first time posting something that’s genuinely just porn without plot. i keep thinking about gyu and needed to get this out of my system so. it’s rather short, not my best work but enjoy this while i work on my other fics <3
MINGYU WAKES UP WITH COLD BEADS OF SWEAT ON HIS FOREHEAD. the same way he has been for the past weeks.
he’s not sure what it is. it’s not nightmares, not insomnia — it’s like he’s craving something.
usually, a fresh, cold glass of water does the job. he’s already had two tonight, but to no avail. every time he closes his eyes, he feels his eyes burning behind his lids.
he’s not completely awake either; that’s what makes it even more frustrating.
being close to you and having you in his arms often helps him sleep. stops him from tossing and turning all night.
right now, it only seems to be doing the opposite.
maybe he shouldn’t have looked at you when you slipped under the covers beside him a few hours ago. not wearing anything other than soft cotton panties and a white tank top that perfectly showed your nipples through the thin fabric.
and now, with his front pressed against your back, the feeling of your body so close to his causes a shaky exhale, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses, and before he knows it, he’s unintentionally grinding against your ass.
he knows he’s fucked when he thinks about your conversation from several weeks ago.
you’d brought it up so casually. i wouldn’t mind you touching me while i’m asleep, you’d said, or fucking me.
he can still taste the damn coffee that accidentally went up his nose afterwards.
most of the time, he falls asleep before you do. he’s used to closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep practically immediately, so perhaps that’s why he’d never thought about touching you while you slept before you recently brought it up.
and up until you did, he didn’t think you’d be into it. he didn’t think he’d be, either.
yet here he is, letting his left hand slide down towards your hip, rubbing his hardening cock against you. he feels the fabric of your panties under the pads of his fingers, glancing back up at your face for a second.
he wants you to remain asleep a little longer, eager to see how you’ll react to it.
only wearing a pair of boxers, he moves away from his spot behind you, and you instinctively switch to your back from the loss of his presence by your side. he positions himself between your legs, deciding to leave your grey panties on for now.
with one hand, he slowly rubs your clothed pussy, feeling your clit, while he uses his other hand to push the hem of your tank top upwards, baring your tits to the cool air in the room.
god, you look straight out of a wet dream.
and he’s just so insatiable when it comes to you. leaning down, he licks your nipple, and it makes you stir under him for the first time.
unable to resist, he mouths at your breast, teeth grazing past the skin gently enough not to hurt but still make you feel it. he keeps rubbing little circles on your pussy, feeling his cock twitch, and he grinds himself against the mattress, desperate for some friction.
he was planning to keep quiet, but he’s getting so ridiculously hard that it hurts. it makes him grunt as if he’s in pain, and seeing that little wet spot forming on the grey fabric you’ve got on is just making it worse.
hooking his finger under the hem of your panties, he pulls them down, bunching them up in the palm of his hand, the combined scent of that sweet soap you always use on your body and that of your arousal causing him to feel like he’s insane.
continuing to rub your clit, he gently pushes two fingers into you, and you let out a familiar sigh in pleasure, still sound asleep, even though your body is being more than responsive to his touch.
regardless, he’s shocked at how easily his fingers enter you. he retracts his hand, sticking his fingers in his mouth to taste your arousal, a few drops of pre-cum leaking into the material of his boxers. it prompts him to remove it, remaining naked on your shared bed.
yeah, you’re wet enough to take him, but it doesn’t stop him from grabbing the lube out of the bottom drawer of his nightstand, squirting some of it onto himself.
his head is spinning while he coats his cock in the cold liquid. he’s breathing erratically, incapable of looking away from your body, numerous ways of touching you running through his mind. he wonders if you’d enjoy waking up to his cock in your mouth, or a toy in your ass, or both — god, given the way you two always fuck, you probably would.
and imagining it drives him crazy.
he rubs the tip of his cock against your pussy, forcing himself not to bust just from the way you’re twitching at the feeling of him.
finally, he allows himself to slide into your warm body, fingers trembling at the overwhelming sensation. “oh, fuck.”
with a patience he didn’t know he possessed, he takes the time to sheathe himself all the way inside you, hovering over your body. a shameless moan leaves him as he begins to move.
it’s enough to finally wake you from your deep sleep, and you look up, a little disoriented, trying to process what he’s doing.
“gyu?” you mutter his name, immediately followed by a gasp.
keeping a slow, steady pace, he fondles your breasts. “didn’t mean to wake you, baby.”
you both know he most certainly did. you bite your lip, a soft, dragged-out moan escaping you. meeting his dark eyes, you’re debating whether he’s not fully awake either or just a little dazed from the new experience.
his face is flushed, skin coated in a thin layer of sweat, the vein in his forehead popping out, all while he’s fucking you slow and deep. he’s so fucking deep — it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. the silver necklace you’ve always found looks undeniably good on him sways above you with every snap of his hips, and he maintains eye contact with you, particularly when you raise your hands to put them on the back of his neck.
he watches how your face contorts with pleasure, rutting into you, and he lowers his body to have his lips just barely touching yours, breathing into each other’s mouths.
“you just looked so fucking pretty,” he admits, pausing mid-sentence to shudder from the way you’re clenching around him, “i couldn’t help it.”
god, there’s something about seeing him this way that makes your eyes roll back in your skull. he’s bigger than you in every way, a hulk of a man, yet all he aches for is your touch.
“yeah? you just had to have me?” you breathe out shakily, and mingyu nods.
“mhm. wanted to fuck you so bad,” he hums, kissing you between the slurred words.
moving your hips to match his rhythm, he’s completely fucking gone. all that exists to him right now is you — the way your pussy hugs his cock like he’s not allowed to leave, the sound of your erotic moans, your hand cupping his face like you’re about to tell him he’s doing such a good job.
the words rolling off your tongue practically send him into overdrive. “come in me, please, gyu. i want it in me.”
with jittery breaths, his hips stutter, his fingers subconsciously digging harshly into your skin while he comes. it makes your thighs tremble, hips bucking up against him, and with some added friction on your clit, you’re seeing stars underneath him.
he all but collapses on top of you, his heart rate eventually slowing.
“i love you,” you hear him mumble with his cheek against your collarbone.
he’s got his eyes closed, and you doubt he’s still awake when you say it back. “love you too.”
thanks for reading, let me know if you enjoyed it x
® SANAKIRAS, all rights reserved — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.
SUMMARY -> everyone knows choi seungcheol, captain of the football team, has been trying to get into your (the head cheerleader's) pants for the entire semester. you make him wait, and wait, and wait. until he doesn't.
WORDS -> approx. 15k
WARNINGS -> choi seungcheol x female reader, university au, football player choi seungcheol, cheerleader reader, top seungcheol, wet & messy, rough sex, unprotected sex, face slapping, spanking, multiple orgasms, light drug use, reader gets wrecked while wearing a skirt, crying, size kink
- requested [no]
seungcheol is more than aware that he's a little bit of a cliche. star quarterback of the football team, frat boy, a little bit of a playboy. add in the fact that he's spent the entire semester pining over the head cheerleader into the mix and he's basically the embodiment of a romcom trope.
but he doesn't mind much: life is good. the only real issue is that he's been trying (and failing. desperately failing) to get in said head cheerleader's pants for the better part of the last four months and he's just about ready to crawl out of his skin.
but it's fine. he's fine.
he's three or five drinks deep already at one of the last house parties of the year. the semester is winding down to prepare for spring break, as most students are already done with their finals and just sticking around for the last football game coming up next week. seungcheol has been stretched so thin between studying and practice for the past few weeks that he's not in much of a partying mood, so rather than being at the center of the room like he usually is, he's kicked back on the couch by the back door nursing a drink, mingyu sitting on the arm next to him as they quietly chat below the music pounding through the room.
"staring at the door won't make her come any faster," mingyu says, elbowing seungcheol in the ribs. he pushes the little marble-swirled pipe pinched between his fingers under seungcheol's nose, twisting it. "relax. smoke with me."
"who said i'm waiting for her?" seungcheol says into his red solo cup, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. he knows mingyu isn't buying it. "i don't care if she comes or not."
"so you're saying if y/n were to walk through that door right now you wouldn't be over there in ten seconds flat pushing a drink into her hand and trying to take her up to your room?" mingyu rolls his eyes, fishing a lighter out of his pocket. "yeah, i'll believe that when i see it."
seungcheol is about to talk back when a commotion across the room catches his attention. a small group is arriving, filtering in one by one, faces seungcheol definitely recognizes. his heart rate spikes and he cranes his neck the tiniest bit, hoping mingyu doesn't notice.
"ah," mingyu says, bringing the pipe to his lips and sparking the lighter up. "there she is."
it's amazing how you manage to demand the attention of the room at large the second you enter. faces turn to you like flowers toward the sun and you glow under the attention, smiling sweetly and greeting the people around you with hugs and waving the lollipop clutched in your hand excitedly at those who yell your name from deeper into the room. it takes you a second to weave through the throng of people but once seungcheol can see you properly his mouth instantly goes dry— you're wearing all black from head to toe, sinfully tight miniskirt with stockings disappearing into your high boots. a loose shirt just barely brushes your waistband, exposing a little peek of skin just above your belt that seungcheol's eyes linger on for a few seconds too long.
"hey, earth to seungcheol," mingyu says right in his ear, startling him. "stop drooling over y/n for two seconds and answer my question."
"didn't hear you," seungcheol mumbles. you run your fingers through your hair, the rings on your fingers catching the light. your hair is getting even longer, now, and seungcheol thinks it suits you. to be fair though, just about anything would suit you so there's really no point in having a preference. "what'd you say?"
mingyu exhales a thick cloud of milky smoke into the air right in front of seungcheol's eyes but it doesn't stop him from watching as some poor fuck practically falls to his knees in front of you with a drink in his hand. you accept it with a sweet smile that curls your eyes, leaning into the boy's space and toeing the heel of your boot into the carpet. seungcheol ignores the little spark of jealousy that roars to life in his chest, tearing his eyes away. he focuses on the little pipe in mingyu's hand. "nah, not in the mood tonight."
"suit yourself." mingyu shrugs.
you are laughing at something the little call-boy is whispering to you, throwing your head back in a way that makes the glitter smeared high on your cheeks glint under the low light. he wrinkles his nose, draining the rest of his drink.
"based on the way she's still the only thing you seem to be able to focus on i'm gonna guess you still haven't gotten into her pants yet?" mingyu muses.
seungcheol shoots mingyu a look. "trust me, if i had then you and the entire campus would know already. i plan on putting it on a billboard when it finally happens."
"why don't you go talk to her, then? it's not like you to give up."
seungcheol sighs, leaning back into the couch. "what do you want me to do? throw myself at her like the rest of the room is doing?" he gestures at you, who now has the attention of some guy giggling and cracking jokes. it makes him snort; good luck with that, sweetheart. "i'm not desperate."
"are you sure? because i kinda recall you spending every single party this year doing exactly what they're all doing."
"i mean i'm not gonna throw myself at her right now," seungcheol almost whines. "i'm trying something new. shut up."
"ah, the make her come to you method." mingyu nods. "solid."
"so you think she even knows i'm here?"
"seungcheol, you live here."
"maybe i should—"
"oh look, she's headed this way now!" mingyu says, tapping seungcheol excitedly on the shoulder.
seungcheol's eyes snap back to the last place he saw you. you're still standing in the same spot, twisting the bright pink sucker between your fingers and nodding enthusiastically to the guy whispering something in your ear. "no she's n—"
"hey, y/n!" mingyu shouts, reaching up to wave his hand up high in the air. you startle and jerk your head up, searching the crowd for the source of the voice before you spot mingyu and smile, wiggling your fingers in their direction. your eyes snap to seungcheol for a split second and they instantly narrow, making a chill shoot up and down his spine.
"i'm going to fucking kill you," seungcheol says, watching you say goodbye to your friends and start to pick through the crowd on the way over to them.
"okay, hurry, act natural. she's almost here." mingyu pauses, side-eyeing seungcheol. "actually, y/n is so used to you looking at her like that it would be weirder if you tried being normal. you're good."
seungcheol is this close to chewing mingyu out but then you are right in front of him, one hand cocked on your waist and the other carding through your hair at your temple. you look... bored, in a way, like you don't want to be standing there right now, and for some reason you giving him that look, like, instantly turns him on.
"hey," you say, twirling the candy between your fingers. "what are you two doing all the way back here?" you raise yours eyebrows at seungcheol. "you're usually the first one doing keg stands in the middle of the living room."
"seungcheol is just so exhausted,” mingyu pipes up. “you know, it's not easy being the star football player. quarterback and captain. not only that but did you know he's been on the dean's list for the past three semesters? if that's not the kind of quality you want from a long-term partner or even a casual hookup then i don't know what is. in fact—"
"okay!" seungcheol almost shouts, making mingyu snap his mouth shut with a devilish little grin. seungcheol has no idea why he keeps him around. "just tired. practice has been crazy with the big game coming up. you know."
"mm," you hum in agreement. the cheerleading squad works just as hard if not harder than the football team. you share a field during practice, in fact. seungcheol is all too aware of that. "you two smoking?"
"yeah, get in here," mingyu says, passing the pipe and lighter over to you who accepts it happily.
"thank you," you singsong. you turn your attention back to seungcheol. "mind if i have a seat?"
"oh, yeah, yeah. sorry." seungcheol hadn't realized how rude he's being, spread out in the middle of the loveseat leaving nowhere for you to sit down. he's just about to move over to make room when you smile sweetly, stepping forward until your knees are pressed together and then sinking one into the the couch between the arm and seungcheol's thigh, slinging the other over his lap and settling down.
"best seat in the house," you say, eyes boring into seungcheol's. he vaguely registers mingyu snickering at his left, most likely because he must look like a deer in the headlights right now but he doesn't care. having you on his lap is basically the best-case scenario of any situation he could ever find himself in.
"my bed is more comfortable," seungcheol blurts.
mingyu chokes. "alright, that's my cue to leave," he says. "you two can keep that bowl." he slides off the arm of the couch and disappears into the crowd, leaving only you and seungcheol in your own little world.
you giggle, letting your head loll onto his shoulder. you squeeze your knees a little bit around seungcheol's thighs and shift forward until your crotch is just a hair's breath away from seungcheol's zipper. the proximity has seungcheol feeling dizzy and mentally praying that his dick doesn't get the memo embarrass him.
"maybe i'll find out someday," you say airily, but seungcheol knows it's all talk. he's been playing this game with you for far too long.
"you gonna smoke that?" seungcheol says, mostly for something to say. his words crack around the dryness in his throat and he glances at his empty solo cup on the end table next to the couch, really needing another drink right about now, but he's sure as hell not going to make you move to go make another.
"let's share it, yeah?" you say. you bring the pipe to your mouth and wrap your lips around it, sparking the flame to life low in the bowl and inhaling deeply, holding it in your lungs.
seungcheol hadn't really wanted to smoke tonight but what you want you get as far as he's concerned. he starts to reach for the pipe, expecting you to hand it over, but you shake your head and smile, a little wisp of smoke escaping the corner of your lips. you bring your hand to seungcheol's cheek, the back of your knuckle brushing his jaw pressing your thumb on seungcheol's lower lip, urging him to part them.
it takes seungcheol a second to register what you want him to do. you just raise your eyebrows, adding a little more pressure to your touch until your thumb nail dips into the wet part of seungcheol's mouth.
seungcheol finally gets the memo and parts his lips the rest of the way, tipping his head back to inhale, drinking every curl of smoke from your lips into his own lungs. he can feel the heat from his mouth, the two of you so close together he can almost feel your lips brushing. he has to resist the urge to chase it— you keep your eyes on him, half-lidded and already a little bit hazy from drinks, probably from drinking with your friends before heading over to the party. you look like pure sex.
god, seungcheol has never wanted anyone or anything more in his life.
you don't pull back even once seungcheol has exhaled all the smoke. in fact you've somehow gotten closer— your knees press into his waist, the swell of your ass sitting somewhere near where his cock has started stirring, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. the weight of you in his lap is almost torture but you are only making it worse with the way you're looking at him, gaze dark and sultry. like you want him just as much as seungcheol wants you.
the voice in the back of his head, the rational part of seungcheol (if there's even such a thing when he has you in his lap) reminds him that this is just what you do. this push-and-pull, will-they-or-won't-they, absolutely torturous test of patience and sanity.
you both have a pretty long history; the football team and cheerleading squad usually practice at the same time, and from the moment you stepped on that field seungcheol has been enamored with you. it would be nearly impossible to not be— you're very distracting, the way you prance around in your crop tops and little skirts rolled down low on your hips to make them even shorter than they're supposed to be, much to the dismay of seungcheol's concentration but to the delight of basically every other part of him.
the first time you had tangled your hands together and dragged seungcheol behind the bleachers after practice was only a short couple of weeks into the semester. you'd let seungcheol push you into the fence and slot his knee between your legs, had let him lick hotly into your mouth and tug on your hair until you were both panting and worked up, a flush high on your cheeks. but just as seungcheol was about to suggest you head back to the frat house only a short walk away, you had pulled back, tugging at the hem of your painfully short top and sliding your tongue over your kiss-swollen lips.
that was fun, you'd said. maybe we can finish this next time?
it became somewhat of an unspoken routine between you. every once in a while— only every couple of weeks, really, by no means a regular thing— you would be extra distracting during practice, would somehow always be... doing something that seungcheol would deem a hazard to his health, from stretching until you were nearly bent in half, tying your shoelaces, and— on one particularly excruciating day— doing a full split with your eyes on seungcheol the whole time, lips curled in a way that was far too innocent to not be intentional.
but no matter how much seungcheol wanted to, your little meetups never progressed any further than making out. every single time, just as seungcheol was starting to get really wound up, you would pull away, tell him you had to go, and leave.
needless to say, outside of football and studying there's little that seungcheol has been able to think about outside of you, you and you.
he hasn't even slept with anyone since he and you have started whatever thing you've gotten into. he did once, had picked up some girl who’d been trying to get in his pants for weeks. he ended up fucking her face down with her head pressed into the pillow, trying (and failing) to imagine that it was you trembling underneath him instead.
it didn't work, not even a little bit. if anything it only made him more frustrated, knowing that the only thing that would sate his appetite is a taste of you yourself.
it's excruciating.
you know it, too. it's clear in the way you're looking at him right now, the way you dart your tongue out against the end of the pipe before sliding it between your lips, keeping your eyes on seungcheol the entire time you light up the second half of the bowl and inhale before repeating the motion from before, dipping your head down to exhale the smoke directly into seungcheol's lungs.
he hadn't expected it to turn into a kiss; the second the last bit of smoke curls out from your mouth you push down the few inches to press your lips together, tongue sliding hotly over seungcheol's bottom lip and hands winding around his neck to wrap in his hair. seungcheol responds to it immediately, doesn't even have to think about it before his hands are on your thighs and he's tilting his head to give you better access, meeting your tongue in the space between your lips. you taste like vodka and the strawberry lollipop you'd been sucking on. he's already long associated the taste of artificial strawberry with kissing you, to the point where a few weeks ago his friend had offered him a pink starburst and the second he ate it he'd popped a boner and had to head back to the frat house in shame.
you pull away for air, panting in the pretty way you do against seungcheol's lips as you look at him through your eyelashes. seungcheol runs his hand down your thigh and his hand feels on something smooth— he hadn't realized before that you are wearing a pair of sheer stockings.
"you've been working so hard," you breathe. you massage the pads of your fingers into seungcheol's shoulders, working at the tense muscles there. "maybe there's somewhere we can go to release a little tension, mm? blow off some steam?"
"yeah?" seungcheol asks, hazy. he toys with the edge of your little skirt and you arch your back, pressing your cunt against seungcheol's zipper, making him hiss through his teeth.
"yeah." you parrot. you lean forward to ghost your lips over seungcheol's earlobe, hair brushing featherlight against his temple. "how about you show me where your room is?"
seungcheol shivers— he turns his head and noses against your cheek until you turn your head to meet him, brushing your lips just barely, sweet strawberry and liquor mingling in the shared space. his cock throbs in his jeans and he knows you are close enough that you can feel it, the swell of your ass full-on pressed over it. with a mischievous smirk you grind your hips down, just barely, painfully slow, eyes going dark. seungcheol is vaguely aware that you're both in a room full of people but he can't find himself in it to care if you're giving them a show, too overwhelmed by the feeling of you pressing in on every single one of his senses. you're so fucking intoxicating, even more so than the alcohol and weed coursing through his veins.
he slides his hands under your thighs, standing up and bringing you with him. you giggle, wrapping your legs around seungcheol's waist and winding your arms around his neck. there's dozens of eyes on you both when you make your way through the small crowd at the back of the house and up the stairs leading to the bedrooms, but he doesn't give a fuck about what kind of things people are saying about you. there’s already enough rumors talking about how you both must be hooking up— if anything seungcheol is praying that after tonight there might actually be some truth to them.
it’s a miracle and a half that seungcheol manages to not stumble and fall on his ass on the way up the stairs. once you reach the landing where there's much less prying eyes and attention on you, you immediately surge forward, grabbing a handful of seungcheol's shirt to drag the collar away from his neck, dipping your head to trace his collarbone with your tongue before sucking a bruise just above it. seungcheol shivers at the thought of having your marks on him, hidden just below where everyone will be able to see them— one little slip of his shirt will reveal the tender bruise blooming beneath it.
which— that's not something you've ever done before, marking each other— you drag your lips over it and then pull back to admire it with hazy eyes, a pleased little smile curling the corner of your lips. within seconds you have your arms back around seungcheol's neck and you're sucking his earlobe into your mouth, laving your tongue over the shell of his ear and working your hips up against seungcheol's lower hips, the press of his cock unmistakably hard even trapped under his too-tight jeans.
"this one?" you gasp against his ear, breath rolling cold over the damp skin. seungcheol nods, letting you reach down and grab the handle before seungcheol kicks the bottom of the door to let you in, spinning to push you up against it to slam it shut the second you're inside. you unwind your legs from seungcheol's waist and drop to the ground, immediately pushing up on your tiptoes to bring your lips together in another kiss, wet and messy and tense with the promise of more to come.
kissing you is like the most addicting drug he's even taken— he thinks he'd never stop if he didn't have to. he gets lost in the feel of it, the way you flick your tongue in the downright filthy way that never fails to make seungcheol's toes curl, mind immediately going to how it would feel for you to do that against the head of his cock.
seungcheol slots his thigh between your legs in the way he always does, pressing hard— you mewl, throwing your head back and curling your hand into hairs at the base of seungcheol's hair. and this is the way it always starts, the game you never finish playing.
seungcheol licks a fat stripe up the side of your neck before grazing his teeth over your jawline, every little whine he drags from your saliva-slick lips jolting straight to his groin.
"what's it gonna take, huh?" seungcheol mumbles into your skin, sealing the words with the slide of his tongue, tasting salt and perfume clinging to your skin. he slips his fingers underneath the stockings straining around your thigh, hitching your leg up around him to give him better access to roll your hips together. "what's it gonna take for you to let me fuck you?"
"thought you loved the chase," you pant, hands sliding to seungcheol's shoulders for leverage, pushing the collar of his shirt down to expose the golden, sweat-damp line of his neck. "what happened to taking your time?"
"you're a fucking tease is what happened." seungcheol finds your lips again, crashing them together in a messy, wet kiss laced with intent. you let him lick into your mouth, easy, pliant; you like to act like you're in control but seungcheol can see how quickly you fall apart under his hands, is dying to see how much you shake and writhe when split open on his cock. he shivers at the visual, a mess of precum dampening the front of his boxers.
"am i teasing you right now?" your voice doesn't lose the mischievous lilt even as you grind down on seungcheol's clothed cock, words punctuated by filthy little moans that have seungcheol going fucking crazy. "seems like you have me exactly where you want me."
seungcheol groans, not even able to think of a witty response. he just wants so badly it hurts — he grips harder around the stockings, pulling you impossibly closer. his other hand drops to your hip, fingers sliding up under your top to trace the line of skin above your waistband. heat starts to pool behind his lower body already, embarrassingly worked up from just this with all the past context of you edging him over and over again across the last semester. he's always prided himself on his stamina, never thinking he was the type to come in his pants from dry humping like a dog in heat, but then again he didn't think a lot of things were possible before he met you.
your kiss turns sloppier, more desperate; your lips are all puffy and swollen under his and seungcheol pulls back to trace them with the rigid tip of his tongue. your eyes are both half-lidded and glassy and you stare at each other as you roll your hips, panting in the shared space between you.
you've never gone any further than this, and seungcheol is already dreading the second you decide it's time for you to call it quits. seungcheol is so close he can practically taste his release on the tip of his tongue. he tries to tell himself it's different this time; you had told him you were coming up here to release some tension. you're in seungcheol's room, alone, with no risk of being caught or facing awkward walk of shame back home if you get a little messy. but part of him is already thinking ahead to the way you alway pull away, running your hands through your messy hair and flashing a sweet little swollen-lipped smile with a sorry, i have to get home, let's finish this next time?
you are needy tonight, though. you don't show any signs of stopping, much to seungcheol's delight; you drag your lips down from his neck to his shoulder, leaving a slick trail of saliva, sucking another bruise into seungcheol's skin. you hiss through your teeth and cool the spot when seungcheol jerks harshly on the stocking to hitch you up even higher, forcing you up on the tiptoes of your high boots and wrapping your leg around his waist. seungcheol is grinding down onto you at a feverish pace, now, chasing his release, panting loudly in the room over the thundering boom of the bass outside. he's close, so, so close, and even if he doesn't get to fuck you he still wants to be able to come with you pressed up against you, the the strawberry scent on his nose and the salt of your sweat on his tongue.
"you're so fucking flexible," seungcheol growls, pressing your foreheads together.
"i'm a cheerleader," you gasp cheekily. there's a high red flush on your cheeks and you look so fucking wrecked— his cock drools another flood of precum and the string in his belly tightens nearly to snapping. "i can bend a hell of a lot more than this.”
"oh yeah?" seungcheol slips his fingers from where they're resting on your bare waist and circles them around to your stomach, brushing through the thin panties you're wearing disappearing down into the waistband of your skirt. he thumbs at it, hesitating, asking— no, begging for permission.
you hum, deliberating. seungcheol's cock physically hurts with how bad he wants you, and the longer he stares at you the more he's torturing himself with wondering how you must look naked, your athletic cheerleader body and your thighs that he wants wrapped around his head more than he wants to be alive.
"how about we make a deal?" you say suddenly, your hazy eyes gaining some clarity, a flicker of mischief. you loosen your grip on seungcheol's hair, pressing gently against his chest in a way that makes seungcheol instantly still his hips. he has to hold back an actual sob, is fully prepared to get on his knees and beg if he has to. at this point he doesn't even care about getting himself off, he just wants you any way he can have you. he'd be happy to eat you out, let you cum out on his tongue, let you ride his face. just the thought of having your legs spread over his lips has his mouth filling with saliva and he ruts his hips forward, biting back an involuntary moan.
"anything," seungcheol answers after a little bit too long. "anything you want."
you giggle but it's different from the way you usually sound, low and sultry rather than pitched high with playfulness. you drag your nails over seungcheol's cheek before tracing your thumb nail over his bottom lip, pausing.
"win the game this weekend. if you do, come find me after. i'll have a surprise for you."
seungcheol blinks. he's so blindsided he doesn't even know what to say. "the game?"
"mmm." you pull away, gently tugging at seungcheol's wrist to make him unwind his hand from around the stockings on your thigh. he hadn't realized how tightly he was holding it until he lets go— his hand hurts. he flexes it a few times, wincing, and then smooths it down the front of his shirt, wrinkled and damp with sweat.
"y/n," seungcheol groans. he lets his head crash back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. he's so frustrated and worked up he feels like he might start whining and begging any second, has half a mind to shove his hand down the front of his pants and get himself off. "what did i ever do to you to deserve this level of torture?"
you giggle. there's a pressure on his jaw and when he opens his eyes it's your hand gripping it as you lean closer, lips brushing his earlobe.
"you didn't do anything to me, frat boy," you say sweetly, sliding your palm down his jaw and loosely letting your fingers loop around the thickest part of his neck. the rings on your fingers are shockingly cool against his overheated skin. "not yet, anyway."
you pull away all too quickly, stepping to the side and wrapping your hand around seungcheol's door knob, pulling it open. the thundering bass of the party downstairs roars to life, but right before you leave you fish in your purse to produce a brand new strawberry lollipop, taking a second to unwrap it before slipping it into your mouth. you push the wrapper into seungcheol's hand, curling his fingers closed, and then you slip through the door.
the room is draped in muffled sound again when the door snaps shut. seungcheol stares down at the pink wrapper in his hand before wadding it up in frustration, tossing it on his dresser before pulling his shirt over his head as he heads toward the bathroom to take a cold shower, no longer interested in the party.
one thing is for sure: he's going to win that game even if it kills him.
the next week of practice is hell on earth.
you are always there, like no matter where seungcheol turns you're doing some kind of obscene stretching in your tiny little skirt and crop top that shows way more skin than necessary. in fact, seungcheol is ninety-nine percent sure that you are wearing less clothing than usual on purpose just to make seungcheol miserable. it certainly wouldn't be out of character.
his coach and teammates actually get so frustrated with him that they start getting on his case about being distracted when the big game is coming up soon. if you weren't head cheerleader for the very team seungcheol plays for then he'd almost think you're trying to make sure their rivals win rather than them.
his frat throws parties almost every single night leading up to spring break, taking advantage of everyone making it through finals and having a lot of free time. seungcheol is so exhausted he's not really in the mood to party but he still sits downstairs every single night, nursing a drink while he waits for you to arrive.
you don't.
every day after practice he sticks around a little later than usual until both the football team and cheerleaders have left the field, taking extra time to pack his stuff up in the hopes that you will take pity on him and drag him behind the bleachers like you would sometimes do.
you don't.
in a few moments of desperation he actually shoots you a text, something he doesn't often do. he asks what you're doing that night, if you still have finals (and if you need a study partner) thinking maybe if he can get a conversation going then maybe you will hang out with him. you don't even have to do anything. he just wants to be around you. you have to at least reply, right?
you don't.
seungcheol wants to gnaw off his own arm.
thoughts of you consume him nearly every second of every hour of every day: you in your skimpy little practice outfits. you in your tight miniskirt with your stockings. you underneath him, skin slicked with sweat and lips bitten red, mewling and panting as seungcheol opens you up. he wonders if the pretty pink flush you wear high on your cheeks when you get worked up extends down to your chest, wonders which parts of your body are the most sensitive.
it's usually at night when his thoughts wander to the last one, after he's already tried (and failed) to sleep with increasing levels of frustration. it usually ends with him licking a stripe up his palm and shoving his hand down the front of his joggers, jerking his cock fast and hard with the image of you stretching in your little skirt at the forefront of his mind.
it's a very difficult time for him.
but, of course, other than you the biggest thing on his mind is the game. it's going to be a big one, the biggest his school has had in years— they're playing against their longtime rival school, and whichever team wins this year's final game will go down in college football history. seungcheol might even be able to get an offer to go pro off this game alone if he manages to play well and network properly afterward. he would literally be set for life.
no pressure or anything.
three days before the big game, their coach calls their final practice and the team goes out for a big dinner of steak and lobster with the liquor flowing freely on the team coordinator's tab. it's supposed to be an event to build team bonds or something like that, but really it's just an excuse for them to try and drink away the nerves that threaten to consume them knowing one of the most important games of their lives is coming up soon. seungcheol is feeling particularly antsy, knowing that being the star player and quarterback means much of that pressure sits directly on his shoulders.
he's a little tipsy but not uncomfortably so when they finish, and so he decides to walk back to the frat house afterward in an attempt to blow off some steam. but he quickly regrets his decision about halfway through when he realizes how chilly it is, the crisp spring air piercing through the thin material of his simple joggers and letterman jacket thrown over a thin t-shirt from his gym bag.
but then a banner flashes over the top of his phone screen, his text tone blaring a shrill beep that echoes over the abandoned street he's walking down. when he sees who it's from, his skin instantly heats up, mouth going dry.
y/n: hey there frat boy
y/n: got a minute?
seungcheol: for you?
seungcheol: a minute, an hour, as long as you want
y/n: oh yeah? well that's convenient for me
y/n: nervous about the big game?
y/n: i've heard there's a lot at stake
seungcheol: i wonder where you heard that
y/n: ha
y/n: i was talking about the actual stakes, not about ours
y/n: but while we're on the subject, that's actually why i decided to text you this evening :)
seungcheol fumbles his phone and nearly drops it when he reads your last text. his body has an instant reaction to the words, blood pumping like lava and rushing straight down to his groin. aside from loaded glances across the football field, seungcheol hasn't had any interaction with you for the better part of the week and then you come out of nowhere with all this.
classic y/n, honestly. always keeping him on his toes.
seungcheol: oh yeah?
seungcheol: are you finally gonna tell me what the surprise is when we win?
y/n: oh i see
y/n: when you win, not if
y/n: confident
seungcheol: are you hoping we don't win, y/n?
y/n: ha
y/n: if that's what you want to think
y/n: but back to what i was saying before...
y/n: i'm not going to tell you what you get when you win
seungcheol groans. he should have known you were just teasing him some more. it was too good to be true.
but then his text tone rings out again and he glances down at the message.
y/n: how about i show you instead?
seungcheol: fuck y/n
seungcheol: you already know my answer
you don't respond for an excruciatingly long period of time. so long, in fact, that seungcheol makes it all the way back to the frat house before you answer at all, obsessively checking his phone every few seconds the entire time he walks. and, okay, maybe he was walking a little bit faster than he was a few minutes ago, but he doesn't think anyone would blame him for that.
once he gets upstairs and into his room he locks the door behind him, and rather than his usual routine of stripping off his clothes and hopping immediately in the shower he beelines for his bed and sits on the end of it, staring at his phone screen while he anxiously taps his fingers over the back of it.
he's starting to think you aren't going to text him at all when his screen finally lights up with a new message.
y/n: sorry about the wait
seungcheol: i think this the first time you've apologized for making me wait
seungcheol: progress
y/n: quick response
y/n: someone's eager
y/n: where are you right now?
seungcheol: sitting on my bed
y/n: perfect
y/n: you've been so patient for me i thought you deserved a little reward
y/n: and maybe something that will help you relax before the big game
before seungcheol can respond something flashes over the top of his screen.
photo from y/n!
he immediately taps the banner without any hesitation, but he realizes immediately that he probably should have taken a minute to brace himself for what it contains. because the second he lays his eyes on the picture he's pretty sure he actually blacks out for the first ten seconds of the twenty second timer. the picture is of you from behind taken in a mirror— you're bent over a desk so only your lower half is visible, bare feet curled into the carpet. but the most important, dizzying thing about the photo is what's hanging down over your thighs— just barely covering the swell of your ass is a little pleated skirt that seungcheol recognizes as the girls' cheer uniform.
seungcheol immediately scrambles to pull his joggers down, tucking them under his balls and hissing when he wraps his ice cold hand around his hot, heavy cock. he nearly drops his phone in his haste to replay the photo, thumbing through the precum drooling through his slit as he takes his time admiring it for his second look. there's the faintest peek of your asscheeks from below the skirt, and though seungcheol has seen your ass in your shorts at practice actually seeing a tease of the bare skin has him drooling, pumping his cock a few times with his fist before the picture inevitably ends and the screen goes black again.
y/n: you replayed
y/n: i take it that means you liked my little gift?
seungcheol: that was a little gift?
seungcheol: fuck y/n you're so
seungcheol: are you wearing that right now?
y/n: yep!
y/n: i got all dressed up just for you
y/n: should i wear this on saturday after the game? oh, or maybe during the game would be more fun? unless you think that would be too distracting while you play?
seungcheol: god you're driving me crazy
y/n: oh, i know
y/n: isn't that the point?
y/n: show me
seungcheol: show you?
y/n: i want to see what i do to you
seungcheol switches back over to camera with shaky hands, idly pumping his cock a few more times. the visual of you in the skirt is still fresh in his mind, so burned into him that he thinks it's all he's going to be able to think about for the rest of his life. not that it would be the most horrible thing in the world. he takes a few photos before settling on one of him taken from the front, cock gripped in his hand with precum messily smeared over the tip.
y/n has opened your photo!
y/n has replayed your photo!
seungcheol: now who's the one replaying?
y/n: i was taken by surprise
y/n: if i'd known you have such a huge cock maybe i would have let you fuck me sooner
seungcheol: both of us know that's a lie
y/n: what can i do, i like to tease
y/n: and i haven't seen you complaining about it
seungcheol: i have, in fact, been very loudly and frequently complaining about it
y/n: i know your type, seungcheol
y/n: once you get what you want you get bored
y/n: the thrill is all in the chase
y/n: am i wrong?
and… you aren't exactly wrong, seungcheol does have a reputation on campus for being a fuckboy, and he’s definitely been known to jump around and have a lot of partners rather than having a solid arrangement with just one person. but it isn’t necessarily because he likes the chase, more that he hasn’t really found someone that catches his interest for more than a few hookups. he’s not opposed to commitment, he just hasn’t found a reason to commit. there’s a difference, he thinks. subtle, but there.
seungcheol: you’re different
he hits send before he has time to think about the implications of his message. it’s a very bizarre moment of clarity: he’s sitting there with his cock in his hand while having some sort of realization about how he feels about you. because, sure, the ridiculous sexual tension you have between you is the thing that connects you, but seungcheol can’t help but feel like there’s something else there. like maybe if he were able to pick it apart, to remove the lust from the equation and really focus on his thoughts there’s some more complexity behind the reasons he’s so hung up on you that extend beyond just she’s hot and i want to fuck her. there’s something there that makes you different, that makes seungcheol want to pursue you to the point where he hasn’t given up or had any other sexual partners even after months of getting nowhere. with anyone else, seungcheol would have gotten bored and given up a long time ago.
y/n: that’s cute, but it’s not going to get you in my pants any faster
y/n: you’ve been patient for this long, you can wait a little longer
y/n: but!
y/n: since you’ve been so patient, i have a little parting gift
y/n: wanna see?
seungcheol is sort of reeling from his semi-coherent realization but he’s also still ridiculously horny and he thinks maybe a little bit of post-nut clarity will give him more room to think about things. or at least that’s what he tells himself when he types his next message.
seungcheol: fuck, yes
photo from y/n!
it’s a similar angle as the first photo but the camera is dropped a little lower and your back is a little more arched— the lower half of your ass is completely exposed, now, fat and perky all at once, probably the most perfect fucking thing seungcheol has ever seen in his entire life. he starts stroking his cock in earnest, already so worked up from the teasing and the last picture that he can feel himself getting close embarrassingly fast— but then he notices something he hadn’t been able to see before, a little flash of pink peeking out from under the hem of your skirt.
he brings the phone closer to his face so he can see it more clearly, and sure enough there is something there: nestled between your cheeks is the tip of a shiny pink dildo, the skin around your hole slick and wet.
seungcheol bites his fist to stop himself from crying out as he comes hard all over his hand, hips jolting off the bed with the force of it— he comes an obscene amount, so much it drips all over his hand and onto his navel, some of it even splattered over his knee.
it takes him a second to come down from his orgasm but once he does he realizes with a jolt that he’d disappeared even though he saw you sending him texts while he was finishing himself off. he lurches for his phone, which had fallen onto the carpet near his feet at some point during the last minute or so.
y/n: i’ll take your disappearance as a good thing
y/n: i’m going to bed
y/n: glad you enjoyed the sneak peek
y/n: can’t wait for saturday
y/n: hope you win :)
seungcheol: oh trust me
seungcheol: i’m gonna win
they lose.
seungcheol honestly hadn’t really considered this outcome: for some reason he just assumed they would win, had thought that everything was already spelled out in the stars or something and he was destined to win this game and get everything he wanted. he was going to secure an offer to go pro before even entering his senior year and walk out of the stadium with you on his arm and his name in the college football history books.
it’s a low low.
he isn’t really sure how to deal with it.
his team tries to stay in high spirits but naturally most of them are very disappointed. there’s a lot of we’ll get them next time and it’s okay, seungcheol, you still have one more year, knowing this defeat probably hits him the hardest.
seungcheol had purposefully forced himself to not focus on you during the game, not even spending halftime watching the cheerleaders do their routine even though he’d wanted to see it because he knew how hard they worked on it. he figured there would be lots of videos that he could watch later, and the risk of getting distracted was too high. so the first time he sees you for the entire evening is after the game ends when most of his team has already headed back to their dorms and apartments to finish packing their things, preparing to head back home for the break until fall rolls around again and they’d come back and do it all over again, most of them for the last time.
he catches your eyes across the field and gets a pained, apologetic smile and wave in return. it’s different from the way you usually look at him and something about it kind of hurts, realizing that you probably don’t have any interest in him anymore now that he let his entire school down. which, realistically he knows it’s kind of dramatic to think that way because his team still had a record-breaking season culminating in a very closely tied game against their biggest rivals which is an accomplishment in and of itself, but he can’t help but feel like really dropped the ball and failed in a huge way.
mingyu treats him to dinner before dropping him back off at the frat house. he isn’t heading back home for a few more days still because his parents are on vacation and he’d rather stay here with the few friends who live around campus during the summer than sit around in an empty house, especially when he’s already feeling pretty low.
when he arrives his friend is sitting on the couch with his nose in a book, typical for him, but the second seungcheol opens the door he gives him a pained smile similar to the one you had given him.
“sorry about the game,” he says. “next year will be better. don’t beat yourself up too much.”
seungcheol winces, waving him off in a way that he hopes isn’t rude.
“i’m fine, don’t worry about it,” he says, trudging up the staircase with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. he’d already showered the game off in the locker room and put his football uniform in his bag, choosing to throw on a simple long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of black joggers for the walk back home. at some point he thinks he lost his letterman jacket, almost positive he’d taken it to the game with him, but he probably just left it at home in his haste to leave earlier that morning.
“i’m sure you’ll find a way to distract yourself,” his friend says airily. the statement strikes seungcheol as odd because there’s definitely not anything fun to do in this city during the summer— everything revolves around college life and as such the bars and restaurants are all boring and empty at this time of year. it’s really depressing. maybe he’ll catch up on some of the video games he’s been neglecting in favor of studies and sports.
he cracks his door open and kicks his shoes off, dropping his gym bag on top of them, flipping on his light and heading toward the bed so he can lay there for a while and contemplate his life choices or something.
but when the light flickers on he stops dead in his tracks, lips parting in surprise.
“hey there, frat boy.”
you look like you stepped straight out of his most frantic fantasies: you're sitting on the edge of seungcheol's bed with your legs delicately crossed at the knee, the short, barely-there plaid cheerleading skirt sitting high up on your waist under a white crop top, the hem just barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but what really gets seungcheol, what really makes his skin heat up and his mouth go dry is the fact that his own letterman jacket is hanging low around your shoulders, so big on your dainty little frame that it nearly swallows you up. the sleeves bunch around your hands, the only visible part being the tips of your tiny fingers gripping your signature lollipop stick, candy sliding slick over your lips.
“i,” seungcheol says.
“i know we had a deal,” you say, words slow and unhurried. you uncross your legs and slide one foot underneath yourself, dropping the hand not holding the lollipop down to your thigh wrapped with your usual stockings. the letterman jacket slides further off your shoulder, skin catching the soft light from seungcheol's lamp. “but i thought maybe you’ve already suffered enough. maybe i can help cheer you up?”
seungcheol blinks at you. he sort of thinks maybe he’s having some sort of extremely elaborate fever dream. did he get sick? did he get hit by a car on his way home? if he knew this was what awaited him in the afterlife maybe he wouldn’t have been so afraid of his own mortality.
the strawberry lollipop clinks against your teeth when you slide it over your cheek, cocking your head. a lock of hair falls over your eyes.
“so?” you ask. “what are you waiting for?”
seungcheol doesn't need to be told twice. he surges forward, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it in the corner of his room.
“god, i’ve been thinking about this for months,” seungcheol rasps just before he crashes your lips together with enough force to push you back on the bed, caging your smaller frame with his larger one. you giggle into the kiss, winding your arms around his neck and parting your lips easily to slide your tongues together. the sweet strawberry candy on your tongue bursts to life, making seungcheol salivate and turning the kiss messier, wetter; he drags his saliva-slick lips down to your jaw, nipping at it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. “gonna make you wish you never made me wait.”
you arch your back into a pretty curve, making the skirt ride up higher over your thighs. seungcheol slides his hands down your body, dipping under the letterman jacket to trace your waist before roaming down to your thighs, pausing to toy with the hem of your skirt as he explores every inch of exposed skin above your shirt with his tongue. even as long as he’s been waiting he still wants to take his time, wants to savor you— wants to commit the way you feel and taste to memory until it’s burned into his tongue, wants to worship you the way you deserve to be.
“ah, seungcheol,” you gasp, huffing when seungcheol nips at your collarbone. “feels good.”
the fact that you are letting seungcheol touch you like this, giving him the privilege, is something seungcheol refuses to take for granted.
“i’ll make you feel so good, baby,” seungcheol gasps, pushing his hand up into your shirt, rolling your nipple between the pads of his fingers. you gasp, arching up off the bed, hair fanning prettily over the sheets like a halo around your head. “whatever you want me to do, i’ll do it. anything.”
“oh yeah?” the smile on your lips shines through in your tone. “do you wanna know why i made you wait for so long, seungcheol?”
“we’ve gone over this,” seungcheol mumbles into your skin. he pushes the crop top further up your chest to expose both nipples, soft and pink, hardening under the chill of the air conditioner. “because you wanted me to go fucking crazy.”
“you’re not— ah, fuck—” you mewl like a kitten when seungcheol attaches his lips to your nipple and sucks, a high sweet noise that jolts straight down to his cock. “you’re not completely wrong.”
seungcheol pulls off to switch to the other nipple, taking a second to admire his handiwork. your nipple is all hard and wet, puffy and red from his mouth. you look so fucking pretty when you're a little messed up. “not completely ?”
“i wanted to make you— ah, fuck, flick your tongue like that again— wanted to make you snap,” you admit, hissing through your teeth when seungcheol grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud. “wanted to make sure you were s-so worked up that when you can finally have me you’d fucking ruin me.”
seungcheol groans, pulling off your nipple with a little pop and a smear of saliva and sliding his hands down to your waist, admiring how dainty your frame is, the way seungcheol's hands are so big on you that he can wrap his hands almost all the way around. he imagines how it would feel to hold you like that up off the bed while he's fucking into you.
“i’ll ruin you.” seungcheol says, dragging his eyes down to admire the way the skirt falls down over your thighs, the pretty black stockings against your flawless skin. it’s a promise, words loaded with confidence. “i’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop— gonna make you think about me every time you try to walk for days.”
“fuck.” you shiver, your hands twitch against the bedsheets, curling your hands around the cuffs of seungcheol's letterman jacket. “your cock is so fucking big— been thinking about it so much.” you wrap one of your legs around seungcheol's back, sliding your socked foot over his waist. “i fucked myself with my thickest toy and imagined it was you— plugged myself up with it afterward and sent you those pictures while my cunt was still all messy with cum.”
seungcheol is fucking dizzy with your words, dragging his eyes all over your body and admiring the view as he does, feeling like he’s entered some kind of alternate reality where he’s the luckiest man alive. you are a vision, prettier than aphrodite, something that belongs in a museum— he’s delighted to find out that the pretty pink flush that sits high up on your cheeks extends all the way down to your chest and even colors your elbows and knees.
“i feel like i’m dreaming,” seungcheol admits out loud before his mouth catches up to his brain.
“you’re not,” you promise, lifting a hand to drag your nails over seungcheol's neck before pausing to press your thumb against his pulse point. you smile devilishly when you feel how fast seungcheol's heart is beating, flicking your tongue out to wet your lips. “you know, you can stare at me all night if you want, but the least you can do is let me suck your cock while you do it.”
“oh.” seungcheol squeezes his hands around your waist, pulling back the slightest bit. he realizes he’s been staring for what is probably an absurdly long amount of time, and once he comes back to himself it’s like everything floods back to him at once— the warmness of your skin under his hands, the way his cock is already sitting hard and heavy between his legs, the front of his joggers damp with precum. “yeah. fuck, come here— get on your knees.”
you let seungcheol pull you up off the mattress by your waist, setting you delicately on the floor where you sit prettily on your heels and fold your hands in your lap, cocking your head and watching as seungcheol arranges himself at the foot of the bed— you're impatient, though, already clawing at the waistband of seungcheol's sweats the second he’s sitting.
his cock springs free with a wet slap against his belly. you lick your lips, eyes widening as you take it in, dripping with awe and reverence and want, the pink flush on your cheeks darkening. you don’t hesitate to push forward, circling your fingers around the thickest part at the base of his cock.
seungcheol gasps, hips jerking up off the bed— it’s the first time you have touched him like this and it’s more of a shock to his system than he realized it would be, grounding him back in reality. It’s the first taste of this is really fucking happening that he’s gotten so far, the feeling of your warm hand wrapped around his length.
“you’re even bigger in person,” you whine. seungcheol realizes with a groan that your small hand can hardly even wrap all the way around his cock, fingers barely meeting even when you stretch them. “god, i want you to fuck me so bad. nothing’s ever big enough for me, even my biggest toys— i like it when it hurts, wanna be split apart.”
“you’re gonna kill me,” seungcheol gasps. he watches as you play with the precum oozing from his slit, pulling your fingers away to let it stretch in thin, sticky strands that you smear around his cockhead, pumping it a few times to aid the slide of your palm.
“just as long as you don’t die before you fuck me we’re good,” you tease and seungcheol swats you on the arm, earning him a giggle.
“thought you were the one who wanted to get the show on the road and suck me off,” seungcheol says, pushing his hips up into your fist. “i wanna see how pretty your lips look stretched out over my cock.”
you hum like you're deliberating; you press your chest to the end of the bed and angles seungcheol's cock down to smear the head over your lips, coating them in milky white. the first press of your velvety lips has seungcheol hissing, cock jerking in your hand and drooling more precum onto your face that dribbles down the corner of your mouth and down your chin.
“i want you to make me,” you say, pouting. when you speak the thin strands of seungcheol's precum stretch obscenely between your lips and seungcheol bites his lip, heart leaping up into his throat. you are so fucking hot he isn’t sure how he’s going to survive tonight. Maybe he won’t. “i told you i want you to snap. i want you to force my head down, fuck my throat, ruin me. i don’t want you to be gentle, i don’t want you to be kind, i want you to fuck me like a slut.”
god, you are a fucking wet dream as a person. and if you want seungcheol to snap, that’s exactly what he’ll do. you deserve to get fucked the way you need, the way you deserve.
he grips a hand in your hair close to the scalp, so hard you hiss at the burn. your eyes roll back in your head and you actually look relaxed, lighter, like seungcheol is finally giving you what you want. you make a pretty, high-pitched sound, letting your lips drop open so seungcheol can force your head down on his cock, pushing you halfway down on it in one motion. it makes you nearly choke but you take seungcheol's cock like a champ, relaxing your throat so you don’t choke, suffocated moans creeping up your throat and vibrating your mouth in a way that has seungcheol gasping and tightening his grip in your hair.
“is this what you wanted?” he feels the strain of your head frantically trying to nod, held still by seungcheol's firm grip on your hair. he pushes you down even deeper, inch by inch, letting you adjust to the slide until your mouth is fully seated on his cock, strawberry lips stretched around the base and a mess of drool and precum dripping messily down your chin and over seungcheol's balls. “to choke on my cock? for me to force you to choke on my cock? to have all your filthy little holes stretched open and stuffed full?”
“mm,” you moan around his cock in frantic agreement, all you can do with your mouth full of cock. you fist your hand in seungcheol's sweats until your knuckles are white. you're straining against seungcheol's hand to try to force your head down even more.
“fucking cockslut,” seungcheol says and you moan, tightening your grip on seungcheol's sweats. “only been sucking me off for a few minutes and you already want me to fuck your throat? is that what you want, baby?”
your eyes flash up to his. they’re pleading.
i want you to snap. i want you to ruin me. i want you to fuck me like a slut.
seungcheol forces your head down until your nose is pressed into the neatly trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock and you full-on gag, squeezing the tip of his cock in a way that makes seungcheol cry out and toss his head back. your mouth is so fucking wet, hot, the back of your throat small and tight. you take it so well, gagging and swallowing down the precum that drips from seungcheol's slit while also controlling the pressure of your lips and sliding the flat of your tongue up and down the shaft to add pressure.
you untangle your hand from seungcheol's sweats and slip it between his legs to cup his balls, gently rolling them over your palm and between your fingers. you're still looking up at seungcheol with your eyes, lashes threaded with tears that are starting to well up and drip down the apples of your cheeks from your throat being fucked. you look so pretty gagging on his cock that seungcheol can’t even believe you're real.
his first orgasm is already coming on quickly so he picks up his pace, chasing release— he knows it’s a little early to come but he wants to take the edge off fast so he can recover quickly and fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked later— he picks up the pace, planting his feet on the floor and working his hips up to fuck your throat faster, holding your head still. the noises filling the room are straight up obscene, the slick sloppy slide of his cock pushing into your pliant mouth and the wet gagging every time he hits the back of your throat— seungcheol's gasps and groans, loud and rhythmic. his hand is fisted in the back of your hair so hard it must hurt but you look so blissed and fucked out like having seungcheol's cock forced down your throat is the only thing you've ever wanted, little moans vibrating through your chest that don’t have a chance to escape with the brutal pace of seungcheol's cock fucking into your mouth.
tears start full-on running down your cheeks, tinged with the slight grey of your mascara. you're a fucking vision.
“gonna c-come,” seungcheol gasps, shuddering. “where do you want me to come, baby? down your throat?”
you pinch seungcheol's thigh to signal him to pull out and seungcheol instantly lets go of your hair, letting you pull himself off with an obscene pop and a huge gasp that sucks all the air out of the room. seungcheol is worried for a second that he’d taken it too far and hurt you but you don’t even miss a beat before you're leaning forward, angling with your mouth open wide under seungcheol's cock and your tongue sticking out.
“on my face,” you gasp. “on my face, hurry, please—”
seungcheol takes himself in his hand and jerks his cock with quick, short strokes, grunting as he feels the heat pool in his groin and then snap— and he’s coming, drenching your tongue and chin in creamy white. you are moaning like you're the one coming, tears still streaming down your face and hands fisted into the hem of your skirt.
“tastes so good,” you say. your voice is cracked and broken from abuse. “god, so fucking good.”
once seungcheol has milked himself of every drop of his release he pushes his softening cock against your lips, smearing it through his own release before dragging it up to the apples of your cheeks, wiping away the grey tear tracks. you wait patiently as he does it, mouth still hanging open with seungcheol's cum pooled on your tongue, eyes wide and unblinking. the second seungcheol shoves his cock back in your mouth you shiver around it, lapping up seungcheol's release tinged with your own tears.
you crawl up onto seungcheol's lap, pushing your finger against his bottom lip just like you had the night you'd shotgunned at the frat party— seungcheol parts them easily and then you are hovering over him, dripping his cum mixed with your tears into his mouth. it’s salty and bitter but tinged with the candied strawberry sweetness of your mouth— it’s so fucking dirty it has seungcheol's cock already stirring back to attention. seungcheol surges up and presses your lips together, tongues meeting messily in the center and twisting around the cum and tears, passing between each other before swallowing it all down.
“are you even real, huh?” seungcheol asks when you pull away, dragging his fingers through the mess on your chin and then dropping his hands to your thighs, pushing up under your skirt and letting the fabric pool around his wrists. “wanna fuck you so bad.”
“please,” you say, squeezing your knees around seungcheol's thighs.
“but first, want you to ride my face until i get hard again.” he strokes his fingers over your thighs, tender, gentle. “gonna make you come riding my tongue and then i’ll fuck you open until you’re screaming on my cock like a messy slut.”
you shiver, already nodding your head and frantically pushing at seungcheol's shoulders to lay him flat on his back. you climb up over his chest, planting your knees on either side of seungcheol's arms. your cunt is only inches from his face like this, giving seungcheol a perfect view up your skirt— you've made a mess of yourself, wetness dripping down from your hole.
“i must have saved a galaxy in my past life,” seungcheol muses out loud, making you giggle. he grips the back of your thighs to pull you up closer to his face and you squeal in surprise, falling forward and planting your palms into the mattress. he slides his hands up the back of your thighs and cups your cheeks, groaning at how the fat, pillowy globes of your ass fit so perfectly in his palms. he spreads your cheeks apart, revealing the same pastel pink dildo that had been nestled between your cunt in the photos you had sent him the other night.
seungcheol flicks at the end of the dildo, ripping a gasp from your chest. “already fingered myself open for you,” you admit. “d-did it on your bed before you came home— thought about everything i wanted you to do to me but didn’t let myself come.”
“what did you think about?” seungcheol asks, pinching the end of the dildo between his fingers and twisting it. you shudder, knees slipping over the sheets.
“thought about this.” you say, panting. “thought about riding y-your face, and then you bending me over and fucking me from behind while you called me a whore.”
“you are a whore,” seungcheol says easily and the reaction you have to it is instant, the way your thighs are rubbing against each other against your skirt and you gasp and shiver, gripping at the sheets. “you know what whores do?”
“w-what?”
“ride my tongue until you come.” seungcheol pulls the dildo an inch out and then plunges it deeper, fucking it into your slicked hole. “if you can do that, then i’ll fuck you just like you imagined.”
you inhale deeply and then exhale shaky. “yeah,” you gasp. “fuck, yeah, okay.”
seungcheol idly plays with the dildo for a few more seconds until you huff in frustration, trying to pull up to force seungcheol to pull the dildo out of your hole. “stop teasing me,” you whine.
“payback.” seungcheol replies cheekily, making you roll your eyes. but he's not about to make either of you wait much longer, not with how long he’s been fantasizing about having you sitting on his face.
your hole flutters around nothing when he finally slides the dildo loose. your wetness oozes from inside of your hole and drips onto seungcheol's bottom lip— it smells sweet so he darts his tongue out to taste it.
you taste like fucking strawberry.
he tosses the dildo aside, shoving his hands up under your skirt to grip your thighs and force you down onto your face. you sink onto his mouth like you're meant to sit there, lining your cunt up with seungcheol's mouth and grinding down on it. the first lick of seungcheol's tongue against your cunt has you gasping and mewling already, a sweet sound that echoes off the walls.
if fucking your throat was a religious experience this is somehow even better; you are so fucking loud in the way you show pleasure, so responsive to everything seungcheol does— he curls his tongue to run his tongue around your hole and then slides in as deep as he can go without aid from his fingers. you tremble, grinding your hips down in small circles, chasing the hot, wet feeling of seungcheol's tongue.
“seungcheol, seungcheol, seungcheol.” you are chanting, so far gone— your fingers scramble for purchase against the bedsheets. “deeper, more, please.”
seungcheol spreads your cheeks wider, rubbing his thumb against your entrance and pushing the tip of his thumb in next to his tongue, opening you up so he can push his tongue deeper inside. you moan desperately, working your hips faster— you grind down on seungcheol's tongue, babbling— yes, just like that, just like that— fuck so wet, so hot, so fucking good.
your knees squeeze seungcheol's head, shaking and trembling like you're trying to crush it. you push up off your hands to sit straight up on seungcheol's face, the letterman jacket falling full off your shoulders and pooling around your hands that you curl into the hem of your skirt as you grind down on seungcheol's tongue and fingers around dry sobs. you're breathtaking from this angle— well, you are breathtaking from any angle but you're particularly striking like this, the sheen of sweat on your bare shoulders and stomach shining under the golden light of seungcheol's lamp.
“wanna come so bad.” you arch your back as seungcheol drags his tongue down your hole, chest rising and falling with long, labored breaths. “can’t come like this, seungcheol, please, need you to fill my cunt—”
seungcheol hooks his fingers around the stockings on your thigh and tugs on it, making you spread your legs wider and sink even further down on his face until seungcheol can hardly even breathe, a silent way of telling you if you want to come then ride my face harder. and you full-on whine, loud and high pitched, thighs shaking violently like you're struggling to even hold yourself upright anymore. you tangle your hands into your own hair and tugs at the strands in frustration, working your hips messier, more frantically— it’s so wet, so messy, your wetness mixed with saliva coating the entire lower half of seungcheol's face.
you're chasing, chasing, chasing — seungcheol presses his thumb deeper, all the way up to the curve of his hand, stroking and massaging your walls as he works his tongue deeper in beside it.
“oh, fuck—” you suddenly shout. “i’m— i’m right there. right there— please, please, i just need a little more, just a little more — something, anything.” you're babbling, rhythm faltering in your panic, your desperation to get off. you curl your hands in seungcheol's hair and forces his head up as you fuck down onto his face, gasping, pleading, messy sobbing—
and then finally you're coming with a shout, back arching in a curve that looks almost painful, cunt spurting white that hits your skirt and drips down onto seungcheol's face. your bitten lips are open in a silent scream, eyes screwed shut, hole clenching around seungcheol's tongue as you ride it out, babbling a mixture of seungcheol's name mixed with curses.
seungcheol lets you come down before he folds your legs back to push you off his face, tossing you back on the bed in a way that makes you bounce, eyes post-orgasm blissed and hazy. seungcheol's been ready for round two for what feels like forever, cock hard and heavy between his legs. you press your thighs together, smearing the mess of saliva and cum between them, watching as seungcheol reaches down to pump his cock a few times.
“oh,” you say, words slurred. you light up suddenly when you realize what’s happening, eyeing seungcheol's cock with interest. “finally gonna fuck me?”
seungcheol doesn’t even answer, just climbs over your body and parts your legs with his knee, shoving your skirt up over your thighs. he gathers some of the mess dripping from your hole and uses it to slick himself up, lining his hips up and pressing his cockhead against your puffy, swollen entrance.
you squirm, already trying to fuck yourself down on seungcheol's cock the second you feel him press up against you— seungcheol is fucking baffled at how insatiable you are, already desperate to get fucked not even two minutes after you had just come— you're babbling again already, fuck me, fuck me, god I’ve been wanting this so bad, fill me up
seungcheol pushes all the way in to the hilt in one swift motion— your entire body tenses from the stretch, a line appearing between your eyebrows and your abdomen tensing from the burn— seungcheol waits a second to let you adjust, moving his hips in smooth circles to help you get used to the stretch.
“god, you’re so fucking big, fill me up so good — ah, no one has ever filled me like this before—” you gasp. “move, please, fuck me.”
seungcheol pulls out slowly and then slams back in with the lewd slap of his balls against your ass. you cry out, digging your nails into seungcheol's sweat-slicked shoulders to hold yourself steady so seungcheol can pick up the pace, fucking into you over and over, each ripping a string of pretty sounds and swears from your mouth, like music to seungcheol's ears.
“you’re so fucking tight around my cock,” seungcheol groans. “fucking incredible, how are you even real.”
he pushes his hands to the back of your thighs and practically folds you in half, using the stockings around your thigh to hold your ass up off the bed to fuck even deeper. he can tell when he angles his hips just right and hits your weak spot because you start full-on squealing, eyes rolling into the back of your head and fingers twisting into the bedsheets so hard you rip them off the corners of the mattress.
“feel so full,” your voice sounds hazy, like you're on another planet. “j-just a little more and i’m gonna— fuck, gonna come again—”
“already?” seungcheol asks, picking up the pace until he’s fucking into you almost brutally, hitting your spot full-on with every slam of his hips. “you really are a fucking slut, already came on my tongue and now my cock— how greedy are you? how many times are you gonna come before you’re fucking satisfied?”
you toss your head back when seungcheol slams into you particularly hard, pushing you halfway up the bed; you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries but seungcheol growls, ripping it away and pinning it over your head
“let me hear every noise i fuck out of you,”
“s-seungcheol can you please— can you—”
“can i?” seungcheol is prepared to do whatever the fuck you want at this point. anything.
“hit me,” you gasp quickly, as if you're embarrassed to even breathe the words to life. “fucking— please. slap me, i’m so so so close, fucking slap me—”
seungcheol hesitates for a second but he sees the look in your eyes, so desperate, pleading, needing it— he draws his hand back and slaps you full on the cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make you gasp, eyes flying wide.
“like that?”
“n-no, harder.” you are squirming as you whine. “hit me harder. hard enough to leave a mark, make it hurt.”
“alright. okay, ah— fuck, y/n,” seungcheol pants. he brings his hand down again, slapping you hard enough to jerk your face to the side, leaving a faint pink mark on your cheek with a crisp sound that rings out into the room.
“yes!’ your spine goes rigid and your hole clenches around seungcheol's cock. “yes, yes, j-just like that— ‘m so close.”
“still not coming for me? even when i’m slapping you around like a fucking whore?” seungcheol winds his arm back and slaps you again, and again, and you sob as your body goes taut before you start trembling and shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks as you come untouched for the second time, cum flooding from your cunt in thick ropes that shoot up to your chest, covering the hem of seungcheol's jacket and draping over the pleats in your skirt.
your cunt is still wet, puffy and so swollen it looks like it must hurt with how badly it wants to be touched.
seungcheol pulls out before you even finish riding out your orgasm and you panic, scrambling against the sheets. “w-wait, don’t wanna be empty,” you gasp. “put it back, keep fucking me.”
“shh, baby, i’m not done with you yet,” seungcheol promises. he dips his head to press your lips together in a kiss, probably too gentle and tender for all you're doing right now, but even despite everything seungcheol wants you to know you're appreciated, being cared for. “flip over.”
your eyes are shiny when you pull away from the kiss and you nod, rolling over onto your stomach. seungcheol slides off the back of the bed and plants his feet on the ground, pulling you by the calves to the end of the bed and bending you over the edge, pressing a hand down on the small of your back to keep you steady as he slides his cock back inside.
“fuck, look at you,” seungcheol says when he slides in. “came twice already and you’re still greedy for more. insatiable little cumslut.”
he pulls out and slams back in, your sloppy hole sucking him in like you were made to take his cock. you shake from oversensitivity but still take his cock so well, socked toes scrambling against the carpet for purchase but not finding from the way seungcheol is holding you up against the bed. he fucks into your hole, watching the way the hem of the skirt bounces against the thickest part of your ass every time he snaps his hips forward.
"fill me," you gasp, so far gone, drooling onto the bed below. "when are you g-gonna fill me up?”
"soon, baby. you're gonna look so pretty all filled up with my cum," seungcheol says, punctuating his words with harsh slams of his hips that make your ass jiggle. "i'm gonna fill you up so good it spills out of your hole and drips all down your thighs, making you look just like the messy little slut you are."
"oh— fuck, seungcheol," you say weakly. your voice is raspy from overuse but still has the pretty, cheerful lilt to it that it always does. seungcheol bites down on his lip and groans, jerking his hips forward as he slides his hands further up your thighs, under the skirt, letting the fabric pool over his wrists. "s-so big — god, your cock is so perfect, fucking made for me, fucking spoiling me with it."
seungcheol strokes his thumbs over your ass as he fucks into you, mesmerized by how pretty you look underneath him, back curved into a perfect arch, your messy hair damp with sweat and mussed from seungcheol's fingers. "i'll make sure my cock is the only thing you can think about when you get off, how's that sound? gonna fuck you so good, so deep, that i ruin you for anything and anyone else."
"already have," you pant. "n-no one can fuck me like this, only you seungcheol, o-only you, mmh— god, when are you gonna come inside me? i n-need it, i want you to fill me so bad, wanna be full and dripping and warm."
“messy little cumslut,” seungcheol rasps. he slaps you full on the fattest part of your ass and you jerk in surprise before moaning, pressing your forehead down into the mattress. a pretty pink mark in the shape of seungcheol's hand blooms against your skin.
“yeah,” you breathe. “fucking love it, can’t wait to feel you come inside.”
a few more thrusts and seungcheol can feel his release creeping up fast— he digs the pads of his fingers into the meat of your ass, focusing on the sight of the little pleated skirt and the overwhelmed tremble of your legs, and before long he’s coming with a shout, spilling hot and deep into your hole and fucking it into you until you have milked him clean of every drop.
the noises you make as you come are filthy— you're mewling, gasping, begging for more— "please, seungcheol, want more, feels s-so good, so hot, ‘m so full.”
the second seungcheol finishes coming he slips his cock out, earning a whine from you— you're grinding against the mattress, chasing another orgasm with your forehead pressed into the sheets, weakly murmuring seungcheol's name and senseless pleas. seungcheol drops to the ground and spreads your ass, watching the way his cum is already slowly leaking out of your hole, rolling down your inner thigh.
he laps up the drop, tracing the path up to your puffy, abused hole, so messy and wet. you gasp when you feel the first press seungcheol's tongue against your cunt, licking his own release out of you.
"o-oh, seungcheol, that's—" you tremble, grinding your cunt against the mattress. "that's f-filthy, fuck."
seungcheol reaches around your cunt with his fingers, rubbing your cunt slowly as he eats you out, swallowing down every drop of his own cum. your shoulders drop in relief at finally having your neglected cunt touched, fucking into seungcheol's fingers to chase your final orgasm. you come quickly, whimpering weakly as your spent swollen cunt dribbles a pathetic amount of cum onto seungcheol's fingers.
seungcheol pulls himself to his feet and you try to follow suit but the second you stand your knees buckle and you nearly collapse.
“hey, hey, are you okay?” seungcheol asks, catching you around the waist and straightening you up. he gently sets you on the end of the bed but you wince at the pressure on your abused hole, shifting your weight onto your hip instead.
“mm,” you hum in agreement. your eyes are still a little hazy but you don’t look upset, just still far gone. “was so good. thank you.”
seungcheol laughs. “i should be the one thanking you,” he says, settling on the bed next to you. he puts his hand under your thigh to help take some of the pressure off where it hurts. “that was… god, i don’t even have words for it, it was amazing.”
“i was good?” you ask.
“you were perfect.”
you smile, humming contentedly. "i’m tired.”
“why don’t you get cleaned up. i’ll strip the sheets and then we can go to bed, okay? you deserve to get some rest.”
you agree so seungcheol gets to work— he fills the tub in the bathroom and helps ease you into it, filling it with soaps and bath bombs that you pick out yourself (after some mild teasing about why he has such an expansive bath product collection— seungcheol just likes to smell good, okay?) and then he gathers up the filthy clothes and bedsheets and throws them in the wash, grabbing a new set to re-make the bed.
he’s just finished cleaning himself up in the downstairs bathroom and is picking out some clothes from his drawers for you to put on when the bathroom door creaks open and you poke your head out— your skin is scrubbed clean and your hair is damp, a towel wrapped around your body.
“hey,” you say, a little quietly. you seem so much smaller and vulnerable than you usually do and something about it makes warmth flood into seungcheol's chest, stomach fluttering at how domestic it feels for you to be showering in his ensuite. “what are you doing?”
“grabbing you some clothes,” seungcheol says. he gathers up the long-sleeved t-shirt and sweats he’d found and sets them into your arms. “they’ll probably be too big for you, sorry, but they’ll do for now.”
you stare down at them, tongue poked in your cheek. seungcheol can’t help but feel like there’s something wrong and a little wave of anxiety spikes through him, feeling like maybe he did something wrong. had he been too rough with you? had he taken advantage of you somehow? he doesn’t really have much experience with having sex that rough but he knows an important part of it is making sure your partner is taken care of afterward and he wonders if maybe he didn’t do a good job— even though he was planning on cuddling you once you got in bed and making sure you were okay. was he supposed to do it sooner?
you don’t seem to notice his anxiety, dipping back into the bathroom to pull seungcheol's clothes on and re-emerging a minute later, rubbing your damp hair with the towel that was just around your body.
seungcheol is still sort of panicking. “is everything okay?”
“oh, yeah, yeah.” you drape the damp towel over the back of seungcheol's desk chair and then look across the room. “where are my clothes?”
“i threw them in the wash.”
“oh. well, i can come back and get them tomorrow morning, then, i’ll be staying on campus for a few more days.”
seungcheol blinks at you. “you’re leaving?”
you seem taken aback. “yeah?”
“oh.”
you cock your head to the side. “you were acting like i was acting weird but i'm pretty sure you’re the one who’s actually acting weird. what’s wrong?”
“i just uh.” seungcheol pauses. he wonders if you staying the night was a ridiculous expectation. after all, your relationship up until now has been nothing but the promise of sex, definitely not talking or cuddling in seungcheol's bed. you will probably think he’s weird and overstepping boundaries for even suggesting it. “i thought maybe you were going to stay.”
you blink a few times. you seem genuinely taken aback, but definitely not upset. a range of emotions crosses your face but then, finally, a smile curls the corners of your lips.
“you want me to stay?”
“of course i do. we had a great time and i thought we could, uh—”
“cuddle?” you step toward him, your smile curling impossible wider. “talk all night? watch movies?”
seungcheol can feel his cheeks heat up. “actually… yes?”
“huh.” you stop in front of seungcheol, looping your arms over his shoulders. “never pegged you as the romantic type.”
“i’m not? i just, uh.” he swallows down the lump in his throat. “you make me want to be.”
your eyes glitter— you push up on your tiptoes and brush a slight kiss against his lips, mint on your breath. for once you don’t smell like strawberries— you smell like seungcheol. and as much as seungcheol has grown to like the way you taste, the way you smell— he decides he likes it very, very much.
“i think you might make me want to be, too.”
you do spend the night. and then you spend the next night, and the next night after that. it’s amazing how well you both get along when you actually talk instead of dry humping behind the football field, and seungcheol is kinda mad at himself for being so hung up on getting in your pants that he never actually tried to get to know you.
(not that he still doesn't try to get in your pants. the only difference now is that he actually succeeds).
in seungcheol's senior year, his team crushes their rivals in the final game of the season with a landslide victory, earning his name a place in the college football history books and on a contract for a pro team with an offer that makes his head spin.
the best part about the victory, though, is the way you come streaking across the field the moment the game ends, eyes curled with the force of your bright, beaming smile. you leap into seungcheol's arms, crashing your lips together in a kiss that says you did it, you fucking did it, i’m so proud of you.
so yeah, seungcheol might be a little bit of a cliche: captain of the football team dating the head cheerleader. but he doesn’t mind: life is good.
Genre: fluff, est. relationship, wonwoo as a dad.
wc: 1.8k
a/n: i so love dad! svt :)
divider credits to @pixopix
the door to the toy store opens with a bell, and the sound of tiny foot steps running fast echoes through the silence. behind the counter, the staff smiles when they see the little fluff ball running towards the racks.
"hello hyunwoo." the old lady says, walking up towards the little boy, dressed in a dinosaur hoodie. wonwoo walks in not far behind, carrying his two year old daughter, byul. she is wearing a glittery coat, and her braids are visible from under the furry cap she's been forced to wear.
hyunwoo, looks at the staff shyly, as he stands behind wonwoo, tiny hands holding to his coat. wonwoo puts his hand out for hyunwoo, gently tugging him forward. "hyunwoo-ah, what do we do when someone says hello to us?" he asks, looking at his son.
"hello auntie." hyunwoo bows down, hands folded neatly infront of him. he looks up at the staff. the old lady chuckles at him. "aigoo, such a well mannered kid." she says, as she looks up at wonwoo.
byul who has been seeing the whole exchange, waves her tiny hands at her. "hewoo" her voice is soft but sure, eyes shining brightly as she smiles at the staff lady. byul is the confident kid, while hyunwoo takes after his father, the quiet and shy one.
"and what made these angels come to our shop today?" the old lady asks. "get toys!!" byul states excitedly, as she giggles while looking at her father.
hyunwoo smiles at his sister, as he tugs his father's hand towards the toy racks. byul tugs his shoulder, "appa, down." she says, as wonwoo lets her down on the polished floors as she runs behind her brother. her little shoes make squeaky noices against the floor.
"what are you going to get hyunwoo?" wonwoo asks pushing his glasses on his nose, as he crouches besides his son. byul is standing right next to him, her eyes are big and curious as she looks at the racks and racks of toys.
"i want to get everything." hyunwoo's mouth is wide open, as he looks at all the flashy cars lining up the shelves. wonwoo chuckles adjusting hyunwoo's cap. "mama said you can get two toys." then he leans in, his tone conspiratory next to hyunwoo's ear. "but appa will let you get four toys, whichever ones you want." his eyes hold mischief, as he winks at his son.
hyunwoo's eyes brighten as a grin forms on his face. "really?" he asks, "would mama get mad?" he's looking at wonwoo with hope in his eyes. wonwoo smiles, "i'll talk to mama, you can get two more toys." he says, as he pats his shoulder. hyunwoo grins, running towards an adjacent shelf as he looks at the toys stacked there.
wonwoo gets up, frowning because byul isn't at his side. he looks around, and a few steps away, byul is sitting with a teddy on the floor, as she reaches out to grab a few more teddies on the bottom shelf. but before she can reach for them, wonwoo is by her side, picking her and the teddy bear up.
"byul-ah." wonwoo says, as she reaches to grab the teddy from his hands. byul looks up at him, pouting because the teddy bear is too big for her to handle. wonwoo chuckles at her expression, adjusting her on his arms. "baby we are not supposed to put the toys on the floor, they will get dirty." he tells her gently. byul nods in understanding, "m-kayy." she says, already distracted by the fur on wonwoo's coat. wonwoo smiles, carrying her to where hyunwoo stands.
"chose your toys, big boy?" he asks, as the little boy looks up at him. he's holding two lego sets. hyunwoo holds them out to wonwoo. "can i get these appa?" he asks his father.
"of course, whatever you want." wonwoo tells him. hyunwoo nods his head. "but where do i put these?" he's looking up at him, the lego sets are too big for him to carry. wonwoo gestures towards the trolley next to them.
"i didn't see you bring this!" hyunwoo's eyes light up as he rushes towards the cart. "can i sit on this?" his eyes are hopeful as he turns back to his father. wonwoo hums, walking towards his son. he sets byul and her teddy bear down, hyunwoo puts his lego sets in the cart, before he is holding his arms up. hyunwoo grins as wonwoo picks him up.
"you're getting heavy." wonwoo says as he puts him next to byul, who giggles as hyunwoo puts his arms behind her. wonwoo smiles at them, "you didnt get four toys though?" he asks hyunwoo, who looks up, eyes getting a little wide. "i got excited seeing the legos, i forgot about it. can i get out?" he asks his father.
wonwoo chuckles, as he picks him up, getting him out, but byul wants to follow her brother too. "appa, out.' she says, and wonwoo smiles, setting her down too, as she folows her brother.
Hyunwoo holds her hands tightly, as they both walk down the shelves stacked with toys. Hyunwoo picks up a stuffed dinosaur, and holds it to his father, "appa look!" he says, this one looks like my jacket. wonwoo hums, "it looks cute, do you want it?" hyunwoo nods, putting it in the cart, all the while he is holding byul who is getting visibly tired, but still stubborn as she walks around holding her brother's hands.
"i still have to get one more toy" hyunwoo says, as wonwoo adjusts, byul's cap, she frowns, about to take her cap off, but he's already tied its strings under her chin. "got you naughty princess." wonwoo smiles at her frown, as she looks accusingly at her father, she pouts then, turning towards her brother, again holding his hands, as hyunwoo gives her a kiss.
"can we get this for mama?' hyunwoo asks, looking at at wonwoo. "i've got the toys i want." he says, as he holds up a little whale plushie. "mama says she likes cute things."
wonwoo smiles at his little boy, "you sure? do you not want anything for yourself?" he asks, but hyunwoo shakes his head smiling at him, as he puts the plushies to the cart.
byul has found attention in a medium sized doll on the same rack, as she brings it to her father. "appa this." she says, as she holds it out to him, before she is running away again. wonwoo smiles, that even if she is little, she still knows that wonwoo will get her whatever she wants. he loves being a safe space for his family.
"alright champ, should we go now?" he asks his son, who nods, before he is running behind byul and holding her hands. "byul-ah, dont run like that, you will get lost!" he tells her. even if the shop is small and secure, hyunwoo has always been extra protective of his sister.
wonwoo chuckles, taking his phone out as he takes a picture of them both. his son was just like him, always caring for everyone. wonwoo finds this really sweet.
they check out after paying at the counter. wonwoo holds the shopping bags, as hyunwoo and byul walk infront of him. hyunwoo is walking at a slightly slower pace, holding his sisters hands. byul is busy babbling randomly to him, and hyunwoo is listening to her, both of them talking about getting home to show you what they bought.
-------
you have just finished making dinner when the front door of the house opens, and in comes hyunwoo, running fast, as byul giggles following him, the sound of shoes squeaking echo through the wide hallway.
"MAMA WE'RE BACK." hyunwoo says, as he rushes to you, hugging your legs, byul follows behind, "MAMA UPPP" she says, as you lean in, ruffling hyunwoo's hair, giving him a kiss, before picking up byul, kissing her soft cheeks.
"did my babies have fun?" you ask, and hyunwoo hums, "i got you something too!" he says proudly, just as wonwoo enters from the door, holding the bags. you smile as wonwoo walks where you all stand. "Good Evening" he says, leaning in to kiss you, before byul is shifting in your arms, eager to be held by her father.
"hyunwoo is already taking the bags from wonwoo's hands as he tugs your arms. "Mama look at what we bought!" he says, leading you towards the lounge. wonwoo follows behind, holding byul, who is now slightly drowsy. "Easy princess, we have to eat dinner." he says to her softly. byul lets out a sound that sounds like a tiny groan, as she frowns at him, but eventually she starts playing with the necklace dangling across wonwoo's neck.
hyunwoo takes out the lego sets, putting them in your lap. "i got these so i can play with appa." he says, showing them to you and wonwoo. "can we play with these soon?" he asks looking at wonwoo. wonwoo nods, "of course, little man, lets build them on the weekend." he says and hyunwoo nods smiling.
"show me what else you got?" you ask and hyunwoo takes out a dinosaur plushie. "appa said i could get four toys, so i got a plushie. he says, he looks unsure, so you smile at him, pushing his hairs aside from his face.
"it's okay, appa can get you a few extra toys here and there." you say, and wonwoo smirks by your side. "you know i was ready for you to be mad at me." he says. "im actually a very chill mom, thank you very much." you side eye wonwoo, who just bumps his legs with yours.
"…anddd, i got this for you." hyunwoo says, now holding the whale plushie. "it looked cute, and you like cute things." he says, looking proud as he holds it in front of you.
"oh my, sweetheart. this is so nice of you," you say as you take the plushie from his hands. hyunwoo looks proud. "appa said i could get something for myself, but i got this for you!" he says, as you pull him to a hug.
"isn't my baby so sweet." you say as he hugs you back. hyunwoo giggles a that, leaning in to kiss you, followed by a kiss to wonwoo. he then settles between you both.
wonwoo puts an arm around your shoulders, as hyunwoo leans against his arm. your daughter is already snoring as her face is buried in wonwoo's chest. "byul slept before she could show you her toys." hyunwoo says as a little yawn escapes him.
"lets get you to eat dinner, and then you can sleep too." wonwoo says, standing up, as he tries to wake byul for dinner. you grab hyunwoo's hands, as he follows his parents to the dining area. a soft evening wraps up like that.
summary — what happens after you’ve slept with your boyfriend and your ex-boyfriend?
wc — 1.5k
warnings — nsfw. minors dni. smut, pure filth, threesome, double vaginal penetration, size kink, creampie, polyamory, a little surprise at the end ;)
author’s note — this is so short and i’m sorry but i just wanted u guys to have this while i work on the next gyucheol wip which will be a little longer! i think i’m going to make this its own little universe hehe
this is set in the same universe as ‘byob (bring your own boyfriend)’. it is recommended that you read that first as this fic is a continuation of the plot :)
You, Mingyu, and Seungcheol can’t keep your hands off each other.
After that night where they had both ended up in your bed, there were no doubts in you or Mingyu’s minds that you didn’t just want Seungcheol to be an occasional guest; that you wanted him to be part of things forever. There was no denying the chemistry between all three of you anyway, let alone the love that you had for both of them. Choosing one or the other was not an option.
A few days later, you and Mingyu had invited Seungcheol over to talk— to lay everything out on the table. He took some time to think about it, which was understandable. Three-person relationships weren’t something you could jump into. The fact of the matter, however, was that he still loved you too, and he liked Mingyu, and so he showed up again two days later, and two became three.
Since then, the three of you have been going at it like rabbits.
The night had started messy, the way it usually does. The three of you made out for what felt like hours, going back and forth: you with Seungcheol, Seungcheol with Mingyu, Mingyu with you, all in a sloppy exchange of tongues and lips and spit, until someone (you) grew needy enough to snap. Clothes were shed, necks were bitten and marked.
You took Mingyu's cock in your mouth while he took Seungcheol's in his, but that didn't last very long. They're givers, of course, always putting your pleasure first before their own, always doing whatever it took to make you happy, however today they were just too hungry.
That's how you ended up here: your nails are buried in the skin of Seungcheol's toned back, your arms draped over his shoulders as his biceps keep you upright against his warm, damp chest and his fat cock drives in and out of you so ruthlessly that you're losing touch with reality. Behind you, Mingyu's hands squeeze at your thighs, your ass, your hips, all while his own thick length fucks in and out of you in rhythm with Seungcheol's.
You're being handled in every which way, bounced up and down like a mere ragdoll as your men use you to their pleasure. Selfish for once, submitting to their deepest primal desires. You let them. Of course you do. You take pride in the way the tight grip of your cunt makes them toe the line of their self-control.
They grunt and groan, their breaths hot against your skin, their voices blending together in a heavy, crude melody. Their balls smack against you with each thrust, and it's so vigorous that it sends fluids splashing and dripping to the floor.
It should be too much. They're challenging enough to take on their own, but they'd managed to stuff both of their girths inside your poor, weeping pussy (with an unbelievable amount of lube, of course), and the stretch was almost enough to make you pass out at first. It took you a while, but with the help of your boyfriends' soft, cooed praises, the sting of being borderline ripped apart had blurred into a deep fullness unlike anything you had ever felt before.
Now you're on the verge of both climax and insanity while your boyfriends stand up with you in their arms, treating you like a mere fleshlight.
"Doing so good for us, aren't you, princess?" comes Seungcheol's voice, hoarse and a little out of breath, his teeth slightly gritted. He knows how it affects you when he talks to you— when Mingyu does, too— keeping you grounded when he prompts you to reply, yet simultaneously coaxing you closer to your orgasm. "How does it feel?"
"S-so fucking full," you manage in a whimper. It's a wonder how you can still speak, your head empty with nothing but the thought of cock.
"But it feels good, right, baby?" Mingyu rasps behind you, mouthing at your neck with those fangs you love so much, his hands squeezing at your thighs.
"Yes!" you cry, your head falling back against Mingyu's shoulder. "I love it."
"Good girl," Seungcheol groans, bouncing you up and down with a little more vigour now. "Gyu, you close?"
"Been close the whole time, hyung," Mingyu replies, his voice strained with what you now recognise as discipline. "My boyfriend's cock rubbing against mine inside our tight little girlfriend… I almost busted immediately."
Seungcheol barks out a breathless laugh while you whine, your cunt clenching around them both at the picture Mingyu paints.
"Please do it… Want all of it," you pant, reaching your hand backwards to grab Mingyu's neck, pulling his mouth to yours in a hard, sloppy kiss. It's hard to not get lost in the taste of him, your tongues tangling in a wet, hot dance while Seungcheol groans at the sight.
"You want our cum, baby?" he rasps, his hand reaching for your face, pulling you away from Mingyu with a firm hand forcing you to stare at him. There's still a lingering jealousy in his actions sometimes. You expected it— Choi Seungcheol is possessive to his core. Though it's not like you and Mingyu are all that innocent either.
"So fucking bad," you cry, your words slurring together now.
"Cum for us first, pretty girl, then we'll give you what you want, yeah?" Seungcheol says. How chivalrous.
You give a weak whimper, neither in protest or agreement, while Mingyu moans out: "hyung… I don't know if I can hold out."
"Yeah, you can," Seungcheol coos with soft encouragement in his voice, but there's a glimmer of something a little darker in it— a flash of the authoritativeness that lives deep inside in him— and that's all it takes to quell Mingyu's argument.
The younger man bites down on his bottom lip hard, channelling every drop of discipline he's ever learned into staving off his orgasm. He tries not to think about how fucking tight it is, shifts all of his focus to grinding his cock against that sweet spot that'll have you falling apart as soon as possible.
It only takes another few moments, of course, as the deep fullness of having your pussy stuffed with two cocks becomes too much to handle and your orgasm comes hurtling towards you. You cry out, loud and depraved, curses spilling from your lips as your body becomes utterly taut with white hot pleasure.
Seungcheol and Mingyu hold you in their arms as you fall apart, their hips hardly letting up their relentless, animalistic thrusts, your walls clamping down around them so harshly that it's impossible for them not to cum right after.
And Mingyu is always a little louder when he cums, more whiny and depraved. Seungcheol whines too, only he's a little more reserved, but not out of timidness. Rather, he is usually too breathless. He runs out of stamina quicker. Doesn't have the energy to moan by the time he's finishing, too spent and exhausted from the weight of giving.
They fill you up until you're thoroughly, positively stuffed. Until it oozes out and ruins the sheets below, but even then, your men only watch, grinning like insatiably hungry dogs.
Your period is late. It shouldn't be late. It's never late.
It's just stress, you tell yourself. You're not eating right. Maybe you got your menopause early.
It wouldn't hurt to check though, you think. Just in case, right?
Mingyu and Seungcheol are at the gym together, so you tuck yourself away in the bathroom, and you wait. You're too anxious to look away from the stick as you wait, recalling every time you had taken your pill, assuring yourself that you're far too meticulous and careful to slip up.
Your boyfriends come home right as you let yourself relax with a sigh because you're right— there's only one line.
What you don't expect is for them to burst into the bathroom, glossy with sweat, looking pumped up in their matching tight shirts, and wearing matching little devious grins.
"Hi, baby," says Seungcheol. "We were hoping you'd shower with us."
Mingyu spots it on the counter first, but he's always been a little more attentive.
"What's that?" he asks, as if he doesn't know.
You scramble to hold it up to them. "It's false!" you insist, stifling a laugh as they blink almost simultaneously. "My period was late, so I did it just in case."
Mingyu's brows furrow as he takes the stick from your hand and holds it up close to his eyes. You want to remind him that you've… peed on it, but then he speaks. "There are two lines."
"Gyu, you're seeing things," you say, rolling your eyes as you grab it back out of his hand and look at it again, a little closer this time, and your heart drops to the floor.
thank you for reading! feedback, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated :)
— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment.
— WC: 4.6k
— WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.
here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:
you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.
joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.
but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.
which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:
“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”
“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.
“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.
you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.
“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”
which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.
you unlock the door, push it open,
and immediately wish you hadn’t.
seungcheol. on the couch. fisting his cock.
your brain short-circuits. like, full shutdown, blue screen, cease all functioning mode.
the man is spread out—legs wide, head tipped back, theres a drop of sweat that drips from his neck aand land in the middle of his chest. hes exposing his toned abs that clench with every up and down of his hand. and his cock is huge. thick from the base to the top and flushed deep red at the tip, veins prominent as his fist works over it.
he’s so lost in it that he doesn’t even register your presence at first, not until he finally cracks his eyes open and sees you standing there, frozen stunned into silence.
the next few seconds happen in slow motion.
his eyes widen. his entire body stiffens. his hand stops.
“WHAT THE FUCK—”
seungcheol scrambles to cover himself, reaching for the nearest thing—which, unfortunately for him, is a shirt that does nothing to hide the absolute tent he’s pitching. his face goes red, splotchy from the neck up, and he looks so flustered that for a split second, you almost feel bad.
“why the fuck are you here?!” he practically barks at you, voice ragged from whatever the fuck he was doing before you ruined his life.
you blink, still processing the image that’s now burned into your brain for eternity. “uh. joshua?”
“what about joshua?!”
“he… he needed a document.”
seungcheol lets out a sound that is so frustrated, so exasperated, that it almost doesn’t register as human. “and you didn’t think to knock?!”
“why would i knock?! i didn’t think anyone would be jerking off in the living room like a fucking pervert—”
“IT’S MY APARTMENT.”
“IT’S JOSHUA’S TOO.”
“HE’S NOT HERE.”
“WELL, NEITHER AM I, NOW.” you turn on your heel, hand reaching for the doorknob. “i’ll just get the doc later—”
but before you can escape, he rasps, “don’t you dare tell joshua about this.”
you pause. smirk. oh, this is fun.
back still facing him, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob. you should leave. should pretend none of this ever happened. but something—some sick, wrong part of you—doesn’t want to.
so you turn. lean back against the door. cross your arms.
“what?” he snaps, shifting on the couch, the shirt still pitifully draped over his lap.
you tilt your head, dragging your gaze slowly down his body—his hard nipples, the taut muscles in his arms, the way his thighs tense like he’s fighting the urge to close them. you can see the way he twitches under the shirt.
“you’re still hard,” you note, your voice syrupy sweet, but your eyes gleam meanly.
seungcheol tenses. “so?”
“so… you’re mad at me for walking in,” you say, cocking a brow, “but you’re still hard as fuck.”
he grits his teeth, but his silence is loud as hell.
so you take a step forward. just one.
his breath hitches.
“cheol.” you coo at him. “you sure you hate me?”
he glares, but it’s weaker now, faltering under your scrutiny. you can see it—the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his pulse jumps in his throat, the way he’s not telling you to stop.
so you take another step.
and another.
until you’re standing right in front of him, the shirt the only barrier between his cock and your eyes.
his jaw tightens. “don’t.”
“don’t what?” you murmur, reaching forward to trace your fingers over his wrist—the one that was just wrapped around his cock. “don’t call you out? don’t get closer? don’t—”
in a flash, he grabs your wrist, yanking you down.
you gasp as you land on his lap, his hands firm on your hips, his cock pressing against your ass through the thin barrier of the shirt and your clothes.
his lips are right by your ear when he growls, “don’t fucking test me.”
you shiver, but you’re not scared, you’re thrilled.
so you shift, pressing back against him, and smirk when he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.
“or what?” you whisper.
his grip tightens. “you really wanna find out?”
your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.
“yeah,” you breathe, lips brushing his jaw. “i do.”
he snaps.
the shirt under you is gone.
his mouth crashes into yours, hot and angry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his palms. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue prying your mouth open, swallowing the gasp you let out when his fingers dig into your hips.
you grind down, moaning into his mouth when you feel just how fucking thick he is, leaking against your skirt.
his hands are rough when he yanks your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist with no intention of letting it fall back down. you barely have a second to breathe before his fingers push past your thighs, finding the front of your panties hooking his thumb into the damp fabric and pulling it to the side.
the rush of cold air makes you gasp, thighs trying to snap shut, but his thighs pins them open. and maybe, he has a shred of decency in him, because he lets out a low breath and murmurs, “this is gonna be rough.”
no warning. just that.
you should stop him. you should tell him to go slow, to prep you, to at least spit on it—but you don’t, you need to feel this big cock stretching you until every single thought inside your head gets completely erased.
there’s no lube, no prep besides the mess between your thighs, just the torturous process of sinking down.
seungcheol watches all of it. watches the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter, how your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders the lower you go. he’s leaning back against the couch, one hand gripping the plush of your ass, the other wrapped around his base, guiding you onto him like you’re something delicate. like he’s trying to help.
but he’s not.
because he knows what he’s doing when he taps his cockhead against your clit first, dragging the tip through your slick, coaxing out little whimpers that make him smirk. he knows what he’s doing when he presses up, just the tip slipping inside, barely enough to be satisfying but more than enough to make your thighs twitch.
your breath catches in your throat, your whole body twitching up as you take the next inch too fast. your brain is empty, your body is working on instinct, thighs shaking as you brace yourself against him, trying—failing—to push down further.
and he sees it. sees how you’re struggling, sees how your muscles twitch like you’re about to give out, sees how you want to take it but your body is fighting the stretch.
so he helps.
his hands clamp down on your waist.
and then he slams you down.
the sound that leaves your throat is so ruined that he cant help but feel a bit of compassion.
because suddenly you’re full. suddenly you’re sitting completely in his lap, completely engulfed in him, your thighs flush against his, his cock buried so fucking deep that you can feel it pressing up against every nerve inside you.
but when you try to move, try to lift yourself even an inch—nothing.
your thighs won’t cooperate. your muscles won’t listen.
you can’t move.
“oh?” seungcheol tilts his head, smug grin curling at his lips as he grinds up, watching the way your mouth falls open at the sensation.
“too big for you, baby?”
you whimper.
“thought so.”
and then he takes control, because you can’t move—so he does it for you. his hands lift you effortlessly, dragging your hips up before slamming you back down, setting the pace, forcing your body to take what it’s given.
and you can’t think straight anymore. every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every time he slams you down it punches little whimpers from your throat that only make him hungrier.
“awww… thought you were so tough. but you can’t even fuck yourself on my cock, huh?”
you cry out, body giving up, melting against his chest as you desperately try to follow his rhythm, hips twitching with little, pathetic attempts to keep up. your body isn’t even yours anymore—just a toy, something for seungcheol to use, something he’s breaking in with every brutal roll of his hips.
his fingers dig into your waist, gripping you so tight it hurts, but the pleasure drowns it out. you’re so deep into it, into him, that every ounce of shame has left your body, every shred of dignity gone. because you can’t do anything but take it, can’t do anything but let him use you like you were made for this.
he tilts his head, watching you fall apart, watching how your thighs tremble with every slap of his hips against yours.
“damn,” he laughs, licking his lips, voice mocking. “you’re making such a fucking mess of yourself.”
you whimper, forehead pressing against his collarbone.
and then he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“mm-mm, don’t hide now,” he says, smirking. “be a good girl and let me see that dumb little face while i ruin you.”
a sob rips from your throat, high-pitched and wrecked.
he groans, grinding up into you.
“fuck. bet the neighbors can hear you, huh? joshua’s gonna be so fucking embarrassed when he gets a noise complaint for his dumb little best friend getting dicked down like a whore.”
your whole body jerks, a whimper escaping your lips at the humiliation, the filth dripping from his tongue.
and he sees it.
his grin turns cruel.
“oh, you like that?” he taunts, thrusting up so deep your back arches. “you like knowing that you’re loud enough to make it everyone’s fucking problem? that you’re such a good little fucktoy for me that i can’t even keep you quiet?”
you nod, because you can’t lie. his fingers tighten around your jaw, his lips brushing against yours as he coos.
“poor little thing.”
he thrusts up again, so hard, so deep that your whole body bounces, hands scrambling against his chest, voice cracking in a choked-out sob.
and he moans, deep and satisfied, because you’re so fucking perfect for him. because your body is his to use, to mold, to ruin.
“joshua’s gonna kill me c-cheol.”
his hips snap up again, knocking the breath from your lungs.
“but you’ll tell him it was worth it, won’t you, baby?”
he smooths one over your back, pressing down so your tits rub against his burning skin, while the other stays firm on your hip, keeping you still. your body jerks with every pulse of his cock inside you, twitching as you flutter around him, so overstimulated you can’t tell where the pleasure starts or ends.
“s-seungcheol—” his name is nothing but a broken cry, muffled against his neck, but he’s relentless. he doesn’t even let you finish, just shifts his knees slightly and thrusts up into you with all the power in his core.
“fuck,” he hisses when you clamp down, crying out into his skin, and he wraps an arm fully around you to hold you up. “shh, baby, you’re being so loud.”
his hand snakes up your back, fingers tangling into your hair, forcing you to lift your head. you meet his gaze, and it knocks the breath from your lungs. he looks fucked, mouth parted, sweat dripping from his hairline, chest heaving, but he still manages to look at you like he’s about to devour you whole.
“c’mon,” he coos, tilting his head, his grip tightening just enough to make your scalp tingle. “tell me it was worth it. tell me how good my cock is.”
he punctuates it with a sharp snap of his hips and you keen, trying to lift yourself, trying to relieve some of the intensity, but your thighs betray you. seungcheol laughs, breathless but smug, and his fingers press bruises into your skin as he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing.
“see? can’t even move, huh? my poor baby,” he murmurs, voice syrupy sweet, his free hand cupping your cheek now. “you’re just gonna sit here and take it like the perfect fucktoy you are.”
heat prickles at your skin at the words, your brain too fogged up to be embarrassed, too fucked out to do anything but let him guide you. he rocks you against him, making sure you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, rubbing at all the right places, pressing into you deeper than you thought was even possible.
“you take me so well, baby,” he praises, leaning in to press his lips against yours, just enough to tease. “so fuckin’ tight, so warm—fucking heaven.”
his hand slides between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over it. the sensation makes your thighs twitch, your nails dig into his back, a fresh wave of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.
“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing your jaw now, your temple. his fingers on your clit work in time with the slow, torturous grind of his hips. “i got you, yeah? you gonna cum for me? hm?”
he kisses you full on the mouth when you sob, swallowing the sound like he wants to keep it forever. and then he speeds up just a little, rolling your clit with more pressure, meeting every rut of your hips with a firm thrust up.
you shatter.
your whole body seizes, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as you clamp down so tight on him that it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. he groans, long and low, holding you so tight against him that you can feel every pulse of his cum inside you, hot and deep. his hips jerk once, twice more before he stills, forehead pressed against yours as you both gasp for air.
it’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds are the distant hum of the city outside the window, and the soft squelch when he finally shifts, making you both moan.
your body trembles like a leaf caught in the wind, and seungcheol drinks it in, the heat of your overstimulated form twitching against his chest as he presses slow, lingering kisses into the curve of your neck. his lips move down, sucking at the pulse point that hammers beneath your skin. your breath stutters. his fingers, nails just barely grazing, trail down the arch of your spine, featherlight but enough to make you shiver. you barely even realize you’re moving, the last bit of strength in your boneless limbs used to weakly push yourself up, to let his cock slip free from where it’s buried inside you.
the second it leaves you, your body gives out. you collapse right into his chest, heavier than before, spent and trembling, the exhaustion hitting all at once. you can’t even pretend to be embarrassed about it. you just sigh, your lips brushing the base of his throat as you settle against him, body limp.
seungcheol holds you steady with both hands, like he’s afraid you might melt right into the couch and disappear. his broad palm cradles the back of your head, fingers splaying across your scalp, scratching at your roots. he keeps the other hand wrapped around your waist, thumb stroking absentmindedly against your ribs. the tension in his body hasn’t left yet. his shoulders are still tight. you know him well enough to know what’s coming before he even says it.
“you good?”
you hum in response, nuzzling into his chest as your fingers curl weakly against his pecs. “just a little sore.”
he exhales through his nose. shifts beneath you. you can feel his fingers flex where they rest on your waist, like he wants to squeeze but holds himself back. then, with zero effort, he grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, just enough to force you to look at him. your lids are heavy, half-lidded, dazed, and fuck, that shouldn’t make him feel so possessive, but it does.
his thumb sweeps across your cheek, his jaw tensing. “shit. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes scanning over your features like he’s searching for anything more than just exhaustion. “lemme take care of you, hm?”
you don’t have it in you to resist, don’t even want to. you let him move you, let him handle you like you weigh nothing as he lifts you from his lap and shifts you onto the couch, laying you down as if you’re something delicate. and maybe you are, now, after the way he ruined you. maybe that’s why you don’t fight him when he presses your thighs apart, watching as they just fall open on their own, spread wide like a doll.
you don’t have the strength to do much else than whimper softly as his thumbs spread you further, gaze locked onto your swollen cunt, still so slick from where he fucked you. his jaw clenches.
you don’t even get a warning before he moves in, before his hands grip your thighs to keep them open as he dives between them, mouth sealing over your clit in one slow stroke of his tongue.
you jolt, a weak little gasp punching from your lungs. your fingers barely find the energy to tangle into his hair, and the grip is nowhere near as firm as it usually is, but he groans anyway. whether it’s from the feeling of your grip or from the way you instantly react to him, you don’t know. but he doesn’t stop.
his tongue moves slow, warm and so fucking wet as he licks broad, flat strokes over your sensitive flesh, working you open again with patience. he isn’t trying to overstimulate, isn’t trying to get you off again—though you can already tell it wouldn’t take much. his focus is entirely on easing the ache, on massaging every tender inch of you with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.
“feels good?” his voice is muffled against you, but it vibrates in just the right way.
you nod, breath hitching when he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue rolling it in slow circles. your body twitches, heat curling at the base of your spine. “cheol…”
he moans against you, and presses you down harder against his face. your hips jump, an embarrassing whimper breaking free as his tongue dips lower, tracing around your entrance before dragging back up, collecting every bit of slick along the way.
you whine, fingers curling tighter in his hair. he doesn’t tease. doesn’t prolong it. just keeps his pace slow and steady, gentle enough to soothe, firm enough to keep you on the edge of something, even if you’re too sensitive to chase it. and if the way he’s grinding his hips into the couch tells you anything—it’s that he’s just as affected as you are.
he’s not eating you out to get himself off, but fuck if it isn’t working.
the obscene sounds of his mouth working between your thighs filling the entire apartment, mixing in with your breathless moans and the way he groans right into your cunt. you don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed about the way your cum is smeared all over his chin, his jaw, his cheeks—how it drips down onto the couch below with every intentional roll of his tongue against your entrance.
his tongue works in circles, pressing flat to your hole before dragging up again, tasting every bit of your arousal as it gushes out onto his lips. his mouth is open the entire time, tongue rolling and flicking, nose nudging against your clit as he angles his head lower. he flattens his tongue, groaning as he drags it up through your folds before plunging it into you, so messy that you swear you see white behind your eyelids.
your back arches, chest rising in sharp, hiccupped gasps, every single nerve in your body on flames. your thighs twitch in his grasp, and he squeezes them tighter, keeping you spread open just for him. his hands slide up, one wrapping firmly around your waist, keeping you pinned in place, while the other travels up, up—his fingers finding the stiff peaks of your nipples.
your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as he rolls one between his fingertips, twisting just enough to make your eyes roll. you swear you hear him chuckle against you, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
“breathe,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your clit before sucking it between his teeth, tongue rolling in lazy, teasing circles on the swollen bud. “breathe for me, baby.”
you try. you really do. but the way his mouth moves, the way his fingers tweak and pull, it’s too much. you’re spiraling. you feel another orgasm creeping up so fast it steals the air right out of your lungs.
he sees it. he knows.
his grip tightens on your thigh, his tongue flicking faster, working you open as his free hand continues to play with your tits, kneading the soft flesh, fingers rolling your nipples in rhythm with the lazy grind of his tongue against your clit.
your moans turn high-pitched, desperate. your body twists beneath him, unable to keep still as the pleasure builds, climbing higher and higher.
but then—a whimper.
not from you.
from him.
you force your heavy lids open, head lolling to the side as you try to focus on him. and fuck, the sight that greets you is almost enough to make you cum then and there.
seungcheol is rutting against the couch. grinding, fucking humping it like a damn dog, his hips rolling in slow thrusts, his rock-hard cock straining against his stomach, smearing precum all over his abs and the fabric beneath him.
he whimpers again, this time louder, his brows furrowed, his breath coming in short, uneven pants.
“fuck,” he groans, mouth still pressed against you, voice muffled by the way his tongue keeps working you over. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his chin soaked. his eyes are dark, glassy, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “can’t—fuck, i can’t stop. you taste too good.”
your chest tightens, a desperate, aching cry slipping from your lips as you clutch at his hair, thighs twitching in his grasp. “cheol—gonna—gonna cum, oh my god—”
he moans, actually fucking moans, his hips grinding down harder against the couch as he redoubles his efforts, tongue circling your clit in precise, teasing flicks, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to send you over the edge.
your body locks up. your back arches. your mouth falls open, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, all-consuming.
seungcheol doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow down. he works you through it like it’s his mission, licking you clean, his tongue rolling over your entrance, collecting every last drop as your body trembles violently beneath him.
your chest heaves, your vision blurring, but even through the haze, you can feel him still grinding against the couch, still so fucking hard and desperate, all because of you.
your brain is slow. dial-up connection slow. everything feels like it’s underwater, your body floating somewhere between consciousness and the best orgasm-induced coma of your life. it’s warm, so warm, like your body is still riding out the fever of your high, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth, throat dry, muscles heavy like they’re full of sand.
you don’t even remember when it happened—when you blacked out, when you got moved. just flashes of cool wipes dragging over your skin, a damp cloth pressed between your thighs, seungcheol’s hands gentle, careful, murmuring something you were too gone to comprehend. like déjà vu, like something out of a dream.
but you’re awake now. sort of. and you’re in his bed.
the sheets are soft, cool against your fevered skin, and it feels so good that you can’t help the tired, pleased moan that slips past your lips, involuntary, barely conscious.
but it’s enough to make him look at you.
you blink, vision still a little hazy, but yeah, that’s definitely seungcheol, sitting at his desk, dressed in a loose shirt and sweats, hair damp, probably from a shower. there’s a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes are soft as they sweep over you, taking in the way you’re still half-buried in his sheets, limbs heavy, body relaxed.
then it hits you.
the documents.
joshua.
fuck.
your eyes widen, and you jolt up too fast, regretting it immediately when the soreness between your thighs protests, a sharp ache shooting up your spine. “fuck—”
seungcheol’s already up, one hand pressing to your shoulder, guiding you back down before you can do any more damage. “hey, hey, relax. you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“the—documents,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut again as the exhaustion creeps back in. “joshua.”
he chuckles, and you open your eyes just in time to see him shaking a small stack of papers in his hand. “yeah, yeah. i got it. sent them over while you were passed out.”
you frown, groggy. “i was supposed to send them.”
“and joshua needs to get used to me handling shit for you,” he says, grinning as he sets the papers down. “besides, he’d probably prefer not to get another noise complaint under his name.”
your face heats up instantly. “oh my god.”
“mhmm,” seungcheol hums, tilting his head. “wanna know how loud you were?”
“no.”
he laughs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek. “then go back to sleep, baby.”
you glare at him. or, at least, you try to. it’s weak, and he knows it, because all it takes is one more stroke of his thumb before your eyes flutter shut again, body sinking further into his bed.
yeah. you can fight him about the joshua thing later. maybe. probably not.
jeonghan is a cheater when it comes to mario kart, and you’re rightfully a sore loser
❛ content | yoon jeonghan x female reader | fluff, gamerbf!jeonghan, banter, video games
you plopped yourself onto the couch, cross-legged with your wheel gripped tightly in your hands. as far away from him as you could possibly be, because you weren’t falling for it this time. not after the last four weekends.
jeonghan was the biggest cheater you knew, especially when it came to mario kart. every game was full of not-so-subtle nudges at your arm so your character would get knocked off the track, and him snaking one of his hands down your side to send you into a tickling fit that always ended up with him crossing the finish line, and you squirming uncontrollably on the couch as your character came in eighth place.
“hey,” you would whine when jeonghan smacks at the controller in your hand.
he’s the absolute worst at games - both in his ability to play them and his ability to play them fairly - like all the time. like hand over your eyes, loud distracting exclamations, pressing your buttons kind of cheating. he’s a child, really, and a rotten one at that.
“stop it!” you watch as your character, adorable yoshi, brakes hard on the screen and then you sadly watch him scoot across the finish line. a split second behind jeonghan’s princess peach kart. “that’s not fair.”
you stand up, letting your controller fall to the floor and planting your hands angrily on your hips.
“you said you wouldn’t cheat again. i should have won first place or at least came in seventh.”
jeonghan lets his controller drop to his lap, leaning back on the sofa, and smugly throws his hands behind his head. “sorry darling,” he drawls arrogantly, “it’s all apart of the game.”
the irritatingly cheerful victory music played tauntingly in the background.
“tickling is not part of the game,” you huff, shifting from one foot to another, “and putting your annoying bony hands up to blind me is not fair.”
he makes show of examining his hands quizzically, and really it’s adorable, but you’re too fed up to bother with his antics. you continue to level with him with an unamused glare until he looks up at you. he’s annoyingly unbothered by your complaints, instead looks even more satisfied with himself the longer you refuse to break.
you figure you’re both staring at each other silently for nearly a minute before his face splits into a giant grin, the kind where it’s slightly gummy and his eyes crinkle into a gentle crescent shape.
“you’re a child,” you grumble, turning on your heel to march out of the room with your arms crossed defiantly across your chest. but not before you’re being pulled back by your elbow, falling into jeonghan’s lap. you’re overwhelmed by his scent as he tucks his chin over your shoulder and nudge his face into your neck.
“you’re cute,” his arms wrap fully around your waist, holding you tightly in place, “i’ll let you win next round.”
“i don’t need you to let me win,” you argue as he pressed distractingly sloppy kisses against your neck, “just need you to play fair.”
“never.”
“why are you like this? really, you’re such an insufferable, sore, path-”
you’re interrupted when his fingers find your sides, sending your body into a spasm as you try to wiggle away. he’s laughing gleefully and as annoyed as you are, you can’t help the giggle threatening to leave your lips.
“come on, don’t hold back,” he goads, relentless in his attacks.
“stop trying to make me laugh, jeonghan,” you suppressed, “i’m seriously mad at you.”
at this point, you’re both on the floor. he’s got you beneath him, and he’s fighting off your arms with one hand, his other hand still poking at your ribs.
“say you’re not mad.” jeonghan demands.
“i am mad.”
he manages to pin both of your hands, now nipping at your jaw, your neck, shoulder, and suddenly you’re quite defenseless to his touch. after that, it only takes a minute until you surrender.
“fine! fine!” he stops and sits back so his weight is around your waist. “i’m not mad. but you’re still a cheater.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
jeonghan raises a threatening hand.
“okay! you’re not, you ass.”
he seems satisfied with that and finally pulls you up but keeps you between his legs, your back resting against his chest.
“re-match?” he hands your controller to you and you agree, determined. he starts the game again, his lips finding your neck once more as you nudge your shoulder into his chest to push him away.
his unbelievable charm and ability to worm himself out of any situation was always enough for you to forgive him. other times, even, never being able to say no to his pouting, big captivating eyes, and awful excuses about how he just wants to touch and be close to you at all times.
as frustrating as it was, the old beat up wii he’d bought on ebay had been a staple of your date nights, allowing you both to bask in the nostalgia and down bottles of wine that were far too expensive to be carelessly sipped in between races. you’d order take out, that he’d often ask for you to spoon-feed him as you took a break, and he continued to play.
push up on me and sweat, darling || choi seungcheol
Pairing: Scoups x f.reader
Synopsis: you love watching your boyfriend workout and this time, you try something new.
Warnings: suggestive, kissing, fluff
wc: 915 words.
a/n: okayyy, so this is my first fic? drabble? it's just a little something i wrote when i was simping over my man. hope yall like reading it!
credits: @choco-scoups @livmarauder @mellowgyu @caratchronicles thank you my lovesss for reading it and giving me the confidence to post it.
"I'm home!!", you sing out as you close the door to your apartment but don't receive a reply. Turning around, you expect to see your boyfriend lounging on the sofa as usual, except he's not. Confused, you look at the clock and realise that you've come home early today. He must be working out in the gym room with his headphones on. Shaking your head, you decide to freshen up first.
You step out of the shower, thinking of what to have for dinner when you realise Seungcheol is still in the gym room. Smiling to yourself, you go to the room to watch him because really, you love watching your boyfriend working out. He's so strong, it always awes you how easily he can remain unmoving no matter how hard anyone tries to move him. It's been a while since you got to see him in the gym so the thought makes you all giddy.
Seungcheol senses you immediately, opening the door and standing there as you watch him in the midst of his workout routine. He looks up at you and smiles, mouthing that he'll be done soon. He wasn't expecting you to be back so early, you're already in your pajamas, he realises. You just hum in response, and he goes back to doing his pushups but he can feel your gaze on him, he smirks to himself, he knows how much you love watching him workout.
You're leaning against the door eyeing his arms, I want to bite him, god it's not fair that he looks so good, you think to yourself when an idea clicks in your mind. You refrain from giggling and walk over to him.
Seungcheol is confused why you're standing beside him but thinks nothing of it when you suddenly lie down and slip under him. It's abrupt and stuns him enough to freeze in his plank position. He's confused and it shows on his face, he doesn't understand what just happened, he's not sure what to make of this situation.
You look at his expression and smirk to yourself, proud of catching him off-guard.
"Push up on me and sweat, darling." Saying those words, you start giggling, unable to keep a straight face any longer. It's at this moment when Seungcheol realises what you're playing at and he shakes his head, chuckling.
"Sliding under me and quoting South of the border, now are we my love?" He starts smirking, two can play this game, he thinks as he decides that he wants to see you flustered in his arms. He starts doing just as you told him to, he continues his pushup reps.
It's your turn to be frozen on the ground as your boyfriend starts quite literally doing pushups on you. Your heart is racing as he comes so close to you only to move away the next second. You lay there as he continues to torment you, not sure how much longer you can take his teasing.
Seungcheol is satisfied to see you wide eyed and flushed, just as he imagined. He chuckles, finding you adorable but the sound sparks something inside you. Looking at his smug face, you're determined to play him at his own game.
The next moment, Seungcheol is stunned yet again as you suddenly peck his lips. You've managed to fluster him twice in the span of just a few minutes, he realises. He smiles, you've got him wrapped around your finger and there's nowhere he would rather be.
Seeing him smile like that with hearts in his eyes as he looks down at you, your heart melts, god he's so beautiful, he takes my breath away. You see the love in his eyes, the love he has for you and it makes you heady, it always does, you don't think you can ever get used to the fact that he loves you so much.
Since you started this game by teasing him, he's not going to let you win, and so he does something you don't expect him to. He continues through his last set of pushups and pecks you with every rep. It renders you immobile as you just lay there on the ground, feeling so fond and soft as he continues to kiss you like that.
Once he's done with the last of his workout for the day, he traps you under him with his thighs on either side of your hips. You see the moment his eyes darken with desire, and you're sure your eyes mirror the intensity of his emotions. He kisses you hard this time, not stopping until you're both out of breath.
" Cheol, I love you so much." You whisper as you try to catch your breath.
He smiles wide, "I love you more, my love, more than I ever thought I could."
As you're both smiling at each other, Seungcheol suddenly gets up and picks you up in his arms; you yelp as he carries you to your room.
"Now, did you think you could just pull that stunt and get away with it, sweetheart?"
"What if I did? What are you gonna do about it, cheollie?"
"Oh, you'll find out my love, don't worry, we have all night."
His words send a shiver down your spine as you anticipate what the night has in store, what he has in store for you. As he lays you down on your bed, you think to yourself, there's nowhere else I'd want to be.
...the one where morning breath can't stop you and hoshi from being in love
❛ content | kwon soonyoung x female reader | domestic fluff, morning breath, established relationship, latte
for someone who was easily disgusted by the idea of morning breath, you find all your mornings spent in kissing your boyfriend, soonyoung, senseless.
you’re not even sure how it started. one minute you were blinking the sleep from your eyes, and the next, soonyoung had you under him, palms on either side of your head, lips moving lazily against yours like you were some kind of morning prayer.
"we should really brush our teeth," you mumble between kisses, except your hands are already threading into his messy hair and you’re not exactly keen on stopping him anytime soon.
"mmm," soonyoung hums, not disagreeing, not stopping either. "too far."
"the bathroom?"
"yeah."
"it’s literally what—" you tilt your head to look, "like five steps away."
"too many steps," he says, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to smirk softly. "besides, you taste fine, honey."
"that is objectively false," you mumble, even as your thumb brushes his cheek and he nuzzles his face into your palm. he looks like the morning. and you're so grateful he is your morning.
"maybe i’m just in love, then. love makes people stupid."
"you were stupid before you met me, kwon."
"ouch.” he grins. “but fair."
you giggle and he swoops in again, kissing you until you’re breathless. it’s slow and lazy. like you’ve got all the time in the world. your upper leg shifts to wrap around his waist lazily as he shifts and lies beside you. soonyoung sighs like he’s never been more content.
"what’s the plan for today?" you ask, voice muffled against his shoulder. he’s moved down now, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone.
"this," he says. "you. me. this bed. repeat."
"you do know we’ve got laundry, yeah?"
"ignore it. the laundry can do itself."
"that’s not how laundry works."
"we’ll manifest it. or we'll have latte help."
you snort. "alright, mystic soonyoung. tell me what the cards say."
he lifts his head, eyes squinting at his open palm like he’s pretending to focus. "they say… stay in bed, kiss the pretty thing on your bed senseless, avoid responsibilities at all costs."
"very convenient."
"very wise."
you both giggle. soonyoung’s little squeaks in between laughs and 10:10 eyes on full display have you falling in love with him all over again.
there’s a moment of silence after that. comfortable. you look at him, and he’s already looking at you. you reach out to trace the curve of his jaw, and he leans into it like a cat seeking warmth.
"you’re kind of gross, you know," you whisper.
"you kissed me first."
"i’ll do it again."
"threats don’t work on me, babe," he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours. “especially not when they’re promises."
you pull him in, kiss him again, longer this time. one hand in his hair, the other resting on his bare shoulder, fingers idly tracing nonsense. he tastes like sleep and the soonyoung you've always known.
he whispers your name between kisses, ever so tenderly.
"you make monday mornings so much better," he mumbles into your skin.
summary: After not being able to sleep, you spend the night in the studio with your boyfriend, Jihoon.
word count: 1,966
AU: idol au [established relationship with jihoon]
genre: fluff
fic tags: romance, fluff, sleepless nights, producer, idol, established relationship
Thinking about the next day already twisted your stomach into a knot. It would be the last day you’d see each other before Jihoon was thrown into the madness of a comeback. He barely had the time to take a minute for himself, let alone make time for you and you’d be counting the days until you could see him again.
You lifted your head off the pillow, your hands serving as your sight while your eyes tried to adjust to the pitch black room. Jihoon’s bedside was still warm, but no Jihoon. It was almost three am so where could he be? Was he out?
With a sigh, you laid back down. You told yourself that he was just using the bathroom and would be back soon enough. You turned around, wrapped the blanket around yourself and closed your eyes. Not that you had any chance of going back to sleep soon.
You looked on the clock again and ten minutes had passed. Still no sign of Jihoon. It couldn’t be that he had an emergency this late. SEVENTEEN could push his buttons and pull him out of his house for the weirdest shit, but they wouldn’t call him this late unless it was life threatening. Your heart raced in your chest as you got out of bed, taking small steps out of the bedroom and into the open space of the apartment.
The lights beneath the counter were turned on so you walked to the kitchen. Jihoon didn’t leave a note. He was still home. You breathed in relief and mentally facepalmed yourself for not coming to that conclusion earlier.
It was probably the dread of not seeing him for a while after tomorrow that sent you down a rabbit hole of bad thoughts.
When you neared, you saw a pair of headphones sticking out over the chair. The plan of knocking went out of the window so you had one option left.
Jihoon clutched his chest when you tapped his shoulder, sliding the headphones around his neck. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I thought the same,” you replied and brushed his hair with your fingers. “I also thought you were asleep.”
“That was my intention.” He looked up at you from underneath a pair of glasses. His face was free from make up and glowed in the dim light coming from the studio. His eyes, although small from the lack of sleep, beamed at you lovingly.
Jihoon was heavensent when it was three am.
You pressed a kiss to his lips and retreated your hand from his black locks. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“I’m offended that you dare to ask,” he replied and pulled a chair from the corner of the room, making you chuckle.
“Very sorry to have hurt your feelings, sir.”
“Apology accepted, for now.” He patted the seat and moved to the side to make space for you.
You did so and crossed your legs, rubbing your eyes.
“What kept you up, baby?”
When you glanced to the side, Jihoon’s focus was back on his work. You hummed. “Tomorrow is our last day for a long while and I guess I dread it still,” you murmured, eyes lowering. The thought was looming over you again, wrapping its invisible hands around your neck to choke you. “I thought that after three years of being with you I would get used to it, but I hate having to leave knowing I won’t see you for a long time.”
Jihoon peeled away from his computer and turned to you. His hands laced together with yours as if they were made to hold them. “I can’t change anything about my schedule, but I can tell you that we’ll make our last twenty-four hours worth it, hm?” He lifted your hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. “We’ll have a blast.”
You smiled, the pressure on your chest relieving. “Okay.”
He returned your smile with one of his own, warm and comforting. He repeated your words back to you softly before pressing another kiss to your hands.
The thought still lingered, plotting its next strike. You felt it happening in the back of your mind, even though you tried to ignore it as much as you could. Jihoon’s words were like bringing a knife to a gunfight, but you knew he was right. The time you spent worrying on how tomorrow was your last day was better off enjoying what you had left with him.
It was your Achilles heel and had always been, but Jihoon had his way with words to you as much as he did in the songs he produced. They wrapped you in a blanket of comfort when you needed it, sparred against you when you were stubborn, cheered on you from the sidelines. It was like he cherrypicked them in a way that made them strike all the right places every time.
Jihoon hovered over you to press a kiss to your lips and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here now. It was kind of boring," he said, almost like he was upset about it.
A snort escaped your lips. “I can imagine why hanging out in your studio in the middle of the night is ‘kind of boring’, since we’re asleep around this time usually.”
“Listen, this demo is what keeps me up at night and I’m not God’s strongest soldier so I give in.”
“Those are a lot of words for admitting you’re a workaholic.”
Jihoon shot you a pointed look, to which you smiled. “I’m not a workaholic,” he defended himself.
“Said every workaholic ever,” you responded, pointing at the doorway. “Shall I ring up your members?”
“They’ll agree so that’s basically an echo chamber of lies.” He huffed and lifted his chin into the air. “I changed my mind. I don’t like your company after all.”
You put on a pout that could not even convince the most gullible person on Earth you were actually mocking him. “Poor you. I feel so bad for having to put up with me.”
“Imagine how I feel.” A more dramatic sigh couldn’t have come from your boyfriend. “My only peace and quiet when you’re here and you can’t sleep either. Now I have to hang out with you during work. A horrible punishment.”
Through your pretence, you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “That was actually kind of cute.”
Jihoon’s eyes didn’t leave the screen, but the corners of his mouth curved up. “It’s true, isn’t it? I never get to hang out with you during work and now I can.” He turned his head to you. “Maybe I should work on my music at night more often.”
“I’ll just not sleep anymore,” you joked. “When’s our next date?”
Jihoon laughed before he turned back to his work.
Bantering is what you were good at. In the beginning of your relationship, both your friends and his members wondered if you secretly hated each other. Not that you never gave compliments, or expressed a sense of pride, but teasing each other was your secret love language, something that only the two of you could understand.
You held it close to your heart, especially when he wasn’t around. It became a staple of your thought process. When you were on your own and you did something stupid, you thought about how Jihoon would’ve reacted if he saw you and it lightened your mood.
Hanging out in his studio so late, both ruled by exhaustion and Jihoon on the verge of crashing out over a chorus, you were glad you could still joke around. Like how his words were a comfort, it didn’t solve your sleepless night but it made you more at ease.
It made you forget why you couldn’t sleep in the first place.
You twirled around in your chair with two lines of the chorus as your background music. Five times in a row, a minute of silence, Jihoon tweaking even a slight note, the entire chorus in full and the process repeated itself again.
“Doesn’t it haunt you in your dreams?” You asked.
“Why do you think I can’t sleep?”, was Jihoon’s response, to which you chuckled. From the corner of your eye, you saw his lips curve upwards.
You relaxed your head against the headrest and looked at him. His small, buff frame was propped up in the chair, sleepy eyes darting over the screen. His hands were moving from the keyboard in front of him to the guitar in his lap and back. There was an indescribable euphoria that washed over you whenever you were in the studio with him, even though your body was screaming at you to go back to bed.
“Oh, don’t be like that now.” You nudged him playfully. “You love your job.”
“I’m afraid I do.” Jihoon pushed himself away from the desk and slid off his chair. He went to stand behind you, gently rubbing your shoulders. “I love you more, though.”
You looked back at him. “Do you, now?”
He shrugged. “Eh.”
With a chuckle, you leaned into his touch.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah, why not?”
Jihoon pressed a kiss to your hair before he pulled his hands back and left the studio. You weren’t living by any rules whenever you stayed over at his place, so getting coffee at an ungodly hour was fairly normal. He was living the other way around so how he was able to show up to schedule, you hadn’t figured out yet.
It pulled you out of your daily grind so you were more than happy to go along with his plans, to have any time with him at all. It became something you got used to, but that didn’t make it easier. You signed up for it when you fell in love with him and you tried to make the most of it.
Pushing your thoughts aside, you decided it was not the time to overthink the limited time you had with Jihoon. Time was precious, you told yourself. Especially with a job like his. You snapped out of your thoughts when the sound of the coffee machine stopped, perking up when Jihoon stood by your side. He held the toadstool patterned cup out to you and you took it with a silent thanks. He pecked your lips and you beamed at him, giving him another kiss before he plopped back down.
The same cycle repeated itself and you were almost certain you memorised it front to back and reversed. That was how you knew every single note to Maestro. You doubted this comeback would be different.
You swung your legs over his lap and slouched in your seat, Jihoon patting your legs before he went to work. One of his hands stayed there gently brushing your thigh. Your eyelids were getting heavy and a yawn slipped off your lips.
You shot up when your legs swung to the ground. Barely taken a sip of your coffee, the cup was taken out of your hand and put aside.
Jihoon smiled and waved his hand. “Come, love. We’re going to bed.”
You nodded and pushed yourself out of the chair. You shuffled after him with a yawn and rubbed your eyes. You slid into bed, your eyes closing as soon as your head hit the pillow.
“We have the entire day to ourselves tomorrow,” Jihoon whispered and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He got into bed as well and wrapped you up in his arms. “Goodnight, baby. I love you.”
You mumbled it back before you drifted off to sleep, a smile plastered on your face. When you were in Jihoon’s arms, cuddled up together, the next day could wait as long as it wanted to.
GENRE + TAGS — non-idol au, fluff, friends to lovers, seokmin is SO in love, jealous seokmin, confession, kissing, skinship, reader pretends to be clueless, soft seokmin gets a little desperate (he begs)
LYR SPEAKS! — been going through a rough patch w writer's block but i'm returning for a little if only to write @deekaykaykay's birthday present! happy birthday anna i love you 💗
NOW PLAYING — back to friends (sombr)
WORD COUNT + NETWORKS — 893 // @kstrucknet & @k-records
lee seokmin wasn't watching the stars you had dragged him out to see.
he was watching you, in all of your simple, star-struck glory.
you sat on a small blanket seokmin had pulled out of his closet for you, drowning in an oversized hoodie as you stared up at the sky. you sat quietly, eyes starry with the view in front of you as your lips curved into the prettiest smile seokmin thinks he has ever seen.
"aren't they beautiful?" you ask softly, and seokmin doesn't even hear the question, responding with a breathless "yeah" anyways as he continues to watch you. you catch his gaze, lips kicking up in a smirk as you push his face away from yours.
seokmin's stunned, cheeks blazing red as he stammers out a confused "what?".
"you're staring at me, not the stars." you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and seokmin has half the mind to nod at you, hoping you get what he's trying to say with just a nod.
lee seokmin loves you.
not in the standard "best friend" way, or in the way he hugs you before you leave his apartment. it's not in the way he has special nicknames he's made for only you, or in the way he cooks you your favorite meals without asking.
it's the kind of love that goes from "other-half jokingly" to "other-half in all seriousness".
"you're shining way brighter than the stars. how am i supposed to pay attention when you're nearly blinding me?" seokmin plays off the observation as best as he can, hoping his words spur you on to question him as to what he means. the man would do anything to explain to you how in love he is with you.
"you're so cringy, oh my god," you laugh, clueless as to why seokmin's gaze has seemed to harden on your skin. "stop teasing me."
"i'm not teasing you." seokmin speaks, voice unusually serious as he turns to face you. "i'm not joking this time."
"seok...what are you talking about?" your attention is dragged away form the stars dotting the sky now, and you're completely focused on your best friend's sudden seriousness. seokmin's eyebrows are furrowed, soft lips pursed in a straight line as seokmin seems to take a deep breath.
"how much do i have to do or say to give you the hint?" seokmin questions softly, and your feel your heart lurch in your stomach before you speak again. "what are you...what do you mean?"
"i love you. i love you so much it hurts me."
silence shoots in between you and seokmin like a flying arrow, and you feel your heart slow in your chest as you gape surprised at your friend. he loves you.
"and no, it's not in the best friend way you think. i'm so tired of—i'm so tired of lying to myself and telling myself i love you like a friend does. i've tried to be so obvious and give you hints, and it feels like it never works, so...here i am now. i'm telling it to your beautiful face." seokmin pauses to take a breath, swallowing as his eyes flutter shut for a split second.
"i love you. i love you and i want you."
you're beyond stunned now, cheeks heating up in surprise and heart lurching with excitement. those feelings had been your feelings for months before this moment, yet you buried them out of fear of ruining what you and seokmin already had.
you had gotten used to lying to yourself and telling yourself you didn't love lee seokmin in the way he apparently loved you. your stomach still lurched when seokmin grinned at you, and your body still subconsciously relaxed when you smelled seokmin's cologne, but that didn't mean anything...right?
"come on. don't stare at me and tell me you couldn't tell how i felt." seokmin urges you, face now inches away from yours as the words all die in your throat.
"please. don't leave me hanging. i feel like you don't understand—"
you're shutting up seokmin with your lips on his before he can continue to speak, and his eyes flutter shut the moment you remove his cap from his head, running your hands through seokmin's blonde hair as he leans into your touch.
"i understand, seokmin." you answer softly, lips swollen from the kiss. your body is warm, flushed, and seokmin feels it, eyes locked on your figure as you speak. "even though i pretended to be oblivious to you and your feelings toward me, i understanded them."
"i understand them, i care about them, and i care about you. i love you, seokmin. i always have." you smile at him softly, letting your hand run along his jawline as he gives you that small smile that made your heart turn flips in your chest.
"thank god. i felt like i was going crazy trying to prove my love to you." seokmin groans, and you can't help but chuckle a little, letting yourself fall into seokmin's arms. and for the first time, you don't feel like a friend seokmin's comforting.
you feel like something more than a friend. something that seokmin can wrap his arms around and kiss softly. something that seokmin can tell "i love you".
you walk into your bedroom and instantly smile. the lights are almost off, the dimmer to the minimum; soft songs playing in the background, matching the cozy mood. junhui's tall figure is spread all over the bed, right arm hanging on the edge as he rests his face on the book you previously recommended to him. his parted lips make cute noises, and you have to hold back a laugh when he snorts and a page flies to his face.
for a few seconds, you try to decide whether you should wake him up or let him rest. the lazy night you two planned to have together was long gone - you just had to work late, there wasn't any other option. you're lucky enough to have such a great boyfriend who understood that and swore he would wait up for you.
well, he didn't. but you don't blame him, though.
walking silently to the bed, you press a light kiss on his cheek and caress his soft brown hair. he doesn't even move.
ᯓwho☆: 𝒿eonghan x reader (fluff, lil angsty x fic)
ᯓwhat☆: jeonghan’s always been in love with you, even when the world insisted you didn’t make sense together — until you decide you don’t care, and prove that the ballet girl and the skater boy were never wrong at all. inspired by sk8er boy by avril lavigne, but not completely!
ᯓwc☆: 3k (3616)
ᯓa/n☆: ...i love punk jeonghan <3 also i just realized it's SK8ER BOY, not SK8TER BOY.... ignore that mistake on the banner.
jeonghan wakes up late. again.
the alarm on his phone has been screaming for a good five minutes before his hand finally slaps around the bedside table, fingers clumsy, knocking over an empty water bottle before he finds the screen and silences it. the room falls quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside his window and the soft whir of the old ceiling fan that never quite works right. sunlight leaks through the blinds in thin, uneven stripes, cutting across his unmade bed, his discarded hoodie on the floor, the guitar case leaning against the wall like it’s been waiting for him all night.
“shit,” he mutters, voice rough with sleep.
he rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling for half a second longer than he should. he does this every morning. gives himself a tiny moment of denial, like if he lies still enough, time might slow down for him just this once.
it never does.
jeonghan swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, stretching his arms above his head until his spine cracks pleasantly. he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror opposite his bed. messy hair falling into his eyes, dark circles he never bothers to hide, a face that looks permanently caught between bored and tired. his uniform shirt is crumpled where he tossed it last night. the school logo is peeling a little at the edge.
he looks like trouble. or at least, like what people think trouble looks like.
the shower is quick and too cold because he forgot to turn the heater on again. water drums against the tiles as he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back, then letting it fall forward again because it never stays put anyway. steam fogs up the mirror when he steps out, towel slung low around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders.
he doesn’t rush. not really. he never does.
by the time he’s dressed, the clock on his phone reads 7:46. school started at 7:30.
he pulls on whatever’s clean enough. a faded band tee with the print cracking at the edges. baggy black jeans that hang low on his hips, frayed at the hems from being stepped on too many times. a hoodie two sizes too big, sleeves swallowing his hands. the fabric smells faintly like laundry detergent and something metallic, like guitar strings.
his mother used to sigh every morning when she saw him dressed like this. you could at least try, she’d say. jeonghan does try. just not in the way people want him to.
he grabs his guitar case, checks his phone, ignores the three missed calls from his homeroom teacher, and slips his feet into worn sneakers by the door. as he leaves, he catches his reflection in the hallway mirror. guitar on his back. hoodie zipped halfway. expression unreadable. punk, they call him, as if it’s a diagnosis.
the walk to school is familiar. cracked sidewalks, the convenience store on the corner where he sometimes stops for coffee he doesn’t need, the shortcut behind the basketball courts that saves him a few minutes. by the time he reaches the front gate, the morning bell has already rung. students are streaming into the building in neat uniforms, laughter echoing off concrete walls.
jeonghan slips through like he always does, head slightly down, guitar case bumping lightly against his leg.
he can already feel the looks.
teachers frown when they see him. security guards sigh. girls whisper. boys nudge each other. it’s always the same.
there he is again.
"what a loser!"
"why does he bring that stupid guitar everywhere?"
"stupid fucking punk."
he pretends not to notice, but he does. he always does.
his first class is history. he opens the door quietly and slips into the back row, dropping into his usual seat just as the teacher pauses mid-sentence. there’s a beat of silence. “yoon jeonghan,” the teacher says, tired rather than angry. “you’re late.”
“traffic,” jeonghan replies easily, not meeting his eyes.
a few students snort. the teacher shakes his head and continues the lesson. jeonghan leans back in his chair, gaze drifting to the window. sunlight catches dust motes in the air, turning them gold. and then, he sees you.
you’re two rows ahead, posture perfect, probably because of ballet. your notebook is already open, pen moving smoothly across the page. there’s something about the way you focus that always gets him. like the rest of the room fades away for you when you’re paying attention.
he’s been wanting you for two years.
two full years of stolen glances, of sitting just close enough to hear you laugh but never close enough to touch you. two years of watching you from across classrooms, hallways, the courtyard during lunch. two years of knowing exactly how you take your coffee, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous, the way your lips press together when you’re trying not to smile.
you don’t look like someone who would ever notice someone like him.
perfect girl, they call you. not always kindly, but always accurately. you’re grace and discipline and clean lines. you move like everything you do has purpose. even walking down the hallway, you look like you belong somewhere else. somewhere softer. brighter. he’s all rough edges and late mornings and noise.
he knows what your friends think of him. he’s seen the way they wrinkle their noses when he walks past, how their eyes flick to his clothes, his guitar, his piercings. he’s heard the whispers—bad influence, trouble, don’t get involved with someone like that. but nobody has ever seen the real him.
your friends sit with you now, one of them leaning over to whisper something in your ear. you smile faintly, but your eyes flick back for just a second. they meet his.
it’s brief. barely a moment. but it’s enough. his chest tightens in that familiar, stupid way. he looks away first, jaw clenching as he taps his pen against the desk. he wants you.
he’s wanted you for so long it feels like a constant ache, something he’s learned to live with. he’s imagined a thousand versions of you and him—skipping class together, sharing earphones, you sitting on his bed while he plays guitar just for you. versions where you don’t look so careful all the time. versions where you laugh freely, where your friends don’t watch you like hawks.
but he’s never said anything. neither have you. because wanting someone quietly is safer than wanting them out loud.
the bell rings and the class dissolves into noise. jeonghan slings his bag over his shoulder and stands, guitar case following the movement like an extension of him. as he steps into the hallway, he nearly bumps into your friends.
one of them clicks her tongue. “watch it,” she says, eyes flicking pointedly to his clothes.
jeonghan lifts his hands in mock surrender. “my bad.” they move past him, whispering, gossiping about him. when you pass, you hesitate for half a second. just long enough for him to notice.
“hey,” he says quietly.
you give him a small smile, blush creeping up your cheeks. “hey.”
but your friends tug you along before anything else can happen. you glance back once, apologetic, conflicted. jeonghan watches you go, fingers tightening around the strap of his guitar case. he knows your friends have a problem with him. they always have.
what he doesn't know is that you wanted him too. but sometimes, in moments like that—when your eyes meet his, when your voice softens just for him—he wonders if maybe, secretly, you do. and maybe that’s enough to keep him coming back late every morning, guitar on his back, heart a little too hopeful for his own good.
the next morning, jeonghan wakes up before his alarm.
it’s unfamiliar enough that he lies there for a moment, blinking at the ceiling, waiting for the panic to kick in. it doesn’t. instead, there’s a strange calm settling in his chest, the kind that makes him feel like maybe today won’t trip him up the way most days do. his phone reads 6:12. plenty of time. too much time, even.
he exhales softly and sits up, running a hand through his hair. the room looks the same as always — guitar case against the wall, hoodie slung over the chair, yesterday’s clothes still on the floor — but something feels different. lighter. like the weight he usually carries hasn’t quite settled onto his shoulders yet.
his routine doesn’t change much. shower, cold water biting into his skin as steam curls around the small bathroom. he dresses the same way he always does, baggy jeans, and a vintage jacket on top of a black shirt. the only difference is the skateboard he grabs from beside the door instead of just slinging his guitar over his back. the deck is scuffed, wheels worn down from years of use, grip tape peeling at the edges where his shoes have rubbed it raw.
outside, the morning air is cool and quiet, the streets barely awake. jeonghan pushes off once, twice, then lets the board glide beneath him, familiar and steady. the sound of the wheels against concrete is grounding, rhythmic. this is the version of him that feels the most real — moving fast enough that he doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to worry about what people expect from him.
by the time he reaches the school gates, students are only just beginning to arrive. jeonghan checks the time again, lips quirking upward when he realizes he’s early. actually early. he slows as he rolls onto campus, hopping off his board and tucking it under his arm, scanning the courtyard without meaning to.
and then he sees you.
you’re walking with your friends, bag slung neatly over your shoulder, hair catching the light as you laugh at something someone says. he feels it instantly, that familiar pull, like his attention has no choice but to lock onto you. before he can stop himself, his gaze meets yours.
your smile changes when you notice him.
“you’re early,” you say, surprise clear in your voice as you slow down.
“don’t get used to it,” jeonghan replies easily, lifting the skateboard slightly. “thought i’d try something new.”
your eyes flick down to the board, then back up to him, bright with interest. “you skate to school?”
“sometimes,” he shrugs. “beats walking.”
you fall into step beside him without really thinking about it, your friends lingering just a pace behind, watching. jeonghan feels the shift immediately — the way the air between you feels warmer, lighter. conversation comes easily, like it’s been waiting for this moment all along. you tease him about actually making it on time, he jokes about you being way too awake for this hour, and before he realizes it, you’re laughing, head tipped back slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.
it’s stupid how much he likes the sound of it.
for a few minutes, the world feels small in the best way. no teachers. no whispers. no judgment. just the two of you trading jokes, brushing shoulders as you walk. jeonghan almost forgets himself enough to believe this is normal. that this is allowed.
until someone calls your name.
you pause, turning toward the voice, and jeonghan watches the moment slip away as quickly as it came. your friends close in around you again, expressions unreadable but firm. you look back at him, lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for him.
“see you later, boy,” you say lightly, like it’s nothing at all.
he watches you walk away, skateboard tucked under his arm, heart doing something unsteady in his chest. he knows what it sounds like. dismissal. distance. a line drawn neatly between where he stands and where you’re allowed to be. he knows people would say he isn’t good enough for you, that you’re too polished, too careful, head a little too high in the clouds to see someone like him clearly.
but the way you smiled when you said it tells him otherwise.
and as he heads to class early for once, wheels echoing faintly behind him, jeonghan can’t help but think that maybe one day, you’ll come back down to earth — and maybe, just maybe, you’ll come looking for him when you do.
the next few days blur together in a way jeonghan doesn’t like.
he still wakes up early, still skates to school with the morning air biting at his cheeks, still brings his guitar like it’s part of his spine. but something shifts after that morning with you, something fragile he hadn’t realized he was holding onto until it started to crack. you don’t walk beside him anymore. you still notice him — he sees it in the way your eyes flick to him across classrooms, in the way your shoulders stiffen when your friends go quiet around him — but there’s distance now, careful and deliberate.
it makes his chest ache in a way he doesn’t know how to fix.
in the hallways, you smile at him like you’re afraid to smile too much. in class, you don’t turn around anymore. at lunch, you sit a little farther from where he usually lingers, laughter softer, eyes elsewhere. it’s subtle enough that no one else would notice, but jeonghan notices everything when it comes to you.
he tells himself it’s nothing. that he imagined the closeness, the easy laughter, the warmth of walking side by side. maybe he read into it too much. maybe see you later really was goodbye dressed up as kindness.
he starts skipping class again.
not because he doesn’t care, but because being in the same rooms as you and pretending it doesn’t hurt feels worse than detention ever could. instead, he ends up behind the gym, sitting on the concrete steps with his guitar balanced across his knees, fingers pressing into the strings until they bite. the notes that come out are messy and unfinished, breaking off halfway like he doesn’t trust himself to finish a thought.
he plays quietly, but the sound carries anyway.
sometimes, he imagines you hearing it from somewhere inside the building, recognizing the melody even though he never plays the same thing twice. he imagines you pausing mid-step, heart tugging in a direction you don’t want to admit. it’s a stupid fantasy, but it’s the only one he has.
one afternoon, he sees you with someone else.
it’s nothing dramatic. no touching, no laughter too loud. just you standing by the lockers with a boy from your class, his uniform neat, hair perfectly in place. he’s leaning in, listening intently as you talk, nodding along like every word you say matters. it shouldn’t mean anything. it doesn’t have to.
but jeonghan’s stomach drops anyway.
your friends are there too, watching approvingly, smiles sharp with satisfaction. when your gaze lifts and finds jeonghan down the hallway, your expression falters. for a second, it looks like you might say something. then one of your friends steps in front of you, blocking the view, and the moment is gone.
he doesn’t wait to see what happens next.
that night, he stays out later than usual, skating until his legs burn, until the streets blur and the noise in his head quiets enough to breathe. when he finally gets home, he drops his bag by the door and collapses onto his bed, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. he thinks about how you laughed with him so easily. how you’d said his name like it belonged in your mouth. how you’d looked at him like he wasn’t a mistake waiting to happen. he wonders if you ever think about him the same way.
the next day at school, he doesn’t look for you.
when you pass him in the hallway, you hesitate, clearly torn, but he keeps his eyes forward, jaw tight, pretending he doesn’t feel the weight of your gaze on his back. it’s easier that way. if he doesn’t look, he doesn’t have to see the question in your eyes. he doesn’t have to wonder if you’re hurting too.
because wanting someone who’s afraid to choose you hurts worse than wanting someone who never noticed you at all.
by the end of the day, the rumors start.
nothing concrete. just whispers. about jeonghan being bad news. about you needing to be careful. about how people like him don’t fit into futures like yours. he hears it all without meaning to, words sinking into his skin like bruises.
and for the first time in two years, he wonders if maybe everyone else is right. maybe he really isn’t good enough for you. and maybe that’s why you said see you later instead of stay.
it happens on a random evening, the kind that doesn’t announce itself as important.
the sky is already bruising into twilight when you reach the skate park, the air warm and heavy with the smell of concrete and grass. wheels scrape against ramps, laughter echoes, music hums faintly from someone’s phone. jeonghan is there like he always is, hoodie loose on his shoulders, skateboard moving under him like it’s second nature. he looks freer here than anywhere else, like the noise in his head finally quiets when he’s in motion.
he notices you only when you step closer, slowing, hopping off his board when he realizes you’re really there. surprise flickers across his face, followed by something cautious and gentle. he walks toward you, board tucked under his arm, eyes searching yours.
“hey,” he says.
your chest tightens. suddenly, every thought you practiced on the way here tangles together. you nod, fingers curling into your sleeves. “can we… talk?” he doesn’t hesitate. “yeah. of course.”
you sit on the edge of the concrete, shoulders close but not touching. the park feels louder and quieter at the same time, every sound blurring into the background as you stare at your hands. it takes a moment to find your voice. when you do, it shakes. “i know,” you say softly. “i know how you feel about me.” jeonghan stills beside you.
“i’ve known for a long time,” you continue, forcing yourself to look at him. “and i’m sorry. i never said anything. i should’ve. i was scared, and i let other people’s opinions get in the way, and i didn’t mean to hurt you—but i think i did anyway.” for a long moment, he says nothing. his gaze drops to the skateboard, fingers tightening around the edge. then he exhales, slow and shaky, and lets out a quiet laugh that sounds more tired than amused.
“i thought i imagined it,” he admits. “thought i just wanted it so bad i convinced myself it was real.” you shake your head immediately. “it was real.” that gets his attention. he looks at you fully now, eyes wide, unguarded. “then why—”
“because i didn’t know how to choose myself,” you interrupt gently. “and i didn’t know how to choose you without disappointing everyone else.” the words hang between you, heavy but honest. jeonghan swallows, jaw tight, like he’s steadying himself. “i like you,” he says finally. not dramatic. not loud. just the truth. “i’ve liked you for a long time.”
your heart stutters painfully. “i know.” you hesitate, then add, “and i like you too.”
the silence that follows is electric. not relief exactly. not resolution. just the shared understanding of something fragile and unfinished. jeonghan looks at you like he’s afraid to move, afraid this moment might shatter if he reaches too far. he doesn’t ask you out.
instead, he says quietly, “i don’t want to rush you.” you shake your head, smiling faintly through the ache in your chest. “i don’t want to hide anymore.”
that seems to be enough for now, for both you and him.
when it’s time to leave, you stand and, without thinking, reach for his skateboard. he blinks, surprised.
“hey—”
“i’ll bring it back,” you say, already pushing off, laughter slipping out despite everything.
he watches you skate away, heart full and unsettled all at once, smiling so fondly it hurts, shaking his head. when you disappear down the street, he picks up his boardless walk home, hands in his pockets, replaying your voice over and over like it’s proof this wasn’t just another almost.
the next morning, you skate to school.
the board hums under your feet, confidence unfamiliar but steady in your chest. heads turn immediately. whispers ripple outward. “wow, she’s hot—” someone murmurs. another voice cuts in, louder. “WAIT. is that YOON JEONGHAN'S skateboard?”
you don’t answer. you don’t slow down.
jeonghan is standing in the school garden, guitar bag slung over his shoulder, fingers fiddling with the straps as he waits for the bell. the sound reaches him before you do — the unmistakable scrape of wheels on pavement. he looks up just in time to see you glide past, sunlight catching your face, skateboard unmistakable.
without thinking, he reaches out.
his hand closes gently around your wrist, stepping softly on the skateboard, stopping you just enough so you don’t lose balance. you look at him, startled, heart racing. he steps closer, thumb warm against your skin.
“careful,” he murmurs. you smile. “you caught me.” he doesn’t say anything else. he just leans in and kisses you.
it’s brief, soft, steady. not a promise, not a declaration — just truth, shared openly, right there where everyone can see. gasps ripple through the garden. whispers explode. neither of you pull away quickly.
and that was how the sk8er boy got the ballet girl.
it's just you both tonight, but when he brings you some tea and presses his lips against your forehead, you don't want this feeling to go away. you've been sick for days, but it’s the little things—like jihoon’s soft kisses—that make you feel like you can survive this. even when you're gross and sniffling, he won't leave your side.
🍵 PAIRING/WC :: lee jihoon × fem!reader ⋅ 1,597 words
🍵 CONTENTS :: soft boy jihoon, forehead kisses, mutual pining, taking care of a sick partner, domestic moments, co-actors in a fake relationship for public image. jihoon actually opening up a little
⚠️ WARNINGS :: mentions of fever/sickness, light physical weakness, a lot of touches (forehead kisses, hand holding). no explicit content. no heavy angst. not beta-ed. tahts all i think! but still lmk.
🍵 A/N :: happiest, happiest birthday to our uji 🥹🤍 the tiniest, cutest, most hard-working genius ever. i hope today you actually let yourself rest for once and let people spoil you because you deserve it more than anyone. pls come back to me jihoon, i’m literally on my knees. you military ppl, im watching you. spoil him today. anyway, lol. i actually finished writing this on 7th february this year and kept it on hold thinking it wasn’t good enough, and honestly i just procrastinated asking for second opinions. so this is still a second draft as i went over it yesterday and did some slight tweakings. couldn’t do much because i was cringing but i hope you guys will still like it. compared to what i wrote back in feb, this is wayyy better. i waited almost a year to post this, so pls give this lots of love heheh ς(>‿<.) tagging: #1 jihoon enthusiast @shinysobi
It’s just you both tonight.
Your shared apartment is quieter today as you pull the blanket tighter around yourself. Your nose is stuffed, your throat sore, and your head feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice. You’ve been sick for days and barely able to get out of bed, but the worst part isn’t the congestion or the fever, it’s the loneliness that settled the moment Jihoon stepped out earlier to run errands. It surprised you how empty the place felt without him. It has only been a week since he started staying over regularly, and you already feel strange whenever he’s not around.
You don’t know when things changed. You both agreed to a fake relationship with nothing more than a convenient solution to help with the pressure from the public, the fans, and even your families. Everyone loved the idea. Everything about it should’ve been simple. But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling simple.
“Here.” Jihoon’s voice cuts through your drifting thoughts. You look up and see him standing at your bedroom door with a steaming mug of tea in his hands. His eyes melt when he sees the state you are in, and you find your heart beating fast. He steps in and sets the mug on the nightstand before sitting down beside you. “You need to drink this. It’ll help with your throat.” He nudges the mug toward you for you to take it.
You don’t have the strength to argue, so you nod and take a sip. The warmth soothes your throat, and just for some time, you forget about the cameras, the questions about what you two really are, and the arrangement that started all of this. Being here with him in this small room feels like a break from everything outside.
Jihoon watches you closely as you drink. His attention doesn’t drift from you for even a second. He adjusts the pillow behind your back and tucks the blanket around your shoulders, and checks if you’re comfortable or not. He always does these little things. You try to tell yourself it’s just part of the act, part of the deal, but you know better. Jihoon doesn’t pretend with things like this. He’s naturally careful with the people he cares about.
“Thank you,” you whisper. Your chest feels tight and you don’t question it with your sickness, and you don’t know if it’s from the tea or from something more sitting behind your ribs.
He shrugs. “You’re sick. It’s the least I can do.” But the least he can do feels like much more.
The silence between you isn’t awkward anymore. You’ve grown used to the gradual changes in his expression, his way of showing his worry without saying it. Little by little, he has let himself get close to you even if neither of you planned for that to happen.
You set the empty mug down just as Jihoon reaches out and brushes your forehead with the back of his hand. You don’t pull away. His touch feels so careful and a little shaky. You can’t remember the last time anyone touched you without wanting something in return. Jihoon stays for a moment, then leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. The gesture’s almost absentminded, yet it steals the breath from your lungs.
Your eyes flutter open slowly, and you find him watching you with an expression you can’t yet read. Before you can speak, he stands. “Get some rest. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”
You watch his back as he walks toward the door. You don’t want him to leave when his presence feels like the only thing holding everything in you together and making you feel better. “Stay,” you whisper.
Jihoon stops. For a second he doesn’t move and you worry he might pretend he didn’t hear you. But he turns, and his eyes soften with that low-key tiny smile on his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Instead of you staying all day in the bedroom, you end up in the living room together with the TV playing in the background. Neither of you is really watching it. Jihoon keeps glancing at you and checks if you’re cold, if you’re breathing fine, if your fever looks worse than before, if you need some more tissues.
When the night grows late, he gets up and stretches. “Need anything else?”
You shake your head but then your stomach growls loudly. You feel your face heat up with embarrassment. “Maybe something light. I don’t think I can eat anything heavy.”
Jihoon nods and heads to the kitchen without a single complaint. He moves quickly as if he already had something in mind. When he returns with a small bowl of warm soup, you can feel your throat tightening again, but this time it’s from your overwhelming feelings for this man. He sets it in front of you and sits beside you. “Eat.”
You take a spoonful. The heat spreads through your mouth and chest, and the comfort is immediate. Jihoon’s eyes never leave you as he watches to make sure you finish it, not in a controlling way but in a more concerned way. You want to ask him why he’s being like this. Why is he doing more than what the arrangement requires. Why is he choosing to stay here when he doesn’t have to. But you keep eating instead.
When you finish, he stands to take the bowl away. Before he leaves, he leans down and presses another kiss to your forehead. This time his lips stay connected to your forehead a little longer than the last time. His thumb brushes your temple, and when he pulls back, he looks at you, “you know,” he says, “even if this wasn’t fake, I wouldn’t mind.”
It feels like you might as well suffocate right now… but in a good way. For so long, you have been convincing yourself this is just for convenience, and a performance for everyone else. But hearing him say that makes everything inside you roam around and change painfully. You don’t want this to end, and you most definitely don’t want to go back to being strangers who only speak for the sake of appearances as co-actors. Jihoon clears his throat and looks away. He seems unsure, which is rare. He doesn’t usually stumble like this. He seems like he wants to say more, but you can tell he’s holding himself back.
“Jihoon…” Your voice is trailing. “Stay. Just for a little longer.”
He hesitates at first, probably thinking about the work he has tomorrow or the fact that he has already stayed too late. But then he lets out a sigh and nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
He starts toward the other couch, but something inside you pushes you to reach out. You pat the space beside you. “Here. It’s more comfortable.”
Jihoon pauses on his way to sit down on the other couch. He looks at you like he’s trying to decide if this is a mistake. He’s careful, never crosses a line unless he knows it won’t hurt either of you.
After a moment, he sits. It’s not too close, but also close enough that you can feel him around you. The TV keeps playing behind you, but neither of you really pay attention to it. Your eyelids grow heavy from the rest settling inside you, and you’re happy to tell yourself that it’s not from the fever. Jihoon must sense it because he finally speaks.
“You scared me.”
“What?”
“When you got sick,” he eyes lowering to his hands. “You weren’t answering your phone. And when I got here, you could barely stand.” He goes quiet for some time. “I knew you weren’t in danger, but… I didn’t like not being here.”
Your throat tightens again. He isn’t someone who throws words around. If he’s saying this, it’s because he means it. “Why?”
He huffs a laugh, but there’s nothing funny in it. He looks more frustrated with himself than anything else. “I don’t know. I just didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”
That hits something in you that you haven’t let yourself acknowledge. Your fingers brush his hand slowly, and you feel him tense around your hand, then relax and turn his palm up to hold yours. His thumb rubs lightly against your skin. “I didn’t want to be alone,” you admit to him. “I thought I’d be fine with all of this. I thought it wouldn’t change anything.”
“You were wrong,” he says.
“Yeah.”
He stares at your joined hands for a long time. “If we stopped pretending… would that be so bad?”
Your heart literally thunders in your chest now. The answer’s very obvious to you. It has always been obvious. “It was never fake for me.”
Jihoon exhales and pulls you in a little closer to him. His voice drops to a breathy whisper. “If we’re not faking it… does that mean I get to keep you?”
Your breath catches, and you feel everything inside you fall into place. You squeeze his hand. “Only if you want to.”
His expression changes to relief and what you can describe it as, realization. He cups your cheek and leans in to press another kiss to your forehead. This one didn’t feel like it was for comfort. “I do,” he confesses. “I always have.”
For the first time tonight, the weird tightness in your chest eases. It doesn’t feel like comfort but like a beginning. And you don’t want it to end.
kim mingyu x foreign reader
content: fluff, established relationship
- synopsis: trying to keep up with mingyu’s fast talking.
A/N: i had SO much fun writing this. I love the way he speaks smmm😭😭
in the beginning, you thought your korean was good.
you’d been studying for a while, could hold conversations, order food, joke a little. you were confident enough to call yourself almost fluent. and then you met mingyu.
because mingyu doesn’t talk. he fires sentences.
the first few weeks of dating were full of moments where he’d get excited, lean closer to you, and suddenly unleash a whole paragraph in one breath. no pauses. hands moving, voice getting faster and faster it’s almost like his thoughts couldn’t wait for his mouth to catch up.
he’d freeze. eyes widening. “wait was that too fast?”
then immediately launch into an apology just as fast, which somehow made it worse.
sometimes you’d nod along even when you only caught every third word. sometimes you’d laugh and admit you were lost. sometimes he’d realize halfway through and stop himself, switching to slower korean, careful and soft, checking your face every few seconds like, are you with me?
it became a thing.
mingyu rambling. you stopping him with a smile.
“kim mingyu. breathe.”
now, it’s different.
now you understand him. not just the words, but the way he talks. the rhythm. the way he speeds up when he’s excited, when he’s nervous, when he’s trying to explain something he really cares about. you don’t need him to slow down anymore.
sometimes you even finish his sentences.
and when he realizes that he’s mid ramble and you respond perfectly, catching every word he just stops and stares at you like he’s a little in love all over again.
summary: you put your heart into every piece of jewelry you make, so why does it only hurt when they're for him?
warnings: swearing, some jealousy, smidgen of religious imagery, smut (18+ ; mdni)
smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex
word count: 5.3k
author’s note(s): for @sluttywoozi's birthday <33 ilyyy
this was the hardest fic i've ever written ;-; idk why but it just kept fighting me the whole time // also did not mean to be so heavy-handed with the rubies it just sort of happened
“What would you pick?”
Every single fucking time. It was like he didn’t know what he was doing by asking you that. And maybe he didn’t.
Lee Jihoon’s consultations were your least favorite part of (nearly) every month. And it wasn’t because he was a rude customer or a schmuck just looking to blow his money or anything like that- but because month after month he waltzed into your place of work and bought a custom piece for someone who wasn’t you even though he never failed to ask you that god damn question.
It wasn’t like it was uncommon for jewelers to get asked that. In fact, it was rather common. Men tended to view women as a monolith, accepting any opinion from whoever was nearest as a reflection of their partners’ solely based on the other party’s gender.
But with Jihoon it’s different. It was like Jihoon actually cared what you had to say about it, like it mattered what you thought of his decisions even though you were the one designing the piece and not receiving it.
It sends you into a mini spiral every time. Every time he walks through the door, eyes automatically searching for you. Every time he sits down in front of you and leans over your desk to get a closer look at your work and you catch a whiff of the expensive cologne dotted at his pulse points. Every time you have to gaze into his deep brown eyes and swallow the jealousy rising in your throat as you bare your soul to him laid out on a satin pillow for him to take and give to someone else.
You already know who it is once you see that the VIP Room is booked on your schedule. You groan internally, cursing the man as you run through all of your preparations. There isn’t much to do because almost everything is already ready for you but you try to stay busy anyway, finding yourself checking the clock on the wall over and over again until the bell above the door finally chimes to signal his arrival.
Your back is to the door and you don’t turn around right away even though you know he’s seen you. You can feel his gaze on you. It’s piercing yet magnetic in the way things like glass and icicles are- deceptively alluring, sharp enough to draw blood.
When you do finally turn to face him, you note that he’s flanked by a security guard, not unusual for him but unsettling to you nonetheless. You don’t know what he does for work. You’ve never asked. Better not to get attached is what you told yourself, not that you were having much luck with that.
Jihoon smiles politely at you and you return the nicety, gesturing to the door behind the counter for him to follow you.
The lights in the showroom are dim as always. The dark, velveted walls seem to be absorbing what little light the decorative lamps are effusing. The walls are lined with built-in display cases, illuminating their contents and nothing else.
In the middle of the room sits a desk, with a chair on either side. You take your place behind the desk and wait for Jihoon to sit before doing the same. He’s ditched his shadow so the two of you are alone, something you try not to think about as you organize your tools in front of you.
“How have you been?” Jihoon asks, his voice breaking the silence but doing little to ease the tension between you.
“I’ve been well,” you answer. It’s an honest answer, for the most part. “And yourself?”
“Busy,” he sighs, “but good.”
You fold your hands on the desktop in front of you, letting its cold surface ground you. You can already feel yourself starting to sweat even though the showroom’s the coldest place in the store. “So, what are we doing today?”
“A bracelet,” Jihoon says.
“For you or someone else?”
You never ask your clients who their orders are for. In your profession, you’ve learned that being too nosy, even in good conscience, can be dangerous. You’ll ask if the piece is for the client themselves, if it’s to celebrate a specific occasion, and what the person’s tastes are but little else. If they offer the information voluntarily, so be it.
“Someone else.”
You grit your teeth as you ask the next question. “Do you have their measurements?”
Jihoon doesn’t answer right away.
“Not exactly. It doesn’t need to be a perfect fit. They, uh, have about the same size wrist as me.”
“Then I’ll ask you to hold out your wrist for me…”
He extends his arm across the space between you, pale skin almost translucent under your Circline light.
“Which way,” he turns his hand for you, “palm up or down?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
He leaves his palm skyward like he’s waiting for you to take his hand but you wrap the tapeline around his wrist instead, bringing the magnifier closer to get an exact measurement. You make a mental note of the number and definitely not of the way his fingers are long and calloused and-
“That’s really pretty.”
Jihoon’s voice startles you out of your unprofessional thoughts, making you jump a little in your seat. He grins apologetically.
“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you how pretty I think your ring is.”
Your eyes flit down to the piece of jewelry on your finger, a thin gold band looped around a few times like a wiry piece of thread. In between the strands of gold are three gems, diamond, alexandrite, and tourmaline, set in what looks to be random spots. You’ve worn it every day since you finished it but no one had ever commented on it until now.
“Was it a gift?” Jihoon asks.
“No, I made it.”
“I should’ve known,” he sighs.
You want to ask him what he means by that but you know his answer will only make you more delusional.
You release the end of the measuring tape and roll it back up, replacing it in its spot in your drawer and pulling out a leather bound notebook instead. You flip to a blank page and jot down Jihoon’s measurements along with the few details he’s told you thus far about the piece he wants made.
“Do you have an idea of what you want your bracelet to look like?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject. “Or should I show you some of my previous designs?”
“I think I have an idea but I don’t know how to describe it.”
“How about I show you some pieces and you tell me if they’re similar to what you had in mind?”
“That sounds perfect.”
You stand from the desk and turn around to face the display cases behind you. There’s an assortment of original jewelry pieces made by you and your colleagues to choose from but you only select ones you’ve made, knowing Jihoon would instantly be able to tell the difference. It’s happened enough times before.
You walk him through each of your selections, making note of what he points out about each of them. From his musings, you gather that he wants an argentium silver chain— thick enough to be inlaid with stones but not too thick that it would become too heavy or gaudy.
Listening to him talk about the piece made you smile despite the envy twisted around your heart. He had started to pick up on the terminology after coming here for so many months and seemed so much more confident about his knowledge of it all. It was apparent in the way he held himself now during consultations.
You get all of the initial details about the body of the piece squared away before moving on to the finer ones. Categorizing the steps like this helps you stay organized.
“And do you know which stones you want embedded in the bracelet?” you ask.
Jihoon rubs his thumb across his lips in thought. “I thought I did, but after seeing that,” he pauses to point at a necklace you’d shown him, “I’m having second thoughts.” The necklace he’s referring to is set similarly to the style of the bracelet, only gold and lined with rubies.
“What was your first choice?”
“Amethyst. Since it’s a birthday gift, I thought I’d go with their birthstone, but now I’m torn. What would you pick?”
There it was, the dreaded question. It was like he’d been holding a knife to your throat this entire time and finally decided to draw blood. Still, you answer like you always do.
“I’m partial to amethyst,” you admit, “and there’s the added significance of it being their birthstone, but the rubies would make more of a statement. It really depends on what kind of person you’re buying for. Are they a sentimental person or a flashy person?”
“They’re both,” Jihoon groans, putting his head in his hands. Then, after a moment, he sits back up. “But I think they’d like the rubies more. I feel like those evoke a more dramatic aura, if that makes sense.”
“It does. Rubies are associated with power and passion.” They’re also associated with romance but you choose not to mention that part. “In some cultures, they were believed to protect the wearers as well.”
“That’s perfect then.”
You clasp your hands together and force a smile. “Great! Do you want them around the entire band of the bracelet? From clasp to clasp?”
“What would two-thirds look like?”
“Let me show you.”
You discuss the size, cut, and spacing of the stones before calculating a price and timeline for the piece. You give Jihoon the receipt that states how much he owes today and how much he’ll owe when he comes to pick it up, circling the pick up date with your pen.
He pays with his black card, the one you’ve become accustomed to swiping every time you see him. You expect him to leave promptly after the payment, that’s what usually happens, but he doesn’t. He lingers a little awkwardly as you put the jewelry back in their display cases, hesitating by the door like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“Jihoon?” you ask him eventually, “is everything okay?”
You refer to most of your clients by their surnames but Jihoon had asked you not to the very first time you met. “It makes me feel old,” he’d explained with a laugh.
Now, he laughs again. This time, it’s a nervous laugh, one that draws confusion and sets your own nerves on edge.
He swallows harshly. “I know this may be entirely inappropriate, but I promised myself I wouldn’t leave today without asking if you would go to dinner with me.”
“W-what?”
“Go to dinner with me?” he repeats, this time in the form of an actual question.
You blink. “For real?”
“Um, yes? Unless your answer is no, then no, not for real.”
You put both hands on your desk to brace yourself, unsure what to make of his request. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. Why would you want to go to dinner with me?”
“Because I want to take you on a date.”
“A date?!”
Jihoon clears his throat a little bashfully. “Yes, I thought that was implied when I invited you to dinner.”
“Dinner could mean a lot of things! Maybe it was a business proposal.”
He chuckles. “I’m a music producer, I don’t know what kind of business I’d have with a jeweler.”
It doesn’t even dawn on you that you’ve finally found out what he does for work because you’re so overwhelmed by the fact that he’s asking you out to comprehend anything else. You can hardly comprehend this.
“You want to go on a date with me?”
“I- uh, I’ve been coming here for months just to see you. I mean, I was really getting gifts for people but they don’t give a fuck about what I buy them for their birthdays as long as it’s expensive... they don’t really care about the different gems and settings and shit.” You’re still processing his words when Jihoon lifts his head to peek at your reaction. “Are you... upset?”
“Upset? No, I’m relieved!”
“Wait, what? What do you mean?”
“This whole time I thought you were getting gifts for your partner, or partners, I thought you were taken.”
You watch the corners of Jihoon’s mouth quirk up into a smile as he realizes what you’re saying. “And that upset you?”
“Yes,” you mumble.
“You like me back?”
“Yes. It’s been terrible.”
“Pardon?” he chokes out.
“Imagine the roles were reversed,” you explain, “I’m coming to you every month, getting to know you better and you’re learning more and more about me, I’m flirting with you, you’re starting to feel like we’re getting closer-”
“Only for you to buy the jewelry for someone else,” he concludes for you with a grimace, “presumably a romantic partner. Yeah, okay I can see how that would be miserable.”
“But then, who have these even been for this whole time?!” you blurt out, finally breaking your number one rule.
“I’ll explain everything over dinner,” Jihoon promises.
“But when is dinner?”
“What time does your shift end?”
-
Jihoon does explain everything over dinner, as promised. He gave you some time after work to get ready for the date and then picked you up from your place in a town car. He’d told you before that he’s never felt the need to get a drivers license, that public transport and ride services were plenty to get him to where he needed to go, and that he seldom left the house anyway. You offered to drive to dinner since you did have both a car and a license but Jihoon astutely refused, saying that while he wasn’t very old fashioned, he was the one who asked you out and he’s always liked the idea of a more traditional first date.
Dinner is at a restaurant you’ve never even heard of but apparently has a Michelin star. The food and mocktails are delicious, but truthfully the last thing on your mind as you stare across the table at your date. He’s dressed in all black, like usual, but had chosen an outfit that was much more formal than what you were used to seeing him in: pressed slacks and a dress shirt that was buttoned just low enough to show off a hint of collarbone, cleavage, and a chain you recognize as one you’d crafted for him almost a year ago.
He almost always wore a hat when visiting your store but tonight he’s forgone the baseball cap and swept his long hair back in a half up, half down sort of manner. There’s product in it but a few wisps of his bangs have escaped the hold of the gel and hang in front of his eyes.
You briefly wonder if he’d let you style his hair, if he’d let you braid it back. He’d look so pretty with french braids-
At the end of the meal, after he’s paid, he asks the question. Not the question, the one you’re always dreading, but a new one that makes your heart beat just as fast.
“Are you doing anything after this?”
You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the watered down taste in order to keep the air of suspense. “That depends, what are you doing?”
-
Jihoon’s apartment is closer than yours. It’s in the middle of the city, nestled safely above the bustling crowds and chaos of the streets beneath it. You would call it a penthouse but it isn’t on the top floor of the building nor does it have a terrace- the point is, it’s bigger than the house you grew up in. You can tell just from standing in the doorway with all the lights off. The floor to ceiling windows lined all along the far wall give it away. They let in just enough light from the billboards and neon street signs below to cast shadows in the corners of the room that emphasize its depth.
There’s music playing softly throughout the apartment when you enter.
“I wasn’t expecting this to happen,” Jihoon insists as he scrambles to turn on some lamps. “I swear, I just always have music playing.”
“Sure,” you tease him, bending down to slip out of your heels.
You’re still a few inches taller than him without them on but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. You certainly don’t.
“I can turn it off if you’d prefer,” he offers.
“No, that’s okay. I like having it on when-” you stop yourself mid-sentence, cheeks blooming with heat. You had been about to say, ‘when I’m having sex,’ and Jihoon seems to fill in the blank himself from the way he smirks at you.
“Really? That’s good to know.”
You’re too flustered to think of a witty response so you just pucker your lips like you do when you don’t know what to say and hope he can’t tell how insane with lust his answer just made you.
The lapse in his gentlemanly manner is brief and before things can go too far he takes your coat and purse and leads you to the couch in the living room. You sit and watch as he crouches in front of the fireplace, rolling up his sleeves. It’s a gas fireplace so all he has to do is turn the dial to the desired strength, there’s no soot or ash or really anything that would make him dirty, but you appreciate the view of his arms nonetheless.
You know Jihoon is a big fitness buff. It’s one of the first things he ever told you, apologizing for how sweaty he was as he shook your hand and introduced himself. It’s been hard not to let that knowledge distract you whenever you see him now. You’ve caught yourself ogling his biceps and quads (and ass) an unhealthy amount of times in your consultations. You can let yourself get distracted tonight, though. Now that he’s not your client and you’re the girl he’s brought home. Now that he’s got his forearms out on display specifically for you to ogle.
He joins you on the couch a moment later, creating a respectful distance between you.
“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks suddenly. “I don’t have any alcohol in the house because I don’t really drink but I could make you something like we had at dinner. I also have Coke Zero and water and-”
You put your hand out to stop him, relieved to know he’s just as nervous as you are. “Water would be great, thanks.”
“Ice?”
“If you have it.”
“I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t,” he points out.
“Right. That’s... right.”
He laughs affectionately and touches your knee as he goes to stand from the sofa. His hand is warmer than you expect, making you suck in a quick breath that makes you both freeze. Your eyes meet his before his gaze shifts to your lips.
“Do you... still want that water?”
Your mouth does feel dry but for an entirely different reason.
“Maybe later.”
-
He’s on top of you as soon as your back hits the mattress, strong thighs straddling your hips. His hair falls into his eyes and subsequently yours as he leans down and gently cups your face.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes, kiss me,” you gasp, pulling him into you before he does.
Jihoon groans the instant your lips touch his, grinding into you almost involuntarily. It isn’t long until you’re moaning too, practically writhing underneath him as he kisses you like he’s found God.
Everything about him is soft, except his hands. His voice, his tongue, his touch. His hands leave your cheeks and start to explore the rest of your body, grazing your chest and hips over your dress.
His fingers skim the hem of it and dip just below the seam, lifting the fabric from your thighs before letting it float back down.You don’t know if he’s teasing you on purpose but it’s driving you crazy. You’ve wanted him for so long now that his self control feels cruel, like he’s dangling himself just out of reach.
“I’m sorry, I got carried away,” he says, running a hand through his hair.
“I honestly wanted you to get more carried away,” you admit.
“Really?”
“I thought I was making it obvious.”
“I didn’t want to assume,” he mumbles through a smug grin, “and I didn’t know how far you wanted to go tonight.”
“I want to go as far as you want to go,” you assure him.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
You’re not typically one to sleep with someone on a first date, not for any religious, moral (or internally misogynistic) reason, you just don’t like being that vulnerable with someone you’ve just met. You’ve also found sex to be a lot more enjoyable with someone you feel connected to.
So even though it’s technically your first date with Jihoon, you’ve known him for what feels like half of an eternity and craved him for every single moment of it. You aren’t going to deny yourself what you’ve longed for for ages.
“In that case, can I eat you out?” he asks.
“Fuck yeah you can.”
“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs as he positions himself between your legs and pushes your dress up to your hips.
“Really?” you sigh.
Jihoon kisses the inside of your thigh and then hums against it. “Mhm, every single time we were alone in that dark room I’d just think about crawling under that table and spreading your legs apart...”
“You should have.”
Jihoon scoffs. “You would have gotten fired.”
“Worth it.”
“But isn’t this much better?” he asks, pressing his tongue over your panties. “I can take my time with you and you can be as loud as you want...”
Jihoon repeats the motion with his tongue and you whimper as if to prove his point. He’s barely done anything and your panties are already soaked through. To be fair, you’ve been wet since dinner but that was his doing too. All he had to do was look pretty and you were melting for him.
“Want me to take these off?” he asks.
“God, please.”
“Here, lift up for me then, perfect. Now put your legs over my shoulders... good, just like that.”
He drowns himself in you, worshiping your cunt with his lips and his tongue and his entire being. He takes his time tasting all of you before moving on to what he knows you’re actually waiting for. You try to be patient, you know he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have, and it feels good... you just need more.
He does give you more, eventually. His tongue dips inside of you when you’re least expecting it and your thighs clamp around his head in surprise. He’s completely unfazed by this, and pries them apart with ease, holding your legs open as he continues to drink you in.
He switches between tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit a few times to figure out which you like more, settling on a pattern that has his name echoing off the walls of his bedroom.
You can barely hear the music playing over the obscene sounds he’s making as he eats you out but you find you actually prefer them anyway.
His mumbling is incoherent, muffled by you in every sense of the word. Still, you can tell he’s praising you, encouraging you to surrender to the pleasure.
It doesn’t take much convincing because he has you on the edge in record time. No man has ever gotten you so close so fast, you don’t even think you’ve made yourself cum this fast and you have that shit down to a science. It’s over for you as soon as he adds his fingers into the mix. You wanted to hold off a little longer just to prove a point but Jihoon has his own point to prove.
You don’t necessarily need penetration to get off but having something to cum around does make orgasms stronger for you. He must know this, or at least have an inkling, because he pushes two fingers inside of you right when your breath catches in your throat and your body locks up and your vision starts to blur…
-
“Baby- is it okay if I call you baby? Are you alright?”
It’s more than okay, you think to yourself and then you realize the disembodied voice that sounds a lot like Jihoon’s is actually expecting an answer.
You open your eyes the tiniest bit to see a very wet, very concerned-looking Jihoon hovering above you.
“You can call me whatever you want,” you tell him.
“That wasn’t really the important question out of the two,” he sighs. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great!”
He breathes a sigh of relief and collapses against your shoulder.
“What are you doing?” you laugh. “Aren’t we going to keep going?”
Jihoon lifts his head and gives you a look. “You just came so hard you blacked out, don’t you want to take a break?”
You shake your head. “No? Why would I?”
His lips part and he sputters, “because you just-”
“It’s sweet that you’re worried about me, but I promise I’m fine. I’ve never been better.”
“Never?”
“Never ever.”
“So… I can kiss you again?”
“As many times as you want.”
The power you’ve bestowed on him in that one sentence immediately goes to his head and he spends the next several minutes pressing kisses into your skin as he undresses both you and himself.
He kisses you in between every piece of clothing that comes off, every button of his shirt that he undoes, dragging out every moment until you’re both completely naked save for your ring and his necklace (and a condom).
He’s huge, unsurprisingly. What is surprising is how hard he is already. You knew he was turned on, you could feel him through his pants when you were making out and he was grinding into you, but you didn’t realize it was like this. You haven’t even touched him and his cock is rock hard and flushed at the tip. Did he get that worked up just from giving you head? Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter...
He pumps himself a few times before easing into you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he struggles to keep his composure. You aren’t faring any better, hands flying to his biceps when he bottoms out. The stretch is more intense than you’re expecting. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your head. All you can do is lay there on the satin sheets and feel as Jihoon makes himself a part of you.
“Are you okay?” you hear him ask distantly, voice trembling.
“I’m perfect,” you manage to respond.
“You are,” he agrees.
Your brows wrinkle in confusion as you try to blink him back into focus. Hm?”
He just smiles and pets your hair gently. “Don’t worry about it.”
“O-okay.”
“Am I good to start moving?”
“Yes, yes please fuck me.”
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull his body even closer just in case he needs further convincing, gasping in relief when he finally does start to move. It’s slow at first, experimental. You’re still sensitive from cumming so every sensation is heightened. Every stroke feels better than the last and you can only hope it feels just as good for Jihoon.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, “how are you so fucking wet?”
“I really like you,” you laugh, “and you’re so good at, like, everything! It’s unfair and it’s, fuck, not my fault.”
“I really like you too,” he confesses, starting to fuck you harder. You expect him to elaborate but he doesn’t, not right away. Instead, he lets his body do the talking for him while he busies his mouth with yours. You can still taste yourself on his lips along with traces of your lipgloss and chapstick that he’d long since kissed off. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating.
When he raises his head and puts a hand on the headboard to steady himself, the necklace you’d made him dangles right in front of your face, the cross pendant just inches from your nose. He grabs it with his free hand and puts the charm between his teeth so that it won’t hit you, smirking at the way your eyes roll back.
“You like that?”
“Fuck you.”
He laughs, then mumbles, “God, you’re so hot. I’m so fucking close already.”
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, down into another kiss. The chain still in his mouth presses into your lips, the cold metal a striking difference from the heat of your bodies.
“Please tell me you’re close too,” he whispers.
“So fucking close.”
You just need a little more to get you over that edge again. You release one of your arms from around his neck and snake it in between yourselves to rub your clit but Jihoon pushes it away and replaces it with his own. He repeats the same motions with his fingers that he’d done with his tongue, begging you to cum with him.
“Let go for me, baby,” he urges, “wanna cum together. Please let me feel you.”
You don’t black out this time but you do cry, fingernails digging into his back as you fall apart under him. Jihoon fucks you through it, helping you both ride it out. He’s shaking by the time the aftershocks pass and carefully lays himself on top of you like a blanket so that you can both catch your breath.
“S-sorry, I thought I’d last a lot longer,” he apologizes sheepishly. “Next time I will. Maybe. Your pussy is crazy though so you can’t hold me to that.”
“You’ve got such a way with words,” you scoff.
“What can I say, I’m a songwriter. It’s in my blood.”
You snort and push him off you, searching your phone. Your best friend had probably alerted you missing to the authorities by now after not hearing from you for however many hours it’d been since you last updated her. You find your phone under one of the pillows and see a barrage of texts from her and the groupchat just like you predicted. Snitch. You would have to grovel later, though, because Jihoon had gotten up to start the shower and returned to get you now that the water was warm.
He helps you step into the basin and shows you how to adjust the temperature in case it isn’t to your liking before asking if you want him to stay. You do, and you point out that he needs to shower too so it would be more efficient if you showered together anyway.
He joins you without a second’s hesitation, kissing your shoulder from behind as he begins to gently lather your body with soap. You return the favor after he’s done with you and soon enough he’s wrapping you and himself up in plush white towels he’d grabbed from the warmer next to the shower.
“Stay the night?” he asks as he dries you off.
You don’t have anything you need with you because you hadn’t planned on spending the night. It’s usually impossible to sleep without your overnight essentials but you’re honestly so exhausted you think you could fall asleep standing up.
“Don’t feel like you have to,” he adds when he senses your hesitation.
“No, I want to,” you assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting to have a sleepover so I don’t have any of my things.”
“I have an extra toothbrush,” he supplies helpfully, like that’s the only thing that could have been preventing you from making a decision.
You smile, trying not to laugh. “Thank you, that’d be great.”
He smiles back. “Anything for you.”
this was something kind of different but i hope you liked it bestie <3 can't wait to hear your thoughts i love youuuu
SYNOPSIS — lusting after his best friend’s daughter is disaster waiting to happen; mingyu tells himself he should just wait it out. but as time progresses, his crush on you only gets increasingly worse, to the point he can no longer keep it hidden from you.
TAGS — dilf!mingyu, explicit sexual content, age gap (mc is in her early 20s, gyu is in his early 40s), gyu acts a bit like a father figure on occasion but in a sexy way, not proofread, author lowkey is not happy with the way this fic turned out but spent too long on it not to post it <3
NOTE — listen. i do not fuck with the twilight movies but there’s this scene in the first one (i think) where the main girl gets stitched up by her boyfriend’s dad and. well. those are the vibes. enjoy :D
♫ — cola by lana del rey / daddy issues by the nbhd / wicked games by the weeknd
𝓜INGYU MAKES IT TO THE AGE OF FORTY-ONE BEFORE HE STARTS BELIEVING IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
he doesn’t know what that spark feels like until he lays eyes on you. perhaps it’s because of you that the spring day feels warmer, the colours more intense, the smell of fresh roses in the air.
when his best friend told him his only child would be coming over, he didn’t think that much of it. your father divorced his wife about three years ago, and mingyu got to meet him not long after he moved into quite the estate at the most wealthy part of the countryside, which happened to be very close to his own home.
you, his daughter, were always too busy to visit, away at college, barely even coming home for the weekends — and when you did, you usually went over to your mother’s house. it’s not like you and your father aren’t close, just that you’re closer to your mom.
but now, your parents have suddenly decided they want to try and see if their relationship can work again. with you having nearly a whole academic year off until you start your master’s, you’re planning to live with them for a while, meaning the three of you will be living in your father’s estate.
which brings you to your current situation — you, smiling at something your mother says to you, and mingyu watching you from afar. the market is as crowded as it usually tends to get on the countryside, and he’s pretty sure he’s heard some people greeting him in the distance, but he can’t tear his focus away from you.
god, you’re gorgeous. a smile that lights up the room, a pretty little dress that might as well be tailored to your body, your hair gleaming under the sun.
his best friend suddenly recognizes him, gesturing for him to come over.
from your spot by one of the vendors, you catch sight of him approaching you, and something about him sends a shiver down your spine.
he introduces himself to you as kim mingyu. aside from the fact that he’s unnecessarily handsome, with that long dark hair and chiseled jaw, he walks around with a certain confidence you don’t often find in people. charming but doesn’t overdo it, holds his head high without being arrogant, uses his strong hands for gentle touches.
not to mention his sense of style. a white dress shirt, rolled-up sleeves, an expensive watch sitting on his wrist and a silver ring shining on his index finger.
you quickly come to the conclusion that your father’s best friend is sex on a stick. he gazes at you with parted lips, a subtle smile playing on them when he realizes you’re looking him up and down, and it has heat rushing to your cheeks.
it’s your entirely oblivious father who speaks up first. “took her a while to come visit with university always getting in the way, but now she’s finally here for a while. did i tell you she graduated magna cumme laude?”
“dad, you know you don’t have to say that to everyone, right?” you chuckle, averting your eyes, and he teasingly puts his hand on your shoulder.
“well, since you’re not doing it, i’ll have to do it for you. you agree, don’t you, mingyu?”
“certainly. takes hard work to pull something like that off.” he nods, locking eyes with you. “if anything, you should be bragging about it.”
you tilt your head. “and here i thought i was being humble.”
mingyu thinks he might be intoxicated by the sight of you. he follows every move you make like a hawk.
he’s never been one to look at women who are far apart in terms of age. even now, he usually doesn’t — but you just might be the exception to the rule. an exception that makes him feel like a pervert. what the hell is he doing at this age, looking at someone as young as you?
frankly, he’s not sure. but there’s something so different about you.
much to his pleasure, you continue your conversation with him even after your father has walked off to take a call. “so, what brings you here today?”
“i’m shopping. gotta get my hands on a birthday gift. something involving dinosaurs, if they’re selling that here.”
“dinosaurs?” you raise a brow, at which he chuckles.
“it’s for my son’s birthday. he’s been obsessed with ‘em for years. already going around telling people he’s gonna study biology when he’s older.”
fuck, you think to yourself. so that must mean he’s taken, even if you don’t see a gold ring on his finger.
then again, what chance did you think you had with a man like that, anyway?
“i’m pretty sure i saw some books in the sale section he might like.” you smile politely, hiding your reaction. “i’m assuming you’re married, then?”
but to your surprise, he shakes his head. “divorced, actually.”
“oh, i’m sorry.”
“it’s fine. it wasn’t a nasty divorce, we’re on better terms now than we were before it happened. it’s been a couple years, all three of us are happier this way.”
fair enough. “does your son live with you?”
“no, with his mom. but i call him often, and he comes over most weekends.”
you nod in understanding, and before you can give an actual response, he needs to clear the situation, because for some reason he just has to let you know he’s single.
“anyways, i’ve been by myself for a couple years now. so was your father, up until about two months ago.” he smiles. “is that weird? having your parents try again?”
with a shrug, you answer, “a bit. though i always figured it was more of a break than an actual divorce. we’ll see how it turns out, i guess.”
the perfect opportunity to insert the question he’s been dying to ask.
“and you? got a boyfriend waiting for you back home?”
“no, i don’t.”
that single reply has his heart racing in his chest.
mingyu subtly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. his eyes are focused on your bare legs, travelling upwards before he can comprehend he’s shamelessly oggling you.
just when you’re about to say something else to him, your father beckons to you, and you give him that gorgeous smile again. “duty calls. it was nice to meet you, mr. kim.”
“call me mingyu. and likewise. i’ll go check out those books you mentioned.”
taking a last look at him, you eventually almost have to force yourself to turn around and go over to your father.
mingyu is unable to get you out of his mind that day. you’re all that’s lingering in his head when he buys that dinosaur book at the store, when he cooks his dinner, when he’s showering, when the lights are off and he’s tossing and turning in bed.
what the hell kind of impression did you leave on him? he’s pretty sure you’ll be showing up in his dreams too, if he finally manages to fall asleep at some point.
not that he wouldn’t want you to.
funnily enough, you both go to bed with the wish to see each other again as soon as possible, and mingyu makes sure to be a part of your new everyday life in the days that follow.
days turn into weeks, and before you know it, two months have passed by.
both of you have developed a sickeningly annoying crush on each other. mingyu, being your father’s best friend, is over at the house rather frequently, and naturally your mother’s taken a liking towards him as well.
shared dinners, game nights, events in town — there’s suddenly a lot tying you together, which means you see him at least several times a week.
you’ve grown to feel comfortable in his presence, since you get along so well, though the hairs on your arms certainly still stand upright when he walks into the room.
and if you’ve learned one thing, it’s that mingyu is one smooth fucker. charming, always says the right thing, well-liked. but you find you like him especially when he loses his composure.
the first time it happened was when it’d rained and you had to walk past him, push-up bra entirely visible through your soaked shirt. you remember how red his cheeks got — and how much you liked the attention from him.
it pushes you to accidentally show him a peek into your cleavage or under your skirt from time to time, and you feel accomplished at the sight of his breath hitching in his throat for a second before he pulls himself together.
mingyu has secretly already had to get himself off several times after getting bricked up from the sight of you.
he’s starting to pick up on things in the remarkably short time since your first meeting — your go-to coffee order, your favorite books, the change in your tone when you speak to someone you don’t like all that much. a tone you never use with him, of course.
no, mingyu knows you like his company. but even with his good looks, there’s a certain insecurity that comes with age, making him hesitant to assume you’re just as into him as he’s into you.
and fuck is he into you.
obviously he greatly enjoys your parents’ company — but you’re the main reason he’s over at their home so often.
tonight is no different. the four of you had dinner, you went upstairs to wash up about an hour ago, leaving him to assume you must be tired.
as mingyu pours some wine into three glasses, he looks through the kitchen window to find a car approaching.
your mother sighs as she cuts into some cheese next to him. “my daughter has many strong suits, but time management is not one of them.”
“she’s heading out?”
“yeah, she’s going on a date tonight.”
the wine bottle almost slips from his hand at the mention of it. “a date? with who?”
“william’s son. you know him, he lives down the block.”
yeah, mingyu knows the kid. he also knows you don’t belong with a guy like that at all, he’d never make you happy. way too full of himself.
“since when does she even like him?” mingyu chokes out, trying not to sound as unnerved as he is by the whole ordeal. “she told me she’d rejected him at first.”
your mother shrugs. “no idea. i’m assuming something must’ve changed her mind. god, is she just gonna let that boy wait out there the whole time? i’ll open the door.”
mingyu considers telling her to leave the kid outside, but chooses the more socially acceptable thing to do instead. “no, you’ve got your hands full. i’ll handle it.”
he sets down the bottle of wine, heading out to the front door, giving a somewhat unsettling smile to the guy standing before him.
“mr. kim! it’s been a while.” he greets, and mingyu narrows his eyes, subtly looking him up and down.
“yeah. so, you got a hot date tonight?”
“would seem so.”
“where are you headed?”
the guy mistakes the casual tone of questioning for a positive one. “we’re just gonna have some dinner in the city, see where the night takes us.”
mingyu pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. he didn’t like that sentence at all. he doesn’t like this guy.
with a fake chuckle, he nods, taking a step closer to him. “you touch her in a way she doesn’t like, and i’ll be the one at your doorstep. understand, kid?” he asks, attitude completely controlled despite the threatening tone.
the young man in front of him swallows. “yeah—yeah, of course.”
“good. you go on and wait by the car, i’ll go see if she’s ready.” mingyu gestures for him to get out of his sight as if he’s some child, and right at that moment, he hears you rushing down the stairs.
and to say you look stunning in that velvety red dress would be an understatement. your hair bounces with every step, the smell of your perfume floods his senses, and he realizes that this might be the first time ever he’s jealous of some asshole more than a decade younger than him solely for having the privilege of being your date.
“you’re gorgeous.” he breathes out, and you’re taken aback by his comment, and he suddenly realizes what he said. “you look... gorgeous. in that dress.”
a sweet chuckle escapes you. “thanks. what’s up with him? he looks scared.”
now that your date is the topic of conversation, his tone sours. “perhaps he has a good reason to be.”
the guy is out of earshot anyway, so you frown at mingyu, quickly able to see through that facade he’s putting up. “what did you say to him?”
he shrugs. “nothing special.”
“mingyu.”
“i just—i mean, look at you, sweetheart. i don’t want him to get his grimy little hands all over you. if—if you don’t want him to, of course.”
the bursting of your chest that you should probably be feeling for your date flares up in mingyu’s presence. your heart is racing at the way he indirectly complimented you, and you wish you could just tell your date to fuck off and have this much more handsome older man instead.
but you can’t.
“i can take care of myself, y’know.”
“i don’t doubt it.”
for a brief moment, you forget someone’s waiting for you. how could you not? mingyu looks at you as if you’re some saint walking among men, and you’re starting to pick up on it more with every moment you spend in his presence.
with a hushed tone, you feel like testing him. “what if he did put his hands on me? would you rough him up?”
“i’d do a little more than that.” he whispers back, wishing he could just press you up against this door and kiss you. “whatever you want me to do to him, i’ll do it.”
you nod at him, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, your lips remaining there a few seconds longer than necessary. “thank you.”
his pupils are nearly completely dilated by the time you’ve pulled back, and he watches you walk towards the car with half-lidded eyes, immediately grimacing when your date doesn’t even open the door to the passenger’s seat for you.
christ, what an idiot. he’s a little prick, that kid — a product of rich parents endlessly spoiling their only son.
now, mingyu wouldn’t call himself perfect. far from it actually. but at least he has good manners. he’d treat you so much better.
mingyu waits in his spot, seeing the car roll down the driveway until it’s out of his sight, and he closes the door behind him, taking a deep breath before returning to your parents in the kitchen.
“and? what’s the verdict?” your mother asks, at which he chuckles.
“well, i doubt you’re gonna get a son-in-law anytime soon.”
he considers offering himself as a better suited candidate instead.
unfortunately, mingyu made the mistake of thinking you wouldn’t go on another date with the boy.
it’s not like you had a great time — but it wasn’t horrible, either. he asks to be your boyfriend several dates later, and you’re not sure why, but you agree to it.
it might be out of sheer boredom, and you’re in the mood to shake things up a little. at the same time, it’s mingyu who still continues to occupy your mind all day, yet you doubt anything will ever happen between you and him, even though you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more.
mingyu has to put in effort to hide his distaste of you and your new boyfriend together. the guy is constantly trying to snatch you from his grip, and he’s beginning to think it’s out of either insecurity or jealousy — maybe even both.
truthfully, you enjoy having a man a bit possessive over you. a hand on your hip, an arm around your waist.
when mingyu touches you like that, it feels good. right. you’d love nothing more than to lean into it, against his chest and remain in his hold.
but your boyfriend’s grip is overbearing. it’s unnatural, too warm, not allowing you to breathe. not to mention he doesn’t seem to be possessive out of pride over getting to call you his girlfriend or anything remotely positive for that matter — he seems insecure. it’s written all over his body language.
to be fair, he’s right to be. you don’t even like him. yeah, you want someone that’s not him. he’s nothing but a distraction you plan to throw away at some point.
but fuck, aren’t you allowed to be human? don’t you yearn and ache? and wish to be fucked stupid by someone almost twice your age?
yeah, the reasoning is terrible, but all logical arguments are thrown out of the window whenever your eyes lock with mingyu’s.
and if your dad’s best friend didn’t see the clear disconnect between you and your boyfriend before, he sure does now.
your birthday rolls around the corner about a month and a half later. a short time to be dating, really, and that’s what you force yourself to blame your boyfriend’s bad choice of gift on.
two books — that you’ve already read. which could’ve been an honest mistake, had you not mentioned those two books as some of your all-time favorites before, and pointed them out on the wooden plank in your room.
you give a fake smile, pushing out a thank you, but mingyu knows better. he can’t fathom how your boyfriend would fall for the act, or why the guy didn’t come up with a better present.
mingyu chooses to hand you his gift in private, when you’re alone in the living room together.
you take the still wrapped box with a tilt of your head. “you know you didn’t have to get me something, right?”
“what kind of man would i be if i didn’t get my favorite girl a gift for her birthday?”
my favorite girl. the words almost have your brain short-cutting.
unwrapping the gift, you open the small box to discover a gold, medallion necklace inside. when you look at it in awe, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip for a moment before speaking up. “you mentioned wanting one. if it’s not the design you were looking for—”
“it’s beautiful. but this—this must’ve been so expensive.”
“i have a goldsmith in the family, so i got it for a good price. and it was worth every penny.” the corner of his mouth curls up. “i hope you like it.”
god, it’s stunning. the design is detailed, the length of the necklace is exactly what you were hoping to get someday. but more importantly, he paid attention to what you were saying even in small moments — you think you mentioned wanting a medallion once or twice, to your mother, when mingyu was talking to your father at the other side of the room. and he still remembered.
now he’s here with you, gesturing for you to lift your hair so he can put it on, his fingers brushing past the back of your neck. with the clasp locked in place, you turn around to look in the mirror, finding the hanger sits just below your collarbone.
“it’s perfect. thank you.”
“you’re welcome.” he responds with a gentle smile, and you lean in to give him a hug, getting him to wrap his arms around you.
his touch is electric. even once he’s let you go, it’s like you can still feel his handprints burning on your skin.
in the following days, whenever people ask about the pretty necklace, you proudly show it off, and you don’t miss the way your boyfriend’s eyebrows raise when you tell him it’s from mingyu.
but he chooses not to dwell on it. he definitely tries not to think about it when he’s inside you and you’re completely naked, except for that damn necklace that the much older man gave you. the same older man who keeps his hands on you every chance he gets — the man who’s clearly threatening your relationship.
in your boyfriend’s defense, it’s not like he’s aware you only got with him to keep mingyu out of your thoughts.
but the latter feels the need to talk to you about that idiot you call your boyfriend.
a week later, after a brief visit to your friends in the city, it’s him who picks you up from the train station. something about your father being busy and mingyu stepping up like the good friend he is.
“y’know, i’ve been thinking.” he starts out, his left hand comfortably resting on the steering wheel, only to be met with a witty remark from you.
“that must’ve been hard for you, old man.”
“hilarious. really.” his deadpan stare quickly fades away when you chuckle in response. “anyway, as i was saying — i’m wondering what the hell you’re doing with william’s son.”
“what do you mean?”
“i mean, the kid clearly likes you,” he says, “but you don’t like him.”
“how do you know that?”
“i’d have to be blind not to notice.”
you only sigh. is it really that obvious?
“so what’s going on, sweetheart? why’re you hanging out with him?”
sometimes, mingyu has moments where he acts more like a caretaker than a friend. like a father.
as problematic as it might sound, you like it when he behaves like that from time to time. it’s subtle, not overbearing — something that should feel wrong but doesn’t in the slightest.
“because—ugh, forget it.” because it’s the only way to drown out what you really want. who you really want.
“no, tell me.”
“i just..." you trail off, trying to tell him part of the truth without giving everything away, “isn’t love something you need to grow into?”
“if he doesn’t leave an impression on you of any kind, it’s enough of a sign that it’s not gonna happen in the future, don’t you think?”
“i guess.”
“you don’t sound convinced.”
the questioning suddenly gets on your nerves, since you’re realizing he’s able to call your bullshit from a mile away, but you can’t exactly tell him the truth either. “look, sometimes you just need a distraction. at least he gives me that.”
mingyu stays quiet for a moment.
then he laughs. “and you chose him for that? does he even know what he’s doing with you? assuming that’s what we’re talking about here.”
“it’s fine. he’s fine.”
“fine equals mediocre. you’re not mediocre. so why are you with him, of all people?”
“mingyu, i worked my ass off to graduate in the way that i did. i put academics above everything, and don’t get me wrong, i’m glad that i did and i’d do it again — but it also means i barely had a social life, and i was constantly stressed, and i just—someone offered to relieve all of that and i took it. alright? it doesn’t need to be groundbreaking.”
obviously you didn’t need a boyfriend. hell, you didn’t even want one. but barely having sex in several years time has left you pent up, so all you really wanted was someone to be friends with benefits with, but that simply didn’t end up happening.
then mingyu suddenly came along a few months ago, and you don’t want him solely because you think he’d be great in bed — you actually like the man. but you can’t have him. so on top of your need to have sex, you also want someone to distract you, and that is all your current boyfriend is good for.
though he’s been doing a shitty job at it so far. if anything, whenever your boyfriend is on top of you, you think of mingyu being much bigger than him, in every way possible, undoubtedly.
mingyu stares into nothing when he comes up with the invasive question. “does he at least make you feel good? comfortable?”
“did you seriously just ask me about my sex life?”
“is that a no?”
“it’s—as i said before, it’s fine.”
just hearing you stutter out the response is enough of a sign for him to draw a conclusion. “that’s a real shame, sweetheart.”
“why are you acting like he’s treating me horribly?”
“because it sounds to me that he is.” he retorts sharply. “he doesn’t satisfy you, nor do you like him — which makes sense, given the fact that the dude’s a prick — so what reason could you possibly have for staying with him?”
avoiding the question, you shrug. “so you think i should break up with him?”
“i think you should do what you want.” he answers casually. “if that means breaking up with him and getting with someone better, so be it.”
“you act as if i’ve got another man waiting for me.”
“don’t you?”
you’re both talking around it. he’s tracing the top of the steering wheel with his finger, you’re pushing your tongue against the inside of your cheek.
sooner or later, one of you will have to break.
“all i’m saying is that… with the looks and brains you’ve got, you could get anyone you wanted, sweetheart.” he breathes out, and he looks at you like he means it.
for a moment, you really consider asking if that includes him, too — but it seems you’ve arrived at your destination, so you swallow your words and bottle them up.
as you’re undoing your seatbelt, he offers a last sentiment. “think about it. that’s all i’m saying.”
with a nod, you get out of the car.
the tolerance you have for your boyfriend gets lower each day, but it seems you’ve finally hit a breaking point.
all you wanted was a fun night out at a local bar, and it was good for an hour or two, until one of your newly made friends from the neighborhood threw in a comment she probably shouldn’t have.
“there’s practically zero hot guys here — not our age, anyway.” she’d jokingly said, pointing at you with a drunken smile, “y’know, you’re lucky to have kim mingyu as your neighbor for the time being.”
“am i?”
“c’mon, you gotta admit it. he’s sexy.”
despite your initial hesitation to admit it out loud, you ended up with the same smile on your face as you agreed with her. “yeah, he is.”
unfortunately, it turned out that your boyfriend heard the coversation when you both thought he was out of earshot. the mood soured instantly once he tried to confront you about it, so you left your friends to go home, with your boyfriend spewing out all of his thoughts as he escorts you back.
perhaps you’d give a shit about the whiny complaints coming out of his mouth if you were sober, or if you even remotely liked him — but neither is the case.
“do you even care about this? about us?” he asks, waving with his hands while you walk with your bike beside you and visible annoyance on your face.
you pinch the bridge of your nose. “can we not talk about this when everything’s spinning?”
but he’s too deep in his drunken honesty to listen to you. “i knew something was off. y’know what? maybe you should just go get your rocks off with someone else.”
with a huff, you roll your eyes. “you’re exaggerating.”
“no, i’m not. wanna know something? that fucker mingyu would just love to get his hands all over you. he’s always judging me and shit, his fuckin’ paws at your waist every chance he gets.”
“bullshit.”
“you’re not blind. maybe your parents are, but you’re not. unless you’re enjoying the attention he’s giving you.”
now that his words are getting on your nerves, you’re able to find some clarity in the midst of your clouded judgement. “maybe you should stop focusing on him so much.”
“c’mon. tell me, you also believe he wants to fuck you, right? it’s a yes or no question.”
“i’m not having this conversation with you—”
it’s as if it finally clicks for your boyfriend. he previously thought mingyu’s affection for you was mostly one-sided, but now he’s not so sure anymore.
“do you wanna fuck him?”
“you did not just ask me that.”
“he’s almost twice your age. he could’ve been your father!”
it takes every fibre of your being not to say that the age gap secretly excites you.
stopping in your tracks, you finally look him in the eye. “i’m sick of this. sick of you. we’re over. i’m gonna go home, and you should too. try not to trip over your own feet on the way back.”
before he can even push a protest out of his mouth, you’ve already turned your head and gotten on your bike to get away from him as fast as possible, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.
cycling goes remarkably well in spite of the many drinks you’ve consumed in such little time — at least until you accidentally hit a shard of glass with your front wheel.
with the tire quickly getting completely flat, you’re forced to walk, squinting when you look around.
it’s fucking creepy around here at night, you find. not nearly enough lanterns to light the whole road, the swaying of the tall grass in the wind, the suddenly overwhelming darkness — it makes you speed up to the first house you see.
which, coincidentally, belongs to your favorite neighbor.
it seems unnecessary to knock on his door, since he’s standing in the driveway to fix a lamp. dropping your bike in a cartoonish manner, you leave it at the gate, walking over to his front door.
with a big frown set into his forehead, he watches you approach him.
“what’re you doing?” you ask casually, mood instantly lifted in his presence.
“i’m fixing the light. what are you doing?”
“oh my god, i just—” you slur your words, “i was just thinking about you. and now you’re here!”
“are you drunk?” he asks the question as if he doesn’t already know the answer.
he’s met with a giggle from you. “no! no. look, gyu, my bike broke down. can you help me, like, patch up my tire? i think a piece of glass fucked it up or something.”
the new nickname has him swallowing, but the situation at hand is of much more importance to him right now. “your—your bike? wait, you were cycling? on your own? at this time of night?”
“yeah. i just… didn’t wanna burden my friends, y’know.”
a sigh escapes him. the roads here are barely lit. he might as well buy you a damn car so you can travel safer next time. then again, you probably chose not to go by car so you could have a drink tonight.
fucking hell. even if he did agree to fixing up your bike, you can hardly keep yourself standing upright in his doorway, and he doesn’t like the idea of you cycling home alone.
so he suggests something he probably shouldn’t — for the sake of his own sanity, anyways.
“it’s late, sweetheart. you know i’d fix that up for you any time of day, but you gotta sober up first, and god knows how long that’s gonna take. not to mention i also drank tonight so driving wouldn’t be wise — just spend the night here and i’ll take you home in the morning. give me a second to get the guest room ready.”
the idea of sleeping in the same house as him has excitement bubbling in your gut. with anyone else, you wouldn’t have agreed so quickly, but this is what you’ve secretly wanted for months. “okay.”
“c’mon.” he gestures for you to get inside, and you stumble through the large entrance with his big hand sitting on your lower back.
“what were you drinking? i could go for another glass.”
“absolutely not. you’re more than welcome to join me for a drink another time, but not today.”
the idea of him sitting on his couch with a glass of scotch and an undone button-up has your cheeks heating up. biting your lip, you let him guide you up the staircase, into a bedroom that might be three times the size of the dorm room you’ve become used to.
closing the door behind you, he asks, “what did you drink, anyway?”
you give him an exaggerated sigh. “you know how everyone says you shouldn’t mix beer and wine?”
mingyu nods, and a quick look at your face tells him enough. “you did it anyways, didn’t you?”
“yeah,” you giggle again, and he smiles, “what can i say? i like my rules how i like my glow sticks. and egg yolks. broken, i mean.”
“what kind of psychopath are you that you prefer broken egg yolks?”
“that is so not the point.” you tell him with attitude, slightly caught off-guard when he takes you into the connecting bathroom, turning you around to put his hands on your hips.
he lifts you up to sit on the edge of the counter, your feet dangling above the floor. reaching into one of the drawers beside your head, his face gets awfully close to yours as he gets a fresh, unused toothbrush for you, proceeding to put some paste on the perfectly aligned bristles.
nudging it toward your mouth, he’s got one hand sitting gently on your jaw to hold your face steady, and you instinctively do as he wants you to, opening your mouth.
tilting your head back, he brushes your teeth, eventually telling you to spit out the paste in the sink as he gets you a cup of water to rinse.
once you’re done, he wipes the last bit of toothpaste from your bottom lip, thumb sitting there a little longer than it needs to.
“i like it when you do that. act all… y’know.”
“what?”
“fatherly. yeah, that’s the word.”
“do you, sweetheart?”
“yeah. ‘m fond of you. so is everyone else, but i mean—” you chuckle sheepishly, “me? i like you way more.”
“i know you do.” he tucks your hair behind your ear, having to suppress the urge to kiss you. “i like you too. a lot more than that idiot boyfriend of yours does.”
you allow him to take you off the counter and set you on the floor. he doesn’t need to know you and your boyfriend broke up just yet. you like him when he’s acting jealous.
fuck, he tells himself to quit staring at you. he needs to get the hell out of here, or you’re gonna notice he can’t stop gawking at you in your little dress.
scratching his throat, he points to the wooden closet by the door.
“i got you some clothes for the night and tomorrow. if they don’t fit, let me know, and i’ll get you something else.”
you hold him back from walking out of the room. “could you, um... unzip my dress? i don’t want my hair to get stuck in it.”
it’s a risky move. you almost regret the question when seeing the breath hitching in his throat, but then he gestures for you to turn around, sending a shiver down your spine.
mingyu puts his hands on your hips, taking his time on purpose. you kind of admire him for it.
moving your hair out of the way, he takes hold of the zipper between his thumb and index finger, slowly pulling it down to your lower back to bask in this moment as much as possible.
he mentally prepares himself to be met with the clasp of some bra he’ll probably never have the pleasure of removing — only to find nothing.
the knowledge that you’re not wearing anything under that dress except for some panties has him going insane. the worst thing is that you and him are the only people in this house tonight, away from your boyfriend and your parents. away from everyone who shouldn’t see the way he looks at you.
fuck, he could pull that dress down and bend you over right here and now and none of them would know about it.
maybe, just maybe, he’d press his growing erection against your ass if you were sober. maybe he’d confess how much he’s been thinking about you, day and night.
but with your clouded state of mind, he chooses not to.
releasing the zipper, his fingers brush past your bare skin for a split second before taking a step away from you.
you don’t even see his inner turmoil when you tell him, “thank you.”
“you’re welcome. now get some sleep — i’ll treat you to a good breakfast in the morning.” he winks, heading to the door, and you chuckle. he closes the door to your room shortly after.
when he gets into his own bed, he’s still hard as a rock. his cock slaps against his stomach once he’s pushed his boxers down. you’re driving him crazy. just the mere image of your curves have his eyes rolling back in his skull.
bucking his hips, he thinks about you. what you’d look like on top of him, under him, what you’d sound like. he fantasizes about you walking through the hall naked, coming into his room and sucking him off.
god, it gets an orgasm out of him embarrassingly quick.
the feeling of wanting you, as always, doesn’t fade in the slightest as he swiftly cleans himself up in his bathroom.
the following morning, you feel like shit. blurry memories of your behavior from last night come rushing in, and if you had the energy for it, you’d probably throw yourself from the balcony out of embarrassment.
you push yourself out of bed, heading into the bathroom to stare at your mess of a reflection. to be fair, the slightly smudged eye makeup doesn’t look all that bad despite having slept in it, but still.
reaching out for the toothbrush, you suddenly recall that little moment of mingyu putting you on the counter and what you said to him — oh, jesus.
you need to get the fuck out of here.
after brushing your teeth, you gather your things and walk down the entirely unfamiliar hall. if you thought your dad’s house was big, mingyu’s home might as well be the cherry on top. it’s all expensive with its tall ceilings and unique art pieces framed on the walls, and you have to admit that he’s got good taste.
as if he heard you pass his room, he opens the door, standing there in sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower.
“good, you’re awake.” he smiles, running a hand through his hair. “feeling up for some eggs?”
with a mere nod of an answer, he gestures for you to follow him to the kitchen.
with a yawn, you try to come up with a good excuse for whatever it was that made you as bold as you were last night.
he doesn’t let you. “did you sleep well?”
“yeah. look, you don’t need to make me breakfast, i’ve overstayed my welcome—”
“hey, i promised i would make you breakfast. and you’re always welcome here. so sit, have a cup of coffee, and i’ll take you home after.”
all he gets in response is a grumbled ‘fine’.
while pouring a bit of olive oil into the pan, he asks, “what’s the story behind last night? why were you going home alone?”
“my boyfriend was supposed to take me home, but… i guess i kind of ruined his good mood by breaking up with him.”
mingyu’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “wait—why’d you break up with him?”
“i thought you wanted me to.”
“i did, but since you seemed so hellbent on keeping him around, i didn’t think you were going to.”
“yeah, well, things change.”
“fair enough. good on you for dropping the dead weight.”
his comment makes you chuckle. “he kinda threw a fit about it, probably only ‘cause my friends had already gone home. god, he was angry.”
“my offer to rough him up still stands, by the way.”
scoffing, you mutter to yourself, “ironic.”
“what is?” mingyu asks, since he heard it nonetheless.
you shrug, choosing not to use the same words your boyfriend did. “oh, it’s nothing. he brought you up. said something about you being too possessive over me.”
“and what did you tell him?”
“that he needed to fuck off.”
he snorts, grabbing two plates. “and he actually did?”
“not like he had much of a choice. i just left him there. told him to go home.”
“i’d pay to see his face when you told him that.” mingyu laughs. “sounds to me like you have a reason for celebration.”
“i guess so.”
he puts the plate with eggs on toast in front of you, a devilish smile plastered on his face. “your favorite, as i’ve heard from a highly reliable source.”
digging your cutlery into the broken egg yolk, you roll your eyes. “cut me some slack, will you?”
all he can do is nod with a big grin before starting with his own plate.
the same morning, your ex-boyfriend is standing before the front door of your parents’ house. he rings the doorbell, the apology he’s rehearsed during the drive here stuck in his head, and your mother opens the door.
when he tells her he’s come to talk to you, she informs him that you’re not here, and that you stayed over at a friend’s house. you apparently didn’t even mention the breakup to her, so she’s entirely unaware of what happened last night.
but your ex is confused, because he talked to your friends this morning and asked them if they heard anything from you, to which they answered no. they didn’t know you guys broke up either.
it stirs something in his gut. where the fuck are you? if you didn’t stay at a friend’s house, where did you sleep?
it’s those two questions that continue to run through his head. getting back in his car, he plans to drive back home. who knows, you might’ve gone to his house.
but about ten minutes later, he steps on the brake with force.
your bike. by mingyu’s driveway.
either he missed it on the way to your house or you just arrived at his place. regardless, both scenarios suck for him. he acted out of line, and now he’s sent you straight into mingyu’s arms, probably.
he calls your phone. you don’t pick up. it gets him frustrated.
but he figures he’ll try again later. it’s not like he can just go and knock on the door, so he drives off, not sure whether to be angrier at you or himself.
after you’ve finished breakfast, mingyu fixes up your bike in no-time. instead of letting you cycle home by yourself, he puts the bike in the trunk and gestures for you to get in the passenger’s seat.
“gyu, i can get home by myself. it’s daytime outside.”
“i know, i know. but i gotta go get groceries anyways, so i’ll take you.”
arguing with him is useless sometimes. you roll your eyes in disapproval, but still get in the car, at which he smirks. he barely needs to get groceries — he just wants to spend time with you.
the drive is too short to talk about what happened between you and him last night. the things you said, how turned on he clearly was. your voice seems lost on you.
so you make it back to your parents’ house, where he takes the bike out of the car again, and you press your lips into a thin line. “thank you again, for… everything, really.”
“it’s no problem. you’re nice when you’re drunk, y’know?”
“oh my god.” you snort, burying your face in your hands.
“so nice that you told me you like me way better than everyone else. you remember that?”
frankly, you’re not sure whether to look him in the eye or lower your head in shame. “i may have said something along those lines.”
“well, i like you a lot more than everyone else, too.” he says, fully aware he’s stepping much deeper into dangerous territory than he should. you’re forbidden fruit — yet he can’t help it. “get some rest. i’ll see you later, angel.”
not even waiting for a rebuttal of any kind, he gives you a last glance that reeks of pride before getting back into his expensive car, leaving you to wonder what your relationship with him even is at this point.
by the time you’ve turned around, your mother is leaning against the post of the front door. “so. the romance was short-lived, huh?”
“how do you know that?”
“he came by this morning. seemed embarrassed to even talk to me. i know what a boy trying to make amends looks like.”
“well, sucks for him.” you shrug, really not giving a shit.
“where did you sleep last night?”
lying through your teeth comes remarkably easy. “a friend’s house.”
“how did you end up in mingyu’s car?”
“the tire of my bike went flat. he fixed it up. offered to take me home just in case.”
jesus, just talking about him makes you feel hot. it’s like you’re burning up. you quickly manage to get away from your mother’s prying eyes before she can catch onto the truth — and once you’re upstairs, you can’t stop staring at your reflection in the mirror.
you’re wearing his clothes, and even if you’d take them all off, the necklace he gave you would still be there.
constantly touching your skin.
mingyu is like a drug — addictive, leaving a lasting effect. you can’t seem to get him out of your system, no matter what.
the rude awakening from your train of thoughts comes in the form of a phone call. just seeing the name of your ex on screen is enough to get a huff of annoyance out of you, but you decide to take the call.
“what do you want?” you ask, already done with the conversation before it’s even started.
said conversation is messy. your ex is angry at you for going to mingyu’s place, you shift the blame onto him for leaving you to go home alone in the middle of the night — not that you would’ve let him guide you home, probably — after which he turns apologetic, but you tell him you don’t care. he wants to get back together, but you don’t.
it’s you who ends the call. you assume he’s taken the hint, and things are quiet in the days that follow. your daily life seems to be back to the way it was before the break-up, just without a boyfriend.
and now that it’s over, you’re inclined to agree with mingyu. your ex was mediocre.
given the not-so-friendly breakup, you figured the phone call would be the last time you heard from your ex. but it appears that despite the lack of depth in the very brief relationship you had with him, he’s still upset at the way things ended between you.
not long after the breakup, there’s a charity fundraiser being held in town, followed by drinks at mingyu’s house. the halls you recognize from the night you slept over are now filled with groups of people chattering, laughing and drinking the night away.
right as he’s asked you if he can get you a drink, you get a text message from your ex.
the clear frown on your forehead almost has mingyu worried. “everything okay?”
“yeah, um—i gotta go handle something. i’ll be right back.” you answer, walking through the hallway to get to the front door.
it’s quiet on the driveway, save for the sounds of the party muffled in the background and the annoying asshole you just can’t seem to get rid of. the gravel crunches underneath your feet as you walk over to him. “what the fuck are you doing here?”
to be fair, it’s not like he wasn’t invited. he’s been smart to keep his distance from you — until now, anyway. “wanted to see you.”
fucking hell, he looks pathetic. almost falling over, a nearly empty bottle of liquor in hand, all drowsy. you shake your head. “no, i’m not doing this with you. you’re drunk. not that i’d wanna talk to you if you were sober.”
like the spoilt asshole he is, he gets angry when things don’t go his way. “we need to talk it out. i didn’t even wanna break up—”
“no, but i did. what you want is the last of my concerns.”
you glare at him, turning around to go back inside, but he pulls at your wrist, hoping you’ll see eye to eye with him. “just listen to me!”
“no, just—let go!” you tell him, pulling your arm out of his hold, which has him accidentally dropping the liquor bottle on the gravel, causing it to break.
as you look at him in shock, he seems more concerned with the fact that his last bit of booze has now been wasted. he curses under his breath, picking up the glass handle of the bottle which now has a sharp edge at the bottom from breaking in half.
from the corner of your eye, you see mingyu approaching. he went out to see where you went because he didn’t trust the situation, catching sight of you right when you pulled yourself away from your ex.
“what’s going on?” he asks, looking at you. “you okay?”
but his presence immediately sours your ex-boyfriend’s mood. “she’s fine. we were just talking.”
“doesn’t look like you’re in the right state of mind to do so.”
“i’ll decide that.”
mingyu has an expression on his face that sits somewhere between harsh and smug. “well, first of all, the lady doesn’t seem all that interested in talking to you, and secondly, you’re standing in my driveway, on my property — so no, you don’t get to decide that.”
your ex knows he has no leg to stand on, but he’s unwilling to admit defeat. “whatever. i knew from the start that you’ve been after her. she give it to you yet?”
“you’re such a fucking piece of shit—” you cuss at him, but mingyu gestures for you to stay put.
he points to the gate by the start of the driveway. “get the hell out.”
the response seems enough for the guy to convince himself that you and mingyu slept together, which — unfortunately — hasn’t even happened. “i fucking knew it. i knew you wanted her! she’s a fucking slut—”
mingyu decides in that moment that he no longer cares about being the better person. his hand flies right to the boy’s neck, holding a firm grip, his jaw clenched in anger. “say something like that again. do it. see what happens.”
of course, aside from some heavy breathing, it remains silent.
so he nods, as if to say that’s what i thought, the grip of his hand remaining tight. “apologize to her.”
your ex, surprisingly enough, does as he’s told. “sorry.” he mutters, suddenly trying to push mingyu away from him, but to no avail, as the elder of the two is considerably stronger.
mingyu releases him, taking a step back to you again.
despite the slut-shaming, the boy is currently more upset with mingyu than with you. in his eyes, he’s just some old perv taking advantage of you, even when you were in a relationship together. that’s unfair — and it makes him angry.
the sudden heavy emotions paired with the amount of alcohol he’s already got in his system makes a bad combination. being as impulsive as he is, he’s already swung the sharp end of the piece of glass in hand at mingyu, but you saw he was trying to do something and instinctively stuck your arm out.
when mingyu turns around, he hears you hissing in pain, a nasty cut on your lower arm.
your ex drops the glass onto the gravel. “i’m—i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to—” he stutters, slightly sobering up, “are you okay? i’m sorry.”
jesus christ. mingyu suddenly feels a certain pang of guilt shooting through his chest. you got hurt in the process of protecting him. what kind of shitty soap opera has this ordeal turned into?
even if he believes your ex was trying to hurt him and not you, the fact that it happened is more than enough for him to lose his restraint. and he’s about to punch the kid square in his jaw, until your hand pulling at his arm stops him.
“gyu, just... i just want him to leave.” you tell him, hand not leaving his arm.
like it belongs there.
he nods at you, regaining his composure when he turns his face back to your severely drunk ex.
“you better get the fuck out of here. and don’t even think about driving in this state. you’ll get someone killed.” mingyu hisses at him, waving him off like a child being dismissed. “you can walk home. or maybe i should give your father a call—”
“no, i’ll—i’ll leave.” he says, muttering a last apology before he stumbles away, almost tripping in the process.
now that the boy is finally walking off, mingyu raises your arm to inspect the wound. “i don’t think it’s gonna need stitching, but we gotta treat it, make sure we put something on it to stop the bleeding. let’s get you patched up.”
wordlessly, you follow him inside. you enter the house through one of the backdoors, which leads you to the quiet kitchen. the muffled noise of people talking and music still rings through your ears.
he urges you to sit on the edge of the table whilst he’s getting the first aid kit from one of the cabinets attached to the wall. after putting the kit down on the surface beside you, he uses a clean cloth to put pressure on the wound.
you could do it yourself — but you enjoy having him take care of you.
“has he been bothering you? since the breakup?”
“not really? i heard from my mom that he came by the house to talk to me the morning i was still at your place, and once you’d taken me home, he called, but that was pretty much it. until now.”
mingyu sighs as he’s still holding the cloth against your skin. “what does he even want from you?”
“to get back together.”
“seriously?”
“yeah. not that he had a chance with me before or anything, but he sure as hell blew it tonight.”
to check if the bleeding has stopped, he slightly lifts the cloth, and it’s looking much better already. with some sterile wipes from the first aid kit, he gently cleans the wound itself, followed by some antiseptic around it.
“i should’ve given that kid a taste of his own damn medicine.” he grumbles as he continues to treat your arm with steady hands.
“no. i don’t want you to be held accountable for anything.”
“i have friends in high places. i’m not worried.”
“it’s not worth it.”
“after what he called you? it is.”
you raise a brow. how far would he go to protect you? “so, hypothetically, if i asked you to beat him to a pulp—”
it makes him chuckle. “i’d be out the door already. c’mon, you know i’d do that for you in a heartbeat.”
“wasn’t sure if i was that special to you.”
“if you’re not sure of that,” he says, concentrated on putting the plaster onto the wound, “then i think we might need to get your eyes checked.”
with a roll of your eyes, you snort, and the pads of his fingertips sit on the skin of your arm much longer than necessary. he’s patched you up like a true professional, meaning he no longer has a reason to touch you.
but it doesn’t stop him from gently holding your chin with his thumb and index finger, looking at you like his true feelings are about to spill from his lips.
you don’t back away from his touch. he’s frozen in his spot.
not a single word is exchanged between you, but you both feel it. the rising tension, trembling hands, shaky breaths, testing the waters bit by bit.
“is it true? that you want me?” you boldly refer to your ex-boyfriend’s words, leaning into his hold.
being so close to you feels like torture and relief at the same time. it’s everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last months, but not something he should want. he shouldn’t want to have you.
“what i want—” he inhales sharply, forcing the words out of his throat, “doesn’t matter, sweetheart.”
his fingers leave your chin, and he takes a step back.
frankly, he’s not sure if he can breathe without you anymore — but unless he gets away from you now, he’s a goner.
“i, um... i need to put on a clean shirt.” he gives as an excuse, pointing to the small stains of your blood on the fabric. “i’m sorry.”
with half-lidded eyes and uneven breaths, you watch him leave.
even when you’re apart, you can still feel eachother. sweat on your foreheads, racing hearts, thinking about what could’ve happened in that kitchen if you both gave in.
sooner or later, one of you will have to break.
since that moment, something has changed in your dynamic.
the tension between you is almost too palpable. you haven’t even talked about what happened that night, as you simply haven’t been alone in a room together since — but you feel him, and he feels you. all the time.
his eyes are constantly glued to your figure. the gears in his head are constantly turning, because what the fuck is he supposed to say to you? he could never say he doesn’t want you, but he can’t admit that he does, either.
his heart sinks a little deeper into his chest whenever he sees you smile or hears you laugh.
and you’re just as much of a mess about the situation as he is. your eyes are drawn to him every time you hear his voice or catch him walking into the room — even the steadily healing wound on your arm makes your thoughts wander back to him.
but you’ll have to face eachother at some point.
that day comes when the town’s biggest event of the year is set to take place, and your father is one of the volunteers. everyone in and around the neighborhood will be there.
mingyu, looking dashing in his suit, pulls up to your driveway. he’s barely even parked his car before your parents are out the door, walking up to him.
“you got my coat?”
“yeah.” mingyu hands it to him, surprised at your father’s stern expression.
the man talks to your mother with obvious urgency. “is she still not ready?”
“no, still searching.”
mingyu frowns. “what’s wrong?”
your father throws out your name like it’s a curse. “she’s being impossible. apparently, she only has one pair of shoes that doesn’t clash with the color of her outfit, and suddenly she can’t find it anywhere. we’re supposed to be at the venue in forty minutes, and the drive is over half an hour, and she knows i cannot be late—”
mingyu has already offered the solution before he can think about it. “why don’t you two just go on ahead to the venue? i’ll take her there.”
“yeah, that’d be great. i’ll see you there, alright?”
with a curt nod, mingyu agrees, watching your parents get in their car and drive off.
“fuck.” he mutters to himself, leaning against his car, his hands sitting in his pockets.
it takes approximately five minutes until you make it downstairs. surprise is painted across your face when you swing open the front door, finding mingyu standing there instead of your parents.
seeing him in that tailored suit steals your breath. he has to swallow at the sight of your short skirt and the necklace he gifted you sitting pretty on your neck, as always.
he hardly moves a muscle when you walk over to him, not bothering to take his hands out of his pockets. “i see you’ve found your shoes.”
“i did. where’s my dad?”
“they went over there already, so i’ll be your driver for now.”
like the gentleman he is, he opens the door for you, unable to miss the way the bottom of your skirt rides up just a little, and he spots the garters and stockings you’re apparently wearing underneath.
oh, jesus christ. he really needs to focus on something else.
pushing his tongue against his cheek, he shuts the door before walking around the car, getting into the driver’s seat.
the first few minutes pass in silence. you’re looking out the window, he finds himself occasionally glancing at you.
the weather takes a bad turn. rain comes pouring down from the sky, traffic automatically gets more hectic. at a red light, mingyu quickly shrugs off his jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing his forearms.
what he fails to notice is that you’re constantly staring at him from the corner of your eye. mingyu always looks good, but there’s something about an attractive man in formal wear that gets you going like nothing else.
you feel like some deranged person — imagining the sensation of unzipping his pants and putting his cock in your mouth. it has you shuffling in your seat, rubbing your thighs together.
“sweetheart.” he suddenly speaks up. “has your ex bothered you since last time?”
turning your head to him, you huff. “no. but i’m assuming he’s gonna be attending tonight.”
“i figured. why don’t you stay a bit close to me tonight? that way, i can keep an eye on you.”
“yeah, ‘cause that’s the way to go. confronting him with the same thing that made him angry in the first place.”
“i doubt he’ll try anything with me by your side."
a scoff escapes you. “if anything, he’ll try something because you’re by my side. c’mon, gyu, you being by my side so much is what led to me breaking up with him.”
with one hand still on the steering wheel, mingyu is confused. he remembers you telling him you and your ex had an argument about him being close with you, but he didn’t think he was the reason for your break-up.
but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just silently stares ahead. you inhale sharply; you need to do something about the growing, unbearable tension in the air between you.
“you know, my ex told me he was sure you wanted something from me.” you speak up, and he glances at you.
“what?”
“you know what.”
he nods in understanding, but keeps quiet again, even though he knows the conversation was bound to happen at some point.
you continue. “then he asked if i wanted the same from you.”
his breath gets stuck in his throat as he starts speaking up to spare himself the rejection. “look, sweetheart, i—”
“are those nicknames only reserved for me?” you ask with a certain breathlessness to your tone.
and he answers just a little too fast. “yes.”
“why didn’t you ever make a move on me? you knew me long before i even went on that date.”
a scoff of disbelief escapes him. “because you’re my best friend’s daughter — hell, you could’ve been mine. you’re almost two decades younger than me.”
“we’re both adults.”
“doesn’t change the fact that your dad would kill me if he found out.”
“yet you’ve still been handsy with me all this time. not to mention you had me staying over at your house that time when i was drunk, even though you could’ve walked me home. you were this close to kissing me after patching up my arm.”
“what do you want me to say? do you think it’s been easy to keep my distance from you?”
“well, you’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”
he’s baffled at the insinuation. “you don’t think i wanted to kiss you in the kitchen after taking care of you? do you have any idea how many times i’ve thought about it? but you’re my best friend’s daughter, i—i just can’t. no matter how much i might want to.”
unfortunately for him, you don’t agree.
he’s so caught up in the worry of the truth coming to the surface that he doesn’t catch your hand reaching out to his thigh until it’s already there.
locking eyes with you, you stare him right back in the eye as your fingers travel higher up his leg, hand steadily getting closer to his crotch.
jesus fucking christ — is this actually happening right now?
judgement utterly blinded by desire, you tell him the complete truth. “when my ex asked me if i wanted to fuck you, i wanted to say yes. i only got together with him in the first place ‘cause i needed a distraction from you.”
the air gets knocked out of his lungs with every word coming out of your mouth. are you trying to kill him? he’s rock hard under your touch already. he’s lucky the car is standing still at a red light.
“stop, sweetheart, please—”
“yeah, i was hoping you’d call me that.” you’re almost moaning out, now daring to put your hand against his clothed dick, making him twitch in his pants. “didn’t feel the same when he did.”
possessiveness washes over him. you’re playing him like a fiddle, recognizing exactly what gets him going. “he called you that?”
you nod, “i hated it. but you — every time you call me that, i go insane.”
with your hand on his crotch, you’re leaning over to his side, lips almost touching his. ironically, he’s the one who closes the gap between you.
your first kiss is as messy as it is intimate. he cups your jaw, sighing into it like he’s been waiting for it for years on end. the worst thing of all might be that it feels so right.
the car behind you suddenly honks, and you realize the light has already turned green, but he’s barely even paying attention to it.
“doll, i just… fuck, if we do this once, we can’t go back. i won’t be able to stay away from you.”
a funny statement, considering he already can’t stay away from you now.
“then don’t. i can keep a secret, so can you. you can take me whenever you want.”
“you’d let me—really?”
“yeah.”
and in that moment, when he tells himself he can keep it secret — he knows it’s over, and you’ve won.
instead of going straight ahead, he takes the exit on the right, the car coming to a halt in an empty parking lot. as heavy rain continues to fall from the grey clouds, your hands are already back on him before he’s gotten the chance to turn off the engine.
“please, let me suck it. i’ve wanted it for so long.” you tell him while unbuttoning your shirt, discarding it, showing off the lacy bra you’ve got on underneath.
good lord, you’re just so eager to suck him dry, a man almost twice your age — he doesn’t deny you.
he breathlessly unzips his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from his boxers. he’s ridiculously hard from your teasing, and when you take him into your mouth, he’s convinced he’s gone to heaven.
his hand finds the top of your head, while he forces himself not to push you down on him. “that’s it. just like that — fuck.”
with a guttural moan, he closes his eyes, tilting his head back while his tip kisses the back of your throat. you hum around him whenever he praises you, causing a filthy smirk to rise to his face.
just having that confirmation that you wanted him this entire time, just as much as he wanted you, and now being with you like this? the knowledge that you only got with that piece of shit from down the block because you had to distract yourself from him? yeah, it does stroke his ego.
his eyes roll back into his skull once you take him deeper into your throat. as good as you feel around him, he gently pulls you off him, wiping the spit from your lips.
you’re breathing heavily, and you both stare at eachother for a moment, until mingyu’s gaze trails lower, to your chest — to the lacy bra, and the necklace he gifted you.
with his index finger, he touches the gold material he regrets not engraving his initials into. “when you were with him… did you wear it?”
“i haven’t taken it off since you put it on.” you tell him, sliding your panties down your legs before getting into his lap, adjusting to the cramped space in the car. “made me think of you while he was fucking me.”
he hisses at the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing down against his cock. “yeah? been thinking about me a lot?”
“all the time.”
fucking hell. you drive him crazy.
“get in the backseat.” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear. while you climb to the backseat through the space between the front seats, he pushes his dick back into his boxers just to look somewhat decent as he gets out the car and then proceeds to get in the back. much to his pleasure, the parking lot is still empty.
he hovers above you on the leather seats, your skirt flipped upwards to expose your pussy for him.
just as he wants to stretch you out with his fingers, you hold up a condom.
“don’t you want me to—”
but you shake your head. “not now. just want you.”
well, he won’t refuse your wishes, but fuck does he wish he could be tasting you right now.
ripping the package open with his teeth, he rolls the condom onto his cock, feeling the way you tense up when he’s pushing the tip against your wetness.
“you can take me, can’t you, angel?” he murmurs, and you nod, slightly shifting your hips so you’re more comfortable.
of course you noticed how thick he was when having him in your mouth, but fuck, the stretch burns. he pushes himself in torturously slow, inch by inch, and you grip his broad shoulders.
but the sheer desperation for him to finally take you is so overwhelming that you nudge at his arm. “gyu, i can take it.”
once he finally bottoms out, a groan falls from your lips. a grin tugs at his lips when seeing your face under him, his chest swelling with pride. “i knew you could, sweetheart.”
the praise has you bucking up your hips to meet his, and as he slightly increases the pace of his thrusts, your nails can’t help but dig into the skin of his back.
oh, he’s good. his hands are roaming your body, all over your skin, groping your breasts, thumb rubbing your clit — he’s ruthless, even when his words are sickeningly sweet, muttering praises into your ear.
“that asshole been neglecting you, huh? i bet he couldn’t even make you cum, could he?”
all you can do is breathlessly shake your head.
it breaks something in him. “my poor girl. ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”
you nod this time. over and over, your voice nothing more than a desperate plea. “please, just give me—give it to me.”
the way you beg is what does it for him. with gritted teeth, he picks up the pace, the rhythm he sets enough to shake the car.
god, it’s like he’s splitting you apart. for a moment, you forget how cramped the car is, how much the leather is digging into your back — all you feel is his sticky skin against yours, so you pull him down into a heated, open-mouthed kiss, his lips eventually lowering to your jaw.
his cock hits a spot inside you that nearly has you jolting in place. he feels you tightening around him, and he’s eager to hit that spot over and over again.
“that’s it, baby, i got you,” he urges while you’re slowly falling apart underneath him, his fingers rubbing over your clit again to stimulate you.
the orgasm hits you in waves, thighs trembling and chest heaving.
as you’re coming around him, his thrusts get sloppier, the rhythm of his hips unsteady.
mingyu curses loudly when the high he’s been resisting finally washes over him. it has his hips stuttering against you, and you suck in a breath.
he puts a hand against the fogged-up window to keep himself from crushing you with his body weight, and he peers down at you with half-lidded eyes and blown out pupils.
“you look pretty like this.” he says impulsively, and you laugh breathlessly.
“yeah, you don’t look too bad yourself, old man.”
it gets a chuckle out of him.
“c’mon.” you tug at his arm, pulling him down to lay on the seat while you get to the side so you can get on top of him, face in the crook of his neck as you both allow yourselves a second to catch your breaths.
he sighs. “i don’t think we’re gonna make it to the party tonight.”
with a smile, you press a kiss to his cheek. “good. i was already hoping we wouldn’t.”
while you and him remain in the backseat of his car, your parents are at the event, utterly oblivious — and they eventually run into your ex.
they’re still in the dark about what happened the past weeks, but your ex — who’s still bitter about the way things ended between you — lets something slip. something about you and your father’s best friend liking eachother more than they’re supposed to.
a statement which your father doesn’t believe in the slightest. the idea is laughable at best. something like that can’t have been going on under his nose all this time, surely.
but it lingers with him.
because you end up giving some bullshit excuse as to why you and mingyu didn’t end up getting to the event that night.
and your father quietly begins to notice things he never paid attention to before.
at lunch, mingyu knows exactly what to order for you when you’ve gone to the ladies’ room. your perfume can be smelled on his clothes. when you’re not feeling well, he’s always concerned for you. whenever you share something, mingyu knows about it already.
your father realizes that maybe, your ex was being truthful.
at first, he gets angry. how else could he feel, with his best friend getting together with his much younger daughter? in secret, no less.
he plans to confront both of you about it, together. but as he watches you converse from afar, he thinks he’s never seen his best friend happier. his daughter wears a smile so big that it lights up the room.
so once you’re out of earshot, he walks up to mingyu.
“you better be serious about her.”
it takes him a second to realize your father has finally discovered the truth, and he nods, glad that he no longer has to hide how hard he’s fallen for you. “i am.”
the man sighs.
“alright. i need a drink.”
thank u for reading, let me know if you enjoyed it <3
® SANAKIRAS, all rights reserved — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
discoholicmusic
2087
snowghoul
vaporwave
