extreme fomo rn bc the venue is less than a 5min drive from home but i couldnt go bc im visiting my grandmother multiple states away im so sad 😭 like i couldve been so close to cxm fuckkkk
boyfriend!seungcheol x f!reader (honestly this reads like Bun & Cheol to me hahaha)
based on this YT video
genre: fluff
summary: Seungcheol’s confidence in the kitchen takes a blow.
word count: 994
SVT Shorts Series | Masterlist
Thanks to you all so much for the love you've been showing these!
It’s a lazy evening. You’re laying back against the sofa arm, book in hand, feet resting on Seungcheol’s thighs as he scrolls aimlessly through his phone. The sun is starting to set just enough that you reach back to turn the lamp on, filling the room with warm light.
As you come out of your comfortable haze, you realize that you’re hungry. Seungcheol must realize the same thing, because he proclaims, “I’m going to cook us dinner.”
You lower your book to give him an uneasy look. “I was thinking I’d just make us something simple tonight.”
But he’s got that determined look on his face that you know you won’t win against. All you can do is go along with it and hope things turn out okay.
“What’s for dinner?” you ask lightly, hoping your voice doesn’t betray your anxiety. Seungcheol doesn’t often cook but when he does, it never turns out quite right. Meat cooked a bit too long, soups a little overseasoned. His heart is in the right place, but he lacks the technique to see his creations through.
You’ve tried to teach him over the years, but he’s stubborn. He’s convinced he has the “chef instinct” and it’s just a matter of unlocking it.
“Sundubu jjigae!” he announces cheerfully. He lifts your ankles before setting them back onto the cushion, and heads into the kitchen.
Sighing, you slip your bookmark between the pages and slide your book under a throw pillow. Overseasoned soft tofu stew it is. At least there’s instant rice. He can’t ruin rice.
That’s not true, you realize. He’s microwaved it almost to burning before. Maybe you should offer to handle the rice.
Seungcheol is already pulling things out of the fridge. You can hear him humming as he painstakingly chops the vegetables. No matter how many times you’ve tried to show him how to properly chop, he always brushes you off and continues doing things his way.
Which is why you can’t bear to go in there and watch what he’s doing. You take your time fluffing the sofa pillows, refolding the blanket that Joshua lovingly crocheted the two of you as an anniversary gift. It’s a bit itchy and sometimes your toes get caught in the gaps, but it’s a sweet gift so you keep it on the sofa anyway.
Seungcheol often remarks that he’s glad Joshua gave up that particular hobby before it got more out of hand; secretly, so are you. Similarly, you wish Seungcheol would give up his desire to cook. Your cookware wishes the same thing.
“Ow!”
Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, you head into the kitchen. There’s a mess of half-chopped vegetables on the counter and a cutting board overflowing with uneven ingredients. Seungcheol is rummaging in the fridge.
“Are you sure this is right?” You hover near the pot, which is close to boiling over.
Seungcheol nudges you out of the way to check. His hair is pushed up on one side where he keeps touching it while he checks his phone. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s supposed to look like that.”
“But is it supposed to smell like that?” you press, fighting the urge to turn down the stove. When Seungcheol insisted on making dinner tonight, you were wary. Now, seeing him in action, you’re downright stressed.
“Seungcheol–”
“Have some faith in me, will you? I read the recipe this time, and I–oh!”
The bubbling pot really has boiled over now; reflexively, he grabs for it before you can stop him, getting hot liquid over his fingers.
His pained whine hurts your heart. Clicking off the stove, you drag him over to the sink and thrust his hand under the cold water. The two of you stand there for a minute, letting the water rush over his reddened fingers.
When you finally shut off the water to check the extent of his injury, he sighs. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I know. I definitely know.”
The burn isn’t too bad. Using a clean towel, you dry off his hand before turning towards the stove. Maybe you can at least salvage dinner.
Except, looking at the remains of the soup, you’re not sure you want to. It doesn’t look edible.
“I give up,” he says, tossing the towel onto the counter. “I can’t cook.”
“Darn,” you tease him, hugging him from behind and resting your cheek against his broad back. “No house husband for me.”
“I can do other things,” he protests. “I can clean stuff. Laundry…take out the trash. Stuff like that.”
“Mm. Looks like we’ll just have to split the responsibilities. I can get behind that.”
“What about dinner?”
“Spam egg rice sound good?”
While Seungcheol gingerly cleans up the mess he’s made, you fry off some cubes of spam and scramble some eggs with green onion. Sliding the fluffy eggs over some steaming instant rice, you add a little drizzle of kewpie mayo and some more green onion and sesame seeds for decoration before presenting him with a bowl.
“Nothing fancy, but how’s that for a quick dinner?”
He takes the bowl, looking morose all the while. “Just once I’d like to be the one making you something delicious. I don’t know why I have a kitchen curse.”
“No. Hansol has a kitchen curse,” you correct. “You just don’t listen very well.”
“I try.”
“You don’t. You’re stubborn and ridiculous about it no matter how many times I try to tell you what to do.” Seeing the pout spreading across his handsome face, you pinch his cheek. “And I love you so much anyway.”
He gives you a sulky look that makes your heart fond. “How much?”
“So, so much.”
“How much is so, so much?”
“Enough that I’m willing to put up with you destroying my pans.”
He glances at the stove before ducking his head. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Yes, you will. Now let’s go eat before it gets cold.”
Like legit so Bun & Cheol coded hahahaha, I might include this in a sequel or something.
Tags: SMUT, bondage, dollification, overstimulation, they're disgustingly in love (classics of seventeensrat) I'm not kidding when I say they're IN LOVE, no fluff unless you count the fluff in the sexy parts. Fingering, sex, oral sex, I cannot say these are healthy dynamics, there's a scene where she's super insecure except it dissolves into an interpretation of my own flaws so the ending may be abrupt, skip over that if it's triggering, they read slightly codependent icl, he found her crying, he crew too, they both crode together Wonwoo toes her boundaries in the last one but they're both very into it, tagging dubcon just in case.
credits to @cursed-carmine for the gorgeous dividers, and @pochaccoups and @cherrynpink for proofreading and support, because God knows how long I've been sitting on this.
A/n: this is actually the very first fic I wrote! This is a shameless self insert brought to you by a massive virgin so don't take anything seriously and stay safe. I can't say the dynamics are healthy but they are undeniably sweet.
Silent readers kill. Please reblog, leave a comment or scream in my inbox I love it.
Wonwoo loved his darling little doll.
Loved dressing you up in the morning, each piece of delicate clothing carefully selected and put on you. Loved pinning your curls back with dainty hair clips, making you look even more doll-like. Loved scooping you up and carrying you around in his arms whenever he moved from one room to another. Loved gently setting you down among the many plushies that littered your bed after a long day. Loved crawling in with you. Loved pressing you to him until you both fell asleep. Loved waking you up the next morning with his cock pushing into you, his lovely doll so small and beautiful, whimpering half asleep in his arms. Loved doing it all over again.
That wasn’t to say you didn’t love it either. In fact, it was you, late one night, who suggested the idea to him shyly, reddened face buried in his wide shoulder. Asked him to use you, make you his, in every way possible, from the way you dress to when you speak. When he was silent for a moment too long, your heart sank to your stomach. Too far, you'd pushed too far, this was the end, you ruined it all again, he’s going to leave, you lost another person too early —
Between the panic and the chasm cracking open in your chest, you didn’t register the way he cradled your frozen body closer, aligning you with him. Not until Wonwoo’s hips rolled up into yours, letting you know exactly how he felt about it. That night, he took you over and over again, held close to his broad chest, held with warmth and safety and care. Held close like a beloved doll.
However, a beloved doll never meant a fully passive one. Wonwoo likes to tie you up, not because you struggle (though he finds it adorable), but because it’s easier for him to do as he pleases with you. Which found you perched on his lap while he wrote lyrics, his other hand between your thighs, stroking your clit mindlessly. Your own hands were bound in front of you with the same meticulousness he performed every action with, then looped to the ring on your pretty collar. You squirmed against him, thoughts melting into oblivion with every gentle pass of fingers.
The scratch of pen against paper pauses briefly, and he hauls you back to better lean against him, the warmth of his chest seeping into your back.
“Where are you going, hm?”
You were trapped between his chest and the palm of his hand flush against your bare cunt. The soft sound that escaped you was almost pitiful. Wonwoo huffed a laugh against the soft skin where your shoulder met your neck, pressing a tender kiss there. His fingers speed up, work long forgotten, until you were trying to squirm away from the relentless pleasure. The arm curled around your ribs doesn’t let you get far. He unravels you like this, nosing at the plush of your cheek, as you moan and writhe, legs shaking on either side of his, unable to close.
You wordlessly turn your head in search of his lips, missing them twice in your desperation. Wonwoo smiles, catching your mouth in a deep kiss, hand still working you through your climax. Oversensitivity kicks in, and you whine against his mouth. Tears prick against your eyes when his fingers refuse to slow down, before they pull away without warning. You whine again, whether out of frustration or relief, you couldn’t tell.
He breaks the kiss, still with that same gentle smile that you fell in love with, so long ago. Adjusting you on his lap, he silently encourages you to lean back against his shoulder. Your eyes drift shut. The scratch of pen on paper starts again, and Wonwoo’s warm hand finds its place back between your thighs, fingers tracing through the mess.
Your eyes snap open. “Wonwoo-”
“Hush, baby.” You reluctantly quiet down, still shivering in his lap, still without use of your hands or legs, restrained as they are. Dolls shouldn’t speak, anyway. Wonwoo rewards you by dipping two fingers past your pliant lips, pressing down on your tongue until you couldn’t focus on anything but the taste of his skin, covered in you.
Of course, work wasn’t the only time he held you close and played with you.
Wonwoo sprawls across the couch, long legs spread wide. You sat straddling his thigh, nose buried in the warm skin above his clavicle. His large, pale hand spidered across your spine, gently caressing you, looking the very picture of relaxation as he lazily flicks through a book with the other.
The same couldn’t be said of you. For the past half-hour, you’ve been grinding desperately against the strong thigh pressed against your cunt, trying to get yourself off to no avail. It didn’t help that your hands were cuffed behind your back this time— Wonwoo’s arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing keeping you steady.
You briefly wonder about the image the two of you made: his tall stature folded elegantly on the couch, regal features set in unruffled neutrality, princely even in a shirt and sweatpants, and you, naked, golden skin covered in a sheen of sweat, face flushed and crumpled with pleasure as you writhed helplessly on his leg. The master and his pretty doll. The thought sent heat straight to the pit of your stomach, forcing a whimper from you.
It was at that noise the warmth of Wonwoo’s hand disappeared from your back and resurfaced on your chest, guiding you back carefully. Still, you barely caught yourself on his thigh. The change in position forced pressure off your clit—too much.
Indignation won over embarrassment,, only for it to turn to a soft moan when his thumb languidly brushed over your nipple. The touch was so light it could’ve been an accident. What was not an accident was the sharp pinch that followed, pulling a strangled wail from you. He soothed it with a firm swipe of his finger, before grabbing your whole tit. Hard. His sharp eyes didn't leave the pages once, even when he groped your chest. Something simply to keep his hands busy.
Wonwoo bounced his leg the same time he turned a page. The jolt of pleasure it sent through you— after so long denied— made you fall forward back into the crook of his shoulder with a small cry, pushing your breast into his palm.
Any semblance of shame was long cast aside, if your whimpers were anything to go by. He keeps you like that, hand palming the soft swells of your chest, bouncing his leg periodically, almost absentmindedly– just to hear your punched out whines against his skin. An adorable little doll that squeaked when he touched it.
To Wonwoo, there was no activity that could be done if it wasn’t with you. Gaming (the single player kind. He’d be damned if he allowed anyone else to see you this way.) was no exception. Some days you curl up on his lap like a cat, basking in his warmth while you snuggle deeper into his shoulder. Wonwoo pets the closest part of you he can reach during the lulls. Long afternoons stretch and wind like taffy, Wonwoo rocking the two of you back and forth until you drowse in his arms.
On others, like this one, you kneel between his legs, hands tied to the chair around his waist. He makes sure your head is comfortable resting on his lap, his cock half hard and heavy in your mouth. His long calves are firm against your back, caging you in. Safe. It was so, so easy to fall asleep like this, drooling around him, messy and ruined and loved. Wonwoo pets the soft top of your head, a proud owner with a devoted pet.
Surrounded completely by him, you doze, woken up every now and then by his hips bucking into your mouth– gently, gently because he would never hurt his lovely doll, who looked up at him with glossy, lovesick eyes. Lovesick eyes which mirrored his own. His perfect darling who looked the picture of debauchery, pretty dress rucked up around your thighs, knees splayed out on the pillow he specifically bought for this, arms around him in the mimicry of a hug, round mouth stuffed full with him.
Wonwoo’s heart shatters with the affection he feels for you then. Enough to pull you off him by the hair—gently, always gently— and lean down into a deep kiss you could barely reciprocate, breathless. He slides two fingers into your mouth, the other hand stroking your hair, your face, peppering your face with little kisses. Smiles into every one of them. Pecks the tip of your nose, and oh, your lips are right there, soft and wet and tight around his fingers as you sucked. Pushing down on your tongue, he licks into your open mouth, around his fingers, kissing the slick arch of your mouth and then between the vee of his fingers, eating up every soft noise you make, because it’s all for him, because of him.
Two fingers, as big as they were, weren’t enough to soothe the ache that had formed in your jaw, settled deep in your mind. You whine. Loudly. Wonwoo pulls back, smiling fondly, stroking the side of your head.
“You want daddy’s cock, babydoll? Yeah?” he coos at you. “My darling girl wants to be with me forever, right? Does she want me to take care of her everyday like this? ”
You nod quickly, eyes glistening, wanting him in your mouth, around you. Forget wanting, you needed him like air. More, sometimes. He obliges like he could read your mind, understand that porcelain heart of yours, legs pressing against your back, guiding your head back to him. One hand pushes your head down, until you feel him nudging the back of your throat.
Long hours spent training away your gag reflex (A mission taken on solely by you. Wonwoo spent most of it alarmed, concerned for your well-being and painfully hard) made it ridiculously easy to do fun little tricks like taking him in fully and staring up at him with dark, wet eyes.
Fun little tricks for you, that is. Wonwoo was actively losing it. You silently will him to look at you, but he pays no heed to your telepathic urging (how dare he), instead throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming heat of your mouth. You lick over his head, taking him even deeper. The groan he lets slip between the harsh breaths is enough to have you moan against him, the vibration making his hips buck up, his body becoming yours.
You bob your head once, twice, and let your teeth graze ever so slightly, and that was enough for him to come undone. You swallow every drop, admiring his lovely face in the throes of pleasure. His cheekbones shone like the moon lived under his skin, and his long neck gleamed with sweat.
Wonwoo knew there was something wrong when you stared at your breakfast glassily, and when you barely spoke to him through it, and refused to touch him after it. He knew it when he saw you gazing at the mirror with the kind of hunger only the eternally starving could have, the hunger of someone who could not eat. And he knew it when you shied away from the hands he placed on your shoulders, but he didn't budge, and you reluctantly let him.
"What's wrong, darling?"
"I'm fine." An answer too curt to be anything but fine.
He stayed silent, and it enveloped you like everything about him. The silence seeped into your skin and throat, swept into your head with the surety of a tsunami, sank into the orifices of your chest (you sometimes wondered if there was anything in there at all— it felt so hollow), reached the depths of your stomach.
The words left from your stomach too. Retching them out was really the right word, the way it came up, and out of your mouth in convulsions, the horrible things you harboured within you like a spider and it's eggs.
The truth was: you were a freak of nature. An anomalous result, a product of your circumstances like any other, the last connection you seemed to have with what it meant to be human. That's where it all stemmed from and now you've made him part of it, subjected him to you, the oddity, you, the less-than-human-more-than -doll sick in the head for all the things you were willing to do to be accepted, to win in relationships (there are 2 losers), to be home in her own skin. There were places his hands couldn't reach, couldn't cleanse and that made you angrier.
By the end of your tirade, shaking and crying and close to collapse, his silence remained. But so did his hands, moving from your shoulders to your back, keeping you up, you realised, from collapsing. Your legs felt numb. Truly a doll, you thought deliriously. All that was left was the two of you and his silence, now coating the sharp shards of glass you called a heart. The silence wasn't there to stay, because he'd leave soon, understand you were beyond help, save himself while he could. You wanted him happy. You wanted him all to yourself and that sent you into a fresh wave of tears, because it was all gone now, you've cut the final threads, cleaned it up like a seam in life. B.W, A.W. Before Wonwoo, after Wonwoo. The thought made you giggle, and you were sure he found you repulsive and frankly ill, and that sobered you up again.
His arms still haven't left their place around you. A croak of your name had you turning around to look at him, and your heart shattered at the tear tracks that mirrored your own. He shouldn't cry, people like him never deserved to know desperation or grief or sadness, you caused it—
As if sensing your thoughts, he scooped you up, interrupting them, and carried you to the bed, setting you on his lap comfortably. And his tears never stopped rolling, not when he buried his face in your shoulder and clung to you like he was afraid you'd be the one walking away. Maybe he recognized the sharp knife trying to glide through yet another relationship.
"Wonwoo?" You tried, placing a gentle hand onto his shoulder. He shook his head, still hidden in the crook of your shoulder.
"Don't leave me." The single sentence shattered you further, and you carded a hand through his dark hair, trying to envelope him like he always did you. You could always become better. For him, you'd force yourself to.
The door opened angrily. You could swear up and down the door could tell you what the person who opened it was feeling at the moment, and today it was frustration and ire.
You felt him before he entered the kitchen, all long legs and broad shoulders. His mouth was set in a tight line, and you could see the stress around his eyes, half hooded behind his glasses. Wonwoo crossed the distance between you in two strides, grabbing your face with one hand and tilting your head up before he caught your lips in a kiss that felt like he was trying to devour you. You whined into the kiss, out of breath.
"Wonwoo, the stove—” you gasped.
He chased your mouth again, one arm reaching past you to turn the stove off (insurance wasn't worth it). The kiss only seemed to get more desperate as he poured the frustration of his day into it, until it felt like your lips would bruise. You wouldn't mind that, you thought, you wanted his marks to be raw and aching and permanent.
Without breaking the kiss, he slid an arm under your ass, lifting you effortlessly. The walk to the bedroom was the longest 10 seconds of his life (not entirely true. There was that one time the two of you didn't make it to the bed), and he tossed you on it like you weighed nothing, hunger written all over his face. Wonwoo moved with the quick grace of a predator, sliding between your thighs and flipping your skirt up. Of course you weren't wearing anything underneath, his perfect doll.
The first lick had you crumbling, and he had you on the edge in minutes. A single devastating suck threw you over it almost violently, his tounge working you through it. You sighed, boneless on the mattress, tugging at his hair to pull him up and over you, but he simply pinned your hands to your stomach.
"Hands, baby." It wasn't often he got like this, so you lifted them up obediently. Wonwoo stroked over your clit, rubbing little hearts into it until you came again, dumb with pleasure. And again. And again. After the fifth or sixth orgasm, you couldn't take it anymore, pushing at his shoulders and pulling his hair, trying to close your legs, but Wonwoo was a monolith between your thighs. And determined to make you come over and over until overstimulation could barely describe what you felt, tears of pleasure edged with sweet pain rolling into your hair. You knew if you fought back more, he'd simply tie your hands up and away from you, and tie your knees apart, and give you one more just as punishment for misbehaving. Your pleasure belonged to him. You belonged to him. He'd care of you if you passed out anyway, why are you crying?
You’re a treasured plaything for him to touch and grope at his will, regardless of whatever he’s doing. Or whatever you're doing.
Summary: It is one of those days when you and Seungcheol are both working from home. Notoriously, no work gets done on days like this one.
Word count: 6.6k
Genres/warnings: smut, pwp (plot? what plot?); non-idol au, loser!nerd!perv!seungcheol, established relationship, honestly i can stop at pwp, cheol is a simp and we're not surprised; lmk if i skipped anything important
Smut warnings: Minors DNI, thicc dicc!cheol, implied size difference, dirty talk (of course), slow piv sex, unprotected (this is how we roll here; but please be safe irl), creampie, they continue being horndogs, reader takes charge, light hints of pet play; oral (f rec), face sitting, some brief hand job (m. rec), orgasm denial/control, edging, kinda ruined orgasm, cheol is down bad as always, he's sweetly pathetic, reader is on the phone with her manager when cheol fucks her (oops, don't do it irl kids); see anything i missed? please lmk
A/N: everyone say thank you, seungcheol for that live he held. it gave me the idea of writing a full scene of what i only mentioned briefly in the main fic, though the action here takes place after the main story. as always, enjoy your read and i’ll be happy to see your feedback in any form you’re comfortable with: comments, asks or reblogs. and i will see you in my next fic ᙏ̤̫
You can read it separately but I would recommend reading all of it for the full experience of this couple :)
If you see any mistakes: I try to proofread but English isn’t my first language, proceed at your own discretion.
Masterlist. | PART 1
Seungcheol is forty-seven minutes deep into this video call and he has absorbed precisely none of it. His manager's voice comes through the headset like a monotone hum. He can swear this woman's voice is designed to sandpaper the edges of his sanity. On screen, a grid of eight faces, all feigning attention, and his own small rectangle in the corner shows a man who hasn't blinked in thirty seconds because he's too busy tracking a silhouette moving past the doorway.
That's you. Just a flicker of movement—bare legs, the hem of an oversized t-shirt he knows is his, the soft grey one you stole three months ago and never gave back—and his concentration detonates. His cock twitches against his thigh, a slow, traitorous swell that has nothing to do with whatever the hell his manager is droning on about.
Seungcheol leans back in his chair, the springs groaning under his weight, and tilts his head just enough to catch a sliver of the kitchen through the gap in the doorframe. You're at the counter now, back to him, reaching to open the microwave. The t-shirt stretches, outlining the curve of your butt. Suddenly, the fabric rides up as you tiptoe to grab something from the cupboard above and the very bottom of your ass peeks out, bare and soft-looking, and he has to swallow a sound that would get him fired.
"—and moving forward, I think we need to restructure our code reviews which are taking two days on average," his manager drones, and Seungcheol wants to scream. Fuck them code reviews. He's going to lose his mind. He's going to combust in this ergonomic chair and they'll find him as nothing but a pile of ash and a half-hard dick.
His fingers drum against the armrest. He risks another glance. You're bent over now, rummaging in the fridge, and the t-shirt has ridden up so high he can see the crease where your thigh meets your ass. Seungcheol knows exactly how that crease tastes. He knows the sound you make when he presses his tongue flat against it and drags upward. He knows the way you shudder, the way your hand fists in his hair, the way you always whisper his name in a mix of a curse and a prayer.
Fuck. His cock is fully hard now, a rigid line trapped in his sweatpants and boxer briefs in a way that's becoming painful. He shifts in his seat, trying to find relief, and accidentally knocks his knee against the underside of his desk with a dull thud that makes his microphone—that he forgot to mute—spike.
"You okay there, Seungcheol?" His manager's voice cuts through, and for one horrifying second his heart stops. But he quickly realises that it's just the noise that drew her attention. Just the thud.
"Yeah, fine," he says, and his voice comes out strained, a little too tight. "Just—hit my knee on the table."
He mutes himself. Lets out a breath that shakes. Rubs his palm over his face and tries to think about spreadsheets. Deadlines. Anything except you currently being in the kitchen or the way you looked this morning when you rolled out of bed, hair a disaster, his t-shirt swallowing you, and kissed him on the forehead before padding to the bathroom. Domestic shit. Soft, sweet, married-couple shit that still makes his chest ache even now, months in, even after everything.
It's worse now. That's the thing. He thought it would level out—the insatiable, clawing need that's been devouring him since that first drunk night on the couch. He thought once the novelty wore off, once you'd had each other in every conceivable position on every conceivable surface, the fever would break and you'd settle into something manageable. Normal.
It didn't.
It got so much worse.
Last Friday, for instance. You both worked from home. By his generous estimate, you managed three hours of actual productivity between you. The rest of the day dissolved into a blur of skin and sweat and the obscene, wet sound of his cock sliding into you over and over. He bent you over your desk during what was supposed to be a fifteen-minute coffee break and didn't pull out for forty-five. You sucked him off under his desk during a monthly team call on Google Meet, his teeth sinking into his fist and leaving marks just to keep from moaning into an unmuted mic, his eyes watering with restraint of not rolling back into his skull. Seungcheol fucked you against the hallway wall on the way to the bathroom, one hand clamped over your mouth, your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails carving trenches into his shoulders through his shirt. By the end of the day you couldn't walk straight. Neither could he. You ordered pizza and ate it cross-legged on the floor of your living room, half-naked, feeding each other slices and communicating with humms and grunts because forming full thoughts and voicing them felt like mission impossible. And then he got hard again just from watching you lick grease off your thumb, and you let him lay you back on the soft carpet and fill you up again, until you were both too wrecked to move.
So yeah. It didn't level out. It metastasised.
And now it's Tuesday, and he's been on this call for almost an hour, and you are a room away, in the kitchen, heating up leftovers, and his entire body is humming with want. He can smell you from here. He swears he can—that faint, familiar scent of your body wash and underneath it, the warm scent of your skin that makes his mouth water and his brain go syrupy and stupid.
"—so if everyone could have their reports in by Thursday," his manager is saying, finally, mercifully, "that would be great. Any questions? No? Great. Thanks, everyone."
The call ends. Seungcheol doesn't even say goodbye. He yanks the headset off, tosses it onto his desk, and is out of the bedroom before his chair stops spinning.
You hear him coming. He's not particularly secretive about his arrival—the heavy, purposeful tread of a man who spends too much time at the gym and hasn't learned to move quietly in a shared apartment. But you don't turn around. You're standing at the counter, reaching for the microwave handle, when his arms wrap around you from behind and his body folds over yours like a collapsing star.
He's so big. That's the first thing you register, the same thing you register every time—the sheer, enveloping mass of him. His chest presses against your back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of your—his—t-shirt. His arms circle your waist, thick and possessive, and his face buries into the crook of your neck with a sound that can only be described as a whimper.
"You're done?" you ask, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice.
"Finally," he mumbles against your skin. His lips move as he speaks, brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you have to suppress a shiver. "Thought she was never going to shut up. I was losing my mind."
"Yeah, I could hear her from here. That voice is something else. Like a sadistic lullaby."
Seungcheol huffs a laugh, his breath warm and damp against your throat. "It's not funny. I was suffering."
"Poor baby." You tilt your head, giving him more access without thinking, your body responding to his proximity the way it always does—on instinct, on autopilot, like your nerve endings have been rewired to recognise him as a primary need. Purely Pavlovian response. "My heart bleeds for you and your very important corporate meeting."
"Don't be mean." He pouts. You can't see his face but you know he's pouting—you can hear it in the way his voice goes soft and petulant, the way his lower lip juts out. "I missed you."
"I was literally a wall away."
"That's a wall too far."
The microwave beeps. You reach for it again, but Seungcheol's hand catches yours first. His fingers slide between yours, locking them together, and he pulls your hand back down, pressing it flat against the counter top. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt and settles on your lower belly, palm warm and broad and possessive.
"Food can wait," he murmurs.
You open your mouth to argue, to tease him about being a needy, insufferable menace, but then his palm presses down. Just a little. Just enough to apply pressure, to make you aware of the heat pooling low in your abdomen, of the way your body responds to him on a level that has nothing to do with conscious thought. An involuntary sound escapes your throat—small, breathy, embarrassing—and you feel your pussy clench around nothing.
"That's what I thought," he says, and there's a smile in his voice now, satisfied and soft and infuriating.
His lips find the junction of your neck and shoulder. He kisses you there, slow and open-mouthed, and then his teeth graze your skin and you stop breathing for a second.
"Cheol."
"Mm?"
"You're doing that thing."
"What thing?" He does it again—a gentle scrape of teeth, followed by the wet, soothing press of his tongue—and your knees go weak.
"That thing where you—where you turn me into—" You can't finish the sentence. His lips have found a new spot, just above your collarbone, and he's sucking a bruise into existence with the kind of focused intensity he usually reserves for boss fights in Elden Ring. Your brain fills with static. Your hands grip the edge of the counter. "—into a—fuck."
"Into a what?" He pulls back just long enough to speak, his voice low and rough and dripping with false innocence. "Use your words, baby."
"I hate you."
"No you don't." Kiss. Bite. Suck. "You love it. You love when I make you all dumb and shaky. When I take my time and turn you into a little mess before I've even touched you properly." Another kiss, this one pressed to the shell of your ear. "I know you're clenching even without touching you, baby. You think I'm not aware? Oh, I am. I know your body better than I know my own at this point."
You think of saying something sharp, to cut through the haze and reassert some semblance of control. But Seungcheol is right. He does know your body. He's spent months mapping every inch of it with his hands and his mouth and his cock, learning every spot that makes you gasp, every rhythm that makes you fall apart. And right now, with his palm still pressing on your lower belly and his lips trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, the only thing your brain can produce is a stream of increasingly pathetic sounds.
You think, distantly, about the irony of it. Months ago you called him a loser to your friend. You rolled your eyes at his compression shirts and his anime figures and his inability to talk to women. And now here you are, melting into a puddle of need because he's kissing your neck and breathing on you. Your friends have noticed, of course. Because you can't exactly hide it. You walk into every brunch, every cafe meetup, wearing the unmistakable glow of a woman who's getting thoroughly, regularly, devastatingly fucked. Loud and proud as they say.
Seungcheol's fingers have trailed lower while you were lost in thought. They're resting on the waistband of your underwear now, tracing the elastic edge with a maddening lightness that makes your hips twitch.
"Mmm, bet you're so wet already," he murmurs, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the smug, reverent delight. "I haven't even done anything and you're soaking through your panties, aren't you? What am I going to do with you?"
"I don't know," you manage, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathy. "Maybe actually fuck me instead of just talking about it?"
"Impatient." He nips at your earlobe. "I like it."
His fingers dip lower, pressing against you through the damp cotton of your underwear and finding his theory to be true. The pressure is light, teasing, nowhere near enough, and you can feel your pussy clenching and throbbing again, desperate for more, desperate for anything. Behind you, pressed against the curve of your ass, his cock is a hard, insistent weight. He's been half-hard since the call started—you could guess from the way he was squirming in his chair, the way his eyes kept cutting toward the kitchen—but now he's fully erect, thick and hot even through the layers of his sweatpants and your t-shirt that barely covers your ass anymore. He rocks against you, a slow, deliberate grind, and the friction makes you both groan.
"Thought about this the whole call," he says, his voice dropping into that lower register that makes your stomach flip. "Thought about bending you over this counter. Thought about pulling these little panties to the side and sliding into you while you're still trying to heat up your stupid breakfast leftovers. Thought about filling you up so full you'd be leaking me all afternoon while you sit in your meetings pretending to be a professional."
"That's—" You swallow, hard. "That's what you were thinking about? During a work call?"
"Every second." Seungcheol grinds against you again, and this time you can feel the full length of him, the girth that still makes your mouth water even after all these months. "Couldn't focus. Couldn't think about anything except your tight little cunt and how bad I need to be inside it. How bad I need to use it."
He says that and lets out a shameful pathetic mewl.
The word "use" and the desperate sound that escapes him land in your chest and detonate. You know what he's doing—he's working you up, talking filth the way he knows you like, the way that makes you weak and pliant and ready to let him do anything. And normally you would let him. Normally you would let him spin you around, bend you over, and fuck you stupid right here against the kitchen counter, and you would come apart on his cock and thank him for it afterwards.
But thanks to his little pathetic display you're feeling something else. Something sharper. Seungcheol spent an hour squirming in his chair thinking about using you? Fine. But you spent that same hour catching glimpses of him in his stupid soft flannel shirt, his hair messy, his brows furrowed, his plush lips wrapped around his water bottle, and you've been simmering with your own kind of want. And maybe it's the oncoming ovulation hormones, or maybe it's the way he whimpered when he first wrapped his arms around you and mewled just now, but something in you decides that today, you're not going to be the one who gets reduced to a mindless, begging mess.
Today, that's going to be him.
His fingers have slipped under the waistband of your panties now, tracing through your slick folds with a slow, exploratory pressure that makes your breath hitch. He's about to push inside—you can feel the tension in his wrist, the way his breathing has gone ragged against your neck—when you reach around with your free hand and squeeze his cock through his sweatpants.
Hard.
Seungcheol makes a sound you've never heard before. A choked, strangled yelp that's half surprise and half something else entirely. His whole body jerks against you, his hips bucking into your grip, and his fingers freeze where they are.
"What—" he starts, but you squeeze again, and the word dissolves into a whimper.
"Here's what's going to happen, baby," you say, and your voice comes out breathless but somewhat steady. "You're going to take your hand out of my panties. You're going to get on your knees. And you're going to do exactly what I tell you. Got it, hmm?"
Seungcheol doesn't answer immediately. His chest is heaving against your back, his cock throbbing in your grip, and you can feel the war happening inside him—the instinct to take over, to reclaim control, wrestling with the part of him that loves this, the part that goes soft and eager and desperate when you turn the tables.
"Got it?" you repeat, and you twist your wrist just enough to make him gasp.
"Yeah," he breathes, voice going a little higher than usual. "Yeah, okay. Got it."
"Good boy."
The words hit him like a physical blow. You feel the full-body shudder that runs through him, the way his cock kicks against your palm, the way his breathing goes even more ragged and uneven. He pulls his hand out of your panties slowly, reluctantly, and you release your grip on him just long enough for him to step back.
"Strip," you say as soon as you turn around to see him.
He does. He pulls his t-shirt over his head first, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the thick shoulders and defined pecs, the trail of dark hair that runs down his stomach and disappears into the waistband of his sweats. Then his pants go, pushed down over his hips, and his boxers with them, until he's standing naked in the middle of the kitchen with his cock jutting up toward his belly, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking.
You take a moment to look at Seungcheol. It never gets old—the sheer size of him, the thickness, the way his cock curves just slightly, so pretty. The way it twitches under your gaze like it's begging for attention—and you bet it is. The way his balls hang heavy and full, a reminder that he hasn't come since yesterday morning, which in his case means he's already backed up and desperate and so, so easy to break.
"You're so pretty," you murmur, and you mean it. "Look at you. Standing there dripping for me. Such a desperate pathetic mess already and I haven't even touched you."
His cock gives you an eager reaction, twitching and bobbing up and down at your words, and you smile at how it throbs, almost like it's whining and jumping for you to touch it. Seungcheol's ears go red. That very deep, mortified flush that you've been watching since the very first night, except now it makes your chest ache with something tender and possessive instead of irritated. "Baby—"
"On your knees," you order softly, lips stretched in the sweetest of smiles.
He drops so fast you hear his knees hit the tile. You wince, breaking character just for a moment, worried, but Seungcheol doesn't seem to care at all, he is looking up at you with those big brown eyes, pupils blown wide, lips parted, and he is so fucking wreckable in this very moment that it makes your pussy clench and you don't even notice as you slip back into the little play the two of you are orchestrating.
"Please," he whispers, and he doesn't even know what he's asking for. He just knows he needs something, anything, as long as it is from you.
"Please what?" you hum, watching his eyes turn even shinier than before. He's so pretty like this it is unfair. Not for the first time he's giving you aggression urges.
"Please let me taste you. Need to put my mouth on you. I've been thinking about it all morning—thinking about how you taste, how soft and warm you feel on my tongue—please, baby? I need it—"
"Shh." You step forward, close enough that he can smell you again—his nostrils visibly flare when he silently inhales you—and you can feel his exhale ghost against your thighs. "I know. I know you've been a desperate little puppy all morning, couldn't even pay attention to your stupid meeting because you were too busy thinking about my pussy. Isn't that right?"
He nods, frantic, his hands twitching at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from grabbing you. You wouldn't mind if he did, to be fair. "Yes. Yes, that's right. Couldn't—couldn't think about anything else. Just you. Just your sweet pussy. Just how bad I wanted to be inside it." He whimpers and squirms on his knees, and his cock twitches again at the image growing vivid in his head.
"And instead you're on your knees." You reach down, thread your fingers through his hair, and tug—not hard enough to hurt, only to tilt his head back and make him look at you. "Because you're not in charge right now. I am. And I decide when you get to touch me. I decide when you get to cum. Understood?"
"Understood." His voice is wrecked already, and you haven't even started.
"Good." You release his hair and hop up onto the edge of the counter, spreading your legs. "Now be a good boy and get to work."
You pat your thigh and Seungcheol doesn't need to be told twice. His hands find your thighs, tugging your underwear off with urgent impatience before spreading you wider to make room, and then his mouth is on you and the world dissolves into sensation for both of you.
Seungcheol eats pussy like he's been starving for years and you're the first meal he's been served. His tongue is broad and wet and relentless, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit with a pressure that makes your hips immediately buck against his face. He genuinely moans when he tastes you, like the flavour of your arousal is the best thing he's ever experienced—and the vibration against your clit sends a shockwave up your spine, makes your soles tingle and toes curl.
"Fuck," you breathe, one hand bracing against the counter, the other fisting in his hair. "That's it. That's—right there—"
He stays there. His tongue circles your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, and then his lips close around it and he sucks, and your vision whites out for a second, an involuntary squeal leaving your mouth.
"Oh my god—" you pant, voice getting strained and high-pitched with pleasure.
He hums against you, pleased, and the vibration makes you jolt again. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks, holding you open for him, and his tongue keeps working you in a rhythm that's devastatingly precise. He knows exactly what you like. Of course he does. He's spent months learning your body like a language, and now he's fluent.
But you're not going to let him make you come just yet. You tug on his hair, pulling him back, and he looks up at you with his face slick and shining, his lips swollen and wet, his eyes hazy and half-lidded with want.
"Why'd you stop me?" he whines. "I wasn't done. You taste so good, baby, please let me finish—"
"Because I want to sit on your face."
His eyes go wide. Then darken. His cock, which has been bobbing neglected against his stomach, twitches and throbs visibly, a fresh bead of precum welling at the tip.
"Fuck," he whispers. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I want that. Please."
"Get on the floor then."
He lies down on the kitchen tiles without a shred of dignity, his cock standing up like a flagpole, his chest heaving. You slide off the counter and stand over him for a moment, looking down at the picture he makes—this big, muscular man, sprawled on the cold floor, looking up at you like you're the sun and the moon and every star in the sky, his cock leaking all over his own stomach.
"You're so pathetic," you tell him, and you mean it as the highest compliment.
"I know," he breathes. "I'm your pathetic little puppy. Now please—please sit on my face. I need your cunt on my tongue. Need you to smother me with your sweet pussy, baby."
Gosh, you both are so fucking nasty for each other, you chuckle and lower yourself down, kneeling carefully over his head. The first contact of his tongue against your pussy makes you both groan—him from the taste, you from the sensation of his mouth working you open while you settle your full weight onto him. Your thighs bracket his head, and his hands come up to grip your ass, guiding you, pulling you down harder, to sit your entire weight on him.
You let Seungcheol work for a while. Let his tongue fuck into you, let his lips close around your clit, let him moan and whimper against your flesh while you rock your hips in slow, lazy circles. But you have other plans for him, so you twist just enough to reach back, your hand finding his cock where it's standing rigid and neglected.
The sound he makes when you wrap your fingers around him is muffled by your pussy, and you feel the desperate, broken groan that vibrates through your entire body. You stroke him slowly, from base to tip, your thumb swiping over the slick, swollen head to collect the precum that's been pooling there just to massage his frenulum and make the man twitch and jerk his hips uncontrollably, losing all pace of his oral ministrations.
"Look at you," you murmur, looking down at him. "So hard for me. So wet. You're dripping all over yourself. Such a pretty mess, hmm."
He can't answer. His mouth is full of your cunt, his tongue buried inside you, and all he can do is whine and buck his hips into your grip, either encouraging or just sensitive.
"Is this what you wanted? When you were sitting in your meeting with your cock all hard and aching? You wanted to be on your back on the kitchen floor, being used like a toy?"
Seungcheol nods frantically, his nose bumping against your clit, and the sensation makes you gasp.
"That's what I thought. You're nothing but a dumb mutt when I get my hands on you. What a sight, huh? A big, strong man reduced to a whimpering mess on the floor. Your friends have no idea, do they? Do they think you're this alpha male now? That you're the cool guy of the group after you bagged me, hmm?” You apply more weight onto his face and Seungcheol groans against you, soft tongue licking deeper into your heat, coaxing a moan out of you. "Should we let them know that you actually love getting on your knees for me? Love being a good puppy for me?"
You twist your wrist on the upstroke, and his hips stutter, his cock pulsing in your grip. He's close. You can feel it in the way his thighs are tensing, the way his breathing has gone ragged and uneven, and the way his tongue has lost its rhythm against your pussy because he can't concentrate on anything except the pleasure you're wringing out of him.
"Are you going to come?" You ask sweetly. "Are you going to spill all over yourself and make a mess like a good little slut?"
He tries to nod again, but you're already pulling your hand away.
"Too bad," you say, and his desperate, wounded keen is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "You don't get to cum until I say so. And I haven't said so."
"Please," he gasps, his mouth finally free of your pussy because you've lifted your hips just enough to look down at him. His face is a mess—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, chin slick with your arousal. "Please, baby, I need to cum. I've been thinking about it all day. I can't—"
"Oh, but you can." You climb off him, and he whines at the loss of contact, his hands reaching for you instinctively. "Get up. Bend me over the counter."
Seungcheol scrambles to his feet so fast he nearly slips and you snicker, telling him to be careful. His cock is an angry red, throbbing visibly, a steady stream of precum dripping from the tip on every twitch. He looks ruined already, and you haven't even let him inside you yet.
You turn around and brace yourself against the counter, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. You're soaked—your thighs are glistening, your pussy is swollen and dripping with a mix of your juices and his spit, and you know exactly what he's seeing right now.
"Now you can fuck me," you tell him. "Slow. Exactly the way I want it. And you're not going to come. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he breathes, steps closer behind you. "Yes, I understand. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you."
He lines himself up. You feel the blunt, thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and even though you're wet and open and ready, the stretch is still overwhelming. Seungcheol pushes in slowly, inch by inch, spreading your walls, filing the empty space that begged to be filled, and you both groan in unison as he fills you.
"Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're always so tight. How are you still so tight?"
"Shut up and move."
He pulls out almost all the way, making you feel the way his veined shaft drags against your sensitive walls, and then pushes back in. Seungcheol fucks you exactly the way you told him to—slow, deep, each thrust deliberate and measured. His hands are gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and you can hear the effort it's taking him to hold back, the way his breathing is coming in ragged gasps, the way he's trembling against you.
"You feel so good," he babbles again. "You feel so fucking good, baby, I can't—I don't know how much longer I can—"
"You can last as long as I tell you to last." But your voice is shaking now too. The angle is perfect, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every slow, grinding thrust, and you're getting close yourself. "Don't you dare cum without permission. Don't you fucking dare."
"I won't. I won't, I promise, just—please, can I go faster? Please?"
"No. Keep it slow. I want to feel every inch of you."
He whimpers, but he does what he's told. His thrusts stay slow and deep, his cock dragging against your walls, and you can feel the orgasm building in your core, coiling tighter and tighter—
Your phone rings.
Your intuition immediately screams at you that it must be someone from work.
"Fuck," you hiss in half frustration, half panic. "Fuck, Cheol, stop, I have—have to take this—"
You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens. "No," he whines. "No, baby, please, I'm so close, don't stop me—"
Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel bad for the man, he sounds so ruined.
"I'm not asking." You pull yourself off his cock with a wet, obscene sound, and Seungcheol makes a noise like you've stabbed him. His cock bobs in the air, angry and neglected, throbbing and jumping with denied orgasm. A thick strand of your combined fluids connects him to your pussy for a brief moment before it snaps. He whines out a sob.
"You ruined it," Seungcheol breathes, and he sounds genuinely devastated. "You ruined my orgasm. Baby, why? I was right there—"
"Stay here," you order, already grabbing your phone from the kitchen table where it was resting forgotten all this time. "Don't move."
You answer the call as you walk toward your room, your voice switching to a semblance of something professional and pleasant even though your thighs are still wet and your pussy is still aching and empty. "Hey, yeah, sorry, just give me one second—"
You don't get your one second. Because Seungcheol, your sweet, pathetic, desperate boyfriend, has followed you despite what you told him to do.
You feel him before you see him—his body pressing up behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock sliding between your thighs, still slick with your arousal. You're standing in front of your desk, phone pressed to your ear, and he's already bending you forward, already lining himself up.
"No," you mouth silently, turning your head to glare at him. "Don't you dare."
Seungcheol meets your eyes. His are dark and wild and desperate, and there's something almost feral in his expression. He doesn't stop. He pushes inside you in one smooth, harsh thrust that jolts your entire body, and the sensation of intrusion is so sudden and overwhelming that you have to bite down on your own hand to keep from crying out. This leaves you with no support, which means you pretty much topple over, suddenly pressed into your desk with Seungcheol's hand that was applying pressure between your shoulder blades.
"—and so I was wondering if you could take a look at this document before the meeting this afternoon," your team lead is saying in your ear, her voice cheerful and oblivious. "I know it's last minute, but I think there might be an error on page five."
"Of course," you manage, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady considering the fact that your boyfriend is currently buried balls-deep inside you, his hips already starting to move. "I can—I can do that. No problem."
Seungcheol fucks into you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel how close he still is from before, how desperate. One of his hands slides up and down your back, pressing you down onto the desk before you can even think of lifting your upper body into an upright position, and the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you in place.
"Great, thanks," your team lead says. "Also, I wanted to ask about the client presentation next week. Have you had a chance to—"
He chooses that moment to thrust particularly deep, his cock hitting your cervix, and a tiny, strangled sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.
"You okay?" your team lead asks.
"Yes," you say, and your voice is definitely too high. "Yes, sorry, I just—stubbed my toe. On the desk. It's fine."
Seungcheol leans down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing your free ear. "Little liar," he whispers, so quiet only you can hear. "What will your boss do if she finds out you're getting fucked during your working hours?” He can't help a chuckle that escapes him when he comes up with his next question. "Hmm, does it make you a slut for fucking me and getting paid while doing so? Technically…" he trails off and your pussy clenches traitorously as soon as your brain registers what he just said.
You want to kill him. You want to kill him and then marry him and then kill him again.
"—and if you could send me the updated slides by end of day, that would be perfect," your team lead is saying.
"End of day," you repeat, barely processing the words. Seungcheol has picked up his pace, just slightly, and the sound of his cock sliding into your wet, messy pussy is so loud in the quiet room that you're sure your team lead can hear it if the line stays silent for a moment too long. "Yes. Slides. I'll—I'll send them."
"Are you sure you're okay? You sound a little off."
"I'm fine. I'm great. Just—writing it down."
Seungcheol muffles a laugh against your shoulder. His hand leaves your hip and snakes around to your front, finding your clit with devastating accuracy. Your whole body jolts.
"That's the spot, isn't it?" he breathes in your ear. "That's the spot that makes you stupid. You're going to come on my cock while you're on the phone, aren't you? You're going to soak me and she's going to hear it."
You shake your head frantically, but you can't speak. Your team lead is still talking, something about deadlines and team meetings, and you're nodding along and making vague sounds of agreement while your boyfriend rubs circles on your clit and fucks into you with deep, punishing strokes. You're trying so hard not to start panting or moaning, and your brainpower continues to slip from your grasp.
"I'm going to fill you up," he whispers. "I'm going to pump you so full of cum it'll be dripping out of you for the rest of the day. And you're going to sit in your meetings and feel it leaking into your panties, and you're going to think about me. About this. About how I ruined you while you were trying to be professional."
"Okay," you say into the phone, and you have no idea what you're agreeing to. "Okay, sounds good. I have to—I have to go now, I'll send those slides."
"No rush," your team lead says. "Talk later!"
You hang up with confused fingers, missing the red button on the screen a couple of taps before you finally manage to end the call. The phone clatters onto the desk.
And then you let yourself fall apart.
"Cheol—" It comes out as a loud sob, half fury and half desperate, overwhelming need. "You—you fucking—I can't believe you—"
"You loved it." He's not even trying to hide the smugness in his voice, but it's undercut by the way his hips are stuttering, the way his rhythm is falling apart. "You loved every second of it. I could feel you getting wetter and clenching around me when she asked if you were okay."
"I'm going to kill you—after—after I come—"
"Yeah?" He presses harder on your clit, circles it with the perfect pressure that he knows you enjoy, and the orgasm that's been building since the kitchen finally, finally explodes. "Then come for me. Now, baby. Let me feel it."
You shatter with a mewl. It rips through you like a thunderclap, your whole body seizing up, your pussy clamping down on his cock in rhythmic, pulsing waves. You scream—you can't help it, the sound tears out of you raw and unguarded after long minutes of trying to suppress it all—and Seungcheol groans and buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in hot, copious pulses.
He keeps thrusting through it, fucking his cum deeper into you, and you can feel it flooding you, filling you, leaking out around his cock in a white obscene ring and dripping down your thighs. He doesn't stop until he's completely spent, and then he collapses over you, his weight pressing you into the desk, his breath hot and ragged against the back of your neck.
For a long moment the room is silent. The only sounds are your mingled breathing and the faint, distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen.
Then: "You're a menace," you whisper, swallowing thickly and heaving a sigh.
He laughs, breathless and giddy and a little bit wrecked. "Yeah. But you're the same. And you love me."
You don't argue. You can't. Not when his cock is still inside you, still half-hard, still plugging you full of his cum. Not when you can already feel it starting to drip out despite his best efforts. Not when your legs are shaking so badly you're not sure you can stand if you try.
"Next time," you manage, "I'm locking you to a piece of furniture before I take a work call."
"Hmm, I think next time," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade, "you'll let me do it again. Because you're just as depraved as I am."
You hate that he's right. You hate it even more that you don't hate it at all.
*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.
Synopsis ✨ You've proved your point. And now it's time for Seungcheol to prove his. He's adamant he's not down to be pegged. He won't enjoy it and it'll be a waste of time. But will he have to eat his words?
Genre ✨ Established relationship, professor x student, smut, fluff, a little smidge of angst
Smut warnings ✨ they are the biggest pair of idiots (I'm not even exaggerating), nervous Seungcheol, nervous OC, ass play, anal fingering, pegging, hand job, it's all very soft to start (even though everything in her head is the opposite), possessive OC, she a filthy mouth, very whiney Seungcheol, begging, OC is obsessed with seeing him begging for her strap, lots of aftercare, someone has to admit they were wrong about pegging ☝🏻
Plot warnings ✨ mentions of toxic masculinity, threats of violence from OC (people need to leave her hot professor alone), jealously (again, people need to leave her hot professor alone), very horny OC, Seungcheol is a big baby, lots of chat about sex toys, Seungcheol purposefully tries to piss her off and it just makes the result all the sweeter
Word count ✨ 11.3k
a/n ✨ I think this is the last scoups fic I've got planned for a while, I feel like I've been writing a lot for him recently. The next upload will be either vampire Jun or one of my Wonwoo wips.
This can be read as a stand alone but it is a follow on from this
“Please.” You pout, with possibly the biggest pout you’ve ever done in your life.
“No.”
He is such an ignorant ass hole, sitting in his compression shirt, biceps bulging, all sweaty from the gym and he expects you to not want to just randomly start jumping him?!
“Why does me coming home from the gym automatically make you think of that again? I’m not fucking doing it!”
“Because you’re all exhausted from the gym. You’re like vulnerable prey.” You eye him hungrily.
He looks genuinely a little worried for your sanity now, his eyes wide and swallowing the sip of water he’d just taken. That act just making you even more desperate.
“I think you need help.”
“I need to peg you.”
“You don’t need to peg anyone. You need to do the homework I set. I’m sure others have already done it.”
You bristle at that, exactly how he knew you would. Because you know exactly who he’s talking about.
“I’ve done it. Very well in fact. Now stop trying to distract me. Just let me try it once! It’s always been a dream.” A lie, or it was until you met Seungcheol, but he doesn't need to know that.
“What, when you were a little girl, you were dreaming of pegging your professors? That explains so much.”
His smile only widens when you whack him with a sofa cushion, you’re getting your way one way or another and if violence is the answer, then so be it.
“I don’t understand why you’re so against it!”
“Because it’s not natural!”
“A man’s g-spot wouldn’t be in his ass if it weren’t meant to happen. I’ll be gentle!”
“A man’s g-spot is not in his ass,” he scoffs, “you’re doing this to make me suffer because of the whole blow job under the desk thing. I already said you proved your point. I have nothing to prove here.”
“All you’re proving is that you’re an old wuss. Let me claim you as mine!” You whine.
And if you were paying attention to him (rather than throwing a fit) you’d see that something flickers in his eyes when you say you want to claim him as yours.
He thought all this was about you wanting to prove a point and make him do something out of his comfort zone. But now you’ve said that, maybe it is something more. And he does like it when you're all territorial over him.
To be honest he’s not convinced but if it makes you happy, he supposes he could give it a try. Just the once. Just to make you happy. He knows he won’t enjoy it. Definitely not.
“I’ll think about it.”
You freeze mid tantrum, eyes on stalks as you turn to your boyfriend. Surely you heard him wrong, he’s just trying to appease you then you’ll shut up about it.
“Seriously?!”
“I know I won’t enjoy it,” he shrugs, “but I’ll think about it. That’s all I can offer.”
“I LOVE YOU!” You throw yourself at him, his back hitting the sofa and you on top of him.
“Yeah?” he smirks, “Prove it.”
And you do. You prove it to him for most of the afternoon.
“We don’t normally get deliveries this early.” Seungcheol frowns as he takes a sip of coffee, watching on fondly as you more or less skip to the kitchen table.
“I paid extra for delivery before 8am then I knew we’d be in, I didn’t want to miss this delivery.”
You rush round the kitchen, more eager to open this parcel than you ever have been to open anything. You grab the scissors, put your breakfast things in the sink and throw your ass in the chair so quickly you nearly throw yourself off the other side of it.
“What is it?” He hums, still grading a couple of papers but wanting to know what’s got you so excited.
“You’ll see.” You smirk.
This makes Seungcheol put his pen down, watching you intently and starting to feel a little on edge, though he’s no idea why.
It turns out taking a sip of his coffee as you finally get into the parcel was a mistake because the second he sees you taking out what you’ve bought, his coffee goes straight up his nose and lands all over his shirt and the final paper he was marking. He’s coughing and spluttering away whilst you happily take out everything from the box, just how much have your ordered and what the hell were you planning?!
“W-what the f-fuck,” he coughs, thumping his chest to clear it, “we eat off this table!”
You narrow your eyes at him, a tube of lube in your hand.
“You literally bent me over this very table four days ago and bruised my ass for being a brat.”
“You told me to keep slapping your ass!!” he defends himself.
“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.” You turn your attention back to your haul.
“I only said I’d think about it, what the fuck is all this stuff?”
“Well,” you glance between the three different straps you’ve bought and the leather harness, “I didn’t know what size to get, and I didn’t know when you’d say yes or no and if it’s a yes, I didn’t want to be unprepared.”
Seungcheol stares at the array of sex toys in front of him, you’ve even bought two different types of lube and now he feels a little bad. Because he wasn’t actually going to agree to it. Yes, he had a moment of weakness where he thought maybe he might, but in the two weeks since, he’d decided he wasn’t going to. He was certain it wasn’t for him. But him saying he’d think about it had made you shut the fuck up about it for the first time in about two months and so he hadn’t told you his decision.
And now you’re sitting excitedly telling him about everything you’ve bought and he feels like a complete dickhead.
“So. I got three sizes because I didn’t know what to get, I’ve never even thought about this until I met you,” another crack to Seungcheol’s heart, “And I got the clear, glittery ones because I thought they looked pretty and I thought if I got ones that looked more real, it might freak us out more. And then,” you reach for the leather harness, “I got the natural leather because it’s sort of skin tone coloured? I didn’t want anything that would stand out too much, I just want it to look normal, you know?” Your eyes are bright as you glance at him. “What?”
You lower the harness you had in your hand, the look on your boyfriend’s face making any excitement you had, evaporate.
“I didn’t say yes, baby.” He says quietly, eyeing everything you’ve spread across the table.
“But you said you’d think about it.” You frown, you definitely heard him say he’d think about it.
“That’s not yes _____.”
Your heart drops, you feel like a fucking idiot. Of course he was never going to say yes, this is Seungcheol you’re talking about, the big macho Professor Choi. Of course he was never going to let you do this. What hurts is that whenever he’s suggested doing something new, or out of your comfort zone, you’ve trusted and loved him enough to do it. But he couldn’t just be honest, he had to lie and just shrug you off with an excuse like you would with a five year old.
“You could’ve just said you didn’t trust me to do it.” You throw everything back in the box and stand up, “You didn’t have to be such a fucking asshole about it and treat me like a child!”
“_____ wait! Please!”
But you don’t, you grab your shoes and bag and slam the apartment door shut behind you, your array of strap ons under your arm. You’ll put them in the car and try to remember to return them. You always take the bus and Seungcheol uses your shared car because nobody can know you’re together at university. He never goes in the trunk, so he won’t see them. You’ve wasted enough time researching what materials, sizes, even which lube to use to make everything as enjoyable as possible for him. You’ll be damned if you waste money on that ass hole too. Literally.
You would have to have an argument about pegging on a day where you’re in Seungcheol’s class. It couldn’t happen on one of the three days where you don’t. No. Because the universe and Seungcheol both hate you.
Yes, you know he doesn’t actually hate you, you’re just more embarrassed than anything. You feel like a complete and utter idiot for happily ordering all that stuff when he had no intention of doing it. And you’ve been physically cringing all through your morning classes when you remember how you unpacked it all excitedly in front of him, the look of disgust on his face even appearing in your text books because of how often you were playing it back.
On normal days you might try and get to class a little early, which isn’t always easy because Jihoo was still on her mission to bag the hot professor and so would get to class as early as she could.
And it turns out that today is no different, several members of your class are already sitting at their desks when the lecture hall door closes behind you and you feel like screaming when you glance at Seungcheol’s desk and she is already fawning over him.
She’s even pulled up a chair, probably to discuss the dowry her sainted mother could provide if he decided to fulfil her dreams and marry her.
He peers round her somewhat frantically, like he’s been watching every person coming through the door and waiting for you to arrive. But you ignore the almost hopeful look on his face, cock your brow at the back of Jihoo’s head and head to the desk at the back. You don’t normally sit here, these seats are usually empty owing to the boy in your class who has yet to discover deodorant, but you’d take sitting behind him over being any nearer to Seungcheol than you have to be.
You know he keeps glancing at you, but you take out your laptop, notebook and pen and stare into space until he decides to start his lesson. Perhaps if he spent less time humouring Jihoo, he might be able to start this lesson on time. No doubt he’d let her peg him.
“Miss _____, could I have word outside please?”
Your head whips to him, the whole class staring at you open mouthed and Jihoo looking like she’s just been punched in the gut. He hardly ever talks to you during classes, he’s always worried one of you will give something away and so you keep each other at arm’s length.
You were hell bent on ignoring him for this whole lesson and everything in you just wants to tell your boyfriend to fuck off. But your brain reminds you that you can’t really tell your professor to fuck off, no matter how much you want to.
But you are still pissed off with him so you slam your pen down on the desk and scrape your chair back quickly, making the poor sweaty boy in front of you jump, and march out of the room. Not sparing your classmates or your professor a single glance.
“I’ve put a few examples on the board of investigative journalists who have been nominated for their work in war zones, if you could all go through them and after I’ve had a quick chat with _____, tell me what makes them such good examples.” He nods to them and rushes out after you.
“What is it professor?” You don’t even look at him, just lean against the wall outside his lecture hall with your arms folded.
“Why are you sitting at the back?”
“You’ve embarrassed me for a second time today, just to ask me that?”
Why does he look so confused?! He can’t have forgotten how he looked when you were joyfully showing him the straps and he can’t not see that being singled out by your professor, is embarrassing.
“How have I embarrassed you?!”
It won’t matter about pegging. Not when you’ve killed him for being fucking annoying.
“You were always going to say no!” you whisper shout at him, there may be nobody around but you don’t really want people hearing you arguing about pegging the professor, “And I sat there so excited! It’s fucking embarrassing Cheol! I feel so fucking stupid. I genuinely thought you’d trust me enough to at least try it. I got ahead of myself and now I’m mortified. You just think I’m a child you need to throw a bone to and she’ll stop pestering you!”
“It isn’t that I don’t trust you!”
“Oh don’t bullshit me. What else would it be about. I let you do it to me! I let you do everything you want because I trust you! And I know you’ll have only suggested it because you’re thinking about me! I haven’t just randomly mentioned this you know, I have researched it, it isn’t me that gets the pleasure from it!”
“Why is this so important to you?!”
“Because it’s the one thing you haven’t done! It’s the one way I can experience something with you for the first time! You’ve already lived your life, you’ve done everything! I’ve had so many firsts with you! Sure I wasn’t a virgin, but you still had so many of my firsts! Fuck I hadn’t even been abroad until I met you! I just wanted us to do something together, that yes, I want to do to you more than anything, that you’ve never done! And yeah. If I’m being honest, I really like the idea of for once being the one in control!”
“You don’t like me being in control?”
“That’s not what I said! I love it! I love it so much and I love it because I trust you! It doesn’t matter, just forget I ever mentioned it,” you try to walk past him back into class, but he stops you, “move. We’re fine. Let’s just forget this morning ever happened and be done with it.”
“Why didn’t you say this is why you wanted to do it?”
“I could say you’ll become a billionaire if we do it and you’d still say no.”
He’s standing so close to you that you can smell his cologne, if someone comes out of your class, you’re fucked.
“Why are there so many sex toys in the car?”
Shit. You didn’t think he’d go in the trunk. He probably had a little heart attack when he saw them.
“Because I wasted enough of my time trying to make it nice for you. I’m not losing money too. I’ll take them to the post office at the weekend.”
“I’ve put them back in the apartment.”
“Oh what, you’re too disgusted to even drive round with them in the car?”
“No. I saw how much thought and effort you put into it and I felt like shit. Sure, I’m not overly comfortable with it yet but I could be. I think.” He sighs, his fingers twitching like he needs to hold you to soothe him, “I think it’s that whole thing of being told it’s not for straight men....”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I know it is! But it’s that whole toxic masculinity thing I guess, it’s hammered into people and it’s the connotations of it I suppose. Even if I don’t think anything like that, it’s like it’s subliminally engrained that it makes you less of a man.”
“You’re not toxic,” you frown, “if anything you’re the biggest baby girl I’ve ever met! Your skincare routine is twice the size of mine and I’ve seen you ogling Woozi’s sweaty chest when you’ve both come back from the gym.”
“I’ll ignore that, only because I know I’ve upset you. But I guess it’s just getting round the idea of it being an everyday thing. But it isn’t because I don’t trust you and it isn’t that I think you’re a child. Just give me a little bit of time. I promise.”
“You’re not just saying this so we’re good again and then you’ll say no?”
“I’ve already put them back in the apartment. I wouldn’t say it or do it just to appease you. You know that.”
“You are very stubborn.” You roll your eyes though can’t fight the smirk on your face.
“You’re lucky I can’t touch you right now.” He edges a little closer regardless.
“What did she want?”
“She got a C. She’s spiralling. NO!” he points his finger at you, already knowing where your mind is going.
“What?! I was just wondering what I’ve got!”
“No you weren’t, you looked like I just told you we’d won the lottery,” he snickers, “and you’d know if you’d collected your assignment off me. Instead of stomping off to the back desk.”
“What did I get?” You ignore his little dig.
“B”
You spent hours on that assignment!
“A b?!”
“You missed your quotes for the final part.”
“That’s because you were being sulky about your pizza order being wrong!” you poke him.
“Oh. Maybe I should change the grade? That is sort of my fault.”
“Just leave it,” you sigh, wanting to hug him but knowing you can’t, “we’d better get back in there.”
“Just one more thing.”
You hope he’s going to risk a kiss but instead you get another earful.
“I’m 35!! You saying ‘I’ve lived my life’ makes it sound like I’m off to the retirement home! Stop making out like I’m like 40 years older than you!”
“Oh whatever Grandad.” You rush past him, giggling when he realises what you’ve said.
A sharp slap lands on your ass, you both freezing from how loud it was.
“Not my fault,” he holds his hands up and rushes for the class room door, “your ass shouldn’t be so loud!”
“Yeah, well your ass had better be ready.” You smirk when he falters going through the door and head back to your seat, sending Jihoo a broad smile as you go.
Three weeks have passed since the arrival of all your sex toys. It’s been two days since Seungcheol told you that he was ready to do it. And so you find yourself walking towards his lecture hall, his being the last lesson of your busy Friday, with a weird mixture of nerves and excitement swimming round your mind.
The idea of doing it is one thing. Actually doing it is another. You did wonder about skipping his class and going home to meditate or something to calm yourself down. Because now you’re worrying about the tiniest of things and wondering whether it’s even worth it.
What if the strap looks funny? Sure you don’t find your boyfriend’s dick particularly funny but you’ve never seen yourself with something down there. What if you instinctively start laughing and it starts wobbling around and then Seungcheol can never look at you the same way again? Is it worth ruining a relationship just because you insisted on claiming your boyfriend’s ass as your own?
What if you just can’t do it. Yes, you’ve ridden him hundreds of times but you’ve seen the state of Seungcheol after he’s fucked you into the mattress. And he goes to the gym five times a week. Your exercise consists of walking to the convenience store to buy snacks. If he’s a sweaty, puffing mess, what the hell is going to happen to you. You don’t need an ambulance turning up because you’ve passed out from exhaustion with your strap still on. He’d never let you live it down. He’d probably take a photo and put it on the fridge.
You’re so lost in thought that you don’t realise you’ve made it to his classroom until you’re already through the door and confronted with the very thing you’ve been worrying about.
Seungcheol’s ass.
What the fuck is he thinking?! And why is he bent over the desk like that?!
He left before you this morning, he had a faculty meeting before classes started. If you had seen him, you certainly wouldn’t have let him leave the house like that. He’s got his usual smart suit pants on, he always looks smart for work, but these ones are different. It’s like he’s bought them a size too small because the way they’re hugging his ass is sinful. It doesn’t help that professor bubble butt currently has his sleeves rolled up and he’s leaning over the front of someone’s desk, arms flexing and his ass swaying a little as he gestures to whoever he’s talking to.
It’s like he’s presenting himself to you and knowing that when you get home, you’re (hopefully) going to have the balls (almost literally) to take that exact ass makes you lose all concept of where you are and what you’re doing.
It’s only when someone comes in the room behind you and bumps into your back, that you’re drawn out of just staring at the professor’s ass.
And from the smug look on Seungcheol’s face as he glances at you and struts back to his desk, you know damn well that he planned that. That he planned to more or less be presenting himself in those sinful pants, just waiting for you to come through the door.
Your annoyance only grows when you see who’s desk he was leaning over and who he was talking to.
Jihoo.
Who looks very smug that the hot professor has been uncharacteristically forward in going over to help her. He normally just ignores her or waits for her to go to him with her barrage of pointless questions.
If this is how he wants to play it. So be it. He’ll be the one crying later, not you.
“Hi Soonyoung.” You smile to one of your classmates as you walk to your seat. Soonyoung just happening to be the class mate that Seungcheol seems to think has a crush on you.
“O-oh! Hi _____!” he beams up at you and you can feel Seungcheol’s eyes boring into the back of your head.
You just smile and walk to your seat knowing that one tiny interaction will have had the desired effect on Seungcheol.
He starts the class, his back turned to you all as he writes on the board. You’ve no idea what it is and neither do you care, all you can do is sit and watch his ass. Where the hell did he even get those pants?! And what the hell does he think he’s doing wearing them to work?!
You glance around the class, noting that at least ten of your classmates are also enjoying the view and a fire burns inside you. How dare they stare at his ass. How dare they not listen to the lesson that he’s spent hours preparing. Yes, you’re not listening but you can just ask him about it at home. They can’t. How fucking selfish. And what perverts to just blatantly stare at his ass. Disgusting.
“Today we’re going to talk about nut grafs.”
You’re not listening. You’re sending daggers to Jihoo who was one the perverts looking at your boyfriend’s ass. You’ll pull that pretty little ponytail one day and then she won’t be so smug.
“_____, care to explain what they are?”
Shit.
“Sorry ba..... Professor!” you curse yourself for almost slipping up, “what was the question?”
“Nut grafs,”
“What?”
“Explain them to me.” He hums, perching himself on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, his chest looking scrumptious as he does so.
“Er.....well.....” you will your brain to work, “nutting I MEAN NUT GRAFS, er......well.” fuck all you can think about is his ass and nutting and fuck you need to snap out of this because everyone is watching you, “it’s a paragraph.” You nod.
“That’s it?”
“Well. No..... It’s a par....” he doesn’t let you finish.
“Jihoo! Please help _____ with nut grafs.”
You hate him. And you hate her. You know what a damn nut graf is and he knows you do.
“It’s a paragraph after the headline which summarises the story,” little miss perfect says cheerfully, “so you could say it gives you an overview of the story in a nutshell.”
You’re going to end her.
“Exactly, brilliant Jihoo!” he grins at her, mischievous eyes only sparkling more when he sees the look on your face.
“_____ perhaps you need to probe these things more.”
Oh you’ll probe something. And he’s not going to know what’s hit him when you do.
“And what about folds? Anyone?”
Has he just planned this whole lesson around dreadful innuendos?!
“That’s probably about something being above the fold Professor.”
“You should raise your hand!” You more or less bark.
Shit. You didn’t mean to say that out loud. Fuck. He just keeps talking about probing and folds and nutting and then Jihoo is ogling your boyfriend’s perfect bubble butt and now you’ve more or less told her to shut up in front of the whole class.
Seungcheol is desperately trying not to laugh as the rest of the class look a little taken aback by your outburst. Jihoo on the other hand looks like she’s ready to cry her perfect crocodile tears that she rolls out whenever she doesn’t get the perfect grade or she doesn’t get her own way.
“I was only answering the question,” she pouts, most of the class rolling their eyes, even if they are shocked at you shouting at her, “it isn’t my fault I’m the professor’s favourite.”
The professor’s what now?! She’d better say goodbye to that laptop of hers because you’re about to smash right on her perfect head.
Seungcheol senses his mischief might be about to backfire on him and quickly steps in to stop whatever violence he presumes you’re planning.
“I don’t have favourites here Jihoo, this isn’t high school. You’re masters students and _____ is right, you should raise your hand.”
You revel in her shocked face and make a mental note to ask who his favourite actually is sometime later. Because you’re fairly certain it’s not you. It’s probably Chan, he brings him coffee every class and Seungcheol always says he places Chan’s assignments in the middle of his marking pile because he loves his writing so much. It cheers him up in between all the garbage. It’s quite sickening really.
The rest of the lesson goes without a hitch, though you do find yourself following his ass around the room. Something you know he knows. And something that you know he’s actively encouraging because he normally just sits at his desk. Whereas today, he seems to be feeling the need to wander around the room. Particularly where his ass in those tight pants might be in your eye line.
Any nerves you might’ve had earlier in the day are gone by the time you get home from university. All you’ve got ruining your thoughts is Jihoo and the others, occasionally side tracked by a stray image of your boyfriend’s ass in those damn pants of his. The way they were all staring at him, like he was a piece of meat just makes your blood boil. You might look at him like that, but he’s yours. And you’re determined to show him that.
You usually get home a little earlier than Seungcheol, he tries to do a bit of prep for the next day before he leaves and because its Friday, he tries to get all the marking he has to do out of the way, before the weekend. You’d done something similar with any homework and research you’d had to do too. You’d managed to get everything done in the library during your lunch break so that tonight, the only thing on your mind is him.
Once you’re showered, you’re confronted with actually figuring out how to go about this whole thing. You’d chosen out some of his favourite lingerie though he won’t be able to see a lot of the panties, but it’s the thought that counts. Do you go braless? Or start with a bra and then take it off? You don’t suppose it really matters although, in the brief conversation you’d had about it, you had presumed that you’d be taking him from behind.
But Seungcheol had different ideas, he said that if you were doing it, he wanted to see everything and he wanted to see all of you whilst it was happening. So, missionary it was. Sure, you won’t get the perfect view of his ass shaking as you do it, but the fact he’s letting you do this at all is an achievement, so you’re going to do this whichever way makes him the most comfortable.
Once you’ve got your underwear and the harness on, you put one of his hoodies on over the top. You did toy with the idea of just waiting for him on the bed with the strap fully on, but you don’t want to startle him. And so, you thought if you’re casual, it won’t be as out of the ordinary.
Just putting the strap on though had your body covered in goosebumps, this whole thing feeling real finally. You’re not even sure why you crave doing it so much. Yes, you love the idea of being in control and you weren’t lying when you said that a lot of it was about wanting to try something neither of you had done before, which is rare with Seungcheol.
But there was something more to it, you just wanted to know what it felt like to be inside him, even with a strap on. To have that power to bring him pleasure just like he does for you. It was almost primal your need to do this with him.
You just hope you don’t chicken out, although Jihoo, and Seungcheol’s antics today, have made sure you’re hell bent on ruining him.
The door opens and closes and you start to wonder should you be doing something other than just sitting on the sofa? You’ve already put everything on your bed side table then it’s ready and so you haven’t got much else to do. But you feel a little like you’re waiting to see a doctor or something.
“Hey baby,” He rushes over to you, leaning over the back of the sofa to kiss your cheek, “I thought you’d be in the bedroom palming your dick or something.”
You won’t rise to his nonsense, he’s hell bent on being a shit and you won’t give him to satisfaction.
Instead, you just stand up and take his hoodie off, his eyes turning dark when he sees his favourite bra of yours hugging your tits just right.
“Not so cocky now, are you?”
He doesn’t answer, he’s too busy narrowing his eyes at the harness.
“Turn around.” He says lowly.
You do, though you’ve no idea why he wants you turn around.
“Fuck. That harness makes your ass look insane.”
“Really?!” You try to look at your ass properly, “they had a harness that looked like panties, but I liked this one because the actual straps were thin and the reviews said leather was the most comfortable.”
You jump when his hands are on your waist when you turn back round, you being too busy trying to see how good your ass looks.
“I love how much thought you put into this, and I can’t promise I’ll love it, but I’m pleased I get to try it with you.” he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.
Damn him for being sweet when you’re still trying to stay mad at him.
“Thank you for saying yes, I know I wouldn’t shut up about it. I just…..I just want to make you feel good and know how you feel when I’m inside you. I want you to feel as great as you make me feel.”
“Fuck.” He stares at you, his mouth parted. “You put it like that, and I think I sort of get it.”
You would accuse him of just humouring you. But you swear you feel his dick hardening against you and his hold on your waist just got that bit firmer.
“You need to…..you know……clean out.” You nod your head towards the bathroom.
“Oh.” It’s like you’ve broken him out of a horny trance. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be as quick as I can!”
He runs off to the bathroom, his tie coming off as he’s running and something starts to burn in your stomach at how his mood has changed towards this whole thing.
“Hey.” Seungcheol awkwardly stands in the doorway of the bedroom with nothing but a towel around his hips.
In the years you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so nervous. Even when he met your parents, he wasn’t as nervous as this. And he was convinced they were going to hate him so by the time you made it to the front door he was a nervous wreck.
“Are you not coming in?”
Your voice is soft, you just want him to enjoy this, to make sure he’s comfortable enough to let you make him feel good.
“Y-yeah. Erm, should I get on the bed? Or? I don’t know. Fuck my heart is pounding.” He chuckles, nervously scratching his shoulder.
“You could get comfy and then we can figure out which size?”
“Should I take my towel off?”
The way he’s being so meek and mild just makes you love him even more. You love that he’s so trusting of you that he’s happy to show you this vulnerable side of him. It isn’t that he doesn’t show you that generally, but in the bedroom, other than whining during a blow job, he’s completely in control. So for him to be like this now and brave enough to show you how nervous he is, means the world.
“Keep it on for now if you want,” you send him a reassuring smile, him just nodding a little and moving silently towards the bed.
He settles against the headboard, you sitting sort of between him and bedside table then you can grab everything you need. But you notice he’s already eyeing everything warily.
“Cheol,” you take his hand, his eyes snapping to yours, “we don’t have to do this you know. We can forget it if you want and never mention it again.”
His eyes close slightly when you run your other hand through his hair, your lips touching his just for a second in a gentle kiss, just to make sure he knows you don’t mean that with any malice.
“I’m really nervous. But I want to do this. Everything you’ve said about it, saying you want to feel what I do, I get it now I think. I fucking love being the person that makes you feel good, even if you’re just using me to get off when you ride my dick like a mad woman,” he jokes to break the seriousness a bit, “I get it, I think. Just…..go easy on me.”
“Of course, baby,” you kiss his plush lips again, this time a little firmer to show him you mean everything you say. “Do you want to see which one you want to use?”
“I mean sure but I think the smallest. I’m not about to stick something huge up there.”
“I was nearly really mean to you and was going to find one the size of your monstrosity under your towel.”
For the first time since he came in the bedroom you get a genuine laugh, no sign of nervousness in it and that really settles your nerves, as well as his.
“I got three but the smaller one they only had with a slight curve, which I guess would be good because it’s meant to be like up and round.......”
“I’m sorry, have you done a full fucking anatomy class on men’s assholes or something?!”
“I wanted to make sure I got it right! I’ve been on some very strange subreddits to be honest.”
He looks like he wants to know a little more about what exactly you’ve been researching but if he’s honest with himself, the nerves are starting to feel a little more like excitement.
“Curved sounds good. You’re not just going to like, stick it in there are you?”
Does this man know nothing of the etiquette of pegging?! Perhaps you should’ve sent him the links to all those subreddits.
“No,” you run your fingers across his stomach, enjoying how he shivers underneath you, “I’m going to finger you until you’re stretched enough and then if you’re happy, then I’ll use this.” You hold up the clear glittery silicone dick.
“Hm,” he hums in a daze as he watches you stand up to attach the strap to the harness.
“Do you want some help?” he chuckles when your shaky fingers can’t seem to do it properly.
“No I got it,” you stare down wide eyed once it’s attached, the temptation to sway your hips to waggle it about is pretty strong, but you resist. This is serious business after all.
You glance up at Seungcheol, his eyes equally as wide as yours and yet your eyes are drawn to something under his towel straight away. You don’t point it out, you’ve no intention of taking the piss out of him for being turned on, if anything you’re wanting to pounce on him and fuck him silly. But this about making him comfortable and so you dampen your hornier urges.
You’ve no idea what to say before you peg a man for the first time. Perhaps there’s another Reddit page you should’ve read but right now you suppose that actions probably speak louder than words.
You pick up one of the bottles of lube off the bedside table, Seungcheol watching you like a hawk, his blown out pupils following your movements intently. You kneel between his legs, him having spread them for you and place the lube next to you on the bed.
“Are you sure about this?” Your lips are grazing against his and you can already feel how ragged his breathing is.
“I’m sure, I want you,”
Fuck. You expected a lot of things out of tonight but one thing you didn’t is how his eyes have changed. All you see is trust and a hunger for you to start, you know he’s being serious when he says he wants you. His rock hard length is a testament to it. Fuck you want to treat him so well but absolutely destroy him at the same time.
Your lips crash into his, you steal his breath away just like his last sentence stole yours and revel in how his soft lips send a thrill through you like it was your first kiss with him all over again. They move like it’s second nature, both of you just enjoying the familiar taste of each other as his hands hold your waist gently.
You know you’re meant to be doing something but fuck his lips feel so good against yours and when you start placing wet kisses down his neck, his moans only make you want to spend even more time savouring the taste of his freshly washed skin rather than moving any quicker.
But it turns out Seungcheol has other ideas.
“Please baby,” he reaches down and undoes the towel around his waist, your eyes following his movements eagerly.
He throbbing, his tip leaking and red. Your breath hitches at how badly he needs you, that even before you’ve started he’s already begging a little.
“Fuck,” you shuffle backwards a little, though he holds your hand to make sure you’re not going far, “you’re ready?”
“Just do something _____!”
“Don’t be a brat! If I did that you’d spank my ass!”
“Because you are a brat. Just,” he shuffles down the bed so he’s lying flat and throws a pillow at you, “make me feel good.”
You’re speechless. And he has the nerve to call you a brat. But you brush it off because his eagerness is making you drip.
“Lift your ass,” you try not to chuckle at how eagerly he lifts his ass for you to put the pillow under him.
Right. It’s time to brave. Don’t show fear. Fuck why are you behaving like he’s some sort of rapid dog? It’s just fingering. You’ve done it to yourself loads of times. Sure you’ve never done it to your ass but how different can it be?
You shuffle between his legs, the sight of his ass propped up with the pillow making you salivate. God, does he have a great ass, he doesn’t even realise how lucky he is to have such a backside.
He watches closely as you take the lube and put a decent sized blob of it on your index finger, smearing it a little bit with your other hand and then wiping it on the duvet.
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes not leaving your finger.
You hold his thigh, your thumb rubbing soothing circles and move your finger so it rests against his hole. He flinches slightly when the tip just grazes him, his dick leaking a little on his stomach. You realise you’re both holding your breath and so as you slowly breath out, your push the tip of your index finger so it just breaches his puckered hole, his body twitching a little at the oddity of it.
You watch him opened mouthed, it’s tight around your finger, warm and eager and it takes everything in you to not move a little quicker. You glance up at Seungcheol, he looks like he’s caught between confusion and pleasure but that confusion disappears when you move your finger a little further into his ass.
“Does that feel good baby?” you ask softly as you start to move your finger in and out of his hole.
“Er....” he swallows, “yeah..” he nods, “quicker. Please.”
Fucking hell.
“Yeah?” you start to move your index finger in and out of him quicker, his hole almost pulling you back in whenever he thinks you’re daring to leave him, “tell me when you want another baby.”
His hand comes back down to hold your free one. He wants you close to him, he’s aware you currently have a finger in his ass but he just needs to hold some part of you to know you’re there. He’s never felt anything like it and it’s only one finger. It’s weird, like it shouldn’t feel good and yet he feels himself already needing more from you, it’s like having the hardest dick in the world but needing it to get even harder before he can start to feel the real pleasure of it.
“Another. Please baby.” He mumbles, squeezing your hand.
This is better than anything you could’ve imagined, your perfect buff boyfriend begging you to add another finger into his ass. If you die tomorrow. At least you’ll die happy.
“Of course baby,” you lean down to kiss his hip, “fuck you look so good taking my finger.”
He clenches round your finger. He actually clenches. This man will be the death of you. Your head spins because he’s loving this so much and from how his body is reacting to it.
You’ve got enough lube on your index finger and around his rim that you don’t need to add more yet, and so you slow your finger a little bit and slowly line up your middle and index finger with his eager ass hole.
“Cheol?” his eyes find yours as you slip your two fingers into his puckered hole, his eyebrows knitting together and a small whine slipping from his lips. Fuck, your pussy might be clenching almost as much as his hole.
You can feel him stretching around you, your fingers moving slowly until he gets used to it. But if his ass is anything to go by, he’s loving it, you can feel your fingers being pulled back in whenever you’re close to leaving.
“Oh my god!” he throws his head back when you start to move them a little quicker, the slight sound of the lube squelching as you fuck his puckered hole with your fingers only making you both hornier.
You’re watching him intently, his bottom lip his caught between his teeth, his eyes a shut and you can tell he’s absolutely loving this. You knew he’d enjoy it, your research told you that much, but you didn’t think he’d be in this much ecstasy without you even touching his dick.
With Reddit playing in your mind, you risk changing the angle a little bit, hoping to add to the pleasure he’s currently got coursing through his veins. With your palm facing upwards, you curl your fingers a little, hoping that somehow your fingers might reach that spot that you’re hoping to find.
“FUCK ME!” his whole body jolts when you fuck your two curled fingers into his ass hole.
Ah. So it is true what they say about men’s g-spots.
You look at him completely awe struck, your fingers speeding up even more and now really fingering him. He’s a whining mess, his tip is leaking all over his stomach and he’s just moaning and groaning whilst your fingers slam in and out of him. You’re not even bothered that your wrist is aching a little, you’re too engrosses in watching your fingers disappear inside Seungcheol’s ass and loving the little moan he lets out whenever you hit the right spot inside him.
Your pussy is a fucking mess. You just wish you’d invested a little more in the toys and bought one that pleasured you too because fuck the sight of this big, head strong man babbling beneath you whilst you finger fuck his ass hole is making you so fucking wet that you’re certain to could cum untouched.
But this isn’t about you, it’s about making him feel good and judging by how much he’s leaking everywhere, you’re certainly doing that.
“Put those back now!!!” you freeze, eyes wide in shock, your fingers out of his ass momentarily just to put some more lube on them.
“I need more lube! Don’t you want another finger?!”
He’s pouting like you on your worst days and you’re caught between wanting to kiss his pout away and wishing he was on his stomach then you could spank his bratty ass.
“Hurry up.”
“I won’t put them back if you don’t remember your manners.”
This is ridiculous. You’re holding three fingers up in the air, them dripping in lube as the big muscly baby in front of you decides if it’s even worth carrying on this argument.
“Please _____, I need your fingers. Please.”
You don’t know what takes hold of you, he’s just too fucking cute. You lean over him, quickly smush his cheeks harshly in your none lubey hand and crash your lips into his in the biggest, smushiest kiss you’ve ever given him.
“I fucking love you Choi Seungcheol,” you say through gritted teeth.
“I love you too,” he smiles happily up at you but eyes moving hungrily to your fingers.
“I’m gonna treat you so fucking well baby.”
His begging has flicked a switch in you. You need to have this man in every way you possibly can. You’re determined to ruin him for anyone else. Not that any has a chance, this perfect man is yours and always will be.
You kneel back between his spread legs, mouth watering when you see that he’s gaping just a little from your two fingers. Would rimming be a step too far? It took you long enough to get here. No. You’ll broach rimming another time.
Seungcheol holds his breath slightly when he feels your fingers against his puckered hole again. You use two again to start off with, not wanting to move too fast now you’d fully removed them from him.
He sighs when you finally enter him again, your fingers beginning to curl up into him again making him moan and throw his head back onto the pillow. Even his legs are thrashing a little bit from how good he feels.
You add a third finger, stretching his hole and only slowing your pace a little. Now you know how much he’s loving it, you feel a little braver to add the third finger a little quicker.
“Shit!!!! Oh my god that feels s-so fucking good!!”
You’re leaking all over your panties. You know you are.
You curl your three fingers into him, trying to hit even deeper than you did before and revelling in the way he’s sort of fucking himself down onto your fingers. Because that’s how much he’s loving how well you’re fingering him.
“You’re taking them so well baby, fuck you’re going to look so pretty when you take my dick.”
“Fuck,” he clenches around your fingers, his dick even twitching as he leaks so much all over his stomach that you’re surprised he hasn’t cum yet.
“Do you like that idea Cheol? You like the idea of me fucking your tight little ass with my strap? Fuck you’re gonna make such a mess, look at you already just from my fingers? You’re leaking everywhere.”
You’ve no idea where this dirty talk has come from but you’re loving the reaction it’s having on your boyfriend. He’s whining and nodding, his hands fisting the sheets from how incredible your fingers feel inside him.
“You’re taking my fingers so well baby, your ass looks so fucking amazing stuffed full of my fingers.”
“F-feels ama-amazing, so amazing. I l-love you _____, s-so much,” his last word is cut off with a moan when your fingers slip a little further into his ass.
You need to reign yourself back in, the sight of your fingers being swallowed by his greedy hole is making you want to make him cum just from your fingers. But the whole point of this was that you wanted to fuck his perfect fat ass with your strap. And you’re obviously no expert but you’re fairly certain he’s probably ready, the tip of the strap isn’t that much bigger than your three fingers combined and his ass is stretched deliciously around them, you’re certain he could take you.
“You ready for my strap baby?”
His head whips up, somewhat wobbly but he still manages it. And if the sight of him isn’t one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen your life. His pupils are blown, his cheeks are tear stained and his lip is bright red from how much he’s been digging his teeth into it.
“Already?” he whispers, his body twitching a little when your, now slower, fingers hit a juicy spot inside him.
“I think you’re ready for it and I’m so fucking ready to do it.”
He thinks about it for a few seconds but it really doesn’t take long. He knows what he wants. What he needs.
“I’m ready.”
Your stomach lurches in excitement, your pussy tingling uncontrollably as you drip even more. You can feel your wetness on your leg as you sit with your legs tucked under you.
Shakey hands reach for the lube, his eyes hungrily watching you squeeze a healthy amount along your strap. You close the cap and throw it to the side of you before you kneel between his legs and spread the lube all over your dick. The act of more or less fisting your own dick, or strap in this case, making you want to moan.
It does make Seungcheol moan and that only makes you want to scream in pleasure.
You spread his legs a little further apart so you’re comfortably between them and rest one of your hands on his hip, whilst you line your tip up with his gaping hole.
His breath hitches as your breathing stops completely. This is it. You’re finally going to do what you’ve wanted to for months, you’re going to be the only person to have ever done this to him. To have ever given him pleasure like this.
“Take a deep breath in for me baby,” he nods, his eyes never leaving your lube covered strap as it rests just against his puckered hole, “when I say to breath out, do it. Ok?”
“Ok.” He whispers, almost squirming in anticipation.
Just as you’re about to push forward, you tell him to breath out, his body relaxing just a little and allowing your tip to just push into his ass.
“Oh my fucking god! Fuck fuck fuck,” he throws his head back.
“Good or bad?”
“It’s a lot, it feels like so f-fucking much,” he whines, his fists balled.
“Do you need me to pull out?”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
Your eyes are wide as you freeze with just your tip inside him.
“Sorry,” he looks at you like he’s a naughty schoolboy, “I just don’t know what I’m feeling. I..... I think I need you to move? Please? Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to shout.”
He’s completely misjudged your wide eyes, because you weren’t looking at him like that because you were upset. You’re just stunned with how much he’s loving this.
You lean forward, your strap nudging just a little further into him as you do, so that you’re hovering over him, his hands instinctively holding your waist.
You kiss his pecks, his fingers digging in more to your waist as your lips travel up over his collar bones and onto his neck.
“Don’t say sorry,” you say softly when you reach his face, your eyes finding his worried ones, “I wasn’t upset. Do you want me to move?”
He nods shyly, his fingers gripping your waist.
“Use your words baby, do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes please, I want your strap so much.” He whispers.
“Fuck,” you rest your forehead against his, your hips just starting to rock a little so you’re pushing further and further into him slowly.
His grip is tight on you, like he’s using you to make sure he’s safe, as you fuck further into his tight hole. Your hips are slow, the feeling completely foreign to you but one that you know you’re already going to be obsessed with. He’s so helpless beneath you, he’s solely relying on you to bring him pleasure and it’s making you even more hungry for everything that’s happening.
“F-fuck oh my god!”
“Does it feel good? Does my dick stretching your little hole make you feel good Seungcheol?”
“S-so good,” he moans as you keep thrusting lightly into him.
You glance down, noting you’re almost fully bottomed out inside of him, the sight of it and his swollen dick making you clench around nothing.
“I’m nearly fully in baby, you’re taking me so fucking well, you’re being so good for me,” he sucks a mark on your neck as you finish speaking, he just needs to do something from how fucking good it feels, the thrill it sends through you making you thrust a little harder into him and bottom out before you intended to.
“FUCKKKK!!!”
He’s panting beneath you, head thrown back and hands frantically trying to hold onto you from how incredible you feel now you’re fully nestled in his ass. He should’ve listened to you, he should’ve said yes to this fucking weeks ago. The number of times he’s scoffed at you for saying about male g spots and now your strap is sitting right against a spot that’s never even thought about before.
You’re so deep inside him that you’ve hit his prostate and his whole world feels like it’s falling down around him, and the feeling of your strap resting against the little nob inside him is the only thing rebuilding it.
“Can I move?”
“Yes, yes fuck please move,”
You place one last kiss on his lips, not that he reciprocates it, he’s too busy flailing around from how many emotions he has whirling around his brain, and sit back on your knees.
That’s when you see it. Your whole strap being swallowed by his greedy ass hole and you lose all your senses. He wants you to move. And so, you do.
You rest your hands on either his thighs, drag your strap against the walls of his ass so that just the tip is resting inside him and crash your dick back into him.
Seungcheol wails beneath you, tears coursing down his cheeks and hands now fisting the pillow beneath his head as he whimpers and moans away in his own little world.
You knew it’d be good, but you didn’t think it’d be this good. You fuck your dick into his eager hole at a frantic pace, you know you’re hitting where you wanted to just by his reactions. You’ve never seen him react like this to anything and it’s you that’s doing it. It’s not him fucking you and saying how good you feel for him, not his dick in your mouth making him whine, it’s only you doing this. Your strap fucking his ass hole is causing him to react like this and it’s driving you fucking crazy.
Your clit is begging for some relief and thankfully every time you fuck your boyfriend’s ass you do feel a little bit of pressure against you that makes your knees weak.
But you haven’t got time for weak knees. Your perfect, muscly, beefy boyfriend is begging you to fuck him harder and you can’t ignore that. Your fingers dimple his thighs as you speed up even more, you can feel your heartbeat all over your body, you’re basically shaking from how much effort you’re putting in to fucking him. But the pretty noises he’s making and the sound of wet skin slapping as you abuse his puckered hole drives you on.
“You’re taking me so fucking well baby, fuck you look fucking stunning taking my big dick like this,”
He cries, he actually sobs as he clenches around your strap, your whole body alight in need from every desperate reaction he’s giving you.
“I n-need to cum. C-can I………can I cum? Please?”
Why is he telling you?!
Wait………Seuncheol, your Seungcheol is actually begging you to cum? Fuck this power might go to your head. Once this is done you’re going to need a very stern word with yourself to get your massive head to go down. Because your ego is currently the size of a bus.
“You need to cum baby? Are you going to cum on my strap? I’m fucking you so good that you’re already begging to cum?”
You’re aware he’s not actually going to cum on your strap like you would his dick when he’s in your pussy, but it is technically your strap making him cum. You can be excused semantics when you’re crashing your strap into your boyfriend’s prostate, and his big dick is leaking all over his stomach.
But that reminds you of something.
His perfect dick is missing out on all the fun.
And yes, it’s clear that he’s going to cum even if you don’t touch his dick. But you want him to have the full effect. If he only ever lets you do this once, you want him to have the best orgasm of his fucking life.
You let go of one of his thighs, your hips still crashing into him and the loud squelching of you claiming Seungcheol’s ass hole ringing around the room. Your shaky, exhausted fingers reach for his dick and as soon as your fingers wrap around his hot, oozing length, the effect is instantaneous.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST FUCK ME FUCK”
He likes that then you suppose.
Something wicked takes over you. You said you were going to wreck him and wreck him you will.
With a smirk on your lips and one last look at your boyfriend, who’s so lost in pleasure you’re certain he’s no idea what his own name is anymore, you go to town.
Your hand fists his length, the pressure just how it likes it (as best you can) and you fuck him relentlessly, his whole body quaking beneath you as he takes your big dick.
“I don’t k-know” you haven’t even asked him anything, what the fuck is blabbering about? “…..fuck…..I n-need…..baby PLEASE,”
Your hand is covered in precum, he’s sobbing his little heart out and his poor abused hole just keeps pulling your strap back in like it’s his life source.
“Fucking take it Seungcheol, you’re fucking mine. All that bullshit earlier today, you’ll fucking take it until I say you can cum.” You spit through gritted teeth.
Well. Your own filthy mouth has got you perilously close to the edge.
“Please,” he cries, “I love you………I love cum…..n-no….i love y-you…..I. N-need cum.”
“I.” You smash your strap into him, “Don’t care. Wait till I say.”
You want to cum with him and you’re so fucking close.
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease” he keeps saying, his whole body covered in sweat and knuckles white as clings to the pillow beneath his head.
Just….one…..more…..thrust.
“Cum for me Seungcheol, cum around my dick, fucking take it and cum around my thick strap.”
He sobs a cry of absolute euphoria as he shoots more cum than you’ve ever seen, his back arching off the bed as his ass hole clenches so hard around your strap that it makes you cum right along with him.
You ram your strap deep inside him, your body vibrating from the warmth spreading through you, meaning you move enough to keep nudging against his prostate and that lets him ride out his orgasm as though you’re still purposefully still fucking into him.
Your fist doesn’t stop on his dick as more and more cum pours out of him. His face is wet and nose sniffly as he fucks himself both up into your hand and down onto your strap, and he keeps riding out the most incredible high of his life. The sight of it is something you never want to forget, it’s messy, it’s sticky and it’s everything you wanted. He’s yours. You made him this snivelling mess and nobody, other than you, will ever make him feel that way again.
The last few dribbles of cum splutter out of him and his body goes limp on the bed. Both of you can barely catch your breath and your whole body is aching, but fuck do you feel incredible as you look down at your completely wrecked boyfriend.
“Are,” you swallow, wheezing a little “are you ok baby?”
He just groans and you feel a little panicked. Have you actually broken him?!
“Seungcheol! Look at me baby,” you lean forward a little and he flinches in pain.
Shit. You forgot you’re still buried in him.
“I need to take it out baby, it might hurt a bit. Just take some deep breaths okay?”
He doesn’t answer verbally but reaches for your hand and nods as best he can whilst his eyes are still closed and he’s trying to catch his breath.
“Deep breaths baby, in and out,” you say softly, your thumbing soothing his hand as your start to pull out slowly.
“Argh,” he complains softly, hand squeezing yours.
“I know baby, I’m sorry. It’s almost out. One deep breath for me.”
He breaths in shakily and as he exhales, you pull out the last bit of your strap, looking down in awe at how red and gaping his hole is. Thank fuck you bought the cream that one dude suggested on reddit, you’ll force him to put some on once you’ve had a bath.
You quickly take your harness off, your strap landing on the floor with a thud and you quickly move to Seungcheol’s side. Him rolling into you straight away, his face buried in your chest and sort of gently licking and kissing the skin to soothe himself.
“Are you ok?” you whisper to him, fingers combing through his sweaty hair as he nuzzles even closer to you.
“I’m fine,” he manages to croak out.
“You need to catch your breath and then when you’re ready, we can have a bath. I’ll get you cleaned up.” You stroke his hair, occasionally kissing his head.
You must lie there for about ten minutes, just holding each other and soothing each other as you come down from something neither of you have ever experienced.
After a while his puffy eyes find yours when he lists his head to look at you.
“That might be the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Your tummy tingles from his honesty and knowing that you did that. You made him feel that way.
“I wasn’t too much?”
“It was perfect but,” he leans forward to peck your lips, “I think it might be a once in a blue moon sort of thing. Maybe special occasions like Christmas or when we beat Woozi at Mario Kart.” You both snicker at that.
“You want to do it again? Really?”
“Absolutely. I’m not too stubborn to admit that I fucking loved it. I just wish you could cum too.”
“I did.”
“What?” He frowns at you.
“I don’t know how I did it, I think it was the pressure on my clit, but it was just all so hot, I came when you did.”
“Fuck.” He stares at you with sparkling eyes.
“You can get different straps that pleasure me when it pleasures you.”
“Maybe we should order…..”
“Baby,” you stop him, “let’s look at it some other time, lets just get clean and changed.”
“Ok,” another kiss, “and we need to order food, I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Why?!”
“What do you mean why?! I didn’t want any accidents!” He groans as he goes to stand up.
“Wait,” you pause him. Something had been playing on your mind the whole time you had him in yours arms as he was calming down, “you know today. The pants and everything in class. Did you do all that because you wanted to distract me? To stop me being nervous?”
His sheepish smile tells you everything you need to know. Fuck he is so perfect its actually pretty annoying.
“I knew you’d be worrying about it, I wanted you to enjoy it and not be in your head about the whole thing. Sorry if I upset you.”
“You didn’t. I love you Cheol.”
“I love you too baby.”
“Fucking hell.” You waddle towards Seungcheol with the cereal, him lowering himself into the chair with a loud groan.
“I go to the gym five times a week and one round with you and I’m broken man!” He winces as his muscles ache when he reaches for the milk for his cereal.
You land in the chair, your muscles in your legs screaming at you.
“Yeah, maybe next time we train for a few weeks before hand.”
You nod to each other as you try to eat your cereal without your aches and pains affecting you.
You may be in agony with sore muscles. But fuck was it worth it.
Summary: Seungcheol is a typical loser. Or, well, almost a typical one. He has a circle of friends that he only talks to online while playing his video games, he’s got no rizz, he fumbles around women, and he’s a gym rat with a body and face so gorgeous it feels like a joke in combination to everything else. And he’s your flatmate.
Word count: 7.3k
Genres/warnings: smut, pwp (plot? what plot?); non-idol au, loser!nerd!perv!seungcheol, flatmates to lovers, honestly i can stop at pwp, they think they are casual but it's so not the case, HoWooWon are idiots and little shits (lovingly), some feelings of jealousy, reader is in quite a bit of denial, she gets fed up with his friends calling cheol bitchless and defends him, they're really suckers for each other and both are stupid when it comes to feelings; lmk if i skipped anything important
Smut warnings: Minors DNI, thicc dicc!cheol, implied size difference, dirty talk (of course), piv sex, unprotected (this is how we roll here; but please be safe irl), they are simply horndogs going at it like bunnies, 7 days a week or wtv jungkook sang in his song, overstimulation, cockwarming, oral fixation, reader discovers she's just as bad of a perv as he is, mention (1) of squirting; seungcheol can tell when she's ovulating, so lowkey breeding kink goes brrr; sweet lovemaking, he's so down bad he almost finishes on the spot when she defends him, lmk if i forgot smth cuz i feel there's a lot
A/N: hey everyone, it's been a while again. my new job ate away at my energy last month and i barely managed to finish up All That I Need back in march. after that i fell in a total slump and couldn't bring myself to even think of writing. fortunately i had an extra day off last week which gave me the time and mental space to sit down and finish what i promised to deliver so long ago.
please enjoy your read and i’ll be happy to see your feedback in any form you’re comfortable with: comments, asks or reblogs. and i will see you in my next fic ᙏ̤̫
If you see any mistakes: I try to proofread but English isn’t my first language, proceed at your own discretion.
Masterlist. | PART 1
You wake up in your bed.
For a confused moment you just stare at the ceiling, trying to piece together how you got here. Then it all comes back—the club, the frustration, Seungcheol on the couch, his words, his hands, his—
You sit up so fast your head spins. You have to close your eyes and breathe deeper for a good minute before opening them again and taking in your surroundings, just to make sure.
It is your room. You're in your room. But… you're wearing an oversized t-shirt that's definitely not yours. You tug at the collar and bring it closer to your face, sniffing it on reflex. A shudder runs through you when you realise it's Seungcheol's—and you fall back down onto your bed, burrowing yourself deeper into your blanket, with the collar still pulled over your nose. A part of you judges you silently and if you cared more in the moment, you'd agree and call yourself a weirdo and stop immediately, but you can't care less because it smells nice—like him, like cedarwood and a bit of pineapple and bergamot. You let out a minuscule whimper. Fuck. The memories of last night are fuzzy around the edges but the physical evidence is not as subtle—you can still feel the ache between your legs from spreading them wide for too long, the tenderness that speaks to being thoroughly, completely fucked.
You let out a muffled groan. You need coffee. You need to figure out what the hell to do with what you did. And there are so many other things swarming your mind, like—
Knock knock.
"Hey, are you up?" Seungcheol's voice comes through the door. "I made coffee. And I'm onto breakfast. If you want."
"Give me a minute," you rasp back from under the blanket and clear your throat.
Silence follows for a moment, as if he's hesitating on what to do next, and then you hear him move away. You sit up in your bed again, staring at your surroundings for a long moment, then drag yourself out of it and to the bathroom, where you then stare at your reflection in the mirror. You look… fine. A little tired, maybe. Your hair is a mess. But there's something in your expression you barely recognise because it's been so long since the last time you saw yourself like that—a softness around your eyes, a curve to your mouth. You scowl at your own reflection which just happens to be another confirmation.
You look like someone who got fucked stupid and liked it.
Five minutes later you're in the kitchen, feeling a little more like a human after completing your morning routine.
Seungcheol is at the stove, flipping pancakes. He's wearing a different t-shirt—a soft black one that's more of his version of loungewear—and his hair is damp, like he showered, which he probably did. He looks up when you walk in and there's a moment of eye contact that feels charged with everything that happened last night.
"Hey," he greets you, and you catch a note of carefulness in his tone. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore," you admit simply and watch his ears go pink. Something satisfied churns in your chest at the sight of that, you can't help the way your lips twitch in a ghost of a shit-eating grin. You hold yourself back. Barely.
He's so pathetic, you think. You love it. If you were any more cruel, you'd probably tease him about it and make him squirm uncomfortably.
"I, uh. Sorry about that. I mean—not actually sorry, not like I regret it, I mean, if you do I understand, but—if you need anything, like ibuprofen or—"
"Seungcheol."
He stops, blinking at you with his shiny boba eyes, mouth slightly agape and your eyes flicker to his lips for a second, you lick your own unconsciously before meeting his eyes again.
"Last night," you start slowly, "was…"
"Amazing?" he offers, then winces. "Sorry. That was—I'm not trying to—I just—"
"Would you please shut up for a second?"
He does, his jaw snaps shut with a quiet click of his teeth.
You take a breath. "Last night was good. Really good," it's an understatement of the century actually, but Seungcheol doesn't have to know. You don't want to feed his ego. You also don't want to think why exactly you don't want to let him know. "But I was drunk, and I don't know if—I need to know if it was just the alcohol or if…" you trail off, gesticulating vaguely.
Wow, how low have you fallen? Coming up with any type of bullshit just to get railed again, a voice in the back of your head judges.
"It wasn't the alcohol."
You look at Seungcheol. He's put the spatula down, turned to face you fully, and there's something steady in his expression that makes your chest tight.
"I've wanted you since you moved in," he says quietly. "Last night wasn't… I didn't do it because you were drunk. I did it because you asked and because I couldn't really say no to you even if I tried. But I need you to know that if you woke up today and decided it was a mistake, I understand. We can pretend it never happened. I won't make it weird."
There's a distant thought in your head, that you should take his words and run with them. Nod and agree and go back to the way things were before, instead of making it complicated. After all, you really like this apartment and you really don't mind Seungcheol as your flatmate. He's not the worst. You'd hate to look for a different place. But can you actually go back to what it was before after the wildest night of your life that even your drunken state couldn't truly dim in your memory? You don't think so.
So instead you cross the little distance of the kitchen between you and Seungcheol, take his face in your hands and kiss him.
He makes a surprised sound against your mouth then his hands come up to grip your waist and he's kissing you back, deep and hungry, prying your mouth open for him and slipping his tongue against yoursand you can feel him hardening against your hip and it's barely been six hours and you already want him again.
"Pancakes," he gasps against your lips. "Going to burn."
"Fuck the pancakes."
"I don't think that's a good idea. I'd rather fuck you instead."
You pull away to give him an the most disgusted 'ew' face and Seungcheol laughs at that and then swiftly turns off the stove anyways, lifting you onto the counter and settling between your legs and you're wearing his t-shirt with nothing underneath and his hands are pushing it up your thighs and—
"Wait," You put a hand on his chest. He stops immediately, concern flickering in his eyes. "I'm sober right now. Completely sober. Maybe a tiny bit hungover. And I still want this. I need you to know that."
Something soft and bright blooms in Seungcheol's expression. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He kisses you again, slower this time, savouring the way you feel against his lips. His palms sneak under the hem of his t-shirt on you and settle on your hips, squeezing the soft flesh of it before sliding a little higher, to your waist. Then he drops to his knees in front of the counter, his palms gently sliding down over your legs, and looks up at you with those big brown eyes.
"Then let me taste you," Seungcheol murmurs as his hands travel back up from your calves to your thighs, caressing and squeezing. "I've been thinking about this for months. Let me show you what I can do, hmm?" He presses a kiss to your knee, then another, and another—all of them feather-light and soft.
You nod, not trusting your voice, and he leans in right as he parts your legs wider for him.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
Seungcheol's mouth is warm and wet as he wraps his lips around your clit and flicks his tongue against it once. Then he's licking a broad stripe from your centre and up and you just know he's good at this. Of course he is, because the universe has a sick sense of humour. His tongue is skilled in ways that make you wonder exactly what kind of porn he's been watching, and he reads your body like a map finding every spot that makes you gasp and focusing there until you're taken apart on his mouth.
By the time he's done, you've come twice and your legs are useless and you're bracing yourself against the counter with the last bits of strength left in your now-pliant body, head resting against the cupboards as you stare at the ceiling, wondering what you've gotten yourself into.
You feel him trace soothing kisses along the inner side of your thigh before he stands up, licking his lips instead of wiping them clean with the back of his hand. It leaves his lips glistening, chin a mess still. The sight has you clenching around nothing and swallowing. Instead, you reach out and wipe the wetness with your thumb, transfixed on the way his plush lower lip gives under your touch.
There's something almost shy in his expression as he meets your eyes again. "Good?"
"Good?" You laugh, a little hysterically. He does know how to make an understatement. "Good doesn't even begin to cover it."
His smile is like sunrise. "Really?"
"Really," you pull Seungcheol closer, wrap your weakened legs around his waist. One of your hands goes carding through his hair to tug him closer to you, lips to lips. "Now fuck me. Properly. I want to feel you while I'm fully aware."
His eyes go dark but also excited, like a puppy. It's a perplexing combination but you have a feeling—which rings like a warning bell in the back of your mind—that it's going to be addicting.
He carries you back to your room. You barely find a minute to 'call in sick' for a PTO.
That was three weeks ago.
Three weeks of this becoming… a thing. A daily thing where you wake up in your bed—or his—and he's already hard against your ass and you roll over to slide down under the blanket and take him in your mouth before he's even fully opened his eyes. A thing where every time you're both working from home you end up bent over your desk during your lunch break instead of actually having lunch, his hands over your mouth to muffle your screams while his cock splits you open from behind. A thing where you weekends disappear into a haze of sex and takeout and his skin against yours and the sound of his giggles when you say something that he finds funny.
You've learned things about him. Like how he's surprisingly convincing when he wants you to try something—those baby cow eyes, pouting lips and soft voice, please, baby, just try it, I think you'll like it, and somehow you end up in lingerie you'd never have picked for yourself. Tiny scraps of fabric that leave nothing to the imagination and only the way he looks at you makes it worth it. Like how he loves it when you're messy, when things get obscene, when he fucks you so hard you can't form words and you're just this wet, desperate thing under him, taking everything and anything he gives.
You've learned that he has a thing for watching you. For watching his cock disappear inside you, watching your holes stretch around him obscenely, clench and gape and need. He'll prop himself up on his elbows just to look at you, at the place where you're connected, and his expression goes so reverent you feel your heart clenching painfully in your ribcage.
"So pretty," he murmurs sometimes when he's buried deep inside you. "Look at that. Look at you taking all of me. Fuck, you're perfect."
Speaking of making a mess. You've learned that Seungcheol likes to give you a facial, to paint your face with his cum after he's fucked your throat raw, likes to watch it drip down your cheeks while you gasp for air with your mouth wide open and tongue sticking out. He also likes to make you swallow, to feel your throat work around him while he's still lodged deep. And then he gets hard again from the sight of you like that and pounds you full force into the mattress, filling you up with another load, watching it leak out of you when he pulls away.
You've learned his favourite sound is your pussy sopping wet and squelching around him, especially when you're crying, when it's too much and you're trying to get away and he just holds you there and keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until you're sobbing and coming apart and begging for more—all at the same time. He aims for your bladder sometimes, that thick head pressing just right, and makes you squirt until you're shaking and crying in embarrassment, pleading for him to stop without actually meaning it. To be fair, you don't know what you mean or don't in that state he gets you, brain-dead and pliant.
You're basically Seungcheol's toy. His experiment. He reads things, watches things and then he tries them out on you and you hate how much you love it. All this time that you judged Seungcheol and it turns out you're just as depraved as he is. Maybe even more? And oh, do you love being his living clenching cocksleeve while he games, straddling his lap, his dick buried inside you while he clicks away at his keyboard or controller and you just sit there, full and warm, your arms around his neck and your face pressed to his shoulder, on the brink of drifting away until he growls something at his friends or his friends shout so loud in his headset you overhear.
Seungcheol gets so focused on his game sometimes and you just… sit there. Cockwarming him. Feeling him twitch inside you every time he gets excited or frustrated. It's stupid. It's deranging. It makes you so wet you soak his lap. And when you inevitably begin to clench around his cock and roll your hips, squirming to satisfy the growing itch of need, Seungcheol only takes seconds to cut his mic off, not even quitting his game. He would throw the controller and his headset aside, push his gaming chair away from the table to gain some room, his arms wrapping around your body like vices as he pulls you up just enough to start bullying his aching cock into your squelching wet cunt with wild abandon.
What you've also learned is that you have an oral fixation now. A specific one. For him. You find yourself wanting his cock in your mouth at random times—while you're cooking, while you're watching TV, while you're trying to work. Sometimes he just looks at you and you know he knows, and he'll pull down his sweats just enough and nod towards the floor and you're on your knees before you can think better about it.
You hate how you can't get off this high. How you're matching his freak. You didn't know you had this in you—this need, this desperation, this willingness to let him do whatever he wants. It irritates you. It irritates you so much.
But not enough to stop, apparently.
Three out of five work days you're both home. Those days are a write-off. You get your work done in bursts between fuck-sessions, between him bending you over horisontal surfaces and you sucking him off under his desk and him fucking you against the wall in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. You've stopped pretending you have self-control. You don't. Neither does he.
Weekends are worse. Better. You don't leave the apartment. You barely leave the bed. You order food and eat it naked, feed each other bites between making out, fall asleep tangled together and wake up already reaching for each other.
But the most dangerous part of it is that you're developing feelings.
You realise it one morning when you're at work—actual work, in the office, surprisingly, wow—and you catch yourself smiling at your phone because Seungcheol sent you a picture of his parents' cat doing something stupid. Just a picture of a cat with a stupidly cute caption. And you're smiling like an idiot.
You realise it again when you're out with your friends for your monthly cafe catch-up and Jess asks about him and you have to physically stop yourself from saying something borderline sappy or feel proprietary and selfish. You play it cool, roll your eyes and say he's still a loser. But your voice wavers and your eyes flicker to the side as you restrain yourself from visibly cringing and Jess gives you a look that makes you want to crawl under the table.
Long story short, you realise it most when you're away from him. When you're at work and you miss him. When you're with your friends and you wonder what he's doing. When you can't stop thinking about him—not just sex, but him. The way he laughs, the way he furrows his thick eyebrows when he's concentrating. The way he made you tea this morning without you asking, because he remembers you're always cold when you get out of bed.
But then there are filthy thoughts too. You'll be in a meeting and remember last night—how he ruined you, how he fucked you until you were a leaking crying mess, how you were babbling nonsense and he just kept going, kept pushing, kept making you fall apart. And you have to cross your legs under the table and hope you don't stand up with a wet spot on your skirt later.
You're in trouble.
The jealousy thing catches you off guard.
You're in the kitchen, making dinner. Seungcheol is in his room, gaming with his friends. You can hear him through the open doorway, his voice relaxed and easy, and you're not really listening until you hear:
"—at the gym, this girl came up and asked for my number."
Your hand freezes with the knife as you're chopping vegetables. Your hearing suddenly supernatural and wired to him.
"I'm not lying!" he whines in response to something one of his friends said that you didn't hear. "She was doing squats near me and then after her set she just walked up and asked if I wanted to grab coffee sometime."
You hold your breath and strain your hearing even more, not noticing the way your body angles itself to catch every sound coming from his room better, the way your head tilts in the slightest way.
"What'd you say?" You hear Wonwoo ask.
"I said I was busy. Which I was. I had work after that." A pause. "But it was nice, you know? First time that's happened in a while."
Your grip on the knife tightens and you imagine your hand closing around a neck instead.
"Bro," Woozi's voice comes up, flat as always. "You need to get out more. A girl asks for your number and you say no because you have to work? That's tragic."
A beat of silence. "I'm not tragic. I'm focused."
"You're bitchless," Hoshi says, and they all laugh.
Seungcheol laughs too but it sounds different—forced or tired maybe. "Whatever, man. There was also this barista at the cafe near my office. She told me I was cute."
Your jaw clenches so hard your teeth ache. You can hear that old meme in your head that goes like, Where? Who? You've been where? With who? Mmmh… for real? Oh really? That's how you feel? And you're not having any of it.
"Okay, did you get her number at least?" Wonwoo asks with a note of hope that his friend isn't a totally lost case.
"No, I just got my coffee and left."
More laughter and dissapointed sighs follow in response. "Bitchless," Hoshi repeats in a sing-song manner. "Certified bitchless."
At this point you're gripping the knife so hard your knuckles go white. You want to throw it. You want to march int his room and—and what? Scream at him? Tell his stupid friends he's not bitchless, he's got you, he's had you every day for weeks now? But you're not his girlfriend. You're just his flatmate he fucks. He said that he liked you from day one but you really have no claim on him. No right to be jealous. Because him being physically attracted to you doesn't mean he wants it to be something serious.
The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.
You go back to choppinh vegetables, channeling your frustratioin into the act until your hands stop shaking.
Later that night, after his friends log off, he finds you in your room. You're pretending to read but you haven't turned a page in twenty minutes. He stands in the doorway for a moment then comes in, sits on the edge of your bed.
"Hey," Seungcheol calls softly. "You okay? You've been quiet all evening."
"I'm fine." Your response is chopped, you know it is and you know you're not doing a good job at making him believe what you say.
"You're not," he reaches out, touches your knee. "What's wrong?"
You look at him over the edge of your book. His big baby cow eyes, his thick brows and plush lips. He's so fucking pretty and he has no idea and some barista told him he was cute and some gym girl asked for his number and you want to claw their eyes out.
"Nothing," you say. "Just tired."
Seungcheol studies you for a long moment. Then he scoots closer, leans in and kisses your forehead and you almost break down in tears.
"Come to bed," he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against yours before leaning down and lightly butting your shoulder with his head, his hair soft and ticklish to your neck. "I'll make you feel better." His lips, slightly chapped and warm, press to the spot just above your collarbone.
You go.
He does.
Seungcheol fucks you slow that night. Not the usual rough, messy, desperate fucking—slow. Gentle. He takes his time, watches your face, kisses your cheeks between every thrust and you feel like you're made of glass, too fragile to be handled without care. His cock fills you up like always but the pace is different, deeper, more intentional. You're on your back, legs wrapped around his waist and he's propped above you, those big eyes locked on yours.
"Tell me what's wrong," he whispers and, embarrasingly enough, you can't hold eye contact, afraid that he'll read you if you don't look away.
"Nothing."
"Liar," he kisses your nose and nuzzles your cheek. "Tell me."
You shake your head because you can't. You can't tell him you're jealous. You can't tell him you want to be the only one who gets to have him. You can't tell him you're falling for him. You don't tell him any of it but you also don't notice they way you cling to him in response, limbs locking around his body as if you're afraid he's going to dissapear any moment.
"Possessive," he murmurs and there's something knowing in his voice, affectionate even. "That's it, isn't it? You heard me talking to the guys."
You tense up and feel your heart hammering in your ribcage like a captured bird. Seungcheol smiles and his smile is soft and warm.
"I didn't give them my number," he says. "Because I didn't want to. I don't want anyone else. I've got you."
"You don't have me," you manage, but your voice comes out quiet, barely a whisper.
"Don't I?" He deliberately rolls his hips and thrusts deeper, making you gasp, making you look at him again. "Whose cock do you take every day? Who gets to see you fall apart over and over, crying and shaking and calling my name?"
What he says is not exactly the most romantic thing to say to a woman. And yet your eyes are burning. You're not going to cry. You're not.
"I don't want anyone else," he says again, softer now. "Just you. Only you. You're the only one I think about. The only one I want. You know that, right?" Every sentence is intermitted with a soft kiss to your cheek, to your temple, to the corner of your lips, to the arch of your brow.
You nod, because you can't speak.
"That's my good girl," he kisses you, slow and sweet, plush lips slotting perfectly against yours. You melt into it, allowing yourself to feel whatever it is you're feeling. And then Seungcheol makes love to you.
His weight presses you into the mattress and you feel the safest you've ever felt with anyone. The pace he goes at doesn't change for a while, staying slow and deep. Seungcheol makes sure you feel him. The stretch, the friction, the weight of his body on top of yours, the way his arms cage you in and his fingers thread through your hair where they can reach, the way his lips are soft and gentle as they pepper your face with kisses between whispered praise and sweet nothings, even when he trails lower, towards your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin there, barely enough to leave marks, it's somehow more intimate than the proper bright love bites he often leaves on your body in the heat of the moment.
He loves you until you're crying for real. These tears are messy—your breath hitching, your nose running, your whole face crumpling like paper. They stream down your cheeks, hot and unstoppable, and you can't hide from them. You can't hide from Seungcheol.
He doesn't let you.
His lips find the first tear before it falls. Then the next. Then the next. He's kissing your cheeks, your closed eyelids, the trembling corner of your mouth, and between each kiss he whispers things—words you can't quite catch but feel in your chest, in the way your ribs loosen, in the way your throat unclogs. I've got you. I know. Let go.
And somehow you do.
You've been holding so much—the jealousy you have no right to feel, the fear of wanting more than you're allowed, the exhaustion of pretending you don't care when every cell in your body cares. It all spills out of you in salt and shuddering breaths, and he catches every piece of it. His thumb wipes your cheek and you lean into every touch. His forehead presses to yours and he stays deep inside you, unmoving, intimately grounding you, reminding you that you're not alone in this.
You don't come after that, not really, but that relief you feel is arguably as liberating as any physical pleasure. Your body clenches around him and releases as you hold Seungcheol tighter in your vulnerability, wrap yourself around him, and with it goes the knot in your stomach, the weight in your chest, and the voices in your head telling you you're temporary grow quieter. The sense of lightness washes over you, warm and slow, pulling something out of you that you didn't know you needed to lose.
And Seungcheol holds you through it. Holds you after, his body heavy and warm against yours, the feeling of his skin under your fingertips, against your own bare skin, through every point of contact, returns you to reality of it all. Reminds you of how big and realiable he feels him and gifts you comfort within this feeling of being protected.
His arms lock around you, tight and unyielding, not letting you slip away. His face buries in your hair, and you feel his breath there, warm puffs of it.
"Mine," he whispers, and his voice cracks. "You're mine."
And you don't correct him. You simply don't want to.
The gaming incident happens two weeks later.
You're cockwarming Seungcheol again—it's become your favourite thing, honestly, just sitting on his lap while he games, feeling him inside you, stretched and filled and present. He's in the middle of a match, headset on, focused. You're scrolling on your phone, occasionally pressing kisses to his neck just to feel him twitch.
His friends are loud tonight. You can hear them through the headset, even without wearing one yourself.
"Dude, where's your ult?" Hoshi's voice. "You should've used it."
"I'm saving it," Seungcheol's voice is calm but you can feel the slight tension in his thighs.
"Saving for what? For when you finally get a moment to impress your imaginary girlfriend?"
Wonwoo laughs. "Leave him alone, he's trying."
"Trying what?" Woozi's flat voice comes through. "Trying to pretend he's not bitchless?"
You huff an annoyed breath. You see red.
Before you can think, you're snatching the headset off Seungcheol's head. He makes a surprised sound but you're already talking.
"Hey, assholes."
Silence falls on the other end.
"I don't know who you think you are but he's not bitchless. He's got me. And I'm sitting on his cock right now, so unless you want to hear exactly what it sounds like, I suggest you shut the fuck up about your friend being a loser."
The silence stretches. Then, faintly: "Holy shit."
"Is that real?" Hoshi's voice sounds awed. "Is that actually—"
"Wiat, that's his flatmate," Wonwoo says slowly, evidently piecing things together. "The one he's always talking about?"
"I'm not always talking about her," Seungcheol butts in but you cut him off, already intrigued.
"He's always talking about me?" You look down at him. His ears are bright red and his neck is beginning to burn too. You grin at the sight.
"Not always. Just… sometimes. When you're not around."
Something warm blooms in your chest while Seungcheol holds himself back from fidgeting uncomfortably beneath you. Your attention turns back to the headset.
"He's mine," you say firmly. "So stop giving him shit about being alone. He's not alone. He's got me. Got it?"
"Got it," Hoshi says quickly. "Sorry. We didn't know."
"Yeah, we're really sorry," Wonwoo adds. "We'll, uh, we'll leave you to it."
You hand the headset back to Seungcheol who's staring at you with an expression you can't read. He says something to his friends—you don't have time to catch it—and then he's pulling the headset off again and tossing it aside and his hands are on your hips and he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen.
"What?" you ask, suddenly self-conscious.
"You're so hot," he breathes and the only thing missing from his expression is cartoonish heart-eyes. "You have no idea. The way you just… stood up for me. Claimed me. Fuck."
You feel heat rush to your cheeks. "I just… they were being dicks—"
"I know," he's already hard inside you—was he hard all this time? You can't tell anymore. "And you shut them down. You told them I'm yours."
"You are mine," the words come out before you can stop them. You freeze, waiting for him to laugh, to correct you, to—
"Yeah," he says softly. "I am. I've been yours since the day you moved in. I just didn't think you'd ever want me back like that."
Your throat tightens. You lean down and kiss him, deep and desperate, and then he's moving, standing from his gaming chair and walking over to his bed. He lays you on it, positioning himself above you, sliding back in with one smooth thrust.
"Mine," he breathes against your mouth. "Please say it."
"Yours."
He fucks you like that—slow at first, then faster, then harder, until you're both lost in it. He pushes your legs up, folds you almost in half and drives into you so deep you can't breathe, can't think, can only feel. The new angle has him hitting something inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes, and you're creaming all over his cock before you even realise it's happening, crying out his name as your body clenches around him.
"That's it," he groans. "Fuck, that's it, come on me, come all over my cock."
He keeps going, fucking you through it, and then he's cumming too, hot and deep, and you feel him pulse insde you, filling you up, and it's perfect. It's so perfect it hurts.
Afterwards you lie tangled together on his unmade bed, breathing hard. His hand traces lazy patterns on your skin.
"You know they're never going to let me live this down, right?" he murmurs. "They're going to tease me about having a girlfriend forever."
"I'm not your girlfriend," you say automatically and it pains you. You wish you didn't correct him, what's the point anyways after everything that happened between you.
He's quiet for a moment. "What are you then?"
You stare at the ceiling and realise that you don't have an answer. Or, rather, the one you have scares you too much to voice it.
Months pass. Your sex life doesn't slow down—if anything, it gets more intense, more creative, more intimate in ways that are harder to ignore every time. You've lost count of how many times you've come on his cock, in his mouth, on his fingers. You've lost count of how many times he's painted your skin with his cum, filled your holes, made you cry and scream and beg.
But something else is happening too.
You notice it in the little things. The way he makes you coffee or tea exactly how you like it every morning without asking. The way he knows you've had a bad day juat from the way you kick off your shoes when you come home, and just holds you, no sex, just warmth and quiet and soft kisses to the top of your head and all over your face. The way he leaves notes for you—simple annoying (you love it) things like "your turn to buy milk :P" or "i ate the last of ice cream, sorry" with a little drawn face that you assume is supposed to resemble him.
You notice it in the way Seungcheol looks at you. Soft. Fond. Like you're the most precious thing in this world for him.
You notice it the most when you're ovulating.
You're not sure how he knows. You've never told him about your cycle apart from when you're on your period and you know he doesn't track your cycle but somehow he always knows. One day you'll wake up irritable, snapping at everything, and he'll just look at you with this knowing expression and pull you into his lap.
"Ovulating?" he'll ask and you'll glare at him and he'll laugh in return and kiss your nose.
"Well, first of all, we live together and it's easy to observe you every month. You become more violent and irritable, ouch, yeah, exactly that. Also, you smell a little different," he explains one day when you finally ask. He has pulled you into his lap and his nose is pressed against your neck while he explains. "It's really subtle but I can tell. It's like… I don't know how to describe it. It just changes and I know you need me."
You should find that creepy and you tell him as much, making a whole disgusted face. But you still end up climbing him like a tree.
Today is one of those days. You've been irritable since you woke up, snapping at everything, angry at nothing. You're in the kitchen, aggressively chopping ingredients for the salad you don't even want when Seungcheol pops up in the doorway.
"Hey," he calls carefully. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're ovulating."
You whirl on him, knife still in hand. "Oh stop with this bullshit already, I am not—"
"You are," he doesn't even flinch at the knife point. "Your scent changed this morning. You need to get fucked," he tries to say it with a straight face but fails, plump lips slowly stretching into a mischievous sultry smile. He's really too excited about it. You want to smack his pretty face.
A scowl finds its way onto your lips. "I don't need—"
He crosses the kitchen, pries the knife from your hand and sets it aside carefully, then lifts you onto the counter in one smooth motion too. His hands settle on your thighs, pulling your lounge pants down, and he looks at you through his outrageously long lashes with those big dark eyes.
"You're angry because you need me," Seungcheol says quietly while his palms soothe your bared skin. He steps between your thighs and leans in to press a kiss to your lips which you accept on pure reflex despite all irritation. "And that's okay. I'm right here. I've got you. Let me take care of you, deal? You know I can make you feel real good. Chase all that irritation away."
You want to argue and tell him you don't need taking care of, you're a grown capable woman. But then his hand is between your legs, pressing against your needy throbbing cunt through your underwear and you're already wet—of course you're—and the arguments die in your throat with a breathy moan that escapes instead.
"Yeah," he murmurs, lips curling up in a smug smile as he watches the wet patch on your panties grow. "That's what I thought."
He pulls your underwear off of you, revealing your glistening centre to his sight—you can tell the way his pupils blow wide like a cat's in an instance—and sinks to his knees in front of the counter.
Seungcheol parts your thighs wider and you squirm closer to the edge for him, angling your hips just so. He hums appreciatively and presses soft kisses from the inner part of your knee and up, inching closer to your heat, eyes heavy lidded and watching the way your leaky hole winks at him impatiently. What follows is the most thorough, most intense fucking of your life (you think it every time to be totally frank). He eats you out first, until you're shaking and crying from sensitivity, until you've come twice on his tongue and you're whimpering for him to stop, fingers gripping onto the edge of the counter for dear life, face burning from embarrasment at all the nasty sloppy sounds his mouth makes against your puffy, drooling cunt. Then he stands up, pushes his sweats down and lines up that thick, perfect cock with your drenched pussy.
"Look at me," he says.
You do, eyes blurry with tears and unfocused already.
He pushes in.
It's too much. It's always too much, but today is especially too much, and you can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up. He goes slow, so agonizingly slow, letting you feel every second of it, and by the time he's fully seated you're a mess—tears streaming down your cheeks, hands gripping his shoulders and nails leaving tiny crates into his skin, mouth open on a silent scream until you lean forward and press your face into his neck, mewling pathetically as your entire body grows jelly and you feel your brain enter that fuzzy state where you're about to purr for him in a mix of satisfaction and comfort.
Instead you lap at the junction of his neck and shoulder, tongue pressed flat and sloppy before you scrape the spot with your teeth and feel him shudder.
"There you go," Seungcheol breathes brokenly. "That's it."
He starts to move.
It's rough. It's hard. It's exactly what you need. He fucks you on the counter, then on the floor, then bent over the kitchen table, then back in his bedroom, on the bed, in every position he can think of. He doesn't stop until you're a boneless, sobbing mess, empty-brained, until you've lost count of how many times you've come, until you can't form words anymore, just sounds that are so pathetic it's hard to believe they come from an intelligent human being—only you're not exactly intelligent in that moment.
And then he finally cums one last time, buried deep inside you, filling you up to the point it overflows and bubbles in a white obscene ring around the base of his cock as he continues bullying his cum into your thoroughly fucked pussy.
You feel his strong arms wrapped like a vice around your body while he whispers hotly against your ear: "So pretty and mine. Always mine."
You don't have the energy to correct him. You don't want to.
Afterwards he cleans you up with warm washcloth, gentle hands soothing your oversensitive skin. He puts you in one of his t-shirts—the soft gray one you've secretly claimed as yours since that very first time you slept with him—and wraps you in blankets and holds oyu against his chest.
"Better?" he asks, pressing his lips to your forehead.
You nod, already half asleep, all anger and irritability fucked out of you by the man who holds you close. You press a kiss to his collarbone, soft and sleepy, and feel his arms tighten around you.
"Love you," you mumble, not really aware of what you're saying. Not until he goes still beneath you. Then your eyes fly open, you look up at him, heart suddenly pounding. "I didn't—"
"I love you too."
The words hang in the air between you. He's looking at you with his boba eyes, soft and scaread and hopeful all at once, and you realise that he means it, actually. And your heart flutters in your chest with trepidation.
"Since when?" you whisper.
"I don't know, somewhere along the way? Before I even realised what it was," his thumb traces your cheek. "Maybe since you yelled at me for leaving dishes in the sink for the first time. Since you danced in the kitchen to your music when you thought I wasn't watching. Since the first time you fell asleep on my chest and I thought I want you to stay like this forever."
You can't breathe nor can you think. All you can do is look at him, this stupid, perfect, annoying, wonderful man who somehow became everything for you, to you.
"I'm a mess," you manage. "I'm jealous and possessive… but I can't stop wanting you… and I yell at your friends and—"
"I know," Seungcheol is smiling now, that soft sunrise of a smile. "I love all of it. I love all of you."
You kiss him and it's not like your heated kisses, which are desperate or hungry or demanding. You kiss him soft. Sweet. Full of everything you can't find words to express. Because your heart is overflowing and if you don't find a way to express it you're afraid you're going to combust on the spot. Or cry, and you really don't want to cry right now and wake up later with puffy eyes that you can barely open.
When you pull back he's still smiling. And you can't help but press your lips to his for another short kiss because the feeling of him smiling against your mouth is intoxicating. You want to spend your life kissing his lips into these dazzling smiles just to watch his cheeks dimple so prettily.
"So," he says. "Does this mean you'll stop pretending you hate me?"
"I never pretended to hate you."
"You literally called me a loser to your friends."
"You're a loser," you poke his chest and then lean in to press yet another kiss to his plush lips. God is vitness, you're addicted to the man and there's no salvation. "But it was before and you're my loser now, there's huuuge difference."
Seungcheol laughs, bright and happy, and pulls you closer, tucking your body snugly into his, and you fall asleep wrapped in his arms, feeling safer than you've ever felt.
*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.
synopsis: A shopping trip with your boyfriend leaves you happy and satisfied.
requested: a Cheol fanfic where his s/o has nipple piercings
warnings: mdni, 18+, boyfriend! Seungcheol, fingering, semi-public, exhibitionism, dirty talk, praise, cream pie, unprotected, reader has nipple piercings, Seungcheol down bad, you're down bad, cock drunk reader, Cheol is big wdym, pwp, pinching, multiple orgasms, a tiny fitting room, Cheol is a menace, etc.
wc: 2.5k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
I firmly believe Seungcheol is an ass man, but the minute you come home with nipple piercings, all thoughts are thrown out the window.
Actually, Seungcheol's mind blanking when he looked at you was pretty normal for him. He knew to thank all of his lucky stars that he got to call you his, and he never forgot to tell you that either. Or preferably, show you just how much he adored you. Whether it was at the end of the day in the comfort of your bed, or in a quick succession of hands and lips on the side of the road while in the backseat of his car, he did his best to make sure you knew how crazy you made him.
It’s why he couldn’t help himself when you took him shopping today. He didn’t mind tagging along; he was actually more than happy to carry all your bags and trail after you as you took him from shop after shop, savoring the cute grin you sent him now and then as you fiddled with his black credit card in your smaller hands.
He would sit pretty just outside your changing room, not noticing anyone else in the store as he waited for you to give him a little show. He loved seeing you come out flaunting a top or dress, anything really, to see you smile and twirl just for him.
You’d ask, “What do you think?” While swishing your body from one side to another, looking at the bigger mirror the store had outside the fitting rooms, as Seungcheol leaned back in his seat. His legs spread wide as he took you in like it was the first time.
“Gorgeous,” he complimented, but you would roll your eyes, giving him a look over your shoulder in amusement as he stared at your ass with a low hunger he seemed to always have for you.
“You said that the last three outfits,” you huffed, and Seungcheol’s lips curved into a knowing smirk, his left shoulder raising briefly in a nonchalant shrug.
“And I meant every last one.” He stared at you through the mirror, your eyes catching his dark ones, and it never failed to surprise you how easy a simple look from him had your stomach fluttering for something you couldn’t have in public. “But I’d prefer you in nothing, and you know that.”
His words caressed you as if you could feel his big hands sliding up your sides, and your breath caught, your cheeks darkening as a shiver ran down your spine. Your nipples pebbled, showing a visible outline through the little top you wore, showcasing your pretty piercings through the thin fabric you tried on with a little skirt to match.
And the moment you noticed them, Seungcheol did too, and suddenly, the room rose in temperature. Your brain lagged, thoughts of Seungcheol’s mouth flashing through your mind before you cleared your throat, mumbling about trying something else on as an excuse to get out from under Seungcheol’s heavy gaze.
Your body hummed, a low warmth pooling in your stomach as you stumbled back into your dressing room, the curtain clutched in your hands for only a moment before a stronger body followed you in. You were pushed even further into the changing room, Seungcheol’s hands finding your waist as the muted blue curtain closed behind him, closing you in a small space with your boyfriend.
“Why do I feel like you’re runnin’ away from me, hmm?” Seungcheol’s voice is soft and deep, a teasing lilt in your ear as your eyes meet his once more in the small mirror inside the small clothes room. “I barely got to look at ya’ in the skirt, Baby - thought you wanted my attention?”
His words are muddling your brain, and you don’t stand a chance when you feel his chest against your back as his hands slide up your thighs, over the skirt you tried on with the shirt, and up until his hands cupped your pretty tits under the thin fabric.
Seungcheol hums, guiding you backwards two feet before he’s sitting on the tiny bench provided for the room and making you sit on his lap right after. “Do you want to hear my thoughts, baby?”
It’s a rhetorical question, his lips are kissing along the back of your shoulder as your legs straddle his, and you both watch as his hands squeeze your soft skin, enjoying the way you forwent your bra to try on this cute tiny top.
“I think,” Seungcheol’s voice is soft in your ear as he drags his words out. You can feel him hardening against your ass, and when his thumbs stroke your piercings to pinch your nipples, your back arches beautifully for him. “I think I want to fuck you in this little outfit before I buy it.”
The panties you wear stick to your drooling cunt when you process what he told you, and a whine slips from your glossy lips in response. “Cheol- we can’t, we’re in public.”
Your argument sounds weak, and it’s because it is.
Seungcheol has fucked you in public before, in the backseat of his car when he couldn’t wait after a date-night out; he’s also fucked you in a bathroom of a dive bar when you were both hanging out with your friends on a weekend everyone had off. He had made you look at him through the mirror, like how he was doing right now, so you could see all the pretty faces you made while taking his cock like you were made to. And he was going to make you do it again, right here, right now.
“I don’t care,” Seungcheol’s fingers pinch and then pull on your nipples just enough to make your hips buck, and then he slides his left hand down your stomach, stopping right between your thighs as his lips brush along the shell of your ear. “Just be quiet for me, and take what I give you.”
It's the only warning he gives you before his legs spread yours open wider, giving him a little glimpse of your pretty panties under the skirt that he pushes up so he can glide his thick fingers over your puffy folds while his right hand keeps playing with your tits.
He knows just how to touch you, learning every dip and curve like it was the only thing he ever needed to know to live on this earth, and he uses it to his advantage. He pinches, strokes, and plays your body until you're quivering, your eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed like you ran a marathon. You're pretty pussy takes Cheol's fingers with a wet squelch that resonates in the small room loud enough to have Seungcheol's cock twitching underneath you.
He watches the way your lips part, your eyes rolling as he curls his fingers into your wet heat until his palm is rubbing against your clit, and then he's pulling them halfway out only to stuff them back in. He does this over and over again, fucking you with his fingers while you stare at him through the mirror. It's debauched that it makes you wetter, another wave of arousal soaking his hand as he groans softly into the back of your neck.
"You're so good for me, Baby. You're always so wet for me-" Three digits stretch your gummy walls open, and your mind turns into mush, barely taking in his words when his fingertips rub over the spongey spot that makes you forget your name. "That's it, open up for me, let me play with you."
His other hand stays on your breast, his hand feeling the silver bar between his thick fingers as you start to mindlessly roll your hips, riding his fingers to chase the heat that swirls in your tummy. "Fuck, Cheol- s'feels so good," you whimper, and Cheol's gritting his teeth, rubbing his palm into your little nub between your legs with a firm pressure. You're going to cum, he can feel it with the way you're squeezing around his fingers, and he's determined to get you off before he gives you his cock next.
"Yeah? You feel good, Baby? You look good." Your eyelashes flutter open, your blurry eyes blinking at the mirror in front of you when he gives you praise, and fuck, he's right. Your legs are hooked over his, your back is pressed into his chest, and his arm is wrapped around your waist as his fingers pump between your thighs. His forearm flexes with each stroke of his fingers, and you can see how much you're dripping all over him. But what gets you is the way he looks at you, like you're the eighth wonder of the world, like you were a piece of art in the louvre, and like you were all his to ruin.
Your orgasm flashes through you before you can warn him. You see his dark eyes, his lip caught between his teeth, and suddenly, you are gasping while quivering on his lap. And through it all, he continues to pump his fingers in and out, fucking you while your head falls back on his shoulder and your pussy gushes wet and warm just for him.
The muscles of your inner thighs tremble with a pleasant hum, and before you're coming off the high of your first orgasm, he's moving you around until you're leaning forward, bracing your palms on the white wall of the fitting room as he shoves his jeans down just enough to free his aching cock. He meant it when he said he was going to fuck you in this outfit before he bought it, and he uses your slick to pump his cock with a few firm strokes.
When he guides you back, your legs are now between his, and his palm is holding your hip steady as he lowers you onto his fat cock with low praises. He makes you sink slowly, just so you can feel every inch bully its way deep inside. You can feel the way his thick tip rubs along all your nerve endings deliciously until your ass meets his hips, and your cervix is greeted with a few splurts of his gooey precum in hello. Then, Seungcheol widens his legs apart, leaning back on the flimsy wall behind him as he squeezes your hips affectionately. "Ride me."
If you weren't cock drunk already, your brain definitely melts once his order filters through your ears. You don't even question it, immediately leaning forward and letting him flip the back of your skirt up as you rest your palms on his knees and move your hips up. His cock is heavy, sliding out of you, and you can only take it halfway out before you're slamming back down. Your mouth waters from the feeling, and your pussy clamps around his shaft obscenely as the new angle has his cock reaching even deeper.
Then you repeat the action. Bouncing on his lap faster, harder, chasing the warm knot that forms in your belly again as Seungcheol's tip smacks into your G-spot like a bullseye.
You do your best to keep quiet, biting your lip hard, but the slap of your ass meeting his pelvis is undeniable in the room, and you can't imagine that it's not heard from outside, but you can only assume the little curtain separating you two from the rest of the store isn't muffling much. But you're already past the point of caring, not when Seungcheol's praising you. He tells you how good your pretty pussy looks stretched around his cock, how good you take him, and that you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen.
He builds you up for another orgasm faster than your first, and when your movements become sloppy, he's there to take over.
Seungcheol moves you around, slipping from your addicting cunt to make you face him. He brings you back over his lap, straddling his wide hips, his eyes sparkling with a love that has your whole body tingling. "C'mere, want you facing me when you cum on my cock, Baby."
His arms wrap around your back to hug you closer as you sink onto his cock with ease once more. Your thighs are sticky with your slick, and so is his pelvis. Your pretty pussy drools and slobbers wetly all over his cock, and when you go back to bouncing on his lap, you can feel drool form at the corner of your mouth, too.
With the new position, Seungcheol gets the best view of your pretty pierced nipples up close after he shoves your little top down until it's bunched around your waist. He watches the way your piercings gleam under the light of the store, and he's mesmerized as they jump up and down right in front of him. "So pretty," he mumbles, and you squeeze around him in response. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders for support as you swirl your hips lewdly, and when he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, your hips falter in rhythm, a soft cry slipping from your lips as his wet tongue swirls around your areola with a low groan.
Seungcheol grabs your hips with more strength and takes over your movements, moving you on his cock while one of your hands threads in his hair, holding onto the back of his head as he sucks, laps, and bites on your breasts one at a time.
"I'm gonna cum, fuck-" you say his name like a curse, and your pussy flutters when you cum shortly afterwards. You tremble in ecstasy, and your pussy drools, coating his cock with wave after wave of your second orgasm.
His lips let go of your nipple so he can watch you fall apart above him. Your breasts are covered in his saliva and love bites, something he thinks makes your piercings look even prettier, and your eyes are clenched shut as your tongue sticks out in a euphoric expression. He can feel every tremor of your velvety walls milking his cock, and he doesn't resist pushing his hips up and letting his cock swell deep inside your sopping cunt.
He fills you with rope after rope of his cum until a ring forms around the base of his cock, and then he keeps you sitting on his lap just to keep you plugged a little longer as you two struggle to find your breath.
"We're so banned from this store," you huff, but there isn't any heat behind your voice, not when you are so full and warm with him. But you do attempt to half-heartedly glare at your lover to let him know you're not joking. You know that at least one person had to hear what you two had just done, and your cheeks flush at the thought of your walk of shame you'll have to do to leave this store.
But before you can spiral, Seungcheol is shaking his head and squeezing your hips with a dazzling smile. "I'm an ambassador, I'd like to see them try."
It's safe to say that Seungcheol keeps that smug grin plastered on his face all the way through the check-out line. You're back in the clothes you came into the store wearing, and Seungcheol only hands broken tags to the cashier, daring the blushing attendant to say something as he tells them, "We're just buying these."
대박 - you made it to the end!
Tell me about it.
A/N: Also, my bad for missing posting on Tuesday, 04/21. Your girl procrastinated, but also, my personal life has suddenly taken a turn, and things are about to get more wild than usual, lmao, so I appreciate y'all bearing with me.
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