Seungcheol has always been a little slutty in your opinion.
It’s not a bad thing.
It’s just a thing.
Every time you worked on a group project with him and some random girl would pop into the group study room to make eyes at him.
While you were literally mid-sentence sometimes.
Such an eye roll.
And you did roll your eyes, and sigh loudly.
And sometimes you just literally paused and stared. Or the one girl who couldn’t take a hint until you literally asked “are you finished?”
She’d stared at you like you were from another planet. But Seungcheol had looked at you and shaken his head and told the girl he would see her later.
“You know you’re not subtle, right?” he’d asked once.
You’d arched a brow. “Sorry, ‘subtle’? Is that what you thought I was going for?“ you asked with a small laugh.
He watched you for a moment like he was sizing you up. You met his gaze without flinching.
He gave a soft shake of his head like he decided you were talking past one another.
“Whatever,” you muttered.
Again. Eye roll behavior.
But then sometimes you randomly fell into his slut-dar.
Like whenever you played beer pong together. And his hands always found their way to your hips. You’d elbowed him the first time it happened, mumbling about how you needed to aim.
He laughed it off. But then five minutes later, you could feel his fingertips touching your low back like he was planting a flag.
Sometimes you let it slide, but mostly you just smacked his hand away, wondering what his deal was.
Because even when you were finished with beer pong and were heading downtown, you always ended up in his vicinity. His arm wrapping around your waist for at least one dance.
And then you would go to get a drink or to talk to someone and he’d be off with someone else. And you would wonder why he even bothered you.
Which was exactly what you were thinking when he asked you to the Phi formal.
“Sorry, what?” you asked, certain that it was some bullshit ask.
He did that thing where he watched you for a beat. “Will you be my date?” he asked it more directly.
You glanced around like you were looking for the hidden camera. “Why?” you asked.
It wasn’t weird for you to get asked to formal, you just usually went with Mingyu (when he didn’t have someone lined up) or Soonyoung (because he was kind of your favorite Phi anyway) and always as friends.
Seungcheol, though? Literally the fuck never.
You watched the way he bit his lower lip. “Because I want you to,” he answered.
“Right, so you can like do a Carrie thing or something?” you couldn’t help yourself. He was so unserious with this.
“That’s an insane option—“ he tried.
“No, it’s perfectly sane given that you and I have zero history and you’re being weird,” you snapped back.
“How am I weird for asking you to go with me?” he asked.
“Because we play beer pong and do group projects and you fuck everyone who isn’t me,” you answered with a laugh.
You hated that you’d walked onto the back deck with him because he said he wanted to ask you something “important.” This wasn’t important. It was mildly uncomfortable.
He gave an annoyed grin. “Maybe I’m trying to fuck you and you just won’t give me the time of day,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Mhmm, yeah, sure,” you muttered, turning to walk inside.
You were surprised when he grabbed your hoodie sleeve, pulling you back towards him.
“I’m not joking,” he whispered, your face inches from his.
You stared at him for a moment. “Yeah, well, prove it,” you shot back, quick and honest.
You started to pull away again, but he pulled you right back, shifting so you felt your back hit the brick wall of the house.
He dropped his cup and grabbed your wrists, guiding your arms to his shoulders while he pinned your hips with his. “How’s this?” he asked, voice close and warm, sweet against your skin.
You felt the way his hips rolled against yours, and the hint of his cock stiffening.
It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly what you wanted from him either - not the right style anyway.
You barely thought through the soft smack you gave his cheek.
But you registered every single emotion that flicked across his features.
And then the way he leaned in close to your ear, tongue tracing just underneath it, swirling against the sensitive skin before he pulled away. “Like it rough, baby?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
You grinned softly, turning towards him. “Do you even come with that option?” you whispered, teasing.
He pressed closer, teeth grazing your skin. You couldn’t help the hitch in your breath. He bit down gently.
You gasped softly at the way he swapped from biting to sucking to licking, his hips still pressed fully against yours, keeping you in place while his hands traced along your sides.
You pulled his hair roughly. He just smiled against you. “Yeah, baby, just like that,” he murmured, his hips still barely moving.
You were starting to feel the bricks pressing into your back more because he was just holding you there. His hips kept that same slow pace, while his hands slid to your tits, cupping them and squeezing them roughly.
You yelped softly, giving his hair a sharp tug. He ignored you, though. He unzipped your hoodie and ducked down, his mouth latching and sucking your nipple roughly through your shirt.
You arched against the wall, fingers working into his scalp as you whined softly. “Yes,” you mumbled when he moved to your other breast, sucking just as hard.
When he pulled away, he leaned up, kissing you sloppily. “Need to do that to your pussy too, don’t I, baby?” he asked.
You nodded, trying to roll your hips against his, but still not being able to move.
He shifted enough to pick you up, your legs going around his waist.
You felt his hand, working to unbutton and unzip your jeans. And then you felt the sudden slide as you sank down into his cock.
Your head fell back. He was deep inside you just from the position. You breathed through the stretch, but he didn’t wait. He snapped his hips from beneath.
You gasped, yanking his hair now, feeling his grin against your throat. “Just like that - so fucking wet for me,” he whispered, nipping at your throat while his hips set a quick pace.
It was overwhelming, feeling his cock stretch you and hit so deep from that strangely perfect angle. You barely had time to tell him you were close, your pussy just reacted, your orgasm messy and fast, dripping.
But he wasn’t finished yet.
He pulled out and put you down, turning you so you faced the wall. He pulled your jeans and underwear down and spread your legs, pulling your hips back until he was inside you again.
He fucked into you harder this time, replacing your hands and body against the wall every time you shifted. He pounded and pounded.
“Tell me when you’re close,” he whispered against your throat. You nodded.
And only a few moments later, you were babbling to him. “Close, Cheol, do whatever—” you whimpered.
And he did, pulling out and pushing your hips against the wall. “Yeah, make a mess that everyone can see,” he said, breath hot against the nape of your neck, as he fingered your pussy roughly.
And you did come, thighs shaking - your cunt even messier the second time, you clenched your pussy as he worked your clit, another wave of pleasure hitting you, as you softened back against him.
His fingers slowed, teasing you gently, sliding between your wet pussy lips, pushing gently into your hole, working another small whine from you as you arched against him.
“Look at you, baby, such a mess,” he whispered against your cheek.
“Such a good little messy cunt,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. His hands squeezed your inner thighs roughly as he pulled your hips back again, the head of his cock teasing your pussy again.
He pushed you back against the wall, fucking into you hard and fast, the fat head of his cock pounding deeper with every thrust until he came, filling you.
He gasped, breathing hard against your throat. “Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting a few more times. You tried to clench around him, but it wasn’t as tight as you wanted.
He still felt it, though. “Greedy, baby,” he whispered. “Always knew you’d know what I like,” he murmured, still fucking into you softly.
“So fucking good,” he purred against your neck.
He took his time pulling out, groaning softly as he did, his hands running along your thighs and hips. He pulled you back into him, working to pull your panties and jeans up quickly before nuzzling against your throat, his arms wrapping around you.
“Stay over?” he murmured.
You shivered and nodded, not sure that you could make it home anyway.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
And later, when you were back in his room, lying in his bed after a quick shower where he insisted on helping you. You were still mildly surprised at the easy way his hand slid down just to tease your pussy while you were half asleep.
You swatted his cheek halfheartedly. “Seriously,” you mumbled, hand staying on his cheek, tracing along his skin.
“You know you like it,” he whispered, as his fingers sank into you. “Letting me do whatever I want,” he whispered, watching you. “You’ll probably wake me up if I don’t keep them in,” he said, voice so certain.
And not totally wrong.
“We seriously need rules,” you muttered and shoved his hand to the side. You turned over and pressed your back against him. “Like now it’s time for cuddles and sleep, not fingering me.”
He snorted. “So, will you be my date?”
You shrugged, staring into the dark. “Maybe,” you said, glancing back. “Will we fuck like that again, or was it a one-time thing?”
“Do you want it to be one-time?” he asked.
a/n: this is an updated version of one of my older fics - this one always needed something to like establish that they are a thing plus cheol was like already lwk into her and she's the one one who didn't know
pairings : c.sc x f!reader (main) and k.mg x f!reader (side)
summary : seungcheol and y/n have been roommates for seven months and have been flirting gently the entire time, but a crush becomes so much more when seuncgheol invites y/n to a party (side relationship: k.mg x reader)
genre/tags : college au, non-idol au, roommates to lovers, kind of love triangle, frat member!c.sc, frat member!k.mg
word count : 4.7k
warnings : mdni | nsfw (specifics under cut)
Warnings: explicit language, multiple sexual partners mentioned, fingering, penetrative sex, cream pie, implied squirting, prep and v!streatching
Seungcheol wasn’t the roommate you’d signed up for.
He was more like the roommate who seemed to know exactly how to bug you every single day.
He moved your yogurt.
He left little notes about your car being parked on a double yellow.
Which - okay - like maybe that was helpful, but the little smiley face was smug.
You were halfway through your Thursday poly sci class when he texted you.
[choi - maths grp]
busy?
[y/n]
in class
[choi - maths grp]
so busy
[y/n]
whats up???
[choi - maths grp]
party come pls
You stared at your phone for a moment.
[y/n]
r u txting the right number
[choi - maths grp]
yes y/n texting on purpose
You watched more dots appear. And disappear. And appear again. Then stop.
You wondered what those dots were. Because so far the conversation seemed improbable.
Seungcheol didn’t invite you out.
He left notes about swapping your laundry. Or borrowed your coffee mugs and didn’t tell you - you’d been certain your favorite mug with dancing bears had disappeared into another timeline.
Until you caught him walking around with it - he’d just purloined it like some sticky-fingered kid in a shopping mall. He was brazen. And unapologetic. And a dick head.
He didn’t text you about parties.
He took up the entire sofa for days, playing video games. Loudly.
He stole your delivery food. Or the little extra wontons for your soup at least.
He sometimes poked your cheek if you were passed out anywhere openly, asking things like ‘do you want to go to your room?’
No. No, you didn’t.
Not to mention the few times you’d come home with dates.
The look on his face the first time he’d opened the door to you making out with the guy from your life drawing class - an unbelievably beautiful guy who’d been modeling for the class, and you couldn't help but to flirt with him - it was basically your duty.
Seungcheol had opened the door, thinking that you’d knocked, not knowing that the sounds were you being manhandled against the door and bumping the handle. He’d found you breathing hard into some other guy’s mouth and well on your way to being deliciously wet.
You’d stopped for a moment, looking back - you’d seen the surprised look that quickly became something else. But you weren’t sure what because he’d disappeared into his room, leaving the door standing open. You’d shrugged and pulled sexy model boy inside - the sex was painfully good and even better in the morning.
And Seungcheol didn’t talk to you for six days after the door incident.
You’d assumed it was just him not realizing that you might, in fact, fuck.
But when it happened the second time - the not talking after you’d had someone over (model guy again) - your friend had actually stopped you mid-complaining to suggest that maybe it was because Seungcheol had a thing for you.
You’d stopped entirely then. “What?”
She’d rolled her eyes. “Think about it, he’s normally like noisy and cute and whatever and every time you have a guy over —“
“He’s not some guy - he’s gorgeous—“
“Yeah, okay, but you’ve been complaining for the last three days about why Seungcheol won’t talk to you…” She’d trailed off.
“Right, but what’s your point?”
She’d narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Seriously? Are you dense? I’m saying he’s jealous.”
“Jealous?”
˚⟡˖ ࣪
‘Jealous’ had at least stuck with you enough for you to experiment.
You waited a few weeks, and Seungcheol did slowly return to himself, mostly. He still seemed a little reserved. He didn’t stay planted in the shared spaces quite as hard. He went out with friends more than before.
Or maybe you just noticed that he was out.
Which seemed to suggest that you should be out too. So you messaged a friend who was literally always available.
Mingyu was the definition of ‘u up?’ As in, he never said ‘no’ and some people might be annoyed with his lack of commitment, but to you, it was one of his cutest qualities. Because even if he were with someone else, he’d text to say ‘not tonight xx’.
He was too pretty to be upset with.
And you were lucky the night you texted because he was going out and was solo.
He’d come by to have a drink while you finished getting ready. Which may have led to you making out with him in your bathroom. His mouth warm and sweet on yours. You groaned softly, pulling his hair. And feeling his big, amazing hands squeeze your ass and thighs, and gods the way he picked you up so easily to set you on the edge of your sink, and feeling him between your thighs was just so good. You but his lip in appreciation and made him gasp softly.
“Mmmh, so perfect,” you’d mumbled, barely rolling your hips against him, feeling the way he was already getting hard. You smiled softly, kissing his cheek, letting him pull your hips closer to his.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered against your throat.
You nodded, loving how wet you already were.
But then you’d heard the apartment door open.
You’d paused for a moment, listening for Seungcheol to call out.
“Finally found a roommate?” Mingyu asked, voice soft.
You’d nodded. “Yeah, Choi Seungcheol—“
“Who?” Mingyu had asked quickly, eyes wide.
You watched him for a moment because he really was, well, unflappable. He’d felt you up during an intro presentation in your first year - sitting in the back row with him was simultaneously amazing and bad because you never paid attention to the lecture.
And now he looked concerned.
You bit the tip of your tongue. “Choi Seungcheol,” you answered in a whisper.
He blinked. “Seriously?”
You could feel him pulling away. You grabbed his shirt. “Mingyu,” you hissed softly.
“We’re friends, like I know him—“
“And?”
“I — I just can’t, okay,” he said it like something final. His voice was still soft, still him.
But there was clearly no more you and him in that exact way you had been. Unless it was to study or something. And it was a bit annoying to have your standing date (fuck) suddenly have reservations.
Plus you hadn’t even gotten to see Seungcheol’s reaction because Mingyu had left out your window and used the fire escape. It had just been a confusing night for you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
And now you had even more confusing texts staring up at you from your phone.
You poked gently at the screen, keeping it from going black and mirroring your own confusion back to you. Class was almost over, you considered.
But a text inviting you to a party was - it at least confirmed Seungcheol really did party to some degree. Because the only proof you were aware of was on insta. Mainly through mutual friends because you’d never really decided if following him was normal or not.
Especially when he didn’t follow you.
He never had anyone over outside of whoever he talked to while gaming - instead, you just saw him appear on your timeline with people you knew generally.
Him and his thick lashes and pouty lips…pinky, pouty lips that you’d thought about biting just enough to make him gasp.
And his dimples. His very cute dimples that appeared when he said little smart ass things. Like punctuation to let you know he was 88% kidding.
He did usually look like he was having fun, though, grinning and drinking and posing in goofy ways…cute ways.
You tapped your screen again, sighing, reading the conversation through again. The last message before the invite was him telling you there was coffee for you after you’d been up studying late earlier in the week.
You sighed again and wondered why he couldn’t just send a dick pic. Or at least stop wandering around the apartment in gym shorts and tank tops that gave you too many opportunities to gaze a little too long at his collarbones and think about the delicate skin there, the way sweat gravitated to them, highlighting them annoyingly.
You’d spent more time than you ought thinking about how it would feel to taste his sweat after one of his long trips to the gym. Worse was wondering if he even let things like kitten licks happen. And then there was the maddeningly persistent thought that landing just one good smack across his perfect bum would solve all your problems and give you dewy, clear skin until he probably chased you down to spank you in retaliation or something equally enjoyable.
He was genuinely annoying to live with.
You sighed.
[y/n]
wheree is it?
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You’d left class and gone home to change into something cuter than what you’d worn to class.
The apartment was empty. Just afternoon sunlight filtering in through the old factory glass and warming the floorboards.
You’d paused for a moment outside his closed bedroom door, listening, knowing he wasn’t there. You’d never even looked inside.
You chewed your lip lightly, your fingers inching closer to the door knob.
Maybe if you knew what the thread count of his sheet were, you could make an informed decision, you thought as you opened the door.
His room had an entire wall of slightly frosted windows that looked out onto the river behind the apartments. There was the ubiquitous scent of old wood and something very him that reminded you of dry wood and fresh citrus - tender flesh you could sink your teeth into so easily and juices that would drip down your chin and collect in the hollow of your throat even if the tartness made your eyes water - the watering would just be a different kind of ecstasy.
Your gaze flicked around quickly taking in the bed, his desk, the bright blue headset for gaming…some manga on a shelf.
And then back to the bed because of the plushie sitting there - big and shaped like a character you’d didn’t know. You’d literally never seen this. And you’d been there when he moved in.
You’d seen the orchid plant that was now near the windows, flowering creamy white petals, and his desktop computer, and a suitcase.
Which all seemed to fit with Jeonghan’s description of a friend who “just needs some place that’s mostly quiet.”
The plushie was something else, though.
You’d lived with him for seven months and had no clue.
You stood still for a moment, looking at the heavy duvet covering his bed and the way sunlight fell across it, making it instantly inviting - and the plush pillows that would tell you exactly what Seungcheol’s real scent was like, and where his inky, black hair fanned out softly…and then there was the plushie that looked like an odd sort of boy character.
You puffed your cheeks and considered that maybe your manga reading should expand beyond vampires and toxic dynamics.
You were quiet as you stood still, feeling the soft warmth of the room.
You felt your phone vibrate in your hand. You already had the address, so you ignored it for the moment, stepping back into the main apartment and closing his door gently behind you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
The party was in one of the big, old Victorian mansions near campus that no one had ever bothered to convert, because fraternities needed all of the approximately 324.5 rooms for activities and housing.
It was the ‘blue’ house for obvious reasons.
You’d definitely been to the house for parties during your first year and some in your second year. The Chi-Rho* members were known for good parties - good themes - good formal events - good drinks - and generally nice.
You literally couldn’t remember ever having seen Seungcheol, which didn’t mean a lot, since the Upsilon chapter was pretty massive.
You walked in through the open front door. There was music already, more alternative than what they played for parties - chill EDM was for the daytime - and a sunny day called for mashup tracks and deeper cuts with slower beats, apparently.
It was a vibe, walking through half-empty rooms, old floors creaking gently as you moved.
But there were people to notice you, no matter how gently they looked as you passed.
It felt slightly off.
You decided quickly that if you didn’t find Seungcheol in 90 seconds, you were leaving.
You could see him later.
Literally anytime.
It reminded you why you’d stopped coming to parties. Clubs were always better because there were those quiet pockets in all of the loudness and just enough darkness to feel like it was your own world. Frat world was always on view.
Besides, it wasn’t like Seungcheol had magically texted you to convey some deep meaning.
Not at a frat house. Or if he did, that alone was questionable.
You paused, glancing around again, not seeing him or anyone familiar.
It had definitely been longer than 90 seconds.
You turned quickly on your heel, walking out.
Outside you could breathe again.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You were already in the cab when you messaged him.
[y/n]
srry forgot i have a group study thing [...]
see u later tho?
You’d tacked the last line on because…because you did want to see him.
Just not there. Not in the context of frat dude meets girl; frat dude and girl chat; frat dude and girl kiss; frat dude and girl are ‘awwwww, omg.’
You went home and showered. No opening his door or anything. Just a long, warm shower and then lying in bed pretending to watch a show that people kept saying you should watch.
You ordered food.
You would have normally maybe texted Mingyu on a night like this to at least contemplate going out.
Or maybe life model guy…he was really fun and so shockingly gorgeous. You checked his insta first to see if he was dating anyone.
“Nope,” you whispered, tapping back to your messages with him.
You scrolled back in the conversation, remembering that he was sweet - he didn’t leave you coffee, but he was like Mingyu in a way, easy, no anxiety, just the ease of someone you could spend a night with or a weekend, and just enjoy the feeling - that he liked falling asleep holding you close and waking up slowly.
You didn’t know what Seungcheol was like, clearly. And you hadn’t checked messages to see what his reply was, even though it had come almost immediately.
You were too embarrassed to check it. Maybe tomorrow, you thought as you watched the delivery driver moving around in nonsensical ways on the map until it was frustrating.
Or maybe sooner, because you don’t really feel like pretending you were sleeping.
You clicked in. It wasn’t like you had read receipts on like some deranged person.
[choi - maths grp]
no worries […]
see u at home?
You stared for a moment because it was so normal.
But so was your excuse.
You sighed and almost laughed. It was…what? you wondered.
[y/n]
hey thinking about going out […]
u still up
You watched for 0.4 seconds before jamming your phone under your pillow because, of course, he wouldn’t respond. Or he would, and it would be weird.
And then your phone buzzed - it was slightly muffled by your pillow but unmistakable.
You approached it gently, freeing it from your pillow and opening it like it might explode Inspector-Gadget-style…comedically.
[choi - maths grp]
yea […]
Up but would rather be […]
want to be home […]
in bed
You watched the texts slowly populating and almost wanted to laugh. At least from what you knew, Seungcheol could drink. And this was the halting, second-guessing of a first year at their first party.
[y/n]
need a ride?
[choi - maths grp]
no waiting
[y/n]
for a ride?
[choi - maths grp]
for mingyu […]
he’s being depressing
Your brows scrunched together because since when was Mingyu depressing, especially while drinking - he and alcohol just became more positive in your experience. And since when was Seungcheol in the same universe as Mingyu...
[y/n]
depressing?
You saw dots a few times. And then nothing.
But it wasn’t really your business - in that way that you knew you weren't going to get an answer.
You messaged life model guy and asked if he was going out (yes) and could you join (always).
You did some quick makeup and slicked your hair back into a tight pony and threw on a black mini dress with long sleeves, and black platform sandals, and locked the door behind you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
When the lift doors opened, there was no escaping the fact that Seungcheol was there, waiting for the lift and looking acutely drunk.
“Hey,” he mumbled, as he stepped into the lift.
“Hey,” you responded, waiting to see if he hit the right button for your floor.
He didn’t make a move. “Going out?”
You nodded. “I was.”
“You mean you are,” he corrected.
“You haven’t even picked our floor yet,” you answered.
“Which means?”
You shook your head, leaning to hit the button. “That I should maybe make sure you get inside,” you offered.
He shrugged, silence settling between you and him. And just as the doors were opening, he suddenly added a new fact. “He likes you.”
You walked through the doors, glancing at him. “What? Who?”
“He likes you - Mingyu - he told me that’s why he’s been so weird.”
You couldn’t help staring at him. Or the fact that you were at a loss for words beyond the obvious. “What?” You asked for the second time.
Seungcheol walked past you and down the hall. You had to catch him because he’d turned in the wrong direction.
“Seriously, what are you talking about?”
He was walking in the right direction this time. “I said it clearly, didn’t I?” He asked as he jammed his key into the door lock and began turning it and jiggling it when it didn’t give way.
You walked behind and tried to help with his keys, but it turned into a kind of shoving match = the drunk versus the bewildered and well-intentioned - his side shoving yours and yours against his and it was altogether childish.
But the door did finally swing open with the weight of two people pushing it. And you both tumbled inside. You felt your knee make hard contact with the floor and paused breidly to breathe through the discomfort.
Seungcheol was just lying there, staring at the ceiling.
You moved to sit up and could immediately tell that icing your knee would be smart. You reached over, poking Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”
He nodded. “Fine.”
You waited for a moment, but he wasn’t forth coming with additional information. So you got up to find a bag of frozen cherries you kept and used as an ice pack.
“Are you okay?”
You heard him from behind you. You didn’t bother to turn back as you wrapped the pack of cherries in a towel. “Mhmm, just fine.”
“Then why are you getting your ‘ice pack’?” He asked it from the floor and had the gall to use quote fingers when he said ‘ice pack’.
“Look they were recalled for eating, not as a cold object,” you shot back - this was not the first time the frozen cherries had been questioned.
“So why do you need your cold object then?”
“Because I fell and hit my knee - okay?”
“Okay, whatever.”
You were on the couch now, knee iced. You texted Mr.-Life-Model about your knee. He was sweet and asked if you needed anything. You thought for a moment, weighing the option of complaining about Seungcheol or just leaving things.
[ L M ]
fr […]
could kiss it better
You smiled because it was a sweet offer.
[y/n]
i want to say yes […]
but i know i’m in a pissy mood
[ L M ]
even more reason
You heard Seungcheol get up and immediately hid your phone in the sofa cushions.
“Hey,” you called, turning back, not realizing he was walking towards you. You flushed slightly. “Are you actually okay?” you asked, hoping for a less asinine answer.
He came and sat on the floor next to your knee. He didn’t answer.
Instead, he caught your ankle gently and started unbuckling the strap on your shoe.
You said nothing. Just watched the careful way he removed the shoe and the way he lifted the makeshift ice pack to see the purple bulge that was forming.
“Gross,” he mumbled.
And that took you out of anything. “Thanks - I was trying to help you when I fell—“
He glanced up. “You know it looks gross, and you’re annoyed that I would dare to characterize it—“
“You know, why are you so articulate anyway?”
“I’m drunk, not dumb.” He concluded, staring hard at you.
You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
He sighed. “All but.”
This wasn’t how you wanted any part of your night to go.
You winced when his thumb grazed over the bump. It vaguely reminded you that he was pre-something, maybe pre-med or possibly pre-law. Regardless, he was gentle in replacing the ice pack. And then he got up again and started rustling around.
You started to turn back to your texts when he returned and knelt down to pick up your leg to put a pillow under your knee.
“Elevation helps and alternating heat and ice,” he added.
You were starting to feel tired. “Okay, I’ll do that, Dr. Choi.”
“I’ve met you - you definitely won’t - you’ll fall asleep in like ten minutes and complain about cherry juice on your dress tomorrow.”
You pursed your lips because he wasn’t totally wrong, but the presumption was annoying. He sighed and knelt again, removing your remaining shoe. And then he paused gently, like he was deciding something important.
And you felt the way his fingers traced softly along your calf.
You watched him lean closer and closer, but you weren’t expecting his lips to make contact with your good knee.
His lips were warm and unexpected. “Do you like him?”
You stared for a moment and realized he meant Mingyu. “As a friend, very much…”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s my best answer.”
He pressed his lips into a tight line before leaning down again and letting his cheek rest on your thigh. You didn’t think when you smoothed his long bangs off his forehead, smoothing them back towards his ear.
“You came too and you left,” he muttered.
You nodded. “It was too loud.”
He leaned up. “And a club isn’t?”
“No one knows me—“
“Everyone knows you.”
“Fine, but clubs are dark, I can’t see them looking at me - it’s different.”
He huffed. “You could've just said.”
His voice had softened.
And he was right, you probably could have told him the truth.
You reached out, letting your fingers catch under his jaw, watching him tip his chin just right for your fingers to glide along his skin.
He caught your hand, leaning in, his lips connecting with your palm. And your wrist. You moaned quietly at the feeling of his lips against your skin.
And when he stopped and sat up, he paused, watching you for a moment before moving to stand and pick you up.
You were quick to throw your arm around his neck. You didn’t ask which room you were going to - you waited. Watching as you drew closer to his door and his room.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
It could have been a surprise when he sat you on the end of his bed. But it wasn’t.
Or when he leaned in, kissing you warmly and the easy way that warmth became almost hungry. But it wasn’t.
You kissed him back, wanting him too much to comment on how unsurprising he was.
He was gentle when he undressed you, though, his fingers finding the zip of your dress and carefully peeling it away, letting it drop off the end of the bed. You gave him a small push and watched him sit back and slowly pull off his shirt, revealing all the smooth, perfect skin, his well-muscled chest and stomach - you couldn’t help biting your lip or reaching for him, wanting him.
He leaned close, your left arm went around his shoulders, your fingertips teasing the muscle there, as your right hand wandered down his side and low stomach, finding the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing each.
You felt the way he barely broke the kiss, the sudden heat of his breath against his skin. “We could just sleep,” he mumbled the thought.
You let your hand slide down the front of his underwear, feeling how hard he was for you. “But there’s this,” you whispered, squeezing him just enough to hear the catch in his breath. He nodded. “Right,” he breathed in agreement against your throat.
He moved off the end of the bed, pushing off his jeans and catching your ankle, pulling you down the bed and close.
And then his thumb was stroking you through your panties, tracing a line between your pussy lips, feeling the way you parted under the fabric.
“So wet,” he whispered, looking at what he was doing before glancing up at you, his lips kissed red and his gaze hungry.
You smiled, hooking your ankles at his low back. “Just for you.”
He hummed in response, working your panties to the side.
“He likes you too - bet we could test who really makes you wet, kitten,” he whispered as his fingers plunged in. You gasped hard, your fingertips digging into his duvet as he found the pace he wanted - quick, but his two fingers opening inside you with every thrust - and then he added the third, and you came, gasping and moaning.
He was slower with three fingers, but still prepping you, stretching you with every move. You whined softly as he opened his fingers wider. “Yes - fuck, please,” you babbled.
The second time was just as intense as the first.
And then he was taking off his underwear, climbing onto the bed with you, and stroking his dick a few times. He lined up with you, teasing your opening, wetting himself before finally pushing in all the way.
You both groaned. Your hands found his arms, squeezing hard until he bottomed out.
You listened to the ragged way he breathed. And when he ducked down to kiss you, his lips were so good. You liked it, wanting everything. “Love how you feel,” he whispered.
You nodded. “Same,” you added, watching him above you, the way he focused on you, the way his brows knitted as he started to move.
“Yeah?” He asked between breaths.
You nodded. “Yeah, Cheol,” you answered, hooking your legs tighter around his waist.
He pressed his forehead to yours, going deep with every thrust. You shivered and moaned, wanting more and more.
He groaned and sat up, changing positions - him on his knees, he pulled your right leg over his shoulder, and every thrust hit just right. You could barely breathe.
And the sounds you made. You were glad when you felt his thumb press between your lips. “Shhh, kitten, the neighbors,” he managed, still thrusting.
You sucked and licked his thumb, happy to feel it, the pad of his thumb pressing gently against your tongue. His hips were working harder against you with every thrust now - the soft slap of his body against yours.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said through gritted teeth, glancing up at you. You nodded, hoping he knew it was the same for you.
He changed positions again, picking up both your legs. You didn’t even think when you pulled the pillow down and pressed your face into the side to stop the sounds of your moans. Every move he made was hitting that perfect spot inside you, you could feel the pressure building so sweet and good and amazing, and then the sudden wave and your pussy fluttering and squeezing around him as you came and came and his moan as he let go inside you, filling you.
He let your legs drop slowly to the side before leaning over you, kissing you while you both came down from a delicious high.
Everything else could wait, as you fell asleep together.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
a/n: thx for reading with me ^^ btw I don’t actually seungcheol would be joking about finding out who makes the mc wetter because him using his fingers to get her to be quiet - that’s just in places of what mingyu could do if he were there
there may be additional parts because mingyu history + threesome but also who knows
>>>>when mingyu is your TA and you let him talk you into wearing something questionable
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
pairing: k.mg x f!reader
genere/tags: college au; age gap; bff's older brother; teaching assistant k.mg; college student!reader; semi-public sex; toys; d!s undertones; soft dom!mingyu / BRAT!reader
word count: 3.8k
warnings: explicit language; s3x toys; wearing in public; d!s undertones; fingering; squ!rt; cum play; cum eating; aftercare
Being Mingyu’s secret was intense to begin with.
And when you found out that he would be the TA for your class that spring, it only became…better.
You knew he’d always liked to tease you, but when he showed up at your apartment before your first day of classes started, you were apprehensive.
It had to be something - a quick fuck, maybe?
You’d learned just how often he liked to fuck. It was almost daily, and if not daily, then multiple rounds to make up for a day he missed.
He was sweet and a mild perv. He could go from sweet to teasing your pussy through your clothes in a matter of minutes - it was all one fluid dynamic for him, sweet was sweet and sweet was him holding your face down while he fucked your third orgasm out of you. And sweet was the way he held you after…or ate you after.
But when he came through your door with a small black bag in hand, you knew it was something.
Some fantasy he'd probably had for longer than you would've guessed. Since he kept making little confessions about the things he'd imagined doing with you.
You leaned your hip against the kitchen counter, waiting.
He came to you, kissing your forehead, cupping your cheek as he did. “Hi,” he said with a soft smile. He kissed your cheek and your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your hands trailed along his biceps and shoulders until your arms were around him.
You leaned to the side, letting him kiss along your throat and collarbone. “Brought you something,” he mumbled against your skin.
You smiled. “Yeah, I thought so…”
He paused his activities, leaning up to look at you. “Promise you’ll wear it?” He looked so serious.
You narrowed your eyes skeptically. “I don’t know what it is.”
“A gift from me,” he said sweetly, staring down at you now, his lips forming a slight pout as he squeezed your waist.
“Sounds dangerous,” you murmured, trailing your fingers along the back of his neck.
He shook his head. “Not dangerous - sexy,” he clarified, barely raising his brows, the half smile still on his perfect lips.
He pressed you back into the counter, leaning down, kissing you gently - it was a good kiss. Slow. Misleading probably.
He pulled away slowly.
“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I’ll wear it.”
You watched his smile grow.
“Come on, bedroom,” he said, pulling you along. And in your own apartment by the way.
You were whipped for him.
But he was down bad, too.
It was mutually messy.
He was buying you little gifts, even if you knew it was definitely from a sex shop.
He handed you the bag once you were in the bedroom. There were two boxes.
One was a fairly flat rectangle - matte black, a thin banded ribbon.
The other box was the same black but a different shape - heavier.
You started with the thin box. You removed the ribbon, and the lid, and the tissue paper.
There were panties inside - lacy and white and crotchless - the fabric was sheer, and the style was high-waisted, and they split perfectly in the middle. You thought about flipping them at Mingyu, but you knew he was serious. He was watching your reaction too hard to be joking.
You wondered vaguely if this meant you could buy underwear for him. You smiled. “Cute,” you whispered, shucking off your jeans and the underwear you were already wearing that you knew he liked.
You watched his eyes follow the ones he liked as you tossed them towards the dirty laundry basket.
“Oh,” he muttered, looking so perfectly disappointed.
You smiled. “I do know which ones you like,” you said, sliding on the new ones. “Help with these,” you said.
He watched the little black ones for a moment like he’d missed out on something. Or his plan hadn’t turned out the exact way he thought. He turned to you, though, helping to line up the fabric on your pussy lips, teasing you as he went.
And when they were just right. “Bend over,” he murmured, nudging your hip. “Show me how they look.”
You could hear it already that way his voice got - the slightly needy, heavy register that told you he was definitely realizing some fantasy he’d been holding onto.
You bent over the foot of the bed, arching a bit to give him a better view.
“Fuck,” he muttered. You could hear the slow way he exhaled. He walked closer, his hands tracing along thighs and ass. “You’re so gorgeous,” he added, voice soft.
His hands slid along the fronts of your thighs and squeezed, and he teased your pussy then. His fingertips tracing where you were just barely open and parted from the position. “Love this part,” he muttered.
His fingertips were tracing your opening now, teasing the wetness that was already building.
“Should I still open the other box?” You asked, knowing you were pulling his attention from the thing he was enjoying.
He whined softly. “Yes - yes, open it, or I’ll just be distracted by your perfect cunt.”
You shifted and sat in the bed, grabbing the second box. You tested it in your hand, feeling the weight. You had a feeling it was a toy or a plug - something he could see from the vantage point the panties gave him.
You looked up at him, watching the way he watched you. “You are proving to be a pervert, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I just really like your pussy,” he offered.
You laughed softly. “Right, my sloppy, pervy puppy likes my pussy - that’s good, though.”
You unwrapped the box. It was a vibrator - shorter and fat, meant to sit inside your pussy, not work itself out if your pussy got juicy. This was meant to stay.
He held out his hand, waiting for you to hand it over. “Come on, I need to get it in correctly before class.”
“Correctly?” You asked, teasing the tip of the toy - it was a blunt head, meant to sit deep inside you.
He nodded. “I want to be able to see the end of it, the little jewel nestled inside you, peeking out from your sweet little lips.” He offered his hand again.
You hummed and shook your head, still playing with it. “So eloquent today - I’m not wearing a skirt, though.”
Skirts were his new obsession.
“Please, please - I want to be midway through my dreary fucking lecture and look out and see a little happy sparkle from your pussy,” he was pleading.
But not enough.
“Think I’ll wear jeans—“ you teased, still playing with the toy as a small smirk started to tug at the corner of your lips.
He whined softly. “Please,” he asked again.
You shrugged and sat back on the bed, letting your legs fall open. You offered him the toy, dangling it like a piece of fruit.
He pouted. “And come on - you don’t hate skirts,” he reasoned, grabbing the toy.
“Actually, I do,” you corrected.
You watched him lick the toy - his tongue tracing over the head. You knew he liked using his spit as lube, even when he used lube.
He caught your right ankle and pulled you to the very edge of the bed and started working the girth of the toy in.
You sighed and shifted your hips - not exactly trying to help. He glanced up, knowingly.
You cried out once before it was finally seated - this slightly alien-shaped toy. It sat fully inside you, exactly the way he wanted.
The way you wanted, if you admitted it.
And then you watched him produce a remote. And the vibration started. You gasped hard - shocked at the sensation.
You dropped back on the bed in response - the feeling was too intense and good. You let yourself go - no pretense over the time of the morning or anything else - you just let the quick orgasm hit you. Your hips shaking and bucking.
He teased you, playing with your slick. You watched him trace his fingers through and then bring it to his lips, licking his fingers clean. Your thighs squeezed together tightly. You loved when he confirmed what you knew about him - he loved how messy you could be.
It made your mouth water sometimes, knowing him.
You smiled, knowing it was what he liked. He’d admitted it at some point - he loved eating your pussy - but he also just loved your pussy, the taste, the way you always slicked his fingers and cock.
He reached down, parting your thighs again and fucking the toy in and out of you a few times, listening to the sounds and finally getting it just right.
You sat up after a moment of his stillness. You tested crossing and uncrossing your legs. “See it?”
He nodded.
You let your legs open wider. “Now?”
He nodded. “So good - fuck if you left a puddle in the seat, I think I’d really lose it,” he murmured.
You smiled. “So you're keeping the remote, I guess?”
He gave a quick smirk. “Maybe?”
He dialed something around, and you felt it hit your pussy hard and thrum down your back and down through your toes.
He swapped the setting, and you fell back onto your back with a cry, hands grabbing your crotch like you needed to hold back something. “Oh - god — oh, fuck - Mingyu, Mingyu—“ you whined and jerked and pulled it out, letting your pussy spasm and spurt.
And then you let yourself lie back as your breathing slowed. “If you do that in class - I’ll kill you,” you mumbled.
He grinned. “That’s not for class, lovely,” he said, pulling the toy from you and immediately working back in with one quick thrust. Your pussy walls fluttered around it.
“You’re just so wet for me - no one else,” he mumbled, kissing your cheek and the tip of your nose. "And you're so beautiful like this," he whispered, kissing your temple.
You felt the vibrator start again, a gentle throb that had you purring for him. He nuzzled your throat. "That's right, baby," he mumbled, and the vibrator shifted down to something like a gentle thrum. "Think you can handle that until my office hours?" He was asking genuinely.
He leaned away, waiting for you. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on it. "What's it like one down from this?" You asked.
You felt it shift down again, a manageable hum. You nodded. "That, for now," you mumbled, reaching up and smoothing his hair.
"Yeah? Until this afternoon?"
You nodded. "Can I come?"
He smirked. "Big girls don't come in the middle of Physics II, do they?" He asked, voice already annoying and peevish.
You shook your head.
You felt his fingers trace along your lips - his thumb pushed between your lips. You sucked gently. "You're a big girl, aren't you?" He asked softly.
You nodded, still sucking his thumb.
•••
He left before you finished dressing, snapping a photo of you lying on the bed, looking out the window, feeling the low hum in your low stomach. The “before,” as he put it.
You’d sat up and flipped him off. “Idiot,” you mumbled, even if you knew you were half his camera roll.
He’d kissed your shoulder and skipped off to prepare for class. You’d shaken your head, wondering how you were somehow on the receiving end of Mingu’s fantasies. Besides the obvious - your brother meeting him in second grade and maintaining strong social bonds or whatever.
That was the way to having a vibrator seated fully in your cunt for half a day - strong social bonds.
You groaned and figured using the time before you needed to leave for class to get used to the feeling was a good idea. You walked around the apartment, noticing how it moved with you. There was some extra friction, but not as much as you’d assumed.
It was consistent and fully pressed against your cervix.
Mingyu had been gone for maybe 15 minutes. It wasn’t that intense.
You grabbed your phone, thinking of asking him to change the setting to see how it felt - but you didn’t. This was probably already enough, but you were still willing to test it when it came to him and the things he asked for - you always had been.
You rolled your eyes at yourself and started getting dressed before you got yourself into something even deeper.
•
You did wear a shorter skirt. Not a mini, just short enough for him to enjoy when you were in his office. You could already imagine his hands tracing along the backs of your thighs, squeezing gently.
You knew the hall the class was in - the auditorium was massive. He’d struggle to see anything in the stadium-style seating. But he couldn’t say you hadn’t tried to bring his dreams to life.
His perverted dreams, you thought with a smile. Such a cute pervert, though.
You knew he wouldn’t change the setting during class. He’d wait until his office hours, when you were alone in the semi-dark, wood-paneled room, the blinds closed, the warm afternoon light filtering in, the soft smell of leather and old books that weren’t his. Then he’d be evil with it, you smiled again, imagining the double penetration potential.
And then you left for class.
•
Walking was fine. Sitting was fine.
And by the time you were on the bus headed to class - everything was fine.
But you were starting to get fairly wet by the time you sat down for class.
You could feel the stickiness of it. You imagined people could hear it when you shifted around next to them and knew that you were letting your pussy be treated like a slutty secret pouch for some unknown boy’s own personal pornographic dreams.
You pursed your lips and watched Mingyu walk in and set up at the podium. You sighed softly, knowing he wouldn’t make eye contact during class. He’d look everywhere but at you.
Which was fine.
No one needed to know that you and he were a thing. Plus, it meant you got to hear the gossip around him. People whispering how hot he looked - that he should either work out more or less - that shirts should be optional for professors and assistants - and the persistent guessing around how big his dick was.
You’d been in a seminar he taught before any of this. You’d heard the rumors.
All of it still made you smile to yourself.
Because you knew he had a gorgeous dick, not an infinity dick that required worm holes or something. You loved the speculation, though. And generally refused to tell Mingyu unless he chased you around your apartment and tackled you.
Then you’d spill the beans. Or maybe after fighting a little longer - his grip was never rough, and sometimes you’d lick a fat stripe of spit on his cheek and go limp. He’d yet to be genuinely frustrated with you or your antics.
He was an anomaly in that, but he’d known you since you were a Kindergartener. So maybe that mattered too, since you used to lie in the grass and wonder if knowing him was like some soul-based curse. You knew him in a past life and couldn’t escape it.
You had been sitting through half the lesson.
Your pussy was worse than wet - you could feel how slick it was every time you shifted in your seat. You looked like someone who needed a wee - desperate. You had to focus and squeeze your pelvic floor muscles. Your nails dug into the underside of the small desk.
You sneaked a quick moment to text Mingyu.
[y/n]
u kno i will need you to explain everything again
u doubled ur dreariness
You saw him check his phone quickly at the podium. You saw the slight smirk.
Bitch.
He kept teaching.
And you kept shifting around because every position felt dangerous. Your pussy had felt fine, but it had been building and building and it felt like you were on an exceedingly dangerous ledge.
You squeezed your thighs tight, trying to manage it. You glanced at the clock, just 12 minutes.
You could hold it for 12 minutes without dry humping your chair like a dog in heat. You could.
It was mental. Mental to be doing. Mental that you’d let that moron at the front with the infinity dick talk you into this situation.
You clamped your pussy tightly and crossed your legs as hard as you could.
You wanted to think unsexy thoughts - but Mingyu ruined that too because the harder you dug your nails into the formica of the desk, the more you knew that you wouldn’t stop because it was him - he had planned it and asked, and he looked so cute and pathetic for you.
And you wanted to at some level - you wanted to be good enough to take it.
You hated that you wanted to hold it.
You wanted to hold it because he’d put it there and he’d checked and he’d done everything except mention how it would feel to have the same endless vibration for around two and a quarter hours.
You wanted to scream.
But you didn’t.
And you didn’t dare move because that was basically giving up.
You’d get him back. You’d use your vibrator on his cock until he yelped and begged and came dry.
Or maybe you’d finally peg him, which was debatable as to whether he would even be annoyed by it.
He was so annoyingly yours all because of the holiday break and every break before that, where you’d flirted and bratted and always let him talk you into things.
You knew your panties were a wreck, barely containing your slick. The fabric was more than damp, you could feel it sticking to your skin.
And the small vibrations were starting to get to you as the class wound down, right to the last second. Mingyu wasn’t ending early.
But he didn’t let the class run over either. The girl who always had 15 extra questions - she got the “let’s talk after class.” Which meant she had maybe 30% of his attention as he packed his bag.
And when you could finally stand, it was a partial relief, less pressure. But the vibrations were still real and still happening.
You were glad his building was close. You were quick getting there - grabbing the faster bus and forcing your way into the tight jam of other students. Fuck them if they eyed you.
You got off at the mid-century shit pile his office was in. You weren’t about to give him or his space any credit in the moment.
You took the stairs, not the elevator. And if needed, you would break into his office just so you could come on his fucking desk.
The absolute prick.
He appeared quickly, though. No students or faculty trialing him.
He didn’t look at you immediately as he unlocked the door. You were leaning against the wall, looking annoyed, which was the perfect look for him at all times.
He managed to unlock everything, flick on the lights, and go in to drop his bag.
You stood, waiting for him to invite you in like a vampire waiting to be allowed to pass a threshold. It was his office. He was a TA.
You couldn’t literally walk in without someone calling it out.
You’d listened to him talk anxiously about his position often enough.
You heard the soft sounds of him crossing the room.
“You can come in,” he said, still avoiding eye contact.
You slipped under his arm and stood off to the side, next to a small sofa some ancient person had left when they retired.
He closed the door gently and stepped over to his desk. He sat on the edge and held a had out to you.
You stalled for a moment because it felt like giving in, even if it was starting to be uncomfortable even while standing.
Not uncomfortable precisely. Intense. Maybe a squat would stop it, you considered idly.
He waited like he knew there was something going on in your mind. You huffed because you hated that too. His confidence of knowing you.
He didn’t. He still had no idea that you had stolen his bag of halloween candy in 5th grade. You were just an innocent third grader - you couldn’t mastermind anything.
You held out in the soft silence for enough time that he offered his hand again, dark brows drawn together. You shook your head.
You watched the way he licked his lips, thinking. “Come here,” he said finally, gently. “Please,” he added, voice almost silent.
You pursed your lips. You were standing awkwardly, squeezing your thighs and inner muscles. And he had said ‘please.’ And part of you still want to refuse.
You watched him walk over.
He came to stand behind you, his hands sliding over your hips and taking hold of the hem of your skirt, he pulled it up with one hand while his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He nipped gently at your throat and nuzzled against you.
“You are a brat, you know?”
You nodded, letting your head drop back on his shoulder. You heard yourself gasp as he pulled the vibrator out and pushed the button to stop it.
You felt his fingers slide in and the moment he found that inner spot, you felt your knees give. He caught you. “Shhh, just let go,” he whispered against your temple. “It's okay - just come.”
And you did.
You came hard and fast. And then a second time and a third and you finally stated to feel relief, even when his hand was tight over your mouth and you were licking his palm, tasting sweat and metal and chalk.
Your hips bucked hard the last time. You were dripping and wrecked. He picked you up and put you on the sofa.
A blanket appeared from some cupboard. And wipes. He was careful with everything. Always.
Even the stupid juice box he gave you, as he smoothed hair from your forehead.
But the best part was when he pushed his thumb past your lower lip, making small circles against your tongue.
You purred then, barely sucking.
He kissed you cheeek as you started to sleep.
You knew he’d just grade papers or something boring.
a/n: hope it was fun - thx for reading with me - obvs this is a series now
>>>>when mingyu is your TA and you let him talk you into wearing something questionable
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭
pairing: k.mg x f!reader
genere/tags: college au; age gap; bff's older brother; teaching assistant k.mg; college student!reader; semi-public sex; toys; d!s undertones; soft dom!mingyu / BRAT!reader
word count: 3.8k
warnings: explicit language; s3x toys; wearing in public; d!s undertones; fingering; squ!rt; cum play; cum eating; aftercare
Being Mingyu’s secret was intense to begin with.
And when you found out that he would be the TA for your class that spring, it only became…better.
You knew he’d always liked to tease you, but when he showed up at your apartment before your first day of classes started, you were apprehensive.
It had to be something - a quick fuck, maybe?
You’d learned just how often he liked to fuck. It was almost daily, and if not daily, then multiple rounds to make up for a day he missed.
He was sweet and a mild perv. He could go from sweet to teasing your pussy through your clothes in a matter of minutes - it was all one fluid dynamic for him, sweet was sweet and sweet was him holding your face down while he fucked your third orgasm out of you. And sweet was the way he held you after…or ate you after.
But when he came through your door with a small black bag in hand, you knew it was something.
Some fantasy he'd probably had for longer than you would've guessed. Since he kept making little confessions about the things he'd imagined doing with you.
You leaned your hip against the kitchen counter, waiting.
He came to you, kissing your forehead, cupping your cheek as he did. “Hi,” he said with a soft smile. He kissed your cheek and your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your hands trailed along his biceps and shoulders until your arms were around him.
You leaned to the side, letting him kiss along your throat and collarbone. “Brought you something,” he mumbled against your skin.
You smiled. “Yeah, I thought so…”
He paused his activities, leaning up to look at you. “Promise you’ll wear it?” He looked so serious.
You narrowed your eyes skeptically. “I don’t know what it is.”
“A gift from me,” he said sweetly, staring down at you now, his lips forming a slight pout as he squeezed your waist.
“Sounds dangerous,” you murmured, trailing your fingers along the back of his neck.
He shook his head. “Not dangerous - sexy,” he clarified, barely raising his brows, the half smile still on his perfect lips.
He pressed you back into the counter, leaning down, kissing you gently - it was a good kiss. Slow. Misleading probably.
He pulled away slowly.
“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “I’ll wear it.”
You watched his smile grow.
“Come on, bedroom,” he said, pulling you along. And in your own apartment by the way.
You were whipped for him.
But he was down bad, too.
It was mutually messy.
He was buying you little gifts, even if you knew it was definitely from a sex shop.
He handed you the bag once you were in the bedroom. There were two boxes.
One was a fairly flat rectangle - matte black, a thin banded ribbon.
The other box was the same black but a different shape - heavier.
You started with the thin box. You removed the ribbon, and the lid, and the tissue paper.
There were panties inside - lacy and white and crotchless - the fabric was sheer, and the style was high-waisted, and they split perfectly in the middle. You thought about flipping them at Mingyu, but you knew he was serious. He was watching your reaction too hard to be joking.
You wondered vaguely if this meant you could buy underwear for him. You smiled. “Cute,” you whispered, shucking off your jeans and the underwear you were already wearing that you knew he liked.
You watched his eyes follow the ones he liked as you tossed them towards the dirty laundry basket.
“Oh,” he muttered, looking so perfectly disappointed.
You smiled. “I do know which ones you like,” you said, sliding on the new ones. “Help with these,” you said.
He watched the little black ones for a moment like he’d missed out on something. Or his plan hadn’t turned out the exact way he thought. He turned to you, though, helping to line up the fabric on your pussy lips, teasing you as he went.
And when they were just right. “Bend over,” he murmured, nudging your hip. “Show me how they look.”
You could hear it already that way his voice got - the slightly needy, heavy register that told you he was definitely realizing some fantasy he’d been holding onto.
You bent over the foot of the bed, arching a bit to give him a better view.
“Fuck,” he muttered. You could hear the slow way he exhaled. He walked closer, his hands tracing along thighs and ass. “You’re so gorgeous,” he added, voice soft.
His hands slid along the fronts of your thighs and squeezed, and he teased your pussy then. His fingertips tracing where you were just barely open and parted from the position. “Love this part,” he muttered.
His fingertips were tracing your opening now, teasing the wetness that was already building.
“Should I still open the other box?” You asked, knowing you were pulling his attention from the thing he was enjoying.
He whined softly. “Yes - yes, open it, or I’ll just be distracted by your perfect cunt.”
You shifted and sat in the bed, grabbing the second box. You tested it in your hand, feeling the weight. You had a feeling it was a toy or a plug - something he could see from the vantage point the panties gave him.
You looked up at him, watching the way he watched you. “You are proving to be a pervert, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I just really like your pussy,” he offered.
You laughed softly. “Right, my sloppy, pervy puppy likes my pussy - that’s good, though.”
You unwrapped the box. It was a vibrator - shorter and fat, meant to sit inside your pussy, not work itself out if your pussy got juicy. This was meant to stay.
He held out his hand, waiting for you to hand it over. “Come on, I need to get it in correctly before class.”
“Correctly?” You asked, teasing the tip of the toy - it was a blunt head, meant to sit deep inside you.
He nodded. “I want to be able to see the end of it, the little jewel nestled inside you, peeking out from your sweet little lips.” He offered his hand again.
You hummed and shook your head, still playing with it. “So eloquent today - I’m not wearing a skirt, though.”
Skirts were his new obsession.
“Please, please - I want to be midway through my dreary fucking lecture and look out and see a little happy sparkle from your pussy,” he was pleading.
But not enough.
“Think I’ll wear jeans—“ you teased, still playing with the toy as a small smirk started to tug at the corner of your lips.
He whined softly. “Please,” he asked again.
You shrugged and sat back on the bed, letting your legs fall open. You offered him the toy, dangling it like a piece of fruit.
He pouted. “And come on - you don’t hate skirts,” he reasoned, grabbing the toy.
“Actually, I do,” you corrected.
You watched him lick the toy - his tongue tracing over the head. You knew he liked using his spit as lube, even when he used lube.
He caught your right ankle and pulled you to the very edge of the bed and started working the girth of the toy in.
You sighed and shifted your hips - not exactly trying to help. He glanced up, knowingly.
You cried out once before it was finally seated - this slightly alien-shaped toy. It sat fully inside you, exactly the way he wanted.
The way you wanted, if you admitted it.
And then you watched him produce a remote. And the vibration started. You gasped hard - shocked at the sensation.
You dropped back on the bed in response - the feeling was too intense and good. You let yourself go - no pretense over the time of the morning or anything else - you just let the quick orgasm hit you. Your hips shaking and bucking.
He teased you, playing with your slick. You watched him trace his fingers through and then bring it to his lips, licking his fingers clean. Your thighs squeezed together tightly. You loved when he confirmed what you knew about him - he loved how messy you could be.
It made your mouth water sometimes, knowing him.
You smiled, knowing it was what he liked. He’d admitted it at some point - he loved eating your pussy - but he also just loved your pussy, the taste, the way you always slicked his fingers and cock.
He reached down, parting your thighs again and fucking the toy in and out of you a few times, listening to the sounds and finally getting it just right.
You sat up after a moment of his stillness. You tested crossing and uncrossing your legs. “See it?”
He nodded.
You let your legs open wider. “Now?”
He nodded. “So good - fuck if you left a puddle in the seat, I think I’d really lose it,” he murmured.
You smiled. “So you're keeping the remote, I guess?”
He gave a quick smirk. “Maybe?”
He dialed something around, and you felt it hit your pussy hard and thrum down your back and down through your toes.
He swapped the setting, and you fell back onto your back with a cry, hands grabbing your crotch like you needed to hold back something. “Oh - god — oh, fuck - Mingyu, Mingyu—“ you whined and jerked and pulled it out, letting your pussy spasm and spurt.
And then you let yourself lie back as your breathing slowed. “If you do that in class - I’ll kill you,” you mumbled.
He grinned. “That’s not for class, lovely,” he said, pulling the toy from you and immediately working back in with one quick thrust. Your pussy walls fluttered around it.
“You’re just so wet for me - no one else,” he mumbled, kissing your cheek and the tip of your nose. "And you're so beautiful like this," he whispered, kissing your temple.
You felt the vibrator start again, a gentle throb that had you purring for him. He nuzzled your throat. "That's right, baby," he mumbled, and the vibrator shifted down to something like a gentle thrum. "Think you can handle that until my office hours?" He was asking genuinely.
He leaned away, waiting for you. You closed your eyes for a moment, focusing on it. "What's it like one down from this?" You asked.
You felt it shift down again, a manageable hum. You nodded. "That, for now," you mumbled, reaching up and smoothing his hair.
"Yeah? Until this afternoon?"
You nodded. "Can I come?"
He smirked. "Big girls don't come in the middle of Physics II, do they?" He asked, voice already annoying and peevish.
You shook your head.
You felt his fingers trace along your lips - his thumb pushed between your lips. You sucked gently. "You're a big girl, aren't you?" He asked softly.
You nodded, still sucking his thumb.
•••
He left before you finished dressing, snapping a photo of you lying on the bed, looking out the window, feeling the low hum in your low stomach. The “before,” as he put it.
You’d sat up and flipped him off. “Idiot,” you mumbled, even if you knew you were half his camera roll.
He’d kissed your shoulder and skipped off to prepare for class. You’d shaken your head, wondering how you were somehow on the receiving end of Mingu’s fantasies. Besides the obvious - your brother meeting him in second grade and maintaining strong social bonds or whatever.
That was the way to having a vibrator seated fully in your cunt for half a day - strong social bonds.
You groaned and figured using the time before you needed to leave for class to get used to the feeling was a good idea. You walked around the apartment, noticing how it moved with you. There was some extra friction, but not as much as you’d assumed.
It was consistent and fully pressed against your cervix.
Mingyu had been gone for maybe 15 minutes. It wasn’t that intense.
You grabbed your phone, thinking of asking him to change the setting to see how it felt - but you didn’t. This was probably already enough, but you were still willing to test it when it came to him and the things he asked for - you always had been.
You rolled your eyes at yourself and started getting dressed before you got yourself into something even deeper.
•
You did wear a shorter skirt. Not a mini, just short enough for him to enjoy when you were in his office. You could already imagine his hands tracing along the backs of your thighs, squeezing gently.
You knew the hall the class was in - the auditorium was massive. He’d struggle to see anything in the stadium-style seating. But he couldn’t say you hadn’t tried to bring his dreams to life.
His perverted dreams, you thought with a smile. Such a cute pervert, though.
You knew he wouldn’t change the setting during class. He’d wait until his office hours, when you were alone in the semi-dark, wood-paneled room, the blinds closed, the warm afternoon light filtering in, the soft smell of leather and old books that weren’t his. Then he’d be evil with it, you smiled again, imagining the double penetration potential.
And then you left for class.
•
Walking was fine. Sitting was fine.
And by the time you were on the bus headed to class - everything was fine.
But you were starting to get fairly wet by the time you sat down for class.
You could feel the stickiness of it. You imagined people could hear it when you shifted around next to them and knew that you were letting your pussy be treated like a slutty secret pouch for some unknown boy’s own personal pornographic dreams.
You pursed your lips and watched Mingyu walk in and set up at the podium. You sighed softly, knowing he wouldn’t make eye contact during class. He’d look everywhere but at you.
Which was fine.
No one needed to know that you and he were a thing. Plus, it meant you got to hear the gossip around him. People whispering how hot he looked - that he should either work out more or less - that shirts should be optional for professors and assistants - and the persistent guessing around how big his dick was.
You’d been in a seminar he taught before any of this. You’d heard the rumors.
All of it still made you smile to yourself.
Because you knew he had a gorgeous dick, not an infinity dick that required worm holes or something. You loved the speculation, though. And generally refused to tell Mingyu unless he chased you around your apartment and tackled you.
Then you’d spill the beans. Or maybe after fighting a little longer - his grip was never rough, and sometimes you’d lick a fat stripe of spit on his cheek and go limp. He’d yet to be genuinely frustrated with you or your antics.
He was an anomaly in that, but he’d known you since you were a Kindergartener. So maybe that mattered too, since you used to lie in the grass and wonder if knowing him was like some soul-based curse. You knew him in a past life and couldn’t escape it.
You had been sitting through half the lesson.
Your pussy was worse than wet - you could feel how slick it was every time you shifted in your seat. You looked like someone who needed a wee - desperate. You had to focus and squeeze your pelvic floor muscles. Your nails dug into the underside of the small desk.
You sneaked a quick moment to text Mingyu.
[y/n]
u kno i will need you to explain everything again
u doubled ur dreariness
You saw him check his phone quickly at the podium. You saw the slight smirk.
Bitch.
He kept teaching.
And you kept shifting around because every position felt dangerous. Your pussy had felt fine, but it had been building and building and it felt like you were on an exceedingly dangerous ledge.
You squeezed your thighs tight, trying to manage it. You glanced at the clock, just 12 minutes.
You could hold it for 12 minutes without dry humping your chair like a dog in heat. You could.
It was mental. Mental to be doing. Mental that you’d let that moron at the front with the infinity dick talk you into this situation.
You clamped your pussy tightly and crossed your legs as hard as you could.
You wanted to think unsexy thoughts - but Mingyu ruined that too because the harder you dug your nails into the formica of the desk, the more you knew that you wouldn’t stop because it was him - he had planned it and asked, and he looked so cute and pathetic for you.
And you wanted to at some level - you wanted to be good enough to take it.
You hated that you wanted to hold it.
You wanted to hold it because he’d put it there and he’d checked and he’d done everything except mention how it would feel to have the same endless vibration for around two and a quarter hours.
You wanted to scream.
But you didn’t.
And you didn’t dare move because that was basically giving up.
You’d get him back. You’d use your vibrator on his cock until he yelped and begged and came dry.
Or maybe you’d finally peg him, which was debatable as to whether he would even be annoyed by it.
He was so annoyingly yours all because of the holiday break and every break before that, where you’d flirted and bratted and always let him talk you into things.
You knew your panties were a wreck, barely containing your slick. The fabric was more than damp, you could feel it sticking to your skin.
And the small vibrations were starting to get to you as the class wound down, right to the last second. Mingyu wasn’t ending early.
But he didn’t let the class run over either. The girl who always had 15 extra questions - she got the “let’s talk after class.” Which meant she had maybe 30% of his attention as he packed his bag.
And when you could finally stand, it was a partial relief, less pressure. But the vibrations were still real and still happening.
You were glad his building was close. You were quick getting there - grabbing the faster bus and forcing your way into the tight jam of other students. Fuck them if they eyed you.
You got off at the mid-century shit pile his office was in. You weren’t about to give him or his space any credit in the moment.
You took the stairs, not the elevator. And if needed, you would break into his office just so you could come on his fucking desk.
The absolute prick.
He appeared quickly, though. No students or faculty trialing him.
He didn’t look at you immediately as he unlocked the door. You were leaning against the wall, looking annoyed, which was the perfect look for him at all times.
He managed to unlock everything, flick on the lights, and go in to drop his bag.
You stood, waiting for him to invite you in like a vampire waiting to be allowed to pass a threshold. It was his office. He was a TA.
You couldn’t literally walk in without someone calling it out.
You’d listened to him talk anxiously about his position often enough.
You heard the soft sounds of him crossing the room.
“You can come in,” he said, still avoiding eye contact.
You slipped under his arm and stood off to the side, next to a small sofa some ancient person had left when they retired.
He closed the door gently and stepped over to his desk. He sat on the edge and held a had out to you.
You stalled for a moment because it felt like giving in, even if it was starting to be uncomfortable even while standing.
Not uncomfortable precisely. Intense. Maybe a squat would stop it, you considered idly.
He waited like he knew there was something going on in your mind. You huffed because you hated that too. His confidence of knowing you.
He didn’t. He still had no idea that you had stolen his bag of halloween candy in 5th grade. You were just an innocent third grader - you couldn’t mastermind anything.
You held out in the soft silence for enough time that he offered his hand again, dark brows drawn together. You shook your head.
You watched the way he licked his lips, thinking. “Come here,” he said finally, gently. “Please,” he added, voice almost silent.
You pursed your lips. You were standing awkwardly, squeezing your thighs and inner muscles. And he had said ‘please.’ And part of you still want to refuse.
You watched him walk over.
He came to stand behind you, his hands sliding over your hips and taking hold of the hem of your skirt, he pulled it up with one hand while his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He nipped gently at your throat and nuzzled against you.
“You are a brat, you know?”
You nodded, letting your head drop back on his shoulder. You heard yourself gasp as he pulled the vibrator out and pushed the button to stop it.
You felt his fingers slide in and the moment he found that inner spot, you felt your knees give. He caught you. “Shhh, just let go,” he whispered against your temple. “It's okay - just come.”
And you did.
You came hard and fast. And then a second time and a third and you finally stated to feel relief, even when his hand was tight over your mouth and you were licking his palm, tasting sweat and metal and chalk.
Your hips bucked hard the last time. You were dripping and wrecked. He picked you up and put you on the sofa.
A blanket appeared from some cupboard. And wipes. He was careful with everything. Always.
Even the stupid juice box he gave you, as he smoothed hair from your forehead.
But the best part was when he pushed his thumb past your lower lip, making small circles against your tongue.
You purred then, barely sucking.
He kissed you cheeek as you started to sleep.
You knew he’d just grade papers or something boring.
a/n: hope it was fun - thx for reading with me - obvs this is a series now
Seungcheol has always been a little slutty in your opinion.
It’s not a bad thing.
It’s just a thing.
Every time you worked on a group project with him and some random girl would pop into the group study room to make eyes at him.
While you were literally mid-sentence sometimes.
Such an eye roll.
And you did roll your eyes, and sigh loudly.
And sometimes you just literally paused and stared. Or the one girl who couldn’t take a hint until you literally asked “are you finished?”
She’d stared at you like you were from another planet. But Seungcheol had looked at you and shaken his head and told the girl he would see her later.
“You know you’re not subtle, right?” he’d asked once.
You’d arched a brow. “Sorry, ‘subtle’? Is that what you thought I was going for?“ you asked with a small laugh.
He watched you for a moment like he was sizing you up. You met his gaze without flinching.
He gave a soft shake of his head like he decided you were talking past one another.
“Whatever,” you muttered.
Again. Eye roll behavior.
But then sometimes you randomly fell into his slut-dar.
Like whenever you played beer pong together. And his hands always found their way to your hips. You’d elbowed him the first time it happened, mumbling about how you needed to aim.
He laughed it off. But then five minutes later, you could feel his fingertips touching your low back like he was planting a flag.
Sometimes you let it slide, but mostly you just smacked his hand away, wondering what his deal was.
Because even when you were finished with beer pong and were heading downtown, you always ended up in his vicinity. His arm wrapping around your waist for at least one dance.
And then you would go to get a drink or to talk to someone and he’d be off with someone else. And you would wonder why he even bothered you.
Which was exactly what you were thinking when he asked you to the Phi formal.
“Sorry, what?” you asked, certain that it was some bullshit ask.
He did that thing where he watched you for a beat. “Will you be my date?” he asked it more directly.
You glanced around like you were looking for the hidden camera. “Why?” you asked.
It wasn’t weird for you to get asked to formal, you just usually went with Mingyu (when he didn’t have someone lined up) or Soonyoung (because he was kind of your favorite Phi anyway) and always as friends.
Seungcheol, though? Literally the fuck never.
You watched the way he bit his lower lip. “Because I want you to,” he answered.
“Right, so you can like do a Carrie thing or something?” you couldn’t help yourself. He was so unserious with this.
“That’s an insane option—“ he tried.
“No, it’s perfectly sane given that you and I have zero history and you’re being weird,” you snapped back.
“How am I weird for asking you to go with me?” he asked.
“Because we play beer pong and do group projects and you fuck everyone who isn’t me,” you answered with a laugh.
You hated that you’d walked onto the back deck with him because he said he wanted to ask you something “important.” This wasn’t important. It was mildly uncomfortable.
He gave an annoyed grin. “Maybe I’m trying to fuck you and you just won’t give me the time of day,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Mhmm, yeah, sure,” you muttered, turning to walk inside.
You were surprised when he grabbed your hoodie sleeve, pulling you back towards him.
“I’m not joking,” he whispered, your face inches from his.
You stared at him for a moment. “Yeah, well, prove it,” you shot back, quick and honest.
You started to pull away again, but he pulled you right back, shifting so you felt your back hit the brick wall of the house.
He dropped his cup and grabbed your wrists, guiding your arms to his shoulders while he pinned your hips with his. “How’s this?” he asked, voice close and warm, sweet against your skin.
You felt the way his hips rolled against yours, and the hint of his cock stiffening.
It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exactly what you wanted from him either - not the right style anyway.
You barely thought through the soft smack you gave his cheek.
But you registered every single emotion that flicked across his features.
And then the way he leaned in close to your ear, tongue tracing just underneath it, swirling against the sensitive skin before he pulled away. “Like it rough, baby?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
You grinned softly, turning towards him. “Do you even come with that option?” you whispered, teasing.
He pressed closer, teeth grazing your skin. You couldn’t help the hitch in your breath. He bit down gently.
You gasped softly at the way he swapped from biting to sucking to licking, his hips still pressed fully against yours, keeping you in place while his hands traced along your sides.
You pulled his hair roughly. He just smiled against you. “Yeah, baby, just like that,” he murmured, his hips still barely moving.
You were starting to feel the bricks pressing into your back more because he was just holding you there. His hips kept that same slow pace, while his hands slid to your tits, cupping them and squeezing them roughly.
You yelped softly, giving his hair a sharp tug. He ignored you, though. He unzipped your hoodie and ducked down, his mouth latching and sucking your nipple roughly through your shirt.
You arched against the wall, fingers working into his scalp as you whined softly. “Yes,” you mumbled when he moved to your other breast, sucking just as hard.
When he pulled away, he leaned up, kissing you sloppily. “Need to do that to your pussy too, don’t I, baby?” he asked.
You nodded, trying to roll your hips against his, but still not being able to move.
He shifted enough to pick you up, your legs going around his waist.
You felt his hand, working to unbutton and unzip your jeans. And then you felt the sudden slide as you sank down into his cock.
Your head fell back. He was deep inside you just from the position. You breathed through the stretch, but he didn’t wait. He snapped his hips from beneath.
You gasped, yanking his hair now, feeling his grin against your throat. “Just like that - so fucking wet for me,” he whispered, nipping at your throat while his hips set a quick pace.
It was overwhelming, feeling his cock stretch you and hit so deep from that strangely perfect angle. You barely had time to tell him you were close, your pussy just reacted, your orgasm messy and fast, dripping.
But he wasn’t finished yet.
He pulled out and put you down, turning you so you faced the wall. He pulled your jeans and underwear down and spread your legs, pulling your hips back until he was inside you again.
He fucked into you harder this time, replacing your hands and body against the wall every time you shifted. He pounded and pounded.
“Tell me when you’re close,” he whispered against your throat. You nodded.
And only a few moments later, you were babbling to him. “Close, Cheol, do whatever—” you whimpered.
And he did, pulling out and pushing your hips against the wall. “Yeah, make a mess that everyone can see,” he said, breath hot against the nape of your neck, as he fingered your pussy roughly.
And you did come, thighs shaking - your cunt even messier the second time, you clenched your pussy as he worked your clit, another wave of pleasure hitting you, as you softened back against him.
His fingers slowed, teasing you gently, sliding between your wet pussy lips, pushing gently into your hole, working another small whine from you as you arched against him.
“Look at you, baby, such a mess,” he whispered against your cheek.
“Such a good little messy cunt,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. His hands squeezed your inner thighs roughly as he pulled your hips back again, the head of his cock teasing your pussy again.
He pushed you back against the wall, fucking into you hard and fast, the fat head of his cock pounding deeper with every thrust until he came, filling you.
He gasped, breathing hard against your throat. “Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting a few more times. You tried to clench around him, but it wasn’t as tight as you wanted.
He still felt it, though. “Greedy, baby,” he whispered. “Always knew you’d know what I like,” he murmured, still fucking into you softly.
“So fucking good,” he purred against your neck.
He took his time pulling out, groaning softly as he did, his hands running along your thighs and hips. He pulled you back into him, working to pull your panties and jeans up quickly before nuzzling against your throat, his arms wrapping around you.
“Stay over?” he murmured.
You shivered and nodded, not sure that you could make it home anyway.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
And later, when you were back in his room, lying in his bed after a quick shower where he insisted on helping you. You were still mildly surprised at the easy way his hand slid down just to tease your pussy while you were half asleep.
You swatted his cheek halfheartedly. “Seriously,” you mumbled, hand staying on his cheek, tracing along his skin.
“You know you like it,” he whispered, as his fingers sank into you. “Letting me do whatever I want,” he whispered, watching you. “You’ll probably wake me up if I don’t keep them in,” he said, voice so certain.
And not totally wrong.
“We seriously need rules,” you muttered and shoved his hand to the side. You turned over and pressed your back against him. “Like now it’s time for cuddles and sleep, not fingering me.”
He snorted. “So, will you be my date?”
You shrugged, staring into the dark. “Maybe,” you said, glancing back. “Will we fuck like that again, or was it a one-time thing?”
“Do you want it to be one-time?” he asked.
a/n: this is an updated version of one of my older fics - this one always needed something to like establish that they are a thing plus cheol was like already lwk into her and she's the one one who didn't know
warnings: fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), car sex, squirt, overstim, lwk d!s dynamic
Mingyu was your secret.
He was your older brother’s best friend. Technically off limits. Kind of.
You’d been ignoring that for months, though.
But then it happened in his car.
He’d been driving by as you were walking home - he’d stopped to offer you a ride. Pretty average, really.
It was quiet in the car, though. Weird and heavy, like you were both avoiding something. But when he pulled in front of the house, he’d reached over, the backs of his fingers barely brushing along your thigh.
“You never wear skirts,” he mumbled from the dark of the driver’s seat.
You hummed. “I do sometimes,” you whispered.
“Right,” he answered.
You’d stared, watching his fingers tracing along your naked skin. You’d been annoyed about a skirt two hours ago, but it had suddenly felt so smart as you felt his fingers traveling down to your inner thigh, squeezing softly. Your breath caught gently, and your eyelids fluttered closed.
“Look at me,” he whispered, voice low and good.
You turned to find him close, watching you. His hand slid higher on your thigh, shifting your skirt as he did.
You barely gasped as his fingers teased the crotch of your panties, tracing a line along your pussy lips. You could see the way he smiled when his fingers made contact with you through the tiny piece of fabric.
“Already wet?” he asked gently as the pads of his fingers worked under the fabric, touching you, feeling the wetness he was causing.
You nodded, biting your lip gently, knowing you wanted his fingers in you, moving and working. “Come on,” you whined, pouting.
He gave you a half smile. “Here?” he asked, teasing your clit with the pad of his finger.
“Inside,” you answered.
He nodded. “Inside?” he repeated it back like a question.
He was annoying even during this — or amazing since the next thing you knew, he’d plunged two fingers inside your wet pussy and was leaning in to kiss you, lips soft and warm. You reached for him with both hands, wanting him close, your fingers digging into his shoulder and winding in his hair, as he worked his fingers deep inside you.
He grinned as he licked into you. “Gonna come, I can feel it,” he moaned, pressing back into you, the kiss sloppy and perfect. You squeezed your pussy tight around his fingers, making him smile. “Do that to my cock next time?”
You couldn’t help smiling and nodding. “Yes,” you gasped, pulling his hair harder. “Just do it - make me come,” you groaned at the way he started to curve his fingers inside you, finding that perfect spot that made you desperate and weak and so wet. “Oh - fuck—”
You came hard on his fingers, whining and pulling his hair harder than you meant to - he groaned and leaned in, kissing you roughly, his fingers still working inside you.
You wanted to squeeze your thighs closed, but it didn’t matter - his fingers were so deep.
You bit him gently in retaliation.
He grinned. “Mmmh, kitten - love when you’re bad,” he murmured, kissing you harder, his tongue working against yours. His fingers pumped in and out quickly. You felt the third one he slipped in, moaning.
“So fucking good,” you breathed.
He nodded. “I know,” he said, leaning down to nip at your shoulder as he worked you open. And something else, some way he moved his hand you weren’t sure of, but it made you gasp immediately, your nails digging in as pleasure shot through your spine and limbs, and you were coming, you were coming in a way you’d never felt before. It was closer and closer and a sudden burst of something that left your thighs shaking and your hips bucking with need. You mewled against his shoulder, pulling him closer, not wanting him to move.
You felt his lips press soft kisses against your throat. His fingers were still inside you, not fucking into you, exactly. He was still stroking that same spot, but gently, like he knew what he’d done with the second orgasm. You pressed your fingers into his shoulders harder.
“One more, baby,” he murmured against your temple. “Let me finish you,” he said, and his voice was so sweet, you found yourself nodding along like you weren’t already a jelly.
He was slower at first, focusing on that spot inside and using his thumb on your clit. But he started to build to something faster - he let you catch up and then he started to fuck his fingers back into you the same way he’d done the second time - the way his fingers moved inside you, like a twist or something, and your head was dropped back on the head rest while you moaned softly and your hips rolled to meet his movements.
And when he picked up the pace, you could hear the sounds of it - the wet sound of skin on skin - the sound of fast and wet. “Yeah, baby - see,” he whispered, watching you in the low light - his eyes bright and focused. You nodded, still holding onto him. “Harder,” you muttered, licking your lips roughly.
He grinned and adjusted, and one thrust of his fingers, and your knees suddenly drew together - your hips rolled - you were dripping for him. And still he pushed harder, jolting you again and again with each thrust until there was a rhythm that had you breathless and whining and barely hanging on. You could feel him edging you - fast and slow and basically paused. He was evil and so fucking good.
You’d heard the ways other girls moaned for him before. But feeling why they’d moaned was completely different.
You felt him grab your jaw gently - your gaze meeting his. “With me?” he asked.
You nodded. “You’re such a tease,” you managed.
“Me?” he asked softly, voice dripping in sweetness. “I’m a tease? You’ve been teasing me, though,” he argued gently. “You and every tight skirt and the way you sit in my lap - Mingyu-ah, why are you so sweet?” he imitated, softly, kissing your cheek. “The way I’ve jerked off thinking about you,” he whispered, moving lower, kissing beneath your ear.
He worked his fingers faster, stretching you with a fourth finger as he went, your sloppy pussy taking it easily and clamping around him, wishing it was his cock. He moved quickly then, his fingers hitting deep and hard, your pussy squelching for him. You could feel your eyes roll back as your nails dragged down his back, feeling the muscle under his shirt.
And it was happening again, your pussy fluttering desperately, squeezing him and soaking him - your thighs spasmed and jerked. You closed your eyes tight, whimpering from the intensity of it. You were limp against him, breathing hard. And he finally started to pull his fingers from you. You whined at the loss, nuzzling his shoulder.
“Don’t like being after, hmm?”
You shook your head.
He kissed your cheek and smoothed your hair from your sweaty forehead. “Tell me where a toy is when we get inside.”
You nodded, still hanging onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.
He stayed there for a few minutes before he pulled away and got out of the car. You watched him adjust himself - you smiled, knowing that he was hard. He came around and helped you out.
He walked you to the door, helped you with your keys - he knew where your room was - he helped you there too, and closed the door behind himself, locking it.
He sat you on the bed, catching your jaw gently, guiding you to look up at him. His thumb traced along your cheek. “Tell me what you need.”
You pouted but still pointed to the bedside table. He went to it, shuffling things, and then he came back with it - the dildo that you had. It was a pink jelly, fat and not too long - it fit all the way inside.
“Lie back,” he said, nudging your shoulder. You fell back, letting him work your skirt and panties off, the cool air swirling against the heat of your cunt. He teased your pussy with the head of the toy, wetting it with your juices before plunging it in.
You gasped hard, muscles tightening and relaxing slowly. He turned the toy carefully inside you, still playing. You didn’t care - you were in bed, no neighbors were going to randomly walk by with their dog.
The last orgasm was slower - just Mingyu playing with you and a toy until you were finally doing the thing he wanted - squirting. You did it sometimes. You felt the way he pressed the heel of his hand into your low stomach and worked your clit and your pussy. You’d already been soaking, but the last one - it was that sudden release of pussy juices, the kind that left a wet spot on your sheets and leaked the way he liked.
And then he was between your thighs, licking you, holding your hips roughly when you tried to shift away - he pressed you down into the bed, as he ate you, his tongue working inside you and sucking and licking your clit until it happened again. You were grabbing the edge of your mattress so hard when your hips bucked, and he was suddenly licking and sucking harder than before.
You weren’t sure how you managed not to scream from how sweet it was.
You were so sensitive when he pushed the dildo back inside you, letting you be full, no teasing, no movement, just full and dripping. You squirmed, even after it was seated.
He disappeared from your view, but came back, a warm cloth wiping you down, getting every single spot of skin. He was so careful with your pussy, cleaning it without the tease, easing you back onto the bed when he finished.
He found clothes for you, something loose that covered you, and let you be comfortable.
He tucked you in and stayed for a while, playing with your hair, kissing you gently until your eyelids were too heavy.
He promised to call the next day.
You didn’t really want him to leave.
-
You woke up sore.
And satisfied.
But he was texting you, asking you how you felt - if you had water - he’d left some.
And from then on, it was a secret.
Everything you did with him. Every time he made you come. Every time he bought you a toy.
You were his secret, too.
The secret girlfriend.
Even your brother had no clue.
a/n: hehe fun right?? thx for reading with me. should it be a series? i'm not sure yet, so let me know what you think.
pairings : c.sc x f!reader (main) and k.mg x f!reader (side)
summary : seungcheol and y/n have been roommates for seven months and have been flirting gently the entire time, but a crush becomes so much more when seuncgheol invites y/n to a party (side relationship: k.mg x reader)
genre/tags : college au, non-idol au, roommates to lovers, kind of love triangle, frat member!c.sc, frat member!k.mg
word count : 4.7k
warnings : mdni | nsfw (specifics under cut)
Warnings: explicit language, multiple sexual partners mentioned, fingering, penetrative sex, cream pie, implied squirting, prep and v!streatching
Seungcheol wasn’t the roommate you’d signed up for.
He was more like the roommate who seemed to know exactly how to bug you every single day.
He moved your yogurt.
He left little notes about your car being parked on a double yellow.
Which - okay - like maybe that was helpful, but the little smiley face was smug.
You were halfway through your Thursday poly sci class when he texted you.
[choi - maths grp]
busy?
[y/n]
in class
[choi - maths grp]
so busy
[y/n]
whats up???
[choi - maths grp]
party come pls
You stared at your phone for a moment.
[y/n]
r u txting the right number
[choi - maths grp]
yes y/n texting on purpose
You watched more dots appear. And disappear. And appear again. Then stop.
You wondered what those dots were. Because so far the conversation seemed improbable.
Seungcheol didn’t invite you out.
He left notes about swapping your laundry. Or borrowed your coffee mugs and didn’t tell you - you’d been certain your favorite mug with dancing bears had disappeared into another timeline.
Until you caught him walking around with it - he’d just purloined it like some sticky-fingered kid in a shopping mall. He was brazen. And unapologetic. And a dick head.
He didn’t text you about parties.
He took up the entire sofa for days, playing video games. Loudly.
He stole your delivery food. Or the little extra wontons for your soup at least.
He sometimes poked your cheek if you were passed out anywhere openly, asking things like ‘do you want to go to your room?’
No. No, you didn’t.
Not to mention the few times you’d come home with dates.
The look on his face the first time he’d opened the door to you making out with the guy from your life drawing class - an unbelievably beautiful guy who’d been modeling for the class, and you couldn't help but to flirt with him - it was basically your duty.
Seungcheol had opened the door, thinking that you’d knocked, not knowing that the sounds were you being manhandled against the door and bumping the handle. He’d found you breathing hard into some other guy’s mouth and well on your way to being deliciously wet.
You’d stopped for a moment, looking back - you’d seen the surprised look that quickly became something else. But you weren’t sure what because he’d disappeared into his room, leaving the door standing open. You’d shrugged and pulled sexy model boy inside - the sex was painfully good and even better in the morning.
And Seungcheol didn’t talk to you for six days after the door incident.
You’d assumed it was just him not realizing that you might, in fact, fuck.
But when it happened the second time - the not talking after you’d had someone over (model guy again) - your friend had actually stopped you mid-complaining to suggest that maybe it was because Seungcheol had a thing for you.
You’d stopped entirely then. “What?”
She’d rolled her eyes. “Think about it, he’s normally like noisy and cute and whatever and every time you have a guy over —“
“He’s not some guy - he’s gorgeous—“
“Yeah, okay, but you’ve been complaining for the last three days about why Seungcheol won’t talk to you…” She’d trailed off.
“Right, but what’s your point?”
She’d narrowed her eyes for a moment. “Seriously? Are you dense? I’m saying he’s jealous.”
“Jealous?”
˚⟡˖ ࣪
‘Jealous’ had at least stuck with you enough for you to experiment.
You waited a few weeks, and Seungcheol did slowly return to himself, mostly. He still seemed a little reserved. He didn’t stay planted in the shared spaces quite as hard. He went out with friends more than before.
Or maybe you just noticed that he was out.
Which seemed to suggest that you should be out too. So you messaged a friend who was literally always available.
Mingyu was the definition of ‘u up?’ As in, he never said ‘no’ and some people might be annoyed with his lack of commitment, but to you, it was one of his cutest qualities. Because even if he were with someone else, he’d text to say ‘not tonight xx’.
He was too pretty to be upset with.
And you were lucky the night you texted because he was going out and was solo.
He’d come by to have a drink while you finished getting ready. Which may have led to you making out with him in your bathroom. His mouth warm and sweet on yours. You groaned softly, pulling his hair. And feeling his big, amazing hands squeeze your ass and thighs, and gods the way he picked you up so easily to set you on the edge of your sink, and feeling him between your thighs was just so good. You but his lip in appreciation and made him gasp softly.
“Mmmh, so perfect,” you’d mumbled, barely rolling your hips against him, feeling the way he was already getting hard. You smiled softly, kissing his cheek, letting him pull your hips closer to his.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered against your throat.
You nodded, loving how wet you already were.
But then you’d heard the apartment door open.
You’d paused for a moment, listening for Seungcheol to call out.
“Finally found a roommate?” Mingyu asked, voice soft.
You’d nodded. “Yeah, Choi Seungcheol—“
“Who?” Mingyu had asked quickly, eyes wide.
You watched him for a moment because he really was, well, unflappable. He’d felt you up during an intro presentation in your first year - sitting in the back row with him was simultaneously amazing and bad because you never paid attention to the lecture.
And now he looked concerned.
You bit the tip of your tongue. “Choi Seungcheol,” you answered in a whisper.
He blinked. “Seriously?”
You could feel him pulling away. You grabbed his shirt. “Mingyu,” you hissed softly.
“We’re friends, like I know him—“
“And?”
“I — I just can’t, okay,” he said it like something final. His voice was still soft, still him.
But there was clearly no more you and him in that exact way you had been. Unless it was to study or something. And it was a bit annoying to have your standing date (fuck) suddenly have reservations.
Plus you hadn’t even gotten to see Seungcheol’s reaction because Mingyu had left out your window and used the fire escape. It had just been a confusing night for you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
And now you had even more confusing texts staring up at you from your phone.
You poked gently at the screen, keeping it from going black and mirroring your own confusion back to you. Class was almost over, you considered.
But a text inviting you to a party was - it at least confirmed Seungcheol really did party to some degree. Because the only proof you were aware of was on insta. Mainly through mutual friends because you’d never really decided if following him was normal or not.
Especially when he didn’t follow you.
He never had anyone over outside of whoever he talked to while gaming - instead, you just saw him appear on your timeline with people you knew generally.
Him and his thick lashes and pouty lips…pinky, pouty lips that you’d thought about biting just enough to make him gasp.
And his dimples. His very cute dimples that appeared when he said little smart ass things. Like punctuation to let you know he was 88% kidding.
He did usually look like he was having fun, though, grinning and drinking and posing in goofy ways…cute ways.
You tapped your screen again, sighing, reading the conversation through again. The last message before the invite was him telling you there was coffee for you after you’d been up studying late earlier in the week.
You sighed again and wondered why he couldn’t just send a dick pic. Or at least stop wandering around the apartment in gym shorts and tank tops that gave you too many opportunities to gaze a little too long at his collarbones and think about the delicate skin there, the way sweat gravitated to them, highlighting them annoyingly.
You’d spent more time than you ought thinking about how it would feel to taste his sweat after one of his long trips to the gym. Worse was wondering if he even let things like kitten licks happen. And then there was the maddeningly persistent thought that landing just one good smack across his perfect bum would solve all your problems and give you dewy, clear skin until he probably chased you down to spank you in retaliation or something equally enjoyable.
He was genuinely annoying to live with.
You sighed.
[y/n]
wheree is it?
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You’d left class and gone home to change into something cuter than what you’d worn to class.
The apartment was empty. Just afternoon sunlight filtering in through the old factory glass and warming the floorboards.
You’d paused for a moment outside his closed bedroom door, listening, knowing he wasn’t there. You’d never even looked inside.
You chewed your lip lightly, your fingers inching closer to the door knob.
Maybe if you knew what the thread count of his sheet were, you could make an informed decision, you thought as you opened the door.
His room had an entire wall of slightly frosted windows that looked out onto the river behind the apartments. There was the ubiquitous scent of old wood and something very him that reminded you of dry wood and fresh citrus - tender flesh you could sink your teeth into so easily and juices that would drip down your chin and collect in the hollow of your throat even if the tartness made your eyes water - the watering would just be a different kind of ecstasy.
Your gaze flicked around quickly taking in the bed, his desk, the bright blue headset for gaming…some manga on a shelf.
And then back to the bed because of the plushie sitting there - big and shaped like a character you’d didn’t know. You’d literally never seen this. And you’d been there when he moved in.
You’d seen the orchid plant that was now near the windows, flowering creamy white petals, and his desktop computer, and a suitcase.
Which all seemed to fit with Jeonghan’s description of a friend who “just needs some place that’s mostly quiet.”
The plushie was something else, though.
You’d lived with him for seven months and had no clue.
You stood still for a moment, looking at the heavy duvet covering his bed and the way sunlight fell across it, making it instantly inviting - and the plush pillows that would tell you exactly what Seungcheol’s real scent was like, and where his inky, black hair fanned out softly…and then there was the plushie that looked like an odd sort of boy character.
You puffed your cheeks and considered that maybe your manga reading should expand beyond vampires and toxic dynamics.
You were quiet as you stood still, feeling the soft warmth of the room.
You felt your phone vibrate in your hand. You already had the address, so you ignored it for the moment, stepping back into the main apartment and closing his door gently behind you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
The party was in one of the big, old Victorian mansions near campus that no one had ever bothered to convert, because fraternities needed all of the approximately 324.5 rooms for activities and housing.
It was the ‘blue’ house for obvious reasons.
You’d definitely been to the house for parties during your first year and some in your second year. The Chi-Rho* members were known for good parties - good themes - good formal events - good drinks - and generally nice.
You literally couldn’t remember ever having seen Seungcheol, which didn’t mean a lot, since the Upsilon chapter was pretty massive.
You walked in through the open front door. There was music already, more alternative than what they played for parties - chill EDM was for the daytime - and a sunny day called for mashup tracks and deeper cuts with slower beats, apparently.
It was a vibe, walking through half-empty rooms, old floors creaking gently as you moved.
But there were people to notice you, no matter how gently they looked as you passed.
It felt slightly off.
You decided quickly that if you didn’t find Seungcheol in 90 seconds, you were leaving.
You could see him later.
Literally anytime.
It reminded you why you’d stopped coming to parties. Clubs were always better because there were those quiet pockets in all of the loudness and just enough darkness to feel like it was your own world. Frat world was always on view.
Besides, it wasn’t like Seungcheol had magically texted you to convey some deep meaning.
Not at a frat house. Or if he did, that alone was questionable.
You paused, glancing around again, not seeing him or anyone familiar.
It had definitely been longer than 90 seconds.
You turned quickly on your heel, walking out.
Outside you could breathe again.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
You were already in the cab when you messaged him.
[y/n]
srry forgot i have a group study thing [...]
see u later tho?
You’d tacked the last line on because…because you did want to see him.
Just not there. Not in the context of frat dude meets girl; frat dude and girl chat; frat dude and girl kiss; frat dude and girl are ‘awwwww, omg.’
You went home and showered. No opening his door or anything. Just a long, warm shower and then lying in bed pretending to watch a show that people kept saying you should watch.
You ordered food.
You would have normally maybe texted Mingyu on a night like this to at least contemplate going out.
Or maybe life model guy…he was really fun and so shockingly gorgeous. You checked his insta first to see if he was dating anyone.
“Nope,” you whispered, tapping back to your messages with him.
You scrolled back in the conversation, remembering that he was sweet - he didn’t leave you coffee, but he was like Mingyu in a way, easy, no anxiety, just the ease of someone you could spend a night with or a weekend, and just enjoy the feeling - that he liked falling asleep holding you close and waking up slowly.
You didn’t know what Seungcheol was like, clearly. And you hadn’t checked messages to see what his reply was, even though it had come almost immediately.
You were too embarrassed to check it. Maybe tomorrow, you thought as you watched the delivery driver moving around in nonsensical ways on the map until it was frustrating.
Or maybe sooner, because you don’t really feel like pretending you were sleeping.
You clicked in. It wasn’t like you had read receipts on like some deranged person.
[choi - maths grp]
no worries […]
see u at home?
You stared for a moment because it was so normal.
But so was your excuse.
You sighed and almost laughed. It was…what? you wondered.
[y/n]
hey thinking about going out […]
u still up
You watched for 0.4 seconds before jamming your phone under your pillow because, of course, he wouldn’t respond. Or he would, and it would be weird.
And then your phone buzzed - it was slightly muffled by your pillow but unmistakable.
You approached it gently, freeing it from your pillow and opening it like it might explode Inspector-Gadget-style…comedically.
[choi - maths grp]
yea […]
Up but would rather be […]
want to be home […]
in bed
You watched the texts slowly populating and almost wanted to laugh. At least from what you knew, Seungcheol could drink. And this was the halting, second-guessing of a first year at their first party.
[y/n]
need a ride?
[choi - maths grp]
no waiting
[y/n]
for a ride?
[choi - maths grp]
for mingyu […]
he’s being depressing
Your brows scrunched together because since when was Mingyu depressing, especially while drinking - he and alcohol just became more positive in your experience. And since when was Seungcheol in the same universe as Mingyu...
[y/n]
depressing?
You saw dots a few times. And then nothing.
But it wasn’t really your business - in that way that you knew you weren't going to get an answer.
You messaged life model guy and asked if he was going out (yes) and could you join (always).
You did some quick makeup and slicked your hair back into a tight pony and threw on a black mini dress with long sleeves, and black platform sandals, and locked the door behind you.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
When the lift doors opened, there was no escaping the fact that Seungcheol was there, waiting for the lift and looking acutely drunk.
“Hey,” he mumbled, as he stepped into the lift.
“Hey,” you responded, waiting to see if he hit the right button for your floor.
He didn’t make a move. “Going out?”
You nodded. “I was.”
“You mean you are,” he corrected.
“You haven’t even picked our floor yet,” you answered.
“Which means?”
You shook your head, leaning to hit the button. “That I should maybe make sure you get inside,” you offered.
He shrugged, silence settling between you and him. And just as the doors were opening, he suddenly added a new fact. “He likes you.”
You walked through the doors, glancing at him. “What? Who?”
“He likes you - Mingyu - he told me that’s why he’s been so weird.”
You couldn’t help staring at him. Or the fact that you were at a loss for words beyond the obvious. “What?” You asked for the second time.
Seungcheol walked past you and down the hall. You had to catch him because he’d turned in the wrong direction.
“Seriously, what are you talking about?”
He was walking in the right direction this time. “I said it clearly, didn’t I?” He asked as he jammed his key into the door lock and began turning it and jiggling it when it didn’t give way.
You walked behind and tried to help with his keys, but it turned into a kind of shoving match = the drunk versus the bewildered and well-intentioned - his side shoving yours and yours against his and it was altogether childish.
But the door did finally swing open with the weight of two people pushing it. And you both tumbled inside. You felt your knee make hard contact with the floor and paused breidly to breathe through the discomfort.
Seungcheol was just lying there, staring at the ceiling.
You moved to sit up and could immediately tell that icing your knee would be smart. You reached over, poking Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”
He nodded. “Fine.”
You waited for a moment, but he wasn’t forth coming with additional information. So you got up to find a bag of frozen cherries you kept and used as an ice pack.
“Are you okay?”
You heard him from behind you. You didn’t bother to turn back as you wrapped the pack of cherries in a towel. “Mhmm, just fine.”
“Then why are you getting your ‘ice pack’?” He asked it from the floor and had the gall to use quote fingers when he said ‘ice pack’.
“Look they were recalled for eating, not as a cold object,” you shot back - this was not the first time the frozen cherries had been questioned.
“So why do you need your cold object then?”
“Because I fell and hit my knee - okay?”
“Okay, whatever.”
You were on the couch now, knee iced. You texted Mr.-Life-Model about your knee. He was sweet and asked if you needed anything. You thought for a moment, weighing the option of complaining about Seungcheol or just leaving things.
[ L M ]
fr […]
could kiss it better
You smiled because it was a sweet offer.
[y/n]
i want to say yes […]
but i know i’m in a pissy mood
[ L M ]
even more reason
You heard Seungcheol get up and immediately hid your phone in the sofa cushions.
“Hey,” you called, turning back, not realizing he was walking towards you. You flushed slightly. “Are you actually okay?” you asked, hoping for a less asinine answer.
He came and sat on the floor next to your knee. He didn’t answer.
Instead, he caught your ankle gently and started unbuckling the strap on your shoe.
You said nothing. Just watched the careful way he removed the shoe and the way he lifted the makeshift ice pack to see the purple bulge that was forming.
“Gross,” he mumbled.
And that took you out of anything. “Thanks - I was trying to help you when I fell—“
He glanced up. “You know it looks gross, and you’re annoyed that I would dare to characterize it—“
“You know, why are you so articulate anyway?”
“I’m drunk, not dumb.” He concluded, staring hard at you.
You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
He sighed. “All but.”
This wasn’t how you wanted any part of your night to go.
You winced when his thumb grazed over the bump. It vaguely reminded you that he was pre-something, maybe pre-med or possibly pre-law. Regardless, he was gentle in replacing the ice pack. And then he got up again and started rustling around.
You started to turn back to your texts when he returned and knelt down to pick up your leg to put a pillow under your knee.
“Elevation helps and alternating heat and ice,” he added.
You were starting to feel tired. “Okay, I’ll do that, Dr. Choi.”
“I’ve met you - you definitely won’t - you’ll fall asleep in like ten minutes and complain about cherry juice on your dress tomorrow.”
You pursed your lips because he wasn’t totally wrong, but the presumption was annoying. He sighed and knelt again, removing your remaining shoe. And then he paused gently, like he was deciding something important.
And you felt the way his fingers traced softly along your calf.
You watched him lean closer and closer, but you weren’t expecting his lips to make contact with your good knee.
His lips were warm and unexpected. “Do you like him?”
You stared for a moment and realized he meant Mingyu. “As a friend, very much…”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s my best answer.”
He pressed his lips into a tight line before leaning down again and letting his cheek rest on your thigh. You didn’t think when you smoothed his long bangs off his forehead, smoothing them back towards his ear.
“You came too and you left,” he muttered.
You nodded. “It was too loud.”
He leaned up. “And a club isn’t?”
“No one knows me—“
“Everyone knows you.”
“Fine, but clubs are dark, I can’t see them looking at me - it’s different.”
He huffed. “You could've just said.”
His voice had softened.
And he was right, you probably could have told him the truth.
You reached out, letting your fingers catch under his jaw, watching him tip his chin just right for your fingers to glide along his skin.
He caught your hand, leaning in, his lips connecting with your palm. And your wrist. You moaned quietly at the feeling of his lips against your skin.
And when he stopped and sat up, he paused, watching you for a moment before moving to stand and pick you up.
You were quick to throw your arm around his neck. You didn’t ask which room you were going to - you waited. Watching as you drew closer to his door and his room.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
It could have been a surprise when he sat you on the end of his bed. But it wasn’t.
Or when he leaned in, kissing you warmly and the easy way that warmth became almost hungry. But it wasn’t.
You kissed him back, wanting him too much to comment on how unsurprising he was.
He was gentle when he undressed you, though, his fingers finding the zip of your dress and carefully peeling it away, letting it drop off the end of the bed. You gave him a small push and watched him sit back and slowly pull off his shirt, revealing all the smooth, perfect skin, his well-muscled chest and stomach - you couldn’t help biting your lip or reaching for him, wanting him.
He leaned close, your left arm went around his shoulders, your fingertips teasing the muscle there, as your right hand wandered down his side and low stomach, finding the button and zipper of his jeans, undoing each.
You felt the way he barely broke the kiss, the sudden heat of his breath against his skin. “We could just sleep,” he mumbled the thought.
You let your hand slide down the front of his underwear, feeling how hard he was for you. “But there’s this,” you whispered, squeezing him just enough to hear the catch in his breath. He nodded. “Right,” he breathed in agreement against your throat.
He moved off the end of the bed, pushing off his jeans and catching your ankle, pulling you down the bed and close.
And then his thumb was stroking you through your panties, tracing a line between your pussy lips, feeling the way you parted under the fabric.
“So wet,” he whispered, looking at what he was doing before glancing up at you, his lips kissed red and his gaze hungry.
You smiled, hooking your ankles at his low back. “Just for you.”
He hummed in response, working your panties to the side.
“He likes you too - bet we could test who really makes you wet, kitten,” he whispered as his fingers plunged in. You gasped hard, your fingertips digging into his duvet as he found the pace he wanted - quick, but his two fingers opening inside you with every thrust - and then he added the third, and you came, gasping and moaning.
He was slower with three fingers, but still prepping you, stretching you with every move. You whined softly as he opened his fingers wider. “Yes - fuck, please,” you babbled.
The second time was just as intense as the first.
And then he was taking off his underwear, climbing onto the bed with you, and stroking his dick a few times. He lined up with you, teasing your opening, wetting himself before finally pushing in all the way.
You both groaned. Your hands found his arms, squeezing hard until he bottomed out.
You listened to the ragged way he breathed. And when he ducked down to kiss you, his lips were so good. You liked it, wanting everything. “Love how you feel,” he whispered.
You nodded. “Same,” you added, watching him above you, the way he focused on you, the way his brows knitted as he started to move.
“Yeah?” He asked between breaths.
You nodded. “Yeah, Cheol,” you answered, hooking your legs tighter around his waist.
He pressed his forehead to yours, going deep with every thrust. You shivered and moaned, wanting more and more.
He groaned and sat up, changing positions - him on his knees, he pulled your right leg over his shoulder, and every thrust hit just right. You could barely breathe.
And the sounds you made. You were glad when you felt his thumb press between your lips. “Shhh, kitten, the neighbors,” he managed, still thrusting.
You sucked and licked his thumb, happy to feel it, the pad of his thumb pressing gently against your tongue. His hips were working harder against you with every thrust now - the soft slap of his body against yours.
“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said through gritted teeth, glancing up at you. You nodded, hoping he knew it was the same for you.
He changed positions again, picking up both your legs. You didn’t even think when you pulled the pillow down and pressed your face into the side to stop the sounds of your moans. Every move he made was hitting that perfect spot inside you, you could feel the pressure building so sweet and good and amazing, and then the sudden wave and your pussy fluttering and squeezing around him as you came and came and his moan as he let go inside you, filling you.
He let your legs drop slowly to the side before leaning over you, kissing you while you both came down from a delicious high.
Everything else could wait, as you fell asleep together.
˚⟡˖ ࣪
a/n: thx for reading with me ^^ btw I don’t actually seungcheol would be joking about finding out who makes the mc wetter because him using his fingers to get her to be quiet - that’s just in places of what mingyu could do if he were there
there may be additional parts because mingyu history + threesome but also who knows
summary: seungcheol has a crush and maybe a tiny a secret (or a big one) but when he finds out his princess peach doesn't care...life is suddenly good
tags/genres: college!au, friends to lovers, didn't know they were dating, virgin!cheol, mingyu is a lwk menace
word count: 2.3k
warnings: mdni | nsfw (specifics under cut)
warnings: masturbation, oral (m receiving)
Seungcheol didn’t necessarily like parties. They were loud. And there were always too many people.
And it was too hard to talk to anyone else. Even when he wanted to talk to them.
So it was obviously perfect that he was sharing an apartment with guys who liked hosting parties roughly every single weekend.
It made total sense.
But he’d been friends with Mingyu and Soonyoung since they were kids. So he didn’t really have an option.
Besides, the one perk of rooming with Soonyoung was the fact that y/n was his stepsister. And she was always around.
Like always.
Even though that meant that she and Soonyoung were constantly bickering over every stupid detail, right down to who was actually going to win Season 6 of Top Chef…despite the fact that Season 6 of Top Chef was like 12 years old and had a clearly googleable winner.
Seungcheol didn’t care for the very sensible reason that whenever y/n was around (always), she literally treated him like furniture - she sat in his lap, played with his hair, and always knew what menu he preferred from the places they ordered food from.
And she never judged him for playing as Yoshi when they played Mario Kart. He was not trying to argue with Mingyu or Soonyoung for “Mario privileges” that inevitably led to some kind of literal fight.
He was too tired for that.
Instead, y/n would toss him a controller and quietly take a second one, and sit in his lap, and they would play through a game while Mingyu and Soonyoung fought it out.
Her Princess Peach game was actually really good. Better than Mingyu or Soonyoung.
And when it came to parties, she always appeared and made it less awkward for him. Especially when everyone was coupled up.
Because Seungcheol was never coupled.
Not officially, anyway.
He didn’t even try, actually. Because why when y/n was there and …
And if he were going to ask someone out, it would be her.
It would definitely be her.
He’d thought about it for ages. But it kind of freaked him out because she knew him. Like knew that he definitely had a phase where he thought the girl from Team Rocket was really hot.
And none of that bothered her - not his dorkiness, or the fact that he got too nervous in groups, or the way he was just quiet sometimes.
She never seemed to care.
Other girls definitely cared. Seungcheol had been dragged on enough double dates with Mingyu to know that he was not a universally accepted flavor of ‘boy.’
Mingyu had drunkenly called Seungcheol an “acquired” taste, and he’d also said for Seungcheol to forget anyone who didn’t like him for him.
It was a sweet and slightly derogatory conversation with a guy who could pull any girl he wanted.
Seungcheol just wanted to pull y/n.
But there was one thing that kind of gave him pause. And it wasn’t just social awkwardness.
It was the very real fact that Seungcheol was a virgin.
He thought about fucking. He thought about hooking up.
And it was like dating, because why spend time at loud parties when he knew who he liked? And it wasn’t just that he knew who he liked, it was like who else would he even try to fuck, like meaningfully, anyway…
Y/n was the only irl girl Seungcheol really thought about. Even when he was jerking off, and his mind wandered, it always kind of landed on her and the way she sometimes left little braids in his hair and how soft her skin was and how perfect her lips were and the way her shampoo reminded him of something warm and sexy. And the way she sometimes basically climbed into his hoodie to take a nap on the sofa with him.
She was better than porn when he needed to come.
He would lie there, breathless, fingers sticky, staring at the ceiling, wondering vaguely if she ever fingered herself. And if she did, did she ever think about him?
He’d gotten far enough with girls to have squeezed tits and felt a few pussies.
So he wasn’t working purely from imagination when he imagined y/n’s perfect tits and how they would feel in his hands. Or when he imagined her pussy being tight and wet and needy for him.
And then he would shower and go to study and probably end up next to her in the library.
•••
But tonight was kind of weird.
She looked annoyed with everyone at the party.
She kept sighing.
And drinking.
And watching Mingyu.
Seungcheol didn’t love that. He hated it, actually, the way her gaze kept shifting away from him and landing on someone else.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning in, wanting to touch her chin.
She sighed and nodded. But her gaze drifted again.
He watched her for a moment longer. “You look annoyed,” he whispered.
“Do I?” she asked and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him upstairs.
Seungcheol wasn’t expecting to be pulled into his own room and have the door locked.
He also wasn’t expecting the sudden press of her lips against his.
His eyelids fluttered closed. He thought it would stop suddenly, but it didn’t.
After a moment, his hands went to her waist, pulling her close. Her fingers carded through his hair, and her hips rolled lightly against his.
She sighed softly and pulled away just enough to look at him. “Mingyu’s a dick,” she murmured.
Seungcheol blinked slowly. “What? Why?” he asked.
She flushed slightly. “He said that I should stop flirting with you if I’m not going to do anything…” she trailed off.
Seungcheol immediately felt his face warm. “What?” he asked again.
“Stop saying ‘what?’,” she whispered, hitting his chest lightly.
“Fine, but you’re like 14 steps ahead in a conversation I wasn’t part of,” he said quickly.
She sighed and nodded. “I know, okay, just he said I cock block you and if I’m not going to make a move then I’m being a dick,” she said it all rapidly in her “fucking-Mingyu-knows-NOTHING” voice while she walked around Seungcheol’s room, picking up a tennis ball and throwing it against the ground a few times.
Seungcheol sat on the edge of his desk. He was fully aware of her angry tennis ball tossing. She did it when the one econ professor she had this semester kept drilling her on partial derivatives.
He waited for her to make a few loops before he reached out and caught the edge of her shirt, pulling gently, wanting her closer.
She folded easily against him, sitting in his lap. She sighed. “You know, just because he fucks everything with a pulse,” she muttered.
Seungcheol snorted. “Shit, that’s — kind of accurate,“ he laughed.
She nodded, still looking angry. “It’s just not his business,” she murmured, leaning on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “But you’re my Yoshi and I’m your Princess Peach and Mingyu is pretending he’s having an MMA match with my idiot stepbrother because MARIO BRO, so fuck him,” she whispered, nuzzling closer to Seungcheol.
Seungcheol was quiet for a moment. “So, in this scenario, Princess Peach likes Yoshi and Mingyu is a prick?” he asked, voice soft.
She nodded. “Yes, but it’s, you know, all the time - Princess Peach likes Yoshi all the time, and fucking Mario needs to shut up,” she muttered, her lips brushing Seungcheol’s throat.
Seungcheol nodded, kissing the top of her head, smiling to himself.
She stayed there for few minutes, her fingers tracing slightly against his shoulder. And then she sighed and leaned up - her warmth going with her
Seungcheol watched.
She turned back to him. “So do you - do you want to make out?” She asked, voice soft, gaze going everywhere but him.
He nodded. “Yeah,” he answered.
She hummed in response and slid off his lap. He watched her go to sit on his bed. He swallowed tightly, seeing her actually there, literally on his duvet. Not based on friendly pretexts but because she wanted to make out.
He moved.
His brain was slightly mushy.
He didn’t sit next to her.
He somehow moved so he was straddling her, and she was leaning back, his hands tracing along her thighs, pulling them around his waist while he ducked down, lips finding hers easily. She moaned sweetly, her fingers catching in his hair.
He felt the way her hips pressed against his. He let go of her thigh, fingers tracing up to her hip, along her side, and to her breast.
Her thighs squeezed his waist as she licked into him.
She gasped when he pinched her nipple. He felt the way she arched into him - the way her hands started to trace down his back and under his shirt.
He kissed her harder, wanting her. When he leaned back, breathless, he stared at her for a moment. “Good?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, you?”
He blinked slowly, nodding and leaning into her again, renewing the kiss, licking into her, tasting her.
He was very good.
Everything felt slow. Slow and good and sweet.
He let her pull his shirt off. She dropped it off the edge of the bed and topped him easily. He leaned back into the pillows, watching her pull her shirt off, the way her hands went to her tits, squeezing them while she watched him.
He was already so hard - too hard. The soft rocking of her hips against him was almost evil. But then she caught his hands with hers and guided them to her breasts.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
He gave a small nod, biting his lip. A tiny part of his brain almost registered that this was all thanks to Mingyu and his big fucking mouth. But Seungcheol was quick to shut that part of his brain down. So quick.
Instead, he leaned up, keeping her balanced against his thighs while he kissed and sucked her left breast and then her right one, listening to her moan his name softly, feeling her pull his hair gently.
And when he pulled back, he was surprised to see the way she looked at him, her pupils blown, her lips bitten red and slick with spit.
“Still good?” he asked.
She nodded. “Mhmm, perfect,” she murmured, leaning down to him, kissing him again, her tongue hot against his.
He felt her press him back, and he followed along, lying back, letting her shift from his mouth to his throat, down his chest.
And then his stomach.
Her fingers were already unbuttoning his pants when he felt her lips ghost the waistband of his underwear. He felt the small kisses and the warmth of her mouth over him, through his boxers.
He groaned, his hand catching in her hair, winding in the soft tresses. He tried to control his breathing.
He didn’t want to come too fast.
He didn’t want to be obvious.
But her lips were so fucking soft against his skin. And the way she worked his pants and underwear off, the way his dick sprang free, and the fact that she bit her lip and moaned when she saw him was maybe more than he could handle.
The way she kissed the side of his cock was delicious and obscene. And more than Seungcheol had imagined.
He closed his eyes tight, grasping the edge of the pillow with his left hand, his right hand still winding softly in her hair.
Her mouth was so warm, he gasped hard. He closed his eyes tighter, trying to stay focused.
He was surprised when she leaned up. “Too much?”
He let out a breath. “No,” he mumbled.
She shifted up, close, leaning over him. She leaned in carefully, her lips brushing his, and then she kissed him gently, her fingers circling his dick.
He moaned into her as she jerked him off. Her grip was good, better than his. He closed his eyes tight again.
It was like she knew. Because she paused again, pulling away. “Just come,” she whispered against his cheek.
“You barely touched me,” he mumbled. Shame had apparently exited his brain along with everything else that wasn’t her.
She smirked, kissing his temple. “And then you’ll get hard again, and I’ll go down on you again,” she whispered.
She worked his cock again. And this time he didn’t worry about lasting, he just felt his orgasm and the way she worked him through it.
And then she sat up, grabbing tissues from a shelf and wiping him clean.
She sighed and traced her hands down his chest. “Fuck, you’re really hot,” she murmured.
He smirked. “Yeah, I just came from like you looking at me, so…” he trailed off.
She rolled her eyes. “And?”
He managed to avoid enumerating the times he’d heard Mingyu through the wall with a girl, and the way it lasted for like an hour.
Instead, he just squeezed her hips, letting his gaze shift along her torso.
“You really don’t care?” He asked, softly.
She shook her head. “No, Yoshi,” she sighed, “Princess Peach was very clear earlier - and if Princess Peach wanted a different dick without all the cute, sweet things that she associates with Yoshi, she would be pursuing a different dick,” she answered, brows slightly raised in anticipation of further commentary.
Seungcheol couldn’t help the grin he felt forming on his lips. “Right,” he mumbled.
She nodded, glancing up at him. “Right.”
•••
They didn’t fuck.
She borrowed Seungcheol’s clothes, grabbing a tshirt that was apparently her “favorite” to pair with boxers, and then she snuggled next to him while they watched Howl’s Moving Castle.
And when Mingyu started fucking someone against his desk at approximately 2:45 AM, she sat up, rapped on the shared wall and shouted, “Shut the fuck up Kim Mingyu! Your ancestors are watching!”
Seungcheol couldn’t help but giggle as she dove under the covers to hide against him. He snorted and pulled her close.
They both listened to the resounding silence, which only made Seungcheol grin because he’d never been able to get Mingyu to shut up.
It was maybe the best night.
a/n: thanks for reading with me ^^
master list [ here ] | tag list [ maybe ]