byuncock

[byuncock]

⟢ : AFTERS ★ .ᐟ

req by this qt anonie <3 hehe

“af·tuhrz” (n): 1. the unofficial, post-party gathering—usually at a random house/hotel after a bigger party and/or club, with tooooo much alcohol, moody lighting, and even more questionable decisions. 2. where you accidentally end up fucking baekhyun after his concert.

content: 18+/mdni. ~9.6k+ words. reverie!baekhyun x f!reader. strangers to one-nighters. fluff. smut. aftercare. praise. dry humping. fingering + oral (fem receiving), drunk p in v sex, hotel room hookup, semi-public foreplay, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, mild obsession vibes, overstim, raw juseyo, you’re both a lil unhinged and match each other's freaks lmaoooo

your throat is hoarse from screaming lyrics you didn’t realize you still knew by heart. your skin’s still buzzing, glitter catching on the collar of your top, sweat drying beneath your skirt.

baekhyun’s concert wasn’t just a show—it was an experience. a sensory overload. the kind that settles into your skin and stays there. the way he moved—fluid and precise, every step pulled straight from muscle memory and instinct—was hypnotic. the way he sang, breathless yet effortless. his visuals? unreal. almost unfair. 

and the way he engaged with the crowd? grinning, teasing, soaking up the screams like sunlight—yeah, that wasn’t just performance. that was a man doing exactly what he was born to do. an idol in every sense. and it was obvious—he loves it. he lives for it.

and you—loud, radiant, maybe a little too invested—could’ve sworn he looked right at you during woo. his gaze was sweeping, fluid, made to tease, but just for a second… it paused. 

row ten.

pink sequined skirt.

you froze mid-sway, breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat, and you didn’t dare blink.

you told yourself it was wishful thinking. that you were just one face in a sea of thousands. but now, stepping out into the night air—still in that same outfit, skin buzzing like it’s holding onto his falsetto—you’re drunk on something more than just concert adrenaline.

your body still vibrates with the bass, your voice is hoarse from shouting lyrics like they were gospel, and your cheeks ache from smiling too hard for too long.

“oh my godddd, meeks, that was fuckin’ insane,” you pant, nearly breathless, practically levitating as you leave the venue.

your best friend, mika, laughs beside you—influencer, 125k+ on the gram, energy like a triple shot of tequila, dressed like the night owes her something. 

“oh, baby,” she purrs, thumb tapping her phone like she’s conjuring magic, “the night’s just getting started.”

her screen flares to life with a flood of unread dms—club logos, kiss emojis, a string of heart-eyes from guys whose names you don’t recognize but probably should. “should we go clubbing?” she offers, eyes glinting. “wanna hit up gravity?”

you hesitate. gravity always spirals. last time, you ended up in a stranger’s penthouse afterwards with three underground rappers and a girl who swore she was hyunjin from le sserafim’s third cousin twice removed.

but fomo’s coded into your dna, and baekhyun’s voice is still ricocheting through your bones. you told yourself you’d say yes to everything tonight. so you do.

you grin, breath catching with the kind of thrill that tastes like trouble.

“fuck it,” you say, two taps away from ordering the uber. “let’s go.”

the club is a blur of lights and bass. you barely make it past the velvet rope before you’re swept inside by the gravity of mika’s orbit.

she knows everyone. the guy at the door daps her up like they grew up together. the bartender winks and sends over a tray of drinks before you even reach the bar. the DJ in the booth flashes her a grin mid-set and changes the track to her favorite remix.

you don’t wait in lines and you never check prices. you exist outside of time when you’re out with her—just a blur of laughter, glitter, and beat drops that rattle your ribcage.

you dance like your heels don’t hurt.

like you didn’t just scream your lungs out at a concert two hours ago.

your skirt swings with every sway of your hips, sequins catching the light like tiny spotlights made just for you.

you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut, drunk on tequila and attention, your friends orbiting you like a constellation of bad choices and even better memories.

you feel pretty—head tilted back, hips swaying, alcohol warming your blood. a random guy tries to flirt and your friend yanks you away with a grin.

“nope,” she says. “we’re keepin’ it mysterious tonight.”

you’re drunk and dizzyo a quarter ‘til midnight when you check your phone and realize you should probably head home.

but then she leans in close and whispers, “wanna hit an afters at the ritz?”

she doesn’t say whose. she never does.

but that’s the thrill of it. the not-knowing. the possibility that tonight hasn’t even peaked yet.

you glance down at your drink—half-melted ice, lipgloss on the rim—and swallow what’s left. you’re sticky with sweat, eyes glassy, lips tingling from salt and lime. 

and yeah, maybe you should go home. but you’re not in the mood to be responsible especially when the night still feels electric.

so you grin, swipe your phone off the table, and say the words you always do when mika’s got that look in her eyes.

the suite looks like it was pulled straight from a luxury travel vlog—sleek, sprawling, and softly lit in golds and shadows.

there’s music playing low—something bassy and expensive, vibrating through marble countertops and plush velvet cushions. a tray of half-finished cocktails glows under the dim, amber light, and bodies are draped across designer furniture like they were born there. heels kicked off. dress shirts half-buttoned. laughter echoing from corners you’re not quite invited into.

you’re crouched near the minibar, pretending to fix the strap of your heel, feigning fascination with the towering bouquet of flowers that probably cost more than your rent, when you spot them—faces you vaguely recognize. not close enough to be certain, but… yeah. you’ve seen them before. maybe at the club earlier tonight. the way they move—relaxed, self-assured, like people who know they’re being watched.

you don’t overthink it. just assume that’s how mika got wind of this afterparty in the first place.

and then—something shifts.

a hum in the atmosphere. like the room just hit pause.

you glance up.

and there he is.

baekhyun.

but not in silk. not in silk or leather or anything made to kill. no stage persona. no spotlight.

just… soft.

he’s near the bar, dressed in an oversized grey hoodie with faded red letters stretched across the front. the collar hangs loose, offering a peek of a plain white tee underneath. a slouchy beanie hugs his head, and strands of bleached blonde hair curl out in fluffy wisps—just messy enough to look real. freshly washed face. no makeup. no filter.

he looks like he just stepped out of a hot shower. glowing, flushed, skin catching the warm golden light like it’s gilding him from within.

he doesn’t see you. not yet. he’s nursing a drink, sleeves pushed to his elbows, shoulders relaxed in that way people get when they’ve finally made it to the other side of a long night.

and then—click.

your eyes flick across the room again. those familiar faces lounging on velvet sectionals, sipping cocktails and laughing like they’ve done this a hundred times before—now you get it.

you hadn’t realized it earlier. hadn’t connected the dots.

but now, with baekhyun standing there—unguarded, undeniably real—it all snaps into place.

this is his afterparty.

those are his people.

you tear your gaze away, forcing your attention to the condensation sliding down a bottle of sparkling water like it suddenly holds the answers to all of life’s questions. anything to keep from staring at the man who just quietly turned your whole night inside out.

you don’t expect him to move—to notice you. definitely not to approach. but he does, of fucking course he does, like the universe just couldn’t resist handing you this plot twist wrapped in cozy grey cotton and freshly washed hair.

“you always this mesmerized by sparkling water?” his voice drifts in from beside you—low, easy, just amused enough to make your pulse trip.

you blink, caught in the act. the bottle suddenly feels like a spotlight. heat crawls up the back of your neck.

“i wasn’t staring,” you blurt, too quick, too defensive—and not at all what he asked.

baekhyun hums, a quiet chuckle under his breath. “didn’t say you were.”

you glance at him—and instantly regret it. he’s even more beautiful up close. skin dewy and flushed from the shower, hoodie soft around his frame, eyes sharp and curious beneath the shadow of his beanie. he smells like detergent and something warmer—clean skin and cologne clinging faintly to the cotton of his hoodie.

“what are you doing at this party, anyway?” you ask, shooting for nonchalant but landing somewhere breathless. “shouldn’t you be off… i don’t know, being famous somewhere?”

he grins—wide and unapologetic. “my team booked out the whole floor,” he says, like it’s the most mundane thing in the world. “so technically, i am where i’m supposed to be.”

you let out a quiet snort. “that’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

he studies you—really studies you—like he’s trying to file you into a box but hasn’t quite found the right label yet.

“you here with someone?” he asks finally, voice still casual, but there’s a hint of curiosity threading through it now.

“my friend got the invite,” you say, keeping your tone even. “i just tagged along. didn’t even realize whose afterparty it was until…” your eyes flick toward him. “well. until i saw you.”

that earns you his full smile—not the rehearsed kind, but something softer, looser at the edges. whatever guarded suspicion he’d been carrying eases, replaced by a flicker of something else. amusement. maybe interest.

“so you’re not here to corner me for a selfie? no skincare interrogation?” he teases, brows lifting.

you huff a laugh. “i mean, the skin is suspiciously clear. but no.”

his grin tugs wider. he tilts his head, studying you a little longer than necessary. “you were at the show, though… right?”

you pause—then nod. “yeah.”

his eyes drop for a second. “thought so,” he murmurs, voice dipping just enough to make your breath stutter. “that pink skirt’s kinda hard to miss.”

your heart stumbles over itself.

“well,” you manage, “you put on a good show.”

“thanks,” he says, smiling like he means it. “wanna sit? it's quieter over there,” he nods toward a closed off corner of the suite—where the music’s softer, the city’s glittering outside the wide floor-to-ceiling window, and a plush couch waits like it’s part of the plan. 

you blink. “with you?”

he grins. “unless you’re still committed to bonding with that water bottle.”

you settle onto the couch, leaving a polite gap between you—respectful, casual, not too eager.

baekhyun drops down beside you a moment later. easy. relaxed. his knees part just enough to ground him, like he’s done this a hundred times, but somehow doesn’t feel rehearsed.

for a beat, he just sits there, sipping from his glass. then, gently, like he’s not sure if it’s too forward:

“so… what’s your name?”

you tell him.

he nods, eyes flicking down for a second like he’s committing it to memory.

a quiet pause.

then he glances over again, one arm resting along the back of the couch. his fingers drum lightly against the cushion, and there’s a flicker of something playful in his voice.

“do you usually show up at strangers’ after parties, or is tonight a special case?”

you let out a soft laugh. “you’re not exactly a stranger. i’ve seen you shirtless before. on a jumbotron.”

he huffs a small, nose-scrunching laugh. “ah, so we’re skipping introductions and going straight to shared history.”

“basically,” you say, lifting your drink. “we're practically close friends.”

he smiles wider, the boyish kind that starts in his cheeks before it reaches his eyes. “great. and here i am looking like i just rolled outta bed.”

your eyes flick over the hoodie and the slouchy beanie barely hanging onto his bleached hair. “you mean your softboy fit?”

“hey,” he says, mock-wounded. “this is premium downtime aesthetic.”

“sure,” you murmur into your glass. “total heartbreak fit.”

he grins, turns his body slightly toward you, eyes crinkling. “don’t say that like it isn’t working.”

you’re smiling before you even realize it. the banter flows easier than you expected—natural, not forced. and the longer he talks, the more you notice things. like how deep and calm his voice is when he’s not performing. how he pauses before answering, like he actually thinks about his words. how his fingers tap lightly against his glass, how he nods when you talk, really listens.

he starts telling you about this tiny bunsikjeom he swears by back home—some blink-and-you-miss-it shop tucked between a laundromat and a vet clinic. he goes on about how their tteokbokki is the best and how the ajumma there hates him, like genuinely scowls whenever he walks in.

“i always order, like, five portions of odeng. just for me,” he says, eyes wide, hands gesturing like this is life-or-death. “and she always yells, like—‘yah! save some for other people!’ but then she gives me extra anyway. she pretends she’s mad, but she totally likes me.”

he grins, ducking his head a little. “i think she worries i don’t eat enough.”

you raise a brow. “you’re ordering five skewers and she still thinks you’re starving?”

“exactly,” he says, mock-offended. 

you ask if fame ever gets lonely. he doesn’t dodge it.

“yeah, sometimes,” he admits. “but i’m used to being alone. i think i’m better at being with people now, though. or... the right people.”

you blink at that. it’s quieter than the rest of the conversation. unpolished. a little vulnerable.

and it hits you—he’s nothing like the stage version of himself. not the flirty idol who winks at cameras or sings with syrup in his voice. he’s calmer. sharper. grounded.

even the way he drinks feels different. slow. deliberate. not for show, just... because he’s thirsty.

you look at him again. really look.

and for a moment, you just sit with it. the quiet between you, the city glowing beyond the glass, the weight of something undeniably real blooming beneath the surface.

you don’t speak. you don’t need to.

because somewhere between the last laugh and the next sip of tequila, time starts to slip. the minutes blur, slow and easy, like the night’s decided not to rush. you’re both tipsy now—flushed, relaxed, limbs loose. the music plays soft in the background, and the suite glows warm and golden, like dusk frozen in place. it feels quiet. suspended. like everything outside of this cozy little corner of the suite has been paused.

he’s charming, but not in the curated way you expected. 

it feels private—like he’s peeling himself back one layer at a time just for you. less idol, more man. his voice is low, his stories surprisingly unfiltered, and he’s funny—actually funny, not just media-trained clever.

you find yourself leaning in before you realize it, pulled toward the gravity of his presence like he’s something your body already knew how to orbit.

he smells like warm skin and sugared spice—notes of something expensive laced with the earthy ache of man. every time he shifts, you catch more of it, and it’s dizzying.

you weren’t prepared for this. for him.

genuine. confident in a way that doesn’t beg for attention. grounded, but just enough ego to be dangerous.

not the distant, idolized version of baekhyun the internet likes to dissect in thinkpieces and fancams.

this version is real. present. and somehow even more disarming.

“so,” he says, glancing sideways, “tell me something that’s not small talk.”

his voice is low, unhurried.

you blink. “what, like… my credit card number?”

you smile, finally letting your shoulders drop a little. “okay, fine. i always cry during the last twenty minutes of ratatouille.”

baekhyun turns to face you more fully, brows lifting. “what gets you? the rat’s speech?”

“no, it wasn’t remy,” you say with a scoff, nudging his knee lightly. “his name is remy, first of all.”

he laughs—really laughs—and the sound curls warm in your chest. “ah, my bad. remy,” he echoes, grinning. “go on.”

you exhale, letting your gaze drift toward the glowing skyline beyond the glass. “it was the critic’s review. that part at the end where he talks about discovering something new, something unexpected, and how the world is always unkind to it.”

your voice softens, eyes fixed somewhere far away. “he says the new needs friends. and i don’t know—it hit something in me.”

baekhyun stays still beside you, his hand curled loosely around his drink, forgotten now.

“sometimes it just feels like... everything’s already been done. like no one’s waiting for what you have to give. and then this bitter old man eats a meal made by a fucking rat and suddenly he’s like—shaken. changed. reminded why he ever cared in the first place.”

you pause, then shrug, barely glancing at him. “i guess it reminded me that you don’t have to be expected to be meaningful. that you don’t have to be someone obvious to matter.”

baekhyun doesn’t say anything right away.

but something shifts in his expression. his jaw ticks, just barely. his lashes dip like he’s trying to hide the flicker of emotion behind his eyes, like he doesn’t want to give himself away.

because yeah—he fucking gets it. way more than you know.

not just the movie. not just the speech. but the whole aching truth of it.

he’s been living that risk lately—leaving the comfort of the company that built him, stepping out with nothing but belief and a dream that people might still show up for him. that what he has to offer—now, as he is—is still worth something.

he hasn’t said it out loud, not to anyone. but hearing you say it—watching you light up over something so honest, so deeply felt—it stirs something in him. makes him see not just the movie differently… but you, too.

you, sitting here in front of him, talking about hope like it’s something fragile and holy.

it makes him feel less alone.

and for the first time tonight, baekhyun forgets about being careful. about being cool.

he just looks at you like he’s seeing something rare.

something that might just change everything.

"you're not what i expected," he says, voice low—almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you glance over, one brow lifting as you tilt your head. “good unexpected?"

he doesn’t answer right away. just looks at you—really looks—like he’s committing your features to memory one slow blink at a time. eyes scanning the curve of your mouth, the slope of your cheek, the way the light catches the side of your face. and then, finally, he nods. once. small, certain.

you smile, warmth curling beneath your ribs as you lift your drink and finish the last sip. the glass makes a soft sound as you set it down on the coffee table. “funny,” you say, easing back into the cushions. “i was just about to say the same thing.”

his lips twitch, curiosity sparking behind them. “yeah? how so?”

you hesitate for half a beat, choosing your words. “you’re… calmer than i thought you’d be. softer.” your voice dips, gentling. “more real. the version of you on stage is fun—electric—but it’s not this.”

his smile stretches slowly, not wide but genuine, like the words settle somewhere deep in him. like maybe they mean more than you know. “so what you’re saying,” he murmurs, “is that i’m not the guy i pretend to be when everyone’s watching.”

you bump your knee lightly against his, a tiny grin playing at your lips. “exactly.”

his gaze drops, lingers where your thigh presses to his. and when he looks back up, there’s something darker swimming there—something thick with heat.

your breath catches.

a strand of hair sticks to the gloss on your bottom lip, and before you can even lift a hand, his fingers are already there—brushing it away, tucking it behind your ear like it’s second nature. like he’s done it before.

the touch is soft. reverent. but it sets something off inside you, deep and molten. like your body recognizes him before your brain can catch up.

his gaze holds yours, gold and liquid in the warm afterparty lighting, and this time, neither of you look away. there’s no posturing. no pretending. just... him. and you.

he leans in, slow. lips brushing yours—barely there. testing the space between you.

you don’t move.

so he kisses you.

it starts soft. tentative. like he’s asking a question he already knows the answer to. but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens too fast, mouths parting, breaths catching, lips dragging, tongues meeting like they’ve done this before. like they remember.

your knees hook over his thighs without thought, your hips shifting, sliding into his lap like you were meant to be there.

and the second you settle—flush against him—he groans into your mouth, deep and wrecked.

“fuck,” he exhales, breaking the kiss just long enough to breathe, hands curling tight around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. like he needs to hold you steady or he might come undone.

you rock into him slowly, your skirt hitched high, the friction between your soaked panties and the heat straining in his sweats making your thighs tremble. your head tips back, a moan slipping out that you couldn’t hide if you tried.

his lips are on your throat now, jaw, collarbone—anywhere he can reach, desperate to taste more. his hands slide lower, gripping your ass with purpose, grinding you down like he’s starving. like this is the only thing that will satisfy the ache he’s been carrying all night.

“you’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he mutters, voice shredded, fraying at the seams. “you have no idea.”

you’re seconds from cumming—lips locked, skirt hitched high, his grip on your thighs desperate, like he’s caught between dragging you closer and anchoring himself from completely losing it—when a voice slices through the air like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head.

“uh, babe? you in here?”

you both freeze.

baekhyun’s mouth stalls against your jaw. your lungs forget how to work.

and then—

pure. fucking. chaos.

you scramble off his lap, nearly kneeing him in the balls in the process, tugging your skirt back down your ass like it’ll erase the last ten minutes. baekhyun shifts too, adjusting his sweats with hands that still shake a little. your lips feel kissed raw. your thighs ache. you don’t even want to know what your hair looks like.

mika stands just inside the doorway, one brow cocked, arms folded over her sparkly top like the mom friend she definitely is when necessary. her gaze sweeps over the scene—your smeared lipstick, baekhyun’s rumpled shirt, the space between you two charged and awkward, like the tension hasn’t quite settled. and you—frozen next to the couch like you forgot what to do with your body now that someone else is watching.

“meeks,” you squeak, trying—and failing—to sound casual. “hey.”

“hey yourself,” she says lightly, voice dipped in that syrupy sarcasm only best friends can perfect. “your phone’s dead. figured i’d check you weren’t, y’know…” she pauses, eyes sliding between you and baekhyun, mouth twitching. “kidnapped. or eaten alive.”

baekhyun lets out something between a laugh and a choke. you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

and then her gaze settles on him.

his bleached blonde hair is a mess—textbook post-makeout chaos. cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten, hoodie wrinkled like it’s been tugged in desperation. her gaze narrows. and you see it: the flicker. the click. the way realization sparks behind her lashes like a struck match. she knows.

of course she knows.

but mika? mika’s been around. she’s danced with indie film heartthrobs and ghosted rappers with stadium tours. she’s navigated VIP lounges and afters where NDAs are practically part of the dress code. she’s seen the famous, the infamous, and the almost-famous. and she’s never once made it weird.

so she doesn’t gasp. doesn’t scream. doesn’t say, “weren’t we just at his concert four hours ago?”

instead, she just raises an eyebrow—subtle, amused, dangerous—and shoots you a look that says i’m going to make you tell me everything.

then she shrugs. uncrosses her arms. casual as ever. “right. well. i’m heading out. you comin’ with or…?”

you look back.

and for the first time, really look.

bare skin—clean and fresh, faint traces of sweat still lingering at his hairline from earlier. his hoodie’s loose around his shoulders, the collar tugged slightly off-center, and his blonde hair sticks up in soft tufts where your fingers must’ve pulled through it.

he looks... manly like this. unstyled. real. almost heartbreakingly so.

and his eyes—they’re not teasing. they’re not flirty. not charming or rehearsed like they were earlier when he made you laugh into your drink. they’re quiet. open. like he’s asking something without saying it out loud.

you’ve never seen that look on him before.

not in music videos. not on stage. not even earlier tonight.

it’s not desire burning behind his gaze—it’s something softer. something closer to hope.

“stay a little longer, yeah?” he says, voice low. steady. like he’s giving you space to say no, but hoping to hell you won’t. “just for a nightcap.”

his thumb strokes your wrist again.

then, quieter—almost like he’s trying to make it casual, as if this isn’t something important—he adds, “i’ve got a charger for your phone you can use too.”

you don’t even realize you’re nodding until mika snorts.

“m’kay, text me when you’re done being ravished by kpop’s finest,” she calls over her shoulder as she turns to leave. “love you, don’t die.”

“mika!”

but she’s already halfway down the hallway, humming something that suspiciously sounds like ‘love shot.’

you glance back at baekhyun, cheeks burning, heart rattling behind your ribs.

he’s still holding your wrist, thumb brushing your pulse like he’s trying to soothe it—or match it. a crooked smile tugs at his lips, sheepish and flushed, whether from being caught mid-makeout or just the aftershock of it all.

like he hadn’t planned on you, but now he doesn’t really want to let you go.

his eyes find yours, soft and searching. there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but he doesn’t flash it like he does on stage or behind cameras. this one’s smaller. real.

he looks… relieved. maybe even a little stunned. like he’s not used to this—you. not just the kiss, not just the body heat, but the connection.

and there’s a flicker of something else in his expression too. not nerves exactly, but hesitation. like part of him is still processing that this is happening at all.

he rubs the back of his neck before reaching for you, voice low and careful. “i’m glad you stayed,” he murmurs, like it’s not something he says often. like it’s heavier than the words suggest.

his hand finds yours again, fingers brushing tentatively over your knuckles before he gently tugs you closer.

then he pulls you back into his lap, arms sliding around your waist, like it’s second nature—but his touch is more tender now. reverent. like he’s scared if he moves too fast, you might disappear.

you settle into him again, heart thudding, lips still tingling from the last kiss.

he exhales into the crook of your neck, voice barely above a whisper. “i-i don’t usually…” he trails off, his hold tightening slightly.

but he doesn’t need to finish.

you already know. 

and that truth—that rare, quiet truth—makes your chest ache in the best way.

you smile, and before you can say something to break the moment, he’s kissing you again.

but it’s different this time.

still hot, still messy, but it lingers. it asks. his mouth moves with reverence, his hands memorizing you, like he’s been starving for touch but terrified of being fed too well.

“woulda been devastated if you left,” he rasps, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice rough and trembling with restraint.

then he nips—right below it. soft and precise. you jolt, hips twitching instinctively in his lap.

his hand moves like it has a destination. slow, deliberate, up the curve of your thigh, under the hem of your skirt. his fingers trail higher—light and teasing at first, but the moment he reaches the warm heat between your legs, everything sharpens.

you gasp.

his fingers still.

there’s a pause, heavy and humming.

you don’t have to see his face to feel the shift—the tension in his body, the hissed breath through his teeth, the unmistakable clench of his jaw when he realizes—

you’re not wearing anything underneath.

his fingers flex, knuckles barely grazing your slick folds.

“shit,” he breathes, almost to himself. “you’ve been sittin’ on me like this this whole time?”

you don’t answer. can’t. your chest is tight, lungs barely remembering how to fill.

he draws his fingers through your arousal, slow and deliberate, collecting the wetness before withdrawing. he brings his hand up, eyes locked on yours. his fingers glisten in the dim light, your slick catching the golden hue as he lifts them to his mouth.

you watch, helpless, as he slides his middle and ring fingers between his lips and sucks them clean.

his eyelids flutter, then flutter open again—gaze dark and fixed on you like he’s starving.

“where have you been all my fucking life?” he breathes, like it’s hurting him, like your taste is something he might never recover from. 

his cock twitches beneath you, hard and heavy beneath the soft cotton of his sweats, straining for more contact—more of you.

you don’t answer him—not with words.

instead, you take his hand in yours, slow and sure, like it belongs to you now. your fingers wrap tight around his wrist as you guide him back down between your thighs, the same fingers still slick from earlier. you spread wider, shameless, hips tilting forward like your body already knows what it wants.

he groans the moment you press his fingers into your soaked heat again—your cunt so wet and eager that he slides in without resistance. 

your back arches, lashes fluttering, a breathy moan spilling from your parted lips as he starts to move.

once.

twice.

a third time—deep, slow, curling just right, the pads of his fingers dragging against every spot that makes you whimper.

he’s watching you like he’s in a trance. like you’ve crawled out of some decadent, filthy dream with your lipgloss smudged and your hips rolling like you’re possessed by pleasure itself. 

his eyes don’t leave your face.

they can’t.

you keep your hand over his, guiding the pace, the depth—controlling him like a toy you know exactly how to play with. his fingers stretch you just right, knuckles brushing your dripping folds, your slick making a mess on both your hands.

then you whimper. soft. broken. 

it shatters him.

you lean in, your lips brushing his while you take those same fingers—wet and warm and still pulsing from where they were buried—and bring them to your mouth. your eyes lock on his, gaze steady, daring.

you part your lips and wrap them around his fingers slowly, deliberately, letting the gloss that still clings to your mouth coat his skin again. your tongue swirls over the pads, collecting your own taste, savoring him. his rings are cold against your lips—a metallic tease compared to the wet heat of your mouth.

his hips twitch beneath you, jaw clenching so hard you see the muscle tick.

he twitches beneath you. hips jerk. his jaw clenches so tight, you see the muscle flicker.

and you don’t stop.

you keep grinding down on him—slow, steady drags of your soaked pussy against his cock, your clit catching on the thick ridge of him through his boxers. the friction is perfect. devastating. addictive.

his eyes darken. voice drops.

“fuck,” he growls again, this time lower, more dangerous. “that’s it.”

suddenly, his grip tightens on your thighs, guiding you off his lap with shaky urgency. you stumble a little, knees weak, and he stands with you—his hand firm at the small of your back, the other sliding down to grab your wrist like he needs you moving now.

“can’t take it anymore,” he mutters, voice hot against your cheek, his breath a mess against your skin.

“i need you,” he growls, voice thick, fraying at the edges. “need to feel you wrapped around me. need to fuck the sweet, messy heaven you made on my fingers straight outta you.”

you whimper—helpless, already unraveling—and before you even register how fast you’re moving, you’re there. the hallway blurs. your hand is still locked in his, his grip unrelenting, like if he lets go now he might not get you back.

your pulse slams behind your ribs. you’re dizzy with how fast everything is unraveling. you follow him on unsteady legs, hips brushing, feet tripping over each other in the rush to get to the bedroom.

he’s not carrying you. he doesn’t have to. because he’s pulling you through the dark with a grip that says come with me. now. 

he reaches the door to his room, throws it open with one swift motion. his eyes burn when they meet yours—dark, wrecked, entirely gone for you.

the door clicks shut behind you.

baekhyun’s on you in the next breath—hands cupping your jaw, mouth crashing into yours like he’s starving for it, for you. there’s no prelude. no hesitation. just heat and teeth and breath, his lips pressed hard against yours as he walks you backward, blindly, toward the bed. he groans into your mouth, dragging you with him like his hands can’t bear to let you go for a second.

the beanie he had on earlier? abandoned on the couch. long gone. forgotten the moment your sweet mouth touched his. his sweater comes off first, pulled over his head with a grunt and tossed somewhere behind him. then his sweatpants, shoved down with one hand, the other still gripping your hip like you might disappear.

you whimper when your back hits the mattress, but he’s already climbing over you—pressing himself between your legs, kissing you like he’s trying to devour the moans from your throat. and fuck, you're giving them to him. whimpers and gasps and needy little sounds he swallows down like they’re fueling him.

you straddle his lap, feel him hard and hot beneath his boxers, the outline of his cock pressing into your soaked panties. your hands explore in desperate sweeps—his toned stomach, the cut of his hips, the way his muscles twitch when you grind down just right.

his hands are everywhere.

on your ass, kneading.

on your tits, squeezing, thumbs circling your nipples through your top until you’re arching into him, chasing the friction.

every stifled moan from your mouth makes him groan harder. every shift of your hips has him whimpering against your lips like he can’t believe this is happening.

you barely register the moment his hand slides down again. his fingers slip under your panties, push past the mess of slick already dripping for him.

two fingers, knuckle-deep, curling perfectly.

you cry out, hips jerking, grinding against the heel of his palm as his fingers fuck up into you—rhythmic, practiced, devastating. his palm rocks against your clit with every motion, and it’s too much. it’s all too much. he’s kissing you the whole time, tongues tangled, teeth clashing, spit messy between your mouths.

you ride his fingers like they’re his cock. pace quickening, hips stuttering, moans breaking against his lips as your thighs start to tremble.

“baek—fuck, i’m gonna!”

“cum for me,” he breathes, lips dragging down your neck. “cum all over my fingers, baby. wanna feel it.”

and you do—with a sharp gasp and a choked sob, your cunt clenches around him, gushing slick onto his hand. he holds you through it, lets you grind it out, rubs your clit as you shake and shiver above him.

he pulls his fingers out slowly, and you whine from the loss—raw, overstimulated.

but he just smirks, lifts his hand to his mouth, and sucks your release from his fingers like it’s honey. eyes on yours the entire time.

before you can catch your breath, he flips you onto your back and spreads your legs wide.

“need my mouth on you. now.”

you gasp as he drops to his knees, throws your legs over his shoulders, and buries his face in your pussy.

he devours you like a man starved—tongue dragging slow and unrelenting through your folds, lips sealed around your clit like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste. every flick is deliberate. every suck sends sparks skittering down your spine. and when he moans into you—low, guttural, wrecked—it vibrates through your core like a detonator.

his hands are ruthless on your thighs, fingers digging deep, spreading you wider like he owns the view between your legs. like he’s earned this. and maybe he has, the way he fucks you open with his mouth—relentless, greedy, like your pussy’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

you come hard. once. then again. and then again, your vision going white at the edges, your voice splintering around his name like a prayer gone hoarse. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s back on you, dragging you higher, refusing to let you fall.

he’s obsessed. addicted.

and he’s not hiding it.

he lifts his head just enough to speak, chin wet, lips swollen, eyes glassy with lust. “fuck,” he rasps, eyes locked on the mess he’s made of you. “you see this? see how you’re drippin’ for me? how the fuck am i supposed to stop now?”

his fingers slide back inside—two, then three—stretching you wide, curling deep. he finds your spot like it’s mapped in his muscle memory, like he’s been waiting his whole life to touch you like this. his mouth returns to your clit, licking with slow precision, sucking hard like he needs it to breathe.

“wanna fuckin’ die down here,” he murmurs against you, voice thick and ragged.

you sob his name, thighs trembling around his head, hips trying to jerk away from the overstimulation—but he groans at that. growls at that. hands dragging you closer, grinding his face deeper into your cunt like he’s chasing your next high through sheer force of will.

you cum again—this one violent, toe-curling, shaking so hard your hands can barely find his shirt. but they do. they grab, fist in the collar, tugging him up with desperation.

his mouth crashes to yours, wet and dirty, your slick still shining on his lips. the kiss is obscene. teeth, tongue, need.

and your hand’s already moving—slipping down between your bodies, palming the thick, aching bulge in his boxers.

“want it,” you gasp against his lips. “wanna feel you. want you inside me.”

his eyes darken, jaw clenched, a twitch of disbelief and desperate restraint cracking through his composure.

he exhales, like the words punch the air out of his lungs.

“how can i say no to you?”

his lips are still on yours when he lines himself up—boxers shoved down to his thighs, your legs draped open for him, panties tossed somewhere in the sheets. he strokes himself once, twice, teasing your entrance with the flushed tip of his cock, gliding it through your soaked folds.

“baby…” he groans, forehead pressing to yours. “fuck, you’re so wet.”

you nod, lips parted, eyes barely open. “please, baek. now.”

he pushes in slow—inch by inch, thick and deliberate—letting you take every bit of him, your walls fluttering from how sensitive you still are.

you cry out, spine arching, nails digging into his biceps. he groans, low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“oh my god,” he breathes, jaw tight, hips shaking as he bottoms out. “you’re fuckin’ squeezin’ me, baby—”

you whimper beneath him, completely overwhelmed—stretching around him, feeling every inch, the fullness dizzying. he stays still for a second, panting into your neck, like he's trying to pull himself back from the edge.

you clench around him again, needing more. needing movement.

he lets out a choked whine, lips brushing your skin, “fuck—feels like heaven,” he groans, voice wrecked. “you do that again and i swear i’m gonna cum just like that.”

your pussy tightens reflexively, and he moans into your throat—raw, helpless, feral.

you whimper again, your hips starting to move on instinct.

he matches your rhythm, slow at first—sensual, deliberate strokes that grind against every sensitive nerve inside you.

the room is humid with breath and want, skin against skin, the slap of his hips against your thighs growing louder as he fucks deeper, faster.

“such a good girl,” he rasps. “takin’ all of me like you were made for it.”

you fall apart again—loud, messy, clinging to him, heels digging in his lower back as your orgasm rips through you.

he fucks you through it, fingers tangled in your hair, kissing your tears away as you tremble and shiver beneath him.

round two hits different.

you’re pulled from sleep by warmth—his breath on your shoulder, the soft drag of his mouth kissing over your skin. 

you stir, barely, and feel his hand cupping your breast, thumb brushing your nipple.

his other arm’s wrapped tight around your waist, fingertips trailing lazy circles down your stomach, then lower. he’s hard again—thick and pulsing against your ass, and he ruts into the curve of your body without even meaning to.

“awake?” he murmurs against your neck.

you hum. “barely.”

“c’mere,” he whispers, rolling you onto your back.

his face is soft in the low light. it must be five a.m.—still dark, sky a velvety blue beyond the hotel windows.

you reach for him, pull him down by the face, and your mouths meet again—slow, sleepy, sensual. he sinks into you with a groan, no warning, no teasing. just raw, aching need.

you gasp into his mouth. he starts thrusting in long, slow rolls, his pelvis grinding against yours at the perfect angle. every stroke sends heat curling in your belly.

he doesn’t say a word—just exhales against your lips like he’s trying to pour everything he feels into that single breath. like if he kisses you any harder, you’ll know what he can’t put into words.

but it’s not enough.

you want more. need more.

your body moves on instinct—pushing him back against the mattress, crawling into his lap with slow, purposeful grace. your knees settle on either side of his hips, skirt riding up, your cunt slick and aching where it hovers just above the thick line of his cock.

his eyes drink you in like he’s never seen anything more stunning. heavy-lidded, lips parted, throat working around a breath he can’t quite catch.

“you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispers, voice low and reverent, his hands sliding up your thighs—gripping, kneading, tracing your skin like it’s holy.

you don’t answer. just sink down, slow and steady, taking him inch by thick, throbbing inch.

his breath punches out of him in a gasp, head thrown back, fingers digging into your hips. “shit—”

you ride him like you own him. hips rolling, bouncing, grinding down until your skin slaps against his with every thrust. the drag of his cock inside you is devastating—too good. too deep. and not nearly enough.

his moans grow ragged, sharp, the sound filthy in your ears. “fuck, baby—just like that. keep goin’. you feel so good—fuck, i’m gonna lose it.”

your hands brace on his chest, nails raking down the sweat-slick fabric of his shirt, chasing another high as your body trembles from the aftershocks. your pussy flutters around him, milking him greedily, overstimulated and still aching for more.

“cum for me again,” he groans, sitting up just enough to mouth at your tits, tongue dragging over your nipple through your top. “wanna feel you fall apart on my cock. wanna feel you drip down my thighs.”

and you do. again. helplessly. a cry ripping from your throat as you fuck yourself through the release, dizzy from how much he fills you. from how deep you need him. from how much you know this is going to ruin you.

and god—he loves it.

“baek—don’t wanna stop,” you pant, nearly sobbing. “feels too good.”

“then don’t,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard they might bruise. “fuck—ride me, baby, don’t stop.”

he thrusts up into you, losing control. the tempo turns messy, hungry, animalistic.

“god, you’re perfect—this pussy, fuck—it’s got me fuckin’ obsessed.”

you throw your head back, mouth open, eyes rolling as he slams up into you.

your cunt flutters around him again—tight, soaked, relentless—and he nearly loses control.

he’s shaking now, jaw locked, muscles flexing under your palms. everything in him winds tighter, like he’s seconds from snapping.

because how the fuck is this real?

he’s never felt like this. never needed someone the way he needs you right now.

he’s obsessed—with the way you smile mid-moan, with the soft whimpers that leave your throat every time he grinds into that perfect spot. your eyes—god, your eyes—rolling back, lashes fluttering like you’re seeing stars. your throat exposed when your head tips back in pleasure, that pretty, vulnerable neck he’s dying to mark up and call his.

it’s too much. too perfect. too you.

and when you fall forward, mouth crashing into his, the kiss is frantic—tongues messy, teeth clashing, like neither of you can get close enough.

your bodies are slick with sweat, pulsing with need, every nerve screaming.

and then he’s cumming. deep, thick, hard. his whole body jerks as he spills into you, hips grinding through the release like he’s trying to brand it into you—his claim, his worship, his fucking downfall.

and in that moment, nothing else exists. just the feel of you around him, shaking and perfect. just the sound of your breath in his ear.

and the quiet, terrifying realization blooming behind his ribs: you’ve already got him.

completely.

the room is quiet now. the only sound is your breathing—shaky, soft, slowing. his, too.

the sheets are kicked halfway down the bed, twisted around your ankles. your body’s still warm, flushed in places, marked in others. the air between you is thick with sweat and sex and something heavier neither of you has named.

baekhyun lies on his side, propped on one elbow. just… watching you. like he can’t not.

he brushes a damp strand of hair off your forehead, knuckles grazing your cheek. your lashes flutter, your lips part like you’re about to say something—maybe something dumb or playful or too honest—but nothing comes out. you just look at him.

and he’s struck silent all over again.

because fuck…

you’re so pretty like this. all wrecked and glowing, skin kissed raw, eyeliner smudged in the corners of your eyes. your lips are swollen from him, your pulse still visible in your neck where the marks are starting to bloom—places he’s already thinking about going back to. again. and again.

it wasn’t supposed to go this far. he was just supposed to party a little. blow off steam. it’s his first solo world tour—he’s been running on fumes and caffeine and pressure for weeks now. last night’s plan was to just fuck around a little, drink, unwind, and then move on to the next city like always.

but then you showed up.

the girl from the tenth row at tonight’s show. the one who danced like she didn’t care who was watching. the same girl he caught standing awkwardly at the bar at his afterparty, trying to act casual like she hadn’t just been screaming his lyrics a few hours earlier.

and now you’re here. in his space.

naked and tangled in his sheets, etched into the quiet of his night like you were always meant to be there. your chest rises and falls beneath blankets he never planned to share, in a city that meant nothing to him yesterday, and now feels like it’ll ache a little every time he thinks of it.

he exhales through his nose, slow and steady, voice soft against the quiet, “you good?”

you nod, lips tugging into a lazy smile, “don’t think i’ll be able to feel my legs for a few days.”

he grins, low and crooked, “yeah, me too. rehearsals are gonna be a bitch tomorrow.”

you both laugh—quiet, breathy, the kind that hums in your chest. and for a while, that’s enough. no words. no pressure to speak.

just stillness. skin against skin.

your fingers drift along the inside of his forearm, lazy and absentminded, like they’re just getting to know the shape of him. his hand rests on your hip like it’s always belonged there, thumb brushing slow circles into your skin—as if he's trying to memorize the curve of you before morning steals this softness away.

then your phone buzzes twice on the nightstand. sharp. insistent. a quiet jolt back to reality.

you glance over and notice the screen lit up, the charging icon glowing in the corner. he must’ve plugged it in for you while you slept.

something about that undoes you a little.

you shift, the weight of the moment settling over your chest. “i should probably go,” you murmur, not really wanting to.

but his hand doesn’t fall away. he just holds you a second longer—fingers tightening at your waist, like he’s still deciding if he’s ready to let you go.

“lemme get you a car home,” he murmurs, still breathless, hand grazing your hip like he’s reluctant to let go.

you nod, rolling onto your back, already feeling the loss of his warmth before he even moves.

he sits up, silent, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling his sweats back on. the soft sound of fabric, the creak of the mattress, the distant hum of the city outside—it all feels louder now.

you slide out of bed, slipping your top back on, fingers fumbling slightly at the hem. your panties are nowhere to be found. your heels are waiting by the door like they knew this was coming.

neither of you speaks as you both dress, the silence not uncomfortable—just full. full of everything unspoken. full of the way your body still aches from him.

you’re slipping your heels on by the door when something soft lands against your back.

you turn just in time to catch it—his hoodie. the same cozy grey one he wore to the afters earlier, still warm from his body.

you blink at him, lips parting, chest already tight with something you can’t name.

the hoodie smells like him—clean skin, faint shampoo, and something unmistakably you clinging to the fabric now. you pull it over your head. it swallows you instantly—the sleeves hanging past your hands, the hem brushing your thighs, heavy with the weight of the night still lingering in every thread.

his eyes follow the movement, lingering as you adjust it over your hips. 

he doesn’t say a word, but there’s a shift in his face—softened at the edges. like something quiet cracked open inside him.

he grabs the suite keycard from the nightstand and slips it into his back pocket like it's second nature. you’re still tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie, swimming in it, heart doing something stupid and fluttery in your chest when he glances back at you.

you follow him toward the door, and your hand just—finds his. like it was always meant to. he doesn’t say anything, just threads his fingers through yours and squeezes once. you don’t need words. not right now.

the hallway is quiet. like 3 a.m. quiet. the kind that makes everything feel softer, heavier. the elevator dings, and you both step inside. you expect silence. maybe a head-tilt goodbye. instead, his mouth is on yours again before the doors even close.

it’s slower this time. deep. his fingers slip into your hair, tug just enough to tilt your face up so he can really kiss you. and god, he does. like he means it. like he’s trying to burn the shape of your mouth into his memory just in case this really is the last time. your hands fist in his tee, your knees go a little weak. you sigh into it, drunk off him again.

there’s so much in this kiss. things neither of you planned. things he’s not saying. things you’re definitely gonna spiral about when you’re home and alone in your bed.

the elevator chimes again. he doesn’t let go immediately. just bites down on your bottom lip—gentle but deliberate—before he finally pulls away, breath still catching in his throat.

he keeps your hand in his as you both walk through the empty lobby. his thumb rubs slow circles over your knuckles, and it’s so stupidly sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself. outside, the air is crisp. the city’s winding down, the sky a soft blur of navy and gold. and the ache in your chest? yeah. that’s definitely real.

there’s a black truck waiting at the curb, engine humming low, windows tinted. you kind of hate how real it makes everything feel.

baekhyun walks you to the car without saying much, still holding your hand like it’s second nature now—like letting go would feel too final. when you reach the door, he opens it for you himself, his palm brushing the small of your back in that quiet, anchoring way. like part of him still isn't sure he wants you to leave.

you’re about to climb in when he pauses.

“i’ve got a couple more shows in the city,” he says, voice low and unreadable. his eyes flick up to meet yours. “if you’re around… and feel like crashing another afters.”

your heart stutters.

you look at him—white tee wrinkled from where you had your fists curled into it in the elevator, blonde hair still messy from your hands, from his own. he looks like no time has passed at all. like he could pull you back upstairs right now and you wouldn’t even hesitate.

you smile. “maybe.”

he nods, once. quiet. like that one word told him everything he needed to hear.

then he helps you into the car, his fingertips grazing your bare thigh as you settle into the seat. a soft touch. a question he doesn’t ask out loud.

he shuts the door gently behind you.

as the truck pulls away, you lean your cheek against the window, breath fogging up the glass. you try not to look back.

but of course you do.

he’s still there.

hands tucked into the pockets of his grey sweats, white hoodie sleeves pushed up, mouth unreadable. watching you go like he’s trying to memorize it—just in case you don’t come back.

your apartment feels too quiet when you walk in. 

not peaceful. not calm.

just quiet in a way that makes the whole night feel like something you imagined. like you’re stepping out of a dream barefoot.

you toe off your heels by the door, ankles aching, thighs sore in the best, most sinful way. your lips are still tender—kiss-swollen, tingling—and you’re swimming in his hoodie. oversized and worn soft, sleeves covering your hands, the hem brushing your upper thighs with every step.

your bag slips from your shoulder and lands somewhere near the kitchen counter. you don’t bother picking it up.

your phone buzzes the second you set it down. the screen lights up with notifications in a neat little stack:

instagram story likes. 

a dm from some guy you danced near at gravity. 

a flurry of messages screaming “YOU WENT TO REVERIE?! SO JEALOUS”

and then, of course—mika.

meeks 🦋

BITCH WHEN U GET HOME I NEED A PLAY-BY-PLAY!!!!! i saw the way he looked at u omfg i am unwell

you laugh under your breath, thumbs hovering over the screen—still unsure how to even begin explaining what the fuck just happened.

but then another notification rolls in from a contact you don’t remember saving.

B.

your brows pinch in confusion. you don’t remember saving that contact. 

you tap it open.

the first thing you see is a photo. a crisp, perfectly lit shot of an all access pass for the next two reverie shows in your city… and a sleek black suite keycard resting beside it on hotel bedsheets you recognize all too well.

beneath it, a message:

thought you might wanna crash again

your stomach flips.

you stare at the image, your thumb hovering over it like it might disappear if you blink too hard.

he must’ve done it—added his number into your phone sometime between kisses, between rounds, when you were half-dozing on his chest, legs tangled in the sheets.

quiet. sneaky. baekhyun.

a laugh escapes—disbelieving, giddy, a little breathless.

you bring the phone to your lips and smile, heart racing all over again. not from the concert. not from the alcohol. 

from this.

from the realization that you almost didn’t go.

you were tired. you were going to call it a night. but mika had to talk you into one more stop—just one more before heading home.

if you’d said no…

if you’d gone to bed like you planned...

you wouldn’t be here now, wearing his hoodie, smelling like his sheets, rereading a text from him.

your fingers hover over the screen for a second longer before tapping the heart on the image. 

you type back:

guess i’m yours for the next two nights then

send.

you sink into the couch, the weight of the night finally settling in your bones. you bury your face in the collar of his hoodie, still warm, still smelling like him—sweet skin and sweat and something that clings.

and for the first time all night, you’re so fucking glad you didn’t go home.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ i think i've got my edge back 😭😭😭😭 this one's for my fellow delulu girliez, hope ya enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it hehe <333333333

[byuncock]

let's just vibe | 18+

Baekhyun finds something in your nightstand drawer.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Baekhyun x f!reader | vibrator, overstimulation, praise, intercourse. established (but new) relationship

word count: 2.1k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Where do you wanna go for dinner tonight?” Baekhyun asks. He’s slightly out of breath, lips pink and puffy from kissing you. He looks good like this, laying out on your bed, hair fanned out on your pillow. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“There’s a new Thai place that opened up around the corner,” you say. “We could stop by after the movie and either take it back here or eat there depending on how we’re feeling.”

Baekhyun hums in contentment. “That sounds great. A wonderful seventh date.”

“Seventh?” You raise your eyebrows. “You’re counting?”

“You’re not?” Baekhyun teases. He leans in to kiss you again and you melt into his warm touch. “Eventually,” he says in between kisses, “the number will get high enough that I’ll stop. But for now it’s nice to keep track of where we go and what we do so we can mix it up.”

Your cheeks warm at how forward he is, but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy it. The speed at which your relationship with Baekhyun was blossoming was a little on the faster side, but how could you help it when he was just so charming? From your first dating app messages a few months ago, to your first real meeting at a boba shop, to when he asked you to be exclusive two dates ago, Baekhyun has been effortlessly endearing and earnest about his feelings for you. There was still some nervous energy that comes with being in a new relationship, but being with him felt so easy and comforting. 

“Oh, before I forget,” Baekhyun pulls away. “Do you still have my glasses?”

“Yeah, they’re in my nightstand drawer. You can go ahead and look for them, I’m gonna pick an outfit for tonight.” You get off the bed and head for your closet, searching through your clothes for something cute but comfortable. You hear Baekhyun behind you shuffling through the drawer when he suddenly exclaims, “Oh!”

You whirl around to see him grinning mischievously, but the pink tinge of his ears gives away his flustered state. “What’s this?” To your horror, he removes your vibrator from your nightstand drawer.

Your eyes widen and you lunge at him, scrambling to get your toy out of his hands. He just giggles and hides it away from you, stashing it behind his back. “Wait - please, can I just look at it?”

“Why?” you whine, crossing your arms. 

“Because,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I’ve never seen a vibrator before, I dunno. It’s fascinating.”

You turn your head to the side, looking up at his pleading, puppy dog eyes. “Okay, fine,” you mutter.

He actually beams at you, the little shit, and begins to inspect your vibrator. “How often do you use it?” He clicks it on and his eyes widen. “Whoa! This is pretty strong.”

“I use it like, like twice a week? I don’t really keep a masturbation log, you know. There’s different settings on it too, by the way.”

Baekhyun clicks through the different strengths and vibration patterns, making exclamations and commentary along the way. “It’s just cool to me,” he says after several seconds of oohing and aahing. “Y’know with me I just…” He makes a jerking motion with his hand. “I don’t get any of this cool technology.”

“Alright, great, have you had your fun yet?” you ask. You make a swipe for it but he moves his hand out of the way.

“Not yet. Why don’t you show me how you use it?”

And oh, how the atmosphere in the room immediately shifts. 

You get on the bed and stare at him, feeling your cheeks heat up as his eyes rove your body shamelessly. “I wanna know what you’re like when you’re making yourself feel good,” he says softly, handing you the toy. “Please?”

You shudder at his tone, all sweet and pleading. How could you possibly say no to that? You settle back against the pillows, spreading your legs under his heady gaze. Slowly, you place the tip of your vibrator on top of your clothed clit. You turn it on the lowest setting and sigh, arching into the touch. 

Baekhyun’s gaze is smoldering, watching as your breath hitches and your hips rise to meet the toy, chasing after the stimulation. He looks like he’s studying, taking mental notes on every way you maneuver the object. “Wow,” he whispers. “Can I try?”

You let him grab the vibrator’s handle and shut your eyes as he moves it down over your hole and back up to your clit, experimenting with moving it around and applying pressure to different areas. You gasp when he presses down on a particularly sensitive area, instinctively closing your legs. He gently pushes your thighs apart. 

“Look at me, baby.” You meet his eyes, hungry and full of desire. “You look so perfect like this. Do you think about me when you use this?” 

You nod, crying out when he applies more pressure to your clit. “I wanna hear you say it,” he murmurs. 

“I think about you,” you sigh. “I’ve been… thinking about our last date.”

He smirks, no doubt remembering how the two of you made out in his car, both tipsy from the drinks you shared, ending with his fingers deep in your pussy and your hand wrapped around his cock. It was the furthest you two had gone so far, and it was all you had been able to think about once you crawled under your sheets every night since, the memory of feeling him shudder against you as he came echoing in your mind. “Yeah? You want that again?”

You shake your head. “I don’t care what we do, I just want you.”

Baekhyun slips off your shorts and underwear, placing the vibrator directly onto your swollen clit. You cry out, fisting the sheets under you for support. It feels so much more intense without clothes in the way and you feel so exposed, the way he drinks in the sight of you quivering underneath him greedily, like he’s committing the image to memory. “So beautiful,” he breathes. “I wanna see you cum like this. Make you cum with just the toy.”

“Baek,” you plead. “Touch me, please.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Not yet, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna be good for me?”

And fuck, his words make you gasp, back arching as your orgasm rapidly approaches, building deep inside of you. He notices your reaction and presses the vibrator steadily against your clit. “Oh? You like that, hm? You liked being called a good girl, doing what you’re told just because I said so?” He leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Then why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me?” 

Your orgasm crashes into you and you cry out, grabbing onto his arm to try and keep yourself grounded. Baekhyun rubs soothing circles onto your thigh as you come down but makes no move to stop the vibrator. Instead, to your bewilderment, he clicks it up one setting higher.

“Fuck!” Your voice is ragged as you yell, writhing underneath him. He lays his arm on your hips in an effort to get you to stay still. “Fuck, Baek, I can’t, I just came - ”

“Do you want to stop?” he mutters. When you shake your head with a whimper, he inserts the toy into your dripping cunt, fucking you with it. You’re grateful that he’s giving your poor clit a break, but the buzzing feels torturous coming from deep within your sensitive pussy. You’re incoherent, babbling pleas and moans and you don’t know if you’re begging for more or for less. And all the while, Baekhyun fucks you steadily through it, gaze locked onto your entrance as it sucks the toy in.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” he coos. “Do you like it that much?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Please, Baek, kiss me, touch me, something.”

He chuckles, leaning down to meet your lips in a searing kiss. It’s all bite and desperation, with none of the sweetness from your makeout session just half an hour ago. He moans against your lips like he’s the one being pleasured, like he’s the one so fucked out he can barely think. “Mine,” he growls against your lips, thrusting the toy into you faster, harder. “I’m the only one that can make you feel like this.”

His sudden possessiveness brings about your second orgasm, clenching around the vibrator as you see stars. Lightheaded and spent, you distantly feel the toy being pulled out of you, and a soft click followed by silence. Then, there’s Baekhyun, cradling your head and gazing at you with adoring eyes. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your chin. “You did so good,” he whispers. “My good girl, my perfect girl.” 

You feel his clothed erection pressed against your thigh when he shifts against you, and despite it all, you feel the flickering of desire already stirring inside of you. “Baek,” you say softly. “Fuck me?”

He looks at you with wide, concerned eyes. “Are you sure? We don’t have to if it’s too much - ”

You silence him with a kiss, already undoing the button of his jeans. He inhales sharply, fingers scrambling to help you, shoving his pants off hastily. His cock is rock hard, leaking precum at the tip, and under different circumstances, when you’re not completely fucked out of your mind, you would have wanted to take it into your mouth and let him fuck your face until he came. 

That train of thought is silenced when Baekhyun rolls a condom on and positions himself on top of you. He kisses you reassuringly. “Tell me if it’s too much, I’m serious,” he says, brushing the tip of his cock up and down your folds. “I can stop at any time, just - ”

“Fuck me, please, I need it,” you beg. “Please fuck me.”

His eyes are burning with desire as he slowly inserts himself into you. You wince at the sensitivity while he moans shakily, searching your face for any sign of too much discomfort. He rubs soothing circles into your hip and waits for you to adjust.

“I’m fine,” you whimper. “Please move.”

At the first thrust he lets out a desperate groan, eyes fluttering shut as he starts to fuck you. “You feel so fucking good, shit.” He buries his face into your neck. “I’m not gonna last long.”

You thread your fingers through the strands of his hair, damp with sweat. “It’s okay,” you reply, “Want you to cum too.”

He moans brokenly at that, snapping his hips into you at a steady pace. You hold him close to you, carding your fingers through his hair. At a particularly deep thrust, you accidentally tug at the strands and he keens. He props himself up and grabs your hips, holding you down firmly as he buries himself inside of you over and over, moans and pants tumbling out of his mouth. With the brutal pace he sets, it doesn’t take long until you’re coming again with a cry, back arching into him, pussy clenching around his cock. His pace stutters and he cums with a groan, head thrown back and lips parted. 

Baekhyun collapses on top of you and for several moments there’s just silence as the two of you try to catch your breath. He’s first to move, looking up at you with spent, satisfied eyes. “I love when we go out, but would you be opposed to taking a rain check on our date and just spending the rest of the night here?”

“I’m good with that,” you reply, sighing. You can feel your body sinking into the mattress, and you can’t even imagine having to get up and be in public right now. “I can’t believe it took us this long to have sex.”

“You’re telling me,” he snorts. “I’ve been thinking about this since I saw your picture - ow!” He rubs the side of his head where you just lightly smacked him.

“So perverted. I bet you found your glasses right away and you decided to go digging in my drawer just to see if I had any sex toys in there anyways.”

His cheeks flush a deep red and he looks away, pursing his lips in feigned innocence. Caught red handed. “I knew it!”

Baekhyun just grins cheekily. “I mean… you definitely benefited from my snooping, right?”

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “You have to pick up dinner to pay for your sins.”

“Fine, fine. Anything for you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: did someone order a new couple that is still learning about each other's bodies and so every act of intimacy is an act of learning, learning what turns them on, what makes them feel good, what makes them completely fall apart? oh, no one? oh. my bad.

masterlist.

[byuncock]

this blurb has been in my drafts for a bit.

18+ content; mdni

10:41pm

(overstimulation; multiple orgasms)

his floppy permed hair stuck to his forehead, dampened from sweat, as he pummeled his hips into you. the steady rhythm worked you up to climax again. and if your tightened grip on his shoulders wasn’t enough of an indicator, your cries out to him were. as he watched you come undone around him for the second time that night, a slight smirk crept upon his lips.

“who makes you feel this good, baby?”

“you do, baek. you do,” you whined. he kept going in and out of you. overstimulation was a welcome guest to your bedroom lately. baekhyun loved watching you squirm and grab at the sheets. he loved to see your body convulse underneath his very own hands. this night was no different.

he was relentless, now chasing after his own high.

you attempted to catch your breath, panting and gasping from your body getting jostled as his thrusts grew deeper.

your eyes had begun to flutter close. you lost yourself in the feeling of him filling you, stretching you out with his cock, and never wanting it to leave.

“uh, uh. look at me,” baekhyun commanded. he gripped your jaw and turned your face directly to his. your eyes peeled open to see baekhyun, a disheveled, hot mess. his skin was flushed. his eyebrows were furrowed in aroused concentration as he took in your wrecked form. his loose hair moved from the momentum. you ran your fingers up the nape of his neck and lightly tugged on his soft brown locks. baekhyun loved getting his hair pulled. he was just too embarrassed to say it.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted with his head thrown back.

you knew all too well that he was close to the edge. you felt him twitch inside of you as his movements lost their steadiness.

he came. after your hours-long session, he finally came. the load he had worked up quenched your already wet but forever needy pussy.

as your walls were getting filled with white, he continued, fucking his cum into you until your body had your final explosion around him.

[byuncock]

Page 232

Prompt: A pink skyline

The house party was in full swing, just barely over the first hour mark and you were already bored out of your mind. Just when you were mulling over reasonable excuses to dip, the patio door slid open. The cutie stepping out paused when he saw you leaning against the railing.

“I don’t bite,” you raised your drink, “just needed some air.”

He blinked then smirked, shutting the door behind him. “Me too. Yixing is my friend and all, but…”

“It’s a dud?” You smiled with him. “Yeah, I turned down a dick appointment as a favor to him. Now I’m bored and frustrated.” You sipped your lukewarm Smirnoff and grimaced. “Never again.”

“That’s the real tragedy.” He stepped over to your side and leaned against the rail, staring at the pink skyline. Cutie openly checked you out, gaze appreciative as it trailed down your body, then slowly back up. “A beautiful woman like you should be worshiped by mouth at least once a day.” He licked his lips. “It isn’t too late to reschedule that appointment.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “I doubt he’s still around. Sounded like he had plans to go out tonight.”

He nodded. “What a shame. Sounds like you need a replacement, someone willing to be on call.”

“Mmm, I do like the sound of that.” You sighed wistfully. “But I can’t expect someone to plan their life around boring parties I might skip out on.”

“No, you shouldn’t, but I really wouldn’t mind.” He bit his lip, desire darkening his eyes. “Something tells me you’re worth being on call for.”

At this you laughed outright, enjoying his playful yet forward banter. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Baekhyun. But really, you can call me whatever you want if you’ll let me get you out of here and back to my place.”

[byuncock]

Laundry Night | Byun Baekhyun x Fem Reader

“Could you pass me the detergent?”

warning: a lot of sexual tension, masterbating (f), cussing, full display of nudity, and more. This is not suitable for pupils under the age of 18 so minors dni.

wc: 3k+

an: I haven’t proof read yet 💔 just wanted to finish this quickly and put it out there before I lose all hope in it- hope you guys enjoy it and if you don’t then.. idk what to tell you but thank you for taking the time to read 😛

≪•◦0 🧺 0◦•≫

You swear you didn’t do it on purpose- accidents happen right? Maybe this one is a little less common than most accidents but nevertheless still an accident right? Right??

You weren’t trying to flash anybody, it’s just been a really long week- laundry wasn’t done, you were tired- and how were you supposed to know that your nightgown was apparently see through. The label said sheer when you bought it so was it really your fault? You had night shifts that took a toll on your day life that had left you with basically zero time to get anything done. Tired all the time and unaware of your surroundings.

And now it was finally the weekend, the first sliver of free time you’ve had in a while so you took the opportunity to take your long awaited ‘everything shower’, shaved every inch of your body, mastered your post shower hair routine, oiled and lotioned yourself with twinning rose scented products. And like any other woman on the planet- the process made you lethargic, too lazy to do anything else with your Friday night other than pouring yourself a glass of wine. Not bothering with a bra or a pair of panties, just your favourite nightgown, it was apparently a vintage piece; silky, ivory, floaty- paired with lace trim on the edges and an inviting slit up the thigh.

In layman’s terms: slutty. But so comfortable and freeing to lounge around in.

Spending the rest of evening sipping and doom scrolling was the plan, till you momentarily looked up from your phone and noticed the long overdue laundry basket waiting by your front door to be taken care of.

Fucking laundry, the last thing you wanted to come home to after five days of night shifts that made you teeter at the edges of complete insanity.

You lived in an apartment block where the laundry room was communal, in the basement, it would be better if you had your own but there’s been a lot of noise complaints from other tenants about not wanting a machine causing an earthquake above their heads. Even though it was tiresome to keep going up and down many flights of stairs to get your laundry done- it saves you from the noise pollution and annoyance it’ll cause you if everyone had their own. Plus you saved money this way.

Normally you’d wait till morning to get your clothes nice and clean again but you were down to your last undergarment, so it was either you do it now or go commando for the next 48 hours.

Without giving it more thought you got up, glass of wine in one hand and laundry basket in the other- slipped on some fluffy sliders and headed downstairs to the laundry room.

The stairs were concrete, the type that echo out every step you made which was great, now all your neighbours could hear you do the walk of shame for uncleanliness.

Yawning, you used your hip to press the buzzer to the laundry room, using your back to push the door open before turning around to get this shit over and done with-

And that’s when you saw him.

The new guy that had just moved into the apartment above you. You’d put him at around late twenties to early thirties- perfect features, beautiful hair it almost made you jealous. Pulling his headphones off his head he looked up at you for polite acknowledgement which quickly turned into stunned silence.

The look on his face confused you, looking down to see what he was gawking at.

Fuck.

The harsh overhead lights of the laundry room had your nightgown almost transparent, you could see almost every inch of your business. Your breasts teasing the fabrics- one bad move away from being on complete display, your torso, the lining of your pussy peaking through, even your thighs were obscene. The lace trim dangerously flirting with your behind.

“Shit-“ you muttered, lifting your laundry basket to try and cover up as much as you can. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was down here.”

He blinked, quickly looking away as if he’s been caught, clearing his throat and laughing it off, “No worries! It’s a communal area, right?”

Right.

You could see it on his face he was trying not to look, really trying but you noticed his eyes flicking down before darting back to a spot on the wall behind you which didn’t work out for you because nervous guys were a turn on for you; which was your queue to get the hell out of there.

“I’ll come back later-“

“No!” His voice cracked a little. “It’s fine, really! I mean- I’ve only got a few minutes left..”

You scanned the screen of the washing machine and he was right, he had seven minutes left of his cycle.

Seven minutes, that’s all I have to get through.

“Okay.. thanks.”

You walked past him, holding your basket closer to your body, your legs were bare, thighs rubbing together in a desperate attempt to soothe the wanting ache in between your legs, and the lace trim barely covering your ass. You could feel his eyes on you, and without any complete self restraint on your part your nipples hardened with excitement, making them even more obvious and pronounced through the basically nonexistent fabric.

It was happening already.

“I’m really sorry,” you began, placing your wine glass on the dryer, and then proceeding to bend over a little to place your basket on the floor, making the slit of your nightgown ride up, revealing the curve of your ass. If he was sat down he would have gotten to see your slick folds too. “I thought this place would be empty at this time.”

He cleared his throat again before answering, “yeah I’m just a bit of a night owl I suppose,” to which you hummed in agreement as if you weren’t obviously and completely naked, breasts stretching against the fabric with your freshly moisturised slit just inches away from his eyesight.

“What’s your name?”

“Baekhyun,” he introduced himself, his voice was soft, inviting, the kind you could listen to forever. “You’re from.. downstairs?” He enquired.

“Yeah, 3C. I’ve been living here for a few years now,”

He nodded in response, “I’ve seen you around, it’s nice to meet you.” He said, offering a soft smile paired with the obvious light blush of his cheeks.

“You too,” you smiled.

You stood there for a few more seconds in complete silence, listening to the washing machine hum alongside the distant tick of pipes.

You knelt by the basket and started to sort through the various garments, sorting them into different piles of colours and types of fabric, knees touching the cold ground and your head on the same level as the slightly evident bulge in his sweatpants, you tried to not notice it, tried to not think about what it would be like to just let him take you right there on the washing machine like you’ve seen countless of times in movies. The scenario painting in your mind was titillating.

You tried to refocus your mind back onto your clothes- pulling them out one by one. Shorts, skirts, tights, and your prized collection of bikini tops that came all in different styles. Then came the underwear- you always picked your undergarments carefully, small, thin- slutty. One of the pairs was still evidently slick with cum, you made sure it went to the top of your pile. You couldn’t help it, you’ve been so busy and alone for a while your body was pleading for male attention in anyway you could get it.

You could feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second.

Why am I like this?

You allowed your movements to dislodge one of the straps of your nightgown off your shoulder, pushing your breasts together as you worked through the rest of the pile knowing Baekhyun had the perfect down blouse view of you, probably wondering what it would be like to have his hands cupping the soft flesh.

You didn’t dare look at him.

Keeping your eyes on your clothes that seemed to never end, reaching back into the basket making your gown shift further down, the tops of your nipples becoming visible. You could feel the soft fabric getting caught in between your thighs- the friction was nearly unbearable, every movement, the unspoken tension did anything but keep your arousal at bay.

He still stood there, not making a move or sound.

You shifted on your knees ever so slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building up in between, but the gown moved with you, it clung, tightly wrapped around the tops of your thighs and lower back. You picked up a lace bra, one of your favourites, the type you would wear on a balcony somewhere in Paris, adorned with delicate embroidery, you laid it softly on top of the pile.

Glancing sideways, just for a second, and the fabric of his sweatpants was fully tented now, an unmistakable raging boner, you wanted nothing more than to pull his sweatpants down take him into your mouth immediately but you diverted your attention back to your laundry instead. You were completely soaked at this point, afraid to stand back up just to see a puddle under yourself.

You digressed and stood up, a little too quickly, your chest jumping up with you, the remaining strap falling off your shoulder and you just stood there for a moment, gown almost off, the edge of one nipple teasing the trimming of the lace, imagining the state you were in made your thighs tremble with excitement.

You wanted to get fucked, needed to.

Your eyes met his, this poor unsuspecting, incredibly attractive man was now confronting a whole lot of ass, and breasts that threatened to spill over your gown at any given moment paired with a dripping pussy that was begging to have his dick stuffed inside.

You looked at the washing machine, three minutes left.

“Could you pass me the detergent?”

≪•◦0 🧺 0◦•≫

So there you were pressed up against this semi stranger in your shared laundry room, reaching across from him for the washing powder, ass almost completely exposed, your gown constantly riding up with every move- you wanted nothing more but for him to reach his hands underneath and start working you over the washing machine.

Instead he handed you the detergent, eyes trying to look anywhere else other than your breasts which were an inch away from spilling out of your gown. His eyes found yours for a split second before they darted back to his laundry.

“I..uhhh- I- I think my load is nearly ready..”

God I hope so.

You felt another rush of wetness in between your legs from his unintentional double entendre. The washing machine played a little tune. “Perfect timing,” you smiled at him, finally moving away and adjusting the strap that had fallen off your shoulder, pretending to not know you were exposed, that you still were, pretending that the glistening wetness you were trying to not reveal was in fact very obvious.

Baekhyun popped his washing machine door open and began to frantically pull his clothes out in handfuls, eyes locked on the basket in front of him. It was cute how restrained he was being, trying to give you all the space you needed, respectful of your accidental nudity.

But it only made you want to fuck him even more.

The fabric clung between your legs, you could feel how messy you were, how desperate your own body was revealing you to be. Simultaneously making you want to run back to your apartment but also push him up against the wall and grind on him till he finished in his own boxers. Instead, you began to load the washing machine.

Around five minutes later your clothes were loaded and on a hot cycle- he had his basket of clothes all neatly organised and ready to be dried. You were still aching with the thrill of being so exposed in front of man like himself- and that’s when you came up with an idea.

This is going to be fun.

“Walk me back to my room?” You innocently asked as he opened the door to leave. He stopped, head turning slowly with a questioning look on his dangerously good looking face, ‘Hm?’ His voice was low- questioning if you just asked him what he thought you asked him.

You just shrugged in response, “I would just feel a lot safer if I had a.. chaperone, you know? Considering my situation?” You asked, holding your arms out to highlight your nudity, displaying your body to him fully for the first time; your nightgown didn’t even try to save your dignity- breasts full and heavy from arousal, nipples visible through the tight fabric, begging to be touched. The hem of the gown fluttered against the tops of your thighs, the way the moisture from your pussy had darkened the front of the gown, legs unmistakably glistening from your fluids.

You didn’t bother to hide it. You wanted him to see.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I mean- what I meant was.. yeah, sure.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his obedient little yes, his body language, the relief that this wasn’t over yet.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you giggled, as he held the door for you. Stepping past him and into the stairwell, trying really hard to resist putting your hands down his sweatpants and help relieve the pressure. The air was cooler, which made you think of what even possessed you to come out with no extra cover.

But you were glad that you did.

As you began to ascend the stairs, you made sure to give him the best possible view you could- he stayed a few steps behind you, not too close but not too far, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t staring at your ass which was basically on the same level as his head. You wondered if he was thinking about just taking you right there in the stairwell, letting you moan out in echoing pleasure for everyone to hear.

“I swear these stairs just double up every week,” you said, trying to keep your voice even, pretending you weren’t teasing him with your seductive movements up the stairs.

“Yeah,” he laughed quietly, his voice breaking a little, “I know what you mean.” He finished, somewhat lamely (?) but it only endeared you to him. Allowing your gown to ride up with each step you took, knowing he was watching. Letting your hips swing with each step, by the fifth riser, the laced hem was past the bottom of your ass. By the tenth, it was practically at your waist.

You didn’t bother adjusting it.

As you reached the landing in between floors, your heart almost jumped out of your chest with excitement. There was a shirt on the landing floor.

This is all working out so well!

Looking down at it, you exaggerated your surprise.

“Oh no! Look at what someone dropped.”

Am I really about to do this? Yes, yes I am.

You bent over to pick up the shirt, slowly. Keeping your legs straight, pushing the back of you as far up as you could- making your nightie ride up without any resistance; bunching fully around your hips. You felt a cool rush of air engulf your legs and the slick mess in between- causing goosebumps on your skin.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, knowing he was watching- the silence in the stairway was deafening, you could hear a pin drop from the ground floor- silently hoping to god that he would just bury himself into you right there. The image in your head drove you crazy, you could feel your arousal slowly trickling down your inner thighs and he could definitely see it too. You heard him sharply inhale- and you stayed like that, letting him take in the erotic view that was in front of him.

Still reaching for the shirt with unnecessary slowness- finally picking it up and turning to him, the tent in his pants basically begging to be let out- you hoped he would just drop his basket and take you right there- knowing he would be able to slide right into you with zero resistance.

“Yours?” You asked softly, tossing it into his basket before he could confirm or deny- clumsily catching it before it got mixed in with his clean clothes, his flustered manor made you quietly laugh to yourself as you turned back around and continued walking up the stairs.

≪•◦0 🧺 0◦•≫

By the time you reached your door, you were due for another shower, your slickness coated most of your upper legs, and inner thighs- very evident to any onlookers.

Any thoughts of modesty has been locked away by your raging hormones- yearning for a mans touch- Baekhyuns specifically. Exposing yourself like that to him, you knew there was no turning back, there was nothing you could do now to save face. And whilst you knew your needs wouldn’t be satiated tonight, teasing him like that, a complete stranger, gave you a thrill you’ve never had before, you felt a little sad that it had come to an end.

Turning the handle slowly, you opened the door to your apartment, hearing the hinges quietly squeak.

Letting the warm air engulf you, the soft scents of rose scented lotion and other products you had used earlier still lingered in the air, welcoming you back in.

You turned to him, his basket was clutched tightly to his chest with both hands, knuckles white. His face was red, hair; messy. His eyes were full of hope and hunger and maybe a little hint of desperation, making you wonder what he was planning on doing to you in his head- which sent another throb in between your legs.

You smiled, “Thank you for walking me back,” you said softly.

Gulping, he answered back in a quiet voice, “Yeah, it’s a… no problem.”

You stepped into your apartment backwards, still facing him, letting the lights you left on cast you in full view. Body flushed, gleaming faintly, nipples still evidently hard through the flimsy fabric with of course one of the straps hanging off your shoulder.

“Oh, shoot!” You said, feigning surprise. “I forgot I wanted to wash this. Would you mind taking it back down for me?”

He looked around what he could see from your apartment, his eyes searching for any discarded laundry here and there- “Wash what?”

“This.”

You took your nightgown by the hem and lifted it up slowly, letting it rise inch by inch, exposing the wet raging heat that was in between your legs, and then the smooth dip of your waist alongside your torso. Your breasts shifted as the fabric dragged over them, fighting to suppress any lewd sound you wanted to let out from the feeling. One final tug and it was off your body, soft and warm with the hem slightly damp from your arousal.

Baekhyun stood there, frozen and wide-eyed in your doorway, laundry basket still in his hands.

You were completely naked now, you stepped towards him, body hot and buzzing from arousal, alight with the secret hope that he would just grab and fuck you right there- you’d let him too. But he stood transfixed and so you folded the gown gently and put it in his hands.

“You can leave your basket here,” you offered, taking it from him, bending over again to gently set it down by your door. “You can get it on the way back,”

He blinked, watching you bend, analysing your every move- “What- yeah. Ok. Yeah.”

You smiled at him innocently, “Such a good man. I’ll see you soon,”

You closed the door gently, the second the latch clicked into place, you exhaled. Your whole body throbbed. Your pussy was soaked, open, aching. You dropped to the floor, spread your legs, and let your fingers dive between them, wasting no time, unable to wait any longer.

The teasing was over.

You rubbed hard and fast, messy–slick sounds filling the quiet apartment. You imagined him, still stood outside the door, listening to the sounds as you spread your wetness all over yourself. Your hips bucked into your hand, eyes fluttering shut as gentle moans of his name escaped your lips, and you again imagined him hearing them, his cock straining, mouth dry, thoughts spinning.

He didn’t even get to touch you.

The thought brought you to the edge of orgasm almost instantly, and your legs trembled as you imagined him standing in the laundry room again, that poor innocent face trying so hard not to think about your bare ass or the patch of wetness you left on the gown. You imagined him holding the fabric to his dick, pressing into the damp part of it, soaking it with his cum. Whilst the wet scent of you intoxicated him- the scene playing over and over again in your head as you laid on the floor, secretly fucking yourself with your fingers.

You came, collapsing into a warm, wet heap on the floor.

When the knock came a few minutes later, it was timid. You walked slowly and casually toward the source of the sound, and opened the door, greeting him with a big, satisfied smile.

He blinked. His hair was tousled, his chest rising and falling a little too quickly. You could see the confusion in his face. You weren’t naked anymore. You weren’t flushed or exposed or biting your lip or begging to be watched. You were just… you. Relaxed. Sated. Like something had happened in his absence, something important, and he hadn’t been part of it.

He swallowed.

“I–uh, I put your…thing in the wash,” he said.

“Awww, thank you so much,” you said, lifting his basket and handing it to him. “I really appreciate it.”

He took the basket from you, his face a picture of confusion and disappointment. You knew how much he wanted to fuck you, how much he would be thinking about you when he made himself cum later, how much he would regret not sticking his face in your spread pussy in the stairway when he had the chance.

And you loved it.

You leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek. You wondered how much it made his cock twitch. “We should do laundry again sometime,” you murmured. “Soon.”

Then you smiled, stepped back, and closed the door.

Leaving him standing alone in the hallway.

Hard.

Silent.

And alone.

That's when you decided to make yourself cum again.

[byuncock]

Baekhyun: Second thoughts & Second Chances

Baekhyun raised the volume of his car radio as he slowed his car to a halt in front of a stoplight. The night was quiet and there were very few cars around him. He’d worked a long day, and now he couldn't wait to get home to rest for the evening.

The songs on the radio were old western throwbacks, a small station Baekhyun casually liked very much. The current song playing was Dean Martin's Everybody Loves Somebody.

Baekhyun hummed along to the song, not particularly thinking of anything at first.

It wasn't until about halfway through the second verse that Baekhyun caught up to the message behind a few of the lyrics;

Everybody finds somebody someplace, There's no telling where love may appear.

Baekhyun had found many “someone’s” at different points of his life, though none of them had ever lasted very long.

The boy reminisced on his last love,

you.

"Just a few months ago," he pondered, "we were doing so well."

Crazy how everything changes, he thought.

The light in front of him turns green, and he continues the rest of his drive home quietly lost in thought.

It wasn't until later that night when Baekhyun was sitting alone in his kitchen that he realized how much he really missed you. And it wasn't the only sudden night that he was in his sudden feels about you, either. The thought of your past relationship together would repeatedly resurface when the smallest of things reminded him of you.

Song lyrics, couples walking in public, heart-shaped donuts at a sweet shop's window.

There was always something that tied his thoughts back to you.

“Ah,” he sighed as he scrolled through your profile whilst drinking a glass of wine at his bar table.

You still look just as great as you did when I first met you.

Baekhyun sipped his wine slowly, his thoughts recalling a promise that he’d made you once, though it never really came true.

I'll always come back for you, especially when our relationship hits a rough patch. I think you're worth fighting for.

Baekhyun put his phone face-down onto the marble countertop and rubbed his eyes in frustration. When he closed his eyes, he saw you and him sharing treasured memories together, the sounds of your laughter and the feel of your soft lips against his.

When he opened his eyes, nothing more than an empty living room and the distant sound of the AC greeted him, and all the memories of you had dissipated into nothing.

What am I doing?

The tired boy poured himself a third glass of wine and began sipping it steadily. He wasn't totally buzzed yet, but he definitely would be going that route if he didn't stop thinking about you.

He decided that the only way to give himself a peace of mind was to check up on you after all these months of not doing so.

Baekhyun opened a new conversation with you on Instagram and hesitated for a moment to consider what he had to say.

What could you possibly tell someone after you broke up with them?

He feels his thumbs typing away until a half-coherent message is written out.

[Baekhyun: Hi, I hope I'm not disturbing you if I reach out like this..]

To his surprise, the <Online> bubble next to your name turns green, and he sees that you've read his message.

His heart falls heavy into his chest as he scrambles to think of what to say next, assuming and hoping you'd reply. To his surprise, you did.

[New DM: Hi Baek!! :) Long time no see!]

Baekhyun mindlessly typed away at his phone, the lingering effects of his wine eventually kicking in and convincing him to just say what he had on his mind.

[Baekhyun: I don't mean to pop up so suddenly, but I was thinking about a promise I made you that I realize now, I never kept..]

[New DM: Oh? What promise?]

Baekhyun took a deep breath before taking another long sip of his wine.

[Baekhyun: That I'd come back for you, even after the worst]

[Baekhyun: I didn't do that for you.. I guess I'm here to apologize, though maybe I should've done it more formally than over instagram]

[New DM: <is typing...>]

[New DM: Baek, it's been months since our breakup... I hope that guilt hasn't been eating you up this whole time. You deserve better..]

[New DM: But I would be lying if I said I haven't thought about you the same way this whole time]

Baekhyun felt himself relax for a moment, hoping that perhaps there would be a chance at rekindling what you once had all over again if your feeling truly were mutual.

[New DM: But I also feel like I should tell you before this conversation progresses any further... I've fallen in love with someone else...]

At that, Baekhyun puts his phone back down against the table and rests his head over his crossed over the marble counter.

And there it is...

I made the mistake of letting you go.

Baekhyun's eyes filled with drunken tears of sorrow and regret, the sound of your incoming messages making his phone buzz and the countertop vibrate.

But the exhausted and heartbroken boy did not pick up his phone again, nor was he prepared to face the conversation with you that would surely soon ensue.

He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that you'd moved on so quickly.

He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that the breakup was stupidly caused over sasaengs who'd threatened to leak your personal information online if he hadn't broken you off.

He wasn't prepared to accept not doing more with his authority.

He wasn't prepared to accept the fact that he didn't think of any other gateway to protect you, and his response was to break the beautiful relationship you once shared, and how it shattered your heart in the process.

He wasn't prepared for the worst,

losing you to someone who would now surely protect you more than he ever could.

My intentions weren't to harm you.

I wish I got to tell you this.

Instead, the oven clock in the kitchen ticked away into the night, and soft, exhausted snores eventually filled the voided air of the otherwise quiet, empty apartment.

[byuncock]

baekhyun's fucking into you like he means it—rough, deep strokes that leave you gasping, eyes rolling back with every snap of his hips. sweat drips down his temples, hair sticking to his forehead, that cocky little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth every time you whimper for him.

“that’s it, baby,” he pants, voice low, almost a growl. “take it. fuck—just like that.”

your legs are wrapped tight around his waist, nails clawing at his back as he drives into you, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. you’re already fucking wrecked—mascara smudged, lips kiss-swollen, moaning shamelessly with every thrust.

and then—

he leans down, lips brushing your ear, voice heavy with that particular brand of baekhyun arrogance.

“whose pussy is this?”

except—

the moment the words leave his mouth, his voice fucking cracks. a high-pitched squeak right on the word “pussy,” like his balls suddenly decided they were thirteen again.

you freeze.

he freezes.

you blink up at him—wide-eyed, dazed—before a wild snort bursts out of your throat. and then you’re fucking cackling, full-bodied, breathless laughter shaking through you as he groans in horror above you.

“baek—” you gasp between laughs, tears streaming down your cheeks. “what—what the fuck was that?!”

“baby,” he whines, still balls-deep inside you, face buried in your neck in utter shame. “don’t laugh. fuck, don’t laugh.”

but you can’t stop. every time you look at him, the memory of that tragic, pitiful little squeak sends you spiraling all over again.

“oh my god,” you wheeze. “you—” more giggles. “you voice cracked during dirty talk—”

he groans, lifting his head, ears burning red. “god forbid i try to be sexy for you.”

“oh, baby.... you were,” you manage, breath hitching. “until you weren’t.”

he narrows his eyes at you, a wicked glint suddenly returning to them. “oh, ya think that’s funny?”

before you can answer, he pulls out almost all the way — then slams back in, hard, making you yelp.

“still funny now, baby?” he growls, voice blessedly stable this time. “let’s see if you’re still laughing when you’re cummin' on my cock.”

your giggles dissolve into gasps in an instant, hands scrambling for purchase as he picks up a brutal pace, fucking the laughter right out of you.

and later—when you’re boneless and wrecked, lying in a puddle of your own tears and release—you still manage a weak, cheeky whisper:

“whose p-pussy is this?”

he groans. “oh, don’t fuckin' start.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ inspired by this twt hehe

[byuncock]

What the FUCK

[byuncock]

I pick on the sleeve of my purse, chewing my bottom lip waiting for the uneasy feeling to go away. My chest hurts, more on the left side and a sense of doom keeps lingering in my stomach. Or is it a sign I need to revisit the restroom again. 

An involuntary sigh escapes my lips, the empty chair beside me heightens the ache in my chest. He should be here, next to me. My gaze flit across the banquet hall, people float across the floor in their long gowns with their plus one on their arms. Laughter and whispers of words fill in the air. This isn’t my place. 

Baekhyun is standing in the middle of the hall surrounded by three girls. Pretty girls. Stars in their eyes, giggles from their perfect lips, their neckline as low as my bank balance. Anyone would feel the need to be with people like them instead of me. Maybe Baekhyun is realizing it with every second he spends with people from his level.

I twirl the wine, resting my chin on my palm watching the liquid swirl. I miss my bed, my comfortable night dress and the rerun of my comfort show. I sip on the wine, enjoying the feeling of sweetness on my tongue. Should I drink another glass? How many I had already? 

“Are you having fun?” 

I choke on the liquid from the sudden words in my ear. 

“Sorry.” The man pats my back. His touch makes me squirm in unpleasantness. I push his arm away with a polite smile. 

Suho invites himself to Baekhyun’s seat, drinking from the glass Baekhyun should be sipping on. “Is this your first time?” His eyes linger on my face. 

Is it that obvious? I scratch my cheek giving a nod and stealing a glance at Baekhyun. My breath hitches in my throat. Baekhyun is looking back. 

“Thought so.” Suho, an acquaintance of Baekhyun, continues. “You look pretty in that dress.” 

I catch his stare lingering on my bosom. My neckline isn’t as low as the others but it isn’t exactly innocent either. It is the reason Baekhyun chose this dress out of the other six. How his mouth hung open as soon as the dress was on, and how he stood up from the chair, his hands sneaking around my waist, and his lips bit on my bare neck. 

“Your cheeks,” Suho brushes my cheek, “are so red.” 

Recovering from the shock, I swat his hand off my face. My anger replaces the blush from the memory. “Excuse me,” I stood up from my chair, my balance wobbly from all the drinks and the inexperience of high heels. I take a step away from the table only to misstep. 

Before I can fall face flat on the floor and rip my expensive dress, Suho loops his arm around my waist pulling me into his chest. I blink at the white marble floor until I get my thoughts back. I push Suho off me, the need to bathe gets stronger as I march off the table. Baekhyun is already on his way but it's too late. 

I nudge his shoulder as I walk past him. So much for calling him my boyfriend. The chilly air causes goosebumps erupt on my arms and back of my neck. A shiver runs down my body adjusting to the sudden change of temperature. 

Tears prick my eyes when I turn around to the glass doors and see Baekhyun occupied again with another set of girls. Why did he bring me here? I told him countless times that I’m not the right one. Why did he promise only to break it? I wipe the tears before they can spill. My phone. Fuck. I left the purse back in there. 

How embarrassing it would be to walk back in there after marching out. The giggles and mockery. Should have stayed home. Shouldn’t have given in when he asked out. Shouldn’t have fallen for Baekhyun. Does he think of me as a nuisance too? 

Someone puts their suit on my shoulders. My heart stops in fear that it might be Suho again. As much as I love attention I only want it from Baekhyun. My Baekhyun. 

I shrug off the suit, taking a step away from the person when he holds my arm and pulls into him. His familiar scent silences the storms inside me. I circle my hands around him nuzzling deeper into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He tightens his hands around me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. 

“I hate you.” I push him away, hitting on his chest. “I told you,” I grab his shirt bringing him close, his lips part as he lets me vents, “I told you I am not the one.” I gesture towards the girls watching us from the entrance, “you have to be with a girl like that.” My lower lip quivers as I look into his dark black eyes, “I am not the one, Baekhyun.” I suck in a deep breath, “let me go. Please let me–” 

Baekhyun crashes his lips on mine, his tongue invading my mouth. I clutch onto his neck, pressing myself into him, tears cascading my cheeks. His hold around my waist tightens as I try to break the kiss, and nips on my lower lip. He deepens the kiss, his hands buried in my hair, pulling the strands. A moan slips out of me, as he pushes me into his body. 

I turn away trying to breathe. His lips follow me, pressing light open kisses. “Can’t.. brea..the..,” I pant.

He lines his kisses on my neck, nipping and biting. “If you wanna go,” he nuzzles his face into my neck, “take me with you. Wherever you go, I will come with you.”

[byuncock]

You have been trying to sleep since you woke up from the nightmare. The time reads 4:00 AM, and you have an early day. You tried everything you could possibly do to get sleep. But nothing worked and eventually you gave up.

You slowly turn to your left, facing him. He is in deep slumber, air puffing out from his parted lips. While you were a light sleeper, Baekhyun wouldn’t wake up even if there’s tsunami going next to him. Yet you tried to keep your tossing to a minimum not wanting him to lose a few hours of peaceful sleep.

Baekhyun snores’ tunes down, he kicks the blanket off his feet. His bare chest comes out from hiding as the blanket barely wraps around his body. His tousled hair makes you want to run your hand through it. You hesitantly pat his hair down, moving closer to him, resting your chin on his shoulder, you run your hands through his soft hair, loving the feeling of how easily they slip off through your fingers.

Baekhyun moans, leaning into your touch asking for more. Chuckling to yourself, you couldn’t help but leave a kiss on his shoulder. One kiss leads to a litter of kisses across his chest, on his neck, cheek.

He turns towards you, his chest to your face. His hand slips under your shirt, wrapping around your waist pulling closer to him that your nose is pressed into the middle of his neck. He kisses the top of your head, burying himself in you. You nudge your leg between his, he holds his left leg up so that you can settle yourself the way you want. Once nuzzled in, he rests his leg on top of yours, his head ducks down kissing on your lips, his tongue meeting yours briefly.

He breaks the kiss, his sleepy eyes watching you watch him with giddiness and love. A small smile adores his pretty pink lips, his hand on your back patting you to sleep. Somewhere along his body warmth, and the patting, you fell asleep in his arms.

[byuncock]

Vampire!Baekhyun (EXO) | Pet fluff | 0.9k | gn!reader A/N: hbd bloodbag ♡ @revalya

You take a deep breath and scrutinize the image reflected in the mirror. It needs to be perfect - you need to be perfect. So you run your hands down the dress, straightening it along your curves and admiring the way your accessories complement it. You turn around, making sure the dress hasn’t gotten dirty or damaged - and of course it hasn’t. You’ve never been more careful with anything, mostly your life, as you’ve been with the piece of cloth.

“Beautiful,” a voice speaks just as you turn to face the mirror again.

Before you can move, his hands are already on your shoulders and he’s nosing along the curve of your neck.

“Time to add the final touch, don’t you think?” Baekhyun’s voice gets deeper, darker, as it usually does just before his fangs pierce your skin. And while it is not your place…

“The dress,” you protest weakly, voice already breathy and strained. Your heart is racing, instincts telling you to fight or run away while you do nothing but let the predator admire the unblemished skin of your throat.  

“I’ll be careful,” he whispers, scratching the area he picked with the sharp tips of his fangs, “Can’t let you go there unmarked. Unclaimed.”

And he is right. It’s an honor to be invited to an event this important for his kind, and so it is of utmost importance that you observe the formalities and the rules. The rule for human pets, lovers, whatever the vampire wishes to call theirs, is quite simple - the human must bear a mark, unless they are to be a common prey. 

You feel honored that your master would use his fangs to claim you.

Staying still, with your eyes lowered and body as relaxed as you can will it to be - because that is the only acceptable response - you invite the fangs.

The pain is an old friend. The skin breaks like a flower bud blooming. You don’t worry about the dress. Baekhyun always keeps his promises.

The hall is large and luxuriously decorated. Old money would be an understatement here. Gold glitters all around you, yet it doesn’t feel tasteless or tacky. It’s straight out of a fairytale, or a nightmare. Depends on how you look at it.

The humans around you are quite interesting to watch. Some have their necks adorned with thick, intricate collars. Some with a simple band. Some with a rope that looks like it must be scratching at their already irritated skin. There are those whose necks are covered with bites in different stages of healing and those like you with a single claiming bite. Decent, elegant, but it sends a clear message.

And of course there are the unfortunate ones, most of them unassuming but some not, who are simply an entertainment. A prey. Slowly their numbers dwindle as they disappear without anyone batting an eye. This is a respectable event, no screaming and making a fuss allowed. Those who feast must be discreet. 

Most importantly though, humans need to be obedient.

They speak in hushed tones, the ones allowed to speak and interact with their own kind. They keep to themselves, huddled near the walls. You’re among them. It feels unusual to feel the warmth of another body when they pass by or step closer. You don’t have much desire to speak to them but it is a rare opportunity. 

Yet you can’t focus. Your hearing couldn’t ever match vampire’s, but you’re straining your ears for that familiar sound. Sometimes the creatures of the night pass behind you and your body fails to react. They can’t touch you, well aware of their own possessive nature. The other, inferior, humans shudder and gasp for anyone, even those who are not their master. Not you.

Thud.

Thump-thump.

You take in a shaky breath. The music fades, the world stops spinning.

The steps are getting closer and your heartbeat echoes after them.

Thump-thump.

Your neck starts to itch. Your body is set ablaze with expectation. You could tell the sound of his footsteps anywhere - that unhurried pace, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he’s a hunter stalking an injured prey. A hunter called forth by the sound of your heart.

Thump-thump.

The other humans part, chased off by something in Baekhyun’s eyes that you can’t see. You were taught to look down when your master approaches.

His fingers brush against the sensitive wound on the side of your neck, tracing the shape. You shiver. His other hand caresses the side where your skin is unmarked. He holds you quite tenderly. He tilts your head back to look at him with the same gentle touch.

“I’m thirsty,” he whispers into your ear as he leans forward. You notice a few familiar faces standing a little behind him and look down again. You only belong to him, you don’t need to look at another.

And soon you don’t need to see at all. Your eyes close when his fangs break your skin and your lips part in a silent sigh. The delirious, joyful feeling spreads from the wound to your very fingertips. You belong into his world, nothing more than a food source and a toy. But he treasures you. You know it’s true or he wouldn’t show off your obedience. 

You start to get lightheaded but you don’t stop him. He can take what he wants, even if that something should be your life. His arms wrap around your waist and you know today won’t be your last day. He holds you. He’ll keep you safe.

[byuncock]

For Me | Day 5

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader Genre: Fluff Rating: G Summary: Baekhyun invites you over for a Christmas movie marathon. Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: established relationship

Here's a fluffy drabble set sometime after part two.

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Baekhyun was the kind of guy who got hyped up for holidays. He always went all out for Christmas. Competing with his neighbors for the highest light bill generated by the decorative mass of lights and lawn decorations was his newest hobby. His apartment was no exception. The interior would make Martha Stewart proud with the copious amounts of garland, candy canes, and holly adorning every surface. The man was a menace, right down to his meticulously wrapped presents and perfectly hung mistletoe.

You knocked on the door, and it swung open instantly. Baekhyun greeted you with a bright smile on his face. He was wearing a red and green flannel, a Santa hat perched on his head, and had even drawn a fake white beard on with eyeliner. "_____! You made it!" he exclaimed and pulled you into a warm hug.

“If I missed this, you'd come find me and drag me back here," you replied, engulfed with the mixed scent of cinnamon and pine as it wafted through the door.

"Of course, it wouldn't be a Christmas movie marathon without you," Baekhyun chuckled, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

"Not true. You could snatch Taemin and never notice the difference."

"Please. He doesn't get why I watch the same movies every year." He stepped back and gestured for you to come inside, revealing his apartment transformed into a cozy haven of holiday delights.

"True, but I wouldn't say I entirely understand it, either." You shrugged. "I just like seeing that little giddy smile you get. It's cute as hell." Baekhyun blushed at your compliment, the warmth of the room seeming to intensify as his gaze met yours. "Besides, they're not bad movies, and I like free food."

"Well," He took your coat and traded your shoes for fuzzy slippers that matched his, "there's no shortage of food this year. I managed to get that chicken place we like to give me a catering discount."

"Catering? For just two people?" You looked at him then over his shoulder towards the kitchen. The buffet he'd set up looked like it could feed a football team. "You're gonna get sick from eating too much, watch."

"Nooo," he whined, throwing his arms around you again. "You're here to help too! Whatever's leftover will feed me for the rest of the week."

"As long as you're not trying to overfeed me." You led the way to the couch and plopped down. "So, what are we starting off with? Comedy? Horror? Hallmark?"

He settled down beside you with two mugs of hot chocolate. "I was thinking classics. How about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? I saw the DVD in store and got hit with nostalgia."

"Ooh! I love those. They have an old-school charm to them, like Charlie Brown era stuff."

"See? You get me! That's why you're my baby." He pulled you close and kissed all over your cheek. "Okay, okay. So I made the cocoa when I got your text, so it should be safe to drink. If you get hungry before this one's over, we can pause and load up."

You nodded. "Gotcha. Until then," you put your legs over his and cuddled into him, "I just wanna get warm."

"Oh, I'm great at that." He pressed his face into your neck, lips tickling your skin. "Just some touches and kisses and you'll be on fire."

"Oh my gawd, you goober. Stawp!" You giggled, weakly pushing at his head and hands until he pulled away. The loud fanfare of the movie drew his attention away, allowing you both to settle down. Moments like these were the best. Just being held in his arms, being the most important part of his cute little tradition, were the moments you lived for.

Neither of you spoke much during the movie until his stomach growled loudly. His face scrunched up, and he paused the movie, looking at you with puppy eyes. "Babe—"

"Time to hit up your buffet?" You suggested with a teasing smile. He nipped at your neck again, then nodded.

"Please?" His voice was muffled, making you laugh out at his silliness.

"Come on. Let's see what you got."

As he unwrapped and unboxed the feast he'd ordered, you regretted eating anything at all that day. The spread was enough to give Thanksgiving a run for its money. "Stop looking at me like that! It's not that much food."

"My love, not that much for who? Are you inviting more people over?"

He shook his head. "Nope. This is all for you—well, us—but I didn't want you to need to leave or order anything. I have a case of wine, desserts, even that honey bun you said you liked from the donut shop."

You mulled his words over. "Wait, how long am I staying?"

His eyes sparkled. "As long as you want to. You said you had a few days off and we've both been caught up with work…"

You put a hand over your chest, then pulled him in for another quick hug. "Jesus Christ. Every time I think I've seen you at peak cuteness, you raise the bar. My heart can't take this if you keep maxing out the adorable boyfriend on me."

He bit his lip, and for a second, you could tell he was lost in thought. "…Boyfriend."

You side-eyed him. "Yes." A Byun in deep thought could be a troublemaker if left to his own devices. "A boyfriend I love and adore very much."

He nodded and luckily left it at that, pulling out plates and forks for you while you picked up the pretty festive wine glasses he'd put out for the occasion. Soon enough, you both were back on the couch with your food and drinks, continuing the movie. When that one went off, he let you pick the next movie, so you opted for your favorite, The Nightmare Before Christmas.

"You know," you said in between bites of the crispy, fried chicken he went "to the ends of the world" to get, "their relationship reminds me of how ours started out. I'm really thankful we had the chance to change things."

He watched you for a bit, then nodded. "Me too. More than words can express." He picked up his cup for a swig of wine. "But I'd like to change things again."

You looked at him, eyes wide. "In what way?"

He put down his plate and wiped his fingers on a napkin, prompting you to do the same. Whatever he was about to say had to be serious. "Well," he rubbed his hands together, the movie quickly forgotten as it continued playing, "I bought this townhouse with the intention of you moving in with me at some point."

You nodded. "Yeah, that's why you insisted I tag along for the viewing."

He turned toward you. "We never really set a date for that, y'know? And with Christmas coming up, it feels like there's no better time than the present."

You couldn't help but smile. "Is this your way of asking me to move in?"

"I mean, I think I could do better, but--" You cut him off with a kiss before throwing your arms around him.

"Nah, I like this. It's all cute and flustered and you." You kissed his cheek before sighing. "You're lucky I've been thinking about it too, with me missing you so much. I realized I wouldn't have to miss you if I could wake up and go to bed with you. So, I may have been packing already."

"You're serious?" He pulled back to look at you. "Please, don't joke about this. I don't think my heart could take it."

You shook your head, smile growing wider. "I pretty much just need to hire a moving service and figure out what to do with the furniture I don't need to keep."

"I love you so much," he bear-hugged you, peppering your face with kisses. "Just hearing that makes me feel better. This will be the best Christmas I’ve ever had."

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[byuncock]

i luv your girl [pt. 2]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ pt. 1

⠀⠀PART OF ME FEELS SO BAD BUT

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀OOOOOHHH, NOT THAT BAD!!!!!!

˗ˏˋ ꒰ disclaimer!!!!! ꒱ ˎˊ˗ btw this series is written from the pov of a deeply unstable, morally bankrupt character lmaoooo so it’s essential to clarify that this behavior is NOT romanticized or condoned!!!! it's literally meant to be disturbing, toxic, and consuming 🥹

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 18+ content / mdni ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 2.6k+ words. yandere!baekhyun x f!reader. bestfriend's gf scenario. unreliable narrator. explicit language. smut. voyeurism. masturb*tion. obsessive behavior/fixation. unhealthy parasocial dynamics. toxic posessiveness. mentions of c*mplay. breeding kink.

it starts with a sock.

a stupid fucking sock clinging to the inside of the dryer drum, just out of reach. and you — sweet, stupid little thing — climbing halfway inside like the main character of some cheap porno.

shorts so unbelievably fucking tiny they might as well be denim underwear. tank top clinging like a second skin, hem riding up until a sliver of your soft belly is exposed, just begging to be kissed, bitten, bruised.

you’re babbling about something. something stupid and innocent — laundry detergent maybe, or how you think one of the neighbors downstairs is responsible for your missing amazon packages — but baekhyun’s brain doesn’t register a single fucking word.

he’s not listening. he can’t listen.

because all he sees is the curve of your ass sticking out, the vulnerable line of your spine arching prettily, the way your thighs tremble just slightly as you struggle to reach deeper—

he’s gonna throw up. or pass out. or fuck you stupid against the rattling metal of the dryer while you cry out his name.

a broken sound claws up his throat. he stumbles back, mutters some excuse — “forgot somethin',” he croaks, voice cracking like a boy catching his first glimpse of porn — and flees.

he slams the door to his bedroom behind him. leans back against it like that alone could hold back the tidal wave surging inside him.

his pants are shoved down in a frenzy, boxers tangled around his knees. he fists his cock with a desperate, shuddering groan, hips already twitching into his own hand like an animal in heat.

he imagines you just like that — trapped, vulnerable, so fucking sweet — stuck halfway inside the dryer while he crowds in behind you. presses you down. splits you open on his cock until the only thing you can think about is him.

not jongin. not anyone else. only him.

his forehead knocks against the door with a dull thud as he jerks himself faster, spit-slick and frantic, chasing the fantasy spiraling out of control in his mind.

he’d grab your hips and slam into you so fucking hard the dryer would rattle on its bolts, the whole apartment shaking with every brutal, claiming thrust.

you’d cry for him. whimper for him. beg for him.

and he wouldn’t stop. not even when you sobbed that it was too much, not even when your legs gave out and you slumped against the humming dryer door, cheek pressed to the cold metal, cunt clenching around him so tight it bordered on agony.

he’d wreck you. utterly.

“f-fuck,” baekhyun hisses, voice shredded, barely human.

his cock is an angry, leaking thing in his hand, flushed dark and swollen. every tug sends lightning up his spine, every desperate, slippery stroke makes his gut coil tighter, hotter.

he bites down on the meat of his fist to keep from moaning your name out loud, but it’s no use. your scent is still clinging to his clothes, his skin, invading every square inch of his fucking lungs.

the scent of your shampoo. your lotion. your soft, sweet fucking skin.

he can see it. can see you twisting around to look at him, wide-eyed and trembling, lips glossy and kiss-swollen, whispering, “baekhyun... please...” in a voice so wrecked it makes his balls ache.

he can feel it. feel you squeezing around him, your body struggling to take him, stretch for him, begging for him without even a single word.

he jerks harder, meaner, teeth gritted, muscles locked.

“mine,” he snarls against the door. “mine, mine, fucking mine—”

his orgasm slams into him without mercy, violent and punishing, white-hot and blinding. he spills across his stomach in thick, fevered ropes, his whole body convulsing with the force of it, hips grinding desperately into his own hand like he’s trying to fuck you through the fucking door.

but it’s not enough. it will never be enough.

baekhyun collapses to the floor, chest heaving, cock still twitching weakly against his stomach. his head drops back against the wood with a hollow thunk, and he laughs — low, broken, feral.

because this isn’t just hunger anymore. this isn’t just lust.

it’s a disease. a sickness. you are the infection, rotting him out from the inside and he would gladly die of it.

one day, he promises himself, voice raw in the hollow cavern of his mind. one day you won’t look at him like a friend anymore. one day you’ll look at him and see the truth.

you’ll see that you were always meant to belong to him. body, mind, soul.

and when that day comes—

he’ll never fucking let you go.

but until then, he’s cleaning up the mess he made—smearing warm, sticky streaks of cum off his stomach with trembling fingers, chest still heaving, shame pooling thick in his gut.

he should be done. should be absolutely fucking horrified. but instead, he’s smiling.

a slow, wicked curve of his lips that has no business looking so soft on a face twisted with need.

because in his head, it’s you he’s cleaning. you, trembling in his sheets—lips kiss-bruised, thighs parted, wrecked in the prettiest way. you, eyes hazy, mouth open and breath hitching while he drags two fingers down your belly, scooping up the mess he made between your legs.

his. his.

and fuck—fuck, the image of his cum dripping out of your tight, used hole has his cock twitching back to life like it’s possessed.

he can see it. the way your cunt would flutter, still clenching around nothing, swollen and aching, painted with his spend. the slow ooze of it spilling down the crease of your thigh.

his mouth waters. his eyes roll back. he lets out a low, broken sound like it’s been clawed from somewhere deep in his chest.

he doesn’t even finish wiping himself off—just grabs the damp rag, tosses it aside, and wraps his cum-slick fist around his cock again.

the stroke is slow at first. greedy. worshipful.

his head drops back against the wall, lashes fluttering as he gasps your name like it’s a fucking prayer.

you, on his bed. you, full of him. you, ruined and marked and moaning like no one else could ever make you feel this way.

he pumps his cock harder, faster, smearing more of his own mess along the length.

it’s depraved. disgusting. fuck, he’s never felt better.

but what he doesn’t know—what he’s too far gone to even notice—is the soft creak of floorboards just beyond the door.

the sharp inhale caught behind parted lips.

because there you are.

barefoot, frozen, eyes wide, one hand braced against the cold wood, the other slowly sliding down your stomach to press between your legs.

you’d only meant to check on him—just a soft knock, a quick “you okay?”

but then you heard it. your name, breathed out in that hoarse, reverent tone like it hurts to say it.

his voice—raw and wrecked and soaked in hunger.

moaning your name.

and now your thighs are pressed together, aching, a heat blooming so sharp and fast it makes your knees buckle.

your panties are soaked. you feel it, feel yourself throbbing at the thought of him touching himself to the idea of you.

you don’t stay to hear the rest. don’t wait to see how the fantasy ends.

you bolt—quiet and breathless, heart pounding as you disappear into jongin’s room, hand already slipping beneath your waistband before the door even clicks shut behind you.

he should’ve left it alone.

he should’ve just shut his door, stayed in his room, cleaned himself off in silence, and pretended none of it ever happened. pretend he hadn’t just fisted his cock in the dark like some depraved freak while picturing you bent over the dryer, soft and sweet and begging for him. pretend he hadn’t just come so hard he saw stars, all while whispering your name into the fabric of the guest bed like it was a sacred ritual. pretend, most of all, that he wasn’t thinking of you — his best friend’s girlfriend — with his cum still cooling on his stomach.

but the silence outside his door is unbearable. the space where your voice had filled the hallway just minutes ago now feels too still, too empty. and when he steps out — barefoot, shirt stuck to his damp chest, guilt clinging to him like a second skin — you’re not in the kitchen. not curled up on the couch with your laundry like you said you’d be. your basket sits abandoned in the hallway, clothes still warm, sock still missing.

he tells himself this is nothing. tells himself you probably just went to bed, probably didn’t even notice how quickly he left. maybe you didn’t see the way his hands shook, or how he couldn’t look you in the eye when you smiled at him. maybe you didn’t catch the way he choked on your name when you called for help.

maybe he can fix this.

he starts down the hallway slowly, wiping his palms on his pants, rehearsing the lie in his head. “hey, sorry 'bout earlier — my boss called, emergency shift thing, didn’t wanna be rude —” something casual. something light enough that you’ll just laugh it off and say it’s okay. maybe you’ll flash him that soft smile that makes his ribs ache. maybe he can salvage this. go back to pretending he’s a good man. a loyal friend. not someone who wants to steal what isn’t his.

he stops in front of your bedroom door — jongin’s bedroom door, technically, but lately it’s just become yours. he knows the way you always leave it cracked when you’re home alone, how you loop your fuzzy hair tie around the handle, how your perfume always lingers in the hallway like a ghost. the way this whole apartment smells like you now. warm, clean, sweet.

he raises his hand to knock. and then — he freezes.

the walls are paper-thin.

baekhyun learned that the first time he ever heard your laugh from the hallway — bright, easy, wrapping around his spine like a ribbon and tugging tight.

he learns it all over again now, forehead pressed to the wall just outside jongin’s room.

it’s faint. almost imperceptible. the softest rustle of sheets, followed by the barest catch in your breath. a wet, delicate sound beneath it all, something slick and steady. and then—

“oh, baek…”

his heart stops.

his name — tender, breathless, like it’s been pulled from the deepest part of you.

he doesn’t mean to lean in. doesn’t realize how close his ear is to the door until the cold wood chills his skin. his body moves on its own, frozen in place as a sharp current of heat shoots down his spine.

you moan again. this time louder. and this time — undeniable.

“baekhyun — ah! fuck —”

it hits him like a punch to the chest. his breath catches, jaw going slack as the sound washes over him—so real, so raw, like he could feel your voice on his skin. and he doesn’t think. can’t think. his body betrays him again, hand sliding down his front until his palm presses against his cock—already hard again, already aching with need.

he’s not imagining it. he can’t be.

not with the way the air shifts around him, thick and electric, charged with something unspeakable. not with the way your breaths punch through the silence — shaky, shallow, raw — each exhale catching at the end like you’re trying and failing to stay quiet.

then he hears it.

a low, mechanical hum, steady and familiar—the soft buzz of your vibrator thrumming against you, muffled through the door but still unmistakable. it vibrates in the base of his spine like a warning, like a dare, like temptation itself.

his lips part. his throat tightens.

he hears the sheets rustle as your body shifts, imagines your legs spreading wider, your hand adjusting the angle, the toy dragging along your slick folds until it finds that perfect spot.

and then—

another gasp. higher-pitched. wetter. a sound that blooms in his ears and blooms again in his chest, curling hot and low in his stomach.

you’re fucking yourself.

alone. behind that door. in jongin’s bed.

and you’re doing it while moaning his name.

baekhyun’s knees buckle slightly. he braces one hand against the frame to stay upright, the other sliding beneath his waistband with the same desperation he felt minutes ago. he strokes himself without shame now, without fear. his chest heaves with every ragged breath as he listens to you fuck yourself to the sound of his name, sobbing for him through clenched teeth while your fingers work deeper, faster, slick echoing softly through the wood like a melody made just for him.

and it’s wrong. so, so fucking wrong.

this is jongin’s house. jongin’s bedroom. jongin’s girlfriend.

but all baekhyun can think about is what you must look like right now. sprawled out on the bed, shirt hitched up under your chin, one hand between your legs, the other probably clutching a pillow to your chest like it’s him. your thighs parted, cunt glistening, needy and aching, your hole fluttering as you fuck yourself with two shaking fingers.

his hips jerk forward with a strangled groan. he’s close already — too close —b ecause your voice is cracking now, going breathless and wet, sobbing his name like you’ve been waiting your whole life to say it like that. like it hurts to hold it in.

and then you break.

you come with a gasp that could shatter him. the kind of noise you only make when you’re shaking all over, mouth falling open, body arching, heat crashing through you so hard it feels like drowning.

he almost comes again right there. the only thing that stops him is the sound of the front door unlocking.

click.thud.

“yo?”

jongin’s voice cuts down the hallway like a blade. baekhyun stumbles back from the door so fast he nearly trips, yanks his hand out of his pants and wipes it on his shirt, his heart leaping into his throat as footsteps round the corner.

“uh, baek?” jongin blinks, keys still in hand. “why’re you standing at my bedroom door?”

baekhyun turns, chest tight, face pale. “huh?” he croaks. “oh. uh… laundry just finished. was just gonna let ‘er know that way i can put a load in.”

jongin squints at him, brows pulling together with casual concern, completely unaware of the chaos unraveling inches away. “you okay, hyung? you look kinda… flushed.”

the words hit like a slap — light, harmless, friendly — but they lodge in baekhyun’s chest like guilt dipped in acid. his skin prickles with the heat of it, shame crawling up his neck like it’s trying to brand him. he lets out a laugh — forced, brittle, the kind of sound that cracks at the edges. it doesn’t touch his eyes. doesn’t even try. “yeah,” he says, shrugging with an air he doesn’t feel, “just hot in here, i guess. how was work?”

he doesn’t wait for the answer. doesn’t let himself look at jongin for more than a heartbeat, afraid his eyes will betray him. afraid they’ll flicker back to the door he was pressed against not even thirty seconds ago.

because on the other side of that wood, you’re still catching your breath. and he’s still hard. still burning.

and now he knows— it wasn’t just in his head. this sickness is mutual.

[byuncock]

PLAYBOY (part two) | 100hyunswife

college au

virgin!f. reader x college student!Baekhyun x Chanyeol is your brother

genre: smut and fluff

wc: 4.3k

warnings: friends to lovers, messy fwb; fuckboy baekhyun is rlly killing me guys; oral sex (m and f receiving); deep throating; fingering; mentions of parent death but not dwelled upon; “princess” pet name; explicit language

synopsis: it’s the summer before your freshman year of college. you’re excited to be reunited with your older brother chanyeol, but who knew that your summer would be filled with his best friend—experienced playboy baek—showing you the ropes of intimacy.

a/n: started from an anon who requested this! there’s just one more chapter left after this one. hope you enjoy! - veronica

PART ONE | PART TWO (current) | PART THREE (in progress)

What was attraction has grown assuredly into infatuation. It’s been three days. Three painfully horny days, and you couldn’t get your mind off of him. And if just the fixation in your mind wasn’t enough to have you thinking about him all the time, as soon as you look in the mirror, all the memories of that night rush back. Your neck is still decorated with the evidence of his possession. Possession of your body—and clearly, your mind too.

What if you let him take you that night? Right there on the floor of your brother’s apartment. What if Jennie and Jongin waited longer to leave the closet? How far would you two have gone? These questions and more have swarmed your mind. Nothing has been able to quiet your head. That is until you see Baekhyun at the door.

“Hey, sorry to just show up like this, but also, I never got a chance to get your number so—”

“Oh, yeah no problem,” you laugh awkwardly and gesture towards the couch, “Come in.”

You honestly don’t know how to act around him. On the couch next to him, you look down at your hands in the silence. Suddenly, the fabric of your dress becomes interesting as well; you timidly fiddle with it.

Baekhyun notes your shyness. Cute, he thinks.

Each of you wait for the other to break the silence. What is he even here for? Oh, that’s right. Yeol, of course.

You spring up from your spot on the couch, “Oh! That’s right you’re probably here for Chanyeol, unfortunately, I think he went out grocery shopping!” You turn away to head towards your phone resting on the kitchen island. You pick it up and continue to yell over, “I’ll text him to let him know that you’re here though!”

Suddenly, you feel a pair of hands at your waist. You drop your phone onto the tabletop.

“That won’t be necessary,” a voice laced with darkness enters your ear.

You feel your hair on one side being lifted from your shoulder and placed to the other, exposing your already marked neck.

Baekhyun sees his previous work and smirks.

“I’m here,” he plots a kiss at your nape, “for you.”

You turn around to look at his face. He looks down and holds your chin.

“I was thinking we could get started on those lessons I mentioned, as long as you’re comfortable with that as well,” he says studying your face for any sign of discontent. Alas, there was none.

Your face spreads into a smile, “Sure.”

“If we’re continuing where we left off, it looks like we got kissing down. But, maybe I should give you a little test.” He wastes no time to press his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss, having craved this for the last few days. He seems just as eager, grabbing the back of your head and quickly deepening the kiss with his tongue. You thread your fingers through his hair and give the tufts a slight tug. He releases a heavy breath and forcibly grips the edge of the island behind you—out of restraint. All he wants is to feel your breasts in his hands, but he knows better. He cares about you. If he is so lucky to do so, he wants to ask first.

Baekhyun pulls away. “Yeah, you’ve passed,” he says with a chuckle. He presses his lips to your forehead for a sweet kiss of endearment. Your cheeks flare.

“Now, since we’re going slow, what’s next is technically just getting familiar with physical touch. Is it alright if I touch you?” He asks politely, looking into your eyes. You give him a nod of approval, but of course, he insists, “Princess, you know I like to hear you.” He waits with his hands firmly sitting on your waist, not yet taking the liberty of moving them up or down. That new pet name sounds like heaven.

“Yes,” you give him the clearance he wants, “I want you to touch me.”

“Good girl.” First, he reattaches his lips to yours before you feel his big hands slide down to grope your ass with strength—even still, it felt like he was holding back.

You gasp into his mouth. Your squeal as he continues to knead your flesh is muffled by his tongue swirling with yours. One hand comes up to cup your breast next, the thin summer dress you’re wearing does nothing to hide how hard your nipples are. Of course, he notices, and makes sure to run his thumb over it in the process. This time, your moan can’t be hidden. You mewl out at these newfound sensations, and you only want more.

Baekhyun lets go of your ass and reaches for your hand that has been staying at your side. You look at each other longingly and soon your eyes drift down to his crotch. It’s hard to miss the bulge that appears in front of him. His eyes flicker to your face; you bite your lip in anticipation. He places your hand on top of the raised area and returns his grip to your hip. You take this chance to rub him over his pants—grey sweatpants, that is. He must of worn these on purpose. The more you rub, and grab, and squeeze, the more the outline of his cock shows. Fuck. His touches on you haven’t stopped either. You both are lost in learning the outline of each other’s figures.

More comfortable, you kiss his neck and leave bites of your own. He throws his head back and releases a grunt. He stiff as a rock. His eyebrows crease in yearning.

“Ah, y/n.”

You never heard your name sound so sexy.

At this point all you want to do is get on your knees to have a taste. Without a word, you sink down in front of him; your knees touch the floor. His eyebrows are raised, shocked by your forwardness.

“Princess, you don’t have to do this—” He begins until you cut him off with the swift movement of lowering the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. Finally, you see his cock spring free. Indeed, it’s as big as you imagined while feeling him. Your lips curve up into a shy smile, embarrassed to show that you’re pleased.

“It’s all yours,” he says with a knowing grin. You don’t believe that due to what you’ve heard of his promiscuous tendencies. Is it really all yours? Well, it’s all yours right now. And you’re going to treat it as such.

You look at the beauty of it. A slightly longer than average shaft, thick, and angrily curved up with a dark pink tip. You run a finger along it, feeling the veins and contours of his attentive member. Baekhyun sucks in his breath. You look so pretty on your knees for him; all he wants to do is shove your face down onto his cock and watch you choke on it, teary eyes looking up at him, but, baby steps, right? He lets you take your time to explore without pushing you, but that doesn’t mean it’s without guidance.

He threads your hair through his hand to clear the view of your face.

“You can start by giving it a few strokes or even a few kisses.”

You don’t cheapen out. You give him both strokes and kisses. Baekhyun lets out strained moans, going crazy from your teasing. Eventually, the kisses you land on his tip grow more and more open-mouthed. You’re ready to give your first blowjob. You stable yourself by placing your hands on his strong thighs.

“Take it into your mouth and suck, going up and down,” he instructs.

You follow, taking him into your mouth completely, hollowing your cheeks as you move to and fro.

“Yes, princess,” he breathes out. “Just like that.”

God, you love the view from where you are: below Baekhyun, satisfying his desires, seeing his eyes narrow as he draws in a sharp breath and bites his lip from your ministrations.

You’re in the mood to please—with him, when are you not? You test the waters, going down on him as far as you can; you go further and further each time. He loves every bit of it and has to stop himself from thrusting back into your mouth. You take notice and tell him to fuck your face.

“Are you sure?” He asks in disbelief.

He’s going to get what he wants; you crave the satisfaction of giving it.

You nod wordlessly, giving him a teasing lick along his shaft.

Sweetly, he gives a reminder, “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or if it’s too—”

Much? Never. You’re here to satisfy. You cut him off with the warmth of you sliding him down all they way to the hilt. Your mouth is fully stuffed with his cock. Swallowing around him elicits a quick grunt. Baekhyun now braces himself, slightly widening his stance and claiming the back of your head with his hand.

“Since you asked for it, I’m not going to go easy.” With that, the first thrust into your mouth is carried. Then, the second, and the third. You naturally lose count as now all you can focus on is the peddling of his hips and his thick flesh entering and exiting your mouth. You grip onto his legs like your life depends on it.

“Fuck, you’re taking it so well,” he says, tightening his grip on your hair. “How is this your first time?” He throws his head back in pleasure. He lets out a long, drawn out groan.

“Let me see those pretty eyes of yours.”

You do your best to look up while your mouth is still pried open and used. Those tear-stained cheeks and watery eyes—Baekhyun eats it up. That view alone brings him close to the edge.

He picks up speed, drunk in desire, chasing his high.

He begins to stiffen, and mercilessly pushes your head all the way down. A guttural moan escapes him, the vibrations of the low tone make its way to you.

His eyes roll back as he finishes down your throat. He leaves no room for error, no drop is wasted. And when he pulls out of your mouth with a pop, you make sure to swallow that token of your work.

He pants, recovering from his trip of ecstasy. “Wow,” he says, breathless.

You smile up at him and get back onto your feet.

He puts himself away before holding your face and planting a kiss. “You have no idea how good you are.” This makes you smile proudly, happy to do him well. Baekhyun wipes all the tears and any signs of your previous activities off of your face. “You okay, princess?” You could really get used to that. It doesn’t take much to get you blushing.

You reassure him, “I loved it.”

“Tell me,” his finger is once again under your chin, “do you know when Chanyeol is coming back?”

You glance at the clock, “Not for another 30 minutes.”

As if you’re light as a feather, Baekhyun picks you up off your feet, walking both of you over to the kitchen table. He places you on top, and finds a spot for himself standing between your legs.

He gives a firm kiss holding onto your waist. Soon enough, his gaze drift south, and he’s just dying to know how you taste.

He glances back up. “Do you trust me?” He asks with unwavering eye contact.

“Yes,” you reply in wonder of what’s in store.

Continuing to watch your face, he brings a hand down between your legs. Slowly. Giving you time to retreat if needed. But just like your first kiss, you don’t shy away. Instead, you brace yourself. Unconsciously, your hands clutch onto the edge of the kitchen table; your legs spread wider.

Your lips lock once again; you feel his hands roam your thighs. You feel his fingers grace the inside of them, making you shiver. Finally, they dance upon where you needed him the most. His fingertips make contact with your panty-covered heat. You suck in a breath at the new contact. He looks at you, making sure to catch each expression as your face contorts. You feel the intensity of his eyes. It only makes you wetter as he rubs you, focusing on your clit. You break the eye contact, throwing your head back as you moan. The pleasure takes over. Your body is at his mercy.

He watches you loosen in front of him.

Baekhyun now kneels down himself, his face close to your hot core. There’s nothing more you want than for him to put out the fire he started, but he chooses to make it grow. He starts slowly. He kisses the inside of your thighs leading up to your pussy. If that wasn’t enough, he teasingly licks you over your panties as well. You whine out, desperate for him to do more.

“Baekhyun please,” you beg without him having to ask. You feel him smirk against you as he lands one more kiss to your inner thigh.

“Impatient, I see.”

He lands a slap on the side of your thigh and keeps his hand where it landed, gripping onto your flesh and pulling you closer to the edge of the table. You moan out at his vigor as you’re forced forward.

His pretty lips await.

He peels off your panties, teasingly slow. Your grip tightens on the table. He sees some of your wetness seep out of you, licking his lips in anticipation. His eyes flicker up at yours one more time for permission. Seeing your hazy eyes and parted lips tells him everything he needs to know. He can’t believe he has you spread wide like this, all for him. He peppers kisses to your bud; you whimper above.

Without further delay, he gets down to business, licking a long stripe up from your pussy. You cry out louder than you ever have before and the feeling only grows more intense. He links his arms underneath your parted legs and holds you in place as he eats you. No squirming can make you escape his conviction.

He works the warm, wet muscle on you, feeling all of your intricacies and learning just where to lick that makes you grip his hair and cry out.

It’s not like your current setting hasn’t crossed your mind either. You’re getting eaten out, right where you and Chanyeol ate breakfast no more than a couple hours ago. Baekhyun had no shame in getting his meal in too, but who would have thought that you’d be on the menu?

Inserting a long, skilled finger into you, you moan out his name. This urges him on more than you’ll ever know. Pumping you with his finger and landing skilled licks to your clit bring you close to the edge in record time. So quickly, that, you hardly have adequate time to warn him. This is trivial, though. He doesn’t need an announcement to pick up on the progression of your moans that have become whines, nor to feel the tell tale signs of your pussy tightening around his finger. He knows, he always knows.

“Baekhyun, Baek-Baekhyun, I—” You stammer out, lost in the sea of pleasure this man is drowning you in.

“Let go for me, princess.” He tells you, lips moving against your pussy. The vibrations of his words get spread to your folds.

With extra precision in the last few thrusts of his finger and motions of his tongue, he makes you cum—no, he gives you the best orgasm of your life till that point. You cry out, eventually becoming muffled by Baekhyun’s free hand. Your eyes roll back as it courses through you. Unable to control the steadiness of your legs, they tremble until he eases his movement.

He pulls his finger out of you and lands one last kiss on your sensitive pearl. Your hands release his hair and you lay back on the table to collect yourself; your brain is absolute mush and your legs definitely feel like Jello. You close your eyes, wading in the post-orgasmic bliss and as Baekhyun comes up to land a kiss to your cheek, he can’t help but feel proud. He’s never felt so satisfied.

After a few beats, you sit up and are met with him looking at you with cockiness.

“Did you enjoy that?” He asks, craving explicit validation.

“What do you think?” You roll your eyes and straighten your clothing.

“Well, I think the neighbors will know how much you enjoyed it too,” he jokes. You swat him on the shoulder and lift yourself off of the table. He loves hearing you, your moans are the fruits of his labor.

Without anymore notice, you hear a key being inserted at the door.

Chanyeol’s home.

You scramble to fix your hair and look normal, you know, like you didn’t just get eaten out on the kitchen table.

Just in time, you plant yourselves on the couch and turn on the TV. Yeol walks in with grocery bags in hand, which he places onto the kitchen table. Baekhyun looks at you with a slick smirk. You’ll make sure to get him for that later.

“Oh hey Baekhyun, what are you doing here?” Chanyeol asks quizzically.

“I came a couple minutes ago to see if you were here, I wanted to play basketball but you were out, so y/n was boring me with her dumb TV show until you got back.”

You tsk in his direction for credibility, but really, you’re thankful for just how easily the lies roll off of his tongue.

You help Yeol restock the fridge and pantry while Baekhyun takes the time to sneak his number into your phone that you left unlocked on the couch. Once everything is put away, Baekhyun leaves to go play basketball with Chanyeol.

Behind Yeol, he makes sure to look back and send you a wink before he makes his way out the door.

A day has gone by, and not much unlike your feelings after your first escapade, you feel stuck on the idea of Baekhyun. Except, this time, your mind wanders—past his experienced fingers, plush tongue and lips, and past his physical being that you now have been able to explore so much of. You yearn to learn about something else, something less physical yet more real. You yearn for him as himself. You covet an opportunity to peel back those layers of his.

This lone night, you get your wish. You’re in bed about to turn over and go to sleep until you see a text message from… Baekhyun? When did that happen? You don’t remember saving his contact info into your phone but you entertain it nonetheless.

“I’m outside,” it reads.

You go to your window to investigate and confirm. You see Baekhyun sitting in his car. Just so that he knows you’re not just freely at his beck and call, you text him back, sassily.

“And?” You reply but still make the movements to get dressed.

“There’s something I want to show you,” reads his next text.

Vague. Very vague. But you go with it because you can’t deny the impulse to see him again. You grab your bag and a jacket for the chilly summer night air.

You meet him in his comfy glory. He dons sweatpants, a hoodie, and fluffy hair that drops down in front of his eyes, reminding you of old, high school Baek.

“You’re not going to kill me are you?” You question, jokingly, but with a glare of suspension as he starts the drive.

“Of course not, we haven’t finished all of our lessons yet.” He responds light-heartedly.

Right.

The thread that is giving our relationship purpose: the lessons, and only the lessons.

You come upon an assumption at this, and though you’re willing to learn everything he has to teach you about sex and physical intimacy, and his own anatomy, you still had some boundaries for your own comfortability until you get familiar with the act of sex itself.

You clear your throat, preparing to come to your own defense.

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with fucking in your car, Baekhyun.…” You trail off, not wanting to disappoint him, but wanting to be honest about your contentment.

Baekhyun, who’s focused on the road, allows himself to glance over at you in confusion and disbelief. His eyebrows furrow in confusion at you as you look back at him with a raised eyebrow. Then, it clicks. He realizes just what exactly this late night rendezvous might look like. He softens his expression and loosens his grip on the steering wheel that went suddenly tight from your jarring words.

“That’s what you think?” He asks with a hint of sadness in his tone, disappointed to give you pretense that’d make you think that. His eyes return to the road, but his unoccupied hand moves to hold your thigh, giving it a squeeze.

He speaks again, “Don’t worry. That’s not what this is. I really want to take you somewhere special. I was lonely tonight and just wanted company.” Quietly, with honesty, he told his warrant for your arrest. You look over to him, waiting for the punchline, the joke, the snarky remark that almost always follows at the end of his sentences, but, there was none. His lips are shut and eyes locked back onto the road in front of him. In the split moment that you look closely at him, you see a tinge of sorrow.

“I’m sorry,” you say defeated, ashamed at the pessimism of your imagination.

“I’m sorry to have given you the thought.”

You two were quiet for the rest of the ride. Sometime along the way, you enclosed your hand around his—that hand that he rested on your thigh. You’re here for him too and you appreciate his presence; you want him to know that.

Eventually you land in the university’s lot next to the campus gardens. You both exit the car and he jogs around to your side to take your hand in his. You follow his lead, feeling the firmness and warmth of his hand around yours.

The campus has a different vibe at night. Rather than its bustling, lively nature through the months of the semester, packed with students moving about with motives, goals, and ambition, the setting is instead quiet and serene on this summer night. You’ve never been to this section of the school before and it wasn’t included on the campus tour. It’s beautiful, really. The labyrinth of flora surrounds you.

As he walks you along a path to the middle of the flourishing botanical garden, he explains what’s been on his mind.

“I took you here because it’s my favorite place to be when I need to think or just relax.” He pauses to look at the night sky. “Today is the anniversary of my mother’s passing…”

“Baekhyun, I’m so sorry—”

“No, it’s okay, really. Time has helped. I just didn’t want to be alone this time, coming here by myself. I wanted company. I wanted your company.”

You approach the middle of the garden that features a gazebo, illuminated warmly by the lights on the side.

“I do, however, have one request.”

You look on in curiosity.

“Will you dance with me? It was my favorite thing to do with her when she was still around.”

You don’t really know what to say. You are not a good dancer by any means but you also didn’t want to disappoint him. Baekhyun takes out his phone to cue a slow ballad that is easy to feel the rhythm to.

“Dancing really isn’t my strong suit,” you warn him.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

He offers out a hand and you join it with yours. You both begin the dance, his hand resting at the small of your back and your head resting against his chest. It’s slow and manageable, you mostly just step side to side. You’re lost in feeling the warmth of his chest against the side of your cheek. The beat of his heart serves as a metronome. You are glad to join him on his escape. It makes your heart pound to know that you are the one he called to spend time with.

Once you’ve gotten more comfortable, he leads your dance outside of the confines of the gazebo; you’re now among the flowers. You can’t help but feel like the garden was made for you two—even if it was yours for just this little while. It feels like your personal playground as he twirls you in front of the flower bushes and dips you among the patches of daffodils. You end the dance being twirled into his embrace. And for the first time, after looking into your eyes with a smile of pure happiness, he gives you a kiss that can be interpreted in no other way than a kiss of the heart’s fruition, of true romance.

It makes you feel warm inside. You kiss him back, savoring this moment of tenderness. You pull away and are met once again with his beautiful smile. He looks happy, at peace. You take the time to appreciate the innocence of his features—the rosiness of his plump cheeks, and the delicate beauty marks dotted on his skin.

Just then, the world stopped in the middle of your school’s garden. Just long enough for you to realize that you are completely taken. Beyond your body, he has your heart.

[byuncock]

PLAYBOY (part one) | 100hyunswife

college au

virgin!f. reader x college student!Baekhyun x Chanyeol is your brother

genre: suggestive - smut in later chapter of series

wc: 3.8k

warnings: friends to lovers, messy fwb; not too much going on in this part - alcohol mentioned; implied sex among side characters; steamy kissing and hickey giving; eventual smut coming in later chapter; eventual angst in future chapter (but there will be a happy ending).

synopsis: it’s the summer before your freshman year of college. you’re excited to be reunited with your older brother chanyeol, but who knew that your summer would be filled with his best friend—experienced playboy baek—showing you the ropes of intimacy.

a/n: super wanted to get part one out for baekhyun’s birthday (happy 33rd bby) and thanks for the lovely anon who requested this! - veronica <3

Having Chanyeol as a brother meant that you were there to witness him and his friends’ shenanigans in high school… or fall victim to them. You’ll never forgive him for pushing you into the pool while you were in your prom dress.

There was one friend in particular that he was always with—the humorous but extremely talented, Byun Baekhyun. He was loud, a little obnoxious, slightly rough around the edges, but definitely filled with charm. He could brighten anyone’s day. You were the third wheel among them, but it was endearing to see their relationship grow. They heavily bonded over their shared love of music. You knew first hand how talented Chanyeol was with instruments. He took up the guitar and drums so easily; he was a natural. Baekhyun on the other hand wielded the power of his voice. That guy could sing, you had to give him that. A powerful voice with a beautifully smooth tone emitted from him whenever he’d unconsciously sing while doing medial tasks. You were around him one time when he was cleaning up a mess that him and Chanyeol made; he was just casually singing away, but it was such a treat to your ears.

Now, Chanyeol and Baekhyun are both music majors in college to hone their craft. You’re two years younger than them, so when Chanyeol left for college, you had to admit it got a bit lonely during those couple of years without your sibling (nor the rowdy one he called his best friend). You got to see Yeol during winter break, but you still missed just getting to knock on his door and bug him with whatever’s on your mind.

However, this period of distant contact is about to end. It’s the summer after your senior year of high school and you’ll be heading off to college yourself. You had been admitted to the same university and didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to be close to your brother again, and, it doesn’t hurt to save money on rent by having an automatic roommate who can’t say no.

Currently, you’re at Chanyeol’s apartment to start moving in your things and check out the space that will become your new home. While investigating, you hear a key slide into the door handle. You’re ready to be greeted with Chanyeol—you decided to surprise him and not tell him you were coming today. You excitedly make your way over to the door, only to be met with Baekhyun’s shocked expression as he stands in the door frame, cases of beer in hand. You’re frozen. You stand there motionless for two reasons: the unexpected visitor, but also, the new shell that visitor is in. You’re stunned by the developed appearance of the man in front of you.

He looks different. Or maybe you just hadn’t noticed how attractive he was back when him and Yeol were fooling around at home. For one, his hair is styled up and away from his face, very different from the shaggy bowl-cut you knew him for. Who knew that a man’s forehead could be so significant. Truth be told, you looked different as well. Since Baekhyun never joined Yeol for his annual winter break visits, the last time Baekhyun saw you was when you were a moody disheveled teenager. You’ve grown passed that now and have fully stepped into a newer, comfortable skin. An identity of what you deem as mature and womanly. You both take each other in; you try to be discreet at it while Baekhyun, without reservation, clearly looks you up and down.

Baekhyun is the first to speak. “y/n?” He asks in awe and curiosity.

You give a gentle nod. “Hi, Baekhyun,” you stammer out, “I wasn’t expecting you, I’m sorry. I thought you were Chanyeol coming home.” You awkwardly chuckle and run a hand through your hair.

“It’s no problem,” he says as he moves into the space after you step aside from the door. “It’s been a while though, how are you? Also, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

You sit down on the couch to catch him up on where you’re at in life and the fact that you’ll be going to the same college—so it’s a no-brainer that you’ll be leeching off of Yeolie’s living space.

“I have to ask back though, why are you in Chanyeol’s place?”

Baekhyun explains, “We were planning on having a party here tonight to kick off summer,” Baekhyun points to the alcohol that is now resting on the kitchen island, “We didn’t know that you’d be here, but, I’d love for you to stay for it.” Baekhyun has an expression of optimism; he hopes you stick around so that he has the chance to talk to you more, maybe even get another laugh out of you.

Indeed, you stay to help Baekhyun set up the apartment for a party and you get to re-experience Baekhyun’s well-known humor. After half an hour goes by, Chanyeol finally walks in.

“Surprise,” you leisurely tell him while sarcastically holding up jazz hands, “Baek found me first,” you finish, pouting.

“Yeah, mom told me you’d be moving in, didn’t know you were coming over today,” he makes his way over to you, “Well, I’m glad to see you little sis,” he puts your head in the crutch of his arm for an innocent headlock. He ruffles your hair with his fist.

“Gosh Yeol, you’re still the same,” you profess.

“Well, if you’re going to be here, continue helping us set up, lazy bones,” he teases. You roll your eyes and join the two boys in arranging the alcohol, snacks, and furniture to make it appropriate for an intimate but well-attended get together.

Afterwards, Baekhyun leaves back to his place until the party starts. You wish he stuck around for a bit longer; you feel like you weren’t done analyzing all the details of his new image, his new aura. While cleaning up together, you couldn’t help but feel the command of his presence. It made you want to stare at him. I mean, you are entering college now after all; maybe college boys just have that mature edge to them that high schoolers don’t—and it’s catching your eye. You’re curious about Baekhyun, and you don’t know why.

For now, you have the opportunity to have some good old RNR with your big brother. You and Chanyeol take a seat on the chairs he has out on the balcony. You both look at the sunset. The sun slowly makes its way over the horizon as you two chat; filling the sky with a colorful palette. You and Chanyeol talk about you moving in and how you’re both excited to be close again. He gives you general advice about college and the conversation drifts to your general worries about adult life. He shares his own shortcomings in his two years away from home thus far, and you’re both able to laugh about it. You have a more positive mindset about entering this new chapter in your life and having Chanyeol by your side eases you as a worrywart.

The sun has now fully set. The streaks of pink and orange that were once in the sky have now been swallowed by deep indigo. The moon has took its place. You both rise from the chairs, heading back in to begin the festivities.

Chanyeol grips the balcony door to open it but stops to mention one more thing, “Also,” Chanyeol pauses, “I love him and he’s my best friend but, do me a favor and never get involved with a guy like Baekhyun.” You’re taken aback. Why would he warn you against ‘a guy like Baekhyun’?

“That guy is an absolute player and I don’t want you to get hurt by a variant of his kind,” Chanyeol smirks, ending with a joke.

You follow him in and don’t question it. Your mind is, however, swarming with thoughts. After observing Baekhyun today, you suppose it does make sense how someone like him could obtain playboy status. His perfectly coiffed hair, visibly strong chest under that shirt of his, and his pretty long fingers did not go unnoticed by you. You shake your head in disbelief at yourself and wipe your mind blank. Well, it doesn’t matter. He’s trouble that you’re not looking for. Besides, what would he do with an inexperienced virgin like you? It’d be no fun for someone like him. You sigh to yourself, hopeful that maybe you’ll meet someone sweet during your time here. Hopefully guys in college can accept a girl who has never even had her first kiss.

Kisses are now the subject of the evening. After a couple hours of drinking and competitive party games (beer pong anyone?) have passed, one of Chanyeol’s friends had the glorious idea of playing spin the bottle. She had a decent reason for doing this since she had a crush on one of the guys here, but you hate to be wrapped into it too. You, three very new acquaintances, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun all sit around in a circle to orbit a lone, empty beer bottle. You quake while sitting cross-legged on the floor. After round one, Jennie gets her wish. After that kiss her and her crush shared, it looks like they even took up an impromptu game of seven minutes in heaven in the pantry closet.

After those two step away, it is only you, Chanyeol, one of his other friends named Julie, and Baekhyun remaining. You look down at your hands, unsure of what’s next. You’d look up to have a better clue, except, you feel eyes on you from Baekhyun’s direction. You keep your head down not wanting to make eye contact; you feel awkward enough.

Chanyeol breaks the ice. “Well, looks like we’re all done here, Jennie got what she wanted,” he says shooting up from the floor.

“Not so fast,” Baekhyun interjects with a hand up, still firmly seated, “What about me?” Baekhyun protests, “What if I didn’t get what I wanted yet?”

You look up immediately and cast your curious eyes upon Baekhyun, then Julie. Does he have a thing for her? Chanyeol looks like he’s pondering the same thing. His eyes switch back and forth between his best friend and Julie before rolling his eyes and sitting back down.

“Let’s get this over with,” Chanyeol says with a huff.

Baekhyun grips the bottle and furrows his eyebrows, paying attention to the angle of the bottle’s neck. Finally, he gives it a spin and watches with intent as the bottle slows. Chanyeol looks tired, Baekhyun looks hopeful, you look on in wonder, and Julie looks… strained. As it approaches its last turn, Julie gets up in a hurry.

“I’m really sorry guys, I super have to go to the bathroom!” She says genuinely, heading towards the hallway. At this point, the bottle has stopped. What would have been considered between you and Julie if she was present, is now considered to have landed solely in your direction.

Shit.

“Well looks like we have to play it where it lies,” Baekhyun says jovially. He really can be a little shit when he wants to.

Chanyeol narrows his eyes in disbelief, “This isn’t fucking golf, Baekhyun.”

Just as Baekhyun is about to retort, Julie returns. She enters the room limp with a hand over her forehead.

“I don’t feel too good guys. I’m sorry for ruining the game. Can you take me home, Chanyeol? I don’t think I can drive like this,” she asks with discomfort.

Chanyeol looks to her in sympathy and gets up, “Sure, let’s get you home.” He guides Julie out the door with a hand on her back before turning around one more time.

“y/n, you have my number if you need me and Baekhyun,” Chanyeol gives him one last look that can only be perceived as a warning, “Keep her safe.”

With that, he was out the door and you were left alone with his hot best friend who seemed like he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

You stay silent but decide to finally meet his eyes. He gives you a soft smile, but you can’t exactly read the expression on his face. He moves closer to you, inch-by-inch — as if to test the waters and see if you move away. But you don’t. He takes that as a good sign and completely closes your distance.

You sit side by side, so close your right knee touches his left. Baekhyun uses a finger to turn your head to face him.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he says softly, eyes flickering to your lips.

You’re silent as your mind stirs. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You feel the need to say no, but it never leaves your mouth. The guilt you feel about kissing your brother’s best friend eats at your conscience, but it’s soon devoured by the desire that erupts within you. You can’t bring it upon yourself to extinguish the fire of your curiosity. You’ve never been kissed and you’ll be damned if you deny yourself the sensation. It’s just a game, right? There’s no way you could get attached from this one kiss alone.

Gone are the unruly bowl cuts and uncoordinated, thrown on outfits he used to be identified by. Rather than a diamond in the rough singer with a surprisingly good voice that he once was, this is a fully realized star in the making with the looks to match his equally as impressive voice. Indeed, Baekhyun is now a man and this man is looking at you in want. You only hope that you can please him.

You let out a gasp. His thumb has just stroked your bottom lip. You’ve never felt a moment that was so intimate. Your body heats up at the simple but unexpected contact.

You nod your head, “I want it.”

Sensing your timidness, Baekhyun decides to play with it.

“Say please,” he taunts. You feel his breath.

“Please.” It comes out as almost a whisper.

His lips touch yours—softly. It’s sweet and not as rushed as you expected it to be. It makes you feel comfortable enough to kiss back; you put your hand on his thigh. It doesn’t take too long for things to get heated, though. Baekhyun deepens the kiss by sliding his tongue between your lips, ready to feel yours. Eventually, you find yourselves in a full make out session. Rather than cupping your face, Baekhyun’s hand moves to hold the back of your head as he leads you backwards. Without breaking the kiss, you are laid onto the floor and feel the delicious weight of Baekhyun’s body pressed against yours. The slight taste of alcohol on Baekhyun’s lips is exhilarating. It makes you question if the alcohol has helped him unleash his true desire for you, or if you’re just a replaceable prey that he has chosen to feed his hunger. What surprises you is, you don’t care. Either way, you’re his. All you care about is this unfamiliar sensation that wells inside of you: lust.

He pulls away breathless. He looks into your eyes with want but uses this pause to study your expression. To him, you look gorgeous like this; your hair is sprawled out on the floor beneath you and your big doe eyes looking up at him.

His necklace dangles down as he hovers you. You feel the cross pendant grace your cleavage. It makes you shiver.

Baekhyun notices and returns his infamous smirk. “Ah, a sensitive one, are we?”

You were about to protest until you feel his pink lips latch to the side of your neck. He earns his first moan from you. You briskly throw a hand over your mouth with embarrassment. You look away, mortified. He lines the side of your face softly with a finger, it brings your attention back to his amused look.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” He asks.

Silently, you shake your head no.

“Am I your first?”

You begin to give another nonverbal queue by nodding, but he interjects.

“Uh-uh sweetheart,” his thumb strokes your bottom lip, “use your words.” He dares you with his eyes.

“You’re my first,” you peep. His eyes flash a darker color, fueled by the excitement of corrupting your innocence. He resumes, peppering kisses that start from behind your ear, down. He nibbles on the one spot that makes you suck in air.

“Baekhyun,” you moan out his name.

He grips your waist with a sense of possession. He doesn’t want this to be the last time he hears it.

He takes his time and savors every whimper, every gasp, and every tremble he draws out of you.

Suddenly, you hear the door to the pantry closet open. The unmistakably loud, creaky hinges served as a helpful warning for you two to separate yourselves. You immediately sit up and Baekhyun, out of understanding, pulls away. If this went his way, he’d still be on top of you exploring your unventured body—no one else mattered. As if on queue, out walks Jennie and Jongin, or really, she stumbles out with wobbly legs. You see her adjust the hem of her dress, pulling it down as they exit.

“Bye guys, I’ll see you later, we’re gonna go,” Jennie gestures between her and Jongin before giggling and locking her arm in his. “Was nice meeting you, y/n.”

Jongin waves bye and soon, the door closes behind them.

The apartment, in the still of night, is now completely silent. Empty of noise, but full of tension. It is just yourself, Baekhyun, and the desire that lurks between you. You sit on the floor still, knees hugged into your chest and wrapped by your arms. Once again, you are unable to meet his gaze. It’s not completely back to square one, but, Baekhyun wasn’t going to push it. With his hand on the floor as leverage, he gets up, standing tall before you. He offers out a hand for you to do the same.

Now standing face to face, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thank you for letting me kiss you,” he says with honesty.

Baekhyun is thanking you for kissing him? Who would have thought.

He takes your hand into his, and kisses it. ”I wouldn’t mind… doing that again.”

You’re in a daze. You realize you haven’t responded in a bit once he raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Yeah I enjoyed that a lot too.…” You look down, finishing awkwardly.

Feeling confident, he makes a proposal. “How about we make this a regular thing? I mean, I could show you the ropes to this stuff if you’d like to learn more.”

You don’t really know what to say. On one hand you want to immediately accept his offering, you wouldn’t mind learning more about intimacy and you do trust him to be the one to teach you. He sensed your body’s reactions so well and made you feel comfortable and sexy during the kiss. On the other hand… he’s your brother’s best friend. Chanyeol would kill both of you.

As if Baekhyun could read your thoughts, he adds, “Chanyeol wouldn’t need to know. Trust me, I’m pretty good at sneaking around. It really wouldn’t be a worry.”

With hesitancy, you oblige. You give him a quick okay, which makes his lips curve up into a victorious smile.

You tell Baekhyun that you are going to start cleaning up, though, looking at the plastic red SOLO cups scattered around the room. Baekhyun joins in, not wanting to leave your presence just yet. As you walk around the apartment with a trash bag, shoving the garbage into it, your mind begins to drift. You remember his insistence on continuing to play the game of spin the bottle. Did Baekhyun get what he wanted? Rather than Julie, was it me all along?

A few more minutes passed and finally, you were both done cleaning. Chanyeol has returned as well.

Chanyeol gives you a shoulder hug upon seeing you and makes sure you’ve been okay. You nod your head and reassure him. He thanks you all for cleaning up but soon excuses himself, he’s tired from the day and just wants to sleep. He leaves to his bedroom.

Baekhyun is heading his way too now, and you show him out the door. You look at him one last time before he turns away. Suddenly, you feel confident enough to ask that question that has been lingering on your mind.

“Did you get what you wanted?” It rushes from your lips, nervously, almost incoherently. But you needed to know.

“Huh?”

“When we were about to stop playing but you wanted to keep going… did you,” you pause, embarrassed to repeat yourself, “Did you get to kiss the person you were aiming to?”

One corner of his mouth raises, displaying a smirk of amusement. “Yes. Yes I did.” He gives you a peck on the cheek before swiftly turning around and leaving without looking back.

You shut the door and lean against it, letting out a heavy sigh. You know you won’t be getting much sleep tonight. The daunting truth is, you’re attracted to him.

You don’t expect to tame a playboy like him—it’d be worse if you were lying to yourself, but you’re not. You know it’s not real, but there’s nothing that says you can’t enjoy the game. And you couldn’t wait to explore.

[byuncock]

this is a crazy, crazy pic.

headcanon fuel.

imagine giving baekhyun a handjob under the water in a hot tub…

obvious headcanon naughtiness under the cut (quick, self-indulgent smut written in my uber home from work)

you innocently enjoy the relaxing time with him in this warm body of water.

this hotel staycation was exactly what you needed to step away from your job and just rejuvenate for the week (if you can’t tell already, the author has a thing for hotels and hotel sex).

you’re in a cute white triangle bikini while he is shirtless, in just his swim trunks.

you saw him eye you when you were first getting into the pool. he really loves white on you, especially in the summer; it makes your skin pop. besides, the triangle cups were doing enough but not too good of a job keeping your breasts covered.

to him, the more side boob, the better.

after you two get situated in the water, he leisurely lays his head back and closes his eyes, enjoying the release of tension in his muscles from the warm water.

there is, however, one muscle of his that you’d like to engage.

while his eyes are still closed, you reach over to him from across the hot tub, getting onto your knees right in front of him, before finally making an advance at his crotch.

you rub over his crotch with your palm. of course, it immediately makes his head jolt up as he looks at you in wonder.

"shhh," you tell him. “just relax.”

after a bit more rubbing over the fabric, he helps you pull down the waistband of his trunks.

you give him a good few strokes and soon his head returns to the previous position, resting back against the ledge of the pool. but this time, it’s thrown back in pleasure.

you jerk him off under the water

as you do this , you slightly lean forward, making sure your tits are right in his face

he stares at them shamelessly. he reaches up to grab and knead them in his hands

with pleasure, he lets out soft groans, not wanting to be too loud in this semi-public environment. there are bushes for privacy, but you two still had to be sneaky about it.

approaching his climax, he's makes a naughty move: he swiftly pulls on the string of your bikini at the back of you. your tits bounce out from below the fabric.

yes, fun fact, tit drops are one of baekhyun's favorite things.

he stares at them and you come up a bit so that a nipple can land into his mouth.

it doesn't take much longer for him to get close.

to keep from making a mess in the water, you hold your breath and go under the water to cap the tip of his cock with your mouth, taking in his seed.

you rise from above the water, breathing heavily as air re-enters your lungs.

he's in absolute awe and doesn't wait to return the favor.

he fishes you out of the water with your body in his arms, carrying you back into the hotel room.

thank you to the k-eri that posted that photo on twitter, omg.

[byuncock]

i wanna rub my face on baekhyun’s bulge