hello! this has been in my head for a while and im curious about dino who loves seeing you do all the work for him. he just leans back, arms laced behind his head as he watches you ride him. (bonus: he likes being told he's big for some reason). thank you!
I totally agree with the idea that Dino would like being told he's big, I swear he said once that he wishes he was taller and I think he'd just really get off on being called big, I see your vision with that!!!! Sorry this took a while but I hope you like it!!!!
18+ content, MDNI
Dino who smirks at you as you hurriedly throw your clothes off and crawl onto the bed, your pupils blown and almost dribbling at the sight of his big dick already hard against his toned abs, such is the constant need you have for him. It isn't that his need for you isn't as strong, it's just that it really does it for him when he sees how much you want him.
Dino who smiles proudly at you when you ask nicely can you please suck his dick, you're always so polite when it comes to pleasing him and it makes his dick twitch at how desperate you are to please him. Your eager “thank you honey, I'll be so good for you.” Makes his heart swell as well as his dick.
Dino who can't help but throw his head back in pleasure the second your lips wrap around his oozing tip, you’ve always complained about how he's too big and its makes your jaw ache and yet, he smirks as he watches you eagerly bob your head, you always seem to want his big dick in your mouth.
Dino who grabs the back of your head to shove your head down, his dick hitting the back of your throat and your nose buried in the little patch of hair just above his dick. Some might think it brutal but the way your eyes roll back in pleasure at the feeling of his huge dick cutting off your airways only shows him how much you love the feel of him filling you up.
Dino who uses your head exactly how he wants to, his grip on your hair tight and moving you at just the speed he wants to, thoroughly enjoying the way you drool and moan as your tongue glides along his shaft. Even the way your drool trickles down onto his balls drives him fucking wild. You're just so fucking perfect for him and if he wasn’t so desperate, he'd cum down your throat, watching you swallow everything he gives you is his second favourite sight.
Dino whose favourite sight in the world is exactly what you know he currently wants. He pulls you off him, cooing at you and telling you how good your mouth felt, but telling you that you know what he wants and to get to fucking work, smirking when you over eagerly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and push him back onto the bed.
Dino who puts his arms behind his head, looking like he's about to chill in the sun rather than fuck, and watches hungrily as you throw your leg over him, lining his throbbing dick up with your drooling hole. You're used to taking him, but fuck does he get off on the way your body tenses and you throw your head back in pleasure when his fat tip stretches your tight hole the second he enters you. You know he loves hearing just how good he makes you feel and that first pouty “fuck you're so fucking big,” as you try to lower yourself onto to him as fast as your pretty little pussy will let you, will always bolster his ego no end.
Dino who the second you bottom out, your thighs flush against him and your warm, wet walls hugging and stretching round him like you were made for him, feels like the luckiest man in the world.
Dino whose breath hitches even through his cocky grin, when you start gently grinding on him to adjust to the size of him, your hips gliding gently and your body looking fucking incredible on top of him.
Dino who is completely captivated when you start bouncing on him, your thighs slapping against him and tits bouncing as you ride him like you're at a fucking rodeo. The little moans you let out every time his tip smacks into your g-spot makes him twitch like nothing ever has. The sight of you using his big dick to ride yourself to pleasure drives him wild.
Dino who asks you, as your hips move a frighteningly fast pace the only thing on your mind being his big dick and wanting to cum all over it, “is my big dick making you feel good baby? You like making yourself feel good, fuck look at you, so fucking desperate for me that you can’t even think straight.”
Dino who is completely right, you can’t think straight because of how good it feels every time you grind your needy cunt onto his fat dick, but you know what he likes and you know what he needs and in order for you to get what you need and for him to cum inside you like you're desperate for him to do, so you tell him just how good he's making you feel. Loving the way he moans as he watches you saying “fuck...yeah your big dick always feels so good, thank you thank you for letting me be good for you.”
Dino who it all gets too much for, you’re like a fucking work of art as you ride him like a woman possessed, you’re cunt is oozing all over him and the look on your face shows him you're close just from bouncing on his big dick, and so he can't help it, with his head still resting in his arms he arches his back when pleasure over takes him and cums deep inside you. The sound in the room getting even more wet as his cum mixes with your juices and you keep riding desperately to reach your high.
Dino who watches as a couple of seconds after he's cum, feels you clench so fucking hard around him that he's amazed you can keep moving, and watches as you throw you head back in pleasure, looking like a fucking goddess as you cum all over his dick, your body vibrating and still grinding on him a little to ride yourself through your high.
Dino who shares a knowing smirk with you when, after you've come back down to earth, you lift your hips, your puffy cunt begrudgingly bidding farewell to your boyfriend's big dick, but both of you enjoying the way his cum dribbles out of you and back onto his length, which you're certain is already hardening as you hold it.
Dino who just laughs at you, a cocky grin on his face when you roll your eyes, your abused hole betraying you in the way it clenches, as you lower yourself back down onto his dick. Both of you knowing you're in for a long night and Dino knowing he’s going to be enjoying his favourite view for at least one (or two) more rounds.
summary: when you break seungcheol’s most important rule, he knows he has to punish you. you just didn’t know how much you would end up liking it.
word count: 4.9k
warnings: angst if you squint, smut, nsfw, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, spanking, some pain play, praise and degradation, rough (and I mean ROUGH) sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, lots of dirty talk, daddy kink, mentions of subspace. Pls read at your own risk.
a/n: this is the most out there thing I’ve written seriously…. I usually don’t write dynamics like these so this was an exercise for me too lol. I hope you like it! Feedback is always loved and appreciated xx
Things felt off from the very start.
You know it’s your fault. You had a terrible day, and you should’ve just taken it easy when you got back home. Work was a shitshow, and for hours, all you wanted was to just lay down in your bed and never speak to another human being again. You should have communicated that. Without a doubt, Seungcheol would’ve dropped everything to pamper you. He would’ve drawn you a nice, warm bath and taken over the dishes after dinner. He would’ve rubbed your feet and gotten you something overly sweet for dessert as a treat for getting through the absolute hell of a day you had.
But you didn’t say anything. In fact, you just kissed him harder, with more purpose, and told him dinner could wait. You pawed at his clothes and told him to take you hard and rough. You wanted to feel, but you forgot that your mind is really not strong enough today to handle what you were asking your boyfriend to give you.
Because, you see, Seungcheol has rules.
You had always been a fan of more spice in the bedroom, and you truly feel like you met your match when you got with Seungcheol. For every submissive tendency in your body, for all the times you wanted zero control over your own senses, Seungcheol was more than happy to take the reins. He loved it, basked in it, knew how to play your body like a stringed instrument. His dominance in the bedroom came with only one, all encompassing rule: you don’t do anything he doesn’t give you explicit permission to do. And that includes every single one of your innumerable orgasms.
Usually, you love it. Your job is taxing and overburdening, and sometimes, you want someone else to take charge and just tell you what to do. For years, you have been perfect, the epitome of submission. You’re his good girl, always, disciplined and in-line. There’s only a smattering of brat in you, which Seungcheol tolerates in small doses, but otherwise, you are perfectly pliant, suited for his needs the way he is suited to yours. There’s a harmony here, established by many years of communication and understanding. So you should’ve known. You should’ve said something, told him to take it easy. But you stupidly kept your mouth shut, and hence began your current predicament.
He’s fucking you into the mattress just like you asked, his sweats pulled down just enough to let him pound his cock into you. You’re naked from the waist down, arching, chest constricted in your pale, buttoned up blouse. You hadn’t even let him fully undress you. You didn’t want to take your time, you just wanted him in you. Even when he tried to tighten his grip on you, tried to mumble a ‘slow down’ into your mouth, you didn’t let him, begging, pleading, promising to be good for him if he would just fill you up, and so he complied.
That was the mistake, and it became your undoing when, just minutes later, you are clamping up around him, your body already so stiff and wound up, so glaringly exhausted, that no amount of self control can stop you. You clench hard and come, writhing on the mattress fisting the sheets, wailing as it washes over you in scattered, broken waves. You haven’t even come down from it when tears coat your eyes and you realise what you’ve done.
Seungcheol slows to a stop, still throbbing inside you, but jaw dropped in shock. This might be the first time in years that you’ve come without slurring out your usual ‘please’ or ‘let me’ or ‘can I?’, waiting for his permission. You’d always listened, always done what you were told, never once stepping even a toe out of line.
This is incredibly out of character.
Immediately, he can see it weigh heavily on you. You’re panting, legs still trembling, but your body is stiffening, he can feel it around his dick, and your face is crumpling. He knows you regret it, but he also knows why this happened. He should’ve known. God, he should’ve spotted it the second you walked in through the door. The hard plane of your shoulders, the tight line of your lips. But he had gotten barely two words out of his mouth before you were smothering him with yours, begging in that cute, whiny voice of yours that you need this bad. He had stupidly agreed, and now he’s watching you fall apart.
He needs to fix this.
“I’m-” Your voice is pitched and wobbly. Your arms tuck into your body, legs pulling together as much as they can with him between them. You’re trying to shrink yourself. “‘M sorry. Cheol, I’m so-”
This isn’t on you, he knows this. This isn’t your fault at all. If anything, it’s his. He should know you well enough by now to estimate what you need and give it to you. But now is not the time to beat himself up. You need to forget this happening, or you will do what you always do; think about this to the point of spiraling and making yourself sick with guilt. He also knows that no amount of reassurance is going to make you forget it.
Through your teary vision, you hear a tut of disappointment, and then your boyfriend pulls out. You’re filled with dread, because you don’t want him to step back. You know you’ve fucked up. This is one of his most important rules. There’s just no conceivable universe where you’re allowed to cum without Seungcheol telling you to, and already, guilt is striking your chest like stab wounds from knives.
“That wasn’t like you, sweetheart.” His voice is rough but soft. “I’m very surprised.”
You sniffle, resisting the urge to curl into yourself. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” You feel his hands on your bare knees, closing them and sitting back on his haunches. You sit up shakily, blinking hard to try and see him in the relative darkness of the room. The golden light from the lamp hits the side of his face. His expression is blank. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“I am sorry.” You insist again. “I don’t know what came over me-”
“I don’t know what came over you either.” He tilts his head, watching you. “Thats not how good girls behave.”
Your heart lurches. This is your biggest medal. Your point of pride; being good for Seungcheol. Never once in all your years of doing this had you let him down. Never. The mere thought of it might push you to panic. Before you can say anything, you feel Seungcheol’s hand, strong and sure, run over your jaw and cup the back of your neck. He squeezes slowly, affectionately, and you lean into it, wet eyelids fluttering. Every fibre in you hopes he isn’t mad.
“When good girls misbehave, they have to be punished.” He whispers. “I know you never have before, princess, but you know it’s fair.”
You swallow tightly before hesitantly nodding. It’s the rules. You step out of line, you get punished. You will do anything to make up for your misstep. You will take any punishment.
“Okay.” You sniffle. Seungcheol sighs and nods.
“Good.” He says, not ‘good girl’. But you don’t deserve to be called that right now. “Strip.”
Seungcheol stands as he watches you shakily undo your blouse buttons. You tug it off and reach back for your bra. When you’re sat bare before him, you watch him tuck his erection back into his sweats, seating himself on the edge of the bed with his back to you. He reaches an arm back to gesture to you.
“Come here.”
You comply, crawling to him on your hands and knees. He maneuvers your body very easily, settling you on his lap until your stomach is pressed to his thighs, strong and sturdy under the soft material of his pants. Your legs dangle, ass sticking out. You flush at the position, realising what’s coming. You’ve been spanked before, mostly during sex when Seungcheol is whispering dirty things into your ear from behind and slapping your ass. But never like this. You almost jump when you feel his hand run up your right asscheek.
“I think ten sounds good.” He hums. “You will count, and you will say thank you after every single one. Got it?”
Your eyelids flutter. You rest your head on your arms. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
The first one is the biggest shock to your system. Seungcheol’s hand comes down with unbelievable force, full palmed and encompassing your entire ass cheek. You yelp loudly, fingernails digging into your arms. Immediately, tears spring into your eyes. You were just wondering why he decided to do only ten, but now it’s clear to you that even ten will be more than anything you can withstand.
“O-one.” You immediately choke out. “Thank you, sir.”
The second one marrs your other asscheek, stinging just as much, and your entire face scrunches as you cry out. You writhe where you’re draped over his lap. Your skin is screaming, and you already feel dizzy.
“Two.” You heave, the very air feeling like torture on your skin.
“Two what?” Seungcheol snaps. “Already forgetting the rules? Don’t make me start over, princess.”
You shake your head immediately, trying to take long breaths. “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you. Thank you.”
You whisper it again, and again, even as he lands more spanks on your ass. It feels heated now, like it’s on fire, and by the time you reach eight, you are lightheaded, sobbing openly, poor pussy clenching around nothing as the sensitivity spreads all the way down your thighs as well.
Seungcheol tuts and sighs, you can hear him over the sound of your own cries. You lurch when he caresses your stinging skin. He reaches down, one thick finger sliding through your slit and pressing into your aching nub. Your eyes roll, the feeling so intense that you can barely process it. You’ve been edged before, so many times, you’ve been overstimulated and wanting, but never has it felt this divine, the pleasure curling around the tendrils of pain running through your body. Seungcheol dips a finger into your squelching hole, sinking it in to the last knuckle, and you wail at the feeling.
“So wet, baby.” He coos. “Greedy little thing, you even enjoy your punishment.”
“I’m sorry.” You whimper, trying everything in your power to not buck back into his finger. When he pulls out, you almost cry, but he wastes no time, using that already wet hand to spank you again, just as harsh, not losing steam at all.
“N-nine.” You weep. “Thank you, sir.”
You almost feel like you’re seeing spots in your vision. Seungcheol reaches between your thighs again, like he knows this is becoming too much. He cups your pussy, sliding his fingers through the sopping mess side to side, just enough to stimulate your clit.
“Last one, princess.” He encourages. “Ready?”
You nod weakly, voice cracking when you cry out again as his hand meets your ass one last time. You choke out the number, the thank you. You’re openly tearful, face nearly as wet as your cunt, and finally Seungcheol moves. He lifts you up, placing you very gently on your back in the center of the mattress. You feel his lips on your forehead, and you bask in the feeling.
“Such a good girl.” He says finally, hand caressing through your sweaty hair. “You took that so well, baby.”
You keen, pussy clenching desperately around nothing.
“‘M your good girl.” You slur.
You don’t see the fond smile on his face, eyes soft with affection. He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of you he can reach.
“Yes, you are.” He reassures you. “My perfect girl. Your first time and you did so good.”
You whine, shaky hands reaching up to claw at his shirt. He takes the hint, sitting back to tug it off, followed by his sweatpants. His cock bobs up, thick and hard, leaking copious amounts of precum.
“I think you deserve my cock now, princess.” He hums. “For being such a good girl.”
You nod eagerly, spreading your legs before he can even do it for you. He settles between them, running the angry, throbbing head through the sticky mess in your slit. He does that a few times, coating his shaft until it’s glistening, before finally reaching down and nudging the entrance. When he slides in, your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling at the feeling. Your ass still stings, especially where it rubs on the sheets, but it sends pleasant, burning tendrils shooting through your skin, and it adds to how sensitive you already are. It does nothing but augment your arousal even more. You moan wantonly as Seungcheol bottoms out, and you hear him softly curse.
“Perfect little cunt.” He groans. “Tight as anything even after I’ve fucked it for so many years. You’re molded to me, aren’t you baby?”
You nod eagerly as he starts moving, your moans punched out of your throat with every thrust, little ‘uh, uh, uh’s that only seem to spur him on more. You’re dripping consistently, wetting his cock as it rams in and out of you at a punishing pace. Every slam of his hips into you jolts your body, your breasts bouncing, and his hungry eyes train on every movement.
“You’ve got the prettiest tits, baby.” He grunts, one hand reaching up to pinch harshly at your left nipple and tug. You cry out. Then, he lets it go, reaching a hand back and bringing it down to harshly slap the swell of it. You gasp.
“Good?” He rasps. You nod enthusiastically and arch up, tempting him more. He groans and does it again, the sting making your eyes roll.
“Dirty slut.” He grits out. “You love this. Love getting slapped around, don’t you?”
You’re so far gone as he rams into you, nearly delirious with it. Even after so long of being together, there are things you’re discovering not only about Seungcheol, but about yourself as well. You’re sinking into the depths of depravity, and you want to fall further into it. So you blink wetly up at your boyfriend, eyes wide and big.
“Only if daddy does it.”
Seungcheol’s hips stutter. You can see the shock pass over his face, but it hardens immediately. His pace slows. He slams his hips into yours and stays there, leaning down closer to you.
“What did you just say?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, clenching wildly around his suddenly still cock. “Only wanna be slapped around by daddy.”
You can see, in real time, Seungcheol’s eyes darken as his pupils dilate. He bites the plump of his bottom lip. Beside your head, his hands fist the sheets tightly.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He grits, voice low and brassy. You swallow tightly.
“You don’t like it?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. He pulls out slowly until only the head of his cock is snug inside you. Then, he lurches forward, slamming into you so hard your whole body jerks. You gasp.
“I love it, baby.” He does it again. “Maybe a little too much.”
You can’t speak, all the breath knocked straight out of your lungs with every harsh, deep, slow thrust of Seungcheol’s hips. His head smooches the opening of your cervix, a shooting sensation through your lower abdomen that makes you gush around his thick cock. You feel his hand encircle your neck, and your toes curl in anticipation.
“You’re gonna be a good girl for Daddy then, sweetheart?” Another thrust. You feel your hair brush the headboard as your body is pushed up by sheer force. You nod vigorously, unable to say the words. His grip on the sides of your throat tightens, and you start to feel a little lightheaded.
His pace is brutal, picking up speed as he slams into you over and over. He uses his free arm to tuck just above your head so you don’t slam into the bed frame, but he doesn’t let up even once. He mutters the most filthy, unbearable things in your ear, telling you how you’re his perfect little cocksleeve, made to take him whenever he wants it, no questions asked. That he has trained your pussy to be this way, the perfect little slut for him. You moan whenever he loosens his grip on your neck, choking out how much you love getting fucked hard by daddy, how you’re just a hole for him to fuck and use, and when you can’t take it anymore, you ask him the golden question.
“Can I cum, daddy?”
His thrusts immediately get harsher. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He grits. “You think you deserve to, after cumming without permission? I’ve barely forgiven you for that, baby. You’ve got a lot of making up to do before you get a reward.”
You wail, chest heaving as you clamp desperately around his throbbing, huge cock. You know he’s right. You’ve been bad, and some spanking and one offering of your wet pussy isn’t enough to earn you forgiveness. So you don’t protest. You don’t ask again. You only agree.
“I’m sorry for asking, daddy.” You babble. “You’re right, I don’t deserve it. I’m just daddy’s little cum dump. I’ll take whatever daddy will give me.”
Seungcheol’s groan is broken. “God, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I love it, sweetheart. Being such a perfect girl for me, fuck.”
You shake and cry as he fucks into you some more, your head now tilting forward as he folds you closer and closer to the headboard, crowding you against it. You can’t barely breathe at the force. And finally, finally, his movements turn sloppy.
“Think you should be allowed to take my cum?” He grits out. “Feels awfully like a reward, no? Have you earned it, baby?”
Your face crumples. You want to feel it inside you so bad, the heat of his release warming your insides. But you know what he wants to hear, you know you haven’t been good enough to deserve a big reward like that.
“No, daddy.” You whimper. “I don’t deserve it. I haven’t been good.”
Seungcheol’s smirk is sick. He licks over his bottom lip. “You’re so self aware tonight.” His tone is near-mocking, and it makes you tighten pathetically.
When he abruptly pulls out, it feels like getting your insides ripped from you. His hand moves rapidly over his wet cock, and he shuffles up until he’s straddling your torso.
“Open your mouth.” He grits. You immediately obey, sticking your tongue out. Your eyelids flutter when the first rope of it hits your lips, dripping over your tongue. Some of it splatters on your cheek, but you manage to catch most of it as he groans and shudders above you. You can’t take your eyes off him, sweaty and shaky, muscles shifting under his pale skin as he rides his high. Your poor pussy clenches around nothing, deprived so suddenly of the intense pleasure. You swallow every last drop, using your fingers to collect whatever your mouth missed and popping it between your lips. Seungcheol is heaving as he shifts back.
Even though your legs are shaky and you feel dizzy, you manage to sit up, making wide, pleading eyes at your boyfriend.
“Can I clean you up?”
You can see how soft and fond his smile is, the little dimple indenting his cheek with it. He sits back leaning on his hands and nods.
“Go ahead, baby.”
You settle between his legs, using little kitten licks to clean your mess, and some of his, off his soft cock. It twitches under your ministrations, already getting half hard as you keep going. He sighs and hums approvingly, running a soft hand through your hair. This was half your motive, anyway, because you like to see this power you have over him. He’s in control, always, but his dick hardens at your very touch, and that makes you giddy.
He pulls you away with a gentle tug on your hair. You lick your lips for any remnants of his taste, blinking eagerly up at him.
“Lay back now.” He whispers. “I’m not done playing with that pretty cunt.”
He sits with your legs framing his hips, laid back on the mattress. You look up at him half with anticipation and half with hesitation, because you know he will toy with you until you’re begging to cum, and even then, you don’t know if he will let you.
He runs his hands gently up your thighs, delicate brushes that only wind you up more. You try to lay perfectly still, knowing he doesn’t like it when you’re impatient. He massages the creases of your thighs, playing with your pussy lips, stroking over them softly. You’re already sensitive from the harsh fucking he gave you just earlier, so you’re twitching a little before he has even properly touched you. You don’t want to beg, mostly because you still think you’re not entitled to it. This is for him. He wants to play with you, it’s not for your pleasure.
(You both know that it is.)
Finally, his fingers slide through your slit, parting your lips to open you up. Your hole quivers, twitches, and he watches it with heated eyes. He hums and his eyes are reverent as he traces the lines of your pussy. He nudges your clit just barely, and you let out your first, tiny moan.
“Don’t hold back, baby.” He coos. “You let me know whenever it feels good.”
You comply beautifully, little whimpers and sighs that accompany every touch of his fingers over your aching center. He takes his time as he toys with your clit, rubbing, flicking, pinching it until it is swollen and throbbing under his fingers. He circles your opening to collect the wetness, using it to smear over the rest of your cunt and leaving you wet all over. When you feel like your skin is quietly buzzing, hypersensitive because of his touches, he finally dips into your entrance, sliding his index finger in to the last knuckle. You sigh in palpable relief, clenching hard around the digit.
“Yes.” A tear slips down the side of your face. “Thank you, daddy.”
He likes that, because he moves it the exact way you want it, curling it and probing your most sensitive spot. He adds another quickly, watching every shift in your face as you swallow his fingers greedily. Two of his thick fingers means a stretch, the kind that you love, and when he scissors them inside you, you moan loudly.
After your last failed orgasm, this one builds too quickly. Your face pinches, your legs stiffening as you hold back. Seungcheol notices, and it only makes him finger you harder. You whine in protest.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He goads you.
“Feels-” You almost choke as he curls both fingers hard into your sweet spot. “Feels so good. Please.”
“Please what?”
You buck your hips into him, self control slipping. “Please, can I cum, daddy?”
Seungcheol hums, as if contemplating. His fingers don’t slow for a single second.
“I don’t know. Do you deserve it?”
Your face crumples. You want to, you do. But the submissive, depraved part inside you shakes its head. You know if you are to cum, you want it to be on his cock. So you squeeze your eyes shut and whimper out a little ‘no’.
“Then keep taking it like a good girl.” Seungcheol responds. You know he likes that you’re depriving yourself of this. It strikes a sick part of him. The sounds of his fingers fill the room, filthy, sopping noises that come from his digits slamming into you over and over. You are panting heavily, gripping the sheets so hard that you’re almost afraid you will rip them, toes curled and legs stiff, doing everything in your power to not gush over his fingers, to prove to him that you can take whatever he will give you and you won’t do anything you’re not allowed to.
Seungcheol pulls out his fingers just when you think you’re reaching your limit. His wet hand comes down with a harsh spank on your tingling pussy. You scream. He does it two more times, and you weep through it. Finally, you can’t take it anymore.
“Please.” You sob. “Please, daddy. Need your cock. Wanna cum on it, please.”
By this time, he is throbbing hard again, and he wastes not even a single second, groaning as he tugs your body down and stuffs your aching cunt full of himself once again. His pace from the start is rough and fast. There’s no indulgence in him anymore. Watching you shake and tremble under him as he abused your pussy must have been enough, because he is nothing but primal need now. He’s so hard it’s almost painful, like you’re being impaled, but the relief of the stretch has you wailing loudly. The room is dense with the smell of sweat, sex and cum, noises picking up as he fucks you the way you need. Your mind blanks, focused on nothing but the wonderful feeling of it. Your body sings, glows, buzzes with anticipation because this time, you know he will let you reach your peak.
You don’t even have to ask. He cups your jaw, tilts your head and slots his lips into yours. He kisses you until you can’t breathe, your walls spasming hard around him, more than ready, as he whispers.
“Cum.”
You nearly black out.
It’s less like a wave and more like an electric shock, shooting through your body and freezing every nerve inside you. Your breath catches and your lungs scream. You cry and wail through it, not even caring how you sound as you gush around Seungcheol’s cock. He rubs harshly over your poor clit, prolonging an already intense high. You arch so deeply you feel like your soul is leaving your body. You babble nonsense, a mix of swear words, thank yous, and incoherent phrases. Seungcheol holds you down after a bit, draping his weight over you to ground you, and it’s such a welcome feeling that your whole body relaxes into it. When the roaring in your ears lessens, you hear his endless praises, telling you how good you are, how sexy and perfect, cumming so beautifully like that. He thrusts shallowly into you, not even properly leaving your cunt, rutting into you so you’re not empty for a single second.
“That was divine, sweetheart.” He sighs. “So pretty when you cum. You want another reward for being such a good girl? You want my cum?”
You’re already nodding before he even finishes speaking, blinking your tear-heavy eyelids.
“Please, daddy. Need it.”
He shushes you, brushes the hair off your face and presses his forehead to yours.
“No more begging, baby. You deserve it.”
And then he floods you, two or three more thrusts until you feel warmth coat your insides. It’s perfect, it’s everything you could’ve asked for and more. He empties his balls into you, thrusting until it dampens into a slow grind, plugging his cum inside your thoroughly fucked out hole.
It’s silent for a long time before Seungcheol moves. Your chests rise and fall together, slowly catching your breaths. He’s draped over you still, and it feels so reassuring that you can’t help but whine in protest when he moves. It makes him chuckle.
“If you get cold like this, your muscles will be very sore in the morning, sweetheart.” He reasons. He would know, the gym freak that he is, so you curl into yourself as he trudges into the bathroom. You can hear water running, and a familiar fruity aroma quickly drifts into the room through the open door. He’s running you a bath.
The warm water is like balm on your skin as he carries your body into it. You moan appreciatively, letting your boyfriend knead and press into your thighs. His front presses against your back as he slowly works over you in blissful silence, laying tiny kisses on your shoulders as he works. After a while, he finally speaks.
“So,” he begins, “what happened at work today?”
You blink, thinking. After a few seconds, you giggle.
“Honestly, I don’t even care anymore.”
That makes him laugh. “Well, I guess that’s a job well done for me.”
You turn in his arms just a bit to lay a kiss on his lips, and he returns it so softly and sweetly that you almost want to cry. This time from unadulterated bliss.
You don’t even know if you have the words to tell Seungcheol how much you love him. But when he squeezes your body tightly to his, you think you don’t have to. He already knows.
requested: riding Dino’s thick fingers with all his rings on and leaving love bites all over his thick shoulders/chest.
Warning: mdni, 18+, friend! Dino, friend! reader, friend! svt, drinking, brief mention of masturbation (m rec.), dino wears rings, dry humping, dirty talk, praise, riding, messy kisses, reader needs to get laid, and dino is happy to help, mutual feelings, dom! Dino, teasing, nicknames (baby, pretty girl) etc.
wc: 3k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
Sometimes, when you're drunk, friends kiss friends.
Alcohol lowers everyone's inhibitions, and it's only natural that you're pulling Dino to you with a giggling hiccup. A slurred, "c'mere," makes it past your lips before Dino crashes into you. His arms wrap around your waist, and your fingers curl into the front of his jacket, and somehow his lips find yours.
Friends kiss friends drunk, but you're not entirely sure they keep going past a sloppy make-out.
Your eyelashes flutter, your mouth parts, and a soft moan slips past your glossy lips as Dino trails his kisses down your jaw and neck. His warm hands are holding you by the waist, keeping you flushed against his firm body as he pins you to the door of your apartment, making you see stars.
You two had gone out with all of your friends to the local pub. It was a tradition that you all had to celebrate making it through another work week. Being an adult was tough. And for the start of your weekend, seeing your friends was the highlight that kept you going, and it was only natural to share a cab with Dino.
Of all your friends, you two were the only ones who lived in the same direction. Dino always offered to pay, claiming he just wanted to make sure you got home safely since your place was the closest. He was always the gentleman, making the taxi wait until you made it safely inside your apartment, and he saw the lights turn on from the window. Then, he'd go.
And usually that was it.
But there was something different about tonight.
Maybe it was the fact that Dino had stayed close to you all night. His arm wrapped around the back of your wooden chair as you laughed at something Dokyeom said. Or the fact that Dino held your purse all night while you jumped around with Seungkwan and Min-ji, drunkenly singing and yelling the lyrics to a song you claimed was your favorite. (The last three songs that played were claimed to be your favorite, too.)
Or maybe it was the fact that last week, in the dark of the cab you shared with Dino, you quietly confessed you just needed a good fuck. You didn't think Dino was listening; his eyes were closed, and his legs were spread wide like how most men sat, taking up so much space, while his thigh pressed into yours in the tiny taxi.
You blame the fact that your brain was fuzzy, the familiar buzz of being tipsy making you reflect on how stressed you had been at work lately. You weren't really thinking straight, your hazy eyes focusing on his jeans stretched over his thick thighs and the rings he usually wore on his fingers.
Honestly, fuck those rings.
Dino had always worn rings since you've known him. Some stacked, one always on his pinky finger, and all of them distracting. The light seemed to always catch them just right and therefore catch your attention as he ran his fingers through his fluffy hair, or when he pointed at another friend while laughing. You found yourself staring whenever he brought his glass of alcohol up to his lips with a smirk, and when his fingers flexed on his thigh as the taxi drove in the direction of your apartment.
But I guess you were wrong.
He had heard every word slip past your pretty lips, and his jaw clenched in restraint. He listened to you sigh so sweetly after, and he could tell without opening his eyes that you were probably pouting cutely, your eyes hazy as you spoke before your mind could stop you.
It took everything in him not to pull you onto his lap, cab driver be damned, and see if you'd sound just as sweet asking for him to fuck you. If you'd let him drag you across his lap, back and forth nice and slow, so you can really feel how crazy you truly drove him.
Because Dino had always been attracted to you. It didn't matter that you two were friends; his eyes never failed to look for yours in every room he entered, and the only reason he didn't act on his feelings was out of respect for you. He didn't know if you felt the same, and he cared for you too much to jeopardize that. So, if that meant he could only have you in his life as just friends? He would quietly take it.
But that changes when you let those few little words slip. His sanity barely hangs on as the cab stops in front of your apartment building. He feels you shake him softly, calling his name like he was asleep, and he had to watch you flash him an innocent smile, your eyes glossy like your lips as you waved at him before skipping up the steps and heading inside, without him.
Dino doesn't feel guilty that the moment he's home, he's freeing his aching cock from his jeans, and sitting on his couch, unable to make it back to his bed fast enough before he strokes his cock firmly in his hand.
The whole cab ride, after he dropped you off, consisted of him thinking about you. Your words swirling in his brain as he started imagining what would have happened if he followed you inside.
His hand grips his cock firmer, his legs spreading as he leans back on his couch. The thoughts flash faster now, his eyes squeezing shut at the mere thought of you.
And it isn't until he's cumming all over his hand, making a mess, that he decides fuck the friendship, if the opportunity comes, he's taking it.
And it's why, the following week, when everyone meets up at the pub, he sits right next to you the entire night. He keeps his arm wrapped loosely around the back of your chair as he leans back in his own. His smile brightens just by being closer to you, and he doesn't even mind holding your small purse as you give it to him with sparkling eyes and a beaming grin.
He watches you fondly as you jump around, letting loose and having fun when Soonyoung coaxes you to dance with him as Mingyu takes the mic for karaoke. And it was only inevitable that an hour later, you're bouncing around with Seungkwan over a 2000's song like you're famous.
It's also not surprising that when your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes sparkle with mischief, you're calling Dino closer for an innocent kiss.
Friends kiss friends drunk.
That's proven whenever Dokyeom drinks more than one bottle of soju and starts pawing at Soonyoung or Jihoon with hooded eyes and an amused grin. In the group chat, his name is listed as Dude Kisser, DK for short, and with enough alcohol, he lives up to his namesake.
And it wasn't just him. Your group of friends were all close; it wasn't taboo to find Seungkwan drunk, eyelashes wet with tears as he confessed his love for every single person sitting at the table, as if he had never done it before. And Jeonghan had kissed everyone but Seungcheol, a running bet placed on behalf of Joshua, much to Seungcheol's notorious pout for being left out.
You all were just sentimental. Years of friendship did that to you; it just never seemed unnatural to pull in anyone for a kiss, or a hug, or a quick cuddle. It was a sign of affection that was hardly ever turned down.
As I said, alcohol lowers everyone's inhibitions, and Dino's self-restraint wanes as you pull him in by his jacket, and his lips crash into yours as you giggle.
His arms pull you close, and in mere seconds, he can feel your body begin to melt into his. It makes him smirk, his tongue goading you to open your mouth for him so he can have a taste. And he finds it so cute how you easily obey, your small moan swallowed by him as his hands slide down to your ass.
His kisses leave you reeling, your hands clutching onto him for stability as he kisses you breathless. "You wanna go?" He murmurs the words against your lips, his teeth sinking into your lower lip after he asks, and you whimper in response. You're at a loss for words, nodding dumbly, staring at his mouth in a trance as he smirks at you.
You had thought it would be an innocent, friendly kiss with Dino, but now you're feeling more sober by the second, the warmth in your stomach making your thighs clench as he leads you out of the bar, not even bothering to say bye to the rest of your friends as you guys leave.
And it's just as dizzying when Dino has you in the backseat of the cab, the taxi driver dutifully staring straight ahead on the road as Dino pulls you onto his lap. He has you straddling his thighs, facing him as he rolls your hips forward, confessing, "fuck I've been wanting to do this for so long."
His words make your body heat up, your moan ending in a gasp as your pretty pussy drags over his jean-covered cock just right. He guides you nice and slow, making you feel every inch of his cock, all hard and throbbing for you as his fingers grab your ass firmly.
Fuck, you needed this, and it feels so good, even if you feel like a teenager grinding so shamelessly on Dino. But every time he drags you forward, your clit bumps over his jeans, and the friction it has on your sensitive bundle of nerves has your panties soaking and probably leaving a wet spot on his pants.
You feel delirious, the cab too small and yet not small enough as you dip your head down and kiss Dino messily. It's all breathy moans and tongue until you need to pull back for air. And through it all, he keeps you grinding on him, his hands rubbing your ass to your thighs, then up your back as you kiss down his jaw with fervor.
"Oh fuck," you not only hear but feel Chan's breath hitch when your teeth graze a sensitive spot on his neck. You immediately need to hear it again, loving the way his head tilts back to give you more access to him. Your teeth bite, your lips sucks, and your tongue swirls until there is a pretty mark left on his neck.
The bruise blossoms a dark red, and you're ready to give it a friend when the cab rolls to a stop. The taxi driver clears his throat loudly, the clearest indication to get the fuck out, and it makes you giggle while Dino flashes you a grin. He tips the driver, and before the cab is even driving away, his hands are on you once more.
Friends kiss friends drunk, and Dino kisses you against your apartment door.
He's got your whole body tingling, your lips puffy from being kiss-bitten and sucked during your make-out that you can barely push him off of you. Your mind races as you gasp out, "Need to - mmph - need to unlock door, Channie."
He gives you only moments to do so before he's dragging you inside like it was his place. His hands are pulling you closer, both of you stumbling as you kiss between giggles, layers of your clothes leaving a trail until you're pushing Dino onto the couch.
His chest heaves, deep breaths, his hair disheveled and falling into his eyes. He's shirtless, his jeans hanging low on his hips as he spreads his thighs, looking at you like you hung every star in the sky. "C'mere."
He says it as if you might say no. Like you haven't been wanting this like he has this whole time, and when he runs his fingers through his hair, the rings catch the light, and it has you surging forward.
Your legs straddle his hips, and your lips crash back into his as you murmur. "Fuck those rings." It makes Dino laugh, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling your head back, and making you moan in his lap.
"You don't like my rings, Baby?"
His question makes your eyelashes flutter, your cheeks flushing as his other hand cups your jaw. His rings are cold against your heated skin, and you're rolling your hips over his lap to give him your answer. "Can't stand them," you huff with no indication that you actually mean what you say.
Your pussy clenches when your eyes meet his, and his thumb strokes your cheek like you weren't actively humping him, near desperate as your brain begins to fog up. He gives you a lazy but cocky grin from your response, his fingers tugging your hair again as he leans up to kiss your throat. "Mmm, I don't think you mean that." He murmurs, the words are hot along your neck, and your eyes squeeze close when he lets go of your jaw to bring that hand between your thighs.
His fingers drag up your panties, feeling just how wet you were, and he laughs condescendingly against your ear, making a new wave of your arousal to drip onto your panties.
"Look at you saying one thing while your body tells me different," he teases. Your breath hitches as his fingertips play with the edge of your panties, teasing your wet folds over the thin fabric as he holds you in place by your hair.
You can't even close your thighs because you're straddling his lap. The position keeps your legs open just enough for him to play with your pretty pussy. The soft touches and his kisses along your neck have you burning from within, needing him more with each second that passes by.
"Chan, please." You need him to touch you, or fuck you, or something more. Your whine has him cooing, a sick part of him loving to see you beg.
His fingers pull your panties to the side just as he cups the back of your neck with his other hand, giving you a wicked grin. "Don't worry, I got you, Baby." He tucks his fingers between your glistening folds, coating his hand with your sweet slick and smearing it onto your puffy clit. "How about you show me just how much you love my rings, hmmm?"
He makes you look at him as his thumb presses onto your little nub while he sinks two fingers into your drooling cunt. His thick fingers that are stacked with rings stretch your gummy walls as you moan loudly with pleasure.
And Dino means what he says, because once his fingers are curled deep inside your wet cunt, he keeps them still. He can feel how your sweet gummy walls pulse around his thick fingers, clenching around his cold rings, coating his hand with your honeyed arousal. His cock throbs in need underneath you, loving how your pussy tries to adjust to his fingers as you begin to move just like he asked.
Dino could probably cum untouched just by watching you. Your hands press onto his chest, anchoring you as you swivel your hips, clenching around his long digits as you find your pace. Dino also thinks you're gorgeous as you ride his fingers, and he tells you just as much. "Good girl, using me to get off. I want you nice and wet when I give you my cock, Baby."
His rings rub along your walls, stretching you open as you pick up the pace, his praise causing a warmth to pool in your lower stomach. He easily adds another finger into your sopping cunt, stuffing you with three thick fingers, and pulling you forward to swallow your moans from the bigger stretch. The new angle, paired with the curl of his fingers, has you seeing stars, your hips rolling faster as you start to kiss down his neck and shoulders.
It's lewd the way your pussy squelches, the noises resonating in the living room as you ride his fingers like it was his cock. Your lips and teeth leave pretty splotches of color along his shoulders and chest as your mind turns into mush each time his rings are swallowed up by your slobbering hole.
The whole time, he keeps his other hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close as you use his fingers like a toy. "That's it, make a mess all over my fingers." He praises, his eyes half-lidded as you mark his chest, rolling your hips sinfully. His thumb tucks between your swollen folds, pressing into your clit, and leaving you squeezing his fingers with a broken moan. "I can feel that you're close. Are you gonna cum, pretty girl?" He asks you just as his fingertips rub against your G-spot, making you gasp as your hole winks around his fingers more.
He's locking onto that sensitive area, probing and battering it with each time your hips rock back onto his digits, and your mouth drops open wider. "Y-yes. Yes, right there! I- oh fuck. M'gonna cum."
Dino's barely pulling you up to give you a dazzling grin, his fingers taking over to work you over the edge, as he watches you fall apart for him. Your head rolls back just like your eyes do as your mouth hangs stupidly open. When you cum, you cum hard, soaking his fingers with your syrupy slick as you cry out his name.
He has ruined you. You had never felt like this, leaking heavily, thighs trembling as he fucks you through it.
"That's it. Did so well for me," He praises, and your mind is foggy, forcing you to blink dumbly at him as he slips his thick fingers from your fluttering cunt. Your whole body tingles, your pussy still spasming in the after shocks as Chan shows you the mess you made all over his thick fingers. The rings shine with your sweet arousal, gluing them sticky as he brings them to you. "Clean my fingers well, and I'll let you cum on my cock next."
high sex drive with dino… he feels like one who would have high sex drive…
high sex drive!dino headcanons
high sex drive!dino who keeps being made fun of by his friends and roommates for having to change his boxers multiple times a day because he precums like crazy!!
high sex drive!dino who has to keep fisting his cock each morning and night, mouth open in a silent “o”, so he won’t be randomly hard during the day around you (like that one time he was unbelievably hard on an amusement park date)
high sex drive!dino who can go round after round. you challenged him one day, believing that your sex drive was higher than his—that your stamina and drive can last longer. you really regretted that decision after he made you cum for the fourth time, the plat plat plat sound of his hips meeting yours had turned into a squelch from dino’s cum leaking from your little hole. “Not so cocky now, huh? just be quiet and take this cock.”
high sex drive!dino who’s biggest kink is you sucking him off. the thought of you, on your knees in front of his leaking cock, was what made him so hard during the day. so, naturally, he used your mouth every second of everyday when you two were together. just minutes before his photoshoot, he had you in his dressing room, fist full of your hair while you gagged around his length. he has to film a tiktok? he has convinced you that the only way he can get a perfect take is by you sucking him dry beforehand. his abs would tense, his face tilting upward with a groan as he pumped his cum down your throat for the third time that day.
high sex drive!dino who gets whiny when you are away for too long or you’re stuck in traffic or whatever reason—because why can’t he just fuck you when he’s hard? expect a facetime call when you’re out with your friends; your screen lighting up with him lazily stroking his cock, naked on the bed. “I miss you and your pussy. come home.”
a/n: the maknae king!! i had a lot of requests for dino so i am only answering to this one but if u requested, i hope u like <3
SUMMARY -> everyone knows choi seungcheol, captain of the football team, has been trying to get into your (the head cheerleader's) pants for the entire semester. you make him wait, and wait, and wait. until he doesn't.
WORDS -> approx. 15k
WARNINGS -> choi seungcheol x female reader, university au, football player choi seungcheol, cheerleader reader, top seungcheol, wet & messy, rough sex, unprotected sex, face slapping, spanking, multiple orgasms, light drug use, reader gets wrecked while wearing a skirt, crying, size kink
- requested [no]
seungcheol is more than aware that he's a little bit of a cliche. star quarterback of the football team, frat boy, a little bit of a playboy. add in the fact that he's spent the entire semester pining over the head cheerleader into the mix and he's basically the embodiment of a romcom trope.
but he doesn't mind much: life is good. the only real issue is that he's been trying (and failing. desperately failing) to get in said head cheerleader's pants for the better part of the last four months and he's just about ready to crawl out of his skin.
but it's fine. he's fine.
he's three or five drinks deep already at one of the last house parties of the year. the semester is winding down to prepare for spring break, as most students are already done with their finals and just sticking around for the last football game coming up next week. seungcheol has been stretched so thin between studying and practice for the past few weeks that he's not in much of a partying mood, so rather than being at the center of the room like he usually is, he's kicked back on the couch by the back door nursing a drink, mingyu sitting on the arm next to him as they quietly chat below the music pounding through the room.
"staring at the door won't make her come any faster," mingyu says, elbowing seungcheol in the ribs. he pushes the little marble-swirled pipe pinched between his fingers under seungcheol's nose, twisting it. "relax. smoke with me."
"who said i'm waiting for her?" seungcheol says into his red solo cup, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. he knows mingyu isn't buying it. "i don't care if she comes or not."
"so you're saying if y/n were to walk through that door right now you wouldn't be over there in ten seconds flat pushing a drink into her hand and trying to take her up to your room?" mingyu rolls his eyes, fishing a lighter out of his pocket. "yeah, i'll believe that when i see it."
seungcheol is about to talk back when a commotion across the room catches his attention. a small group is arriving, filtering in one by one, faces seungcheol definitely recognizes. his heart rate spikes and he cranes his neck the tiniest bit, hoping mingyu doesn't notice.
"ah," mingyu says, bringing the pipe to his lips and sparking the lighter up. "there she is."
it's amazing how you manage to demand the attention of the room at large the second you enter. faces turn to you like flowers toward the sun and you glow under the attention, smiling sweetly and greeting the people around you with hugs and waving the lollipop clutched in your hand excitedly at those who yell your name from deeper into the room. it takes you a second to weave through the throng of people but once seungcheol can see you properly his mouth instantly goes dry— you're wearing all black from head to toe, sinfully tight miniskirt with stockings disappearing into your high boots. a loose shirt just barely brushes your waistband, exposing a little peek of skin just above your belt that seungcheol's eyes linger on for a few seconds too long.
"hey, earth to seungcheol," mingyu says right in his ear, startling him. "stop drooling over y/n for two seconds and answer my question."
"didn't hear you," seungcheol mumbles. you run your fingers through your hair, the rings on your fingers catching the light. your hair is getting even longer, now, and seungcheol thinks it suits you. to be fair though, just about anything would suit you so there's really no point in having a preference. "what'd you say?"
mingyu exhales a thick cloud of milky smoke into the air right in front of seungcheol's eyes but it doesn't stop him from watching as some poor fuck practically falls to his knees in front of you with a drink in his hand. you accept it with a sweet smile that curls your eyes, leaning into the boy's space and toeing the heel of your boot into the carpet. seungcheol ignores the little spark of jealousy that roars to life in his chest, tearing his eyes away. he focuses on the little pipe in mingyu's hand. "nah, not in the mood tonight."
"suit yourself." mingyu shrugs.
you are laughing at something the little call-boy is whispering to you, throwing your head back in a way that makes the glitter smeared high on your cheeks glint under the low light. he wrinkles his nose, draining the rest of his drink.
"based on the way she's still the only thing you seem to be able to focus on i'm gonna guess you still haven't gotten into her pants yet?" mingyu muses.
seungcheol shoots mingyu a look. "trust me, if i had then you and the entire campus would know already. i plan on putting it on a billboard when it finally happens."
"why don't you go talk to her, then? it's not like you to give up."
seungcheol sighs, leaning back into the couch. "what do you want me to do? throw myself at her like the rest of the room is doing?" he gestures at you, who now has the attention of some guy giggling and cracking jokes. it makes him snort; good luck with that, sweetheart. "i'm not desperate."
"are you sure? because i kinda recall you spending every single party this year doing exactly what they're all doing."
"i mean i'm not gonna throw myself at her right now," seungcheol almost whines. "i'm trying something new. shut up."
"ah, the make her come to you method." mingyu nods. "solid."
"so you think she even knows i'm here?"
"seungcheol, you live here."
"maybe i should—"
"oh look, she's headed this way now!" mingyu says, tapping seungcheol excitedly on the shoulder.
seungcheol's eyes snap back to the last place he saw you. you're still standing in the same spot, twisting the bright pink sucker between your fingers and nodding enthusiastically to the guy whispering something in your ear. "no she's n—"
"hey, y/n!" mingyu shouts, reaching up to wave his hand up high in the air. you startle and jerk your head up, searching the crowd for the source of the voice before you spot mingyu and smile, wiggling your fingers in their direction. your eyes snap to seungcheol for a split second and they instantly narrow, making a chill shoot up and down his spine.
"i'm going to fucking kill you," seungcheol says, watching you say goodbye to your friends and start to pick through the crowd on the way over to them.
"okay, hurry, act natural. she's almost here." mingyu pauses, side-eyeing seungcheol. "actually, y/n is so used to you looking at her like that it would be weirder if you tried being normal. you're good."
seungcheol is this close to chewing mingyu out but then you are right in front of him, one hand cocked on your waist and the other carding through your hair at your temple. you look... bored, in a way, like you don't want to be standing there right now, and for some reason you giving him that look, like, instantly turns him on.
"hey," you say, twirling the candy between your fingers. "what are you two doing all the way back here?" you raise yours eyebrows at seungcheol. "you're usually the first one doing keg stands in the middle of the living room."
"seungcheol is just so exhausted,” mingyu pipes up. “you know, it's not easy being the star football player. quarterback and captain. not only that but did you know he's been on the dean's list for the past three semesters? if that's not the kind of quality you want from a long-term partner or even a casual hookup then i don't know what is. in fact—"
"okay!" seungcheol almost shouts, making mingyu snap his mouth shut with a devilish little grin. seungcheol has no idea why he keeps him around. "just tired. practice has been crazy with the big game coming up. you know."
"mm," you hum in agreement. the cheerleading squad works just as hard if not harder than the football team. you share a field during practice, in fact. seungcheol is all too aware of that. "you two smoking?"
"yeah, get in here," mingyu says, passing the pipe and lighter over to you who accepts it happily.
"thank you," you singsong. you turn your attention back to seungcheol. "mind if i have a seat?"
"oh, yeah, yeah. sorry." seungcheol hadn't realized how rude he's being, spread out in the middle of the loveseat leaving nowhere for you to sit down. he's just about to move over to make room when you smile sweetly, stepping forward until your knees are pressed together and then sinking one into the the couch between the arm and seungcheol's thigh, slinging the other over his lap and settling down.
"best seat in the house," you say, eyes boring into seungcheol's. he vaguely registers mingyu snickering at his left, most likely because he must look like a deer in the headlights right now but he doesn't care. having you on his lap is basically the best-case scenario of any situation he could ever find himself in.
"my bed is more comfortable," seungcheol blurts.
mingyu chokes. "alright, that's my cue to leave," he says. "you two can keep that bowl." he slides off the arm of the couch and disappears into the crowd, leaving only you and seungcheol in your own little world.
you giggle, letting your head loll onto his shoulder. you squeeze your knees a little bit around seungcheol's thighs and shift forward until your crotch is just a hair's breath away from seungcheol's zipper. the proximity has seungcheol feeling dizzy and mentally praying that his dick doesn't get the memo embarrass him.
"maybe i'll find out someday," you say airily, but seungcheol knows it's all talk. he's been playing this game with you for far too long.
"you gonna smoke that?" seungcheol says, mostly for something to say. his words crack around the dryness in his throat and he glances at his empty solo cup on the end table next to the couch, really needing another drink right about now, but he's sure as hell not going to make you move to go make another.
"let's share it, yeah?" you say. you bring the pipe to your mouth and wrap your lips around it, sparking the flame to life low in the bowl and inhaling deeply, holding it in your lungs.
seungcheol hadn't really wanted to smoke tonight but what you want you get as far as he's concerned. he starts to reach for the pipe, expecting you to hand it over, but you shake your head and smile, a little wisp of smoke escaping the corner of your lips. you bring your hand to seungcheol's cheek, the back of your knuckle brushing his jaw pressing your thumb on seungcheol's lower lip, urging him to part them.
it takes seungcheol a second to register what you want him to do. you just raise your eyebrows, adding a little more pressure to your touch until your thumb nail dips into the wet part of seungcheol's mouth.
seungcheol finally gets the memo and parts his lips the rest of the way, tipping his head back to inhale, drinking every curl of smoke from your lips into his own lungs. he can feel the heat from his mouth, the two of you so close together he can almost feel your lips brushing. he has to resist the urge to chase it— you keep your eyes on him, half-lidded and already a little bit hazy from drinks, probably from drinking with your friends before heading over to the party. you look like pure sex.
god, seungcheol has never wanted anyone or anything more in his life.
you don't pull back even once seungcheol has exhaled all the smoke. in fact you've somehow gotten closer— your knees press into his waist, the swell of your ass sitting somewhere near where his cock has started stirring, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. the weight of you in his lap is almost torture but you are only making it worse with the way you're looking at him, gaze dark and sultry. like you want him just as much as seungcheol wants you.
the voice in the back of his head, the rational part of seungcheol (if there's even such a thing when he has you in his lap) reminds him that this is just what you do. this push-and-pull, will-they-or-won't-they, absolutely torturous test of patience and sanity.
you both have a pretty long history; the football team and cheerleading squad usually practice at the same time, and from the moment you stepped on that field seungcheol has been enamored with you. it would be nearly impossible to not be— you're very distracting, the way you prance around in your crop tops and little skirts rolled down low on your hips to make them even shorter than they're supposed to be, much to the dismay of seungcheol's concentration but to the delight of basically every other part of him.
the first time you had tangled your hands together and dragged seungcheol behind the bleachers after practice was only a short couple of weeks into the semester. you'd let seungcheol push you into the fence and slot his knee between your legs, had let him lick hotly into your mouth and tug on your hair until you were both panting and worked up, a flush high on your cheeks. but just as seungcheol was about to suggest you head back to the frat house only a short walk away, you had pulled back, tugging at the hem of your painfully short top and sliding your tongue over your kiss-swollen lips.
that was fun, you'd said. maybe we can finish this next time?
it became somewhat of an unspoken routine between you. every once in a while— only every couple of weeks, really, by no means a regular thing— you would be extra distracting during practice, would somehow always be... doing something that seungcheol would deem a hazard to his health, from stretching until you were nearly bent in half, tying your shoelaces, and— on one particularly excruciating day— doing a full split with your eyes on seungcheol the whole time, lips curled in a way that was far too innocent to not be intentional.
but no matter how much seungcheol wanted to, your little meetups never progressed any further than making out. every single time, just as seungcheol was starting to get really wound up, you would pull away, tell him you had to go, and leave.
needless to say, outside of football and studying there's little that seungcheol has been able to think about outside of you, you and you.
he hasn't even slept with anyone since he and you have started whatever thing you've gotten into. he did once, had picked up some girl who’d been trying to get in his pants for weeks. he ended up fucking her face down with her head pressed into the pillow, trying (and failing) to imagine that it was you trembling underneath him instead.
it didn't work, not even a little bit. if anything it only made him more frustrated, knowing that the only thing that would sate his appetite is a taste of you yourself.
it's excruciating.
you know it, too. it's clear in the way you're looking at him right now, the way you dart your tongue out against the end of the pipe before sliding it between your lips, keeping your eyes on seungcheol the entire time you light up the second half of the bowl and inhale before repeating the motion from before, dipping your head down to exhale the smoke directly into seungcheol's lungs.
he hadn't expected it to turn into a kiss; the second the last bit of smoke curls out from your mouth you push down the few inches to press your lips together, tongue sliding hotly over seungcheol's bottom lip and hands winding around his neck to wrap in his hair. seungcheol responds to it immediately, doesn't even have to think about it before his hands are on your thighs and he's tilting his head to give you better access, meeting your tongue in the space between your lips. you taste like vodka and the strawberry lollipop you'd been sucking on. he's already long associated the taste of artificial strawberry with kissing you, to the point where a few weeks ago his friend had offered him a pink starburst and the second he ate it he'd popped a boner and had to head back to the frat house in shame.
you pull away for air, panting in the pretty way you do against seungcheol's lips as you look at him through your eyelashes. seungcheol runs his hand down your thigh and his hand feels on something smooth— he hadn't realized before that you are wearing a pair of sheer stockings.
"you've been working so hard," you breathe. you massage the pads of your fingers into seungcheol's shoulders, working at the tense muscles there. "maybe there's somewhere we can go to release a little tension, mm? blow off some steam?"
"yeah?" seungcheol asks, hazy. he toys with the edge of your little skirt and you arch your back, pressing your cunt against seungcheol's zipper, making him hiss through his teeth.
"yeah." you parrot. you lean forward to ghost your lips over seungcheol's earlobe, hair brushing featherlight against his temple. "how about you show me where your room is?"
seungcheol shivers— he turns his head and noses against your cheek until you turn your head to meet him, brushing your lips just barely, sweet strawberry and liquor mingling in the shared space. his cock throbs in his jeans and he knows you are close enough that you can feel it, the swell of your ass full-on pressed over it. with a mischievous smirk you grind your hips down, just barely, painfully slow, eyes going dark. seungcheol is vaguely aware that you're both in a room full of people but he can't find himself in it to care if you're giving them a show, too overwhelmed by the feeling of you pressing in on every single one of his senses. you're so fucking intoxicating, even more so than the alcohol and weed coursing through his veins.
he slides his hands under your thighs, standing up and bringing you with him. you giggle, wrapping your legs around seungcheol's waist and winding your arms around his neck. there's dozens of eyes on you both when you make your way through the small crowd at the back of the house and up the stairs leading to the bedrooms, but he doesn't give a fuck about what kind of things people are saying about you. there’s already enough rumors talking about how you both must be hooking up— if anything seungcheol is praying that after tonight there might actually be some truth to them.
it’s a miracle and a half that seungcheol manages to not stumble and fall on his ass on the way up the stairs. once you reach the landing where there's much less prying eyes and attention on you, you immediately surge forward, grabbing a handful of seungcheol's shirt to drag the collar away from his neck, dipping your head to trace his collarbone with your tongue before sucking a bruise just above it. seungcheol shivers at the thought of having your marks on him, hidden just below where everyone will be able to see them— one little slip of his shirt will reveal the tender bruise blooming beneath it.
which— that's not something you've ever done before, marking each other— you drag your lips over it and then pull back to admire it with hazy eyes, a pleased little smile curling the corner of your lips. within seconds you have your arms back around seungcheol's neck and you're sucking his earlobe into your mouth, laving your tongue over the shell of his ear and working your hips up against seungcheol's lower hips, the press of his cock unmistakably hard even trapped under his too-tight jeans.
"this one?" you gasp against his ear, breath rolling cold over the damp skin. seungcheol nods, letting you reach down and grab the handle before seungcheol kicks the bottom of the door to let you in, spinning to push you up against it to slam it shut the second you're inside. you unwind your legs from seungcheol's waist and drop to the ground, immediately pushing up on your tiptoes to bring your lips together in another kiss, wet and messy and tense with the promise of more to come.
kissing you is like the most addicting drug he's even taken— he thinks he'd never stop if he didn't have to. he gets lost in the feel of it, the way you flick your tongue in the downright filthy way that never fails to make seungcheol's toes curl, mind immediately going to how it would feel for you to do that against the head of his cock.
seungcheol slots his thigh between your legs in the way he always does, pressing hard— you mewl, throwing your head back and curling your hand into hairs at the base of seungcheol's hair. and this is the way it always starts, the game you never finish playing.
seungcheol licks a fat stripe up the side of your neck before grazing his teeth over your jawline, every little whine he drags from your saliva-slick lips jolting straight to his groin.
"what's it gonna take, huh?" seungcheol mumbles into your skin, sealing the words with the slide of his tongue, tasting salt and perfume clinging to your skin. he slips his fingers underneath the stockings straining around your thigh, hitching your leg up around him to give him better access to roll your hips together. "what's it gonna take for you to let me fuck you?"
"thought you loved the chase," you pant, hands sliding to seungcheol's shoulders for leverage, pushing the collar of his shirt down to expose the golden, sweat-damp line of his neck. "what happened to taking your time?"
"you're a fucking tease is what happened." seungcheol finds your lips again, crashing them together in a messy, wet kiss laced with intent. you let him lick into your mouth, easy, pliant; you like to act like you're in control but seungcheol can see how quickly you fall apart under his hands, is dying to see how much you shake and writhe when split open on his cock. he shivers at the visual, a mess of precum dampening the front of his boxers.
"am i teasing you right now?" your voice doesn't lose the mischievous lilt even as you grind down on seungcheol's clothed cock, words punctuated by filthy little moans that have seungcheol going fucking crazy. "seems like you have me exactly where you want me."
seungcheol groans, not even able to think of a witty response. he just wants so badly it hurts — he grips harder around the stockings, pulling you impossibly closer. his other hand drops to your hip, fingers sliding up under your top to trace the line of skin above your waistband. heat starts to pool behind his lower body already, embarrassingly worked up from just this with all the past context of you edging him over and over again across the last semester. he's always prided himself on his stamina, never thinking he was the type to come in his pants from dry humping like a dog in heat, but then again he didn't think a lot of things were possible before he met you.
your kiss turns sloppier, more desperate; your lips are all puffy and swollen under his and seungcheol pulls back to trace them with the rigid tip of his tongue. your eyes are both half-lidded and glassy and you stare at each other as you roll your hips, panting in the shared space between you.
you've never gone any further than this, and seungcheol is already dreading the second you decide it's time for you to call it quits. seungcheol is so close he can practically taste his release on the tip of his tongue. he tries to tell himself it's different this time; you had told him you were coming up here to release some tension. you're in seungcheol's room, alone, with no risk of being caught or facing awkward walk of shame back home if you get a little messy. but part of him is already thinking ahead to the way you alway pull away, running your hands through your messy hair and flashing a sweet little swollen-lipped smile with a sorry, i have to get home, let's finish this next time?
you are needy tonight, though. you don't show any signs of stopping, much to seungcheol's delight; you drag your lips down from his neck to his shoulder, leaving a slick trail of saliva, sucking another bruise into seungcheol's skin. you hiss through your teeth and cool the spot when seungcheol jerks harshly on the stocking to hitch you up even higher, forcing you up on the tiptoes of your high boots and wrapping your leg around his waist. seungcheol is grinding down onto you at a feverish pace, now, chasing his release, panting loudly in the room over the thundering boom of the bass outside. he's close, so, so close, and even if he doesn't get to fuck you he still wants to be able to come with you pressed up against you, the the strawberry scent on his nose and the salt of your sweat on his tongue.
"you're so fucking flexible," seungcheol growls, pressing your foreheads together.
"i'm a cheerleader," you gasp cheekily. there's a high red flush on your cheeks and you look so fucking wrecked— his cock drools another flood of precum and the string in his belly tightens nearly to snapping. "i can bend a hell of a lot more than this.”
"oh yeah?" seungcheol slips his fingers from where they're resting on your bare waist and circles them around to your stomach, brushing through the thin panties you're wearing disappearing down into the waistband of your skirt. he thumbs at it, hesitating, asking— no, begging for permission.
you hum, deliberating. seungcheol's cock physically hurts with how bad he wants you, and the longer he stares at you the more he's torturing himself with wondering how you must look naked, your athletic cheerleader body and your thighs that he wants wrapped around his head more than he wants to be alive.
"how about we make a deal?" you say suddenly, your hazy eyes gaining some clarity, a flicker of mischief. you loosen your grip on seungcheol's hair, pressing gently against his chest in a way that makes seungcheol instantly still his hips. he has to hold back an actual sob, is fully prepared to get on his knees and beg if he has to. at this point he doesn't even care about getting himself off, he just wants you any way he can have you. he'd be happy to eat you out, let you cum out on his tongue, let you ride his face. just the thought of having your legs spread over his lips has his mouth filling with saliva and he ruts his hips forward, biting back an involuntary moan.
"anything," seungcheol answers after a little bit too long. "anything you want."
you giggle but it's different from the way you usually sound, low and sultry rather than pitched high with playfulness. you drag your nails over seungcheol's cheek before tracing your thumb nail over his bottom lip, pausing.
"win the game this weekend. if you do, come find me after. i'll have a surprise for you."
seungcheol blinks. he's so blindsided he doesn't even know what to say. "the game?"
"mmm." you pull away, gently tugging at seungcheol's wrist to make him unwind his hand from around the stockings on your thigh. he hadn't realized how tightly he was holding it until he lets go— his hand hurts. he flexes it a few times, wincing, and then smooths it down the front of his shirt, wrinkled and damp with sweat.
"y/n," seungcheol groans. he lets his head crash back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. he's so frustrated and worked up he feels like he might start whining and begging any second, has half a mind to shove his hand down the front of his pants and get himself off. "what did i ever do to you to deserve this level of torture?"
you giggle. there's a pressure on his jaw and when he opens his eyes it's your hand gripping it as you lean closer, lips brushing his earlobe.
"you didn't do anything to me, frat boy," you say sweetly, sliding your palm down his jaw and loosely letting your fingers loop around the thickest part of his neck. the rings on your fingers are shockingly cool against his overheated skin. "not yet, anyway."
you pull away all too quickly, stepping to the side and wrapping your hand around seungcheol's door knob, pulling it open. the thundering bass of the party downstairs roars to life, but right before you leave you fish in your purse to produce a brand new strawberry lollipop, taking a second to unwrap it before slipping it into your mouth. you push the wrapper into seungcheol's hand, curling his fingers closed, and then you slip through the door.
the room is draped in muffled sound again when the door snaps shut. seungcheol stares down at the pink wrapper in his hand before wadding it up in frustration, tossing it on his dresser before pulling his shirt over his head as he heads toward the bathroom to take a cold shower, no longer interested in the party.
one thing is for sure: he's going to win that game even if it kills him.
the next week of practice is hell on earth.
you are always there, like no matter where seungcheol turns you're doing some kind of obscene stretching in your tiny little skirt and crop top that shows way more skin than necessary. in fact, seungcheol is ninety-nine percent sure that you are wearing less clothing than usual on purpose just to make seungcheol miserable. it certainly wouldn't be out of character.
his coach and teammates actually get so frustrated with him that they start getting on his case about being distracted when the big game is coming up soon. if you weren't head cheerleader for the very team seungcheol plays for then he'd almost think you're trying to make sure their rivals win rather than them.
his frat throws parties almost every single night leading up to spring break, taking advantage of everyone making it through finals and having a lot of free time. seungcheol is so exhausted he's not really in the mood to party but he still sits downstairs every single night, nursing a drink while he waits for you to arrive.
you don't.
every day after practice he sticks around a little later than usual until both the football team and cheerleaders have left the field, taking extra time to pack his stuff up in the hopes that you will take pity on him and drag him behind the bleachers like you would sometimes do.
you don't.
in a few moments of desperation he actually shoots you a text, something he doesn't often do. he asks what you're doing that night, if you still have finals (and if you need a study partner) thinking maybe if he can get a conversation going then maybe you will hang out with him. you don't even have to do anything. he just wants to be around you. you have to at least reply, right?
you don't.
seungcheol wants to gnaw off his own arm.
thoughts of you consume him nearly every second of every hour of every day: you in your skimpy little practice outfits. you in your tight miniskirt with your stockings. you underneath him, skin slicked with sweat and lips bitten red, mewling and panting as seungcheol opens you up. he wonders if the pretty pink flush you wear high on your cheeks when you get worked up extends down to your chest, wonders which parts of your body are the most sensitive.
it's usually at night when his thoughts wander to the last one, after he's already tried (and failed) to sleep with increasing levels of frustration. it usually ends with him licking a stripe up his palm and shoving his hand down the front of his joggers, jerking his cock fast and hard with the image of you stretching in your little skirt at the forefront of his mind.
it's a very difficult time for him.
but, of course, other than you the biggest thing on his mind is the game. it's going to be a big one, the biggest his school has had in years— they're playing against their longtime rival school, and whichever team wins this year's final game will go down in college football history. seungcheol might even be able to get an offer to go pro off this game alone if he manages to play well and network properly afterward. he would literally be set for life.
no pressure or anything.
three days before the big game, their coach calls their final practice and the team goes out for a big dinner of steak and lobster with the liquor flowing freely on the team coordinator's tab. it's supposed to be an event to build team bonds or something like that, but really it's just an excuse for them to try and drink away the nerves that threaten to consume them knowing one of the most important games of their lives is coming up soon. seungcheol is feeling particularly antsy, knowing that being the star player and quarterback means much of that pressure sits directly on his shoulders.
he's a little tipsy but not uncomfortably so when they finish, and so he decides to walk back to the frat house afterward in an attempt to blow off some steam. but he quickly regrets his decision about halfway through when he realizes how chilly it is, the crisp spring air piercing through the thin material of his simple joggers and letterman jacket thrown over a thin t-shirt from his gym bag.
but then a banner flashes over the top of his phone screen, his text tone blaring a shrill beep that echoes over the abandoned street he's walking down. when he sees who it's from, his skin instantly heats up, mouth going dry.
y/n: hey there frat boy
y/n: got a minute?
seungcheol: for you?
seungcheol: a minute, an hour, as long as you want
y/n: oh yeah? well that's convenient for me
y/n: nervous about the big game?
y/n: i've heard there's a lot at stake
seungcheol: i wonder where you heard that
y/n: ha
y/n: i was talking about the actual stakes, not about ours
y/n: but while we're on the subject, that's actually why i decided to text you this evening :)
seungcheol fumbles his phone and nearly drops it when he reads your last text. his body has an instant reaction to the words, blood pumping like lava and rushing straight down to his groin. aside from loaded glances across the football field, seungcheol hasn't had any interaction with you for the better part of the week and then you come out of nowhere with all this.
classic y/n, honestly. always keeping him on his toes.
seungcheol: oh yeah?
seungcheol: are you finally gonna tell me what the surprise is when we win?
y/n: oh i see
y/n: when you win, not if
y/n: confident
seungcheol: are you hoping we don't win, y/n?
y/n: ha
y/n: if that's what you want to think
y/n: but back to what i was saying before...
y/n: i'm not going to tell you what you get when you win
seungcheol groans. he should have known you were just teasing him some more. it was too good to be true.
but then his text tone rings out again and he glances down at the message.
y/n: how about i show you instead?
seungcheol: fuck y/n
seungcheol: you already know my answer
you don't respond for an excruciatingly long period of time. so long, in fact, that seungcheol makes it all the way back to the frat house before you answer at all, obsessively checking his phone every few seconds the entire time he walks. and, okay, maybe he was walking a little bit faster than he was a few minutes ago, but he doesn't think anyone would blame him for that.
once he gets upstairs and into his room he locks the door behind him, and rather than his usual routine of stripping off his clothes and hopping immediately in the shower he beelines for his bed and sits on the end of it, staring at his phone screen while he anxiously taps his fingers over the back of it.
he's starting to think you aren't going to text him at all when his screen finally lights up with a new message.
y/n: sorry about the wait
seungcheol: i think this the first time you've apologized for making me wait
seungcheol: progress
y/n: quick response
y/n: someone's eager
y/n: where are you right now?
seungcheol: sitting on my bed
y/n: perfect
y/n: you've been so patient for me i thought you deserved a little reward
y/n: and maybe something that will help you relax before the big game
before seungcheol can respond something flashes over the top of his screen.
photo from y/n!
he immediately taps the banner without any hesitation, but he realizes immediately that he probably should have taken a minute to brace himself for what it contains. because the second he lays his eyes on the picture he's pretty sure he actually blacks out for the first ten seconds of the twenty second timer. the picture is of you from behind taken in a mirror— you're bent over a desk so only your lower half is visible, bare feet curled into the carpet. but the most important, dizzying thing about the photo is what's hanging down over your thighs— just barely covering the swell of your ass is a little pleated skirt that seungcheol recognizes as the girls' cheer uniform.
seungcheol immediately scrambles to pull his joggers down, tucking them under his balls and hissing when he wraps his ice cold hand around his hot, heavy cock. he nearly drops his phone in his haste to replay the photo, thumbing through the precum drooling through his slit as he takes his time admiring it for his second look. there's the faintest peek of your asscheeks from below the skirt, and though seungcheol has seen your ass in your shorts at practice actually seeing a tease of the bare skin has him drooling, pumping his cock a few times with his fist before the picture inevitably ends and the screen goes black again.
y/n: you replayed
y/n: i take it that means you liked my little gift?
seungcheol: that was a little gift?
seungcheol: fuck y/n you're so
seungcheol: are you wearing that right now?
y/n: yep!
y/n: i got all dressed up just for you
y/n: should i wear this on saturday after the game? oh, or maybe during the game would be more fun? unless you think that would be too distracting while you play?
seungcheol: god you're driving me crazy
y/n: oh, i know
y/n: isn't that the point?
y/n: show me
seungcheol: show you?
y/n: i want to see what i do to you
seungcheol switches back over to camera with shaky hands, idly pumping his cock a few more times. the visual of you in the skirt is still fresh in his mind, so burned into him that he thinks it's all he's going to be able to think about for the rest of his life. not that it would be the most horrible thing in the world. he takes a few photos before settling on one of him taken from the front, cock gripped in his hand with precum messily smeared over the tip.
y/n has opened your photo!
y/n has replayed your photo!
seungcheol: now who's the one replaying?
y/n: i was taken by surprise
y/n: if i'd known you have such a huge cock maybe i would have let you fuck me sooner
seungcheol: both of us know that's a lie
y/n: what can i do, i like to tease
y/n: and i haven't seen you complaining about it
seungcheol: i have, in fact, been very loudly and frequently complaining about it
y/n: i know your type, seungcheol
y/n: once you get what you want you get bored
y/n: the thrill is all in the chase
y/n: am i wrong?
and… you aren't exactly wrong, seungcheol does have a reputation on campus for being a fuckboy, and he’s definitely been known to jump around and have a lot of partners rather than having a solid arrangement with just one person. but it isn’t necessarily because he likes the chase, more that he hasn’t really found someone that catches his interest for more than a few hookups. he’s not opposed to commitment, he just hasn’t found a reason to commit. there’s a difference, he thinks. subtle, but there.
seungcheol: you’re different
he hits send before he has time to think about the implications of his message. it’s a very bizarre moment of clarity: he’s sitting there with his cock in his hand while having some sort of realization about how he feels about you. because, sure, the ridiculous sexual tension you have between you is the thing that connects you, but seungcheol can’t help but feel like there’s something else there. like maybe if he were able to pick it apart, to remove the lust from the equation and really focus on his thoughts there’s some more complexity behind the reasons he’s so hung up on you that extend beyond just she’s hot and i want to fuck her. there’s something there that makes you different, that makes seungcheol want to pursue you to the point where he hasn’t given up or had any other sexual partners even after months of getting nowhere. with anyone else, seungcheol would have gotten bored and given up a long time ago.
y/n: that’s cute, but it’s not going to get you in my pants any faster
y/n: you’ve been patient for this long, you can wait a little longer
y/n: but!
y/n: since you’ve been so patient, i have a little parting gift
y/n: wanna see?
seungcheol is sort of reeling from his semi-coherent realization but he’s also still ridiculously horny and he thinks maybe a little bit of post-nut clarity will give him more room to think about things. or at least that’s what he tells himself when he types his next message.
seungcheol: fuck, yes
photo from y/n!
it’s a similar angle as the first photo but the camera is dropped a little lower and your back is a little more arched— the lower half of your ass is completely exposed, now, fat and perky all at once, probably the most perfect fucking thing seungcheol has ever seen in his entire life. he starts stroking his cock in earnest, already so worked up from the teasing and the last picture that he can feel himself getting close embarrassingly fast— but then he notices something he hadn’t been able to see before, a little flash of pink peeking out from under the hem of your skirt.
he brings the phone closer to his face so he can see it more clearly, and sure enough there is something there: nestled between your cheeks is the tip of a shiny pink dildo, the skin around your hole slick and wet.
seungcheol bites his fist to stop himself from crying out as he comes hard all over his hand, hips jolting off the bed with the force of it— he comes an obscene amount, so much it drips all over his hand and onto his navel, some of it even splattered over his knee.
it takes him a second to come down from his orgasm but once he does he realizes with a jolt that he’d disappeared even though he saw you sending him texts while he was finishing himself off. he lurches for his phone, which had fallen onto the carpet near his feet at some point during the last minute or so.
y/n: i’ll take your disappearance as a good thing
y/n: i’m going to bed
y/n: glad you enjoyed the sneak peek
y/n: can’t wait for saturday
y/n: hope you win :)
seungcheol: oh trust me
seungcheol: i’m gonna win
they lose.
seungcheol honestly hadn’t really considered this outcome: for some reason he just assumed they would win, had thought that everything was already spelled out in the stars or something and he was destined to win this game and get everything he wanted. he was going to secure an offer to go pro before even entering his senior year and walk out of the stadium with you on his arm and his name in the college football history books.
it’s a low low.
he isn’t really sure how to deal with it.
his team tries to stay in high spirits but naturally most of them are very disappointed. there’s a lot of we’ll get them next time and it’s okay, seungcheol, you still have one more year, knowing this defeat probably hits him the hardest.
seungcheol had purposefully forced himself to not focus on you during the game, not even spending halftime watching the cheerleaders do their routine even though he’d wanted to see it because he knew how hard they worked on it. he figured there would be lots of videos that he could watch later, and the risk of getting distracted was too high. so the first time he sees you for the entire evening is after the game ends when most of his team has already headed back to their dorms and apartments to finish packing their things, preparing to head back home for the break until fall rolls around again and they’d come back and do it all over again, most of them for the last time.
he catches your eyes across the field and gets a pained, apologetic smile and wave in return. it’s different from the way you usually look at him and something about it kind of hurts, realizing that you probably don’t have any interest in him anymore now that he let his entire school down. which, realistically he knows it’s kind of dramatic to think that way because his team still had a record-breaking season culminating in a very closely tied game against their biggest rivals which is an accomplishment in and of itself, but he can’t help but feel like really dropped the ball and failed in a huge way.
mingyu treats him to dinner before dropping him back off at the frat house. he isn’t heading back home for a few more days still because his parents are on vacation and he’d rather stay here with the few friends who live around campus during the summer than sit around in an empty house, especially when he’s already feeling pretty low.
when he arrives his friend is sitting on the couch with his nose in a book, typical for him, but the second seungcheol opens the door he gives him a pained smile similar to the one you had given him.
“sorry about the game,” he says. “next year will be better. don’t beat yourself up too much.”
seungcheol winces, waving him off in a way that he hopes isn’t rude.
“i’m fine, don’t worry about it,” he says, trudging up the staircase with his gym bag slung over his shoulder. he’d already showered the game off in the locker room and put his football uniform in his bag, choosing to throw on a simple long sleeved t-shirt and a pair of black joggers for the walk back home. at some point he thinks he lost his letterman jacket, almost positive he’d taken it to the game with him, but he probably just left it at home in his haste to leave earlier that morning.
“i’m sure you’ll find a way to distract yourself,” his friend says airily. the statement strikes seungcheol as odd because there’s definitely not anything fun to do in this city during the summer— everything revolves around college life and as such the bars and restaurants are all boring and empty at this time of year. it’s really depressing. maybe he’ll catch up on some of the video games he’s been neglecting in favor of studies and sports.
he cracks his door open and kicks his shoes off, dropping his gym bag on top of them, flipping on his light and heading toward the bed so he can lay there for a while and contemplate his life choices or something.
but when the light flickers on he stops dead in his tracks, lips parting in surprise.
“hey there, frat boy.”
you look like you stepped straight out of his most frantic fantasies: you're sitting on the edge of seungcheol's bed with your legs delicately crossed at the knee, the short, barely-there plaid cheerleading skirt sitting high up on your waist under a white crop top, the hem just barely brushing the tops of your thighs. but what really gets seungcheol, what really makes his skin heat up and his mouth go dry is the fact that his own letterman jacket is hanging low around your shoulders, so big on your dainty little frame that it nearly swallows you up. the sleeves bunch around your hands, the only visible part being the tips of your tiny fingers gripping your signature lollipop stick, candy sliding slick over your lips.
“i,” seungcheol says.
“i know we had a deal,” you say, words slow and unhurried. you uncross your legs and slide one foot underneath yourself, dropping the hand not holding the lollipop down to your thigh wrapped with your usual stockings. the letterman jacket slides further off your shoulder, skin catching the soft light from seungcheol's lamp. “but i thought maybe you’ve already suffered enough. maybe i can help cheer you up?”
seungcheol blinks at you. he sort of thinks maybe he’s having some sort of extremely elaborate fever dream. did he get sick? did he get hit by a car on his way home? if he knew this was what awaited him in the afterlife maybe he wouldn’t have been so afraid of his own mortality.
the strawberry lollipop clinks against your teeth when you slide it over your cheek, cocking your head. a lock of hair falls over your eyes.
“so?” you ask. “what are you waiting for?”
seungcheol doesn't need to be told twice. he surges forward, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it in the corner of his room.
“god, i’ve been thinking about this for months,” seungcheol rasps just before he crashes your lips together with enough force to push you back on the bed, caging your smaller frame with his larger one. you giggle into the kiss, winding your arms around his neck and parting your lips easily to slide your tongues together. the sweet strawberry candy on your tongue bursts to life, making seungcheol salivate and turning the kiss messier, wetter; he drags his saliva-slick lips down to your jaw, nipping at it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. “gonna make you wish you never made me wait.”
you arch your back into a pretty curve, making the skirt ride up higher over your thighs. seungcheol slides his hands down your body, dipping under the letterman jacket to trace your waist before roaming down to your thighs, pausing to toy with the hem of your skirt as he explores every inch of exposed skin above your shirt with his tongue. even as long as he’s been waiting he still wants to take his time, wants to savor you— wants to commit the way you feel and taste to memory until it’s burned into his tongue, wants to worship you the way you deserve to be.
“ah, seungcheol,” you gasp, huffing when seungcheol nips at your collarbone. “feels good.”
the fact that you are letting seungcheol touch you like this, giving him the privilege, is something seungcheol refuses to take for granted.
“i’ll make you feel so good, baby,” seungcheol gasps, pushing his hand up into your shirt, rolling your nipple between the pads of his fingers. you gasp, arching up off the bed, hair fanning prettily over the sheets like a halo around your head. “whatever you want me to do, i’ll do it. anything.”
“oh yeah?” the smile on your lips shines through in your tone. “do you wanna know why i made you wait for so long, seungcheol?”
“we’ve gone over this,” seungcheol mumbles into your skin. he pushes the crop top further up your chest to expose both nipples, soft and pink, hardening under the chill of the air conditioner. “because you wanted me to go fucking crazy.”
“you’re not— ah, fuck—” you mewl like a kitten when seungcheol attaches his lips to your nipple and sucks, a high sweet noise that jolts straight down to his cock. “you’re not completely wrong.”
seungcheol pulls off to switch to the other nipple, taking a second to admire his handiwork. your nipple is all hard and wet, puffy and red from his mouth. you look so fucking pretty when you're a little messed up. “not completely ?”
“i wanted to make you— ah, fuck, flick your tongue like that again— wanted to make you snap,” you admit, hissing through your teeth when seungcheol grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud. “wanted to make sure you were s-so worked up that when you can finally have me you’d fucking ruin me.”
seungcheol groans, pulling off your nipple with a little pop and a smear of saliva and sliding his hands down to your waist, admiring how dainty your frame is, the way seungcheol's hands are so big on you that he can wrap his hands almost all the way around. he imagines how it would feel to hold you like that up off the bed while he's fucking into you.
“i’ll ruin you.” seungcheol says, dragging his eyes down to admire the way the skirt falls down over your thighs, the pretty black stockings against your flawless skin. it’s a promise, words loaded with confidence. “i’ll fuck you until you beg me to stop— gonna make you think about me every time you try to walk for days.”
“fuck.” you shiver, your hands twitch against the bedsheets, curling your hands around the cuffs of seungcheol's letterman jacket. “your cock is so fucking big— been thinking about it so much.” you wrap one of your legs around seungcheol's back, sliding your socked foot over his waist. “i fucked myself with my thickest toy and imagined it was you— plugged myself up with it afterward and sent you those pictures while my cunt was still all messy with cum.”
seungcheol is fucking dizzy with your words, dragging his eyes all over your body and admiring the view as he does, feeling like he’s entered some kind of alternate reality where he’s the luckiest man alive. you are a vision, prettier than aphrodite, something that belongs in a museum— he’s delighted to find out that the pretty pink flush that sits high up on your cheeks extends all the way down to your chest and even colors your elbows and knees.
“i feel like i’m dreaming,” seungcheol admits out loud before his mouth catches up to his brain.
“you’re not,” you promise, lifting a hand to drag your nails over seungcheol's neck before pausing to press your thumb against his pulse point. you smile devilishly when you feel how fast seungcheol's heart is beating, flicking your tongue out to wet your lips. “you know, you can stare at me all night if you want, but the least you can do is let me suck your cock while you do it.”
“oh.” seungcheol squeezes his hands around your waist, pulling back the slightest bit. he realizes he’s been staring for what is probably an absurdly long amount of time, and once he comes back to himself it’s like everything floods back to him at once— the warmness of your skin under his hands, the way his cock is already sitting hard and heavy between his legs, the front of his joggers damp with precum. “yeah. fuck, come here— get on your knees.”
you let seungcheol pull you up off the mattress by your waist, setting you delicately on the floor where you sit prettily on your heels and fold your hands in your lap, cocking your head and watching as seungcheol arranges himself at the foot of the bed— you're impatient, though, already clawing at the waistband of seungcheol's sweats the second he’s sitting.
his cock springs free with a wet slap against his belly. you lick your lips, eyes widening as you take it in, dripping with awe and reverence and want, the pink flush on your cheeks darkening. you don’t hesitate to push forward, circling your fingers around the thickest part at the base of his cock.
seungcheol gasps, hips jerking up off the bed— it’s the first time you have touched him like this and it’s more of a shock to his system than he realized it would be, grounding him back in reality. It’s the first taste of this is really fucking happening that he’s gotten so far, the feeling of your warm hand wrapped around his length.
“you’re even bigger in person,” you whine. seungcheol realizes with a groan that your small hand can hardly even wrap all the way around his cock, fingers barely meeting even when you stretch them. “god, i want you to fuck me so bad. nothing’s ever big enough for me, even my biggest toys— i like it when it hurts, wanna be split apart.”
“you’re gonna kill me,” seungcheol gasps. he watches as you play with the precum oozing from his slit, pulling your fingers away to let it stretch in thin, sticky strands that you smear around his cockhead, pumping it a few times to aid the slide of your palm.
“just as long as you don’t die before you fuck me we’re good,” you tease and seungcheol swats you on the arm, earning him a giggle.
“thought you were the one who wanted to get the show on the road and suck me off,” seungcheol says, pushing his hips up into your fist. “i wanna see how pretty your lips look stretched out over my cock.”
you hum like you're deliberating; you press your chest to the end of the bed and angles seungcheol's cock down to smear the head over your lips, coating them in milky white. the first press of your velvety lips has seungcheol hissing, cock jerking in your hand and drooling more precum onto your face that dribbles down the corner of your mouth and down your chin.
“i want you to make me,” you say, pouting. when you speak the thin strands of seungcheol's precum stretch obscenely between your lips and seungcheol bites his lip, heart leaping up into his throat. you are so fucking hot he isn’t sure how he’s going to survive tonight. Maybe he won’t. “i told you i want you to snap. i want you to force my head down, fuck my throat, ruin me. i don’t want you to be gentle, i don’t want you to be kind, i want you to fuck me like a slut.”
god, you are a fucking wet dream as a person. and if you want seungcheol to snap, that’s exactly what he’ll do. you deserve to get fucked the way you need, the way you deserve.
he grips a hand in your hair close to the scalp, so hard you hiss at the burn. your eyes roll back in your head and you actually look relaxed, lighter, like seungcheol is finally giving you what you want. you make a pretty, high-pitched sound, letting your lips drop open so seungcheol can force your head down on his cock, pushing you halfway down on it in one motion. it makes you nearly choke but you take seungcheol's cock like a champ, relaxing your throat so you don’t choke, suffocated moans creeping up your throat and vibrating your mouth in a way that has seungcheol gasping and tightening his grip in your hair.
“is this what you wanted?” he feels the strain of your head frantically trying to nod, held still by seungcheol's firm grip on your hair. he pushes you down even deeper, inch by inch, letting you adjust to the slide until your mouth is fully seated on his cock, strawberry lips stretched around the base and a mess of drool and precum dripping messily down your chin and over seungcheol's balls. “to choke on my cock? for me to force you to choke on my cock? to have all your filthy little holes stretched open and stuffed full?”
“mm,” you moan around his cock in frantic agreement, all you can do with your mouth full of cock. you fist your hand in seungcheol's sweats until your knuckles are white. you're straining against seungcheol's hand to try to force your head down even more.
“fucking cockslut,” seungcheol says and you moan, tightening your grip on seungcheol's sweats. “only been sucking me off for a few minutes and you already want me to fuck your throat? is that what you want, baby?”
your eyes flash up to his. they’re pleading.
i want you to snap. i want you to ruin me. i want you to fuck me like a slut.
seungcheol forces your head down until your nose is pressed into the neatly trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock and you full-on gag, squeezing the tip of his cock in a way that makes seungcheol cry out and toss his head back. your mouth is so fucking wet, hot, the back of your throat small and tight. you take it so well, gagging and swallowing down the precum that drips from seungcheol's slit while also controlling the pressure of your lips and sliding the flat of your tongue up and down the shaft to add pressure.
you untangle your hand from seungcheol's sweats and slip it between his legs to cup his balls, gently rolling them over your palm and between your fingers. you're still looking up at seungcheol with your eyes, lashes threaded with tears that are starting to well up and drip down the apples of your cheeks from your throat being fucked. you look so pretty gagging on his cock that seungcheol can’t even believe you're real.
his first orgasm is already coming on quickly so he picks up his pace, chasing release— he knows it’s a little early to come but he wants to take the edge off fast so he can recover quickly and fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked later— he picks up the pace, planting his feet on the floor and working his hips up to fuck your throat faster, holding your head still. the noises filling the room are straight up obscene, the slick sloppy slide of his cock pushing into your pliant mouth and the wet gagging every time he hits the back of your throat— seungcheol's gasps and groans, loud and rhythmic. his hand is fisted in the back of your hair so hard it must hurt but you look so blissed and fucked out like having seungcheol's cock forced down your throat is the only thing you've ever wanted, little moans vibrating through your chest that don’t have a chance to escape with the brutal pace of seungcheol's cock fucking into your mouth.
tears start full-on running down your cheeks, tinged with the slight grey of your mascara. you're a fucking vision.
“gonna c-come,” seungcheol gasps, shuddering. “where do you want me to come, baby? down your throat?”
you pinch seungcheol's thigh to signal him to pull out and seungcheol instantly lets go of your hair, letting you pull himself off with an obscene pop and a huge gasp that sucks all the air out of the room. seungcheol is worried for a second that he’d taken it too far and hurt you but you don’t even miss a beat before you're leaning forward, angling with your mouth open wide under seungcheol's cock and your tongue sticking out.
“on my face,” you gasp. “on my face, hurry, please—”
seungcheol takes himself in his hand and jerks his cock with quick, short strokes, grunting as he feels the heat pool in his groin and then snap— and he’s coming, drenching your tongue and chin in creamy white. you are moaning like you're the one coming, tears still streaming down your face and hands fisted into the hem of your skirt.
“tastes so good,” you say. your voice is cracked and broken from abuse. “god, so fucking good.”
once seungcheol has milked himself of every drop of his release he pushes his softening cock against your lips, smearing it through his own release before dragging it up to the apples of your cheeks, wiping away the grey tear tracks. you wait patiently as he does it, mouth still hanging open with seungcheol's cum pooled on your tongue, eyes wide and unblinking. the second seungcheol shoves his cock back in your mouth you shiver around it, lapping up seungcheol's release tinged with your own tears.
you crawl up onto seungcheol's lap, pushing your finger against his bottom lip just like you had the night you'd shotgunned at the frat party— seungcheol parts them easily and then you are hovering over him, dripping his cum mixed with your tears into his mouth. it’s salty and bitter but tinged with the candied strawberry sweetness of your mouth— it’s so fucking dirty it has seungcheol's cock already stirring back to attention. seungcheol surges up and presses your lips together, tongues meeting messily in the center and twisting around the cum and tears, passing between each other before swallowing it all down.
“are you even real, huh?” seungcheol asks when you pull away, dragging his fingers through the mess on your chin and then dropping his hands to your thighs, pushing up under your skirt and letting the fabric pool around his wrists. “wanna fuck you so bad.”
“please,” you say, squeezing your knees around seungcheol's thighs.
“but first, want you to ride my face until i get hard again.” he strokes his fingers over your thighs, tender, gentle. “gonna make you come riding my tongue and then i’ll fuck you open until you’re screaming on my cock like a messy slut.”
you shiver, already nodding your head and frantically pushing at seungcheol's shoulders to lay him flat on his back. you climb up over his chest, planting your knees on either side of seungcheol's arms. your cunt is only inches from his face like this, giving seungcheol a perfect view up your skirt— you've made a mess of yourself, wetness dripping down from your hole.
“i must have saved a galaxy in my past life,” seungcheol muses out loud, making you giggle. he grips the back of your thighs to pull you up closer to his face and you squeal in surprise, falling forward and planting your palms into the mattress. he slides his hands up the back of your thighs and cups your cheeks, groaning at how the fat, pillowy globes of your ass fit so perfectly in his palms. he spreads your cheeks apart, revealing the same pastel pink dildo that had been nestled between your cunt in the photos you had sent him the other night.
seungcheol flicks at the end of the dildo, ripping a gasp from your chest. “already fingered myself open for you,” you admit. “d-did it on your bed before you came home— thought about everything i wanted you to do to me but didn’t let myself come.”
“what did you think about?” seungcheol asks, pinching the end of the dildo between his fingers and twisting it. you shudder, knees slipping over the sheets.
“thought about this.” you say, panting. “thought about riding y-your face, and then you bending me over and fucking me from behind while you called me a whore.”
“you are a whore,” seungcheol says easily and the reaction you have to it is instant, the way your thighs are rubbing against each other against your skirt and you gasp and shiver, gripping at the sheets. “you know what whores do?”
“w-what?”
“ride my tongue until you come.” seungcheol pulls the dildo an inch out and then plunges it deeper, fucking it into your slicked hole. “if you can do that, then i’ll fuck you just like you imagined.”
you inhale deeply and then exhale shaky. “yeah,” you gasp. “fuck, yeah, okay.”
seungcheol idly plays with the dildo for a few more seconds until you huff in frustration, trying to pull up to force seungcheol to pull the dildo out of your hole. “stop teasing me,” you whine.
“payback.” seungcheol replies cheekily, making you roll your eyes. but he's not about to make either of you wait much longer, not with how long he’s been fantasizing about having you sitting on his face.
your hole flutters around nothing when he finally slides the dildo loose. your wetness oozes from inside of your hole and drips onto seungcheol's bottom lip— it smells sweet so he darts his tongue out to taste it.
you taste like fucking strawberry.
he tosses the dildo aside, shoving his hands up under your skirt to grip your thighs and force you down onto your face. you sink onto his mouth like you're meant to sit there, lining your cunt up with seungcheol's mouth and grinding down on it. the first lick of seungcheol's tongue against your cunt has you gasping and mewling already, a sweet sound that echoes off the walls.
if fucking your throat was a religious experience this is somehow even better; you are so fucking loud in the way you show pleasure, so responsive to everything seungcheol does— he curls his tongue to run his tongue around your hole and then slides in as deep as he can go without aid from his fingers. you tremble, grinding your hips down in small circles, chasing the hot, wet feeling of seungcheol's tongue.
“seungcheol, seungcheol, seungcheol.” you are chanting, so far gone— your fingers scramble for purchase against the bedsheets. “deeper, more, please.”
seungcheol spreads your cheeks wider, rubbing his thumb against your entrance and pushing the tip of his thumb in next to his tongue, opening you up so he can push his tongue deeper inside. you moan desperately, working your hips faster— you grind down on seungcheol's tongue, babbling— yes, just like that, just like that— fuck so wet, so hot, so fucking good.
your knees squeeze seungcheol's head, shaking and trembling like you're trying to crush it. you push up off your hands to sit straight up on seungcheol's face, the letterman jacket falling full off your shoulders and pooling around your hands that you curl into the hem of your skirt as you grind down on seungcheol's tongue and fingers around dry sobs. you're breathtaking from this angle— well, you are breathtaking from any angle but you're particularly striking like this, the sheen of sweat on your bare shoulders and stomach shining under the golden light of seungcheol's lamp.
“wanna come so bad.” you arch your back as seungcheol drags his tongue down your hole, chest rising and falling with long, labored breaths. “can’t come like this, seungcheol, please, need you to fill my cunt—”
seungcheol hooks his fingers around the stockings on your thigh and tugs on it, making you spread your legs wider and sink even further down on his face until seungcheol can hardly even breathe, a silent way of telling you if you want to come then ride my face harder. and you full-on whine, loud and high pitched, thighs shaking violently like you're struggling to even hold yourself upright anymore. you tangle your hands into your own hair and tugs at the strands in frustration, working your hips messier, more frantically— it’s so wet, so messy, your wetness mixed with saliva coating the entire lower half of seungcheol's face.
you're chasing, chasing, chasing — seungcheol presses his thumb deeper, all the way up to the curve of his hand, stroking and massaging your walls as he works his tongue deeper in beside it.
“oh, fuck—” you suddenly shout. “i’m— i’m right there. right there— please, please, i just need a little more, just a little more — something, anything.” you're babbling, rhythm faltering in your panic, your desperation to get off. you curl your hands in seungcheol's hair and forces his head up as you fuck down onto his face, gasping, pleading, messy sobbing—
and then finally you're coming with a shout, back arching in a curve that looks almost painful, cunt spurting white that hits your skirt and drips down onto seungcheol's face. your bitten lips are open in a silent scream, eyes screwed shut, hole clenching around seungcheol's tongue as you ride it out, babbling a mixture of seungcheol's name mixed with curses.
seungcheol lets you come down before he folds your legs back to push you off his face, tossing you back on the bed in a way that makes you bounce, eyes post-orgasm blissed and hazy. seungcheol's been ready for round two for what feels like forever, cock hard and heavy between his legs. you press your thighs together, smearing the mess of saliva and cum between them, watching as seungcheol reaches down to pump his cock a few times.
“oh,” you say, words slurred. you light up suddenly when you realize what’s happening, eyeing seungcheol's cock with interest. “finally gonna fuck me?”
seungcheol doesn’t even answer, just climbs over your body and parts your legs with his knee, shoving your skirt up over your thighs. he gathers some of the mess dripping from your hole and uses it to slick himself up, lining his hips up and pressing his cockhead against your puffy, swollen entrance.
you squirm, already trying to fuck yourself down on seungcheol's cock the second you feel him press up against you— seungcheol is fucking baffled at how insatiable you are, already desperate to get fucked not even two minutes after you had just come— you're babbling again already, fuck me, fuck me, god I’ve been wanting this so bad, fill me up
seungcheol pushes all the way in to the hilt in one swift motion— your entire body tenses from the stretch, a line appearing between your eyebrows and your abdomen tensing from the burn— seungcheol waits a second to let you adjust, moving his hips in smooth circles to help you get used to the stretch.
“god, you’re so fucking big, fill me up so good — ah, no one has ever filled me like this before—” you gasp. “move, please, fuck me.”
seungcheol pulls out slowly and then slams back in with the lewd slap of his balls against your ass. you cry out, digging your nails into seungcheol's sweat-slicked shoulders to hold yourself steady so seungcheol can pick up the pace, fucking into you over and over, each ripping a string of pretty sounds and swears from your mouth, like music to seungcheol's ears.
“you’re so fucking tight around my cock,” seungcheol groans. “fucking incredible, how are you even real.”
he pushes his hands to the back of your thighs and practically folds you in half, using the stockings around your thigh to hold your ass up off the bed to fuck even deeper. he can tell when he angles his hips just right and hits your weak spot because you start full-on squealing, eyes rolling into the back of your head and fingers twisting into the bedsheets so hard you rip them off the corners of the mattress.
“feel so full,” your voice sounds hazy, like you're on another planet. “j-just a little more and i’m gonna— fuck, gonna come again—”
“already?” seungcheol asks, picking up the pace until he’s fucking into you almost brutally, hitting your spot full-on with every slam of his hips. “you really are a fucking slut, already came on my tongue and now my cock— how greedy are you? how many times are you gonna come before you’re fucking satisfied?”
you toss your head back when seungcheol slams into you particularly hard, pushing you halfway up the bed; you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries but seungcheol growls, ripping it away and pinning it over your head
“let me hear every noise i fuck out of you,”
“s-seungcheol can you please— can you—”
“can i?” seungcheol is prepared to do whatever the fuck you want at this point. anything.
“hit me,” you gasp quickly, as if you're embarrassed to even breathe the words to life. “fucking— please. slap me, i’m so so so close, fucking slap me—”
seungcheol hesitates for a second but he sees the look in your eyes, so desperate, pleading, needing it— he draws his hand back and slaps you full on the cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make you gasp, eyes flying wide.
“like that?”
“n-no, harder.” you are squirming as you whine. “hit me harder. hard enough to leave a mark, make it hurt.”
“alright. okay, ah— fuck, y/n,” seungcheol pants. he brings his hand down again, slapping you hard enough to jerk your face to the side, leaving a faint pink mark on your cheek with a crisp sound that rings out into the room.
“yes!’ your spine goes rigid and your hole clenches around seungcheol's cock. “yes, yes, j-just like that— ‘m so close.”
“still not coming for me? even when i’m slapping you around like a fucking whore?” seungcheol winds his arm back and slaps you again, and again, and you sob as your body goes taut before you start trembling and shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks as you come untouched for the second time, cum flooding from your cunt in thick ropes that shoot up to your chest, covering the hem of seungcheol's jacket and draping over the pleats in your skirt.
your cunt is still wet, puffy and so swollen it looks like it must hurt with how badly it wants to be touched.
seungcheol pulls out before you even finish riding out your orgasm and you panic, scrambling against the sheets. “w-wait, don’t wanna be empty,” you gasp. “put it back, keep fucking me.”
“shh, baby, i’m not done with you yet,” seungcheol promises. he dips his head to press your lips together in a kiss, probably too gentle and tender for all you're doing right now, but even despite everything seungcheol wants you to know you're appreciated, being cared for. “flip over.”
your eyes are shiny when you pull away from the kiss and you nod, rolling over onto your stomach. seungcheol slides off the back of the bed and plants his feet on the ground, pulling you by the calves to the end of the bed and bending you over the edge, pressing a hand down on the small of your back to keep you steady as he slides his cock back inside.
“fuck, look at you,” seungcheol says when he slides in. “came twice already and you’re still greedy for more. insatiable little cumslut.”
he pulls out and slams back in, your sloppy hole sucking him in like you were made to take his cock. you shake from oversensitivity but still take his cock so well, socked toes scrambling against the carpet for purchase but not finding from the way seungcheol is holding you up against the bed. he fucks into your hole, watching the way the hem of the skirt bounces against the thickest part of your ass every time he snaps his hips forward.
"fill me," you gasp, so far gone, drooling onto the bed below. "when are you g-gonna fill me up?”
"soon, baby. you're gonna look so pretty all filled up with my cum," seungcheol says, punctuating his words with harsh slams of his hips that make your ass jiggle. "i'm gonna fill you up so good it spills out of your hole and drips all down your thighs, making you look just like the messy little slut you are."
"oh— fuck, seungcheol," you say weakly. your voice is raspy from overuse but still has the pretty, cheerful lilt to it that it always does. seungcheol bites down on his lip and groans, jerking his hips forward as he slides his hands further up your thighs, under the skirt, letting the fabric pool over his wrists. "s-so big — god, your cock is so perfect, fucking made for me, fucking spoiling me with it."
seungcheol strokes his thumbs over your ass as he fucks into you, mesmerized by how pretty you look underneath him, back curved into a perfect arch, your messy hair damp with sweat and mussed from seungcheol's fingers. "i'll make sure my cock is the only thing you can think about when you get off, how's that sound? gonna fuck you so good, so deep, that i ruin you for anything and anyone else."
"already have," you pant. "n-no one can fuck me like this, only you seungcheol, o-only you, mmh— god, when are you gonna come inside me? i n-need it, i want you to fill me so bad, wanna be full and dripping and warm."
“messy little cumslut,” seungcheol rasps. he slaps you full on the fattest part of your ass and you jerk in surprise before moaning, pressing your forehead down into the mattress. a pretty pink mark in the shape of seungcheol's hand blooms against your skin.
“yeah,” you breathe. “fucking love it, can’t wait to feel you come inside.”
a few more thrusts and seungcheol can feel his release creeping up fast— he digs the pads of his fingers into the meat of your ass, focusing on the sight of the little pleated skirt and the overwhelmed tremble of your legs, and before long he’s coming with a shout, spilling hot and deep into your hole and fucking it into you until you have milked him clean of every drop.
the noises you make as you come are filthy— you're mewling, gasping, begging for more— "please, seungcheol, want more, feels s-so good, so hot, ‘m so full.”
the second seungcheol finishes coming he slips his cock out, earning a whine from you— you're grinding against the mattress, chasing another orgasm with your forehead pressed into the sheets, weakly murmuring seungcheol's name and senseless pleas. seungcheol drops to the ground and spreads your ass, watching the way his cum is already slowly leaking out of your hole, rolling down your inner thigh.
he laps up the drop, tracing the path up to your puffy, abused hole, so messy and wet. you gasp when you feel the first press seungcheol's tongue against your cunt, licking his own release out of you.
"o-oh, seungcheol, that's—" you tremble, grinding your cunt against the mattress. "that's f-filthy, fuck."
seungcheol reaches around your cunt with his fingers, rubbing your cunt slowly as he eats you out, swallowing down every drop of his own cum. your shoulders drop in relief at finally having your neglected cunt touched, fucking into seungcheol's fingers to chase your final orgasm. you come quickly, whimpering weakly as your spent swollen cunt dribbles a pathetic amount of cum onto seungcheol's fingers.
seungcheol pulls himself to his feet and you try to follow suit but the second you stand your knees buckle and you nearly collapse.
“hey, hey, are you okay?” seungcheol asks, catching you around the waist and straightening you up. he gently sets you on the end of the bed but you wince at the pressure on your abused hole, shifting your weight onto your hip instead.
“mm,” you hum in agreement. your eyes are still a little hazy but you don’t look upset, just still far gone. “was so good. thank you.”
seungcheol laughs. “i should be the one thanking you,” he says, settling on the bed next to you. he puts his hand under your thigh to help take some of the pressure off where it hurts. “that was… god, i don’t even have words for it, it was amazing.”
“i was good?” you ask.
“you were perfect.”
you smile, humming contentedly. "i’m tired.”
“why don’t you get cleaned up. i’ll strip the sheets and then we can go to bed, okay? you deserve to get some rest.”
you agree so seungcheol gets to work— he fills the tub in the bathroom and helps ease you into it, filling it with soaps and bath bombs that you pick out yourself (after some mild teasing about why he has such an expansive bath product collection— seungcheol just likes to smell good, okay?) and then he gathers up the filthy clothes and bedsheets and throws them in the wash, grabbing a new set to re-make the bed.
he’s just finished cleaning himself up in the downstairs bathroom and is picking out some clothes from his drawers for you to put on when the bathroom door creaks open and you poke your head out— your skin is scrubbed clean and your hair is damp, a towel wrapped around your body.
“hey,” you say, a little quietly. you seem so much smaller and vulnerable than you usually do and something about it makes warmth flood into seungcheol's chest, stomach fluttering at how domestic it feels for you to be showering in his ensuite. “what are you doing?”
“grabbing you some clothes,” seungcheol says. he gathers up the long-sleeved t-shirt and sweats he’d found and sets them into your arms. “they’ll probably be too big for you, sorry, but they’ll do for now.”
you stare down at them, tongue poked in your cheek. seungcheol can’t help but feel like there’s something wrong and a little wave of anxiety spikes through him, feeling like maybe he did something wrong. had he been too rough with you? had he taken advantage of you somehow? he doesn’t really have much experience with having sex that rough but he knows an important part of it is making sure your partner is taken care of afterward and he wonders if maybe he didn’t do a good job— even though he was planning on cuddling you once you got in bed and making sure you were okay. was he supposed to do it sooner?
you don’t seem to notice his anxiety, dipping back into the bathroom to pull seungcheol's clothes on and re-emerging a minute later, rubbing your damp hair with the towel that was just around your body.
seungcheol is still sort of panicking. “is everything okay?”
“oh, yeah, yeah.” you drape the damp towel over the back of seungcheol's desk chair and then look across the room. “where are my clothes?”
“i threw them in the wash.”
“oh. well, i can come back and get them tomorrow morning, then, i’ll be staying on campus for a few more days.”
seungcheol blinks at you. “you’re leaving?”
you seem taken aback. “yeah?”
“oh.”
you cock your head to the side. “you were acting like i was acting weird but i'm pretty sure you’re the one who’s actually acting weird. what’s wrong?”
“i just uh.” seungcheol pauses. he wonders if you staying the night was a ridiculous expectation. after all, your relationship up until now has been nothing but the promise of sex, definitely not talking or cuddling in seungcheol's bed. you will probably think he’s weird and overstepping boundaries for even suggesting it. “i thought maybe you were going to stay.”
you blink a few times. you seem genuinely taken aback, but definitely not upset. a range of emotions crosses your face but then, finally, a smile curls the corners of your lips.
“you want me to stay?”
“of course i do. we had a great time and i thought we could, uh—”
“cuddle?” you step toward him, your smile curling impossible wider. “talk all night? watch movies?”
seungcheol can feel his cheeks heat up. “actually… yes?”
“huh.” you stop in front of seungcheol, looping your arms over his shoulders. “never pegged you as the romantic type.”
“i’m not? i just, uh.” he swallows down the lump in his throat. “you make me want to be.”
your eyes glitter— you push up on your tiptoes and brush a slight kiss against his lips, mint on your breath. for once you don’t smell like strawberries— you smell like seungcheol. and as much as seungcheol has grown to like the way you taste, the way you smell— he decides he likes it very, very much.
“i think you might make me want to be, too.”
you do spend the night. and then you spend the next night, and the next night after that. it’s amazing how well you both get along when you actually talk instead of dry humping behind the football field, and seungcheol is kinda mad at himself for being so hung up on getting in your pants that he never actually tried to get to know you.
(not that he still doesn't try to get in your pants. the only difference now is that he actually succeeds).
in seungcheol's senior year, his team crushes their rivals in the final game of the season with a landslide victory, earning his name a place in the college football history books and on a contract for a pro team with an offer that makes his head spin.
the best part about the victory, though, is the way you come streaking across the field the moment the game ends, eyes curled with the force of your bright, beaming smile. you leap into seungcheol's arms, crashing your lips together in a kiss that says you did it, you fucking did it, i’m so proud of you.
so yeah, seungcheol might be a little bit of a cliche: captain of the football team dating the head cheerleader. but he doesn’t mind: life is good.
Synopsis✨ You were never meant to fall for the boy in the band. But when he starts trying to show you that he isn't the typical rockstar, can you trust that this isn't all just a tour romance?
Genre✨ rock band au, mild angst, fluff, smut
Warnings✨ lots of making out, lots of drunken making out, multiple smut scenes, dry humping, finger sucking, nipple play, she's had a drink but everything is totally consensual/ she's not totally drunk, he fingers her in front of a mirror, spanking (ass and pussy), edging, possessive Chan, possessive OC, oral f recieving, p in v sex, protected sex, switch Chan, switch reader, marking, Chan has his tongue pierced
Plot warnings✨ Chan is literally the cutest person but also the biggest menace when it comes to the bedroom, he is YEARNING, Wonwoo and Vernon might be the most unhelpful people on the planet, Seungcheol and Soonyoung are only there to play in the band and party, it's inferred that Soonyoung is bi but it doesn't really feature in the story, mentions of subby Mingyu but it's nothing to do with the plot (I just have a problem), OC is in her down bad era but very much keeping her head in the sand, they're the biggest pair of idiots in love
Word count✨19k
a/n✨ This was going to be a drabble about a one night stand after a show but then rock star Chan started living in my mind rent free and here we are. Thank you for reading 🖤
“Fuck we went into the wrong side of this industry _____,”
You glance at Vernon but ignore him, the boom of the base making the stadium shake as you lean against a pillar watching the second to last song of the set.
You know what he’s referring to. Vernon didn’t just happen to regret his life choices as yet another thong lands on Soonyoung’s guitar headstock.
“Fuck, every night they get their pick of groupies. Dude, imagine that!”
“You literally fuck a different girl every night, you’re not suffering on that front Vernon.”
“Yeah, but none of them throw their panties at me.”
“Just their drinks,” you smirk, knowing he’s still sensitive about the “love of his life” he met in Osaka. Who threw a drink over him when she found him flirting with another “love of his life”.
Vernon meets a lot of women who he proclaims are the love of his life. It isn’t even necessarily a bad thing. In that moment, they’re the only thing in his world, they hold his undivided attention and he wants nothing more than to please them.
But the second that’s over? He’s onto the next one.
This whole tour you’ve both been working with Shadow, the world’s biggest rock band, helping them write and produce their new album whilst they finish up their world tour. It’s been an incredible experience, you’ve travelled to every city in the world you could’ve dreamed of.
You saw the Taj Mahal in India, walked across the Sydney Harbour Bridge on a rest day on the Australian leg of the tour and even went to a rodeo during the US concerts. It was incredible, but one thing that wasn’t? The fact that the lead singer of the biggest rock band in the world, had slowly stolen a little of your heart in every city you visited.
It was silly. He flirted with everyone but it didn’t stop you thinking that you might be special to him. He certainly made you feel that way, always holding back to ask how you thought the show went, or running a new riff by you and wanting your opinion on how it would fit in the song you were working on.
But then you’d see the tens of thousands of women screaming at him, flirting with him at meet and greets and you saw the twinkle in his eyes when they did that. You never saw him take anyone back to his hotel room, but then you didn’t watch him closely enough to know that he definitely wasn’t doing that.
You’d come close to kissing a couple of times but Vernon always stumbled into the bar drunk or Mingyu would throw up in something and the moment was lost. You’re certain it’s just a convenience thing, he enjoys flirting and you’re one of the few women on the tour. It’s a needs must sort of thing. But then he does have millions of fans he could flirt with, and yet he still chooses to do so with you.
The final chord rings around the stadium, signalling that the show is done and the Asia segment of the tour is over, as the band members make their final bows. The screams and cries from the fans piercing your ear drums just like they do every night when the show ends.
Four sweaty men come running towards you, handing their instruments to the roadies as they high five everyone they come into contact with, everybody trying to dodge Mingyu’s sweaty towel as he throws it in the trash. Its long past being saved by a washing machine, how the man isn’t constantly dehydrated is a mystery to you considering how much water he loses during each show.
And just like always, as you turn to follow the triumphant musicians in the revelry from their latest show, Dino holds back to speak to you.
His smile is broad, eyes shining much like the flood lights that lit up the stadium only a few seconds ago and his sleeveless t-shirt clings to his chiselled body in a scrumptious way that you actively try to avoid.
“What did you think?” His hopeful smile sends butterflies swarming through your tummy.
“Dino, every night is incredible. You know that”
“Yeah, but I think my voice sounded a bit tired in the last quarter of the show. I think I need to ask Jeonghan to get one of those steamers, it’ll help my skin too.” He jokes.
“You’ve got perfect skin already, it’s so pretty.”
You clamp your mouth shut, eyes wide in horror. Pretty skin?! What the fuck were you thinking?! How fucking embarrassing. You try not look at him, cringing at your slip up as you walk side by side along the corridor to the changing rooms.
“You think I’ve got pretty skin?”
His smile isn’t even cocky, it’s hopeful again if anything.
“Of course. You all do.”
His smile falters a little, eyebrows scrunching in disappointment but he shakes it off, his arm brushing against yours as you dodge a rogue guitar case being flung around.
“Dino! Hurry the fuck up, there’s fans in here that want autographs!!”
“Woozi, I’m stood literally three feet away, you don’t have to shout.”
“Just,” he glances between the pair of you, “hurry up. We can’t keep the fans waiting.”
“Sorry about him,” he turns to you.
“Chan....I mean Dino,”
“I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Chan, _____.” He says kindly.
“Chan,” you both grin at each other, “I’ve been on this tour long enough to know that both your managers live on their nerves. Go! Your fans will be missing you!” you shew him away.
“I’ll see you at the bar?”
“Errrr, I’m not sure I’m feeling it tonight.”
You hate how much his face slumps when you say you won’t be at the after drinks. But you just can’t face it tonight. You’ve got an important date with your own self-pity and whatever rom-com is showing on the TV when you throw yourself onto your bed.
“You good? I could get you something if you’re not feeling great?”
“Just a little tired. Go!” you shew him off again, faking your best smile, “I’m not getting shouted at by Jeonghan and Woozi when your fans are missing you!”
He looks like he doesn’t want to leave you but an irate looking Woozi storms out clutching his hair, and Chan knows he can’t avoid the meet and greet any longer.
“See you tomorrow then?”
“Sure,” you smile, watching as he runs off to their dressing room, sparing you a couple of final glances before he disappears into the room.
“Can I get you another?”
“What’s your name?” Chan asks sadly, finger running round the rim of his whiskey glass.
“Seokmin. Can I get you another?”
“Seokmin,” Chan sighs sadly, lips pouting as he looks at the bartender in front of him, “have you ever loved someone so much it hurts your heart?”
“Yes.”
“Really?!” he asks excitedly, sitting up on his bar stool, “what happened?!”
“She ate my crayons and so I never spoke to her again.”
Chan frowns at the bar man. He knows the bar is busy and he’s holding him up, but this is important life knowledge he’s trying to gather. Surely, he can spare him a few minutes without making this a joke.
“She ate your crayons?”
“We were six. Do you want another drink?”
“I guess.” He pouts, handing the sullen bar tender his glass and frowning as he walks off.
“Why don’t you just tell _____ how you feel?”
“Fuck Cheol do you have to creep up on people?!”
“I’ve been sat here the whole time, idiot. Why can’t you just tell her?”
“Because I don’t know if she feels the same. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”
“You’re the lead singer of the biggest band in the world. I swear you’re the only person on earth that doesn’t see you could have whoever you want.”
“I don’t want whoever. I want ____!”
“Then show her you want her! You clearly won’t tell her so try and show her that you like her.”
“How would I do that?”
He tries to keep Seungcheol’s attention but his drummer’s eyes are more preoccupied with following a dark-haired beauty that’s passing by.
“Hello?” he waves in his face, “crisis of the heart over here?”
“What?” Seungcheol glances at him but his eyes quickly move back to the woman who’s now smirking at him across the hotel bar. “I don’t know man, just be nice to her. Give her stuff, I don’t know. I’ll see you later, someone looks like she wants to see just how great a drummer’s rhythm is.”
Chan watches Cheol leave in disbelief that everyone is so fucking unhelpful when he’s suffering so much.
“He’s right, you know,” the bartender, Seokmin, says as he places a fresh drink in front of Chan, “just show her you like her.”
Chan thinks for a few moments, you did look peaky earlier. And he saw that you skipped lunch because you were helping Soonyoung with recording something. Maybe you were hungry, that’s why you didn’t want to come to drinks tonight. You’re hungry!
“How would someone acquire a room service cart?”
“You’d be a room service waiter.”
“How would I acquire a room service cart? And your finest steak and fries. And a cake?”
“You’d buy them and also be a room service waiter.”
Chan narrows his eyes at his unhelpful man.
“I’ll pay you.”
“How much?”
“However much you want. But I want a cart, two steaks, two fries and the biggest chocolate cake you’ve got.”
“Two thousand.”
“WHAT?!”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Fine.” He sighs, standing up to get his wallet, “do you take card?”
“Bank transfer. Or it’s an extra 500.”
Wonwoo: Pretty skin?!!!! 😂😂
You: fuck off Wonwoo, it just slipped out
Wonwoo: I’m sorry but in all the bullshit things you’ve done on that tour. This is my favourite. It’s even better than when he caught you staring at his ass and you choked in front of the whole group
You: why do you hate me? Why can’t you be supportive like a normal best friend?
Wonwoo: because your life is far too entertaining
You: what do I do?
Wonwoo: the same thing I’ve been telling you to do all the time. Fuck his brains out
You: how you found a girlfriend is beyond me. You disgust me. Give her the phone, she’ll help me
Wonwoo: she’s laughing as much as me
You: fuck off. Both of you.
You throw your phone on the bed, vowing to never speak to your best friend ever again, as you walk over to door after someone knocking on it. It’s not unusual for a member of staff to drop something off or check a schedule with you before your flight in the morning, so you don’t really question it.
The door is swung open and all you find is a guy with room service that you definitely didn’t order.
“Sorry, wrong room!” you’re pleasant but not really paying attention, more interested in trying to get back to your den of embarrassment under your duvet.
But that can’t be right.
The man with the room service looked suspiciously like......
“Chan?” you peer round the door.
“Hey!” fuck his smile is so perfect, how can one man be so fucking cute?
“You know you’re a millionaire, right? Why are you picking up shifts at the hotel?”
His smile falters as he glances down at the room service cart. Maybe asking for the fancy gold cloches was overkill? Seokmin did say that silver would work perfectly well to keep the steaks warm and that the gold were just for showing off.
“I brought you food! Can I?” he looks around you, hoping you’ll let him in.
You stare at the cart, has he stolen it from someone?! You’ve heard wild stories about rock stars, but you thought the usual deal was that they threw TVs out of windows or snort lines of powder off scantily clad women. Who’ve never read anything about abducting people’s food or joyriding food service carts round hotel corridors.
“Why have you got that?”
You’re more than happy to let him in the room but you want to make sure you’re not harbouring a criminal or some heiresses’ caviar or something.
“I just said,” he frowns, fingers tightening on the cart in nerves, “I’ve brought you food.”
“Did you steal that?”
“No!”
His scandalised look makes you chuckle, his nerves finally breaking so he starts chuckling along with you.
“Come in,” you smile, opening the door wider for him and his cart, “you know, I think it’s customary to order the food and they bring it to you. I’ve never known a hotel make the guests do all the work, perhaps we should complain.”
“Oh no!” he spins around, almost bumping into you. “Please don’t complain to them! This was my idea!”
Fuck he’s so cute.
“I know Chan, I was joking.” You touch his arm to comfort him but that turns out to be a mistake.
His eyes follow the movement, your fingers suddenly burning when you realise, you’re more or less caressing his bicep.
“Sorry!” your eyes broaden when you panic a little and walk away from him further into the room.
Chan doesn’t care that you touched him, in fact his skin tingles where your fingers had just lay. He only wishes you’d kept it there longer, having you close to him is something he’s been craving your weeks. If not months.
He wheels his cart into the room, and you try to ignore the way he has a precious little pout when he concentrates on not banging into things. Or the way it makes your heart swell more by the second.
“Why have you brought me food?”
“Well. You didn’t come to drinks, and I saw you didn’t eat lunch.... You know you really should set boundaries with Soonyoung, he thinks because his creative juices are flowing, it means everyone’s are,” he rambles on and you don’t even care, you could listen to him all day if he’d let you, “and so I thought I’d bring you this!”
“But why didn’t you just order it?”
He stares at you, mouth hanging open, glancing at the cart.
“Er.... Well because.... Because I er, I always wanted to try out one of these!” He wiggles the handle a little, “It’s just an excuse to live out a childhood dream!”
Your heart sinks. You love that he’s chosen you to live out this childhood dream with, no matter how odd it is. But you just wish he’d done this to make it a grand gesture to show you that all of his flirting was genuine, that he’d done it because he wanted you to be wowed by him.
But you will take literally any excuse to be near him and if this is it? Then you’ll grab it with both hands.
“What did you bring then, to fulfil this childhood dream?”
You wander over to him, resisting your sudden urge to wrap your arms around his back and peek over his shoulder.
“Ta-da!!” He whips the cloches off the two rather large plates.
Is that? It can’t be.
“You brought a whole chocolate cake?!”
“Well,” he scratches his neck, eyes looking anywhere but at you or the cake, “you did skip lunch.”
Your eyes land of the plate beside it though, stomach rumbling.
“Fuck is that steak,” Your mouth waters, you did miss lunch. And Chan is right, you do need to tell Soonyoung that life doesn’t revolve around his lyrics, which he’ll hate tomorrow anyway.
“You like steak?”
There’s that hopeful smile again and eyes that are so kind you almost wonder how he shouts down a microphone every night about “fucking this shit up”.
“I do”
“Great,” he lunges forward and takes the plate off the cart, “shall we eat on the bed? No. Not the bed, my mom always said it was rude to eat in bed. The sofa?” He spins around, trying to find the optimum eating place.
Your mind is like a broken record. All you can think of is that he’s so fucking cute.
“Sofa sounds good, us producers only get a room, not a suite like you fancy shmancy rockstars. So, I’ve no dining table.”
“I could get them to get you a suite! Do you want a suite? I’ll get you one! Let me put this down and get my phone!”
“I was joking Chan,” you hold your hand up to stop his panic, “this room is beautiful! Seriously the last band me and Vernon worked with only got us a twin room to share. He kept bringing girls back, it was fucking horrendous.”
He sits next to you, close enough that your thighs are touching.
“Has anything ever happened with you two?”
“Oh god no! He’s like my brother!”
“Great. I mean.... I get it, disgusting. Let’s eat!” he brushes off his little mistake.
The steak is perfect, just like you’d expect from a five-star hotel. And you eat so many fries that you struggle to even contemplate eating the chocolate cake.
“Just one piece, we could share! My grandma always told me that you can always fit in dessert. We have an extra compartment for it in our stomachs you know.” He nods like what he’s just told you is an anatomical fact.
You can’t eat a piece of cake. You think you might throw up if you eat anything else. But you can’t say no to him, not when he waffles on about his family with so much love in his voice. He’s even a family man? He just gets more and more like the most perfect eligible bachelor.
“Fine,” you sigh, trying to mask your smile, “we can share a piece.”
“Perfect,” he stands up rubbing his hands together like he’s planning on cutting the most perfect piece of cake that’s ever been cut. And little do you know, that’s exactly what he’s planning.
“Should we have something from the mini bar?”
“No need!” he reaches down onto the lower shelf of the cart and spins round whipping a napkin off an ice bucket, “voila!”
How did you not notice the bucket with a bottle of champagne?!
“You really went all out for this childhood dream!” you giggle, loving how excited he is about this little hotel waiter role play thing he’s got going on.
“I wanted you to like it,”
“I do! It’s great Chan, seriously I don’t know why you chose me to eat with, but I’m really pleased you did.”
“Well. Everyone else was at the after party.”
Fuck.
Of course that’s the only reason. What an idiot.
He rushes around, gathering champagne glasses and a plate for the slice of cake whilst you stare at the window, wondering if you could feasibly jump out from the second floor and still survive. Anything is better than the embarrassment of thinking you were someone more special to him than a friend/ producer.
If you could read Chan’s mind, you’d know he’s absolutely kicking himself for that comment. He just panicked. He thought he was coming on too strong but now he’s probably made you think that you were his last resort.
You brush off the awkwardness when he settles back onto the sofa. The bottle of champagne is finished, and the slice of cake is polished off, and somehow you find yourself not wanting this evening to end. The conversation flows freely, just like it always does with Chan whenever you’re with him and you end up so close that you’re sitting cross legged, facing each other on the sofa, both a little past tipsy from the champagne.
“Did that hurt?”
“What, when I fell from heaven?” he cackles drunkenly, head thrown back at his terrible joke.
“No,” you snort, swaying a little with a stupid grin on your face, “your ball in your mouth.”
“______!!”
The way he clutches his chest dramatically only makes you giggle into your glass.
“That’s not what I meant,” you shush him, finger on his lips to silence him, the champagne making you a lot more confident, “I meant your tongue piercing.”
“Wanna touch it?”
Fuck do you. You want to know exactly what it feels like all over you and what a good excuse to finally kiss him.
You lean forward a little. Excitement bubbling in your stomach at finally kissing the man of your dreams. If you’re going to feel his piercing, it’s surely not going to be a simple kiss.
Oh.
You pause, confronted with something you weren’t expecting.
Chan sticks his tongue out, it hangs down from his mouth like a dog desperate for a drink. Of course he meant with your finger! What the hell else would he mean?
“Go on then,” he tries to say, tongue still out.
Your index finger approaches him slowly, eyes fixed in concentration because your drunk ass doesn’t want to poke him in the eye or something if you go rogue. His eyes follow your movements desperately, almost going cross-eyed as he watches your finger approach his tongue.
The metal ball is cool on the pad of your finger. All you can think about is how much you want to feel it against your own tongue. Or fuck. Your nipples, which stiffen at the thought. Or maybe even your cl....
You jump when your finger suddenly feels warm. But when you realise what is happening you can’t help but bite your lip, trying to stop a moan slipping out.
Chan’s lips have wrapped around your finger, tongue running along your digit as he bobs his head a little, sucking on your finger like it’s a lollipop. How you’ve spent many a night thinking about doing to his dick. His eyes never leave yours and you make no attempt to look away from him. How does someone sucking your finger feel so good?! Your pussy tingles at how the metal ball runs along your finger, wondering you how incredible it would feel running along your pussy.
His hand wraps around your wrist to pull your finger away from him and before you can even form the words to complain, he leans forward and connects his lips to yours.
It’s by no means your best work, and if Chan was sober and honest, he’d probably say it’s not his either. It’s messy, tongues vying for supremacy, yours trying to feel the little metal ball in his mouth against your own tongue. Drool is all over your chin and when he bites down hard on your lip you whimper, the pain stinging so nicely as he leans you back on the sofa, more or less lying on top of you as his mouth moves on yours and one of his hands moves up to grope your tits.
You feel something hard against your clothed pussy and your drunken brain doesn’t even think twice, you grind up onto him and giggle into his mouth when he does the same, his hard length bumping into your pussy just right, even between both of your clothes. You hump each other like horny teenagers, tongues halfway down each other’s throats and hips moving like bunnies to try and find enough friction to make yourselves cum.
You’re perilously close to the edge just by humping him but just as quick as that high forms, your world comes crashing down.
“Chan?”
Nothing.
He’s a dead weight on top of you.
You can still feel his dick against you, but you realise nothing is going to fucking happen when he snores against your chin.
Well, you stare at the ceiling. In the long list of embarrassing things that have happened to you, this might just take first prize. The worlds biggest rock star, one of the hottest men in the world, has just fallen asleep whilst you were humping him. How do you even recover from something like this? What makes it worse is, he’s still hard in his pants and it would just be so easy for you to finish yourself off against him, but that snore took away any chance you had of cumming. In fact, you’re pretty certain this embarrassment will run so deep that your poor pussy will be as dry as the Sahara for a very long time.
What are you meant to do in this situation? He’s snoring away on top of you, face nuzzling into your neck as he subconsciously makes himself comfortable like you’re a life size pillow. His dick rubs against you again but this time it’s more annoyance than arousal that takes over you.
You can’t stay like this, his body is feeling heavier and heavier by the second and you’ve no intention of allowing him to suffocate you. What would they write down as cause of death? Embarrassment? Complete mortification that a man has fallen asleep with your tongue literally in his mouth?
No. You need to try and wake him up.
“Chan?” You try to lift him off you but there’s no chance of you managing it.
“For fucks sake get up!”
“You smell like flowers,” he mumbles into your neck, no intention of waking up or moving.
“Asshole.” You grumble.
“She’s got a great ass,” he whispers in his sleep.
You narrow your eyes at him, that had better be you he’s thinking of. You’re not sure you’d cope if all of this was happening and he’s thinking of someone else whilst he’s taking a nap on your poor body.
Ten minutes pass by, you no longer remember what it feels like to breathe freely but thankfully, in his drunken state, Chan tries to roll onto his back and ends up landing on the floor with a thud.
You look down in horror, presuming he’ll have woken himself up but amazingly, he hasn’t. His mouth is open gormlessly as he snores away happily on the floor and you wonder if you should just leave him like that. He’d deserve it. But you can’t. You’ve grown to care for him, no matter how embarrassing everything has just been, and so you quickly rush to the wardrobe to get a spare blanket and pillow.
Could you have been more delicate in the way you placed his head on the pillow? Yes, you could. But after the shit he’s just pulled you don’t see why you should. You yank his head up, shove the pillow under it and let it drop. You throw the blanket on him in a half assed manner and crawl into your own bed. Wrapping yourself in your duvet like it might shield you from the whatever awkwardness is about to come in the morning. Your cheeks are pink in embarrassment and a little anger, and you eventually drift off to sleep, vowing to never tell Wonwoo about this. He would think all his Christmases had come at once.
Rome. 11 days till tour ends.
The heat in Rome is dry. So dry that it’s even made you lose some of your nerves around Chan since that night in Hong Kong. You’re much more focussed on not burning to a crisp rather than avoiding the man who tried to become your own personal weighted blanket.
The morning after Chan’s little room service escapade, he’d woken up just as you’d finished getting dressed. You were just placing the final bits and bobs into your suitcase and zipping it up when he rose from the ground with a deep groan and a baffled look on his face.
“_____?”
“Hey!” you spin around, the biggest false smile on your face you can muster.
“Why am I on the floor?”
He doesn’t remember. You don’t know whether you feel relieved or even more insulted than you did when you heard that first snore against your chin.
“You fell asleep, rolled off the sofa.”
You don’t look at him, you can’t. You’d wanted something to happen for so long and now you’re not even sure if he meant to kiss you or if he’s just a horny drunk and you were the only one there.
“Oh.” He looks around the room, taking in the now cleaned up cart (you having cleaned up when you woke up) and the blanket that’s resting on his legs. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
You can tell he means it, his voice has that genuine gentleness to it that you always find when he’s talking to you.
“Here,” you sigh, handing him a bottle of water.
He doesn’t take it. Just narrows his eyes at your hand like he’s thinking about something. Why is he dragging this out? You’ve got a flight to catch and you’re certain he’s probably not packed.
“Chan!” he jumps, dragging his eyes away from your fingers.
“S-sorry.” He takes the water from you, your finger feeling like it’s been scolded when it brushes his. “Are you ok? Did I do something I shouldn’t?”
Your eyes scan his face, he looks genuinely worried that he’s upset you. And he has upset you. You felt like a fucking idiot when you got into bed last night. But he can’t be blamed for something that happened when he was drunk, that you were both more than willing to let happen.
“I’m fine, just a bit hungover. You should hurry, we’ve got to get to the airport.” Your smile is fake but it seems to appease him.
And you leave it at that. He rushes off to his suite to pack and you make your way down to the foyer to wait for the tour bus to get you the hell out of this hotel.
The café you’d chosen to have lunch in sits on the Piazza Navona, the sun shielded slightly by the parasols that stand over each table and you watch as the guys get swarmed by adoring fans as they take photos by the fountain.
Vernon is busy mixing a new track that Mingyu started on the flight between Hong Kong and Rome. You were thankful for it, having to work with the whole group whilst you and Vernon produced the track meant you didn’t have any time to spend with Chan one on one. But now the track was finished and Vernon was tweaking the final production, it meant you all had some free time before the concert.
You’d been on a private tour through the main attractions. You’d seen the wonders of the Pantheon, heard about the fighting pits of the Colosseum and been thoroughly freaked out by the catacombs. It was private as much as anything can be when you’re with Shadow, they tend to attract fans even when actively trying to hide themselves.
With Vernon busy, you’d decided to spend the afternoon with Jieun, Mingyu’s girlfriend and the only other woman on this tour that wasn’t always busy styling and getting them ready for appearances and shows. Since you met her, you’d always wondered one thing.
“Do you never get sick of this?”
“Of what,” she grins, placing her Aperol Sprtiz back on the table, “lounging around in the afternoon, with good company and a strong drink?”
“No,” you chuckle, “this” you gesture at the thirty or so fans that surround Chan and the others.
“Oh that. It does get tiring. Having to pretend I’m a staff member just to get close to Mingyu in public, but knowing he’s coming back to me each night makes it worth it.”
The way she smiles fondly at Mingyu in the distance would suggest she’s not lying. She’s no reason to anyway, she’s one of the most genuine people you’ve ever met. Not to mention stunningly beautiful. If Mingyu wasn’t dating her you’d probably try and date her yourself, she’s so amazing.
Your eyes travel from Mingyu to Chan. His arm is wrapped around the shoulder of a red-haired beauty that looks at him like he’s some sort of god. You watch how he tries to talk to her, wanting to be kind even though they don’t speak the same language. His smile is genuine but you find a part of you trying to figure out if that’s the same smile he gives you or if the one you’re lucky enough to admire, is reserved only for you.
“Can I ask you something, _____? You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable.”
“Anything” you smile, taking a sip of your drink.
“Do you like Chan?”
Your eyes widen though you hope she doesn’t notice, a slight panic setting in as you swill your drink around the glass a little.
“Of course I do! I like all of the guys!”
She narrows her eyes at you, her lips between a knowing pout and hiding a small smile.
“You know what I mean. Cheol told the guys he saw Chan coming out of your room that last morning in Hong Kong, but Chan won’t tell them anything. Which is not like him, he tells everyone all his darkest secrets no matter what they are.”
Just how many dark secrets does he have to share? Are you one of those secrets? Does he actually remember what’s happened and he’s too embarrassed to tell them? He doesn’t come out of the story well at all and, to be honest, you’re so fucking embarrassed that you’re pleased he’s not told anyone even if he does remember.
“He brought me dinner and fell asleep, that’s all.”
“When did he leave the hotel?” she worries. “They’re not meant to go out without security and all the security guards were at the after party.”
“No,” you giggle at the memory of him arriving at your door, “he brought me dinner. On a room service cart and everything!”
“What? Where the fuck did he get that from?”
“I’ve no idea, I did make sure he hadn’t stolen it. But he said he was fulfilling a childhood dream.” You look over at Chan in the distance, some woman now holding his arm, looking like she’s commenting on the size of it. You swallow down the annoyance as best you can.
“That’s what he told you?” her eyes follow yours, a knowing glint in her eye as she sees you trying to look unbothered by someone touching Chan. “He’s a rock star _____. He dreamed of being a rock star. I doubt he dreamt of being a hotel waiter.”
You drag your eyes away from the woman who’s still touching your man Chan.
“Why would he lie?”
“Has anything ever happened between you two? You spend a lot of time together normally.”
“I’m a producer for his band. I’m paid to spend time with them.”
You both know you’re purposefully dodging her questions, though why, you don’t know.
“I mean outside of the studio”
You’re silent for a moment. You’ve been itching to talk to someone about what happened for days. Vernon is useless. And you’ve no intention of providing Wonwoo with anymore entertainment. At least not at the moment.
“Can I talk to you? Like woman to woman? Without you telling any of them?”
“Of course! It’d be nice to have just a normal girly chat! Spending endless tours surrounded by sweaty men does get tiring.”
You take a deep breath, the embarrassment still lingering somewhere near the surface.
“We got a bit drunk when he came to my room, he’d brought a bottle of champagne....”
“Oh, he went all out!” she adds in proudly.
“There was steak and a whole chocolate cake too. He went over board for this dream of his,” you laugh, not noticing how she looks at you sceptically when you mention the dream again.
“But we got a bit tipsy and I asked him about his tongue piercing. And he asked did I want to feel it,”
“Damn. He’s smoother than I thought!”
“That’s what I thought,” you grumble, “but then he literally stuck his tongue out like a panting dog and wanted me to touch it.”
“Nooo!” Jieun exclaims, leaning back in her seat with her hand on her forehead.
“But this is where I don’t know if it was something more...”
Her eyes widen and she leans forward in her seat excitedly at the prospect of there being more to this.
“He sucked my finger.”
“By accident?”
“No...” you ponder, thinking back to the finger sucking in question, “like sucked my finger.”
“Well shit.” She leans back.
“And then.....”
“There’s more?!”
“There is,” you roll your eyes, “he took my finger out of his mouth and kissed me,” she gets excited but it dies down when she gets the impression this isn’t necessarily a good thing. “Things got a little, you know, intense. And then he fell asleep on me.”
Her Aperol Spritz dribbles down her chin when she chokes a little on her drink.
“He what?!”
“I was about to, you know....finish. We were still fully clothed,” you clarify, “it was nothing more than grinding really, but then he fucking snored against my chin just as I was nearly done and I couldn’t move him! He finally rolled onto the floor and off me and then slept on the floor.”
She just stares at you wide eyed.
“I don’t think he even remembers it. I thought..... I thought it might mean he likes me but I guess he just ate with me because everyone was at the party and I suppose people get horny when they’re drunk,” you shrug, “it was just because I was there. And the finger sucking isn’t sexual really.”
“Oh come on _____, that’s bullshit. Mingyu sucks my fingers all the time and it’s normally when he’s crying under me and begging me to slap his ass again. There’s nothing not sexual about someone sucking on your finger.”
Well. It’s no wonder Mingyu only stays for one drink at the bar normally, you’d be rushing off too if that was awaiting you.
“I didn’t have Mingyu pegged for that.”
“You’d be surprised what Mingyu is pegged for.”
Thank god you decided to speak to Jieun about this, the laughter helps soothe your soul more than worrying in your hotel room ever could.
“Do you think he likes me....”
Before she can answer, Chan and Mingyu appear beside you, taking the spare seats at your table and leaving Seungcheol and Soonyoung to hold court with the fans themselves.
“You managed to tear yourself away then?”
“I can’t help the adoring fans babe,” Mingyu says happily, stealing a swig of Jieun’s drink. “I’ve got a surprise. Jeonghan managed to get a private tour of the Sistine Chapel for just me and you. What do you say?”
Jieun’s face lights up at the prospect of spending quality time with her boyfriend away from the prying eyes of the fans.
“You don’t mind _____?”
“Of course not! Go! Have fun!”
They rush out of their seats, keeping a healthy distance away from each other that you know kills them to do. If it was up to them, they’d be attached at the hip.
So that leaves you with the finger sucker.
“Are you enjoying Rome?”
His smile is almost as bright as the Italian sun and you see no sense in holding anything against him.
“I am! I loved the Colosseum, it’s really great you guys let us come to those things with you. A lot of artists wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re basically part of the team _____, of course you’d come with us. Did Vernon tell you about Woozi’s proposal? You two being in house producers rather than just here for the new album?”
Vernon had mentioned that to you, both of you were stoked because it would finally mean knowing that you had security around your job. Sure, producers get paid a decent amount, you’re more than comfortable in life, but that can all change in a day. Things change, trends change and before you know it, you’re not an in-demand producer anymore.
The contract with Shadow would mean guaranteed job security, producing together when you all get back home but also still having that option to tour with them too. It was more than appealing and Vernon had left the final decision down to you.
And you really wanted to commit. But there was something holding you back that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
“He did, we’re still thinking about it.”
“You don’t like working with us?” the disappointment in his voice makes you feel absolutely horrible.
“It’s not that, this has been the best job I’ve ever had. Vernon too. It’s just a big commitment, you know?”
He just nods, playing with his fingers and looking round the café pretty awkwardly.
“I er.....I got you something?”
“Is it another cake?”
“No. Do you want a cake? I could find a cake! This café must sell cakes. Fuck, I left my phone with Jeonghan, do you know how to ask for cake in Italian?”
“Chan,” you lean forward, hand resting on his forearm, “I was joking, like about the cake you brought the other night?”
“Oh!” he glances down at your hand causing you to pull it back quickly, “fuck I’m so stupid, of course you were joking. You must think I’m so annoying, never getting your jokes.”
“I think you’re incredible.”
No.
WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?! Once again, your mouth is bigger than your brain and you somehow let your inner most thoughts run wild.
You look away, pretending to take a particular interest in two pigeons fighting over a stray piece of focaccia, not noticing the wide smile on his face as he gazes at you.
His small clearing of his throat captures your attention back though.
“I got you something.” He says it quietly, like he doesn’t want the rest of the world to know your secrets.
In reality he probably just doesn’t want a nosey fan to notice and think this is something that it isn’t.
“You don’t have to keep giving me things, Chan.”
He falters slightly as he reaches into his pocket but he calms slightly when he realises your kind smile is showing you’re not annoyed by the gifts. You’re just being your usual modest self.
“So, there was this stall in one of the side streets. And I saw this. Well these. And I thought they were cute, so I got them.”
From his pocket he pulls a pair of thin woven bracelets, both matching and both with a small charm interwoven into it with a gold heart.
“I thought,” he slides one over to you, keeping the other one safely in his hands, “that I could keep one and you could have one? When I saw them, I remembered you saying that your favourite colour was red and well, mine is blue, and with these being red and blue....I just thought they’d suit us really well.”
You desperately try not to squeal like a school girl who’s just been handed a daisy by her first crush. But he is your crush and he’s just handed you something far more meaningful than a daisy. And he even remembered your favourite colour!
“Really? Chan that’s so sweet of you,” you pick up the bracelet like it’s the most priceless piece of jewellery in the world. But to you, it is. “Could you help me put it on?”
“Sure,” his hands are delicate when he takes the bracelet from you and gently wraps it round your wrist, tying the knot tight enough that it’ll never come off. Something Chan hopes is true.
“Should I?” you point to the other bracelet still in his hand.
“Oh! Please!” he holds out his arm excitedly, eyes following your movements closely as your fingers brush his wrist and you double knot the bracelet.
You both giggle to each other when you pull on the knot, making sure it’s tied tight enough to never leave his wrist.
“Perfect.”
“Yeah.”
You both gaze down out your wrists, silly smiles on your lips and hearts pounding.
“Who are you texting so frantically?” Vernon asks you as he leans against an amp, head bopping to the heavy thud of the song currently being performed.
“Wonwoo.”
“Could you remind him to go and water my plants.”
You lower your phone, eyes narrowing at an unbothered Vernon.
“We’ve been on this tour for three months. This is the first time you’ve mentioned your plants.”
“Yeah,” he dismisses you, playing air guitar along with Chan and Soonyoung, “but I told him before we left home.”
“And have you reminded him?”
“Nah, I’ve only spoken to him once, to tell him about that incredible girl in Brazil who let me fuck her ass.”
This is the problem with having male friends. They’re all men.
He isn’t even paying attention to you, he’s too busy hopping along the side stage whilst he pretends to play the guitar solo. So you go back to your important debating with your best friend.
You: Do you think it’s a friendship bracelet or a something more bracelet?
Wonwoo: I don’t know, why don’t you fly home then we can brush each other’s hair, paint our toenails and discuss this boring fucking bracelet
You: Will you please help me? I’m spiralling here
Wonwoo: 🙄 well I’ve been your best friend since we were four and I’ve never wanted to buy you a bracelet
You: You’ve never bought me anything
Wonwoo: A lie. I bought you dinner four years ago on your birthday
You: You only did that because Chae made you feel bad for never buying me a birthday present
Wonwoo: Whatever. If I was going to buy a bracelet for someone, it’d only be for Chae. And considering she’s the love of my life, I think that answers your question
You stare at your phone. For the first time in your long friendship, Wonwoo has done the impossible. He’s helped.
You: OMG so you think he likes me?!!!!!
Wonwoo: Nah, I’m not going this bullshit. I’ve given you my opinion, do what you will with it
You: Fine😒 Oh! And Vernon wants to know if you’ve watered his plants
Wonwoo: No.
Well that answers that.
Every concert is the same. They rush off stage, discard the panties that have been thrown at them, you all dodge Mingyu’s sweaty towel and then Chan hovers a little so he can walk backstage with you.
But tonight is different. He’s walking slightly ahead of you with one of the stylists, giggling at something she’s just said to him.
You adjust your face, realising you’re glaring at the back of their heads and hope nobody noticed. This is fine. He’s allowed to talk to other people. He didn’t just give her a bracelet that matches the one that he’s wearing. You hate that you make an extra effort to catch sight of his wrist, making sure he is wearing the bracelet. And thankfully, he is.
“Drinks?” Vernon puts his arm over your shoulder, strutting at the side of you.
“Vernon. Do you not get bored of all this drinking and whoring yourself about?”
“It makes me happy. Maybe if you did it a bit more then you’d be happy!”
How rude. He’s such an asshole.
“I am happy!”
“You might want to tell your face dude.”
“Fuck off Vernon. Is it the hotel bar?” you stare at Chan picking a stray hair off the stylist’s shoulder. No doubt he wouldn’t fall asleep on her. Your eyes wander down, her ass isn’t anything to write home about, surely it wasn’t her ass that he was mumbling about in his sleep.
Fuck you need to get a grip.
Maybe Wonwoo was wrong. It is a friendship bracelet. How would Wonwoo even know anything about these things, he’d still be sat at home playing games in his underwear if Chae hadn’t asked him out. Now they sit at home and play games in their underwear together and they’re annoyingly happy. Not like you. You’re going to be a spinster for the rest of your life, destined to only ever befriend men and never be loved by one.
“It is! See you there....or not, party pooper!” your eyes snap away from the stylists ass and back to Vernon.
But he doesn’t wait, he rushes off to catch up with Cheol and Soonyoung, the three them having become wingmen to each other over the tour.
You’re too busy looking anywhere other than Chan and his soon to be wife stylist so you don’t notice when you crash into something. The very somethings you were trying to ignore.
“Oh! Hey......”
“Sorry.” You don’t let him finish, you ignore his not doubt pitying smile and walk around them, marching off towards the tour bus. The band all ride in Bentleys between the venues and hotel so you know you won’t have to see him until the hotel. Hopefully they have a lovely ride together whilst you ride the bus with Vernon and the other muggles.
You’re drunk. Well not drunk. Just jolly? You’re still only seeing one of everything so you’re not drunk drunk. But it’s definitely about the right time to get some air.
The trouble is you’ve no idea where air is. So instead you decide to call it at night and head back to your room. You’d cramped Vernon’s style for long enough and to be honest you were starting to feel a little uncomfortable when his new lady friend started insinuating the three of you should head back to Vernon’s room. You’re not adverse to a threesome you don’t think, but you’d rather perform in front of a stadium naked than see Vernon naked.
You exit the elevator deciding to skip to your room, because why the hell not? You’re young, free and perpetually single, why not enjoy the little joys in life?
“Where are you skipping off to?”
Oh. Fuck why is he on this floor, shouldn’t he be where the suites are?
“Back to my room,” you spin around, feeling pretty proud that you don’t wobble. “Goodnight!”
“Wait!” he reaches for your arm, stopping you from skipping away from him. “Are we ok?” his eyes flick down to your wrist, checking you’ve got your bracelet on.
“Sure! Whose ass do you like?”
Ok, so maybe you are a little drunk considering how loose your lips are.
“Pardon?”
“The other night, when you fell asleep on me. You mumbled someone had a great ass. Whose ass is so great that you’re thinking about it when you’re literally lying on someone else?”
He looks at you in horror. Well. There’s your answer then.
You turn away, deciding you don’t much feel like skipping now. A loud stomp is probably preferable.
“I didn’t think it had happened. I thought it was a dream.”
His soft voice stops you in your tracks.
“You didn’t think you’d fallen asleep on me when we were making out?”
“I’m really sorry _____. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Wow. He doesn’t know what he was thinking making out with you?!
“It’s ok.” You pout, “we don’t have to mention it again. Do you want the friendship bracelet back?” you look down at your wrist wondering how you’re even going to take it off.
“What?! No! It’s not a..... Can we talk?” He sounds desperate and you hate that. Even now, you only want him to be happy.
“My room is somewhere along here,” you squint, trying to read the room numbers in the distance.
“You’re on the wrong floor, my room is along this corridor.”
“Oh.” You stand up straight, looking around, “is this where the royalty stays?” You whisper to him.
“They may do sometimes. At the moment it’s just us and Mingyu and Jieun watching The Notebook. I left when he started crying.”
“She’s very hot. They’re a very hot couple. So are you and the lady with the clothes. The er.......stylist! The stylist.” You nod, very proud with your extensive tipsy vocabulary.
You wander off towards his room but pretty quickly realise you’ve no idea where his room actually is. You presume he’s walking near you but when you turn around, he’s staring at you in disgust, exactly where you left him.
“What stylist?”
“The one you walked with after the concert,” you say with a pout that breaks Chan’s heart, “I had to walk on my own because Wonwoo got it wrong.”
“Who’s Wonwoo?”
“My best friend. And a stupid man. A big old stupid man with a big old stupid girlfriend because everyone has someone and I have someone who snores on my head. Who it turns out isn’t mine but the dress lady,” you ignore a baffled looking Chan, whilst you think about what you’ve just said, “OH MY GOD AM I THE OTHER WOMAN?! DID YOU KISS ME WHEN YOU’RE WITH THE DRESS LADY?! Oh my god!”
You start pacing, hand on your forehead, falling deeper and deeper into a spiral of shame.
You stop and look at him in disgust.
“You just go around sucking people’s fingers when you’re dating a lady with dresses?!”
“I’ve no idea what is currently happening here but I will say, we don’t wear dresses, she generally has leather jeans and ripped t-shirts.”
“WHAT?!”
Chan decides he doesn’t care what’s happening at the moment, he just needs to get you into his room before you start actually having a full-scale breakdown.
“Come on.” He pulls you towards his suite.
“You’re not sucking my fingers.” You say sternly as he pulls you towards his room. “I don’t care how pretty you are. I am not the other woman.”
“I don’t want to suck your fingers.” He mumbles, looking round hoping there’s no stray fans or photographers around who may have snuck into the hotel.
“Why?! What’s wrong with my fingers?!” You pull your arm from his hand.
“You’ll see what’s wrong with my fingers if you don’t stop being such a fucking brat!!!”
If you weren’t so embarrassed at how your pussy tingled at him calling you a brat, you’d notice just how much he’s trying not to smile at your wide-eyed look of horror mixed with the way your thighs rubbed together slightly.
“Move.”
He scans his key card and opens the door for you to walk through.
“Ok, Mr Rockstar,” you grumble sarcastically.
That proves to be a step too far for Chan, the door closes behind him as he follows you into his suite and his palm connects with your ass with a sharp slap.
“Wh....”
You don’t get chance to finish your sentence. He pushes you, albeit gently, against the wall and cages you in with his hands either side of your head.
This Chan is far removed from the one who shyly gave you the bracelet.
“That stylist is a friend. She’s worked with us since we first got signed.”
“You just slapped my ass.” You whisper, almost in wonder that him.
“And I’ll do it again if you don’t start fucking opening your eyes. This whole thing has been so stupid, I’ve been worried about telling you this whole time, too shy to get it wrong. I should’ve just told you.”
“Told me what?”
His eyes search yours, like he’s now wondering if this is the right time but he can’t see any point in holding this back any longer. There’s not much time left on the tour and you’re clearly upset with him because of his mixed signals and lack of clarity.
“I like you.”
Silence. Why aren’t you talking to him? You just glare at him and to be honest, he’s second guessing himself.
“But you snored on my chin.”
He smiles, he can’t help it, you’re too cute with your pretty pout and eyes that try to remain stoic.
“I did. And I was a fucking idiot for doing that, I was drunk and I’d been so worried about trying to tell you. Seungcheol told me to get you stuff to show you, so that’s why I paid that bar man for the cart.”
“You bought that cart? Why didn’t you tell me?! I just left it there, I don’t know how we’d even get it on the plane....”
“No, I paid him to rent it from him.”
“How much?”
“2000.”
“WHAT?!”
“I don’t care how much it was, you’re worth it,” you try to hide your smile at that, “but I was so fucking nervous and then you were literally under me, and my mind was spinning and I just conked out. I’m really sorry. I remembered everything on the plane, and I’ve not been able to forgive myself since.”
“So, it wasn’t a childhood dream?”
“No,” he snorts, “my dream was to play my guitar for screaming fans and then head home and fuck the perfect woman each night.”
“My dream was to marry Legolas.” You grin.
He bites his lips trying desperately not to laugh at you.
“Fuck I really want to kiss you, but I don’t want you to not remember it in the morning.”
“I’m not drunk!” you say it far too quickly, “I sobered up a bit when you spanked me. Oh! And by the way it wasn’t the snoring that pissed me off....Well it did. Do you know how fucking close I was? And you just fall asleep! So fucking annoying”
Ok maybe you are still a little drunk, but you’re definitely in the right head space to know exactly what you want.
“You’re so cute when you ramble on like that. Fuck the other day when you were excitedly telling everyone about how your new microphone is the best on the market for recording live music, I couldn’t take my eyes off you, so fucking annoying that everyone else gets to see you being so fucking cute.”
“It is a really good mic, if you do all decide to record a live album, I’ll let you borrow it if you like. I don’t suppose you’ll be able to buy one if you’re throwing money around like you did on hiring that food cart.”
“Heeey!” he whines, hands still either side of your head, “I was nervous! And Cheol told me to show you!”
You just gaze at him, admiring how his lips move when he talks and how his eyes shine brightly when he looks at you. And now you know he likes you, just how you like him, you can’t hold yourself back anymore.
“So, about that kissing?”
“What about it?” he moves so his face is dangerously close to yours.
“I’m not drunk.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh! Actually! Could I just check one more thing before the kissing?”
“Go on.” He chuckles.
“The bracelet, is it a friendship bracelet? Or is it an ‘I like you’ bracelet? Or a ‘sorry I fell asleep when you were so close to cumming for the first time in weeks’ bracelet?”
“Weeks?”
“I left my toy in Mumbai and fingers just don’t cut it.”
“Is that a challenge?” He pushes himself right up against your body and you swear you’re close to physically swooning for the rock star in front of you.
“It might be. It depends on the bracelet.” You shrug, doing your best nonchalant act.
“It’s an ‘I’m so far gone in my crush for you that I cried in the shower when I thought I’d fucked this all up’ bracelet.”
“Wow. Lucky they had such a specific bracelet in stock!”
“Do you have any other admin?”
You think about it.
“Nope. I think I’m all good for the kissing.”
“Fucking finally.”
He grabs your cheeks in his hand and pulls your lips to his, moving them against your own with so much force you’re a little taken a back. This is the complete opposite from the half assed drooly making out of a few nights ago, now you need to bring your a-game.
Your arms wrap around his neck, lips moving feverishly together, his whole body pinning you the wall as he quickly moves his hands from the wall and onto your waist. His tongue bullies its way into your mouth and finally you feel that little tongue piercing properly. It’s a weird feeling, something so hard when everything else is so soft and wet but fuck does it feel incredible as your tongue swirls around his.
He alternates between long, drawn-out kisses where you feel like you’re barely able to catch your breath and teasing little pecks. Each time he does it you chase his lips, annoyed that he’d remove his tongue from your more than willing mouth, but that only seems to egg him on even more. He chuckles every time you whine but eventually, he gives it up and trails wet, warm kisses down your neck, pulling your t-shirt to the side a little then he can mark your collar bone with a sweet stinging kiss.
Your hands travel down his torso, nails scraping along the fabric of his ripped shirt that shows his biceps so nicely but this seems to be the thing that stops him.
“Wait,” he pulls back, hands stopping yours now they’ve reached his belt buckle, “how drunk are you?”
His eyes check over your features, trying to see if you are actually drunk or just a little tipsy but all he finds are angry eyes and kiss bitten lips that he wants to feel against his for as long as you’ll let him.
“I’m not drunk! I just needed to let loose because I thought I’d read the signals wrong!”
“I just don’t want this to seem like I’m taking advantage!”
“Seriously, are you just really into edging because this is getting fucking ridiculous. Move,” you try to shove past him, “I’ll go find someone at the bar or maybe Seungcheol will take pity on me or something.”
Wrong thing to say. His eyes flash with something dangerous and he pulls you towards the bed, making you sit down on it.
“You want this?”
He stands in front of you, the perfect image of a rock n roll star, biceps bulging as he crosses his arms and waits for whatever smart ass remark you have for him. But to his surprise, you’re so in awe of the man in front of you, that all you can do is nod and almost drool at the sight.
“Words _____.”
“I want this.”
“What are you doing?!”
He ignores you, just makes you stand up and starts taking your clothes off slowly, treating like you’re so delicate you might break. Your t-shirt and jeans are thrown somewhere near the bed, and he pauses for a second to look at you.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
You can’t help it, the way he was moving so slowly, so thoughtfully, you thought it would be a bit more poetic than hot and so you start laughing, which thankfully he joins in with.
“Can we take everything off?”
“We? You seem pretty overdressed.”
“And I’m staying that way. Can we take those fucking silly little panties off? They’re not covering much anyway.”
You glance down at the thong you’re wearing. You don’t normally wear a pink lace thong day to day, but this tour has been going on three months, and you’ve somehow left each city with less underwear and socks than you arrived with.
You’ve no idea what he’s planning or why he’s keeping his clothes on, but you trust him and so you quickly take your panties and bra off and throw them with your other clothes.
His hand finds yours, a kind smile playing on his lips as he sits on the edge of the bed and shuffles back a little.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll see, come here.” He pats the spot between his legs, making you sit between them so you’re both facing the same way.
That’s when you see it, how you didn’t notice it when he launched you onto the bed the first time, you don’t know.
A mirror. Right at the end of the bed, floor to ceiling and reflecting a very smug looking Chan and a very shy looking you.
“You’re not so chatty now?” He ponders into your ear. “Is this all ok?”
You’re not entirely sure. You’re dripping at the prospect of whatever he’s about to do and it isn’t that you hate your body, you just never considered what it’d be like to see yourself like this. You glance at Chan in the mirror, his eyes full of that same gentleness that you’re used to but you realise you don’t want that gentleness, not right now, you want whatever glint was in his eyes when he had you pinned against the wall a few minutes ago.
“It’s ok.” You make sure you look into his eyes, you don’t want any more questioning from him about whether you truly want this. You’ve spent months dreaming about having him and now you do, you aren’t going to ignore the growing need between your legs.
He kisses your cheek and then reaches round, places a hand on either thigh and slowly opens your legs so they rest either side of his spread legs, your whole pussy presented to him.
“Fuck,” he stares at your dripping pussy. Your legs are spread so wide that he can see ever tiny detail of you, “you’re stunning _____. Such a pretty fucking pussy.” He nibbles your ear a little, making your hips twitch between his thighs.
You want to look at him, to see his handsome features and blown out pupils but you can’t drag your eyes away from your pussy, leaking just for him. His fingers dance up your right thigh, hovering over your needy core.
If you were paying any attention you’d see that he stops for a few seconds, just to make sure that you want this. But all he finds is your eyes transfixed by his fingers, licking your lips and almost struggling not to shift yourself a little closer to his fingers, to finally get some relief.
Chan stares in the mirror, his fingers spreading your open even further, your hole leaking and breathing ragged, the feel of his fingers on you making your heart hammer in your ears.
“So wet for me,” his middle and ring finger apply pressure to your clit making your head lull back onto his shoulder, a breathy moan leaving you from how that simple contact makes your world spin, “its just for me, isn’t _____? All the bullshit about Cheol was just you being dramatic effect wasn’t it?”
You might be wetter than you’ve ever been and you might want this more than anything, but you’re determined to get him back for falling asleep and so you don’t reply. You close your eyes and try to not moan at how fucking incredible his fingers feel on you.
Chan glances at you in the mirror before actually looking at you face to face. And panic sets in.
“______?”
He shakes you a little.
“_____?!”
You can’t help it, you giggle into his ear, eyes snapping open and finding his appalled ones.
“Are you serious?!”
“It isn’t nice is it Mr Rock Star.”
Your hole clenches around nothing when he glares at you, tongue in his cheek like he’s thinking of the best way to get you back.
“Look in the mirror.”
It isn’t a request, it’s an order and you hurry to obey it. You’d literally do anything for him at this point. Within reason, obviously.
He waits for a few seconds, your body shaking a little when his fingers come back down to rub light circles on your clit.
“Look at me.” Your eyes snap to his in the mirror.
SLAP.
“Fuck,” you moan loudly, hips jolting as his hand slaps your pussy, the wetness of it making it sound even harder than it was.
“Lesson learnt?” he rubs your pussy with his hand softly, soothing the stinging.
You smirk at him, his eyes flashing darkly when he realises just how into that you were.
“You like hearing me slap your pretty wet cunt? Like how pathetic it sounds when everyone can hear how wet you are from just my fingers?”
“So much,”
Slap. A pause. Another slap but this time he pinches your nipple too and you throw your head back onto him, the sting on your pussy making your leak even more for him.
This time though he doesn’t soothe the sting by rubbing you, he simply plunges his two fingers into your tight little hole and starts pummelling them in and out of you quickly.
Your wetness rings around the room, his fingers stretching you open whilst you babble away on his shoulder, head spinning too much to even form any thoughts to tell him just how incredible his fingers feel.
“Shit _____, you’re leaking all over my hand. Your pretty pussy trying to show me just how desperate you’ve been for me?”
“Mm-mm” you nod, eyes fixed on his fingers as they fuck in and out of you.
His eye catches yours and the sight of his cocky smile as your lean on him, legs spread, the back of your thighs clinging to the leather jeans makes you clench down on his fingers.
“Are you close?”
“Yeah,” you moan, hole clenching again and again as your high nears.
“What was it you accused me of?” his palm slams down on your clit as his fingers keep their frantic pace, you’re literally seconds away from cumming all over his hand, you’re not even listening to him anymore, your pussy is making enough noise for you, “That I just really like edging people?”
What?
“NO!!” his hand leaves your cunt, both of his hands instead massaging your tits and pinching your nipples as your orgasm sails away from you, your cunt aching and leaking even more, “Chan no please don’t do that please just carry on!!”
“I am, see baby look, I’m playing with your pretty tits”
Your indignant huff only makes him giggle before he nips your earlobe again.
“I’ll do it myself then.”
“I thought your fingers didn’t cut it?”
“You know for someone who was so sorry you’re being a real assh....”
SLAP.
Your whole body shakes, the slap to your clit almost pushing you over the edge.
His fingers slam back into your oozing cunt, your greedy pussy swallowing his fingers gladly as he hits your g spot again and again.
This is it, this is what you need. His nimble fingers are hammering into you, his palm back on your clit applying pressure and moving every time his fingers fuck themselves back into you.
Your orgasm is coming on quick, you swear he must have magic in those fingers. It’s not like you didn’t know, the man is a guitar god but it turns out, he plays your pussy far better than he plays any instrument.
“Fuck,” you clamp down on him when you remember you’re sitting in front of a mirror and look to find his hand literally glistening in your essence.
His other hand gropes your tit, pinching your nipple between his thumb and finger and tugging on it a little. Fuck you’re so close, just a couple more strokes and......
“NOO!! WHY?!” you’re crying at this point, why is he being so fucking mean?!
Your pussy is almost painful, you could feel yourself about to cum, that perfect high just teetering on the edge, why does he keep doing this?!
“Tell me it’s mine. Tell me you’re mine. None of that bullshit about the bar and Cheol.”
“Just do something!” You plead, you’re not even with it enough to understand what he’s saying to you. You just need to cum. Now.
“Whose.” A little slap to your cunt. “Pussy.” Another. “Is this?”
Each small slap makes your whole body jolt, the pressure edging you more and more as it stings so fucking nicely.
“It’s yours,” you sniffle, kissing his cheek hoping being kind to him might make him finally let you cum. “It’s only yours Chan, I promise.”
“Fuck,” he sighs, forehead resting on your shoulder, “I’ve waited so long to hear that.”
His fingers finally enter their new home, hitting your g-spot straight away and palm back on your clit. Your poor pussy is dribbling away, his hands and legs are wet, the bed is wet and it’s all because your cunt can’t control itself around him. His fingers just feel too good against your warm, wet walls.
“Please, fuck that f-feels so good,”
Your nails dig into his arm as you cling onto him. The pressure building is like nothing you’ve ever felt and you feel almost dizzy as you get closer and closer. If he stops again this time you will probably actually faint in his arms.
Your cunt is clenching, you’re leaking everywhere and all you can feel is your body shaking every time his finger tips greet your cervix.
“So g-good.... Fuck, g-gonna cum”
Your whole body shakes in his arms, cunt trying to keep his fingers permanently inside you you’re clenched around him so hard. Tears fall down your cheeks, electricity flowing through you and if you weren’t still digging your nails into him, you’d bet good money that you’re floating right now.
Chan’s fingers are covered in the creamy release you’ve gifted him and he doesn’t even need to keep fingering you. He just watches in the mirror as you fuck yourself on his fingers, riding your high out. It might just be one of the single most beautiful things he’s ever seen in his life.
He decides there and then that you’re it for him. He already knew it. But now he really knows it. You’re a fucking goddess and he’s lucky enough to get to have you like this.
Your hips slow, your body feeling almost numb from your orgasm and Chan wraps his arms around you, keeping you close to him and making sure you know he’s there. You giggle a little when he keeps kissing your neck and cheek, he’s definitely back to sweet, caring Chan.
“You’re really mean, you know that?” You smile at him, head resting on his shoulder as you gaze at him. “I don’t think I’ve got the energy for more.”
“I don’t need more. I didn’t want more. I mean I do,” he rushes to say when he sees the hurt on your face, “but I know you’ve had a bit to drink, I don’t doubt you’re not totally drunk but I wouldn’t have felt right having you do something to me or us having sex. I wanted to make you feel good. That’s why I kept my clothes on, I didn’t want to tempt anything.”
Fuck he’s so perfect.
“But you do want to? Sometime?”
His hard dick against your ass would suggest he does. But it doesn’t hurt to clarify things.
“I do.” He smiles, kissing your lips quickly, “I really like you _____. So, so much.” He kisses you again.
“Can I stay in your room tonight?”
“Like I’d even give you an option.” He snickers, fingers running along your bracelet as you look at him through the mirror.
“I’m sorry I was grumpy with you.”
“In a weird way I’m pleased, you being jealous was the final clue I needed that you liked me too.”
His eyes stay on your bracelet, but you note he’s got a worried look in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I feel like I didn’t check enough before we, you know.....started. Was it too much, the edging and everything? I didn’t hurt you?”
If you’re honest with yourself, edging has never been something you were interested in. You’re too impatient. But knowing how fucking incredible that orgasm just was, you won’t say no if he wants to do it again.
“It was perfect Chan. Really perfect.”
How can he be so cute after being the complete opposite? He might actually be the most wonderful human being you’ve ever met.
“Come on, let’s get washed and changed, I’ll lend you something to wear. We’ve got important business to get on with.”
“What?”
Why is he smiling? He can’t want to record a song right now?
“I’ve been thinking of going blonde, I need some help with how to do it and ordering some hair dye. Will we need bleach?”
What the fuck is he even talking about?
“Are you seriously thinking about your hair right now?”
“Well. You said you wanted to marry Legolas. I’m not proposing but if elves are your thing I can definitely dye it blonde and grow it out.”
What a fucking idiot.
“Bold of you to think you could compete with Legolas. You’re more of a Gimli.”
You rush off the bed before he realises what you’ve said, cackling when he chases after you, telling you that you’ll pay for that.
Paris. 6 days till tour ends
It came as no shock to anyone when you and Chan turned up to breakfast together, both in his sweats and looking very pleased with yourselves. Well. Except maybe Vernon who seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that you liked Chan. Or that he liked you. Although to be fair, Vernon is oblivious to most things unless they have strings and he can play them. Or they’re in a skirt and he can play.
Things felt exactly the same and yet entirely different. It wasn’t like you could walk around the airport holding hands or anything, there was no way Chan could be so open about even being around woman, let alone being with them. But knowing that he liked you was enough.
Little smiles were exchanged as you walked past each other when crowds were around. Lingering touches made your working day all the brighter between recordings, when you hoped no one was watching. It was all more incredible than you could’ve imagined.
Chan had spent most of the flight between Rome and Paris planning where you’d eat and when exactly to go to the Eiffel Tower so it was all lit up for your cheesy photo in front of it. He was insistent you had to have this fancy hot chocolate he’d seen online and then you’d go wandering through the less busy streets, hopefully away from over eager fans, and have crêpes by the Seine.
And you did do that. But the crêpes by the Seine were cut short when Chan hadn’t read up about certain habits of French men. And so when one such man freely wandered past the bench you were sitting on and started peeing, Chan covered both of your eyes very dramatically and your crêpes landed on the ground. But other than the peeing man, it was perfect.
Your rest days had been spent in a whirlwind of romance. Flowers were in your room, room service kept bringing you things he’d ordered for you whilst he was at interviews and other schedules and he’d even managed to skip a fashion show he didn’t want to go to so you could go and watch a film at an old retro cinema.
And now you find yourself back stage waiting for them to finish their performance in the penultimate city of the tour. The girls scream and Chan head bangs as he plays his fourth guitar solo of the night. It’s amazing. Just like it always is.
“_____!”
You jump when Jeonghan shouts you over to him but happily wander over. You like Jeonghan, he’s far more chilled about things than Woozi. Woozi had nearly had a heart attack two days ago when he found not one, but three women in Seungcheol’s bed with him and Soonyoung in the bathtub with a couple he’d picked up at one of the local clubs.
“What’s up?”
“I just need you to sign this.”
He places a couple of stapled pieces of paper onto an amp in front of you, along with a pen.
“Oh, we haven’t decided if we’re taking the in-house producer job yet.” You smile at him.
“What?” he frowns at you. “Oh! No this isn’t about the job, although I really hope you take it, the guys seem to be so much more creative with you and Vernon. But no. This is the standard NDA. It’s just basic stuff, no speaking to the press, no social media posts explicitly saying Chan’s name or what may have happened, everything you’d expect.”
That’s where Jeonghan is wrong. This is not what you’d expect. In fact you hadn’t expected this at all. NDA’s are for when you need to make sure the quick fuck you had in the bathroom doesn’t tell the press. They aren’t for relationships where you care about and trust the other person.
“Why do I need to sign this?”
“You and Chan? You’ve slept together right?” He looks confused why you’re even questioning this. “It’s pretty standard, we get through hundreds of them every tour. Normally it’s trickier to make sure they’ve all done them, apart from Mingyu obviously. Jieun would cut his balls off if he ever did anything that warranted an NDA.” He chuckles.
You don’t know why he’s chuckling. None of this is very fucking funny. Hundreds? And it’s for all three of them? You don’t expect Chan to have never been with anyone on tour but “pretty standard”? Is this just what he does? He has a woman on the tour each time to make sure he gets his rocks off. Literally.
Is that all this is? Some tour romance to stop himself getting bored and making sure he gets laid? He’s left it pretty fucking late. Maybe you were the last resort. He’s probably pissed off you haven’t fucked yet. Just having to make do with a quick blow job before he went on stage. Your whole body feels like it’s been hit by a tsunami of shame and embarrassment.
“_____?” Jeonghan looks at you hopefully, now holding the pen out for you. He needs this done, the show will be over soon and they’ve a huge meet and greet to get done.
“Oh. Yeah, sorry.”
You take the pen from him, scribble what you hope looks like your signature, you wouldn’t know you’re not paying attention, and walk off towards the stadium exit.
Jeonghan doesn’t pay attention to where you go or even if you go. He needs to make sure everything is ready for the meet and greet. And Vernon is flirting with one of the make up artists so he isn’t paying attention.
You can’t face the tour bus. And you don’t care about whether Chan will look for you after the show. Hell, if they’ve got so many NDAs, he can get another one signed by some fan from the meet and greet. You just want to get out of here.
You manage to hail a cab and you’re on your way to the hotel before the last song even starts.
So much for Paris being the city of love.
Berlin. Two days till tour ends
Wonwoo: Even Vernon has messaged me saying he’s worried about you, you need to leave your room _____
You: I don’t. The album is done, we’re in the last city and tonight was the second to last show. There’s only one more show in Berlin again and then I can come home and join a conevnt
Wonwoo: You wouldn’t suit the wimple
You: True
Wonwoo: That was a joke _____. Fuck you really are depressed
You: I just thought it meant something. I thought for once I found someone who really liked me
Wonwoo: I try not to pay attention to this shit but from what you told me, he does like you
You: Yeah. Me and the other hundreds of people who have signed NDAs
Wonwoo: Didn’t you say that one of them woke up with multiple people the other day?
You: Yeah Cheol had like three women in his bed and Soonyoung had a married couple
Wonwoo: Well there you go, you’re already up to five NDAs just for one night!
You: But Jeonghan specifically said it was all of them but Mingyu
Wonwoo: Right so you expect Chan to have been a virgin?
You: What?! No!
Wonwoo: If two people are using five NDAs in a night, that doesn’t mean he is. Sure he may have gotten through a few but he’s the biggest rockstar in the world _____, he’s going to have fucked the odd person on tour
You: I guess. I don’t know, I just thought NDAs were for one night stands. I don’t want it to be that. What if that’s all he thinks this is?
Wonwoo: You’re not going to know that unless you talk to him. You need to man the fuck up
You: Says the man who sent his old internet provider a cookie selection when you decided to leave
Wonwoo: Hey!! Seungkwan in the call centre was nearly crying when I told him I wanted to cancel that contract. It’s a very deep rooted relationship between a man and his internet provider. I told him if they couldn’t offer me super fast broadband I’d have to leave and he just couldn’t provide what I needed
Wonwoo: I still think about him sometimes
Wonwoo: The sadness in his voice when we said our final goodbye
Wonwoo: He deserved those cookies
You: Are you done?
Wonwoo: With your avoidance issues? Yes
You: I don’t want to talk to him because I don’t want to hear that this was only ever for the tour. If I don’t hear it, it still means something
Wonwoo: Fucking hell. This isn’t Jane Austen. Just talk to him! And tell Vernon you’re ok. He’s currently experiencing feelings other than indifference and horniness and it’s unsettling him
You: Do you think I’m unlovable?
Wonwoo: You’re fucking dramatic
You: So that’s a yes
Wonwoo: You’re not unlovable _____. You’re my best friend which I think suggests you must be pretty incredible. I would never be friends with a loser
You: That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me
Wonwoo: And yet I’d still trade you if it meant I could make Seungkwan in the call centre happy
You: Fuck off Wonwoo
The knock on the door sounds for your room service. You hadn’t seen anyone since you made it to the hotel and you’d sat on your own on the private jet, pretending to be asleep with your headphones on. The chaos that always comes with being with Shadow at the airport meant you managed to get away from Chan and the others pretty easily without making it too obvious.
Everyone had busy schedules and Jieun had flown home early because she had work, so you’d been pretty unbothered by people trying to check in on you. That is until Vernon realised he hadn’t heard from you in two days and started to panic that he’d forgotten you in Paris. Chan had rung and text you frequently but when he realised you weren’t going to answer him, he stopped.
You know you’re probably being dramatic but you’re just so certain that you’ve got this wrong. That it was just the thrill of the chase allowing him to avoid the boredom of the tour. But then you keep looking down at the bracelet that you can’t bring yourself to take off and you heart hopes that it means something, that he does truly care for you.
You open the door to find a pretty confused looking waitress, holding your food on a tray and looking to the side in a slight panic.
You follow her eyes and almost jump out of your own skin when you see a pissed off looking Chan stood beside your door.
“Danke Schön.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he hands the perplexed looking room service waitress a wad of euros.
You watch as he takes the tray off her and she walks off looking completely baffled by what’s just happened.
“Why are you paying her when I ordered that food?”
“You didn’t. I did. I ordered it and told them I wanted to be here when it arrived. Said I’d pay them extra because what I wanted wasn’t on the menu.”
“No.” You frown at him, taking the plastic cloche off your club sandwich, “I ordered this twenty minutes ago.”
Chan stares at the tray in front of him. That’s not the steak and slice of cake he ordered. A club fucking sandwich isn’t going to make your heart flutter when you recall his room service cart from Hong Kong. They only had cheap cuts of steak, he’d asked them to specifically go and buy the fanciest steak they could.
“Well why have I just paid that woman?”
“I don’t fucking know. Can I have my sandwich please?”
“No.”
You gawk at him. He’s seriously going to hold your poor club sandwich hostage?
“I’m hungry. Give me my sandwich.”
You try to take it off him, but he just ends up yanking it away from you and spills your soda all over the sandwich and himself.
“Oh nice one dufus!”
He doesn’t answer you. Just puts the tray down near the door for someone to collect, walks past you and into your room. Throwing his wet t-shirt onto the floor as he goes.
What the hell has just happened? How have you gone from being hungry and upset? To hungry and fucking pissed off in the space of a minute?
“Get out of my room Chan!” You march up to him, desperately trying to not get distracted by his body on full display to you.
“No. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why have you locked yourself in this room?”
“Because I don’t want to see anyone!”
“Was this all just a fling for you? You finally get what you want and then ditch me?!”
Wait. Shouldn’t that be what you say to him? That’s exactly how you’ve been feeling the past few days, why the hell is he insinuating that you’re the one in the wrong here.
“No, it wasn’t just a fling for me! It clearly is for you though! By the sounds of it this is just something you do all the time!”
His hand comes up to ruffle his hair slightly in annoyance, his bicep flexing and abs glistening from where the soda hit him and you will yourself to not get side tracked by just staring at the adonis in front of you.
“What do you mean? What happened between me telling you that I liked you and you becoming a fucking horrible person to me.”
Wow. If you didn’t already feel like shit, you sure do now.
“Jeonghan.”
“YOU FUCKED JEONGHAN?!”
“No I didn’t fuck Jeonghan. He made me sign an NDA.”
You fold your arms and wait for an explanation for this obvious betrayal.
“So?”
“SO?! He said you all get through hundreds of them every tour. I don’t want this to be just another fuck for you Chan. I thought it was more than that!”
“We do get through hundreds of them. Have you met Seungcheol and Soonyoung? Soonyoung has used two today. And yeah, I’ve had to have a couple signed but I won’t apologise for fucking people before I even knew you. Just like I wouldn’t want an explanation for anyone you’ve fucked in the past.”
“But they’re for things you want to forget? For things that mean nothing, that you’d rather people never know about. I don’t want to be that Chan. I want to be something more to you than a piece of paper.”
He stares at you, like everything over the past few days is finally making sense. He shouldn’t have let Jeonghan just blind side you with that NDA, he knows fans always joke about them and the whole idea has developed this bad reputation around them. But they protect you as much as they protect him.
“_____, they’re just standard for any relationship with any of us. Even my Grandma has signed one saying she won’t talk to the press about my life and she’s one of the people I trust most in the world. It’s just the company protecting us, and themselves and the people who sign them.”
Oh. You feel your whole body drop, like regret is physically weighing you down. You just presumed it meant something bad, like he was ashamed anything had happened and wanted to forget about it.
“I didn’t know that,” you mumble, looking at the ground instead of at him, ashamed about the way you’ve behaved towards him for the past few days.
“You not being there after these past two concerts broke me _____. Not even seeing you made me feel so on edge, like I couldn’t settle without knowing you were ok. I wish you’d have told me what had upset you.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I guess it’s just you’re such a big star and all these people literally would fall on their knees and worship you, it’s just hard believing that you want just a normal person. A normal relationship. I think,” you sigh, seeing no reason not to tell him everything, “I think that’s why I’ve been holding off making the decision about the permanent producing contract. It would hurt me so much to see you so often if this was just a tour thing. I really like you Chan, I thought…or I hoped, we’d be something more.”
“Hoped?”
“Well yeah,” you smile sadly, “I’ve fucked it all up now. I’m really sorry, for what it’s worth.”
You’re still looking anywhere but at him so when his tender hands hold your hips and bring you closer to him, it makes your startle.
“You haven’t fucked anything up. I’m hurt you didn’t trust me when I said I liked you. And I’m sad you’ve been feeling that way about the job. But I still want this _____. I still want you.”
“I feel like such an idiot. You did all those nice things for me, and I let a piece of paper ruin everything.”
“Stop saying you’ve ruined everything,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead lightly, “this is a crazy world you’ve stepped into. And if I hadn’t been so nervous, I could’ve shown you more clearly that I liked you. But you’re the one piece of normal in this chaos, being with you I just feel like a normal guy who can be himself and you don’t expect anything from me other than me just being me.”
“Well,” you huff out a laugh, finally wrapping your arms around his neck and looking at him, “I do expect a new sandwich, you’ve just ruined mine.”
“There she is,” he wraps his arms around you and holds you as close as he can, “there’s my overly sarcastic, yet annoyingly hot girlfriend.”
Did he? Did you even hear that right? You pull back to look at the mischievous man who’s holding you.
“Girlfriend?”
“It’s clause 228c in the NDA, ‘____ is hereby lawfully Dino’s, or Chan’s,girlfriend forever and ever as soon as she signs this contract.’. It’s all there baby, you should’ve read the small print.”
“Forever sounds good,” you smile before your lips find his.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK
“Nooooooooo,” He whines, trying to keep you with him but failing.
“It could be important!”
“Fine,” he huffs, moving past you, “I’ll get it, it could be a murderer.”
“And you’re going to fight them off?”
“I’d do anything for you.”
Damn him for knowing how to fluster you. You just awkwardly nod and go to sit on the sofa whilst he confronts whichever murderer has decided to darken your door.
A small bang makes you jump and look over at him as he enters the room again.
“Oh this can’t be happening again?!”
“Hey, they brought the cart to me this time!” He grins as he wheels a room service cart into the room with two cloches on it and a covered ice bucket on the bottom shelf.
You stand up but unlike last time where you only thought about it, this time you wrap your arms around his back and rest your chin on his shoulder, giggling when he turns his head enough to kiss your temple.
“What’ve you got?”
“Steak, fries and chocolate cake.”
Not another fucking cake.
“Chan seriously we wasted so much of that cake!”
“Hold on little miss grumpy, it’s just a slice!” He pulls the cloche off and shows you the singular piece of cake.
“Thought of everything didn’t you?” You smile, kissing his neck and revelling in the goose bumps you see spring up straight away.
“I did,” he turns in your arms and holds you close to him to again, “I even got them to put a bottle of soda in the ice bucket instead of champagne, there’s no way I’m falling asleep tonight.”
You hope Chan never decides what he’s had enough of his tongue piercing. If he does you might cry for days. Your boyfriend’s head is between your thighs, the flat of his tongue running again and again over your clit, the little nub of metal in his mouth sending vibrations all through your body. It’s like the perfect mix of softness from his tongue but that extra thrill and pleasure you get from something hard like a vibrator, it is literally the best of both worlds.
He moans every time you pull his hair, wanting him as close to your pussy as physically possible. His fingers dig into your thighs, and he gladly obliges with your need to have him closer, shoving his face so far between your thighs that you’re sure he’s more or less suffocating. His tongue leaves your clit, twirling down to your hole and you cry out when you feel his tongue prodding your seeping cunt.
“Fuck!” the little ball on his tongue adds a whole new sensation, the roughness of it against your soft, wet pussy creating the perfect juxtaposition to make your head spin.
You grind your pussy up into his mouth, his tongue fucking in and out of you. The taste of you straight from the source making him moan more and more as his tongue gets faster and faster, the little ball on his tongue entering and re-entering you, softly scratching against your entrance whilst his nose rubs your clit.
“I’m so close…. Just. Fuck that’s amazing,” you can’t help it, you throw you head back babbling. After all the bullshit you put him through the past few days, he needs to know how good he’s being, how good he’s making you feel.
And it’s not like Chan doesn’t know, he can literally taste just how much you’re loving this. Your pussy keeps drooling into his eager mouth and he could spend hours between your legs if you let him. Your cunt clenches around his tongue every time his piercing scratches against an undiscovered little spot inside you and he just wants even more of you.
You completely lose your head though when he keeps the tip of his tongue inside you, just enough that the piercing is on your entrance, and starts whirling his tongue around in a circle whilst he leans into you and makes sure his nose is applying just the right amount of pressure on your clit.
Your whole body shakes, heat rising through you as your orgasm washes over you. You still feel the piercing on your clenching hole, if anything, it’s even more noticeable when you clamp down on his tongue. It’s like an itch almost, like that feeling when you finally reach an itch that’s been there for far too. It’s like no orgasm you’ve ever had, you physically need to keep grinding down onto him just to keep scratching that itch that his piercing is soothing.
It may be the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. Once Chan feels like you’re not griding down onto him anymore, he helps you ride out the very end of your high by making sure he tastes every last drop you’ve given him. His tongue kitten licks your pussy all over, your body twitching when the same piercing that just brought you that incredible high, now hurts a little on your clit and that is Chan’s sign that you’ve finally come back down to earth.
“Fucking hell,” you stare at the ceiling, body sweaty and exhausted.
Chan crawls up your body, pausing to take one of your nipples into his mouth. Is there anything that his damn piercing doesn’t improve? The hardness of it sends a thrill through you and yet the softness of his warm mouth around your pebbled nipple is soothing at the same time. He swirls his tongue around, sucking gently on it, until eventually letting it go with a pop and quickly moving onto the next one.
Your fingers scratch his scalp soothingly as he sucks on your nipple lovingly, your body all warm and tingly from how amazing it feels.
When he finally detaches himself, leaving your nipples wet and reddened from his tongue, his eyes find yours and you decide that you think you might actually love him. His eyes hold nothing but care and his smile, you decide, is entirely different from the one he gives to fans. This one is reserved just for you. Just like you always wondered.
“You’re incredible” he smiles down at you.
“So are you,” you return his smile with a big goofy grin, making him laugh and his hard dick to rub against your thigh.
You don’t know what takes over you. You roll him onto his back, straddling his thighs and hold his arms above his head whilst you leave teasing little kisses along his neck and collar bones.
“You’re not tired then?” He asks rather smugly.
You don’t answer him, his skin tastes like his aftershave but with that salty tang of sweat and you just need more of it.
His body jolts a little when you suck on his collar bone, hell bent on leaving a mark so that he can remember this first night together as a couple, whenever he looks in the mirror for the next day or so. So he can go on stage and have a part of you there with him, claiming him as yours.
You pause. That thought at the front of your mind. He must sense what you’re thinking from the way you’re staring at his neck with a look of horny hunger in your eyes. Either that or you’re a vampire and you’ve just hidden it really well.
“Do whatever you want to me baby. I’m yours.”
Your pussy clenches around nothing, a new wave of wetness flooding you at the idea of showing the whole world that Chan is yours. That he’s let you claim and mark his body as yours and nobody else’s.
You leave little kiss up and down his neck, moving so you place your final kiss over his Adam’s apple before moving a little lower and sucking harshly on the salty skin, your tongue soothing it slightly before you suck again. His hands cling to your hips, a little airy moan leaving his lips as his body twitches under you.
When you leave not one, not two, but three more marks on his skin, scattered around his neck and collar bones, Chan is a whining mess beneath you. Dick oozing precum and head thrown back on the pillow with his lip between his teeth and eyes closed.
“Condom?”
“There’s one in my wallet,” he says, whining when you twist his nipple a little.
His jeans are right near the bed, so you lean over, making extra effort to rest your body on his throbbing length that rests against his stomach, as you locate his jeans and get the condom.
Chan has finally opened his eyes, his pupils are blown, cheeks all pink as he watches you open the condom packet and slide it down his hard length. He doesn’t miss the smug look on your face when his dick leaks even more precum just from you touching it as you put the condom on, but he doesn’t care. He isn’t ashamed to want you so much he is actually whining underneath you. And he isn’t ashamed to say that he meant what he said, you can do whatever you want to him, he is completely and utterly yours.
You lift yourself so he’s lined up with your needy pussy, already desperate for more even after your first insane orgasm.
“Please hurry up,” he mumbles, fingers digging into your hips and eyes transfixed by the little drop of wetness that falls onto his tip that’s so close to your pussy.
“Don’t be so bossy.” You tweak his nipple again and he throws his head back, showing all the marks you’ve left on his delicious neck.
You lower yourself onto him, your pussy swallowing his thick length as it drags scrumptiously against your warm, wet walls. You bob a little, mainly to adjust to him but also to annoy him just a little bit. You’ve not intention of edging him like he did to you, but you also haven’t forgotten it either.
Once you’re fully on him, your ass flush with his thighs, you pause for a second to revel in the fact that you’re on top of the man you’ve been crushing over. And that’s he’s so desperate for you, whining and all snotty, just makes you want to wreck him for everyone.
Your hips start slow, his dick gliding against your gummy walls and hitting your g spot so nicely that the slow pace doesn’t last for long. Judging by the moans and whines coming from both of you, neither of you are going to last long.
You glance down at how his abs, how they’re tightening and flexing every time you’re cunt drags along his throbbing length. They’re fucking beautiful but they’re missing one thing that would improve them.
His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, fingers bruising your hips and dick twitching inside you when you lean down to suck harsh little red marks onto his pecks and top of his stomach. Marking more and more of him as yours and pussy clenching when his hips twitch and he somehow gets even deeper inside you.
“You feel so fucking good baby, your dick feels so amazing,” you moan, finger nails scratching down his abs as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow.
“Mm...” he nods, barely able to form words. He’s desperately trying to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss how gorgeous you look on top of him but the pressure building in his balls and the way your perfect cunt is wrapped around him, he’s really struggling to keep them open.
“Do you wanna cum baby?”
He doesn’t reply. Not verbally. Just nods his head as best he can whilst he clings to you.
“Then ask nicely.”
Your hips don’t slow, they ride his perfect dick, his tip nudging your g spot in way that has you perilously close to the edge too. Your finger nails dig into his stomach almost as much as his fingers dig into your hips and the sound of your wet cunt and ass smacking down onto his thighs fills the room.
“Pl....” he moans when you clench around him. “Please!” He manages to cry out.
You’ve no idea why you asked him, you’ve no way of stopping yourself even if you wanted to. Your hips keep grinding, ass still smacking his thighs and it only takes two more harsh stokes down onto him and he cries out. Body shaking, fingers bruising your hips and mouth hanging open in pure ecstasy.
You keep going, his orgasm tipping you over the edge too as your whole body feels like it’s on fire. He’s hitting your g spot, the little mound of pubes above his dick tickling your clit and the sight of all the marks on him makes it the most perfect orgasm.
His fingers loosen on your hips and they finally low until eventually, you’re just sat on top of him, gazing at him as his breathing is ragged and his body is covered in sweat. He slowly opens his eyes and you’re rewarded with what might be the brightest smile you’ve ever seen.
“Are you ok?” you ask as you lift yourself up, his now soft dick slipping out of you.
“I’m fucking amazing.”
He gets up quickly to tie the condom and throw it in the trash before he rushes back over to you and scoops you into his arms.
You’re both sweaty and in need of a shower but it doesn’t make it any less perfect. To be held by someone who cares for you as much as you care for him.
“Did you think about the producer job?” his fingers run up and down your spine, both of you quite content.
“We haven’t decided yet. I told Jeonghan I’d let him know by the last show.”
“That’s tomorrow.” he chuckles.
“I know,” you have a small smile playing on your lips that he can’t see, you want it to be a surprise. “But we live in the same city, it’s not like we won’t see each other anyway.”
“Oh you’re not getting rid of me now.” His grip tightens on you. “But we all love working with you. And I think Cheol and Soonyoung will have withdrawals if we take Vernon away from them now.”
“Would you be annoyed if we didn’t?” You lift your head to look at him.
“No” the way he says it, you can tell he’s being honest, “but I do love working with you. And Vernon, to be fair. We could make good music in the day and sweet love when we get home.”
Your nose scrunches at the cheesiness of what he’s said but it really is tempting.
“We’ll see” you hum, both of you wrapping yourself in each other and lying in content silence.
The final show wraps up, the four sweaty men running off stage and everyone dodging Mingyu’s towel like always but this time you don’t worry about whether the lead singer of the biggest rock band in the world will hold back and talk to you. Because instead he just takes your hand and pulls you along with him, no more hiding at the back or awkward conversations where neither of you know what the other is thinking. Just you two happily walking hand in hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“We might have no meet and greet but I do need to talk to you all before the end of tour party,” Jeonghan announces as you all make it to the dressing room, “First thing. Cheol, we’re capping the number of women you have in your room at any one time to three. Anymore and we’re putting you in rehab.”
“For what?!” Cheol demands, disgusted he would be limited in such a cruel way, “For being able to please so many ladies in one night?”
“I can’t keep handing out NDAs to them as they exit the room, I’m starting to feel like one of those people who hands out leaflets on the street! It’s starting to look obvious too, do you want some passer by to see them all leaving your room in an orderly line whilst I get them to sign NDAs on each other’s backs?!”
You try to hide your laughter behind Chan but seeing as how everyone in the room is laughing at the ridiculousness of the conversation, in the end you don’t see the point.
“Fucking ridiculous. I bet the Iron Maiden didn’t put up with this shit.”
Jeonghan ignores the pouty man in front of him and turns his attention to the last matter on his small, yet important agenda.
“_____ and Vernon, as of about thirty minutes ago, have officially become in-house producers for Shadow!!” He shouts happily.
The whole room erupts into cheers and Chan turns to look at you in amazement.
“Seriously?!”
“Hm-mm” you nod excitedly, smiling from ear to ear.
“Oh my god!!” He lifts you up and spins you round whilst you laugh and hold him even tighter, falling harder and harder for the man in your arms.
“That’s great news!” Soonyoung beams at you, all of them coming over to congratulate you and Vernon.
You all pause though when Vernon holds his arms out to Chan.
“What?”
“Well,” he huffs, “you’ve just spun _____ round. We’re both equals here, I’m ready for my turn.” Vernon says indignantly.
Chan doesn’t get a chance to answer.
“I’ll spin you round.” Soonyoung smirks, eyes running up and down Vernon’s body.
“Er, come on, lets head to the party.” Chan drags you away from whatever is about to happen between Vernon and Soonyoung.
“So, we’re going to the party? You’ve not managed to get yet another cart?”
“Nah I’m not in the mood to pretend to be anything tonight. I just want to be the thing I know I already am.” He takes your hand and kisses your cheek.
synopsis: You need a study break? Mingyu will give you one.
requested: a Mingyu Scenario where he and the reader are in the dorm in bed, and she gets incredibly horny and they have sex, but have to keep quiet so the others won't notice
warnings: mdni, 18+, boyfriend! Mingyu, roommate! Seungcheol, roommate! Vernon, roommate! Jihoon, reader stress bakes, fingering, semi-public, descriptions of prone bone, teasing, Mingyu wasn't born yesterday, unprotected, dirty talk, taunting??, mouth covering, gotta be quiet, etc.
wc: 2.5k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
It’s getting warmer. The winter months are shedding their cold air, and the sun stays in the sky longer, warming up Mingyu’s room with a soft heat that makes you want to do nothing.
And that’s what you were currently doing.
You’re sprawled out on Mingyu’s bed, one sock-covered foot hanging off the edge while your other leg hooks over his as you watch the ceiling fan spin round and round, slowly.
You were tempted to doom scroll on your phone, an earned treat after hours of scrutinizing your laptop filled with all of your notes you highlighted for your upcoming exam. If you went any longer, though, your chapter would be entirely highlighted pink, and your eyes would be rolled to the back of your head permanently.
So, to prevent that, you decided to take a break. You left your laptop open on Mingyu’s desk and pouted the entire way to your boyfriend, who let you use his room for a quiet study place as moral support.
Mingyu had been lying on his back, holding a book in one hand as his other hand rested behind his head, the image of relaxation, and he was absolutely ridiculous.
And by absolutely ridiculous, you meant mouth-watering handsome.
Mingyu was tall and broad, with muscles that were created by all the sports he played growing up as a kid and dedicated hours in the gym as an adult. He was a big boy, tall enough that his feet hung over the edge of the full mattress he lay on, and big enough to have you daydream about him in class when you were bored out of your mind.
He was also the second sweetest person you’ve ever met. (Dokyeom would always beat him in the first-place spot, but you'd never admit that to your boyfriend.)
And that’s why it was more than easy to roll into bed with him. Your boyfriend didn’t even flinch as you took up the rest of the space in his small bed; if anything, he welcomed it. You huffed and dramatically puffed while flopping half your body over his, and he just flipped to the next page of his book, happy to lie next to you.
It was very sweet, wholesome even, the type of mood that fell upon both of you. It would usually end up with you taking a nap, squishing your boyfriend between you and the wall, but your brain wouldn’t shut up enough to do that.
Your eyes flickered from the sunlight streaming through the blinds to the ceiling fan circling the air in the room. You avoided your laptop sitting on the desk and instead focused on listening as your ears perked up when you heard Mingyu’s roommates through the thin walls.
Mingyu has three roommates: Seungcheol, Jihoon, and Vernon. They had been his roommates since the beginning of the year and practically best friends five minutes after meeting. They were always going to the mess hall, pulling all-nighters, and all but one was a daily gym rat, much like your boyfriend. He honestly hit the roommate lottery compared to others, and you weren’t surprised that they all became close friends in response.
You could find at least one roommate always hanging out with another in their free time, and when you came over to Mingyu’s to study, you weren’t surprised that Vernon and Seungcheol were in the living room, intensely watching the latest football game. They had barely given you a wave when you gave them a greeting, while Mingyu followed inside after you, and it was Vernon who kept his eyes glued to the TV like a zombie when he begged you to make him snacks later when you would ultimately quit studying.
The boys knew you well by now, and they knew you'd hit your limit on studying soon enough. (They would take anything you stressed baked in their kitchen and were betting on it, actually.) But before you could agree, Mingyu was already steering you in the direction of his room, tossing over his shoulder a quick, “No. She has a test soon; she needs to focus.”
You sigh and slide your sock-covered foot down Mingyu’s shin as you think back on the cookies you could be baking right now. You would eat them with Vernon and contemplate the best-case scenario of how you could imprint all the information in the world in your brain without staring at a blue screen.
Was there a reason for any of this? What were you but a small ant on a giant rock that spins through the galaxy?
Okay, maybe you were going too deep- but that confirmed you planned not to open your laptop for the rest of the evening. Clearly, your brain was mush, but you needed something that would distract your boyfriend from giving you his famous pleading round eyes to try to convince you to keep studying. He truly was your biggest cheerleader, but your brain would surely melt if you continued to think any more than you already did today.
And that’s when you have an idea.
You move slowly, not looking at Mingyu as you slide your hand across his torso, feeling his soft stomach over his shirt until you reach the end of it. Your fingers slip down and skate across his warm skin, feeling his breath hitch as you toy with the top of his sweatpants.
You listen to the way his throat clears, his body tensing partially as he shifts under you. “What’re you doing?” He's not mean or rude, just curious with the way he speaks to you, because now you’re mapping out the elastic of the waistband of his sweatpants, and it makes Mingyu hold back a shiver.
“M’touching you.”
Duh.
Your fingertips wiggle at his boxer shorts, and you can see his cock twitch at the idea of your hand moving more south, but you don’t. You stay at the elastic band, playing with his boxer shorts like his roommates weren't twenty feet away, barely separated by a thin wall.
“Do you want me to stop?” You ask and have to bite your lip from smiling at how fast he shakes his head.
“No! I- fuck,” his cock is getting harder, and your fingers are now trapped between the elastic band of his boxers and his pelvis. Your fingernails scratch lightly, a horizontal line that makes him suck in air through clenched teeth before he groans quietly, “Please.”
You aren’t sure if this plea for mercy is because he wants you to stop or continue, but the desperation laced in his tone sends a flutter low in your stomach, and your smile is growing as you teasingly ask him. “Please, what? What do you want?”
The book is forgotten the moment Mingyu rolls to his side and forces you to do the same. Your eyes flicker to his bedroom door, it's open, and you can hear Seungcheol grumbling to Vernon on the game playing on the television, but all that disappears when Mingyu’s warm hand slides over your upper thigh.
He hooks your leg back over his, his chest pressing into your back as he huffs against your ear. “Your roommates-“ you mumble, and Mingyu places a warm kiss on the nape of your neck. At the same time, his hand slides down your sweatpants, finding your panties already wet for him.
“Gotta be quiet then,” he murmurs, and your eyes close as he finds your clit over your damp panties. His lips brush the shell of your ear as he circles the little nub, his hips flush against your ass, reminding you he’s hard and wanting just like you are wet and ready. “Be good for me, Baby. Let me feel you-“
He kisses your neck slowly, just like how his fingers rub your clit, building you up in little time that it makes you grit your teeth, your hips rolling back against him. With each jolt of pleasure, he creates a little whimper that is pulled from you like you can't help yourself. Your head tilts back onto his shoulder, your mouth parting as the familiar knot in your stomach twists.
When he slides your panties to the side to sink two fingers into your wet heat, his other arm wraps around you, pulling you back until you’re half draped over his chest. He spreads your legs with his, his palm covering your mouth as his other hand works between your legs in earnest. It makes your eyes roll, your groan muffled as he stuffs you with his thick fingers.
“Need you to cum, need you nice n’ wet f’me.” He whispers the words in your ear as he curls his fingers deep inside you. His fingertips graze your gummy walls until he strokes the soft, spongy spot inside you that makes you thrash. Then you feel him grin against your ear, focusing on it like his roommates couldn't walk by any minute. “That’s it, let me feel how good it feels when I play with you.”
When you cum, his hand still covers your mouth, and your eyes roll back as your internal walls pulse around his digits. He keeps pumping them, in and out, over and over again until you’re shivering, and the squelch of your pretty pussy can be heard over the pounding of your heartbeat rushing in your ears.
You barely recover from your first orgasm before you’re finding yourself on your stomach. Your head is at the foot of the bed, angled to look at the open door as Mingyu pulls your sweatpants and panties down to your knees. His body drapes over yours, caging you between him and the mattress as he cups your chin, pulling your head up as his warm chest covers your back entirely. You can feel the fat head of his cock drag along your wet slit as your eyes begin to gloss over.
“You did so well for me." His legs straddle yours, and he’s so big you feel yourself clench in anticipation, a molten warmth beginning to form in your lower stomach again as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. “You can give me one more, right? But you gotta keep quiet- you don’t want them to hear you, right? Don’t want them to know how well you take me, right?”
Mingyu isn’t dumb, and you are unable to see the way his teeth flash in the smile he displays. His eyes flicker from the open door to your laptop and then back down at you. You're so cute, wanting a little break, needing your brain to turn off for a little while.
But no worries, he's got you. His pupils dilate as he feeds you the first few inches of his cock, watching the way your pretty pussy stretches to take him in.
Your moan is drowned out by his hand covering your mouth again, and the fact that the TV cheered loudly. Huh, we must have scored. But you can't dwell on that, not when Mingyu's bullying his cock deeper into your drooling cunt, his words low and soft in your ear. "That’s it, open up for me.“
He makes you feel every inch of his cock, slowly. He makes you feel how the veins that run down his shaft drag through your velvety walls and makes your toes curl in response, a whine pushed from the back of your throat as he keeps your pretty mouth covered by his palm. His other hand clutches the edge of the bed right beside your head, his knees bracketing yours, keeping your legs closed and your pussy snug around his cock.
Both of your eyes roll when he bottoms out. His hips are pressed against your soft ass, and every time your walls flutter around him, his cock twitches deep inside. "You're fucking perfect."
You barely register what Mingyu is saying before he's moving his hips back, watching the way your pussy clings to his cock, trying to keep him from leaving. Another muffled whimper comes from you as your arousal seeps and coats Mingyu's dick with a creamy mess, and then Mingyu pushes back in. He stuffs you full, it feels like you can feel him in your stomach, and it's like he knows your eyes threaten to close because he's pulling your head back up with a soft grunt.
"Don't close your eyes, you gotta make sure no one walks by- or do you want them to hear you?" The question doesn't get answered when his hand moves from your mouth to your throat, holding you in place as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. The mushroom tip of his cock smacks into your soft cervix with a mean accuracy, jumbling all of your thoughts and making it hard to speak. But Mingyu already knows; he can feel it with the way you squeeze around him, soaking him with another wave of your slick. "Yeah, I think you want them to see. See how good you are for me, how well you take my cock."
Your pussy throbs wantonly while your teeth bite your bottom lip to hold in any screams of agreement. He feels so good, you know you're going to cum soon, and Mingyu knows it too. He angles his hips, and the next time he pushes forward, the tip of his cock is rubbing your G-spot until you're forgetting how to breathe. You gasp, and Mingyu groans under his breath, keeping the same pace that makes you squeeze him tighter and tighter.
"Mingyu-" You can barely slur out his name, stars bursting down your spine and down to the tips of your toes as you try to warn him. Your stomach tenses, your vision whitens, and Mingyu's grip on your throat tightens just enough to make your jaw slacken.
You cum with a silent scream. Your eyes rolling back as your drooling cunt gushes hot and wet all over Mingyu's cock. And the feeling of it makes Mingyu suck in a shaky breath, feeling you tremble underneath him, your walls sucking him deeper, trying to milk his cock as he fucks you through it.
He praises you the entire time, mumbling about how good you are for him. How well you did. How your pretty pussy is meant for him. And by the time you come down from your high, your body feels like jello - you can only give him little noises in agreement as he chases after his release with low groans in your ear.
And it's only a few minutes after Mingyu slipped from you, moving to his side as you blink up at him with glossy eyes, that Vernon and Seungcheol are cheering from the living room, reminding you that you weren't entirely alone. Mingyu instinctively covers you with his body when Vernon calls out your name in excitement, but thankfully, he doesn't appear in the door. Instead, he just yells from the living room, "Are you done studying yet? Can you take a break? I want cookies!"
high sex drive!jeonghan who literally cannot keep his hands off of you. an innocent peck of a kiss suddenly escalates to a heavy makeout session with his hand wandering into your hair, or to your neck for a light squeeze that leaves your head spinning.
high sex drive!jeonghan who will always ask to bathe with you. as soon as you step foot into the warm bath water, he is pinning you with your back against his chest, your nipple in between his thumb and his finger as his other hand is stroking your inner thigh.
high sex drive!jeonghan who loves it when you top him. he is grinning ear to ear as you ride him, your hands clutching the headboard behind him. but!! absolutely does not care if your knees give out, tapping your thighs to get you moving again. “no breaks for my little brat.”
high sex drive!jeonghan who gets hard at the mere thought of you completing mundane tasks. you’re folding laundry on the couch? it would not take long before he had you pinned face down on your two-seater, ass up in the air with his cock buried deep inside of your pussy. you’re washing the dishes? he’s spreading open your cheeks and eating you out from the back!!
high sex drive!jeonghan who wants to hole inspect the second he gets home. he’d spread you open right there and then, at the entrance of your home. with a moan, he has his thumb pushing down on your cute little hole, watching your juices trickle out and coat his digit. “aigoo, i think your hole is too small for me baby - let me loosen you up a little”
high sex drive!jeonghan who wants to use your mouth anywhere at anytime. he wants you on your knees all the time really - because, guess what! he’s hard all the time! he’d pull you into the restaurant bathroom, with no care whatsoever on someone seeing you two. he’s lightly slapping his heavy cock on your cheek before gently prying open your mouth with his thumb hooked on your bottom lip.
a/n: i literally chose this pic and internally screamed bc wdym this mfer is a sexy menace AND a cute cinnamon roll?? 😫 also i’m accepting member requests rn heheh
★⠀svt ot13 & “we really shouldn’t be doing this”⠀|⠀smut, mdni. various scenarios for each member. 2.6k wc
SEUNGCHEOL⠀★⠀he’s your boss.
the lock on the door clicks behind you, a spotlight on the bulge prodding your thigh as seungcheol drags you back against him — impatient, now that the turmoil in him has finally given way.
“sir—”
“don’t call me that.” he rasps, hands fisting in your blouse. “not right now, please.”
you melt into him as his lips find your neck, pressing your body flush against his. he squeezes desperately at your sides as he throbs in his pants — nothing like the composed, strict boss you know.
“if i’m about to make this mistake,” he mutters at your jaw, fingers twitching just beneath the swell of your breasts. “i need to know you want it too.”
“we shouldn’t..” you whisper against his mouth.
“i know.” he swallows. “tell me to stop, and i will.”
your answer is to pull him in by his tie, and press your lips to his — months of tension breaking loose into a messy, desperate kiss. seungcheol groans as you lick into his mouth, grabbing your ass through the skirt and rolling you against his hard-on.
“take this off for me?” he sighs, leaking into his suit pants from the friction. “been wanting to taste you..”
JEONGHAN⠀★⠀you’re his friend’s crush.
“keep an eye on her,” he’d said. “make sure she gets home safe.” the words of his best friend had gone through one ear, and jeonghan can feel them leave out the other as your tongue explores his mouth.
jeonghan had kept an eye on you under flashing red lights — heat bubbling in his gut with each sway of your hips — and when you approached him, drawling that you wanted to leave, who is he to break a promise?
it’s not jeonghan’s fault that you’d climbed over the car’s centre console and plopped yourself in his lap. he’s not to blame, really, when his honest first response was to resist.
“sweetheart, we shouldn’t.” he’d sighed, dazed eyes watching you rock gently on his lap. his cock fills out his pants eagerly, and he clenches his fists to hold back. “my best friend likes you.”
you hummed, fingers threading through his hair. “but i don’t want him.”
jeonghan lets go — of his grip, and his control — as he swallows your breath in a kiss. allows himself to grab your waist, guiding you to grind against his bucking hips.
his groan melts onto your lips, length pulsing where it rubs into your ass. “i don’t want that either.”
JOSHUA⠀★⠀he's waiting for marriage.
the barrier of fabric between you both is soaked through at this point — joshua in his boxers, rutting into your panties as you kiss and grope each other desperately for god knows how long at this point. it’s not nearly close enough, but your fiancee’s been steadfast in his beliefs and in his patience.
you get tangled up like this every night, and each time joshua insists that you sleep before things go too far, smiling despite the obvious tent in his pants.
you think tonight will be not different — until joshua pulls back with a low whimper, eyes raking over your body with a ruined look.
“shit,” he curses, swallowing your gasp as he kisses you rougher than before. “we should just do it.”
“but.. we can’t..” you trail off into a light moan as joshua sucks at your neck, a large hand coming to squeeze your breast.
“i want you.” you feel the way his cock throbs at your heat. he chuckles. “really bad. i might die before the wedding. it hurts me to turn you down..”
his hand skims down your tummy, stopping at your panties to ghost over your clit. he smiles at how your hips buck.
“let me?”
JUN⠀★⠀he’s your leading man.
jun licks a whine from your mouth as it rolls off your tongue, his clothed length rutting just right against the thin cotton of your underwear. he presses you further into the wall, the heat between you growing damper.
you almost forgot that this is the same junhui: a quiet character, playful on a good day — but particularly cold to you and you alone. his leading lady. even with the cameras, he struggles in pretending to even tolerate your presence, and it’s making your job harder.
how ironic, that when you finally asked him outright what his problem was, you shortly found yourself smothered by him in a desperate kiss.
“shit—this is a bad idea,” jun groans out onto your lips, precum staining his pants as he mindlessly humps up into you. “why am i even doing this?”
yet, he makes no move to pull away, and you smirk.
“don’t go falling for me,” you quip, cut off with a gasp as his tip prods your clit in a particularly rough thrust. he steals another kiss from you, and you whimper. “…we should stop.”
“i know.” jun mutters, adam’s apple bobbing in a gulp as he watches where your hips roll together. “but i can’t.”
SOONYOUNG⠀★⠀he’s your brother’s best friend.
you muffle soonyoung’s moan with a kiss, your hand down the front of his pants and wrapping around his cock. the first stroke brings a loud squelch from the amount of precum coating his length, and soonyoung’s head lolls back in pleasure — knocking against the bathroom mirror.
you shush him, teeth nipping at his tongue as a warning, earning a whine in response. you stop the movements of your hand, but his pelvis just jolts upward, fucking himself into your fist.
“you need to be quiet,” you whisper-yell. your brother would break this door down, and break his best friend’s legs if he knew you were in here together.
“i shouldn’t be doing this,” soonyoung says weakly, but puts no effort to stop. his cock pulses in your hand as you twist at the tip. “i know better.”
you roll your eyes — he wants to self reflect now? when he’s already this hard?
your breath hitches as he reaches for you, firmly cupping his hand over your crotch. he groans, conflicted. “i want you..”
“better make it quick.”
“won’t last anyways.” he tugs your pants down, sighing in relief at the sight of your bare pussy. “your brother’s gonna kill me…”
WONWOO⠀★⠀his friends can hear.
wonwoo tilts his head at you like a curious cat as you climb into his lap. he cranes his neck around you to not lose sight of the computer screen — there’s a whole woman on top of him, and his attention still is on the game. you feel even less remorse for what you’re about to do.
you grab his chin, forcing him to look down at you.
“what are you—” wonwoo chokes as you lift your skirt up, presenting your bare pussy pressed to his crotch. muffled voices come from his headphones, and he clarifies that he’s talking to you. great, there’s company.
you’re too pent-up to care, grinding against his now half-hard length, and wonwoo lets out a pained noise.
he reaches for his headphones, intending to mute himself, but you grab his hand and guide it to your pussy instead. wonwoo’s breath hitches as you coat his fingers in your arousal. he raises his hips from the chair, rubbing his boner into your ass. you let out a light whine as his fingers tap your clit.
“we shouldn’t...” he murmurs, yet gently lifts you for room to tug his pants down, cock springing free. “just stay quiet.”
JIHOON⠀★⠀you both work early.
jihoon hums appreciatively as you massage the aches from his back. it was almost midnight by the time he got home from work and quietly crawled into bed. after slouching at a desk all day, the feel of your soft hands on him — groping, caressing — felt like fucking heaven.
you missed him like hell, and the little noises of relief he was letting out from the massaging were driving you up the wall. before you know it — you’re palming jihoon through his boxers, desperately grinding yourself onto the hand he’s got down the front of your pyjama pants.
you’re both exhausted from the day, kept awake only by the pure need caused by this proximity. jihoon’s barely keeping his eyes open, but he’s so hard and you’re so wet under his fingers.
“baby, we should go to bed..” he grumbles, letting out a breathy moan when you squeeze his base. “we both have early starts in the morning.”
you whine in protest, jihoon drawing the sound out as his thumb nudges your clit.
“you sleep, then.” you pull his cock out and roll on top of him. he doesn’t even lift a finger to stop you.
he groans in defeat, lining himself up. “after.”
SEOKMIN⠀★⠀you just got dumped.
“w-wait a second—” seokmin sputters, not sure what to do with his hands as your own start to feel him up.
you don’t respond as you squeeze his thighs, fingers creeping further to the growing bulge in his shorts.
“this isn’t right, i can’t,” he lets out a startled moan as your face nuzzles into his neck, breath tickling him.
“can’t what?” you ask, licking a stripe up his skin.
seokmin sighs. “i can’t do this to you..”
he can’t find the strength to push you away though, so he just sits there, body silently begging you to touch him.
he still sees a taken girl when he looks at you — a girl who belongs to someone else. as a matter of two hours ago though, that’s not true anymore.
you’re supposed to be heartbroken, and he was supposed to be comforting you. but he can’t help the way his heart swells over you being so quick to make a move.
“we’re not doing anything?” you giggle, fingers ghosting over his lap, catching the way his dick throbs.
seokmin takes one look at your lips, then throws all caution to the wind — leaning in to kiss you desperately.
no harm if you’re not doing anything, right?
MINGYU⠀★⠀you babysit his kid.
you brace yourself with a hand on the wall, whining out among the lewd squelching filling the room, too embarrassed to look down at the source: mingyu’s mouth going to town between your thighs.
you’ve orgasmed twice at this point, but he showed no intentions of stopping after the first came quick. you can feel his smirk pressed into your skin as he laps at you like a dog, fucking only a single finger into your hole and it still being enough to fill you up.
there hadn’t been any words, not since he’d asked if you’d seen his son to bed. you nodded, intending for him to pay you and send you on your way — not corner you and drop to his knees.
you squeak as mingyu hollows his cheeks to suck your clit, the sparks of a third orgasm rushing quickly into your gut.
“m-mr. kim,” you whimper, earning a smug chuckle to rumble on your clit.
“what is it, pretty?”
“we should stop..”
you’re taken aback when he listens, licking his lips as he pulls away.
“if that’s what you want.”
you swallow, noticing his other hand gripping himself through the pants. then, you softly shake your head — and he smirks.
“turn around for me.”
MINGHAO⠀★⠀he’s looking after you.
“hm?” minghao lets you pull him down to the bed, and you wrap your arms around his waist. “did you need anything else?”
he gently strokes your hair, smiling fondly at how you’re clinging to him. it’s been dark days as of late — and minghao’s been here to support you through it. carrying you to the shower when you can’t leave bed, spoonfeeding you since you’d rather starve.
he doesn't need any thanks. not every best friend might go to those lengths, but minghao does because he loves you.
minghao’s body freezes when he feels your mouth pressing kisses to his open palm. you try to pry his thighs open, and he stops you with a gentle hand on your face.
“we shouldn’t do this..” he sighs. “not because i don’t want you, but… it isn’t right. not now.”
you pout at him, resting your head in his lap as your fingers slide to his crotch. despite his reluctance, he’s already half-hard.
“i want to feel good,” you palm at him, and he just barely whimpers. “please?”
minghao’s weak to the way your eyes plead at him. he relents, pulling you up for a kiss and savouring your lips on his for the first time.
“if it makes you feel better.”
SEUNGKWAN⠀★⠀you’re at a party.
“tell me you’re mine.” seungkwan rasps, crooking two of his fingers up into your pussy. you squeak out the words, your entire body buzzing with heat over this unfamiliar side of your loving boyfriend.
seungkwan’s angry, has been since he pulled you into this bathroom by the arm, shutting out the rest of the party as he pushed you against the locked door.
you’re trying your best to stay quiet — but it seems like he wants to provoke you into making noise as his thumb swipes at your clit and his fingers fuck into your g-spot, uncaring for whoever hears.
“boo,” you whimper, insanely attracted to him. “we shouldn’t.. not here..”
seungkwan clicks his teeth, ripping his hand away. he steals your lips in a harsh kiss, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to prove a point — which he gets when your hips buck, chasing his touch.
you moan in surprise as he rubs his tip through your folds. you’re so worked up that you hadn’t even realised he pulled his cock out.
“i’m not going to hold back, so don’t you either.” he bites at your lower lip, and you just melt. “i want that fucker to hear.”
VERNON⠀★⠀you’re not using protection.
you tremble under vernon, nails digging into his tensed forearms as he grinds against you — skin to skin, your combined arousal squelching with each rut of his cock through your folds.
his tip bumps your clit so perfectly, and he’s watching each little reaction on your face so intently that you could cry. not just because of how loved you feel, but how bad you need him too.
vernon’s even worse off than you are — but he can’t cross this line. unless..
“i know we shouldn’t,” he mumbles, gritting his teeth when his tip catches on your hole with a particularly rough thrust. “but, fuck, i’m really struggling here..”
“me too,” you admit, wrapping your arms around his toned back. “i want it.”
his eyes widen, slowing the rocks of his body, and you nearly choke from the loss of friction. “don’t just say that..”
“i’m not,” you give him a reassuring smile, pecking his nose sweetly. “i want to feel you.”
“fuck.” he groans when he dives in for a kiss, reaching down to line himself up. his head of his cock just nudges your heat, and it twitches. “okay.. but if you say—”
“not gonna wanna stop.”
CHAN⠀★⠀you’re both too drunk.
you giggle as chan’s heavy breath tickles your neck. his lips latch onto the skin to suck a bruise and you shiver, body writhing under his pinning you to the couch.
“baby, shi—stop squirming, please,” he moans out at your frantic hips rutting against the tent in his pants — the throb of his cock matching the one in his temples.
your head is swimming, chan’s touch leaving a trail of fire across your sweating body. you can’t even remember leaving the bar, let alone making it home; all your hazy brain knows for sure is that you need chan.
“want it,” you bumble, not a thought passing in your head as you reach down to grip him. chan keels over, his drunken lust taking over as he humps into your hand.
“we shouldn’t do this,” he huffs to himself, a brief moment of clarity. it wouldn’t be right.
you’re so sensitive to everything right now, you swear your eyes well up in desperation. or maybe your vision’s just that blurry. determined, you drag your crotch against him, moaning out at the burning friction.
his mouth drops open in a whimper, just letting you. “but, i guess we could..”
★ | member — junhui x fem reader
★ | genre — smut, strangers to lovers (first date au)
★ | word count — 3k
★ | synopsis — your first date with jun has been good, but all you've been able to think about all night is how to get him alone.
★ | warnings — unprotected sex, creampie, big dick!jun, car sex, fingering, jun is a boobs guy, lowercase intended, title is a baekhyun song and you should listen to it
★ | notes — i'm still on hiatus, sorry i know it's been a while - my personal life has been really busy as i'm graduating college in a little over a month! anyway as a treat here's an old draft. remember to reblog if you like this :) ily huihuis
as far as first dates go, junhui would say this one has been pretty good. sometimes you really click with someone right away, and he can’t speak for you but he definitely felt it tonight. you’d spent so long talking together, that the waiter had had to ask you to leave so they could close the restaurant.
"can we park somewhere?" you ask suddenly, to his curiosity. he nods and pulls into the exit lane to get off the freeway, but the next words that come out of your mouth he wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.
"i've been really wet since dinner, and… i wanna ride you. if that's cool, i mean."
his cheeks have never turned that many shades of red so quickly before, but he's not one to complain when an opportunity presents itself. he can't lie and say he hasn't been stealing glances at your beautiful tits all night long and hoping that sooner or later he'll get to see them bouncing in his face.
it doesn't take long before he's found a secluded spot at the back of an empty parking lot; it's past midnight, after all, and most places are closed by now. as soon as the ignition's shut off you're scrambling to unbuckle your seatbelt and climbing over the center console to plant yourself in his lap, and god, you can already feel how hard he is beneath you.
his hands find your waist immediately, starting to slide up your sides as you fumble with your pants. you can't remember the last time you were this greedy, this impatient, and especially on a first date. but the way his hair falls in his face, the way he’d grinned mischievously at you every time you’d make a joke, and the way he's been staring at you all fucking night like he wants to devour you — you can't help but want him.
you can feel your panties sticking to you as you push them away and slide them down your legs. the crampedness of his car and the way your body is angled makes it awkward to pull off gracefully, but neither of you seem to care. his hands are still gripping your sides with his thumbs beneath your breasts, resting there almost like he's forgotten what he's doing. his eyes are fixed on your face, enamored with the little frustrated scrunch of your nose as you struggle to fling your clothes off.
he finally seems to snap back into action when you've successfully stripped your lower half and begin focusing your attention on his jeans. he squeezes your sides a little rougher, just enough to get you to stop, and your eyes flick back up to his.
"can— can i see these?" he asks, his voice a little more gruff as his fingers slide closer to your breasts.
the wicked grin you give him in return makes the both of you start to move a little faster. his dick is painfully hard by now, and all he wants to do is press his nose between your tits until he suffocates in them.
you take your hands off his zipper and move up to your tank top, pulling it down to sit beneath your breasts. you start to reach behind you to unclip your bra, but he's too quick; within seconds you feel the pressure in your back release, the straps slipping down your shoulders as his fingers expertly undo the clasp. he does it too easily, too practiced, and it only makes you want those fingers inside you all the more.
he doesn't hesitate to remove the loose fabric and toss it into the backseat, leaving your breasts bare on display in front of him. his hands resume their position at your chest, and he's so fixated on them that you don't even think he fully notices when you go back to working on his zipper.
but his attention refocuses when he feels the pressure from his pants loosen, and he lets out a groan when he looks down and sees your hand palming his bulge. he's no stranger to one night stands and he's had more than his fair share of hookups, but god, this might actually be the best night of his life. he manages to bring one hand away from your boobs long enough to swipe it between your legs, and he nearly hisses at the feeling. you weren't lying earlier—you're fucking soaked. so much so that when he pulls his hand away to look, three of his fingers glisten under the dim streetlight, connected by thin strings of your arousal.
he needs you on his cock, now, and judging by the slick on his hand you're probably wet enough to take him without any prep. but his last shred of sense is screaming at him to sink his fingers deep into your pussy first until you're shaking on his lap, and he's obliged to listen.
he's never been this desperate to fuck someone before, and if he had any coherent thoughts still running through his brain he might be embarrassed about that. but you're so equally enthusiastic that he honestly can't bring himself to care. it's not every day that a date goes this well, so you might as well enjoy it.
junhui traces your entrance with his fingertips, making wide circles around the area without touching where you really want him. he's teasing, he can't help it, but he's also waiting for you to let him continue. he glances up at your face again, and he smirks in satisfaction when he sees that cute little frustrated scrunch of your nose again, your mouth hanging slightly open and your shoulders braced in concentration.
"you want my fingers?" he asks. he's trying unbelievably hard not to push his hips upward to get the feeling of your wetness brushing against his bulge. it's probably even more restraint than it's taking you to not start grinding down on his leg and work yourself to completion that way. but the voice of reason in the back of your head is telling you that that won't be nearly as satisfying as cumming on his cock or his fingers will be, and so you resist.
"please," you choke out, your hips writhing in the air from the lack of stimulation.
he finally complies, teasingly tracing around your lips one last time before pushing into you. you can feel his fingers getting wetter and wetter each time he plunges them into you, curling them at just the right angle that makes your knees weak on either side of his hips. your whole body is alight from his touch, every nerve on fire, and you already know it's not going to take much more for you to fall apart.
his other arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly planted against him despite how hard your body instinctively tries to buck away from the pleasure. your hands fall to his shoulders as you struggle to hold on, and you're sure he can feel your nails digging into his skin, but he doesn't say anything. he just continues to fuck you with his fingers, silently watching your face as the car fills with wet, messy noises. no one in your life has ever gotten you this close so quickly.
suddenly he pulls his fingers out, and you shudder in frustration as you feel your orgasm ebbing away. he holds his dripping fingers in front of your face, and without him even needing to ask, you open your mouth and welcome them. his fingers are hot against your lips, the bitter taste of your own arousal coating the inside of your mouth as you swirl your tongue around them. somehow he doesn't seem shocked at your immediate reaction; he seems pleased, even. yeah, this is the man you've been waiting for all your life.
your eyelashes flutter as you suck, unable to control the choked whimpers and whines that slip past your lips. your self control is waning, and without thinking your hips start to grind against him, desperate to keep the stimulation going.
you're quick to speak after he pulls his fingers from between your lips, satisfied with the way you've cleaned them for him. "wanna cum on your cock, junnie," you whimper. the nickname slips out without thinking, and you’re still unconsciously rubbing yourself against his clothed bulge. your eyes are blown wide when he looks at you, and while the rational part of his mind knows it's because it's dark outside, he can't help the surge of pride that rushes through him seeing you so fucked out already. if this is what you look like, just from riding his fingers? he can't wait to see what you look like taking more.
"you want my cock, baby?" he groans, testing out a nickname of his own and watching how you bloom from the praise.
you lift your hips enough for him to pull his dick out of his pants and finally get a good look at what's going to be rearranging your guts tonight.
"you're so— thick," you choke out, trying not to stumble over your words, but your mouth is watering at the sight of him and all the previously reasonable thoughts in your brain have instantly been replaced with pure want. he's so much bigger than you expected.
"can you take it?" he says, confidence faltering a little when he sees how enraptured you're staring. he's used to hearing the shock and excitement in people’s voices when they see him, but he knows from experience that having a big dick isn't always what it's cracked up to be.
you're silent for another second, blinking as you try to collect your thoughts, and then you lift your head and kiss him hard. but you pull away just as quickly, barely giving him time to register everything as you nod.
"yeah. i can. want you to make it fit," you breathe out, a whisper against his lips, and all he can do is groan and kiss you again. he pulls you tighter against him as your mouths crash together, the heat between you building more and more with each passing second. he's still not even inside you yet, but you're both moving your hips in tandem as if he was, chasing the friction that isn't there yet.
junhui finally pulls back again, creating barely enough room to slip his hand between your bodies and fist his cock. his free hand squeezes your hips roughly to get you to stop moving long enough to line himself up with your pussy.
you finally sink down onto his length, and both your loud groans fill the compact space. he hisses at the tight feeling around his cock as you whimper, eyes squeezed shut again in concentration. he can feel your walls throbbing against him as he struggles to keep himself still, knowing you're still adjusting. fuck, he wants nothing more than to pound into you like there's no tomorrow, but he has to wait. he's way too close to the edge already, so he starts counting the seconds in his head to try and distract himself until you're ready. you can feel every inch of him stretching you open, buried so deep in you that it makes your head spin.
your legs are already starting to burn from sitting in this position but after another minute once your muscles start to relax, you manage to lift yourself up and push your hips back down. it's an agonizingly slow rhythm as his cock forces itself into the tight space, but you still haven't quite caught your breath. you keep moving at this pace, up down, up down, in out, in out, until he grips your hips and pulls you down to stop your motion with him fully buried inside you.
"want me to take over?" he whines, and it catches you off guard to hear his voice a little higher and a little more broken than before.
the noise that leaves your mouth can only be described as inhuman, and he nods in acknowledgement as you give up control. there's a few seconds of pause, as if giving you a chance to change your mind, before he snaps his hips upward and you immediately let out a squeak, a heavy breath of pleasure mixed with relief. his arms settle around your lower back for leverage, which forces you to arch your spine and push your chest into his face. but that only seems to spur him on even more as he buries himself in your breasts, pressing against his cheeks.
when jun groans you can practically feel the reverberations in your ribcage, and you wrap your arms around his head to keep him in place. the new pace he's set isn't much faster than before, but it's a thousand times more intense as he fucks into you, filling every part of you to the brim with each thrust.
it only takes a few more rough snaps of his hips before the coil inside you breaks, and you have to hold back a scream as your body contorts in ways you didn't even know were possible. your voice is nearly hoarse as you cry out his name over and over again, begging him not to stop, not to change anything, to please just keep fucking you. and he listens, doing his best to keep you upright despite the way you writhe in his grip. with your breasts in his face he can feel your heartbeat in his ears as if it's his own, and it takes so much concentration to make sure he doesn't immediately follow you over the edge right after. when your shaking starts to subside a little and he's positive he can't hold back any longer, he tips his head back to speak.
"where can i—"
you interrupt before he can get all the words out. "inside. i'm on the pill. please."
he whines and buries his face in your breasts again, leaving sloppy kisses all over your skin between curses muttered under his breath. with a few more rough thrusts he's done, holding you even tighter against him as he spills into you and groaning louder when you clench your muscles around him.
"fuckin' milking my cock," he hisses into your chest with eyes shut, his voice rough from how hard he's focused.
your hip bones ache, both from the position and from the sheer size of him that you aren’t accustomed to, and you slump into the passenger seat with your legs still across his lap. his hand immediately slides between your thighs, his large palm cupping your pussy to collect his cum that's beginning to leak out of you. it takes him a second before he's able to form words, but he rubs your thigh soothingly as nods at you.
"napkins in the glove box," he manages, and you're jolted back to reality as you remember you're still laid out in his car and he probably doesn't want to get cum all over his seats.
with his free hand he reaches for your panties, which somehow ended up on the dashboard, and he passes them over to you as he starts to clean you up. you lean your head back against the window and let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back down. the cold glass sends a chill through you as you feel the warmth beginning to drain out of you, bare skin prickling with goosebumps.
after a few minutes and a few crumpled napkins tossed on the floor, he clears his throat, and you manage to refocus your eyes enough to meet his gaze.
"your place, or mine?"
"huh?"
your ears are still ringing from the intensity of your orgasm, and you're not sure what he just said. it kinda sounded like he wants to sleep over with you, but there's no way a guy as hot as him wants more than just a quick fuck.
"would you rather go home or come back to my place?" he repeats. "i'm not leaving you alone after that. you need a shower, and probably some tylenol." he winces a little and looks down at his lap, and it's almost strange to see him so shy after he just fucked you into another dimension. "i probably should've given you more warning. car sex isn't that easy on a first date, but fuck, you took it so well, and—"
"you can come over to mine," you interrupt him, still laying halfway in the passenger seat and trying not to be completely useless even though you feel like a melted puddle. "best first date i've ever had."
you can tell the exact moment that your words register in his brain, because the relief that spreads across his face is plain as day. as soon as you can muster all the strength you have left, you sit up and pull your legs back over into your seat, pushing yourself into a comfortable position.
"next time i want to fuck your tits," he exhales shakily as he puts his seatbelt back on, though his voice comes out more like a squeak.
"next time?" you ask, making your best attempt to playfully raise an eyebrow at him. he may be bringing you home and taking care of you, but that doesn't guarantee there's going to be a next time. well, maybe it does. you're really looking forward to there being a next time.
he scoffs, only fumbling a little bit to shove his keys into the ignition. "don't play dumb. i know you enjoyed that. don't act like you don't wanna see yourself covered in my cum after i'm done with you."
the shiver that runs down your spine and the way you instinctively press your thighs together is all the confirmation he needs.
i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did please reblog with your thoughts, or leave a comment or send an ask! it shows me that people are interested in my writing, and knowing people liked this makes me want to write more! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!
SYNOPSIS. Choi Seungcheol has always been about structure, authority, and control, loyal to his duty in a city where criminal situations become a matter of life or death. On the other hand, you’re reckless𑁋seemingly guided more by your instinct and heart than the rules you’re meant to follow. But as duty forces you both together, Seungcheol finds the protocol he’s bound to stand by begin to bend.
PAIRING. sergeant/tactical officer!choi seungcheol x rookie officer!fem!reader (ft. officer!lee jihoon but he's mentioned as a plot device, mention of detective!wonwoo)
GENRE. coworkers/ideological enemies to lovers, angst, smut (minors dni 🔞), fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, action, police au
WARNINGS. unrealistic portrayal of a police department, guns, violence, blood, injuries (both cheol & reader get hurt at some point), cursing, scars, crimes being committed (robbery, arson, attempted murder, domestic abuse, car chase, illegal narcotics), suicide-by-cop situation, instances of police brutality, workplace toxicity & misogyny, reader taking shit from NO ONE, basically reader vs the system, discussions of trauma, alcohol consumption, kissing, cheol having dirty thoughts; smut warnings: kissing, they almost do the deed on his desk lmao, making out, oral (f + m. receiving), fingering, pet names (sergeant/rookie lol, baby, brat, sweetheart, good girl), body worship, scar worship, praise + slight degradation + dirty talk, grinding, soft dom!seungcheol to switchy!seungcheol, cheol Begging, Sergeant/Rookie authority kink, riding, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare, lmk if i miss anything!! still getting used to these smut tugs 😭
WORD COUNT. 19.8k (for part two); 37k (in total)
notes: HELLO EVERYONE and welcome to part two of protocol !!! tysm for being patient with me and i hope you all enjoy this final part to the story. as always thank u to @slytherinshua for reading this over and @etherealyoungk for being so supportive as always. i'm so sad that it's over :< also the final scene is over 6k words. dont ask why. which is prob why this shit is so long but idk i just kept yapping in each scene. but i hope this gives you all the conclusion you hoped for and pls don't forget to reblog and tell me all ur thoughts! thank u guys for giving this fic so much love and support i'm so grateful for all of u 🥹
part one | part two
You didn’t know what to expect when the precinct called you in.
It’s been two weeks since you got notice of the indefinite suspension, and you were honestly beginning to make peace with the idea that you weren’t going back. You figured this visit was it. The formal letter. The final nail in the coffin. Or another drawn out conversation about “appropriate conduct”, about optics and liabilities, and whatever excuse they’d use to keep their hands clean.
So when you show up at the precinct at 0900 hours, you’re dressed in your regular clothes𑁋a pair of clean jeans, a plain black shirt, and a worn jacket. You’re sitting awkwardly in an empty conference room alone, your thoughts wondering if Seungcheol had any say in what this is.
Not that it should matter, right? Not after the kiss or how you slammed the door in his face and called him a coward like some pissed off teenager. You’re not proud of that, but pride hasn’t meant much these days, especially after getting your badge taken.
It’s 0907 when the door bursts open, and you stiffen in your seat when you catch sight of Lieutenant Hwang𑁋because of course he’s the one baring you with the bad news. You’re already glaring directly through him when he closes the door behind, not even bothering to take a seat. He holds out a manila folder to you, a stern look to his face.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” Hwang begins grimly. “You’re being reinstated. Effective on Monday.”
You blink puzzledly down at the manila folder in your hands, not opening it yet. “What? I thought𑁋”
“Sergeant Choi made a rather… adamant case for you,” Hwang interjects. “He submitted a formal request to the board to reevaluate your suspension, attached a revised report of the incident, and included a very compelling written recommendation on your behalf.”
You shift your focus away from the begrudging tone of Hwang and open the letter. Inside, it contained your reinstatement documents, your name and badge number, a note from IA confirming the final disciplinary review on your suspension had concluded, and a memo at the very bottom that you nearly gloss over.
Officer Y/N L/N will be set to report under Sergeant Lee Jihoon when reinstated.
Your heart halts into your chest.
“I’m being reassigned?” You ask quietly. “Did he agree to this?”
Hwang’s eyes narrow a fraction. “He didn’t object to it.”
Your grip on the folder tightens a little more. He didn’t object to it. Somehow, that makes it entirely worse than being told he agreed to it.
“So this is… what?” A bitter scoff leaves you. “Punishment for my wrongdoings?”
“No,” Hwang says curtly. “It’s a correction.”
“Of what?” You snap back. “You’ve hated me since day one, Lieutenant. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“And does that matter now?” Hwang takes a deliberate step closer to you, looming over you slightly with his fists clenched. “You’re lucky you even got your badge back. Most rookies wouldn’t recover from a stunt like that. Hell, most wouldn’t have a sergeant jeopardise his own career just to keep your name from being in the disciplinary folder.”
His words zip your mouth up. But he doesn’t stop there.
“You want to know why I dislike you, officer?” Hwang tests sharply. “Because I’ve seen Choi Seungcheol follow protocol down to the damn letter for years. And then you walk in and he’s suddenly second-guessing himself. You distracted him.”
You rise to your feet at that. “You think I’m just a distraction to him?”
“I think he could’ve gone farther without you around his neck.”
“And I think you’re a coward for hiding behind a system that punishes empathy and coddles protocol.” This sends a wave of fury to burn up your spine. “And if that makes me a problem𑁋if reminding Seungcheol what it’s like to care is a problem𑁋then maybe you’re just more scared of what I represent than what I’ve done.”
His eyes burn holes through you, expression unreadable.
“You’ll report to Sergeant Lee on Monday at 0700,” Hwang reminds you coldly. “That’s non-negotiable.”
You stare at him, your chest heaving heavily. You shove the manila folder under your arm and storm towards the door, shoulder colliding with Hwang as you reach for the doorknob. You don’t twist it open just yet, instead turning around to add in:
“I don’t care what you think about him, Lieutenant,” You speak over your shoulder. “But Sergeant Choi is a great cop. With or without me here. So don’t you ever imply that I was some liability chained around his neck.”
You don’t look at him again when you leave the room. You’re already heading towards Seungcheol’s office before your mind can even register it. The tension of the precinct threatens to grapple at your limbs, but you refuse to let it slow you down. Hwang’s words keep repeating in your head like a broken radio.
The blinds are shut in his office when you approach, and you hardly think about anything else as you push open the door and step inside. But all you’re met with is emptiness.
His chair is facing the wrong way with his coat sprung over it, papers strewn all over his desk in a cluttered mess, and a half-empty mug of coffee perched next to a closed laptop. The door clicks shut behind you as your boots click against the floor. The silence of the space swallows you whole, and even though he isn’t here, it’s comforting, in a way, like he’s still lingering around.
You approach his desk slowly, unsure of what you’re trying to look for. You take a moment to organise the bombshell of papers on his desk, setting them in a neat stack next to his laptop. Then your eyes drift up slightly, and that’s when you catch a few small pictures frames half-hidden away.
One shows a younger him, fresh out of academy, grinning uncharacteristically with his dimples showing and his arms around a few other members of his squad. Another is a solo shot of him in dark lighting, illuminated only by the flash of the camera. One of his hands is clutched around a large glass of beer with the other tucked in his pocket. The last one is him standing next to another man in front of a cruiser, slightly older, but the familiarity of it sparks a memory in your head𑁋his old partner. The one he told you about.
He’s… happy in all these. Genuinely, painfully, happy.
You almost knock the frames off the desk when the door suddenly opens, making you freeze up instantly. When you look up, that’s when you see him.
Seungcheol stands just as frozen as you in the doorway. He’s in his uniform, hair a bit mussed like he had been running through it all day, some papers tucked under his armpit, eyes widened for a moment before he realises that it’s you.
“Hey,” he greets you warily, stepping fully inside the room and closing the door behind him.
You step away from his desk, a pit of guilt forming in your stomach. “Sorry. I wasn’t snooping. Just…”
His gaze tracks down to where you’ve been looking, expecting some defensive clapback from him, but his features only soften. “It’s alright.”
You watch silently as he sheds off his bulletproof vest and duty belt, some signs of exhaustion lingering in the way his limbs move with much less coordination and energy than usual.
“Long day?” You ask him.
Seungcheol gives a stiff nod. “Violent Crimes went through hell today. Then had to threaten a guy for CCTV footage to give to Detective Jeon.”
“Detective Jeon?”
“Jeon Wonwoo,” he clarifies, tone seemingly careful. “A close friend of mine from the academy.”
You nod absently at that, only half-listening because your attention is entirely swallowed by the man in front of you and all the tension that’s been persisting since that fateful night in front of the door to your apartment. A night neither of you have bothered to speak about.
A brush of warmth hits your backside as Seungcheol walks behind you to set some papers on his desk. You tense out of habit from the closeness, like your body is remembering the way pressed you up against the wall and his mouth molding onto yours in a moment of desperation.
Finally, you say, “Thank you.”
Seungcheol pauses his movements. You shuffle your body around to face him, only to not expect how suddenly close he’s standing in front of you.
His eyes flit down to you. “For what?”
“For the letter,” You respond solemnly. “For talking to the board. For… fighting to reinstate me.”
Seungcheol’s shoulder sag just a fraction at that, before he straightens again, defaulting back to his careful posture.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. “I did what I should’ve done.”
“But still,” You retort, a genuine tone to your words. “Thank you.”
Seungcheol crosses his arms together at that. He isn’t sure what he’s doing right now, and you looking at him like you’d bend the world for him isn’t helping at all. The entire time during your absence he’s stayed up nights feeling unsure of how he’ll be able to make eye contact with you without feeling the gut-wrenching guilt and fear.
But here he is𑁋looking at you, and he doesn’t want to stop.
“I can tell you’re thinking about it,” he says.
You bite down at your bottom lip at that.
“Did you know?” You ask him quietly. “About the reassignment?”
Seungcheol exhales slowly. “No, I didn’t know until this morning.” He steps a smidge closer into your space. “But I expected it.”
“And you didn’t object to it?”
“I did,” Seungcheol responds firmly, with no stutter in his words at all. “I figured Hwang told you the latter, didn’t he?”
Your head drops at that. “Yeah.”
“I told them you were more adept at working with me than anyone else,” he affirms. “Told them you were mine to train, mine to be responsible for. But they framed the entire thing as a compromise𑁋said that for you to be reinstated, I had to accept the reassignment.”
Your heart batters in your chest at his words𑁋mine to train, mine to be responsible for. Mine.
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Seungcheol says defeatedly. “So I accepted it, thought about it more, and figured… maybe it was the right choice.”
You flinch at that, lips tightening up inquisitively. “Right choice for who, exactly?”
He doesn’t answer. His silence, again, answers your question for you.
You only prod into him even further. “Did it feel like the right choice for you?”
Seungcheol stares at you for a few moments too long, lingering over the frustration𑁋that fire you have that scares him more than anything else𑁋etched into your features that makes him ache to cross oceans just for you.
“No,” he says simply. “It felt like hell, rookie.”
Your heart jumps at the acknowledgment. You half-expected him to deflect, or somehow fall back into some version that says this was necessary or it’s better this way, but he doesn’t. He gives you the raw, vulnerable, and ugly truth straight from his core.
“Because I’ve seen the way this place tears people up, how this place tears people up like you, so I believed that reassigning you was the right choice so you’d have a clean slate.” His breath hitches. “And I couldn’t come to you because I felt like a hypocrite. A so-called sergeant who enforces protocol but can’t manage himself for five fucking minutes when it comes to you.”
You don’t say anything yet. You just let him continue, because he needs to.
“I couldn’t even drive home after that night,” Seungcheol confesses shakily. “Drove around the city like a damn coward trying to forget what it felt like to have you under me. Kissing me. Wanting me.”
Your pulse spikes at that. “And did it work?”
His mouth twitches imperceptibly. “No.”
A round of silence blooms between the two of you. The air inside his office suddenly feels all too hot, like your brain finally registering how close he is to you now and your body begging for his touch again. His gaze is dark on you, and you feel yourself being swallowed whole from its intensity.
“All I thought about was how you looked at me that night,” Seungcheol whispers. “Like you wanted me to take you right there in the fucking hallway if I asked. But you… You were drunk.”
He says it like it’ll invalidate everything that happened on that night, as if saying that would negate the way your hands were desperately fisted in his shirt, the way his body was pressing yours against the wall while he let out sounds that made him feel something for once.
You let out a snideful chuckle.
“I was tipsy,” You correct him with a teasing lift of your lips. “And even if I wasn’t drunk, I would’ve let you.”
That sends a shiver of heat running up and down his spine. Seungcheol is practically crowding your space now𑁋so close to the point your hips bump against his desk. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s really, really trying to fight the urge to grab you and show you everything that he’s thought about doing to you since that night. All while you’re staring up at him like you’re almost insisting for him to.
His eyes flit down to your mouth and back up to your eyes.
“You just got reinstated,” he states cautiously. “And you’re already causing too much trouble with that big mouth of yours.”
You tilt your head innocently. “Technically, I’m not reinstated until Monday, Sergeant.”
A slow, dangerous smile curls at the corners of Seungcheol’s lips. He reaches in and cages you in between his arms, hands grasping tightly at his desk. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm,” You hum freely, as if being inside the literal precinct doesn’t erode the fact you’re standing mere inches away from a man who can command an entire squad of officers. “I’m just a civilian in your office right now.”
You don’t break eye contact with him as you say that. You don’t let yourself back down. And Seungcheol looks like he’s about five seconds away from giving in. The tips of his combat boots brush just shy of your shoes, just like that night back in the hallway. His lips are pressed tightly together in restraint and disbelief of your boldness𑁋at this point, he should be used to it by now𑁋yet his eyes are telling you something else entirely.
Taking in a defeated breath, Seungcheol settles a somewhat shaky hand at your waist, roaming under your jacket and knotting at the edges of your shirt. Any distance between you both is completely erased. You’re pressed flushed between his chest and the wall of his desk. You aren’t even sure how he’s managing to stand when his body is wound so tightly together.
“Tell me to stop,” Seungcheol insists softly.
You stare at him dead in the eyes. “Don’t.”
“Tell me what you want then,” he prods further. “To touch you right here? In the middle of my office?”
Your lips quiver at that, and you reach down to cover his hand with yours, slowly guiding it underneath your shirt. The second he makes contact with your bare skin, Seungcheol groans like he’s been punched to the gut, like everything’s hit him all at once.
His thumb draws slow arcs over your waist, making your stomach tighten. It’s the contrast between his rough skin and the softness of yours that wrecks you instantly.
“Fuck, rookie…”
You reach up with your free hand to tenderly cup his cheek. “Kiss me, Sergeant.”
Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate after that. The kiss that follows is far from gentle. The first you both shared was something out of desperation and your stupid, drunken thoughts, but this𑁋this is hunger.
His mouth moves against yours with so much fierceness it knocks the breath out of your lungs right away, but you don’t stop him. You let him. Your fingers dig into the material of his uniform to tug him impossibly closer, making the desk creak quietly as his thigh slots perfectly in between your legs.
A moan leaves your mouth as his hand trails higher under your shirt, his calloused fingertips dragging a trail of fire over your ribcage, stomach, before stopping just short of your bra. His lips refuse to leave yours even as he hoists you up effortlessly on top of his desk, your legs welcoming his body in between them gratefully. A few papers fly off the desk and you almost tip over one of his picture frames, but there’s more pressing things at the matter.
Seungcheol then takes a momentary detour to kiss his way from your jaw and to your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin. You tilt your head back to give him more access. Your hands are everywhere on him now, desperate to feel skin. God, he’s solid everywhere, and it makes your head spin at the thought.
“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he rasps against your neck. “I missed you.”
The new nickname sends a wave of arousal through you𑁋Seungcheol doesn’t even realise he said it. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his teeth graze upon your pulse point, your hips instinctively grinding more into his thigh to chase more of that friction, stealing simultaneously breaths out of both your mouths. You can feel how worked up he is too.
“Missed you sitting next to me in the squad…” He pushes the jacket you’re wearing off your shoulders as his lips journey lower to your collarbone, making you card a hand through his hair to urge him deeper. “...missed the way you pissed me off, the way your bratty mouth challenged me, the way you stood your ground in front of these assholes…”
A quiet gasp leaves you as he kisses every centimetre of new skin that he finds. Your fingers tug harsher at his hair like you’re trying to imprint him on your skin, causing a dark chuckle to rumble out of him. He tightens his grip on you.
“And I definitely missed…” Seungcheol continues roughly, smiling along your throat. “...that pretty fire in your eyes when you’re about to break protocol again.”
You arch more into him at that, eliciting out another low laugh from him that sends shivers down to your core.
“Now, you’re sitting like a good rookie on my desk,” he mutters wantonly as he presses his thumb deeper into the curve of your waist, rolling his hips into yours once just so you can feel what you’re doing to him. “Or are you going to keeping acting like a brat and let me fuck the attitude out of you?”
You inhale sharply at that, a moan tumbling out of your lips that only encourages your grinding on his leg even more. You’ve never heard him speak so openly now that you’ve seemed to have freed him of his shackles and released a side of him that you’ve caught mere glimpses of.
Never in a million years would you believe the fact that right now Sergeant Choi Seungcheol is about to ruin you for anyone else𑁋and that you would willingly let him. Too many lines have been crossed for you both to be Sergeant and rookie right now. It’s a weird, fucked-up mix of want and resentment that shouldn’t be together, but somehow, the finished product comes together dangerously perfect.
Your hands impatiently fly down to his belt, trying to blindly loosen the buckle as he captures your mouth once again. He bites down lightly on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before diving back in for more.
However, before you’re able to undo the clasp to his belt, three firm and impatient knocks at his door slices through the tension in the air. It makes both of you freeze as if a bomb went off.
“Sergeant Choi?”
Seungcheol practically tears himself off of you, hands flying to your hips to steady you. You’re both completely motionless for a few moments, caught between a delicate blend of desire and a laugh threatening to bubble out of your throat.
“Sergeant Choi?” a voice from the other side calls again. “Captain wants a word. Said it’s urgent.”
Seungcheol’s head falls onto your shoulder with a low groan, breathing hard against you like he’s trying to force all of the blood out of cock and back to his brain. You can tell he’s failing wholeheartedly in the process.
“We’re so fucked,” he mumbles heavily.
You barely manage the giggle rising out of you as one last knock hits the door.
“Sergeant Choi𑁋”
“I’ll be right there,” Seungcheol replies back impressively calmly, yet there’s a subtle gravel to his voice. “Give me a minute.”
There’s a brief pause, before the sounds of footsteps retreat away from the door. Seungcheol curses to himself again, then picks his head back up to check on you. He’s looking at you with half-lidded eyes and pupils blown wide with heat, taking in your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and how your legs are still hooked around his waist like you don’t intend to let go.
“God, you’re trouble,” he mumbles hoarsely, moving to gently help you into your jacket and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You know that, right?”
“I’ve always been that way,” You whisper, lips teasingly ghosting over his. “It just took you this long to finally accept it𑁋to accept me.”
Seungcheol’s mouth twitches at your sass, his focus flitting down to your lips and back up again. “That mouth of yours is a real dangerous weapon, huh?”
You give an innocent tilt of your head. “You gonna arrest me for it, Sergeant?”
Seungcheol huffs out a snarky chuckle at that, gazing at you for a few more beats before pulling away from you. He glances down at himself and fastens his belt, and you gingerly hop off his desk, your body still prickling with heat from his mouth on your neck as you straighten down your shirt. You both hesitate to meet each other’s eyes as you fix away the remnants of an almost.
It takes a minute for him to remember what he was tasked to do, like the heat of the earlier moments completely tarnished his thoughts. You watch as he organises the files in his desk as orderly as he can and runs a hand through his already disheveled hair.
“You should go,” he finally says. “Before someone decides to barge through that door.”
You nod at that, yet your feet refuse to budge off the floor. Seungcheol doesn’t move either.
“You’ll like Jihoon,” he tells you. “He’s sharp. Keeps to himself a lot. Doesn’t tolerate bullshit. But he’s fair and listens.”
You can’t tell if it’s reassurance in his tone as it sure as hell doesn’t come off that way.
“Think he’ll handle me better than you?” You ask.
The corner of his mouth quirks just slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“We almost had sex on your desk, Sergeant,” You claim boldly, crossing your arms together. “I think I’m allowed to be a little cocky.”
Seungcheol gives you a long, pointed look from that. A kind of look that basically says something along the lines of, you infuriate my life but in the best way possible. He can’t even deny it𑁋you both almost lost yourselves completely in his damn office out of all places, happening at the end of an already turbulent week. For both of you.
He swipes a hand down his face with a sigh. “You’re lucky I tolerate you, rookie.”
“That sounds awfully close to an I like you,” You return back with a mischievous grin.
Seungcheol levels that with a half-hearted glare, not answering at first.
“Just admit it.” You step back up to him with a certain boastful charm. “You like me, don’t you?”
You can practically read his stare so clearly now, like he’s considering lying. A flicker of deflection abrupts his features for a moment, before he sighs and lets his shoulders drop down in defeat.
“...Yes.”
The rawness of it makes your smug expression dissolve into something soft and warm. It shouldn’t have hit as hard as it does. “Yeah?”
“You wanted honesty,” Seungcheol deadpans in his typical composed manner as if he just didn’t drop a bombshell on you. “And if you stay in here any longer, we’ll both end up suspended.”
A giddy smile blooms its way across your face. You step up to him one last time, reaching up to grab at his collar to pull him in for one last kiss. Seungcheol lets himself fall into it. It’s a kiss that screams of finality, of both promise and warning, of reality.
When you pull away, you angle your head slightly to whisper in his ear, “I’ll see you Monday, Sergeant.”
There’s a skip in your step as he watches you walk away from him, opening the door and slipping through the crack, disappearing back out into the noise of the precinct.
Seungcheol gazes around his office for a few silent moments, raking over the few papers still scattered near his feet, the half-empty coffee cup that’s definitely gone cold by now, and then to the somewhat crooked pictures frames staring back at him pensively. He smooths down his uniform shirt one last time as if that will definitely wipe away any last trace you left. But it doesn’t. Far from it. The ghost of your presence has basically found its home within every crevice of him now.
His desk still smells like you as he leaves his office.
It’s 2238 hours by the time Seungcheol arrives back in the precinct.
Most of the precinct is quiet by now, with the exception of a few receptionists and front desk officers that he greets casually on the way through the dull corridors. His body aches a little more than usual, not necessarily from something physical though, he thinks. He doesn’t really know how to put this kind of ache into words.
The day had been mostly normal for him, surprisingly: a few traffic stops he had to supervise because of culprits being uncooperative and disrupting the public, a call about a possible break-in which turned out to be nothing but a drunk neighbour trying to get into the wrong house, and a couple of meetings with detectives about a recent case of narcotics that’s been slowly creeping through the city. The meetings were tense, yet only loose ends and long silences came up for the thick of it.
Seungcheol rubs his jaw absently, the heavy steps of his boots clap on the floor as he makes his way toward the main part of the precinct. A lot of cubicles have emptied out by this point, only some occupied by a couple of overnight supervisors writing up case and incident reports. He stops by the locker room to shed off his vest, duty belt, and radio for the night.
Then he finds himself half-lost in thought while trudging in the direction to his office. However, at the corner of his eye, he notices one of the doors to the briefing room wide open. His footsteps come to a halt instinctively, perching himself by the doorframe as he peers inside curiously. One of the bulbs above is flickering irregularly. The large table inside is mostly vacant. But as his eyes swarm the room, that’s when he notices you.
You’re sitting in a chair, with a sleeping laptop still open in front of you and what seems to be a half-eaten protein bar tossed aimlessly beside a couple of case report papers and an empty water bottle. Your head is resting on your arms, and your fingers are curled loosely around a ballpoint pen, hovering over a notepad covered in illegible handwriting that makes it clear you’ve been fighting through this exhaustion for a while now.
You’re asleep𑁋the kind of sleep that you promised to be only five minutes but never made it back up. Something about the sight of you like this sends a ripple through Seungcheol’s chest.
What could you possibly have done to wear yourself out this much already? You’ve only been working under Officer Lee for a little over a month and he finds you like this? It’s as if the second you got your badge back, you pushed every single one of your senses to the next level just to prove your worth back on the force.
If only you knew how much he’d been keeping a small eye on you from the sidelines the past few weeks. On days where you have to brush past each other in the hallways and pretend that everything is normal between the two of you. Pretend that seeing you climb into another cruiser that isn’t his doesn’t fuel him. Pretend that even the simplest thought of you doesn’t leave his mind dizzy in the middle of briefings. Pretend that the memory of his mouth on yours hasn’t followed him like a damn spectre.
Seungcheol sighs through his nose. He really doesn’t have enough energy in him to play sergeant right now.
Goddamn it, rookie.
Quietly, he steps inside the room and closes the door behind him softly, careful to not let it click too loudly. When he approaches up to you, he crouches down slightly and places a gentle hand on your lower back, letting his fingers splay there for a moment as he traces the circles through your shirt.
“Rookie,” Seungcheol calls out feebly.
You don’t stir, not at first. But after a couple of more shakes from Seungcheol, you mutter something groggy and inaudible.
He leans in a little closer to you. “Hm?”
“...Seungcheol…?”
The way his name leaves your tongue sends a flip to his stomach.
“Yeah,” he answers back. “It’s me.”
Your brows knit together at the low voice travelling through your ears. It takes another minute for your body to slip out of unconsciousness, and you find your head slowly rising up from being buried within the haven of your arms for the past hour or so.
Blinking a few times through your lashes to readjust your vision, your eyes drag towards the warmth orbiting by your side. That’s when you catch sight of Seungcheol knelt beside you and his hand still pressed comfortingly on your back𑁋you can feel him even through your vest.
“What…” You rub at your eyes, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. “What time is it?”
“Late,” Seungcheol replies simply. “Didn’t your shift end an hour ago?”
You sit up straighter at that, a low wince leaving out of you at a sudden knot in your spine. “Shit𑁋sorry, I was trying to finish this report for Officer Lee𑁋”
“It’s fine,” Seungcheol reassures you, letting his hand fall from your back but lingering near your elbow like he doesn’t want to be too far from you. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
You blink at him again from that. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“You really don’t have to𑁋”
“I want to,” he cuts your words off.
It’s unlike his tone to be so… soft. Perhaps it’s just from the late night because his face looks as equally exhausted as yours. You give a small nod before standing up to gather up your belongings, but Seungcheol is already one step ahead of you.
He folds the laptop to a close and reaches out to gather any other loose papers scattered around your area like he’s done it a hundred times before. You pause your own movements for a couple of beats to just watch him, fixated on that unreadable look on his face as he organises your things and hands it to you wordlessly without even being told to.
“Thank you,” You mutter tiredly.
Seungcheol only responds with a hum and motion towards the door. You trail behind him quietly in the meantime. Luckily, the precinct appears to be too tired to give a shit that you’re walking side-by-side with him at this late hour. But a few heads do lift up from their computer, and a few night-shift dispatchers pause mid-conversation to steal a glance at you both.
The whispers fly past your ears in fragments. You feel it; Seungcheol feels it too.
“Guess she literally rode her way back on the roster, huh.”
“Never pictured Sergeant Choi as the commitment type, to be honest.”
“Last time he dated, I heard he𑁋”
The rest of the words get cut off by the sounds of the exit doors closing behind. You and Seungcheol enter the desolate parking lot together. Seungcheol unlocks his car with the click of his keys and opens the passenger door for you wordlessly. You hesitate for a moment before climbing inside. He shuts the door behind you, walks around the hood of the car, and takes his place in the driver’s seat.
As the engine roars to life, neither of you say anything at first. Not until the car cruises smoothly down the main road.
Seungcheol clears his throat soundly. “Has Jihoon been working you hard?”
“No, he hasn’t,” You respond with a small smile at his faint worry. “Actually, I think he might be going easier on me than you ever did.”
Seungcheol lifts a brow at that, eyes still trained on the road. “Oh, really?”
“You jealous, Sergeant?”
“Of Jihoon?”
“Of someone else supervising me.”
Seungcheol doesn’t even remember the last time he’s felt this way. Jealousy would be such a plain-sailing way to describe it, but that’s what it is, right? He is jealous𑁋jealous that someone else gets your time during shifts, jealous that someone else now has to deal with your sarcastic remarks and ambitious pride, jealous that someone else gets the version of you that he’s used to by default.
“Jealousy is a waste of time,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
You shoot a side-glance at him. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”
That makes Seungcheol let out a defeated groan. A chuckle of satisfaction leaves you when you’ve realised you caught him, and you lean back against the seat with your arms crossed in victory.
When the sight of your building comes into view and Seungcheol pulls up into a parking space, your hand curls around the door handle, yet you don’t get out just yet.
“For the record,” You start nimbly, shifting your body around to face him. “I liked being yours. On shift, I mean.”
Seungcheol stills in his seat like you’ve just shamelessly carried out a crime right in front of him. As he looks at you, there’s something more vulnerable past the confident twinkle in your eyes now. The smile that crosses your face is small. Shy, even𑁋a look that he rarely ever gets to see on you.
When he hears the sound of the passenger door opening, he has to force himself out of his own thoughts. Without even registering it, his hand instinctively reaches over to grab your wrist to keep you from leaving right away.
“And off-duty?” Seungcheol asks with painstaking curiosity, loosening his grip on your wrist slightly.
The pleased smile on your face brightens even more.
“Take me on a date, Sergeant,” You say with a pleasant tilt of your head. “Then we’ll see whether or not I still like it.”
Seungcheol releases his grip from you as you climb out of his car, and his eyes still refuse to leave you as he watches the skip in your step when you disappear into your apartment building. The warmth of you still swirls around him even long after your departure.
Your phone vibrates the second you enter inside your apartment.
You stare at the message for an entire minute before a grin threatens to split your face in half, because it’s just so him to text like this. No emojis, no fluff. Just a time and decision. A tryst, if you can call it that.
[11:18pm | y/n]
is that an order, sarge?
[11:18pm | sergeant choi]
Don’t make me take it back, rookie.
A laugh of disbelief leaves you, making you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress yourself from digging your grave even further down. You can already imagine him rolling his own eyes through the screen.
[11:19pm | y/n]
yes, sir ☺️
You watch the way the three little dots at the bottom disappear and reappear a few times, like he’s contemplating his own words.
[11:21pm | sergeant choi]
Good.
Now get some sleep.
[11:22pm | y/n]
alright
goodnight, sergeant :)
One minute passes. Then another, before he types back:
[11:25pm | sergeant choi]
Goodnight, Y/N.
Seungcheol texts you right on the dot at 1900 hours that he’s outside your building. Not one minute too late or early.
You’ve changed your outfit at least three times before receiving it, with your thoughts spiraling into a sweaty panic at the fact that you’re really about to go on a date with the Sergeant Choi Seungcheol. Somehow, just somehow, you’ve gotten this far, and you hadn’t actually mentally prepared yourself enough by the time Friday arrived.
Your room looks like an absolute crime scene. There’s an explosion of clothes and hangers tossed all over your bed and a pile of rejected accessories that didn’t make the final cut. The first outfit you tried on was too casual. The second one made you look like you were trying too hard. And the third felt dangerously close to “rookie trying to seduce her superior”, which absolutely cannot be the vibe that you’re going with tonight. The fourth one, which you have on right now, is much more… balanced, you hope.
You give a long stare at yourself in the mirror. The outfit you have on isn’t anything too fancy𑁋a pair of jeans, a fitted blouse that flatters your figure without seeming like you tried too hard, and a simple leather jacket. You scramble to grab your keys and bag before you let the overthinking catch up.
Because this isn’t a meeting in the briefing room, or a field questioning.
This is a date. An actual real-life date.
When the door swings open, the cool evening air strikes you in the face as you step outside. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Seungcheol’s car waiting under a flickering streetlamp, with the man of the hour himself leaning against the hood of the car with his arms crossed loosely around his chest, posture relaxed yet still manages to scream authority.
He’s wearing a pair of white slacks, hands casually shoved in his pockets, and a short-sleeved black button down with two buttons unclasped at the collar. His dark hair is in its natural state𑁋a soft fringe with a few strands falling naturally over his forehead. It makes him look more unfairly softer. Handsome in a way that’s quietly dangerous. Less Sergeant Choi; more Choi Seungcheol.
He looks up the second he hears your footsteps, stiffening up immediately and approaching you steadily. As he walks, his gaze takes you in𑁋from down to your boots and back up to your eyes. And almost imperceptibly, something in his expression shifts, as if the tightness frequently coiled around him at work loosens just from the sight of you alone. You feel the heat of anticipation crawl up your body the second you both land in front of each other.
“Rookie,” Seungcheol greets simply.
You lift your chin to meet his eyes, a subtle smirk playing at your face. “Sergeant.”
A beat of silence passes. Then he clears his throat.
“You look…” he starts, gaze dipping back down and up again. “...nice.”
Your smirk widens just a fraction. The compliment comes out so stiff, almost like he had to forcibly pry it out of his system.
“Nice?” You fold your arms over your chest in mock disappointment. “Is that all I get?”
A flush creeps up at his nape, almost invisible to the naked eye under the glow of the streetlamp above. He lets an exhale out of his nose like he knows you’re testing his patience on purpose and that he would have to deal with it for the rest of the night.
Seungcheol takes another appreciative look over you.
“You look beautiful.”
You swear you nearly choke on your spit at that, the teasing draining out of your face.
“Wow.” Your voice cracks up into a squeaky octave, a sound between a half-choke and a half-laugh breaching out of your lungs like your brain couldn’t process what he just said. “I𑁋Who are you and what did you do with Sergeant Choi?”
“I’m not your sergeant right now.”
“Old habits never die,” You say playfully while brushing past him and to his car, with him following closely behind you. “I’ll still call you it, regardless. Kinda sexy, isn’t it?”
You say it like a joke.
And you absolutely do not mean it as a joke.
Seungcheol freezes mid-motion in opening the door for you, finger tightening around the frame of the door. A low curse rumbles out of his breath𑁋partially annoyance maybe, although you wouldn’t be here if he was exactly annoyed. But amusement? Definitely.
He shuts the door once you fully climb inside, before walking around the hood of the car and getting in.
The car rumbles underneath you as Seungcheol pulls away from your building. The streetlamps illuminating the night pass by the window in streaks of golden paint. Neither of you say anything for the first few blocks that you drive by, and the silence filling the space makes you feel a lot less confined and rather… settled.
You steal the first glance at him.
Seungcheol is driving with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping rhythmically on his thigh. His sleeve has ridden up just slightly to show the obvious hint of tense muscle on his forearm, plus revealing the completely healed scar underneath from the arson case. The thought of what happened on that day used to haunt you with guilt, but now you feel like you’re allowed to look at it. Perhaps even honour it if he’d let you.
“Where are we going?” You finally ask him.
Seungcheol turns the wheel smoothly and simply answers, “Somewhere quiet.”
“Hmm… suspicious.”
“You’re suspicious of everything.”
“I’m a cop.”
“So am I,” he retorts. “You wanted a date. This is me trying.”
“Trying,” You repeat, letting the word stretch mischievously through the air. “When was the last time you went on a date, Sergeant?”
Seungcheol remains silent for a moment. Outside, the city bleeds into view. The night life is as beautiful as always, yet your eyes linger only on the man right next to you.
“I’m out of practice,” he admits quietly, almost sheepish.
Your mouth drops open, eyes widening in disbelief. “Sergeant Choi Seungcheol is… out of practice with dating?”
“Work got in the way,” he deadpans in response. “You know the story.”
You hum softly, leaning back in your seat and allowing his words to surround you. Because you do know the story, probably more than anyone else. You remember the unguarded smile he had in those photos in his office, a smile that’s rare to see on his face nowadays. You remember the story of his former partner and how that fateful night changed the entire trajectory of his career, his entire being. How it turned him into the protocol-abiding, hollowed-out, detached officer the whole precinct is intimidated by𑁋the version you first met of him.
And you remember thinking how he uses all of those memories as evidence against himself.
“When you say you’re out of practice, what… what do you mean exactly?”
Seungcheol takes in one long, laboured breath. He brings the car to a steady stop at a red light, which illuminates crimson over his features.
“I can’t control it.”
The confession lands softly as a feather between the two of you. You study his side-profile carefully. He can feel your eyes burning into him from the side, but he can’t get himself to look at you. Not when he’s still driving and genuinely, genuinely, trying not to fuck this up with you.
Slowly, you sneak your hand onto his side, placing it right over the one on his thigh. His hand is bigger compared to yours, but your warmth seeps into his bones as if you’re delicately cradling his heart in your hold. There’s a momentary twitch from his fingers under yours, yet he doesn’t fight it. With you, there’s nothing to fight. No crime to punish.
“Don’t control it then,” You tell him gently, curling your hand more into his. “Be reckless for once. Like me. With me.”
The weight of your words settle atop his shoulders. It rests there patiently, waiting.
And when the traffic light flickers to green, he steps on the gas with a pondering look. Then, in a moment so casually deliberate, he faces his palm upward, and allows his fingers to intertwine with yours officially. The action is louder than any siren screaming from miles away.
The rest of the drive melts into silence.
Seungcheol kills the engine the second he parks. He’s taken you to a secluded section of the city waterfront. There’s almost no nearby cars, a couple of unbothered figures trailing down the bank, only the presence of the moonlight casting ribbons across the dark waters. You’re hardly ever used to this kind of peace now, since you’ve been so used to the noise of traffic and dispatch constantly radioing about ongoing pursuits and calls.
It’s strange to see the world like this.
Neither of you are in a rush to get out. But when the moment ends, Seungcheol reluctantly releases your hand and steps out of the car, striding instinctively to your side to open your door. It’s like a new protocol for him.
When you step out, the fresh scent of the waterfront flows through your nostrils and the cool air kisses against your skin. Seungcheol sticks to your side when you climb out, close enough that your chest almost brushes his as you turn toward him. He meets your eyes warily.
“You okay?” he asks.
You nod, offering him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. This… this is nice.”
The corners of his mouth faintly twitch up at that.
“Okay,” he replies relievedly. “Because I’m basically winging the rest of this.”
You hit him lightly in the chest, rolling your eyes. “You’re doing great, Seungcheol.”
Seungcheol catches your wrist reflexively before you can fully pull your hand away from his chest, thumb absentmindedly caressing over your pulse point there, like he’s checking to see if your heart is racing as fast as his. Then he embraces your fingers once again.
“You’re easy to please tonight, aren’t you, rookie?”
You wiggle a teasing brow. “Very much so, Sergeant.”
His head shakes with a chuckle as he steps past you to grab a bag from the backseat of the car, still holding your hand while doing so. The next thing you know, the two of you are silently trailing down the narrow pathway of the waterfront. Only a few dim lampposts bathe the area every few metres, a few benches sitting nearby, accompanied with a light breeze that carries with it the subtle scent of algae from the water.
Seungcheol takes you to a lone bench that sits peacefully under an overgrown ornamental tree, lit up by a singular lamppost that appeared the brightest out of each one you passed. You sit down first and he follows after, his thigh pressed up warmly against yours.
The sounds of the bag rustling perks your ears up curiously, and you watch Seungcheol take out what seems to be a container of homemade gimbap and two cans of beers. Your mouth drops in awe as you take in the colourful sight before you.
“Did you…” You lean forward, peering into the container as if it would disappear if you blink. “Did you make this?”
Seungcheol shrugs, nudging the container to you. The gimbap is cut into perfect slices, each revealing layers of bright orange carrots, sunny yellow pickled radish, rice, and what looks like seasoned bulgogi.
“Learned it from my mother,” he answers, almost self-consciously. “Haven’t made it in a while, so I thought of trying again.”
The mention of his mother seems to soften his features. It makes your chest tighten a little.
You steal a piece of gimbap and plop in your mouth, and immediately, the flavours hit you right in the gut. You taste the savoury beef, the subtle sweetness of the pickled radish, the traces of sesame oil in the rice. It’s good. Like, really good. Way better than most convenience store ones you’ve had. A hum of approval leaves you mid-chew. Seungcheol watches you expectantly from the side.
“Good?” he questions promptly.
You nod as you swallow, a smile lifting at your lips. “It’s great, Sergeant.” Then you take it upon yourself to pick up another piece and offer it to him. “Open up.”
Seungcheol’s dark eyes flit between the gimbap and your face, looking almost stunned like no one has ever hand-fed him in his life. Hesitating, he parts his mouth open, just enough for you to slide the gimbap past his lips, your fingertip accidentally grazing upon his lower lip for a moment.
His eyes lock on yours as he chews. The dim lamplight softens the sharp angles of his face you’re used to seeing under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the precinct. You watch the way his eyes flutter to a close, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, only a low mmh of satisfaction leaving him.
When he opens his eyes back open, it doesn’t take long for the flutters in your stomach to crawl its way back up your throat, a fit of giggles tumbling out of you before you can stop it. Seungcheol swears his brain short-circuits at the sound, and one corner of his lips lift up higher than the other.
“What?” he asks warily, arching up a curious brow.
“Nothing.” You wave a panicked, dismissive hand in front of him, before covering your face in embarrassment. “You just… You look cute.”
He lets out a low, incredulous scoff. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth.
“No one’s ever called me cute since I was ten,” he mutters sheepishly.
“Well, I hereby claim the executive rights to call you cute whenever I please,” You declare, dropping your hands from your face to point a playful, accusatory finger at his chest. “Court adjourned, Sergeant. You can’t run away now.”
Seungcheol catches your wrist before you can pull away. You freeze mid-laugh, eyes widening a little when you notice he doesn’t let go instantly. Instead, he tugs you forward so that any remaining space between you both is erased. Your breath hitches loudly𑁋he smirks faintly at your reaction.
“You forget that I’m your superior?” he jests lowly.
Tilting your head amusedly, you allow your finger to trace down his chest, causing him to suck in a breath as you drift lower, pausing just at his ribs.
“You’re my superior at the precinct,” You tell him teasingly, heat dragging through your words. “But who’s really been in charge when we’re not on-call?”
You, Seungcheol answers in his head. And the worst part is that he knows it’s true.
Seungcheol remains entirely still, like a cat caught his tongue and tied it into a hopeless knot. When your gaze roams over his face, a pleased look crosses over your features, and you lean into to place a quick chaste kiss to his lips.
“Relax,” You assure him, separating yourself out of his grasp to grab your can of beer. “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to, of course.”
He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, watching you take a sip from your can without any care in the world. “Unbelievable.”
Time passes by slowly after this. The two of you remain sitting side-by-side, quietly eating the remaining gimbap while the water laps gentle waves ahead to fill the silence. You cross your legs atop the bench, knees brushing his, swirling around the can of beer in your grasp contemplatively. You feel your thoughts circling around you.
You turn towards Seungcheol intriguingly.
“Can I ask why you wanted to be in the police force?”
Seungcheol keeps his focus ahead, but you can tell the question caught him off-guard from the way he leans back against the bench. You don’t push even further than that, not wanting to open up any old scars. The breeze picks up a few strands of his hair.
“My dad was a cop,” he tells you. “Used to stay up at night waiting for him to come home, because he’d tell me all these stories. I guess you can say I was fascinated by it𑁋I always told him I wanted to be like him when I grew up.”
A faint smile twitches at his face at the memory.
“When I turned seventeen, he taught me how to shoot a gun,” he continues. “He’d sneak me into the practice range at the department. He also let me ride beside him too during graveyard shifts without telling my mother. It was… God, it was so fun.”
Seungcheol traces over the rim of the can. The dim light captures the sparkle in his eyes as he continues to speak fondly of his father.
“Reality hit me hard the second I got into this job,” he mutters quietly. “Sometimes I wish my father warned me about the things I’d see in this line of work.”
You take in his words carefully. “Did you ever think about quitting?”
“Many times.”
“And?”
“You get both good days and bad days,” Seungcheol answers simply. “I thought it was worth it to try and keep that balance even if it cost a part of me.”
You faintly smile at that. You understand what he’s trying to say𑁋what it means to sacrifice a part of yourself for the job, for the people and city you swore to protect, for the version of justice you still believe in even when the world keeps trying to prove you wrong.
Perhaps you’re at that point of realisation that you’ve almost sacrificed a part of yourself too: your defiance. Especially during the time you got suspended.
“I joined because I was angry,” You confess suddenly.
Seungcheol lifts his head from your words, not responding yet. A curious look washes over his face.
“I got jumped when I was in high school,” You continue on, the memory flashing visions through your gaze making you tighten your around the can. “Three seniors, two guys and a girl. They got all pissed when I reported them for selling pills behind the school. They cornered me one day𑁋broke my wrist, split my lip, kicked me in the ribs. Classic power trip bullshit. Nothing fatal, thankfully.”
Seungcheol’s heart nearly punches a hole through his chest. He doesn’t interrupt yet, but you sense his shoulders squaring and his jaw ticking. The easy atmosphere from a few minutes before is still there, but underneath it all is a little more… it’s darker. Anger, maybe, but not at you. Never at you.
The memory grows within you, sending discomforting chills up and down your skin.
“The police were, uh… called in,” You resume languidly. “But they dismissed it all with just a slap to the wrist for it simply being a ‘teenage misunderstanding’. And I… I didn’t even get a fucking apology from any of them. All I got was being called the unstable one who couldn’t let it go after graduation.”
Seungcheol bites down at his bottom lip. “Where are they now?”
You shrug, noncommittal. “I don’t know. Heard one of the guys got married last year. The girl is… She’s doing fine, I guess. It stopped mattering after all this time.”
Seungcheol releases a long-winded breath.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a while.
“Don’t be.” The laugh that leaves you comes off forced and dismissive. “It’s all in the past now. I’m fine.”
“Still,” he cuts back in, tone fierce but voice calm as always. You can tell the memory is getting to him. “No one should have put their hands on you like that.”
There’s no pity in his eyes. Just plain, unadulterated understanding. It’s almost terrifying seeing how calm and collected he seems to be on the surface, when under all that armour of his it can be quite apparent that he wears his heart on his sleeve𑁋but that’s a sight only for your eyes to see. His heart isn’t the type to announce itself, unlike yours.
Yet two opposite hearts who have seen ghosts can easily recognise each other.
“Are you still mad?” Seungcheol inquires quietly.
You chuckle despite yourself. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Means you haven’t given up.”
You narrow your eyes conspicuously at him. “You used to get all pissy at me for being emotional and go on entire tangents saying how feelings cloud judgment. What changed?”
“I still stand by it,” he admits quietly. “Blind emotion gets people killed. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”
“So, what𑁋are you saying you like my anger now, Sergeant?”
“Your feelings didn’t make you blind,” Seungcheol answers assertively. “If anything, it made you… see everything more clearly. And that’s exactly why I think you still deserve your badge, even if others say otherwise. And I…”
His voice trails off, hesitating for a heartbeat before he lets his dark eyes meet yours, locking there with a gaze so intense it has your breath hitching. Then a rueful look crosses over his features.
“...I want to be someone who stands beside your fire.”
The confession is soft, but the weight of it feels as heavy as a boulder hitting you square in the chest. For a moment, you can’t speak, the words at the end of your tongue being swallowed back down your throat.
And instead of trying to find those words again, you lean in and kiss him.
Seungcheol meets you halfway immediately, not even hesitating to bring a hand up to cradle your neck and pull you in deeper. Your fingers slide up his side before splaying widely over the wide planes of his chest over his shirt, right over the pounding of his heart. The slow drags of his mouth against yours sends heat pooling down into your stomach, every low sigh escaping him as the kiss deepens intensifying your need even more.
His thumb brushes delicately along the column of your throat, pressing down just enough at your pulse point for him to smirk against your lips as he feels how fast it’s racing for him. He tilts his head slightly, adjusts his body more forward on the bench so his thigh slides in between yours. You gasp into his mouth at the sensation; he drinks it down like it belongs to him.
The kiss only breaks away when you both need air. Your forehead softly presses to his.
“I want you,” You whisper breathlessly, your voice losing itself into the night. “I want you so badly, Sergeant.”
“You have me,” he replies hoarsely, sending chills down your spine at the gravel of his tone. “How do you want me, rookie?”
You pull away just enough to meet his dark, blown-out pupils, flitting momentarily to his kiss-bitten lips. Then you lean close to his ear, your breath tickling against his skin.
“I want you to ruin me,” You say with a wicked grin. “Properly.”
That earns you a low curse from him.
“Fuck, rookie,” he breathes out, crashing his lips back onto yours desperately. “Get in the car. Now.”
The moment your shoes are kicked off in Seungcheol’s place, his lips immediately lock onto yours.
It isn’t rough𑁋not yet𑁋but soft enough to have you melting into complete putty in his arms. He doesn’t shove you against the wall as you half-expected from restraint, but merely only taking patient, deliberate steps down what seems to be the hallway leading towards his bedroom. Every few steps he pauses to kiss you deeper, slower; and somewhere along the journey, your leather jacket falls off your shoulders and down to the floor.
When you reach his bedroom, he doesn’t bother turning on any lights and lets the natural spill of the moonlight through the blinds paint white strips over the room and the two of you. Seungcheol backs you until the back of your knees hit the bed behind, and with a tiny nudge of encouragement, you sit down right at the edge. He steps a half-step back, standing in between your parted legs.
You watch longingly as he unclaps each button of his shirt one-by-one, keeping a tender gaze locked on you the entire time. He doesn’t speak when the last button is undone, and he lets the shirt fall into a heap on the ground. You swallow down a lump in your throat as you roam over his near-bare form, taking in tiny ridges of scars: one on his left pec, a few others sliced across his ribs.
He stands there for a moment, letting you drink him in. But he’s met with your hand grabbing his, tugging him forward so that he’s practically looming above you and your eye-level with his lower half. Then you lean in to press the softest of kisses to one of the scars that run diagonal over his lower abdomen, right above the waistband of his pants.
Seungcheol’s breath hitches. “Fuck, rookie… You don’t have to𑁋”
“I want to,” You cut him off firmly. “Let me.”
“Gonna make me lose it before I even fuck you𑁋”
You only trail higher from there, kissing the ones on his ribs, then to the one at his left pec where you teasingly linger, and finally, the one at his arm. A smile graces your face when you meet his lips once more, his hands already trailing underneath your shirt until he’s tugging it over your head and letting it join his on the floor.
His fingers trail up your chest, cupping your breast over your bra carefully. “Can I take these off too?”
You don’t answer him verbally and instead take it upon yourself to reach behind to unhook your bra. His eyes darken the moment the straps fall off your shoulders and the bra falls away to the floor. Moonlight catches the curve of your breasts, the way your nipples tightens instantly under his heated gaze.
“Goddamn𑁋you’re fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, thumb brushing over your breast before cupping it fully, teasing the peak between his fingers. “Lie back, baby. Wanna take my time with you.”
You sink back into the mattress with Seungcheol following suit, his body caging you in as he hovers above you without breaking eye contact, careful not to put all his weight on you.
He starts with your mouth again, before slowly trailing to your jaw, down to the column of your throat, to your collarbones. As he reaches your breasts, he kisses along the curves for a moment then sucks the peak into his mouth, which makes you arch into him. You thread your hands in his hair like you’re trying to mold him into you.
“Oh𑁋Sergeant𑁋”
Seungcheol hums darkly. His hands roam possessively across your ribs and down your stomach, blindly reaching for the button on your jeans.
“You like that, huh?” he murmurs with a faint chuckle. “Love it when your Sergeant worships you like this?”
You nod insistently, unable to form words as he lavishes the same attention to your other breast. Next, he’s kissing down the valley in between, leaving trails of wet heat and praise while his mouth meets your sternum, your ribs, then to the soft skin of your stomach.
“Can I taste you, baby?” Seungcheol asks roughly, pulling away to look at you. Even under the moonlight, you see the way his cheeks are flushed from everything that’s been happening. His thumb draws soothing circles on your hip.
You swallow hard.
“God, yes,” You plead, voice hardly a pitch above a whisper. “Please… taste me, Sergeant.”
The title makes his jaw tick. A low, approving sound tumbles out of his throat as he presses a thankful kiss below your navel. “Such a good girl for me.”
He fumbles with the buttons of your jeans, and you lift your hips without even being told. Seungcheol hooks onto the waistband and drags down your pants along with your underwear. The cool air of the room grazes upon your newly exposed skin and the wetness of your folds, and it’s almost enchanting the way the gift between your legs is already glistening for him to beautifully unwrap.
He brackets your thighs with his broad shoulders, urging you to spread wider. Then he just… stares, his cock hardening even more at the sight of you open for him. Your clit pulses visibly under his gaze, the heat of his breath ghosting directly over where you need him most.
“Jesus… this pretty pussy is soaked,” Seungcheol rasps, running a gentle finger through your slit, which forces you to almost clamp around him. But he forces you back open. “All this for me?”
You can only whimper in response, fingers twisting into the sheets.
“Words, sweetheart.”
“Y-Yes! All for you, Sergeant…”
That undoes him right there like a gunshot to the heart. Seungcheol drags a firm tongue through your folds, and the first proper taste of you has a guttural groan spilling out of him, the vibration going straight to your cunt.
Your hips jerk up instinctively, yet he plants a firm hand on your stomach to keep you still. He licks you again, flattening his tongue to lap a stripe from your entrance and to the swollen bud of your clit. Broken moans tumble out of you as he continues to devour you𑁋going from kitten licks to full on sucks at your bud that has you pulling desperately at his hair.
“My greedy fuckin’ rookie…” he mumbles against you, nose brushing your folds. “Letting me eat this sweet pussy… Gonna feel so good around my cock, baby…”
“Cheol𑁋please𑁋”
Seungcheol pulls away enough to let a string of saliva and your wetness connect his bottom lip to your clit. God, he’s drunk by how needy you are right now, and he’s really trying to restrain himself. But he knows he’s losing the battle𑁋there’s no point in trying to hold back anymore when he’s spent the past how many years doing so.
So he answers by diving back in, messier this time, and slides two thick fingers inside of you. You cry out his name from the stretch, tugging at his hair as your walls grip him perfectly. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a torturous pace, while the filthy wet sounds of him tongue-fucking you fill his bedroom.
“Sergeant𑁋ngh𑁋I’m close!”
“Cum on my tongue, baby,” he commands, voice muffled against your clit. “Let go for me. I’m right here.”
Just from that, your vision grows white as your orgasm snaps like a string and molten runs between your legs. A broken cry rips out of your throat, thighs threatening to close around his head but he pins them back down with his stupidly large forearms. Seungcheol groans lowly, yet keeps lapping at you until you’re whimpering from overstimulation, before finally pulling away with a few soothing open-mouthed kisses to your mound.
He slowly crawls his way up your body, planting kisses up your skin like he’s mapping every inch he claimed. When he reaches your mouth, you taste yourself on his tongue, letting your hands roam over his backside. You feel his aching cock through his pants nudge your thigh, but he doesn’t rush it.
“You okay?” Seungcheol asks softly.
Your heart is still racing as he buries his head into the crook of your neck to breathe you in for a few moments. When he hovers back above you, his hair is sticking out in all sorts of places from when you pulled them earlier, and his eyes are still dark with want yet softened with something tender.
You smooth away some wild strands of his hair before cupping his face in your hand.
“I’m okay,” You whisper, tracing a finger down his jawline. “I… I want more.”
His eyes widen. “Yeah?”
“I want to ride you, Sergeant.”
The tension hangs thickly between you two. Seungcheol stares at you for a minute, as if you’ve physically rewired his entire system with just six words. An exhale of disbelief leaves him.
“Such a brat,” he quips with a chuckle. “Are you sure?”
You respond to that with a gentle push to his chest which forces him on the bed, pulling you with him until you’re straddling him. A hiss leaves his lips when your core meets his still-clothed erection through the fabric of his pants. His hands settle your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to fight the urge to flip you back over. But he doesn’t𑁋just watches you through batted eyelashes and lets himself surrender to your touch.
You lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You’d like that, huh? Let your good little rookie take what she wants?”
A shudder runs through his entire body.
“I𑁋Yes,” Seungcheol croaks gravelly, voice cracking at the edges. “Yeah, baby. Use me.”
With a grin, you travel your focus down to his slacks. A wanton sigh escapes him when you touch him over the hard line of him through the fabric, abs flexing when you undo the button. He lifts his hips for you to be able to tug his pants and boxers down until they’re bunched around his thick thighs. But he kicks it off, fully freeing himself now.
Your mouth waters and your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight of him all naked and bare. He’s… thick, unsurprisingly. Already leaking precum at his flushed tip, the wetness glistening under the moonlight streaming in through the blinds. There’s a vein that runs along his length and pulses with every anticipatory kick of his heartbeat.
He hisses with clenched teeth as you wrap a hand around him. You give him a long, torturous stroke, letting your thumb drive through the precum already trailing down his dick. He has to force himself to keep still as you continue to stroke him languidly.
“Patience, Sergeant,” You coo wickedly. “You told me to use you, didn’t I?”
He did. The reminder sinks in his bones with resignation. His head falls back, exposing the clammy skin of his throat the moment your mouth presses an experimental kiss to the shaft of his cock. His skin immediately sets itself ablaze, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the sheets.
Your lips seal around the head, licking up every drop he’s been leaking for you with your hand stroking the rest of him. A subtle twitch of his hips into your mouth betrays him before he catches it, and Seungcheol mumbles out a weak apology.
“Gonna make me cum before I’m even inside of you, rookie𑁋shit𑁋” he stutters out raggedly.
You pull away with a wet pop, replacing your mouth with your hand as you prowl back up his body, pressing kisses along the trembles of his skin. When you’re straddling him again, his hands fly down to your hips to hold you steady. You brace both hands on his shoulders as you roll just once to drag your soaked folds over his length.
A low, needy groan rumbles out of him. His thumbs press bruising crescents into your skin. You reach between your bodies to angle his tip right at your entrance.
“Tell me you want it, Sergeant,” You whisper shakily.
“I want it,” Seungcheol responds pleadingly, gazing up at you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes that has your heart melting. “Want𑁋shit𑁋to see you fuck yourself on me, rookie, please.”
That’s all you need to have you sinking down on him. Slowly but surely, your cunt swallows his length inch by inch until your hips are flush against his and there’s nowhere left to go.
For a moment, you pause to just breathe him in. He’s so deep inside that you swear you feel him in your stomach. You clench around him tentatively, and the way his entire body jerks from that movement alone has heat coursing through your skin. Then you start to move more confidently, lifting your hips up only to slam back down harder than the last.
“Like this?” You gasp aloud, rolling your hips in circles to chase the feeling of him hitting your walls.
“God, yes𑁋just like that, baby, just like that…” Seungcheol looks down to where you’re both joined together, watching himself disappear inside of you over and over again before flitting back up. “So pretty like this𑁋riding your Sergeant’s cock like it belongs to you….”
The slick sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room entirely. Your moans echo off the walls as he thrusts his hips up to meet you. One of his hands caresses up your sides while the other kneads at your breast, twisting at your sensitive nipple while your nails dig harder into the flesh of his back.
You feel the burn forming in your thighs as you continue to ride him, but you don’t dare slow down𑁋can’t slow down𑁋especially not when he’s peering up at you with hazy eyes that make you feel both worshipped and ruined at the same time. Every time you slam back down on him, it earns you more of those beautiful, sinful grunts of his.
Seungcheol’s hands splay over your backside, tugging you forward so your chest meets his and his lips grazes the skin of your throat. He’s fucking up into you mercilessly now, driving his cock inside a particular spot that punches the air out of your lungs and has stars bursting behind your eyes.
“You close, rookie?” he breathes, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.
“So close, Cheol𑁋Sergeant𑁋fuck𑁋”
“Cum for me again,” he urges, the command in his voice building up your second orgasm even faster. “Make a mess on your Sergeant’s cock𑁋let me feel you, please𑁋”
Like a wildfire exploding through you, your back arches as your walls spasm around him. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you ride through your orgasm, and the wave of it crashes into you more harder than the first. Seungcheol finds his own rhythm stuttering as well, his own release chasing after him.
“Gonna𑁋shit𑁋where do you want me?” he babbles desperately. “Inside? On you? Tell me, baby, quick𑁋”
“Inside,” You gasp out, looping your arms around his neck. “Fill me up, Sergeant.”
It takes one last devastating thrust up into you to have him spiraling over the edge. You feel his warmth flooding you to the hilt, his entire body locking up as he comes hard, a guttural groan shredding out of him while he grinds through the heat of his release. He presses his face into the crook of your neck as the adrenaline slowly dissolves away and his breathing starts to slow.
Both of you remain there together, your heartbeats in tandem steadying back to a softer pace. You don’t bother getting off him yet because he’s practically clutching onto you as if afraid you’ll disappear, and you find your hands drawing reassuring circles over the sweaty skin of his back.
After a minute, Seungcheol eases back to look at you. His hair is a mess from your fingers and a flush still painted on his cheeks. He looks so wrecked in the most beautiful way possible. His eyes study over you carefully. The worry in his features makes your chest squeeze tightly.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, caressing a fingertip over your bottom lip. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You shake your head with a bashful smile. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I promise.”
Relief washes over him instantly. Then carefully, he plants his hands at your hips to help you lift yourself off of him, sliding his softening cock out of you. The slow slide of him leaving you makes you both inhale sharply, and there’s fresh trickles of him running down the inside of your thighs.
Seungcheol glances down momentarily and immediately regrets it, nostrils flaring at the messiness between your legs before he has to force his focus back up. He cages you into his arms and adjusts your positions until you’re laying down on the bed, watching him closely while he grabs a tissue from his bedside table and begins to wipe the evidence of your shared releases.
So this is what Sergeant Choi Seungcheol looks like after all the armour is successfully stripped. The man with the armour has edges as sharp as a blade and a posture held up from years of protocol branded into his spine. The man without the armour had just fucked you like the world was ending and is now cleaning you up with trembling hands that have been trained to have an iron grip on guns.
After he disposes of the tissue, Seungcheol climbs back into bed without a word yet and brings the sheets up over your naked bodies.
“Can I hold you?” he asks first.
You nod sleepily. He wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you into him so that your face is pressed into the planes of his chest. A contented exhale escapes out of you as you let his warmth entangle you.
His chin rests atop your head. “Still with me?”
“Mhm,” You mumble, nuzzling closer into him. “Just… processing.”
He huffs out a laugh that vibrates through his chest. “Yeah. Me too.”
Comfortable silence engulfs the room for a few minutes, interrupted occasionally by the distant sound of sirens coming from the outside world. It makes both of you tense for a second before relaxing again.
Then you finally speak, “This changes everything, you know.”
Seungcheol’s chest deflates. “I know.”
“People are going to start speaking about us again𑁋”
“I don’t care,” he deadpans firmly. “Let them talk their bullshit. I’m done pretending.”
You lift your head up to see his unnervingly calm yet exhausted expression.
“You’re serious?” You press incredulously. “You’re not worried about tanking your career for me? For us?”
“The only thing I’m worried about is you waking up in the morning and regretting this.”
You blink at that. The honest words hang thickly in the air between you both. But you don’t let the thorn prod at your heart; instead, you reach in to cup his cheek, watching his eyelids flutter to your touch.
“I don’t,” You tell him with quiet certainty. “I don’t regret this at all.”
The corners of his mouth lift up faintly.
“Good.” Seungcheol tightens his hold around you until there’s no room left for regretful thoughts, a hand settling possessively on your lower back. “Now sleep, rookie. We’ll deal with the wolves later.”
“Mmh. Still so bossy, Sergeant.”
“Habit.”
You huff out a hushed breath of relief into his chest.
Seungcheol still finds himself awake as if he’s patrolling a graveyard shift a while after you fall asleep in his arms. Because tomorrow, the world will remind him of every rule of protocol he broke. Tomorrow, the two of you will walk into the precinct like any normal day pretending that you didn’t lose yourselves in pleasure the night before. Tomorrow, you’ll probably brush his hand against his when you walk past each other in the hallway
But tonight, there’s no more walls in between you both anymore. Tonight, he’s with the woman who has fully and irrevocably stripped him of his armour.
So yeah. Let the wolves bite. You’ve got each other now to fight them.
And for the first time in years, sleep comes easy for Seungcheol.
— THREE MONTHS LATER.
“Unit 17, what’s your 10-20?”
The dispatch crackles through your earpiece. You clutch the gun tighter in your grip, jaw clenched, your heart hammering like a pounding drum beneath your bulletproof vest.
“10-20. North side of the building, in the alley between 23rd and Sangnam,” You reply sternly through the radio. “Possible visual on suspect movement. Waiting for backup.”
You didn’t expect to find yourself in this situation in the depths of the Devil’s hour. A call was made about multiple gunshots coming from inside an abandoned factory building on the secluded street on the outskirts of the city. It was supposed to be a quick check-in, a standard recon. It’s become a routine after being recently promoted from your rookie status and completing your FTO training three months ago. But the second you stepped out of your cruiser, you felt your instincts rise up like the hairs on the back of your neck.
Now, you’re silently positioned behind a dumpster in the alleyway, a dim streetlamp above flickering under your movements. Your eyes squint through a broken window, but the building is too dark inside to properly see anything, yet your ears are catching every sound you could hear.
A slight creak of a floorboard. A scruff within the shadows.
A click of what you believe is a gun that isn’t yours.
“Tactical unit 13 en route, five minutes,” the comms hisses in your ears. “Converging from all points.”
A lot can happen in five minutes.
Your eyes flutter shut as you take in a deep inhale. It’s slow, calming in a way, just like they taught you back in the police academy𑁋draw in through the nose, hold, then out through the mouth. For a moment, the noise around you fades and your senses sharpen instantly. Your thumb brushes against the safety of your pistol.
Five minutes is too damn long. And whatever the hell is inside that building certainly isn’t that patient.
You shake your head, reaching up to click your radio. “This is Unit 17. 10-20, northside access point. Approaching entry for visual confirmation.”
Static on the other line, like a brief moment of hesitation.
“Unit 17, confirm you are entering alone?”
You take in another breath. “10-4. Confirmed.”
You press your back against the wall. There’s a door right next to the window that’s been left slightly ajar, the lock crooked as if it’s been deliberately forced open. Lowering your gun, you cautiously reach in to test it gently with the tip of your boot. It creaks when you push it open a little more to be able to slip into the darkness. The acrid smell is what catches you at first𑁋like a mix of old oil and something moldy𑁋as the building has been forgotten for years, clearly. The beam from your flashlight catches glimpses of faded graffiti on the walls. Some seem to represent gang signs, others appear more like angry scribbles or political manifestos. Most of them are weathered from time.
One of them reads: NO GODS. NO COPS.
Your boots crunch on shards of broken glass as you step inside further. To your left, you see rows upon rows of empty shelves. To your right, your flashlight roams over some abandoned machinery that’s been left to rot for probably decades. It’s quiet, eerily so. Visually, there isn’t anything around you that looks out of the ordinary just yet.
“Unit 17, requesting… status report,” the dispatcher’s voice cuts in through comms. The signal is unstable. Shit.
You press the push-to-talk button on your radio, announcing, “Unit 17, speaking from the northside access corridor, groundfloor level. Advancing to ensure the area is secured. Updates on Task𑁋”
Suddenly, a loud bang of something crashing to the ground rips through the air, bouncing off the walls and making the ground below you shake. You immediately switch your flashlight off and duck behind a large pillar that stretches from the ceiling to the floor, holding your pistol up, adrenaline coursing through your body.
You wait.
Five seconds. Ten seconds.
The factory grows quiet again.
You take in another deep breath, before emerging from behind the pillar. Each step you carry forward is precise and steady, your combat boots barely grazing the floor, avoiding anything that might cause too much noise. Slowly, you head deeper into the heart of the abandoned factory, where you’re breathing in nothing but dust into your lungs.
Another sound echoes down the corridor ahead𑁋almost like the sound of something, or possibly even someone, scraping against the ground. Perhaps it’s only just the skitter of a rat, but whatever your gut is telling you says otherwise.
Then, you pause again. Because what you catch certainly isn’t for the faintest of heart.
When you gaze downwards, you spot a trail of blood on the floor. It’s dark, thick, and fresh. Your eyes follow closer, watching the trail lead up to an opened door. You click on your flashlight and sweep the beam into the room.
Another sound hits your ears. A low breath. Ragged and heavy. Then your light flickers over a something𑁋a figure𑁋slumped against the wall. Male, probably in his mid-thirties, his clothes torn and his skin pale. One of his hands rests his upper arm, where you spot a dark bloom of blood spreading through the sleeve and down his fingers. The man flinches when your flashlight hits him in the eyes, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing when he spots that you’re wearing a police uniform.
“Police,” You call out calmly to the man, kneeling down right beside him and reaching for your tourniquet. “Help is on the way, sir. Can you tell me who did this to you?”
He lets out a wet cough, lips trembling as he speaks, “Down the hall… packaging drugs… four of them… They’re armed…”
His words make your stomach twist into a knot. Drugs𑁋this is the narcotics case that’s been sending the narcotics department and detectives to the pits of hell recently. A case that’s been slowly buzzing fear around the city. The realisation that you’re possibly in the heart of it spreads dread through your veins.
A low groan leaves him when you finish wrapping the tourniquet around his wound, making sure it’s tied tightly so the bleeding stops. Then you reach over for your radio.
“This is Unit 17. Currently with a victim that has a GSW to the upper arm. Requesting medevac and expedited tactical units ASAP,” You repeat evenly into the radio. “The victim reports there are four armed suspects in the building packaging illegal narcotics.”
The radio gives you nothing but static in response, anxiously spiking up your pulse even more. Whatever the hell this concrete tomb is made of is eating the frequency alive.
You give the radio a frustrated shake, pressing your thumb harder on the button. “Dispatch, this is Unit 17, requesting 10-33. I repeat: there are four armed suspects in the building with a confirmed narcotics operation inside. Tactical backup requested urgently𑁋”
When the other end speaks in static once again, you fight the urge to tear your radio off and smash it to the ground. You take in a deep breath to cool down the way your thoughts are racing with pure adrenaline and panic.
Think, Y/N. Think.
You flit your focus back to the injured man. The colour is draining from his face fast. Leaning back in, you press two fingers at his pulse point. His pulse is relatively weak, but still steady. You force an exhale through your nose.
“Hey, stay with me, okay? Backup should be coming in any minute now.” His heavy, yet hopeful eyes peer back up to you. “Keep talking to me. You have any family we could contact after we get you out? Any place you can stay?”
He blinks slowly, as if your words sent him into a painful headrush of memories. “Got a sister… Her daughter is turning… um, five next week...”
You nod, forcing a small, encouraging smile that he probably can’t see due to the darkness. “That’s great. I’m going to make sure you’re there for that birthday cake, alright? I promise. Hang on for me.”
His fingers twitch against the tourniquet like he’s trying to reciprocate the promise. You catch the slightest hint of the corners of his lip lifting up from your words.
Shit. You can’t stay here. The tactical team is coming𑁋Seungcheol is coming𑁋in two minutes or maybe less, but all that time might as well turn endless when someone’s life is leaking onto the concrete and illegal narcotics are being loaded under your feet to be sold to God knows where.
The options flash through your mind: the first one is to wait, guard the victim, and pray to the heavens that the tactical unit arrives before he bleeds out or that the suspects finish loading and disappear into the night again. It’s the safer option; it abides protocol.
The second option is to move alone, with a dead radio, and neutralise the scene before it evaporates back into dead leads. It’s the option your gut and heart is practically screaming for you to do; it’s reckless, definitely stupid, and seems like a death wish. Exactly the thing you’d be chewed out for the millionth time by Seungcheol later… if there even is a later.
You already know which option you’re choosing. You chose it the second you decided to take this on alone. Because waiting feels like surrender, which is something your stubborn self has never been good at.
Rising up into a crouch, you lean back down to the injured man. “Stay here, don’t move, and keep pressure on the wound, okay? I’m going to make sure no one comes this way. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
His dim eyes meet yours in acknowledgement, before giving you the barest, most exhausted nod in return with whatever strength he can manage. Then you quietly rise up to your feet, bringing your gun and flashlight back up, and begin to make your way back into the cavernous corridor.
The smell of burnt plastic grows heavier with every step that you can almost taste it in the back of your throat. You move like a shadow within a shadow𑁋keeping your presence low, taking deliberate steps with your boots so you can avoid the crunch of glass or any other debris that could get you noticed. Up ahead, the hallway ends and bleeds out into a much larger and vast room, which seems to be the main production room. Unmistakably some sort of meth lab or fentanyl process room. Or possibly both. How have they been operating this quietly for so long?
You kill your flashlight entirely to let your eyes adjust to the weak strips of moonlight pouring in from the shattered high windows and duck behind a large industrial pallet leaning against a support column. The room opens up into an array of metal tables lined up in rows, shelves stacked up with red phosphorous jars, blister packs, and tons of empty two-litre soda bottles scattered all over the floor.
Four figures move methodically throughout the room as if they’ve done this a hundred times before. And they probably already have. Two of them are hunched over a table and sealing small plastic bags under a portable lamp, another one is busy loading the narcotics into a duffel bag. The fourth one, on the other hand, has an AR-15 slung over his body, finger resting near the trigger as he paces back and forth around the room like a bored guard dog.
“...hurry it up. We need to sell all this shit by dawn tomorrow.”
“Come press these fucking pills yourself if you’re in such a hurry then.”
Tired chuckles ripple out of the group. You can tell they’re being sloppy now, overconfident. That’s the thing about asshole criminals who think they’re both invisible and invincible.
Your brain immediately begins to map out everything that you were trained to do in a possible scenario like this: calculate the distance to the suspects, note cover points, and find exit routes.
Four suspects. One rifle. Three possible handguns. They’re standing about ten metres from your position. There’s two possible exit routes you can take in case anything goes wrong. But then again𑁋you’re outnumbered. Yet somewhere behind you, a man is bleeding out on the floor, and you promised him that you’d be back to make sure he sees his niece’s birthday.
The most dangerous one is clearly the one with the rifle, while the others barely glance up from their work. Rifleman seems to have a pattern with his rotations around the room, and you realise you have at least three seconds of opportunity with every turn he makes to ensure you have a direct, clear shot.
You wait until his next turn𑁋three, two, one𑁋and the second his back faces you, you take in a deep breath and move, standing up from your crouched position and raising your pistol.
“Police! Put your hands where I can see them! Drop your weapons now!”
All four heads snap around to you instantly. The entire room bursts into immediate chaos.
“Fucking cop!” the duffel bag man exclaims, already diving behind the nearest table for cover while yanking out a pistol that was hidden from view.
Rifleman acts the fastest𑁋he swings his AR-15 around as fast as lightning, already mashing his finger on the trigger before the barrel is even properly level to aim. You drop and roll away to the seek cover behind the industrial pallet as the first bullet rips through the air right where your head was, more rocketing in your direction like hail and slamming into the pallet with booming clangs that echo throughout the factory.
Your heart is slamming so hard against your chest enough to possibly crack a rib, because this is it𑁋this is the moment all the academy drills have prepared you for; the moment where protocol dies and survival takes hold. Your ear perks up from the sound of an empty magazine dropping to the floor. That’s your cue.
You use the half-second chance to step out from cover, align your pistol, and shoot two bullets into the rifleman’s direction before he could fully slam a fresh mag inside. One hits him in the shoulder, and the other splits him in half at centre mass. His body jerks hard and stumbles to the floor with a wet gurgle, his gun clattering away.
“Shots fired! Shots fired! Multiple armed suspects at the north main production room!” You wail into the radio, even if it’s useless at this point.
The moment is over when another handgun cracks from somewhere else, forcing you to flee back into cover as a bullet punches through the corner of the pallet and sends sawdust exploding in your face. Another ricochets close enough you feel the heat of it graze your cheek.You shift your position behind the thick support column. Your breath is ragged and heavy as sweaty beads of stress stream down your warm skin.
God dammit. You need to move.
Swallowing down your fears, you squeeze a ready finger to the trigger as you duck out of hiding, eyes locking on the next threat. One of the bag-sealers is closest to you now, and you don’t hesitate to open two shots of fire, sending a clean shot right through his upper thigh and another one lower on the same leg. He buckles instantly to the ground, blood already pooling down around him.
“Fuckin’ shit, my leg!” he bellows out in agony, rocking in pain. “You bitch, you shot me!”
“Stay the hell down!” You bark back, kicking his gun out of reach under the table as his screams of pain reverberate through the building.
That leaves two left.
You catch sight of the other bag-sealer’s head poking out from behind a couple of some abandoned chemical drums. He’s breathing hard, visible panic in both his eyes and in the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders, no visible weapon in his grasp. The duffel bag man, on the other hand…
…he’s charging toward you.
You barely have any time to act before his shoulder slams harshly into your midsection, sending you tumbling down and your gun scurrying across the dirty floor. The air is punched out of your lungs from the affliction, pain exploding through your chest as the man drives a knee into your ribs.
“Fucking cop cunt,” he hisses through his teeth, pressing his forearm down on your throat. He’s much bigger and stronger than you, and just the sheer size of him is enough to make it feel like a boulder is forcibly pinning you down. “Gonna break every bone in your pretty little body before I kill you.”
Your vision swims. Your gun is nowhere to be seen. His fist is already driven up and ready to drive down into your face. There’s no space. No time. But you still have some fight left in you.
And you use it to buck hard and crash a knee straight into his groin with whatever remaining strength you have left. His entire body seizes above you, face contorting in pain as some sort of animalistic wheeze tumbles out of his cracked lips, and his grip slips off your windpipe. It buys you enough time to shove two hands at his chest to have him rolling onto the concrete with a disgruntled curse.
You scramble to stand up to search for your pistol, but a hand grabs at your ankle and yanks you completely off balance. You hit the concrete hard, the impact worsening every possible bruised rib and sending fresh splinters of pain through your already screaming body. But with gritted teeth, you twist your foot and drive it directly into something solid𑁋his jaw. The man’s head snaps back with a splintering crack, his grip loosening around your ankle just enough for you to crawl away.
More black dots begin to swarm your vision as you manage to lunge out and grab your pistol. With shaky fingers, you steady the grip in your hand, just as the man reaches out for you again𑁋
𑁋before a blinding white light fills your vision directly in front of you.
But it isn’t a flashlight. It’s a tac light shining directly on you.
“Police!” a booming voice demands. “Get your fucking hands away from her!”
Even through the distortion ringing in your ears, it’s unmistakable who the voice belongs to. And… he seems to be alone.
The tac light of Seungcheol’s M4 carbine flits down to the duffel man on the ground, painting a red dot perfectly at the man’s chest.
“Put your hands behind your fucking head, asshole,” Seungcheol spits out angrily, squeezing a threatening finger at the trigger to urge him faster. God, his eyes are absolutely fuming. “I won’t tell you twice.”
With a groan, the duffel man finally complies and puts his hands behind his head. Seungcheol then draws his gun to where the other bag-sealer is still huddled with the chemical drums, his unarmed palms sticking out into the air.
“Out! Slow! Hands where I can see them now!” Seungcheol barks out sharply, every word leaving his lips laced with barely there restraint.
The bag-sealer stumbles forward on his knees and presses his cheek down into the filthy floor. “I’m down, I’m down𑁋please don’t shoot me𑁋”
Seungcheol doesn’t take his eyes off either of them for a long minute before directing his focus back to you. He slings the M4 behind his back and kneels by your side immediately, cups your face gently with a gloved hand and wipes a streak of blood from your temple.
“Baby𑁋fuck, talk to me,” he urges, voice softening as if all of his Sergeant steel had been stripped away upon seeing you. “Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? GSW? Stab?”
“Ribs… blunt force,” You rasp out airily, gripping onto his arm for support. “Fuck… Nicked at the head when I hit the ground.”
Seungcheol’s jaw locks so hard you can see the muscle visibly jump. He rips out his IFAK from his vest and presses a gauze pad to the gash above your brow. In the distance, boots pound louder and louder on the floor. The rest of the tactical team floods inside the main room all at once, their sharp commands overlapping over each other. Red dots sweep over the room like lasers, the sounds of handcuffs clicking reverberating through the air.
“Clear left! Clear right!”
“Four suspects! Three in custody, one DOA!”
“Officer down, priority one!” Seungcheol shouts aloud, not even letting his eyes trail away from you once to acknowledge the rest of the team coming in. “Possible internal injuries! Head laceration and no visible GSW!”
You wince as you try to sit up, but Seungcheol refuses to let you.
“Don’t. That’s an order,” he commands lowly, pressing a firm palm to your sternum to keep you flat on the ground. “You try to move one more inch on your own and I’ll cuff you to the gurney myself, rookie.”
You manage a weak smile at that. “Mmmh… sounds kinky, Sergeant.”
Seungcheol just shakes his head in playful disbelief at that, but he brings a hand up to softly cradle your cheek. Behind him, the sounds of flex cuffs are tied around the remaining suspects hands before they’re dragged away and out of sight. Someone loudly calls for the medic unit again. When a singular second passes, Seungcheol only sighs impatiently.
“Goddammit,” he mutters.
Then in the blink of an eye, he shifts his weight, sliding one arm under your shoulders and the other beneath your knees. You barely even register the shift until you find yourself being smoothly hoisted in the air and your temple is suddenly pressed to the hard planes of his chest.
“Sergeant, I can walk𑁋”
“No.” One word is all it takes. Final.
You don’t argue back after that, even if you want to. Seungcheol carries you away from the scene, not stopping until he’s slipping through the open metal door you opened earlier. When the cool air of the night hits your face as he takes you outside and towards a waiting ambulance, you flit your widened eyes around to the absolute chaotic scene of countless other cruisers parked nearby and other officers swarming to secure the area.
Seungcheol sets you down carefully on the retractable steps of the ambulance. His hands still refuse to leave you even as you’ve sat down, letting his body shield you from the noise. One stays cupped at the back of your neck like he doesn’t even trust gravity itself to keep you upright, while the other is braced by your waist. His tactical vest is covered in grime and spots of your blood, still rising and falling too fast from whatever the hell his mind just got dragged through.
You bring a hand of your own up wrap around his wrist in silent reassurance.
“Hey,” You murmur quietly, gazing up at him. “I’m okay.”
He gives you a long, pointed look. “No, you’re not, rookie.”
“...okay-ish, then?”
“No.”
A pained chuckle punches at your ribs from that. But then you barely get to take another breath of the outside air before another voice slices through chaos.
“What the fuck happened here?”
Ah. Lieutenant Hwang, of course. Both you and Seungcheol lift your eyes to see the man of the hour storming in your direction. He takes in the scene around him with a singular brutal sweep, before glancing at the way Seungcheol is practically hovering closely to you that doesn’t exactly scream protocol.
The man’s expression hardens instantly.
“Explain, officer.”
“She needs medical attention, Lieutenant,” Seungcheol cuts in firmly before you could even open your mouth.
Hwang shoots a warning glare at him. “I wasn’t speaking to you, Sergeant.”
Seungcheol doesn’t even blink at that. “If you cared enough, you’d make sure your officer is treated for her injuries so she can answer to whatever the hell you’re about to turn into a disciplinary lecture.”
The air between the two of them quickly becomes taut. You can feel it from where you’re sitting on the ambulance step, the tension cutting through the chatter of nearby officers and the rapid flashing of the red-and-blue lights from surrounding cruisers. A tension between two men of rank and ego who seem to be seconds away from tearing each other up in public.
You give a subtle squeeze to Seungcheol’s wrist. His shoulders visibly relax in the slightest hint. Before either of them could escalate the situation even further, you decide to open your mouth.
“I entered the building because of a suspicious activity call,” You explain hoarsely. “Northside access corridor on the ground floor. I heard movement inside, made a call to go investigate and found a victim with a GSW to the upper arm.”
Hwang’s attention cuts to you. “And?”
“And he told me there were four armed suspects inside packaging illegal narcotics.”
“And your first move was what, exactly?” he asks. “Rush four armed suspects by yourself? Turn this narcotics bust into a full-blown OIS clusterfuck?”
You swallow against the dryness in your throat, your ribs protesting against the movement.
“I had a victim bleeding out behind me and a live narcotics operation in front of me,” You tell him as calmly as possible, even if your own thoughts are ablaze with frustration. “Concrete interference wouldn’t push my radio through. I requested medevac and updates on the location of Sergeant Choi’s unit multiple times. No response. Just static. Everything’s on bodycam, Lieutenant. Review it.”
Hwang’s jaw tics. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It does,” Seungcheol interjects. “You just don’t like the answer.”
“Stand down, Sergeant.”
“She found the source site.” Seungcheol refuses to back down, taking another half-step between you and Hwang. “She identified it, kept a victim alive long enough for the tactical team to breach through smoothly, and handed you the centre of the operation on a fucking silver platter. Officer L/N made the best decision she could with the information she had.”
Now it’s Seungcheol’s turn to get stared down by you and Hwang. You, with surprise at how much he’s come to defend you with breaking protocol; on the other hand, Hwang is staring at him as if he’s grown a second head on his shoulders. Because at the end of the day: when protocol is clashed with the face of urgency, who wins?
Hwang looks like he might actually explode. His mouth is zipped so tight his lips might tear apart and burst open. But he’s smart enough to not do that in front of the entire department𑁋majority of the precinct is already watching anyway, even if they’re pretending not to be.
“I really am watching the legendary Sergeant Choi Seungcheol transition from nihilism to absurdism right before my eyes,” Hwang mutters backhandedly. “Are you forgetting your place because you’re… emotionally compromised? Broke protocol by separating from your team because your heart got in the way?”
Seungcheol stills at that. For a second, you think he might actually say something that’ll get him suspended, and the thought of it sends an anxious punch to your ribs. Instead, he just huffs out a snicker of disbelief as if he genuinely, genuinely can’t believe the shit he’s hearing right now. But Hwang isn’t wrong though𑁋is he emotionally compromised? Yeah, maybe he is. Maybe you both are. He isn’t the same Sergeant Choi Seungcheol that he was known as before.
“If keeping my officer alive and supporting the fact that she singlehandedly shut down a narcotics bust on her own makes me ‘emotionally compromised,” Seungcheol bites back harshly. “then write the report, Lieutenant. But don’t stand there and reduce my objectivity just because she made a decision under pressure and it worked.”
Hwang stares at him. You’re staring at him too, but for entirely different reasons. As he’s about to open his mouth to retort, a detective in the narcotics department dashes up to him, whispering into his ear something that you can’t exactly make out. But then you watch Hwang’s facial expression deflate like a sad balloon.
His gaze dances between you and Seungcheol as he asks the detective without looking away, “How much product?”
“We calculated an estimate of about twenty-three kilos, sir. Mostly fentanyl presses and crystals. First significant takedown in this quadrant in over a year.”
Hwang pokes a tongue at his cheek. Then he straightens his posture and gives a dismissive, curt nod to the detective.
“You maintained scene integrity and kept all evidence intact,” he speaks with a low, cutthroat tone. “Successfully neutralised three felons with one lethal. Nearly killed yourself in the process with your cowboy mindset. But the outcome…” He pauses hesitantly. “…speaks for itself.”
You blink at that, wondering if you heard the man correctly or if you’ve actually got some sort of concussion. It’s the closest thing to praise he has ever said to you. Hwang then visibly shifts his weight and turns his attention to the paramedics who have been hovering in the sidelines at a respectful distance.
“Get her to a hospital now,” he finally orders the EMTS and begins to turn on his heel. But he takes one last glance at you over his shoulder. “Good work, officer.”
Seungcheol doesn’t move until Hwang is out of earshot, running a hand down his face as if that entire conversation just shaved on ten years of his life.
“Fucking prick,” he mutters under his breath.
You let out a pained laugh. “Takes one to know one, Sergeant.”
He lifts up a thick brow. “You calling me a prick now, rookie?”
“Yep,” You quip with a faint smirk. “But you’ve definitely toned down a lot ever since we… you know… started this.”
Seungcheol gazes down at you with nothing but a look of affection. He tucks away a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger long enough for you to press your cheek against it.
“Yeah. Guess I have,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Now let’s take you to the hospital, rookie.”
Swiftly, Seungcheol and the other paramedics work together to haul you onto the gurney on the ambulance, even though Seungcheol could have really carried you all on his own.
As you’re loaded up into the ambulance, a younger EMT seems to stop Seungcheol in his path from climbing inside.
“Sergeant, you can’t𑁋”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Seungcheol deadpans, levelling the kid with nothing but an even look, leaving no room for negotiation.
The EMT merely blinks, glancing between you and Seungcheol curiously. Then his expression shifts to something more softer and understanding, like he’s seen enough trauma bays to know when not to push. He steps to the side and allows for Seungcheol to hop inside the ambulance and settle onto the seat right next to you on the gurney. They conduct some tests on you: checked your blood pressure and the bruising blooming over your ribs, questioned whether you LOC’d at some point, and made you rate the pain out of ten (you said 5, but Seungcheol’s small glare at you made you confess 8).
“The victim inside…” You mumble, angling your head to Seungcheol. “Did they…?”
“They got him,” Seungcheol reassures you calmly. “The medical team is transporting him now.”
“He’s alive?”
“He’s alive.”
Relief hits you straight in the gut at that, somehow even harder than the gut punch that fucker gave you earlier. You allow your head to fall back to the thin padding of the gurney behind, letting your eyes squeeze shut for a few moments of calmness.
The doors swing shut and the sirens kick on again. The EMT swiftly starts an IV drip into your arm, murmuring about your vitals. You barely register the words that are being said because your focus is solely locked on Seungcheol. He looks so… small compared to the way he looked earlier when he breached inside the factory alone. His gaze is staring down at the space between his combat boots, and his shoulders are curved inwards in a way like he’s trying to hold something𑁋or more specifically, himself𑁋together.
“Sergeant,” You call out to him softly.
Seungcheol picks his head up immediately at your voice.
“You’re shaking.”
He bites down at his bottom lip, his gloved hands are stained with your blood. Then his eyes dart between the IV drip going into your arm, to the bruise beginning to paint your neck where you were grabbed, and taking in the way your breathing sounds so shallow from the pain in your ribs.
“I’m fine,” he says instinctively.
You don’t buy it for a single second.
“Seungcheol,” You say properly this time, reaching over to cover your hand over his. “Talk to me.”
You don’t want him to shut down𑁋you can’t let him shut down into himself. Especially not after all that’s happened between you both. Seungcheol stares down at the way your hand is gripping onto his, desperately trying to coax him out of the imaginary claws of his own thoughts that’s been clawing at him. For a minute, he just says absolutely nothing. You watch his throat bob hesitantly.
“You have… no idea how fast I broke protocol the second I heard the gunshots, how fast I separated from the damn team,” he says roughly. “I couldn’t even fucking breathe when your radio kept cutting out. Couldn’t even…” His voice trails off, jaw flexing. “I thought I was too late by the time I reached you. Thought I would find you on the ground the way I found him.”
Him. You don’t even need to ask him for clarification to know who he’s talking about.
“I can’t turn my brain off,” Seungcheol croaks out shakily, unconsciously tightening his grip on your hand. “No matter how many times I tell myself that you’re alive, it just keeps replaying in my mind over and over again and I can’t𑁋”
He’s interrupted when he feels his body suddenly get pressed up against yours. You ignore the sharp protest in your ribs and the tug of the IV line as you push yourself just enough to wrap both arms around him.
Seungcheol seems to fold without any sort of resistance, his hands coming up to bracket your sides like he’s afraid of putting any weight on you, but he lets his head fall onto your shoulder. You slide a hand through the short hair on his nape to tug him closer. The bulkiness of his tactical vest digs into your shoulder slightly, but you don’t give a crap about that. You swear you’d take a thousand bruises if it meant he’d allow himself to break for a single minute in your hold.
“I’ve got you,” You whisper into his ear, and you feel the shudder that rumbles through him. “I’m right here, see? I’m not going anywhere.”
He adjusts his head so that his face is buried into the crook of your neck. Then you feel the softest press of his lips to the skin there. It’s not exactly a kiss, but more like him making sure that your pulse is still beating soundly under his mouth.
“I thought…” His voice cracks again. “Fuck𑁋I thought I lost you, baby. If I was just thirty seconds too late𑁋”
“No,” You hush him quietly. “You got to me just in time. Trust me.”
Seungcheol draws back slightly to roam his eyes over your features, the fluorescent lights casting a streak of shadow across his softened features. He flickers back and forth between dried blood crusting at your brow, down to the heaviness in your eyes from exhaustion, and finally, down to your chapped lips, where he lingers for a few moments too long. He traces his thumb carefully over the side of your jaw.
“You stupid, recklessly stubborn, goddamn beautiful pain in my ass,” Seungcheol mutters. The suddenness of the words nearly hit you like a slap to the face. “Who has zero self-preservation and always thinks she’s bulletproof. I hate it. I hate that you scare me like this. That you drive me up the fucking wall every time you open your mouth.”
Then he drops his forehead onto yours and lets his eyes squeeze shut. A shaky inhale from him caresses over your lips.
“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” he whispers with a shudder. “And… And I’m still going to love you for it. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me, rookie, and tonight almost broke me. I-I thought I almost lost you without ever getting to tell you.”
You sense the exact second the words register in you. You swallow down a lump in your throat, tasting copper and antiseptic and the saltiness of tears gathering in your eyelids.
“Say it again,” You whisper.
Seungcheol pulls back a hint to meet your gaze. He doesn’t even try to look away or take it back. A tiny, crooked smile breaks across his face as he runs a gloved fingertip over the dried blood at the corner of your lip.
“I love you,” he repeats more steadily this time. “I do.”
You don’t hesitate after that. You grab him by the vest and seal his lips onto yours with whatever strength you have left. A low groan tumbles out of Seungcheol’s throat before he’s kissing you back just as fiercely. He cups the side of your uninjured face while the other hand braces on the gurney rails so he doesn’t put any weight on you. The kiss tastes of blood and fear and leftover adrenaline, but also love.
You ignore the uncomfortable tug of the IV line on your arm and the sharp stab of your ribs with every shallow inhale. All that matters right now is the man in front of you who is kissing you back while the rest of the world burns outside. It’s living proof that you both made it out together.
When you both break away from air, he presses his forehead against yours.
“I love you too,” You tell him finally, letting out a tired, happy chuckle. “Choi Seungcheol.”
And for once, the legendary Sergeant Choi Seungcheol appears completely wrecked. The man who abided protocol by the book has been cracked down, leaving away the hard shell of Sergeant until only Seungcheol remains. His lips meet your forehead with his eyes squeezed shut𑁋less like a kiss and more like him trying to imprint himself on your skin.
Because tonight, you both almost lost everything. But in the end, you gained this. Two officers, opposites in personality, yet similar in many you both hardly realised until now. Somewhere along the way, between protocol and emotion, your hearts collided and refused to bend to the rules of the world together.
This will always be the moment that stays with you: the moment a man who once kept the world at arm’s length chose you instead.
ꨄ︎ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Seungcheol is quite needy this morning. Will you give in?
ꨄ︎ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: husband!Seungcheol x f.reader
ꨄ︎ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: pwp, smut, a lil fluff, 18+
ꨄ︎ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (missionary, riding), nail digging, overstimulation, clit stimulation
ꨄ︎ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.8K words
ꨄ︎ 𝐀𝐍: Randomly thought about Seungcheol begging for it randomly this weekend and I needed to write it haha. Thank you @hannieoftheyear for looking at this so quickly. Love youuuuu <3
“Come on, baby—”
“No, Cheol. I have to go to work, and I cannot be late again.”
“Just the tip, please—”
“Cheol.”
It’s one of those mornings when your husband, Seungcheol, can’t keep his hands off you. It started early this morning when he woke you up with kisses before your alarm went off five minutes later. Not wanting to risk being late, you slipped out of bed and ran into the shower, hoping it would stop his antics. But then you catch him watching you as you dry off, discreetly palming himself under the blanket. You feel him creep up on you as you’re bent over, rubbing your body with your favorite lotion that leaves you smelling divine. You throw him a look in the mirror, watching him gaze at you with a mix of love and lust.
“It’s not happening, sir,” you warn, turning to face him. “I can’t be late to work today.”
“Why?” He raises his brows. “Do you have an important meeting today?”
“No,” you say carefully, acutely aware that you are still naked. “I just don’t want to be late today.”
You are putting up a brave front, stepping around him and into the closet. His hand brushes against your hips on the way, and tiny jolts of excitement spread throughout your body. Despite you saying no, your body says the opposite, your insides practically screaming to let him put in said tip. It doesn't help that Seungcheol looks the sexiest in the mornings, with his sleepy look and slightly disheveled hair. You imagine your fingers running through it, tugging it tightly while you kiss his perfect lips, riding him—
“Ahem.”
Snapping out of your reverie, you glance at Seungcheol before praying your perfume and body mist. He saunters toward you, his hands caressing your hips as his lips grace your neck. Your breath hitches involuntarily, your body betraying you as it reacts to his touch. He knows what he is doing, and you want to give in, but you must stay strong and stick to the schedule.
“Seungcheol,” you softly murmur, attempting to free yourself from him gently. “Not now.”
His fingers sneak lower, flirting with your bikini line. You turn, squinting your eyes at him before successfully unwrapping his hands around you and walking away. You had to leave for your own sake, because if you stayed a minute more, he would have you bent over the bathroom counter, again.
“I don’t know why you’re fighting it,” Seungcheol’s voice carries from the closet. “I know you’re thinking about it.”
A slow smirk plays on your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the vivid imagery playing in your head. Your body tingles with excitement and lust, thinking of the last time he suggested ‘just the tip.’ You hear shuffling in the closet, and you pretend to look busy, digging for something imaginary to deter Seungcheol on his conquest. Unfortunately for you, when you turn around, Seungcheol is shirtless, twirling the matching set of bra and panties you had set out for today. He has a mischievous glint in his eye that makes you gulp. God, you are in trouble.
“Are you looking for these?” Seungcheol asks, feigning innocence.
“Possibly…” your voice trails off, squinting your eyes at him. “Not sure how you ended up with them.”
“Maybe I wanted to help you get dressed, since you don’t want to be late and all.”
You scoff, moving towards him and attempting to grab your undergarments. “I’m a big girl,” you roll your eyes. “I can dress myself.”
“I know, I know,” Seungcheol nods in agreement. “But wouldn’t it be so much quicker if you had help?”
You raise your brow at him, aware of the game he is trying to play. You watch him lower himself to his knees, lifting your leg and sliding your panties through it. His eyes are pleading, practically begging for what he wants. He licks his bottom lip at the sight of your naked center, a small sigh escaping his lips. Heat surges through you like a blue flame, your cunt undoubtedly wet and craving his tongue.
“Stop,” you murmur, locking your gaze with his. “You know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?” Seungheol teases, kissing your inner thigh. “Tell me.”
“Don’t be coy with me,” you say with a resigned sigh. Looking at the time displayed on your digital clock, you gently grab his chin with your fingers. “Do it before I change my mind.”
“With pleasure, baby.”
His tongue graces your folds, tasting and playing with your clit in ways that make you gasp, clutching onto his hair. He doesn’t break his contact with you, carnal lust taking over him as he hums in your pussy. Pleasure courses through your body at the littlest movements, your hips slowly riding his tongue.
Seungcheol grips your thighs tighter, and he delves deeper, slurping and moaning sounds echoing in the room. The vibrations of his lips make you twitch, gripping his hair tighter. “Fuck, Cheol,” you grit your teeth, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.
“You look divine on my tongue, baby,” he murmurs, not letting up. “Give me more.”
With renewed vigor, Seungcheol slips two fingers inside of you, and you see heaven. Your pussy clenches around him, his tongue flattening against your clit as he thrusts into you relentlessly. You’re coming undone, legs shaking as his name spills from your lips like a mantra. You make the mistake of looking down, his lips and cheeks covered with your nectar, and it sends you over the edge, screaming colorful obscenities as you fall into an abyss of pleasure.
Seungcheol is earnest, lapping up everything you offer him, gripping you tighter until your legs give out, your bed being your saving grace as you fall back. He chuckles, licking his lips incessantly as your wetness is spread all over his face. Mind fuzzy from the pleasure, you lie back on the bed, your sheets giving you a soft, cool reprieve to the hot sensation spreading all over your body.
“Are you okay, love?”
You make a minimal effort to lift yourself, studying your husband as he licks his lips, completely satisfied.
“I am… a puddle,” you burst into a giggle, in disbelief. “I can’t believe I let you rope me into that.”
“I can be creative,” Seungcheol gloats, running his fingers through his hair. The bed creaks as he climbs on, towering over you and kissing you deeply. You’re in a daze, his lips and your taste on his tongue putting you in a trance. You feel strung out, overflowing with a lust that only your husband can fix, and it doesn’t help that his tip is poking at your entrance through his boxers.
“So,” he clears his throat, drawing lines across your chest. “Did I earn it?”
You throw him a look before letting out a silvery laugh. Seungcheol, ever the pleaser since you first met him, will always make sure he does a good job. “I think you managed.”
Seungcheol looks at you, surprised, amusement etched on his face. “Managed?”
“Yes. Managed,” you tease him. “You could always be better.”
You roar into laughter as Seungcheol lifts your legs, shoving down his sweats and his large cock springing free. He taps it on your clit, oversensitivity and pleasure shooting through your thighs. Your nails dug into his arm in retaliation, a fire burning your belly as you crave to be fucked.
“Just the tip?” He asks, sliding slowly into your wetness. Your fingers cling to your sheets, your eyes rolling back as his girthy cock goes in inch by inch. You shouldn’t have teased him, you know this, because now he has you where he wants you, just as he planned.
“More than the tip,” you purr, accepting the inevitable. “All of it.”
Without warning, he snaps his hips into you, fucking you without mercy. His strokes are long, deep, the kind that fill you up with joy and leave you with tears in your eyes. He pulls you closer, tasting your skin as your nails dig deeper into his back. Your walls spasm around him, loving every minute of the dick he is dropping off, for sure punishment for your teasing earlier.
“Fuck,” you rasp, feeling your peak reaching once more. “You feel so fucking good.”
You feel him grin against your neck, hitting you with a final stroke before lifting you and turning you over. He scurries to the baseboard, beckoning for him to come to him, wiggling his glistening cock. You crawl over to him happily, climbing over and sinking on him slowly, both groaning in unified satisfaction.
“Come here,” Seungcheol mutters, pulling you closer. “Give me your lips.”
His kiss is gratifying, your tongues interwining with another as you ride him, bouncing on his cock the way he likes it. Your pussy gushes as he fucks back, his fingers rubbing your clit vigorously like he owns it. Hit with a shock of pleasure that courses through your veins, you increase the pace and pull his hair, chasing your second orgasm. As if he read your mind, he pounds into you harder, taking your nipple and sucking on it fervently.
“Fuck, I’m close,” you whimper, everything turning white.”Don’t stop.”
“Never, baby,” he grunts. “Give it to me.”
It comes sharp and quick, your legs shuddering and your moans throaty and wet. You cling to Seungcheol as he talks you through it, whispering songs of praise and peppering you with kisses. His thrusts become rigid, signaling his own release as he lets out a loud guttural moan, your walls still pulsating as he empties himself into you. Relishing in each other, you still, your hearts beating as one, as he caresses your back. Love can’t describe what you feel.
“Are you still going to go in?” Seungcheol asks, drawing lines along your back. “Stay home and make it a 3-day weekend.”
Chuckling in the crook of his neck, you gaze at him, kissing him softly. “This was all a part of your plan, huh? Fuck me good and leave me too tired to move?”
Seungcheol peals into laughter, caressing your cheek. “And if it was?”
You lock eyes with him, a knowing look on your face as you lift off him slowly. “Do you remember the last time you begged for ‘just the tip?’” You point at the nightstand, your finger directed at a shiny baby monitor on display next to your wedding portrait.
“So?” Seungcheol shrugs with a smug look. “We can always have another.”
You shake your head with laughter, making your escape before you give him any ideas. A baby’s cry is heard through the monitor, and your heart pangs with guilt. The sunlight shines through the blinds, casting a soft glow that promises a peaceful day. You silently laugh, your shoulders shaking heavily as it dawns on you that at the end, Seungcheol is going to get what he wants.
⭑ pairing: pitcher!vernon chwe x f!reader
٠࣪⭑ for: the aju league collab! hosted by @sailorsoons and @100vern
٠࣪⭑ chapter summary: you and vernon go to miami
٠࣪⭑ genre: fake dating au! exes to friends to lovers. comedy, fluff, eventual smut, angst (sorry but it's not fake dating without it)
٠࣪⭑ chapter: 4 of 5 (complete)
٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact, i'll block you.
٠࣪⭑ chapter warnings: kissing, protected sex, oral, fingering, spit in mouths. they're shitty at communicating tbh. pining (it's mutual, they're just STUPID)
- if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post!
٠࣪⭑ chapter wc: 15.3k, fic total 60k+ (may change while editing)
٠࣪⭑ a/n: hello loves! i missed u! i’m sorry this is so late, life ran away with me so i’ll post an update on that separately.
٠࣪⭑ thank yous: enormous thank u 2 hali and jewel for hosting the collab! and double thanks to jewel for making this banner, she always makes such fun ones! go check out the rest of the aju league fics!
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
“And maybe I’m not even feeling anything real? Maybe it’s just that we’ve kissed a bunch and I needed a little intimacy because I’ve had a shitty week, right?”
“I think we’re getting off track h–”
You’ve been talking for maybe twenty minutes, going back and forth over whether the feelings you thought you had for Vernon could be real or not. Wonwoo’s suggestions that talking to Vernon might help go completely over your head because you’re not going to do that when you can’t even make your own mind up first.
“It’s probably not because it’s Vernon at all,” you insist. “It could’ve been anyone, couldn’t it? I would’ve popped a figurative boner for the Pope if he’d spat a shot of vodka in my mouth.” Wonwoo sighs and goes to interrupt again but you’re on a roll working out this whole situation by yourself. “And anyway, the woman he really likes is gonna announce her divorce soon and then we’re gonna stop doing the fake dating with benefits thing so he can be with her all out in the open.”
“Okay–” says Wonwoo, pushing the glasses up his nose. “I’m quite concer–”
“So I should let this run its course and just have fun with it, y’know? ‘Cause I’ve done this before, right? I’ve been hooking up with someone and they’re sweet to me and I dive into it thinking it means something, don’t I?”
“Maybe we should take a breath and sl–”
“No,” you say, shaking your head. It’s fine. It’s cool. “And it doesn’t even matter what Lara said because college was years ago and there’s just no w–”
You break off as the sound of the door closes down the hall.
“Gotta go,” you say. “Thanks, Wonwoo. See you next w– wait no, I’m still breaking up with y–”
“I’m going to email you some questions,” Wonwoo says quickly. “You don’t have to reply. Just… just slow down and really think about wh–”
You end the call and slam your laptop closed, sliding it across the bed just as Vernon comes through the doorway, cap on backwards, and you’re fifteen again and your heartbeat pounds in your chest as he looks at you, all casual and cool and everything you’re not feeling.
“Were you talking to someone?” he asks, dropping the bag at the side of the bed and flopping down next to you, and you shift over a little to make room.
“Yeah, I was telling TMZ what your dick looks like,” you say, making sure to keep a gap between you even when he shifts closer.
“You’d better have been nice.” A crooked half-smile on his face almost lights you up, but you don’t let it.
“I told them it’s pencil thin and wrinkly.”
“You’re an asshole,” he laughs, but he’s reaching for you anyway– slipping an arm around your neck and tugging you in close and glancing at your lips. “Wanna make out?”
“Absolutely not,” you tell him, pushing him off. Last night you would’ve wanted this. Would’ve wanted him in this silly, light mood, and just looking for an excuse to touch. But he’s acting like a boyfriend and it’s messing with your head.
“Are we good?” he asks, sitting up.
“Yeah, dude, we’re fine.” He frowns, so you smile at him, but it’s so hard to keep it in your eyes. You shove off the bed and pocket your phone. “I’ve just gotta pee.”
In the bathroom, you check your messages.
lara [09:11] are we still okay to break and enter tonight?
You [09:26] i’m literally leaving y’all a key
You [09:26] but yes
There’s one from your mom, too. Another to add to the pile of unchecked messages.
mom [09:13] I’m having a birthday dinner on September 18th at home. I would love for you and Vernon to come. 7pm, don’t be late.
It’s not an invitation so much as a demand.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You’re attempting to pack. Vernon’s done faster, of course, well practiced at travelling and less concern over what to wear. He’s in the kitchen fetching something to eat while you’re tipping out all your belongings on the floor in a panic. The problem is you can’t find your green dress in any of the boxes you brought here.
“No, no, no, no,” you hiss, digging through the carefully folded layers in your suitcase, just in case you already packed it in a daze. There’s your back up dress (not ideal for a black tie event, given it’s just over the knee and was last worn at your uncle's funeral) but not the only dress you already had that would’ve worked for this. The one that says celebrity plus one to a black-tie charity gala and not mistaken for the staff.
Vernon steps into the doorway again, eating a yoghurt from the pot. “What’s up?”
“My dress,” you say, already moving to the bag you already checked like it might have magically appeared at the bottom of it in the last three minutes. “The green one. The one I wore to my cousin's wedding last summer.” Vernon stares at you blankly and you huff, frustrated, as you toss another pile of clothes onto the bed.
“Didn’t you move a bunch of stuff into storage?”
You freeze.
Oh.
Oh, you fucking idiot.
“It’s on Staten Island,” you say, voice stretched thin. “Oh my God. My dress is on Staten Island.”
“Why the fuck would you take it there?”
“Because the storage unit there was cheaper, idiot, and I don’t know if you’ve forgotten but I don’t have a job anymore.”
Vernon grimaces at your tone. “My bad.”
“Our flight is in–” You check your phone. “–two hours. I can’t get there and through the airport in time for our flight. Oh my God.”
“So we’ll just get you something else tomorrow.” He shrugs, unbothered in a way that makes you want to throw a shoe at his head. If only you could go through life so completely unaffected.
“We don’t have time for that.”
Vernon looks at you like you’re the one who doesn’t get it. “But… we’re going shopping.”
“Right. For you,” you correct. “We have a strict itinerary tomorrow, Vernon. We’re not deviating just so I can find a store where I can afford anything more than a hair clip.”
He swallows another spoon of his yoghurt, lips curled and amused. “You made us a schedule?”
“Obviously. You said you needed a suit. That means early breakfast, Bal Harbour, and if we can’t find a suit there– the design district, lunch, shoes and accessories, maybe some casual outfits if we have time, and then we’re going to a tailor because you are not wearing something that doesn’t fit you perfectly. Then if there’s time we can find somewhere to get your hair done–”
He stares at you, perplexed. “I don’t kn–”
“You said you wanted to buzz it, right?”
“Yeah–”
“So we’ll get you an appointment!”
He’s staring at you. “Do you want me to buzz it?”
“What?” You laugh, surprised. What does what you want have to do with any of this? “It’s your hair, dude, I just want you to feel good about yourself.”
“Rachel keeps saying I should let it grow.”
The mention of her almost knocks the smile off your face, and your reply comes a breath too late, because Vernon looks down quickly, focusing hard on his yoghurt. But it’s fine, you tell yourself, of course he’s still keeping in touch with her. “Oh– well. Sorry, I shouldn’t have got ahead of myself–”
“No. It’s cool,” he says quietly. “I wanna cut it.”
You soothe the pads of your fingers over the crescent moons you’ve made on your palm with your nails.
“Why don’t we just get you a dress at the same place,” he says, leaning against the doorframe, and scraping the yoghurt pot with his spoon.
You scoff. “I have no job on the horizon, and I’ll have rent to pay when my apartment is liveable again so do not encourage me to drop a fuck ton of money I don’t have on a designer dress because you know I have no self-control.” You turn back to your suitcase and throw in two pairs of heels. “Anyway, does this look casually cool enough for not expecting to be photographed at the airport? Do I look like someone people would expect you to date?”
“Yeah. You look like I’d date you.” He looks over your outfit– it’s just loose fitting jeans, an old Oasis t-shirt that you’ve cropped, and a hoodie tied at your hips. “But you need a hat.”
You make a face. “I’ll get hat hair.”
“Trust me,” he says, pulling a white Yankees cap from his shelf and tossing it to you. “You’re gonna want it.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
He’s right, of course.
There’s people everywhere. Not just paparazzi and fans who’ve shown up in the hope of getting a signature, but fellow travellers– and apparently it’s their first day on earth because they think it’s appropriate to shove their phones in yours and Vernon’s faces as soon as he’s spotted. Half of them probably don’t even know him, but herd mentality is easily slipped into.
You tug the cap low over your eyes as Vernon locks his fingers with yours a little tighter and leads you through the crowd. He stops twice, signing a scrap of paper for a nervous preteen, who smiles shy and appreciative when Vernon fist bumps him, and once more for a little girl, who talks a mile a minute and makes him sign her backpack. He’s so sweet with them.
You’re through the glass doors moments later, but Vernon doesn’t let go of your hand all the way through to the gate. You get in line behind Mingyu, who smiles brightly as he recognises you.
“Hey!” he says. “Good to see you again.”
You smile up at him. “Yeah, you too!”
“Didn’t know you were coming,” he says, shifting his duffel higher on his shoulder. “You ready for Miami?”
“Emotionally? No,” you reply. “Clothing-wise? Also no.”
Mingyu laughs. “What do you mean?”
“I forgot my only good gala dress is in a storage unit in Brooklyn, so I’ve got my funeral dress instead.”
He winces. “Oh, that’s tragic.”
“Thank you,” you say appreciatively. “You get it.”
Vernon’s hand is still wrapped around yours, but his grip tightens just slightly.
“We’re getting her a new one tomorrow,” Vernon says, forgetting your flat refusal earlier.
“Ah, well–” says Mingyu, with his crazy gorgeous smile. It’s sort of dazzling. ”Shopping in Miami is hardly something to complain about.”
“Ugh, it’s always so easy for men to say,” you laugh. “I tried shopping for hours on Friday and our friend said I looked like a shrimp. You could wear a trash bag and they would put it in Vogue.”
Mingyu gives you a kind look. “I’m sure you’ll look great whatever you end up wearing.”
Vernon tugs you to stand in front of him, lets go of your hand just to slip his own around your waist. “She always does,” he says simply, and you ignore the way the butterflies in your stomach come to life.
“So–” Mingyu continues, oblivious. “Are you just flying in just for the event or are you staying for the weekend too?”
“Yeah, I’m staying,” you say. “I’m suddenly very available for glamorous charity galas and hours and hours of baseball.” Mingyu blinks at you. “I got laid off on Wednesday.”
Mingyu’s smile drops. “Wait, seriously? That sucks.”
“Right?” you laugh. “I gave them five years of my life and they’re replacing me with AI, so good luck to them.”
“That’s messed up,” he says, frowning. “You okay?”
You can tell anyone about the shit that’s going on in your life, but it’s another thing entirely to speak on your actual feelings about it. So no, you’re not okay, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to act anything other than the picture of optimism in front of Vernon’s teammates. “I’ll be fine, Vernon’s just gonna get bored with me sitting in on my laptop job hunting this week.”
Vernon runs his thumb absentmindedly over your middle, turns his cheek against your temple and presses a kiss into your hair. You shift away just slightly.
“I’m not gonna get bored,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that feels off. Not… annoyed, exactly. You angle your head to catch a look at him, and he smiles down at you, a little stiff.
Mingyu turns to move forward with the line. Over his shoulder he says, “Well, if you need a reference from someone who has no idea what you do, I got you.”
“Perfect,” you say. “I’ll list you as ‘tall guy who plays baseball with my friend.’”
“Boyfriend,” Vernon mutters in your ear.
“Boyfriend,” you echo airily, decidedly ignoring the pang in your chest.
Mingyu half turns back to you and Vernon.
“So are you guys in your own place or the team hotel?” he asks.
“Team hotel,” Vernon answers.
“Oh nice,” Mingyu says. “Did you tell her about poker night on Wednesday? If you get sick of job hunting y’all should c–”
“Actually I’m taking her out after practice,” Vernon cuts in.
“You are?” you ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice.
Mingyu’s distracted– being called by security to check his passport and hand over his bags.
“Yeah,” Vernon whispers into your ear. Makes your skin all hot. “I’ve got an itinerary of my own for you.”
You place your hand over his on your stomach, tracing his fingers with your own. And here you do another dance with denial. He’s still playing the part of your loving boyfriend, that’s all, right? But he presses closer against your back and you’re losing sight of what’s supposed to be happening.
“I thought you’d want to play this up in front of them,” you whisper back.
A brief pause. “I am,” he says. “Aren’t I supposed to take you on dates?”
“I suppose so.”
Vernon sighs. “Your turn,” he says, nudging you toward the desk.
After your bags are taken and you’re on the plane (a little dazed by how quick the process is with a chartered flight) Vernon is back behind you and taking your hand again, and you side-step to let him in front. It’s all white leather seats, soft lighting, and enough space to not worry about reclining your seat and giving the person behind you cramped legs.
You tilt your head up at him as he leads you in the direction of your seats. “Are you good?”
“Yeah,” he says, staring straight ahead. “Just hungry.”
His thumb ghosts over your knuckles, and you give his hand a squeeze. He’s all clammy.
“Okay,” you say lightly. “Just making sure.”
Through the plane, Vernon briefly introduces you to those he knows as you pass them. You realise that many of the players' partners have come along.
“Do the partners always travel with the team?” you ask him quietly.
“Nah. Most of them only come to our home games,” he explains. “And you’re deluded if you think the Yankees would pay for your seats if this wasn’t for their benefit, it’s only ‘cause of this charity thing.”
You fight down a smile remembering how he’d once complained about them not even paying for wifi. “Fair.”
Vernon finds your row near the back, and you slot into your seat while Vernon stows your purse and his backpack in the locker overhead.
“You want something to eat?”
“Sure,” you say, plucking the menu from the storage cubby between your seats. Your stomach dips as you look over it. “Dude,” you hiss. “There’s no prices?”
“Food’s included,” he explains, dropping into the seat next to you.
You stare at him. “Steak and sushi is included but not wifi?”
“Uh-huh. I’m gonna fuck up that burger.”
You look over the menu again. “Fuckin’ rich people,” you mutter. “How am I gonna go back to peasant life after this?”
Vernon smiles as he shushes you.
“Vernon, hi!” There’s a couple sitting down in the row behind you– the one speaking has a shock of blonde curls and a smile that nearly blinds you. She stretches out her hand for you to take it, and she squeezes, excited. “I’m Maren, this is my husband, Cole.” Cole shakes your hand next as you give your name.
“We’ve all been dying to put a face to the name,” she says genuinely, shuffling forward to talk through the gap in your seats. “He’s talked so much about you.”
“He has?”
“Oh for as long as we’ve known him. Whenever we ask him to come out with us he’s always got plans with you and your friends.” You smile curiously at Vernon, whose ears have turned a little pink. This is something of a surprise. He keeps so much of his life segregated you hadn’t imagined he’d talk about you at work, or any of your other friends for that matter. A surprise, because he hardly ever talks about his teammates beyond the simplest details and who he likes enough to hang out with off the field. He talks about you, she’d said.
Maren is still talking, and you realise with a start you haven’t been fully listening.
“–so when we heard you were coming we all said you must come on Wednesday.”
“Oh!” You glance at Vernon again but he’s not listening either, already turned around and engrossed in a conversation with Cole about yesterday’s game. “Sorry– what’s happening on Wednesday?”
“Facials, manicures, lunch,” she lists off. “We thought we’d spend an afternoon together before the gala. There’s twelve of us, plus you, so thirteen.”
“Wow… that sounds–”
“Heavy? Trust me, I know,” Maren sympathises, and you suppose she must have gone through this rigmarole too, once. You think you like her already. “But the guys will be at practice all day, so why don’t you come for just one thing? That way I can tell the girls you’re squeezing us in.”
You smile gratefully, and look down at your nails. “I do need a new set, I guess.”
“Perfect, I’ll add you to the booking,” she grins. And then she’s pulling out her phone and motioning for you to do the same so she can airdrop you the calendar invite. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says happily. “We all thought Vernon would be single forever. Hey–” She’s looking over your shoulder and waving. “Hey, Rachel! She’s coming for nails!”
You turn deliberately slow, ignoring the way your heart hammers in your throat. You’ve no reason to be nervous and yet–
She’s intimidatingly attractive. The longest legs you’ve ever seen, dark eyes, black hair cut to her chin, full lips, and perfectly put together. Behind her is her ex-husband-to-be, Max, who you recognise from the field. He’s placing their bags in the locker while she appraises you in the same manner you suppose you did her, head to toe. Vernon places his hand over yours on the arm rest, but you slip out from under it, reaching out instead to shake the hand of the woman he was hooking up with only a month ago. Rachel smiles from the side of her mouth, and says your name like it’s a question.
“It’s so good to finally meet you,” she says, voice honey sweet.
“You too,” you say, feeling like you’re being shoved under a microscope. Her eyes flick over to Vernon briefly, and he doesn’t stiffen like you do. Instead he says hello to both her and Max, asks after their son while the blood pounds in your ears. He’s completely unaffected. Did he know she was coming? Has he known and didn’t think it appropriate to warn you? Apparently their son is with his grandparents, you hear through the fog. Apparently you can’t get a grip.
A lifetime later, they take their seats in front of you to the right, and in your peripherals you catch Vernon glancing at you while you burn holes into the menu. He leans in, tugs up your hand to press his lips against your knuckles. Into your skin, under his breath, he murmurs, “I didn’t know.”
“Okay.”
“You look upset.”
“I’m not,” you whisper, but only because you can’t quite place what you feel. “Just… unprepared, I guess.”
He curls his fingers around yours, but you don’t let him– because less than three feet away is a woman watching your every move from the corner of her eye. Because even though this was the arrangement, it still feels like you’ve been caught cheating.
When you’re in the air, you trip and tumble over the thoughts swirling around your head. There’s something absurd about it all– him and her together in secret and now you and he doing… whatever the fuck you’re doing. Did he promise her anything, before all of this started? When this ends, is he going back to her? You didn’t ask enough questions, too content to remain in the dark and to let Vernon keep you separate from this side of his life. And if she is who he intends to be with, then why does he want to touch you at all?
He’s quiet, next to you. He reaches over twice. Gives your knee an affectionate squeeze, and a little later, while you’re leaning on the armrest, he offers you an airpod. His version of an apology, even though nothing about this is his doing. You take it, because it’s not Vernon’s fault you’re feeling so out of place in his world, and you almost laugh when you realise he’s listening to Avril Lavigne’s Sk8er Boi. God, he’s a fucking loser. A crazy successful internationally famous baseball playing stupid-hot loser. His hand finds your leg again, fingers brushing the inseam on your thigh. And though he might be promised to someone else, you still want him to touch you.
You grapple for a conversation to smooth over the tension, to forget the awkwardness and to forget that your mind, despite all your careful reasoning, keeps flashing you images of how he might kiss you later. You wrack your brain for a solid five minutes before you’re digging your phone out your pocket and paying twelve fucking dollars to connect to the wifi. Vernon doesn’t pay much mind until you’re tugging him closer by his shirt and raising your phone to eye level.
“Hm?” he says quietly, eyes narrowing at the filter you’ve got loaded on Tiktok. You press record, tapping the screen again to activate the filter. “What are we doing?”
“Disney villains–” you say casually, fixing your hair and grinning at the camera as the filter whirls. Vernon leans in, face impassive. “–threesome edition.” Beside you, Vernon folds his lips between his teeth and tries to hold in his laugh. The filter lands on Scar. “Smash.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You’ve been in the hotel room all of fifteen minutes before you’re pulling him toward the bed, and you’re smiling wide into his kiss. Vernon’s palm is flat on the small of your back as you walk backwards, arms locked around his neck, until the backs of your calves hit the frame and you fall backwards with a light laugh. He goes with you, lips on your skin, nudging you further up until your head reaches the pillow. A hundred questions die on his tongue as he slots between your legs and you pull him tight against your body, and a soft, pleased noise falls from your mouth at the feel of him, hard and needy through his jeans.
“Thought you were annoyed with me,” he murmurs, skimming his lips across your jaw.
“I am,” you say, tone laced with need and dragging his t-shirt over his head. “Too many clothes.”
And all these years he’s never let himself think about this, not until recently– the touch of your skin underneath your shirt and how you look when desire courses through your body. He could never have anticipated how fucking good you still feel together. How the electricity rushing in his blood has him on edge already, how the curve of the smile on your lips against his own hardens him still.
He rolls his hips against you, and your back arches off the bed when he lifts your t-shirt, planting insistent kisses up your body as it goes. He trails tongue and teeth across the embroidered edge of your bra, and is spurred on by the breath hitching in your throat. Spurred further by a quiet whine as he teases your nipple through the thin material with his fingers. Your hands are in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp. Wants those hands on his back, on his cock, in his mouth. Wants you all over him. Wants your perfume on his skin. Wants the taste of you on his tongue. Wants your marks on him– solid evidence you touched him like this.
Deft fingers blindly undo the button on his jeans, pushing them and his boxers over his hips in one movement. He’s working on yours too, dragging them down over your legs and tossing them to the floor. Loves the feel of your skin under his palms smoothing up your thighs. Loves the way you look at him, pupils dark and blown, like you want this as much as he does.
Vernon wonders, as he kisses and nips at your thighs, if he should feel nervous– if there should be any trepidation or concern for the shift in your friendship– but it’s not that. Feels heat and desire coiling in his gut, a cloud in his head, and his heartbeat, thready in his chest. Feels crazy. You’ve been driving him crazy. Can’t work out what this means to you, if you want to make this more or if he’s filling a temporary void, and it’s maddening the way he knows he can’t ask yet. If he asks he risks spoiling it, as he did years before with just a few little words, whispered low enough in the dark that he made it easy for you to pretend not to hear. Wonders if you felt a flare of jealousy over Rachel as he did with Mingyu, nonsensical as it may be. Knows you wouldn’t go there because he asked you not to, but do you want to? Would you rather have Mingyu between your legs instead of him?
Can’t think about it now because you’re gripping his hair, impatient with lust and dragging him close. A low laugh escapes him as you whine when he slides his nose over the gusset of your underwear. Huffs a hot, harsh breath over your clit and watches your head rise from the pillow in anticipation.
“D’you wear these for me?” he asks, fingers toying with the material over your mound. Cherry red and lace so delicate it’s sheer. The clouds in his head turn dark and heavy as you nod, long eyelashes fluttering closed when he drags the pad of his thumb over your wet, hot core, and feels the fabric dampen further. Beautiful, he thinks. Instead, he says, “Smash.”
Your laugh lights him up. “You fucking asshole, I hate you,” you’re saying, but there’s sparkles in your eyes and your hand is touching his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eye so soft and Vernon thinks he might be completely in over his head.
And he finds himself so completely fucked up with the way your hips cant off the bed to meet his mouth. So fucked up with the heady taste of you on his lips. Doesn’t waste any more time before laving a flat tongue over your sweet cunt, smirks dirty as a whimper slides from your throat and his determination to have you come undone strengthens tenfold. His hands move– first to drag your hips tighter against him, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and then up over your stomach. One finds your waist, presses his fingertips into the flesh of your stomach. The other goes to your tit, dragging the cup of your bra down to give him access to a puckered nipple, and he palms at your body shamelessly as he licks fat stripes over your underwear.
It’s too little and too much. Teeth snag over the lace and you whine as his mouth grazes your clit again, hips rolling into his face chasing more friction. Your breath turns ragged as he slides his tongue over you again, then sucks harshly at your clit. Vernon watches your eyes go glassy, waits until your legs relax again before he draws his hand down to tear your underwear to the side and slip two fingers into your tight, wet heat.
Vernon curses under his breath as the feel of your pussy clench around his fingers goes straight to his cock. Can’t believe this is real. All these years the two have you wasted as just friends when he could have been pulling these salacious sounds from your pretty lips, when he could have been making you fall apart beneath him, get your eyes rolling back like this and groaning as he curls his fingers just right inside your sopping cunt and laps at your clit. You breathe his name on an exhale, and he groans.
He moves up your body, pressing wet, sleazy kisses as he goes into every curve, every contour, tasting the sweat pricking at your skin and raising goosebumps in his wake. Wants to burn the way you feel into his memory. Wants to keep this feeling with him even if this moment stays temporary. Wants to get your release on his fingers before he fucks you but he’s desperate– thick, hard cock rutting against your hip as he slides his soaked fingers over your clit in rapid, tight circles. He’s rewarded quick with your shudder, a high whine in your throat, and he’s dropping his face in your shoulder sucking a purple bruise onto your collarbone, burying his fingers into your cunt once more and grinding the heel of his palm against your clit.
“Fuck,” you gasp, walls going impossibly tight and white-hot around him and he needs you needs you needs you. “Nonie– I’m–”
“Yeah–yeah, give it to me,” he slurs against your skin, his vision swimming with stars as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, you’re so… so– fuck.”
Can’t believe he’s been doing anything but this, can’t believe he’s been fucking anyone but you with your hands in his hair again, holding him tight against your skin as you roll your hips into his hand and he ruts his leaking cock against your body. Waits until your fractured breathing evens out and your body sags before saying, “Gonna fuck you now, baby.”
Can’t believe he could ever think about anything other than you sliding your underwear down your legs and nodding desperate, murmuring, “you can do anything. Do anything to me.”
“You can’t just fucking say that,” he huffs into the crook of your neck, fumbling blindly for his jeans and the condom in the pocket. Sits back on his calves as he digs it out and you’re over him in a heartbeat, circling your fingers around the base of his cock, giving him a brief squeeze and a languid stroke before taking him in your mouth.
Feels his body go liquid hot and you huff a soft sound through your nose at the sight of his cheeks burning red. His gut pulls taut when your tongue slides over the head and the spit slips past your lips down his length. Nearly loses his mind when you sink deep, take him as far in your throat as you can handle, when tears slide down your lashes and you look up at him so pretty. Senseless words tumble from his mouth as he pulls you off with a filthy pop, because he can’t– not so soon, not without being inside you first.
You pout, all faux-petulance, and he’s laughing low before kissing it from your face, deep and messy and insistent as he rolls the condom on. You’re pushing him backwards, positioning him against the headboard and he watches, enraptured as you move over him, grabbing his cock and lining him up against your entrance. Lewd moans come in tandem as you take him in deep, and he’s a fucking teenager all over again, desperate to see and even more so to get you off. A fierce need claws into his skin, grips him by the spine when you start moving, mouth open against his, your breath fanning over his lips.
His hands slide up your back, unhooking your bra and tossing it across the room and drags you flush against his chest, panting into your neck. He leaves bruises there too, doesn’t give a fuck about people seeing, wants them to know, wants them sure he does this to you, wants there to be no shadow of a doubt that he’s had your breath punctured, mascara smudged, grabbing at his flesh. You’ve got him fucked up the same way, clenching your pussy so tight around him, whispers your name into your neck like a prayer, and you gasp into his hair when he snakes a hand between your bodies to thumb at your clit.
“Call me baby again,” you murmur, placing fervent kisses down over the shell of his ear, tugging the lobe between your teeth. “I haven’t been called that in forever.”
And he’s delirious, near feral as he’s pressing the word into your skin and meeting your thrusts, messy and turbulent, and you’re so wet it’s sliding over his balls, seeping into the sheets below him. Cunt so wet and tight his cock slips out and you both make a noise of frustration before he’s sinking back in deep.
“Baby, baby–” Feels so fucking stupid that he has to stop himself pre-fixing the endearment with a my but you don’t notice (thank God). Your head tips back as you ride him with urgency, feels so good he could black out from the pressure alone. Feels so fucking good he could burst out of his skin. “Want you to come.”
“Gonna,” you gasp out, the word chased by a choked whimper when he buries himself to the hilt and grabs you by the hips to grind your clit against his skin. “Shit, fuck– you feel incredible.”
He groans. “You too, beautiful.”
And he feels the way your orgasm hits you, the elastic feeling stretching further when you take his hands from your hips and knot your fingers together. Your mouth falls open with a fractured sob, body going rigid as he pushes you over the edge with his cock so deep in your body that he’s wondering how you and he could ever come apart. And as your release wracks through your body you go breathless against him, your head falling to his shoulder as he mouths at your flesh, wetting skin with his tongue anywhere he can reach before he’s falling over that edge with you, spilling into the condom with a dirty, feverish moan, and with lightning sparking through his veins.
Takes a full minute before your breathing evens out, but he still feels your heart racing against his fast, feels the perspiration on your forehead, the sheen of it glistening on your neck. You’ve both got your heads resting on one another’s shoulder, your arms slung around his neck skimming your fingers across his skin, his hands running up and down your back.
“Oh my God.” You’re laughing, it comes hoarse and it makes him chuckle along with you. “Why didn’t I lose my virginity with you? That was crazy.”
“Well you dumped me so–”
You hum, amused, as you lift off him and sink down onto the mattress. “I should’ve hung on a few more months,” you say, and Vernon knows you’re only joking but it tugs on him anyway. “You’d have saved me from Three Pumps Eric.”
Vernon laughs loud. “That’s who you lost your virginity to? Eric Manning?” He pulls off the condom and knots it, doesn’t feel a drop of shyness as you watch him get up from the bed to toss it in the trash.
You turn on your side, propped up on your elbow. “I’m sure I told you,” you say, eyes on the ceiling as you recall the memory. “It was after Michaela’s pool party. You were there with Hailey.”
Ah. Vernon vaguely remembers the party. Remembers it was six months after you’d split and you were in Eric’s lap and he decidedly wasn’t thinking anything about it. Remembers how Eric had said to you both ‘isn’t this weird for you?’ while his hand was on your ass, and Vernon forced an indifferent look on his face as you laughed and said ‘no, of course not.’ Remembers Hailey called Joshua to come pick him up because he got stupid drunk on Four Loko, and very much remembers how badly he messed up his game the next day. He doesn’t drink during the season (usually) for good reason.
“Why him?” he asks, unsure if he even wants the answer.
“Dunno,” you sigh, saying. “He looked like he’d remember my birthday.”
“Did he?”
“Nah.”
He lays back on the bed facing you. Relief slips through his body that you don’t put any distance between your bodies, thankful that he doesn’t see a flicker of regret in your expression, so he finds it in him to touch your waist again. Brushes the pad of his thumb over a slight mark he’s left there. And you smile at him, drop your elbow to the pillow and your head atop it, and ask, “what about you? Was it with Hailey?”
He shakes his head. “Remember Amber?”
Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Your girlfriend before me? But she moved out of state, so when would you have met u– wait–” Your mouth falls open. “I always thought you were like… showing off for the guys when you said you weren’t a virgin. You really weren’t?”
He’s unable to stop himself from laughing at your sheer disbelief.
“Wow,” you say slowly, rolling onto your back to stare at the ceiling. “You’re a saint. Over a year without a lay?”
“Two years, actually. I jerked off in the shower so often my dad threatened to shut the water off.” Vernon’s laugh breaks free, ears tinting pink at the memory, but you’re laughing too and you sound so sweet he could kiss you.
He likes this so much. Loves how easy it is. Likes how you’re simply yourselves but with a little (lot) more physicality. Loves how you just lay here with him without a shred of shame, how he can rest his hand on your skin and you act as an anchor, fingers tracing patterns over the back of his hand. Feels like you should’ve been doing this the whole time. Feels at home, here with you in this hotel room, over a thousand miles away from his apartment. The problem is voicing it and wondering if saying anything he’s keeping trapped under his tongue would shatter the moment, because he knows how fast you can fall– but he also knows, all too well, how much that scares you.
“So,” you say after a moment, turning back toward him with a salacious grin and running your fingers through his hair. “Do you wanna order room service now or after you’ve cum on my boobs?”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Your hair is still damp by the time the food arrives. Vernon’s in the shower. He had wanted to join you but you knew fine well you’d just kiss and kiss and kiss under the stream and miss the door knocking, so you’d shoved him out with a laugh and told him to wait his turn.
You take the tray out onto the balcony, the sun is going down now but the air is so warm on your skin, and you sip at your fruit tea and check your messages while waiting for Vernon to finish.
Trespassing 🥰 DONT ADD VERNON
lara [19:34] we’re in 🥷🏽
cheol [19:47] We broke something
cheol [19:47] Idk what it is?
cheol [19:47] img.
cheol [19:47] Is it for a candle?
shua [19:48] Why am I in this?
shua [19:48] What are you in?
cheol [19:49] Aren’t you in Seokmin?
lara [19:49] you’re fucking gross
lara [19:49] anyway cheol and i are in vernon’s apartment and I’M making it pretty while HE’S knocking shit off shelves with his fat ass
cheol [19:50] Someone in this group needs a good ass. Might as well be me
You [19:51] vernon loves my ass thank u
cheol [19:51] Only because he can’t get his hands on mine
shua [19:52] Idc what you guys are doing. Ciao
You [19:52] CALL ME IMMEDIATELY JOSHUA! DID YOU SUCK HIS DICK? I WANNA HEAR EVERYTHING YOU DID LAST NIGHT
shua [19:53] No 🩵
He declines your first call, and you’re trying again when Vernon steps out onto the balcony, wearing a hotel-issue white robe to match yours, and mouths who’s that.
“Joshua,” you say, as he declines again. “If he answers.”
Vernon settles into the chair next to you and pulls off the steel cloches. God, three orgasms has really left you famished. You set the phone down on the table and turn on speakerphone, grabbing a fork to spear some pasta from Vernon’s plate. He’s unbothered, stealing food from your plate too.
On the third try Joshua picks up.
“Oh my Godddd,” he hisses. “I’m still mad at you. What do you want?”
You giggle. “Don’t be mad, Joshy. I wanna know if you had fun with Seokmin last night?”
There’s a brief silence on the line. A heavy, longing sigh. “He went home because apparently you set me up with the sweetest man on the east coast and he wouldn’t let me touch lower than his belly button even once.”
“Boooo,” says Vernon under his breath, and you blindly kick at him under the table and make contact with the chair leg instead.
“Oh no,” you sympathise, taking a bite from the fork Vernon offers to you. “Maybe he didn’t want to go too fast?”
Joshua tsks. “My special skill is making guys move too fast. I think it’s the lip filler.” There’s another dejected sigh. “Is he Mormon? Or a monk?”
“Neither, hon,” you say. “You want me to call him, see if he’s into you?”
“Nah,” says Joshua. “He’s got my number if he wants to use it. What are you doing?”
“Eating dinner on a balcony looking at the ocean. Vernon says hi. He’s feeding me pasta.”
You wink at him and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth– he wordlessly offers you another bite. You smile gratefully, eyes squeezed shut in delight, as your mouth closes around the fork.
“Ugh,” murmurs Joshua. “That sounds so nice. I hate you.”
You swallow your pasta. “You too, babe.”
“Call me tomorrow after you’re done shopping? You can show me Vernon’s haul.”
“Sure thing.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You’re in bed, skincare done, hair dried, teeth brushed, wearing your HOT GIRLS HIT CURBS baby tee and a pair of mismatched sleep shorts. Vernon is beside you in nothing but his boxers, scrolling through his phone while you tinker around with your resumé. Thankfully you’d had the sense to keep it updated, so there’s little else to add, but you’ve polished what you can and emailed it to the last recruitment agent you worked with.
Scrolling through Indeed and LinkedIn is little better than when you last looked. There’s only a few jobs that will pay enough to cover your bills and leave enough left over for you to have something of a life, but two of those are for the FBI, and the last thing you want to do is work for anything run by the fucking government.
There’s a lot of freelance postings which you send off for, but that work isn’t consistent enough long term. Shit. And God, what if they all turn to AI in the not-so-distant future too. Will your degree, and you in turn, become functionally obsolete?
Vernon leans forward after a while, hooks his chin over your shoulder to look at the screen, and you feel his eyes on you too.
“What’s up?” you ask, still scrolling through listings.
“You’ll chew your lip right off if you keep looking at this tonight.”
It aches when you release your bottom lip from between your teeth, and your brow furrows as he pulls the laptop from your lap and sets it on the nightstand. Vernon laughs softly at your expression.
“C’mon,” he says, sinking down and pulling the sheets over him. “I wanna sleep.”
You reach over to flick off the lights and settle onto your side on your back, wondering what to do with your hands. The first night in his bed with him was after several drinks and an orgasm, so it was somewhat easier to fall into position despite your racing thoughts. Tonight you’re several hours post-sex, a full dinner and a movie later, and settled (at least in your mind) on a no-cuddling rule. Cuddling is for lovers, and you two are just fucking-for-now.
The problem is any time Vernon shifts close, any time he touches you, the lines you’ve drawn for yourself blur and you can’t see the difference between all the versions of him you know now. Vernon the childhood friend, the ex-boyfriend, the best friend, the fake boyfriend, the guy who made you come so hard you wondered if you went blind, and the one now sharing a bed, who feels comfortable enough to drag you down against him, back to his front. This version has you giggling soft with his breath tickling your neck, his hand up your top, fingers brushing the skin underneath your breast.
“I can’t go again tonight,” you say, shifting away from his warmth and rolling over to face him. “My clit might fall off.”
Vernon props himself up on his elbow, and through the dim light from the night sky you can see his confused frown. “I wasn’t coming on to you.” You raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t,” he insists. “I only wanna–”
“Cuddle? Kiss?” you interrupt. “Not very ‘just friends’ of us.”
Vernon smirks, all arrogance and cheek. “My dick inside you wasn’t very ‘just friends’ either but I didn’t hear you complaining then.”
A laugh bursts out of you. “Asshole,” you complain, shoving him in the chest. He closes his hand over yours in a fraction of a second, tugs you closer and leans down until your breath is his, skin cast navy and silver in the light of the moon slipping out from under the clouds. Dark eyes dart down to your lips, and he might kiss you if you let him.
“We’re already doing everything else,” he pleads so nice, brushing his lips over your cupid's bow, his thumb over your knuckles. “What’s the harm in this too?”
The harm is you and your lack of self-control. The harm is this constant state of flux. The harm is you falling deep and not knowing if Vernon’s just wasting time with you until she’s available to him again. The worst is the potential of losing him and his friendship if you were to allow yourself to want him so openly.
It’s not so scary to fall in love with other people. It’s not at all terrifying to dive in deep with near strangers. They’re not him and all the years you’ve spent in each other's orbit. They couldn’t hurt you as badly as he could, even though he’d never intend to at all.
“This is supposed to be just friendship sex,” you say.
“You said you love kissing,” he murmurs, voice so low and warm you’d swim in it, if you could. “Let’s do friendship kissing too.”
And the harm is you’re already falling prey to it, this innate desire to be held and to be kissed and to be touched by someone who cares about you. By your best friend.
“That was lame as hell.”
Vernon smiles pretty, kisses you so deep and slow, peppermint on his tongue. And all you can do is kiss him back, ignoring the way it makes you feel like you’re suffocating on your own heartbeat, clawing its way up your throat.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It takes a while to wake up. Feels like you’re still in a dream, his warm body pressed against your back, soft, even breaths skim over your shoulder. His hand is under your shirt, cupped over your breast. Eyes still closed, you sigh, satisfied with the comforting pressure. You keep drifting in and out of sleep, until Vernon’s holding you tighter and your bleary eyes crack.
The sky is still that soft, powder blue before the sun rises, and you blink slowly, arching your back to stretch out the kink in it. You realise, with a pleased hum, that he’s growing hard against your rear. You stretch again and he makes a lovely, barely awake sound, and he flexes his fingers on your skin. Doesn’t take long for him to brush his lips over the nape of your neck and move impossibly closer, or for familiar heat to furl low in your belly.
“Good morning,” you whisper.
“Mhm,” he murmurs. “It really is good.”
Vernon’s hand slips down down down, past the waistband of your shorts and over your mound. Deft fingers push between your folds as he sinks sharp teeth into your shoulder, and when you suck in a breath he laughs low, makes your arousal pool between your legs, and soothes over the sting with soft kisses. You grab blindly behind you for his hips and you can feel the way he smiles lazily against your skin.
“Fuck,” he croaks, sinking two fingers into your heat. “How’d you get so wet?”
“S’cause of you,” you answer, turning your face toward the ceiling, dazed with the way he mouths hungrily at your jaw.
Vernon swears on an exhale. “Yeah?” he asks, voice burning and raw with desire as he pumps his fingers inside your cunt.“You gonna make a mess on me again? You wanna ruin these pretty little shorts?”
He drags his fingers down your walls, crooks them just so over the spot that makes you see stars. Sinking in and out with slick, obscene sounds– and when he pulls out you get no reprieve, just has you calling out his name when he draws circles over your swollen clit, whispering dirty praise as he works you closer to the edge.
Into your hair– “You’re so pretty, baby.”
And into your ear– “Fuck fuck fuck– can you feel how hard you make me? I’m so fucking gone for you right now.”
And into your cheek– “Love it when you come, can you come for me? That’s it, fuck, yeahh– let go, baby. You sound so fucking good, oh my God–”
And you’re feral with need for him. There’s tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, crying out as your release lances through you, flames dancing along every nerve. You barely recover before you’re clutching at the fabric of his boxers and dragging them down his thighs. He fumbles for the box on the nightstand while you kick your shorts off and the sheets away toward the end of the bed, and before you know it he’s hastily rolling a condom over his thick, leaking cock with a needy whine that only adds fuel to your fire. You arch back, bending your leg at the knee and leaning forward onto it to give him better access, and when he fills you so deep the stretch blows your mind.
His cock bottoms out inside you, and he’s pressing his face into the crook of your neck, working hard to keep his breathing measured. “You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.
“Not yet,” you answer, gasping as he drags out only to thrust back in deep and slow. “Need you like this.”
He makes an indecipherable noise, muffled by your skin as he kisses along your shoulder blade. “You got it, baby, got me,” he slurs. “Can’t believe how good you feel– can’t believe we’ve only just fucking started–”
You cut him off with a choked whimper, and his words are enough to drive you mad, enough to have you second guessing the meaning and you’re a puppet on his string. Would do anything, give him anything, if he’d only ask.
“What d’you want?”
Vernon doesn’t answer. Just nips at your skin and increases his pace, so hard he’ll leave you tender the whole day and you need it so bad, wanna feel him for long after this.
“Nonie?”
“Want what you said in that bathroom,” he rasps, throat hoarse. “Wanna finish inside you and watch my cum run down your thighs in the mirror, can’t stop fucking thinking about it, shit–”
And it’s not a wrong answer but it’s not what you meant, but God– you’re can’t clarify right now, not with your orgasm within reach and him fucking you so so good.
“Fuck, I wan it too,” you babble, closing your eyes and digging your nails into his hip. “Wan you to fill me up, wanna feel it so bad.”
His animalistic groan has you impossibly wet, gushing around his length, and you grab his hand– dragging it between your legs just so he can feel how he ruins you, want him to get a taste of it, imagine how good it would feel without the condom. “Shit, baby, is this for me?” He sucks in a breath when you nod, delirious, and he slides his fingers over your cunt, splitting them over where you join, pressing his palm over your clit and giving you friction that has you crying out. Presses his lips into the space below your ear and whispers– “M’not gonna last, come for me, baby, I need it.”
“I am,” you whine, going lightheaded as his pace turns frenzied. You clench so hard as you come, vision whiting out and you can hear the way he goes breathless, and you’re overwhelmed with it all, with him, the way he has you gasping his name into your tear stained pillow.
He half turns you, his body twisted over yours, palms at your tit as his hand moves up up up, grabs your chin to angle your face toward him. His eyes have flames in them and you know what he wants without him having to ask. You just open your mouth wide, take his spit on your tongue and make a show of swallowing it down.
“Fuck,” he moans, presses his sweat-sheened forehead against your neck and whimpers your name into your skin. He pulls out without warning, tugs off the condom and circles his fingers around his cock, just to coat your ass with his cum a moment later.
And he can’t catch his fucking breath as he watches you look over at the mess he’s made of you, his eyes blowing wide and dark when you run your fingers through it. You bring them to your mouth for a taste, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the sheen of him on your lips. His eyebrows tick up, and he’s sure he looks utterly gone, completely pathetic, the way he’s captivated by you showing him a slip of his cum on your tongue. Doesn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours when you reach for him, a whine tight in his throat when you kiss him filthy and he tastes himself in your mouth. He melts into your body, cock softening against your rear, his chest pressed along your side as the kiss turns slow and sensual.
“Freak,” he teases gently when he breaks away from your mouth, peppering soft kisses along your cheekbone and into your hair.
You hum, pleased. “I think you like it.”
He rolls away onto his back but snakes an arm between your neck and the pillow.
“I do,” he answers easily. “That was sick.”
“Oh my God, you’re such a fucking boy,” you laugh, and you both fall silent for a moment, save for the sound of your settlings breaths. You roll over to face him, head resting on his arm. His eyes are closed, pretty eyelashes on pink cheeks.
“Hey, Vernon?” He hums to let you know he’s listening. You suck in a breath, running your fingers lightly over the skin of his stomach. “If you get tested I’ll let you fuck me raw.” That piques his interest– opens one eye to check if you’re serious. “Y’know, if we’re still doing this by the time you get the results.”
“The fuck do you mean if?”
And your heart is racing as Vernon smiles pretty. His hand finds your waist again, and he leans in to kiss you, so slow and so sweet.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Try as he might, you don’t let Vernon stay in bed the whole morning. In the car he complains about having too many pieces of French toast at breakfast while he schedules his appointment at a local clinic for this afternoon. He’ll have to skip the haircut today, but apparently he’s eager.
“Do you need a test too?” he asks, tapping to confirm his appointment. “And are you on the pill or–”
“Implant,” you say, tapping the little rod in your arm. You’re looking out over the ocean as you pass it by, and it’s so perfectly turquoise here. Maybe you should go down to the beach while Vernon’s occupied later. “And I got checked after hedge fund guy.”
Vernon laughs under his breath. “I can’t imagine you dating someone like that.”
You look at him, amused. “Someone like what?”
He meets your eyes briefly, then stares past you out of the window. “Like… a suit.”
“The last three people I’ve dated have been suits,” you laugh, smoothing the skirt of your sundress over your knees. “They know where to get the best coke.” Vernon gives you a sideways look. “I’m kidding, dude.”
“I just mean, like, you’ve never been impressed by money or status or whatever so why do you date those kinds of people?”
You shrug. “I mean– I met them either through work or near the office, so I guess that was my main dating pool whenever I was off the apps. And I figured I should date someone with the same level of education, or at least like, the capability to achieve that, you know? Not for snobby reasons, but like– I don’t know… It helped that they were usually like, insanely emotionally unavailable,” you say, laughing again to cover the sudden awkwardness at the microscope being moved over your preferences. “Why are you asking?”
“So you wouldn’t be interested in someone who dropped out of college? Or someone who wanted something serious?”
You look toward the driver, who meets your eyes in the mirror. You swallow. Is he thinking about introducing you to someone? Not two hours after he came over your body, and he’s already considering who you might be interested in when you and he are done? Fuck, man.
“Well, I’m dating you,” you hiss, giving the back of the drivers’ head a pointed look.
Vernon doesn’t seem to catch on. “That’s not what I mean. Would you be interested in someone like me, who didn’t get their degree and travels all the time? Like someone who wanted something real?”
You pull your phone from your purse and text him.
You [09:13] what are you doing?
nonie [09:13] wdym?
You [09:13] these questions. who are you asking for?
nonie [09:13] what?
You [09:13] are you trying to set me up with someone?
Vernon frowns at his phone, then tucks it in his pocket and looks out his own window at traffic passing by.
“Vernon?”
“Forget I asked.”
You sigh. “I guess I wouldn’t care if they travelled often, my life can be full without a partner. And I don’t care so much about their education so long as they’re intelligent, experienced, and they’re not willfully ignorant. And they have to have the same core values as me. They have to live by themselves and they have to have a job but those are my only hard and fast rules.” You laugh ruefully. “I guess the last two are kind of hypocritical of me right now.”
Vernon huffs air through his nose, still looking out the window. “It won’t be for long. You’ll have a job again soon.”
“Mhm,” you say. “Keep your fingers crossed for me.”
“Of course.”
You fall silent for a while, and you chew on the fat of your cheek, trying to figure out how to word it. In the end you say–
You [09:24] i don’t want you to set me up with anyone, okay?
nonie [09:24] i won’t
The driver pulls into a parking lot, and you say your thanks while Vernon pulls out his wallet to tip him. It’s incredible here. The walkways are lined with palm trees and water fountains filled with koi fish, and the stores– the stores… You’re almost grateful your friends chopped up all your cards because fuck, could you do some insane damage here.
“Under no circumstances–” you say, rooting through your purse for your wallet and, once found, you tuck it into Vernon’s pocket. “–are you allowed to give me that back unless I’m buying us coffee. My rent money will disappear in seconds otherwise. Deal?”
Vernon laughs, slides his hand into yours and twines your fingers together. “Coffees and lunch are on me. You’re doing me a huge favour today.”
“Are you joking?” you say, tugging him along, almost skipping your way down the sidewalk. “I get to shop for and play dress up with my own Ken doll– that’s you by the way– and I get a free trip, a fancy party, and lunch. I’m living the dream.”
“Maybe we should skip the coffee if you’re gonna be this excitable all day.”
You flash him a grin. “Absolutely not. You’re gonna need your energy.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Nine stores, almost four hours, and five bags of clothes later you’ve lost count of the amount of suits you’ve had Vernon try on. In amongst the suits, you’ve also had him try various outfits– casual jackets and shirts, pants, shoes, etc, and you’re steadfastly refusing to give your opinion on anything before he’s decided himself.
(“What do you think?” he says in Saks, trying on a Kenzo varsity jacket.
“You don’t need to know what I think,” you reply. “Do you feel good? Do you like the colour on yourself?”
“Yes?”
“Does it feel comfortable?”
“Yeah.”
He still looks unsure, like he’s waiting for your input, but this isn’t about what you like.
“So if it makes you feel good and you like wearing it then you should get it.”
“You aren’t going to help at all?”
You laugh. “I am helping, you asshole. Everything I’m making you try on is something I’m sure will suit you, but I can’t tell you what you like, dude. Now here– put these pants on with that jacket.”)
You’re wondering if you could convince him to let you come shopping with him once a season, at least until he’s got something elevated for every type of weather. He’d look so cute in a Ralph Lauren teddy bear sweater.
He’s good, bless him, hasn’t complained once as you send him off to change yet again. You follow behind, helping the sales associate carry everything through, and grabbing another shirt as you go.
You’re in Balmain, leaning back into plush seats just outside his fitting room, and this time you’re confident. Every suit so far has either been too simple or too flashy, just not Vernon at all, but the cut of this jacket is so nice that you’re sure– with the right shirt– he’ll look great.
“Okay–” calls Vernon after a few minutes, from the other side of the thick curtain. “I think I like this one.”
“Yeah?” you say, sitting up straight. “Let me see.”
He draws back the curtain and you suck in a breath. You’re right, of course. “Wow… Yep, that’s the one,” you say, dumbstruck. “You look really handsome.”
He blinks at you. “You think I’m handsome?”
“What?” you laugh, surprised. “It’s an objective fact, bro.”
“Oh.”
“What’s with the face?”
“I don’t have a face.”
“Yes you do. Your lips did this–” You mimic the downturn.
“I’m just surprised, that’s all. You’ve never said so.”
You so have.
Okay.
Maybe not in the last decade. Not out loud, at least. But you definitely told him you thought he was hot when you were dating for real.
“Well I definitely think so… Dude, I’ve touched your dick on, like, five separate occasions in the last forty-eight hours– you’d think my opinion on your looks would be obvious.”
Vernon glances awkwardly at the sales associate, who’s suddenly very focused on adjusting clothes on hangers.
“Sorry, I don’t think before I speak sometimes,” you say to her, and she smiles stiffly and quickly leaves the room. You turn back to Vernon. “I think you’re really, insanely, stupidly attractive, and the fact your eyelashes just look like that pisses me the fuck off.”
He flushes so pretty, ducks his chin to his chest to hide his awkwardness, and it only endears you to him more.
“I can’t believe you’d even think that I don’t think that,” you continue, undeterred by his sudden shyness. “I’m offended, frankly. You owe me an apology.”
“Okay. I’ll buy you lunch.”
You roll your eyes. “You were already buying me lunch.”
“Uh… I’ll buy you a dress.”
“Fuck no,” you snap. “I’m wearing my funeral dress like I already decided. Besides, buying things is a shitty apology. Just like, say sorry and eat me out again tonight. You’re really good at that.”
He stares at you in disbelief for a moment, looking like he’s about to burst. The curtain closes and a few seconds later your phone vibrates.
nonie [12:46] you can’t say shit like that with strangers nearby
You [12:46] wdym? it’s just us here 😇 but even if someone DOES hear i’m leaving no room for debate that we’re dating
nonie [12:46] i don’t need to get hard thinking about how you taste in a $3000 suit that i haven’t fucking paid for yet
You [12:46] ok but that’s really hot
You [12:46] show me how hard you are
There’s a harsh breath behind the curtain, and you stifle your laugh in your hand.
nonie [12:47] go away before i kms
You [12:47] nooooo don’t kill urself ur so sexy haha
nonie [12:47] actually can’t stand you.
nonie [12:47] i can hear you trying not to laugh omg please leave
“Hey Vernon,” you call, shit eating grin planted firmly on your face. “You need some help with the zipper?”
“No, I’m good,” he says stiffly. “Why don’t you go wait out there while I pay.”
“Sure you don’t need a hand?”
“You’re not funny,” he says as nonchalantly as he can right now, but you can hear the stress in his voice and it makes you giggle.
“Ugh, you spoil all my fun, bro,” you say, and you gather your purse and Vernon’s bags and make your way out the store, leaving him alone to put himself together.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Vernon takes a little longer than you expect, and you’ve wandered a few stores down by the time he catches up to you outside Ermanno Scervino. The dress on display in the window is stunning, and you’ve been staring at it longingly for God knows how long. Hand-sewn crystals on black, silk chiffon, perfectly sheer over a black bodice. She’s so pretty. You wanna give her a loving home in your closet.
“Hey.” You smile as you feel Vernon against your side, his hand slipping around your waist. “What took so long?”
“Got myself off before I paid.”
You near snap your neck to look at him. “Really?”
“Are you crazy?” he laughs.
You pout. “I would’ve liked to have been invited is all.”
“I don’t feel like being arrested today.” He squeezes your side. “Are we going in?”
“Nah,” you say, sighing wistfully as you steal a glance at the dress again. “I’m just looking.”
He follows your eyes. “Is this torture for you?” he asks gently. “Shopping for someone else while you’ve got a shopping problem?”
You sit with it for a few seconds, but it’s not bad, actually. Something about it gives you a similar giddy rush, even though the things being bought aren’t yours and it’s not your money being spent. “No. I think I’m really enjoying myself.”
Vernon’s hand smooths over your back, then stills at the top of your dress, fiddles with something there and his fingers brush your skin. Your hand flies up behind you, trying to feel what he’s touching.
“Have I got something on me?”
“Nah,” he says. “The tag was sticking out. I got it.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“You wanna get lunch now?” He asks, straightening up. “I’m starving.”
“Ugh, yes, I’m starving,” you say, your stomach rumbling with enthusiasm. “You wanna try the Japanese place here?”
“Oh my God, yes.”
He slips his hand into yours as you start walking, but after a few minutes he stops dead and pats down his pockets. “Wait–”
“You good?”
“I think I left my phone in Balmain–”
“Oh, that’s okay, let’s g–”
“No– I’ll go,” says Vernon, walking backwards. “You go get us a table before the rush, I’ll only be a minute. Order me an iced americano?”
“Sure, okay.”
Vernon arrives fifteen minutes after you do, by which point the ice in his drink is starting to melt and you’re sipping at the dregs of your tea.
“Finally,” you whisper, as he slides into the chair opposite yours with a grimace. “They were starting to think I was being stood up.”
“Sorry, they’d put it away for safekeeping and couldn’t find it straight away.”
“It’s fine–” you say, pushing a menu toward him. “Now hurry up and choose so we can order. If I have to wait any longer I’m gonna eat you.”
Vernon knocks your feet under the table, and you kick him back, and he’s got a private little smile on his face. Makes you feel all light, like you could float away.
“What are you smiling at?” you ask, curious.
“Nothing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “I’m just having a good time.”
And it shouldn’t mean much, or anything at all because friends are supposed to have good times together, but you’re preening under the words anyway.
“Yeah?”
“I thought you’d be telling me what to do but your way is better,” he says, turning the page in his menu to look at the desserts first.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re, like, getting me to figure out my own style, right? By getting me to only pick the stuff I like out of all the things you find?”
You didn’t think of it like that, but you suppose you are. It was more that you wanted him to feel good about himself rather than putting on a costume someone else chose for him.
“You’re good at it,” he continues. “You should be a personal shopper… or a stylist or something.”
You laugh but he just looks back at you blankly.
“Oh. You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I bet some of the guys would hire you.”
Bless his heart. You lean forward, place your hand atop his on the table, and he turns his over to twine your fingers together. “You’re very sweet, but don’t you dare try to get me to start a new business after my entire life fell apart.”
Vernon laughs. “Okay, noted. Sorry.”
“You’re good,” you say, squeezing his hand and turning– trying to meet the eye of a waiter nearby. “Now, please God, you have like thirty seconds to pick something or I’m gonna start chewing on your fingers.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
It only takes another hour or so before you’re finished. Vernon has his suit, shoes, a shirt (a soft blue), simple jewellery (a chain, bracelet, and a couple of rings), amongst all the other things he chose, and you’re riding that same high you get when you go shopping for yourself.
Maybe Vernon’s right. Maybe you could do this for other people, and that might help curb the desire to spend your own money? You’re playing variations of the daydream over and over in your head on your way back to the hotel after the driver dropped Vernon off at the clinic. And it’s fun, these imaginary lives you keep playing in.
In this particular scenario you’re not confined to an office, visiting clients in their homes and going through their wardrobes and finding out what they have that they feel best in, and then taking them out shopping– building a wardrobe around what they already love, teaching them what works with their undertones and their body and who they are inside. And after a long day you go home to your apartment, no hole in the ceiling to speak of, and after dinner you lay in bed reading your book while he lays next to you watching cat videos, and eventually he gets bored, tugs your book away and kisses down your neck and–
“Here we are, Miss.”
“Oh–” You blink the daydream away, face growing hot as you realise you’ve been picturing an impossibility, and the real world comes into focus again. You’re outside the hotel, and the doorman opens your car door and helps you with your bags. “Thank you.”
The fog doesn’t dissipate fully even when you’re back in your hotel room, even when you wash your face and tell yourself in the mirror that this is all pretend. Does nothing to stop you from wanting the fantasy.
So you leave the bags on the desk, swap your heels for sandals, tuck a beach towel, a light sweater and your book in a tote, and you pull out your phone.
You [15:02] going to the beach
nonie [15:04] 👍
Over two hours later, that’s where Vernon finds you. You’d dropped your location thirty minutes before after getting off the phone with your recruitment agent, and now you’re on your back, head resting on your bag and sunglasses over your eyes. Your book lays abandoned to your right, and when Vernon moves close, casting a long shadow over your body, you squint up at him with a smile. He’s changed into a pair of shorts he bought this morning, carrying his shoes in his hand and walking barefoot, cap pulled low over his face. He looks so lovely in this golden light.
“Hey,” you say, sleepily. The heat always gets you, but at least you have the reprieve of the ocean here, and you suppose water is the only way people can stand it in the Floridian summer. “How did it go?”
“Good,” he says, sitting down next to you in the sand, and you wish you’d brought a second towel for him. “Most are back already, get the rest tomorrow.”
“That’s fast.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly, ears tinting pink. “Cost a third of my suit.”
“Fuckin’ rich people,” you chuckle.
And you almost can’t help yourself, because he turns back to look at you over his shoulder with a self-conscious smile, when you run your hand across him, smoothing out the cotton with your fingers over the light definition on his back. And you can feel his eyes on your face, but you can’t look at him properly, not after the past few hours (days) living inside a dream.
Venturing into uncharted territory isn’t for the wary, and therein lies the problem. You aspire to bravery, you try it sometimes… but with Vernon– it doesn’t feel so much like diving in headfirst as it does dipping your toe and shrinking away from the depths beneath the surface.
Speaking of problems– Vernon lays back on the sand, the long line of his body parallel with yours and tugs your bag over just a little so he can rest his head there too. So close he must hear your heart beat faster when he touches your leg just for touching’s sake, tips of his fingers dragging over your inner thigh, his weighted palm atop it.
“Nobody’s looking here,” you say quietly, staring up at the blue sky, the vastness of it.
“So?” he asks, and you chance a look at him. His eyes are closed, long lashes fanning over his skin, a little flushed from the heat. “Your skin is really soft.”
And it feels like more. Feels like a taste of your fantasies and that maybe he’s not just doing this to pass the time. But Vernon would have said, surely, if he wanted more than just sex and kissing and whatever else physical? He’s private, sure, but when he likes someone he tells them so, and he hasn’t told you anything of the sort. And there’s the matter of who you’re playing pretend for, isn’t there? You’re not his fake-girlfriend for no reason.
“Have you spoken to Rachel?” you ask suddenly.
Vernon’s fingers go still.
“A little bit.”
It’s silly really, the way your heart sinks. Talking still means there’s something there, doesn’t it?
“Why?” he asks.
You swallow, keeping your eyes trained on a wisp of cloud in the distance. It’s moving at a snail's pace. “I wondered if you’d heard when they’re gonna start telling people.”
“Soon,” he says. “A week at most, I think. They’re gonna try to pass it off like a ‘we’re still friends’ thing.”
A week. A week.
“What was your plan? After, this–” You gesture between you both. “–thing we’re doing, I mean. Was the plan for you to be together for real once their divorce is out in the open?”
“We hadn’t talked about it. So… no… I guess.”
He guesses. He doesn’t know. So that means– what does that mean?
You turn onto your side propping yourself up on your elbow and Vernon looks at you from the corner of his eye, slips his arm over your shoulder and fits you tight under his arm, your head on his chest.
And you hate the sound of your voice when you ask, quietly– “do you love her?”
“No.”
“You must feel something for her if you’re fucking her.”
“I’m not fucking her. I’m fucking you.”
Undeterred, you ask, “do you like her?”
Vernon’s silent for too long for comfort, absentmindedly trailing his fingers down your bare arm, so you prod him in the ribs and he makes a small, disgruntled noise.
“C’mon, I promise not to be weird about it if you do.” You try keeping your voice light and easy, but you’re hardly believing the words coming out of your mouth. “You’re not my boyfriend, dude. You’re, like, allowed to have real feelings for someone.”
He scoffs. “It’s just sex.”
“But if you’re still talking…” you press. “So that means you care, right?”
Vernon’s hand falls from your arm to the towel beneath you. You slip to his side as he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”
You frown, sitting up too and he won’t look at you when you touch his arm. You hook your chin on his shoulder and he bristles. Seems like you’ve done the impossible and annoyed him.
“You’re in a weird mood,” he says.
“Could say the same about you,” you counter, but he’s right– you are in a weird mood. “I just wanted to know how much longer we’re gonna be doing this.”
“Why?” he asks curtly. “Is there someone else you’re waiting to date?”
“Vernon,” you scold, pinching him. “Stop being an asshole.”
He sighs, but he doesn’t reply. This sudden change in demeanor is throwing you completely.
“Actually my mom invited us to her birthday next month so that’s why I was asking,” you say. It’s the perfect excuse for your questions, really, because you’re already regretting trying to look behind the curtain. “I didn’t know if you’d be dating Rachel by then… I know you wanted some time, between them and us splitting up– for the optics or whatever.”
“Oh,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it. “No. We can go if I’m free.”
“Yeah?” you ask. He nods. “It’s on September 18th.”
“I’ll check the schedule.”
“To be clear– she’s expecting us as boyfriend-girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He gives a short laugh. Almost sounds like relief. “You told your mom about us?”
You hesitate before answering. “I think she must’ve seen it online. Her and my dad.”
He turns his head a little and his cheek brushes your nose so softly. “I told my parents.”
Your heart does a stupid little zing. Judas.
“What did they say?”
Vernon opens his mouth, then closes it goldfish style, and you pull away from his shoulder to look at him properly. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
“My mom told me to be careful.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You hang out on the beach a little while longer, until the strange tension dissipates. You lay on your front, drawing patterns in the sand with your finger and trying not to think too much about him and you and Rachel and his mom and everything else. Vernon reaches for your book and starts thumbing through the pages before giving up, complaining there’s no speech marks.
“She’s Irish,” you explain flatly. “A lot of Irish authors don’t use them.”
“It’s hard to follow.”
“A lot of things are hard to follow,” you say, smoothing the flat of your hand over a love heart you drew in the sand, thinking you you you. “Doesnt mean it’s not worth it.”
Everything is so messy– him and her, you and him, your own thoughts, your life– God. What are you doing? His hand finds your leg again, the pads of his fingers skimming over your skin again, and it’s nice– it is, but it’s only muddying your thoughts further. If it was just sex with Rachel then is it just sex with you, too? That was the whole idea, right? So if you could just stop being so bothered–
He leans down, presses his lips to your back. Into your body he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“Being an asshole. Don’t be mad at me.”
You huff a laugh. You couldn’t be mad at him if you tried.
“S’okay,” you murmur. “It's not like you make a habit of it.”
You feel his smile widen a little against your skin. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” he says. He stretches out beside you, kisses your shoulder and drops his head onto his arm.
You try a heart in the sand again, but it’s not perfect like you want it. You smooth it out and do stars instead, one big one and a little one right beside it.
“Make a wish,” you say, just for something to say. “One for you, one for me.”
Vernon reaches over, draws your initials in the big one and his in the little one and you laugh. “That’s not right,” you say. “Yours is the big star.”
“Why not make them the same size?”
You shrug.
“C’mon,” you say, pushing up off the ground and dusting the sand and your feelings off your body. “You want ice cream before we head back?”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Vernon can’t keep up. Not with the mood shift, not with anything you’ve said today, not with your pace. You lick into his mouth and all he tastes is honey on your tongue and he can’t take it. Can’t take the way you look at him, stars in your eyes, as you clench impossibly tight around his cock.
“Baby–” he begs, breaking away from your mouth as desire twists in his gut. “Baby, slow down… I can’t… don’t wanna cum yet.”
You hush him with a roll of your hips, taking him so deep and that sweet sound you make has him digging his fingers in. Fuck fuck fuck. He squeezes his eyes shut, desperate, and drops his forehead to your chest.
He knows what he wants now– has known for a little while but can’t bring himself to say it yet. He can’t without ruining this delicate entanglement he wants to keep you both in. He almost wishes he just told you earlier, when you were asking about Rachel, that how he feels about you is so much more than he can put into words, but he needs you to admit it first this time, because the last time hurt enough to keep it buried deep. Knows you want him, at least physically, but can’t figure out if you want more from this. And he knows that the desire he had for Rachel doesn’t come close to the ache he has for you.
You go pliant when he moves you. Manoeuvres your body so your legs are wrapped around his, and so he can cross his own beneath you. Pulls you back into his lap so close and you lean back a little so you can both watch as you sink your pussy over his cock. A whimper slides from your throat as the head makes contact with your G-spot, and he nearly whites out from the pressure around him. Wanted it slow so he didn’t come, but shit– this might be worse.
His hands find your ass, dimples the flesh beneath his fingers and rocks your bodies together. Loves watching the look on your face as pleasure ripples through you. Loves watching your eyelashes flutter closed and your head tip back and that he can kiss your neck and smell the perfume that lingers there. Loves how weak your voice goes, how breathless you are when you say, “fuck, you feel so good inside me.”
Presses his lips to the notch in your neck and watches the movement as you swallow, a pretty sheen of perspiration on your skin. He doesn’t know where this side of you comes from, but he knows it throws him off balance. Doesn’t understand where all your bravado goes the second he gets in your space, but he loves that he can affect you, somehow.
“You’re my best friend,” you whisper, lips brushing his. “Tell me we’re always gonna be best friends.”
And it’s now you look at him. Eyes big and beautiful and unsure.
“Of course we are,” he hisses, eyebrows drawn together.
Doesn’t say what’s on his tongue– aren’t we more than friends? Aren’t you and he more than that? But he can’t– can’t say it if that’s not what you want too. He wants you to be sure. Needs you to know like he knows because he can’t feel the way he did last time. When your cousin, freshly eighteen, married her high school boyfriend and you curled your lip and said it’d never last. When he told you he loved you mid handjob and you pretended not to hear. When you said you just wanted to be friends again. He can’t love you unrequited again– not all these years later, when it matters more.
And his hands slide over your thighs. All his thoughts misfire as your bodies rock together, chests flush, and your arms around him. He feels insane with it. Can best friends do this? Can he touch your clit and get off on the way his name spills from your lips and still call himself your friend? How many times do friends get to touch each other before realising that they’ve gone too far?
And his hands go to your ribs. Feels the way they move with your shallow breaths and wonders if there’s space for him there, beneath them. Wonders if he can pull your heart from your chest and hold it in his hands and ask you if he can keep it. Can he? Please, God, can he?
And his hands move to your face, and you look at him like you’re lost in it too. “You’re so handsome, Nonie.” Your hand goes over his, and you turn your face into his palm, pressing a delicate kiss over his birthmark.
“Kiss me,” he gasps, right on the edge of it.
Barely a second goes by and your hands are in his hair again and your lips are on his and kissing and kissing and kissing and he’s breathless with it. Breathless with the way you don’t break away as you come hard, and his whine is tight and high in the back of his throat as he goes with you and fuck, he loves it so much.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
This inbetween is what’s strange. What did you talk about, before all of this? How did you manage to be in each other's space and not want? And it’s not strange at all when you’re touching. It doesn’t feel like some alien experiment but rather something you never should have stopped.
“What are you thinking?”
Vernon’s voice is sleepy and slow. You’re slumped against the pillows, head tipped back on the headboard, sweat and spit drying on your neck. His cheek is on your breast, one arm crooked around your back and tracing circles into your side with his fingers. His other hand smooths up and down your thigh, slow and sweet. Your fingers are in his hair, nails scratching gently over his scalp. He seems to like it, with the way he angles into it.
“Did you know there’s a word for this in Portuguese?” you say after a moment, throat rasping. You clear it. “Brazilian Portuguese, rather.”
“This?” he asks, curious.
You tousle his hair for emphasis, and go back to raking your fingers through it. Feels so impossibly soft. “It’s called cafuné.” You don’t mention the connotation of intimacy behind the word. The care that the giver has for the receiver, all the tenderness and the love and the comfort wrapped up in this small act of affection.
Vernon yawns. You can feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin and a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth.
“Say it in a sentence.”
“Eu caio no sono quando ganho cafuné,” you say. “Means ‘I fall asleep when my hair is played with.’”
He laughs low and, God, it fucks you up. “Feels good.”
There’s another foreign phrase appropriate for the moment, the internal one, one Vernon surely doesn’t share– the dreamlike fantasies dancing through your mind, nonsensical desires, unattainable– but still something you can’t stop turning over like stones in your hand, worn smooth and rounded with time. You can’t focus on the reality in front of you– forgetting that you told yourself that this is just a physical reprieve because–
Because avere grilli per la testa.
Too many crickets in your head.
For a little while longer, just while Vernon falls into sleep against you, you’ll let them chirp.
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
if you've been waiting, thank you so much for your patience while my life was (is) in a shambles, i adore and appreciate you.
i love these two idiots. i hope you do too, even with the figurative whiplash. final chapter coming soon. taglist to follow on a reblog
where mingyu has a pornstar cock, but the only action he’s getting is with his own hand.
★ pairing: f!reader x mingyu
★ words: 7.5k
★ warnings: comedy, smau bits, homoerotic friendships bc i am free, smut with sexting, big puppy gyu, handjob, both oral, multiple orgasms, protected sex, 18+ mdni
★ notes: it’s finally here and it’s filthy and i did not read it twice!!! going to an ateez concert now brb
GOD HAS FAVOURITES, AND MINGYU’S ONE OF THEM.
in this day and age of hook-up culture, of getting lucky with nothing but a few swipes on your phone, it’s far too easy to just deceive your way into scoring some.
men are liars, and they all claim the same thing these days: they’re a munch, they can go until the sunrise, you’ll feel it in your kidney, they’re a feminist, etc… of course, it’s not until those men slide in dry after rubbing straight flap then cumming in three strokes before those poor women realise: a man will claim anything under the sun if it means you’ll fuck him.
although mingyu can relate to the desperation to get laid, he’s not so shameless that he’d just bullshit his way into someone’s pants. at that point you don’t even deserve it. he’ll stick by his true character even if he’s on the brink of insanity from lack of action. in saying that, what makes mingyu superior to thy neighbour is not just the fact that he only ever speaks the truth — but also in regards to the absurd cock size he’s been blessed with.
through google searches of the average length not just in his country but the whole globe, triple takes from other men in public bathhouses, dick pics sent to talking stages and unsolicited dick pics sent to him — mingyu’s come to the conclusion that he’s bigger than average. to put it humbly, really.
at soft, he can make a few head turns at the least. at half-hard he’s got the size that most men lie about having. and when he’s fully erect, he should probably register his cock as a weapon.
mingyu’s been told that his body’s sculpted like a greek god, complete with zeus’ lightning rod in his pants. he’s got the cock that the top gets in yaoi with ridiculously drawn proportions, the cock that gets spray-painted as graffiti on a cheating ex’s car. mingyu’s big to the point where it’s like okay, can we be serious, like this is doing too much.
he’s been told by men and women alike that he could make a living off of his size. ah, what a dream that’d be. taking dick pics (maybe some feet in there too) to pay the bills. having fame and money and pussy for doing nothing but exist with a completely natural, albeit monstrously sized cock.
he can forget about that ever happening though. it sounds like a dream because it is. nevermind being god’s favourite — mingyu’s starting to believe he must’ve signed a contract with the devil in his past life, because what good is a big dick if you’ve only got yourself to fuck?
it’s a bad joke, really. all these inches and a pretty face but nowhere to use it. he’s only gotten laid enough times to count on one hand without lifting a thumb, and all instances had punctuated years worth of drought.
size doesn’t matter, and he knows that firsthand. when he lost his virginity, he came the instant he slid into his girlfriend, who just said “that’s it?” then broke up with him. he’s had next to no luck landing any girls since that pitiful first, let alone getting one to stay.
he knows he’s not exactly fucking like a pornstar, but his same absurd size is actually what’s holding him back. there’s been times when his cock getting hard for a girl has him on verge of fainting, just from all the fucking blood the monster in his pants needs to get up. then after some mediocre stroke game, the force of orgasming has him seeing literal glimpses of heaven.
despite the physical toll, in some pitiful moments of doubt he even began to question if he’s been lied to his entire life about his size — if it’s not earning him a text back because it’s actually pretty average. that is, until his best friend literally readjusted his glasses in shock the first time he saw mingyu naked.
mingyu might be getting less action than an actual virgin. he’s since long forgotten how a pussy feels since becoming besties with his imagination and left hand — and it’s gotten to the point that the feel of his same old, boring palm can barely spark any pleasure. he may as well be rubbing off his ankle.
the porn on page 1 to page 847 has no difference in how utterly useless it is when he needs help getting off. switching to his non-dominant hand, humping the mattress, buying a pocket pussy, watching fetish content on places he wouldn’t even go with a gun — all of it, useless. futile.
he needs the real thing, warm and tight and living. he needs to get laid before he does something drastic and his face is plastered on every news channel … okay maybe not that far but he fears it really is that serious. all these extra inches means he’s got an extra intense libido to match, and nothing but extra extra bad luck when it comes to finding means of relieving it.
one sunny day he rants about all of this to his roommate and best friend wonwoo, who nods over a steaming bowl of shin ramyun.
“i see.” wonwoo hums. “you’re not asking to fuck me, are you?”
“bro. fuck off.” mingyu groans, dropping his head to the table with a thunk. “you know what? yeah, i might if i don’t get laid soon.”
“well, i’m not a bottom, so unless you want to take it up the ass.” wonwoo shrugs, slurping down a mouthful of noodles without even chewing. (seriously, why does he do that?)
“don’t you have single friends? discord kittens? can’t you hook up a brother in desperate need? i’m losing vision in one eye with how pussy-deprived i am.”
wonwoo readjusts his glasses. “i do know some girls but.. you’d be okay with having my sloppy seconds?”
“forget i even asked man.” mingyu rolls his eyes, kicking his chair out from the table with a loud scrape on the floorboards. “i’m having a shower. need to jerk off before i hit something. or you.”
after a pitiful, rage-induced wank sesh under the hot stream of water (also a few stray tears shed), mingyu was pulling his boxers on when the door swung open.
“are you still on any dating sites?” wonwoo asked casually, ignoring how half of his best friend’s ass was still hanging out as he barged in.
“no, i deleted my tinder after that one girl who set my nudes as her profile picture.”
“okay cool. try this one out.” wonwoo handed his phone over, open on the browser.
www.dtf.com
mingyu scrunched his face. “down to fuck dot com?”
ah, so a matchmaking site that doesn’t pretend to be about any ‘finding your soulmate’ bullshit and is unapologetically straight to the point: we’re all single and here to fuck.
“can’t imagine you look for anything serious on here.” he snickers.
“well no, it’s in the name. are you?”
mingyu scratched his neck. truthfully, a girlfriend would be ideal but… beggars can’t be choosers.
he shrugged. “whatever happens.”
inspecting the rest of the site, he clicked to view wonwoo’s profile — then whistled at the suggestive set of photos displayed on his best friend’s page.
Wonwoo
A giver, most of the time.
AGE: 25
HEIGHT: 6 ft
SIZE: 8 in.
LOOKING FOR: Female, Submissive
INTERESTED IN: BDSM, Brat Taming, Humiliation, Degradation, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Impact Play, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink, Pet Play, Toys, Anal… [Show More]
“you like being called ‘daddy’?” mingyu snickered.
“yeah bro. e-girls flock to me like birds, that’s how i get so many over.” wonwoo replies with a smart-ass smirk. “they grip your dick like you’re gonna leave them.”
“….that’s just not what i asked, man.”
safe to say, mingyu was sold. he promptly had his own account set up, then took close to an hour meticulously choosing the thirst trap images for his profile.
Mingyu
Hey (with the intention of begging on my knees)
AGE: 24
HEIGHT: 6’2
SIZE: 12 in.
LOOKING FOR: Female
INTERESTED IN: Vanilla, Missionary
when mingyu showed wonwoo the final product with a satisfied smile, his best friend burst out laughing.
“are these the default options or something?” wonwoo asked, pointing to mingyu’s barren interests section.
“bro, i’m just looking to get laid. doesn’t need to be any more complex than that.” mingyu pouted. “unlike you, i don’t need a girl to wear a cat tail butt plug and meow for me to get off.”
“that sounds hot.”
it does. “freak ass..”
after leaving his best friend with the middle finger and then setting his profile to public for matchmaking, within mere minutes women were indeed flocking to him, much like birds.
mingyu spent all night marvelling at his phone like a kid in a candy store — giggling as he sifted through profiles, kicking his feet as he chatted with women basically throwing themselves at him.
despite wonwoo making fun of him, it seemed that his only interests being ‘vanilla’ had actually worked in his favour, since he had countless women from all different shades of kinks asking if he was open-minded. the one thing they all had in common though, from the bratty subs to the dominatrixes, was one burning question: is it really that big?
and oh, he’s been more than happy to prove it; snapping a quick, shaky photo of the visible bulge in his calvin kleins and watching as all the phone numbers and addresses and nudes roll in like waves.
he hasn’t taken anyone up on their offers to meet up, not just yet. call him an attention whore, but he’s had years worth of yearning for this, dreaming about this, even crying in the shower after jerking off over this. these days it’s hard enough trying to reach an orgasm even with every tool in his arsenal — and yet he’s been laying here, chatting away with a lifetime’s supply worth of women, while being so turned on he’s basically blue-ballsing himself.
ah, he could get used to this. this could even prove to be a little too dangerous. maybe he really was destined to be a pornstar, and him having no luck climbing out of bitchless purgatory was just the universe’s way of restoring natural balance. no one man should have all this power.
the attention goes straight to his head, leaves him feeling high off of it. leaves him on cloud nine with a painfully hard cock.
ding.
leaves him with a harsh comedown that hits like a kick in the balls.
when he clicks to open the uncalled-for dm, mingyu can feel his boner go a quarter of the way back down just from the shock. what the hell does that mean? do you think he’s a bot, clickbaiting? but he put so much effort and care into choosing the right photos for his profile…
….is it really so unbelievable that he’s only looking for vanilla sex?
oh. okay. so everyone he’s chatted with so far may as well have been shy, considering how forward you are straight off the bat. not even a hello, how are you, my name is… just “i call bullshit, show me that dick.”
alright then. he can play ball.
mingyu tugs his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach, even at only somewhat hard. he’ll need to get it all the way back it up if he’s going to prove it to you.
he has a full-body shiver when his hand grazes the tip, just from how on edge he’s been; smearing precum across his palm before his fingers curl around in a loose grip.
he’ll need something to jerk off to, and well, since your profile is there….
shit. it’s more than enough. you’re like, really fucking pretty. hot, gorgeous, panty-dropping and cock-raising. so pretty he actually feels a little guilty as his hand starts to stroke his cock, but hey, you’ll get him fully hard in no time.
mingyu swipes through the array of photos on your page, each one more revealing than the last, fist steadily pumping his length. it jumps between his fingers when he settles on a photo of you in white lingerie: the lace hugging your curves perfectly, plush lip bitten between your teeth, hands cupping the underside of your breasts and lifting them on full display.
it’s not until a fresh spurt of precum leaks over his knuckles that mingyu remembers he’s supposed to be taking a picture of his boner as proof, and not just… jerking off for the sake of it.
he has to literally rip his hand away, lower belly already coiled dangerously tight. he can’t remember the last time a girl in real life got him this hard and this fast.
shuffling closer to the mirror, he sits on the edge of the bed and holds his cock upright with one hand, the other holding his phone right next to it — as comparison, of course.
he holds his breath as he sends it through.
well, his stomach sank for a moment there, but he quickly recovers. mingyu lays back on the bed, running his palm up and over his length, just absentmindedly playing with himself as his jelly fingers type out a reply.
he’s quick to navigate back to your profile, cock reacting with a pulse as his eyes land on your face again like it missed you already.
he doesn’t even think about it this time: just gets completely lost in the sight before him, in the feel of his fist fucking him. until a ding cuts through the tunnel vision, your chat notification lighting up the top of his screen. the only thing that could tear his attention away from the softcore porn on your profile.
damn. guilty.
he feels his cheeks heating up a little. the fuck? you’ve got his grown ass blushing through the phone. either you’re a seasoned pro at turning men to putty, or mingyu’s just that out of the element.
his mind’s turning to complete mush at this point; tuned in solely to your pretty face and body, to your vulgar mouth. imagination drifting to the feel of your skin under the pads of his fingers, of your lips stretched over the head of his—
shit, he almost came.
mingyu nearly drops his phone as he fumbles to the camera app, shakily filming himself in the mirror as his hand goes to fucking town on his cock. his mouth’s even fouler than yours with all the whiney huffs and puffs pouring from his throat.
he’s not sure if the footage is long enough or even good enough but he also doesn’t care; sending it straight through to you while not missing a beat in jerking himself off.
he throws his head back on the bed with a tortured groan, back arching off the bed as his hips chase the circle of his fist with a mind of their own. he can’t recall the last time masturbating felt this fucking good, the last time it took such a short span of time for him to reach an orgasm.
the last time he was able to forget that the hand around his cock is his own — nothing but your face, that body, those curves behind his lids when he screws his eyes shut.
and just the mere thought that you could be touching yourself too? to the videos of mingyu touching himself, oh fuck…
mingyu winces as his grip tightens until it hurts, fist strangling the fucking life out of his cock. he squeezes until he literally feels the tidal wave of his orgasm receding, the hot pressure under his abs fading into sharp, demanding pulses of his cock.
why did he even say that shit? man, talk about being pussy drunk. he can just manage to feel the weight of shame pressing into his chest over the ache throbbing between his thighs.
if he really did fumble a chance as good as this, a girl as hot as you, he doesn’t even deserve to cum. maybe he should just start embracing the involuntarily celibate life..
to his surprise, another ding from you interrupts his pitiful — while still fully erect — wallowing.
much like a well-trained dog, you don’t have to tell him twice.
mingyu puts on a whole ass show for you. sits upright in bed, films his entire upper body to ensure no twitch or contraction of his sweat-slick abs was left out of frame.
he’s sure the speed of his hand gives away just how long he’s gone without getting laid, but mingyu can’t find it in himself to feel much shame at all now that you’ve offered a chance to remedy that up on a silver platter.
he cums obnoxiously: throwing his head back, adam’s apple bobbing with each shameless moan falling from his mouth; grinding his hips up into his ruthless fist like he’s fucking into someone; a hefty load spurting all over his pretty toned torso, your name slipping from his lips.
before the post-nut clarity can settle in, he sends the raw footage straight through to his patiently waiting audience.
mingyu was so ecstatic that he didn’t even bother to clean up properly, just quickly wiped himself with a tissue before skipping into wonwoo’s room and dapping his best friend up in celebration.
(his reaction being “bro you smell like cum.”)
after leaving dtf.com behind in a matter of hours and moving over to messages, a date was promptly established. being, a date as in the day, because there wasn’t going to be any conversing over dinner or fondling during a movie.
it’s becoming increasingly clear to mingyu that he really struck a pot of gold in you, since you were both on the same page about this: fuck first, talk later.
if you were to go on a date prior, mingyu knows good and damn well that he’d just be sporting a massive pitch in his pants throughout the entire thing; way too excited for his own good over the knowledge that he’s finally getting laid after.
the stars aligned to both of your schedules being open just two days from now. while the anticipation is sure to strangle him alive, he’s able to give wonwoo notice that he’s kicking him out for the day, and to prepare.
in the limited sexual encounters under his belt, mingyu can’t say for certain that he’s actually made a girl cum. unlike men, there isn’t exactly a visual indicator. his size alone could’ve been enough to get them off, sure. but when it comes to you, he doesn’t want to repeat that flustered fumbling; rubbing what he assumes is the clit based off of what he also assumes is genuine moans. his mouth hasn’t even graced a pussy before, isn’t that crazy?
those girls didn’t want anything other than to feel his cock in them, though — letting him touch for a few seconds before insisting that was enough foreplay. hence why he’s never learned.
you, however, like to play with your food. over texts you’ve been teasing the hell out of him, intent on finding out the limits of his desperation — and pleased to find there is none. he will genuinely do anything just to get a sliver of that pussy, and you only want him more because of it.
mingyu knows your expectations aren’t exactly high, but he doesn’t want to risk disappointing you so badly that you won’t sleep with him again. and if he can exceed your expectations, maybe you’d be open to being something more exclusive….
he’s a romantic at heart, okay?
of course, he had to seek out his most trusted elders for advice.
two torturously long days later, mingyu receives your “on the way” text and is pushing wonwoo out the door within the next second.
“don’t be back until tonight, just in case.”
“eh, you won’t last that long.” wonwoo shrugged. mingyu rolls his eyes, and wonwoo just slaps him on the back, pulling him into one of those side-hugs men do. “condoms are in my bedside table.”
with that, wonwoo takes his leave; off to a girl’s place, no doubt. mingyu doesn’t really care to know. his mind’s pretty occupied with a girl of his own.
mingyu rushes into his best friend’s bedroom, kicking his bulky ass gamer chair out of the way and pulling out the top drawer of his bedside table. mingyu physically recoils at the pile of dildos and vibrators he finds instead, which wonwoo so graciously neglected to mention. slamming that one shut, he finds what he’s looking for in the second drawer. condoms.
….why are there so many? textured, warming, cooling, flavoured; how is he supposed to know which one you’d prefer?
after tossing the options over in his head (frantically panicking), mingyu settles on the box of strawberry flavoured condoms, grabbing out more than enough and stuffing them in his pocket.
he then stops by wonwoo’s mirror, giving himself a once over. he went commando for obvious reasons, and his grey sweats already have a visible tent from how he’s half-hard just thinking about you. he already shaved everything in the shower, but he turns his head this way and that to make sure he didn’t miss any spots. pulls his pants down to check the same for his crotch. he smells his breath, his armpits. decides to spritz on more cologne and chew on some gum.
then the doorbell rings.
like some dog waiting for its owner, mingyu bounds over and hastily unlocks the door.
there you are, in all your beauty — smiling sweetly in a little sundress (they always make men go crazy, for whatever reason).
mingyu stammers like an idiot as he attempts to greet you, blocking the doorway as his eyes flick up and down and all around your body, damn nearly drooling until you clear your throat.
“hey mingyu.” you coo, saccharine voice like honey and melting over his thoughts. “it’s nice to finally meet.”
“yes, yes, of course.” he bumbles, finally stepping out of the way and letting you walk inside. he locks the door, gulping as he watches you inspect the place. how is he supposed to begin this? “did you, uh.. want any water or—”
that sentence is lost on the tip of his tongue when your lips smother it. you catch mingyu completely off guard when you step into a kiss with him, leaving no room for questions when your tongue slips into his mouth. you back him into the closest surface, being his kitchen counter, without breaking your mouth from his.
mingyu’s quite good at kissing, since he’s got a lot of experience with that alone, but then not much for the after.
mingyu knows how to lick his tongue against yours and tilt his head for deeper access. knows where to put his hands, how to hold just tight enough to leave your skin buzzing. he knows to pull you in and press your chest flush against his, and he’s mindful enough to keep his pelvis angled away from you. how cute and polite of him. it’s almost like you’re not here for the sole reason of getting in those pants.
despite his best attempts, you rock your hips forward to meet his crotch, delighting at the solid rock you find there. mingyu muffles a noise into your mouth that you’re determined to hear out loud later. you roll your body into his again, brushing your front right up and gauging the outline of his cock.
he’s already proven that he’s not lying about his size but man, fuck… feeling it in real life just brings the shock right back. to think, he’s somehow also desperate as if this thing couldn’t get him laid with ease?
it’s flattering, really — that he chose you amongst all the girls throwing themselves at him, when all you did was doubt and make fun of him.
mingyu finally succumbs to your ministrations and starts rocking his hips right back — tongue tasting every inch of your mouth as he grinds his length forward, nothing but the fabric of his pants and your dress to offer him friction. he’s so worked up that honestly, it could be enough to get him off. he can already feel his dick leaking into his sweats like he’s some virgin experiencing his first kiss.
before he can actually just cum his pants, you part with him — a line of spit connecting your mouths that you wipe off. mingyu’s already huffing, waiting for your next move. you smirk, turning on your heel and walking further into the place.
“which one’s your room?” you call after him. he takes that as a hint to run up and show you to it.
mingyu can just barely hear your oohs and ahhs over the blood pumping like bass in his ears as he pushes his bedroom door open.
your fingers run along his shelves, eyes scanning his posters and the gym equipment scattered around the place. the picture of a dude’s room.
“where’s your roommate?” you ask, perching on his bed.
mingyu swallows, willing his voice to come, a little speechless just at the sight of you sitting where he sleeps. “wonwoo? uh, he’s out.”
you hum, nodding. “so we don’t have to worry about your volume, then.”
oh. you offer mingyu a grin and he just blanches. not yours, his volume. you’re not wrong though.. you’ll probably have him hooting and hollering from just thumbing his tip.
you clear your throat, commanding his attention.
“are you gonna fuck me from there or..?”
mingyu can feel his knees bending a little, on instinct from being flustered and wanting to shrink. you pat on the bed, just to gently guide him, and mingyu follows like a dog.
he chooses to sit beside you which makes you giggle. with a hand on the neck, thumb sitting above his thrumming pulse, you pull him in for a kiss. it’s startlingly tender, at least it begins so.
it’s not long at all until your impatience wins over and you’re licking into his mouth again, enticing little hums from mingyu’s throat. you swings your thighs over his as you climb into his lap, feeling his whole body tense as you sit right on the massive tent in his pants.
mingyu knows he’s fully hard, has been since you put your tongue in his mouth — but now you know it too. there’s a bit of an astonished look in your eye, as if finally confirming some theory. yes, it really is that big. boners give him headaches and he wouldn’t doubt that some of his back pain comes from lugging this big thing around all day.
even now, he can feel his head swimming from all the blood leaving to his lower half. you may leave him with a killer migraine from how hard he’s sure to cum, but it’ll be more than worth it. and you can always make it up to him, maybe….
you grind down on him a few times, the wet patch on his sweats growing even worse; mingyu throwing his head back and just letting you.
a rough hand gripping the scruff of his hair gets his eyes to fly open, staring at you with wide eyes like he’s in trouble. under his watch, you roll your hips deliberately slow, letting mingyu feel every ridge down there, all the wetness dripping from your—
shit, you’re not wearing underwear. you giggle at his recognition, and mingyu’s hands fly out to grip your thighs. to slow you down or get you to speed up, he doesn’t know. as long as you don’t stop.
you make a show with your hand: cupping a breast through your dress, trailing your fingers down your torso before they find the hem of your skirt. you snicker at mingyu’s eyes following every little move, then raise the dress to reveal your bare pussy rutting against his cock — nothing but the thin fabric of his sweats separating you, soiled sticky with your shared arousal.
mingyu whines at the sight, his cock pulsing under you in tandem. you even look a bit startled at how much of it moved, practically halfway in you at this point.
to his dismay you shift back, sitting on his thighs and leaving his poor crotch empty. he doesn’t get to pout for long though, since your hand leaves the dress to brush your knuckles against his length. mingyu shivers, a desperate noise leaving his mouth as your fingers dance over his cock. it throbs and jumps in response, and you giggle, continuing to just play with it. he can barely feel the warmth of your fingers through the fabric, and his hips cant upwards in chase of it.
“you’re real pretty like this, mingyu.” you murmur, fingers softly making a plucking motion over his tip and watching him try to thrust up into it.
as a big ass dude, he’s never heard himself be called ‘pretty’ before, even by his mother but… the way his body reacts to that speaks for itself.
he can’t even get out a ‘thanks’, nothing but embarrassing whines leaving his mouth, even over the faintest stimulation you’re offering him.
“you’ll need to work to fit inside.” you tell him, and he nods, even though he doesn’t even fully register what that means. “mingyu?”
“yeah?” he huffs out, glossy eyes finding yours. you swoon over how much he looks like a puppy, especially with his open-mouth panting, and the fact that he won’t move unless you tell him to.
softness swells inside you and your fingers splay through his hair, combing through it gently. a contrast to your blunt words: “eat me out.”
“oh,” he just says, mind lagging behind as the words sink in. “oh. yes, yeah. i can do that.”
you huff in amusement, pushing off his lap and positioning yourself at the edge of the bed. “i would hope so..”
mingyu follows your lead, sliding off the edge himself and sitting on the floor in front of you. you giggle at his commitment, spreading your legs and pulling the skirt up so your pussy is on full display for him.
saliva gathers in his mouth just looking at it, and he mentally runs through all of the advice jeonghan and joshua gave him.
leaning forward, mingyu starts out slow; leaving soft pecks on the skin of your thigh, listening to your breathing as he inches closer. he works up the courage to look up, holding your gaze as he gives a tentative lick.
you hum appreciatively, fingers finding his hair again, his lashes fluttering over how much he likes the feel of your hand there. mingyu dives in again, just licking for the sake of it — running his tongue through your folds and familiarising himself with your taste. he pulls a steady stream of hums from you, punctuated with a gasp when his tongue presses just right in a particular spot.
the clit, mingyu realises. he latches on so he doesn’t lose it — lips closing around the bud and sucking. your back arches, fingers twisting in mingyu’s hair and causing a groan to rumble on your pussy.
while mingyu kinda knows what to do, he also kinda doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, so he follows the noises above him as direction. he builds a rhythm, switching between quick flicks of his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth. then, he gets curious: licking down to your hole, juices gushing onto his tongue as he buries it into you. you squeak, thighs clamping around his head, and mingyu uses both of his hands to pry them back open.
he fucks you on his tongue, trying his best to keep his eyes on you through how much they’re rolling back into his head. he thinks he’s got the hang of this now — and so he drags his mouth back to your clit, replacing his tongue with two fingers. mingyu pistons them in and out, curls them up, and goes light-headed at all the gorgeous noises he’s pulling from your mouth.
you’re tight, such a tight fit it might hurt him when he goes in — so he can only imagine how much it’ll hurt you.
on that thought, mingyu scissors his fingers, spreading you open and brushing against your g-spot as he does. his cock jumps in his sweats as you drag out a moan, fist close to ripping out his hair. mingyu adds a third finger, fucks you on them for a bit and listens to your moans in response before easing in a fourth. even all his fingers won’t compare to his entire size, but it’s all he has to prepare you enough.
for the first time maybe ever, mingyu’s certain that you’re close. your body’s practically vibrating: thighs tensing around his ears, pussy throbbing in his mouth and around his fingers.
mingyu locks in, keeping his hand and tongue steady to fuck and lick you through it — that is, until you just tear his face away.
he blinks, registering what just happened as you pull his hand out yourself. he blinks again, and suddenly you’re pulling him up by the shirt collar until he’s sat back on the bed.
you shove him, and mingyu falls on his back. one more blink and mingyu’s met with the image of you lowering your pussy onto his mouth.
you straddle mingyu’s face, grabbing hold of his hair as an anchor before you start to rocklike crazy. your dress covers his eyes, but he’s undeterred as his hands find your ass and push you further down, gladly presenting his tongue for you to use.
mingyu can hardly breathe, but he’d die happily if the last thing he hears is your moans as you ride your orgasm out on his face.
his scalp burns when your fingers twist impossibly tight, hips grinding onto him so hard that even his teeth ache — but then a fresh wave of slick is gushing onto his tongue, and mingyu knows that you’re cumming.
it’s all too much for him and his painfully erect cock, and before he can even register what’s happening — mingyu’s stomach is lurching, cock spilling a hot load into his sweats.
you climb off him, looking unkempt and yet every bit still gorgeous. you tug mingyu by his neck into a kiss, feral and sloppy. teeth gnashing and tongues twisting. your chin sliding against his chin, covered in your cum and his own spit.
mingyu’s the one who breaks it off this time — as much as it pains him, he probably would’ve suffocated on your tongue there with just how breathless he’s been since you unsaddled from him.
you notice, allowing him a moment to actually get some air back into his lungs as you kiss along his jaw and above his adam’s apple. it bobs as you leave a peck there.
turning your attention to the rest of his body, you tug on his shirt, and mingyu lifts his arms to let you pull it off. chest bare, you begin to ravage him, leaving your mark as you suck hickeys and nip bites at his honey skin. your tongue runs through the valley of his pecs and the ridges of his abs, stopped only by the band of his sweats. you pull back, eyes landing on the large stain in his pants, and your lips curl into a smirk.
“aw,” you pout. “i’m flattered.”
you peel his waistband back, and mingyu takes the hint to raise his hips and let you pull these godforsaken sweats all the way down. he winces when his cock slaps against his stomach, sensitive and yet still fully hard.
you take a moment to just admire it, and mingyu gets progressively shy, pre beading at his tip like there isn’t actual cum still covering his length.
you wrap gentle fingers around the base, smiling at how it jumps in your hand. what mingyu doesn’t expect is for you to lean down, and press your lips against the head of his cock.
mingyu groans, so sensitive and yet so fucking good. you don’t go too hard as you mouth at his tip, then darting your tongue out and running it down his length — licking up all the cum dripping down to his balls. you even leave a kiss on his sack, and he shivers, almost shutting his legs on instinct.
he giggles. “sorry, no one’s ever—”
“i could spend all day down here,” you tell him, eyes alight and smile beaming. you really do mean that and you want him to know it. “you’ve got more than enough for a girl to be grateful for.”
mingyu shivers again as you leave an open-mouthed kiss on his cock, running your lips over his length, though he’s not sure if it’s because of that or because of your words.
“almost didn’t believe a man that looks like you could be so desperate, but now..” you press your thumb to his frenulum, revelling in the moan that rips from his chest. “what a lucky girl i am, huh?”
“ffu—shit, you mean i’m the lucky one,” mingyu manages to grit out. “haven’t been laid in forever.”
“see now, i just can’t believe that. well, i do, now that i’m actually touching you—” you squeeze his tip as if to make a point, and mingyu nearly thrashes from how much that just built his next orgasm. “guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, hm?”
mingyu nods feverishly. you smile, so entirely endeared with him.
with how much of a package mingyu is (in more ways than one), you probably would’ve still fucked him even if you found out he was lying about being pathetically bitchless. now, his good looks are just a bonus. you’re going to fuck him because you’re starting to feel quite fond of him.
“where’s your condoms?” you ask him, granting his poor cock some mercy and instead choosing to run your hands over his sweat-slick abs.
“er..” his mind blanks for a moment, too caught up on the fact that you’re really about to fuck him. “pants pocket.”
you stand from the bed, kneeling down to reach into where you threw his pants on the floor. you arch a brow at mingyu, no doubt realising how he’s got an entire stash of condoms in there, but you don’t mention it.
back on your feet, you shrug your dress off, revealing nothing but a bare, beautifully sculpted body beneath.
“wah..” mingyu unintentionally says out loud, just admiring you.
you roll your eyes, ripping the condom packet open with your teeth. “don’t cum before i even put it in.”
“better hurry then..” he smiles, flashing his sharp canines.
it’s all fast movement from there: you slip the condom on mingyu, snickering a comment about how it took forever until it reached the base, and then you position yourself right above him.
mingyu holds his breath, expecting you to ease onto him — totally unprepared for you to just drop down.
mingyu body curls upwards like you’ve just winded him, cursing like a sailor over your heat wrapped around him. he already knew it’d be like this, even with all the prep, but you’re so fucking tight. you’re just sitting there, not even moving, and yet your pussy is strangling the fucking life out of his cock.
he’s so caught up in trying not to cum prematurely that he forgets about your own discomfort. mingyu recollects himself, pressing a gentle palm to your back as he schools his shaky breathing.
“you okay?” he wheezes out, eyes screwing shut at the pulse your pussy gives.
“mm.” you hum, offering no sign to fuss over, but that doesn’t stop mingyu. holding your waist, he attempts to lift you off of him, but you cut that shit out immediately when you grind yourself forward on his cock. he keels over, head buried into your shoulder.
“‘s a lot to take, but i’m fine, mingyu.” you reassure him, fingers playing with his hair since you’ve realised how much he seems to like it. “are you okay?”
he groans out, intending for that to be a yes. you giggle. “i’m going to move now, alright?” he repeats the groan noise in reply.
you plant both feet on either side of mingyu, balancing yourself with your hands holding his hair, and then you start to bounce. just slowly to start off, letting your pussy adjust to the massive ass cock spearing you open. you know that if you were to have inched down, your pussy would’ve tried to push it out, so making mingyu fit meant just taking it all at once.
he currently looks like he’s the one that has to adjust to you, though.
mingyu lets out a stream of whimpers into your ear where his head is lolled onto your shoulder, just pliantly taking what you’re giving him. all of his brainpower is channelled into holding his cum back right now.
his effort is almost in vain when you speed up, bouncing so hard that his balls smack into your ass with each thrust onto him.
he’s moaning so loud he didn’t even realise the desperate cries coming from your mouth too — dick twitching so violently he didn’t even realise how much you’re pulsing around him.
mingyu pulls back, knowing he’ll regret it if he spent the entire duration of sex with his face stuffed in your shoulder — his eyes captivated on where your bodies connect.
he can’t find the strength in him to offer anything more than his hips stuttering up, attempting to meet each of your bounces on him. in and out, in and out, in and—
“fuuuuucck,” mingyu drawls, eyes rolling so far back he catches a glimpse of his own brain.
you don’t mention it as you quickly wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth, then gasp as you feel his cock spasm like a snapped rubber band. “shit, mingyu, are you—”
you don’t get to ask and he doesn’t get to answer before his orgasm slams into him like a bag of bricks. mingyu’s head lolls back, knuckles turning white where they’re holding onto your waist for dear life, sure to leave bruises in their wake.
you fuck mingyu until you’re certain the condom must be flooded, and then you fuck yourself on him some more.
mingyu’s unintelligible at this point, hoarse voice almost unrecognisable as he can do nothing but moan through the sensitivity. it’s raw and god it hurts but you don’t stop fucking him. he doesn’t want you to either.
your bounces shift into rocking your hips on him, his spent cock rubbing deep and perfectly into your g-spot. your clit grinds on the skin of his groin with each movement, and before long you’re riding out a second orgasm on him.
mingyu takes it, long past his limit but loving every second of you just using him like a toy. he even tries his best to fuck up as you’re cumming, the sweet thing.
after the last wave of your orgasm gushes around his cock, you just lay boneless on mingyu — his body keeping you both propped upright as you catch your breaths and your trains of thought.
his large hand comes to caress your back. he winces when you pulse around him once more, his cock softening inside the spent condom.
“you should probably take the condom off.” you mumble into his collarbone.
he hums, finger mindlessly drawing shapes onto your back.
“and put a new one on.” you add, leaving a peck on his jaw like what you said was nothing out of the ordinary.
“wait, what?”
“what?” you eye him like he’s the one who said something crazy. “did you think that’s all i came for?” you continue, smile stretching across your face.
“uh…” well, yeah. every other girl he’s been with was halfway out the door before he could even tie the condom up.
you kiss him, sweetly this time. a stark contrast to the sloppy, tongue filled make-outs you were having just minutes ago.
“unless you don’t want this as much as you’ve led me to believe..” you tease.
“fuck, i do, i do.” he confirms quickly. “just… give me five minutes.” as if on command, his temple throbs with pain. “and some ibuprofen.”
you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.
god, you’re going to wring all 12 inches of him dry.
...is this enough to ask if you’d like to go out sometime?
summary: It’s not just Wonwoo, but everyone in his life who knows that he is the best driver for Aston Martin, and has been for years. This season is his first real chance to take the championship home. But everything goes terribly wrong when a race goes awry and he fractures his collarbone, and there is no one he hates more than the orthopedic surgeon who tells him he can’t race.
pairing: f1 driver!wonwoo x orthopedic surgeon!reader
word count: 9.7k
warnings: f1 au, swearing, some angst, descriptions of injuries and fractures, medical procedures. wonwoo is a bit of an asshole, realisation of feelings, smut, nsfw, multiple orgasms, riding, dirty talk, fluff.
a/n: i think this is my first time writing a stand alone oneshot for wonwoo, and also my first time writing f1, so pls be nice to me 🙏🏼 this was written as a commission, and you can find details here. thank you to @supi-wupi, @orbitondgtl and @mylovesstuffs for beta reading for me, ily all so much xx
Wonwoo thinks he is very level headed. In fact, he prides himself for it. He credits his success to it; being calculating, grounded, and strategic. There’s no room for emotion in his sport, and he makes sure that there never will be. Every variable is weighed, every hypothetical solved in his head or in race simulations. Nothing can catch him off guard. He’s got this shit on lock.
But even Wonwoo did not anticipate how badly today would go.
It’s a critical race weekend. This last season has been astronomical for him and his career, and winning today is important for his future. He can take the championship, he knows this. Years of work have come to a head this season. It’s more or less his game to lose, so no one in his team risks anything. While the weather was a factor on the circuit, it’s been carefully accounted for. Everything is set, everything is adjusted.
It’s the nature of his job that the slightest alteration can have such disastrous consequences.
He doesn’t even register how quick it all happens. The tires scream as he shoots into Turn 5, barely a centimeter from the car beside him. Rain has left the tarmac slick, and spray blurs the view of the apex. His hands grip the wheel, muscles screaming against the steering forces.
Suddenly, a flash of red on the inside, likely the Ferrari that has been on his heels for a while, trying to overtake on the inside line. It loses control. The car spins violently, clips the barrier, and bounces back across the track. There is nowhere to go. Instinct takes over Wonwoo in that instant. He jerks left, but the slippery surface betrays him.
His Aston Martin hits the outside barrier shoulder-first, the impact crushing his left side against the carbon fiber cockpit. The world tilts; G-force slamming into his chest and shoulder like a battering ram. Pain shoots through his left collarbone, sharp and immediate.
The car skids along the barrier for a few meters before stopping. Smoke and sparks rise, and the tires hiss against wet asphalt. Wonwoo sits frozen for a moment, his good hand balled into a fist, the other dangling awkwardly to the side, shoulder numb but throbbing.
His mind is stationary with shock.
FIA marshals are on him within seconds. The medical car screeches to a halt behind the crash, doors opening like a scene from a film. Trackside doctors arrive, quick hands checking for consciousness, pulse, and the obvious deformity of the shoulder. Wonwoo doesn’t feel any of it. He’s still in the race in his head, focus somehow unbroken. He barely registers the hands, the noise all around him deepening and slowing like he’s hearing it through a bad speaker.
“Clavicle,” one of them mutters under their breath. There’s some tugging and pushing, and they carefully immobilize his arm with a sling and brace, instructing him not to move. Wonwoo doesn’t think he can, even if he tries. The reality is sinking in, and the pain is so sharp, radiating down his arm with every heartbeat. The adrenaline keeps him upright, alert, but that means he is quickly absorbing the gravity of the situation.
His race is over. He’s done.
He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to be lifted onto a stretcher and guided into the medical car. He is half aware that his eyes are open, and he can register touch, but everything else feels like it’s far away. It’s a while later that he fully feels like he’s in his own body again. He’s at the circuit medical center, laying on a stiff, cold surface with a large machine hovering over him. In the quiet of the space, his head mutes a bit more, and Wonwoo can finally look at his surroundings to truly comprehend what is happening. Seungkwan, his physical therapist, is standing over a console in the next room, staring intently at a computer screen with someone who looks like an X-ray technician, his arms crossed. There’s a crease between his eyebrows, one he gets very rarely, only when he is really, truly worried. A new feeling sinks into Wonwoo’s chest then, a crushing, unbearable dread.
It’s a bit of a blur when Seungkwan comes to him with the news. His clavicle is fractured. Badly. In multiple places. His first thought is: no wonder. It hurts so bad, it couldn’t have been something minor. And his second thought is: when can he be back in a car again?
Seungkwan’s face gets sympathetic when he echoes the sentence out loud. Wonwoo doesn’t like that look.
“I’m not saying anything.” Seungkwan’s tone is somber. “I don’t want to give or take any hope right now. I’ve sent your X-rays to an orthopedic surgeon the team has on contract. She’s the one who can make a correct estimate.”
Wonwoo nods, but the movement itself makes tiny tendrils of pain shoot down his neck. Seungkwan is right. Speculation won’t help. Wonwoo needs the facts. Numbers don’t lie, they never have. So he sits there, trying to keep his mind as still as possible, to somehow suspend his reality until he knows for sure.
Jeon Wonwoo, the man who runs hypotheticals, cannot do that exact thing right now. He can’t, because anything other than him not missing even a single race will be a nightmare he doesn’t even want to think about.
Seungkwan has an answer in less than ten minutes. He will need surgery. No racing for at least four to six weeks.
His world comes crashing down.
He doesn’t believe it at first, staring blankly at Seungkwan. The man shifts a little uncomfortably in the long silence, but doesn’t really say more. Not that anything he says would make any of this feel better. Instead, Wonwoo stretches out his uninjured arm, holding his hand out for the phone in Seungkwan’s grip.
“Let me talk to her.”
Seungkwan blinks, surprised. “The surgeon?”
Wonwoo nods. His physio hesitates.
“Look, you’re going to see her at her clinic anyway. We’re preparing transport right now-”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Wonwoo’s teeth grit. “The race-”
“It’s not your race anymore.” Seungkwan’s tone is firm. “Plus, your surgeon gave us strict instructions that you don’t move much until she’s had a look herself.”
Anger swells inside Wonwoo’s chest. Irrational, seething anger. He wants to yell at Seungkwan, at this invisible surgeon who is essentially killing his career. There’s no way he’s going to take this laying down, no way he’s not going to fight for his life. He’s worked too hard, he’s sacrificed too much to be where he is. All of it can’t be for nothing.
It can’t end. Not like this.
…………………………………
The caveat that comes with working in Orthopedics is that long term injuries will leave patients feeling some type of way. And as the person usually delivering that news, you are at the receiving end of their frustrations.
It’s a natural response, so you’re not too bothered by it. You’ve dealt with it for years, through your entire residency and the process of establishing your own practice as well. Any kind of fracture or ligament tear that needs long term care is not exactly good news, and people aren’t very keen on them, especially those whose jobs are affected by these injuries. The absolute worst of these cases are, without a doubt, athletes.
When you get soft copies of X-rays sent to your email for a Formula 1 driver and you immediately spot a displaced clavicle fracture, you wince. You already know this isn’t going to go well. From previous experience, you know this will cost him at least two or three races. You’re not sure exactly how many, since you’re not very up-to-date with the schedules. You’re not directly involved with the drivers, since their core medical team usually takes care of any health issues. You’re too high up the chain for minor problems. But this? This is definitely in your wheelhouse.
You’re closely in contact with Seungkwan, Aston Martin’s physical therapist, as well as their Sports Medicine Physician. You discuss your patient’s status while they get him ready for transport. As you wait for him to arrive at your clinic, you have your team on standby, briefing them about your incoming patient. Chan gasps when you tell him who is on the way, and that makes you raise an eyebrow.
“Jeon Wonwoo…” He trails off. “Oh man. He was going to take Aston Martin all the way in this championship. This is bad. He’s going to be pissed.”
You give the nurse a weird look. “Okay. Well. We are in for an unpleasant few weeks then-”
“Unpleasant?” Chan visibly shivers. “It’s going to be a nightmare.”
You roll your eyes. Athletes really are always like this. Though you can’t fault them for the reactions: this is their career, their whole life on the line. Anyone would be agitated. You’re a professional. You can deal with it.
Nothing could’ve prepared you for how venomous this guy would be, though.
The first thing you notice about him when he arrives with a nurse and a medical assistant is that he is unbearably stiff, from the stony expression all the way to the ends of his limbs. You look at the X-ray films again and advise a CT scan for more details. While your team preps, you try to assess his arm as much as you can. He sits on the examination couch and stares blankly at the opposite wall as you gently maneuver the arm attached to his injured collarbone. He’s silent all throughout it as you work his shoulder, not even flinching at the movements when you press down on his skin. The room is silent as you work, the heavy kind that leaves the air awkward. You let him sit in it, trying to make it as quick as possible. He needs this space. When you step away, he finally utters his first words.
“So?” He says. “How long?”
His tone is clipped. You are unbothered. “While it depends on how the surgery goes, I can estimate almost six weeks.”
He scoffs, and you see his jaw tick. “Is surgery necessary?”
You blink. “Well, yes. It’s a fracture.”
“But some fractures don’t need surgery, do they? I read somewhere that-”
“Yours is not that kind of fracture.” You cut him off immediately. Great. He’s the kind who googles stuff. God, Chan was right. This won’t be easy. This guy is in denial about even needing surgery. Usually the denial starts with how long the healing time will be, not this.
He scowls. “But there has to be a way-”
“There isn’t.”
His eyes narrow into sharp daggers. You know your interruptions are ticking him off, and he’s not used to them, but you need to nip this in the bud. Any hesitation means he will look for alternatives, and that will delay his surgery, making it more difficult in the long run. While you can see how his cold stare might intimidate someone else, you are unfazed. You’ve met too many people like him.
“Figure it out.” He spits. “I can’t miss another race. I already missed today-”
“Listen to me.” You cut him off again, holding a hand up. You look him straight in the eye, not backing down. “I will do the best I can for you within my capacity. I gave you my professional opinion. If you don’t trust it, you’re more than welcome to ask another orthopedic surgeon. I’m telling you right now though, it will be the exact same answer. The rest is up to you.”
This is the best way to deal with situations like these. All this anger, this denial, is coming from the very emotional state of having his career in jeopardy for something that wasn’t his fault. He needs to feel some semblance of control in a situation that gives him none, and making the choice of his own surgeon gives him that control, even if it’s just to placate his mind. You watch a million shadows pass over his eyes as he contemplates. You notice the sweat built up on his temple, the slightly increased pulse on his heart monitor. He’s in pain, even if he isn’t showing it.
Finally, he nods, albeit stiffly. You move then, pulling open your exam room door to poke your head out and call for Chan to bring the meds your patient requires. When you go back in, Wonwoo is lost in thought again, face just as blank as before. He truly gives nothing away in moments like these, even to someone who reads people as well as you do, and something like curiosity unfurls in your stomach.
Who exactly is this guy?
Your clinic is not far from where you live, and later that night, when you’re back home after settling everything with Wonwoo and giving full instructions to prep him for surgery the next day, you can’t help but give in to your inquisitive nature. With dinner half devoured on the bed next to you, you pull your laptop closer and look up your newest patient on the internet.
Jeon Wonwoo is wildly popular.
He’s been racing for a good while now with Aston Martin, and they've really put their faith in him. This year was shaping up to be his best one yet, until he got gravely injured in the recent race. It’s all over the news, the shock of the season, article after article speculating how bad his condition is, how long he will be out of the races, and how that will affect his points. There are talks of a reserve driver taking over for the time he won’t be there, someone he apparently has a long standing rivalry with. You end up on the depths of YouTube, watching an interview from years ago where both Wonwoo and this other guy, Soonyoung, are present, and even someone completely oblivious to social cues can see how cold the air is between them, as well as the little quips they make. They clearly don’t like each other.
Does Wonwoo know Soonyoung is taking his place? Maybe that adds to his agitation as well.
You’re left to ponder as you stare off into the distance, wondering what is going on in his head. This entire situation is high tension, potentially career altering. While you’ve dealt with a few cases like this, none of it is of this magnitude. Jeon Wonwoo is changing the course of Aston Martin’s history in Formula 1. That has to be a lot of pressure. Is that it? He feels responsible for everyone who depends on him? Is that why he reacted so badly to the thought of needing surgery?
You shut your laptop and rub your eyes. You will treat him with extra caution then. And Chan obviously knows the gravity of the situation. He can deal with it better than you in this case, so you will leave what you can to him. After surgery, Seungkwan is going to take over for the rehab, so that won’t be your problem. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. You need to get some sleep.
When you close your own eyes and lie down, you remember the stoney, chilly intensity of his. It makes you shiver. You fall asleep quickly.
………………………….
Wonwoo feels a little like he’s cut off from the world, and the only connection he still has to what everyone is saying is through Joshua. Which isn’t good, because Joshua always sugarcoats everything for him. It works usually, because Wonwoo knows he comes off as crass and cold, so a publicist like Joshua who can soften his image is a smart decision. But in moments like these, when he needs to know what the hell is happening after his shocking injury, Joshua isn’t exactly giving him the hard facts.
“It doesn’t matter.” The man insists from where he sits on the chair next to Wonwoo’s bed. “You need to focus on preparing for your surgery. We can talk all about it later.”
“I don’t have to do shit.” Wonwoo retorts. “That’s their job.”
He jerks his head to the nurse standing bedside, drawing blood from his arm. He’s a young guy, and he blinks rapidly as both men turn to him. Wonwoo can see his ears darken to pink. He just gives both of them a sheepish smile.
“Everything will be ready soon.” He chirps. “Just some tests to check your general anaesthesia fitness. We will have you in surgery by tomorrow morning.”
“I would like to have a word with his surgeon.” Joshua says, making Wonwoo scoff loudly. His publicist looks at him questioningly. He just shakes his head in return.
He’s not going to badmouth a surgeon in front of his nurse. Wonwoo knows he’s an asshole, but he respects professional boundaries.
When the nurse leaves though, Wonwoo goes on a tirade. He tells Joshua that you’re rude and strict. That you didn’t hear him out and instead just essentially told him to leave if he wasn’t okay with your treatment plan. You didn’t use those exact words, of course, but your meaning was clear. Joshua listens silently as Wonwoo rants, and his lips tick up in a smirk the longer Wonwoo goes on. It makes the driver pause, and he glares at his publicist.
“What?” He snaps.
Joshua shakes his head. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering about this surgeon. Rude, kind of pissy and strict, doesn’t play about her profession and doesn’t take bullshit from anyone about her skill…” He levels Wonwoo with a pointed look. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
Wonwoo can feel the back of his neck burn. “I’m nothing like her.”
Joshua snorts and stands up, holding his laptop close to his chest. “Sure.”
He says a quick goodbye to Wonwoo, promising he will be here in the morning before his surgery. Wonwoo still feels like he’s on edge, rolling his eyes at Joshua’s ridiculous words. He’s not like you. He knows the stereotype of arrogant surgeons, and you fit it to a T. Wonwoo is an asshole, he knows that, but he has good reason to be. Being an asshole, being calculating and harsh, makes him incredible at what he does because it keeps him sharp.
But Joshua’s words don’t leave him. And Wonwoo wonders if being firm and crass makes you good at what you do, too. Was it your absolute unmoving belief in your judgement that made Wonwoo stay and agree to a surgery he would otherwise never consent to? Were you the reason?
All this conclusion does is make him even more irritable. He came here to give you a piece of his mind and to resist this surgery. But instead, he’s lying in a patient bed, hooked to machines, being prepared for the exact surgery he didn’t want. All because, for some reason, he trusts you.
His sleep is restless. He can’t toss and turn, since his shoulder is basically tied and held in place. So he’s stuck on his back, staring up at the grey ceiling. The monitors beep regularly, letting him in on the pace of his own heartbeat. Wonwoo lies there. And he thinks.
Ever since he was a kid who got obsessed with racing, Wonwoo has known what he wanted to do with himself. The trajectory his life took was a no-brainer for him and for anyone who knew him. It wasn’t just an obsession, it was a life purpose. Wonwoo lived and breathed racing. This championship, a build up of years of work, was supposed to be the summit of his life’s work. He had been laser focused on this for as long as he knew what it was. There was nothing else, no relationship, no personal commitment, that could get in the way of this. That’s what all his exes’ biggest problem always was. That he didn’t make ‘time’ for them. But if any of them knew him, they would know this was his number one priority and always would be.
He got so close. He almost had his fingertips on that trophy. He could taste the victory. He was in peak physical condition, all his race simulations were seamless. The first few wins of the season felt like they were his birthright. But now….
Wonwoo stares at a grey ceiling, and the heart monitor mutedly beeps on.
………………….
He’s more tame today. That’s the first thing you notice.
You go to see him in his room first thing next morning. He isn’t alone. There’s a man next to him on his laptop, muttering on and on about some media jargon you don’t understand. He stands up when you come in, and you give him a tight smile.
“Joshua Hong.” He offers his hand. You shake it. “I’m his publicist. Is there any way I can get a statement from you?”
You blink, immediately shaking your head. “I’m sorry. I’ve sent complete updates to his medical team at Aston Martin. Any public statement comes from them, not from me.”
You don’t know why, but that catches him off guard. You ignore him and step aside to look at your patient.
“How are you doing?” Your voice is light and cheerful, your typical patient interaction tone. “Any pain?”
Wonwoo shakes his head. “Probably the painkillers.”
You nod and skim over Wonwoo’s chart. Chan’s neat handwriting lays it all out. “Everything looks good. The OR is ready. We will have you shifted as soon as the anesthetist gives his good-to-go.”
He nods silently, a sharp contrast to the resistance he put up yesterday. You eye him carefully. “Do you have any questions?”
He shakes his head. You don’t question him further, but you make note of your unease in your head. He keeps confusing you. You don’t know what to do with him. You need to recommend counseling for him after this.
All thoughts are pushed out of your head when the anesthetist arrives and the team springs into action. You scrub in, layer after layer of sterilized equipment being put on you. When you enter the OR, Wonwoo is already there, lying down on the table and draped, his arms pulled out to the sides, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. OR assistants and technicians mill around, bustling to get everything ready. It’s slightly noisy, with machines beeping and people moving next to him. You glance at his heart monitor. 122. Higher, but not high enough to be a concern. He’s clearly nervous.
You go to stand by his head while the anesthetist preps to put him under.
“Hey.” you mumble from underneath your mask. His eyes shoot to you. “It’s me.”
You can see the relief on his face from your familiar voice. You feel sympathy curl in your chest. He’s probably questioning everything right now, how new and daunting all this is, and even the reality of him returning to the circuit like he used to after everything that will happen to him today.
“Just relax.” You manage to say. “I’ve got you.”
There’s really not much else you can say without crossing a professional boundary. He looks at you for a long moment, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on you while everything around him shifts and moves, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you think you are seeing Wonwoo truly, without all his thorns and needles, and just him, all his uncertainty, his vulnerability, on the line.
“Ready? Count down from one hundred.”
His eyes fall shut before he hits ninety six.
The advantage of surgeries on athletes is that they are in prime physical condition, nearly textbook, so the chances of something going wrong are minimal. Your own experience means you predict every single step on Wonwoo’s surgery before you even do it. His vitals look great, his muscles respond to push and pull the way you expect them to, he bleeds minimally, and the bone is fixed with the least effort required. The screws slide in like second nature. You’re closing him up in record time. Your OR team is relaxed and not tense today as everything goes smoothly, and all goes well until the very last moment, when the anesthetist takes over again.
His publicist, Joshua, is waiting outside the doors of the OR. There’s another man there, tall and handsome, who you immediately recognise as Aston Martin’s other driver, Kim Mingyu.
“How’d it go?” Joshua sounds anxious, standing up when he spots you. You give him a placating smile.
“As well as could be expected.” You reply. “If rehab goes well, he should be back on the circuit in around 4 or 5 weeks. But-” You give Joshua a stern look. “Don’t quote me on that.”
He laughs. “Got it. Thank you so much. I don’t think anyone else could’ve done what you did.”
You pause at his words. “What do you mean?”
Joshua looks amused as he replies. “Wonwoo had no plans of getting the surgery. He came here to your clinic fully prepared to fight you on it. I was shocked when I heard he agreed to trust you with this. But also, not really, now that I’ve seen how you deal with patients.”
You can’t help but let out a light laugh at that, a little thrown off. “I don’t know what exactly you mean, but I will take your word for it.”
You excuse yourself from the men and return to your office. As you settle in, you can’t help but wonder. Was it true? Did Wonwoo agree because of you? You assumed he did it because he clearly didn’t have a choice. Objectively, he needed this surgery. But then you think again on what you know of him, and you realise someone as stubborn as him agreeing so quickly, being under the knife within 24 hours of getting the injury, was definitely not something anyone would expect of him. So maybe it did have to do with how firm you were and what you said.
You don’t know how to feel about that.
A knock on the door breaks you from your thoughts. Boo Seungkwan pokes his head in through the crack in the door and gives you a smile.
“Hey.” You greet him warmly. “Come in.”
Seungkwan, Wonwoo’s physical therapist, is someone you’ve known for a while now. You get along well with him. He’s good at his job, and he’s very friendly whenever you have a chance to meet. He makes for great conversation, and you genuinely enjoy his company.
“I read Wonwoo’s operation notes.” Seungkwan settles on the chair opposite to your desk. “Looks like everything went well.”
You nod and smile, and screw Seungkwan’s perceptive ass because he immediately raises an eyebrow.
“You okay?”
You sigh, contemplating. If anyone is going to understand, it’s someone in the same professional line as you. And Seungkwan is in charge of Wonwoo’s rehab. This pertains to him too.
“I just…. feel some type of way about him agreeing to this surgery because of me.”
Seungkwan frowns. “What do you mean?”
You sit up. “You and I know this was inevitable. He had to get the surgery no matter what, but he thought this was optional. He agreed to it because of me.”
Seungkwan doesn’t react. “So?”
You gawk at him. “What do you mean ‘so’? If something goes wrong, if his recovery is delayed, he’s going to blame me.”
That makes his face clear up. He lets out a small laugh. “Y/N, you need to give Wonwoo a bit more credit than that. He’s not an idiot. He knows what your part in this is. He put his trust in your skill because something you said or did got through to him. He has connected with you somehow, which I think is a miracle in itself for someone as closed off as him. But you’re not a miracle worker. He knows this.”
You contemplate silently. Seungkwan doesn’t say anything more. After a few minutes, he sighs and stands up.
“He should be out of Recovery by now. I’m gonna go see him.” Seungkwan smiles. “You should too. He’ll feel better if you’re there when he’s fully conscious again.”
Before Seungkwan turns to leave, he gives you one final look.
“Don’t think so much. And don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ve done everything right.”
You nod slowly, giving him a smile.
Wonwoo looks almost pliant as his bleary eyes blink slowly through whatever haze he is getting out of. He can’t move his neck, not yet, so he’s forced to stare up at the ceiling. You walk into the room a little while after his visitors leave, since you don’t want to crowd him. He can’t see you, so you lean over him to give him a tiny smile.
“Hey there.” You chirp. Wonwoo lets out a sound somewhere between a hum and a groan.
“How are you feeling? Any pain?”
You know there is none. He’s on a crazy amount of painkillers. But you have to ask anyway. Wonwoo shakes his uninjured arm to say no, since he can’t move his head.
“I’m sure Chan told you that everything went great with your surgery.” You say. “Smoothest surgery I’ve had in a while, in fact. If rehab goes well, you’ll be back in the car in no time.”
Wonwoo closes his eyes and lets out a breath. It’s shaky, and riddled with relief. He has shadows under his eyes, and his lips are chapped. Your heart squeezes.
“Thank you.” He mumbles. If the room wasn’t so silent, you wouldn’t have heard him. But you do. You smile and nod, patting his hand a little. It’s cold to touch, and you instinctively pull the blanket higher over him. Wonwoo watches you.
Your cheeks feel warm. You pull away.
“If there’s anything you need, just press the button, okay?”
You give him a second to respond. When he doesn’t, you step back, exiting the room quietly.
…………………………………
Wonwoo is naturally a quiet person, but something definitely shifts in him in the days he stays at your clinic after his surgery. While he is still quiet, it is void of the usual stiff and ticked off energy that surrounds him. You see him every morning and evening during rounds, checking in on his progress and asking him how he feels. He answers shortly, softly, but he never stops watching you. His eyes are sharp and intense, and they throw you off a little bit.
You check on his arm almost three times a day, paying special attention because of his circumstances. Everything looks fine, but he winces when you move it a certain way. It’s not surprising, but you hate it nonetheless.
“Sorry about that.” You always say, handling his arm and shoulder as gently as you can. He brushes it off.
“It’s okay.” His voice is raspy and low. You swallow tightly.
You want to blame his strange pliancy on the after effects of anesthesia for the first couple of days. Then you want to blame it on the drugs he’s on. After that, you’re really not quite sure what to name his behavior, so you just stop trying.
“I have good news.” You tell him five days after his surgery, when you go to see him during morning rounds. “I’m going to discharge you today.”
Wonwoo blinks from where he is propped up on pillows. His hair is a mess on his head, and he looks extra comfortable surrounded by pillows and sheets. You almost don’t recognise him as the man in the sharp green race suit you see on the videos from the circuit. You’re standing on the foot of his bed, leaning against the table where his papers are placed. “Really?”
You nod. “Really. Everything looks fantastic with your recovery. In fact, we’ve kept you here more days than we usually would, just to be safe, and you're cleared from our side now. The rest is going to be between you and Seungkwan as you pick up the pace on your rehab.”
Wonwoo nods, looking like he’s deep in thought. “I see.”
You watch him for a few seconds, waiting for him to say more. He doesn’t. That uneasy feeling hits you again.
“Hey.” You hesitate for a second. “I think it would be beneficial for you to speak to someone about everything that has happened. You know, athletes often don’t cope well with such a sudden circumstance, so having support in a time like this is-”
Wonwoo lets out a small laugh, the first time you've heard a sound like that from him. It makes you pause immediately.
“I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m fine.” He says. “I’ve just come to some realisations and….. it’s taking me a while to accept them.”
He keeps looking at you so intently. You feel your breath stutter just a little at the look in his eyes. You know you shouldn’t ask, but your curiosity gets the best of you. “What kind of realisations?”
He smiles again. Soft, like he’s accepting his reality. “I can’t tell you yet.”
Yet?
You don’t know what to say, so you just stay quiet. You let Wonwoo’s words linger like an unspoken promise, with its many implications. You fear if you vocalise them right now, they will break, and you don’t want to risk that.
You watch each other for a while, both of you silent.
……………………………………
Jeon Wonwoo is a very dedicated man.
You’ve seen leaps and bounds of improvement made by patients who do physiotherapy correctly, but even you are shocked by Wonwoo’s progress. You’re not directly involved after the first two weeks and Seungkwan fully takes over, but you get regular updates since Wonwoo still insists on you checking his shoulder at regular intervals.
He shows up at your clinic every Tuesday on the dot, looking and behaving light years softer than how he was when you first met him. He will sit on the examination table and tell you all about his physiotherapy sessions, how far he has gone and how it makes his shoulder and collarbone feel.
“This really isn’t necessary.” You always say when you examine him. You place your palm on his shoulder, just resting over his collarbone, and lift his arm up. It goes up smoothly. No clicks, no shifts, not even a wince on his face. “This is all Seungkwan. The amount of healing I had to do, I already did.”
“I know that. I just feel better if you know what’s going on and you take a look at it.”
He always says that. Always. With that look on his face you can’t quite place, his eyes trained on you as you work. Ever since Wonwoo got discharged, you’ve developed a habit of watching his videos online in your evenings. And never, in all your hours of watchtime, have you seen him give anyone this particular look.
It makes your heart race in a way you don’t really appreciate.
Seungkwan thinks it’s funny when you want him to tell Wonwoo to stop showing up.
“He’s not my patient anymore.” You insist over the phone, getting ticked off when all he does is laugh. “There’s no reason he should be coming to see me.”
“Have you ever considered that’s exactly why he’s there?” He retorts. “He’s not your patient anymore.”
You’re confused. Seungkwan huffs.
“He’s interested in you, dumbass. For something more. I swear to god, you’re kind of dumb for someone so qualified.”
If you weren’t so shocked by Seungkwan’s revelation, you would be more offended at his quip about your intelligence. But you’re stuck on his first sentence, and nothing else registers.
“No he’s not.” You immediately bite out.
“He is. I would know. He asks about you almost every day.”
“That’s-” Your heart races. You grip the phone hard. “How is that possible?”
Seungkwan snorts. “Beats me. I can’t remember the last time he was genuinely into something that wasn’t his damn car.”
You don’t know what to say to him. So you just hang up, something fluttering in your stomach at the thought of Wonwoo being interested in you for anything beyond your professional requirements. Could this be true? Is Seungkwan lying?
You’re too direct and matter-of-fact as a person to dance around anything. So the next time Wonwoo shows up, Tuesday afternoon as always, you don’t think you can ignore the slowly increasing tension between you two anymore, the one that has been rising since the day you discharged him.
“Wonwoo.” You speak up as you examine him, hand on his collarbone, other holding up his arm.
“Hm?”
“Seungkwan told me something. I need to confirm it with you.”
“What is it?” His eyes are on you, that same soft look in his eyes that seems to be reserved for you. You pointedly look at his shoulder only.
“Are you- Do you want-” You grit your teeth, feeling the knot in your throat. This is ridiculous. How can you not get the words out? You both know what this is and what you’re referring to. You’re not idiots. From the corner of your eye, you catch Wonwoo’s lips pulling up in an amused smirk.
“I do.” He says. “As you so eloquently put it, I do want.”
You feel your face flush hot. You turn your head and scowl at him.
“You’re an asshole.”
Your words surprise him, but there’s no venom behind them, so he lets out a laugh. “That’s not very professional, doctor.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m not your doctor anymore.”
“Yet you still have your hands on me.” His eyes shoot down pointedly to the palm you have on his bare shoulder. You flush and try to pull away, but immediately, Wonwoo reaches up, gripping your wrist tightly.
“Don’t.” He whispers.
Your eyes meet, and you can feel that coil in the bottom of your stomach. Something tingles your skin, the place where Wonwoo grips your wrist. You’re acutely aware that he’s shirtless, and that has never bothered you before, but the context is different now. There’s a heat in his gaze as he watches you. His eyes shift, for a fraction of a second, down to your lips. You grit your teeth, looking at him intensely. You voice the singular doubt that has been in your head all this time.
“I will not be a conquest, Jeon Wonwoo.” You state. “I know what your life is like. I won’t be an accessory in it. If you want to do this, it has to be more than what you’ve previously given.”
When he smiles at you, it’s gentle, warm. You’ve never seen him smile like this. Jeon Wonwoo, the pride of Aston Martin, cold, sharp and ruthless. His hard exterior is his charm. But here, with you, devoid of his bright race suit, in nothing but a t-shirt and pants, hair falling over his eyes and face relaxed of all its tension, this is different. This is intimate in a way it has never been before.
“Why do you think I like you?” Wonwoo says, caressing your wrist with the hand already holding it. You watch the movement when you can no longer bear to watch his eyes. “You’re strong headed, like me. Firm, like me. You talk to others like you won’t take their shit. You didn’t take mine. You put me in my place.”
You huff. “Sounds like a lot of fancy words to say I’m a bitch.”
Wonwoo laughs openly this time, not a chuckle, but a full belly laugh, and the sound leaves you frozen. You decide you like it.
“You’re not. And even if you are, you’ve got the goods to back it up. Just like I do.”
That makes you smile. Wonwoo’s laughter settles, and his bright eyes meet yours. You’ve spent so long trying to ignore how handsome he is. Strong jaw, sharp cut cheekbones, intense eyes, hair that perfectly frames his forehead. This close, you can admire all his features. And he lets you, because his own eyes are drinking you in. The air sizzles with tension. Your breath stills. Finally, Wonwoo closes the gap between you.
It’s like the static in the air breaks as soon as his lips meet yours. It starts slow, tentative, like he’s trying to feel you out. You move at his pace, happy to just indulge in this feeling. It has been a long time coming for both of you. As he keeps going, the pace picks up, hungry, intense, heads turning to deepen the kiss. His uninjured arm winds around your waist, trying to hold you as close as he can from where he sits on the examination table. You stand between his spread legs, head tilted up, one hand gripping his shoulder. You’re careful to avoid his opposite side. Despite how good the healing is going four weeks in, you don’t want to do anything that might jeopardise it. Wonwoo knows it too, keeping that arm away, but his free hand is large, gripping possessively at your waist as his tongue slides into your mouth, warm and wet. You can’t help but whine into him.
He pulls away with a curse, kissing the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. You let him, basking in the heat that rolls over your body.
“Let me take you out to dinner.” He whispers. His hand snakes under your lab coat, toying with the hem of your shirt before slipping inside to run over your bare side. You shiver, eyes rolling up as he nips at your neck.
“Only if I can ride you in the backseat of your car after.” You retort.
That makes him groan. He pulls away to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
“Is that a pun?”
He snorts and pinches your side where his hand is still wandering under your shirt. You yelp and slap it away. He only chuckles.
“Tomorrow night?” His eyes are so soft. Your heart sings.
“Tomorrow night.”
……………………………
Wonwoo is a man who keeps his promises, and you admire that. It shows that he is honest, and that he cares. So, as promised, he takes you to dinner the very next night, and, as promised, he has you in the backseat of his car right after.
It could, of course, be entirely selfish that he kept his promise, but you really don’t care about that because you’re here now, lips devouring each other’s like you’ve been starving, your dress pushing up to your hips so you can straddle his lap and grind down on his rapidly hardening cock. One of Wonwoo’s arms, the healing one, is stationary on your bare thigh, but the other moves desperately, winding into your hair to hold you in place as his teeth bite your bottom lip, tugging at it, tongue immediately swiping over it to ease the sting. You’re already so wet, nearly soaking through your panties. You’d been slowly sizzling with heat since the moment he picked you up at your place, dressed in a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up and first two buttons undone to give him a more casual look, and matching black slacks. He had run his eyes down your body, your form fitting navy blue dress with a flared skirt, the neckline just low enough to give a teasing peek. You know what this dress does, and Wonwoo tells you exactly that now too, as he pushes the skirt up to play with the lace of your panties.
“Shouldn’t have waited until after dinner.” He groans. “The second I saw you, I should’ve turned you around against your door and fucked the shit out of you.”
You clench around nothing, moaning into his mouth. His lips leave you to travel down, licking and biting at any surface he can find, teeth digging into the skin of your neck. It sends a sizzle down your spine straight to your core. Your hands fumble frantically to unbutton his shirt and pull it back to reveal his bare chest, perfectly chiseled and leading down to his built abs. You run your hand over him, watching his muscles contract under your touch. You grind hard onto him, his clothed shaft pressing right against where you need him the most. He curses, finally having had enough, and pulls your panties to the side so he can slide his fingers through your sopping slit.
“Jesus.” He sighs, looking up at you. In the darkness of the parking lot, you can barely see him, but his eyes are piercing, clouded with lust and a hunger that makes you clench around nothing. “So wet, baby. For me?”
You nod shamelessly, sighing in relief when he circles your aching clit. He rubs sensually over it, like he’s coaxing you to greater heights of arousal. You press your forehead against his, grinding on his hand. You want more so badly, but you’re so turned on that you know you can get there with just his clever fingers alone. He’s working you just right, and he knows it too, whispering dirty words into your mouth as you whine into him.
“So pretty, using my hand like this.” He hums. “Can’t tell you how many times I imagined you on top of me. Under me. Wrapped around me. Such a perfect body, perfect pussy.”
Your head spins at his words, his implications, pleasure cresting until you can’t hold back anymore and let your high take you. You gasp and tremble, his fingers steady, taking you through it and prolonging it as much as he can with his movements. It leaves you dizzy and lightheaded, nearly boneless.
You haven't even properly come down before you’re fumbling with his belt and unbuttoning his pants, your vision slightly hazy as lust clouds your senses. Wonwoo lifts his hips to allow you to tug them down a bit, and his cock springs free. He’s huge, long and thick veined, mushroom tip that’s already leaking, shiny in the dim light that falls on it. You lick your lips.
“Wanna suck you off.” You breathe. Wonwoo moans.
“I’d love that, baby. But I need to fuck you right now or I’m gonna lose my mind.”
The petname makes you whimper, and you nod your head before lifting your hips so you can line him up. You don’t want to waste any more time. You’re as desperate for him as he is for you. You sink down on him in one smooth slide, jaw going slack as his cock carves its way through your spongy, contracting walls. Wonwoo’s voice breaks as he moans, a sound so delicious right next to your ear.
“Holy hell.” He chokes out, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you know it will leave bruises. Not like you mind. The thought of having signs of Wonwoo all over you leaves you lightheaded. You remain still for a few seconds, trying to adjust to the intrusion. You can feel the moment he twitches inside you, and you can’t help but sigh at the feeling. Your hips swivel, testing, and Wonwoo throws his head back against the seat. Your eyes shoot down to the column of his throat, slick with his sweat and cords of muscle straining. It’s so hot, you think you can cum just from this sight.
“God.” His voice cracks. “You’re so….. god.”
Never in your life did you think you would see the Jeon Wonwoo rendered speechless. But if there was ever a moment for it, witnessing it while your pussy is strangling his cock is glorious. You mouth at his jaw, roll your hips again so his navel brushes your clit just right. His hands have a vice-like grip on you, and he encourages your movements. Finally, you brace your legs on either side of him, and start to properly bounce on his rock hard cock.
Wonwoo isn’t a very vocal person, but he lets out little grunts and sighs in between your movements. He is very attentive though, caressing your waist, squeezing your boobs and tugging your dress down enough so that he can free them. He groans in approval as they bounce with your movements, pinching your nipples until you whine and sink down on him harder. His mouth busies itself on your neck, and you’re so fucked out that you don’t even care if he’s leaving marks in visible places. You wind your hand through his hair, tugging harshly at it. He curses and bites down in warning. All throughout it, your movements don’t falter once, brain addled with lust. His tip kisses your cervix when you angle yourself a certain way, his shaft brushes over every part of you so effectively that you see stars. Sweat builds up, the windows fog, the car rocks. Neither of you care.
Your thighs tremble when fatigue sets in, and Wonwoo notices, winding his good arm around your waist and anchoring you tight against him as he slides his body down just a little and tenses his legs. You realise what he’s going to do, and you try to protest.
“Wonwoo, your shoulder.” You gasp out. He runs his tongue over your jaw.
“I’m okay. Wanna fuck you properly. This pussy deserves it.”
You clench and whine. You don’t have it in you to fight him on this. You’re already so close, and you want that final push. Wonwoo’s grip is strong, leaving you immobile, and finally, he starts moving, his hips fucking up into you. You cry out, the angle shifting and the intensity increasing. His pace is brutal, skin slapping hard against skin. Your second orgasm is fast approaching, and you can barely choke out the words to warn him. But he knows already.
“Go ahead, baby. That’s it.” He goads you. “Make a mess on me. Wanna feel your pussy tighten around my dick. Come on. Cum all over me.”
His words are so depraved, so filthy, that you can’t hold it anymore. He fucks you through your peak, holding your shaking and writhing body tightly to his as you do. It washes over you in tidal waves, sinking into your very bones and leaving you melting into his body. Wonwoo holds you still, pushes into you over and over, pace turning sloppy before finally he pushes deep inside you with a few more deep thrusts. He groans deliciously in your ear, voice strained and thick with his own pleasure. Finally, he relaxes, trying to catch his breath.
You shift yourself to his good side, fingers reaching up to run over the curved scar along his collarbone after pushing his unbuttoned shirt out of the way. He shivers just a little under your touch. You feel his lips on your hairline.
“Okay?” You ask, referring to his injury. He nods.
“More than okay.”
You smile and lay a kiss on his shoulder. You feel his arms tighten around you. You relax into him, closing your eyes.
……………………………….
You don’t put a label on your relationship with Wonwoo, but over the course of the next two weeks, it’s clear that is what it is. A relationship. Wonwoo is aware that you made it clear this isn’t some casual fucking around, not that he wants it to be. This incident, his injury, a wrench in his career plan, a halt in his ambitions, had done nothing but recenter Wonwoo’s focus. Not just professionally, but in his personal life as well.
He hasn’t really met anyone like you.
You’re headstrong without compromising your kindness, firm without letting go of your empathy. You are all the good parts of what Wonwoo thinks his own personality is. He doesn’t know what that makes him, but he does know that being around you dampens that hollow feeling inside him that leaves him crass and snappy towards everyone around him. He doesn’t want to completely change who he is as a person, nor is that something you are hoping for, but Wonwoo is a firm believer in the fact that there is always room for improvement, whether it’s your sport or in yourself as a person. If being with you helps with that even a little bit, he will welcome it.
As Wonwoo slowly integrates back into racing, it seems that everyone notices this slight change too. It’s not visible in his habits yet, since it’s still very early, but it definitely is present in his mindset. Seungkwan sees it most of all, since he meets with Wonwoo every day for his physio, as well as the fact that Seungkwan knows you and what is going on between him and you.
“It’s funny, for it to be her of all people.” Seungkwan comments. “You two might be similar, and it’s for the better when it comes to you, but from her point of view, your lives couldn’t be more different.”
Wonwoo hums, contemplating, before halting Seungkwan as well, who is assisting him with his arm lifts. “What do you mean?”
Seungkwan looks a little confused. “Just that she’s a pretty private person. She has a routine, she sticks to it. Keeps her head down and does her job right. I figured you would know. You see her every week.”
Well, Wonwoo did know, but he never paid much attention to it. Wonwoo’s own life is very much the opposite. His schedule is awry and unpredictable, his profession takes him all around the world, his day is fast paced and his race weekends even more so. He’s stepping into the spotlight in less than a week, finally cleared by everyone involved in his care. He’s been doing race simulations flawlessly, hitting the gym to rebuild muscle and working with Seungkwan in all his free time. Soon, he will be returning to his crazy, haphazard and high octane routine. Which, he is quickly realising, is far different to yours.
Would you be okay with it?
The dilemma stays with Wonwoo while he completes physio for the day and bids Seungkwan goodbye, his therapist completely oblivious to the turmoil he has unknowingly caused. Later in the evening, Wonwoo shows up at your door for your date. This time, it is something more lowkey, just dinner at your place and a movie. Wonwoo doesn’t really care much for the movie, he had other plans for you and him which involved your couch, your bed, and later, your shower. But Seungkwan’s words are still annoyingly fixed in his head, and you being the ever perceptive person you are, notice his distraction the second dinner is done and you’re sitting together to eat it.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Your eyes are on the television screen, pushing food around on your plate. Your thigh is pressed to his, casual intimacy that feels so comforting to Wonwoo, but it seems you sense how stiff he is.
“It’s race weekend soon.” He begins, deciding that he wants to be up front with you. He won’t shut down on you, he had promised himself that before he even first asked you out. You’re different, so he needs to be different with you. You deserve more of him than anyone else. You nod, so he keeps going.
“I don’t want you to be any less of a priority as my schedule picks up again.” He says. “Things will get crazy immediately, because I need to make do for the three races I’ve missed. I was up by a lot of points before this, so there’s a chance I can still take the championship, but I need to really, really hunker down for that.”
You nod again and hum. “I figured as much. It’s good to know there’s still a chance, even if it’s a small one.”
Wonwoo nods, gears up for what he will say next.
“I know you have your own routine.” Wonwoo stares at his plate. “I hope me being part of it won’t disrupt it too much.”
You are silent for a few seconds. Then, you snort.
“Of course you being part of my routine will disrupt it.” You quip. “You’re a whole person. My life can’t stay the same with you involved.”
Wonwoo blinks, shocked by how casual and matter-of-fact you sound about it. “Oh.”
It’s a lame reply. And it makes you laugh. You lean forward to set your plate on the coffee table. He follows suit, settling on the couch by facing you.
“Wonwoo, I’m not completely naïve. I know what your job entails, and how things will change for you personally because of it. What do you think I signed up for when we decided to do this? I know how it goes.”
Wonwoo feels his cheeks heat a little. Damn Seungkwan. He had Wonwoo worried for nothing, because he forgot that you’re the most level-headed, understanding person he has ever met. He knew it from the day you first saw him, that night he spent in your clinic, staring at the grey ceiling, listening to the heart monitor beeping steadily on, and wondering why he felt for you the way that he did. Even then, Wonwoo knew you were different. He knew that he trusted you, despite the fact that in his frantic, adrenaline driven life, he has never trusted anyone as far as he can throw them.
Wonwoo doesn’t know if he’s in love, if it’s too soon for that, but as he watches your amused little smirk, he does know he is getting there frighteningly fast. But that is his life. He is used to living his relentless life, high pressure, hyper competitive, physically and mentally brutal, unforgiving but rewarding. He has never slow played anything, ever. So this feels natural, falling headfirst into you, despite every variable and every unknown involved. Jeon Wonwoo, the pride of Aston Martin, a man who has been sure of everything in his life with one hundred per cent certainty, is more than okay with whatever you have in store for him, without even knowing what it is. Because it’s you, and he trusts you with everything in him.
So as he pulls you in for a kiss, smiling when you giggle sweetly into his mouth, he realises he doesn’t care if it’s too fast. In fact, he welcomes it. After all, he has always felt at home with a fast paced life.
synopsis: Seungcheol gets up in ittttt - no but fr [requested]
warnings: mdni, 18+, dom! Seungcheol, dirty talk, praise, after care, lube, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, unprotected, cream pie, ass play, PWP
wc: 2.2K +
song I listened to: Worst Behavior x My Love - Aura$ (on repeat)
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
You always get so wet when Seungcheol stuffs you full.
He likes to take you on your hands and knees, your back arching and your pretty ass jutting out on full display for him. He takes his time to admire the way your legs already quiver in anticipation, his palms gliding up your inner thighs to get your legs spreading farther apart for him.
Your pretty pussy drips, hot and slick, after a few soft words of praise and mumbles of filth, he promises to do to you. He can see the way you clench, needy and pathetic, your fingers curling into the pillow in front of you as his fingers drag through your sweet folds. You’re already reduced to a mess, your whines resonating even louder as he rubs tight circles into your pulsing clit with his thumb. “Don’t worry, I got ya.” He coos, and your hips squirm when he finally slips a finger into your drooling cunt.
You take him easily, soaking his long digit with your honeyed slick, your velvety walls sucking him all the way to the knuckle and greedily wanting more. And Seungcheol obliges, the feeling of your gummy walls wrapped tightly around his digits enough to get his hand on your hip, squeezing tightly to keep you still.
He works you open like he has the whole night to do so. And it’s torturous how easily he has you seeing stars behind closed eyes. His fingers stuff you full, curling until the pads of his fingertips rub against the sweet spot that makes you keen. And then he abuses it, thumb pressing on your sensitive clit as he jabs over and over on the spongy spot, making your brain slowly melt until you're left gasping.
Your jaw slacks open, your eyes squeezing shut as your pussy gushes around his fingers. The pressure had built slowly, curling tighter in your stomach until it snapped, and Seungcheol never stops fingering you throughout it. He’s plunging through your fluttering walls, keeping you full and prolonging your high as he continues talking you through it.
“That’s it, get nice and wet f’me. Sweet pussy was just aching for me, huh?” He coos, and your tears linger on your eyelashes as you sniffle. Your thighs tremble, and your pussy answers for you when it squelches as he slips his fingers from you when your orgasm subsides.
It’s almost embarrassing how empty you feel when he’s not inside you, and a whine comes from the back of your throat as Seungcheol kneels over you. His big body covers yours as he reaches for the bedside table, and you can feel him laugh as your head drops onto the pillow weakly. “Such a greedy thing, aren’t ya? You think I’m done, Baby?” The burning warmth you feel on your ears is nothing compared to the way your pussy clenches at his words.
There is some shuffling and a weight beside your calf that grabs your attention before Seungcheol is leaning back on his knees behind you. Your pussy glistens with the remnants of your recent orgasm, and Seungcheol silently promises to taste you on his tongue later. Instead, his hands are grabbing your ass, spreading your cheeks apart until your other hole is on view.
Seungcheol hums, and without warning, plunges two digits into your sopping pussy again, letting your sweet juices heavily coat his fingers with a few short thrusts until he’s slipping those same fingers back out. He teases the tips of his shiny fingers around the rim of your asshole, and his other hand rubs up your back, keeping you arched for him. “Relax for me, I’m gonna make you feel nice and good.”
It’s a promise, and his lips pull up into a smirk when he’s able to push one finger in. It’s hot and tight, but you’re always so good for him, so he’s easily sinking to his knuckle after a few coaxing thrusts. And he leans down to give your spine a kiss in appreciation, a “good girl,” branded on your lower back with his lips as he preps you to take a second finger.
When you’re clenching around three fingers, your mind is mush. Your cunt drools heavily, aching to be full like your ass and your mindlessly rocking back onto Seungcheol with that need in mind. “Please, please,” you’re babbling, feeling his thumb teasingly tucked between your puffy, wet folds as he stretches you open. It feels so good you’re clutching to his pillow, your tears welling in your eyes as he fucks you slowly with his fingers.
“Does my pretty baby want more?” Your eyes roll back from his mockingly sweet tone, but you nod your head regardless, pushing back against him and making him scoff out a laugh. It takes a split second before you feel a zing across your left ass cheek, his palm connecting to your plush ass and making you jerk with a yelp. “Use your words, tell me what you need.”
Your mouth gapes, words failing you when he rubs the mark left on your skin from the slap, and you feel depraved that it made a new wave of slick seep from your pretty cunt. “Need you to fuck me, please. Need you.” Your confession burns a heat low in your stomach, and your fingers curl into the sheets when he slips from you entirely.
Your head is already fuzzy and light, and it takes a moment to realize you hear a cap pop off and the squirt of liquid drip out. The clear gooey lube splashes between your ass cheeks, dripping down to your needy pussy, and then another squirt echoes before you’re feeling the blunt object press against your lubed hole.
Seungcheol is warm and painfully hard as he holds the butt plug in his hand. The toy is firm, small at the tip, and only gets wider at the base. He had coated the red toy heavily in lube to make the insertion easier, and his eyes are hooded and filled with hunger as he circled the entrance of your small hole gently. He knew you’d be able to handle it, that you’d let him fill you up to your limits, that he’d make you feel so good you’d feel it days later.
“Always so good f’me,” he says, watching you preen at the compliment. The head of the toy pushes past the first gummy ring, bullying its way in until you’re swallowing the next inch. And Seungcheol’s cock jerks at the sight. Your ass getting stuffed by him or a toy was always a delicious sight to see. It never failed to make him lightheaded, watching you take everything he gave as he made a mess out of you.
He grabs the bottle of lube with his free hand, squirting more of the clear liquid around your rim and coaxing you to relax, to let him take care of you.
He thrust small inches in and out until the muscles of your body relax and the toy sinks deeper, the base slipping past and making you cry out as his palm held onto the suction cupped end of the toy loosely. He uses his free hand to grab your left ass cheek, spreading it apart to shamelessly watch the way you clench around the toy, your breath coming out in puffs as the tip of the toy brushes against a spot that makes you see colors behind closed eyelids.
And you barely register his low hum, teasingly tugging the toy before pressing his palm flat and grinding it deeper in your tight channel. “Oh fuck!” Your mouth drops, your toes curl, and a squeal slips from you that satisfies Seungcheol’s hunger for a second.
You looked so cute, shaking on your knees with a red silicone toy plugging you full, but Seungcheol promised to take care of you, and he meant it.
His cock is heavy in his hand when he guides it to your neglected pussy. From the time he took making you cum on his fingers to then working you open to take the plug, your pussy is slippery, wet and asking to be loved by him. Your clit pulses with need, your gooey slick glueing your wet folds together as he rubs his cock down your slit.
It’s maddening how good it feels. The heat of his thighs behind yours, his cock notching on your entrance as his pelvis presses against the suction end of the toy in your ass. You're drooling by the time Seungcheol grabs your hip to keep you in place, stars bursting all the way down to your toes when he finally surges forward.
You’re soaking, and it makes the slide in easy, your walls stretching to take his fat cock to the hilt. His heavy balls, filled with cum, kiss your clit in greeting, and Seungcheol can feel your gummy walls thin as he bottoms out. He can feel the plug barely separated by your walls, and it could make him levitate if it wasn’t for the fact that you do first.
The mushroom head of Seungcheol’s cock places a filthy kiss on your cervix, and your toes curl. His pelvis smacked into the plug when he bottomed out, and being stuffed in both your holes makes your vision whiten. Your pussy clamps around Seungcheol’s thick girth, and your body shudders as you orgasm with a cry.
Your tears stain the pillow as Seungcheol ruts his hips forward, moving his cock and therefore nudging the toy to fuck you through your second orgasm with praises of how good your pussy feels squeezing his cock. His hands hold your waist, pulling you back to meet each thrust until your pretty pussy talks back filthily in response. “Fuck, can you feel me reaching your cervix, Baby?” Seungcheol’s head falls back, his eyes rolling as your cunt slobbers his cock with your creamy arousal.
The feeling of you taking him so well with the toy makes his cock twitch inside you, his thrusts picking up in pace as you let him fuck you into the bed. His hips smack into your ass, and the toy knocks into your sweet spot over and over again, and it’s too much. You're bracing against the mattress, reaching back to grab Seungcheol’s wrist as an anchor while he pounds into you. “It’s too much, I can’t-” your face forms a lewd expression, his arms wrapping under your shoulders to pull you up.
Your back arches, but Seungcheol holds you up from the mattress, bouncing you onto his length at a delirious pace. Your maw eases open in a surprised gasp. “Too much?” He tchs, his breath panting on the back of your neck as the new angle makes you see white, “I know what’s too much, and this-” his arms move and one wraps around the front of your stomach, keeping you up as his other arm snakes between your open legs. His hand slips between your trembling legs, and his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles around the nub while his teeth nip your neck teasingly. “This isn’t enough.”
A ringing pierces your ears as your body locks up, your scream getting snuffed into silence as your eyes roll to the back of your head for the third time. You squeeze his cock so tightly, Seungcheol’s entire body cringes, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he unexpectedly cums right after you do.
His cock jerks, splashing rope after rope of his creamy seed deep into your wet heat. Your cunt pulses in time with his cock’s twitches, milking him for every drop throughout your high. Wads of the gooey cum stick to your velvety walls, and your body slumps back against Seungcheol as the last ebbs of your orgasm take the rest of your energy from you.
Seungcheol rubs your sides, squeezing your breasts softly as his lips kiss your shoulder over and over. “Did so well for me,” he hums, fingers massaging your arms before he carefully slips from your tender cunt. Your wet folds are puffy and slicked with a mix of yours and his cum, and it seeps from your used pussy slowly as he lays you gently onto the bed again.
You lie there, on your stomach, blinking glossily at the picture of you and Seungcheol on your bedside table, dumb. You can hear him pad into the bathroom, the sound of the sink running briefly, before he’s back. He’s leaning over you, delicately cleaning your sensitive cunt with a wet rag. And when he throws the used rag into the dirty laundry basket, he slides into bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.
A kiss on your shoulder while he pulls you close has you realizing the toy is still stuffed in your ass, you give an experimental clench around the toy, and your moan is weak as Seungcheol rubs your shaking thighs comfortingly. “The toy-” you don’t get to finish the sentence before Seungcheol’s leg slips between yours, barely putting weight onto the toy but enough to keep it snug in your ass.
“I told you, it’s not enough.” He murmurs, and your pussy betrays you when it clenches pathetically around nothing. “Gotta keep you open for when I take you during round two.”
