holding his phone because you can see it moving as he continues to jerk himself off. It’s an interesting feeling to have only seen him in photos until this moment, and it’s insanely attractive for some reason. Seeing him in motion, knowing what he’s doing, knowing that he feels good right now because of you.
“Let me see,” you say quietly, adjusting your bra strap and preparing to slip it off of you if he so much as asks. “Prop your phone up somewhere like I did.”
He nods, his eyes still staring straight through his screen at you as he moves around and the image becomes a blur of movement rather than his face. He settles in quickly, somehow looking even more attractive with the way his eyes no longer stare at the screen. You can almost sense a hint of shyness from him at this moment and it kind of floors you, given how easy he is to talk to and how easily he sent a dick pic to you.
“Feeling shy?” You ask, spreading your legs wide and cupping the seat of your panties, hiding the small spot of wetness forming there. “You act like I’m not going to be touching you at some point soon.”
You see him perk up, his eyes looking to you on the screen with more fondness than arousal. At the same time, his hand grips the base of his cock as he holds it straight up, erect and glistening proudly for you to look at.
“You look pretty big, bet you could fill me up so nicely,” You try to compliment, boosting his confidence and ego as best you can simply because he looks pretty with a smile on his face. Especially when his cock twitches at the words. “Would you want to do that for me, Hoshi?”
“Oh god,” He groans, hearing his nickname come from your mouth for the first time. His hand jerks up his length once, almost aggressively as he winces at it.
“This is going to be so embarrassing.” He admits, sliding his palm up and down shamelessly now as he watches between your spread legs.
“Embarrassing, why?” You chuckle, tapping now at the spot between your legs. “Can you not see that I’m just as turned on right now?”
He groans again, releasing his length and using that same hand to swipe his hair out of his face, then immediately grimacing at the fact that he now has pre-cum in his hair. Embarrassing, all of it.
“Well,” He tries to avoid you bringing up the fact that he just did that and only shoots his hand back to his cock in order to distract whatever off-hand shit you’re about to say. “You don’t even have your panties off yet, and I could probably get off right now.”
You laugh, not wanting to ruin the mood with the whole cum on his own face thing, so you save that for later. Instead, you instantly slip your panties off and present yourself to him much like he’s doing for you.
“Better?”
Soonyoung watched with his breath stuck in his throat, now finding it harder to breathe at the image of your pussy and the way he hopes he can touch it one day.
“Can you–” He pauses, not being used to dirty talk towards anything other than the porn playing on his phone. He thinks hard, and you can see it based on the way he, once again, neglects his cock with an unmoving palm.
“Can I do what? Go on,” You urge him, running a hand up to your chest and fondling your nipples right there in front of him, but not yet moving the fabric. “What do you want me to do for you, baby?”
Baby. You called him baby. Not that he’s into that but the fact that you did it makes him wonder if he is now. Maybe it’s because he wants you to take him for all he’s worth at this point. One, to get rid of the virginity looming over his head, and two, because you sound so fucking smooth when you’re watching him get off.
“Can you spread your pussy for me?” He whispers at first, boring a hole through his screen as he watches one of your hands tease at your hidden nipples, and the other hand sliding up and down the wet folds there. So badly does he want to see it. He wants to see your hole pulsing for him, leaking, needy.
His cock twitches wildly the second you do it for him. Two fingers spreading your pussy open and tensing your hips just to move it closer to the screen for him.
“You want to fuck this?” You chuckle softly, slowly dipping a finger into yourself and pulling it back out to present the wetness for him.
“Oh,” he sighs, now fucking into his fist at a pace that proves he’s most definitely never fucked a woman before. “Fuck.”
You nod at him, urging him to keep admitting his attraction to you. You’re aware he doesn’t see it though, as his hips continue to move quicker and quicker each time you press your finger into yourself.
“You gonna act like this when I’m riding you?” You ask with a tilted head, studying how hard he’s fucking against his hand. You can imagine how good it would feel if it were you, and quite frankly, this one finger isn’t enough at this point.
“God. You’re gonna ride me?” He moans, eyes rolling only slightly as he imagines it.
“Mhm,” you hum, now sliding in another finger and scissoring yourself open with them. “Would you want that?”
Before you can even work yourself up, and before he can even answer that question, you see him release. His cum shooting out in spurts across his stomach and nearly up to his chest. His labored breathing shifts the lighting against his abs and makes it look so entirely delicious. You’ve never wanted to lick a man clean so badly in your life.
You’re not even upset that he didn’t make it into the knitty gritty, considering he’s a virgin and all and you’re literally fucking yourself in front of him while implying riding him. You’re actually flattered.
His release caused him to see white for several moments, forgetting he’s even on camera for you. When he comes back to reality, watching you continue to finger yourself as your eyes scan your screen, all he can do is feel bashful.
“Shit, sorry,” He comments with a half laugh, looking down at his cum covered chest before looking at you again. Honestly, he could probably go again if you let him watch for a bit longer, but he’s embarrassed now. “I uh, didn’t mean to come that fast. It just kind of happened.”
“It’s okay,” You comfort him, slightly out of breath as you wonder if this is all you’re gonna get tonight. “It was cute.”
After a few moments, you sense his embarrassment and slowly slip yourself back into a sobering headspace, closing your legs and trying to ignore how wet you still are.
“Mm, no.” You smile. “But it’s okay, I’d rather make you come first anyway.”
His face lights up despite the disappointment in his gut of not being able to see you get off.
“You still wanna see me after this?”
You nod with a smile, endeared by his need to give, but inability to do it.
“When are you free?” You ask, wondering if he’s ever going to clean himself up.
“Whenever you are.” He laughs, scratching the back of his head with, once again, the same cum-stained hand.
“I’ll text you later then,” You smile through the screen and give a small wave before your genuine smile turns into a smirk. “After I take care of my little problem though.”
You notice him sitting up in protest, but you hang up with a satisfied laugh and head to the shower to both finish yourself off and clean up.
~
Grandpa Hoshi: what about 3pm on thurs?
You: you want to lose your virginity at 3pm….on a thursday???
Grandpa Hoshi: my parents have plans so ill have the house to myself for a few hours
You: or you could just come here?
Grandpa Hoshi: if ur comfortable with that? i thought u were supposed to come here lol
You: im comfortable, plus my roommate will kick your ass if you’re weird
Soonyoung contemplates hard on that last part but shrugs over it. Probably a girl thing, and it’s not like he’s an actual creep or anything. You’d be the one with power over him when the two of you are alone anyway.
You: what about tomorrow, 8pm?
Tomorrow. Hell yeah, tomorrow. Hell, he’d show up right the fuck now if you let him. He may live with his parents but he’s got a car.
Grandpa Hoshi: send ur address, ill be there :)
~
“Tomorrow, you’ll be a man.” Seungcheol croaks through the speaker at Soonyoung, totally assuming that this whole virginity loss dating app plan was actually just a joke.
“Why do you have to say it that way?” Soonyoung groans back, slapping his hand over his forehead and rubbing his temples. “I didn’t think anyone was actually gonna come through, she’s the first one.”
“What makes you think she’s actually gonna send you her address?” Seungcheol laughs, once again placing more pity onto his best friend than anything else. “She’s probably not even a real person, you’re gonna end up at some old guy’s house.”
Soonyoung laughs, or snorts really.
“Oh, she’s real.”
Seungcheol sits up in curiosity this time, switching his phone to the other ear with interest.
“Hm? Have you already met her?”
“Kind of. We like, um,” Soonyoung pauses, wondering if he sounds way too excited to tell him or not. “We facetimed a few hours ago.”
Silence.
“She got naked.”
“Oh ho ho!” Seungcheol encourages him. “So you guys did some stuff on facetime and she still wants to meet you?”
“That’s what I said!--” Soonyoung smiles to himself, about two seconds from kicking his feet before realizing what Seungcheol just said. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re kind of a loser, we’ve been over this.” Seungcheol laughs yet again. “Call me when you get your cherry popped or whatever.”
Then he hangs up.
Grandpa Hoshi: do u think im a loser?
You: yeah kinda
You’re laughing at his text as you sit across the table from Vernon.
“That him texting?” Vernon quirks a brow, watching you smile at your phone and practically ignore him.
You laugh again at Soonyoung’s string of defensive texts before responding with a short “it’s okay, i like losers”, and putting your phone down to finish telling Vernon that he’s gonna get kicked out tomorrow for the night.
“So,” You clap your hands in front of yourself, glaring at Vernon. “You’re gonna have to be gone tomorrow at eight because I'm about to literally obliterate this guy.”
“Jesus, I’m scared for him.”
“You should be scared for me. Because, well…” You trail off for a second, scrolling up your texts to see the dick pic Soonyoung sent before the facetime call. “He’s huge and–”
“I did not need to know that.” Vernon sighs, scooting back in his chair and standing to his feet.
“You act like you’re not curious nearly every time I meet someone.” You roll your eyes at him, smiling.
Vernon stands there awkwardly before shrugging and lunging for your phone.
“How big?” He laughs, not actually trying to see the dude’s dick but always way too curious for his own good despite never wanting to be around to hear what the big dicks do to his best friend.
“Stop prying, you’ll get jealous.”
He scoffs, brushing off his pants of invisible dust and crossing his arms.
“I’ll have you know, my dick is perfectly sized.”
“I’m sure it is. Anyway, tomorrow, be gone.”
He nods, sauntering to the living room and flopping down on the couch.
“Keep it in your room, please. I don’t want to sit on his gross body fluids when I come home.”
~
It’s Thursday. It’s approximately seven in the evening on Thursday and you’re well aware that Soonyoung is probably bubbling with anxiety if his texts are anything to go by.
So many are you sures, so many you can tell me to leave if you decide you don’t want tos, and even more i can’t wait to see yous.
“Vernon, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?” You ask, opening the fridge to pull out a bottled water.
You’ve already showered again today, primped yourself up for him really. Everything smooth, soft, and ready to be touched. You wonder if Soonyoung is doing the same, and smile.
“Hm, yeah. But I kinda wanna see him before I leave.”
You turn your head to him with a curious look, glaring only slightly.
“I swear to god if you scare him off, I’m kicking you out.”
Vernon laughs, patting the couch as if to invite you to sit with him to ease your own anxiety. He can smell the familiar lotion you use before dates, and he notes that you’ve really tried to look good today.
“I think you might kill him, if I’m being honest.” Your best friend laughs softly, complimenting you.
“Thanks, that’s the plan.”
And so, the two of you sit together laughing at stupid comedy shows until your phone lights up at around eight fifteen.
Grandpa Hoshi: i’m a little early, is that ok?
“Oh shit, he’s here.” You immediately feel nervous, which is pretty normal for you anyway so it’s easily overlooked by Vernon.
He jumps up, brushing off his clothes and walking toward the kitchen to grab his keys and wallet.
“Let him in then, I’ll leave when he gets here.”
You give him a knowing look before nodding.
You: second floor, take a left when you get to the top of the stairs, third apartment on the left.
Within minutes, there’s a very gentle knock on the door and Vernon is throwing himself at it to get a look at him. Unfortunately it’s a bit more awkward than he expected it to be.
Not only did Soonyoung think your roommate was a woman, but he, at the very least, expected you to answer the door. He was preparing himself all day for this moment, to knock on your door and have you open it. At first he thought that maybe he even got the wrong apartment.
“Oh, I think I got the wrong place, sorry–”
“Nope, you’re in the right place.” Vernon smiles, stepping to the side and opening the door wider for him. “You can come in.”
Soonyoung does, awkwardly. Avoiding eye contact with Vernon and barely even looking into the apartment before stepping inside.
“She’s excited, don’t worry.” Vernon whispers, throwing Soonyoung a wink before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
Soonyoung still hasn’t really looked up from the floor yet, and you make quick work to make him feel more comfortable.
“Don’t mind him, that’s both my best friend and roommate.” You say, making your way toward him and trying your best not to stare because, okay, wow. He’s kind of ten times more attractive in person, which is fucking insane considering how good he looked through a screen.
“Have you and him ever like…” Soonyoung immediately starts, realizing he might have made things weird.
“Vernon?! Oh, god no.” You laugh, reaching for his arm and feeling him lean into it with relief. “You’re allowed to look up by the way. You’ve been staring at that crack in my floor since you got here.”
Immediately Soonyoung moves his eyes up to you, the eye contact feeling more intense than it should, but you’re locked in too. The awkwardness dissolves almost instantly, he feels no need to question you further about anything really, especially with the way he feels his throat run dry at the very idea of this whole plan actually happening at some point.
When he made his profile on that app, it was kind of a half joke until like, people started talking to him. Given, no one ever followed through but you, he’s happy he stuck with it. Happy you came out of the works from said dating app, happy you picked him.
Really though, he picked you. Part of you wonders about why you want to take this from him. For power, for control, to be praised, to feel like you’re his entire world of desire for a brief time? All of those things, but you can admit now that he’s in front of you that it’s a bit intimidating. He’s not shy at all, just a bit awkward. He seems confident, he seems ready, and you find yourself lucky for being the one to get to do this for him, or with him. If at all, Soonyoung is the type of man you could see yourself hanging out with often, with or without having sex.
Given, upon seeing him face to face for the first time, the only thing you thought about was how attractive he is. Now though, as you look back at him along with the silence of this apartment offering nothing more than awkwardness, it’s not. Because you’re seeing him for all he is and he appears to not be able to help it. Is this what people mean when they say there’s an instant spark between two people? Despite how attractive he is, you find yourself thinking of how many times he’s made you laugh. How many times he’s embarrassed himself, and now for the first time he’s right there and all you want to do is…give him exactly what he wants, or needs. Whichever.
“Okay, listen,” You start, swallowing around a lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up at record speed by just having his eyes looking into yours. You know by this point that you’re not going to be keeping your hands to yourself at all. And for his sake, he’d probably prefer it that way. “If I move too fast, just tell me to stop.”
Soonyoung tilts his head with a dopey smile, eyes still fixed on you, scanning you, coming to terms with the fact that you’re absolutely everything he thought you would be and more.
“I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue,” He admits, feeling his length confined within his pants twitch wildly at the entire situation. “I struggled not to get hard just driving over.” He laughs, looking away from you for the first time with flushed cheeks.
You find that painfully adorable. No man would ever admit that to you. Especially after just a few minutes of meeting in person for the first time, but this is Soonyoung and in the short amount of time you’ve known him, you’re kind of expecting him to be really forward and say things that will have you frozen in thought.
“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen. You’re pretending that his apparent inexperience isn’t getting to you, but you’re not really fooling anyone. “Let’s get you some water or something, I can see you drooling.”
Soonyoung laughs, shrugging because yeah maybe he’s drooling a little bit. You smell fucking immaculate, your hand is small in his but still manages to overpower him, your skin feels soft and slightly cold. Honestly, it’s dangerous just having you stand in front of him right now because he could absolutely blow his load just by you looking at him. Embarrassing? Always.
He follows after you, very nearly crowding up to you as the comfort sets in and the last bit of awkwardness leaves his mind. All he can think about is how you sounded over that facetime call. He’s seen what’s between your legs, and during that night all he could think about was touching you, fucking you. Now he’s here, and you’re right there. It’s hard not to crowd up, it’s hard not to cling to you, it’s hard not to be excited. Seeing your hand wrapping around that bottle of water to give to him, seeing you lean just before grabbing it– of course he’s staring. Of course he’s crowding closer, almost to the point that he’s up against your ass when you lean back up from the fridge.
You turn after grabbing him the bottle and become shocked by his close proximity when you face him. He looks down at you with a soft face, one that shows he’s not embarrassed by how he immediately attaches to you. His smile is just as clumsy as he is, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing too. You’re glad, because it makes it entirely too easy to drop the water bottle, grab his face, and chase his lips all the way until he’s against the counter and kissing you back.
He sighs instantly into it, wincing at the way the kitchen counter hits his back, you pressing against him so harshly just to get that first taste of his lips. He’s excited that you seem as eager as him, maybe even as desperate as him.
For you, a man has never been this eager just to kiss you, nor has a man ever kissed you this good. You can imagine that he’s probably got a lot of experience in terms of kissing, not much elsewhere though. You can tell by the way he moves his hands to all of the right places, but his blatant virginity shows through all of it as he becomes a horny mess almost instantly.
His tongue is warm and wet, small whining sounds coming from his throat as you press yourself against him briefly. His hands never leave your body and he shows no shame in touching where he wants to touch. Rubbing, groping, and caressing every inch of your waist, ass, and even moving up to your face to deepen the kiss. His hips press forward almost constantly, and all you can do is brace yourself on the counter behind him to try and tame his relentless hips and obvious attempts at rushing what he wants right now.
If you’re going to sleep with him though, he’s gonna get the full experience, not a quickie. Plus, you agreed to keep it in your room for Vernon’s sake.
“Hey,” you sigh, trying to pull back from the kiss but he isn’t having it. Still kissing against you and running his lips down to your neck when you continue to speak. “We should go to my room, your first time isn’t about to be in my kitchen.”
“Why not?” He groans against your neck, kissing harshly with faint wet sounds, his hands wrapping tightly around your waist now. “I don’t care where we do it, i just want you like, really bad.”
Still, his lips don’t leave you, nor do his hands. You find yourself giggling against him with a shake of your head at the way he protests when you pry yourself from his grip. Of course, though, he’s immediately clinging to you and chasing after you to your bedroom before practically throwing himself at you again.
You barely get the door closed before he’s pressing you against it this time, hand running down again to your waist and easily snaking up your shirt just to feel the warmth of your skin. You let him, enjoying the way he kisses you for just the second time, enjoying more the way you can feel him lose his composure every few minutes from this alone.
You’re kind of in love with the fact that he doesn’t seem to want to pull back even for a breath. He seems to love kissing, and you wonder what else he’ll come to love doing tonight too. From the way he moves his tongue and his lips on you, you can imagine he’d be fucking heavenly at eating pussy.
Successfully you push him away again, rushing to your bed before he can make you melt against his lips for a third time, and you’re instantly trying to present yourself to him much like you did over camera.
“You’re really going to let me?” He asks with a deep breath, brushing his hair out of his face and wiping his mouth. His brain malfunctions at your presumed answer to that question, watching you take your panties and shorts off in one go and leaning back to spread your legs for him.
At this moment, you’re all his and you make it a point to spread your pussy out for him like he asked you to do before. You can practically see his knees buckle that very instant.
“To think I wouldn’t want to do this is insane,” You say, wiggling your hips for him to see. “Look how wet I am.” You pause, studying the hungry look in his eyes. “Do you wanna try eating me out?”
He doesn’t even nod. He’s immediately on his knees against your bed and grabbing your thighs to pull you toward his face. You yelp only slightly at the movement, a chuckle coming out shortly after as you sit yourself up properly to take in the image of his eyes sparkling up at you.
Your breath is caught in your throat, a small groan coming out at the image alone before you’re able to process words again.
“Can’t believe how good you look down there,” You say softly, brushing his hair out of his face for him like he did to himself earlier. “Have you ever done this before?”
He shakes his head, eyes shifting from your pussy to your face. Regardless of your shock at that, he seems like he’s waiting for a green light so you decide to cut the compliments short and raise your brows at him.
“Go on then.”
You watch him and the way he doesn’t seem to think at all when he does it. Once again, he’s adorable. His tongue goes everywhere, only grazing your clit briefly every few licks, never staying on it presumably because he’s in the process of finding the clit based on how your body reacts.
He has a general idea of where it is, but the feeling of having your pussy on his lips alone is enough to overwhelm him with arousal. All he can do is taste and smell the mixture of your warmth along with the soap and lotion you must have used before he came here.
He’s quite literally tasting the entirety of you and loving every second of it. The way his hands grip your legs, both spreading them further open so that he can tilt his head and lick at different angles, and then hugging them to where they almost lock his head in place.
It feels like he does this for ages, learning your body and what makes your legs shake. He sucks in different places, kissing your entire pussy to the point that it’s almost impossible for your legs not to shake in reaction at what he’s doing to you.
Dare you say, a man who is inexperienced at eating a woman out somehow feels better than one who knows exactly where to go.
“Fuck, knew you’d be good at this,” you compliment with a shaky voice, reaching down to his hair and holding his head in place. “Stay on my clit, use your fingers on me.”
He hums, taking note of where you place his lips and reminding himself that this is the clit, just as suspected. He attaches his lips there, kissing it much like he kissed you in the kitchen.
You can feel his fingers make their way into you, each bump of his knuckle sending a delicious sensation throughout your body. You’re tingling from your head to your toes at this point and your face heats up beyond what you thought it would. Your hips move on their own, experimentally fucking against his fingers as he keeps his tongue flicking at you.
“Just like that,” you encourage him, running your hands through his hair and looking down at him. Seeing his head move with each little thrust of your hips is only more arousing in this moment. His eyes half open, watching you, tasting you, almost smiling around your clit when he makes eye contact with you.
It almost seems like he’s asking if he’s doing well, and goddamn is he. He’s doing amazing.
“So good,” you say shortly, scratching against his scalp as a thank you, still fucking your hips up just to feel his fingers plunge deeper.
He, on the other hand, is fucking feral right now. Tasting you, dipping his fingers into you, feeling that warmth for the first time, the small clenches— he’s swimming in a fantasy. Every time you move your hips up, he can smell the entirety of you, he can feel your pussy squeeze his fingers, and god. He doesn’t think he ever wants this to end.
All day, he could do this all fucking day. No wonder men make fun of other guys for not giving head. Why wouldn’t they? He can feel your legs tensing up around his head, your gentle fingers running through his hair, the sounds coming from your lips. He’s in love, he’s in love.
He doesn’t stop, tongue flicking your clit so beautifully, fingers slowly fucking in and out of you, not even in time with your jerking hips. Shockingly, you approach euphoria so fucking fast that you can barely warn him, you’re not even thinking when you put pressure on his head, pressing his lips so harshly against your clit— his moan sending a vibration straight through you.
“Faster, with your fingers—“ you choke out, curling your toes and feeling him do exactly as you say.
There, you release with his fingers plunging in and out of you, the wet sound of your pussy only sounding more messy by the time you begin to release. In the midst of it all, you feel him pull his lips from your clit and lick around his fingers before coming back up and continuing his ministrations, working you through an orgasm you’re not even sure he knows you’re having right now.
Strings of curses, little tugs against his hair, legs shaking, all of it happens at once until the feeling of his fingers become sensitive inside of you, until his tongue is flicking a bundle of nerves begging to be left alone.
You swat him away with a smile, leaning up quickly and grabbing him by the shirt.
He doesn’t really know what the fuck is going on but he laughs with you, being pulled to his feet and falling onto the bed on top of you. You can feel his length in his pants, so fucking hard, probably leaking and feeling quite neglected.
“Did you…?” He asks softly.
You smile at him, leaning up to kiss him square on the mouth before you flip him over and get between his legs.
“I did,” You laugh in a daze, starting to work on his button and zipper. You’re reeling from the recent orgasm and wanting nothing more than to let him feel the same way you do right now. “And now, you’re gonna finally get a full blow job.”
He chokes out a nervous laugh, holding your hand in place from pulling his pants down.
“Unless, you don’t want that?” You ask, tilting your head with a bit of a frown.
“No, no! It’s not that!” He reassures you, cheeks flushing more than they already were. “It’s just that like, what if I don’t last very long? I’m kind of sensitive.”
His eyes avoid yours when he says it and once again, most adorable man award goes to fucking Soonyoung.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” You lean forward, kissing him again. “You just gave me some of the best head in my life.”
The light in his eyes return and instantly he’s flashing a nervous smile at you.
“Hoshi, I’ve never gotten off that fast from being eaten out.” You reassure him again, making a point to use his nickname. “If you don’t get off from me sucking your cock, I might actually cry.”
Well, he can’t have that now, can he?
He releases your grip on his jeans, allowing you to pull them down. For some reason unable to look at you despite knowing you’ve seen him jerk off before. It’s the fact that like, what if it’s suddenly not big enough? What if his cock is ugly or curved in a way you don’t like?
Before he can even start to doubt himself more, he feels your lips on the tip and instantly his eyes are looking down at you. You’re the one smiling now, using one hand to hold his base and the other hand already scooping up his balls for added pleasure.
You make a point to look him in the eye as you let the saliva collect in your mouth. There, you let it fall from the tip of your tongue, all the way until you feel the wetness against your fingers wrapped around his base.
He thinks he’s going to go fucking insane watching you like this, and god, does he. You don’t even show him your struggle of taking in the sheer size of him. Lowering your mouth until you’re taking in as much as you can. You try to keep eye contact up until you have to close your eyes.
It’s not shocking that by the point you get half of his length into your mouth, he’s fucking up without full intention and letting out a choked apology. Still, you try to force your stretched lips to smile for him, even through the gag, through the harsh feeling of his cock hitting your throat.
How the fuck has a cock this good not been worshiped before? By a mouth? A hand? A pussy? You’ll be damned not to choke on it. You’d rather eat glass than to let him leave this apartment without being completely emptied and praised for every drop.
He’s actually struggling already not to come, holding himself back but failing each time his hips chase the warmth of your throat. Each time you gag, it stimulates the fuck out of him and he nearly wants to cry each time it happens. Even with that other girl who went down on him, she didn’t even attempt to fit this much in her mouth. Most of the pleasure came from her hand jerking him off while she suckled against his head, but you. You’re down there, slipping your mouth up and down on his length, gagging, tearing up, and still fucking smiling about it.
Once again, he’s in love.
He holds his hands back at least, keeping them against your sheets and gripping them so hard that he fears he’s ripping through them. Everything feels hot, you look hot, you sound hot, your tongue still manages to move against the base of his cock with what little room it does have, and god– your other hand, massaging his balls.
“Wait, wait wait–” Soonyoung groans, fucking his hips into your mouth once again until you pull off with a concerned look.
“Were my teeth hurting you?” You ask, gasping a bit for air.
“No, i was just getting really close.”
“Hm?” You sigh in disappointment, this time going all in at once and not letting yourself stop until he’s releasing into your mouth.
You feel his shaking fingers brush your cheek when you do it, hollowing it out just to fit more, more, more into your mouth before lapping your tongue against his base again.
His groaning turns into frantic moans, his hips jerking wildly, unable to escape the clenching muscles of your gagging throat, and he’s honestly in heaven once again.
Never in his life has he felt an orgasm so satisfying. His fingers go numb when he releases, pumping himself deep into your throat and not stopping until he’s dizzy. The fact that you kept your mouth on him through it, the fact that he could still feel you gagging, swallowing, and moaning all at once through it–how?
“How–” he takes a breath, pulling you off of him so you can breathe. “How did you do that?”
You shrug with a confident smile, wiping your tears and crawling up to meet his face.
“I don’t normally do that for guys.” You say with a rasp in your voice, “I certainly don’t just swallow for anyone.”
He feels special, and fucking spent but god does he want to keep going. His softening cock twitching in a relieving way, probably glad to have finally been touched by something other than his own hand. Part of him wonders if you’re done though, because by now you’ve both gotten off and usually that’s the end goal, right?
But he hasn’t lost his virginity yet, and when he looks at you hovering above him, he already knows you’re not done with him.
“We need to let you rest until you can get hard again,” You say, kissing him more easily than before. Letting him taste himself, letting you taste yourself mixed with him. “What’s something you wanna do to get you back into the game?”
He sighs out a laugh, fucking amazed that you’re his first. How lucky is that? He thinks hard, watching the way you lift your shirt off of yourself. God, he forgot tits existed for a solid part of this day and that’s a shame because instantly his sensitive cock throbs at the image of them coming into view.
You watch him stare, trailing your hands down and lifting his shirt off of him as well.
“I don’t even know at this point.” He admits, ignoring the fact that his hair is definitely sticking up all over from you taking his shirt off of him.
“I’ll just love on you while you think, then.”
He gives a short nod, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside at the way your gentle hands caress his chest and abs before you start kissing against it.
He relaxes his body, feeling your hands and lips on him. You were right when you said you’d love on him as he thinks about it. The hard part of it is actually thinking about what’s going to get him harder the fastest. You doing this could be enough, but your tits. And fuck, your pussy.
He lets out a whine, one that feels entirely out of character and it causes you to pause your gentle kiss against his nipple and pull back.
“Already?”
He shakes his head, staring straight at your chest and then down to what's between your legs.
“I want to, um, eat you out again…”
That’s new. Twice in one session? You’re not going to turn that down.
“Oh yeah? Did that get you going?”
You receive a small nod from him before his hands are reaching out for your tits and warming them up.
You relax into the feeling of his fingers on your chest only for a moment before you pull back again, this time adjusting yourself onto the bed face down, ass up. Might as well try a bunch of different positions for him too, right?
“Whenever you’re ready.” You sigh, already grabbing a pillow to hug through this.
You can feel the bed shift behind you, the weight of his body dipping right behind you before you feel his warm breath against your core. Only now do you realize that you already missed the way he ate you out the first time, you can barely contain yourself knowing he’s going to do it again.
His hands snake between your legs before his lips get any closer, spreading them before pulling his hand back up and spreading your pussy open with his fingers on his own this time.
“You have the prettiest pussy.” He says in a clear and calm voice, watching the way your hole pulses at the air that hits it. “And I've watched a lot of porn.”
You’d tell him to shut up, but you’re not gonna because it’s cute how forward he is with his thoughts. If anything, he’s treating you right now by doing this, so he can say whatever he fucking wants right now.
“Eat it then.” you try to urge him, and he does just that.
You do your best to contain any rising orgasm, solely because you don’t want to spend yourself before you actually let him inside of you in full. But goddamn, he’s just as eager now as he was the first time…if not more.
He thinks back to the things he did before, mimicking that and hitting all of the perfect spots without fail. Still, you hold back, pushing and pulling yourself away and toward him. He eventually holds you in place against him, licking you deeper than you’ve ever been licked before. It’s a different kind of sensation, and the way he groans into it is entirely too much for you right now.
You need more, you want more. You want all of him by now, so aroused by every touch, breath, and moan that it’s becoming unbearable to just be eaten out. The thought that he’s doing this to get himself hard is flooring, and the feeling of his fingers replacing his tongue much like before is intense.
After just that one time, he knows exactly how to make you come this way and it’s dangerously attractive to realize that. He goes straight for it too, pulling back to watch his fingers slip into you up to the knuckle.
Given, he can’t reach your clit with his mouth this time so he thinks hard about how to fix this little dilemma and you’re floored even more by the fact that he solves problems without questioning. You feel his fingers leave you and land on your clit, and right then you feel his tongue again, just as deep, licking into you and all over you.
He’s really going to not let you hold it in, he’s going to have you fucking unravelling again and it’s too good. Thankfully, when you try to lift to look behind yourself, you take note of his other hand working himself.
He’s hard again, and god knows how long he’s been doing that.
You pull your body away from him, his protesting moan doing nothing but heating your body up more when you flip over and watch him.
“You were really just going to get me off again and not try to fuck me yet?”
He looks down at himself and then back at you, smiling and running his hand through his hair.
“I like doing it, I wanted to see if I could make you–”
“You absolutely could have but I’m going to be honest,” You start, interrupting him and pulling yourself up to crawl over him. “I need more now, and if you’re ready, I’d like to live up to my promise.”
His eyes are much sharper than they were before when you say those words. This is actually it. He would have been perfectly happy just eating you out, getting head himself, or whatever. Over and over again. Any and all of it is better than being in his room alone, but you’re really–
“Promise?” He asks, knowing full well what it was.
“Lay back, get comfortable,” You instruct, scooting up the bed with him, keeping yourself planted on his legs despite the discomfort. “You still want me to ride you, right?”
He nods almost frantically, landing his hands on your tits without hesitation and groping them in a blatant show of how ready he’s managed to get himself for this.
Not that you want to rush, but you’re so fucking turned on by this point, the only thing you want is to be filled by him. His cock likely bigger than any you’ve taken before, and to be fair, you don’t even care if you’re the desperate one at this point. You’ve almost forgotten he’s a virgin.
“Wait,” He stops you when you slide over his cock, bare pussy coating his length in a languid grind. “Oh, fuck, wait- no, do that again.”
You smile at his frantic thoughts pouring from his lips, sliding against him again, and again, up until he’s leaning forward and attaching his lips to one of your nipples and suckling against it hard.
You groan as you grind, feeling the head of his now, fully hard, cock bumping against your previously stimulated clit. He groans with you, almost at the exact same time but continues to try and leave his mark on you. In love with finally getting your tits in his mouth, your pussy on his cock, and most of all, in love with the fact that you’re not laughing at him for any of it. You seem to melt into it much like he does and he can’t help but want to email the creator of that fucking app and personally thank them for this.
You rub yourself against him until it’s even more unbearable than before. By now, you’ve completely soaked his length and he’s completely soaked your chest in saliva and tiny swollen bite marks. Not that you mind the biting, he did it and you didn’t stop him.
“Are you ready?” You finally sigh out, deliberately grinding against him slowly now, with almost your entire weight behind the grinds.
He groans out a “please” before immediately gripping your hips and stopping you. Pulling his head back so hard and so quickly– he kind of forgot to unlatch from your nipple and it sends a sharp pain throughout your body, one that only makes you want to ride him hard. Right now.
“Hold on, there’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans–”
“Okay, and?” You laugh, sliding forward again and grinding your clit against him. “I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.”
He looks at you, his sharp eyes falling back into the sparkling doe eyes as his mouth falls open at the very idea that he gets to hit it fucking raw for the first time?
“Unless you’re lying, and you’re not really a virgin?”
He’s quick to silence your doubt. He’s 100% never had his cock inside of anything other than his own palm and– malfunction. He’s blank again, staring up at you and wincing at the feeling of you pleasuring yourself on top of him.
“Please?” He manages to get out, gripping your hips so tightly by now that he’s sure it’s hurting you.
You smile, humming at him when you lift from his length, standing on your knees to grab at his and position him in the right place.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” You ask, only now realizing that you’re genuinely about to take a man’s virginity, and it’s only fair that you give him one last time to decide if he wants you to take it from him. Despite how turned on you are, and regardless of how badly you want to fuck him, it’s not right to just do it without making him really think about it.
“Fuck, yes. Just do it already.”
You can’t help but smile at him when you do. Lowering yourself slowly on him and feeling the stretch of it. His face is something that you don’t think you’ll ever forget. He appears to be lost in it, eyes rolling back, his chest heaving, his teeth showing through a half-smile as he moans out at the sensation.
He can’t get over how warm it is inside of you, the constant clenching of your pussy dragging along his entire length. He can’t help it when he moans, he doesn’t care that his voice cracks, or that it sounds like a pathetic sob.
By the time you bottom out and sit like that for a moment, you almost feel like he’s the one who needs to adjust. Of course, you’re needing this moment to adjust too but god– just watching him made you that much more wet and it’s insane how into him you are right now. As if you haven’t been since you started talking to him.
“Feels good?” You ask, involuntary clenching around his size, letting out a small sigh yourself at the feeling of his leaking cock inside of you.
He hums at you and then takes in a deep breath before fully opening his eyes again and looking at you. Technically, he’s no longer a virgin now. It’s fucking happening, and you’re hot? So hot? You feel so good? You smell so good. You sound so fucking good.
Everything is overwhelmingly good, all he can do now is press his hips up and instantly moan out at the feeling.
You take that as an invitation to absolutely obliterate him, much like you knew you would. So, you do. Lifting yourself up and sliding him almost entirely out of you before sinking down again.
His hands shoot to your waist, then he lifts slightly to grab your ass from behind you, and then he flops himself back– seemingly unable to know what the fuck to do with himself at this feeling.
You opt to grab his hands, intertwining your fingers with his and holding them above his head, all so you can lay chest to chest with him, lips right at his neck. You start kissing, riding him so smoothly and doing nothing but listening to his little sounds that he tries to keep inside.
“You’re really cute, you know that?” You whisper against his ear, kissing there too before pulling back to look at his face.
That half-smile never leaves his face, and his fingers squeeze against yours so tightly that you actually start to worry that he may break them. Thankfully, he begins to relax after a few minutes. Adjusting to the overwhelming pleasure and now losing himself to the arousal rather than fighting it.
You nearly squeak when you feel him release your hands and grab your face, pulling you up to him as he kisses you mindlessly. Breathlessly, moaning into your mouth all while moving his own hips now. You can feel him jerk his hips, imagining how he fucked his hand through facetime. This is better than that.
You prop to stand up on your knees, offering him the space to fuck you as hard as he’d like, and god. It’s hard. It’s deep, and it’s so clumsy. No rhythm, no thought behind it at all, you can fucking tell he’s purely running on adrenaline as he plunges into you.
He’s actually going so hard, that your moans sound more pained than pleasurable, but that’s not the case at all. You actually can’t stop moaning, it’s just the fact that each time he slams into you, your throat lets out a broken sound.
For a moment, you think you can actually hear him purr, or maybe growl against your slack lips as he does it. Already he’s lasted longer than you thought he would, especially without a condom, and you’re so fucking impressed by it.
You slide your hand between your bodies, easily rubbing your own clit and drying out your throat even more with the consistent loud moans of how good he’s doing. After a few moments though, his hips stutter and you take that as a sign that you should take over again.
“I don’t know how the fuck you’re doing this to me,” You laugh out of pity for yourself, “I really thought I could last longer than this.”
He barely hears you through his ringing ears and rapid heartbeat, but he chuckles at the compliment. Feeling like he must be doing something right to have a woman say that to him. There’s one issue. He’s about two thrusts from coming again and he will be damned to ruin this for you.
You take over, riding him harshly and rubbing your clit even harder. He takes a moment to try and distract himself from how good your pussy feels clenching him and takes it upon himself to bite down hard against his tongue. Something to hurt enough to keep his orgasm from bubbling over, but also not something so awful that he’d lose his arousal entirely.
You continue, pushing yourself back up from him and watching the way he tries to focus on anything but what’s happening. You ride deliberately to get him off though, knowing that the second he does, you’ll let yourself go too. He doesn’t seem to be picking up the hints.
“Are you close?” You ask, out of breath and riding him so consistently that it’s becoming more and more difficult to hold your own orgasm. “Let it go, come with me–”
Instantly, you hear him whimper out a moan as he releases the bite on his tongue. Shooting himself forward and hugging you so tightly that the pressure of your fingers against your clit is entirely unbearable.
“Oh, shit. Wait– i’m–” You start, moaning against his hair as he hugs against you.
He’s so fucking relieved, already releasing into you as you say those words. All he can do is breathe through it, feeling your pussy come around him as he continues to empty himself into you.
It’s entirely too intense, his ears popping and heart threatening to send him to a hospital. Never did he think having sex was this intense.
Little does he know… it’s not. But even you, for some reason, find yourself wondering why the fuck that was so good.
By the time you pull yourself off of him, both of you wincing and trying to ignore the mixture of cum running down your legs, all you can do is look at him with curiosity.
He can barely open his eyes to look back at you, but he tries, he really does.
~
He’s not going home tonight. Of course he’s not. Like, how fucking rude would it be to take his virginity and send him on his way? Absolutely the fuck not.
In fact, you made him some food, wobbling on spent legs throughout the kitchen as he lays on his death bed in your room. (Not literally, both of you are just dramatic.)
All he can do is listen to the sounds of you in the other room and think hard about how he just felt. Physically, it was a lot. Surely if sex is like that all the time, he’d rather not do it as often as Seungcheol does. Honestly, his sanity would be at stake.
But like, you’re kind of amazing. Given, the two of you barely know each other past lame texts and bullying each other. Physically, you know him more than any other women and that’s a block he didn’t think would be an issue until it became one.
You made him come twice. And he thinks you did too, unless you’re lying just to make him feel better. There’s no way you didn’t feel the intensity of that though. There’s no way your wobbling legs were lying to him when you got up and told him you wanted to have a snack before bed.
There’s no way you would let him sleep over if you didn’t feel the same way he does right now.
And by the time you’re back, handing him a plate of food, he can’t help but believe that nothing will ever taste as good as you.
The thing is, that’s one of the main reasons you did this. To be praised, to have a man think you’d be the best he will ever have until he eventually meets someone else and they do better than you did. Now though, you feel weird.
This is a one night stand. A charity-fuck, as it still stands at least.
“So,” You start, taking a bite of your food still as naked as can be regardless of how stupid it must look to be eating in a come-soaked bed like this. “I guess you should change your bio in the app now.”
He looks at you, and then at his food.
“Yeah, I guess I should…”
“I’ll help you fix your age on it. Now that you know what you’re doing with a woman and all.”
It’s silent for a minute.
“Is it too forward if I say that I’d rather just delete the app and keep calling you?”
Thank fuck Soonyoung is forward and embarrassing with it. You’re not ready to give up the single life but on the other hand, after that, you’re not exactly ready to share him with other women just yet. If he wants to attach himself for a while, you’re going to let him. Purely because, like, look at him. Everything is endearing, and when he’s not being adorable he’s just being fucking hot.
You nod with a smile, wondering if he expects you to delete the app too. Because you’re not so sure about that, but also you think you probably would if he asks with those stupid doe eyes.
Strangely enough, he doesn’t even ask. He just starts eating the food with a content look on his face. Sweat having dried up but left his hair a mess, his skin is glowing– you think…oh no. Why are you looking at him like this?
“Hey, I should probably call Vernon and tell him not to come home until late tomorrow or something.”
Soonyoung nods, lifting his eyes to you and watching you take your phone out.
“I should call my friend too, he told me to let him know when I get my cherry popped.”
You snort at him with a laugh right as Vernon answers the phone, and honestly, you’d rather listen to Soonyoung’s friend than Vernon whining about having to spend even more time with his overbearing parents.
“Hey Vernon, don’t come home 'til I call you tomorrow, bye.” You say quickly before hanging up.
Instantly you’re setting your plate on your table and launching yourself at Soonyoung and his phone.
where you and jeonghan find out you’ve been unknowingly sharing the same guy, and get back at him by fucking each other.
❥ pairing: seungcheol x f!reader x jeonghan
❥ words: 4.9k
❥ warnings: everyone is bisexual, brief petty fighting over a man, pure smut: masturbation, unprotected sex, mouth & hand stuff, multiple orgasms, cum eating, mouth spitting, a smidge of ass play, cucking. 18+ mdni.
❥ notes: man, is this filthy. i did not read this shit over. only took a month and a few rewrites but we got here!!
you: [1 attachment]
you smile at the thumbnail while waiting for it to be sent through to yourself: cheollie’s pretty face stuffed between your thighs.
just something to keep you company the next time work demands his attention for days on end. finding a new fuck buddy has been out of the question since the first time you met seungcheol at the clubs and promptly took him home — or rather, the first time you hooked up with someone who wasn’t him and realised sex isn’t all that when he’s not the one you’re doing it with.
once it shows up as Delivered to your end, you shut off his phone and discard it somewhere in the sheets. you roll over and nuzzle into his back, nodding off to the soft snores of the man who just spent the last few hours fucking the living daylights out of you.
until a ding from his phone cuts through your shallow doze. then another. you blink, confused and increasingly panicked at the timing of the notification.
…didn’t you send the video to yourself??
you didn’t exactly check the name before sending it, but you didn’t have to. it should be you at the top of seungcheol’s contacts. you’re the last person he messaged after all, since he invited you to a trip to pound town and was pretty occupied with that until knocking out in your bed.
another ding has you fumbling around the blanket for seungcheol’s phone. you hold it to your face, squinting through the light to read the name on his notification screen.
‘hannie’?
you don’t waste another moment in punching in his passcode and opening the chat up with a sinking stomach. whoever this illustrious hannie is, she was on the receiving end of your sex tape, not yourself.
hannie: ??????
hannie: Cheollie??
your stomach flips at the nickname. he told you to call him that too. said it was special, just between you two; only lets girls call him that when he…
you: this is cheol’s girlfriend. who the fuck is this?
okay, so you may have just blatantly lied. but you’re not above being possessive, let alone petty.
seungcheol’s quite literally the best dick you’ve ever had — even if you’re too emotionally unavailable to slap a label on it that would make him yours alone — so you’re just a little curious about the competition, especially when up until now you weren’t aware there was any.
you quit seeking out anyone else since the dawn of your little agreement with seungcheol, and you just assumed he was doing the same… considering you let him fuck you raw.
hannie: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ
hannie: No offence babes, but if you really think you’ve got Cheollie locked down, you’re delusional~
you’re shaking with adrenaline all over at this point. you actually can’t believe the audacity on this woman. you scroll back up to the sex tape and hold on it until the little options bubble pops up. if she thinks she’s funny, you’re about to start acting fucking hilarious.
you: [forwarded an attachment]
you: if that’s your man then why was he eating this pussy? 🤣
hannie: well fuck
hannie: I’m hard
in the split second your mind blanks from disbelief, your thumb flies to the call button in the corner of the screen as you slip out of bed. it barely rings once before hannie picks up.
“god, you’re forward.” she — or rather, he — says in a low, raspy chuckle.
your jaw actually drops a little. if you weren’t so pissed off you’d probably find…his… voice attractive.
“you’re a dude?!?” you whisper-yell, padding into the bathroom and locking the door behind you.
“yes.”
“your name’s hannie.”
“it’s short for jeonghan.”
“okay jeonghan,” you seethe with as much malice in your tone as you can manage. “who the fuck are you?”
“i think you owe me the answer to that first, sweetheart. considering you came on to me.”
“fuck off.” you snap, and he whistles lowly in response. you frown. “are you fucking him?”
“i have been.” you can just hear the smirk in his tone.
just like in the movies, your back slides down the bathroom wall until you’re sat on the cold tile. this shitshow is just the gift that keeps on giving. not only is your all-time favourite fuck buddy seeing other bitches, but said bitch is a whole ass man, who’s sassier than you are.
“i didn’t know cheollie swung that way.” you mutter.
“i didn’t know he swung your way either. guess our boyfriend was playing us both, hm?”
you scoff, offended that he’d even lump you in with him like you’re some sort of team. “he is not my boyfriend. how long have you been seeing him??”
“since april.” the same as you. fuck. “he’s not mine either. but does it even matter who was taking him up the ass first? we’ve both been led on, sweetheart.”
“shut up.” you grit. you could’ve gone your entire life without having to hear you were unknowingly sharing a dick with this cocky ass twink. “and for your information, i never took him.”
“oh wow.” jeonghan sighs, though it sounds too much like a whine. “is this why cheollie’s always so rough with me? because he…hah…cops it from you?”
you blink, turning your volume to the max and listening to the unmistakable noises coming from the other end: the shuffling of fabric, barely concealing the slick sounds beneath it.
“are you seriously fucking jerking off?”
jeonghan huffs, and you can just hear the way he smirks through the phone. “can you blame me? you sent me a video of my man eating a pretty fucking pussy.”
“oh my god.” you can only say in disbelief.
the noises come to a halt, as you can imagine jeonghan’s hand did. against your will, your mind conjures up an image of the way he must be gripping himself right now: cock twitching in his fist, begging for any friction, but refusing to move until your voice is at his ear again.
until you tell him it’s okay.
he audibly gulps. “…is that too much?”
you stare at the tiles of the bathroom floor. the room around you goes blurry as you focus on nothing but his shaky puffs of air on the other end.
you don’t know how it’s come to this. but fuck if you’re not gonna channel all this adrenaline somewhere.
for a moment, the only response from your end is something shuffling. jeonghan only realises what’s happening when you spit, and he smirks since he knows it must be on your own fingers.
“i didn’t say stop, did i?” you tell him in a whisper, breath hitching when your fingers swirl over your clit.
jeonghan moans through a laugh, and you throb under your fingers at the noise.
“oh, i’ll do whatever you want.” he drawls.
most people would be devastated if they were in your position: realising that the only dick you’ve been letting cum inside of you, was also getting sticked into holes that didn’t belong to you. and you were devastated over the revelation for all of like a few minutes before just… having phone sex with owner of said holes?
after you came on your fingers to the sound of jeonghan doing much the same on his end, then sat in a puddle of your arousal and regret as you caught your breath, jeonghan’s mellow tone was enough to still your scattered thoughts.
“don’t feel bad, pretty.” he cooed to you, reading the silence exactly for what it was. “he hid us from each other. looks like this was why, huh?”
in fact, it was.
you stayed up all night texting jeonghan from your own phone once you slid back into bed like nothing happened. after one hell of a first impression, it surprised you how well you and jeonghan got on as you properly got to know each other. how often you giggled at his jokes, how attracted you were to him in the selfie he sent where you nearly mistook him for a girl again.
how you pressed your thighs together when his words turned filthier in response to the selfie you sent back.
you were almost disappointed when seungcheol woke you up the following morning by pressing his morning wood against your ass. it was the fact that you couldn’t invite jeonghan over to see if he’s just as good as through the phone, and all you had was this lying, fat cock throbbing bitchass...
“where’s this coming from?” seungcheol chuckles as you straddle him, pissed off at him and pent up by jeonghan; grinding your clothed heat right down onto his in chase of friction.
“just you, cheollie.” you smile lopsided at him, mind elsewhere.
you think back to memory of jeonghan fucking his fist to the sound of your voice, how wrecked and pretty his moans were. thinking back to the nudes he sent you when the conversation steered to just sexting, how his cock was weeping around his fingers and onto his toned stomach.
as you rode seungcheol, you did so selfishly. you kept your eyes screwed shut as you rocked on him, uncaring for the movement he needs to get off, your thoughts consumed entirely with the guy he’s been seeing behind your back. the guy you fully intend to start seeing behind his back.
you imagine it’s jeonghan’s slender cock fucking right into your g-spot right now instead of cheol’s girthier length. you imagine it’s jeonghan’s soft moans beneath you instead of cheol’s rough grunts. you imagine it’s jeonghan’s lithe fingers coming to rub at your clit instead of cheol’s thick ones.
you almost called out the wrong name as your orgasm seized you.
luckily you didn’t, or else seungcheol would’ve refused to leave your place; especially since you were basically pushing him out the door while he was still in post-nut clarity.
after your place was free of one man, you took your pretty ass to the shower, freshened up, and texted the other man your address.
jeonghan fucked you so good and so thoroughly you damn nearly texted seungcheol and thanked him.
most people in your position would probably be giving you nasty side eye for it. now, you’re only devastated over seungcheol hiding him purely because you’ve been missing out.
and well, jeonghan fully intends to make up for lost time.
you were both on the same page about this being your shared little secret from seungcheol, his own personal karma. but you didn’t intend to stop seeing him, no — that’s where half the fun came from.
jeonghan fit into your days so easily as if the spot was there waiting for him. you texted and called him just as much as seungcheol. whenever your man couldn’t come around, you’d be calling your other man right over.
you started filming sex tapes with seungcheol for the sole purpose of watching them back with jeonghan. you’d reenact them with him as they played in the background: sometimes he’d be seungcheol and press you into the mattress as he fucked you, sometimes you’d be seungcheol and you’d ride him until he was a shaking mess.
whenever seungcheol preferred one of you over the other for the week — one being told that he was busy and would make it up next week, the other being fucked into oblivion by him — you always made sure no one else was left out. you traded photos of the messy state he’d leave you in, retold the sex in detail over call as the other got off to your voice: jeonghan jerking off to you telling how seungcheol bent you over a desk, you fingering yourself to jeonghan telling how he deepthroated seungcheol.
you always have jeonghan over after him. never before. seungcheol’d smell his other lover on you in an instant, and god forbid choi seungcheol feel left out.
some days it feels like you’re just fucking seungcheol so that you can get a round two with jeonghan once he’s gone. and you’d feel bad, if only seungcheol didn’t try to gatekeep jeonghan first — in an effort to protect his own fears of being the one left out, of course.
how ironic.
“where he goes low,” jeonghan had cooed to you once, rubbing the aches out from your back in the post-sex haze. “we go lower.”
and you’ve been living by that.
as per usual, jeonghan gets to your place so quickly after seungcheol’s left that you’re worried their cars may have passed by each other.
he can’t help it. jeonghan’s favourite thing ever is tasting his man while he’s fucking his girl. once you texted him that you let seungcheol fuck you raw, he didn’t even reply. rather, you got the life360 notification that he’d left his house to know that he was instantly on his way over after reading that, forgetting to let you know in text.
and, lucky for you both, seungcheol left behind his hoodie.
after jeonghan lets himself in, he finds you laying on your bed in nothing but just that — the smell of sweat and sex and seungcheol still heady in the air.
you smile at your man, spreading your legs and showing where you’re cupping your hand over your pussy to keep your other man’s cum from leaking out.
“oh, baby, you’re too good to me.” jeonghan praises in a broken voice, mindlessly throwing his keys somewhere across the room as he dives onto the mattress, sights honed in on what you’ve got for him between your legs.
you cry out when his mouth latches onto your pussy as if by a magnetic pull. your hands tangle in his hair, trying your best to not just rip the strands out — still sensitive from how seungcheol left you.
you hadn’t even gotten off, in fact. you’d insisted to him that you wanted to be edged, with the promise that next time he could make you cum til you fainted. and well, you still intend to make good on that promise — but it’s also because jeonghan’s greedy ass isn’t satisfied unless he’s pulled at least two orgasms out of you and some days you nearly can’t take it. call it suffering from success.
now with the treat you’ve left for him between your thighs, you’re sure you’ll be in for him rewarding you with a handful of orgasms.
he’s so lost in the sauce that he doesn’t even realise he had his eyes shut until he’s missing the sight of your face. you watch his lashes flutter open, his pretty brown eyes flicking up to your face: lips curling in a satisfied smile as he licks a hard stripe from your hole to clit.
his chin and cheeks glisten with the messy mixture of fluids. he keeps bobbing his head like that, applying pressure with his tongue just to see you tremble above him. he’s so in tune with your body at this point that he cocks a brow as a thought clicks in his head.
he pouts. “aw, baby. did cheollie not make you cum?”
he blows air out on your clit experimentally, and his eyes shade over with how you shudder at the barest contact.
you shake your head. “told him not to. wanted it to be you, hannie.”
for such a sharp tongue, you render jeonghan speechless for a beat. his grin stretches wider across his soaked face, and he’s looking at you like he could grant you the whole world if you only asked.
“you can’t be saying shit like that, sweetheart.” he sighs, plunging two lithe fingers into your core and delighting in the way you sob a moan. “if you ever want me to get rid of me..”
“not happening.” you grit out, throwing your head back when he starts to pump his fingers slowly.
he sucks in a sharp inhale, one of necessity because you’ve got him that breathless.
“ah. you must really like me.” he curls his fingers until he hits that spongey spot, tutting at how your thighs clamp around his head in kind. “lucky me, ‘cause i am crazy about you.”
jeonghan reattaches his mouth to your pussy, lips closing around your clit to suck on the bundle of nerves. you’re sure he must feel how you’re throbbing under his tongue and around his fingers. cheol left you teetering off the edge, so you knew you’d be a goner when jeonghan got here so soon afterwards.
his fingers relentlessly curl inside of you, his mouth switching between kitten licks and suctioning on your clit until you’re shouting out something that might be his name — orgasm completely taking over your body.
you think you die a little with how hard and fast it slammed into you. jeonghan’s diligent to lick and fuck you through it, so you’re not sure how long it is before you come down, chest fighting to catch breath and throat sore from the exertion.
you weakly tilt your chin down at jeonghan, who’s leaving gentle pecks on your inner thigh as he waits for you. his eyes catch on yours and he smirks, no doubt plotting something behind that beautiful face.
jeonghan inches his fingers out, and you wince as his knuckles drag deliberately against your walls. his fingers are completely drenched: his saliva, your cum, and some of seungcheol’s too.
he licks his lips at the sight but restrains himself, instead bringing his hand to your mouth.
you don’t waste a second in closing your lips around his fingers, ravenous as the sharp tang lights up your palate. you can recognise each of your separate tastes and you mewl, taking jeonghan’s fingers until they tap the back of your throat. he cusses lowly before he retracts his hand.
when your gazes meet again, you see your reflection with how wide jeonghan’s pupils were dilated.
you grab jeonghan by the scruff of his hair and pull him up your body until his face is just short of yours. you tilt it back with a tug, his neck exposed and bobbing with a gulp.
your face hovers over his and he opens his mouth expectantly, lips stretched in a helpless smile as he presents his tongue.
you spit straight onto it, watching how his pupils eclipse even more of his irises in pure delight.
he moans as he swallows the mess of fluids down — the taste of you, cheol and himself sliding down his throat.
you don’t wait another moment before mashing your lips together, kissing him with more tongue and teeth than anything.
your free hand fumbles for his lap, palming over the prominent bulge in his shorts. you can tell he’s not wearing boxers (they’d be useless) when his length twitches at your touch, the fabric already soaked with precum.
“fuck,” jeonghan gasps, chuckling into the kiss. “i might cum.”
he plunges his fingers right back into your pussy, scissoring you open as he feels for cheol’s cum still pooled deep in your core. he doesn’t want to waste a single drop — he fully intends to fuck it right back into you, feeling both his man and his girl’s cum around his cock. just the thought has his moaning again.
“can you imagine— hah— how fucking mad he’d be?” he rasps out, hips bucking into the delicious friction your palm offers.
“oh, god—“ you giggle. “how d’you think he’d react?”
“probably break it off with us both, the big jealous baby.” he huffs out a laugh, wincing when your pussy clamps around his fingers. “but it’s alright, sweetheart, i’d be lucky to just have you.”
the concept is almost inconceivable at this point: only having jeonghan. you’ve gotten so used to having two men to choose from depending on your mood. to being fucked twice in a day by two different cocks.
you know that sooner or later it’ll come out. you’ve gotten reckless lately: blatantly texting jeonghan in front of cheol, not even pretending to be bummed when he says he can’t come see you. hell, there was one time where you and jeonghan were mysteriously busy — fucking each other to the tune of your phones ringing as cheol took turns calling you both.
in fact, it’s made it even more exhilarating. knowing you’ve both got this over him, knowing how much he’d hate it and how it’s his own fault. it’s too bad he didn’t lock either of you down while he had the chance — they’d call him king arthur if he was able to seperate you and jeonghan now.
about to die from the impatience, you tug jeonghan’s sweatpants down enough for his cock to spring free. he hisses when you wrap a tight fist around him, adding a third finger into your pussy in response.
“ah, ah— gonna need to fuck you like now.” jeonghan says shakily, pulsing violently in the circle of your hand. “i’m close to making a fool of myself.”
you nod, laying back into your pillows for him.
“you gotta be fucking…”
the sound of seungcheol’s low voice through the wall has you leaping out of your skin, but jeonghan simply keeps you laid on your back with a hand pressed onto your tummy.
your door swings open to reveal your other lover, standing in the frame with smoke pouring from his ears.
jeonghan isn’t the least bit startled. doesn’t halt his fingers either; just draws out the pumps, leaving you trembling as you stare at seungcheol with guilty, teary eyes.
“ah, cheollie, it’s about time.” jeonghan drawls.
you stifle a moan when jeonghan curls a single finger to hit your g-spot, just to be mean. “what are you..?”
“i came to get my hoodie.” seungcheol’s frown deepens as he takes in your naked form under said hoodie, eyes honing in on where your body connects with jeonghan’s fingers. “what the fuck are you doing?!”
“yah, you can’t ask a girl that when you’re the one who broke into her house.” jeonghan says, speeding up his fingers at the other man watching.
“the door was unlocked.” seungcheol deadpans.
you shoot a glance at jeonghan, who just shrugs, guilty. (in his rush to get to you, he forgot to lock your front door behind him.)
jeonghan curls his fingers again, and this time you can’t help the moan that leaves you. seungcheol steps into the room, successfully provoked.
“fucking— just—” he rambles, looking like he’s two seconds from prying jeonghan’s hand out of you. “what the fuck is this?”
jeonghan shrugs with that same shit-eating grin. knowing he won’t get a serious answer out of him, seungcheol addresses you by name. “why—how do you know him?”
“you tell me.” you snap back, wriggling your hips lower to give jeonghan even better access in spite. “why don’t you introduce us?”
“wouldn’t that be nice.” jeonghan coos to you. “i think he’s too scared we’ll fuck each other though.”
“god, you two really are alike, aren’t you..” seungcheol sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“oh, so he has a type.” jeonghan says. “your greed sickens me. but i get it, i’m no better. not since i got a taste of her too.”
at that, jeonghan pulls his fingers out, only to wrap them around his cock and line himself up with your pussy — eyes never leaving seungcheol.
your other lover walks further into the room until he stops just short of the foot of the bed. he runs a hand through his hair like you’re both stressing him the fuck out (you are), completely helpless to just witnessing this.
“wait. jeonghan, don’t.” seungcheol’s usual commanding tone is lost on him, the words instead delivered as a weak plea.
jeonghan hums, unconvinced as he swirls his tip at your hole.
“please don’t,” seungcheol's close to begging. it's almost like he’s in a trance as he drops to the floor on his knees, unable to rip his eyes away from jeonghan’s tip nearly breaching into your wet warmth. “jeonghan.”
through half-lidded eyes you glance at seungcheol kneeling before you, his hand creeping towards the very evident tent in his grey sweats.
“please what?” jeonghan teases, pre leaking all over your pussy.
seungcheol gulps down the size of a boulder.
“please don’t stop.”
per his request, he doesn’t. with one snap of his hips jeonghan pushes into you, and all three of you moan as he fills you up.
you pulse around him once he bottoms out, and jeonghan shudders as the mixture of cum all up in your pussy gushes around his cock.
“shit, baby. let’s hope i can last in front of cheollie,” jeonghan snickers in a low voice meant just for your ears. he throws a look over his shoulder at your other lover. “if you can hold back on cumming, i’ll let you join.”
the older man mumbles something under his breath (can’t be anything nice), but he listens anyways — gripping both of his thighs while trying to ignore the painful pulsing between them. if he touches himself at all while watching you both, he’s going to fail.
he resolves to biting his tongue as jeonghan starts to fuck you properly, in hopes he might draw blood to distract from how his boner’s screaming at him for some god damn relief.
the room sounds like a literal porn set: wet slapping and squelching, neither you and jeonghan holding back on your moans with full intents of pissing seungcheol off.
you could almost forget he’s even there when jeonghan starts slamming into you, your body shuffling up the bed from the force. he cants your hips up so he can angle his thrusts just right into your g-spot, and you all but sob when a thumb comes to circle your clit.
“just one more f’me,” jeonghan pants out, and almost like on command your pussy starts spasming around him. “yeah, that’s it, that’s my good baby.”
seungcheol’s cock is so stiff he think he might just die. where your orgasm ends, jeonghan’s starts — but he doesn’t stop rubbing at your clit, pushing you into overstimulation just because he wants to feel you completely wring him dry.
both of your moans as jeonghan shoots his load inside of you is the sexiest and most torturous sound seungcheol’s ever heard. he’s almost bitten his tongue in half by the time jeonghan’s pulling out, quick to cup his hand over your pussy to make sure nothing seeps out.
jeonghan gives seungheol a once over to ensure there’s no cum stain on his sweats before cocking his head in your direction, beckoning the other man over. “want a taste?”
seungcheol’s on his feet and at the bed within seconds. he doesn’t waste another moment in latching his mouth to your pussy, the mess of mixed cum gushing onto his tongue. your back’s arching from the sensitivity, but it’s futile trying to writhe away from seungcheol when he’s eating you out like a man on the brink of starvation.
jeonghan keeps your legs open with one hand pressing your thigh to the bed, the other hand planted in seungcheol’s hair — praising and directing him as he holds his head down. your head is spinning from the overstimulation. the promise you made to cheol be damned, you think you’re going to faint now if he pulls another orgasm out of you.
jeonghan must see it: the glazed, faraway look in your eyes, how you’ve gone almost dumb with the pleasure.
high off the surge in pride, he takes his hand from your thigh and kneads seungcheol’s ass. it’s all the warning he gets before a thumb prods at his hole.
seungcheol’s response is muffled when jeonghan shoves his face even further into your pussy. he doesn’t push in, just circles the rim with enough pressure to make cheol shiver.
jeonghan’s other hand then reaches down into seungcheol’s sweats and grips his weeping cook. as out of it as you are, your hand replaces his to tug at seungcheol’s hair — keeping him in place as you hump at his mouth, basically riding his face to reach one last orgasm.
jeonghan has no mercy as he jerks seungcheol off: fist closed so tight to the point it must be painful, moving so fast he can’t feel his arm.
your nth orgasm hits first: ripping through your body and soaking seungcheol’s face, the taste of all of your cum coating his tongue. a mere few strokes later and seungcheol’s orgasms follows with a pitiful sob into your pussy.
he shoots ropes across your sheets before collapsing into them, head lolled across your bare thigh.
jeonghan pats his ass with a satisfied hum. “well damn. if you wanted to cuck, cheollie, you could’ve just asked.”
he rolls his eyes. “fuck doing that again. you know i hate being left out.”
“doesn’t feel good, does it?” you remind him, fingers threading through his sweaty hair.
seungcheol grumbles. “so you found out about each other and now you fuck, is that right?” you both nod at him, and he sulks. “this is exactly why i didn’t say anything!”
jeonghan tuts. “you better get used to sharing, cheollie.”
✿ summary: a heated interaction with your roommate causes you to question your friendship with him, and wonder if there’s something more to your relationship.
✿ warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, slight angst, roommates to lovers, best friends to lovers, jealousy, misunderstanding, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), face sitting, fingering, cowgirl (yeehaw), big girls on TOP, unprotected sex (u know what i'm gonna say about THAT (be careful)), creampie, multiple orgasms, a lil missionary if u will, apologetic cheolie, reader's female bff is sooo supportive and cute, lil jeongcheol friendship moments
✿ pairing: seungcheol x fem!plussize!reader
✿ author’s note: choi seungcheol… no one on this earth can convince me this man is not into big girls. this is entirely self indulgent and inspired by an interaction i had with my husband when he was working out recently LMAO enjoy xoxo!! also i wrote this as being in the summer just to warm my bones a lil. this is not proofread thoroughly, sorry for any typos!
✿ word count: 10k
✿ read it on ao3: here
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Getting off work early, especially on a beautiful summer afternoon, is a rarity with your busy schedule, but this Friday afternoon, the stars have aligned. No evening meetings, all reports finished early, your presentation for the middle of next week already complete. You thank the universe as you clock out at 2PM, a whopping 3 hours earlier than you usually would, and find your way to the city streets to venture back to your apartment for the weekend.
When you enter your apartment, you’re met with nothing but quiet. You hang your work bag on the hook by the door, and drop your keys into the catch-all on your recently thrifted accent table in your entryway. You smile to yourself thinking about your roommate cursing at you when you asked him to carry it up all two flights of stairs when you brought it home.
“Cheol?” You call out, wondering if your best friend is still working, or if he’s stepped out for an errand.
You find your shared kitchen and living room to be empty, so you push past, down the hallway toward your roommate's bedroom, where his work-from-home office setup resides. He’s probably still clocked in, so you’ll say a quick hello before you get settled for the evening.
Your pace slows slightly as you approach his cracked bedroom door, your ears straining to make out what exactly you’re hearing. As you inch closer, you hear soft grunts and shallow breaths.
Stopping dead in your tracks, you immediately wonder if you should turn around before you see something you shouldn’t. Warmth creeps up your spine at the sounds he’s making, and you take a hesitant step forward. Would you find him sprawled out across his bed, propped up on his pillows, taking advantage of being home alone? God knows you do it when he’s gone. You wonder if he’s ever thought about finding you in the same state, if he’s thought about interrupting you, replacing your fingers with his own–
The clanking of weights feels like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head, bringing you back to the present moment. Of course he’s just working out, y/n, get your head out of the gutter.
You peek through the crack in the door, carefully and quietly. He’s facing away from you, sitting on his weight bench. He’s adding another weight to his already stacked dumbbell, his precious noise cancelling headphones covering his ears. His sweat-slicked hair peeks out over his nape from his favorite baseball hat. The muscles of his bare shoulders dance beneath his taught skin as he adjusts his weights. Warmth spreads across your cheeks, travelling deep to your core at the sight of his strong back. He sits up straight, rolling his shoulders before lifting his dumbbell up over his head to start another set.
You hate seeing him working out. Not because you actually hate it, but because you hate seeing him sweaty, breathing heavy, shirtless… You find yourself regularly reciting “he’s your best friend, he’s your roommate, cut it out,” into your bathroom mirror. Thankfully his workouts are typically confined to his bedroom, so you only catch a glimpse when you walk by his open bedroom door at just the right moment.
You tiptoe backwards, padding back toward the front door. You open it again, closing it harder this time, jiggling your keys loudly in the catch-all.
“Cheol, I’m home!” You call out, making sure your voice is louder than last time. A startled sound comes from down the hallway, and you hear his dumbbell clank onto the floor.
“In here!” He sounds out of breath as he calls to you, “you’re home early, easy day?”
“Yeah,” you reply as you walk back down the hallway, mentally preparing yourself to see him again, “finished everything by lunch and was over my hours for the week, so I figured I’d just come home and start my weekend early.”
“Me too,” he says a little softer, sensing you’re almost to his room. You suck in one last deep breath before composing yourself, pushing through his bedroom door.
He fully comes into view, headphones discarded on his bed, black tank top being pulled over his torso. You catch one last look at his muscular back before his skin disappears beneath the fabric, and he turns around to face you. “I don’t have any plans this weekend other than lunch with Hannie tomorrow, do you wanna order in and start another re-watch of Business Proposal tonight?” He takes his hat off to card his fingers through his damp locks, tossing it on his bed next to his headphones.
Your eyes snap to his, doing your best to pretend you weren’t just ogling at his body. His hair is slick, his cheeks slightly flushed, his bottom lip red from his biting on it – a habit you noticed the first time you saw him lifting weights.
“That sounds incredible, yes, please,” you take a few steps over to his bed to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I just need to shower and call Yunji to double check what time our plans are tomorrow, then I’m all yours.” Your other best friend will kill you if you miss your coffee date tomorrow morning.
“Perfect,” Seungcheol flashes you a devastating dimpled grin before turning his attention back to his weights, preparing to put everything away for his next workout.
“Gimme,” you gesture to the dumbbell in his hand. He has multiple weights stacked on either side, but he’s holding it like it’s nothing.
“This?” His eyebrows raise and the corner of his mouth quirks up. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you try to lift it,” he sets it on the floor next to his bench.
“I’m not an idiot, Cheol,” you stand up, walking over to the bench, throwing one leg over before sitting down. “I just wanna try,” reaching down, you wrap your fingers around the warmed metal. You try to lift it, you really do, but you get it maybe three inches off of the ground before dropping it back down on the floor.
“Oh my god, ow,” you laugh, and he laughs right along with you.
“What did I tell you?” He picks it up again effortlessly, bringing it to the rack in his closet where he stores all of his weights.
“How can you just lift that like it’s nothing?” You shake out your arm, feeling slightly embarrassed for thinking you might actually be able to pick it up like he does.
“I bench, like, 4 times that, y/n, it’s just what I’m used to,” he pats your head as he walks past you, missing the way you stick your tongue out at him. Looking at the dumbbell sitting on his closet floor, you do the math in your head…
“That’s more than I weigh, Cheol, there’s no way.”
“Are you suggesting I can’t lift you?” He spins around to face you, planting his hands on his hips, looking at you in disbelief, his thick eyebrows shot up his forehead.
“Is that such an outrageous thing to suggest? I’m not exactly skinny.” You fold your arms over your stomach, always hating when attention is brought to your body, even though you did it to yourself this time.
He huffs out a laugh, taking a few steps closer to where you’re sitting on his bed. “Get up,” his voice drops lower with his command, making your ears turn red.
“W-Why?” You tilt your head at him, suspicion and a hint of anticipation lacing your tone. He has to be joking.
“So I can prove you wrong.” The sureness in his voice makes you dizzy. He holds out a hand for you and you hesitantly take it, letting him help you up. Okay, not joking.
“There’s no way I’m wrong, be serious.” You try to reason with him but any thoughts are drowned out by the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. You’ve had plenty of physical contact with him over your many years of living together, but he’s never had complete control over your body like he’s suggesting he could. Just the thought of it causes your breathing to stagger.
“Oh, shut up and come here,” he closes the distance between you, and you rest your hands on his shoulders as he dips down to wrap his strong arms around your hips. You gasp as he easily lifts you, snaking your arms around his neck to brace yourself, his fingers splaying wide under your ass to support you. Your legs instinctively spread to wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back.
So many points of contact between your body and his, and each one is searing. Once you’re settled in his grasp, you make the mistake of looking down at him. His grip tightens under you as your eyes meet, your shared heaving breaths filling the silence in his bedroom. You swear you catch his eyes darting to your lips for a moment. Heat courses through your veins, and you wonder if he feels it too. You’re suddenly too aware of the way your clothed center is resting against his strong stomach.
“Okay, you made your point,” your voice sounds unfamiliar, breathless and deep. You have to get out of here before you do something friendship-ruining.
“Right,” he whispers back, his tone just as foreign as your own. Despite his agreeing with you, his hold on your body doesn’t falter. Neither do your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips are so close to yours, you find yourself wondering what they taste like. A car horn blaring outside his window shatters the moment.
“I have to call Yunji,”
“I have to call Hannie,”
Almost in unison, you both snap yourselves out of it, Seungcheol gently setting you back on the floor, both of you stepping back to put some space between you. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on the exposed bit of your belly before you adjust your shirt, not even realizing it had slipped up when he picked you up.
“Text me what you want for dinner–” you try to speak,
“Let me know what I should order–” he does too.
You speak over each other, both trying to change the subject. A beat of silence.
“We could get Thai from the place down the street–” you start,
“I hear they have really good drunken noodles,” he interrupts.
You snap your mouth shut, the air in his room suddenly feeling suffocating.
“Let’s do Thai. Let me know what you want and I’ll order after I talk to Jeonghan.” His voice comes out impossibly soft– if he’s feeling any of whatever the hell you’re feeling, he’s doing a damn good job at hiding it. Embarrassment suddenly creeps up, and you need to get out of this room.
“Yeah, for sure, I will,” you practically run out of his bedroom before you finish your sentence, leaving him standing all alone, trying to collect his thoughts about what the hell just happened.
Your phone call with Yunji is brief, your best friend picking up on your energy, but you can’t get into it with Seungcheol down the hallway. You promise to give her all the details in the morning, saying a quick goodbye and taking a very cold shower before texting your roommate, asking him to order you the drunken noodles.
You spend the rest of your evening watching your favorite drama in a slightly uncomfortable silence with Seungcheol, avoiding eye contact with him and keeping conversation to a minimum. Your avoidance makes you miss the softness in his eyes while he watches you eat your noodles, cutely wrapped in a blanket on the couch.
“Are they as good as I heard they are?” He comments after the first episode ends. You finally look at him, taking in his bare face and relaxed state. Something flutters deep in your stomach.
“Mhm,” you smirk at him, your mouth full. You swallow, clearing your throat before trying to speak again. “So good, thanks for the recommendation, Cheolie.” His ears turn the slightest bit red, his dimples making an appearance as he grins back at you.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
“Okay, let me get this straight,” Yunji is rubbing her temples across the table from you at your go-to cafe. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “He just… said he could lift you? And you let him? And now it’s weird?”
You let out an exasperated sigh at her retelling of the events, realizing how silly it sounds. “Yeah? I guess I kind of started it. He said what he benches, I said it was more than what I weigh and that there’s no way, and he said I was suggesting he couldn’t lift me. So he told me to get up, and he just… did it.” Your mind flashes back to his deep command, and your stomach does a backflip.
“Oh you absolutely started it, babe, what did you think was gonna happen? You know how that boy is with his pride,” she picks up her latte, taking a small sip before continuing. “So, what? Last night was awkward?”
“I don’t know, kind of?” You ponder for a moment, picking at the pastry flaking off of your croissant. “He ordered us dinner and we watched Business Proposal for a few hours like we always do. It just felt different. It was awkward, but it wasn’t? I don’t know.”
“Well… How did he pick you up?” She smirks at you the moment she catches your cheeks starting to blush. “Oh my god, it was hot, wasn’t it?”
“Don’t tease me!” You put your face in your hands, trying to cool your warming skin.
“It was, wasn’t it?! Oh my god, spill. Now.” She props her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her fists, giving you all of her attention.
“Okay, okay, um,” you start, already stuttering over your nerves. “He kind of… picked me up with his hands on my ass, and I … wrapped my legs around him?” You slap your hand over your mouth the second the words come out.
“No wonder it’s awkward, babe, he wants to fuck you!” Yunji giggles as you throw a crumpled up napkin at her, shushing her as a server walks by, trying to keep her vulgarity quiet.
“He does not! Don’t be ridiculous,” you whisper.
“Well, do you want to fuck him?” She questions you, a little quieter this time, putting you on the spot.
“I don’t know! It was just. I don’t know, I felt something, yanno? But he’s my best friend, and I just –”
“And you’ve lived together for years now with no romantic interests on either side, doesn’t that tell you anything?” She interrupts you abruptly, crossing her arms at you. “You’ve had dates, but nothing’s stuck. Do you know why?”
You shake your head at her, not wanting to hear what she’s about to say. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t stop her.
“You want him. And he wants you. Anyone outside of your relationship can see that. Why aren’t you letting yourself try something that could make you both really happy?” She lets her words hang in the silence between you for a moment before tilting her head to exaggerate her question.
“You don’t know that,” you shake your head again, “that he wants me. Why would he?”
“How much time do you have?” A smile cracks through her concerned features. “You’ve been best friends since high school, you’ve lived together since college, he does anything and everything for you!” You must not be hiding the doubt in your expression, because she continues. “Y/n, he thinks you hung the moon in the sky. You’re hot, he’s hot,” you raise your eyebrows at her and she giggles. “Sorry! I’m just saying, you two would be really special together.” She reaches for your hand across the table, rubbing her thumb back and forth across your knuckles. The charm on her thumb nail sparkles under the warm cafe lights.
“He’s out of my league, Yunji,” you squeeze her hand. “If he didn’t think so, he’d have made a move by now,”
“Hey, he absolutely is not out of your league,” she interrupts you. “And who knows what’s holding him back? Maybe he thinks the same about you,” she squeezes your hand before releasing it to grab her drink. You mimic her, taking a long sip of your latte while you think.
“I don’t know, I guess it’s possible.” You wonder if her (loving) ramblings have any truth to them. You think back to a movie night months ago, you and Seungcheol sat right next to each other on the couch after sharing a bowl of popcorn. You had fallen asleep toward the end of the movie, slumped back in the cushions. You could’ve sworn, after he gently covered you with a blanket, he whispered, “beautiful,” before disappearing to his bedroom for the night. The following morning you’d thought it might’ve been a dream, but now you aren’t so sure.
“What’re you thinking about, babe?” Yunji’s soft voice brings you back to the present moment.
“Just–” you hesitate to share your memory with her, feeling too embarrassed to say it out loud. “Just trying to figure out where to go from here,” you recover.
“I think you should just talk to him, y/n,” your friend encourages you. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I don’t know, I ruin our friendship?” You laugh as you throw a hand up, your mind always going to the worst case scenario even when it isn’t likely. You know if he doesn’t feel the same he’ll let you down easily, you’ll get past it, and your friendship will be fine.
“Yeah, by turning it into a relationship,” she teases. “Sounds perfect, ruin it.” You laugh.
“I’ll think about it. He was gone when I left this morning so maybe I’ll try to read the vibes when I see him later.” Your stomach flips at the thought of seeing him, and the feeling only worsens when you try to formulate a single thing to say to him.
“You got this. I’ll be waiting with bated breath for updates.” She winks.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You make it to Thursday without seeing Seungcheol. At this point you’re convinced he’s flat out avoiding you, staying in his room until you leave for work, and going out before you get home, not returning until you’ve turned in for the night. You almost crossed paths Monday morning when you heard him rustling around in the kitchen, but he rushed back into his room as soon as you opened your bedroom door. You decide you’ve had enough, especially after a particularly awful day at work, and text your best friend. It’s almost the weekend, it’s summer, and you need to go out.
y/n: i need a drink. asap.
yunji: still haven’t seen him?
y/n: drink now, questions later.
yunji: yes ma’am, on my way
You throw on your favorite sage green sun dress, ignoring the nagging in your brain telling you to wear something that covers your body a little more. After some light makeup and half assed styling of your hair, twenty minutes later, you and Yunji are sitting in your favorite booth at Lotus, your go-to bar that happens to be just down the block from your apartment. The music is loud, and the purple and red lights are dancing across the bar goers and servers, their chatter creating a hum of lively noise. Yunji cracks open your bottle of soju, pouring a glass for the both of you. You fill her in on your lack of interaction with Seungcheol this week, and she does her best to talk you off the ledge.
“I just don’t understand,” you finish the last of your first bottle of soju as Yunji opens a second. “He’s never just… not spoken to me for this long, even when we’ve been in an argument.” She nods in understanding, topping off your glasses again. “I feel like he’s avoiding me.”
“Maybe he just needed time to think,” she assures you. Her eyes catch on something behind her, her brows raising, then lowering into an angry crease. “We might’ve just figured out where he’s been going every night, though.”
You whirl around without any concern for being subtle, and see Seungcheol standing in the entryway, dressed in dark wash jeans and a form-fitting black t-shirt, the sleeves hugging his biceps, a thin gold chain hanging around his neck. His hair looks freshly washed, styled to expose his forehead, his rosy cheeks even more red under the dancing lights of the bar. His eyes lock on yours, your breath catching as an unreadable emotion washes over his face. His mouth parts like he’s about to speak, but Jeonghan grabs his wrist and pulls him straight to the bar. Your best friend does a double take, somewhat of an apologetic expression taking over as his friend drags him away from you. You feel pathetic watching him go.
“Go talk to him,” Yunji’s voice draws you back.
“Absolutely not,” you down your drink, slamming the little glass down on the table. “He can come to me, since he’s the one who’s been avoiding me all week.” The alcohol burns your throat. Just the alcohol, not the tears you’re fighting.
“Y/n…” Yunji tries to reason with you, but you stop her.
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore, can we just– enjoy our night please?” Your voice nearly cracks on your last word as you will away the burning sensation creeping across the bridge of your nose.
Yunji’s eyes soften. “Of course we can, babe.” She clears her throat. “You will never believe what happened at work today…” She dives into a story about her coworker whom she can’t stand, and you’re grateful for the distraction.
It’s devastatingly short-lived though, when Jeonghan pulls Seungcheol to a booth directly in your line of sight twenty minutes later. He sits down facing you, of fucking course, laughing at something Jeonghan said. At least he’s having fun. He takes a sip of his beer, his tongue darting out to lick the liquid from his bottom lip as he sets down the bottle.
His eyes meet yours, and he lets them linger briefly before looking away.
Ouch.
This is your bar. You come here together all the time. Why does it suddenly feel like he’s so far away from you when he’s right here in the same room? Why does it feel like laughing together in this same booth is a memory that is years behind you? And why can’t he look at you without anything but sorrow and apology in his eyes?
“Earth to y/n?” Yunji pries.
“Sorry,” you clear your throat. You realize she’s been speaking to you while you stare at Cheol, lost in your own thoughts. She turns to look, eyes rolling as she turns back to you. “Do you want me to go kick him?”
“No,” you sigh, finally looking away from him. “If he doesn’t approach me by the end of the night, I’ll do that myself.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, and Yunji notices.
“Maybe he has a good reason.”
“Hopefully,” you shrug, forcing the corner of your mouth up into a smirk. “I’ll get it out of him eventually.”
“Before or after you have hot make up sex?” She bites her lip and wiggles her shoulders at you.
“Oh my god, stop it!” You laugh, tapping your glass against the table. Yunji slides the bottle over to you. “We will not be doing that anytime soon, if ever.”
“I’m just teasing,” she winks, laughing along with you.
You avoid looking at your roommate for the next hour, though his presence is begging for you to acknowledge it. You feel so drawn to him, especially after sharing two bottles of soju with Yunji. Warmth swims through you every time you think about him, but you force your attention to remain on your friend across the table.
A beautiful woman draws you from your conversation, her thin frame blowing by your table, leaving a floral scent in the air behind her. Her hips sway as she walks, directly over to… Seungcheol’s table. She’s absolutely breathtaking. Fuck.
Your heart stops in your chest as she rests a hand on his shoulder, her slender fingers brushing over the collar of his shirt. He looks up at her with a bright smile, one that you haven’t seen in a week, as this mystery woman talks to Jeonghan.
Heat creeps up your neck, and your hearing goes a bit fuzzy. Is this why he’s been avoiding you? To come hang out with some girl at your bar? Your ears are burning, and the alcohol sitting in your stomach turns sour. You can’t sit here and watch this.
“I’m sorry girl, I don’t feel good, I think I’m gonna head home,” you avoid Yunji’s eyes as you grab your purse, throwing a few bills on the table to cover your half of the drinks. You haul your purse over your shoulder, the music suddenly feeling too loud and the air too thick. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”
Yunji doesn’t question your sudden decision to leave. “Do you want me to walk you home?” She asks, concern lacing her tone.
“It’s just down the street, don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I get home,” you assure her, refusing to look in Seungcheol’s direction.
“Okay, I’ll close our tab. Love you, be safe,” she calls after you as you head toward the door.
“Love you, thank you,” you choke out your words as your throat tightens. You hardly make it out the door before tears well in your eyes, dripping down your cheeks. The cool evening air slaps you in the face, sending shivers through your body. It’s a warm night, but the heat of the bar must’ve been sweltering. Cars fly by, bar goers weaving around you to get inside.
“Fuck,” you mutter, shaking your hands out at your sides, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress and trying to regulate your breathing as you turn toward your apartment.
She’s hot, he’s hot, of course it makes sense. Why wouldn’t he find someone to date? Your little moment at home must’ve made him feel so guilty that he hasn’t been able to speak to you since. You almost ruined his relationship, for fuck’s sake.
You jump slightly at the sound of the bar door slamming open, but keep walking. You just want to get home and wallow in your self pity in peace.
“Y/n, wait!” His voice nearly stops you in your tracks. You force out a shaky sigh and keep moving, quickening your pace.
“Please, talk to me, I’m sorry,” he calls after you.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you reply, still not turning to face him. You hear his footfalls on the sidewalk, quickly coming up behind you.
“Of course I do, please, talk to me,” he’s right on your heels. You’re so close to home.
You ignore him.
He respects your space, trailing in your wake up to your apartment steps.
“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” your voice wavers, more tears threatening to fall. You trudge up the stairs to your front door.
“Are you crying? Fuck, y/n, I’m sorry, I–”
“You what, Cheol?” You flip around right in front of your apartment. Your shared apartment. “You what? Hm?”
“I…” He pauses at the rage and sorrow swimming in your eyes. “I just haven’t known what to say, I–”
“You could start with ‘I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,’ maybe?” You propose quietly. He winces.
“I wasn’t avoiding you, y/n,” his voice comes out just as soft as yours, and he looks into your eyes, really looks at you, for the first time in days. You can’t have him looking at you like this right now. Looking at you with so much unspoken emotion in his eyes.
“It really seems like you were,” you turn around and enter the code into your front door, pushing it open when the lock clicks. He follows behind you, quietly closing and locking the door behind you. You kick off your shoes, heading to the kitchen. He does the same, watching you in silence as you pour yourself a glass of water.
You take a sip, shakily setting the glass down before facing him.
He sighs, looking you up and down, and you wonder if he’s relieved to finally be having this conversation like you are. A soft blush creeps across his cheeks.
“Okay, I was a little bit.”
Fuck.
You swear the cracking of your heart is audible. Of course he was, he must’ve been trying to figure out how to let you down easy. His expression is entirely unreadable, but he refuses to look away from you. You need to get out of here.
“Oh,” you breathe, “I’m sorry.” Your voice trembles before you can steady it. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry I interrupted your night, I–” you sniffle, “I’m just gonna go to bed I think.” You wipe a tear that escaped down your cheek.
“Y/n, wait,” he steps toward you, but you take a step back.
“I get it, Cheol, she’s gorgeous, I don’t blame you, really–”
“Who?” His brow furrows in confusion.
“I saw her with you at the bar, it’s okay, really.” You turn away from him, desperate to be safely behind your closed bedroom door. You’re so fucking humiliated, and your apartment suddenly feels impossibly small.
“Y/n, please, you misunderstood,” he follows behind you.
“I know I did, it’s okay, I should’ve gotten the hint, that’s my mistake,” you head down the hallway toward your bedroom.
“Please, just listen to me for a second,”
“Really Cheol, it’s okay, I understand, I’ll just—“
You feel a strong hand firmly wrap around the back of your neck, and suddenly the room spins, and you’re facing your roommate. He holds you in place, bringing his other hand up to cradle your face in his hands. You feel your cheeks heating at the way he so easily maneuvered your body… again. Your hands rest hesitantly on his hips.
“Look at me,” he commands. You do.
A silent moment passes.
“She’s seeing Jeonghan.” His voice is firm, no room for misinterpretation. A small gasp leaves your lips, opening your mouth to speak but he continues.
“I met her for the first time tonight. She was just introducing herself to me before you left the bar. I tried to stand up and be a little more formal about it, but she pushed me right back down and said there was no need, since she felt like she knew me already after everything Jeonghan had told her.” He swipes a tear from your cheek, his thumb sliding across your skin.
“So you… you aren’t dating her? Or… anyone?” You sniffle, trying to process everything he’s just told you. All of your anger and jealousy tonight was so misguided and unnecessary, but you’ve never been able to stop your mind from going to the worst case scenario.
“No, I’m not,” a bit of a smug grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, his cheeks dimpling and blushing slightly.
Okay, fine. But he still has some explaining to do.
“Then why have you been avoiding me, Choi Seungcheol?” You poke at his side and he flinches, chuckling as his fingers tighten around your face, sliding up into your hair. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, waiting for him to answer. It feels so good to be in his proximity again. It feels right.
He takes a deep breath, his warm brown eyes finding yours, their color deepening as his gaze shifts to your mouth and back.
“I’ve been avoiding you because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that holding you in my arms that night felt like the most natural thing in the world.” Another deep breath, from both of you this time. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that that night stoked the fire I have been trying to put out for years, because I never thought in a million years that you could feel the same way about me as I do about you.” He brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead, and the motion feels so natural from him. “I never thought I’d get to touch you like that, or that you’d ever look at me the way you did… or the way you’re looking at me right now.”
He swipes a thumb across your cheek, wiping away another stray tear. You stare up at him, at a loss for words.
He continues, “I’ve been avoiding you because I’m fucking terrified,” his voice lowers to a whisper on his last word. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you, and the thought of losing you because you don’t feel the same scares me to the point that I thought I could just keep it to myself, but– I don’t think I can anymore,”
”Cheol, I—“
“I’m not done yet.”
You nod, letting him continue. Your mind is racing a mile a minute.
“I thought I overstepped, that I got carried away, and that I was gonna scare you off. But when I saw the way you looked at me, I thought, maybe…” he trails off.
“That I could love you too?” You whisper, finishing for him.
”Yeah,” his tone matches yours. “That you could love me, too.”
A heated silence follows, both of you searching each other’s faces for what this means for you. He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, and you bury your face in his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, holding you gently. It feels so right to be in his arms again.
“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” the pet name warms your cheeks. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to you about it, I just–”
“I do,” you interrupt, murmuring against his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt.
“Hm?” His arms go a bit stiff around you, and you feel his heart thudding faster, harder. Your heartbeat almost exactly mirrors his.
You look up at him, eyes shining with a new round of tears, but these ones are from a place of joy. Relief.
“I do love you, Cheol.” His eyes soften at your admission. “I love you, too,” your voice breaks, the fresh tears falling down your cheeks. They slip into the corners of your mouth as they tug up into a smile. It feels so good to say it out loud.
A devastating smile takes over his face, and your heart skips a beat. You stare at each other for long moments, holding each other tightly.
“Those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard out of that pretty mouth,” he slides a hand into your hair, guiding your face closer to his. Your arms tighten around his waist at his comment.
“I love you,” you whisper, the tip of your nose nudging his.
He sighs, and you share in the relief you’re sure he’s feeling.
“I love you,” he whispers back.
You sit in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, noses nuzzling and breaths mingling. His breath smells like his favorite beer and peppermint, and it makes you dizzy.
You never in a million years thought this was how your night would end. Confessing your love for your best friend, and having it be felt in return. Every little moment you felt with him over the years, that you cast to the back of your mind, told yourself was all in your head… they were real. What you felt was real, what you feel is real.
“Can I kiss you?” He sounds hesitant, and the idea that you could possibly be the one making him nervous makes you giddy.
“Please,” you push closer to his mouth, his soft lips brushing against yours. The contact sends a shiver through your body.
A low groan escapes his throat before he finally connects his lips to yours. He’s slow at first, allowing you both to relish in the feeling of your lips finally touching. God knows how many times either of you has pictured this exact moment.
The savoring is short-lived, and his tongue slips between your lips. You welcome him in with needy fervor, and his hand tightens in your hair as his tongue begins to dance with yours. He kisses you thoroughly and sweetly, drawing the desire from deep within your core with each stroke of his tongue.
He pulls away to comment, “you taste like cherries.” His breath heaves in the space between you. “I always knew you’d taste sweet,”
His words darken the energy between you, and your lips reconnect. You’ll ask him how often he’s thought about the way you taste later– right now you need to be closer to him.
“Cheol,” you whine,
“Yes, sweetheart?” That word again. Your cunt squeezes around nothing at how much dirtier it sounds in that tone.
“I need you,” you kiss the corner of his mouth as his head lolls back, knocking against the wall. You trail kisses up his jaw, behind his ear.
“I lied,” he pants, “I think those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard out of that pretty little mouth.”
Just like he did almost a week ago, he dips down to wrap his strong arms around your hips and lifts you in the air. You, again, instinctively spread your legs to wrap around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. His grip on your ass is stronger and more familiar than last time. Your forearms rest on his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his dark strands.
He spins you around so your upper body is pinned against the hallway wall, pressing a bruising kiss to your mouth. You can’t help but moan against his lips, becoming hyper aware of how close your throbbing core is to where you need it most. You absentmindedly roll your hips against him, eliciting another delicious groan.
“Your room or mine?” He grins, tilting his head back to get a good look at you. His lips are glossed over with your shared saliva, reddened from how thoroughly he’s already kissed you. He looks beautiful.
“Mine,” you kiss the tip of his nose. “You know my bed is more comfortable than yours,” you tease, and he squeezes your ass even harder in response. You squeal.
“Fine, my room next time then,” he compromises. Your head spins at the thought of a next time.
“Deal,” you reconnect your lips with his and he turns you both to walk toward your bedroom. The way that he carries you so easily has your stomach doing backflips.
He kicks the door open without separating from your mouth, and walks straight to your bed. He gently lays you down on the mattress, hovering over you, his lips traveling down your neck, his tongue exploring every inch of your exposed skin.
Your sundress pools around your hips, nearly exposing the most intimate part of you to your best friend. He doesn’t seem to mind.
He stands up straight, peeling his shirt off over his head before tossing it onto your floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, his broad chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his hair mussed from your grip, his gold chain dangling over his collarbones. His eyes darken as he drinks you in, lingering over your hiked up dress.
“You have no idea what this dress does to me,” he plants both hands on your knees, gliding up your thighs to slide under your dress, landing on your hips, strong fingers digging into your flesh. As he moves forward, he settles with his hips slotted perfectly between your legs, your cunt resting dangerously close to his clothed cock. “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” he thinks out loud.
“Neither can I,” you confess. You gasp at his firm grip, reminded of just how strong he is, and what he’s capable of doing to your body.
“You can tell me to stop at any time, baby, understand?” His grip falters as he waits for a reply, and you already miss the way his fingers feel dug into your skin.
“I understand…” you start, “but I don’t want you to stop,” your voice doesn't sound like your own, coming out breathy and needy. This is what he does to you, and you already know he loves it. His brows raise at the sound, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want you to touch me, Cheol, please.” He already has you begging and all he’s done is kiss you.
He nods and heaves a shuddering sigh, leaning over your body to press a kiss to your swollen lips.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs against your mouth, his grip tightening on your hips briefly before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties. He kisses you deeply and unhurried as he slides your panties down your legs, only separating to get a look at the black cotton fabric littered with little white cats. “Cute,” he teases, tossing them to join his shirt on the floor. “Lay down,” he orders you.
Your cheeks heat, and a giggle escapes, but he doesn’t give you time to be embarrassed. You lay back onto your soft bedding, sighing when his hands find your skin again, and he lifts your dress up to rest on your stomach, fully exposing your sensitive core. He groans at the sight of you spread out for him.
“So beautiful,” he coos, dropping to his knees and settling between your legs. He threads his strong arms under your thighs, and he easily lifts you, dragging you down until your hips are perfectly lined up on the edge of the bed. You already know you will never get used to the control he can have over your body.
He wastes no time bringing his mouth to your core, pushing your thighs wide open as his tongue glides through your heat, licking you from your leaking entrance to your swollen clit. You throw your head back, your back arching at the sensation.
“Oh, fuck,” you whine, instinctively rolling your hips against his mouth.
“Mm,” he moans against you, his skillful mouth finding a steady rhythm against you, lips sucking and tongue swirling around your clit. He grips your hip with one hand, the other wrapping around your leg to settle on your soft belly. His fingers grip your tender flesh, and he groans again.
A searing heat begins to pool deep inside of you, becoming more and more intense with every stroke of his tongue. The hand on your hip drifts, his fingers ghosting up the inside of your thigh. He pulls away, and you prop yourself up on your elbows again to see what he’s doing.
Your eyes meet his and your cunt throbs. Your arousal glistens on his chin, his plump lips shining under the low lighting of your bedroom. His fingers meet your core, sliding through your wetness, and your jaw hangs open, panting breaths escaping you.
“I told you, I always knew you’d taste sweet,” he teases you, before plunging two fingers deep inside of you.
You throw your head back as the pads of his fingers easily find your G-spot, and a dark chuckle flits through the air, tickling your ears.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” he coos, “I want to look in your eyes while you come on my fingers.”
Holy fuck.
“O-okay,” you choke the word out between mewls, his pace slow, deep, and steady.
He smirks up at you through his dark lashes before bringing his mouth to your clit again, easily matching the pace of his tongue to the pumps of his fingers.
“Oh my god, Cheol,” you roll your hips in time with the thrusts of his fingers, and they hit impossibly deep inside you as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit.
“Mhm,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice only adding to the heat rapidly building low in your belly. You can’t help but roll your hips even harder.
“That’s it,” he praises you, replacing his tongue with the rough pad of his thumb. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby, take what you need,”
God, this man and his mouth.
You do as you’re told, planting your hands on the mattress under you to give you more leverage. With you sitting up a bit more, Seungcheol takes the opportunity to catch your mouth with his. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck while the other continues its skillful ministrations between your legs.
The taste of yourself on his tongue is almost enough to send you over the edge as you welcome his tongue into your mouth again. You’re so close, you can feel your orgasm building and building, you know it’ll take over any moment.
He presses his forehead to yours when he says, “let me feel you come around my fingers, sweetheart.” He quickens his pace slightly on his last word.
“Ah, oh my–” your legs stiffen, your climax beginning to wash over you. “God, I’m gonna come, Cheol, fuck,”
“Let go, baby, let me hear you,” he encourages you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Such a soft, intimate gesture in contrast to what he’s doing between your legs. He kisses your cheek softly, peppering your skin with them.
The intimacy of the moment is what pushes you over the edge, your body trembling from the intensity as your orgasm rips through your body.
“Fuck, I love you so much,” Seungcheol whispers as he buries his face in your neck, his gentle fingers coaxing you through the aftershocks of your release.
You use all your strength to wrap a hand around the back of his head, fingers lacing through his hair, holding his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath on your skill giving you goosebumps.
“I love you,” you breathe, turning to press a kiss to his temple. His hand leaves your center, guiding you to lay down, hovering over you to litter your chest with featherlight kisses.
“I want you to do something for me, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your ear.
You’re floating, your head feeling lighter, and your body sated.
“What is it?” You play with the hair dangling over his forehead as he lifts himself up to look into your eyes.
“I want you to sit on my face,” his voice drops into a low timbre that has your cunt throbbing again.
“Really?” You tilt your head at him, already feeling a bit nervous. “I-I don’t want to suffocate you,” you offer.
“First of all,” he laughs, “you won’t,” Seungcheol reassures you. “Second of all, if you did,” he dips down to capture your lips in a hot kiss, “I’d die a happy man, baby.”
“Okay,” you laugh, trying to muster up a little more confidence.
Seungcheol stands, rounding your bed to move up by the headboard. On his way, he shucks off his jeans, leaving him in a snug pair of black boxer briefs. You roll over to look at him, pushing up onto your knees and inching closer to him as he lays down. His hungry eyes take their time raking over every inch of your body. The way he’s drinking you in gives you that last push of confidence to take your sundress off.
You pull the fabric up slowly, making a dramatic show of your breasts dropping from the confines of the dress. He grins at that. You finally pull it up over your head, dropping it to the floor, fully bare for your roommate.
“God,” he lets out a restrained groan, eyes dancing across every inch of your delectable body. “I want to trace every single curve on that body with my fingers and my tongue,” he nearly growls, beckoning you toward him, “and I plan to.” Before you get settled, you take a moment to commit to memory the sight of Sengcheol laying in his underwear, looking beautifully fucked out, cock straining against the fabric, in your bed.
You sidle up next to his face, hesitating slightly before throwing a leg over his body, knees settling on either side of his head and shoulders. You brace a hand on the headboard at the feeling of his hot breath blowing against your cunt.
“Tap my shoulder to tap out, okay baby?” He grins before wrapping his hands around your hips and pulling you straight down onto his mouth.
“Ah!” You cry out as he spears you on his tongue, the hot, wet muscle sliding into your greedy cunt. He laps at you before pulling his tongue out, gliding it through your wet heat, once again finding your swollen clit.
“Fuck,” you whine, rolling your hips over his tongue.
He nods underneath you, a deep moan rumbling through you. As if to say, just like that.
You take his subtle encouragement, taking what you need, writhing against his mouth over and over. You lean back, planting a hand on his strong stomach, so you can look down at him. His eyes are glazed over with deep desire, his brow furrowed as he works you.
You slide your hand down his hot, taut skin, until your fingers reach the band of his underwear. His eyes go wide for a moment before giving you an encouraging nod. You slowly side your fingers under the waistband until they reach the rock solid, hot-to-the-touch base of his cock. He feels much thicker than you could’ve ever imagined him being, and the thrill of the thought of him inside you makes you grind your hips harder against his willing mouth.
He groans as you wrap your fingers around the length of him, giving him a firm stroke, working him the best you can in your position. His tongue flattens against you and you writhe, that familiar heat creeping up your tail bone.
His cock feels so deliciously heavy in your hand, you feel overwhelmed with the need to have it inside of you.
“Wanna ride you, Cheolie,” you whine, slowing your hips slightly to gauge his reaction. His eyes shoot wide open, rolling back slightly when you stroke him again. You lift off of his mouth, both of you whining softly at the loss of contact.
“Every time I think I can’t hear more beautiful words come out of your mouth, you prove me wrong,” he beams up at you, playfully nibbling at the inside of your thigh.
You scoot down his body, and he shimmies himself out of his boxer briefs by the time your hips are hovering over his.
When you lean down to capture his lips in a kiss, you can’t stop yourself from rolling your hips over his solid length, his cock sliding between your lips.
The sound he makes only encourages your teasing more. You give him one more lasting kiss before sitting up, gripping Seungcheol’s cock in your hand as you center yourself above him.
“Should we… use a condom?” His chest heaves, waiting for your reply.
“I’m on the pill, I’m clean, you?” He nods at your rush of words, smiling at your excitement. “I want to feel you, please,” you beg.
“Anything you want, baby,” he breathes, and that’s all you need. He watches you in awe as you guide the leaking tip of his cock to your swollen entrance. You lower yourself onto his length, just an inch or two.
All of the years of loving each other in secret have led to this moment. You pull back slightly, hovering, barely holding him inside of you.
“Tell me you love me, Seungcheol,” you gaze down at him through hooded lids.
The stars twinkle in his dark eyes as he chuckles, and replies, “I love you, always,” his voice full of love and desire.
You both cry out as you slam your hips down, taking him all the way home. He shudders under you at the sudden sensation, and you feel your abdominal muscles quiver, your need to come sweeping back in with a vengeance. You roll your hips slowly and steadily, drawing him in and out of you each time. He throws his head back in the pillows, letting you have your way with him.
You gasp as you grind against his pubic bone, the friction licking a flame up your center. His eyes find yours, the sounds you’re making only intensifying his gaze.
“You look so fucking beautiful riding me like this,” he runs his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, palming your breasts, fingers running over your curves, hands gripping your full hips.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about how perfectly your hips would fill my hands?” He squeezes them in his fingers to emphasize his pleasure. “You were made for me, y/n, I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, fuck,”
“Me too, ah– m-made for you,” you agree, full sentences suddenly becoming difficult to formulate. “Feels s-so good, Cheol, f-fuck,” your start to bounce on him, desperate to get him as deep inside you as possible. “Need more,”
He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you down to kiss him, growling into your mouth.
“I’ll give you more, baby,” he promises. He wraps an arm around your waist, and in one swift motion, overpowers your body, rolling you onto your back and slotting his hips between your legs, never pulling out of you in the slightest, spreading your knees wide with his own.
You hardly have time to process the way he handled you, his cock immediately buried impossibly fucking deep inside your cunt.
“Mhm,” you mumble, “fuck, right there,” you dig your nails into his ass, and he hisses with pleasure, fucking into you with strength and fervor, arms braced on either side of your head. He brushes the sweat slicked hairs from your forehead, kissing you softly as he fucks you.
“Fuck, you fuck me so good, g-gonna feel you for days,” you let string after string of needy words fly from your lips, each one encouraging your lover to fuck you deeper, harder, sweeter, the tension building rapidly inside of you.
“I want you to come with me, baby, can you do that for me?” Sengcheol asks, and just his words have you realizing how close you are to your second orgasm of the night. It’s been dancing in the edges of your vision, finally coming into focus in your lust-hazed brain.
“Mm, yes, touch me, please,” you whine, trying to meet his thrusts the best you can. He slides his hand between your slick bodies, fingers easily finding your clit.
You writhe underneath him as he swirls his fingers around the swollen bud, burying his face in your neck as he fucks into you in earnest. “G-getting close,” he warns you, his hips beginning to stutter, but his thrusts remain deep and strong. He hits your G-spot and you cry out, a flame licking up your belly.
“Me too, ah,” you feel all of him, every part of him, everywhere, and it feels so right.
“Come with me, sweetheart, come on,” he coaxes you, his ministrations the perfect rhythm to knock the wind out of you as your orgasm washes over you.
“Ah!” A moan rips out of your throat as you come, your body shuddering under the weight of your lover, wave after wave rocking through you.
Seungcheol rolls his hips twice more before stilling, burying himself deep as he spills into you, pulsing with each release.
“My god,” he presses his lips to your neck, his body relaxing over yours. You feel like a puddle on your mattress, waiting to soak into the blankets beneath you and disappear.
There’s no way that really just happened.
“Are your hips okay?” Seungcheol’s soft voice brings you back, slightly muffled by the pounding in your ears.
“I think so,” you sigh as he kisses your forehead, brushing more hair out of your face.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers.
“You think so?” Your words bring his eyes to yours, and your heart swells. You’ve seen him look at you like this a million times, but this particular look, this moment, will hold a special place in your heart.
“Of course, baby,” he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.
“Hmm,” you hum beneath him as he softens inside of you, slowly pulling out and easing your legs into a more comfortable resting position before laying next to you. He kneads your closest hip to him with a firm hand.
“Wanna go get cleaned up in the shower?” He peppers your skin with soft kisses as he massages each sore part of your body. How he knows what is feeling sore, you’re not sure.
“In a little, let me bask,” you tease.
“Oh, we’re basking, are we?” He teases right back.
“I’ve been in love with my best friend for years and he just gave me the hottest sex of my life, forgive me if I want to bask in it a little longer,” you poke at his side, earning you a firm squeeze on your thigh.
“Let’s go bask in the shower, I want to help you wash up so I have an excuse to cover your delectable body in my soap,”
“Ah, the true motive is revealed!” You laugh as Seungcheol rolls on top of you, nestling between your legs again, having had enough of your teasing. His half hard cock brushes against your still sensitive core, and you shudder.
“If you let me help you shower, I will make you come so hard that you’ll see stars,” his voice deepens on his last few words. “I promise.” He winks.
“You drive a hard bargain, Choi Seungcheol.” It feels so good to settle into your usual banter, no matter how different things are now.
“I will do anything my beautiful girlfriend asks of me,” he whispers, and you smile back at him.
“Girlfriend, huh? I think I like the sound of that.” You beam.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
A hot shower and multiple orgasms and fulfilled promises later, your roommate is helping you into your pajamas and getting you into bed before joining you.
“How many days off do you have left for the quarter?” Cheol asks once you’re snuggled up in your bed, legs and arms tangled with one another.
“Why are you asking me about something work related after giving me the best orgasm of my life?” You question him, giggling at the inquiry.
“I’m just trying to figure out if we can take the day off together tomorrow so I can make that the second best orgasm of your life,” he winks, drawing another laugh from you. “And so I can take my beautiful new girlfriend on a proper first date.” He threads his fingers between yours. “If she’ll let me, of course.”
“Of course I’ll let you, my new boyfriend,” your heart swells at the word, and his smile grows.
You spend the rest of the night indulging to each other all of the moments throughout your friendship that made your love for one another grow.
Hours later, Seungcheol snores softly behind you, an arm thrown over your waist. You thank your lucky stars that this gets to be your new normal, and you drift off to sleep in your lover’s arms.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
i hope you enjoyed !! let me know if you'd be interested in more writing about seventeen members ˙ᵕ˙
READ CHEOL'S POV HERE !!! his pov is just from the scene where he picks reader up for the first time, please let me know if anyone is interested in a full version of his pov !
where mingyu has a pornstar cock, but the only action he’s getting is with his own hand.
★ pairing: f!reader x mingyu
★ words: 7.5k
★ warnings: comedy, smau bits, homoerotic friendships bc i am free, smut with sexting, big puppy gyu, handjob, both oral, multiple orgasms, protected sex, 18+ mdni
★ notes: it’s finally here and it’s filthy and i did not read it twice!!! going to an ateez concert now brb
GOD HAS FAVOURITES, AND MINGYU’S ONE OF THEM.
in this day and age of hook-up culture, of getting lucky with nothing but a few swipes on your phone, it’s far too easy to just deceive your way into scoring some.
men are liars, and they all claim the same thing these days: they’re a munch, they can go until the sunrise, you’ll feel it in your kidney, they’re a feminist, etc… of course, it’s not until those men slide in dry after rubbing straight flap then cumming in three strokes before those poor women realise: a man will claim anything under the sun if it means you’ll fuck him.
although mingyu can relate to the desperation to get laid, he’s not so shameless that he’d just bullshit his way into someone’s pants. at that point you don’t even deserve it. he’ll stick by his true character even if he’s on the brink of insanity from lack of action. in saying that, what makes mingyu superior to thy neighbour is not just the fact that he only ever speaks the truth — but also in regards to the absurd cock size he’s been blessed with.
through google searches of the average length not just in his country but the whole globe, triple takes from other men in public bathhouses, dick pics sent to talking stages and unsolicited dick pics sent to him — mingyu’s come to the conclusion that he’s bigger than average. to put it humbly, really.
at soft, he can make a few head turns at the least. at half-hard he’s got the size that most men lie about having. and when he’s fully erect, he should probably register his cock as a weapon.
mingyu’s been told that his body’s sculpted like a greek god, complete with zeus’ lightning rod in his pants. he’s got the cock that the top gets in yaoi with ridiculously drawn proportions, the cock that gets spray-painted as graffiti on a cheating ex’s car. mingyu’s big to the point where it’s like okay, can we be serious, like this is doing too much.
he’s been told by men and women alike that he could make a living off of his size. ah, what a dream that’d be. taking dick pics (maybe some feet in there too) to pay the bills. having fame and money and pussy for doing nothing but exist with a completely natural, albeit monstrously sized cock.
he can forget about that ever happening though. it sounds like a dream because it is. nevermind being god’s favourite — mingyu’s starting to believe he must’ve signed a contract with the devil in his past life, because what good is a big dick if you’ve only got yourself to fuck?
it’s a bad joke, really. all these inches and a pretty face but nowhere to use it. he’s only gotten laid enough times to count on one hand without lifting a thumb, and all instances had punctuated years worth of drought.
size doesn’t matter, and he knows that firsthand. when he lost his virginity, he came the instant he slid into his girlfriend, who just said “that’s it?” then broke up with him. he’s had next to no luck landing any girls since that pitiful first, let alone getting one to stay.
he knows he’s not exactly fucking like a pornstar, but his same absurd size is actually what’s holding him back. there’s been times when his cock getting hard for a girl has him on verge of fainting, just from all the fucking blood the monster in his pants needs to get up. then after some mediocre stroke game, the force of orgasming has him seeing literal glimpses of heaven.
despite the physical toll, in some pitiful moments of doubt he even began to question if he’s been lied to his entire life about his size — if it’s not earning him a text back because it’s actually pretty average. that is, until his best friend literally readjusted his glasses in shock the first time he saw mingyu naked.
mingyu might be getting less action than an actual virgin. he’s since long forgotten how a pussy feels since becoming besties with his imagination and left hand — and it’s gotten to the point that the feel of his same old, boring palm can barely spark any pleasure. he may as well be rubbing off his ankle.
the porn on page 1 to page 847 has no difference in how utterly useless it is when he needs help getting off. switching to his non-dominant hand, humping the mattress, buying a pocket pussy, watching fetish content on places he wouldn’t even go with a gun — all of it, useless. futile.
he needs the real thing, warm and tight and living. he needs to get laid before he does something drastic and his face is plastered on every news channel … okay maybe not that far but he fears it really is that serious. all these extra inches means he’s got an extra intense libido to match, and nothing but extra extra bad luck when it comes to finding means of relieving it.
one sunny day he rants about all of this to his roommate and best friend wonwoo, who nods over a steaming bowl of shin ramyun.
“i see.” wonwoo hums. “you’re not asking to fuck me, are you?”
“bro. fuck off.” mingyu groans, dropping his head to the table with a thunk. “you know what? yeah, i might if i don’t get laid soon.”
“well, i’m not a bottom, so unless you want to take it up the ass.” wonwoo shrugs, slurping down a mouthful of noodles without even chewing. (seriously, why does he do that?)
“don’t you have single friends? discord kittens? can’t you hook up a brother in desperate need? i’m losing vision in one eye with how pussy-deprived i am.”
wonwoo readjusts his glasses. “i do know some girls but.. you’d be okay with having my sloppy seconds?”
“forget i even asked man.” mingyu rolls his eyes, kicking his chair out from the table with a loud scrape on the floorboards. “i’m having a shower. need to jerk off before i hit something. or you.”
after a pitiful, rage-induced wank sesh under the hot stream of water (also a few stray tears shed), mingyu was pulling his boxers on when the door swung open.
“are you still on any dating sites?” wonwoo asked casually, ignoring how half of his best friend’s ass was still hanging out as he barged in.
“no, i deleted my tinder after that one girl who set my nudes as her profile picture.”
“okay cool. try this one out.” wonwoo handed his phone over, open on the browser.
www.dtf.com
mingyu scrunched his face. “down to fuck dot com?”
ah, so a matchmaking site that doesn’t pretend to be about any ‘finding your soulmate’ bullshit and is unapologetically straight to the point: we’re all single and here to fuck.
“can’t imagine you look for anything serious on here.” he snickers.
“well no, it’s in the name. are you?”
mingyu scratched his neck. truthfully, a girlfriend would be ideal but… beggars can’t be choosers.
he shrugged. “whatever happens.”
inspecting the rest of the site, he clicked to view wonwoo’s profile — then whistled at the suggestive set of photos displayed on his best friend’s page.
Wonwoo
A giver, most of the time.
AGE: 25
HEIGHT: 6 ft
SIZE: 8 in.
LOOKING FOR: Female, Submissive
INTERESTED IN: BDSM, Brat Taming, Humiliation, Degradation, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Impact Play, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink, Pet Play, Toys, Anal… [Show More]
“you like being called ‘daddy’?” mingyu snickered.
“yeah bro. e-girls flock to me like birds, that’s how i get so many over.” wonwoo replies with a smart-ass smirk. “they grip your dick like you’re gonna leave them.”
“….that’s just not what i asked, man.”
safe to say, mingyu was sold. he promptly had his own account set up, then took close to an hour meticulously choosing the thirst trap images for his profile.
Mingyu
Hey (with the intention of begging on my knees)
AGE: 24
HEIGHT: 6’2
SIZE: 12 in.
LOOKING FOR: Female
INTERESTED IN: Vanilla, Missionary
when mingyu showed wonwoo the final product with a satisfied smile, his best friend burst out laughing.
“are these the default options or something?” wonwoo asked, pointing to mingyu’s barren interests section.
“bro, i’m just looking to get laid. doesn’t need to be any more complex than that.” mingyu pouted. “unlike you, i don’t need a girl to wear a cat tail butt plug and meow for me to get off.”
“that sounds hot.”
it does. “freak ass..”
after leaving his best friend with the middle finger and then setting his profile to public for matchmaking, within mere minutes women were indeed flocking to him, much like birds.
mingyu spent all night marvelling at his phone like a kid in a candy store — giggling as he sifted through profiles, kicking his feet as he chatted with women basically throwing themselves at him.
despite wonwoo making fun of him, it seemed that his only interests being ‘vanilla’ had actually worked in his favour, since he had countless women from all different shades of kinks asking if he was open-minded. the one thing they all had in common though, from the bratty subs to the dominatrixes, was one burning question: is it really that big?
and oh, he’s been more than happy to prove it; snapping a quick, shaky photo of the visible bulge in his calvin kleins and watching as all the phone numbers and addresses and nudes roll in like waves.
he hasn’t taken anyone up on their offers to meet up, not just yet. call him an attention whore, but he’s had years worth of yearning for this, dreaming about this, even crying in the shower after jerking off over this. these days it’s hard enough trying to reach an orgasm even with every tool in his arsenal — and yet he’s been laying here, chatting away with a lifetime’s supply worth of women, while being so turned on he’s basically blue-ballsing himself.
ah, he could get used to this. this could even prove to be a little too dangerous. maybe he really was destined to be a pornstar, and him having no luck climbing out of bitchless purgatory was just the universe’s way of restoring natural balance. no one man should have all this power.
the attention goes straight to his head, leaves him feeling high off of it. leaves him on cloud nine with a painfully hard cock.
ding.
leaves him with a harsh comedown that hits like a kick in the balls.
when he clicks to open the uncalled-for dm, mingyu can feel his boner go a quarter of the way back down just from the shock. what the hell does that mean? do you think he’s a bot, clickbaiting? but he put so much effort and care into choosing the right photos for his profile…
….is it really so unbelievable that he’s only looking for vanilla sex?
oh. okay. so everyone he’s chatted with so far may as well have been shy, considering how forward you are straight off the bat. not even a hello, how are you, my name is… just “i call bullshit, show me that dick.”
alright then. he can play ball.
mingyu tugs his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach, even at only somewhat hard. he’ll need to get it all the way back it up if he’s going to prove it to you.
he has a full-body shiver when his hand grazes the tip, just from how on edge he’s been; smearing precum across his palm before his fingers curl around in a loose grip.
he’ll need something to jerk off to, and well, since your profile is there….
shit. it’s more than enough. you’re like, really fucking pretty. hot, gorgeous, panty-dropping and cock-raising. so pretty he actually feels a little guilty as his hand starts to stroke his cock, but hey, you’ll get him fully hard in no time.
mingyu swipes through the array of photos on your page, each one more revealing than the last, fist steadily pumping his length. it jumps between his fingers when he settles on a photo of you in white lingerie: the lace hugging your curves perfectly, plush lip bitten between your teeth, hands cupping the underside of your breasts and lifting them on full display.
it’s not until a fresh spurt of precum leaks over his knuckles that mingyu remembers he’s supposed to be taking a picture of his boner as proof, and not just… jerking off for the sake of it.
he has to literally rip his hand away, lower belly already coiled dangerously tight. he can’t remember the last time a girl in real life got him this hard and this fast.
shuffling closer to the mirror, he sits on the edge of the bed and holds his cock upright with one hand, the other holding his phone right next to it — as comparison, of course.
he holds his breath as he sends it through.
well, his stomach sank for a moment there, but he quickly recovers. mingyu lays back on the bed, running his palm up and over his length, just absentmindedly playing with himself as his jelly fingers type out a reply.
he’s quick to navigate back to your profile, cock reacting with a pulse as his eyes land on your face again like it missed you already.
he doesn’t even think about it this time: just gets completely lost in the sight before him, in the feel of his fist fucking him. until a ding cuts through the tunnel vision, your chat notification lighting up the top of his screen. the only thing that could tear his attention away from the softcore porn on your profile.
damn. guilty.
he feels his cheeks heating up a little. the fuck? you’ve got his grown ass blushing through the phone. either you’re a seasoned pro at turning men to putty, or mingyu’s just that out of the element.
his mind’s turning to complete mush at this point; tuned in solely to your pretty face and body, to your vulgar mouth. imagination drifting to the feel of your skin under the pads of his fingers, of your lips stretched over the head of his—
shit, he almost came.
mingyu nearly drops his phone as he fumbles to the camera app, shakily filming himself in the mirror as his hand goes to fucking town on his cock. his mouth’s even fouler than yours with all the whiney huffs and puffs pouring from his throat.
he’s not sure if the footage is long enough or even good enough but he also doesn’t care; sending it straight through to you while not missing a beat in jerking himself off.
he throws his head back on the bed with a tortured groan, back arching off the bed as his hips chase the circle of his fist with a mind of their own. he can’t recall the last time masturbating felt this fucking good, the last time it took such a short span of time for him to reach an orgasm.
the last time he was able to forget that the hand around his cock is his own — nothing but your face, that body, those curves behind his lids when he screws his eyes shut.
and just the mere thought that you could be touching yourself too? to the videos of mingyu touching himself, oh fuck…
mingyu winces as his grip tightens until it hurts, fist strangling the fucking life out of his cock. he squeezes until he literally feels the tidal wave of his orgasm receding, the hot pressure under his abs fading into sharp, demanding pulses of his cock.
why did he even say that shit? man, talk about being pussy drunk. he can just manage to feel the weight of shame pressing into his chest over the ache throbbing between his thighs.
if he really did fumble a chance as good as this, a girl as hot as you, he doesn’t even deserve to cum. maybe he should just start embracing the involuntarily celibate life..
to his surprise, another ding from you interrupts his pitiful — while still fully erect — wallowing.
much like a well-trained dog, you don’t have to tell him twice.
mingyu puts on a whole ass show for you. sits upright in bed, films his entire upper body to ensure no twitch or contraction of his sweat-slick abs was left out of frame.
he’s sure the speed of his hand gives away just how long he’s gone without getting laid, but mingyu can’t find it in himself to feel much shame at all now that you’ve offered a chance to remedy that up on a silver platter.
he cums obnoxiously: throwing his head back, adam’s apple bobbing with each shameless moan falling from his mouth; grinding his hips up into his ruthless fist like he’s fucking into someone; a hefty load spurting all over his pretty toned torso, your name slipping from his lips.
before the post-nut clarity can settle in, he sends the raw footage straight through to his patiently waiting audience.
mingyu was so ecstatic that he didn’t even bother to clean up properly, just quickly wiped himself with a tissue before skipping into wonwoo’s room and dapping his best friend up in celebration.
(his reaction being “bro you smell like cum.”)
after leaving dtf.com behind in a matter of hours and moving over to messages, a date was promptly established. being, a date as in the day, because there wasn’t going to be any conversing over dinner or fondling during a movie.
it’s becoming increasingly clear to mingyu that he really struck a pot of gold in you, since you were both on the same page about this: fuck first, talk later.
if you were to go on a date prior, mingyu knows good and damn well that he’d just be sporting a massive pitch in his pants throughout the entire thing; way too excited for his own good over the knowledge that he’s finally getting laid after.
the stars aligned to both of your schedules being open just two days from now. while the anticipation is sure to strangle him alive, he’s able to give wonwoo notice that he’s kicking him out for the day, and to prepare.
in the limited sexual encounters under his belt, mingyu can’t say for certain that he’s actually made a girl cum. unlike men, there isn’t exactly a visual indicator. his size alone could’ve been enough to get them off, sure. but when it comes to you, he doesn’t want to repeat that flustered fumbling; rubbing what he assumes is the clit based off of what he also assumes is genuine moans. his mouth hasn’t even graced a pussy before, isn’t that crazy?
those girls didn’t want anything other than to feel his cock in them, though — letting him touch for a few seconds before insisting that was enough foreplay. hence why he’s never learned.
you, however, like to play with your food. over texts you’ve been teasing the hell out of him, intent on finding out the limits of his desperation — and pleased to find there is none. he will genuinely do anything just to get a sliver of that pussy, and you only want him more because of it.
mingyu knows your expectations aren’t exactly high, but he doesn’t want to risk disappointing you so badly that you won’t sleep with him again. and if he can exceed your expectations, maybe you’d be open to being something more exclusive….
he’s a romantic at heart, okay?
of course, he had to seek out his most trusted elders for advice.
two torturously long days later, mingyu receives your “on the way” text and is pushing wonwoo out the door within the next second.
“don’t be back until tonight, just in case.”
“eh, you won’t last that long.” wonwoo shrugged. mingyu rolls his eyes, and wonwoo just slaps him on the back, pulling him into one of those side-hugs men do. “condoms are in my bedside table.”
with that, wonwoo takes his leave; off to a girl’s place, no doubt. mingyu doesn’t really care to know. his mind’s pretty occupied with a girl of his own.
mingyu rushes into his best friend’s bedroom, kicking his bulky ass gamer chair out of the way and pulling out the top drawer of his bedside table. mingyu physically recoils at the pile of dildos and vibrators he finds instead, which wonwoo so graciously neglected to mention. slamming that one shut, he finds what he’s looking for in the second drawer. condoms.
….why are there so many? textured, warming, cooling, flavoured; how is he supposed to know which one you’d prefer?
after tossing the options over in his head (frantically panicking), mingyu settles on the box of strawberry flavoured condoms, grabbing out more than enough and stuffing them in his pocket.
he then stops by wonwoo’s mirror, giving himself a once over. he went commando for obvious reasons, and his grey sweats already have a visible tent from how he’s half-hard just thinking about you. he already shaved everything in the shower, but he turns his head this way and that to make sure he didn’t miss any spots. pulls his pants down to check the same for his crotch. he smells his breath, his armpits. decides to spritz on more cologne and chew on some gum.
then the doorbell rings.
like some dog waiting for its owner, mingyu bounds over and hastily unlocks the door.
there you are, in all your beauty — smiling sweetly in a little sundress (they always make men go crazy, for whatever reason).
mingyu stammers like an idiot as he attempts to greet you, blocking the doorway as his eyes flick up and down and all around your body, damn nearly drooling until you clear your throat.
“hey mingyu.” you coo, saccharine voice like honey and melting over his thoughts. “it’s nice to finally meet.”
“yes, yes, of course.” he bumbles, finally stepping out of the way and letting you walk inside. he locks the door, gulping as he watches you inspect the place. how is he supposed to begin this? “did you, uh.. want any water or—”
that sentence is lost on the tip of his tongue when your lips smother it. you catch mingyu completely off guard when you step into a kiss with him, leaving no room for questions when your tongue slips into his mouth. you back him into the closest surface, being his kitchen counter, without breaking your mouth from his.
mingyu’s quite good at kissing, since he’s got a lot of experience with that alone, but then not much for the after.
mingyu knows how to lick his tongue against yours and tilt his head for deeper access. knows where to put his hands, how to hold just tight enough to leave your skin buzzing. he knows to pull you in and press your chest flush against his, and he’s mindful enough to keep his pelvis angled away from you. how cute and polite of him. it’s almost like you’re not here for the sole reason of getting in those pants.
despite his best attempts, you rock your hips forward to meet his crotch, delighting at the solid rock you find there. mingyu muffles a noise into your mouth that you’re determined to hear out loud later. you roll your body into his again, brushing your front right up and gauging the outline of his cock.
he’s already proven that he’s not lying about his size but man, fuck… feeling it in real life just brings the shock right back. to think, he’s somehow also desperate as if this thing couldn’t get him laid with ease?
it’s flattering, really — that he chose you amongst all the girls throwing themselves at him, when all you did was doubt and make fun of him.
mingyu finally succumbs to your ministrations and starts rocking his hips right back — tongue tasting every inch of your mouth as he grinds his length forward, nothing but the fabric of his pants and your dress to offer him friction. he’s so worked up that honestly, it could be enough to get him off. he can already feel his dick leaking into his sweats like he’s some virgin experiencing his first kiss.
before he can actually just cum his pants, you part with him — a line of spit connecting your mouths that you wipe off. mingyu’s already huffing, waiting for your next move. you smirk, turning on your heel and walking further into the place.
“which one’s your room?” you call after him. he takes that as a hint to run up and show you to it.
mingyu can just barely hear your oohs and ahhs over the blood pumping like bass in his ears as he pushes his bedroom door open.
your fingers run along his shelves, eyes scanning his posters and the gym equipment scattered around the place. the picture of a dude’s room.
“where’s your roommate?” you ask, perching on his bed.
mingyu swallows, willing his voice to come, a little speechless just at the sight of you sitting where he sleeps. “wonwoo? uh, he’s out.”
you hum, nodding. “so we don’t have to worry about your volume, then.”
oh. you offer mingyu a grin and he just blanches. not yours, his volume. you’re not wrong though.. you’ll probably have him hooting and hollering from just thumbing his tip.
you clear your throat, commanding his attention.
“are you gonna fuck me from there or..?”
mingyu can feel his knees bending a little, on instinct from being flustered and wanting to shrink. you pat on the bed, just to gently guide him, and mingyu follows like a dog.
he chooses to sit beside you which makes you giggle. with a hand on the neck, thumb sitting above his thrumming pulse, you pull him in for a kiss. it’s startlingly tender, at least it begins so.
it’s not long at all until your impatience wins over and you’re licking into his mouth again, enticing little hums from mingyu’s throat. you swings your thighs over his as you climb into his lap, feeling his whole body tense as you sit right on the massive tent in his pants.
mingyu knows he’s fully hard, has been since you put your tongue in his mouth — but now you know it too. there’s a bit of an astonished look in your eye, as if finally confirming some theory. yes, it really is that big. boners give him headaches and he wouldn’t doubt that some of his back pain comes from lugging this big thing around all day.
even now, he can feel his head swimming from all the blood leaving to his lower half. you may leave him with a killer migraine from how hard he’s sure to cum, but it’ll be more than worth it. and you can always make it up to him, maybe….
you grind down on him a few times, the wet patch on his sweats growing even worse; mingyu throwing his head back and just letting you.
a rough hand gripping the scruff of his hair gets his eyes to fly open, staring at you with wide eyes like he’s in trouble. under his watch, you roll your hips deliberately slow, letting mingyu feel every ridge down there, all the wetness dripping from your—
shit, you’re not wearing underwear. you giggle at his recognition, and mingyu’s hands fly out to grip your thighs. to slow you down or get you to speed up, he doesn’t know. as long as you don’t stop.
you make a show with your hand: cupping a breast through your dress, trailing your fingers down your torso before they find the hem of your skirt. you snicker at mingyu’s eyes following every little move, then raise the dress to reveal your bare pussy rutting against his cock — nothing but the thin fabric of his sweats separating you, soiled sticky with your shared arousal.
mingyu whines at the sight, his cock pulsing under you in tandem. you even look a bit startled at how much of it moved, practically halfway in you at this point.
to his dismay you shift back, sitting on his thighs and leaving his poor crotch empty. he doesn’t get to pout for long though, since your hand leaves the dress to brush your knuckles against his length. mingyu shivers, a desperate noise leaving his mouth as your fingers dance over his cock. it throbs and jumps in response, and you giggle, continuing to just play with it. he can barely feel the warmth of your fingers through the fabric, and his hips cant upwards in chase of it.
“you’re real pretty like this, mingyu.” you murmur, fingers softly making a plucking motion over his tip and watching him try to thrust up into it.
as a big ass dude, he’s never heard himself be called ‘pretty’ before, even by his mother but… the way his body reacts to that speaks for itself.
he can’t even get out a ‘thanks’, nothing but embarrassing whines leaving his mouth, even over the faintest stimulation you’re offering him.
“you’ll need to work to fit inside.” you tell him, and he nods, even though he doesn’t even fully register what that means. “mingyu?”
“yeah?” he huffs out, glossy eyes finding yours. you swoon over how much he looks like a puppy, especially with his open-mouth panting, and the fact that he won’t move unless you tell him to.
softness swells inside you and your fingers splay through his hair, combing through it gently. a contrast to your blunt words: “eat me out.”
“oh,” he just says, mind lagging behind as the words sink in. “oh. yes, yeah. i can do that.”
you huff in amusement, pushing off his lap and positioning yourself at the edge of the bed. “i would hope so..”
mingyu follows your lead, sliding off the edge himself and sitting on the floor in front of you. you giggle at his commitment, spreading your legs and pulling the skirt up so your pussy is on full display for him.
saliva gathers in his mouth just looking at it, and he mentally runs through all of the advice jeonghan and joshua gave him.
leaning forward, mingyu starts out slow; leaving soft pecks on the skin of your thigh, listening to your breathing as he inches closer. he works up the courage to look up, holding your gaze as he gives a tentative lick.
you hum appreciatively, fingers finding his hair again, his lashes fluttering over how much he likes the feel of your hand there. mingyu dives in again, just licking for the sake of it — running his tongue through your folds and familiarising himself with your taste. he pulls a steady stream of hums from you, punctuated with a gasp when his tongue presses just right in a particular spot.
the clit, mingyu realises. he latches on so he doesn’t lose it — lips closing around the bud and sucking. your back arches, fingers twisting in mingyu’s hair and causing a groan to rumble on your pussy.
while mingyu kinda knows what to do, he also kinda doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, so he follows the noises above him as direction. he builds a rhythm, switching between quick flicks of his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth. then, he gets curious: licking down to your hole, juices gushing onto his tongue as he buries it into you. you squeak, thighs clamping around his head, and mingyu uses both of his hands to pry them back open.
he fucks you on his tongue, trying his best to keep his eyes on you through how much they’re rolling back into his head. he thinks he’s got the hang of this now — and so he drags his mouth back to your clit, replacing his tongue with two fingers. mingyu pistons them in and out, curls them up, and goes light-headed at all the gorgeous noises he’s pulling from your mouth.
you’re tight, such a tight fit it might hurt him when he goes in — so he can only imagine how much it’ll hurt you.
on that thought, mingyu scissors his fingers, spreading you open and brushing against your g-spot as he does. his cock jumps in his sweats as you drag out a moan, fist close to ripping out his hair. mingyu adds a third finger, fucks you on them for a bit and listens to your moans in response before easing in a fourth. even all his fingers won’t compare to his entire size, but it’s all he has to prepare you enough.
for the first time maybe ever, mingyu’s certain that you’re close. your body’s practically vibrating: thighs tensing around his ears, pussy throbbing in his mouth and around his fingers.
mingyu locks in, keeping his hand and tongue steady to fuck and lick you through it — that is, until you just tear his face away.
he blinks, registering what just happened as you pull his hand out yourself. he blinks again, and suddenly you’re pulling him up by the shirt collar until he’s sat back on the bed.
you shove him, and mingyu falls on his back. one more blink and mingyu’s met with the image of you lowering your pussy onto his mouth.
you straddle mingyu’s face, grabbing hold of his hair as an anchor before you start to rocklike crazy. your dress covers his eyes, but he’s undeterred as his hands find your ass and push you further down, gladly presenting his tongue for you to use.
mingyu can hardly breathe, but he’d die happily if the last thing he hears is your moans as you ride your orgasm out on his face.
his scalp burns when your fingers twist impossibly tight, hips grinding onto him so hard that even his teeth ache — but then a fresh wave of slick is gushing onto his tongue, and mingyu knows that you’re cumming.
it’s all too much for him and his painfully erect cock, and before he can even register what’s happening — mingyu’s stomach is lurching, cock spilling a hot load into his sweats.
you climb off him, looking unkempt and yet every bit still gorgeous. you tug mingyu by his neck into a kiss, feral and sloppy. teeth gnashing and tongues twisting. your chin sliding against his chin, covered in your cum and his own spit.
mingyu’s the one who breaks it off this time — as much as it pains him, he probably would’ve suffocated on your tongue there with just how breathless he’s been since you unsaddled from him.
you notice, allowing him a moment to actually get some air back into his lungs as you kiss along his jaw and above his adam’s apple. it bobs as you leave a peck there.
turning your attention to the rest of his body, you tug on his shirt, and mingyu lifts his arms to let you pull it off. chest bare, you begin to ravage him, leaving your mark as you suck hickeys and nip bites at his honey skin. your tongue runs through the valley of his pecs and the ridges of his abs, stopped only by the band of his sweats. you pull back, eyes landing on the large stain in his pants, and your lips curl into a smirk.
“aw,” you pout. “i’m flattered.”
you peel his waistband back, and mingyu takes the hint to raise his hips and let you pull these godforsaken sweats all the way down. he winces when his cock slaps against his stomach, sensitive and yet still fully hard.
you take a moment to just admire it, and mingyu gets progressively shy, pre beading at his tip like there isn’t actual cum still covering his length.
you wrap gentle fingers around the base, smiling at how it jumps in your hand. what mingyu doesn’t expect is for you to lean down, and press your lips against the head of his cock.
mingyu groans, so sensitive and yet so fucking good. you don’t go too hard as you mouth at his tip, then darting your tongue out and running it down his length — licking up all the cum dripping down to his balls. you even leave a kiss on his sack, and he shivers, almost shutting his legs on instinct.
he giggles. “sorry, no one’s ever—”
“i could spend all day down here,” you tell him, eyes alight and smile beaming. you really do mean that and you want him to know it. “you’ve got more than enough for a girl to be grateful for.”
mingyu shivers again as you leave an open-mouthed kiss on his cock, running your lips over his length, though he’s not sure if it’s because of that or because of your words.
“almost didn’t believe a man that looks like you could be so desperate, but now..” you press your thumb to his frenulum, revelling in the moan that rips from his chest. “what a lucky girl i am, huh?”
“ffu—shit, you mean i’m the lucky one,” mingyu manages to grit out. “haven’t been laid in forever.”
“see now, i just can’t believe that. well, i do, now that i’m actually touching you—” you squeeze his tip as if to make a point, and mingyu nearly thrashes from how much that just built his next orgasm. “guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, hm?”
mingyu nods feverishly. you smile, so entirely endeared with him.
with how much of a package mingyu is (in more ways than one), you probably would’ve still fucked him even if you found out he was lying about being pathetically bitchless. now, his good looks are just a bonus. you’re going to fuck him because you’re starting to feel quite fond of him.
“where’s your condoms?” you ask him, granting his poor cock some mercy and instead choosing to run your hands over his sweat-slick abs.
“er..” his mind blanks for a moment, too caught up on the fact that you’re really about to fuck him. “pants pocket.”
you stand from the bed, kneeling down to reach into where you threw his pants on the floor. you arch a brow at mingyu, no doubt realising how he’s got an entire stash of condoms in there, but you don’t mention it.
back on your feet, you shrug your dress off, revealing nothing but a bare, beautifully sculpted body beneath.
“wah..” mingyu unintentionally says out loud, just admiring you.
you roll your eyes, ripping the condom packet open with your teeth. “don’t cum before i even put it in.”
“better hurry then..” he smiles, flashing his sharp canines.
it’s all fast movement from there: you slip the condom on mingyu, snickering a comment about how it took forever until it reached the base, and then you position yourself right above him.
mingyu holds his breath, expecting you to ease onto him — totally unprepared for you to just drop down.
mingyu body curls upwards like you’ve just winded him, cursing like a sailor over your heat wrapped around him. he already knew it’d be like this, even with all the prep, but you’re so fucking tight. you’re just sitting there, not even moving, and yet your pussy is strangling the fucking life out of his cock.
he’s so caught up in trying not to cum prematurely that he forgets about your own discomfort. mingyu recollects himself, pressing a gentle palm to your back as he schools his shaky breathing.
“you okay?” he wheezes out, eyes screwing shut at the pulse your pussy gives.
“mm.” you hum, offering no sign to fuss over, but that doesn’t stop mingyu. holding your waist, he attempts to lift you off of him, but you cut that shit out immediately when you grind yourself forward on his cock. he keels over, head buried into your shoulder.
“‘s a lot to take, but i’m fine, mingyu.” you reassure him, fingers playing with his hair since you’ve realised how much he seems to like it. “are you okay?”
he groans out, intending for that to be a yes. you giggle. “i’m going to move now, alright?” he repeats the groan noise in reply.
you plant both feet on either side of mingyu, balancing yourself with your hands holding his hair, and then you start to bounce. just slowly to start off, letting your pussy adjust to the massive ass cock spearing you open. you know that if you were to have inched down, your pussy would’ve tried to push it out, so making mingyu fit meant just taking it all at once.
he currently looks like he’s the one that has to adjust to you, though.
mingyu lets out a stream of whimpers into your ear where his head is lolled onto your shoulder, just pliantly taking what you’re giving him. all of his brainpower is channelled into holding his cum back right now.
his effort is almost in vain when you speed up, bouncing so hard that his balls smack into your ass with each thrust onto him.
he’s moaning so loud he didn’t even realise the desperate cries coming from your mouth too — dick twitching so violently he didn’t even realise how much you’re pulsing around him.
mingyu pulls back, knowing he’ll regret it if he spent the entire duration of sex with his face stuffed in your shoulder — his eyes captivated on where your bodies connect.
he can’t find the strength in him to offer anything more than his hips stuttering up, attempting to meet each of your bounces on him. in and out, in and out, in and—
“fuuuuucck,” mingyu drawls, eyes rolling so far back he catches a glimpse of his own brain.
you don’t mention it as you quickly wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth, then gasp as you feel his cock spasm like a snapped rubber band. “shit, mingyu, are you—”
you don’t get to ask and he doesn’t get to answer before his orgasm slams into him like a bag of bricks. mingyu’s head lolls back, knuckles turning white where they’re holding onto your waist for dear life, sure to leave bruises in their wake.
you fuck mingyu until you’re certain the condom must be flooded, and then you fuck yourself on him some more.
mingyu’s unintelligible at this point, hoarse voice almost unrecognisable as he can do nothing but moan through the sensitivity. it’s raw and god it hurts but you don’t stop fucking him. he doesn’t want you to either.
your bounces shift into rocking your hips on him, his spent cock rubbing deep and perfectly into your g-spot. your clit grinds on the skin of his groin with each movement, and before long you’re riding out a second orgasm on him.
mingyu takes it, long past his limit but loving every second of you just using him like a toy. he even tries his best to fuck up as you’re cumming, the sweet thing.
after the last wave of your orgasm gushes around his cock, you just lay boneless on mingyu — his body keeping you both propped upright as you catch your breaths and your trains of thought.
his large hand comes to caress your back. he winces when you pulse around him once more, his cock softening inside the spent condom.
“you should probably take the condom off.” you mumble into his collarbone.
he hums, finger mindlessly drawing shapes onto your back.
“and put a new one on.” you add, leaving a peck on his jaw like what you said was nothing out of the ordinary.
“wait, what?”
“what?” you eye him like he’s the one who said something crazy. “did you think that’s all i came for?” you continue, smile stretching across your face.
“uh…” well, yeah. every other girl he’s been with was halfway out the door before he could even tie the condom up.
you kiss him, sweetly this time. a stark contrast to the sloppy, tongue filled make-outs you were having just minutes ago.
“unless you don’t want this as much as you’ve led me to believe..” you tease.
“fuck, i do, i do.” he confirms quickly. “just… give me five minutes.” as if on command, his temple throbs with pain. “and some ibuprofen.”
you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.
god, you’re going to wring all 12 inches of him dry.
...is this enough to ask if you’d like to go out sometime?
