wh0r3r4ngh43

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

about you ⌁ k.sy [m]

— synopsis: things between you and soonyoung never really end. sometimes you're up all night on the phone, sometimes you make it past the message plans you've been putting off and end up in his bed. It's really up to you, soonyoung has never been anything but about you. – genre: idiots exes to ??? ; angst, fluff. — pairing: ex-boyfriend!kwon soonyoung x fem!reader – word count: 6.1k — rating: 18+. minors do not interact. – warnings: a little rushed but general pining, swearing, they're stupid. mentions of dick jokes because i'm just a silly gal. — what to listen to: no one noticed - the marías ; undressed - sombr ; soft spot - keshi. – author's note: green dividers by @/saradika-graphics. this is for @aeristudios. i'm not very good at sentimental expressions face-to-face, and i did write this in one sitting but i hope this is enough to show that i appreciate you dearly. i know i'm a little late in the day but happy birthday aeris! ♡

YOU AND SOONYOUNG WERE NEVER REALLY OVER.

It was one of the more annoying parts of your tumultuous relationship, knowing that your breakup had been so amicable that he would still come over unannounced. Sometimes you were making dinner and yelling at him to get out, other times you were sprawled on your couch and he cleaned your entire apartment — but most of the time, you just co-existed. He'd lay on the floor in front of your coffee table and flip through whatever Netflix had to offer, and you'd wind up right next to him within ten minutes of him choosing a movie, popcorn bowl in hand.

Your friends found this…odd. To say the least.

From Jeonghan being the master of ghosting to Mingyu filling his time with hobbies to force himself to move on from every relationship he's ever had — the fact that you and Soonyoung dated for six years and then seemingly broke up despite not…actually? Breaking up?

Or ever falling out of love.

It was like sorcery to them. It was strange to see two people they thought would once marry, move their things out of their shared apartment and move in to new ones in opposite directions. And yet: still met every Tuesday for a lunch date, still grocery shopped together, still called and asked if the other wanted something before leaving a favorite spot.

One could say it's healthy, it's friendship, it's being amicable so things aren't awkward. It's only been six months since, anyway.

Others have more to say than normal, despite not having better coping mechanisms.

"It's unhealthy," Seungcheol scoffed, rooting around in your pantry for the protein powder he stashed. Your apartment was closer to his gym, and he let himself in while you were getting ready for work — or slam into you like he did today, sweaty and gross, right as you were exiting in your nicely pressed blouse. Thus, making you late — because you'd rather die than go to work smelling like Choi Seungcheol and zero bitches.

"I don't care what you, of all people, have to say about my dynamic with Soonyoung. You kept half your exes on the hook so long that one of them started believing they were invited to the group hangouts. And then you turned into a gym rat after you dated half the city and couldn't find a nice girl within a 10-mile radius. If I were you, I'd drink my protein shake and shut the hell up." You scoff from your living room, your fingers annoyingly not cooperating with you as you tried to button a new blouse. He snorts from the kitchen, stepping out as you let out a frustrated breath.

"It's not just me that says it, you know that." His voice is too saccharine for your taste, making you scowl as he reaches to button your shirt for you. You allow it, letting him smooth your collar with a knowing look. "I say it because I'm your friend, Y/N." "What, everyone else says it because they're assholes? I know it's not a regular thing, Cheol, but it's not like Soonyoung and I were the most normal couple anyway." You run a hand over your face, checking your watch with your tongue in your cheek. "I'm late. You'll lock up, right?"

You're grabbing your purse without an answer from him, only for your phone to buzz with an incoming call in your pocket. You fish it out as Seungcheol beelines back for the kitchen, the creak of a cabinet followed by an aha! as you answer the call without looking.

"Hello?" You wave at Seungcheol, who gives you a cute smile before you slip out the front door.

"You and me, lunch at Amato's. Whaddya say?" It's Soonyoung, the sound of his stupid stereo blaring in the background. You're not sure if it's his car or if he's at the studio, but either way, it's way too early to hear Thong Song by Sisqo.

"You call me at…8:32 on a Tuesday morning while blasting a sex song to ask if I want to get lunch at Amato's? You've gotta give the bit up at some point, Hosh." You roll your eyes as if he can see you, barreling down the stairs of your complex as he laughs on the other end. You practically sprint to your car, the sky rumbling above you.

"You don't have to call me that, you know. You can just keep calling me Soonie." "We're broken up, you fool. What's the point of pet names without the pet?" "You never told me you were into that—"

"I'm not! God, you're so annoying." You fumble with your door handle, popping it open just as a fat drop of rain lands on your head. You clench your teeth, throwing your bag into your passenger seat as another laugh comes through the staticky call.

"So…Amato's? Yes or no, babe." "Call me babe again, and I'll make sure your 'meatballs' are on the menu—" "Hey, hey! I need those!"

"You're disgusting. Pick me up at noon, if you're late even by a minute I'll have lunch with Jihoon." You hang up before he can reply, taking a deep breath before shoving your keys into the ignition. Cranking the ignition, the engine doesn't start.

"Wonderful. Wonder-fucking-ful." You rub your face, letting out a suffocated scream into your palms before leaning against your horn. "This is fine."

You grab your bag, pulling it over your shoulder with a sniff, turning your nose up as you slam back out of it. Your hand on your hip, you kick your tire rim when Seungcheol's voice rings out behind you.

"Need a ride?" "On a real cowboy, damn it. Can you spare or will you be late?"

You hold a file folder over your head, the sprinkles of rain splattering against it as he grins, rounding the car to open the door for you. You give him a grateful smile, slipping in quickly and shutting his door as he makes his way around. He slides into the driver's side, half-finished protein shake in hand (a cup you'll know you won't get back) when he stills. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, pressing his knuckle into the car's start button before looking over at you.

"It's Tuesday." "…It is. Lots of meetings. Already running late." "You're having lunch with Soonyoung, huh?"

"Will you fuck off?" You sink into the passenger seat, crossing your arms on your chest with a petulant kick of your feet. Seungcheol's stereo turns on, blasting Cupid's Chokehold by Gym Class Heroes through the local radio station.

"Fitting, isn't it?" "Fuck off, Seungcheol."

His laughter fills your ears as he pulls out of the lot.

"You're late." Jihoon calls as you scurry past him, making you scowl.

"Andyou're annoying. Let me be, will you? It's pouring out there." You spit, shucking off your soaked sweater. Grimacing, you shove into a drawer in your desk, settling at your desk as the cold air hits your back.

"Here."

You look up to see Jihoon holding a folded blanket over the divider between your desks. You raise a brow, and he rolls his eyes before tossing it onto your keyboard.

"Just take it. Soonyoung'll have my head if I let his girlfriend freeze." "I'm not his girlfriend anymore, Jihoon."

"That's not what he thinks." Jihoon grouses, making you roll your eyes as you grab the blanket off your keyboard. You wrap it around your shoulders after shaking it out, tonguing your cheek as you sign into your computer. "Speaking of Soonyoung, where are you guys going for lunch today? Just so I don't bump into you."

You snort, looking up from your monitor to see Jihoon staring down at a thick file in his hands, his brows furrowed as he tapped a pen on his lips.

"What makes you think I'm going to lunch with Soonyoung today?"

He looks up, a confused glaze over his eyes as he gestures to the air with his pen.

"It's Tuesday? You guys always go on a lunch date on Tuesdays." He speaks slowly, giving you an insulted look before glancing back down at his file. You blink, before he stands abruptly. "I've got a bone to pick with Mingyu. Let me know when I get back, because I was thinking Amato's today and I don't want to see you guys sharing a bowl of spaghetti a la Lady and the Tramp."

Your reply is caught in your throat as Jihoon whizzes by, his cologne filling your nose as you stare at your keyboard. It was a light purple, a gift from Soonyoung weeks before the two of you started dating all those years ago. Your eyes travel up, the picture on your monitor big and bright in your vision — you, Soonyoung and his dog, Latte, in the middle of a park. You had a beef stick in your hand, and Latte managed to bite it right as Soonyoung took the photo.

It was hers after that.

You feel an odd sensation in your stomach as you clear your throat, opening the employee portal and logging on.

Username: useryn@pledisfinance.com Password: KwonSoonyoung061596!$

Your hands still over the Enter button. You blink once, twice, three times before pressing it — the portal opening and your chest feeling tight as you fumble around for your water bottle. Another gift from Soonyoung, right before the breakup — one you can't stop yourself from using, lest his little minions (re: Seokmin and Seungkwan) report back to him and say they saw you drinking out of a cup instead of the insulated forty-ounce water bottle in baby blue.

You sit momentarily, popping the straw out of the bottle as you glance around the rest of your desk. A framed photo of Latte, another of Latte and Soonyoung, and one of you and him the first time you went to the county fair — sitting in a Ferris Wheel, fear evident in his eyes as you both posed for the camera. You remember him throwing up right after — and you mourned the loss of sixteen dollars worth of frozen mango margaritas. It was a good memory nevertheless, one of the last dates before the two of you sat down and talked about your relationship with no bounds.

Soonyoung had brought it up first — talks of lack of quality time because of your jobs, one he quit shortly after dating you because it was a breach of contract to date within the company. He used his savings to open a dance studio downtown, only two and a half blocks from your office building. That was why you had Tuesday lunch dates, and that was why you'd gotten used to barreling downstairs on Thursday afternoons to see him leaning on his motorcycle with an extra helmet and riding pants for you.

That was how you managed to spend time together. A busy manager at a financial office where everyone but your friends were incompetent and a new small business owner fighting for his spot in the Top 10 Dance Studios on Tripadvisor didn't have much time to spare, even for those they loved most. He brought up a break, a moment to come home late without feeling the ache in his chest at seeing you were already asleep. He brought up a pause, a step back for you to realize if you really wanted to keep feeling your stomach sink knowing he was going to be late picking you up from work on Thursday evenings.

It was you who pulled the plug entirely.

Neither of you cried. You didn't say anything for a full ten minutes, actually — you both sat in your then-shared dining room, glasses of liquor full in front of you before one of you laughed. You don't remember who, but suddenly the room was full of giggles and Soonyoung stood up to plant a soft kiss on your hairline.

"We should go apartment hunting. It'll be bad for us to stay here if we're broken up."

He cleaned the table, and you both ordered takeout to eat in front of the television, sitting thigh to thigh. You went to bed together, your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck and soft I love yous were whispered before you fell asleep. The next week was full of impromptu apartment tours together, correcting agents when they asked if you were together and picking each other's furniture out during breaks in between packing boxes.

You think that was why the split was so clean.

It seemed like there wouldn't be an end to you and Soonyoung anyway — your relationship only being a quick knot in the road that was a lifelong friendship. Your pinkies were linked as you dragged each other through hardware stores, picking new paint colors and you'd complain about sore backs to one another after helping build IKEA furniture. He'd make you stay on his bed and take the couch if you were over too late, he'd make warm breakfast and send you on your way with a full tumbler of tea.

He'd hug you so tight, you wondered if he wanted to let go. If he was reluctantly letting go, and if that was what kept you both so tethered to one another.

It wasn't that you didn't love Soonyoung. You did.

You do.

Talks of marriage were few and far between, but they were lengthy. Conversations about rings, dream venues, how he wanted to wear a nice pink tie instead of the regular black. How he wanted camellias and you wanted hydrangeas, and how you compromised by saying both at the exact same time. You expressed your distaste for stuffy ballrooms, and he eagerly wrapped his arms around you with the admittance of wanting a semi-outdoor celebration.

You looked at rings together. Sapphires, emeralds, infinity bands and even mentions of his mother's 10-carat ring — nothing really caught your eye until he came home from his week-long birthday trip back to his parents' place, one you missed to take care of something a bunch of rookies screwed up at work. He tried to play it cool, he tried to be nonchalant — before popping his suitcase open two days after arriving to reveal a velvet box buried beneath his underwear.

A simple gold band, and a pretty round-cut diamond sitting in the prongs with two sets of three smaller rubies nestled against the sides. With an impish smile, he set it down on the dresser for the two of you to stare at, your hand tight around his as you swallowed nervously.

"Is that—" "I didn't think. I just saw it and I bought it." "…Is this you proposing?"

That conversation was had three years into your relationship, two days after his birthday dinner at Jeonghan's restaurant in downtown. You were both dressed to the nines, all fitted black dress and his nice tie — only to leave the restaurant after and pull through a Wendy's drive-thru with grumbling bellies.

It never came up again. The ring sat on his side of the dresser, among his colognes, and mocking you every morning until you woke up and you weren't sharing an apartment with him anymore. It was then that you finally cried — loud enough that your director didn't question you when you reluctantly called off work, hard enough that you could hardly breathe and long enough that Soonyoung seemingly felt a disturbance in the force and swung by after work.

He too, broke down then. He held you close, promising it wasn't forever. Promising that things would work themselves out, that he'd find a way, that things would change. Linking his pinky finger to yours in a juvenile vow that it was you and him to the ends of the earth — even if it wasn't him in your bed every night, even if you found somebody new.

Even if it hurt him to think that way.

That night ended with him laying on the floor next to your bed, holding your hand over the edge as you slept. He didn't leave until morning, leaving breakfast and a note that said see you next week tucked into a packed lunch bag. You didn't cry about it again, instead getting dressed for work and hiking the bag over your shoulder with your purse.

You decided you'd distance yourself a bit after that, and you assumed it was what Soonyoung would want, too — until you stepped outside on Thursday evening that same week, seeing your ex-boyfriend slow to a stop in front of your office building. He pulled his helmet off, black hair falling into his eyes as he turned to see you standing a few feet away.

It wasn't like you weren't expecting it. You'd taken a rideshare to work that morning out of habit, charging the fifteen dollars to Soonyoung's credit card on the app.

Whether you like it or not, Soonyoung's got you in a grip you're not so sure you want to be freed from. It's like his fingers hold the oxygen you need, wrapped tight around your throat but fully willing to let go. Fully able to let go, but refusing to because you've got him the exact same way.

Soonyoung doesn't know a life that isn't all about you. He'd gone to college with you after meeting you his senior year of high school, he'd landed two internships with you back to back, he'd gotten you both hired at Pledis Finance and he left so you'd get your promotion and he'd still get to be your boyfriend. He opened his business, he made good money and he tried to make more time for the two of you now that he was his own boss. He tried everything, even pulling strings at your job to get you off early every few Fridays — and it worked. Soonyoung's life is having his cake and eating it, too, and it's all about you.

"Ugh."

You click out of the portal on your screen, moving to settings and removing the photo of you and Soonyoung with a default screensaver.

"Yowch, chaos in utopia? Did Boyfriend leave the stove on again?"

You hear Wonwoo behind you, before the heat of his chest is right next to the back of your chair. You scowl, swatting your hand over your shoulder and brushing the collar of his shirt as he snickers.

"He's not my boyfriend, Jeon. Shut up." "Well, he's certainly something. And speaking of him, he's moping in the group chat about how you hung up on him earlier. You might wanna get him to shut up before Minghao kicks him out again."

You shove Wonwoo's shoulder behind you, only earning more mischievous giggles as he practically skipped away, and you glanced at the photos on your desk. A moment passes before you grab all of them and shove them into a drawer with a clatter, before the buzz of your phone catches your attention.

NEW! [3] Messages In: After Hours 🍸 Soonyoung 💘: she hung up on me! Cheol: dude we do not care Jihoon: retweet ^

You tongue your cheek, quickly clicking around before shooting the message off and tossing your phone in the very same drawer. A hoot is heard across the office, but you only open your portal again and take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus.

Message To: After Hours 🍸 ↳ Replying to: Kwon Soonyoung YOU: minghao can you boot him plz

NEW! [2] Messages In: After Hours 🍸 Hao: with pleasure Kwon Soonyoung: hey!!! Hao has removed Kwon Soonyoung from the group.

NEW! [2] Messages from: Kwon Soonyoung [11:58 AM] ditching the bike. coming to get you on foot since amato's is a block away. [12:01 PM] where are you? i'm outside.

"You're not very funny, you know."

Soonyoung is pouting as you tuck your hands into your jacket pockets, your heels clicking against the pavement as he falls into lockstep besides you. You bite back a smile, shrugging your shoulders as he drapes his arm over them and pulls you into his side. You don't touch him, giving him a sideways glance as your hand clenches in your pocket — usually tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I'm hilarious, thank you. Where's the bike?" "Reducing my carbon footprint. Add me back to the group or you pay for your own alfredo."

"I can afford a fifteen dollar plate of alfredo pasta, Soonyoung." You snort, only for him to stomp his foot as you reach the crosswalk.

"You shouldn't have to, though. Why can't you just let me love you?" He grumbles, and you feel your heart sink just a bit as the light changes, allowing you to cross quickly.

"I have let you love me, and I continue to let you in this weird little situation we have going on. If you wanna pay for my lunch, be my guest." You shrug again, seeing the blinking red sign of Amato's come into view. "How's work? Still struggling with that 3 PM client?"

"I don't get lunch with you to talk shop." He scoffs, his hand on your shoulder swiping your collarbone. "How's your back? If it still hurts I can get you in with Chan at the massage spa. Great guy, always uses this really nice almond oil."

"Pft, no thanks. My back is fine, Mingyu got me a pillow for my desk chair." You pat your back unceremoniously, and Soonyoung's lip juts out in a pout.

"You let Mingyu buy you things?" "Don't get jealous, it's not a good look on you."

"'M not jealous." He mutters, "just wondering what a twerp like him has to offer you."

"That twerp is our friend, Soonyoung. Watch your mouth." You remind him, your tone bored as he huffs. He mutters under his breath, and you seemingly don't care enough to catch it as you both stop at the corner. A couple is standing beside you, headed in the same direction — and the girl's ring finger catches your eye.

Yellow gold, marquis-cut ruby.

"…and she said she doesn't want to book the slot anymore because it takes up too much of her time. Lady, all the slots are 90-minutes anyway, and I don't do private sessions with less than 4 people. I don't know what…are you paying attention? Babe."

Soonyoung's hand squeezes your shoulder, and you tear your eyes away from the girl's hand to meet his worried ones. You realize you're on the other side of the street, in front of the restaurant doors.

"You okay? You kinda…spaced out there." "What did I say about calling me babe?"

You let out a breath, feigning annoyance as he pulls the door open. The smell of hearty marinara fills your heart as you step inside, your hand in your pocket coming out to pull him forward by his shirt. He stumbles next to you, and you smile at the hostess that knows you both by name now.

"Hey, guys! Booth in the back, right?" She grins, and you nod quickly before she lets you slip past her. Your hand on Soonyoung's shirt is grabbed by his own, and you yank it out of his grasp before he can interlace your fingers.

"Sit on that side." You point at the opposite side of the booth as you slide into the other, and you ignore the wounded puppy look on his face as he slips into it reluctantly.

"Are you mad at me or something?" He asks softly, and you don't get a chance to reply when your favorite waitress, Saerom, skids in front of your booth with two glasses of water and a basket of bread. She sets them down, pulling a ramekin of garlic butter from her apron pocket and sliding it next to the bread with a quick smile that fades faster than a New York minute.

"Ooh, trouble in paradise? You guys never sit across." She questions, whipping out her notepad as you clear your throat. "Anything I can do?"

"Uh, nope. Just the usual, please." You say quickly, and she gives you a concerned look as Soonyoung shifts uncomfortably. He shucks his jacket off, giving Saerom a quick nod as she awkwardly skirts away. You fiddle with the straws at the end of the table, tossing one across the table for him before tearing the paper off your own and shoving it into your glass.

"Y/N? Did I do something?"

You shake your head, "Nope. Just eat your bread, Soonyoung."

He seems unsatisfied by the answer, but doesn't push it. You both sit in silence, the tap of Soonyoung's shoe the only sound in your vicinity as the restaurant remains solemn on the early Tuesday afternoon.

You clear your throat twice without anything to say, and for once, he doesn't say anything either. Sitting across from one another is weird, and the side of your thigh where his usually brushes is cold as you rub your hand over your slacks to warm it up. He seems slightly defeated but like he doesn't want to push it, he doesn't want to make a conversation uncomfortable — something that Soonyoung never shied away from. To be uncomfortable is to subject yourself to growth, to new beginnings, to understandings.

But he does nothing of the sort as he chews his bread for too long and finishes his first glass of water in three sips.

Saerom comes and goes — more bread, your appetizers of soup and arancini, your entrees of lasagna and classic alfredo with tagliatelle pasta noodles. The crease between her brows grows deeper as she slides a dessert menu on the table in the middle of you pushing your pasta around.

Your chest feels tight as he rests his chin on his palm, chewing aimlessly around the same bite of lasagna. Your eyes meet for a moment, before you set your fork down. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Saerom talking with the bartender, Joshua. You stare at the pasta on your plate, the letters on the dessert menu blurring as your eyes slowly fill with tears.

"What are we doing?" You whisper, and he stills.

"What do you mean?" "What are we doing, Soonyoung?"

You blink rapidly, willing the tears back as you shrug. "Tuesday lunch, Thursday night drives…I still get off early every other Friday because of you. I still spend the night at your place once a week like we did before we moved in together. There's pictures of you and Latte on my desk at work, you're my screensaver on every device I own that isn't my television. I still make kimchi fried rice at two in the morning and expect you to walk out of the bedroom and join me on the couch."

Looking back up at him, you tilt your head to the side.

"So what are we doing, Soonyoung? Why are we doing this? What do we gain?"

He sits for a minute. The longest minute of your life, you think, as you cross and uncross your legs beneath the table. He stares at you for the minute, too — his eyes darting all over your face. Reading you, taking you in as his tongue peeks out to lick his lips.

"I don't know how to live a life that doesn't revolve around you." He whispers, but it's shaky. His fingers tremble as he traces the logo of the restaurant on the table mat, his eyes glossy as he shrugs. "It's selfish. I'm selfish, even, but it's the truth. I've never known a moment that isn't full of you and I don't know how I've made it this long without breaking down and begging you to take me back. I've never hated a mattress more than the one I have now. It smells like you without you slipping being under my covers when I get home late, and I can't bring myself to look at half the clothes in my closet without thinking of you. You're everywhere and nowhere and I can't sleep well most nights, no matter how tired I am, because it's cold without you. I'm freezing without you."

He taps the table mat, sniffling as a singular tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes at it haphazardly, clearing his throat as he looks away.

"I don't know what we're doing. I don't know but I don't care as long as I keep seeing you, even if it hurts me to know that I can't kiss you. I can't kiss you, or call you baby, or call you mine but I don't care." The words come out in one breath, your lip trembling as you hold back a sob. "You're all I know. My entire existence is dedicated to you. How could I just let that go?"

"Because this is unhealthy." "You sound like Seungcheol. Stop hanging out with that guy, he'll poison the well."

He scoffs, wiping his eyes roughly as you suck in the deepest breath possible. Your throat aches as your hand finds your wallet, deep in the pocket of your slacks. He looks at you with such a tenderness in his gaze, your stomach flipping as you try to clear your throat.

"I don't know what we're doing, but I know how I feel. How I've always felt and how I know you feel, too." His voice still shakes, but he's confident. He squeezes his eyes shut, nibbling on his lip before sighing and forcing himself to look at you.

"So what the hell are we doing? Why aren't we together? Why am I meeting you three times a week when I could come home to you every night? Why can't I think of you when I'm in the fucking shower without feeling guilty? Why are we doing this?"

"You think of me in the shower?" You blurt, and he tongues his cheek.

"You're missing the point." "What point? That you're a pervert?" "So what? I'm not allowed to fantasize about my girlfriend of six fucking years? God forbid a man has hobbies."

"I'm not your girlfriend, is the problem." You shoot back, and he rolls his eyes, sliding out of his booth and rounding the table to sit next to you. He pushes you further into it with his hip, his jeans brushing your slack as he rearranges the plates. "Soonyoung."

"No. We have time for each other and I miss being woken up by the sound of pots and pans banging as Riverdale plays way too loud on the television. I miss talking about getting married and remembering the gleam in your eyes when you thought I was proposing, and I regret not doing it. I regret thinking I wasn't ready because I've always been ready and I've always been yours, even if you're not mine."

He shifts in his seat, his knee bumping yours as he turns.

"I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for over ten years. Since college, I've known who seared her name into my heart and if it's not you, then it's no one. We can end it, fully, and I'll do everything I can to move on if that's what you want." His hand grabs yours from on top of your thigh, squeezing softly as you glance at him through teary eyes.

"Just don't tell me you don't love me anymore." "I could never." "Then what are we doing? Why are we still sitting here when I could get Jeonghan to let you off early and we can move all your shit into my place? Or even get a new place together? What are we doing?"

"Wasting time." Saerom's voice calls out from across the restaurant as she thumbs through a wad of cash, and Joshua elbows her with a pointed look. "Ouch, you bastard! It's not like I lied!"

"You're meddling." He grits, and you let out a pitiful laugh as Soonyoung interlaces your fingers. "Guys, it's on us if you wanna go…make out, or something."

"Who's meddling now?" Saerom grumbles, and he shoves her shoulder lightly as Soonyoung smiles softly. "Come on. I'll even take you on a date. We can go on a ride around the Han River like we did on our first date, I'll buy you a soda from the same vending machine and shake it so it explodes like it did then."

"Is that when you realized I was the one? After I told you that Nissan dick joke?"

He rolls his eyes, pulling you out of the booth as you chuckled.

"I knew you were the one before that stupid joke." "Prove it. You, me, the Han River on your bike and a shaken orange soda. I'll find another dick joke on the way there." "Done deal."

"YOU OWE ME SIXTY BUCKS."

Seungcheol slaps the back of Mingyu's head as they sip beers on the carpet of your apartment. The younger scowls, shoving Seungcheol away as he snickers.

"I didn't even make that bet with you, it was Jeonghan." He mutters, but digs his wallet out of his pocket anyway. You quickly reach over and pluck the cash out of Mingyu's fingers, sticking your tongue out at a sulking Seungcheol. "Hey!"

"Is for horses. You're not allowed to bet on two people in love, it's in poor taste." You scoff, shoving them into the pocket of your shorts. "Plus, consider it payment for helping me pack up my apartment."

"Shouldn't you be paying us?" Mingyu blinks, and you shake your head.

"I put up with you guys bitching and moaning after offering to help me move so I could get out of here faster. It's like, reparations for subjecting me to your manly grumbling. Not to mention, you bet on the love of my life coming back to me as if we weren't in utter limbo."

"Why are you guys just sitting there? Help me move the boxes!" Soonyoung scolds them from the doorway of your bedroom, Jihoon squeezing out with a box labeled shoes.

"Why do you have so many fucking shoes? Are you a caterpillar?" He grouses, pushing past the two men scrambling to get up from the carpet and beelining for the door. You roll your eyes, watching as Seungcheol and Mingyu clamber into your bedroom as Soonyoung slips out of the way. You attempt to duck out of his path, but he grabs the belt loop of your shorts and pulls you back into his chest.

"Why are you running?" "Not running, whatever do you mean?" "So, avoiding?"

"Gasp, I'd never avoid my fiancé." You feign shock as he presses a kiss to your cheek, sinking his teeth into it lightly before swat him away. "Stop it! We have guests!"

"Oh, spare the excuses. You guys fucked in my car once." Seungcheol retorts, and Soonyoung kicks the back of his thigh. He scowls, giving a horse-like kick back before scurrying out of the apartment.

Soonyoung's arms slide around your waist, making you roll your eyes as he sways you back and forth. You settle your hands atop his, before feeling one of his hands slide over your left. He fiddles with the ring on your finger, tugging at it gently.

"Are we ready for this?" You whisper, looking down at the glimmer of the gemstone in the low light. He flips your hand over, the letter S engraved on the band staring back up at you both. "Soonyoung."

"Born ready, I think. After all…I've always been all about you."

Messages In: After Hours 🍸 Gyu: i don't think we should add him back. he's gonna talk about how much he loves yn and it's gonna make me barf. Jihoon: still dealing with that breakup, huh? you'll be alright, bud. Jihoon added Soonyoung 💘 to the group. Soonyoung 💘: I'M BACK BITCHES! WHO WANTS TO BE A GROOMSMAN! Jeonghan: YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED? SEUNGCHEOL YOU OWE ME EIGHTY BUCKS! You removed Jeonghan from the group. You removed Cheol from the group. You: anyone else? Seokmin: plz tell me i can be the flower girl Seungkwan: nice try, it's gonna be me. Soonyoung 💘: honey i'm outside to pick you up Hao has removed Soonyoung 💘 from the group. Hao: please be gross elsewhere. You: hey hao? Hao: i'm not adding him back. what do you want? You: do you like poutine? Hao:… You added Soonyoung 💘 to the group. Soonyoung 💘: poutine this DICK in your mouth Hao has removed Soonyoung 💘 from the group. Hao has removed you from the group.

haologram © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

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jeon jungkook fanfics that should be turned into a movie or a book! 🎬 (jungkook masterlist).

Thank you authors for your infinite imagination and creativity! My days are better because of you <3

Get him back by @inthelow (f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook) ongoing

Still don’t know my name by @dollfaceksj (jungkook x reader) completed

Kinktober D14- thigh job/ humping by @redcherrykook (jungkook x reader) completed

Play pretend by @frmisnow (best friend!jk x reader) •fake dating, friends with benefits, friends to lovers completed• part 1 part 2 part 3 completed

If i told you by @gukyi (jungkook x reader) •friends to lovers!au, college!au/ fluff, comedy, angst completed

Boy with luv by @hannieehaee (barista!reader, sub-ish!jk) completed

Can i keep you? by @mikrokcsmos (ghostjk! x reader) completed

Habits (Stay High) by @girlygguk (student plug!jk x rich girl!reader) ongoing

Teach me How to love by @kookooluvr (professor!jungkook, professor!reader) • fwb!au, co-workers!au • ongoing

Bed Chem by @muniimyg (frenemie! jk x reader) • uni au, frenemies • completed

Between the ride and the roses by @focusonkayjay (biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader) • enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn • ongoing

Calling It Now by @newmittens (jungkook x reader) • Friends to Lovers; Grad School AU • completed

Bad things by @girlygguk (jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader) • f2l, fwb au, university au • ongoing

One night stand by @buryhny (ceo!jk x graphic designer! reader) • enemies to lovers, CEO au, pregnancy trope, slowburn • ongoing

First Sightings by @kookiestiddies (jungkook x reader) • Enemies With Potential • ongoing

Total loser by @frmisnow (rockstarjk! x reader) completed

NEED TO KNOW by @hannieehaee (virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk x reader) • college au • completed

Unspoken by @armpirate ( Boyfriend's friend!jk, Soldier!jk x reader) completed

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myg fic recs 01

yoongi fics are dangerous. goes from vibing, deep in emotional chaos or unspeakably filthy smut. so… here’s me handing you the matches and the gasoline. enjoy responsibly (or don’t). lol.

♡ name: undeniable temptation by taevescence ♡ link: undeniable temptation ♡ paring: CEO!Yoongi x Fem!Reader ♡ summary: It's three in the morning and you're still awake. The clock keeps ticking, and Yoongi still hasn't called. There were never any promises of love in your marriage, but even so, the thought of him being with another woman tears your soul apart— and the fact that he doesn’t feel the same way you do only makes it worse. ♡ words counting: 7.8k ♡ warnings: smut, arranged marriage, bad boy energy, unprotected sex, yoongi is a jerk then a sweetheart. ♡ my comment: angsty, messy, and so satisfying, this is the kind of fic that has you muttering “ugh” before immediately reading it again. the writting is amazing and i might end up doing a long rec for this one. i love long fic, btw.

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♡ name: pretty girls lie pretty by @kikiskook ♡ link: pretty girls lie pretty ♡ paring: Yoongi x Reader ♡ summary: What if your girlfriend’s pissy friend didn’t want to steal you away? What if he just wanted to fuck the goodness out of you? And what if you let him? ♡ words counting: 15k ♡ warnings: cheating, degradation, tongue piercing yoongi, hate sex vibes, spitting, choking, orgasm denial, public risk, impact play, absolutely no aftercare. ♡ my comment: i read this whole thing in one afternoon cause i was like........ so obsessed, cause like, how could i not be? you will need a shower and possibly confession after this.

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♡ name: say you remember by @writesvani ♡ link: say you remember ♡ paring: Idol!Yoongi x Writer!Reader ♡ summary: You don’t expect much when your eyes meet his across the café-bar—just a fleeting glance, a moment that should mean nothing. But then there’s another look. And another. Before you know it, you’re tangled up in something that isn’t love, isn’t commitment—just an escape wrapped in late-night encounters and whispered goodbyes. ♡ words counting: 10.2k (more coming soon) ♡ warnings: angst, fluff, smut, yearning, jealousy, miscommunication, age gap, fwb dynamics. ♡ my comment: im crazy in a kind of maniacal way about fanfics in the idol universe. so...

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♡ name: quality control by @pr1nce-jm ♡ link: quality control ♡ paring: Idol!Yoongi x Best Friend!Reader ♡ summary: yoongi is seeking some feedback for his new track and the only person he trusts for quality control, is you. ♡ words counting: 1.3k ♡ warnings: fluff, almost-friends-to-lovers, affection, soft soft yoongi. ♡ my comment: pure serotonin in fic form. i wish it was longer. love this pair.

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                   ☆ ALL DAY & ALL NIGHT . . ! ft. SEUNGCHEOL.

☆ content. seungcheol x fem! reader. just cheol getting his pussy fill no matter what the time is. ☆ warnings. unprotected sex, missionary, mate press, creampie. ☆ wc. 0.7k+

       MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

seungcheol ruts his hips against yours, thick thighs slapping against yours in a frenzy. his girthy cock stretches your gummy walls, bringing a pleasure that makes you moan uncontrollably. he presses his body weight against you, caging you in between his arms. and you’re so uncomfortably wet, slick dripping down to the bed. 

“god, you’re so fucking wet.” he grunts against your ears, slipping his cock in and out of your abused hole with ease. you can’t even reply, already dumbed out on his cock. your whiny moans resonate through the walls of your bedroom accompanied by the sound of slapping skins and the creaking bed. 

the digital clock on your night table reads 11:53. a few minutes away from tomorrow yet here you are, getting your pussy stretched to satiate the needs of your boyfriend. 

he pulls back to watch the way his angry tip disappears between your pretty folds. your slick coats his cock, forming a creamy ring around the base of his cock. and god, the sound of your wet cunt squelching each time he enters you, drives him insane. he’s suddenly overcome with the urge to bury his tongue in your heat—a pavlovian reaction. 

his eyes drift upwards, greeted by your tits bouncing with each and every thrust. and finally, he looks at your fucked out expression. eyebrows cinching, eyes pressed shut in pleasure, your lower lip tucked between your teeth, muffling your moans. he lifts a hand towards your lips, freeing your lip from your teeth. you moan out loud while making eye contact. just how he likes it. 

you look fucking ethereal and he just fucking can’t take it anymore. 

seungcheol briefly stops his movements to readjust his position. your tummy tingles with excitement as he pushes your legs towards your body, folding you in half. he leans forward, letting you rest your legs on his shoulders. his cock is still buried in your heat and the new position allows him to venture deeper. 

he’s balls deep, cock twitching with the need to release. all his restraints break when you moan against his ear. 

in an instant, your hands are pinned above your head as he drives his hips into yours with no mercy. your legs tremble on his shoulders and a lone tear escapes your eyes. your moans dissolve on his tongue as your lips meet. he tilts his head, tongue exploring every nook and crook of your mouth. 

his rhythm turns erratic, each pound driving you closer to your climax. his tongue glides over yours, swallowing each of your moans. 

you lose it all when he brings a hand between your sweat bodies to rub your sensitive clit. his thumb plays with the nub, drawing circles and pressing harshly against it. a certain drag of his cock and a press to your clit has you coming undone in his arms. 

he breaks the kiss, and a string of saliva follows his lips. his thrusts carry more weight now, easing you through your climax. breathless moans spill from your lips, hips bucking into his hand as he’s still drawing slow circles on your clit. 

his tempo breaks abruptly, cock twitching inside you as he inches closer to his release. you clench around him, tightening your walls around his length. he cums inside you with a loud moan, hips stuttering to a stop. he pushes deeper inside you, filling your abused cunt with his seeds. 

you’re so overstimulated that your brain shortcircuits—you don’t remember anything else other than his name and his cock that is still buried deep inside you. and just when you thought he was done with you, he flips you onto your stomach. pressing down your back as he enters your cunt again. 

the clock reads 12:05 as he thrust into your cunt again. getting fucked into a new day has never been better. 

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Confused jamie lee curtis holding a phone with confused lee seokmin holding a phone

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

let me hear you | 18+

synopsis: No one knows, but the only way you’d been able to get off these past six months has been Baek100, a budding audio porn creator known for his elaborate scenes and duality. No one knows, but Baekhyun is the number one viewer of your cozy-game streams, supporting you from afar while also not always having innocent intentions when watching you. As a celebration for hitting 10k subs, you decide to host a private video call with one random, lucky viewer…

word count: 9.9k (an all-time high for me i think)

genres and content: Baekhyun x f!reader | nonidol!au, extremely explicit smut (mdni mdni mdni mdni), mutual pining and obsession, original character (side character), Kyungsoo (side character), Mongryong (lol), light alcohol consumption

18+ warnings and content: some generally pervy vibes, masturbation (f and m), excessive dirty talk, swearing, etc., dominant!baekhyun, fingering, oral sex (both f and m receiving), face-fucking, degradation, humiliation, orgasm denial, overstimulation, light spanking, p in v, crying (not from pain), somewhat unsafe sex (reader is on the pill), creampie

a/n: this is so fucking explicit and dirty and barely has enough plot to be called a fic. please be aware before continuing to read. do not read if you are under the age of 18. i'm serious. you have been warmed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I think it’s time for me to go to sleep now,” you say, hitting the minus button on your Switch. While you save your file, you look over at the chat to see the series of protesting messages, various exclamations of noooo and just a little longer pls!! 

“You guys are sweet,” you laugh. “But I have some appointments tomorrow so I should be getting some shut-eye. Remember that I stream again on Wednesday night, so I look forward to seeing you all then!” You wave at the camera, reading the chat as the messages change to goodbyes as well, different goodnight! and see u soon! scrolling by. One message is longer compared to the rest and it catches your eye. “Have a good rest. See you on Wednesday!” In a flash, it’s gone, swallowed by the rolling sea of text. You end the stream and sit back in your chair, breathing out a sigh of relief.

You do have appointments tomorrow, but that wasn’t the reason why you decided to end the stream a little earlier than usual. The real reason was a notification that had arrived about 20 minutes ago. The quiet ping! from your phone caught your attention, and you had skimmed the text right before it disappeared: [New Audio] 18+... You began to feel the familiar flicker of heat coiling low in your stomach, and suddenly collecting bugs for Blathers in Animal Crossing was the furthest thing on your mind.

You rush through your bedtime routine, turn out the lights, and slip under your covers, finally tapping on that notification. The post pops up and you skim the body of text.

Baek100:

[New Audio with sfx]: 18+ only. Childhood best friends to lovers. Soft mdom, praise, pet names, oral (listener receiving), intercourse, creampie

Hi everyone! Back again with a new audio, I’m sorry I missed last week’s ;-; The last few have been a little hardcore and I’ve been in the mood for something sweet lately. I hope you don’t mind! Enjoy~

Baek <3

Click here for audio: [25:42]

You settle back onto your pillows, pop in your earbuds, and click the link, closing your eyes. The scenario begins with the sound of knocking, then a door swinging open.

“Hi!” You catch yourself smiling at Baek100’s cheerful voice, in spite of yourself. “Long time no see.”

The audio continues for some minutes innocently, and you let yourself get caught up in the elaborate fantasy of it. Some people might call Baek100 boring (and some have, from the few times you’ve looked in his comment section), but that’s because he actually takes some time to get to the porn parts. You can’t get enough of it, ever since you stumbled on his account a few months ago after your roommate drunkenly admitted that audio porn was the only way she could get off. It honestly piqued your interest — who doesn’t find moaning hot? After filtering through different audios of guys lazily jerking off into a mic, finding his account was like a breath of fresh air. The way he cares enough to craft a narrative, making sure each and every audio is different from the last. And he’s good at voice acting too, always putting the right amount of fondness, or desire, or jealousy, or whatever emotion is called for in his voice.

You drift your hand slowly down your body, dipping under the band of your pajama shorts as the action begins to pick up. “I’m sorry if you hate me after this, but I need to tell you or else I’ll regret it forever. I’m so in love with you. I always have been.” You imagine him kissing you, as the voice in your ear does the same, whispering sweet nothings, like “You’re so beautiful,” and “I’ve been wanting to do this for so long.” Then he says, brokenly, desperately, “Can I taste you? Please, I need it.”

Arousal surges through you as you dip your fingers into your folds, already coming away wet. You can see the scene so clearly in your mind’s eye: being gently pushed back onto your bed, a man with indistinguishable features kissing down your body. He spreads your legs and gives your clit a soft, open-mouthed kiss before diving in, tongue delving into you, hands keeping your thighs apart. Aside from his elaborate scenes, Baek100 is also known for almost always recording some sort of oral scene. He has them down to a science at this point, moaning and whimpering into the microphone alongside the wet sound effects that he adds in. You rub your clit lazily, fingers circling the nub unhurriedly to match the audio’s pace. 

It doesn’t take long to get you completely riled up with him praising you like this, slipping two fingers into your cunt when he asks, no, begs, to fuck you. You imagine him pounding into you, kissing you all over, groaning into your ear. You teeter on the edge of orgasm but you stop, stilling your hand inside yourself. You always, always wait for the moment, waiting for —

“Fuck, are you gonna cum for me, angel?” he grunts. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, my gorgeous girl.”

You resume your pace furiously, orgasm crashing into you as you imagine his teeth pulling on your earlobe, fingers pressing indents into your hips as he chases his own high. He comes with a choked moan, spilling himself inside of you, laughing breathlessly as his breathing slows. You could just turn the audio off now that you’re finished and sated, but instead you finish out the last few minutes of the scene as he kisses you gently, relieved that you accepted his confession. “I love you,” he whispers. “So much.”

Instead of just heading to sleep like you usually do, you decide to scroll through the comments of his post. Even though it’s just been uploaded, there are already a couple. One that calls him the most overrated creator on the site, but a couple of thirsty ones praising his voice, saying how hard they came just from listening. No one even says anything about the sweetness of it, just a bunch of filthy desires. You can’t help yourself — you feel a twinge of jealousy reading those words. Even though you’re technically just like them, just another person getting off to his voice, you can’t help but think that he’s yours, your little secret. You haven’t even told your roommate about him, and she’s the reason why you even got here in the first place.

You snort at yourself and roll over, placing your phone facedown on your nightstand. How could you be getting possessive over someone that’s just a voice to you? You close your eyes and drift into a restful sleep.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s Wednesday, and Baekhyun’s eating dinner when he gets the notification. 

[LIVE]: more SDV tonight! braving skull cavern (again) ₍^. .^₎⟆

Immediately, he clicks on the notification and smiles when he sees you, still setting up your game. You have the cutest focused expression on your face, not even paying attention to the camera or chat in the slightest. He types out a comment anyways. Good evening! How was your appointment? He sets his phone back on the table and shovels down another mouthful of noodles. To his surprise, your eyes flit to the screen just in time to catch his message.

“Oh, it was alright!” you say. “Pretty boring. Just my annual checkup and I had to pick up some prescriptions from the pharmacy.” Baekhyun doesn’t reply, but others fill in with their messages of concern. “Nothing serious, don’t worry. I’m good and healthy. Anyways, I think we can get started now. So we’re trying to get to floor 100 of Skull Cavern…”

Baekhyun’s been watching your streams for the better part of a year now, and every day he kicks himself for not interacting with you before. While you aren’t a huge streaming celebrity, you’re big enough now to be unable to catch every single message as they scroll by, and you also have a set of dedicated fans that watch almost every one of your streams. Of course, by definition Baekhyun would be one of those people, but he feels different, separate from them. Not hounding you for your attention, badgering you to play certain games, or straight up harassing you in chat. But watching quietly, listening to the small details of your life that you let slip, chiming in when there’s a moment to do so.

He has you on in the background as he goes about his night, cleaning up dinner, taking Mongryong out for a walk, tidying up around his apartment. He’s editing the latest audio cut for work when there’s the sound of knocking on your stream. He glances at his phone to see you sighing. “I hope my roommate gets that,” you say. The knock repeats, insistent. “Ah, sorry guys, let me go see who that is.” 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen when you get up from your chair to reveal that you’re wearing the tiniest little cotton shorts. They hug you like a second skin and when you turn away, he can’t help but notice the curve of your ass as you walk. He swallows, looking away and tries in vain to focus on his laptop in front of him, which is easier said than done when his cock is stirring with interest underneath his sweats.

You return shortly after, quickly settling into your seat before Baekhyun can catch another good glimpse of your body. “It was just our neighbor,” you say. “My roommate was napping.” You continue to play as if nothing happened, as if you haven’t just left Baekhyun hard and aching. He stares at the screen again, gaze roaming your body — the dip of your collarbone, the column of your neck, your lips… God, how many times has he stared at your lips, thinking about all the things you could do with them.

He stares down at his now fully-formed erection and sighs, tossing his laptop to the side and pulling out his leaking cock. He wraps his hand around the base and pumps himself, closing his eyes. He’s done this so many times, endlessly imagining you under him, on top of him, your pretty lips wrapped around his dick. He would give it to you nicely, if you wanted, fucking you sweet and gentle with your hands interlaced. But if you asked… he’d pin you down and slam his hips into you until you were shaking and begging underneath him, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re incoherent. Just how pretty your face would look, jaw slack and eyes glassy and needy, tears streaming down your face. He’d coax out every single moan, every gasp, every whimper until the only word you remembered how to say was his name.

He opens his eyes, jerking himself off with more urgency now, seeking the image of you on his phone. You’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth in concentration, battling monsters in Skull Cavern. “No, no, no,” you mumble as your health bar rapidly depletes. There’s the telltale chime of your death, and the sigh that leaves your lips afterwards is borderline pornographic. “Fuck,” you whine, throwing your head back.

That tips Baekhyun over the edge and he’s cumming, spilling over his fingers and his stomach, your name leaving his mouth in a hushed whisper. He stays like that for a few beats, breathing heavily as his heart rate settles. He grimaces as he’s brought back to reality by your laughter, having read something funny in chat. A tidal wave of shame washes over him as he reaches for a tissue to clean himself off. 

Of course, he doesn’t know you, doesn’t know anything at all about your personal life or what you get up to, but based on your streams you seem like such a wholesome, innocent person. Your cutesy persona wasn’t overdone in an artificial way, but was ever-present, with your pink setup, emoticon usage, and choice in games. Even if that weren’t the case, Baekhyun feels a little guilty having such depraved images flash in his mind’s eye whenever he sees you. It was this guilt that had led him to start posting audios after all — just some way for him to pour out his sexual fantasies about you, make them feel a little more tangible, a little more real. He was already competent with audio editing from work, and hey, the little bit of Patreon money he made on the side was a nice bonus. But in any case, the bottom line is that you definitely don’t deserve some perv like Baekhyun jerking off to you. Not when you’re so nice and sweet.

“We’re reaching the end of the stream but I wanted to make a little announcement before I go,” you say, smiling cheerfully into the camera. “I’m going to make a post on Instagram right now as a celebration of reaching 10k subs! Don’t think I didn’t notice.” You laugh, and the sound makes Baekhyun’s heart melt, just a little bit. “If you comment on it with how long you’ve been watching my streams, you can enter to randomly win a one-on-one call with me! We can play games together or just hang out, whatever you want to do. And since you’re watching this live, you can get a head start.”

Baekhyun practically dives for his phone, pulling up your Instagram profile. He refreshes, then again, then again, until the post pops up. I’ve been watching you for almost a year! he comments. He hears you giggling again on stream. “You guys are fast, huh?” you tease, and it almost feels like you’re talking directly to him. “Anyways, I’ll release the results during Monday’s stream! See you all very soon.” The stream ends, and Baekhyun’s apartment suddenly feels more empty than it was before it started. He refreshes the post again, seeing more and more comments appear, his chances of speaking to you privately sinking lower and lower. He shakes his head at himself. It’s random anyways. Better not get his hopes up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Okay, so can everyone see my screen?” You look for confirmation in chat that the random number generator is visible to everyone else. After reading the resounding yes’s, you hover your mouse over the button. “Alright, so I don’t want anyone to have any hard feelings or feel upset. It’s all just fun and games, and you have my word that this is randomly picked. Are we ready?” You hit the button and watch the numbers spin before finally landing on 4. Humming to yourself, you pull up the document that assigned the Instagram usernames of everyone who entered in the order of when they commented. You look for the fourth username and highlight the text, bolding it.

“Congratulations, bhyunbyun!” you say cheerfully. “If you’re watching this, I will be dm’ing you with details very soon.” You read through chat for the remaining minutes on stream, trying not to take too much stock in some of the more aggressive messages of disappointment. You try to stay unbothered by it, but you can feel that your smile is forced, stretched around the edges when you end the stream. 

You head out to the living room and sigh.“Ugh, some of these people are so entitled.” You flop onto the couch next to your roommate, Selina, who scooches over to give you room.

“I’m telling you, it’s those gamer guys. They’re a different breed.” She blows on her nails that she’s currently painting a deep burgundy. “They think that you’re their Ramona Flowers or something.”

“I just can’t believe that they think I rigged it. I did the whole thing right in front of their faces.” You sigh, pulling out your phone. “Lemme message the winner, I need your help vetting him to make sure it’s not one of those.” You type in the username and pass your phone off to Selina.

Her eyes widen as she scrolls through his posts. “Dude, he’s so hot. Like seriously, I think this might be a catfish.” She hums thoughtfully but then her lips purse in surprise. “No wait. If this is a catfish, he’s a really convincing one. There’s posts that go back until like 2017.”

You groan, taking your phone back from her. “I’ll just message him and get him to send me some proof.” You let Selina chat your ear off about her day at work while you send the first message.

hi! congrats, you are the lucky winner of the private call with me :D. for safety reasons, would you be willing to send a photo of yourself making a thumbs up with smth that shows today’s date? like a laptop screen or something?

You’re not expecting a response right away, but it’s only a couple of minutes before your phone chimes. 

Hey! I was watching the stream but I wanted to let you message me first. Thanks so much for the opportunity >.< Here’s the pic~

It’s definitely the same guy, though softer and unfiltered than in his perfectly curated posts. Closed-lip smile, soft brown bangs hanging just above his eyes, thumb pointed upwards in the gesture you requested. He’s posing with his laptop screen that shows today’s date and time, with an endearing photo of a corgi as his screensaver. He’s really cute.

You flip your screen to show Selina, who nods in approval. “Damn, I might want to be out of the apartment when you two have your call. Give you some alone time.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he isn’t a creep.”

It turns out that bhyunbyun is not a creep. In fact, on top of being infuriatingly attractive, he’s super polite and accommodating of your schedule, working with you to find something that works for the both of you instead of demanding a certain date (and yes, you’re aware that the bar is in hell, but being a woman online means having some horror stories). In the nights leading up to the call, you find yourself lurking on his posts, drawn to him for some inexplicable reason. You scroll through pictures of vacations, fit checks, and the adorable dog from his laptop that the caption identifies as Mongryong. 

It’s this newfound fascination that leads to you finally putting a face to your Baek100 audio fantasies. Something must be up with him, because he’s been pumping out a new audio every day for the past week (not that you’re complaining). He also has been more rough lately, sometimes foregoing plot details in favor of just straight up filthy talk (again — who’s complaining?) But before, where your fantasies had involved an unknown male figure, there are now very specific features that come to your mind.

“You’re so fucking slutty when you beg like that,” he growls into your ear. It’s a rare afternoon that you get to actually use your vibrator with the apartment to yourself. You fuck yourself with it on the max setting, your whole body trembling and writhing. “Why don’t you beg for me a little more, angel?”

You bite down on the back of your hand as you keen, hips bucking up to meet the toy. “That’s right, beg for my fingers, you fucking slut.” His voice is sharp and sticky like honey. In your mind, it’s bhyunbyun’s face hovering over yours, smirking down at you as he plunges his fingers into your pussy. It’s his lips in a condescending pout, cooing in faux-concern as you ache for him. “Don’t look away,” he growls. “I want you to look at me when you cum all over these fucking fingers. Cum for me.”

The tension snaps, and you cum harder than you have in a long time, back arching off the mattress, clenching around the toy. Spent and still floating on the high of your ecstasy, you stay lying there staring up at the ceiling, just trying to catch your breath. And then…

[CALENDAR] Call with bhyunbyun - 5 minutes

“Shit.” You scramble out of bed, heading to your desk to set up everything for the call. With the few minutes left slipping away through your fingers like sand through an hourglass, you do a once-over of your appearance in the Zoom preview window. You frantically brush the top of your hair down with your fingers and frown. You don’t look bad, but your cheeks are still a little flushed, and you can’t tell if your face looks guilty. As if, Hi, fan of my streams, I just got off to your face a couple of minutes ago. Nice to meet you! is written all over it.

The clock turns to 2pm, and you enter the call. It takes a couple of seconds for his face to appear, slightly backlit from sitting with his back to a window. His face is soft as he grins and oh yes you definitely are starting to feel a little bit of shame now because this guy just looks so… kind and well-meaning. 

“Hello!” you say, hoping that you’re just imagining the shake in your voice.

“Hi,” he replies. “I’m Baekhyun. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Now that the adrenaline from earlier is starting to ebb away, you feel yourself relaxing a little more. “So, you mentioned that you didn’t want to play any games but just so you know, I can set up really quickly if you change your mind.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up to show off his forehead for a moment. He’s so hot. Fuck. “I don’t really play the kind of games you do.”

“You don’t?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why do you watch me then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Baekhyun clears his throat, looking a little sheepish like you caught him. “Well, I like to play games like League, Valorant, you know. Not really ideal for having in the background when I’m trying to relax after work. So I randomly stumbled onto your streams and I thought your whole vibe was really calming and I’ve been watching ever since.”

“Ah. You have a stressful job then?”

“Honestly, not really, but who doesn’t get stressed about work sometimes?” He laughs. “I do freelance audio design, editing, sound mixing, that sort of thing. Mostly for commercials or music videos. The current company I’m working for right now is good, and they’ve given me some steady employment but when I was going from gig to gig it was pretty stressful.”

Huh. Something about Baekhyun seems familiar somehow, and the thought sticks to the back of your head like an annoying itch the longer he talks. The conversation flows naturally — Baekhyun asks about what your streaming plans are for the future, you ask him what he’d like to see on your channel — but that nagging feeling never quite goes away. 

A high pitched bark snaps you from your thoughts as Baekhyun looks off the side of the camera, grinning widely. “Hey, Mongryongie! Look who woke up from his nap.” The corgi pokes its head into frame, peering at the laptop screen curiously. “Look, this is my new friend.”

Mongryong barks, louder this time. “Hey, don’t be rude,” Baekhyun scolds. Another bark. “Hey!” He picks the dog up in his arms. “We can’t bark like that inside, the neighbors got mad last time, remember?” Mongryong cutely turns his head, as if trying to ignore his owner, to which Baekhyun replies sternly, “Don’t look away.”

And it’s as if the world stops turning and time stills, because all of a sudden you realize why Baekhyun seems familiar to you. With those three words, he’s managed to turn this whole entire thing upside down.

Those same three words that you had just cum to minutes ago. 

You gasp, and when Baekhyun turns to look at you, you try your best to turn it into a cough. “Sorry,” you choke, “One sec.” You take a sip from your water bottle. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

Except you can’t really calm down because Baekhyun is Baek100. Because why wouldn’t the universe be so cruel?

If you look especially flustered, Baekhyun doesn’t say anything about it. He continues the call with a now subdued and calm Mongryong in his arms, who occasionally looks at you judgementally as if to say, I know your dirty secret, you WHORE. By some miracle, you manage to keep up the conversation, as if this sweet, polite man in front of you is not only the main character of your wet dreams, but the whole damn architect who built them with his own voice.

Baekhyun’s just asked what kind of food you’ve been into lately. You bite back the urge to say You, obviously, and instead say, “There’s this new Korean restaurant that opened near my place, actually. It’s very good, I went there with my roommate the other day.”

“That’s funny,” Baekhyun says. “My friend actually just opened a Korean restaurant. I’ve been helping out. Only with the decor and stuff, though, I’m basically as helpful as a rock in the kitchen.” He laughs when Mongryong snuffles in his arms in agreement. “Did a lot of taste testing, which was fun.”

“Now that you mention it,” you hum, “the owner seems to be about our age. He was very friendly, but intimidating. He actually glared at us but it turns out that he wasn’t wearing his glasses and he couldn’t see. He was very apologetic.”

Baekhyun’s smile drops. “Wait… you’re not talking about Restaurant SooSoo are you?”

Your heart freezes. Now the universe is getting a little fucking ridiculous. “Um… Yes. It’s literally a five minute drive from me.”

“Holy shit,” Baekhyun breathes. “That’s my friend Kyungsoo. We’re in the same city.”

You both laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, because what are the odds that the guy you’ve been jerking off to is the same guy who happens to watch your streams, and who happens to live in the same city as you? “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you around,” he says in disbelief. “I feel like I definitely would have recognized you on the spot.”

And the way he says it, so full of fondness and maybe something else, if you were to believe your delusional thoughts, pushes you to take the plunge. 

“Hey, what are you doing Friday night?”

“This Friday?” Baekhyun scratches Mongryong’s head thoughtfully. “Nothing, really. I was just gonna go bother Kyungsoo at the restaurant. Why?”

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “There’s this bar that I really like called Heaven. Heard of it?”

“Yeah, think so.” He pauses for a beat. “What, so, is this a date?”

You drum your fingers on your knee nervously. “I really liked talking to you today, Baekhyun. And I wanna get to know you better. So, yes, I’d like it to be a date.”

Baekhyun’s lips form an ‘o’ in surprise, but then he beams, his cheeks turning pink. Cute. “Sure — I mean, yes! I’d love to!”

“Okay great,” you smile. “I’ll message you the details later?”

“Sounds good.” He licks his lips and then adds, “Hey, thanks for this, by the way. And I hope you don’t feel like you have to meet up with me just because we’re close by. If you’re not comfortable I really wouldn’t mind canceling.”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I want to.” You hover your mouse over the End call button. “Talk to you soon?”

“Definitely.” Baekhyun smiles. “See you soon!”

The screen goes black and you let out an exhale that you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

What the fuck?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Baekhyun fiddles with the zipper of his jacket with one hand, holding his phone up with the other. “Is this a terrible idea?” he asks. He leans back against the brick wall, the music from inside Heaven faintly thumping away. He stands outside the bar, waiting for you. He doesn’t know which direction you’re coming from, but he tries to not stand there, swiveling his head both ways like an anxious child crossing the street.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo deadpans. There’s some shuffling on the other line as he finishes up inventory for the night. “Like I said the last five times you’ve asked, I think this is not a good idea.”

“I know I just asked for your opinion and all, but I’m choosing to ignore it.” A group of voices across the street gets his attention, but none of them are you. “This isn’t like… ethically or morally bad, right?”

Kyungsoo sighs. “No, Baekhyun, I guess it isn’t ethically or morally bad to go on a date with someone that you’ve been having constant fantasies about after she’s literally just met you, but something doesn’t have to be ethically or morally bad for me to dislike it.”

“She asked me out, anyways,” Baekhyun says, petulantly. “And she likes your food.”

“Fine, I won’t say anything else about it then. Even if I’m just agreeing to ease your conscience,” Kyungsoo replies. “Is she there yet?”

“Um…” He looks across the street again and then suddenly he sees you. Your gaze locks onto his and you positively light up, lifting a hand to wave at him. Baekhyun feels his heart squeeze in his chest and maybe this isn’t a great idea, maybe an Internet crush is just meant to be an Internet crush, but it’s too late now. “Yeah, she just got here. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“In as little detail as possible please.” Baekhyun can hear Kyungsoo’s grimace over the phone. “But stay safe. Text me if you need anything.”

“Hi!” Baekhyun greets you, shoving his phone in his back pocket. “Nice to see you.” You look fucking incredible, he thinks, looking you over in your short, black dress. All dolled up just for him.

“Hello,” you reply, smiling shyly. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me here. It’s just a walk from my apartment but I hope it wasn’t a long drive for you.”

“Not at all. We’re pretty close to my place too.”

“Who could’ve guessed that we’d be so close?” you laugh.

You’re telling me, Baekhyun thinks. This whole time, he could have ran into you at any moment — on the street, on the bus, just fucking grocery shopping for God’s sake. The universe truly had such a cruel sense of humor.

“Shall we?” you ask, tilting your head in the direction of the entrance.

He reaches out and swings the door open, putting on what he hopes is his most charming smile. “After you.” The bar isn’t too packed for a Friday night, and you’re able to pick out a cozy booth in the back while he orders some drinks. He tries not to stare too hard at your perfectly glossed lips or the curve of your neck when he returns. His fingers brush against yours lightly as he hands you your drink.

“Thank you,” you grin. You scoot over in the booth and pat the spot next to you. “Sit next to me so it’s easier to hear each other.”

Sitting this close to you, Baekhyun can smell your perfume and oh, fuck, this is going to be difficult. In a different life he would be tempted to hike up the short skirt of your dress and take you right here in the dark corner of the bar, covering your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet. But he wills himself into composure. He has to be on his best behavior, starting now.

You tip your head back and he watches you swallow the first sip of your drink. His traitorous mind imagines you swallowing down his cock like that, drinking his cum. Then you smile at him gratefully and the pang of guilt nearly takes his breath away.

Okay. Starting now.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple of drinks in, Selina’s words from earlier start to echo in your head.

“Girl, this is crazy,” she said. “You look so hot, but this is crazy.”

You finally stopped fiddling with your eyeliner, satisfied, and looked back at her. “I know,” you sighed. “Should I just tell him?”

“Mm… not yet.” A mischievous grin settled in on her lips. “Get to know him, wine and dine him, and then maybe you can hit him with the, by the way I know you make audio porn and I get off to you on the regular.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. When Selina had returned from her outing that day of your call with Baekhyun, she had come home to the sight of you strewn about the couch, lamenting your predicament. You had explained everything, from finding the Baek100 account months ago to impulsively asking Baekhyun out on a date. She consoled you and gave you pep talks the whole week leading up to the date, and only made fun of you a little bit. “Is this wrong?” you asked. “Am I like… taking advantage of him? He’s a viewer, isn’t he?”

“It’s not like you’re gonna hit it and quit it,” Selina said. She put her hands on your shoulders and looked at you seriously. “You like him, don’t you?”

“I do,” you admitted. “He’s really nice and super cute. He’s not what I expected, you know? He just seems like a down to earth guy. That’s why I don’t want to ruin it by being…” You waved your hands helplessly.

“A horny freak?” Selina supplied, raising an eyebrow.

“Selina.”

“I’m kidding, my love.” She planted a kiss on your cheek. “And you know what, he made the audios in the first place. He can’t 100% be this virginal boy-next-door that you keep describing. Be safe, be genuine with him, and the rest will fall into place.” She turned toward the door, putting her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll be back around noon tomorrow. Call me if you need me, I’ll be leaving my ringer on.” She gave you another look over before she left. “And seriously, you look so good.”

It’s obvious now that Baekhyun thinks so too (You might be a little nervous but you’re not blind). You can feel his heated gaze whenever he thinks you aren’t paying attention, his eyes snapping back up to meet yours when you turn towards him. Your desire for him is thick and heady, strengthened every time he leans his head in close to hear you better or tips his head back to take a sip of his drink. Tucked next to each other in the booth, you can smell his cologne, can see the freckle on the side of his nose from this close. The more time that passes, the more that you’re sure that you want him. You’re not drunk by any means, but the alcohol in your system is making you bolder, braver. They don’t call it liquid courage for nothing.

You lean over and place a hand on his knee, your lips just barely hovering next to his ear. “I told you that my place is nearby, right?”

You feel him stiffen under you, and then he pulls away, searching your eyes for something. Permission, maybe. “Are you drunk?”

You shake your head, smiling coyly. “Are you?”

“Not really. I mean, no. I’m not.” He runs a hand through his hair, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “I just don’t want to do something that you’ll regret.”

You tilt your head to one side and you catch the way his eyes lock on to the strap of your dress sliding down your shoulder. “Do you want me, Baekhyun?”

He swallows, then nods, eyes dark. “Yes,” he breathes. “Since the moment I saw — since the moment you got here.”

You slide impossibly closer, practically straddling him in the booth. You lean forward as if to kiss him, but pull away at the last second, ghosting your lips on top of his. “Then take me home,” you whisper.

The next several minutes pass in a blur, as Baekhyun pays the check and leads you out to his car. You give him the short directions to your apartment, his long fingers gripping the steering wheel as he drives. You’re barely aware of anything other than your heart thudding in your ears until you’re both in the elevator. As soon as the doors slide shut, Baekhyun has you pressed against the wall, his lips hurriedly devouring yours.

You let out a whimper against him, your hands seeking somewhere to land and settling on the hair curling at the nape of his neck. He kisses you like a man starved, all scorching and breathless, pulling you closer by your waist. He pulls away as the elevator doors open, chest heaving. You take his hand and lead him down the hallway to your apartment and hurriedly unlock the door. When it clicks shut behind you, he’s on you once more, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, your back pressed against the wall. 

“Fuck,” he groans, and you feel your arousal deep in the pit of your stomach at the sound of his voice. He’s here, he’s actually here, kissing you and minutes away from (hopefully) fucking you. “I don’t — fuck — I don’t think I can control myself.” He presses his forehead against yours, pupils blown and eyes desperate. “Tell me again that you want this.”

“I want this so bad.” You tangle your fingers in his hair. “Please, Baekhyun, I want you.”

“Shit,” he whispers, awestruck. You move to kiss him but he stills. “Wait —” He sighs and steps away. “This isn’t right.”

The rejection stings and you cross your arms in front of you as if it can ward away the pit in your stomach. “What do you mean? You don’t want to?”

“No, I want to.” He looks guilty all of a sudden, not able to meet your eyes. “I want it really badly and I guess that’s… kind of the problem?” He runs a hand through his hair, already messy from where you’ve pulled it. “Look, I’ve… pretty much had a thing for you since I started watching you, and it wasn’t like… totally innocent.” He huffs, turning pink. “I guess I’m just saying that I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and you seem really nice, genuinely, and I don’t want to… corrupt you?”

“Corrupt me? Baekhyun…” You raise an eyebrow. “You know I’m a grown woman, right?”

He throws his hands up, spluttering. “Yes, I know that! But your whole thing with the cozy games and the pink everything and… you know.” He sighs. “I guess I just don’t want to scare you with how badly I want what I want.”

You shake your head, smiling at him reassuringly. “You won’t. And since we’re admitting things to each other…” You steel yourself, the words dying on your tongue. Baekhyun looks at you expectantly, still slightly on guard but starting to relax. Fuck it. “I know that you’re Baek100.”

Now Baekhyun flushes bright red.

“What the fuck?!”

“It was before we ever met, I swear!” You hug your arms around yourself tighter. “I’ve been listening to your… audios for a while. Months. The raffle was truly random and I didn’t know who you were until we spoke. So really, I should be the one apologizing because I asked you out knowing who you were without telling you.”

Baekhyun stares at you like you’ve grown a second head, stunned into complete silence. “So now that you know,” you continue, “you should also know that since I’m into that and I’m into you that you can’t scare me with anything that you possibly could want to do to me right now.”

He blinks, then puts his head in his hands. For a moment, you think that you truly fucked it up, that he’s seconds away from turning around and leaving you, probably going to delete his account and tell everyone that you’re a fucking freak (goodbye streaming career). He groans loudly. “How the fuck am I about to have sex with the hottest fucking woman alive right now?”

A laugh bubbles up out of your throat. “So we’re still about to have sex?”

He peeks at you between his fingers. “Obviously?”

You reach out and grab his wrists, gently pulling him towards you. “Then why don’t you continue what you were doing then?” you murmur, pressing your lips against his. It starts out a little awkwardly, then sweetly before he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He presses you against the wall, slotting his knee between your thighs as he leaves bites down the length of your neck. 

“Do you touch yourself listening to me?” he asks.

“Yes,” you whisper. The admission feels like a release on its own and you shudder against him. “Ever since I saw your face I’ve been picturing you, too.”

Baekhyun bites down harder at that, earning a yelp. “Funny, because ever since I started making those stupid things I only ever thought of you.” Your hips buck up, grinding against his leg and he squeezes your ass hard in response. “Which ones were your favorite? The ones where I’m nice and sweet? Or the ones where I call you a slut and fuck you until you cry?” The whimper you let out is an answer enough and he chuckles. “So you like being degraded? Who knew that under that cute persona you were getting off to the idea of being my fucktoy.”

He gets down on his knees in front of you and reaches underneath your dress, sliding your panties down. He coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder and bunches the hem of your dress around your hips, pressing a kiss to your aching clit. 

“You have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this. I’m serious. All those things I said all those times, they were always about you.” He brushes a finger in between your folds and he swears under his breath. “You’re so wet, fuck.” He slips two fingers inside of you as his lips latch onto your clit and sucks.

“Fuck!” you cry out, grabbing a fistful of his hair. You throw your head back, the pleasure sudden and overwhelming, overtaking you. He alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking your clit, his fingers steadily pumping into you. He curls them and you sob, trying to pull away from the intensity to no avail. 

Baekhyun grips your hip hard with his free hand. “Don’t run away from me now,” he murmurs, continuing to thrust his fingers into you. “I thought you wanted this so bad.” And fuck, you can’t help but think that the sweet boy over Instagram DMs is gone now, replaced by the voice that you’ve cum to countless times. All those nights alone in your room, stifling your moans, to this, the same man now coaxing them out of you with his words, his fingers, his tongue.

“Baek, I’m gonna —” He’s off of you in an instant, pulling his fingers out of you. The buildup of your orgasm withers away, unsatisfying and empty. You whine, trying to push his face back against you but he pulls your hand off of his hair. 

“Not yet, angel,” he says, standing up. His lips are wet and shiny with you. “I want the first time you cum to be on my cock.” 

“I wanna taste you first,” you whisper, before sinking to your knees in front of him. He exhales softly when you undo his belt, hisses when you free his cock and suck lightly on the tip, the salty tang of his precum on your tongue. You hollow your cheeks and sink down lower, taking the rest with your hand, coating his cock with your spit. 

Baekhyun’s eyes flutter closed and he tips his head back, his jaw slack, soft pants leaving his mouth. He looks down at you and groans when your eyes meet. “You look so fucking good like this.” He rests his hand on your cheek. “You look like you belong there.” You moan around his length and reach for his wrist, placing his hand on top of your head. His eyes widen in understanding. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me.”

He holds your head in place as he rocks into your mouth, gingerly at first but gathering strength with each stroke. You focus on breathing steadily through your nose, looking up at him even as your vision goes watery. He grunts when the tip brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. “So sloppy,” he murmurs. “You’re drooling all over yourself.” 

The wet sounds of Baekhyun’s cock sliding into your mouth and the heavy weight of it on your tongue go straight to your core, and you can’t help but to rub light circles on your clit with your fingers. He pulls out of you abruptly and slaps your cheek with his cock, leaving a trail of spit and precum on your skin. “Uh, uh, stop that,” he commands. “Or I’m leaving right now.”

You whine and cease touching yourself, resting your hand on your thigh. He cups your chin in his hand. “Good girl. Now show me where the bedroom is.” You start to stand but he holds you in place. “I didn’t say to get up. I think you can get there just fine on all fours.” 

You hesitate, your breath catching in your throat, and his gaze softens. He crouches down in front of you. “Too much?” he asks, tucking your hair behind your ear.

You shake your head. “I think I’m just so turned on I froze for a second.”

Baekhyun grins at you, a real smile, and your heart tumbles for a second. But just as quick as the moment happened, it passes, and he stands up again. “Get on with it then.”

You lead him to the bedroom on all fours, your ears burning from embarrassment. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror as you pass it — makeup runny, hair disheveled, spit running down your chin. The straps of your dress fallen past your shoulders, exposing the top of your breasts. Baekhyun follows closely behind you, and you can feel his eyes devouring your body hungrily. “Fucking look at yourself. Have you ever done this before? Ever crawled on your hands and knees for dick?”

“N-no,” you whimper. 

He barks out a laugh. “You probably love this. You love having me tell you what to do and then you just do it. Mindless cock-hungry slut. Those assholes in your chat would fucking lose it if they knew just how quick you got on your knees for me.” His words leave you breathless, dizzy and shaky with need. 

You reach the bedroom and he opens the door for you. Somewhere along the way, he had discarded his remaining clothing, revealing his toned chest and the long, long lines of his broad shoulders. You wait for him at the foot of the bed, watching as he takes in your room. “Do you know how many times I’ve watched you and seen your bed in the background and wondered what you would look like getting fucked on it?” Baekhyun says. “I used to feel so bad thinking about you like that, but the whole time you were thinking about me like that.” He laughs to himself in disbelief. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“Please,” you beg. “Please fuck me, Baekhyun. I can’t take it anymore.”

He hums, as if considering it. “Take off your clothes.” His eyes are glued to your body as you shrug off your dress, the fabric hitting the floor with a quiet thud. “God, you’re gorgeous.” He takes you in his arms and kisses you, hands roaming your body appreciatively. “Condom?” he murmurs against your lips.

“I — um — I’m on the pill,” you admit. “So we don’t… have to…”

Baekhyun stares at you, eyes wide, his dominant persona cracking for a second. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You stroke his cock once, relishing in the way his hips pulse forward. “I want to feel you cum inside me.”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, a groan leaving his lips. He spins you around and lightly shoves you onto the bed, coaxing you onto all fours for him. You feel the mattress dip when he joins you, brushing the tip of his cock in your folds. “Can’t you beg for me a little more, angel? It’s unfair that you’ve been listening to me for so long and this is my first time hearing you.”

“Please,” you moan brokenly. You try to fuck yourself back onto him but he holds you in place with one steady hand on your hip.

“Please what?” He smacks your ass cheek sharply, your back bowing under the sting. “Be more specific.”

“Please fuck me. I want your cock in me, I want to cum.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, squeezing your ass one last time before sliding home. He waits, hips flush against yours to give you a second to breathe, before snapping into you again and again, setting a brutal pace. The force of it immediately shunts you forward, and you just barely brace yourself before your face hits the pillows.

Baekhyun moans, leaning forward to place a hand on the back of your neck. Not hard enough to restrict your airflow, but with just enough pressure to keep you in place. “Fuck — your pussy feels so fucking good, baby. You’re so wet, shit.”

A symphony of moans pours from your mouth, unbridled and shameless. Even as your arms give out under you and your face hits the pillows, he makes sure your head is turned to the side so your sounds remain unmuffled. “Let me hear you,” he grunts, delivering another sharp slap to your ass. “Tell everyone in this building just how good you’re getting fucked.”

“Baek —” You try your best to keep up with his pace, fucking backwards onto him, but it’s just too much — the buildup from all night, the pleasure from all sides, even just the knowledge that you’re living out your fantasy right here in your bed. It’s all too much all at once, and you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, clenching around Baekhyun’s cock.

He pulls out, ignoring your sob of protest. He flips you over on your back and you quiver under him, hips bucking up and searching for something, anything, to help you reach your peak. You feel the tears flowing freely now, running down your cheeks and onto the sheets below. He pouts, teasing and mean, his thumb brushing the tears away.

“Don’t cry, angel,” he coos. “I got you.”

“I want to cum,” you wail. “Please, fuck.”

He pushes his thumb into your mouth, salty from your tears. “Soon,” he promises, kissing your forehead as he slides back inside your aching cunt. “Just give me a little more, gorgeous.” 

You’re thoughtless now, the need for release being the only thing on your mind as Baekhyun fucks into you mercilessly. His eyes are screwed shut in concentration, sweat beading on his temples, his chrome necklace swinging above you in time with his thrusts. You grab onto his shoulders, because if you don’t, you fear that you’ll lose yourself entirely, disintegrating into a puddle of overwhelming pleasure. 

“How badly do you want to cum?” he grunts. 

“I need it so bad,” you babble, unseeing. “Please, I’ve been good, I’ve been so fucking good for you.”

“Yes, baby, you have.” He plants his hands on either side of your waist and pounds into you, the corners of his lips curving upwards when you cry out even louder. “Cum for me, angel. Cum all over me.”

As if your body is wired to obey him, you cum, your back arching off the bed. Your movements have a mind of their own as you writhe against him, screaming as you splinter into infinite pieces. It feels so good, so fucking good after so long, you let yourself dissolve into bliss as your senses turn to static.

Distantly, you feel Baekhyun pulling out and you have half a mind to ask where he’s going before your thighs are being pushed apart. His mouth descends on your messy cunt, lapping up your wetness with renewed hunger.

“Baekhyun.” Your voice sounds foreign even to you, cracked and hoarse. You weakly raise a hand to halfheartedly push him away but he pins your wrist to your side, delving his tongue inside your pussy. “Baek, I can’t — fuck  —”

“You can,” he says, slipping two fingers inside you, immediately finding that spot that makes you shake. “You look so good cumming, I want to see it again. Can’t you cum for me again, sweetheart?” 

He pumps his fingers inside of you until you cum again, clamping your thighs around his head, the waves overtaking you until you’re sobbing. He climbs back on top of you and sinks into your aching, sore pussy, silencing your whimper with his lips. You twitch against him, the overstimulation taking you over. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, brushing your damp hair off of your forehead. His thrusts are slower now, but deep, burying himself all the way inside of you before sliding back out again. The sound of it is filthy and raw, your thighs damp with your wetness, spilling out each time he retreats. “My angel.”

You reach up and urge him downwards, tucking his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m yours,” you choke out. “I’m yours, Baek.”

He moans, guttural and needy, slamming into you once more. “Say that again, fuck, baby, please.”

“I’m all yours,” you breathe. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you. “And you’re mine.”

He keens once and then he’s gone, rutting into you frantically as he bites down on your shoulder. His pace stutters, erratic, spilling inside of you. He continues to fuck you through it, shaking, his cum splattering between your thighs. “Yours,” he whispers. “I’m yours.”

You cool down against each other, trying to find the will and strength to compose yourself. Your body has other ideas, sinking against the mattress underneath Baekhyun’s weight. He props himself up to look at you, his eyes gentle. He kisses you once, twice.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hey, yourself,” you reply, smiling at him.

He pulls out, both of you wincing at the ache. You can’t help but feel the edges of sleep creeping in, your body exhausted. He brushes his thumb against your cheek. “I’ll clean up,” he whispers. “Get some sleep.”

And again, as if your body is wired to obey, your eyes flutter shut.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You wake up alone, cold and sore.

You think for a second that maybe you dreamed it all, but the slight stickiness between your thighs and the used tissues in the trash can next to your bed say otherwise. You reach for your phone and there’s no new messages except for a check in from Selina.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You sit up, trying to blink the sleep away from your eyes as you open your messages with Baekhyun. He hasn’t blocked you, so that’s good, but he hasn’t said anything either. Surely he wouldn’t… ghost, right? You feel the sting of tears pricking behind your eyes, and you take a couple of deep breaths to steel yourself. 

You hear your front door clicking open and you wipe a couple of stray tears from your face. Thank God, you and Selina can get some food and talk shit and forget this whole thing ever happened. But then you hear his hushed voice, just barely audible from outside your closed bedroom door.

“Yes, I’m doing it right now.” A pause. “I really hope so.” Another pause, and then a huff of laughter. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks, Kyungsoo.” The sound of footsteps leads up to your door and then it swings open gently. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” Baekhyun smiles warmly at you and holds up a paper bag and a drink carrier with two iced coffees. “I ordered breakfast.” He sets the items down on your nightstand and sits next to you. He’s wearing last night’s slightly wrinkled clothes and his hair looks haphazardly kept, like he just frantically brushed his fingers through it, but he still looks handsome as ever. He reaches for your hand and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. “I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he admits sheepishly. “So one of the coffees is sweet and the other’s plain, and one of the pastries is sweet and the other is savory.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him, but it drops when a thought occurs to you. “How did you get back in the apartment?”

“I might have, well —” He winces slightly. “I might have left the door unlocked when I went downstairs to pick up the order?”

“Baekhyun.”

“I was only gone for like five minutes, I swear! Besides, if anyone broke in I could handle it. I have a black belt in hapkido, you know.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He gazes at you with such fondness for a second that it takes your breath away. The expression quickly morphs into one of concern. “I wanted to check and make sure that you’re okay after last night. I’m sorry, I know that I got a little carried away.”

“No, I liked it a lot.” Your ears grow hot at the memories. “Honestly, that was probably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Oh!” Baekhyun’s cheeks turn pink. “Well… I’m glad. Same — same for me.”

You settle into comfortable silence for a few beats, Baekhyun absentmindedly tracing circles on the back of your hand, before he says what’s on both of your minds. “So, what happens now?”

“Well… I really want to see you again,” you say, smiling softly. “I really like you, Baekhyun. And last night was incredible but I also want to get to know you outside of… situations like last night.”

“I agree,” he replies. He then sighs lightheartedly. “As hard as it’ll be for me to keep my hands to myself, I agree.”

You smack his hand lightly and he yelps. He pouts at you until you kiss it away, smiling against your lips. You both have to stop yourselves before the kiss goes any further, but, you note with a bit of exasperation and glee, that it takes the both of you considerable conscious effort to do so.

“By the way,” Baekhyun says, “Since we’re gonna start seeing each other, I’ll delete the account.”

Your eyebrows knit together in concern. “Oh. I do appreciate it but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I want to.” He grins cheekily. “I only ever wanted it to be for you, anyways.” 

You hum in thought, and then nod. “Okay. But on one condition.”

“Anything, angel.”

You can’t help the grin that forms on your lips. “You have to make some private recordings. Just for me.”

Baekhyun laughs, like windchimes on a sunny day. When he beams at you it’s as if the sky opens up, bathing you in his warmth. He kisses you one last time, sealing his promise. “Deal.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

man. i have no excuse for this. for real. lmaoooo

thank u to everyone who encouraged this. i hope it met ur expectations <3

tagging: @idkwhatthisisfuck @lovecomesbaek @bmbidoll @madeinmyeon @baekhyunsbestie

masterlist.

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

heartbreak champion - teaser

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kwon soonyoung x afb.reader

After being together since you were fifteen, things hit a rough patch as your husband chases his goal of being world champion.

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: coming mid august

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, established marriage, smut, angst

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): f1, nonidol

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: teaser 851, full story 10.6k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, angst, and marriage issues

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (for the whole story) : unprotected sex and lots of it, multiple positions, dirty talk, showering together, creampie, cumplay, breeding kink, Soonyoung is really trying to get his wife pregnant, soft dom Soonyoung, Soonyoung the has a panty kink and it turns the mc on, oral (f rec), multiple positions, p in v intercourse, boob/nipple play

nicknames: speedy, baby (hers)baby, soonie (his)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

𝐚𝐧: This is apart of the collab "It's Light Out", hosted by @camandemstudios. If you would like to sign up for the taglist for this story or any other stories for the collab, sign up here

Standing there with the top half of his racing suit pushed down to his waist, his bleached blonde hair is a mess, matted with sweat.

The moment he’s off the car, people are already shoving microphones into his face. Soonyoung is the picture perfect face of the sport this season. He’s so charming and funny. The world loves rooting for him and watching him succeed. He’s a media darling, and reports love being able to interview him.

The second his interview wraps up, he rushes over to you. Pulling you into his arms, he rocks you side to side for a moment. He releases you long enough to press his lips to yours for a searing kiss. Moments like this used to be your everything. Why does this moment now feel hollow?

His forehead rests on yours. His hand rests on your cheek. “This feels amazing.” He is not talking about kissing you. He’s talking about the thrill of racing. Racing is his first true love. Nothing will ever make him as happy as winning a race, or getting pole position for his favorite track.

Pulling back, you give him the best smile you can muster up. Reaching up, you push his bleach blonde hair away from his forehead. “You did great.” Even when you’re sad, you’re still incredibly proud of what he has achieved.

He can tell by your tone you’re pretending to be happy. “Speedy—” he’s called you this since he first met you. He rarely refers to you by your name. As a teenager, he made a joke about you speeding into his heart, and he’s never let it go.

“Go be a superstar. I’ll be at the hotel.” You try to step back from him. He grabs your hand before you can move.

“Let’s stay in tonight. Tomorrow is a big race, let’s just relax together.”

“You’re going to have dinner with your team. I’ll be in the room if you need me.”

Things haven’t always felt this strained in your marriage. Back then you used to go out with him to celebrate. That last year, things have been tough. Things feel different. He’s so wrapped up in racing and having one of the best seasons of his life, he doesn’t realize he’s pushing you away more and more each day without even trying to. Last season he came in second for the drivers championship and that’s when things started to change. Racing suddenly became his number one focus.

Soonyoung has this bright idea that it’s time to start a family. He had this idea a year ago. Maybe it’s his baby fever after seeing his teammate Seungcheol become a father. You've never had strong feelings one way or another about having children, but the way Soonyoung lights up when he mentions having a baby changed your mind. To be honest, you want to be a mother, and a part of you wonders if having a baby can help fix things. It would be nice to have a child you could love and spend time with when you’re lonely. The idea of having a child with Soonyoung has been something you’ve wanted since you were a teen. You’ve been actively “trying” for a year with no luck. Soonyoung even has an app on his phone to track your cycle and ovulation. You’re well aware you’re ovulating, but you don’t want to push him. You would much rather have your space tonight. While he’s out at dinner with his team, you’re soaking in a bubble bath, drinking a glass of wine. You’ll probably be sound asleep by the time he comes back.

Around ten the door opens and your husband walks in. You can’t quite decipher the look on his face.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were ovulating?” You didn’t tell him because you didn’t want to have this conversation. Your goal was to be asleep before he even got home. This weekend you’re probably being extra sensitive, but maybe you’re just at your breaking point.

“Soonyoung it’s a race weekend. The last thing you should be thinking about is if I’m ovulating.”

He stops in his tracks. Tilting his head to the side, he gives you a confused look. “I thought we were trying for a baby?” The amount of unprotected sex you’ve been having over the last year would definitely qualify as trying to conceive.

“We are. I thought you would want to focus on your race. It’s your favorite track after all.”

“Well imagine if we made a baby the weekend of my favorite track?” He immediately perks up. Of course he loves the idea of knocking you up at a fancy hotel down the street from his favorite race track.

You wish things were different, you want nothing more than to have your marriage back the way it used to be.

“Okay.” Maybe one day you’ll be a priority again. “Come here.”

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

hey hey

What do you think about sugar daddy scoups??

Can you do a text imagine for that??

after MONTHSSS the texts have finally arrived…. imsorry

decided to go from sugardaddy to bf coups, hopefully you still enjoy it!!!

Choi Seungcheol || sugardaddy texts w/ scoups

genre: fake texts, smau, one shot texts, non!idol, sugardaddy!scoups

warnings: cursing, fem pronouns, mention of food, nsfw jokes, lmk if i missed anything else!

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

since we have buzzcut jihoon...it would only be fair to have blue/silver hoshi too :3 maybe a twinge of jealousy if possible ;) THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE 😛

A/N: You came to the right guy 😌 sorry for taking a while on this lol I had multiple asks come in at once. Uhhh hopefully this is alright! Feeling a bit insecure about my writing here 🧎‍♂️

PAIRING: Kwon Soonyoung x Afab Reader

WARNINGS: Jealousy, p in v, fingering, slightly harsh dom Soonie, he’s pathetic, creampie, subtle breeding kink lol, I can never fucking tag these correctly, finger sucking (for two seconds), cum eating (barely)

Just look at me

“God, Jihoon looks so good doesn’t he?” You say for about the thousandth time since he buzzed his hair and dyed it pink.

“How many times are you gonna say that?” Soonyoung said, passing it off as a joke with a tiny laugh. But there’s a hint of jealousy in his tone.

You’re too oblivious to notice, scrolling on your phone through pictures of the most recent concert as you laid next to him on his bed, “No, but seriously! I can’t get over it! He really pulls off every hairstyle.”

Soonyoung isn’t the type to get mad at you, but he was starting to feel his blood boil a bit. It’s been Jihoon, Jihoon, Jihoon for days, and not one compliment about him.

He wanted your attention too.

“I bet you’d be with him right now if he was awake, huh?” He grumbles as he tries to pretend to be on his own phone.

You roll your eyes and look over at him, “What, no! I’d be hanging out with the both of you!”

You should’ve seen it then. You should’ve known. But you, Soonyoung, and Jihoon had some drinks earlier… and you weren’t really capable of reading between the lines.

He doesn’t respond, and you just brush it off. You don’t notice as he glances over at you, watching you scroll through social media posts about Jihoon and his new look.

His gaze falls lower, eyes raking over your bare thighs. He loved that you were comfortable enough to lounge in nothing but your underwear and a shirt (his shirt, mind you) around him, but he also fucking hated it. Hated how it made him feel. Hated how he was overthinking the way you squeeze your thighs together as you scroll.

Was it a mindless action? Or was the sight of Jihoon turning you on? He couldn’t take it.

“What’s it like thinking about Jihoon while you’re lying here in my bed wearing my shirt?”

You honestly didn’t even hear him at first, he spoke so low. So casually. Like he was talking to himself. But it hits you after a few seconds. You blink, looking over at him, “What?”

There was no trace of a smile on his lips. No sparkle in his eye.

He clenches his jaw and suddenly grabs your wrist, pinning it down on the mattress as he hovers halfway over you.

You drop your phone, eyes widening at his unusual behavior, “Seriously, Soonyoung… what is it?”

His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol that was still in his system. Yours probably were too. You couldn’t see his face very clearly. The light was dim and your confusion made it hard to focus. You try to pull your hand away.

“If you want him so bad, why don’t you crawl into bed with him? Huh?”

You freeze. The atmosphere suddenly felt crushing. And you became hyper aware of everything that was Soonyoung.

His natural scent mixed with his body wash, his big warm and calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, the front of his body pressed into your side. And only now do you notice his leg slotted between both of yours.

You suppress a shiver, breathing heavier as you finally see his eyes.

Especially when he leans in, your faces inches apart. Your body is on fire, aching with something usually kept hidden as you try to identify that look on his face.

You reach out with your free hand, about to attempt to push him away so you can think and talk properly, “S-Soonie, I—“

“Don’t call me that,” He says suddenly, catching your hand to lace your fingers together and pin it above your head.

Your mouth shuts immediately.

“I dyed my hair too…” he whispers, leaning in even further until his nose nudges your jawline, “Do I look good?”

You swallow hard, that deepened voice smooth as silk in your ear… and his lips graze against your throat.

“Soonie,” you try to say firmly, but you finally shiver.

“I said don’t call me that,” he squeezes your hand, pulling away to meet your eyes again. And you finally recognize that look on his face, “Not when I have you like this…”

Desperation.

The realization hits you like a truck.

His knee is shoving your legs apart so he can get between them, and you feel yourself tense as he now has a perfect view of your panties. Yet you say nothing. Instead, you swallow a moan. And again when his lips press a soft kiss against your shoulder.

He lets go of your hands so he’s free to slide his down your sides— pressing his body weight into every inch of you, “Does he turn you on?”

Your breath catches in your throat, the heat in your body reaching a boiling point. He kisses up the side of your neck slowly, successfully pulling a breathy moan from you. He continues all the way to your jaw, “What about me, baby? What do I make you feel?”

Heat. You were feeling heat. Pooling in your stomach, your throat, your chest, between your legs…

His hands go down your hips slowly. Your eyes fall shut, your skin burning, and he finally grips your thighs, “Do you think I could make you wet?”

Your eyes snap back open, gasping as his left hand slides up your inner thigh— fingers inching closer to the seam of your panties. But he pauses, watching as you squirm. And he takes that as a green light.

It in fact was.

Those fingers gently caressed the print of your pussy, his lip caught between his teeth as he groaned at the sight. And you could see your slick covering his fingertips just from that.

He locks eyes with you as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean. Your jaw drops, another gush of arousal seeping through your panties.

“Fuck, you taste good…” he says under his breath, “Is this for me?”

His thumb caresses your clit through the thin fabric, making you suck in a harsh breath, “Or Jihoon?”

When you don’t respond, he rips your panties off and throws them aside. His fingers run through your folds instantly, two of them burying inside your aching hole.

You keen, and he presses against your sweet spot, “Answer me.”

Pure, unadulterated moans were practically ripped from your throat as he slowly fingered you— dragging his fingertips against your walls deliberately. Teasing, but stimulating every inch of your insides.

“Who is this for?” He repeats.

You can hardly breathe, writhing beneath him. You had never seen, nor heard Soonyoung like this. And it was fucking intoxicating. You were slowly losing yourself in this bliss.

It just forced its way out, loud and clear, “You… S’for you, Soonie!”

His fingers pause, and you see his face change. The desperation in his expression multiplying.

“Fuck,” he moans, pulling his fingers out and sitting up on his knees— shoving his shorts and boxers down his thighs to free his painful erection, “I’ll show you how good I am. How good I can make you feel.”

Your head spins at the sight of his cock. Thick and leaking, tip red and angry. And the rest of his clothes are discarded.

He slots himself between your legs, cock hovering over your needy pussy as he pushes your shirt up and kisses all the way from your lower stomach to your chest… pausing to lift it over your head and throw it aside too.

His big hands cup your chest, squeezing and kneading when he leans down to lick your nipple. And at the same time, he finally slides against you.

Your body jolts, moaning instantly at the contact. You couldn’t believe how sensitive you were, how good it felt just to have him like this. He moans too, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.

“God, Soonyoung—“ you whine, hips bucking against him to create more friction between your bodies. Your hands run through his blueish-silver hair, tugging it lightly… and that seems to do it for him.

He almost growls against your chest, moving to your other nipple to bite it gently and swirl his tongue around the hardened bud, “Now you pay attention…” he says, releasing your nipple to make his way to your lips.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Soonie…” you whimper against his hovering mouth.

He grabs the back of your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest to spread you open completely, and he finally kisses you properly.

His lips are soft and warm… their movements hungry and greedy. He moans into your mouth and forces his tongue inside, tasting you as he poked the tip of his cock against your hole to make you squirm.

The kiss leaves you breathless when he pulls away, sitting back on his knees and holding your legs up steadily, “Watch my cock split you open. Watch me fuck your pussy.”

You moan embarrassingly loud, nodding eagerly and looking down just in time for him to slide in. His face immediately scrunches, hissing through his teeth at your tight warmth and the sight of your hole stretching to accommodate him.

“Oh my fucking god—“ you nearly choke, eyes never leaving where you connect as you feel him slowly reach deeper and deeper.

His hands shake as they hold you in place, now fully sheathed. And his head falls back, eyes squeezed shut as he twitches inside, “Jesus Christ, you’re already milking me…”

You reach out desperately, breathing heavily as your hands map out every muscle in his torso, “S-so good… so full…” you hardly get out, clenching around him almost rhythmically while you admire his naked form.

He throbs against your cervix, looking back down at you with a fire in his eye. His hips start moving slowly, so calculated like he’s putting on a show, “Yeah? Feel me in your stomach, baby?”

He releases one of your legs to press his hand down on your lower stomach, creating a deep pressure that allowed you to feel each and every inch that pulled out and pushed back in.

“Fuck!” You cry out. He starts to go faster, breaking you into pieces, “Soonyoung!”

It was too good. He was so fucking deep that the air was being knocked out of your lungs. You were almost in tears, only a few strokes in. His moans, breathy and deep, had your clit throbbing.

His nails drag down your ribs, and he leans down to kiss and suck on your neck, “Gonna make you mine… gonna paint your insides…”

His breath is hot against your skin, marking you up while his fingers find your clit. You’re so wet, dripping all over him, and his balls are slapping against your ass.

“Please… please, I’m yours!”

You hold onto his biceps for dear life, hips moving in rhythm with his as he reaches even deeper, “That’s it— that’s my baby. All. Fucking. Mine.”

Your mind is gone. You’re just a broken, moaning mess beneath his beautiful, glistening body.

As soon as your orgasm nears, Soonyoung’s movements grow erratic. Groaning through his teeth as he struggles to fuck your needy pussy while it’s clamping down on him so hard.

Your nails dig into his biceps as you arch into him, “Cumming! I’m cumming, Soonie! Fuck!”

A deep, rumbling, guttural moan tears from his throat and he’s rubbing your clit with godlike speed… his cock slamming into you even harder than before.

He holds you down, full body weight on top of you as you completely lose it. Cumming all over his pistoning cock. And he follows shortly after, painting your insides like he promised. Biting down hard on your shoulder like he’s breeding you.

You’re both clinging to each other, slowly coming down from your highs. He kisses along your jaw, rubbing your sides soothingly. You do the same to him in return.

“So good… so good for me…”

He eventually sits up, running his hands down the front of your body to admire your fucked-out look… and he slowly pulls his softening cock from your used pussy.

“God, look at that…” he groans, holding your legs apart to watch his cum drip. He reaches down to scoop some up with his fingers, smirking as he brings them to your lips. You open for him, and he shoves them inside, “See? That’s how I taste, baby…”

You moan around his fingers, tongue immediately going to work and licking them clean. Once you swallow, he pulls them out slowly.

“Don’t forget it.”

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

have you ready. (choi seungcheol x reader)

summary: soon to be wed, you are brimming with panic about what comes with this new change in your life. luckily for you, your Royal Advisor will not let you leave the castle without being fully prepared.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: princess!reader, royal AU, smut, nsfw, 18+, fem!reader, oral (fem!receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, mentions of inexperience and virginity, political arranged marriage.

tags: @picheolin-17

The hallway is quiet save for your hurried footsteps, a sharp clack sound echoing every time your heel meets the stone floor. Your breaths are slightly labored from your urgent pace, your hands clamped tightly over the abundant fabric of your dress where it flares out at your hips and flows all the way to the floor. It makes a slight rustling sound, but it is nothing compared to the roar of blood rushing in your ears, or the deep, heavy pounding of your heart in your chest. Anyone who sees you right now will know that you are nervous.

When you reach your destination, you push the heavy oak door open. The room is well lit, and your eyes catch sight of the wall to wall shelves, lined with hundreds of books. It smells like books too, that pleasant scent of paper and ink. It briefly crosses your mind that your study is not nearly as big as your older brother’s. No surprises there. He was the heir to the Throne. And you were….. someone who would be married off soon to become Queen of a foreign land.

Two heads look up at the sound of the door opening, and your brother frowns at the sight of you.

“Why are you here? Do you need something?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at his lack of manners. Your mother would admonish you if you did.

‘It’s not very lady-like.’ She would say. You have learned to not protest.

“I need to speak with Seungcheol.” Your gaze turns to the other man in the room, and your brother turns to look at him too.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He blinks at you before looking at your brother, who only sighs in annoyance and waves his hand in your direction, allowing Seungcheol to move from his side to join you.

He holds the door open for you and you step out, taking a few steps away before turning around to look at the man before you.

“Is everything okay, Your Highness?” His voice is low and soft, and you clench your teeth, feeling your heart speed up again. Now that he is before you, in the flesh, you hesitate in your words. It is dawning on you how ludicrous your request is. Even if you are making it to Seungcheol, someone you have known all your life.

Seungcheol’s father was the Chief Royal Advisor, a man so sharp and smart that he had been by the King’s side since he took the Crown. When you were born, Seungcheol was merely a toddler, and as you grew up, you saw him nearly everywhere you went, because of how close your fathers always were. You were raised alongside Seungcheol, though with a vastly different set of etiquettes and skills. Seungcheol had inherited his brains from his father, and he had watched his father work in Royal affairs all his life. It was only natural that he would succeed his father in the role of Advisor once your brother took the Crown. It was written in his destiny a long time ago.

And then there’s you, second-born and a daughter. Your destiny was sealed while you were still in your mother’s womb. When you turned fourteen, you were betrothed to a prince from another land, a neighboring country whom your kingdom had rocky relations with until your betrothal. You had met your future husband only sparsely since then. You knew of him only what your ladies-in-waiting had heard through word of mouth. Now, as an adult, with your wedding mere months away, you were realizing the gravity of your situation.

The very same ladies-in-waiting had said a few scandalous words about the night of your wedding. You knew it was really the combination of the late nights and the wine they so often consumed that made them loose-lipped, but as someone who wasn’t allowed to drink and was sober for all these conversations, you couldn’t help but wring your hands at their words. And these conversations had happened enough times for you to get worried.

“But of course, you won’t know until then, your Highness.” One of them had slurred. “Who knows what goes on in men’s heads?”

Men. You had thought. Men know what goes on in men’s heads.

You stare up at the man before you right now, the only one you could think of. You aren’t very exposed to a whole lot of them that you aren’t related to, but there’s always been Seungcheol. Your face feels hot now, and you fidget again.

Seungcheol notices, ever so sharp, how nervous you are. He lowers his head a little, looks at you with concern, links his fingers in front of him, patiently waiting. You appreciate his attempt to make you feel more at ease.

“I have been hearing some….. things.” You clear your throat and shift on your feet.

“Rumors?” He guesses.

You shake your head. “About my wedding. Or rather, what happens after the wedding.”

He frowns. “You become Queen.”

“No-” You can’t meet his eye, so you look over his shoulder. “What happens on the wedding night.”

There’s silence while you watch comprehension dawn on Seungcheol’s face, and you are embarrassed at the horror that takes over. “Who has been telling you this?”

You purse your lips and look away. The back of your neck feels like it’s on fire. You resist the urge to run a cool hand over it.

“Is it your ladies-in-waiting?” He asks, sighing sharply in annoyance. “They are bad influences on you. I have been suggesting distancing you from them-”

“Are they wrong?” Your voice is an octave higher than usual. Seungcheol stops mid-sentence.

“They’re- it’s not my place.” His voice wavers, and you finally meet his eyes. He is the one who looks nervous now, and if you were not so mortified, you would be amused that this is the first time you have seen him look nervous. Seungcheol is a very confident person.

“You’re the only man I know who is not my father or brother.” You sigh.

“You could ask your mother. She has been where you currently are.”

You make a sour face at the thought of talking to your mother about….. anything. Seungcheol stifles a laugh.

“Okay, well-” His eyes shift around, and you know he is trying to come up with a solution. You sigh and step closer.

“Seungcheol,” you plead with him. “I’m scared. I don’t know…. anything. And I am to be wed in a few months. What if I’m not ready? What if I don’t know what to expect? What if I disappoint him-”

“Stop.” His voice is firm, and it makes you halt mid sentence immediately. His gaze has hardened, and your heart skips. “Do not speak that way about yourself. You are a treasure that he will cherish for the rest of his life.”

Your cheeks heat, and you give Seungcheol a grateful smile. You don’t believe him, of course. But his confidence in the statement makes your own doubt waver. He contemplates for a moment longer, hesitating.

“I will come see you tonight after you have retired to your chambers.”

You beam at him. “Great! We can have tea and talk.”

Once it is decided and you turn to leave, Seungcheol watches your retreating form. He isn’t sure how exactly he is going to explain to you the details of a consummation. All he knows is that you came to the right person with this. Anyone else would have found offense in your brazen question, would have admonished you and told you never to bring it up again. Seungcheol, however, feels only a stirring in his stomach, a heat rise within him as you disappear from his view.

………………………….

Seungcheol is dressed down when he comes to see you that evening. All his outerwear is gone, leaving him in a simple shirt and slacks. You are still dressed to the nines, as always, layer after layer of garment weighing your body down. You wonder if you should have changed into a lighter evening gown, but Seungcheol doesn’t seem to notice, standing before the sofa facing the fireplace, only sitting down once you have taken your seat in your armchair. He is silent while your maid serves tea, not engaging in small talk like he usually does. You are a bit taken aback, but take his lead nonetheless.

You watch the liquid steam in your cup, confused when Seungcheol turns the tea down. You gesture to the maid, dismissing her. She leaves quickly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. You stare into the fire. You feel nervous now, after seeing how stiff Seungcheol is acting.

“Is it something bad?” You finally ask. He looks up at you, appearing confused. You shift.

“You aren’t being your usual self.” You explain.

His eyes soften, and he gives you a small smile. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you, your Highness.”

His words don’t placate you much. You set your tea down, not having taken a sip, and fiddle with your hands.

“I know I have to consummate the marriage.” Your face burns as you speak. No point in delaying why he is here. You want to get right to the point. “I know the theory of it. But you are being… strange. And that makes me feel afraid.”

Seungcheol shifts again. “It’s not something to be frightened of at all.”

You ask the question that has plagued you the most. “Will it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Not if- not if he does it properly.”

You frown, contemplating his words. What if he doesn’t do it properly? You don’t have a lot to go on. All you know are words. Your practical knowledge is zero, maybe even in the negatives, and from what you’ve heard, men are selfish in bed.

“The ladies-in-waiting said-”

Seungcheol huffs and scowls, making you stop. “You need to stop listening to those women. All they do is sit around, gossip and drink the day away. You are better than them, Princess. Soon you will have a kingdom to run.”

“And a husband to please.” You add, still sulking. Finally, you shift closer to him, to the edge of your seat, and place a hand firmly on his wrist where it sits on the armrest. He doesn’t brush you away, not like he would if you were in public.

“Seungcheol, please do not hold back.” You plead. “Your words are doing nothing to placate me. I have had enough of cryptic predictions and knowledge. I know you are hesitating. You are on track to be a Royal Advisor. Your job is to think of everything that will go wrong and prepare me for it. So please, I need you to prepare me for this.”

He does not correct you that he is technically Advisor to your brother specifically and not you. These strict roles do not apply to someone you had grown up with. You are as much a responsibility of his as your brother. You watch his face shift, as if he has come to a resolve. He moves his arm so that his hand is now placed over yours, and he squeezes it.

“Your Highness, think carefully about what you have said.” His voice is low and soft. “You want me to prepare you for your consummation?”

You think for only a beat, remembering your fear of that dreaded night. You nod.

“Do you realise what this entails?” He leans forward. “I will have to touch you. In intimate places.”

Your stomach twists a bit at his words. “I am aware.”

“And you are okay with that?”

You nod again. “I am.”

“You are sure?”

You pause, frowning. “Why are you being this way?”

“Because this is important.” He emphasizes the last word. He leans forward, still holds your hand, and his face comes closer to you than it has ever been in your life. “This is a part of you no one has ever seen before. Untouched and unmarked.”

“I trust you.” You whisper. The moment feels gentle, and you dare not disturb it. “There is no one else I trust like you.”

It is the truth. You have only a few friends, none of whom would be loyal to you over your family. And your family? Deeply motivated by political agendas. You know even your marriage is political. It is a reality you have come to accept. But you know Seungcheol. You have known him since the moment you opened your eyes in this world. He is fiercely loyal to you. Sometimes, you believe he might be more loyal to you than to your brother. And in this moment, looking into the depth of his warm, brown eyes, you know he would never do anything to hurt you. You know he would bleed for you if you asked.

He nods slowly, and gives you a smile so tender that you feel some of the tension in your muscles melt.

“Okay.” His words hold a finality. “Then let me take care of you tonight, Your Highness.”

He stands, turning to walk towards the door. You watch his back, the muscles that shift under the thin cloth of his shirt. He turns the lock, and it clicks into place. When he comes back, he doesn’t sit on the sofa. Instead, he kneels before you on both his knees. You blink at him in surprise.

“Lean back.”

You do. His tone is kind but firm. You do not hesitate to follow his instructions. Your back meets the soft cushion as you settle into the armchair. Seungcheol’s hands come up, resting on your knees, squeezing them a bit before rubbing with his thumbs. You barely feel his touch through the many layers that cover your legs. But the littlest of brushes make your heart beat a little faster. You watch him, and he watches you.

His hands travel down, over your shins and to your feet. They snake in, until you feel his fingertips on the bare skin over your ankle. Your breath hitches.

“Okay?” His voice is soft. You nod.

His hands push up then, tracing lines from the sides of your feet up your leg, until they meet the backs of your knees. The touch is foreign to you, and it sends chills up your spine. But you don’t stop him. The material of your dress bunches up over his arms, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. His hands close over your knees then, gripping them firmer than before. He shifts forward, and pushes your knees apart just slightly. He keeps his eyes on you. His mouth opens, and you know what he will ask, so you beat him to it.

“Please keep going.”

He smiles, barely there, just an uptick of his lips, and speaks anyway.

“You are so beautiful.”

You gasp when he pushes on your knees more, and they fall open. Cold air hits your inner thighs, and you sink back farther into the cushions as your position changes. Seungcheol lifts your left knee by hooking his hand under it, pushing it up until it is lying over the armrest of your chair. He does the same with the other leg. Your face heats at your position, at being pulled so open for the man in front of you, even though your clothes still conceal your most intimate parts from him. You’ve sunk lower on the chair, until your head is barely propped up. You cannot see him anymore over your skirts, but it seems that you don’t need to. He shifts the dress up, and then his head of brown hair disappears under the cloth.

Your eyes widen, and you are seconds away from clamping your legs shut on instinct when you feel his hands on your skin. Starting at the knees and tracing up until they brush over your inner thighs to reach the apex. You feel something stir in your core. You feel yourself clench hard. Your breath is already coming in harsh pants. You wait for something, anything.

And then you feel his breath, hot, light, right at your center. You jerk.

A chuckling sound fills the air, followed by muffled words. “Relax, Princess.”

It’s easier said than done, especially when his fingers dip into the fabric that covers you, the last flimsy piece separating you from him. You can feel it when he pulls it to the side, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. You are anticipating his touch, so you aren’t caught off guard when it comes. But it feels…. strange. It’s softer than his fingers, more flexible, and it’s wetter.

You can’t help but cry out when it moves all the way up your slit, sliding through your folds to hit the innermost sensitive part of you. You feel his breath again, hot on your already sweltering parts, and you realise it is his tongue he is using, and not his fingers.

Your back arches off the cushion when he licks up again, this time stopping at the very apex and closing his lips around the tiny bud to suck. You cry out again.

One of his hands emerges from beneath you, and you instinctively grip it, intertwining your fingers. His lips leave you for just a moment.

“You will have to be quieter, Your Highness. Or the guards outside your doors might hear.”

His voice is rougher, and at least an octave deeper. It sends a shiver up your spine. His breath hits you as he speaks, and you clench hard. You can tell when he laughs, the vibration of his torso under your skirts, the exhale of his breath right over your core.

“I saw that.” His tone is teasing. You nearly yelp when his fingertip prods at your hole. You clench again.

“Seungcheol, you are being mean.” You whine. It is all you can muster. You feel like your brain is melting inside your skull. You crave to feel his lips on you again, to feel the electricity that zips up your stomach when he sucks on you. A pleasure so intense, it feels like your soul is leaving your body.

“My apologies.” He hums. You are just about to call him out, saying he doesn’t sound apologetic at all, when he licks another thick stripe through your folds. You sigh at the feeling, gripping harder at his free hand. He squeezes reassuringly. Very fleetingly, it enters your head that it feels very intimate, holding hands with him like this, but then you feel the way he hardens his tongue a bit, licking over your clit, and you realise there really isn’t anything you wouldn’t let him do to you if it means he can make you feel this good.

You whimper and moan with every lick, every suck of his lips over you. He leaves no part of you untouched, even retreating for a few moments to dig his teeth lightly into the meat of your inner thighs. He returns when you try to push your hips up, needing to feel his mouth on you again.

“So impatient.” He mumbles into you, and the vibrations nearly make your eyes roll. Your back, now aching from the constant arch it was in, undulates a bit so you can lean into him.

“More.” You babble. You don’t know what exactly it is you want, but you are heady, and there’s a fog of lust settling over you, and all you know is that you want more, more, more. Of him. Of his touch. Something is missing, you just don’t know what.

Seungcheol is your answer, though. And when you feel his fingertip prod at your hole once again, some primal part of you realizes that it is what you need. His finger, inside you. You feel empty without it, and when he finally breaches that opening, sinking one digit in you up to the knuckle, you keen and let out a long, broken moan.

“Yes.” You choke out, body twitching when it moves in you, as Seungcheol’s tongue runs fervently over your clit so he can ease you into the intrusion.

“You taste so sweet.” His voice is husky and rough. He mouths at you as he speaks. “Such wonderful sounds your pussy makes when it is played with. And you’re so wet for me, Princess. Are you enjoying yourself that much?”

His words are filthy. He has never spoken like this. The crude language, it suits him. It makes you clench hard around the solitary finger inside you. He hums and curls it, the finger wiggling in further until he hits a spongy part deep inside you that makes sparks shoot up your core. You cry out again, arching impossibly deeper as your vision swims. Seungcheol seems to close in on that spot, and you don’t realise he has slipped another finger in until you feel impossibly full, and the force on your walls increases. He pulls his other hand, intertwined with yours still, down over your clothed waist, holding you down. His strength leaves you immobile, and you are helpless as his fingers start moving, in and out, in and out, lips sucking harder and harder over your abused little clit.

You don’t know when you hit your peak. All you know is that it comes hurtling into you until your jaw is going slack, your toes are curling, and your vision is turning white. All you feel is him, him, him, his fingers, insistently pumping into you over and over, his tongue, lapping over you like a man starved, and you can feel more than hear when he groans into you, coaxing you through this feeling, this crest of sensations that you have no name for, that feel so good it makes tears slip from your eyes and roll down the sides of your head and into your hairline.

You gasp in great gulps of hair, legs lifting from their places on the armrests to close. Seungcheol moves away, prying his hand from you with a wet squelch that would embarrass you if you still had any control of your mental faculties. His head emerges from beneath your dress, and he is a sight. His hair is disheveled, sticking up in all directions, his normally porcelain pale skin is flushed a deep shade of pink, particularly high on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. And the lower half of his face is drenched in transparent liquid, making his skin shine. He watches you as he pops his middle and ring fingers, equally wet, into his mouth, tongue lapping over the digits to clean them. Something zips through you at the sight.

Your body feels like jelly, so you are grateful when Seungcheol straightens your skirts, sliding his arms under you to lift you up and carry you to the four poster bed behind you two. He settles you down with a sigh, brushing your hair away from your face. You watch him as he pulls the blankets over you. Watch as he places a glass of water by your side from the tea tray. Your heart swells and you wonder. Will the man you marry care for you the way Seungcheol does? It feels so impossible. You are convinced, as you watch his broad shoulders move under his shirt, that there is no other man in the world like Choi Seungcheol.

“Is this what it will be like?” You think out loud.

Seungcheol smiles and kneels beside the bed so he is on eye level with you.

“There will be more.” He says. “But don’t worry. We will prepare you fully before the time comes.”

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

Pro choice rally, 1989, San Francisco. Phyllis Christopher

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

Chef's Special

Synopsis: You recently discovered a new favourite restaurant—and a hot chef to go with it. What you didn't expect was to end up as his special dish.

Pairing: chef!Seungcheol x afab!reader

Genre: smut, non-idol! au, chef! au, oneshot

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: food play, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), semi-public sex, dom!Seungcheol, sub!reader, big dick!Seungcheol, creampie, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Happy Cherry day! Here's my mandatory fic for daddy Cheol! This combines these requests, hope you enjoy anonies!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You're scrolling through your phone, humming to yourself as you try to find a place for dinner. Being a bit of a foodie, you love exploring new spots every now and then—but nothing's really catching your eye tonight. That is, until you stumble upon a newly opened restaurant nearby. Curious, you check the reviews and are pleasantly surprised to see people raving about it, calling it one of the best meals they've ever had. Smiling to yourself, you decide you've got to try it out.

Once you arrive, a waiter named Vernon ushers you to your table. You go for the most recommended dish on the menu and take in the aesthetic around you while waiting.

When the food finally arrives, you're practically drooling at the sight. You don't even bother with snapping a picture—you just dig right in. And the moment it hits your tongue, you're in love. The reviews weren't exaggerating—this really is the best food you've ever had. You devour the whole dish, savouring every bite.

You already know you're going to be a regular here.

Ever since that day, you've made it a point to come back every single day—haven't missed one yet. You've worked your way through most of the menu by now, and honestly? You can't even pick a favourite. Everything is just so goddamn good.

Today, you order their special, and the moment you take a bite, you hum in delight. If it were possible, you'd get on your knees and worship the chef—that's how good it is.

"Oh, Vernon!" you call out, stopping the waiter as he walks by.

"Yes? Can I get you anything?" he asks.

"I need you to help me compliment the chef," you say, eyes wide with sincerity. "I don't know what magic they're working back there, but tell them to never stop. This is incredible. Kiss them on the mouth if you can."

"Uh…not sure I can manage the kissing part, but I'll definitely let him know you enjoyed it," he says, chuckling as he disappears into the kitchen.

A few moments later, Vernon returns with someone by his side. You look up and nearly choke on your drink. Standing next to him is, presumably, the chef—and he's drop-dead gorgeous. Blonde hair, a solid, muscular build, pouty lips, sharp jawline…he looks like he walked straight out of Mount Olympus.

"Hello, Miss. I'm the chef, Seungcheol," he says with a warm smile, and your breath catches when you see the dimple that appears on his cheek. "Vernon told me you had some kind words about the food—I really appreciate it."

"O-Oh," you stammer, suddenly hyper-aware of how flustered you feel under his gaze. "It's nothing, really. You deserve it. This is honestly one of the best meals I've ever had."

Seungcheol chuckles softly at your words.

"Thank you, Miss. That means a lot—especially coming from a pretty lady like you," he says with a slight bow, and you feel your cheeks flush instantly.

He gives you a small smirk before turning back toward the kitchen, leaving you fanning your face in an attempt to cool down.

Just as you're finishing your meal, Vernon places a plate of brownies in front of you.

"Um, I didn't order dessert?" you ask, puzzled.

"It's complimentary," Vernon says with a knowing smile. "From the chef. He said—and I quote—'a sweet treat for the sweet customer.'"

"Oh." You can't help but blush as you accept the plate, laughing softly.

You take a bite of the brownie and straight up moan. It's divine. You swear you've ascended. Nothing has ever tasted this good. If this is what heaven is like, you're ready to go. But instead of inhaling it like usual, you slow down, letting yourself savour every bite.

When you finally finish, you notice something tucked beneath the plate—a small piece of paper. Curious, you pick it up and see a phone number scrawled across it.

XXX-XXXXXXXXX I'd love to get to know my sweet customer more :) - Seungcheol

You bite your bottom lip and slip the note into your pocket, heart pounding in your chest.

One text turned into five, five into ten—and now here you are, standing in front of your favourite restaurant—a date with the hot chef himself. After spending an hour at home debating whether or not to text Seungcheol, you finally gathered the courage and hit send. To your surprise, he replied almost instantly. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself getting flustered every time he flirted. When he asked you out to dinner, you didn't hesitate to say yes, which brings you to this very moment.

You take a deep breath, smoothing out your dress one last time before stepping inside—only to find the place eerily empty.

"Uh…hello?" you call out, slightly confused.

Before your nerves can spiral, Seungcheol steps out of the kitchen, flashing that gorgeous smile. Your heart does a little flip as your eyes trail down his outfit—a sharp suit and a white dress shirt that clings just right to his broad chest.

"Y/N! You made it," he greets, walking over.

"Cheol, where is everyone? Why's the place empty?" you ask, eyes darting around the vacant restaurant.

"I closed it down for the night," he grins. "Thought we could have a private dinner—just the two of us."

Your heart skips a beat at the gesture.

"Come on, sit. I'll bring out the food," he says, pulling out a chair for you like a true gentleman.

You take your seat, and he disappears into the kitchen, returning shortly with the entrée.

"Made something new just for you. Hope you like it," he says with that signature dimpled smile.

You take a bite and instantly hum in delight.

"Cheol, seriously—what do you put in this? Why is everything you make so goddamn good?" you say with a soft moan, making him chuckle.

Dinner goes on effortlessly—he keeps surprising you with your favourite dishes, and you keep blushing at his thoughtful little touches. Every gesture feels intimate, every look makes your heart flutter.

Soon enough, he brings out dessert: a cherry-flavoured treat topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream.

"This is my signature dessert," he hums, resting his chin in his hand as he watches you.

You take a bite, closing your eyes to fully savour the way it melts on your tongue.

"How is it?" he asks.

"Divine," you reply sincerely, making him chuckle.

He takes a bite for himself, and a bit of whipped cream lands on his lips. You can't help but stare as he licks it off—and he catches you looking, smirking knowingly.

"You know," he begins with a chuckle, "Vernon did mention something about you asking him to give me a kiss."

Your face instantly heats up.

He leans in slightly, the ambient light hitting his features just right, soft and golden, making him look almost ethereal.

"I wouldn't mind getting that kiss from you," he purrs, voice low and teasing.

Your heart stumbles in your chest, breath hitching. You bite your bottom lip and slowly lean in, cheeks flushed. Seungcheol chuckles at your hesitation, then closes the gap between you, meeting you halfway.

The moment your lips touch, you melt.

The kiss is slow, tender—you can taste the cherries lingering on his tongue.

"I think you might be sweeter than the dessert," he murmurs against your lips before pulling you in again, this time with a deeper, hungrier kiss.

He dominates the kiss effortlessly, and you surrender, letting him take control. His hand slides behind you, pulling you flush against him. A soft moan escapes you as he teases your tongue, his grip possessive.

You let out a startled squeak when he lifts you without effort, settling you onto his lap.

"Better," he murmurs against your lips before claiming them again.

Your fingers twist into his blonde hair, tugging sharply—just enough to draw a low growl from him. His hands roam, leaving heat in their wake, and you can feel yourself growing wetter with every touch. Desperate, you roll your hips against him, aching for more.

"Impatient, are we?" He chuckles, dark and amused.

"Cheol, please," you whine, grinding down again.

In one swift motion, he lifts you onto an empty table nearby, your dress riding up. Plucking a cherry from the dessert, he places it between your lips with a smirk.

"Keep it there," he orders before diving back in.

The kiss is messy, hungry—cherry juice smearing between your mouths as he devours you. When he finally pulls back, his lips are stained cherry red, his hair dishevelled, and his gaze burns with satisfaction.

He shrugs off his jacket in one swift motion, rolling up his sleeves to reveal those veiny forearms you can't help but stare at.

Your breath hitches as he hikes your dress higher, fingers hooking into your panties and sliding them down, leaving you bare. The cool air kisses your exposed flesh, drawing a shiver from you.

"Fuck, you're already dripping," he growls, dragging a finger through your slick folds. The touch makes you whimper, hips twitching toward him.

"Wanna taste you," he murmurs, but instead of diving in, he reaches for the dessert with a wicked smirk.

Confusion flickers across your face—until he scoops up a spoonful of whipped cream and smears it right over your aching core. You gasp as the cold sweetness contrasts with the heat between your thighs.

Then his tongue is on you, licking a slow, deliberate stripe through the cream. You whine, back arching.

"Fuck, you taste even sweeter like this," he moans against you.

He adds more cream, lapping at you like a man starved, as if he hadn't just finished a meal. Your fingers fist in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans in approval. When your thighs instinctively squeeze around his head, his strong hands force them apart again, relentlessly.

"Cheol—!" You cry out as your first orgasm crashes over you, thighs trembling, vision blurring. But he doesn't stop, tongue working you through it, coaxing out every last drop.

A second peak hits even harder, your entire body tensing as pleasure whites out your mind. You babble his name like a prayer, but he only drinks you in deeper, greedy.

When he finally pulls back, your juices—and whipped cream—glisten on his chin. The sight is obscenely delicious. You whimper, boneless and ruined.

"Already tired, sweetheart?" he taunts, a smirk playing on his lips. "And here I thought you could handle me."

"No—please," you whine, squirming beneath him. "Need you inside me."

A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest as he unzips his pants, freeing his cock. Your breath hitches at the sight—god, he's huge.

In one swift motion, he drags you to the edge of the table, your legs hooked over his arms.

"Ready?" he asks, though the hunger in his voice says he won't wait. You nod desperately.

The moment he pushes in, your back arches, a broken moan tearing from your throat. He fills you, stretching you so deep you swear his tip kisses your cervix.

"S-So big," you gasp, nails biting into his shoulders.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, grip bruising on your thighs. "Perfect fucking fit."

Then he moves—hard, relentless thrusts that have you clawing at him. Every snap of his hips drags his cock against your walls, the thick veins rubbing you just right.

"Wanna fuck you right against the glass," he growls, "so everyone can see how good you take it."

The thought sends a shudder through you, your breath coming in sharp, needy whimpers.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" His voice is rough, fingers digging into your hips. "Being watched while I ruin you?"

All you can do is moan, your body clenching around him.

"Dirty girl," he murmurs, amused and feral.

Your cries pitch higher, thighs trembling as your climax builds. Seungcheol doesn't let up, his thumb circling your clit with ruthless precision.

"Cum for me," he commands—and you shatter, screaming his name as your ears ring from the overwhelming pleasure. He follows with a few final, deep thrusts, spilling inside you with a groan.

For a moment, there's only the sound of ragged breaths. Then he pulls out, and you whimper at the slick heat dripping from you. Gently, he helps you into your panties, fingers brushing your skin.

When he cups your face, his gaze is heavy, possessive.

"Wanna clean up at my place?"

You grin, still breathless. "Thought you'd never ask."

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @junnhuisworld @horangipower17 @cheolsbb26 @scoupshawty @shuas-winnie30 @amaranthar @cherriecsc @shadowkoo @winterisnt @combinatoright-blog @my-neurodivergent-world @chugging-antiseptic-dye @senxgwha @mangssunshine @abibliolife @poutsoonie @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee @adiknyamingyu @smiileflower @yeo6ju @cherriecsc

[wh0r3r4ngh43]

Gym Crush pt.2 | Choi Seungcheol | romance, (+18)

Pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader

Summary: After that first set of flirty texts from Cheol, you actually start going to the gym religiously. It’s no surprise that it brings the two of you closer (in all senses). One evening, when he invites you over to his place to cook pasta and drink wine, things get heated very quickly. And who are you to decline a steamy cardio session with your personal trainer, after all?

Word count: 5.2k

Genre/warnings: romance, slow burn, fluff, smut; slice of life, humour if you squint, workplace crush, gym!au, personal trainer!cheol x client!reader; professional/client boundary crossing, mild possessiveness/jealousy (his reactions to relentless teasing from his lovely friends), mild injury (pushing too hard at the gym, tiny knife cut), Seungcheol is a simp to put it simply, he’s flustered and adorable and a little awkward (until he’s not), caring and attentive man; not the most accurate representation of gym training (i researched but not in-depth); Kkuma makes an appearance because we love our pretty princess

Smut warnings: fingering, piv sex (do it like them, use condoms!), a bit of nipple play, some marking with teeth, Cheol is a little commanding, minor injury kink if you squint (reader gets turned on when the accidental knife cut happens—you’ll see), reader gets to be called mine by Cheol, a little bit of overstimulation (multiple orgasms for reader). I might’ve totally forgotten something…

A/N: i sincerely despise writing summaries and breaking down genres and warnings, it gives me legit anxiety. I procrastinated it for several days straight even though the story was all done and ready to be scheduled for posting. But as always I hope you enjoy! I love reading your comments and reposts, and you’re always welcome to message me through ask box! (๑˙᎑˙๑)♡

If you see any mistakes I’m sorry, English isn’t my first language, proceed at your own discretion.

Masterlist. | PART 1

The next morning, you find him leaning against the mirrored wall beside the squat rack, a protein shaker in hand. Dawn bleeds through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the empty gym in shades of liquid gold. His eyes snap to you the moment the glass doors sigh shut behind you, tracking your movement like a compass finding true north. There’s no mistaking the way his shoulders relax, the subtle curve of his mouth, a silent hey, you actually came that warms you more than the weak sunlight.

"Late," he announces, but it’s softened by the way he pushes off the wall, already reaching for your gym bag. His fingers brush yours as he takes it, a deliberate, lingering graze that sends a jolt up your arm. "Two extra sets. Penalty."

"You texted at 5:45 AM saying you’d be late yourself," you protest, shrugging off your hoodie. The air conditioning bites at your exposed arms, raising goosebumps and you shiver briefly before shaking it off.

"Did I?" He feigns wide-eyed innocence, setting your bag down with exaggerated care. The scent of his shampoo or shower gel—something clean and woodsy, like cedar after rain—drifts between you. "Must’ve… misremembered." His gaze drops to your lips for a heartbeat too long. You pretend not to notice and scoff at his attempted obliviousness.

He’s relentless during the session. "Feet wider." "Chest up, not out." "Breathe, don’t hold it." His voice is a low, grounding counterpoint to the clatter of distant weights and the rhythmic whir of treadmills of other early birds (suicide squad you call them and yourself). But every correction from Seungcheol is delivered with his body angled close, his presence a solid wall against your back. His palm settles lightly on your spine to guide your posture during lunges, calloused fingertips skimming your elbow to adjust your grip on the kettlebell. The whole process is a screenplay of plausible deniability: 30% actual training, 70% him weaving a net of near-touches and searching for every and any reason to be as close as possible. You don’t mind, after all there’s something uniquely satisfying in the knowledge that at the very least he likes you enough to try and spend as much of his time on you as he’s allowed without being fired for it.

And yet, his colleagues notice.

"Since when does Choi Seungcheol work pro bono?" Mingyu’s voice cuts through the focused quiet, dripping with amusement. He leans against a nearby elliptical machine, arms crossed, grinning like a cat presented with a bowl of cream.

Seungcheol doesn’t flinch outwardly, but you see the muscle jump in his jaw. A faint, telltale flush creeps up the back of his neck, staining his skin beneath the short hairs. "Since she actually puts in the work. Unlike some people." He keeps his eyes fixed on your form, his hand lingering protectively on your shoulder blade.

"Putting in the work, huh?" Wonwoo appears beside Mingyu, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel. His smirk is knowing, sharp. "Looks like you’re the one working overtime, Cheol. Charging her in smiles instead of session fees?"

You focus fiercely on the smooth arc of the kettlebell, your cheeks heating as you desperately attempt not to listen. Seungcheol’s thumb presses a tiny, reassuring circle against your shoulder blade. "Ignore the peanut gallery," he murmurs, his voice suddenly thick. "They’re just jealous I found someone who doesn’t whine through every set." The pink now blooms fully across his ears.

Three weeks dissolve into a rhythm as comforting as the worn grip of your favorite dumbbell in the gym. He meets you at the crack of dawn, when the world outside is still painted in grays and the only sounds are the hum of fluorescent lights and the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat. He starts bringing you smoothies—vibrant green concoctions he blends himself before dawn, claiming they’re “recovery essentials” when you throw him a look that is half suspicion, half mild displeasure at the taste. ("Spinach, banana, almond milk. Not poison. I think.") He warms your cold hands between his own large, rough palms after you complain about the AC, rubbing life back into your fingertips with a tenderness that belies his gym-rat exterior.

And then there’s the day you push too hard on the leg press. Your quadriceps scream in protest, trembling violently as you try to lock out the final rep. A wave of dizziness washes over you, the room tilting precariously even though you’re basically sitting-lying down. Before you can even gasp, he’s there. Not spotting the weight – it’s safely racked – but his hands are suddenly firm on your shoulders, grounding you so you don’t lean to either side and fall, easing you back against the padded support. His face is inches from yours, eyes wide with alarm stripped bare of any trainer-client detachment.

"Hey. Hey, look at me." His voice is rough, urgent. His thumbs stroke the tense cords of your neck. "Breathe. In… out. That’s it. Just breathe."

The scent of him—clean sweat, cedar shower gel, and something uniquely Seungcheol—fills your senses. His heartbeat thuds against your palm when you reach up in slight disorientation, trying to stabilise yourself, vision darkened around the edges. His heart beats frantically, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. He doesn’t pull back. Not immediately. His gaze searches yours, filled with a concern that feels too deep, too personal.

"You good?" he asks, his voice softer now, scraped raw.

You nod, swallowing hard, suddenly breathless for reasons that have nothing to do with oxygen debt. You remove your palm when you realise it’s still pressed against his compression shirt. "Yeah. Just… pushed too hard."

He exhales slowly, a shaky breath you feel against your temple. His hands remain on your shoulders, warm and heavy. "Stubborn," he murmurs, but there’s no real annoyance, only a strange, breathless fondness. "Let’s call it a day. Cool down. Properly." He finally eases back, but his eyes stay locked on yours, attentive and unreadable, like there are too many thoughts running through his head all at once.

The teasing from his colleagues evolves into an art form of sorts. Jeonghan, the gym’s resident fox-faced yoga trainer with a knack for psychological probing (simply called ‘getting on everyone’s nerves’), corners Seungcheol near the water cooler during your post-workout stretching. You’re lying on your back on a mat, one leg extended towards the ceiling, focusing very hard on your hamstring and not on their hushed conversation drifting over.

"So," Jeonghan drawls, slinging a conspiratorial arm around Seungcheol’s stiff shoulders. "Heard you spent twenty minutes explaining the biomechanics of the bicep curl yesterday. Very thorough. Very… dedicated."

Seungcheol tries to shrug him off, but Jeonghan clings like a limpet. "She asked." His voice is tight.

"Did she? Or did you just really need to stand that close while she flexed?" Seungcheol’s expression sours and, before he can retort with anything, Jeonghan’s grin is luminous as he turns to you, talking intentionally louder to make sure you hear even if you try not to listen. "He bought new deodorant last week, you know. Said the old one was ‘too sporty’. Needed something ‘cleaner’. More… approachable."

Seungcheol chokes on his sip of water. A droplet escapes, tracing a slow path down the strong column of his throat, over the pulse point hammering visibly beneath his skin. He swipes at it with the back of his hand, glaring daggers at Jeonghan, but the furious blush staining his cheeks and neck gives him away entirely. He avoids looking in your direction.

"Focus on your hip flexors," he barks suddenly at you, his voice cracking slightly. "Hold for thirty seconds. Deep breaths."

You obediently switch legs, sinking into the stretch. When you chance a glance, he’s turned away, meticulously re-racking weights that were already perfectly aligned. His shoulders are stiff, radiating a potent mix of embarrassment and irritation. You bite back a smile, warmth blooming in your chest. It’s absurdly endearing, this confident, sculpted man reduced to a flustered boy by his friends’ teasing and his own poorly disguised crush.

The pretense shatters on a rain-lashed Thursday. The gym is a cavernous echo chamber, empty save for the two of you and the rhythmic drumming of water against the high windows. Grey light washes everything in monochrome. You’re on the mat, lying on your back for glute bridges, pushing your hips towards the ceiling. He’s kneeling beside you, one hand hovering near your lower back for form, the other resting lightly on your hip bone. His touch is electric, even through the fabric of your leggings.

"Higher," he murmurs, his voice unusually husky in the quiet. His thumb presses gently against your hip. "Engage the core. Squeeze at the top."

You push up, holding the position, feeling the burn in your glutes. The silence stretches, interfered only by the rain and your own measured breaths. His hand on your hip feels heavier, hotter. His gaze isn’t on your form anymore; it’s tracing the line of your shoulder, the curve of your neck exposed by your high ponytail. You can feel the weight of it, intense and unwavering.

You carefully lower your hips back to the mat and turn your head to look at him. His eyes snap to yours, wide and startled, caught. A flush instantly floods his face, vivid crimson against his fair skin. He jerks his hand back from your hip as if scalded.

"Sorry," he rasps, scrambling back slightly on his knees. He runs a hand through his damp hair, making it stand on end. "Got… distracted."

The raw admission hangs in the air, fragile and undeniable. The carefully constructed trainer-client facade lies in ruins around him. You push yourself up to sit, facing him. The mat is cool beneath your palms. Rain streaks the windows in tiny running rivulets.

"I know," you say softly.

His head whips up. "Know what?" He looks genuinely terrified, bracing for rejection.

"That this," you gesture vaguely between you, encompassing the pre-dawn meetings, the smoothies, the lingering touches, the blushes, "isn’t just about deadlifts and protein intake."

He stares at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The panic in his eyes slowly morphs into something else—vulnerability, hope, a desperate kind of relief. He swallows hard, the sound audible in the quiet. "No," he admits, the word rough, scraped from his throat. "It’s not." He looks down at his hands, clenched in his lap. Strong hands, capable hands, now looking uncertain. "It hasn’t been for a while. I just…" He trails off, shaking his head, a frustrated, self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. "I didn’t know how to stop being your trainer and start being… someone who just wanted to see you. Every morning."

He risks a glance up, his dark eyes searching yours, laid painfully bare. "My friends are never going to let me live this down."

"Good," you whisper, shifting closer on the mat. The scent of rain through the open crack of the window and his clean sweat fills the small space between you. "Maybe next time you want to see someone every morning, you could just… ask them out? Like a normal person?" You can’t help but tease him.

A laugh bursts from him—genuine, surprised, tinged with leftover nerves. It transforms his face, softening the sharp lines, crinkling the corners of his eyes. He scrubs a hand over his face, smearing sweat and the remnants of his embarrassment. "Yeah. Okay. Point taken." He drops his hand, meeting your gaze with a newfound, albeit shaky, resolve. "So. Would you? Let me take you out? Somewhere that doesn’t smell like rubber mats and sweaty people?"

The tension melts, replaced by a warm, giddy lightness. "Only if you promise not to critique my menu choices."

He grins, that bright, unguarded smile that makes your stomach flip. "Deal. But I reserve the right to steal your fries," he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and laughing when you swat him lightly.

He takes you to a tiny, steamy noodle bar tucked away in a side alley, far removed from the gleaming, work-hard world of the gym. The air is thick and fragrant, laden with the pungent aroma of simmering bone broth, fried garlic, chili oil, and the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Neon signs from the shops across the narrow street smear vibrant streaks of reds and blues and pinks across rain-slicked pavement visible through the fogged-up windows. He’s swapped his gym gear for soft, worn jeans and a charcoal grey hoodie that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad. His hair is still slightly damp, curling softly at his nape.

Seungcheol fumbles with the laminated menu, his usual confidence replaced by an endearing awkwardness. "I, uh… wasn’t sure what you’d like," he admits, pushing the menu towards you across the small, slightly sticky table. "Besides glaring suspiciously at smoothies I bring you."

You nudge his foot gently under the table with yours. "I like spicy things. And trainers who turn into adorable, blushing messes when they’re caught being obvious."

He groans, dropping his forehead onto his folded arms on the table with a soft thud. "You are never letting me forget that, are you?" His voice is muffled.

"Not a chance," you laugh, sipping your hot jasmine tea. The warmth spreads through you, chasing away the last of the rainy weather chill. "It’s officially my favorite thing."

He lifts his head just enough to peek at you through his fingers. The neon lights from outside reflect in his dark eyes and the vulnerability that is still lingering in there becomes more obvious, the hopeful curve of his mouth more prominent. "Your favorite thing, huh?" he echoes, testing the words. Slowly, deliberately, he lowers his hands, then reaches across the small table. His palm is upturned, an open question on the scarred knuckles and calloused skin. "So… was the whole free personal trainer charade worth it? The relentless teasing? The existential dread every time Jeonghan opened his mouth?"

You place your hand in his without hesitation. His fingers close around yours, warm and strong and sure. His thumb sweeps slowly across your knuckles, a gentle, grounding stroke that unravels the last threads of tension coiling in your shoulders. It’s a touch that speaks volumes – apology, promise, relief.

"Best bargain I never paid for," you murmur, giving his hand a playful squeeze.

His answering smile is pure sunshine, banishing the last of his shyness, revealing the soft, earnest heart beneath the sculpted muscles and confident facade. "Good," he says, his voice warm, squeezing your hand. "Because I might have or have not accidentally booked your usual slot for tomorrow. Six AM. Sharp."

You gasp and kick his shin lightly under the table. He just laughs, a warm sound that blends perfectly with the buzz of conversations of other patrons and the murmur of the rain outside, his hand holding yours tighter, anchoring you firmly in this new, delicious reality.

The noodle bar becomes a catalyst. Dawn gym sessions still happen—Seungcheol wouldn’t let you skip leg day if the world was ending—but now they bleed into something softer, slower. He starts texting you things that have nothing to do with reps or protein: Saw this stray cat that looks like your smug face after finishing all reps without dying. Thought of you. Or: It’s raining. Perfect day to stay in bed. (Alone. Obviously. Unless…?)

His invitations evolve.

"Come over Saturday," he says one Thursday, spotting you on the bench press. His palm rests lightly on the bar, not guiding, just there. A steadying presence. "I’ll cook pasta. Homemade sauce. None of that jarred crap Mingyu eats."

You arch a brow, lowering the weight. "You cook?"

He grins, wiping the nonexistent sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The movement makes his biceps flex. "I survive. But for you? I’ll try not to poison us."

His apartment is exactly what you imagined: clean but lived-in, dominated by a massive navy blue sofa and shelves cluttered with protein tubs among which you spot a gaming console, and a surprising number of well-loved cookbooks. Kkuma, his cotton de tulear, greets you with a wiggling frenzy, nearly knocking over an umbrella stand by the door.

"Down, menace," Seungcheol laughs, gently nudging her aside. He’s barefoot, wearing faded jeans and a soft white henley pushed up to his elbows. The sight of his forearms—corded muscle, faint scars, the dusting of dark hair—makes your mouth go dry. "Make yourself at home. Wine’s open."

He cooks with intense focus, brows furrowed, lips pursed together in a slight pout, sleeves rolled higher as he chops garlic. The air fills with the rich scent of tomatoes, basil, and sizzling pancetta. You perch on a stool at the kitchen island, sipping pinot noir, watching the fluid shift of his shoulders beneath the thin cotton. It’s domestic. Intimate. A world away from clanging weights and his colleagues’ teasing.

"You’re staring," he murmurs without turning, a smile playing on his lips. He scrapes onions into the pan. They hiss, releasing a cloud of fragrant steam.

"Admiring your form," you counter, swirling your wine. "Elbow in. Wrist straight. Very professional."

He snorts, finally glancing over his shoulder. His eyes are warm, crinkled at the corners. "Flattery gets you extra parmesan."

You chuckle in response.

Dinner is surprisingly good—al dente pasta coated in a velvety sauce, garlic bread crisp and golden. You eat at the small dining table, Kkuma walking in circles around your feet, trying to get food from you by giving boba eyes and quietly whining (Seungcheol forbids spoiling her). The conversation flows easy: terrible gym music, his childhood fear of pigeons, your (not so) irrational hatred of folding fitted sheets. The wine bottle empties. The city lights blink on outside the window, painting streaks of gold across his cheekbones.

He clears the plates, his hand brushing yours as he takes your fork. A spark jumps between you, lingering in the sudden quiet of the kitchen.

"Dessert?" he asks, voice lower than before.

You stand, following him to the sink. "Depends. Is it more protein powder disguised as pudding?"

He turns, leaning back against the counter. The space between you shrinks. You catch the scent of him beneath the garlic and wine—cedar soap, warm skin, something uniquely male. His gaze drops to your mouth, then back up, dark and intent.

"No powder," he murmurs. His hand rises, calloused fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw. The touch is feather-light, questioning. "Just this."

He kisses you.

It’s not like the quick, rain-dampened press after your first date. This is slow. Deliberate. His lips are soft but insistent, tasting of red wine and basil. One hand slides into your hair, cradling the back of your head; the other settles low on your spine, pulling you flush against him. You feel the solid wall of his chest, the rapid thud of his heartbeat against yours. A low sound vibrates in his throat—part satisfaction, part hunger.

The world narrows to the slide of his mouth, the warming air between your bodies, the firm pressure of his hands anchoring you. You sink into him, fingers fisting in the soft fabric of his henley. The kitchen fades—the hum of the fridge, the drip of the faucet, Kkuma’s soft snore from the living room rug. There’s only his warmth, his scent, the dizzying rightness of his body aligned with yours.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged. His eyes search yours, pupils blown wide, lips slightly swollen. A faint flush stains the tops of his cheekbones. He looks wrecked. Beautiful.

"Okay?" he rasps, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.

You nod, words lost somewhere between your ribs and your throat. You lean in, chasing his mouth again.

He meets you halfway.

It becomes a rhythm. Saturdays are for pasta, wine, and Kkuma stealing meatballs—you’re becoming her favored human for sneakily feeding her when Seungcheol doesn’t see. Tuesdays are for early morning jogs that start at his apartment (“Easier than coordinating a meet up spot through texts, and my place is closer to the track,” he insists, handing you a travel mug of coffee, his fingers lingering on yours). His couch becomes your couch. His hoodies migrate to your closet.

One rainy Thursday, you show up drenched after work, hair plastered to your neck, shivering in your thin blouse. He answers the door, takes one look at you, and mutters, “Fuck,” before pulling you inside.

"Shower," he orders, already steering you down the hallway. "Now. Before you catch pneumonia and I have to nurse you back to health again." (It happened just recently).

His bathroom is steamy and clean, smelling of his cedar body wash. He hands you a thick towel and one of his hoodies—soft, grey, swallowing you whole. When you emerge, hair still slightly damp, skin flushed from the heat, he’s in the kitchen making tea.

He freezes when he sees you, the kettle forgotten in his hand. His gaze travels slowly from your hair, down the oversized hoodie swallowing your frame, to your bare legs. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

"You," he says, his voice rough, "are trying to kill me."

You pad over, taking the kettle from his stiff fingers. "Just borrowing clothes. Is that a crime?"

He crowds you back against the counter, palms flat on the cool granite on either side of your hips. His body radiates heat, blocking out the rest of the kitchen. "When you look like that? Yeah. Capital offense." His eyes are dark, intense, fixed on your mouth. The air crackles.

He kisses you like he’s starved for it—deep, claiming, one hand sliding into the damp hair at your nape, the other splaying possessively low on your back. You arch into him, the soft cotton of the hoodie being pretty much the only barrier between your skin and his. A whimper escapes you, swallowed by his mouth.

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing hard. "Stay," he murmurs, the word a plea against your lips. "Just… stay tonight."

Weeks blur into a comfortable intimacy. But the tension simmers, a low heat beneath every shared glance, every accidental touch on the sofa, every time he catches you wearing his clothes. It’s a promise hanging unspoken between you.

It bursts on a quiet Friday. You’re helping him chop vegetables for another pasta attempt, elbows brushing, the radio playing soft jazz. He’s recounting Jeonghan’s latest attempt to embarrass him at work (“He put googly eyes on my protein shaker. Said it looked less intimidating.”) when your knife slips.

A sharp sting blooms on your thumb. "Ow!"

Seungcheol is at your side instantly, catching your wrist. "Shit. Let me see." A bead of crimson wells on the pad of your thumb. Without hesitation, he brings your finger to his mouth, sucking gently.

The shock of it—the warmth, the wet suction, the intense focus in his eyes—rocks you. Your breath stops at the top of an inhale. He holds your gaze, his lips sealed around your finger, tongue pressing softly against the tiny wound. The world tilts. Heat pools low in your belly, sharp and insistent.

He releases your finger slowly, his lips glistening. His eyes haven’t left yours. "Better?"

His voice is gravel. It scrapes over your skin.

You don’t answer. You fist your hands in the front of his soft, worn t-shirt and pull him down, crushing your mouth to his.

It’s a match thrown on gasoline.

He groans, deep and hungry, his hands flying to your hips, lifting you onto the kitchen counter in one smooth motion. Bowls clatter. Abandoned vegetables tumble to the floor as he frees up space with a vague swipe of his palm. He doesn’t care. His mouth is hot and demanding on yours, his tongue sliding against yours with a desperation that steals your breath. His hands slide under the hem of your shirt, rough palms skimming your waist, your ribs, the sensitive skin just below your breasts. His touch brands you.

"Seungcheol—" You gasp his name against his lips as his thumb brushes the underside of your breast.

He pulls back just far enough to look at you, his chest heaving, eyes blazing. His hand slides up, cupping your breast through your bra, his thumb circling your nipple until it pebbles into a hard point. A shudder runs through you.

“Cheol,” he corrects, voice low and thick with need. He leans down, nipping once at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. The sting makes you jolt. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs, “When I’m inside you, I want my name short on your tongue.”

The raw command, the possessiveness in his voice, the feel of his teeth and the promise in his words—it unravels you. A whine tears from your throat, your head falling back.

"Yes," you breathe. "Cheol. Please."

He makes a sound like a growl, surging up to reclaim your mouth. His hands are everywhere—pushing your shirt over your head, fumbling with the clasp of your bra, his palms hot and greedy on your bare skin. He lifts you off the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and carries you down the hallway to his bedroom without breaking the kiss.

The room is dim, lit only by the streetlights filtering through the blinds. He lays you down on his bed, the sheets cool against your back. He strips off his t-shirt, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest, the defined ridges of his abdomen, the trail of dark hair leading below the waistband of his jeans. Your mouth waters.

He follows you down, his body covering yours, skin to skin. The weight of him, the heat, the sheer presence is overwhelming. He kisses you deeply, his hands mapping your body—the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breast. His mouth follows, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, lower. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, swirling his tongue. You cry out, arching off the bed, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Cheol—"

He releases your breast with a wet pop, his eyes dark and predatory in the low light. "Tell me," he demands, his hand sliding down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your now unbuttoned shorts and underwear. "Tell me how much you want it."

"I want you," you gasp as his fingers find your slick heat, circling your sensitive nub with maddening pressure. "God, Cheol, I’m begging—"

He kisses you again, swallowing your pleas as his fingers slide inside you, curling deep. You moan into his mouth, your hips rocking against his hand, seeking more friction, more depth. He adds a second finger, stretching you, his thumb still working tight circles on your clit. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter, a white-hot wire about to snap.

"Look at me," he rasps.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his intense gaze. He watches you as he works you, watches every flicker of pleasure on your face, every gasp, every tremble. It’s so unbearably intimate you find that it undoes you on a different level, somewhere deep inside.

"Come for me," he commands, his voice rough velvet. "Now."

His thumb presses harder, his fingers crooking just right inside you. The coil snaps. Pleasure detonates, radiating out from your core in blinding waves. You cry out, back arching, your inner muscles clenching rhythmically around his fingers. He holds you through it, murmuring your name against your skin—"That’s it, good, so good for me"—until the tremors subside, leaving you boneless and gasping.

He pulls his fingers free, sucking them clean with a low groan that vibrates against your neck. The sight, the sound, sends a fresh jolt of heat through your spent body.

He makes quick work of your shorts and underwear, the air of the room brushes your slick folds and you shiver. It takes Seungcheol a minute of staring, his gaze filled with appreciation at the sight before him. “So pretty and all for me,” he purrs—the low timbre of his voice makes your insides clench—and then proceeds to take off his jeans and boxers, freeing his erection—thick, flushed, straining. He rolls on a condom that he grabs from his nightstand drawer, his hands trembling slightly, the only sign of his own fraying control. He settles between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging your slick entrance.

His eyes lock with yours, burning with need, tenderness, and that fierce possessiveness. "Mine," he breathes, and pushes inside.

It’s a stretch, a delicious burn. You gasp, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips, pulling him deeper on sheer reflex. He sinks into you slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he’s fully sheathed, his hips pressed flush against yours. He stills, forehead resting against yours, breathing ragged.

"Fuck," he chokes out. "You feel… perfect."

You manage a mere whimper in response, too deliciously overwhelmed to use words for anything.

He begins to move—slow, deep thrusts that drag against every sensitive nerve inside you. He kisses you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans. His arms cage you while he braces himself above you, biceps bulging with effort as he continues guiding the rhythm, pushing harder into you with each powerful stroke. The friction builds again, a deep, throbbing ache coiling low in your belly.

"Cheol," you gasp, your nails scraping down his sweat-slicked back. "Harder. Please."

He grunts, obliging, his thrusts turning faster, deeper, more urgent. The bedframe knocks rhythmically against the wall. His name becomes a chant on your lips—"Cheol, Cheol, Cheol"—short, gasping, desperate, just like he wanted. He watches you, mesmerized, his own control visibly fraying with every cry that spills from your mouth.

"Gonna come," he grits out, his rhythm faltering. "Look at me. Come with me."

His hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit again, rubbing firm, rapid circles. The dual stimulation tips you over the edge. Your vision whites out as another orgasm crashes through you, fierce and consuming, your inner walls clenching tight around him. He breathes your name, burying himself deep as his own release pulses into you, his body shuddering violently against yours.

He collapses onto you, his weight a warm, comforting anchor. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your neck. You stroke his damp hair, your own body humming with aftershocks of pleasure.

After a long moment, he lifts his head, his eyes soft and hazy. He brushes a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, his touch infinitely tender.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice wrecked.

You nod, too blissed-out for words. A slow smile spreads across his face. He kisses you, soft and lingering and you respond.

"Good," he whispers, finally pulling out and leaving you empty. The used condom gets tied and thrown somewhere—you’re too spent to think about the logistics of it. Seungcheol rolls to the side, pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, solid and secure. "Because," he adds, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his voice already thick with drowsy satisfaction, "you still owe me a morning jog. Six AM as usual, no excuses."

You groan, burrowing deeper into his warmth, the scent of him—sex, sweat, cedar—wrapping around you like a bear hug. The rain drums softly against the window. Somewhere in the apartment, Kkuma sighs in her sleep. You drift, anchored by the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, knowing dawn will bring weights, Mingyu’s teasing, and Cheol’s relentless, perfect attention.

*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this!

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