summary: he swears the camera’s off, but the way Haechan bends you over his gaming chair says otherwise.
warnings: filming/ live streaming, fingering, unprotected sex, a lot of dirty talk, breeding, hair pulling
a.n: this is one of my favorites omg i should've made it longer
The red light on the camera is dark. The chat box is minimized to a skinny gray pillar on the second monitor. On the first, OBS sits open on the “BRB” splash, no audio meters bouncing, no mic monitoring, no green bar rising and falling to catch your breath.
Haechan says it’s off.
He says it like it’s an afterthought, like he doesn’t notice his own hand flattening at the base of your spine as he eases you forward, bending you over the edge of his gaming chair until the seat bites your thighs. The leather is warm from him. The room hums with fans and the soft whirr of RGB underglow. Keys sit scattered in a crescent where he dropped them mid-laugh when you walked in—because you said, on stream, “you owe me dinner,” and the chat spammed emotes of rings and knives and clown faces while Haechan just smirked into his mic.
“Relax,” he says now, low in your ear. “We’re offline.”
“You sure?” Your voice comes out thinner than you intend, backed against leather and the unavoidable truth that every single thing in this room points to that dead camera like a witness: boom arm, ring light, the tripod angled center at the chair where you’re bent.
Haechan smiles. You don’t have to see it to know; you feel it in the way his cheek brushes your temple, the way his thumb drags just above the waistband of your skirt. “You don’t trust me?”
You do. That’s the problem. You trust him enough to come over after midnight. Trust him enough to watch his last two ranked matches from the corner of the room, half-amused, half turned-on at the filthy confidence of his voice when he talks to chat. Trust him enough to stand here in front of a rig designed to make thousands of people see him.
“I trust you,” you say.
“Good.” He taps your hip. “Then stay right there.”
You can feel him looking—at you, at the lens, at both. His palm slides lower, fingers fanning. You shift and the chair creaks. The noise is obscene in the quiet. He laughs into your neck like he planned for this exact sound.
“Haechan.”
“What?”
"Stop teasing."
No words. Just his hand in your hair, tugging you back with a lazy kind of force that says he’s done playing nice.
“Fuck,” you say, and then you gasp because his other hand has stolen under your skirt and found the heat you’ve been trying to ignore since he ended the stream. The panties you wore were for you, not for him—black, thin, a ribbon at the hip that you tied thinking you’d get fed and kissed and teased, not bent over the chair he spends eight hours a day in while strangers beg him to look at the camera.
He finds the ribbon. He pulls. The bow gives with a soft whisper. “Cute,” he says, lazy with approval, and the elastic parts enough for his knuckles to drift down and stroke you there, barely, the kind of touch that’s worse than any pressure. You bite your lip.
You didn’t hear the soft click from the keyboard.
You didn’t notice the way his eyes flicked toward the monitor before he kissed your spine again.
“So…what would you do if it was on?”
Your answer is not a sentence. It’s a full-body shiver that starts at your knees and climbs your spine where his palm still steadies you. He feels it. He always does. He makes a pleased sound and does it again, deeper, slicker now, the glide of it making your eyes pinch shut.
“Say you’d like it,” he says, just to be cruel.
“Haechan,” you warn.
“Say it,” he repeats, pressuring the word against your throat with a kiss.
“I'd like it,” you whisper. You hate him for making you say it and you want him for it exactly as much.
“That’s my good girl.”
You grip the front edge of the chair seat until your knuckles blanch. He gives you two fingers at once, curls them, and your hips tip. The leather sighs. Your mouth opens on nothing. If there were meters on the screen, they’d be spiking now; if the red light were on, it would be catching the way your lashes fumble against your cheeks, the wet shine between your legs, the desperate sight of you spreading for his hand.
“Haechan—”
He doesn’t speed up. He lingers. He works you like he has all night, like the last thing he said to chat wasn’t “I’m starving, we’re ordering food,” with a wink that made the sub notification train go feral. He drags the pad of his thumb up to your clit and breathes a laugh when your hips try to chase him.
“Please,” you say, and the word falls out of you a little ragged. You’re not above pleading when it’s just him and the humming fans and a door with a lock. “Please, baby.”
Oh if it only were just him.
“Yeah?” He strokes you a little firmer, a little faster, reward for asking nicely. “You want to come on my hand or on my dick?”
Heat hits your cheeks. “Yes.”
He chuckles. “Greedy.” His fingers withdraw and you hear the zip of denim; the little metallic clink of his belt unhooking makes your stomach drop in the best way. “Hands on the armrests. Arch for me.”
You do, breath hitching when his palm slides to your lower back to guide your curve just so. “Fuck,” he says softly, reverent in a way that makes your chest clench. “You’re unreal.”
You want to look back at him. You don’t. The not-looking is its own kink tonight. You stare forward at the dead dark of the room and let your imagination run wild. How he'd look, fluffy brown hair in disarray, his t-shirt pushed up and snagged between his teeth, cock out and flushed pretty pink.
He presses himself along your slit in a lazy, taunting glide, hot and thick and exactly the size that makes your thoughts stutter.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Haechan,” you say, wrecked and impatient and more honest than you meant to be. “Please.”
He sinks into you in one long, steady push that empties the air from your lungs. You choke on a sound he swallows against the back of your neck. His fingers flatten beside yours on the armrest, caging you there as your body takes him, deep, deeper, until your heels are lifting uselessly out of your slippers and your eyes are glassing at the fullness.
“God,” he groans, hips flush to your ass. “You always—fuck—you always feel like you’re gonna break me.”
“Move,” you whisper. “Move.”
He does. He draws back slow and drives in like he’s remembering exactly where every nerve in you lives. The chair rocks. The ring light—off—throws a thin halo of plastic in the corner of your vision. The whole room smells like him, like warm skin, like cologne and desk wood and the clean spice of his shampoo from the shower he took between games two and three while you laid on his bed and scrolled the thirst in his comments.
You’re so far gone you don’t even hear the soft click of a key.
But you do hear him chuckle.
“You should see the chat,” he says casually, voice a little too calm for the way he’s driving into you. “They’re losing their minds over how good your ass looks like this.”
Your stomach drops—and clenches at the same time.
“What?” you gasp, trying to look back.
He presses a firm hand to the back of your neck, not rough, just enough to keep your gaze forward. “Stream’s live, baby,” he murmurs, breath hot at your ear. “Mic’s off, but they can see everything. Every bounce, every curve. You should see what they’re typing.”
Your pulse slams into overdrive. You don’t know whether to pull away or melt deeper into the armrest. Your face burns—shame or lust or both, you can’t tell. Your body, traitorous and lit up, clamps around him.
“Fuck—” he hisses, digging his fingers into your hips. “See? You like it.”
You do. God help you, you do.
He pulls out just far enough to make you whimper, then snaps his hips back in. The chair creaks. You brace yourself on the armrests, flushed and panting.
“Want to hear what they’re saying?” he asks, and you shake your head before you can stop yourself. You don’t want to know—but you need to.
He doesn’t wait for permission.
“‘Her body’s insane.’” Another thrust. “‘Bounce that shit again, bro, PLEASE.’” He laughs, low and breathless. “Oh, here’s a good one—‘Whoever she is, she’s built to be fucked like this.’”
You make a sound that’s not a word. Your thighs tremble.
“And this one…” He leans in, voice dropping, almost sweet. “‘God, imagine being buried in that ass while she just takes it.’”
You clench around him so hard he groans, the rhythm faltering for a second.
“You like them watching,” he says, not a question. “You like them talking about your body like it’s theirs.”
Your face is hot. You want to deny it—but your body’s giving you away with every arch, every moan, every desperate push back onto him.
One more thrust, deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs.
"Say it," he growls into your neck. "Say you like it."
You bite your lip, hard enough to sting. You don’t want to say it. Don’t want to give him that satisfaction.
But you’re too far gone. Your body’s already betrayed you—slick, shaking, wrecked around him.
“I… I like it,” you gasp. It comes out small, strangled.
He doesn’t let that slide.
“Louder.”
You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut, and he rewards you with another punishing thrust, angled cruelly perfect.
“Say it.”
“I like it,” you cry out, louder this time, shameless and breathless.
His breath catches at your ear. “You like being watched,” he murmurs. “You like knowing they’re out there jerking off to you. You like being my fuckshow.”
You sob—half denial, half raw pleasure—as he drives into you again, unforgiving.
“That’s it,” he pants. “Show them what you were made for.”
He sets a rhythm that’s crueler than fast. It’s measured, punishing only in how generous it feels. He pulls you open, seats you down, grinds there just long enough to make you gasp, then does it again. The sound of it is filthy—wet, honest, a slap where your bodies meet. He breathes through his teeth and presses a kiss to your shoulder like penance.
“Look up,” he says.
You do—barely, dizzy from the rhythm—but it’s not a mirror he’s pointing to. It’s the screen. The stream. Comments flying, hearts pulsing in the corner, proof that they’re still watching. All of them. Still there. Still starving.
You see your own reflection too, flushed and wrecked, mouth parted, eyes glazed.
“Turn the mic on,” you whisper.
He stills.
“What?” His voice is hoarse, disbelieving.
You swallow hard. “I want them to hear.”
Something in him snaps.
He reaches out without breaking rhythm, flicks the switch. The mic comes alive with a soft click—then the sound of your breath, ragged and exposed, fills the room.
“There,” he says, low and sharp. “Now they can hear every little noise you make when I fuck you like this.”
He slams in deep, once, just to make you cry out—and the mic catches all of it. Your moan, raw and helpless. The wet drag of him moving inside you. The slap, over and over. It’s obscene. Intimate. Broadcasting everything.
“Let ‘em hear how wet you are,” he growls. “How much you need it. You think they’re jerking off now? Baby, they’re obsessed. You’re giving them everything.”
You can’t respond—your body’s too busy pulsing around him, chasing friction, falling apart.
“You hear that?” he says, voice dropping to a dark purr. “That’s the sound of a good girl getting fucked exactly how she needs. Let them memorize it.”
He thrusts harder now, the rhythm vicious but controlled. Every moan he rips from you goes straight to the mic. Every gasp, every curse, every half-sob.
“They’ll never touch you. Never have you. But they’ll remember this. Every sound. Every second.”
You whimper, trembling, close again—too close.
He grins against your skin. "Tell me what you're thinking."
“I’m thinking,” you say, and then you break off with a strangled noise because his hips punch forward and flatten you right over the chair arm, your breath knocked clean out of your lungs.
He doesn’t ease up.
“You’re thinking what?” he presses, voice tight. “That you love being used like this? That you love being their fucking fantasy?”
You try to speak, but it’s useless—he’s fucking the words out of you. All that comes is a moan, high and broken.
“No hiding,” he growls. “Say it.”
“I—fuck—I’m thinking I want them to hear me come.”
That stops him for half a second. Then his fingers dig in like he's grounding himself, like your words did something to him he wasn’t ready for.
And then he starts moving again—harder, sharper, relentless.
“They will,” he promises, breath ragged. “Loud and clear, baby. You're gonna come with my cock buried in you and your voice in their ears like a goddamn prayer.”
You sob—needy, aching—and ride the edge, everything in you pulled tight and trembling.
“They’ll dream about this,” he says, right into the mic now, filthy and unrepentant. “Every night. Wishing it was them. Wishing they could make you sound like this.”
He reaches around, fingers sliding down to where you're slick and aching, rubbing circles that make your thighs shake.
“Let go,” he orders. “Show them what it's like when you come on me.”
You don’t stand a chance. “Haechan—don’t—”
“Don’t what?” He laughs softly into your hair. “Don’t stop? Don’t make you come yet?” The hand at your throat slides and tilts your chin a fraction, like he’s forcing you to look at the lens. “Tell them.”
“Fuck you,” you gasp.
“You’re doing great,” he says cheerfully, and then he swats your ass with his free hand in a sharp, quick slap that makes you jerk forward. Heat blooms under your skin where he touched. You whimper.
He pets the sting. “So jumpy,” he croons. “So loud for me. You going to be good and come when I tell you?”
You nod. “Yes,” you breathe, and you mean it, you’d sign anything with your pulse.
“Good girl.”
He changes the angle. It’s small—an inch of adjustment, a nudge at your knee, a tug at your hip—and then he’s right there, fucking into the soft spot that turns your spine to wire and your breath to smoke. You make a noise you don’t recognize and he laughs, delighted, chasing that sound again and again, relentless now in the way only he knows how to be. The chair protests. The desk shivers.
“You’re—” He breaks off, jaw tight against your shoulder. “You’re squeezing me. You close?”
“Mh—mmh—yes—”
“Hold it,” he says, and the command is bright as a match struck in the dark. You clamp your teeth and shake, hovering there at the precipice, every muscle singing with the want to tip. He doesn’t let you. He keeps you right where he wants you with his palm at your hip and the low sweet encouragement of his mouth at your ear. “You can take it. I know you can. You’re my best girl, yeah? You can hold it.”
You whine. He’s merciless. He loves this power—loves when you give it to him. You do. You always do. Your thighs tremble, your nails bite the chair, your vision goes buzzy at the edges.
“Please,” you hear yourself say. “Please, Haechan, please.”
He grunts, hips stuttering a fraction. “Fuck, baby. You make me crazy when you beg.” He drags his thumb up, finds your clit, and you yelp at the contact, full-body wrecked and grateful and so close you could cry. “Breathe for me. There you go.” Two strokes. Three. “Now.”
You come like your whole body has been waiting on permission. It’s sharp and hot and mean, tension snapping all at once into a pulse that rips a sound straight out of you. His name is one syllable, then two, then something that isn’t language at all while your muscles clench around him and you feel him thicken inside you with a choked curse. He keeps fucking you through it, rougher now, chasing his own edge, the rhythm losing its polish and becoming pure need.
“Where—” he pants, broken, “—where do you want me?”
“Inside,” you gasp. “Inside, inside—”
He swears, deep and filthy, and grabs you. The hand on your throat slides to your chest, pulls you back into him as he buries himself to the hilt and breaks with a stuttering groan that you feel more than hear. His mouth opens against your shoulder; his breath goes harsh; his hips lock and spasm, again, again, your name ragged on his tongue like he’s forgotten there were ever other words.
Then it’s quiet. Just breathing. Heat.
He pulls out slow, careful, and drops a line of kisses down your spine, soft now. Like you didn’t just let him wreck you on camera. Like he’s grateful.
Then you feel him move—and before you can stop him, he’s got a hand in your hair, tilting your head toward the camera.
“Give it up for Y/N, everybody,” he says, voice hoarse but smug. “Absolute fucking menace.”
The chat explodes.
parkourjisung: BRO I JUST SAW GOD
markiplierlee: she needs a trophy and a chiropractor
jen099: is she accepting applications for a fan club???
nanajaem: i came so hard i saw my ex and apologized
He grins, reading.
“Jesus. You broke the horny part of the internet.”
You’re still panting, still trying to blink back into your body, and all he does is laugh, lean into the mic, and say:
“Thanks for watching. Go hydrate, you filthy degenerates.”
PAIRING: Boyfriend!Mingyu x Reader (ft. Boyfriend’s Best Friend!Seungcheol)
TAGS: Plot? What Plot???
WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Smut (18+, MDNI, Blame CK, BOSS, and the CXM unit drop), Specific smut warnings are at the bottom (they scare me)
WC: 6.9k (LMAO that number was not intentional, but it manifested itself somehow)
SUMMARY: Because no matter how good of a friend Choi Seungcheol pretended to be, the hunger in his eyes when he looked your way would always give him away.
A/N: The Damn Right sequel y’all asked for 🥹🫶. No need to read that to understand this (there is no plot in this or that 😭).
This isn’t Seungcheol’s first time doing this shit with Mingyu.
They’ve done this before, when they were still younger, more reckless: two guys, one lucky girl, and a night of mind-numbing marathon sex. Those nights always left them reeling with a high that couldn’t be matched. They did all of it together, the touching, the manhandling, the hard fucking—
Unfortunately, Seungcheol is confined to watching this time around.
Because Kim Mingyu, despite his gentle nature, could be a territorial piece of shit. Not jealous, no, territorial. While that man could not care less about all the other girls, you were the exception. You weren’t like the women whose names and faces both Mingyu and Seungcheol couldn’t even remember. You were the girlfriend, the girl that Mingyu’s been pining after for years, the girl that Mingyu’s probably going to propose to and eventually marry—
So why the fuck would Seungcheol be involved in this pseudo-threesome if Mingyu was that possessive?
Simple.
Because Kim Mingyu, despite his territorial nature, was a piece of shit who loved to show off. From face, money, to body, Mingyu had a natural aura of flashyness that bordered on exhibitionism.
Asshole.
Seungcheol’s on an armchair, the kind that only cucks sit in, and from here, he has a perfect view of the way Mingyu sits on the edge of the bed with you on his lap. The lights are low, but Seungcheol finds that it only adds to the lust that hangs heavily in the air.
Mingyu’s shirtless—Seungcheol doesn’t give a shit, he is too—and you’re scantily clad in cherry-red lingerie that’s a stark contrast to the way you’re shyly covering your face. You strike that perfect balance of corruptible and cock-hungry, and it has Seungcheol wanting to just grab you by the hair and fuck you from the back like he’s been wanting to since you entered the gym that he and Mingyu owned.
They shared girls and businesses, so why the fuck couldn’t Mingyu share you?
(But deep inside, Seungcheol knows that if he had a girl like you, he’d be just as possessive, if not worse.)
“Don’t be shy now, baby,” Mingyu coos into your ear, large hands rubbing up and down your waist as he presses soothing kisses against your neck. “Hyung’s just here to watch. Just like you wanted him to.”
Seungcheol stifles a groan at that, and he finds that he only gets harder in his pants at the revelation.
So it was your idea?
You look innocent, and Seungcheol had always wondered how you and Mingyu got along in bed when you looked vanilla as fuck. Turns out he was worrying for nothing. He knows now that underneath that pretty face—that angelic facade—was a slut practically begging to be watched while she got fucked open on a big, hard cock.
And Mingyu was more than equipped to serve.
“Come on,” Mingyu continues to kiss, coax, and rub, his eyes locked onto Seungcheol’s gaze with a taunting, daring edge that Seungcheol wouldn’t tolerate in any other context. “Don’t be rude. Show that pretty face and say hi to hyung.”
“Hi Cheol,” You mumble softly, bashfully avoiding Seungcheol’s gaze as you fold your hands on your lap.
Seungcheol only nods.
(Cut him some slack, it’s his first time doing this.)
“Good girl,” Mingyu smirks, a hand tracing up from your hip to your stomach before Mingyu gives your boob a hard, loving squeeze that has you throwing your head back onto the man’s shoulder, neck bared to Seungcheol, and fuck—
What a sight.
“Can you recite the rules for me, baby?” Mingyu asks, with two of his hands now kneading at the globes of your chest as you let out soft moans and whimpers that shoot straight to Seungcheol’s cock.
“Cheol can only—hnng—can only watch—“ You’re struggling as you speak, but Mingyu doesn’t stop to let you gather your thoughts. “He can’t t-touch unless I—“
Your words cut off into a moan as Mingyu pinches a nipple over the lace, eyebrows scrunching and mouth falling open as Mingyu continues to toy with your body.
Every cell in Seungcheol’s body is screaming at him to whip out his cock and start stroking, but he holds back. He doesn’t want to bust too soon. Not when he hasn’t even gotten to the good part.
“Unless what?” Mingyu mumbles against your jaw, fingers still pinching and prodding at your nipples like the fucking pervert he is.
“Unless I l-let him—fuck, Gyu!” You let out a squeal when Mingyu bites down onto your shoulder at the same time he gives your lacy nipples a mean pinch. “Stop teasing!”
Seungcheol audibly groans at that, hand coming to the front of his pants as he gives himself a few squeezes to relieve the ache. He likes that new rule, really likes that. He’s hoping with every fiber of your being that you let him touch you. Hell, even your hand around his cock or a finger at his tip would be more than enough to have him bursting with how fucking hard he was in his pants.
“I think hyung really likes that rule,” Mingyu smirks, fingers rubbing over your nipples in a silent apology. “Look at him.”
And you do, eyes half lidded and teeth digging into the pink of your bottom lip as you watch Seungcheol squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. When your eyes meet Seungcheol’s gaze, it’s electric, and Seungcheol finds himself fantasizing of all the ways he could be fucking you as he stared into those pretty eyes.
Seungcheol breaks his gaze away from yours to go lower, to watch the way you squirm on Mingyu’s lap as you squeeze your soft thighs together.
“What’s the last rule, baby?” Mingyu says, hands dragging from your chest down to your thighs. “Our most important rule.”
“Only you can fuck me,” Your eyes are boring straight into Seungcheol’s as you say it. “Only you can cum in me or on me.”
“Why?” Mingyu asks, and Seungcheol just knows it’s another display of ownership, another way of marking his territory that Seungcheol wasn’t even trying to challenge.
He knows his place.
“Because I’m yours,” and you say it like it’s gospel, like there’s no greater truth to ever fall from your lips. You say it with certainty, with devotion, and Seungcheol knows that even if he tried something—not that he would—you would always be Mingyu’s.
Mind, body, and soul.
“Good girl,” Mingyu says, and he’s staring straight at Seungcheol like he’s daring the man to question, to defy. “Now get on your knees and show hyung how well you suck my cock.”
Fucking finally, Seungcheol thinks.
You stand up and turn around before sinking to your knees between Mingyu’s spread legs. For a second, you hesitate, taking a quick look over your shoulder to look at Seungcheol.
Seungcheol only raises a brow in question, antsy, impatient, and Mingyu seems to be feeling the same way because he’s quick to grip your chin and force you to face him.
“Eyes on me,” Mingyu says lowly, and the possessiveness he’s been trying to tone down is slowly rearing its ugly head. “It’s my cock you're sucking, not his.”
You only nod, hands coming up to pull Mingyu’s boxers down. Mingyu’s cock springs free, and Seungcheol watches with a dark gaze as spit dribbles from between your lips and lands on the tip of Mingyu’s flushed cock.
Your tongue comes out to give Mingyu’s tip tiny, quick licks before you go a little lower and lick a long stripe from the man’s balls to the dip of his flushed head—
Shit, Seungcheol thinks at the same time Mingyu lets out a deep groan. Every bit of Seungcheol wishes he was the one feeling all that tongue and spit.
Then, you wrap your lips around Mingyu’s girth, and Seungcheol has to stop himself from bucking his hips like he’s the one feeling the heat of your mouth.
“Shit, that’s it,” Mingyu hisses, hand coming to guide your head to bob up and down his cock. “Good girl.”
It’s too much cock for your little throat, but Seungcheol finds himself impressed and ridiculously turned on by the way you gag and drool on Mingyu’s cock. It’s obscene: the way you slobber and choke on what you can fit in your throat while your hand pumps at what you can’t.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” Mingyu hisses, his hips bucking into your throat uncontrollably as he goes through his high. Seungchel has to resist the urge to call Mingyu a premature ejaculator as the man cums in your mouth. “Don’t swallow until I tell you to.”
With a pop, Mingyu pulls out of your throat, the final spurts of cum from his cock landing on your face. Despite the dirty shit Mingyu does to you, you’re staring at the man with an adoration so deep that it almost scares Seungcheol.
What the fuck was Mingyu feeding you?
“Open up, baby,” Mingyu says as he leans down, hand coming up to squish your cheeks when you oblige. Then, he turns your head to look at Seungcheol. “Tongue out, baby. Show hyung.”
And fuck, did you look like the epitome of sin.
You look like a glowing wreck. You hair is messy from the way Mingyu manhandled you, your skin is glowing from the light layer of sweat, and your chest is rising and falling from the heavy breaths of lust that leave you. Mingyu’s cum adorns your cheeks and your tongue in little white ribbons, and it’s taking everything in Seungcheol not to add his into the mix.
There was a rule prohibiting him, after all.
“Doesn’t she look pretty, hyung?” Mingyu asks, the hand holding your cheek suddenly moving as Mingyu presses two fingers on your tongue.
Your eyes roll back with a moan, and Seungcheol swears under his breath. “Fuck, she does.”
A whimper leaves you when Mingyu’s hand withdraws. “Swallow it, baby.”
And like the good fucking girl you are, you do.
“Do you want to help hyung out, love?” Mingyu coos as he raises you back onto his lap. “I think he’s too shy to take his cock out.”
You look at where Seungcheol’s grabbing himself, biting down on your lip with a half-lidded gaze that made you look like the prime picture of desire.
When you nod, Seungcheol practically busts.
You walk towards where he’s seated on the chair, a sway in your hips and nothing but bad intention in your eyes. Seungcheol parts his legs on instinct, and you’re quick to kneel between them.
Fuck you, Kim Mingyu, for hogging this view.
From here, Seungcheol can see the way the lace hugs the curves of your breast like a present he can’t unbox. If he stared hard enough, Seungcheol would probably be able to see a glimpse of your nipples.
“Can I take your pants off?” You ask him, and Seungcheol thinks it’s useless because he’d let you ride his cock into oblivion, so undressing him was practically nothing considering the level of consent he was willing to give.
“Go ahead,” Seungcheol says, leaning back on the chair as you lay your hands on his thighs. Briefly, Seungcheol’s eyes make contact with Mingyu’s, and the man looks like he’s torn between wanting to see more and ripping you away from Seungcheol’s form.
Territorial little shit.
Slowly, you run your hands up Seungcheol’s thighs, an action that’s quick to send tingles throughout Seungcheol’s body. You unbutton his pants before unzipping it, and Seungcheol hisses when the back of your fingers brush against his hardness.
Don’tcumdon’tcumdon’tcum—
Seungcheol has to dig his nails into the couch to keep himself grounded. When you tug at the waistband of his pants, Seungcheol raises his hips to help you bring it down freely. You do the same for his boxers, and when his cock springs free, you’re looking at it like you want to eat him up.
Shit. Was there a rule against you giving him head?
You rip your gaze from Seungcheol’s cock, turning around to look at Mingyu. “Can I lick, Gyu?”
Seungcheol sees the way Mingyu’s jaw clenches at that, sees the way the man seems to be internally struggling at your request. Eventually, he replies, “One lick.”
Fuck, that’s so little, but Seungcheol wasn’t going to complain. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.
“Ok,” You reply sweetly before turning to Seungcheol. “Can I—“
“Yes,” Seungcheol doesn’t even let you finish, and he hears Mingyu snort at that. “Do what you want.”
Much like you did to Mingyu, you lean forward, hands braced on Seungcheol’s thighs as you let spit drip onto the tip of Seungcheol cock and fuck—
It was warm.
Without warning, your tongue hits his base, keeping it there for while as you stare up into Seungcheol’s eyes in a way that has him wanting to grab your hair and fuck into your mouth like Mingyu did. Your tongue is hot as you drag it up, and Seungcheol is unable to stop the shaky breath that leaves his throat. When you reach the tip, your tongue is quick to withdraw, and Seungcheol has to stop himself from whining at the loss.
God, you’re a fucking tease.
You stand up and walk back to Mingyu, and Seungcheol finds himself mesmerized by the way your ass seems to jiggle with each step.
When you get to Mingyu, he’s quick to pull you and shove his tongue down your throat like he’s trying to erase whatever trace of Seungcheol remained in your mouth, and when he pulls away, you’re breathless, eyes glazed as you let Mingyu manhandle you onto your back on the bed.
“Which one do you want first, baby?” Mingyu says as he kneels on the floor, hands pulling you close to the edge of the bed. “My tongue or my fingers?”
“Your cock,” You whine out, and Mingyu is quick to chuckle in response.
Needy, Seungcheol thinks, but fuck if your pleas didn’t turn him on.
“That’s not in the choices,” Mingyu coos as he starts pulling your panties down.
You’re wet, sopping, and Seungcheol doesn’t miss the string of arousal clinging to your panties as Mingyu pulls them off. Fuck, Seungcheol wonders how it would feel to have all that wetness in his mouth—
Lace lands onto Seungcheol’s lap, and he’s quick to realize that Mingyu—that little shit—just threw your panties at him.
Not that he was complaining.
Unable to stop himself, Seungcheol fists the cloth with one hand while the other goes to tug at his cock. Unabashedly, Seungcheol brings it to his face, the scent of you filling his nostrils and raising goosebumps on his skin at the sheer filth of it all.
Fuck, your cunt smelled good.
“Told you he’s a fucking degenerate,” Mingyu chuckles darkly as he slings your thighs over his broad shoulders. “Tongue or fingers, baby? Don’t be a brat.”
“Tongue, please!” You whine out, eyes locked onto the sight of Seungcheol sniffing your panties.
Without hesitation, Mingyu dives in, and the sound that leaves your throat is so fucking pornographic that Seungcheol quickly takes his hand off his cock because he knows that he’d probably cum all over himself if he kept it there.
You look fucking divine.
Back arching and thighs shaking, you look like the kind of woman that Seungcheol would follow to the ends of the earth as long as you promised him a taste, the kind of woman that incites adoration, devotion.
Mingyu is lapping at you like a man starved, tongue violating every crevice of your pristine body like he’s trying to stake his claim. Seungcheol hates that it isn’t him between your legs, but he finds that Mingyu’s ferocity fueled by love and lust is the perfect complement to your beauty.
“Gyu, too much!” You whine out between gasps and whimpers, but Mingyu doesn’t relent, his hands digging deeper into your hips to anchor you to the assault of his tongue on your sex.
Seungcheol strokes himself faster, eyes switching between the way Mingyu tongue-fucks you and the way your face contorts in sheer, mind-numbing pleasure. He imagines himself in Mingyu’s place, imagines himself being the one to anchor you down and leave you helpless to the way his tongue works you open.
Red flickers in the corner of Seungcheol’s eye, and he’s quickly reminded of the panties in his hand. It’s a bad idea. A bad idea in the way trying drugs for the hell of it is a bad idea because Seungcheol knows that once he gets even a drop of you in his mouth…
He’s going to get addicted.
But Seungcheol goes for it anyway. Hastily, he unfurls lace, brings it to his mouth, and with his eyes boring deep into yours, he take a long lick on the lace where it’s a darker shade of red from your slick and shit—
You taste like a shot of ecstasy straight into his bloodstream.
Seungcheol finally, truly understands why Mingyu can’t seem to pull his mouth away from your pussy because fuck, if Seungcheol was the one there and tasting all of that, he’d never leave even if he was fucking drowning in it. The taste lingers, and it has Seungcheol desperately pumping his cock as he chases his high.
“Gyu, I’m gonna cum—“
At the same time you start convulsing in Mingyu’s hold, Seungcheol cums all over himself, spurts of white spilling messily all over his thighs as he lets out low huffs and groans that are deliberately quiet to avoid overshadowing the moans spilling from your mouth.
Fuck, that was the best orgasm he’s had in months, and he didn’t even need to feel the warmth and slick of a tight cunt around his cock. His hand coupled with the sight, scent, and taste of you was more than enough.
Mingyu continues to slurp and lick. Even when your hands are pushing at his head in overstimulation and your eyes are tearing up, Mingyu doesn’t stop until he gets his fill. While Seungcheol feels sorry for you, he knows he’d probably do the same if it were him.
You looked pretty with your eyes all teary.
When Mingyu parts from your pussy, Seungcheol finally gets a clear view of your bare cunt all soft and shiny from the slick all over it.
Fuck, he might just get hard again.
You look thoroughly fucked despite the absence of cock, chest heaving and body sinking into the bed as you look at Mingyu who’s pressing soft kisses all over your thighs, rubbing soft circles into your hips to ground you in the moment before your mind drifted too far away.
It feels too intimate, Seugcheol thinks, and he finds himself gazing everywhere but the two of you. If only to give you privacy for the moment he feels like he’s intruding on.
But when Mingyu speaks again, Seungcheol is quick to snap his eyes back to the bed, “Think you can take my cock now?”
And when you nod with a fucked-out gaze, Seungcheol adjusts himself on the seat, anticipating, waiting, preparing.
Here we fucking go again.
Mingyu lays flat on the bed, and without hesitation you’re quick to get on top of him, hands bracing on the man’s chest and giving Seungcheol a perfect view of your back—
“Turn around, baby,” Mingyu suddenly says, and Seungcheol watches as you oblige, turning around before taking a seat back on Mingyu’s sturdy thighs. “Show hyung how well you can ride.”
Choi Seungcheol was not going to survive this.
You reach down, lining the tip of Mingyu’s cock before slowly sinking down like you’re trying to memorize every ridge as it goes deeper and deeper into your walls.
“Still so fucking tight, shit—“ Seungcheol can’t fully see Mingyu as the man loses his mind, but he can already imagine the clenched jaw, the furrowed brows, and the screwed eyes, and god, did Seungcheol wish that was him.
The way you move on Mingyu’s dick gives away your experience, hips swirling and grinding in sinful circles that have Mingyu whining and whimpering shamelessly. Unlike the mindless submission you were exhibiting between Mingyu’s legs, there was a different air now that you were on top.
You ride Mingyu like you’re trying to make it hurt, alternating between rapid bounces that make your chest swing in their confines and slow grinds that have your eyes rolling back from the way your clit rubs against Mingyu’s skin.
You look like sin.
“Does it feel good, Gyu?” The question is directed towards Mingyu, but your eyes are on Seungcheol, like you’re trying to prove something, trying to put on a show.
You’re fucking succeeding, alright.
“Yes, baby, fuck,“ Mingyu is unable to stop the way his words crack into groans when you give his cock a particularly rough bounce. “Love feeling this cunt, love you, fuck, I love you—“
Well, look at his friend all pussy-whipped.
Not that Seungcheol was faring any better.
Despite his orgasm earlier, Seungcheol can already feel himself approaching another high, eyes wholly taken by the way your folds are stretched thin around Mingyu’s thick cock.
Seungcheol can only imagine what it would be like to stretch you out on his. He isn't as long as Mingyu, but he was definitely thicker. It’s a monstrosity that has made multiple women cry at the intrusion, the sting his thick cock brought quickly becoming an addiction that had many coming back for more.
Only the lucky ones get second chances.
(He’d give you multiple if you asked him to.)
The next thing you do has Seungcheol practically salivating where he’s seated. With a cheeky grin, you reach up and give your boobs a few solid squeezes before you reach behind you and unclasp the bra blocking your bare breasts from Seungcheol’s hungry view.
The cherry red lace is discarded to the side, and Seungcheol can only be mesmerized as he watches your breasts swing from the way you’re bouncing desperately on Mingyu’s cock.
Fuck, he wanted to touch them so fucking badly.
“Wanna touch, Cheol?” Your words sound like a siren’s song, and before Seungcheol can even stop himself, his legs are already taking him to the bed.
Under you, Mingyu groans, hands digging into your waist possessively, but he doesn’t move to stop either of you. It’s only when Seungcheol is on the side of the bed, getting ready to reach out, that Mingyu speaks.
“No marks, hyung,” Mingyu hisses out through gritted teeth as you continue to swirl your hips on his cock.
Seungcheol only rolls his eyes, “Got it.”
“Touch me, please,” You plead with the softest pout, hand coming up to scratch tantalizing lines down Seungcheol’s chest.
He shivers, and without wasting another second, he steps closer to you, one hand coming up to give your bare breast a soft squeeze and fuck, you’re soft.
Your lips fall into an ‘o’ as you let out a moan, eyes half-open as you stare into the abyss of Seungcheol’s gaze. “Do you like touching my tits, Cheol?”
“Yes,” Seungcheol chokes out, continuing to knead and squeeze like his hand had a mind of its own.
“Wanna suck the other one?” You say with sly grin, and Seungcheol doesn’t miss the way Mingyu groans underneath you at the suggestion.
“Can I?” Seungcheol asks, eyes flickering over to Mingyu who looks like he’s dying from the sheer grip your cunt had on him.
Lucky bastard.
“Don’t ask me,” Mingyu says through groans. “Ask her.”
“Go ahead, Cheol,” You’re quick to encourage him, one hand coming up to his face to gently tug. “Suck.”
“Fuck, okay,” Seungcheol says before leaning down to pop a tit into his mouth.
And shit did it feel good in his mouth. He sucks, licks, and nips at what he can. Keeping the effort on the gentler side to avoid leaving any marks.
“Fuck, Cheol!” You cry out when he Seungcheol gives your nipple a particularly harsh bite, head thrown back and arm coming up behind Seungcheol’s neck to keep him at your chest. “Keep sucking, please. I’m close—“
Seungcheol feels your body jolt up when Mingyu gives you a particularly harsh thrust.
“Don’t forget who’s fucking you,” Mingyu says in a dark tone, possessiveness threaded through every syllable that leaves his mouth. “You say my name when you cum. No one else’s.”
“Yes, Gyu!” You shriek out as Mingyu holds you in place like a fleshlight for his harsh thrusts pounding you from below. “Gyu, I’m cumming, fuck, I’m cumming—“
Seungcheol groans around your tit, sucks getting harsher and touches getting rougher to help Mingyu get you closer to your high. He can feel your grip around him tighten as you arch your back, fingers tugging at his hair as you cum all over Mingyu’s cock.
He separates from you, taking a step back to watch the way you come undone as Mingyu throws you over the edge with his rough strokes.
What a sight you are, he thinks.
“Fuck, it’s my turn,” is all Mingyu says before he’s sitting up and pushing you onto all fours, cheek smushed onto the sheets as Mingyu places a rough, loving hand on your head.
Rest in peace, Seungcheol thinks as he takes a seat on his chair and watches as Mingyu takes you from the back.
Seungcheol can see the fear mix with the lust in your eyes as you reach behind you and push at Mingyu’s hips. “Gyu, wait, I can’t—“
“You’ve got a safeword, baby,” Mingyu says with a dark grin as he locks your wrists on your back. “You’re always free to use it.”
You don’t. Even when tears are dangling from your lashes, even when your eyes are crossed, and even when your tongue lolls out to give way for those depraved, inhuman moans—you don’t.
You’re taking Mingyu’s cock like a fucking champ, pussy squelching obscenely from all the slick that leaks from your thoroughly used cunt. You look like a mess, a nasty, sex-crazed mess that can only let out moans that sound a little close to ‘stop’, ‘too much’ and Mingyu’s name.
You’re a fucking freak.
Mingyu’s not much better, Seungcheol thinks.
“Come on, baby, I thought it was too much?” Mingyu coos like a bastard, grin dark as he continues to drive his hips in and out of your wet heat. “I’m not stopping until you use your safeword, baby.”
You only whine, back arching further in a curve that has Seungcheol’s cock jumping and leaking at the sight.
“But you’re not going to use it, are you?” Mingyu says as he leans down and braces himself with his hands on the bed, lips brushing against your ear as he slows his strokes to make them harsher, rougher. “You like being fucked like a slut, like being used like you’re nothing more than a hole for my cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”
You only nod. Seungcheol doesn’t think you can manage more than that with how long Mingyu’s been overstimulating your poor pussy.
“I haven’t fucked you enough to make you go dumb, baby,” Mingyu rasps roughly against your ear. “Use your words or I’m going to pull out.”
“I’m just—hnng—just a h-hole—“ You’re struggling, and Seungcheol would probably feel bad if he didn’t find it so fucking hot. “Like being f-fucked like a slut—Gyu, fuck!”
Your nails dig into the sheets as Mingyu reaches down with one had to rub sloppy circles on your swollen clit, his other hand intertwining tenderly with yours from the back like he isn’t ravaging your pussy like a fiend.
“You gonna cum again, baby?” Mingyu teases. “I haven’t even cum yet, and you’re already getting another one? That’s not fair, no?”
“I’m sorry!” You cry out. “I-I’ll make it up to you—“
“You will, baby, don’t worry,” Mingyu turns his gaze to Seungcheol, eyes dark with lust. “Where do you want me to cum, baby?”
Seungcheol starts stroking his cock again. The sick, depraved part of him wanted to sync his orgasm with yours, if only to let him pretend like he’s the one painting your walls with his spunk.
“Inside!” You shriek like a madwoman. “Cum inside me, Gyu, please, I’m so close—“
“Fuck, I’m cumming—“
In a cacophony of slick, high-pitched whines, and feral groans, you and Mingyu cum, bodies violently sliding and slapping against each other in a scene so primal that Seungcheol is unable to stop himself from making a mess all over his thighs.
Mingyu pumps once, twice, each thrust harsh to fuck his cum deep into your bare cunt. Then, he pulls out, your body falling into a heaving, twitching mess on the bed as Mingyu runs a hand through the sweat-slicked strands of his hair.
“Fuck, that was good,” Mingyu groans out before he leans down to press tender kisses against the side of your sweaty face. “You okay, baby?”
“Need a minute,” You huff out, and Seungcheol could not agree more.
You look like you’re close to entering another plane, eyes glazing over as Mingyu continues to rub up and down your waist, accompanying the gentle touch with soft kisses and words of praise against your ear.
Seungcheol doesn’t think he’s ever seen Mingyu treat anyone this softly after sex.
Whipped bastard, he thinks.
“You did so good, baby,” Mingyu mumbles between your shoulder blades. “My pretty girl did so well, no?”
“Did I?” You say in a small voice, a stark contrast to the woman who was riding and taking Mingyu’s cock shamelessly with every fiber of her being.
“You did, baby,” Mingyu affirms, nose rubbing affectionately into your hair as he gets you to come down from what space you’ve found yourself in. “You take me so well. You always do.”
Fuck, you two are sappy as shit. Seungcheol thinks he should pack up and leave, but it felt a little weird to just stand up and dress himself like the two of you weren’t having a moment.
What in the softcore porn was going on?
“Love you, Gyu,” You mumble out, pressing a soft kiss to Mingyu’s cheek, a tender action that has Mingyu grinning brightly like an idiot.
“Love you too, baby,” Mingyu replies, voice warm as he nuzzles his nose against your cheek. “Can we clean you up now?”
Seungcheol’s ears perk up at Mingyu’s words..
Can we clean you up now?
We?
“Yes,” You mumble out, forehead brushing softly against the sheets as you nod. You look like you’re one soft touch away from falling asleep. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s on the chair, repeating the words in his head and wondering if he heard Mingyu right.
“Okay, let me just—“ Mingyu pulls you up to sit, back resting against him and head falling against his shoulder as he fixes you between his legs. “Can you spread your legs for me, love?”
The sheets shift and crumble as your legs drag against it, thighs parting to give Seungcheol a perfect view of what lies between.
Seungcheol doesn’t think he can cum anymore, but fuck why was his dick getting hard all over again.
Your pussy’s bared to him, puffy and glistening from the rough fucking Mingyu just gave you, but that’s not what Seungcheol’s eyes are locked on. It’s the thick, creamy globs of white dripping from your used hole that has his mouth going dry and his cock stirring despite the fact that he just came all over himself.
“You gonna keep staring, or are you going to clean her up?” Mingyu’s looking at Seungcheol as he says it, eyes dark and grin depraved. “This is your only chance to taste her, hyung. I’d make the most of it if I were you.”
Fuck you, Kim Mingyu.
Seungcheol wants a taste, he really does. The voice in his head is screaming at him to kneel between your legs and shove his tongue into the heat of your walls but fuck—
Mingyu’s cum is all over it.
How far was Seungcheol willing to go? How low could he stoop for a taste of your cunt? How depraved was he willing to become? How far was he willing to walk down this path that seemed to have no return?
Fuck it, Seungcheol thinks, and before the logical part of his brain takes over, he walks over to your spread legs and settles on the bed between them.
Mingyu laughs, a strange mix of disbelief and desire. “Fuck, you’re seriously—“
“Shut up,” Seungcheol hisses, his patience finally snapping as he grabs your thighs, hands pushing at them to spread you wider.
“Got you,” Mingyu snorts. “Make sure to get all my cum out unless you want to become an uncle, hyung.”
Filthy-mouthed fucking asshole, Seungcheol doesn’t know why he’s still friends with this freak.
(Probably because he’s just as bad for agreeing to all of this in the first place.)
“Can I?” Seungcheol asks, and when you nod, he’s quick to dive in.
Seungcheol gives you one long lick from taint to clit, the mix of your’s and Mingyu’s cum coating his tongue as he does so.
“Fuck, that’s insane,” Seungcheol tunes Mingyu out, ears zeroing in on the way you’re whimpering and whining as his tongue repeatedly parts your swollen folds.
It’s degrading, it’s disgusting, but Seungcheol wasn’t going to let this night end without getting a taste of your cunt. He licks and laps, tongue tracing through every dip and crevice like a thirsty dog.
“Fuck, Cheol, your tongue’s so good,” You whine out, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair as Seungcheol dips his tongue to fuck in and out of your hole.
Seungcheol groans at the praise and the feeling of your fingers in his hair, mouth pulling away only for two of his fingers to plunge in you. “I never thought you’d be this much of a slut.”
You whine at that, back arching and brows scrunching as Seungcheol’s fingers curve against the rough patch of your walls. Mingyu’s approving grin from behind you only encourages Seungcheol to continue spewing filth.
“You like letting other men watch you? Like letting them eat you out after your boyfriend fucking came in you, hm?”
“Yes!” You squeal out in reply as Mingyu’s fingers come up to twist and pinch your nipples. “I love it!”
“Slut,” Seungcheol hisses out, fingers picking up speed as he works you to another orgasm. “No wonder Mingyu’s so fucking whipped for you. You act all innocent but you’re just as bad as he is.”
“Not bad,” You whine out with a pout as you catch Seungcheol’s disappointed stare. “It’s all Mingyu’s fault—“
“Of course it is,” Seungcheol scoffs, fingers slowing down to edge you, an action that has you frowning and bucking your hips against his fingers. “Cut that shit or I’ll pull my fingers out.”
“You better listen, baby,” Mingyu whispers into your ear. “Hyung likes breaking brats like you.”
Your hips are quick to still.
“Good girl,” Seungcheol says before lowering his face again. “Let me show you what good girls get.”
Seungcheol wraps his lips around your clit, tongue flicking at the swollen bud back and forth as his fingers drive themselves in and out of your dripping cunt.
You shriek at the sudden onslaught. “Shit, slow down—“
Your words are cut off when Mingyu sticks his fingers in your mouth.
“Be a good girl for hyung, baby,” Mingyu mumbles against the shell of your ear, fingers going in and out of your mouth like a cock would. “Give him a taste of that cunt, okay?”
“Fuck, was she always this dirty?” Seungcheol parts from your clit to breathe the question out, eyes wholly captured by the way you suck and moan around Mingyu’s digits.
“No,” Mingyu says proudly, like taking your innocence and corrupting you into becoming his perfect little whore was a badge of honor he just had to flaunt. “I had to fuck the shyness out of this one, but I think it worked out, no? Are you still shy about taking my cock, baby?”
You shake your head, unable to vocalize the words given the way Mingyu has you gagging on his fingers.
“Yeah? You’d let me fuck you anywhere? Let me fuck you anytime I want, hm?”
You nod at that, whining as Mingyu continues to whisper filth in your ear while Seungcheol works you open with his fingers. You’re close, Seungcheol can tell from the pulsing of your walls and the squirming of your hips.
“Do you want to cum, baby?” Mingyu asks, wholly attuned to the way your body starts to quiver. The man didn’t even need to feel your cunt around him to know that you were close.
When you nod, Mingyu pulls his fingers from your mouth, squishes your cheeks, and forces you to look at Seungcheol.
“Beg him then,” Mingyu rasps into your ear, arm wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you in place.
You have nowhere to run now.
“Cheol, please,” You whimper out, eyes round and glassy as you plead to the man between your legs. “Please let me cum. Please, I need it—
Seungcheol ups the effort, fingers curling against the spot you seemed to love as he sucks your clit into his mouth. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter, doesn’t pull away to breathe until he’s sure you’re cumming.
“Fuck, I’m cumming, Cheol, I’m cumming!” You cry out desperately, nails digging into the flesh of Mingyu’s forearm as Seungcheol continues to suck your soul out from between your legs. “Don’t stop, oh god, oh shit—“
Seungcheol groans when liquid sprays onto his face, fingers pulling out of you abruptly so he can cover the entirety of your squirting cunt with his mouth.
He laps it all up, low moans and deep groans rumbling from his chest as he slurps your cunt like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to (it probably is). You taste different, good.
The taste coating his mouth is all you, Mingyu’s cum long licked and fucket out of your cunt by Seungcheol’s previous ministrations. You taste like the beginning of an addiction Seungcheol will have to spend the rest of his life trying to escape, and shit—
Seungcheol thinks he might just have to beg Mingyu for another taste.
Reluctantly he pulls away, tongue darting out to lick at the traces of you that remained on his lips. You look gone, body slack against Mingyu as your cunt twitches and spasms around nothing.
“Did hyung make you feel good, baby?” Mingyu whispers softly into your ear as you curl against Mingyu’s chest.
You only nod in response, arms reaching up to wrap around Mingyu’s neck as you fully settle yourself on his lap. Mingyu is quick to wrap you in his embrace, lips pressing tender kisses against your shoulder.
“Gyu, I’m sleepy,” You mumble out from where you're nuzzling into Mingyu’s neck. The softness of it all when juxtaposed to the debauchery that just took place is jarring, but Seungcheol thinks that this softness is warranted considering what he and Mingyu put you through.
“Sleep then, love,” Mingyu says as he lays you onto your back on the bed. “Let me just talk to hyung, okay?”
“Don’t take too long,” is all you say before nuzzling under the covers.
Seungcheol takes that as his cue to stand up and start dressing. He’s starting to feel a little shameful now that the air’s a little calmer, but he doesn’t think he’s going to regret any of it. The universe knows he’d come crawling back if Mingyu presented him with another opportunity—
Where the fuck did he put his shirt? It’s the only thing he needs before he can finally get out of the room and give the two of you space while he starts his walk of shame to the car.
Almost as if Mingyu could read his mind, the younger man throws it at him, and Seungcheol is quick to catch it.
“Thanks,” is all Seungcheol says as he slips the shirt over his head, movements slowly getting sluggish as the exhaustion starts creeping in.
Fuck, that was tiring.
“Thanks for agreeing to this, hyung,” Mingyu looks sheepish as he says it, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck as the other pulls the edge of the blanket to cover his intimate parts.
Seungcheol doesn’t know why the Mingyu still bothers considering the number of times they’ve been bare in front of each other.
“No need to thank me. I had a good time anyway,” Seungcheol shrugs as he gets his cap from the floor, securing it on his head. “I’m guessing this is a one time thing?”
“Yes,” Mingyu says, and Seungcheol is quick to pick up on the sharp edges of Mingyu’s gaze.
Territorial prick.
“Calm down, dude, I’m not going to try anything,” Seungcheol scoffs. Mingyu could seriously be a pain in the ass if he wanted to, and dealing with that version of him was the last thing Seungcheol wanted to do. “Take care of her, okay? I’m leaving now.”
“Bye hyung,” Mingyu calls out softly as he crawls over to the empty space beside you on the bed. “We have a gym session tomorrow, don’t forget.”
Seungcheol only snorts at that. Even after everything that went down, Mingyu still found it in himself to be a fucking gymrat. Seungcheol’s thankful for it though, thankful that Mingyu’s back to talking casually like Seungcheol didn’t just tongue-fuck and finger the shit out of his girlfriend. The last thing he wanted was for things to get awkward after this, and thankfully, it looks like that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
“Bring the protein,” is all Seungcheol says before he walks out and shuts the door of Mingyu’s bedroom behind him.
Now, the walk of shame.
specific smut warnings: Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Oral Sex (m and f receiving), Praise Kink, Mildly Homoerotic Themes (Like if you think real hard about it…), Panty-sniffing (I get worse with every tag), Panty-licking (damn it), Drugs mentioned (not usage? Just Cheol being addicted to puss— *gets shot*), Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Rough Sex, Mentions of Safeword (not used), D/S dynamic implied but in my heart they’re both switches, Objectification, Degradation (Every time I add a tag, I lose langit points), Mild Corruption Kink, Brat-tamer!Cheol agenda, Squirting (the other tags make this look tame)
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this one!! I would love to hear from y’all (no matter how unhinged LMAO). Now excuse me while I go touch grass and get breakfast 😅
Contains: smut, giving a bitch sum head or sum, minimal plot, no I genuinely mean it, oral (f. receiving), kissing, dirty talk, refers to the 🐱 as ‘her’, he’s feral for the cookie, pussydrunk Bo, biting, petnames, “I ain’t never date no man who ain’t suck me off the bone”, BITINGGGG, public, but u guys are alone, I saw sinners again last night and this is the product so good luck
A/N- if you see a mind running around that looks lost, it’s mine. Leave it be.
+ with @bochowswife and @taylormarieee in mind🥰🎀
*Takes place in the ‘fix it’ universe
.♡
The club had been open for weeks and had been a bigger success than originally planned.
It was kind of an unspoken rule that anyone in attendance didn’t mention the incident from that night, it being “bad mojo” and all that and people were only too happy to put it behind them.
Another thing that happened by the end of the first week was the switch from plantation credits to actual money or change. Quarters, dimes, nickels, were all welcome as long as it could spend. They changed it in a way that business wasn’t affected but worked for the locals. Now, prices were different depending on what they was drinking and that did wonders for money flow. So much in fact, that they needed help managing it all.
That’s where you and Bo come in.
Managing his own store and such, Bo was good with numbers- quick too- a trusted friend of the twins, and he’d been there to help them set up since day 1. So when the twins asked him to do the till counts during near end of the first half of the night, it was an easy yes. Surprisingly enough, Smoke and Stack were on the same page with not minding Bo bringing you into the office with him while he worked; claiming you kept him focused and that was that but….
Bo was supposed to be counting the tills and you were supposed to keep him focused.
“Mmmm, she’s so sweet baby”,
Bo purrs in that heady southern drawl before he laps another firm drag up your slit. “Nice n’ wet f’me..”.
A debauched moan bubbles deep from your chest as Bo slurps your clit into his mouth with a drunken hum. The vibrations make your head spin, lower stomach tensing up as you try to ground yourself before you lose your mind but Bo doesn’t let up- can’t bring himself to. Not when you coat his mouth with your taste looking like the answer to every prayer he’s ever prayed with full lips and wide eyes that constantly looked at him like you didn’t just want him but needed him.
He groans, pulling away with a string of saliva connecting you, smacking his lips hungrily as his hands help themselves to your curves and god- you melt. Much like ice would under the heat of the devil’s tongue only faster this time because pleasure is always better when business is meant to be the goal. Tingling nips to your thighs trail back up slowly to your wetness and you suck in a deep breath through your teeth, heavy arousal licking flames across your skin making you sweat. The music outside was loud enough to drown out your activities which was great because Bo was aiming to suck you off the bone.
Gripping the fat of your hip, he pulls you closer against his open mouth- tongue wet, hot, and insistent as he hungrily licks inside you. The pleasure is crushing and your hands find his hair, petting and messing at it weakly while you gasp and whine in bliss. Bo takes your throbbing bud in his mouth again, lapping stroke after stroke against the underside of your clit before rolling it between his teeth and you jolt as he bites down with just enough pressure for the pain to warm before he soothes it with a heavy lave of his tongue and you cry out so hard it feels like your chest is caving in.
“B-Bo! We-, the t-ti- fuuuck!” You can’t even string a sentence together with the way he’s taking you apart, sucking your clit like a piece of candy before rolling the sensitive swollen nub back between his teeth and you’re shaking. Eyes fluttering back as the most pitiful choked out sobs you’ve ever heard from yourself fall from your lips as you grind up into his handsome face.
It’s as if you’re floating. His hands are so big and rough- strong and everywhere. You might be crying for real now. Bo’s so hard that the blood rush makes his ears ring but he couldn’t be bothered to pay that any mind.
Not when you’re so close.
“Thaaat’s it sweet thing..”
And you’re crying and stuttering in that sweet, pretty, way you did whenever you got real close-your hips bucking up into his greedy maw and he can feel the way your leaking hole twitches under his tongue and he growls. A hand leaves your hips in favor of stuffing three of his fingers knuckle deep inside your spasming cunny as he catches your clit and bites- flattening his tongue to soothe the pain sweetly and he’s so sloppy with it as his fingers lazily stretch you open that you can’t take it anymore. It’s too good- too much.
The slutty arch of your back doesn’t make your orgasm any easier to bear as it tears clean through you, coming so hard you hear sight. Heart beating through your chest as you scream, spraying his thick fingers and sinful mouth with a hot burst of your slick. It gives Bo goosebumps as he moans into your flushed skin, mouth working even harder as he laps up your release. Even sucking you off his fingers before rushedly undoing his pants and jerking his fat throbbing shaft off with that same hand. Burying his head back to finish cleaning you up, the sweet taste and smell is so fucking good- so heady- that he’s coming minutes later into the hand that’s soaked with you, resting his head against your thigh while you catch your breath and wait for your senses to realign so you can convince him to take you home.
warnings / tags : explicit sexual content, oral (fem receiving), panty licking, sub!jeno, praise kink / pet name kink, pet play / puppy play, overstimulation, squirting
wc: 1.5k~
The TV flickered quietly in front of you, but your attention drifted the moment Jeno settled on the floor at your feet. He didn’t say a word—just lowered himself until his head was resting on your thigh, dark eyes tilted up at you. Wide. Pleading.
“Jeno,” you murmured, fingers instinctively carding through his hair. “What are you doing down there, hm?”
He nuzzled against your leg like he couldn’t help himself, a faint shaking breath slipping out when you tugged lightly on his hair. His hands gripped your knees, thumbs stroking over the soft skin as if he were asking permission without saying it out loud.
“Use your words, puppy.” Your tone was sweet, but firm enough to make his lashes flutter.
“I wanna—” His voice cracked low, muffled against your thigh. “Please… wanna taste you.”
Your lips curved, affection tugging at the corners. He looked so wrecked already, just from asking. “You want between my thighs that badly?”
He nodded quickly, almost frantically, nose brushing your skin as he whined again.
You tilted his chin up so he had no choice but to meet your eyes. His pupils blew wide, breath hitching as he whispered, “Please let me taste you. I’ll be your good boy.”
You hummed, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Go on then, puppy.”
His shoulders relaxed the moment you spread your legs for him, like a command he’d been waiting on. He nosed up along your inner thigh, inhaling like he was already drunk on the scent of you.
“Slow, puppy,” you reminded, tugging his hair just enough to make him whimper. “Don’t make a mess yet.”
“Yes…” His voice was breathless, muffled against your skin. “Yes, I’ll be good.”
Jeno’s lips pressed against the damp fabric, reverent little kisses that had his lashes trembling. The sound he made was half-whimper, half-moan, like the scent alone was already too much.
“Smells so good,” he breathed, voice muffled against you. His fingers curled into the couch cushions as if to stop himself from tearing the fabric away.
You laughed softly, low and dangerous. “Then show me how much you want it.”
Jeno’s tongue flattened against the soaked cotton, dragging slow and heavy strokes that made you clench above him. The taste was faint but maddening, and he groaned into it, like he was drunk off the hint of you.
When he switched to little kitten laps, precise and needy, the fabric darkened even more under his attention. He pushed the tip of his tongue right against where he knew your clit was hiding, pressing hard enough that the wet cloth sank into every curve of your cunt.
“God— your taste even through this,” he panted, nuzzling against the heat like he couldn’t get close enough. His teeth scraped lightly over the damp spot, tugging the fabric just to feel you twitch.
His lips sealed around your clothed cunt like it was holy, drawing in until the fabric was soaked and his jaw ached. Every drag of his mouth was accompanied by a soft groan, as if he was the one being satisfied. When you shifted your hips just slightly, his whole body shuddered, whimpers spilling free like he couldn’t contain it.
“Good boy,” you praised, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “So desperate just to make me feel good.”
He whined, hips rolling against the floor in helpless frustration, but his mouth returned instantly to its task. He devoured the fabric, hard, until it stuck to your folds, and then licked it clean again, over and over. Every sound he made was needy and broken—whimpers, little groans, muffled begging into your cunt.
“God—Jeno…” Your head fell back, a soft moan spilling out. “Look at you,” you murmured, tugging gently at his hair until his flushed face tilted up. His lips were swollen, glistening with spit and your slick. “My needy little pup.”
“Yes,” he gasped without hesitation. “Please— please, just let me taste you for real. I’ll be good, I swear.”
The corner of your mouth curved into a dangerous smile. “Open.”
He obeyed instantly, lips parting, tongue already lolling out like the obedient pup he was. You hook a finger under the band of your panties and peel the drenched fabric aside, dragging it slowly across his tongue before baring yourself to him. His moan was guttural, chest trembling as the first unfiltered taste hit his mouth.
“Fuck—” His voice broke into a whimper as he dived in, tongue immediately circling your clit with sloppy reverence. His hands gripped your thighs tight, pulling you open, but it wasn’t greedy — it was worship. Every stroke of his tongue was messy, eager, grateful, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close.
“That’s it, puppy,” you breathed, hips rocking gently into his mouth.
He moaned into you, nose bumping your clit as he licked a slow stripe before enveloping it with his lips. The sound was obscene, wet, desperate: his whole face buried between your thighs like it was where he belonged.
When you tugged his hair again, he looked up at you, chin slick, pupils blown wide with need. The sight alone had your stomach twisting. “Good boy,” you whispered, and he groaned so hard his hips jerked against the carpet.
“You like that?” you teased, pressing your heel lightly into the floor near his knee.
His voice broke, muffled against you as he licked relentlessly, tongue tracing messy circles that had your thighs trembling. Jeno whimpered, grinding his tongue against you like he’d die if he couldn’t make you come.
Your chest tightened and your thighs clamped around his head. Your fingers carded lazily through his hair, nails scratching just enough to make his eyes flutter shut.
When you glanced down, the sight nearly undid you — Jeno on his knees, face buried between your thighs, eyes shut tight like he was praying. And when you thread your fingers into his hair again, his moan spilled directly against your clit, broken and worshipful, as though your taste alone was salvation.
Your thighs began to tremble for real this time, little jolts shooting through you as the pleasure built too sharp, too much. You tried to tug his hair back, gasping, “Jeno—wait, slow down—”
But he didn’t.
He only moaned into you, the sound guttural, vibrating against your clit. His tongue dragged faster, sloppier, like a man possessed. His hands gripped your thighs hard, keeping you spread open as his mouth sealed over you, sucking like he was trying to drink you dry. “God, you taste—” His words broke against your skin, lips already diving back down before he could finish. “Can’t stop. Don’t wanna stop—”
You squirmed, hips twitching away from the intensity, but he chased you, burying his face deeper, nose pressed firm against your folds as his tongue worked relentless circles over your clit. It was messy now, spit and slick smearing down his chin, dripping onto his chest, and he didn’t even care—he groaned like he needed it, like your taste was oxygen.
“Jeno—ah, too much—” you gasped, trying again to push his head back.
He shook his head against your whimpering, begging even as he licked harder. “Please—just one more, I’ll make you come again—let me, let me—” His voice cracked, desperate. “Need you to come for me, need to feel you.”
And when you finally did—shuddering, gasping, your thighs clamping around his ears—he only moaned louder, rutting helplessly against the floor as he kept devouring you through your high, dragging you over the edge again and again until your legs shook too hard to hold him in place.
Your cries got sharper with every orgasm, body twitching and straining under his insatiable mouth. You were long past the point of holding back, long past dignity—every sob, every whimper spilled out raw as he kept drinking you in.
“Jeno—ahh—” you plead, voice wrecked.
But he only growled into your cunt, sucking harder, tongue sliding over your clit again and again. His arms locked tight around your thighs, refusing to let you squirm away. Each time you thought it was over, he dragged another wave out of you, coaxing broken moans from your throat.
Your thighs were shaking violently, tears streaking your temples, and you felt yourself breaking open under his desperate worship. “Please—”
And then it hit—white-hot and unstoppable. Your body arched off the couch, and with a strangled cry you squirted against his mouth, slick soaking his chin and dripping down his chest.
That finally made him moan, guttural and shaking, grinding his hips helplessly against the floor as he latched onto you like he was starved. He kept lapping at you until every last shudder ran out of your body, until you were twitching from overstimulation, sobbing weakly and slumping back against the cushions.
Only then did he slow, panting hard, face glistening with spit and slick. His lips were red, swollen, trembling, his chest heaving like he’d just run miles. His eyes were wide and glassy.
You cup his flushed, ruined face in your hand, thumb brushing his wet cheek. He whimpered softly at the touch, nuzzling into your palm.
“Good puppy,” you breathed, voice low and wrecked but warm.
The sound he made was broken, desperate, and blissful all at once—like your praise just destroyed him more than any orgasm ever could.
a/n: i KNOW ive talked about woozi hands, woozi fingering, too much already in this blog, so, nerd!woozi its just another excuse for me to write about it again. sorry not sorry.
a/n pt.2: yes, this is woozi's hand on minghao's neck that's why im screaming in the title.
WARNINGS: smut, small angst, fingering, body fluids (cum spit), clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, intense orgasm, teasing, quick learner!jihoon
nerd!jihoon who’s all serene and timid, always too focused on his notes, pretending he doesn’t notice your little games, but deep down, he’s fully aware. you catch him sometimes, the way his pencil pauses mid-scribble when you lean a little too close, asking for the same damn pencil again. he knows you have like five pencils in that full-of-charms bag of yours, regardless here you are.
“you sure you don’t just wanna keep it?” he mumbles, barely looking up as he hands you the pencil.
you lean forward, letting your hair fall in front of your face like a curtain, just to see if he’d peek. and, of course, he does. a quick flick of his eyes, then back down to his notebook, scribbling some bullshit about physics or whatever. boring. you wonder what’d happen if you just grabbed his hand for real this time, full contact, no pencil-between-you nonsense. would he pull away? would he get all flustered, or would he grab you back, finally drop that innocent act?
“you ever gonna look at me when i ask you for something, or you too shy for that?” you tease, leaning on his desk now, your fingers inching closer to his ruler. he finally looks up at you, a little more serious than usual, and it catches you off guard.
“you keep asking for things you don’t need,” he says quietly, “why?” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose like that’s gonna hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “you can keep the damn pencil,” he mutters, eyes glued to the textbook in front of him.
and nerd!jihoon who gets so in his head about it that he doesn’t realize the moment he fucked up. ‘cause when you stand up from your chair, reaching down to grab something you “accidentally” dropped, you do it slow. bending over right in front of him, just enough that your skirt rides up a little too high, giving him a full view.
he stares for just a second too long, eyes glued to the hem of your skirt, swallowing hard like he’s trying not to make a sound. but it’s obvious, way too obvious, and when he realizes he’s been caught, his face turns red so fast you almost laugh out loud.
nerd!jihoon who's fidgeting now, trying to pretend he didn’t just eye-fuck you in the middle of the classroom.
but nerd!jihoon’s only got so much self-control, and you’re testing every bit of it.
nerd!jihoon who, for some reason, snaps at you that morning when you meet at the stairs outside the university building. it’s out of nowhere too—like, one second, you’re just giving him that casual little smile, ready to toss some flirty comment about the weather being as cold as his attitude, and the next, he’s all huffy, eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual.
“why do you keep doing that?” his voice comes out sharp, way too sharp for someone like him, the type who rarely even speaks above a whisper in class. you blink, taken aback, half-wondering if he’s joking, but when you see his jaw tighten, you realize he’s serious. dead serious. “is it that hard to leave me alone?”
ouch. you don’t even know how to react at first, like his words take a second to settle in, but when they do, it feels like someone knocked the air out of you. your eyes harden on him, and for once, you don’t have some quick retort. you just… stare. really?—he’s just gonna blow up like that?
“fine,” you mutter, voice cold as ice. and with that, you turn on your heel and walk off without another word, you don’t even look back as you head straight to the classroom, your heart pounding in your chest. you’ve never felt this weird compound of pissed and hurt before. it’s like something just snapped inside you too.
for the rest of the day, you don’t bother glancing in his direction. you gather your stuff at the end of class, all in silence, and when you make your way past his desk, you stop for just a second, pulling out all those borrowed pencils from your bag. without a word, you set them on his desk, one by one. they clatter onto his notes, each one feeling like a small “fuck you” in its own way.
jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at the pencils like they’re mocking him. he opens his mouth for a split second, like maybe he’s gonna explain, but nothing comes out. you don’t give him the chance either; you walk away, not bothering to look back. it’s like every interaction you’ve ever had just gets replayed in your mind, and now it’s all soured.
the next few days are weird. hell, you stop talking to him altogether. instead, you sit at your desk, quietly pulling out your own damn pencils from your pencil case, you don’t need his anymore, not when he’s gonna act like a complete ass about it. he watches you though—you can feel his stare on you, burning into the side of your head. but every time you glance in his direction, he looks away like he can’t deal with the awkwardness he’s caused.
it’s like he wants to apologize but has no idea how to start. typical jihoon—all brain and no clue when it comes to real people.
but one evening, there’s a knock on your dorm door. you open it, and there he is, standing there with a six-pack of those canned drinks you always get from the campus canteen, the same ones you always grab right after class. his face is red, cheeks flushed in a way that’s almost… cute? but you’re still mad, still remembering how he snapped at you like that.
“hey,” he says, and his voice is softer this time, merely audible. you just stand there, arms crossed, waiting for him to explain himself.
“i, uh… i brought these,” he mutters, holding the cans out like some awkward peace offering. “i noticed you… always get these. thought maybe…” his voice trails off, and he rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “i’m sorry. for what i said.”
you raise an eyebrow, still not convinced. “really? you were a complete jerk, jihoon.”
he shrinks at your words, nodding. “i know. i just… i didn’t know how to deal with it, okay? it… messed with me.”
you uncross your arms, softening just a bit. “and snapping at me was your way of handling it?”
he sighs, looking down at his shoes. “i didn’t mean it. i was just frustrated. not at you—just… at myself.”
you take a deep breath, glancing at the cans in his hands, the little effort he’s put into making amends. he’s trying. “fine,” you say finally, stepping aside to let him in. “you owe me more than just drinks, though.”
jihoon’s eyes widen a bit, his lips twitching into that familiar nervous smile. “what do you want, then?”
you scoff.
nerd!jihoon who feels the faint taste of the drink lingers on your tongue, and he groans into your mouth, probably addicted to it more than he’ll admit. he’s kissing you back—messy, needy, and a little clumsy, but you can tell he’s losing himself in it.
you shift on his lap, straddling him properly, and when you press into him, his breath hitches. it’s like he can’t keep himself together, every kiss pulling out little sounds, his hands hover awkwardly for a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with them, until you grab them and guide them up your body, pushing them to your chest, making him squeeze your tits through your shirt.
nerd!jihoon who gasps when he feels the nipples on his palms through your shirt, his lips pulling away from yours for just a second as he looks at where his hands are, eyes wide like he can’t believe it. his fingers flex against you, tentatively at first, but then you press your hand over his, forcing him to squeeze harder, and you let out a shaky breath.
then? oh, he gets it.
nerd!jihoon, who finally acts, squeezing your tits by himself like he’s been waiting for this chance his whole damn life. his fingers dig in just enough to pull a moan from your throat.
nerd!jihoon’s catching on fast now, realizing where you want to be touched, where your breath catches, where your body melts into him.
his hands roam up your sides, slipping under your oversized shirt, and when his fingers brush your bare skin, he freezes for a second. he realizes you’re not wearing anything underneath, no panties, no bra, just naked under the thin fabric. “shit,” he breathes, almost like a curse, his eyes darting up to meet yours, like he’s checking to see if this is real, if you actually want him to keep going.
you smirk, biting your lip, and press your hips down into him harder, a wordless yes, keep going.
his hand cups your pussy, and the way you immediately arch into him, gasping out his name—he’s gone. brain short-circuiting, but his body’s on autopilot now. “dont do this to me…” he mewls, too focused on the way you’re grinding into his hand, wet and ready for him.
nerd!jihoon who, once he realizes how horny you are, loses any hesitation he had before. his fingers, slender and surprisingly strong, waste no time. he’s focused—so damn focused—like he’s solving a problem in his mind, but this time, the problem is you. and he knows exactly how to handle it.
nerd!jihoon who pauses for just a second, like he’s still processing how turned on you are—how his touch alone got you dripping like this. his middle finger presses right against your clit, and he flicks it side to side—fast as hell, like too fast—and your hips jerk up into him, a soft whimper slipping out. his middle finger dips into your pussy first, just enough to feel the wetness gather on his fingertip, the way you swallow around him makes his breath hitch.
it’s like he’s testing what gets you going, what makes your thighs tremble, and god, does he know how to read your body. every gasp, every time your breath hitches, he switches it up—keeps you on edge.
he presses his middle finger deep suddenly, really deep, until you’re arching into him, your body reacting instantly to the way he knows how to hit that spot. his finger curls inside you, pushing hard, making you gasp like he’s punching the air from your lungs. he’s watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips move, like he’s trying to memorize how to make you react like this again.
"hold still," he mutters, and when you don’t, when you try to squirm because it’s too much too fast, he forces your legs open with his, his thighs pressing yours apart. “don’t... close them. i need to—” his breath catches when he adds a second finger, stretching you just enough to make your pussy clench tight around him, making your thighs shake. he presses them deep, so deep you feel the pressure low in your belly, but it’s when he starts to pull them out, flicking them up against your clit as he does it, that you lose it.
“oh fuck,” you gasp, back arching, and jihoon’s watching you so damn closely, taking mental notes on every single reaction you give him.
“so... wet. why? hm?” he whispers, like he can’t believe it, his voice shy but breathy, like he’s talking more to himself than you. his fingers slide out, slick with your cum, and without even thinking, he spits right on them—mixing the spit with the dripping wetness already covering his fingers. the sound is obscene, the slick noise of him fingering you only getting louder, wetter, messier.
and then, he adjusts.
“c’mere,” he says, voice a little rougher now, guiding you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. you can feel how hard his cock is, twitching against your ass as you settle between his thighs. his legs spread yours open, holding you wide as he slides his hand back down to your dripping pussy, his fingers diving back in like they belong there.
he uses his middle finger again—always that one—sliding it in deep, he’s too focused on you, too addicted to the way you moan when he pushes his fingers deeper. his legs wrap around yours, holding them wide open, ‘cause you’re so damn close to squeezing them shut. his voice comes out soft, right in your ear. “you’re so—fuck, so into this. just my fingers?”
he can’t believe it, can’t wrap his head around how crazy you’re going just from this—even though he’s making you drip all over his hand. but it only impulses him on. his fingers flick against your clit again, fast, precise, like he’s playing an instrument he’s mastered. your body jerks, and you feel yourself clenching around nothing, cum practically coating his fingers now. he slides them deep again, harder this time, pushing you into the bed so hard your hips are practically pinned down.
“you like that?” he asks, voice shaky, but he’s so into it. holding you open like he’s afraid you’ll try to close your legs.
his fingers are everywhere—inside you, rubbing, pressing, flicking.
“fuck—jihoon,” you moan, words tumbling out of you like you can’t control them, and his breath catches again. his fingers move faster, slick sounds filling the room as he alternates between pressing deep inside you and flicking your clit, over and over again, until you’re a complete mess in his arms.
“you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me say something stupid,” you gasp out, barely holding onto any coherent thought, and he lets out a soft, shy laugh, like he knows exactly what you mean.
nerd!jihoon who's lost in the rhythm he’s created, only pushes harder, fingers still dancing between your thighs as he chases that sound—that sweet, desperate gasp that makes his heart race. “i think i can handle it,” he teases, but he’s definitely not prepared for the way you arch your back, pushing harder against him as your breath gets quicker, sharper.
“jihoon, please,” you whimper, the words spilling out like they’re a prayer. your body is begging for something—anything—more, but he’s holding you right at the edge, fingers moving so fast you’re pretty sure your brain is short-circuiting.
he seems to realize just how close you are. he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “can you—can you come for me? just from this?” there’s a softness in his voice, but the way he asks it is so demanding, and you can’t help but nod.
“yes—yes!” you manage to breathe out, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.
“just let go. i got you.” it’s like the words unlock something inside you, and before you even realize it, that sweet ache intensifying.
nerd!jihoon who lets out a soft chuckle, shaky as hell, but damn if he doesn’t sound proud. his fingers don’t slow down though. his middle finger presses even deeper, practically curling up into the g'spot inside you that makes you pass out for a second, and you gasp so loud you’re sure anyone passing by your dorm would hear it.
“jihoon—fuck, right there!” you groan, and he hones in on that spot like he’s taking thoughtful reminders.
he bites his lip, watching the way your hips roll into his hand, how wet you are, cum dripping down his fingers like he’s proud of the mess you’re making. “i didn’t know you’d be… this into it,” he whispers, and that just makes your head spin more.
this guy. so shy but so fucking good at what he’s doing to you.
“jihoon, i’m gonna—oh my god!” you try to warn him, but he cuts you off.
“i know, just let go,” he encourages, voice softer now, almost reverent, as if he’s treating this moment like something sacred. his fingers slide back up to your clit
this is it. his eyes widen a little, and you can feel the way his heart races against your back. every flick against your clit sends a convulsion through your body.
you dissolve into a broken gasp, your hips moving against his hand instinctively as he works you toward that peak. please, please, just let me come.
and when he adds just a little more pressure, it’s like your whole body torches. you cum and cum, your body arching against him. “jihoon, fuck!” you cry out, a high-pitched gasp that fills the air as you feel everything shatter, your body clenching tightly around his fingers that they almost slip out.
nerd!jihoon who watches you, completely captivated, the way your body reacts, the way you’re lost in it. he doesn’t stop, though; no, he keeps moving, fingers working through your orgasm, gentle however persistent, making sure you feel every bit of that pleasure. he’s fascinated, eyes wide as he takes in the globs of cum covering his fingers, the slickness that only grows thicker the more he works you.
“jihoon, wait…” you manage to murmur, half-laughing, half-breathless. “s-sensitive.”
you melt on his chest, catching your breath, as his hand cups your pussy again, letting 'you' rest.
“that was—how do you even know how to do that?” it’s a genuine question, and you can’t help but admire him, the way he’s panting lightly, his cheeks flushed.
he chuckles nervously, looking away for a moment, then back at you shyly. “i mean… i just pay attention? it’s like… figuring out the math of it all, but way more fun.” his eyes sparkle, and you can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at how nerdy he is, even in these moments.
“well, you know what they say about nerds,” you wink, reaching out to play with the ends of his shirt. “they can be really good at—”
“okay, stop,” he laughs, cutting you off.
“so, um… can i, like, do that again sometime?” he asks, his tone shifting to something softer, almost hopeful, and the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter.
“absolutely,” you say with a grin, leaning in to give him a quick peck, your bodies still tangled together.
“how about we switch positions next time? i think i could make you scream even louder.” he teases, but his red cheeks don't lie.
you freeze at his words, heart racing as you process what he just said. he’s learned way too quickly, “which one are you talking about?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, even though your cheeks are flushed too.
“any one you want,” he replies, a in a shyly-confident smirk on his face. “i’m a quick study when it comes to this kind of stuff.” he smiles wider. “just tell me what you like, and i’ll make sure i learn it.”
you can’t help but laugh. “oh, is that so? you think you can handle it?”
“absolutely,” he says, hugging your body to him. “just say the word, and i’ll show you just how good i can get.”
synopsis: choi seungcheol is not the kind of man you get over. he is the kind of man you win back.
word count: 8.6k
warnings: ex!seungcheol, previous long term relationship, angst, relationship problems, yelling, pining, swearing, bad work environment and an asshole boss, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, some degradation, rough sex, car sex, fluff, banter, both of them are assholes in places but that’s expected ig
Today has been a rough day.
You watch absentmindedly as the train doors ding and open, making more people step inside and not enough of them leave. It presses you harder into the wall, and you push your bag in front of you so the man before you doesn’t press directly into you. Three more stops until you get off.
You run over the last conversation you had at the office before clocking out. Well, it was less of a conversation and more of a dressing down for you. And it hadn’t even been your fault. Your coworker had royally screwed up the numbers on a new client’s order, and since your roles are usually interchangeable, your boss had assumed it was your doing. And so he went on a tirade about your inefficiency and lack of understanding for your job, and it was only a full five minutes of insults later that you could finally get a word in, telling him that you didn’t do the numbers on this one.
The damage is done, though. The things he said echo in your head now, and you mull over them. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t. You know you are good at your job. You have been at it for so long. What happened today wasn’t your screw up. But hearing all those words hurt. And they made you angry. You are fuming. He apologized when he learned his mistake, so there’s really nothing you can do except stew in your mess of anger and hurt.
Well, that’s not entirely true. There’s something you can do.
You wiggle your phone out of your pocket despite the tight fit of the train, trying to type with one thumb.
[me]: u home?
It takes only two or three minutes for your phone to ping with a reply.
[choi seungcheol]: yea. you coming?
You send a short ‘yes’ back, switching the screen off. You try to justify in your head that you need this, but god, it just feels like another loss. You are breaking your longest streak yet. Three weeks Seungcheol free. But you are pent up. You are angry and frustrated and feel like you are at a dead-end job. You need this. You need him.
He is wearing an oversized sweatshirt and pants when he answers the door, and his hair is disheveled, slightly damp, indicating he just showered. You love the smell of his shampoo. And god, he looks so good. So unbelievably good that you push in through the doorway, not even bothering to close it before you’re smashing your lips hard against his.
He hums and grips your waist immediately to steady both of you. You hear the door click closed behind you, but you don’t care. He smells like flowers and aftershave, and it’s so familiar. You push your tongue into his mouth, and you can feel his chest rise and fall as he chuckles.
“Slow down, baby.” His voice is muffled. Your heart stutters at the pet name. “What happened to saying hello?”
“Not today.” You mumble into his mouth, bunching his sweatshirt up so you can run your hands over his bare torso. He tenses under the touch and moans a bit, fingertips digging into your sides before his hands are reaching forward, undoing the buttons on your blouse.
“Missed me that much?” He teases, pulling off your lips with one last, wet smooch before he is burying his face into your neck, kissing and biting the skin there. You close your eyes, relishing in the feeling. You want to reply that you did, you missed him and his touch and the way he overwhelmed your every sense until you forgot all your problems. But you don’t.
Instead, you focus on pushing his sweatshirt up more, so he has no choice but to reach back and tug it off. Your eyes trace the porcelain skin, fingertips following the path of your hungry gaze. He opens your blouse, finally, pushing it off your shoulders. His hands trace over the newly exposed skin and you feel goosebumps rise on it. He digs his fingers into the small of your back so he can pull you back with him, both of you shuffling between hungry kisses until he’s laying you on his couch, your legs spreading automatically to make room for his hips.
“You’re so tense.” He comments, running his hands over your thighs, pushing your tight, pencil skirt up until it’s gathering at the apex. “Work been that bad?”
Your answer is somewhere between a hum and a moan as Seungcheol’s fingertips prod over your already soaked panties. He doesn’t comment on them, and maybe it’s because you can also feel how painfully hard he is. Maybe he missed you just as much, though you doubt it. He pushes the soiled cloth to the side before sliding between the wet mess in your slit, and your head drops back with a sigh.
He pulls off your neck to look down at you, and it’s the first time your eyes meet his since you stepped foot into his apartment. He thumbs over your clit and you whine, bucking your hips up.
“No games.” You gasp out. “Need you. Now.”
“It’s been three weeks.” He comments. “I need to prep you.”
You shake your head, wrapping your legs around his waist so you can tug him forward. His erection digs hard into the meat of your thigh, and he hisses.
“Need to feel it.”
You can see his lips tick up in a smirk, and he grinds into you one more time. “You sure?”
You’re already nodding. “Yes.”
So he does exactly that. It’s the best thing about Seungcheol. He knows you so well. That’s expected, considering you were with him for nearly four years. He knew every nook and cranny, every crevice of your body, even more than you knew it. That’s why you had come here, and not gone home to settle with your own fingers inside you. This is exactly what you needed to feel, his weight holding you down as he pounds you into the cushion of his couch. It sinks so much under and around you that you feel like you will become one with it, crying and moaning at the feeling of him so deep, the drag of his cock over your walls burning so deliciously. This was Seungcheol’s biggest talent: he knew how to fuck you to the point of oblivion.
“You just can’t resist.” He goads you, the sound of skin slapping so obscenely loud that you are almost sure the neighbors can hear it. “Your greedy little pussy can’t live without my cock.”
You sob when he hooks his hands under your knees and pushes them into your chest, bending you in half and holding you down so hard that you can only take short, labored breaths. Your head spins, adding to your pleasure. You clench desperately around him, and in your breathless state, you can barely say anything.
“Seung-” You can’t get it out, not when he hits your most sensitive spot just right, just so that stars burst in your vision. You can feel the tears run down the sides of your face and disappear into your hairline. Seungcheol bites his lips as he watches you descend further into depravity.
“Good little slut.” He grits out. His voice is octaves lower, a clear indicator that he is as gone as you feel. His hair sticks to his forehead, his breath is ragged and grip bruising, but there’s still so much control in his thrusts, so much purpose in the way his cock drives into you, rough but deliberate, making sure he fills you to the brim with every single slap of his skin against you.
You don’t have the time or enough brain power in you to warn him before you are seizing up and cumming hard around him, wailing and back arching, twitching and jerking so hard that he has to push down on you even more, keeping you in place. His cock doesn’t slip out no matter how desperately you squeeze around him, and he moans at the feeling.
“You’ve been really pent up, haven’t you, princess?” He asks, and you can see his smirk despite your teary, blurred vision, just now clearing as your high dissipates.
“Yes.” You manage to whimper out, blinking up at him. “Missed your cock so much. Needed to be fucked so bad.”
He curses at your words, speeding up again, sloppier this time. You catch the flush high on his cheeks, the thin rim of brown in his eyes around his dilated pupils. His lips are a deep pink because of how hard he has been biting them, sweat rolling down his face by now. The tips of his ears are an angry red, and his breaths are staggered. He needs one last push, and you’re about to give it to him.
“Fill me up, Cheol.” You coo, batting your wet eyelashes at him. “I know you want to. You miss cumming in me, right? So do it.”
“Fuck.” His eyes squeeze shut and he buries his head into your neck, thrusting a few more times before his entire body shudders, grinding hard and sinking himself into you up to the base. You feel your insides warm as he shoots ropes of white into you, and you deliberately clench around him. He curses softly into your skin, sighing as his body relaxes.
You lay there for a bit, trying to catch your breaths, before Seungcheol finally gets up. You groan when his weight leaves you, feeling stiff and sore. You straighten your legs as you watch him get up, reaching for his clothes.
“I’m gonna have to shower again.” He comments, stretching a bit. “Eat something before you leave, okay?”
With that, he trudges to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Seconds later, the shower starts running. You sigh, closing your eyes briefly as the familiar, painful squeezing around your heart appears. Three weeks. You made it three weeks without this feeling. And now it is back.
You feel numb as you gather your clothes and put them on, shaking your hair out. It’s still sweaty at the roots but you ignore it, slipping your heels on before you slip through the door, closing it gently behind you.
Walk of shame.
You can’t blame Seungcheol for leaving you on the couch like that. You can’t call him a jerk for treating you badly. This behavior is a result of a long time of anger, resentment, fights and tears. Seungcheol and you had been together for four years. You had moved in together, you had discussed marriage, you had even looked at rings and told him what kind you would like.
But the last year of it….
You began working more after a new boss was hired by the company. Your direct supervisor, and the most hellish person alive. Office hours became a formality on paper, because you no longer left at 5. Sometimes, you wouldn’t be home until 8 or 9. Seungcheol would wait. He would always wait. He would wait until dinner was cold and nearly inedible. He would wait until he could no longer hold his head up, falling asleep sprawled over the counter. He would jerk awake when he heard the keys jiggling in the door, and the second you walked in, you knew a fight was brewing.
On your end, you were getting constantly chewed out by a boss who hated you for some reason, was never satisfied with your work, and had no problem humiliating you in front of the entire team. HR was useless, despite many employees complaining. You would come home with the emotional capacity of a peanut, because every ounce of life was sucked out of you before you even set foot through the door.
“I can’t do this today, Cheol.” You would say, toeing off your shoes at the door, barely inside the house, but Seungcheol blocks your path.
“You said that yesterday. And the day before.” His voice is pleading. “I’m tired, Y/N.”
Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and you felt anger, unwarranted, misplaced anger, bubble up inside you.
“You’re tired? You? And what do you think I’ve been doing all day? Just having a drink beside the pool?”
It’s harsh. It’s cutting words. It’s meant to hurt. Because you were hurt the whole day, and you wanted to do some hurting as well. It was just Seungcheol’s bad luck that he was on the receiving end. That’s how it always went.
“You can quit.” He had gritted out one evening when you were lying in bed. He whispered it into the pitch black of the night, hoping the dark meant that you would actually consider his proposition. “You don’t have to do this job. No one is forcing you. I’ll take care of you. You can just quit.”
And you could. Technically, you could. But you were up for a promotion, a job title you had been working towards since college. It was so close, you could feel it on your fingertips.
“Just hang in there for me, Cheol.” You had whispered back. “Just a few more months. I’m so close. Please.”
Silence. And then one whispered sentence.
“I don’t think I can.”
If you had to pinpoint the exact moment you two fell apart, you would point to that night. Laying there, next to him, not touching but close enough to feel the heat of his body, you knew your relationship wouldn’t survive.
The breakup was anticlimactic. By the time you two got there, a weak acceptance had already settled on you like a blanket. You moved out, claiming he deserved to have the space, and you got a place closer to work. The same work that caused all this.
You’re sure god started punishing you the second you set foot outside that apartment. You’re certain of it. Your boss remained a jerk, and that promotion? Still in the works, apparently. You heard promises from the regional manager all the time. They were moving personnel around, they were looking over the finances again, they were consulting corporate. It was always something.
One month after you moved out, you showed up at Seungcheol’s door, battered from your constant battle at work, and in need of no one but him.
You still don’t know why Seungcheol agreed to this…… arrangement. Why he was so willing to respond every time you called or texted, letting you walk into the same apartment you two had built together, fucking you into oblivion on the couch, or on the floor, or against the wall. Never the bed you shared with him. Never.
Your own little apartment in comparison feels like a hollow cage as you enter it and drop your bag on the floor. You sigh at how barebones it is. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the tables. You love decorating. Everything in your and Seungcheol’s apartment, you had carefully picked yourself. You had color themes for every room, and Seungcheol had indulged you, saying the space was all yours to do whatever you wanted with it. You look around now, and you never would guess in a million years that you would live in a place like this.
You miss him.
Not just the sex. Him. You miss his laugh, choppy and high pitched, the perfect sound to your ears. You miss his bear hugs and his silly jokes. You miss how he pouted and whined when you wouldn’t give him enough attention. In hindsight, you should’ve known. People like Seungcheol demand to be loved wholly and truly. And you had suffocated this relationship by taking away the one thing you should’ve given him the most. Attention.
You regret it every day. You want to go back, grovel if you must. Beg and plead for him to take you back. But you can’t. Not after seeing the way Seungcheol discards you after sex. He has checked out completely. You know this. You can never have him the way you once did. The way you want so badly.
That Seungcheol is no longer alive. No matter how badly you want to resuscitate him. And you want to. So badly. This…. thing. Whatever it is. You can’t do it anymore.
The only thing that numbs the sting in your heart is alcohol. It’s very easy to find you at a local bar on a Friday evening, drowning your sorrows under the weight and burn of whiskey while you blabber on to your friend about how much you miss your ex-boyfriend. Which is what you are doing when the next weekend rolls around. To Soonyoung’s credit, he always listens. He never tells you to shut up, or move on, because it’s not easy to move on from someone you love so much, someone you are still actively hooking up with.
What you say today though, has him sitting up straight in the booth, eyes widening as he gapes at you.
“You’re serious?”
You nod, swirling your glass. “I am.”
“Do you have another offer?”
“Nope.”
That makes concern flash across his face. “Savings?”
“A little.”
“Are you sure you’ve thought about this?”
You laugh a little bitterly. “I want him back, Soonyoung. I can’t even begin to try unless I’m away from this job.”
“But your promotion…..”
“I don’t care. I lost the best thing in my life for this damn job.”
Soonyoung is silent for a second, sipping his drink. “Why now all of a sudden? After eight months?”
You don’t think you can answer him. Unlike when your relationship fell apart, you can’t pinpoint the exact moment you wanted to make it come back together again. It’s a feeling that has lingered since the day you left that apartment, and it had never gone away. It had just taken very long for you to give in to it. To put your ego aside for the love of your life.
You give him a bitter smile. “I always wanted to. I was just too much of a coward to act on it.”
…………………………….
Weekday nights are quiet in Seungcheol’s apartment. They didn’t used to be, but they are now.
Up until eight months ago, weekday nights were standard times when he fought with you. It almost always ended with you crying and him leaving the apartment to cool down. Nowadays, he spends the time whipping up an easy meal, sinking down on the couch and eating it while it is still hot, sometimes straight out of the pan, while watching whatever auto garbage plays on the TV screen.
A deep, fucked up part of him almost misses the fights.
He knows it’s not actually the fights he misses. It’s really you. He misses seeing you walk in the door, even when you had bags under your eyes darkening day by day, even when your shoulders sagged. Because at least you were there. No matter how draining your job was, at least you always made your way back home to him.
He glances at his phone screen, still blank, and lets his mind wander. Last time, you hadn’t contacted him for three weeks in between your rendezvous. How long will the drought last this time? Three weeks apart from you had nearly killed him. This time, only one week in, he could already feel his fingers tingle with the yearning of feeling your skin.
He wonders, for the millionth time, if he should have just held on when you asked him to. But he felt like a war wounded soldier at the time, bruised and broken, and he really didn’t have it in him to spend even one more night screaming across the room. He is still human.
But he is a weak human. He is weak when it comes to you, so he lets you enter his life over and over, just to touch you, to feel you, to make you tremble for him, to inhale all your sighs and feel your breath become one with his. The one aspect of your life that he still had any say over. He got to dictate your pleasure, he got to control what made you fall apart at the seams. And he still has it, the ability to make you moan, to reduce you into a mess with his lips, his fingers, his cock.
He feels himself twitch and holds back a groan. How long will the drought be this time?
When the doorbell rings, Seungcheol nearly jumps out of his skin. He curses and turns the volume of the TV down, walking to the kitchen to place his now empty pan in the sink. The doorbell sounds again and he rolls his eyes. Patience really isn’t a virtue anymore.
You are the last person he expects to be at his door. He freezes at the sight of you. Your hair looks tumbled, blown away from your face. Your chest heaves from exertion, you’re sweaty, and your breaths come hard and fast. Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow.
“Did you run here?”
You nod, trying to take deeper breaths to calm down. Immediately, his eyes fly down to your office heels and he curses, grabbing your arm to tug you in.
“You ran in heels?” He wonders how badly your feet are bruised. How far had you run?
You don’t toe off your shoes when you step inside. You don’t pull him closer, or mouth at his neck, or paw at his clothes. You don't look horny at all, which has become a staple for whenever you show up here. Seungcheol is confused.
“I quit my job.”
He stares at you, eyes wide, unblinking. You shift on your feet, and he can see you hold back a wince, but he remains unmoving. Something bitter rises in him, like bile in his throat.
“Why?”
“I-” You struggle with your words. “I want to try. With us.”
He can feel his hands clenching into fists, and there’s anger in him. Months, almost a year, of anger. And a familiar hurt that is almost exclusive to you by now.
“Please leave.”
He knows his words shock you, with the way your mouth opens and closes. “Seungcheol-”
“Get out.”
Your tears, springing fresh into your eyes, almost have him faltering. He almost gives in, almost wraps his arms around you to kiss them away, to comfort you in his embrace after so long of being starved. But his anger stops him. His resentment grips his heart like a vice, and he stays frozen in place as you shuffle back. Your tears don’t roll down your cheeks. Instead, you blink them away, and there is tired resignation in your expression. It makes him hesitate again.
“You’re right to do this.” You say, hand on the doorknob. “But I will still try. I will still try, Seungcheol. No matter what it takes. You might be stubborn, but you know I’m worse. I lost you once, I’m not letting you slip away again. I will move mountains if I have to.”
You leave, the door shutting softly behind you, and Seungcheol is left reeling under the weight of it all. Reeling, doubtful, but with the slightest twinges of hope curling in his chest.
…………………………
“I cannot believe you told her to get out.”
Seungcheol heaves as he lifts the weight into place, turning to glare at Mingyu when he’s done. “What did you want me to do? Forgive her for all of it?”
“No, but you should’ve agreed with her to try.”
Seungcheol gestures to his friend to help him, and Mingyu silently complies. The gym is relatively empty, since it’s early hours. The morning members had finished up, and he knows the next rush will come in the afternoon after people clock out of their jobs. This is the ideal time to move some things around or back into their places.
“I can’t put myself through all of that again.”
Mingyu rolls his eyes. “But you two can fuck every couple of weeks. Got it.”
Seungcheol ignores the sarcasm in his friend's voice, focusing on the task at hand. He knows Mingyu means well. He is one of Seungcheol’s closest friends. Seungcheol would trust Mingyu with his life. That’s why he was happy to open a gym with him. Mingyu was as great a business partner as he was a friend.
“I just don’t know how serious she is about trying.” Seungcheol continues. “How do I know it won’t go back to how it was before?”
“She quit her job, though.”
Seungcheol sighs. “I just can’t, man. She broke me.”
Mingyu’s face finally softens, and he nods. If anyone can sympathize with him, he knows it’s Mingyu. The man had been there to see Seungcheol fall apart, and had picked up the pieces afterward. Mingyu’s eyes wander past Seungcheol to look over his shoulder, and he winces.
“You’re gonna hate me for this, then.”
Seungcheol frowns in confusion before turning around to follow his line of sight, freezing when he sees you standing there. He eyes the familiar bag on your shoulder, and the large thermos in your left hand. You give him a sheepish smile.
“Hi.”
Seungcheol doesn’t walk closer to where you’re standing, staring at you from the distance, feet glued to the ground. “Why are you here?”
You shift a bit, and he knows you too well to know you feel a little embarrassed. “Mingyu said you forgot some stuff at home so I came to drop it off. And I brought you sustenance.”
You shake the thermos.
Seungcheol turns to glare at Mingyu, who has the decency to look regretful, before turning back to you.
“I don’t need it.” He lies.
He does, actually. His workout belt, shoes, and some account papers are in there. He had assumed the bag was in his trunk and didn’t bother to check this morning. He only realised when he got here that he didn’t have them. He had intended to go home and grab them sometime around lunch. Turns out, Mingyu is a snitch who likes involving himself in Seungcheol’s business, and you conveniently still have a key to his apartment.
“I’m just gonna leave it at reception.” You say, unfazed by his harsh words. He doesn’t know how you can stand them, but you have always been very strong willed. He loved that side of you when you were together. Unfortunately, that was also something that contributed to you two falling apart.
“Nice seeing you again, Gyu.”
Mingyu smiles and waves at you as you leave, and Seungcheol sighs loudly once you’re gone. He levels Mingyu with a death stare, and the man just scoffs.
“Just let her do this, man. Let her try, at least.”
Seungcheol doesn’t reply, focusing on what he was doing before you interrupted him. But his thoughts are all over the place now, plagued by the hope in your eyes when he had looked at you.
……………………….
You know Seungcheol is a bit taken aback by you. But this is a normal reaction considering you are everywhere suddenly.
You know it’s strange, you trying to woo him. Showing up at his gym, texting him ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’. But this isn’t completely out of the ordinary either. Earlier in your relationship, when you two were still in your honeymoon phase, you spoiled Seungcheol just as much as he spoiled you. He loves physical affection and attention. He is a princess at heart, the baby of his family, and you loved giving him more love than he knew what to do with.
Your favorite activity by a long shot would be to lay on the couch, him on top of you, head on your chest and arms tight around your waist, torso framed by your legs. You would run your hands through his hair and he would hum, lightly dozing in your embrace as you read a book, warm and cozy under him. Seungcheol liked the little things, like remembering his exact coffee order, and making his favorite breakfast for the weekends. He liked when you thought of him while shopping, buying him a baseball cap, or a nice t-shirt with a graphic he might appreciate. When his headphones stopped working, you lent him yours without hesitation until he found a good model to upgrade to. You were the master of organization, and you would know even better than him where he kept all his things. You had once gifted him a glass display case for all his prized watches. To this day, it sat on his dressing table.
He doted on you as much as you doted on him, unashamed even in your circle of mutual friends. Jeonghan, Seungcheol’s long term best friend, always teased you two for the PDA, but you know there was no one who rooted for you two the way Jeonghan did. So now, in your time of need, you knew Jeonghan was the best person to go to.
You haven’t seen Jeonghan since the breakup, even though you were close before. You know, deep inside, he is angry with you. Soonyoung had told you as much. Your mutual friend circle was big, but tight knit. You have retained all your friendships, except Jeonghan. You were too scared to text him, and he never reached out. Until two days ago, when you texted him and asked if you could talk. He had replied, to your great surprise and relief, asking you to call him when you clocked out of work. When you told him you weren’t at work, he called you immediately.
“So you finally quit.” He muses over the speaker. “We will thank the heavens then. That job was killing you.”
You sigh, staring up at your bedroom ceiling. You have put your phone on speaker and placed it on the pillow next to you. It almost feels like Jeonghan is there. It reminds you of before. Just like with Seungcheol, Jeonghan became your closest confidant very quickly.
“I wish you had said that to me before all this.”
He hummed. “You didn’t listen to Seungcheol. What would make you listen to me?”
You feel it again, that pang of regret. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not the one who needs an apology, angel.”
You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “Apologising won’t do shit. Seungcheol is an action guy. I need to prove to him that I’m in this for the long run.”
“That, you are right about. Smart girl.”
You crack a smile. “So, can you help me?”
Another hum, this one more contemplative. You can hear shuffling on his end.
“I’m hosting a dinner at my place this weekend. Nothing fancy, just the usual gang and barbecue.”
You perk up in interest. “Everyone will be there?”
“They sure will. We all miss you, you know? It’s not the same without you and Cheol slobbering all over each other in front of our food.”
You laugh, for the first time in a while, remembering all the times Jihoon had put his fork down to chastise the two of you for ruining dinner. Your heart squeezes again, and you sigh.
“Well, there will be no slobbering this time.”
You can hear Jeonghan scoff. “I wouldn’t be so sure. That man can’t resist you even if he physically restrains himself.”
You smile and feel your face flush, but it falters immediately.
“I miss him, Hannie.”
Jeonghan is quiet for a few seconds. “I know he is being a hardass right now, but trust me angel, he misses you too.”
When you finally hang up the phone, you feel lonelier than you have in months. A hollow feeling, in the very depths of your chest, making your breath catch. You hear Seungcheol’s laugh in your head, and tears gather quickly in your eyes before streaming down your face. You can’t help it, you open your phone to text him.
[me]: goodnight my cheolie. i’ll wait for you
He doesn’t reply.
…………………………….
“Hey- I saw that! Put it back.” Seungkwan has the cutest pout on his face, and you can’t help but bat your eyelashes at him innocently, hoping he buys the act. You know he won’t. Unfortunately, when you’ve tried to trick people enough times during card games, they become immune to your charms.
“Don’t play coy.” Seungkwan swipes your desired card and places it at the bottom of the deck. “That may work on Seungcheol, but not on me.”
Soonyoung, who is gathered around the table with you, Seungkwan and Chan, snorts at the comment. On the couch at the other side of the room, Seungcheol glares at Seungkwan but doesn’t say anything. He has been uncharacteristically silent throughout dinner, even now when everyone is playing games or doing karaoke. Seungcheol loves karaoke, you know this. But you also know that a part of him doesn’t want you here.
He had been shocked when Jeonghan opened the door and you were standing on the other side, holding a large dish of beef sliders. Mingyu loves them, and it was what you brought to every hangout when you and Seungcheol were still together. The boys had ransacked the dish like a pack of wolves, thanking you and the gods that you were back. Seungcheol hadn’t said anything, but he had eaten one as well. Small victories.
This is why you keep pushing, keep coming around, keep texting him. Seungcheol hasn’t stopped you once, hasn’t told you to back off or go away. He hasn’t blocked your number, he hasn’t banned you from the gym. In fact, the receptionist would always greet you warmly, saying she had missed you. Had he said, even once, that he seriously wanted you out of his life, you would've respected his wishes and backed off. Even now, at Jeonghan’s barbecue, Seungcheol didn’t say a word in complaint. Granted, he didn’t say a word period, but he didn’t tell you to fuck off either, and that gave you a small kindling of hope that maybe, just maybe, he would forgive you one day.
“Okay, I’m out.” You announce to a chorus of groans and boos from the people at the table, standing up to walk to the kitchen. You’re thirsty, and beer isn’t doing it anymore. You need a fresh, cold glass of water. You don’t realise someone has followed you until you turn around and nearly scream at the sight of Seungcheol behind you. You jerk back and grip your chest tightly.
“Jeez.” You laugh breathlessly. “You scared me.”
He doesn’t reply, putting ice into a glass and getting water for himself too. You raise an eyebrow.
“You aren’t drinking?”
He shakes his head. “I had one. I have to drive home.”
You hum, watching his back move under his button up shirt. He looks good. Considering he is almost always in gym clothes, it’s nice to see him dressed up a bit. You voice this thought, and he jerks his head in a stiff nod, leaving with his glass. You sigh. It hurts your heart when he barely responds, almost like he’s talking to a flimsy fog lingering in the room and not an actual person.
Back in the living room, the smell of smoked meat has started drifting in from the half open sliding glass door that leads into the patio. It seems like Mingyu has begun serving the first batch, and Seungcheol has started grilling the next batch while Mingyu serves. You wait for the crowd of your friends to thin out from around the large man, taking a seat on the couch and watching Seungcheol grill instead. The smoke has already made a thin sheen of sweat build up on the sides of his face and down his neck. The gold chain he loves so much, a gift from you on your fourth anniversary, gleams against his pale skin. Some minutes pass before he looks up, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You give him a smile.
You can see, even from the distance, how the tips of his ears turn pink, and you bite your lip to tamp down your amusement. He is usually such a confident man, but his ability to get shy under attention is still so cute.
You’re so in love with him, it makes you a little crazy.
Jeonghan offers you some pork neck off his plate but you shake your head, finally standing up to grab a plate. When you step onto the patio, you go to peer at the tray in Mingyu’s hand for what’s left.
“Wait.” Seungcheol pipes up. “Get a fresh piece.”
That’s the most words he has said to you all evening. It catches you off guard, but you beeline to him anyway, a feeling bubbling in your chest that you haven’t felt in years. Like the times when Seungcheol was only just a crush, and the littlest interaction with him would kick your heart into overdrive. That kind of exciting, puppy love.
You watch him grill for a bit, patiently waiting, just happy to be so close to him. Seungcheol is laser focused on the meat. You can smell his cologne, and you relax into it. You miss him, even just the feeling of him close to you, which you never had to live without, considering you two were still hooking up even after you left. Finally, he gestures for the plate, and you hold it forward so he can drop some sizzling pieces on it.
“It looks great.” You compliment, biting down on the ‘so do you’ that you would usually add, making him grin and give you a wink. The tiniest of habits and quirks that you two had formed over the years. There’s so much you miss, so much you have lost.
“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” You stab the meat with a fork, and Seungcheol shakes his head.
“I’m almost done.” He mumbles.
“Here.” You hold the fork out on instinct, and you are reminded of how you would feed him while he cooked for his friends. You falter a bit when you realise what you’ve done, and you almost pull your hand back, but Seungcheol leans forward to bite the meat off your fork, throwing his head back to take it into his mouth. Both of you freeze for a second, and you see realization cross his face.
“Sorry.” You let out a laugh. “Force of habit.”
He shakes his head, and you can pinpoint the exact moment his eyes soften as he looks at you. “It’s okay.”
It’s okay. Your heart soars, and hesitantly, you stab another piece of meat, blowing on it and then holding it out. Seungcheol eats it.
“Eat it yourself too.” He mumbles, flipping the pieces on the grill and you nod, biting into your first piece. You hum when it nearly melts in your mouth.
“Good?” Seungcheol sounds amused.
“You already know it’s great.” You counter, playfully rolling your eyes. “Don’t fish for compliments.”
He laughs. An honest to god, deep belly laugh. You can’t help but close your eyes, unable to take the weight of the sound, basking in how it reverberates in your very nerves, settling a dull, thrumming anxiety that has resided in you since the moment you two broke up. It feels like finally untangling an overwhelming amount of wires. A feeling of accomplishment.
You stand there with him, eating the meat and feeding it to him as well. At one point, you pour some sauce on it, knowing Seungcheol likes the spicy stuff. He hums when he tastes it on the next piece, nodding in satisfaction. The boys filter in and out of the living room. When the next batch is up, you help Seungcheol and Mingyu serve the meat, and Seungcheol feeds you a hot piece straight off the grill. Jeonghan winks at you when you put food on his plate, and you give him a grateful smile.
After dinner, everyone pitches in to clean up, the conversation getting rowdier as Seokmin decides to open a bottle of whiskey. You refuse, sticking to beer, and so does Seungcheol, who has to go home after this. Most of everyone else doesn’t hold back, since they are crashing at Jeonghan’s. You laugh yourself hoarse over jokes and games, and for a second, it feels like the last eight months never happened.
When it starts getting very late, you sigh and stand up finally, announcing your departure. You are met with a series of disappointed groans, but you stick to your word, opening your phone to order an Uber. This is when Jeonghan stops you.
“That’s ridiculous. Cheol is leaving too. He can drop you off.”
This cheeky little shit. Even when tipsy, you can see the scheming gleam in his eyes, and Seungcheol looks like he is caught off guard as well. You hesitate.
“It’s fine.” You wave your hand as if to swat away the suggestion. “I came here on an Uber. I can just call one to take me back.”
Seungcheol sighs and shakes his head. “No, he’s right. I’ll drop you off.”
“It’s really okay-”
“Get in the car.”
Jeonghan snorts and you give him a nasty look, but comply. There’s no point arguing with Seungcheol. He’s stubborn as a mule when he wants to be.
“I would’ve been fine.” You mumble anyway, determined to get the last word. You see Seungcheol roll his eyes as he slips his jacket on, but there’s a tug on the corners of his lips, and you try to bite down on your own smile.
The ride is silent save for the low sound of the radio playing. You stare out of the passenger seat window, replaying the evening in your head. It had gone way better than you expected. You had imagined an evening of stilted conversation, or worse case scenario, Seungcheol would’ve left the second you arrived. Instead, after the first rough hour, it was almost like nothing had changed. Like you and Seungcheol had never called it quits. Like he still loved you with the same intensity as before, when he wanted to marry you and be with you for the rest of your lives.
You breathe deep, holding it in your chest until your lungs protested, before letting it out in a loud whoosh.
“You okay?” Seungcheol finally chimes in. You turn your head to look at him, admiring his side profile. The strong bridge of his nose, the firm set of his jaw. Before, when you would lay with him at nighttime, you would thumb at the shell of his ear. A small but intimate gesture, and he would tell you that it would make him feel tingly all over. You would replace your fingers with your lips then, and Seungcheol’s shoulders would bunch up, laughing at the feeling.
You clench your hands so you don’t touch him.
“I’m great.” You say instead, smiling at him. He nods and gives you the tiniest smile back. For a brief second, his cheek indents in a dimple.
When you stop in front of your apartment building, Seungcheol turns the car off and silence descends in the absence of the hum of the engine. You stare at each other, searching his eyes for anything. For that same warmth that he always held for you.
“I miss you.” You can’t help it. You had been good all night. A woman can only have so much restraint.
“You’re drunk.”
“I only had one beer.”
A disbelieving look. “You had at least two.”
“So you were watching me?”
There’s mirth in your tone. You’re teasing him. But there is none in his when he replies, soft, barely heard if the car wasn’t so silent.
“I’m always watching you.”
Your breath stills. Your eyes don’t break from his. They can’t, like he’s holding them hostage. You don’t know who moves first, who closes the distance, but it doesn’t matter. Because his lips are finally, finally on yours, and it feels nothing like any kiss in the last eight months. You pour every bleeding emotion into it, gripping his collar hard as his hands cup the sides of your head, weaving into your hair and tilting your head so he can kiss you harder, deeper, and you moan into him. Half relief, half pleasure.
“This doesn’t mean anything.” His voice is lower, garbled into your mouth between the mess of tongues and teeth.
“Okay.”
“This is just-” He tugs on your arm with one hand, the other pulling on the lever next to his seat so that it slides back. “This is just sex.”
“Okay.”
You straddle his hips, lips not leaving his for a single moment. He fumbles with your pants, and you nearly curse as you twist your body in ten different ways, trying to shimmy them off in your uncomfortable position. But you don’t separate from him, not for one second, biting his top lip and making him groan. Your hands fumble with the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them.
It takes record time, the quickest yet, for you to finally sink down on his cock, sighing into his mouth at the feeling of his head carving forward into you, brushing just over your cervix, and you almost cum there and then at how good he feels, how bad you had missed him, even though you had been apart for maybe two weeks. It wasn’t even your longest streak yet, but it felt charged in a way that nothing else had felt so far.
“Christ.” Seungcheol groans, deep in his throat, and you feel the vibration from where your hand rests on his chest. You’re already breathing hard, eyes struggling to stay open, because you would rather die than miss the sight under you. Seungcheol’s head thrown back, the strain on the thick cords of his neck, shifting under his sweaty skin.
He’s a vision.
“Don’t-” His jaw ticks, fingers digging into your bare hips. “Start moving or I’m gonna cum right here.”
You let out a breathless laugh, rolling your hips slightly to test your legs. His lips part, and you can’t resist the urge to lean forward and kiss him again, finally setting a slow rhythm that allows him to hit deep inside you with every drop of your hips.
The windows fog up quickly as your ministrations continue, moving back and forth, up and down over him. His tongue moves languidly with yours, guiding your hips with his hands. You can feel his abs clench under the material of his shirt, and you dig teasingly into the muscle periodically. You grind in a way that makes your clit brush over his pelvis deliciously, sending sparks shooting up from your core. Seungcheol groans into your mouth occasionally, and by now, spit is running down your chin, but you don’t part for a single second, unable to bear even the slightest distance between the two of you.
“Cheolie.” You whine into him when you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, and he hums.
“Close, baby?” His words make you clench, and his hips buck up at the feeling. You nod.
His hands leave your hips in favor of wrapping his arms tight around your waist to immobilize you, and he spreads his legs so he can plant his feet more firmly on the car floor. Then, he starts pistoning up, ramming his cock hard into you, and the tranquility of the moment breaks, replaced by something more electric, more primal, more desperate. He is chasing your high as well as his own, one hand reaching up to cup the back of your head, pressing your forehead tight to his so you can look at nothing but his eyes.
“You’re gonna cum all over me?” He grits out, and you whine, nodding as much as you can under his dominating grip.
“Please….” You don’t know what you’re begging for. You just are. For him, for this moment, for your impending high.
“I’m here, my love.” You almost weep. “Come on. Be a good girl and soak me. Cum on my cock.”
And you do, body tightening as your orgasm crashes into you with the force of a twenty ton truck, making you twitch and jerk in Seungcheol’s merciless hold. You cry and shake through it, going pliant in his hold, letting him do whatever he wants to you as you come down from the feeling, your vision tilting and spinning.
Seungcheol keeps moving, breaths ragged and broken. You mouth at his jaw, clenching around him deliberately. He groans again.
“Gimme.” You slur. “Want it, Cheolie. Gimme your cum.”
“Fuck.” He pushes deep into you, making your eyes squeeze shut. Warmth washes over your insides and Seungcheol trembles under you, voice deep, reverberating against your chest, his face buried in your hair, arms tight around you. They finally loosen a minute or so later as he relaxes into the seat, head thrown back to gasp and catch his breath.
You lift yourself up on shaky arms, enough to peer down at him. He eyes you, gaze still a little foggy, reaching up to brush your sweaty hair off your forehead.
“I really can’t stay away from you, can I?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you smile anyway.
“I hope not.”
He hums, hands running soothingly over your naked thighs. His eyelids fall shut and he sighs deeply, basking in the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, eyes still closed. “You’ve apologized enough, Y/N.”
“Not nearly enough.” You trace over his chest with your fingertips. “I could never apologize enough. I hurt you. I broke you-”
“Stop.”
“I promise, I will never stop making it up to you. I will do anything, anything-”
“But you won’t shut up, will you?”
You pout and frown at Seungcheol, who opens one eye to look at you, face breaking into an amused smile.
“This isn’t funny.”
He purses his lips. “It’s a little funny.”
“How?” You roll your eyes.
“Well,” he shifts a little under you, and you try not to think about the mess between your legs, “my dick is still inside you, and you’re confessing your love to me.”
You gape at him. “Okay, first of all-”
He laughs loudly, the same, deep belly laugh from before. You smile briefly, your argument dying in your throat at the sound. You watch him, his slightly flushed cheeks, the mess of brown hair on his head, sprawled around him like a pillow. You lean down, resting your head on his chest. You feel his arms come up to wrap around you, and you bask in the warmth of his embrace.
You know there’s still a long way to go. But this, this feels right, like a part of the universe previously disrupted is finally falling back into place. That hollow feeling inside you has all but filled, and you are back where you belong. The silence around you is the most peaceful you have felt in almost a year, and you close your eyes, listening to the beat of Seungcheol’s heart, before he finally speaks up.
genre — smut [fingering, p in v, multiple orgasms (f receiving), creampie, dirty talk (praise)], fluff
it’s always been the same routine the past few months. chan would send a cliche “you up?” text. you’d pretend to be annoyed then end up in his bed or let him into yours anyways.
and after you’re both done, one of you would leave. it was easy. simple. no strings attached. something you had both agreed on when you started your friends with benefits arrangement.
tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different.
you were on your way home when chan texted so you stopped by his place immediately. nothing was different from any previous nights when you walked in.
chan greets you with a rough, bruising kiss the minute he let you in.
“thanks for coming,” he mumbled against your lips before his tongue is pushing past them. “everything okay?” you gasp against his lips but he doesn’t reply.
he acts like nothing’s wrong, like nothing’s on his mind.
“you wore this for me, hm?” he teases, squeezing your ass through the short skirt.
“don’t flatter yourself, i was out with friends when you texted,” you roll your eyes, but lean your head back as his lips moved to your jaw.
“maybe. but I’ll bet you’re wet. and that’s for me, not your friends,” he mumbled against your jaw.
his lips move down to your throat as he slips his hand into your panties, sliding two fingers into your pussy too easily. he’s groaning at how slick you are, muttering about how you need this just as much as he does.
chan doesn’t waste any time bringing you closer to your orgasm. he never does. every time you do this, he makes you cum first before he even considers his own orgasm.
unless he’s mean that night and wants to edge you til you’re crying. but it didn’t seem like tonight was that night.
your legs are already shaking when he makes you cum for the first time that night.
you barely remember how you get there, but you’re in his bed now.
“been thinking about this all day,” chan whispers in your ear. you’re on your hands and knees, feeling the tip of his leaking cock teasing your soaked folds.
“then fuck me how you need it,” you tease, wiggling your ass back against him.
he pushes into you with ease, both of you groaning when he bottoms out. he lets you adjust for a moment before he’s rougher.
“f-fuck- chan-” you whimper as his fingertips pressed harder into your hips, surely leaving bruises that’ll form in the morning.
“you love this, don’t you? the way i use you?” he whispers in your ear. his words make you clench around him, a soft whimper leaving your lips as he lets out a chuckle.
“yeah, you do. always taking me so perfectly. no one else takes me like you do,” he groans.
his hand curls around your throat, pulling you up so your back arches and you’re looking up at him.
“such a good girl for me, taking everything i give.” he presses a kiss to your forehead. a gesture a little too soft for someone who’s just your situationship.
but you’re not too focused on that with the way chan’s cock is sliding in and out of you.
he releases your throat, letting your face press back against the mattress as his hands go back to gripping your hips.
you’re getting close. chan notices your hand reaching between your thighs and he slaps it away, replacing it with his own fingers as he rubs your clit.
“you gonna cum for me baby? gonna make a mess on my cock like a good girl before i fill you up?”
you barely reply, only broken moans leaving your lips.
you cum on his cock with a cry as chan slows his thrusts, pulling out. you start protesting, mumbling about how he hasn’t cum yet when he flips you onto your back, your legs splaying open for him.
“oh, I’m not done with you yet, baby,” he smirks down at you, sliding his cock back into your soaked, overstimulated pussy.
you feel another orgasm building up, and now you’re the one marking him. your nails dig into his arms as you hold onto him.
“that’s it baby, eyes on me. wanna see your pretty face when you make a mess for me.” he coos as he rubs your clit.
chan chases his own orgasm after you cum. his thrusts get sloppier, a clear sign you’ve learned to recognize when he’s getting close.
he slams into you once more before he’s spilling inside you, groaning lowly in your ear. he collapses on top of you as he pumps every last drop into your pussy, his face buried in your neck as you both catch your breaths.
you let out a hiss from the sensitivity when his cock slowly drags out of you, his cum dripping out of you.
you’re feeling all floaty, barely registering that he’s left the bed until you feel a wet cloth cleaning between your thighs.
you lay there, let him clean you while he mumbled soft praises.
“took me so well.”
“so pretty when you make a mess for me.”
when chan steps away to toss the cloth in his laundry bin, you’re sitting up, reaching for your shirt to get dressed.
it’s a routine. one you’re both used to. but before you slip your skirt back on, chan stops you.
“just stay here tonight,” he says casually. “we don’t do sleepovers,” you remind him, sliding your skirt on over your hips anyways.
“it’s too late for you to go home,” chan shrugs. it’s a lousy excuse, you both know this. you call him out on it.
“I’ve left at later times,” you remind him. “okay fine. maybe i want you to stay tonight,” chan huffs.
he immediately regrets it when he sees the smirk on your lips. “what? you want post sex cuddles now?” you tease.
“don’t make this a whole thing,” he groans, pulling you back onto his bed, burying his face in your neck.
“oh I’m definitely making this a thing. lee chan, wanting a sleepover after sex? who are you? did i break you?” you giggle as he groans.
“brat,” he pinches your side lightly. “ask nicely then,” you tease and he looks up at you with a glare.
“nevermind, you can leave,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle softly. but he gives in anyways.
“will you stay the night?” he mumbles against your neck.
“I don’t know… I’m already dressed.” you tease and he just rolls his eyes again, flipping you onto your back.
“you and i both know i have no issue with undressing you.”
and when you settle against his pillows, dressed in one of his shirts now with his arm around your waist, you’re both starting to realize that maybe it’s not just casual anymore.
📲 SLOWLY FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOUR PLUG ✶ Chwe Vernon
ⓘ content info ⸺ paring. plug!vernon x f!reader. genre | tags. smau, fake texts, one-shot, strangers to lovers, fluff. warnings. weed consumption (the plot lol), reader is dealing with anxiety.
ʚ A/N: Today’s kind of a big deal for me… and since you don’t know why, let me just say it: it’s my birthday 👉🏻👈🏻 I kinda treated myself with this one ‘cause I’ve always wanted to read something like it and could never find one… Hope you guys have just as much fun reading it as i did making it. mwah 💋
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Every ask & comment gives me life 💗 If you’re enjoying it, don’t forget to reblog—helps so much and gets the fic out there!!
Hot take, idols are allowed to date. They'll never wanna date you anyways so like, it doesn't really matter if they're dating or not I guarantee you they don't want a 12 year old hater on the internet who claims to be soulmates with them. Y'all are really weird, seriously. And with the whole Katseye boyfriend things people are like "but I thought Lara was Bi?" Or "I thought Megan was bi?" Are you stupid? "OMG they're bi but they're dating men!?!?!? Ew!!! 🤮" Bisexual means they like women AND men. Also either way it's none of our fucking business who ANYONE is dating, we like to think that we're entitled to these people's private lives for some reason, we're not. Whatever they decide to share with us, we're lucky that they're sharing it. Remember that. Keep yourselves humble.
summary: in which yunho is a cloud of smoke and emotions and everything you need
warning: hard dom/possessive yunho, he’s also a drug dealer, sub reader, yunho is big, throat fucking, masturbation, fingering, tongue fucking, spanking, choking, squirting, multiple orgasm, edging, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of smoking and use of drugs
genre: smut
pairing: dealer yunho x afab reader
word count: 11.2k
note: I have had multiple requests for a smoking yunho one shot since his movie dropped so here yall go 😭
masterlist
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The sun was low enough to blind you, slicing between buildings as you trudged the final block to your apartment, heels in one hand, bag slung over your shoulder like a weight you’d gladly yeet into traffic. Your blouse was sticking to your back, your jaw hurt from clenching through meetings, and your boss, who you were convinced had a personal vendetta against happiness, had made a passive aggressive comment about your “attitude” before you even had a chance to clock out.
You were so close to going full office menace and flipping her desk. Instead, you’d smiled. Nodded. Internalized the rage like a professional. And now your feet were burning, your head was pounding, and all you wanted was a shower hot enough to peel your skin off.
That was before you saw him. Yunho. Leaning against the brick wall just outside the building’s front steps, one foot kicked back behind him, the other planted solid like he was the only thing keeping the sidewalk from cracking open. Cigarette perched between his lips, blunt tucked behind his ear like an afterthought, a slow curl of smoke escaping with every exhale.
He was mid deal, low murmurs exchanged with a guy slouched in a black Altima idling at the curb. The window was rolled halfway down, and the customer’s face was mostly obscured, but you could see cash flash between fingers. Quick, efficient, clean. Yunho’s hand slipped into his hoodie pocket, traded something unmarked in a small bag, and pulled the cigarette from his mouth as he leaned forward to say something you couldn’t hear.
Your chest clenched, not from fear, not even from judgment. Just from the sheer… existence of him. God, he looked good in the dying light. Hood up, casting part of his face in shadow. Gray sweats low on his hips. A plain black hoodie unzipped just enough to show a sliver of skin at his collarbone. That stupid necklace he always wore, black braided chord with a chipped shark tooth that glinted when he moved.
You didn’t stop. You were exhausted, sticky, annoyed, and pretending you didn’t notice him was easier than dealing with the way your stomach flipped every time he looked at you. But you should’ve known better.
“Y/N!”
His voice came as you passed, rough around the edges from the smoke. Lazy and deep, making you pause, turning, already knowing what you’d see. Yunho was watching you. His deal was done, car door shut, engine pulling away into traffic. He stood up straighter, still holding the cigarette, watching you with those dark, unreadable eyes. “You look like you just murdered someone.”
“Not yet,” you muttered, stepping closer without meaning to. “Give me five minutes and a blunt.” That made him smile. Barely. Just the corner of his mouth tilting up like he knew something you didn’t. He held up a hand, tapping the back of his ear where the blunt was tucked. “Shower first,” you added, pointing a warning finger at him as you trudged toward the front door. “Or I’ll actually cry.”
“Couch’ll be ready,” he said casually, taking another drag. “You want food?” You stopped in your tracks, turning back with a squint. “What kind?” He shrugged, exhaled smoke. “Whatever keeps you from catching a felony charge tomorrow.”
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You knocked once, then let yourself in. Yunho’s apartment was dim and warm, the way it always was, lights low, one candle burning on the coffee table, the scent of sandalwood and weed wrapping around you like a blanket. You knew he wouldn’t mind. You’d showered back in your own place, dressed down into soft pajama pants and a tshirt, hair damp and tied up loosely on your head. Comfort mode activated.
Ghost, Yunho’s spoiled rotten grey persian cat, sat perched on the back of the couch, her yellow eyes narrowing as you walked in like she hadn’t spent the last week curled against your side any time you stayed too long. Ungrateful little princess.
Yunho was already on the couch, blunt between his fingers, hoodie unzipped over a black tank top and gray sweats low on his hips. One leg stretched out, the other bent casually beneath him like he had no idea how good he looked. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. “You want first hit?” he asked, nodding to the blunt.
You flopped down beside him with a sigh, legs folding under you as you leaned into the cushions. “Please. If I don’t, I’ll scream. I was one per my last email away from catching a case today.” He chuckled and passed it over, watching you take a long, grateful drag. It hit smooth, warm, a little sweet, your favorite mix. Of course he remembered.
You let the smoke curl from your lips, then handed it back. “You spoil me.”
“I like when you’re not homicidal,” he said, taking it between his fingers again. “Less paperwork.”
You were both mid laugh when the knock came. Three sharp raps. You froze. Your smile slipped as Yunho looked toward the door, jaw tightening. “Fuck,” you muttered, already standing. There was only one person you knew who knocked like that.
Yunho didn’t move. He just leaned back, arm on the couch, still holding the blunt as he watched you walk across the room and opened his door. Chris, your boyfriend for the last year, stood there, looking like Wall Street’s worst export in a wrinkle free shirt and overpriced cologne. His expression twisted the second he saw you, casual, comfortable, relaxed, like you’d committed some betrayal by being cozy without him. “What are you doing here?”
You rolled your eyes. You would ask him the same thing but that’s how you met. Yunho was his dealer. “I’ve been calling you,” he said, stepping into the apartment like he owned it. You backed up automatically, shoulders stiff. “Phone’s charging. I was decompressing.”
Chris’s eyes shifted past you, to the couch, to Yunho, still lounging like a storm waiting to happen. “You were decompressing with him?” he asked, voice sharp. “I live across the hall, remember,” you snapped. “It’s not like I flew to Cabo with the guy.”
Chris’s jaw worked. “You’re high?” Yunho finally moved. Just a slight shift of posture, sitting up straighter, ash flicked into the tray, blunt balanced between his knuckles. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous. “She came over after a long day,” Yunho said evenly. “I’m her friend, remember?”
Chris ignored him. “You got off work and came straight here?”
“Chris,” you warned, “I’m not in the mood.” He turned on Yunho instead. “You really think it’s okay to get high with someone else’s girlfriend?” That was it. Yunho stood. Not fast. Not loud. Just stood, all six feet plus of calm fury in a black hoodie and sweats, smoke curling past his lips like a warning sign. “I think it’s not okay,” he said lowly, stepping forward, “for you to walk into my apartment like you own her.”
Chris took a step back and Yunho didn’t stop. “You came to buy pills, right? Or just flex?” Chris flinched. “I… whatever, man. I’ll get what I came for.” Yunho pulled a small bottle from his hoodie pocket and tossed it toward Chris without a word.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You didn’t even look back just followed Chris across the hall to your own apartment, Chris stood there, arms crossed like he had something important to say, but when he looked at you, really looked at you, it wasn’t with concern.
It was accusation. “You gonna tell me what the fuck that was?” You blinked, stunned. “Are you serious?”
“Don’t act like that didn’t look bad,” he said, brushing past you into the apartment like it was his. You turned to follow, eyes already burning. “I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You were in his apartment,” he snapped. “Getting high, in your pajamas, laughing with him…”
“I went over for food and a blunt because I had a shitty day,” you shot back, louder now. “And you showed up like a fucking warden…”
“I am your boyfriend,” he said, stepping closer. “You think I’m just gonna be cool with you spending the night over there?”
Your heart slammed once, hard. “First of all,” you said through clenched teeth, “I wasn’t spending the night. And second, maybe you should focus less on me being around Yunho and more on why you need to pop two percs just to get through a Monday.”
That one landed. Chris’s face went still. His voice, when it came, was colder. “So now you’re judging me?”
“I’m exhausted,” you hissed. “I had one fucking hour to myself and you ruined it. Again.”
“Oh, I ruined it?” he scoffed, throwing his hands up. “You’re acting like I caught you cheating!”
“Cheating?” you repeated, laughing once without humor. “You think I’m the problem? You…. you buy drugs from my neighbor, barge into his apartment, embarrass me, and then act like I’m the one sneaking around?”
He stared at you. Then shrugged. “I don’t trust him,” Chris said simply, like that settled it. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.” You stared at him for a long, stunned second. Then shook your head and walked toward the door. “Get out.”
“What?”
You grabbed the handle, opened it wide. “I said get out.”
“You’re kicking me out? Over this?”
“Over everything,” you said, voice shaking. “I’m tired, Chris. I’m tired of explaining basic respect to a grown man.” He hesitated, just for a moment. But your face said you weren’t bluffing. He muttered something under his breath, grabbed his keys, and stormed out.
You shut the door before the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hall. And for a long time… you just stood there. Not angry. Not sad.
Just empty.
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You should’ve seen it coming. The way your boss called you into her office without a real reason. The way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. The way your badge was deactivated before you even made it back to your desk. “We’re downsizing,” she’d said.
You didn’t buy it. But what could you do? You packed your things, rode the subway in silence, and walked the final three blocks home through rain so heavy it felt personal. No umbrella. No coat. Just your hoodie soaked through, hair plastered to your face, bag clutched to your chest like it could protect you from anything other than everything.
You hit the building’s steps at the same time Yunho did. He was dressed for the weather in his own way, hood up, cigarette tucked between his lips, hands deep in his hoodie pockets. His sweatpants were soaked halfway up the leg. He looked at you, blinked once, and immediately flicked the cigarette into the street. “Hey,” he said, voice calm like thunder wasn’t rattling the city behind you. “You good?”
You didn’t answer. Just shook your head once and kept walking, Yunho following you silently. The two of you made it to the front door at the same time, and as soon as Yunho keyed in the code and swung it open, the building groaned. The lights above fizzled once and went black.
You both paused. “Shit,” he muttered as you let out a breath and took the first step up the stairs. “Come on. Ghost’ll panic if the power stays out.” He huffed a small laugh and followed because of course you remember his cat hates thunderstorms.
It was dark, humid, the air thick with storm and silence. His footfalls matched yours as you climbed, heavy and unhurried. You were halfway up the second floor when lightning lit up the windows for half a second and then came the sound. A zipper. You turned the corner and froze.
He didn’t see you right away. Chris. Standing just outside an apartment door, not yours, not even close. His back was to you, shirt half untucked, zipper just sliding up as a familiar voice giggled from inside. Donna. A girl Yunho has turned down multiple times. Same girl who flirted with Chris right in front of you once.
Your stomach dropped so fast it felt like falling through the floor as Chris turned. His eyes met yours and he froze, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Yunho was two steps behind you, and he came up short the moment he registered what you were staring at.
Chris opened his mouth. Closed it. His face drained of color. “Baby…. I…”
You blinked as Donna called lazily from inside, voice echoing down the stairwell. “Hey, you left your belt…” She stopped short when she saw you.
“You fucking asshole,” Yunho muttered, stepping forward. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. You were shaking. Wet. Fired. And now humiliated.
Chris finally tried to speak again. “It’s not what it…”
“Shut the fuck up,” Yunho snapped, loud now. “Don’t say one more word to her.” Chris squared up, but it was weak, defensive and guilty. “This isn’t your business.” Yunho laughed. But it wasn’t funny. It was the kind of laugh people give when they’re one wrong word from swinging.
“She is my business,” Yunho said, stepping closer. “She always fucking has been.” That made Chris stop cold as Yunho looked at you. “Come on,” he said softly, holding his hand out. “Let’s go.” You didn’t take it. But you did turn away. One step. Two. Yunho followed, silent again, letting you feel it. Letting you hold it. Because he knew if he touched you right now, you’d fall apart, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.
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Your apartment was pitch black, the air thick with humidity and silence. You didn’t bother turning on your flashlight. Just leaned back against the closed door and exhaled for the first time since you saw Chris outside Donna’s. Zipping up his pants like it was nothing. Like you were nothing. Your breath came out shaky, but no tears followed. Not this time. You didn’t feel sadness. You didn’t even feel rage. What washed over you, slow and warm and terrifying, was something simpler.
Relief. He made it easy. After all the gaslighting. After all the guilt tripping. After making you question yourself for months… He made it so easy.
You pushed off the door, stripped as you walked, clothes wet and clinging. The rain had seeped through everything, down to your skin, into your bones. In the bathroom, the darkness was nearly complete. You lit a candle on the edge of the sink, then stepped into the shower, letting the warm water hit your neck, your shoulders, the back of your skull.
You didn’t cry. You didn’t speak. You just stood there, steam rising into the black, hands braced against the tile as the rain from outside continued to pound against the building. But it couldn’t reach you here. You were done. Done being made to feel small. Done being someone’s accessory. Done hiding in other people’s shadows.
Chris made it easy. And Yunho… Yunho never asked you to be anything but yourself.
You toweled off slowly, letting your hair stay damp and wild. Pulled on a pair of pajama shorts, soft and worn. A tank top, no bra. Bare feet. Clean skin.
The apartment was still dark. The hallway was darker as you opened the door without thinking and padded across the hall, body warm from the shower but still buzzing with something else. Need, maybe. Or clarity. Yunho’s door wasn’t locked. It never was. Not for you. You pushed it open gently, and found the apartment lit by nothing but the flicker of the same candle he’d always had burning, low, honey toned, barely lighting his living room.
He was on the couch, hoodie off, hair damp too now like he’d also showered. A second blunt was burning in the ashtray. Ghost was curled on the far cushion, tail flicking slowly. He looked up the second you stepped in. And didn’t say a word. He just… waited.
You stopped in front of him, looked down. And without a word, you reached up and pulled the blunt from behind his ear. His eyes followed your fingers the entire way. You didn’t light it. You sat down next to him, sinking into the couch like your bones had finally given out, like this was the only place your body trusted.
Ghost purred at you before jumping down and padding her way into the kitchen. The silence stretched as you exhaled, one short breath. Dry. Bitter. “So,” you said, eyes on the unlit blunt. “I got fired today.” Yunho blinked slowly, posture still, unreadable.
“And I found out I’ve been getting cheated on,” you continued, a hollow laugh catching in your throat. “So now I’m single. Unemployed. And apparently Donna’s sloppy seconds.”
Yunho’s head turned toward you, sharp and fast. But you weren’t done as you finally looked at him. “That’s a pretty solid Friday, right?” His jaw clenched. You saw it, just barely, in the flicker of the candle. But his hands stayed relaxed, resting on his thighs, like he was keeping himself still on purpose. Like one wrong move might make you bolt.
He didn’t speak.
You didn’t either.
You just looked at him, really looked, for the first time in a long time. At the way his throat moved when he swallowed. At the way he looked at you like this, you, broken, barefoot, smelling like sandalwood and stormwater, was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And you wondered why the hell it took this long.
You lit the blunt with Yunho’s silver lighter, your thumb finding the groove worn into it from years of use, and took the first hit. It was smoother than you expected. Warm in your chest. Calming in a way nothing else had been all week. You handed it back to him without a word.
He didn’t speak still, just took it between his lips, leaned back, eyes half lidded, and exhaled like it was a release he’d been holding in for days.
One hit turned into two. Then a second blunt. He rolled it in silence, hands skilled and calm, and you watched him, watched his fingers, the press of his thumb, the flick of his lighter. Like a ritual. Like therapy. He passed it to you as you curled your legs underneath you, leaning into the arm of the couch, letting the high settle low in your belly, fog your brain just enough to let your shoulders drop.
The candle burned lower. The storm outside got louder. By the third blunt, you were gone enough to let the words tumble out. You turned to him slowly, eyes heavy, mouth soft, “You’re quiet.”
Yunho didn’t look at you at first. Just took another slow pull and let the smoke curl from his lips, rising into the dim air like a question. “I’ve been trying not to say the wrong thing,” he said finally, voice low and rough, laced with that edge you’d only ever heard when he was defending you. “Because if I do… I won’t be able to stop.”
You blinked, the high sharpening the sound of his voice like it had teeth as he passed the blunt back, but didn’t move closer. “Chris never deserved you,” he continued, eyes locked on the floor. “Not for one second. Not the first time he showed up here pretending he owned you. Not the first time I heard you crying through the wall. Not the night you fell asleep on my couch holding my hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you together.”
Your breath caught.
“I should’ve told you,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be that guy. The one waiting for his moment. I didn’t want to use your pain as an excuse to say what I’ve wanted to say for almost two years.”
You swallowed. “Which is?”
He looked at you then. Really looked. “That I’ve been in love with you since the night you knocked on my door barefoot and furious and didn’t apologize for either.”
Your chest cracked open. There were no fireworks. No music swell. Just the silence between you stretching thinner and thinner until it couldn’t hold anymore.
You moved slowly. Not rushed. Not unsure. You crawled into his lap like you’d always belonged there, one leg over his thigh, hands finding his jaw. He froze, like he didn’t believe it. Like this was another one of his dreams as you took the blunt from his mouth. Took a hit. Held it. And then leaned in, close enough to brush your nose against his, and exhaled into his mouth just before your lips touched his.
The kiss was soft at first. Careful. Like a question neither of you had dared to ask until now. But when his hand slid up your back, slow and firm, and your fingers fisted in the front of his tank,
that question became a promise. The kiss deepened faster than either of you expected. What started soft, your lips ghosting his, that lazy exhale of smoke between you, became a slide, a grip, a need.
Yunho’s hands found your thighs first, fingers pressing into bare skin just beneath the hem of your pajama shorts like he couldn’t help himself. You moved instinctively, rolling your hips forward just enough to make him groan into your mouth. “Fuck,” he breathed against your lips. “You’re high. We should stop…”
You kissed him again before he could finish. “So are you.” Your tongue dragged against his as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged, just enough to make him tilt his head back, exposing the curve of his throat. You mouthed along it, lips brushing the skin just beneath his jaw.
His hands slid up your sides, tank top bunching beneath his palms, and he pulled you flush against him, the bulge in his sweats pressing hard between your thighs. Your bodies slotted together like a secret neither of you could keep anymore. You felt his hand reach blindly toward the ashtray, grabbing the blunt, burnt nearly to the end now. He brought it to his lips, lit it again, and took one last pull, eyes still on you. Then he handed it back.
You took it between your lips, hit it slow, watching his mouth as he watched yours. You didn’t blow the smoke away this time. You kissed it into him. Your mouth open over his, smoke curling between tongues, lips sliding messy and perfect and greedy. His hands were everywhere now, your waist, your thighs, your back, like he couldn’t choose, like he was starving.
You dropped the blunt into the tray without looking. And then you started rocking. Slow at first, just a tease of friction between your bodies. Yunho’s head dropped against the couch cushion, eyes half lidded as he hissed through his teeth. “Jesus,” he whispered. But you didn’t stop. You kissed him again, harder this time, lips dragging, teeth nipping, hips grinding down like you’d been waiting for this exact moment since the day you met him.
He growled low in his chest, hands gripping your thighs tighter. “You’re torturing me.” You smirked, breath hot against his cheek. “You like it.” He pulled back just far enough to look at you. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough and reverent. “I really fucking do.”
You finished the blunt together in slow, stolen breaths, legs still straddling him, fingers lazily tangled in the hem of his shirt, mouths brushing in between every pull. By the time it burned down to ash, the air around you was thick with heat and smoke and everything unsaid. You felt weightless. Feral. Like you could crawl inside him and still not be close enough.
Your hand moved to his jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where your kiss had already smudged the remnants of ash and affection. And Yunho just… watched you. His eyes darker now. Hooded. Lips slightly parted, breath shallow, chest rising a little too fast for someone trying to keep control.
Then he moved. Quick and quiet and sudden, he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, your body sinking into the cushions beneath you before you had a chance to gasp. But you did gasp. Because now he was over you. One hand beside your head, the other firm on your thigh, keeping you spread beneath him. His hips pressed down just enough to make you feel how hard he’d been, how hard he still was. But he didn’t grind. He didn’t rut.
He held back. Barely. His mouth found your neck like it belonged there, lips warm and open, tongue dragging slow along your pulse before he kissed like it was his only way of staying in control. You moaned before you could stop yourself, hips twitching up into him. That’s when you felt it. The shift. Yunho groaned, a low sound buried against your skin, and his hand on your thigh tightened. He breathed you in like he was trying to memorize you. And when he pulled back just enough to look at you, it wasn’t soft anymore.
Not fully. His voice dropped, deeper, slower, like he was trying not to say something. Like he was biting down on instinct. “If you knew the shit I think about when you sit on my couch like that…” His hand slid under your tank top, fingers rough against your bare skin, but he still didn’t touch where you wanted.
Not yet.
“I’m not soft, baby,” he murmured, dragging his lips back to your throat. “Not like this.” Your breath caught. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, at his back, trying to pull him closer as he kissed you again, harder this time, tongue sweeping against yours as his body pressed down into yours, making you feel the full weight of what he was holding back.
His tongue slid against yours, heat crashing between your bodies like it had been waiting years to finally break free. His hands were on your thighs, your hips, under your tank, gripping like he didn’t know where to start because he wanted all of you. And then he stilled. Just for a second. Just long enough to pull back, eyes locked on yours, voice low and rough and dangerous as it dropped into the space between your lips. “Tell me what you want.”
Not needy. Not desperate. A command disguised as a question as you stared up at him, breath catching, heat pooling low in your stomach like lava. And you didn’t flinch when you reached for his face, thumb brushing his jaw. “I want you to ruin me.”
The sound Yunho made wasn’t human. It came from somewhere deeper, darker, pulled straight from the part of him he’d buried since the day you moved in across the hall. His mouth crashed back into yours like he’d been starved, tongue claiming, hands no longer hesitant, gripping your hips like handles, grinding down into you now, letting you feel every inch of how hard he was through the thin barrier of sweats and your shorts.
He kissed you like he meant to wreck you. And this time? He wasn’t holding back. Kissed you hard, deep, almost desperate, and then he pulled back just enough to grip your waist and drag you up with him. You moved together like gravity didn’t matter anymore, like the air had shifted in your lungs and the only thing keeping you grounded was him.
Your body pressed to his, chest to chest, your breath hot against his jaw. He didn’t speak. Just reached for the hem of your tank top and pulled it up slowly, his fingers dragging along your sides like he was learning you by touch. He didn’t rush, didn’t tear it away, he wanted this moment. Wanted to see you. All of you.
The second it was over your head, his eyes dropped. His hands followed. And you watched his mouth part, just slightly, like he couldn’t believe what was in front of him even though he’d imagined it a thousand times. Then he reached for the waistband of your shorts. Still no words. Just the slide of his knuckles against your skin as he dragged them down, slow, his palms brushing the sides of your thighs until you were in front of him in nothing but your panties, flushed and high and buzzing.
Your hands shook just a little when you reached for his shirt. But you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the hem, tugged it upward, and he let you. His arms lifted, slow and controlled, and you pulled it off over his head revealing sweat slick skin, lean muscle, the soft trail of hair beneath his navel that made your mouth go dry.
His chest rose and fell with each breath, and god, he was beautiful. But it was the way he looked at you that wrecked you. Like he wanted to devour.
Like he wanted to worship. Like he wanted to do both and never stop.
He leaned back in close, lips brushing your jaw, your ear, his voice low and thick with hunger. “Still want this?”
You didn’t answer his question. Didn’t whisper yes.
Didn’t give him permission. You just looked up at him, his flushed chest rising fast, lips parted, pupils blown wide, and reached down. Your fingers found the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled. He didn’t stop you. Didn’t speak. He just stood there, watching you with a hunger so sharp it cut right through the haze of weed and heat. His hands flexed at his sides, knuckles twitching like it physically hurt not to touch you while you undressed him.
You dragged the sweats down his hips slow, savoring it, teasing him without even meaning to. And when they dropped, you froze. Fuck. Your breath hitched just enough for him to catch it.
Because there was no ignoring it. Yunho wasn’t just big. He was thick, long, heavy against his thigh, already hard and twitching slightly like he’d been barely keeping it together this whole time. You blinked. And maybe, for a second, he thought you’d hesitate. But all it did was make your thighs press together.
You looked up at him again, and he was smirking now. Not cocky. Not smug. Hungry. Like he just saw something crack in you and couldn’t wait to slip into the space it left behind. “Not what you’re used to?” he asked, voice rough with restraint, lips brushing your temple as he leaned in, one hand finallyfinding your hip again.
You didn’t answer that either. You didn’t need to. Because when your hand reached out and wrapped around him, testing the weight, the thickness, the way his breath stuttered in his throat… You both knew. This was about to ruin you. Exactly like you asked for.
Your head was spinning in the best way, hazy from the blunt, skin buzzing, mouth dry and aching to be filled. You could feel everything. Every inch of him against your palm, the heat radiating off his body, the tension humming under his skin like a coil about to snap. And you didn’t want sweet. You didn’t want slow.
You wanted him to fuck your mouth until your knees gave out.
You dropped to the floor without a word, the carpet soft beneath your knees as your hand trailed down his thigh. Yunho froze, one hand still hovering like he wasn’t sure this was really happening. “Y/N,” he breathed, voice wrecked already, like just the sight of you on your knees had short circuited his brain. “You sure?”
You looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted, pupils blown wide. Then you leaned forward and licked a slow stripe up the length of his dick, heavy, hot, already leaking for you, before you wrapped your lips around the tip and sucked, hard, making Yunho groan, his hand flying into your hair, fingers curling tight like he couldn’t stop himself. “Fuck…”
You smiled around him. Because that’s what you wanted. You bobbed your head slow at first, letting yourself adjust, feeling the stretch, the weight, the heat and god, he filled your mouth so deep it made your eyes sting. But it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you. You pulled off with a wet pop, spit clinging to your chin, and looked up at him. “Don’t hold back.”
His jaw clenched. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, then grabbed your hair tighter and said, “Open for me.” You did. Wide. Tongue out. Eyes locked on his like a challenge. And Yunho? He snapped as he slid his dick back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, deeper this time, his grip tightening in your hair as he began to move, slow at first, testing your limits. But when you moaned around him, when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked like you wanted it rough, he growled low in his throat and picked up the pace.
“Fuck… look at you,” he hissed, hips rolling into your mouth now, each thrust more desperate. “Been thinking about this for so long. You on your knees, lips stretched around me…. mine.” You moaned, nails digging into his thighs as he used your mouth just how you wanted, deep, controlled, filthy. The drag of his dick against your tongue, the way your throat tightened with every thrust, it was dizzying, addictive, perfect.
You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t care. You needed this. Needed him. Yunho’s rhythm faltered just slightly as your hands slipped up, nails scraping his hips, pulling him deeper, begging without words. “Fucking… baby,” he gasped, voice wrecked. “Gonna cum down your throat if you keep doing that.”
The second you moaned around him, Yunho’s whole body shuddered. He wasn’t breathing steady anymore. He wasn’t thinking anymore. He tightened his grip in your hair, hard, and his hips snapped forward on instinct, his dick pushing deeper into your throat with a strangled groan.
And you fucking whimpered around him. It vibrated up his dick like lightning. “Shit… don’t…. fuck, baby,” he panted, voice wrecked, body shaking. “You want it like this?” You blinked up at him with watery eyes, cheeks flushed, and let your tongue flatten beneath him as he fucked your mouth harder, deeper, now with rhythm, now with purpose. He wasn’t holding back anymore.
Every thrust of his hips made your throat tighten, your jaw ache, your body clench around the tension growing deep in your core. Your eyes stung, spit running down your chin, but you didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch. You welcomed it. And then you reached down. Still kneeling. Still being used. Still so full of him you could barely breathe. Your fingers slipped under your shorts, panties soaked through. One press and you gasped around his dick, lips stretched, throat full, and now two fingers sliding inside yourself like you needed it to survive.
The way Yunho choked on his moan when he saw that?
It was primal. “Holy fuck,” he growled, looking down at you, wrecked, wet, high out of your mind, fucking yourself while he used your throat like it was his. “You’re getting off to this?” You couldn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Your whimpers around him said it all, needy and high pitched, every thrust of your fingers syncing with the thrusts of his dick in your mouth.
Yunho couldn’t take it. He snapped. He gripped the sides of your face, holding you still, and started thrusting in earnest, deep, hard, fast, your throat stretching around him as your fingers moved faster, wetter, your hips rocking forward against your hand like you were chasing it and you were gone. High, fucked, full, and right there on the edge as Yunho looked down at you, chest heaving, watching your body tremble.
“Come,” he growled. “Fucking come for me, baby…. come with my dick down your throat.” His words made you moan so hard around him it nearly made you choke, fingers plunging deeper as your orgasm hit like a goddamn wave, your body jerking, thighs clenching, your whole world going white hot as you came with his dick still buried in your throat.
Yunho’s head dropped back with a groan so low it sounded like it tore out of his chest. “Fuckfuckfuck…. fuck…” he gasped, thrusting deeper one more time as his dick pulsed hard in your mouth and he came down your throat, your name ripped from his mouth like a prayer and a promise in one.
You swallowed every drop and didn’t stop until his grip loosened, his hips stilled, his body trembling over yours. When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your chin slick, your eyes glassy and wet. And you smiled. Wrecked. Glowing. Completely, perfectly ruined already, still kneeling, breath shallow, legs trembling from how hard you’d come, lips shiny and swollen, spit and cum still clinging to your chin.
And Yunho? He looked at you like a man absolutely fucking ruined. But instead of stepping back, instead of cooling off, he reached down, slid his fingers beneath your chin, and pulled you up to him with a slow, firm grip. Your body followed on instinct, weak in the knees, chest rising fast as he dragged your face to his, his eyes locked on your mouth like it had just destroyed him.
Because it had.
He kissed you. Tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting himself on you, and moaning into it like he couldn’t get enough. The low, broken sound that left his chest was pure filth, like the taste of his own cum on your tongue had just snapped whatever thread of self control he had left. His hand moved down, caught your wrist. The one you’d had buried between your legs. And without hesitation, Yunho brought it to his mouth.
You gasped, lips still slick from the kiss as he stared into your eyes and sucked your fingers into his mouth, deep, slow, messy. His tongue slid between them, tasting the cum you’d pulled from yourself, the proof of what he’d done to you, and he moaned again, louder this time. His eyes rolled back for a second like it was too much. Then they snapped back to yours, wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, still sucking. “You taste so fucking good.”
You whimpered as he pulled your fingers out with a wet pop, held your hand against his cheek, then leaned in and kissed you again, deeper, slower, like now that he’d had you once, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. “You’re mine now,” he murmured against your lips. “You know that, right?”
You didn’t get a chance to reply as he kissed you like he meant it. Like he owned it. Like claiming your mouth wasn’t enough, he needed more. Needed all of you. And you? You were barely standing. Your legs still shaky, breath short, your body oversensitized and aching again. But Yunho caught you. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you like nothing, and he guided you back down onto the couch.
He didn’t speak. He just looked at you for a second, lips swollen, jaw tight, pupils blown wide, and then he dropped to his knees. Slow. Purposeful. Predatory. You watched as he grabbed your thighs and dragged you down the cushions, your hips meeting the edge, legs spread for him like it was instinct.
He didn’t tease. Didn’t kiss around it. He grabbed your legs, strong hands curling behind your knees, and threw them over his shoulders, hooked them there, holding you open for him as he pressed his mouth to your pussy like he’d done it in dreams for years. His tongue thrusted into you. Deep. Unrelenting. Filthy, making you gasp, back arching as the wet slick sound of him fucking you with his mouth filled the room. He moaned into you like your taste was drowning him and he wanted to go under.
His tongue dragged out and pushed back in, over and over, fucking you, hard and rhythmic, lips locked to your soaked core like he was staking a claim. Your fingers flew into his hair. You pulled hard and Yunho groaned, the vibration of it tearing through your cunt like lightning. You ground your hips down against his mouth, chasing it, chasing more, your voice cracking on a moan as he gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place while he fucked you with his tongue like his life depended on it.
“Yunho…. fuck… oh my god,” you gasped, grinding against his face, his tongue still pumping, his nose bumping your clit, his moans getting louder the messier you got. He never slowed. Didn’t stop. He was growling now, his whole face wet with you, tongue thrusting deep like he was going to make you come on nothing but his mouth. And you were close. So fucking close.
Your thighs trembled around his head, your hands tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t stop it, you didn’t want to. You rode his tongue like it was his dick, grinding down with reckless desperation as his grip bruised your skin and his tongue dove even deeper. “Don’t stop,” you whimpered, high and broken, “Don’t fucking stop…. Yunho…”
And that’s when he growled into you again, loud, his mouth now sliding up, tongue flattening against your clit, lips sucking as his fingers replaced where his tongue had been, two of them sinking deep, thrusting fast and hard, curling, making you scream as you came, shaking under him, sobbing out his name as he held you there, fingers still moving, tongue lapping every drop of your orgasm like he was starved.
Your legs were still shaking when he finally pulled his mouth back from you. His lips were wet. His chin slick with you. But his eyes? Ravenous. He didn’t move far. Just leaned up, slow, controlled, dangerous, and slid two fingers into you without warning. Deep, making you gasp, head falling back, but he caught you, pressed his forehead to yours, eyes locked onto your dazed, fucked out expression as he began to thrust his fingers.
Hard. Rhythmic. Perfect. And he watched. Like it was art. His lips brushed yours, voice raw and deep and filthy. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” You moaned, breath hitched as he curled his fingers just right, pressing into that spot like he owned it. “How many nights I laid in my bed across the hall, hearing your laugh, wondering what you’d taste like when you’re moaning my name?”
You whined, grinding down into his hand, his thumb just barely brushing your clit now, teasing, like he knew how close you were again already. “I thought about this pussy every time I heard your front door open. Thought about your thighs wrapped around my head every time that fucker made you cry.”
Your eyes rolled back. His forehead stayed pressed to yours, lips barely brushing, your breaths tangled, wet and shaking. “I’d jerk off with the lights off, eyes closed, imagining your mouth, your voice, the way you’d beg when I finally got my hands on you.”
His thumb pressed harder. His fingers moved faster making your hips jerk beneath him. “I knew I’d wreck you. Knew you’d fall apart for me,” he growled, kissing the corner of your mouth, breath hot against your cheek. “But nothing…. prepared me for how fucking perfect you feel.”
You sobbed out his name, eyes glassy, hands fisting the cushions as his fingers plunged into you harder now, wet slick sounds filling the room, your body clenched tight around him. “You gonna come again?” he whispered, filthy and reverent and all you could do was nod.
“Good,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your jaw, voice velvet filth. “I want you to come so hard you forget that asshole’s name. I want you to soak my fucking hand, baby.” You shattered. With a broken cry and your body seizing, you came harder than you ever have, squirting all over his hand, your thighs twitching uncontrollably as his fingers kept moving, pushing you through it, over it, deeper into it.
Yunho, fingers still deep inside you, dripping with your release, smiled, his mouth right at your ear. “Atta girl.”
Your whole body was still trembling, nerves raw, inner thighs soaked from your orgasm and his mouth, his fingers, his fucking words. You were gasping for breath, flushed, barely able to think. But you knew what you wanted. You always had.
You reached for him, fingers curling at his shoulders, dragging him closer and climbed into his lap, one knee at a time, legs shaking as you straddled his thighs. His dick was hard beneath you, angry and twitching, soaked in precum from how long he’d been watching you come undone.
He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming as you settled into his lap, body hot, aching, needing him inside you now. And you reached between you, wrapped your fingers around the base of his dick, guiding him to your entrance, slick and open and ready. But before you could sink down…
“Wait,” Yunho breathed, eyes wide, voice wrecked and tight as his hand caught your waist. “Let me… fuck…. let me grab a condom…”
And that’s when you shocked him as you leaned forward, kissed him once, slow, messy, claiming, and then you wrapped your hand around his throat. Not hard. Not choking. Just enough pressure to make him freeze. To make his eyes go wide and dark and wild when you leaned in until your lips brushed his ear, voice soft but firm as your hips pressed down just enough for him to feel how wet you still were.
“I’m on the pill.” A beat of silence. Then your voice, softer. Deadlier. “I just never let Chris have me like this…” Your fingers tightened just slightly against his throat.
“but I want you to.” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, panting, pupils blown, sweat at your hairline. “I want it raw.” Another pause. “I want you.”
Yunho snapped. His hands gripped your hips so tight you gasped, and his head dropped back against the couch like he was trying not to come from just those words alone. “Fucking hell, baby,” he groaned, voice guttural, grip on your hips tightening, his breathing ragged as he looked up at you, completely stunned, completely wrecked.
“Fuck,” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “You really want it raw?” You just nodded, still holding him, still hovering over him, soaked and aching and so full of need. That was all he needed. He grabbed the base of his dick for you, lined himself up, and whispered, “Come here, baby. Let me feel you.”
You lowered yourself slowly, and the second his head pushed into your soaked entrance, you gasped, sharp, your body jolting as your thighs trembled on either side of his. He was big. You knew it. You’d seen it. You had it in your mouth. You choked on it.
But now?
Now you were feeling it. Stretching you, spreading you open so slow you felt everything, every ridge, every vein, the pressure mounting inch by inch. You bit your lip hard, trying to stay quiet, but a moan broke through anyway as you sank lower. “Shit… Yunho,” you whined, voice shaking, body clenching around him. “You’re… f… fuck, you’re big….”
His hands slid up your waist, grounding you, soothing you. But his voice? His voice was filthy. “Yeah?” he breathed, eyes locked on where you were taking him. “You feel that? That stretch, baby? That’s me.” You whimpered, barely able to breathe as you sank down further, halfway now, and your hips jerked instinctively at how deep he already was making Yunho groan loud, head falling back.
“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “So tight, so wet…. fuck, baby, you were made for this. Made for me.” You were shaking now, hands on his shoulders, nails digging in as you finally took him all the way, your body settling onto his, dick fully sheathed inside you, walls fluttering around him. You couldn’t hold it in. Your moan was raw, deep and aching, tears burning behind your eyes.
Yunho’s hands were all over you now. One at your waist, the other sliding up your back as he pulled you forward, pressing your chest against his as he started kissing your neck, your jaw, your temple. “Look at how good you take me,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect, baby. You fit me so good…. so deep.”
You clenched around him and he groaned, hips bucking just slightly into you. “God, I’ve wanted this,” he confessed once again, voice rough and low in your ear. “I’ve wanted to feel you like this. Nothing between us. Just you.” You nodded, whimpering as his mouth moved to your ear. “Go ahead,” he rasped. “Move, baby. Ride me.”
You started to move slow. Testing the feel of him inside you, deep, thick, the drag of every inch making your walls flutter, your jaw slack, your thighs already burning. Yunho was panting under you, eyes blown wide as he watched you lift your hips and sink back down again, a broken curse falling from his lips. “Fuck… fuck, baby…. you ride me so good…”
You rolled your hips just right and his head dropped back against the couch, a full bodied moan tearing from his chest as you braced your hands on his shoulders harder, found your rhythm, your pace, the way he filled you perfectly with every slow thrust down. But it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you.
You saw it in the way his hands gripped your waist too tight. The way his hips twitched, trying to thrust up but holding back. The way his lips parted like he wanted to beg. So you leaned forward again, hand sliding up his chest. To his throat. You wrapped your fingers around it, lightly at first, just enough pressure to make him freeze.
His breath hitched. His eyes opened wide. And then he growled. His hips slammed up into you suddenly, so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs. “Harder,” he snarled, voice deep and wrecked. “Don’t be soft now… fuck me harder.” You gasped, moaned, eyes locked as you gripped his throat tighter and started slamming down on his dick, rhythm shifting from sensual to savage.
Your thighs slapped against his, your ass bouncing as you rode him hard, grinding down with every thrust until his hands flew to your hips to steady himself. “Just like that,” he growled. “Just like that, baby…. fuck, you feel so good…. I’m gonna lose my mind.” You tightened your hand around his throat again, just enough to make his breath catch, and his eyes rolled back as his hips thrust up to meet yours.
“Use me,” he groaned. “Ride me like I belong to you. Choke me, baby.” And you did. With your hand around his throat, your body slamming down onto his dick, your soaked pussy clenching every time he bucked up into you, you ruined him. And Yunho? Yunho let you.
Your grip tightened. Just a little more. Just enough to make his breath catch again, that beautiful throat flexing under your fingers as you rode him even harder, slammed down onto him again and again, hips snapping, thighs shaking. And then you clenched. Right as he hit that perfect spot.
Your pussy gripped his dick like a vice, and Yunho choked, hips jerking up into you, one large hand flying back and cracking down on your ass.
Smack.
You moaned. Loud. Eyes fluttering, your body jolting forward from the impact as your walls pulsed hard around him again.
Smack.
Another slap. This time rougher. The sting bloomed hot across your skin, and you clenched again, harder. “
“Fucking…. fuck, baby… don’t do that,” Yunho groaned, eyes screwed shut, chest heaving like he was trying to hold back a storm. “You’re gonna make me come…”
But you didn’t let up. You were too far gone now as you rode him like you were trying to tear the orgasm out of yourself, like it was buried deep inside where only he could reach. And he did making you scream. His name, a prayer and a curse all in one as your body locked up, back arching, thighs trembling around his waist.
“Yunho!”
The sound of it shattered through the room as you came, violently, gushing all over him, soaking his thighs, your walls clenching and pulsing around his dick like you were trying to milk him dry. But he didn’t come. He couldn’t. His muscles were tight, jaw clenched, breath ragged as he held you through it, eyes locked on the mess you’d made of both of you, still inside you.
Throbbing. Rock hard. Twitching every time your walls fluttered around him in the aftershocks of your orgasm. Sweat slicked your skin, your body limp in his lap as you breathed against his shoulder. You had just screamed his name, shattered all over him, and he still hadn’t come.
He growled. Low. Dangerous. Possessive. And then he stood up. His arms slid under your thighs and back, lifting you with zero warning, your legs wrapping around him out of instinct. You gasped when he shifted, still inside you, the thick stretch making your legs jerk around him. Every muscle in his body tensed as he adjusted his grip, holding you tighter, your cunt still hot and soaked and wrapped around his dick like it belonged there.
Every step down the hallway had you trembling. Every slight sway of his hips sent a jolt of overstimulated heat through your core. You could feel him, feel everything.
He kicked the door to his bedroom open. The room was dark, lit only by the hazy orange glow of a streetlamp outside the window, and it smelled like him, woodsy cologne, weed smoke, clean laundry, and something deeper. Like sweat and sex and barely leashed want.
He laid you down in the middle of his bed, your back hitting cool sheets, his hips never pulling back, never even thinking about pulling out. He hovered over you, muscles tight as cables, his hands braced beside your head, dick still buried deep. And then he growled again, low and breathless. “You said you wanted me to ruin you?”
You barely had time to breathe as Yunho shifted above you, his hands gripping your hips before he pulled out and flipped you over. “Face down,” he muttered, voice thick with heat as his palm splayed between your shoulder blades, gently pressing until your chest melted into the mattress.
Your breath hitched. Your ass was up, arched and exposed, while his dick buried itself back inside you, deep, stretching you so perfectly it almost hurt. Yunho cursed under his breath, hips twitching as he stared down at the sight of you. “Fuck,” he breathed, dragging his hand down the slope of your spine. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”
You felt the press of his lips next, soft, kissing down your back. Starting at the nape of your neck, he worked his way lower. Each press of his mouth against your skin was hot, wet, deliberate. “You’ve been driving me crazy for two fucking years,” he whispered between kisses. “Coming home in those tight skirts, those little heels… that laugh… that fucking laugh…”
You moaned, fingers curling into his sheets. “And he had you?” Yunho’s voice dropped, dark and lethal. “Chris got to touch you? Sleep next to you? He didn’t even know what the fuck he had.” His hand smoothed down over your ass, then smacked it, hard. The slap echoed through the room.
You gasped, eyes wide, your body jolting from the impact. The sting bloomed instantly, delicious and sharp. Your hips twitched against the sheets, cunt clenching around him, needy for more. Yunho groaned. “Fuck…. say something, baby.” You whined, voice muffled against the pillow, “Do it again.”
Another smack, harder and your mouth fell open, a broken moan tearing from your throat as he rubbed the tender skin after, soothing you with one hand while the other held your hips in place.
You tried to move. Your hips shifted, just slightly, just enough to try and pull back, just enough to feel something. But Yunho didn’t let you. He gripped your waist tight, fingers digging in as he slammed back into you with one deep, brutal thrust, all of him, buried to the hilt. You gasped, your mouth dropping open, arms trembling from the force of it.
He didn’t move. He just stayed there. Deep. Heavy. Pressed inside you like he lived there. You whined, grinding down, chasing friction, chasing anything, but Yunho’s hands locked you in place. “Ah ah,” he said, voice low, gravel rough. “You don’t move unless I say.” Your walls clenched around him out of instinct, and the groan that tore from his throat sounded almost pained.
“Fuck… that’s it.” He leaned down, his chest flush with your back, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “Clench, baby. Come on…” You whimpered, biting your lip, your body twitching under his command. “Clench for me so tight I don’t ever wanna leave. So tight I forget my own name and all I know is you.”
He rolled his hips the tiniest bit, not thrusting, not yet, but pressing even deeper somehow, like he wanted to ruin every inch of you from the inside out. “I’ll fill you up so good, baby. So deep you’ll be tasting me for days. So full you’ll forget you ever fucking dated that asshole.”
You moaned, wrecked and breathless, and Yunho growled against your neck. “Don’t you dare run from me now. Not when you finally let me in. Not when you feel this fucking good.” Your whole body was trembling, your nails clawing into the sheets, your walls fluttering around his dick. And he still didn’t move. “Now be a good girl,” he said darkly, lips brushing your cheek, “and beg me to make you forget him.”
You were shaking. Writhing. Your breath hitched in your throat as your walls kept clenching, fluttering around him in desperate waves, but Yunho still didn’t move. Still buried deep. Still holding you there, stretched and aching and starving for more. “Yunho…” It came out broken, your voice cracking like you’d been sobbing for hours. And maybe you had. Maybe your body was crying for him even if your eyes hadn’t caught up yet.
“I know, baby…” he whispered behind you, brushing his mouth over your shoulder blade. “I know it’s too much… but it’s not enough yet, is it?” You whined, almost sobbing now, a choked noise bubbling up from your throat as your hips twitched again.
You were so full you could barely think, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fast or hard or filthy enough to match the hurricane inside your head. “Please,” you whispered. That one word, cracked and breathless, did something to him. Yunho exhaled hard through his nose… and then his hand slid between your thighs.
Two fingers, rough, a little shaky, found your clit and rubbed slow. “Fuck,” you gasped, forehead hitting the bed as your back arched involuntarily. He rubbed circles, lazy ones at first, then faster, and every time you clenched around him, he grunted like he was hanging on by a thread. “That’s it… good girl,” he growled, pressing harder against your clit, voice thick. “That’s what I wanted. Cry for it.”
Your thighs trembled, your fingers clawing the sheets as your whole body locked up, heat exploding outward in a wave of unbearable release. You came clenching him so tightly he groaned through gritted teeth, and that’s when he snapped. His hand left your clit. And he started moving. No build up. No teasing. No warning. Just brutal, deep, punishing thrusts that knocked the air right out of your lungs.
Your cries turned into shattered gasps, little screams, each one punched from your chest with every thick, devastating snap of his hips. Your whole body jolted with every movement, slick, hot, soaked from your orgasm and already building again. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
All you could do was take it. Take all of him as his hand tangled in your hair, fist tightening as he yanked you up against his chest, your back arching with a gasp. “Don’t fucking run from it,” he growled into your ear, breath hot and ragged as he thrust into you, hard, fast, punishing. “Take it.”
And you did, God, you tried. your cries bouncing off the walls as his hips slapped into the backs of your thighs, each thrust deeper than the last. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel, the stretch of him inside you relentless, addictive, cruel in the best way.
“You feel that?” he groaned, lips brushing your jaw as he fucked you through it. “Feel how fucking tight you get when I’m this deep, when you know you’re mine?” You were crying again. From the pressure, the pleasure, the way your body was unraveling, falling apart in his grip. You clenched around him, your core fluttering uncontrollably as your orgasm ripped through you, violent and perfect, shaking your entire body.
And then, just as you were crashing, he pulled out. You barely had time to whimper before he shoved you forward, your face pressed to the mattress, ass in the air, thighs trembling. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, your body still twitching, still clenching as he groaned behind you. “Fucking look at you,” Yunho muttered, voice rough with wrecked arousal. “Still milking me. Still not satisfied.”
Before you could catch your breath, his hands gripped your ass and spread you open and his tongue dove back in. You screamed. It was filthy, the slick sound of him eating you out from behind, tongue thrusting into your overstimulated hole like he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. His moans were obscene, vibrating into you, his grip bruising on your thighs as he kept you open for him, devouring you like a man starved.
And you were gone, sobbing his name, grinding back on his face, hands fisting the sheets as your entire body convulsed. You didn’t know if you were going to survive this. And maybe you didn’t want to.
Yunho pulled back from between your legs, your body limp, spent, and shaking. But he wasn’t done with you. Not even close. His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you as you whimpered, already sensitive, as he flipped you onto your back, the room spinning for a heartbeat before you landed against the sheets.
He kissed you. Not your lips, not yet. No, he started at your ankle, trailing slow, reverent kisses up your calf, the inside of your knee, the dip of your thigh. His lips were soft, warm, careful… worshipping. Like he was tracing a map he already knew by heart. By the time he reached your breast, your chest was rising fast again, your breath catching as his mouth closed around your nipple, tongue flicking, sucking, his hand massaging the other.
You moaned, head thrown back, hips rising, needing him again. And when you wrapped your legs around his waist, he didn’t tease. He let you pull him back in with a low groan and a look in his eyes like he’d die for this as he sank back inside you. Slowly. Stretching you all over again, dragging a broken cry from your throat as your nails clawed at his arms. You were too sensitive, too full, and yet it felt so right, like your body would never forget the shape of him again.
He took your hands, intertwining your fingers with his, and pressed them into the mattress above your head, his forehead resting against yours. His thrusts were deep, slow, almost unbearable in how intimate they were. “Mine,” he whispered between shallow breaths, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re mine.” You nodded, eyes glassy, heart pounding. “And I’m yours,” he added. “If you’ll have me, baby… I’m already yours.”
That broke something inside you. Your body locked around him, a desperate whimper escaping your lips as you clenched tight, your final orgasm crashing over you like a wave, sharp and emotional, shaking you to your very soul. “Yunho…” you gasped, voice catching on his name like it meant everything.
He groaned, hips stilling as he buried himself to the hilt, holding your hands tighter as he came, deep inside you, his body trembling as he filled you, staying right there, his weight settling on you as your legs stayed locked around his waist, your fingers still tangled with his.
No thrusts. No words.
Just his heartbeat against yours.
And the soft sound of rain against the window.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
It was Sunday. The kind of lazy, hazy Sunday that bled into afternoon without either of you noticing. You’d barely left the bed all weekend, except for food, water, and the handful of times Yunho had carried you to the shower only to ruin you against the wall instead of actually letting you get clean.
And right now was no exception. Your palms slammed against the tile as Yunho’s hips snapped into yours from behind, water cascading down both your bodies, steam curling around you like it couldn’t even escape the heat between you.
“Fuck, Yunho…” you choked out, head pressed to the slick wall, your body bouncing with every thrust. He was relentless. One arm around your waist, the other braced against the wall, his mouth dragging filthy praise across your shoulder blade between gasps.
“You’re still so fucking tight,” he growled. “I could fuck you all day…”
“You have been,” you whimpered, and he only laughed, deep and cocky, before shoving in even deeper until you were crying out, legs shaking, the world going white as you clenched and came around him.
He followed seconds later, groaning against your skin, burying himself to the hilt, his fingers bruising on your hips as he stilled. You stayed like that for a second, both panting, dripping wet, blissed out and exhausted.
Then, you shoved at his hip with a breathless, “Get out. I actually need to shower this time.” Yunho chuckled, pulling out and slapping your ass on his way out of the steam. “Yes, ma’am.”
He grabbed a towel, lazily wrapping it low around his hips, water still running down his chest as he padded barefoot into your apartment. Hair wet and messy, smile half lazy, he walked straight to the coffee table, grabbing his pack of cigarettes. He was heading for your balcony when…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Firmer than it needed to be. Angry. Yunho’s hand was already inside the pack, pulling out a cigarette as he walked to the door. No rush. No panic. Just calm, dominant confidence as he lit the end with a flick of the lighter, that first inhale curling out of his mouth as he swung the door open.
And there he was.
Chris.
Standing in the hallway, red faced, chest heaving, the kind of man who clearly hadn’t been fucked or loved properly in years. Yunho tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face as he exhaled smoke through his nose straight past him. Didn’t even flinch.
Chris sneered, his voice low and bitter. “You fucking my girlfriend now?”
Yunho’s grin widened, tongue flicking across his teeth as he leaned against the doorframe, towel low, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. “No,” he said smoothly, eyes sharp and unbothered.
summary: You swear you didn't mean to react in a weird way when Yunho accidentally squished you while you two are playfighting. You also didn't mean to unleash this new side of Yunho when you offered to get him off.
tags: first time, size kink, yunho has a big dick, handjob, frottage, excessive use of pet names, dirty talk, yunho is lowkey a pervert
wc: 2.2k
(a/n: oh look, another case of "this was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away" hhhh also, i pictured yunho and reader as 18-19 here but it doesn't matter that much, the point is they're both young af)
》»——♡——«《
You were just minding your own business on Yunho’s bed, doomscrolling on your phone when he out of nowhere slammed the door to his room, startling you, and accused you of stealing his last chocolate cream puff. Now, he has you pinned against the sheets, and you have to bear the punishment for your crime, which involves a lot of tickling.
He's on top of you, merciless as he’s poking at your weak spots, sparing you no chance to defend yourself. Your strength doesn’t compare to his so any attempt at breaking free from your end is futile. Everything's all fun and games until he presses down a little too hard on you which causes you to accidentally let out a lewd noise that makes the two of you freeze. And all of a sudden, you both become highly aware of the position you're in.
His figure shadowing yours, and you, lying all helpless underneath him, panting, eyes watery, cheeks red from laughing too hard. Not too mention the spaghetti straps of your tank top now hanging loosely off your shoulders. Yunho's too nervous to look because anywhere his eyes land upon just gives more fuel to the imagination in his head. He hurriedly lets go of you like you're burning him. He tries to leave but you stop him before he gets to, and offer to help him out with his predicament.
The thing is that you're still green in terms of romantic relationship. Yunho is your first ever boyfriend, and he's so patient with you even when you never asked him to be. The furthest you've gotten five months into dating him is simply making out. Whenever you noticed him getting hard, whenever you tried to take it further, he'd always excuse himself first to the bathroom, leaving you with your thoughts.
At first you were completely fine with it, chalking it up to him not wanting to rush it with you. You were even grateful for it. But after several rejections, it becomes hard for you not to start getting insecure, thinking that Yunho's just not interested at all in having sex with you.
So you tackle on this opportunity to take your relationship to the next step forward—or backwards, depending on his response.
"Let me help you with that," you repeat your offer, sounding determined. For a while Yunho just stares at you and you wonder if you've made a fool of yourself instead. But then he relents and takes off his pants, both the sweats and the underwear, finally revealing the size that's been haunting you since the first time you saw, felt it poking you from underneath.
You don’t mean to gawk at the sight of his long, heavy dick, fearing that you’ll look stupid, but it’s difficult not to. Seeing it with your own eyes manages to make your resolve from before waver. At that moment, the biggest concern you have is whether you’ll be able to keep up with him, what with your inexperience. Yunho, ever the observant, catches on to your hesitance and speaks up,
"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to, I can get myself off and... you can watch if you'd like."
The idea of watching him jerk off in front of you sounds tempting. Still, you already have a goal set in mind, so you choose to decline, "Can you just… tell me what to do?" Because as embarrassing as that request is, you figure it'll be even more embarrassing if you choose to act on your own without any experience backing you up.
Thankfully Yunho doesn't judge and offers you an understanding smile. He beckons you over and instructs you to feel his length. The way the member pulses as soon as you touch it makes you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. Once you start to become familiar with his girth, you wrap your hand around it.
Warmth spreads over your face and lower belly when you notice how big he is within your grasp. Yunho seems to share the same sentiment as you by the way his breath is shuddering. As if to really hammer in the size difference between you two, he places his hand on yours, able to completely engulf it. Yunho breathes out a curse at the sight.
“You still wanna go through with this?” He asks for your confirmation once again, but his facial expression suggests that he’s dying to do this. You nod with conviction now that you know how badly he wants you. He instructs you to spit on the head so you collect saliva in your mouth and aim it there, which then oozes down the hard shaft.
Yunho guides your hand up to spread your spit all over. For a while he’s the one doing the moving while you’re still hypnotized with the way his hand, which covers yours, is guiding you on how to get him off, how to please him. He releases your hand to let you set the pacing this time. The rhythm coming so naturally for you.
Yunho chuckles deeply, “My girl is such a fast learner, huh? Hmm just like that, so good...”
He wouldn’t stop praising you, groaning when your thumb presses on the frenulum. After some time you decide to use both your hands, twisting your wrists as you move up and down. You shoot out more spit to further smooth the friction, some of the precum dribbling out his slit mixed into your fluid.
Yunho grabs your chin to kiss you, desperately sucking and licking inside your mouth, moaning into it. The sound of two pairs of lips smacking with one another rivals the wet sounds from your hands around his cock. He’s dripping so much. He breaks away from the kiss, but not without giving you a small peck after, and looks at you, gaze simmering with desire.
“Can I– can I try something?”
Not trusting your voice at the moment, you resort to nodding your head. He tells you to lie down, and as tough as it is for you to separate yourself from his dick, you comply anyway. With no warning he pulls down your pajama pants and throws them to the side, getting in between your legs. “Oh… look at that, you’re soaking already,” he sighs, wholly satisfied, staring amusedly at the wet spot in the center.
He teases the area with his thumb, biting his lip as he watches you squirm, “God, I know you’re gonna feel so good around me.”
Through the fabric, he prods at your entrance, circling it, sliding up to play with your clit. You whine as you utter his name, fisting at the sheets to your sides.
“But that’s gonna have to wait.”
He hooks your knees to his arms, “Because I don’t have a stock of condoms on me right now, and I’m seconds away from bursting to have the patience to prepare you. So for now, how about I give you a preview?”
Whatever protest you had for him dies in your throat as soon as he leans forward, pressing his dick right against your clothed slit, causing you to mewl instead. He coos, face only a few inches away from yours, “Can you let me do that, baby? Please?”
You puff your cheek, looking away with your eyebrows scrunched, “You had many chances before… Why didn’t you prepare then?”
“I knoow… I’m sorry, sweetie, that’s my fault,” Yunho takes your hand and peppers kisses to your knuckles, “I just wanted to make your first time special but I kept missing the right moment,” he says it apologetically, yet you can feel his hips moving already, even when he’s trying to be as subtle as possible.
“You’re so stupid,” you pat and squeeze his cheeks, glaring at him. “Next time. Promise me.” Yunho grins, “Promise, next time.”
He bends over to give you a smooch, this results in him grinding against your crotch more. He chuckles at the whimper that bubbles up your throat and eventually starts moving. sliding his length up and down between your folds, moving at a stable pace. As he thrusts his hips, he makes sure to keep his eyes on you. Despite the lack of penetration, the stimulation still feels overwhelming.
Something about Yunho being able to find much pleasure just from rubbing on your panties makes you more eager to have him inside. Wanting to find out how it’ll feel, and if the pleasure will increase for Yunho.
Thinking about it while he’s rolling his hips against yours gets your hole clenching around nothing pathetically. Doesn’t help that whenever he slides up, your clit is flattened by the weight of his cock. Sneaking his hand under your top, Yunho grabs onto your chest, kneading it around and squeezing the nipple with his thumb. All while he descends to your neck, mouthing at your jaw and marking all over the column.
At one point, by mistake—or maybe not—his head sinks into your hole for a moment, through the barrier. You both moan in unison. Your hands find purchase in his back as you wrap your legs around his waist. Yunho whimpers like this is torture for him.
You chase after that sensation once again, canting your hips upwards, which earns you a firm grip to your waist.
“Don’t you try to tease me now,” he warns, “I promised you ‘next time’, remember?” He reminds you with a smirk on his face.
You whine, staying in position nonetheless, even when his grip is loosening. You try not to pay much attention to the way his thumbs are almost touching below your navel. His size in general is enough to get you dizzy, you’d rather not be reminded of it.
You hear snickering above you, “You’re dripping so much and I’m not even touching you directly,” Yunho scoffs, eyes dark as they zero in on your panties, ruined by slick and precum. “Are you gonna be this wet when we reach the main event? Gonna soak my cock with your juice, pretty?”
You choke on your moan at his words.
Preview. That’s what he said.
Is this what he’s gonna be like when he fucks you?
Your boyfriend, who’s normally sweet, considerate, and dorky, the one who always shies away first when things start becoming too heated, having the capability to act like this is unfathomable for your mind. The thought of exploring this new side of him in the future both scares and arouses you at the same time.
You dig your heel into his lower back, basically suffocating his length against your crotch with the lack of space between. “Hah fuck… can’t believe I didn’t take you sooner,” he presses his lips to your cheek, hips gyrating languidly now.
“You must be so frustrated, right? Mmmh, ‘m sorry baby, forgive me for being a bad boyfriend,” he pecks your cheek.
“Promise I’ll take such good care of you, you won’t need to do anything else. Just lie there all pretty for me and let me do the work, mkay?”
“Stop– stop talking…” You grumble under your breath, weakly punching at his shoulder which gains a giggle out of him. “Are you getting shy? God, you’re so cute–shit, I’m close,” he groans, his lower body moving erratically.
The announcement makes your head shoot up, confusion written all over your face to which Yunho responds. He assures you in a low voice, “Don’t worry, pretty. I told you I’d do all the work, didn’t I?”
He lays his hands on your cheeks and brings you in for a kiss as his pelvis grinds against yours. Later on he retracts one hand to stroke his cock, panting and whispering praises to you. In no time at all, you feel something shooting out onto your lower belly and panties as Yunho loudly moans into your face. The sound makes your core tingle with need. The man then straightens up after catching his breath, providing you a full view of his state.
His cheeks and neck fully flushed, hair all messy, his shirt clinging onto his skin due to the sweat, and his cock. Wet, red like his face, still looking heavy despite it softening.
The way it twitches in the air drives you to slither your fingers downwards. And Yunho tracks every movement they make, watches them dip into the white fluid sprinkled across your lower belly, moving lower, fingertips slipping into your underwear’s waistband. He stops you right then and there, takes your hand and pins it onto the mattress.
“Wha–”
With his other hand, Yunho pulls your panties to the side before you can get your words out, using his knees to nudge your legs apart. His tone dark as he declares, “I changed my mind.”
He sucks in two of his fingers, popping them out his mouth when he deems them drenched enough. One of them taps against your opening before plunging in at a snail's pace, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
He smiles at you all sweetly, but you just know he means trouble. “Why don’t we start preparing now?”
» summary: sexual frustration is a curse, and it's plagued you. you can't even begin to recall the last time you orgasmed—weeks, maybe even months ago? you're desperate. so what if one night, the night where you finally feel close to finishing, your neighbor goes and fucks it all up by being loud? well, you go over to his apartment and give him a heavy tongue lashing, of course. except, what happens when he decides to return the favor...
» genres + warnings: college au, neighbor trope (they lowkey don't like each other until they do), reader's SUPER mean to yunho at first, yunho calls reader a bitch (only once), teasing, LOTSSS of dirty talk, heavy make-outs, grinding, yunho's an eater, pussy rubbing w/ tip (NO PENETRATION), dom!yunho, sub!reader (reader gets whipped into shape), yunho basically c*ms all over reader's cunt, lust-drunk yunho, lust-drunk reader, small depiction of "choking", overstimulation, verrryyy breif mingi cameo
» w.c: tbd....(sneak peek: 265 words)
» release date: 9/28/25 @ 11:00 PM EST
» a/n: love when I go on a 8 month hiatus 😩🙌 sorry guys :)
once you reach your front door, you don't even check your peephole. with a quick twist of the handle, you open the wooden door inwards, and there stands jeong yunho on the other side.
his body looms over yours as he leans against the door frame. although he's still wearing the same outfit from earlier—the tank top and shorts combo, there's no longer an annoyed expression to accompany it. no, there's something entirely new.
his eyebrow's are furrowed, indicating slight confusion. there's a sprinkle of curiosity within his eyes, and below that, the corners of his mouth are turned smugingly upward. but all over, yunho has a faint red hue coating his face, like he's also nervous for what's to come.
for a short second, neither of you say anything. a quiet staring contest is what you both have. there's a look to yunho's eyes that makes you want to clench your stomach. bouncing your eyes back and forth between his gaze.
until unexpectedly, he clears his throat and tilts his head to the side, "crazy, now the roles are reversed. hold on—should i start yelling at you too? throw in some degradation while i'm at it?"
you see him trying to hold back a grin as he stifles out a laugh. his eyes are crinkled and dimples are showing, all the while you begin to lower your gaze. haha, so funny.
eventually, your face straightens out into a deadpan, "shut up."
yunho continues to laugh, body shaking as he chuckles, and without thinking, you lunge to grab at his chest, "just get in here."
.......
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