freakum dress (m) - song eunseok
pairing: eunseok x fem bodied reader | established relationship plot: you in a tight dress and getting hit on by a guy in the club? eunseok loses his shit | word count: approx. 3.9k warnings/notes: possessive sex, eunseok being territorial, jealousy, protective boyfriend trope, reader being a lil confident strutting in her stress and turning heads, multiple orgasms, rough-ish sex, car sex, unprotected sex (don't do it), fingering, idk what else requested - yes | hii sena! i love your writing, especially for eunseok since he is my bias. i was wondering if you could write a drabble of bf!eunseok reacting to gf!reader wearing a tight dress showing all her curves? a/n: yall already know i was praising the lawd for more eunseok asks; also was listening to freakum dress by queen bey (edit: this was posted before the whole controversy) masterlist
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the plan had been simple: meet the others, grab a drink, stay out for a bit. nothing serious. just one of those nights you hadn’t had in a while.
eunseok was already ready before you, as usual. dark jeans, boots, that leather jacket he always threw on when you were heading somewhere loud enough that he’d have to lean in just to hear you. he stood by the door, keys in hand, scrolling through his phone, waiting without complaint, the way he always did.
“you ready, princess?” he calls out, not even looking up.
“yeah, coming,” you reply from your room.
you hadn’t meant to make a whole thing out of tonight. you just… felt like dressing up. lately, you’d been taking better care of yourself—eating properly, keeping up with it, squeezing in a pilates session or two—and for once, you felt more like yourself again. and because of that, you didn’t reach for one of his hoodies or shirts to throw over it.
there were no oversized sleeves hiding your hands, no soft fabric swallowing your shape, no easy way to disappear into something familiar.
the dress was simple.
but it fit.
it fit in a way that didn’t ask for attention, and yet drew it anyway—the fabric settling cleanly at your waist before gliding over your hips, following every line without effort. there was nothing exaggerated about it, nothing forced. it simply revealed what was already there, and somehow that made it feel more exposing.
and with the way other women always seemed to look at your boyfriend when you were out, you decided—quietly—to turn that unease into something else. something steadier. something stronger.
you gave yourself one last glance, refusing to linger.
then you stepped out.
eunseok looked up at the sound, and for a moment, he stilled.
not dramatically—no double take, no obvious reaction—but his thumb paused mid-scroll, his attention sharpening as his gaze landed on you and stayed there.
you felt it immediately.
his eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking you in without the slightest attempt to hide it. from your shoulders, down to the way the dress framed your waist—your actual waist, no longer hidden beneath his clothes—the way it curved into your hips and settled there like it belonged.
there was recognition in his expression.
but there was something else, too.
something quieter. heavier.
like he was seeing all of it at once.
he exhales softly, the sound low and almost involuntary, before slipping his phone into his pocket without breaking eye contact.
“…fuck.”
you blink. “why? what’s wrong?”
his gaze doesn’t lift from you.
“you look…” he starts, voice lower now, rougher around the edges than usual. “so fucking good, baby.”
the words settle between you, heavier than they should.
he walks toward you then, slow and unhurried, like he’s not done with this yet. when he stops in front of you, his hand finds your waist automatically—but this time it settles firmer, his fingers pressing in slightly, like he needs the contact, like he’s grounding himself in it.
his thumb drags once along the fabric.
“you like it baby?” you ask as you smoothen the creases on you dress.
“this, i like it a little too much but—”
his hand tightens slightly, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.
“now everyone else will get to see it too.”
a quiet beat settles between you.
his eyes lift back to yours, heavier now, more certain.
“…and i don’t think i like that part as much.”
it doesn’t come out sharp. not jealous in any obvious way. it settles low instead—controlled, grounded, something territorial that he isn’t fighting, just acknowledging.
you feel your stomach flip. he doesn’t look away.
if anything, his gaze holds steadier, like he’s not backing off now that it’s there.
“come here, baby,” he murmurs, even though you already are.
his hand shifts slightly along your waist, holding you there with quiet certainty, like letting go isn’t something he’s considering.
for a moment, he says nothing. the pause lingers, just long enough to feel.
“i’m not letting you out of my sight tonight,” he says eventually, his voice softer now, but no less firm.
you swallow lightly, warmth creeping up your neck. “you don’t usually.”
that earns the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
“yeah,” he murmurs.
his thumb brushes along your waist again, slower this time.
“just means i’m staying closer.”
it’s said like it’s obvious.
and the way he holds you—steady, certain—makes it feel less like a decision and more like something that’s already happened.
the music hits you before you even step inside—low, steady bass settling into your chest, lights spilling across the entrance in blurred flashes, the kind of place that feels loud before you even process the sound.
eunseok’s hand is still at your waist as you walk in, steady and unthinking, like it never occurred to him to move it. the pressure is familiar, grounding—but there’s something firmer in it now, something that hasn’t quite eased since earlier.
the place is packed, bodies moving in loose rhythm, conversations blending into the music until everything becomes one continuous hum—and almost immediately, you feel it.
the shift. the attention. it lands before you even consciously notice it.
the dress does that.
it draws the eye without trying—the way it fits, the way it moves, the way it reveals just enough without ever feeling forced. you catch it in passing glances, in the way people look a second too long before looking away, in how space opens just slightly as you move through.
and before that awareness can settle—
eunseok’s hand tightens. not abruptly. not enough to startle.
just enough for you to feel the difference. his fingers press into your waist as he pulls you a fraction closer to his side, like instinct, like it happens before he even thinks about it.
he leans in, close enough that his voice doesn’t have to compete with the music.
“told you, baby,” he murmurs.
“what about?” you question.
“guys are staring at you like a sweet treat and i don’t like that.”
it lands simply. no tension. no argument. just truth.
before you can say anything else, you hear your name from somewhere ahead, your friends already gathered and waving you over, drinks in hand, clearly settled in for the night. you instinctively step forward, but eunseok moves with you without hesitation, his hand shifting at your waist in a way that guides rather than restrains, though it never quite allows you to drift out of reach.
you glance back at him, faintly amused. “i can walk, you know.”
“i know,” he replies easily, his tone calm, almost absent-minded, but his hand stays exactly where it is, firm and unyielding in a way that doesn’t need explanation.
you make your way through the crowd together, his presence constant at your side, close enough that you feel him without looking, the steady weight of his hand grounding you as the noise and movement of the room begin to close in. by the time you reach your friends, they’ve already noticed—first the delay, then you, and then the way eunseok hasn’t let go.
“finally,” one of them says, half-laughing, though the reaction shifts mid-sentence as their attention settles properly, eyes flicking over you with something closer to surprise.
“…okay, wait.”
another leans in, eyebrows lifting slightly. “you look so fucking hot.”
you laugh, shaking your head, warmth creeping in despite yourself. “really?”
“don’t act like you don’t know,” they reply, gesturing loosely toward you, toward the dress, toward the obvious.
you start to respond, but the moment stretches instead, interrupted by something quieter, closer—eunseok’s thumb brushing once along your waist, slow and deliberate, like he’s reminding himself you’re there, like he hasn’t quite adjusted to this version of you existing out here where everyone else can see.
you glance at him, but he isn’t looking at your friends. his gaze is still on you, steadier now, less surprised but no less focused, like the noise around you hasn’t quite reached him yet.
“drink, princess?” he asks, his voice slipping back into that familiar calm.
you nod.
“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing lightly into your side before he finally pulls away.
you huff a quiet laugh. “i’m not going anywhere.”
“mm,” he hums, like he hears you but doesn’t entirely believe it. “still.”
you don’t argue. you just watch him go for a second longer than you mean to, the leather of his jacket catching the light before the crowd folds in around him and he disappears into it, swallowed by movement and shadows until he’s just another figure at the bar.
the space he leaves behind isn’t empty, not really, but it feels different—lighter, less anchored, like something steady has been removed and your body notices before your mind does. you turn back to your friends, slipping into conversation easily enough, laughter coming without effort, but there’s still a trace of him lingering, the ghost of his hand at your waist, the memory of how close he stood, how certain it felt.
it’s enough of a distraction that you don’t notice the shift right away, just another presence stepping closer than it should, another voice slipping into your space like it belongs there.
“hey.”
you turn, expecting one of your friends, but it isn’t. a guy you don’t recognise is already standing a little too close, his attention fixed on you in a way that doesn’t bother to hide itself.
“you just got here?” he asks, leaning in slightly.
you blink, caught off guard more than anything, defaulting to politeness. “uh—yeah, we just—”
“figured,” he cuts in, smiling like he’s already decided the conversation is his to take. his eyes flick over you again, slower this time. “kinda hard not to notice you.”
this was new. normally, it was other girls approaching your boyfriend, offering compliments wrapped in easy smiles, their attention lingering just a little too long.
but this time—it was you.
you let out a small, awkward laugh, shifting your weight, angling your body just enough to create space without making a scene. “thank you, uhh."
"you alone sweetheart?" the guy continues.
"i’m here with my—”
“friends?” he says, glancing past you briefly before stepping closer again, like that settles it. “yeah, i saw. but you weren’t talking to anyone just now.”
you shake your head lightly, trying to keep it polite without encouraging him. “no, i am. my boyfriend just—”
“boyfriend?” he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite register as a boundary. “where is he then?”
the answer never leaves your mouth, because something changes behind him, something you feel before you see.
“right here.”
eunseok’s voice comes from just behind the guy, low and even, close enough that it cuts cleanly through the noise without ever needing to rise.
everything shifts.
eunseok doesn’t look at him immediately. instead, he steps in behind you, his hand finding your waist again with quiet certainty, drawing you back just enough that your body aligns with his, your back brushing lightly against him as though you’d always been meant to stand there.
“are you okay?” he asks, his voice lowered for you alone.
you nod, softer than you expect. “yeah, babe.”
“good,” he murmurs, the word settling in a way that feels final rather than reassuring.
only then does his gaze lift.
it lands on the guy, calm and unreadable, but steady enough that the air between them shifts without anything else being said.
the guy hesitates, trying to recover. “hey, man, i was just—”
“yeah,” eunseok replies, easy, like he already knows and doesn’t particularly care for the explanation.
his hand remains at your waist, if anything settling more firmly, his thumb brushing once along the fabric in a quiet, grounding motion.
“she’s with me.”
he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t step forward, doesn’t need to. the certainty in it leaves no room to misunderstand.
the guy nods quickly, the confidence slipping just enough to make the decision for him. “i didn’t know,” he mutters, already backing away.
eunseok hums faintly. “you do now.”
that’s enough.
the moment dissolves as quickly as it formed, the guy disappearing back into the crowd, but eunseok doesn’t move. his hand remains where it is, his presence still close behind you, like he hasn’t fully stepped out of that space yet.
his hand stays on your waist, fingers pressing just a little deeper into the fabric of your dress, grounding you in place even as the crowd buzzes around you. you feel the heat of his body against your back, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and for a moment, the party fades into meaningless noise.
then he leans down, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear.
“come.”
it’s not a request.
his hand slides from your waist to your wrist, fingers closing around it with deliberate firmness, and he pulls you through the crowd without a word. you stumble slightly in your heels, but his grip doesn’t loosen—he doesn’t slow down. people part instinctively, the weight of his presence clearing a path as effectively as any gesture.
you barely have time to grab your purse from the table before he’s steering you past the door, past the valet stand, straight into the parking lot. your heart hammers in your chest, anticipation curling low in your belly.
“eunseok—”
he doesn’t answer. he just keeps pulling you, his pace unrelenting until he reaches the car. the sleek black sedan gleams under the parking lot lights. he opens the back door, not the passenger side.
“get in.”
you hesitate for half a second—long enough for his eyes to snap to yours, dark and patient and warning all at once.
“now, princess.” his voice drops an octave. “don’t make me tell you twice.”
you slide into the backseat. the leather is cool against your thighs, the dress riding up as you shift. before you can settle, he’s in after you, pulling the door shut with a solid thud that seals out the rest of the world.
the interior light dims. the windows are tinted. no one can see in.
he turns to face you, one hand bracing against the seat beside your hip, the other reaching for your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. his thumb traces the line of your jaw, slow and possessive.
“i can’t believe losers like that think they can just approach you like that.” his tone is low, controlled, but there’s an edge beneath it—something hungry and territorial. “and you let him”
“i didn’t let him,” you murmur, but your voice comes out breathless, because you love when he gets like this. love the way his jaw tightens, the way his pupils dilate, the way he looks at you like you belong to him and him alone.
his thumb moves to your lower lip, pressing just slightly. “you were polite. smiling. letting him think he had a chance.”
“i wasn’t—”
“shh.” he silences you with that one sound, his thumb pressing deeper, parting your lips. “my beautiful girl, always being so nice to people… but you really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
his eyes drop to your body. the dress is a bodycon, hugging every curve from your chest to your hips, the fabric clinging like a second skin. the neckline plunges just enough to tease, and the slit runs high up your thigh, revealing most of your leg when you move. you’d worn it for him—for this exact reaction.
his hand leaves your chin and drifts down, fingers tracing the neckline, following the edge of the fabric where it cups your breasts.
“you knew exactly what you were doing when you put this on,” he says, his voice rough now. “you wanted people to look baby?”
“i wanted you to look,” you correct, your chest rising as his fingers dip into the hollow between your breasts.
a low, dark chuckle escapes him. “oh, i’m looking, baby. and now i’m going to remind everyone—starting with you—exactly who you belong to.”
his hand grips the fabric at your shoulder and pulls. the sound of tearing stitches fills the car. you gasp, but the thrill that shoots through you is unmistakable.
“eunseok, my dress—”
“i’ll buy you another one.” he’s already working the torn fabric down, pulling it past your shoulders, baring your chest to the cool air. his hands cup your breasts roughly, thumbs circling your nipples until they harden under his touch. “a prettier one. a more expensive one. whatever you like princess.”
you arch into his hands, a soft moan escaping your lips. he pinches both nipples simultaneously, hard enough to make you gasp, and you grab his shoulders for support.
“you like that, don’t you?” he watches your face, his gaze predatory. “like when i get like this. when i’m so fucking possessive i can’t think straight.”
“yes,” you breathe. “god, yes.”
he pulls you closer, his mouth crashing into yours. it’s not gentle—it’s claiming, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting, dominating. one hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head back, while the other continues its assault on your breasts, squeezing and kneading, pinching and rolling.
you’re already wet, the heat pooling between your legs, soaking through the thin lace of your panties. you shift, pressing your thighs together, trying to create friction, but he notices.
“needy girl,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you. his hand slides down your stomach, past the torn fabric, until his fingers find the hem of your dress—or what’s left of it. he pushes it up, bunching it around your waist, exposing your soaked panties.
he lets out a low growl. “already this wet? from what? from me dragging you out here? from the way i talked to that guy?”
“all of it,” you admit, your voice shaking. “from you.”
“good girl.” he hooks a finger under the edge of your panties, pulling them aside. the cool air hits your exposed pussy, and you shiver. “because i’m going to fuck you so hard you forget every other man exists. you’ll only remember my name. only remember my cock.”
he pushes a finger inside you without warning. you cry out, your head falling back against the seat. he’s thick, his finger filling you as he pumps slowly, deliberately, watching your face contort with pleasure.
“look at me, princess.”
you force your eyes open, meeting his dark gaze.
“that’s it. i want to see your face when you come. i want to see the exact moment you remember who you belong to.”
he adds a second finger, stretching you, curling them just right, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand.
“eunseok please—”
“please what?” he doesn’t slow down, his thumb finding your clit and pressing in tight circles.
“please fuck me. i need you inside me. now.”
a dark smile curves his lips. “such a good girl, asking so nicely.”
he pulls his fingers out—you whimper at the loss—and reaches down to unzip his pants. his cock springs free, already hard, the tip glistening. he strokes himself once, twice, then positions himself at your entrance, the head pressing against your slick folds.
“you’re going to come on my cock,” he says, his voice rough and low. “and then you’re going to come again. and again. until you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t remember a single moment before i owned you.”
he thrusts in, deep and hard, filling you completely in one movement. you scream—a high, keening sound—as your body stretches to accommodate him. he’s thick, and he knows it, and he doesn’t give you a second to adjust before he starts moving.
his hips slam into yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the car. the seat creaks beneath you, the windows fog from your breath, and he grips your hips so tightly you know there will be bruises tomorrow. you don’t care. you want his marks. want his claim.
“fuck—fuck—you feel so good, baby,” he grunts, his rhythm punishing, relentless. “this tight little pussy… all mine. say it.”
“yours,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“louder.”
“yours!” you’re crying out now, pleasure building, coiling tight in your belly. “all yours, eunseok—only yours—”
“that’s right.” he angles his hips, hitting deeper, and you feel yourself tightening around him, the first orgasm crashing through you like a wave. he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, just keeps fucking you through it, your walls convulsing around his cock as he growls your name.
“one down,” he says, his breathing harsh. “two more to go.”
he pulls out, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness, but he’s already turning you around, pressing your chest against the cool leather of the seat, lifting your ass in the air. the torn dress bunches around your waist, your panties still pulled aside, your pussy dripping and ready.
he slaps your ass—hard—the sting making you gasp. “look at you. so perfect. so fucking desperate.”
he lines himself up again and thrusts back in, this angle even deeper, hitting places that make stars burst behind your eyes. his hand wraps around your hair, pulling your head back, arching your spine.
“you love this, don’t you?” his voice is strained, raw with need. “love being my little slut. love when i take what’s mine.”
“yes, yes—i love it—please, eunseok, please don’t stop—”
“never, princess. never stopping. never letting you go.”
he pounds into you, each stroke driving you higher, your second orgasm building fast. you’re babbling now, words tumbling out—his name, pleas, promises—you don’t even know what you’re saying. all you know is his cock, his hands, his voice filling every sense.
“come for me again,” he commands, his hand moving from your hair to your clit, rubbing tight circles. “come on my cock. let me feel you.”
you shatter. this orgasm is stronger, deeper, your body trembling uncontrollably as you cry out into the leather seats. he keeps fucking you, keeps driving you through it, growling with each thrust.
“that’s it. fucking perfect. one more, baby. one more for me.”
“i can’t,” you gasp, oversensitive, trembling.
“you can. you will.” he shifts, slowing his pace, changing to deep, deliberate strokes that hit your g-spot every time. his thumb works your clit with practiced precision, coaxing. “give me one more. i know you have it. my good girl. my perfect girl.”
the praise mixed with the pleasure undoes you. you sob against the seat as a third orgasm rips through you, this one so intense you feel like you’re floating, your body no longer your own. he follows right after, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick, his groan muffled against your back.
for a moment, there’s only the sound of ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat filling the car. he stays buried inside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.
he presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck, his lips lingering against your skin.
“that dress,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, satisfied, “is going straight in the trash.”
you laugh weakly, still shaking. “you tore it.”
“worth it.” he nuzzles into your hair. “but next time, can you wear something with a zipper, so i can take it off slow before i ruin you.”
you smile, your body humming with spent pleasure. “and if i don’t want slow?”
his arms tighten around you, possessive even in aftercare. “then i’ll ruin you anyway, princess. in or out of a dress. you’re mine.”
he holds you like that for a long time, the car dark and quiet, the party forgotten, the world reduced to just the two of you.
