#thinking abt desperately bumping and grinding on hot nerd!anton’s lap as his glimmering eyes gaze up at your puffy, drooling agape lips. every passing second, the tent in his jeans grows tighter and wetter as your whimpers and whines rise in pitch. his large veiny hands sloppily control the pace and swivel of your hips, your thong thoroughly soaked as his tongue eagerly prods at your stiff bouncing nipples. he bites back a broken groan, muttering, “f-fuck, any more of this and i’ll cum in my pants,” as his hips continue bucking against yours.
by the time you’re seven months pregnant sungchan has stopped questioning anything that comes out of your mouth. the first few cravings had been normal enough. pickles with sour cream. watermelon and vanilla frosting. french fries and cheesecake. he’d happily make late night grocery runs or go to the nearest fast food restaurant without complaining once. after a while your hormones decided everything was boring.
it starts at 10pm on a tuesday night. you were both halfway through a movie when you suddenly sat upright, eyes wide. sungchan paused the movie immediately and looked over at you with concern. “what?” he asks, already sounding like he’s preparing for the worst. you stared back at him with complete seriousness before quietly saying, “i need strawberries.” he noded immediately. “okay.” you continued “with whipped cream.” he noded again. “easy.” then you finish the sentence by adding, “… and pickle juice.”
there’s a long silence as he studies your face, waiting for you to laugh and admit you’re joking. when you don’t, he carefully repeats, “together?” you nod enthusiastically before explaining, “like a little sweet treat.” “baby,” he says slowly, “that’s … concerning.” you immediately fold your arms over your stomach and pout. “our daughters want it.” he points at you without any hesitation. “don’t blame them for this.” you gasp dramatically, clutching your stomach as you ask, “you’re accusing your unborn children?” he rubs a hand down his face before sighing. “… i’m accusing their mother.”
twenty minutes later he’s standing in the grocery store holding strawberries in one hand and a pickle jar in the other. when he gets home you don’t even let him take his shoes off before digging through the grocery bag. he watches in horror as you carefully build exactly what you described. you dipped the strawberry in the pickle jar before adding whipped cream.
you take one bite. your eyes immediately close, “oh my god.” sungchan suddenly looks nervous as he watches your reaction. “… is it good?” he asks cautiously. you slowly nod, still chewing, before declaring, “it’s life changing.” he looks down at the strange little creation in your hand before looking back at you with complete disbelief. “i don’t believe you.”
you immediately hold another one toward him. “try it,” you insist. he leans back so quickly you’d think you were offering him poison. “absolutely not.” you pout again before beginning, “if you loved me-” but he cuts you off with an immediate, “don’t.” completely ignoring him, you finish anyway. “you’d support me.” he stares at you for a second before replying, “i am supporting you.” you raise an eyebrow. “emotionally.” he gestures toward the grocery bags still sitting on the counter. “i drove to the grocery store.” you shake your head. “that's physically.”
“fine.” he takes the world’s smallest bite while you watch him expectantly. his expression changes so many times in the span of a few seconds that you almost start laughing before he even speaks. first comes confusion. then disgust. then surprise. then confusion again. eventually he swallows and reluctantly admits, “... it’s not horrible.” you grin so hard your cheeks hurt, “i knew it.” he points at you with the half eaten strawberry “don’t get excited.” you immediately fire back, “you liked it.” he shakes his head. “i tolerated it.” you smile even wider. “you liked it.” he rolls his eyes.
the next craving hits two days later.
it’s nearly midnight when you quietly whisper his name from your side of the bed. he opens one eye just enough to look at you before mumbling, “what.” you smile sheepishly and immediately begin with, “don’t be mad.” he sits upright almost instantly. “why would i be mad?” he asks, already bracing himself. after a moment of hesitation, you quietly admit, “i really want a soft pretzel.”
he visibly relaxes, “that’s normal.” you continue, “from the mall.” he slowly closes his eyes again, “the mall?” you nod, "the one thirty minutes away." without opening his eyes, he reminds you, “that’s closed.” you nod sadly before whispering, “i know.” he watches your expression slowly fall, your shoulders slumping as you glance down at your stomach and after about ten seconds of silence, he groans because he already knows what’s about to happen. forty minutes later he’s driving across town searching for the only place that’s still open and sells soft pretzels. you smile almost the entire drive while he keeps one hand on the steering wheel. eventually you look over at him and quietly tell him, “you’re the best.”
by the time you’re seven months pregnant sungchan has stopped questioning anything that comes out of your mouth. the first few cravings had been normal enough. pickles with sour cream. watermelon and vanilla frosting. french fries and cheesecake. he’d happily make late night grocery runs or go to the nearest fast food restaurant without complaining once. after a while your hormones decided everything was boring.
it starts at 10pm on a tuesday night. you were both halfway through a movie when you suddenly sat upright, eyes wide. sungchan paused the movie immediately and looked over at you with concern. “what?” he asks, already sounding like he’s preparing for the worst. you stared back at him with complete seriousness before quietly saying, “i need strawberries.” he noded immediately. “okay.” you continued “with whipped cream.” he noded again. “easy.” then you finish the sentence by adding, “… and pickle juice.”
there’s a long silence as he studies your face, waiting for you to laugh and admit you’re joking. when you don’t, he carefully repeats, “together?” you nod enthusiastically before explaining, “like a little sweet treat.” “baby,” he says slowly, “that’s … concerning.” you immediately fold your arms over your stomach and pout. “our daughters want it.” he points at you without any hesitation. “don’t blame them for this.” you gasp dramatically, clutching your stomach as you ask, “you’re accusing your unborn children?” he rubs a hand down his face before sighing. “… i’m accusing their mother.”
twenty minutes later he’s standing in the grocery store holding strawberries in one hand and a pickle jar in the other. when he gets home you don’t even let him take his shoes off before digging through the grocery bag. he watches in horror as you carefully build exactly what you described. you dipped the strawberry in the pickle jar before adding whipped cream.
you take one bite. your eyes immediately close, “oh my god.” sungchan suddenly looks nervous as he watches your reaction. “… is it good?” he asks cautiously. you slowly nod, still chewing, before declaring, “it’s life changing.” he looks down at the strange little creation in your hand before looking back at you with complete disbelief. “i don’t believe you.”
you immediately hold another one toward him. “try it,” you insist. he leans back so quickly you’d think you were offering him poison. “absolutely not.” you pout again before beginning, “if you loved me-” but he cuts you off with an immediate, “don’t.” completely ignoring him, you finish anyway. “you’d support me.” he stares at you for a second before replying, “i am supporting you.” you raise an eyebrow. “emotionally.” he gestures toward the grocery bags still sitting on the counter. “i drove to the grocery store.” you shake your head. “that's physically.”
“fine.” he takes the world’s smallest bite while you watch him expectantly. his expression changes so many times in the span of a few seconds that you almost start laughing before he even speaks. first comes confusion. then disgust. then surprise. then confusion again. eventually he swallows and reluctantly admits, “... it’s not horrible.” you grin so hard your cheeks hurt, “i knew it.” he points at you with the half eaten strawberry “don’t get excited.” you immediately fire back, “you liked it.” he shakes his head. “i tolerated it.” you smile even wider. “you liked it.” he rolls his eyes.
the next craving hits two days later.
it’s nearly midnight when you quietly whisper his name from your side of the bed. he opens one eye just enough to look at you before mumbling, “what.” you smile sheepishly and immediately begin with, “don’t be mad.” he sits upright almost instantly. “why would i be mad?” he asks, already bracing himself. after a moment of hesitation, you quietly admit, “i really want a soft pretzel.”
he visibly relaxes, “that’s normal.” you continue, “from the mall.” he slowly closes his eyes again, “the mall?” you nod, "the one thirty minutes away." without opening his eyes, he reminds you, “that’s closed.” you nod sadly before whispering, “i know.” he watches your expression slowly fall, your shoulders slumping as you glance down at your stomach and after about ten seconds of silence, he groans because he already knows what’s about to happen. forty minutes later he’s driving across town searching for the only place that’s still open and sells soft pretzels. you smile almost the entire drive while he keeps one hand on the steering wheel. eventually you look over at him and quietly tell him, “you’re the best.”
i will not lie. this is inspired by mbappe’s accidental post on his main ig story of his girlfriend in his soccer uniform. also imagining the absolute despair poor sungchan went through when south korea got eliminated. let me get out all of the world cup out of my head via fic.
also fyi i wrote this in all in one night in an absolute sungchan-driven haze. writing an 8.7k word fic in one night lmfao #UncStillGotIt. please ignore any spelling errors because i was only half-awake writing this.
contains: sub!sungchan, he cries, he calls the reader "captain", face riding, unprotected sex, overstimulation (male recieving).
For a split second, there was nothing that could’ve been heard over the sound of the ball being kicked. After the initial impact, all sound was gone. Sungchan watched the ball in slow motion travel through the air. Everyone on the field watched, except for the goalie. Sungchan saw him behind the ball, moving to the other end of the goal.
Sungchan saw its trajectory. Right below the furthest corner from the goalie. It was going to hit the rim, surely. The goalie was just jumping to the corner for extra insurance. He was going for the ball, gloved hands fully extending.
Sungchan didn’t hear anything else besides the ball making contact with the net. It was crisp, it filled the air and bounced off the walls in his brain.
A moment later the venue erupted. Sungchan watched, mouth agape. Cheers filled the air around him, barely heard over the blood rushing in his ears.
That was it. He couldn’t believe that was it. No one on the field believed it. Even the enemy team were stunned, only coming to when the scorer ran towards the crowd to do his celebration. Sungchan had to stop himself from collapsing to the floor. He watched his teammates around him wander the field, trying to figure out what to do next. This had been all of their lives for so long. They didn’t know what to do if they weren’t playing.
He needs to tell them it’s over. He watched a few of his teammates go back to their spots like the next dribble was about to begin. He felt his chest get tight. Others were standing around, looking at the team and the fans in the rafters. A few looked to him. Sungchan didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t lost to this point. How do losers exit the field? He should know this.
It was the coach that had to call for the players. In the end, two of his teammates had to fetch him from his frozen place at half-field.
In the locker room, it was quiet. No one spoke. In the showers, between the steam everyone hung their heads, mechanical movements as they washed off the game. Sweat, dirt, grass, blood, tears. Sungchan thinks he went over his body eight times with the soapy cloth. Nothing got rid of what he could only describe as the heavy. It loomed over him, stuck to his body like dirt underneath fingernails. Around him the showers turned off, the eerie screech and the sound of rough water hitting tile ceasing. Sungchan was the last one. The steam cloud only hung over him, drifting over the tiled barriers of the individual stalls.
He didn’t look up from the water and suds slipping past his feet to go in the drain until he was sure he was alone. Only then did he let the water stop beating him. The knob was turned, the water ceased. Sungchan’s fingers were pruned when he wrapped his white towel around his waist. He followed the steps of his teammate who was already on his way out by the time he made it back to the dressing room. His teammate had his duffel slung over his shoulder and was putting on his headphones. They made eye contact neither of them wanted; Sungchan fixed his gaze on his cubby and his teammate only paused for a second before continuing to get his things in order.
Sungchan grabbed his shirt from the hook. He barely dried his body but he was desperate to get out. He had to leave this stadium. Maybe it would rid him of the tight feeling in his chest if he left the premises. Now he regretted taking so long in the shower. He could’ve been at the hotel by now, trying to forget everything about today.
He was surprised to still feel the presence of his teammate behind him. He lingered by the door, Sungchan could hear the repetitive motion of shoes dragging against low-pile carpet. If he was a good captain he would’ve looked at his teammate and read his mind for him. But he missed the shot that cost them the game and said nothing when they all came into this room defeated.
“Next time,” his teammate started.
Sungchan gripped the wooden frame of his cubby. He froze, the water droplets at the end of his hair splashing onto his shirt and trailing down the sides of his face. It was like sweat, the pointless sweat he had in this heat that lead to nothing.
Next time hung in the air. It was heavy, and Sungchan felt the binding around his chest pulled tighter. Like the strings on a corset it caused him to lean slightly forward. He was already hunched to grab his things from his cubby, now his head was partially in like he was trying to hide. He felt the sting in the corner of his eye and the stone in his throat. Next time wasn’t the case for all of his teammates. This specific assortment of people: the crew, the medical team, the coaches, the teammates would never be the same. Sungchan needed to be the one to bring them the win. He needed to delegate it. He wasn’t sure if he deserved next time.
But still, he nodded his head and swallowed. He did not turn around, his teammate did not leave. Sungchan cleared his throat, knocking on the brown wood slightly.
“Next time,” he agreed.
He knew that his teammate had nodded too. Probably stuck his hands in his pockets and was looking around the room for what to say next. Sungchan heard nothing besides the retreating footsteps.
He was lucky to run into no one else on his way out of the venue. There were the staff who cleaned the stadium who couldn’t care less who he was. Sungchan had his cap pulled down tight and his sunglasses on despite it being night. His world was almost completely black as the venue worker drove him to the private parking on the golf cart. Sungchan knew that this worker cared about who he was. He could feel the occasional side-eye, it was quick and failed at being subtle. But in the workers defense every stare or glance or look felt amplified. Sungchan also felt sorry, because no part of him could engage in a conversation with the worker. He continued to stare forward, pretending that he didn’t notice the gaze.
The cart parked right by Sungchan’s tinted out SUV. He did mutter a thank you, albeit tight-lipped. He thinks the worker said it back before turning the cart around and going back the way he came.
Sungchan was rounding to the trunk when the chauffeur was already there. He was already touching the button that made the automatic door float. He was reaching for Sungchan’s suitcase, which he pitifully let be taken and put in the back. Some of his other suitcases were already packed in. How convenient he thought. But the automatic door was already coming down as he grabbed his backpack and went to the backseat. He silently opened and closed his own door behind him. Him and his chauffeur both buckled in without saying a word. The car came to life and the radio station was turned off before the host could say a single word about the game.
Him and his chauffeur drove in silence. He also got the occasional look through the rearview mirror. He pretended to be asleep. He didn’t check his phone to see the pity messages or the inevitable meeting he would have with his managers and the coach. He was avoiding the team’s groupchat all together. He hoped they had stayed silent. Sungchan knew it was his job to say something. There was nothing he could say. He will say sorry personally to everyone during the meeting tomorrow.
“Try to get some sleep son,” the chauffeur said when he handed Sungchan his rolling luggage.
He nodded, feeling the tightening in his chest persist and the feeling of guilt. The relationship he built with his driver over his time in America was surrounding his Korean heritage. The driver told him he should be proud to represent his country. Sungchan knew that every good luck meant we’re counting on you. Sungchan on the receiving end of gently paternal worry made him feel awful. The driver, was also someone he let down.
Sungchan bit back a sorry as he left the temporary parking. He went through the automatic revolving door, going straight for the elevators.
Sungchan passed by the small amount of hotel staff who were already stiff and avoiding contact. He was simply experiencing the fallout of his teammates who walked through this lobby before him. He was sure nobody exchanged nasty words with the staff, he’d make sure of it. But he was sure the staff were walking on eggshells, scared to make the wrong move. Athletes were stereotyped as hotheads, especially if they had the entire nation rooting for them. So he said nothing, neither did the staff. He just made a straight line for the elevators and they all avoided his path.
Sungchan was grateful there was already an elevator waiting for him. He needed this luck earlier. He bitterly thought he needed the talent too as the number climbed up to his floor.
Not a single passenger was picked up on the way either. This was unfortunately the losers hotel. Another team that was already eliminated was lodging here as well. There would be no parties spanning between the floors. No one with champagne glasses or well wishes. No celebrations. Just Sungchan alone, staring at the yellow lights in the elevator through a tint.
The gray doors slid open to his floor. Sungchan immediately started his path. He didn’t stop by his teammates rooms. He went all the way to the end of the hallway where his room was. He was extra quiet too, trying to avoid any of his teammates who may have tried to talk to him. He looked down the hallway while hastily grabbing his keycard and trying to swipe it before remembering it’s a tap.
Sungchan pressed his keycard to the door. The second he heard the lock he pushed the door open. The bedside lamp already being on did not stop him. He was sure room service came through, folded his towels all nice and offered a nice note trying to lessen the load of his loss right next to it. He didn’t even look towards his bed, too busy putting the Do Not Disturb! sign on the doorknob. He locked and dead-bolted the door behind him for good measure.
He stared at the tinted view of the back of his door. He felt that overwhelming pressure meld into his body. Every safeguard vanished. He was out of the public eye. He felt it eight him down, made a terrible sensation ripple across his body. Like something getting ready to erupt. Pressing his head to the door provided little relief. He took off his cap and did it again. He took off his sunglasses, clutching both of the items in his fist. He had to breathe deep to not crush the items in his hand. He thought about the expensive frames pressing into his skin that was too soft. He thought about the pain, the look of disappointment in his teammates faces. The fans who were let down, the cheers as his team lost. Everyone watching at home, everything was too much. Sungchan let out a shaky breath.
“Sungchan.”
His breath caught in his throat. Blood was roaring through his ears the voice was almost muffled. He thought for a second this was a dream. For half of that he thought the loss was just a nightmare. He was going to wake up and it’d be the morning of the match.
“Sungchan,” the voice called again.
He turned around slowly. Without a tint he saw you, standing next to the bed. Your own suitcase was beside the bed. You must’ve landed only a short while ago. He told you to not even worry about today’s game because he was sure he’d win it.
You must’ve heard the news. You didn’t run excitedly into his arms like you usually did. You just waited, messing with your hands as you looked to him.
Sungchan thought he was going to crawl on the floor to get to you. His feet turned to brick, scraping across the carpet to get to you. Your arms were wide-open and you closed half the distance. Sungchan instantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight into him. He felt you squeeze and the rock came back.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
Sungchan let it take over. Warm tears prickled his eyes then blurred his vision. He felt the warm trail down his face. He took in a pitiful breath that shook when he breathed it out. You looked up at him, sympathetic tears welling in your eyes. You blinked them away, reaching up to his face to collect his tears.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” you repeated.
Sungchan pulled you impossibly closer, feeling that sob rack through his body. You were quick to guide him to the edge of the bed. He sat down when he felt the bed touch the back of his leg. He let just enough space between his knees for you to slot in. One hand went to his shoulder, massaging the tension out while the other went to his hair. He was still a little damp, the indent of his hat still there. You smoothed it out again and again, rubbed gentle fingernails across his scalp just the way he liked. He breathed you in between desperate gulps of air, trying to calm himself.
“Let it all out,” you cooed.
Sungchan still kept his arms around you like you were going to disappear. He pressed his fingers into your back, desperate for proof that you were there. He remembers the look of defeat on his coaches face during that last water break. His teammates refused to look at him as they left the field.
Any words he tried to get out failed in his throat. His leg started becoming restless, already feeling the shame of his loss and crumbling like this. He was supposed to be captain. He was supposed to lead the helm, the voice of reason, a pillar. He was weak, crying in his hotel room clutching to you for dear life.
But you continued to soothe him. Tell him that you know and understand. You emphasized that he needed to let all of it out, even when the weeps turned to tiny hiccups and the tears finally subsided.
Just when Sungchan was starting to control it you used both of your hands to tilt his face upwards. He had seen that a few tears of your own had fallen, despite your voice remaining steady.
“This is your life. I understand that,” you searched his eyes and Sungchan felt the tears welling up again. He held onto your hips desperately, rubbing soothing circles like he was trying to calm himself through you. “please don’t blame yourself. You did everything you could. You gave it your all.”
“My all wasn’t enough,” Sungchan said.
“I’m so sorry,” you empathized, bringing his head back to rest against your stomach. “I watched the game on the plane. Everyone fought like Hell to advance.”
Sungchan couldn’t fault his team. They all gave it their best. South Korea cheered them on with everything. He felt their passion every game and through support online. Another wave hit him right in the chest. He closed his eyes tight and more tears streamed down his face.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for you earlier,” you cooed.
Sungchan tried to tell you it was okay, but the words caught in his throat. He just let tears escape while you rubbed your hands over his head. This comfort was enough. Knowing you wanted to be there for him helped, as much as it pained him that you watched the game.
You were between Sungchan’s legs stroking his hair for the better half of an hour. He talked through his frustrations of the game and with himself. You were there every sentence, listening and providing support. Eventually the tears faded, although they left his cheeks warm and the rest of his face flushed. There were still a few wet marks your thumbs and tissues missed. But Sungchan felt calmer, the strong emotions bubbling to something smaller. The disappointment was still there, but so were you. You said you were unbiased and that was the best game you had ever seen. Other people on the plane, who didn’t know who you were, shared the same sentiment.
“No matter who they were cheering for, they couldn’t deny your passion,” you said while looking him in the eye. “they respected it. They said that was the whole point of the World Cup.”
Sungchan nodded his head and held your hand tight. He pressed his bitten lips to the back of your hand, giving you a sad smile when you wiped tears from your chin.
“In four years time, you’ll get another chance,” you assured.
Sungchan wasn’t sure if he deserved it. You seemed so sure it made him doubt himself even more. He kissed your wrist next, then the inside of your tricep. He made it to the inside of your elbow when you gently pulled away.
“Want to call it a night?” you asked.
Sungchan nodded his head. He was restless, whether it was from the adrenaline of crying or being with you again or needing comfort, he knew he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. He would definitely lay down with you though. He was already leaning back on the bed and opening his arms for you to join him when you backed away from the bed. He felt his chest tighten at the thought of you not joining him immediately. He must’ve showed it because you were instantly pointing towards the bathroom behind you.
“I just landed. I just have to change to something comfortable,” you said.
Sungchan was starting to get up from the bed. He loved watching you change. He needed to be close, but you were pressing hands to his shoulders to keep him close to the bed.
“I have to go to the bathroom, too.” Sungchan tried getting up from the bed again, but you pressed your hands to his shoulders again and laughed. “I’ll be right back,” you assured. “just try to relax.”
Sungchan nodded his head and reluctantly watched you back away from him. You turned on your heel, grabbed something next to the swan he didn’t see and made a crooked path for the restroom. You made a pit-stop on the way there, but Sungchan wasn’t sure what it was. He was too drained to think. He stayed in the spot you left him, only turning to his side to face the swan.
Sungchan laid on the bed running his fingers over the folded wings of the towel-dove. He thought about the effort that went into it. How much practice did it take? How many times did the maid fail before it came out perfect? He pinched the wing and bent it. When he let go it went back to being perfectly upright. He saw the note that you took with you into the restroom. He imagined you were tearing it up into little pieces to flush down the toilet. He didn’t want pity, he just wanted to apologize. He was going to say it until his voice gave out.
The bathroom door cracked open and Sungchan moved up to sit on the edge of the bed. He was right next to the perfect dove, trying to figure out what to say to you after he lost. He didn’t want to know if you watched the game. He knew you came here expecting to spend time in this city thinking he’d win. He rubbed the bottom of his palm over his heart soothingly.
Sungchan watched the door open further and the light shut off. He saw the door open even wider, and he pressed his feet to the ground. Before he could get up from the imperfection he made in the duvet you came out. He was frozen as you came to view, emerging from the dark of the bathroom into the dim lighting of the bedroom.
You walked up to him in his uniform. You repped his country, the red and elements of white against your skin. The arm sleeves coming down, the shorts around your waist too. His lips parted. He wanted to close the distance between the two of you but he was frozen. He was dumbfounded as you came closer, playful smile on your lips.
“I grabbed your bag and you didn’t even notice,” you said playfully.
Sungchan slowly shook his head. He didn’t notice. He didn’t know you were in there getting ready for him. He didn’t know how seeing you in the uniform made the loss not seem so apocalyptic. He found himself almost smiling with you, before the severity of the situation brought him back. But he was restless again. Not in the way he was after the loss, but how he felt kissing up your arm a few minutes ago. He was getting close to comfort, and now his comfort was wearing his greatest burden. The uniform didn’t weigh down on you at all. You stood giggling with that captain armband staring right back at him.
Sungchan sank from the corner of the bed until he was on his knees in front of you. You didn’t understand the severity in the situation. You were still smiling when you playfully flexed in the uniform
“What do you think?” you asked. “I think I’m ready for the team.”
“Captain,” Sungchan’s perspective of you changed as he slowly sank to his knees. “my captain,” he repeated.
Sungchan watched you smile even bigger. You looked proud. He imagined your face smiling when you’d secure the win easily.
“I was afraid wearing this might make you feel bad,” you admitted.
Sungchan shook his head so fast his hair moved too. His shirt went down to your mid-thigh, he knew his shorts were hanging loose on your waist. He saw his number across your chest, hovering above your knee. You smelled like him, the sweat mixing with you. He pushed his face forward, nose pressing into your stomach as he breathed it all in. He felt your stomach tighten from a laugh as one hand went to his shoulder and the other to the crown of his head. Sungchan turned his face to press his cheek into your stomach. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, interlocking his fingers right underneath your ass to keep you there. He felt lulled by the vibrations of your quiet laugh as it went through the silent room.
“I smell that bad?” you asked.
Sungchan looked up at you shook his head. He was sure his eyes were still bleary because the playfulness turned soft. You rubbed his warm cheek and he leaned into your touch.
“You make the smell good,” he said. The words took awhile to register to you both. He was still recovering from his lack of air when he swallowed spit gathering in his mouth. “I like seeing you wear this.”
“I’m glad,” you separated from him enough to do a little twirl. Then you posed with your fists balled on your hips and one of your legs bent at the knee. “put me in coach,” you said.
Sungchan leaned back on his haunches and put his hands on his knees. He rubbed them in a small motion up and down. Adrenaline has been coursing through his body on and off all day. For the nth time it was climbing again.
“Show me again baby,” he said quietly.
Sungchan watched you tilt your head playfully before you repeated the motion, spinning around just for him. He watched the captains band on your bicep disappear then come back into view.
You looked back at him and he reached a hand towards you. Instead of pulling your body towards his he lifted the bottom of his jersey. He lifted the red and white, lifting and lifting until he finally saw your bare skin. He twisted the fabric in his hands until red and white swirled between his knuckles. He tugged at the jersey, not you. He let go and watched it fall on your body again, talking up so much of you. Sungchan’s whole body shook as warmth flooded one part of his body.
He was fixed on your stomach when your hand went underneath his chin. He left his head be tilted upwards, even though you only applied the smallest amount of force.
Sungchan locked eyes with you. The dark room behind you made you appear in a void, the dim bedside lamp made the carnality soft.
“We can fuck like you won,” you say gently.
Sungchan shivers again as your index finger ran over his lip. He tasted dried sweat and could smell the grass on your hand. He closed his eyes and breathed it in. He was on the field today as a leader. He failed. The armband was too tight on his arm. He kept messing with it the entire match. But when he opens his eyes and follows your hand up it seems to fit you just right.
“You’re the captain,” he said.
His voice was weaker than he expected. He sank a little deeper too, he lost his perfect posture. He saw your smile, then in a split second it turned to a slight pout. You nodded, and Sungchan mirrored you without a second thought. He felt his eyes droop further from the disappointment. His eyelashes were still wet, he could feel them momentarily clump together each time he blinked.
You pulled your hand away from his face and he followed. His whole body tilted forward after your touch. When he saw your hands go to the bottom of the jersey he shook his head.
“Keep it on,” Sungchan had the bass back in his voice as he looked from the arm band to you. He was panicked and crawled forward to stroke your ankles gently. “please,” he begged.
You let go of the shirt and let it fall back down your body. When the jersey went back you went down too, until you were eye level with Sungchan. He was starting to get teary holding his eyes open in an effort to not blink.
Your hand went back to his face, but you didn’t stroke his chin or gently touch his lips. You clutched his face with your hands, applying force until his lips puckered.
“I thought I was the captain?” you asked.
Sungchan tried telling you that you were the captain, but his words couldn’t be enunciated. There was a string of sound, then he felt your hand manually nod his head. He did it on his own volition. His fingernails were dragging against the carpet as he lowered himself even closer to the floor. He ended up on his hands and knees while you went back to standing straight. He tilted his head up only slightly, just enough to see your hands slip underneath the jersey. He could see the indent of your hands through the fabric as they were to the hiked waistband. He could see your thumbs tuck underneath it, then the shimmy in your hip as you pushed them down.
There wasn’t much needed for the shorts to pool at your feet. They were made to be loose, and you stepped out of them like they were nothing. Your bare thighs were exposed, the large jersey being your only form of cover. Sungchan followed the trail of skin as high as it could go, until it was cut off at your mid-thigh by the bottom hem. He debated sinking lower to the ground just to take a glance underneath. Even a shadowy peak would be enough.
Before he could get any lower you moved your finger in a circle.
“On your back,” you said gently.
Sungchan didn’t need to be told again. He was on his back on the floor in seconds, already prepping himself. He knew what came next. He wet his lips, he flexed his hands at his side. Sungchan watched you lift the bottom of the jersey like it was a dress before you faced the bathroom door.
“Remember the safe word?” you asked.
Red Card—of course.
“I remember,” he said quickly.
You looked down at him with an incredulous look. You laughed a little before putting your feet on either side of his head.
“Very eager Sungchan,” you tsked.
He nodded while looking up at your sex. The air in the room made the hem of the jersey blow. You held it open enough for him to see and you lowered yourself to your knees.
Sungchan was tented underneath the canopy of the jersey. He saw the light from the bedside lamp and something else as you sank down. The tent closed in the smell of you waiting all day for him and the dried sweat from playing. He already had his hands pressed into the top part of your thigh. He was so desperate his fingers dimpled your skin, but he did not pull. He was there as a guide, a support to his captain. He guided you where you go, but he let it come at your pace. No matter how slow, he was already pressing hopelessly against the fabric of his pants when he felt your thighs press against his head.
There was no light underneath the cover of the jersey. Sungchan was operating on instinct and touch. When he felt wet pressure against his chin he did all the work. His hands went to the underside of your thigh and lifted slightly up. He shimmied his body down to accommodate, he stuck out his tongue quickly to gauge where he was. When he tasted you his hands went back to where they were before, and he waisted as you lowered yourself again.
He was lifting his head off the ground before you pressed to his lips. He groaned out and you let more of your weight rest on him. He took all of it, he urged you to lay even more of it on him. He kept you suspended to lick you top to bottom. He felt you shiver above him. You were reaching for the wooden corner of the bed for stability. Sungchan couldn’t see but he could hear nails scraping against wood. He kept licking, needing you to fill his mouth and coat his tongue before he could keep going.
He prodded your entrance with his tongue and you gasped. He did it again and again, just to feel your little twitches and hear your sounds. Sungcahn let you rest on his face so he could focus on your clit. He was operating in complete darkness, but he knew his way around. He latched his lips to your slit quickly, sucking and flicking gently with his tongue.
Then, he saw the light. You pulled up the bottom of his jersey, quickly. Sungchan had to adjust to the light but he didn’t stop. He was happy to see you so visually wrecked in such a short amount of time. You were already trying to hold back little thrusts, tilting your head to the side as you looked down at him.
“So good for me, Channie,” you praised.
He was too needy right now. He was liable to cum in his pants from the sweet nicknames and the praise. He could barely handle having you like this in your civilian clothes. Now you were dressed like him, biting the fabric of the jersey to keep yourself from recklessly riding his face.
He wanted you to let go. He didn’t mind if you put him on medical leave for a season or two. He believes it’d be worth it. He would without the red card, not stopping until his captain was spent. He could already see your stomach tensing from how close you were to doing it. Sungchan mumbled around your clit. You ran a free hand through his hair splayed out in a soft heap around his head. You casted a glance behind you. Sungchan sucked a little harder. He needed your complete attention
“Take your dick out,” you say.
He hesitated for a moment. What was supposed to be a relief felt like a punishment. You seemed unforgiving for something he wasn’t sure he was doing wrong. But he knew he had to do what you said.
He moved one arm to splay across your thighs to keep you in place while the other hand goes to his jeans. He undoes the button and pulls down the zipper with just one hand. He only cared to push his jeans the minimum amount before letting his dick spring free. It barely had time to smack his stomach before he wrapped his large hand around it.
He kept it there, holding the root with a decent grip. He focused on letting a tongue full of spit make a mess on your cunt. He made the executive decision to use his hand that was holding you in place down to your clit.
You sighed and motioned gently towards his dick.
“Jerk off for me,” you said.
Once again, a reward that felt like discipline. He almost struggled to focus on you both. But you were watching to make sure he stroked himself the right way. He felt obligated to take time with himself and you. Only when he picked up the speed did you stop looking behind you to look at him again.
Sungchan looked at you looking down at him. Jersey between your teeth and a hand gripping your chest. Your eyes were unforgiving, so was the bite in your orders. Sungchan was breathing through his nose but was barely getting enough air from the excitement. Each inhale brought more of you in, making the air in the room seem thin.
He was good at following orders. When you mumbled faster behind the bitten fabric he understood perfectly. His lips were already suctioned around your nub, tongue flicking the sensitive skin. He knew that you meant for his hand to go faster, because you were grinding on his face taking what you wanted at your own pace. He detached from your clit and let your grind against his tongue and lips. Each drag of your hips ended when his nose would bump into your engorged clit. He was happy to see you finally start to twitch, he was doing his job. His hand moving fast was no longer enough. He planted his feet to the ground and thrusted into his hand.
Whatever he did to himself didn’t matter, he was going to get there regardless. Sungchan was dangerously close because you were, too. Your body was beginning to shake, the fierce look in your eyes melted into something weaker. You tilted your head back. The ball of jersey in your mouth was a muzzle now, holding back the sounds you were making from going into the neighboring rooms. Sungchan was making noises of his own, vibrations were absorbed by your skin and noises were muffled into your sex.
You reached a hand back and it landed on his flexed thigh. His strength kept you upright and locked onto his mouth, and he was fucking his hand feeling the coil about to snap. He just needed to see your face. Seeing your stomach move from the grinding was sexy, but he needed to see your face. He needed to know that he was good at listening to his captain, getting you where you needed to go.
Your head finally looked down at him again. Sungchan felt it coming when your hand went to pinching your sensitive nipple. He could see it peaking through the shirt and you grabbed it perfectly, stroking the erect nub between your fingers.
Right when your sounds started getting higher he felt you rise. He let out a loud, pitiful sound, and had a knee jerk reaction to lock you in place by the arm across your thighs. You rose too fast though, leaving Sungchan with a wet face and chasing after your cunt. His hand was still wrapped around his dick but his legs melted back to the floor. The crash from a near-orgasm was intense, leaving him cold and breathing heavy.
He was only upset that you were the same way. You let the jersey fall back down your body as you looked around the room quickly. You were lost, Sungchan wanted to tell you what the correct play was. But he remembered that you were the captain, and a moment later you were pushing the perfect dove off the bed and climbing onto the mattress. It landed to the floor with a dull thud as you pointed to the headrest. Sungchan was already moving to sit up, wincing at how sensitive he was all over.
“On the bed,” you said quickly, wiping sweat from your forehead. “lean against the headboard.”
Sungchan got up quick, getting ready to climb on the bed. Before he could you put a hand up. He froze in the middle of his action, looking to you immediately. He was sweating seeing the wild look in your eyes, going over what you said to make sure he didn’t mishear anything.
“Take your clothes off first,” you said.
He was so quick taking off his clothes he scratched himself. The scratches along his side throbbed and then a small scratch throbbed down his thigh. He was kicking off his pants, tearing off his socks and throwing them somewhere.
He was sitting against the headboard, spread out with his heavy dick resting upright against his abs. He had been leaking since the start. His hand was sticky when he balled it into a fist. He felt it rubbing against the sheets, and now he felt the cooling precum against his abs. He was twitching, his whole body was. You were perched in front of him so perfect, your jersey showing your hardened nipples again.
“Baby,” Sungchan whimpered.
You refused to move. You raised an eyebrow at him, and Sungchan felt the heat fan across his entire body.
“Captain,” he said. He twitched against his stomach and felt his body lean into the headboard. “please.”
That made you move. You stood on your knees and crawled over to him. Your two hands picked up the bottom hem of your jersey, letting Sungchan take the peak. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from your face. You were half-lidded, so warm Sungchan could tell just from looking at you. He was enamored, he could see that you were too. He brought his legs close together whenever your knees straddled his feet. When the fabric grazed against his calves he finally looked down. He let out a whimper beyond his control, reaching out a hand that just ended up falling to the mattress.
You were even slower walking up his body. Sungchan was forced to grab the. sheets and watch you. Each new indent in the mattress made Sungchan twitch uncontrollably, or let out a sound that was close to a whine. You took it all in stride, not changing speed or giving him something to do to occupy himself.
“Is this what a captain does?” you asked.
Your knees were pressed against his thighs. You were so close to straddling him. You rested your weight on his thighs, Sungchan felt your hot and wet cunt against his muscle. He looked down trying to get a visual but all the was was your jersey pooling over both of your legs.
“Hello?” you asked.
Sungchan blinked several times and brought his gaze back up to you.
“I’m sorry,” he says quickly.
“Is this what a captain does?” you ask.
Sungchan nods his head. He slowly brings a hand to rest on your covered thigh, half scared you’ll smack his hand away.
“Yes,” he says. He strokes your skin over your jersey, trying to subtly coax you to continue your way up. “You’re such a good captain.”
Sungchan feels your hips jerk the smallest amount over his thigh. He flexes the muscle.
“Not as good as you,” you say.
Your hip flicks again and you put your hand over his. Sungchan feels you thread your fingers through his. He squeezes to let you know he feels it. But he shakes his head regardless. He knows that he isn’t the captain his team needed. He failed, he couldn’t lead them to victory. You could, the armband fit around you perfectly. Sungchan looks down to your hand over his. You command him so well. He doesn’t know if he could command a room the same way you did.
You squeeze his hand tighter. Sungchan feels your hand caress his cheek gently making him look at you. That gentle look is back. He likes the pity, that you seem truly sorry for him. From you, that’s something he can accept. He finds himself thriving on it. He has your attention but he also needs it elsewhere. He knows he is too selfish to be captain when he wraps his warm hand around his dick. He watches the pity in your eyes fade as you look down. Sungchan watches you watching his hand. He pumps himself, he squeezes around the tip once he makes his way up. He pushes his dick between the gap of his index and middle finger. His head lulls against the headboard when he does it again. He watches you lick your lips and does it faster, until a fresh bead of precum appears.
“Captain,” Sungchan whispers.
He thinks he could cum like this. He goes over you in your jersey again. He will cum like this.
“Captain,” he whimpers. “please.”
He bites his lip. He reaches forward with his other hand and folds your jersey. He sees your bare cunt and the mess you leave on his thigh. He prays the fabric stays where he leaves it and goes back to gripping your thigh. He pulls you in slightly by the hold. He is grateful you give in. You continue to come closer, you even hold your jersey up so he can see your pussy.
He strokes himself slower, and when you finally get close enough he guides you up by your thigh. You’re hovering right over him, your hands go to his shoulders. The fabric falls but Sungchan just looks at you. You look at him so tenderly, massaging his shoulders gently.
You sink down at the right spend. He needed it slow, to ground himself again and to feel it all. The moment of resistance as you sank lower. He bumped your clit but he corrected it immediately. He prodded your entrance and you kept going lower. You sucked him in, your walls warm and pulsing from riding his face. Sungchan’s hands went to your hips when you had taken enough of him. He was gripping you for dear life, he knew he’d be leaving bruises underneath your jersey. Your mouth was still slightly open as you took all of him. When he was fully inside he pressed his forehead to your chest. He pulled you close by your hips, and you wrapped your arms around him.
You two were like that for a while. You pulsing around him, Sungchan twitching inside of you. He liked being connected, he liked having you close and you scratching his scalp. For the second time tonight you brought him so much comfort, and he felt the tears threatening to come out again.
“I feel so good,” he murmured.
He meant it in every sense of the word. He guided your hips to grind against him just to feel you squeeze around him. Your body didn’t want him to move either. You wanted him to stay sheathed, not pulling out an inch. When he even tried to life you he felt the panic across your body. He didn’t want to part either. He wanted to be close in this way, he wanted to feel himself inside of you and he wanted to keep it that way.
“I feel good too,” you say.
You start massaging his scalp again. He nestles further into your warmth and your smells mingling together.
Sungchan feels you begin your small grinds. They’re erratic, varying in speed and length. The only thing that is consistent is that you don’t lift your hips. You only grind, if anything you try to press deeper.
“You need it like this, right?” you ask.
Sungchan nods his head against your chest.
“Look at me, Sungchan,” you command.
Instantly he’s pointing his head upwards. He’s still leaned against your shirt and your chest. He knows he looks pathetic. He can nearly see himself in the reflection of your blown out eyes. He revels in it. Knowing you are seeing him like this makes him throb inside of you, and you’re digging your nails into his back.
“I can feel you,” you say. Sungchan feels your hand tug slightly at his hair. “I can feel you getting even harder.”
“I can’t help it,” he confesses.
“I know,” you coo and pat his head. He feels his eyebrows press together like he’s worried. “I like it. The captain likes it,” you stutter.
Sungchan wheezes out a breath. He throbs again and both of you lull your heads back. Sungchan watches your grinds and you look at him sideways, biting your lip. He knows you want to say something. Your hand in his hair was soothing again and your grinds were gentle and slow.
“They made you captain but you’re still young,” you said. “one of the youngest on the team.”
You weren’t lying. Sungchan was the third youngest on the team. It was his first time competing in the World Cup. He never had so much pressure on him in his life. He gripped your waist harder, helping your movements stay consistent.
“I have so much to learn,” he said.
“We all do,” you assured.
Sungchan nodded. He you let out a tiny gasp when he flicked his hips to meet yours. He held you and did the same movement again. You struggled to keep eye contact, he saw you fight the urge to close your eyes and ride it out.
“But that doesn’t make you a bad captain,” you continued. Sungchan felt you alternate between gripping his hair to steady yourself and smoothing out the strands to comfort him. “just makes you a captain who’s learning.”
Sungchan looks down where you two meet. He won’t last long like this.
“I lost the game,” he groans.
“It is not on your shoulders alone.” you said. “How can you be a good captain if you can’t show your team how to bounce back?” you ask.
Sungchan can’t think properly. Everything is filled with you, the grass stain on the chest of his jersey and the feeling of you around him. The mattress creaks underneath you when the movements become more desperate.
“You have four years to train,” you say, going even faster. “come back next time and win it all.”
Sungchan nods his head. He continues to flick his hips in tandem of yours.
“I can’t,” he says.
You pull on his hair and he hisses from the pain. You get rougher with him and add the tiniest lift to your hips. The wet sound fills the hotel room. Sungchan bites his lip to stop the sounds from tumbling out. With the grip you have on his hair you force him to look at you.
“You will,” you command. “you’ll do it as captain too.”
He can’t help that you’re persuasive. He’s nodding along with you, helping you lift off his hips just to come right down. There’s so much wet between the two of you he’s sure everything will be ruined. That doesn’t stop him and it seems to push you to keep going. Sungchan’s thighs are a wet mess and stick to yours as you two keep going.
There are no more words that are exchanged. Sungchan knows what this was, and he does feel healed. He needs to finally catch the feeling he’s been chasing for the past hour. He goes deeper and deeper inside of you, and your body tries desperately to keep him in place. Sungchan feels like he’s being drained and he hasn’t even given you anything yet.
The wet and lewd sounds fill the room. Words of affirmations are replaced with tiny gasps and the sound of lips connecting. Sungchan sticks his tongue in your mouth and when you start sucking he feels the tension building up. One hand leaves your hips and goes underneath his jersey. He rubs on your clit, just the way his captain showed him.
You break apart to put your head in his shoulder.
“So close,” you whimper.
Sungchan nods against your head. His other hand wraps around your body, keeping you close. He continues with the revolutions, looking at your face. He can tell your close, he can feel the came before the storm inside of you. Sungchan bites his lip in concentration.
“Cum for me, baby,” he says.
As if that pulled you out of your stupor you snap out of the haze. You start grinding against him again, and your hand stopped pulling so hard at his scalp.
“You gotta cum for me, remember?” you asked.
Sungchan didn’t stand a chance. Hearing you try to hold onto your dominance through a cracked voice made him finish abruptly. He emptied inside of you, coming out in endless spurts. He felt relaxed, his hand leaving your clit to hold onto your body roughly. His jersey twisted in his hands as he moaned, feeling your walls spasm around him perfectly. He was so snug he knew you felt it.
Sungchan was slouched against the bed frame, eyes already threatening to close when he felt your hips move again. His eyes shot open and he shook his head. You nodded and continued the heavy grinds. You were fully rocking into him causing the bed creaks to sway with you. You were at the helm. Sungchan held onto you out of necessity. He was crying out, body still slouched and lethargic against the headboard. He just whimpered, trying to tell you please stop. The pain hurt so good, he could barely open his eyes through the sensitivity. His shaking hand found your clit, rubbing tight circles while you panted above him.
“That’s right,” you breathed. “I’m so close.”
He was lucky you came shortly after. Your walls closed around him again, which made a few more dribbles of cum seep from your cunt. Sungchan wasn’t sure if he shot blanks or if it was real. He couldn’t piece a full action together. He brought his hands to your waist, but instead of guiding you off of him they stayed there, rubbing tiny shapes. It was you who laughed above him and moved off. You were the one who moved him so he was laying properly on the bed. His chest was still heaving when you settled in the crook of his arm, placing gentle kisses to his cheeks.
“I’m really proud of you, Sungchan,” you said between kisses. “making it this far is a feat in and of itself.”
Sungchan sleepily nodded his head. He was going to tell you in the morning how grateful he was. But the entire day caught up to him at once, and he felt that tight feeling in his chest go away. His eyelids were already heavy before you placed gentle kisses over them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for much longer.
“Love you, captain.” he whispered, pulling you closer.
The last thing he remembers before going to sleep was your body shaking from laughter next to him.
came across this video earlier and 😵💫 sohee being the type of boyfriend to force you to tell him how badly you missed him. he wants to hear you speak up and be confident, with more than just words too. he loves teasing you and loves to watch you listen to his demands. 🤤 so many people tend to forget sohee has a dominant personality, he craves someone who would be so submissive for him. he truly gets off on having control over you with his words and easily making you do whatever he wants.
watching my favorite family vloggers right now (the one that always reminds me of dad!ton) 😔 and the way the bf got his gf a "push present" for their second child lmao. it's such an anton thing in my brain. and in this vlog they're staying at this airbnb with nature and so many animals, i could definitely see anton wandering off by himself to look at all the animals and coming back so excited to show you everything😩💔
i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want himi want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want himi want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want himi want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him i want him
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
2087
izzy806
theartofmadeline
