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scoupsbear · 5 days ago

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cherry week 👁️🫦👁️

COACH CHEOL AU?? he’s your personal trainer and like… the slow burn tension is insane. “adjusting your form” from behind??? catching you staring in the mirror??? help.

from check | choi seungcheol

ⓘ content info ⸺ paring. personal trainer!seungcheol x f!reader. genre | tags. one-shot, strangers to lovers, smut. rating. explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). warnings. porn with absolutely no plot, this is really, really filthy, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, pussy slapping, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected penetrative sex (please don’t), overstimulation, pussy drunk!seungcheol, light dom!seungcheol, manhandling, semi-public sex. word count. 5.3k+. requested: yes/no.

ʚ A/N: One of the many examples of HORNY JAIL from the cherryweek requests. I loved writing this actually, so thank you for this request! Also, I edited this as best as I could, but my eyes are fried at this point 😵 so if you spot any mistakes, just know it’s because I literally can't look at it again without going crazy lol.

You don’t notice him the first day you join the gym. Not really.

You’re too busy being annoyed with your own personal trainer, too focused on trying not to slip on sweat-slick floors and adjusting to this place that smells like protein powder, testosterone and overconfident men.

But he notices you.

It starts on a random Tuesday while you’re doing squats. You were focused, trying to keep your back straight, shoulders tight, knees not caving in, stealing a quick glance at the mirror to check your form every five seconds.

That’s when you see him. He’s not even facing you directly, just wiping his face with a towel, back broad and shirt clinging to his buffed chest in all the right aways.

The moment he catches your eyes in the mirror reflection you freeze mid-rep. Your legs nearly give out at the intensity of his gaze, and he smirks. Just a little, just enough, walking off like he hadn’t nearly made you collapse in front of the entire gym.

Over the next few days, it happens again. And again. Until eventually, it becomes a thing, something part of your daily workout routine.

You catch him watching you through the mirror as you bench, or stretch, or rest with your water bottle pressed to your lips. Sometimes he’s training someone else. Sometimes he’s lifting on his own, earbuds in, but somehow his gaze always finds its way back to you.

You keep telling yourself it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just in your head, even if, deep down, your subconscious is begging the universe that this Greek god of a man wants the same thing you do, with every lingering glance exchanged across the room.

Then he finally speaks to you.

“Your RDLs are solid,” he says after walking past you one morning. “Not many people get the hinge right like that. You’re a strong girl.”

You froze with the barbell still in your grip. “Thanks?”

He’s already walking away again with that damn smirk on his face, and it’s so stupid how the compliment sticks in your head the rest of the day.

Two days later, your current trainer gets fired. Something about client complaints, mismanaged programs. You left standing at the front desk with your membership in limbo.

You do some exercises alone for a few days, until the receptionist stops you one morning and points behind you before announcing, “We’re assigning you to Seungcheol. He’s one of our best.”

You turn, already knowing who it is, thanks to some light stalking after you found his Instagram through the gym’s tagged photos.

And sure enough, he’s there: towel slung around his neck, arms crossed, looking every bit like a man who knows you’ve been watching him too.

“Hey,” he says, casually. “Looks like you’re mine now.”

At first it’s fine. It’s all professional.

Seungcheol even builds you a better routine, talks about macros, modifies your warmups, pushes your reps, and you genuinely feel like you’re improving your skills.

But the tension is immediate. Every time he touches your back to correct your form, your skin burns. Every time he praises your endurance, your stomach does backflips. And when he stands behind you during split squats and murmurs instructions, your knees nearly buckle.

“Chest up,” he says one day, a hand lightly pressing between your shoulder blades.

You swallow, doing what he instructed. “Like this?”

He hums, his breath warm against the back of your neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end.

“Almost.” His other hand finds your waist and you gasp lowly, surprised. “Tighten your core. Breathe with the movement. You’ll feel it more.”

His eyes stay locked on yours in the mirror, unwavering, meticulous.

Just then you realize there’s barely any space left between his chest and your back. For a second, you tear your gaze away from his, only to track his hand on your shoulder blades sliding it down, slow and deliberate, until it settles on your waist, both hands claiming the place as he gently guides your hips, fitting your body flush against his.

The sound that escapes your lips is undeniably a whimper, oxygen almost leaving your body.

“Go on,” his voice drops a note, no longer instructing, but commanding.

You do, feeling the exercise way more than just in your legs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. Your breath catches.

Then he steps away, leaving the space between you suddenly too empty.

You wiping sweat from your brow, still catching your breath from the lat pulldown machine exercises when Seungcheol leans on the edge of the bench, arms crossed over his chest. His compressed shirt clings to his body, making the full curve of his shoulders, chest and arms very evident.

“You ever tried Brazilian jiu-jitsu?” he asks casually, brows lifted in a way that always makes you wonder things.

“Uh… yeah. Why?”

He smiles, just a little crooked. “We’ve got a small mats room upstairs. I run private sessions when I’ve got time. Thought you might be into it.”

You narrow your eyes. “What, like… now?”

He shrugs. “Unless you’re scared of a little close contact with the instructor.”

Your pulse jumps. Not from the clear challenge tone of his voice and the implied suggestion. But from the way his gaze lingers on you when he says close contact.

“I’m not scared,” you respond almost immediately, standing up.

“Good,” he replies, grinning like a devil. “Let's go then.”

You don’t know what you expected. Maybe a few awkward rolls, maybe him showing you how to trip someone or how to self-defense. But what actually happens is far worse… well, at least for the good of your sanity, decency and good composure.

Because yes, the class is entirely private: literally just the two of you.

Alone. In a closed room with mirrors and big smoke windows overlooking the city.

Seungcheol walks you through the basics slowly. He teaches you grips, base, and how to break a fall. He’s very patient, thorough, and dangerously good at pretending this is a normal thing, like every bush of his fingers on your wrists and hips isn’t heating your skin. Or maybe it is just you and your overactive imagination and your stupid, traitorous horniness, even though you hope it isn't.

You’re barefoot on the mat, eyeing Seungcheol with suspicion as he adjusts the sleeves of his rash guard.

“You sure about this?” You’re the one who asks him, not feeling sure about it yourself.

He raises a brow, half-smirk in place. “You said you weren't scared.”

“I said I wasn’t scared of close contact,” you clarify, rolling your shoulders. “Didn’t say I wanted you throwing me around.”

It felt like you were walking on eggshells because everything that came out of both of your mouths was even the slightest bit suggestive. And honestly, you wouldn't mind at all if he decided to start throwing you around as long as he pinned you down right after.

You hear Seungcheol chuckle.

“We’ll go light. Just flow. Feel the movement. I’ll show you the pace.”

You just nod, mimicking his stance. “So what, I’m just supposed to attack you?”

“If you can,” he teases. “Come and get me.”

And you do.

The first few minutes are awkward, of course, you’re figuring out grips, the balance between force and control. But you surprise him when you lunge and catch him off guard, nearly managing a take down.

Seungcheol laughs in shock. “Oh shit—!”

You grin, pushing his buttons harder. He deflects and circles, but you’re quicker than he expected. Your hand catches his wrist, you shift your weight, hook his leg and then he’s flat on his back.

You land above him, both of you panting.

The room falls completely quiet. You watch as sweat runs down his forehead, hair wet, and chest rising beneath your fingers, hands frozen mid-air like he doesn’t know if he should push you off or pull you down, but that he clearly wanted to put them somewhere in your body.

“Not bad,” he observes, voice a little rough. “You’ve got instincts.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.” His eyes flick down. “Also… you’re kind of sitting on me right now, so…”

You freeze and your eyes widen as you slowly start to realize the position you’ve landed in: straddling him, hands spread out on his chest, hair falling into your face. His thighs are flexed beneath you, and you can feel him, warm, solid, clearly not unaffected.

Out of shock, you shift your hips without really meaning to and his hands are on you instantly. Firm, commanding, fingers digging into the sides of your hips halting your movement.

“Don’t do that,” he practically begs, closing his eyes shut. “That wasn’t part of the lesson.”

“Neither were you losing."

His hand slides up to your waist, slow and steady like he’s tracing a path as his eyes flutter open again, dark and full of something you can’t quite name yet.

“Well, I didn’t lose.”

“Sure looked like it to me.”

Your eyes lock again, and it feels like the air shifts. The playfulness suddenly fades into something heavier and the world narrows down to just the two of you, to the heat of his hands on your skin. It’s like the weight of weeks of stolen glances, small touches disguised as training instructions, has finally caught up to the both of you.

And then Seungcheol moves.

One swift motion and he rolls you both over, pinning you beneath him. His hands trap yours against the mat, broad chest pressing into you.

“You’re good,” he says, and you’re surprised at how deep his voice can get. His lips are now mere inches from yours, completely blurring the professional line. “But I’ve got better ground control.”

Your heart slams against your ribs as you whisper, “That so?”

“Mmmhm,” he hums, eyes slowly dragging down to your lips before flicking back up. “Think I’ve got you right where I want you.”

“And where’s that?”

Seungcheol’s grip on your wrists tightens just slightly, enough to make your breath hitch, enough to make it clear he’s not just talking about your position on the mat.

His nose brushes yours. His voice drops even more. “Under me.”

You don’t make a move to change positions. You just stay there, allowing yourself to be manhandled by him, feeling your core tighten at the feeling of his hands circling your wrists and the way he lowers over you.

“Comfortable?”

“Not the word I’d use.”

You're anything but comfortable. In fact, you’re practically squirming beneath him, hot and bothered in the best kind of way. Every inch of your skin feels too tight, too aware of how close he is without actually touching you in the way you want it so bad. All you can think about is how much you wish he would just close the damn distance already and kiss you.

“You’re supposed to push against me here,” he says, guiding your hands to his biceps, putting a small distance between you. “Use the momentum. Hips up.”

Your palms press against the hard muscle of his biceps, but it’s the warmth beneath your fingers that really gets to you. You try to focus, to remember what he’s teaching you, but your brain short-circuits the moment his hands settle low on your hips again.

“Hips up,” he repeats, more like a dare than a command.

You try, of course, but the second you arch into him, you both move the wrong way and crash sideways into the mat. You land tangled together, his forearm catching your head, his body half over yours, his thigh is pressed between your legs, and of course, your faces are inches apart again.

But this time, neither of you move. The tension shifts, no longer playful, no longer part of the drill. His breathing is shallow and uneven, his chest brushing yours with every inhale. His hand, still resting on your waist, isn’t guiding or correcting anymore, it’s very much holding.

You shift beneath him, feeling the way his body reacts, the way his muscles tense, the way his hips barely move into yours. Instead, the only movement he makes is the gaze flickering to your mouth again, lingering there this time.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice rough, almost pained.

You shake your head, biting your lip.

“I should get off you.”

You know he’s talking about the position you're in. But the way he says it, the implication makes your breath hitch, heat curling in your stomach. “Then why aren’t you?”

A beat. And then his mouth finally finds yours.

It’s not even slightly gentle. It’s hot, messy, full of heat and weeks’ worth of tension snapping all at once. His lips crush into yours like he’s been starved for it, like he’s been thinking about this moment since the second you stepped into this gym months ago.

You moan softly into his mouth, and he takes advantage, tongue sliding past your lips, greedy and relentless. His hand slides up your thigh, gripping firmly and dragging it higher around his waist. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, hands flying to his hair to feel and pull the soft, sweat-soaked strands between your fingers.

You arch into him instinctively, chasing friction, and finding it at his hardening cock. There’s no hesitation between you now, just heat and urgency, lips parting, tongues tangling, centers rubbing rhythmically through clothes, months of stolen looks and touches crashing all at once.

It’s very very messy. Breathless. Addictive. And neither of you want it to stop.

The mat digs into your shoulder blades, but you don’t care. Not when Seungcheol is hovering over you so deliciously.

His lips are soft but hungry, tongue sliding against yours with an ease that sends a wave of heat crashing straight through your core. Your hands travel to his back, gripping his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric like it might hold you together. But it’s no use—not when you’ve been unraveling for weeks.

Seungcheol’s hands skims under your top, palm dragging up your stomach until he finds your sports bra. He groans against your mouth when he feels how fast your heart’s racing.

“Some much for not being scared of close contact, huh?”

“Shut up.”

But he doesn’t.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” His lips brush the shell of your ear. “How fucking hard it was not to watch you too much when you’re bent over in front of me? Lifting, stretching…”

You whimper, arching more into him. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m supposed to be a professional, sweetheart,” he growls, hand dipping slowly down your stomach. “But fuck that now.”

His mouth starts to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses from your lips down your jaw, to your neck, along the swell of your breasts, and over the bare skin of your stomach, each one slower, more deliberate, until he’s maddeningly close to where you need him most, licking sweat from your skin like it’s something to savor.

“You taste so fucking good,” he hisses. “Bet your pussy tastes even better.”

You don’t have time to answer before Seungcheol settles between your legs like he belongs there, making you let out a loud moan. His lips press softly and tempting inside of your knee while his hands are firm on your thighs, thumbs drawing slow, possessive circles against your skin, parting your legs just enough to drive you insane.

Then he looks up at you, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, that wicked smirk curving his lips like he already knows exactly what he’s about to do to you.

“Fuck, I can already smell you.” he murmurs, fingers grazing the sensitive strip of skin just above your waistband. “So pretty.”

The touch is fleeting before he yanks your legging down in one impatient pull. His gaze catches the damp patch darkening the center of your lacy pink panties.

“You’ve been ready for me this whole time, haven’t you?” His thumb ghosts over the wet spot, pressing just enough to make you moan again. You nod helplessly to his question. “Walking around like you’re so sweet and innocent… while letting me fucking suffer.”

Your legs fall open wider as he strokes slow, teasing circles over your clothed pussy, fingers getting cover in your juices through the fabric. You whine and squirm, bucking your hips up to chase his touch.

“Please, Seungcheol.”

He hums, lips brushing the exposed skin of your thigh. He’s so close. “Please what, baby?”

“Do something!” you gasp, frustration spilling into your voice.

“And what would that be?” he asks, low and teasing. “Hmm?”

“Anything.”

“No. Look at me.” Seungcheol’s tone shifts, still gentle but firm. He reaches up to grab your chin with two fingers, bringing your gaze back to his. “You can tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

“I—” you breathe in, steadying yourself with the way he holds your face, grounding you into him and making you feel comfortable, loose. His other hand is slow and deliberate, caressing the inside of your thigh getting closer and closer. “Want your lips. Your fingers. Please.”

Seungcheol’s smile is soft, but you can see that there’s fire behind it. “That’s a fucking good girl.”

His grip lingers at your chin a moment longer before sliding down, fingers brushing over your throat in a fleeting touch that makes you shiver. Then he’s gone, hand dragging slowly down your body until it rests heavy on your hip, keeping you open for him.

“You’ll get my lips,” he promises, lowering himself until his breath fans hot across your folds, “and my fingers, if you can keep asking for them like that. So nicely.”

A soft moan slips out before you can bite it back when Seungcheol’s fingers brush the waistband of your panties. His eyes flicks up, searching for even the faintest hesitation, but you only lift your hips more in response. Leaning on your elbows, you watch as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs, gaze fixed on your slick center like it was the most perfect thing he has ever seen, before tossing the panties carelessly across the room.

You catch Seungcheol’s gaze for a second, eyes locked on you. His jaw parts, and his tongue drag in one slow bold stripe from your entrance to your clit, and your head falls back with a loud gasp.

“Oh my God—”

“Mhm. Gonna take care of you, princess.”

Seungcheol’s tongue is slow at first, savoring you like he’s got all the time in the world. He flattens his tongue and eats you out like he’s starved for it, alternating between deep licks and tight flicks over your clit that make your legs shake furiously. You try to close them around his head, but his grip is iron. He keeps you wide open, helpless under his mouth.

He groans when your hips buck instinctively. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.”

His mouth becomes hungrier, tongue plunging into your entrance before sliding back to your clit with unrelenting pressure. With the hand that is not holding your thigh, Seungcheol roams upward until it cups your breast through your top, the dual sensation pulling a gasp from you and forcing you to sink back against the mat.

“Show them to me, baby.” He pulls his mouth from you just long enough to speak, his index finger catching and pinching your hardened nipple through the thin fabric. “I want to see them.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Tugging your shirt over your head and peeling off your sports bra right after, you bare your breasts for him. His low grunt vibrates against your pussy, and you press them together deliberately, biting your lip in a playful tease.

Almost like he wants to punish you—in a very good way—for doing that, Seungcheol does something wickedly good: fucks two fingers into you all at once while sucking hard on your clit.

Your whole body jerks.

“Cheol—!” you choke out, hand flying to his hair.

Seungcheol doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even come up for air. His fingers curl, fucking up into you faster, harder, while his tongue slide in wet circles. Your grip tightens in his hair, grounding yourself in the burn of his strands between your fingers while he takes a harsh suck on your clit again.

The starving sounds he makes shoots straight through you, and the way it reverberates against your most sensitive spot has your thighs trembling around his head. For a minute you forget everything—air, words, the fucking world. Everything that’s left is your hot personal trainer and the desperate pulse of pleasure he’s building inside you.

You come hard not so long after, thighs clamping around his shoulders, eyes rolling back and body shaking furiously as your orgasm pouches through you.

Still, Seungcheol doesn’t stop. He collects your juices with his tongue at your entrance, before returning to your swollen clit. His fingers keep working inside you, unrelenting, curling as if he’s memorizing every spot that makes you break.

The combination leaves you breathless, thighs closing around his head, but Seungcheol only growls against you, refusing to let up. “T-too much,” you whimper, squirming.

“I know, baby,” he pants, mouth glistening. “But you’re gonna give me another one.”

He pulls you impossibly closer to his face, locking you place, and goes back in.

This time is more sloppy, soaked, loud, completely unrestrained. He spits between your folds, dragging it through with his tongue, while his fingers never pause, plunging deep to hit your g-spot again and again.

The overstimulation crashes over you so hard your vision swims, heat and pleasure blurring every thought. “Fuckfuckfuck—” Your whole body’s trembling. “Cheol—!”

You feel it snap before you realize what’s happening.

Pleasure tears through you like lightning, violent and hot, and then it gushes out of you, hitting his face. A sharp cry escapes you as your body pulses, squirts, everything dripping down directly into Seungcheol’s tongue.

It’s too much. You try to squirm away but he growls, keeping you locked in place, licking and moaning through it like he lives for this.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, voice husky. “Look at that. Look what I made you do.”

You’re gasping, boneless, trembling under him. And only then does he come up for air.

He is soaked from the nose down, sweat-slick and flushed, eyes blown black as he stares down at you like you’re his favorite thing in the world.

“You okay?” he asks, gently now, rubbing your thigh.

“I—” You blink up at him, dazed. “I’ve never squirted before.”

Seungcheol smiles, looking very pleased with himself with your revelation, eyes glinting with smug satisfaction. “And I bet you never will for anyone else. That was all mine, baby.”

You can only keep blink up at him, still reeling from the intense orgasms. He’s breathtaking like this, eyes fixed on you as if seeing you undone because of him is the greatest triumph of his life. And even drenched and trembling, you can’t tell if it’s the aftermath or something else, you still ache for more of him, desperately, uncontrollably.

Seungcheol crawls back up your body, lips trailing soft kisses along your skin, until he’s hovering over you again, hips nestled between your thighs.

“Kiss me,” you plead, suddenly desperate to taste yourself on his glistening lips.

He doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds yours in a filthy slide of lips and tongue, and you moan into the kiss, hands fisting in his hair once again, loving the way he tastes, the way you can taste yourself on him too.

Seungcheol’s hard against your thigh, cock straining against his gym shorts. You reach between you to palm him through the fabric, feeling him throb under your touch.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth. “You want more, princess? Want me to fill this sweet little cunt up?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please Seungcheol, I want more.”

Your mind forgets how to breathe when Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look at you. His lips are swollen and glistening, the aftermath of your kisses leaving them more pouty then they already are. One hand grips your hip, thumb tracing the curve of your waist with lazy insistence.

“Turn over,” he says. The tone is the same as when he cues you during sets—quiet, commanding, certain you’ll listen.

And you do. Knees digging into the mat, palms pressing down, you shift onto all fours. The position is very familiar to you: countless glute kickbacks, donkey kicks, bear holds. The only difference is that this time your pulse hammers in your throat with anticipation, not tiredness.

“Such a good girl,” Seungcheol praises, his palm sliding up the back of your thighs, over your ass, squeezing the soft flesh firmly. “Back flat. Core tight. You know the drill, princess.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m consistent.” His hand lingers there, gripping harder and pulling a soft gasp out of you. “And right now? I’m thinking this form looks even better without anything covering this greedy pussy.”

Seungcheol smacks your pussy once, then the side of your ass, and you can’t help the moan that slips out, skidding forward just a little into the mat. He steps back for a moment, and your eyes land on the pile of his clothes discarded beside the mat just a moment after.

“Fuck,” he breathes, more to himself than to you. “Do you have any idea how many times I had to walk away before I lost control like this?”

You glance over your shoulder, catching him stroking himself deliberately, eyes locked on you. “Then don’t.”

That's all it takes.

Seungcheol lines himself up, rubbing his tip through your slick folds. His big hands smoothes up your waist, over the dip of your spine, palms spanning your hips as if he's aligning every angle of you to his. His breath is ragged, but his voice stays low, steady, that same time he uses during training, except now it's molten.

“Arch a little more,” he instructs, pushing gently at your lower back until your ass tilts higher. “Yeah… perfect. Just like that.”

Then he enters you without ceremony, filling you completely, a shared moan escaping both of you. He moves slowly at first, letting you adjust to his size, and he’s huge, definitely way bigger than anyone you had ever had before.

“You feel so good, fuck—” he grunts, bottoming out. “So fucking tight.”

“Move.” Your voice comes out slurred, drunk on the feeling of him inside you. “Please.”

His grip tightens on your hips, slowly dragging you back onto him with controlled, deliberate strength. When he thrusts into you again, deep, hard, perfectly aligned, your arms nearly give out. The sound you make bounces off the mirrored walls, filthy and desperate.

“Hold it,” he orders, steadying you when your elbows buckle. “Flat back, remember? Keep it tight for me, angel.”

Your laugh breaks on a moan. “You’re really—ah—still—coaching me?”

“Always.” His voice roughens as he sets a rhythm, his hips slamming into you from behind, each thrust pushing you forward on the mat. “You listen so well, don’t you? Take direction so perfectly.”

“Mhmm.”

You feel his hand grip the loose ends of your hair that falls down your back and over your shoulders, tugging your head back gently so you arch your back a little more.

“Strong girl,” he groans into your ear, tongue circling your earlobe. “Knew you’d be able to take me.”

You dig your knees into the mat, meeting his thrusts, and soon the room is filled with the rushed sound of skin against skin, breathless moans, and the occasional filthy praises from Seungcheol as he fucks you slow and deep.

“Oh, fuck, yes, Cheol—!”

You choke on a moan, arms trembling from the effort of holding yourself up. He notices, of course he does, and without warning, his tugging you upright until your back is flush against his chest.

The new angle is devastating. He’s buried deeper, his mouth dragging hot open kisses along your jaw, your shoulder. One arm wraps across your chest, holding you tight, while the other keeps its grip on your hip, guiding you back and forth onto him.

“You feel what I’m doing?” he pants against your ear, guiding your hand until you can feel him in your belly. “Using your pussy. Controlling the movement. You’re—fuck—you’re perfect, princess.”

Your head falls back against his shoulder, lips parting in a helpless cry as he rocks you harder, every thrust echoing through your body like a finishing rep that pushes you to the edge.

“Cheol—” his name breaks off into a whimper, your body trembling entirely.

“Come for me again,” he growls, one hand sliding down to rub circles against your clit. “I’ve got you.”

You cry out his name again and again, body shuddering as the sensations ripple through you. His hand presses harder, never letting up, and his voice anchors you just enough to let yourself go.

“Fuck, you feel perfect. So warm, so tight—”

You cling to him, your third orgasm building fast, overstimulated and desperate. “I’m—gonna—”

“Come for me. C’mon, sweetheart. Let me feel this greedy pussy cum around my cock.”

When you finally do, you almost feel like you’re gonna black out over the sensation, a gasping cry leaving your throat as Seungcheol buries himself deep and groans your name, spilling himself inside you.

He doesn’t move right away. Just presses kisses along your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your lips. One arm stays wrapped around you, unwilling to let go, even as he eases you both down onto the mat. Slowly, he slips out, and the messy blend of your release spills, dripping onto the mat beneath you.

You rest like that for a while, basking in the afterglow. Eventually, Seungcheol gets up to grab your clothes.

“There's a shower in the back,” he says, handing you your discarded panties and his shirt. “Let's get cleaned up, princess.”

It doesn’t take him long to notice the way your legs tremble, keeping you from standing upright. With ease, Seungcheol hooks an arm around you and lifts you against his chest, carrying you toward the showers. Clothes are shed along the way, dropped carelessly in your wake.

The hot water feels amazing on your sensitive skin. Seungcheol washes you tenderly, running a soapy cloth over every inch of your body. You return the favor, taking special care with his cock and balls.

He gets hard again under your ministrations and pins you to the wall, kissing you deeply.

“I’m not sure I can take anymore,” you whimper against his lips.

“We don’t have to do anything else,” he murmurs. “I just like touching you.”

Clean and satisfied, you dress and head back to the mat room to grab your bags. Seungcheol trails at your side, walking you out to the parking lot, and just as you reach for your car door, he stops you with a gentle touch.

“Look, I don’t usually do this,” he says seriously. “With clients, I mean. But I really like you, Y/N. I’d love to take you out sometime.”

You smile up at him, feeling a happy warmth bloom in your chest. “I’d love that.”

He grins back, taking your hand in his. “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? My place.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He gives you one last lingering kiss before letting you go with a smack on the ass.

“So,” you say, tilting your head with a teasing smile, “does this mean I get free training now?”

Seungcheol lets out a breathless laugh and kisses your cheek. “Not a chance,” he grins. “But I will be giving you extra stretching sessions.”

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scoupsbear · 6 days ago

Text

want u back. (choi seungcheol x reader)

synopsis: choi seungcheol is not the kind of man you get over. he is the kind of man you win back.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: ex!seungcheol, previous long term relationship, angst, relationship problems, yelling, pining, swearing, bad work environment and an asshole boss, smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, some degradation, rough sex, car sex, fluff, banter, both of them are assholes in places but that’s expected ig

Today has been a rough day.

You watch absentmindedly as the train doors ding and open, making more people step inside and not enough of them leave. It presses you harder into the wall, and you push your bag in front of you so the man before you doesn’t press directly into you. Three more stops until you get off.

You run over the last conversation you had at the office before clocking out. Well, it was less of a conversation and more of a dressing down for you. And it hadn’t even been your fault. Your coworker had royally screwed up the numbers on a new client’s order, and since your roles are usually interchangeable, your boss had assumed it was your doing. And so he went on a tirade about your inefficiency and lack of understanding for your job, and it was only a full five minutes of insults later that you could finally get a word in, telling him that you didn’t do the numbers on this one.

The damage is done, though. The things he said echo in your head now, and you mull over them. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t. You know you are good at your job. You have been at it for so long. What happened today wasn’t your screw up. But hearing all those words hurt. And they made you angry. You are fuming. He apologized when he learned his mistake, so there’s really nothing you can do except stew in your mess of anger and hurt.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There’s something you can do.

You wiggle your phone out of your pocket despite the tight fit of the train, trying to type with one thumb.

[me]: u home?

It takes only two or three minutes for your phone to ping with a reply.

[choi seungcheol]: yea. you coming?

You send a short ‘yes’ back, switching the screen off. You try to justify in your head that you need this, but god, it just feels like another loss. You are breaking your longest streak yet. Three weeks Seungcheol free. But you are pent up. You are angry and frustrated and feel like you are at a dead-end job. You need this. You need him.

He is wearing an oversized sweatshirt and pants when he answers the door, and his hair is disheveled, slightly damp, indicating he just showered. You love the smell of his shampoo. And god, he looks so good. So unbelievably good that you push in through the doorway, not even bothering to close it before you’re smashing your lips hard against his.

He hums and grips your waist immediately to steady both of you. You hear the door click closed behind you, but you don’t care. He smells like flowers and aftershave, and it’s so familiar. You push your tongue into his mouth, and you can feel his chest rise and fall as he chuckles.

“Slow down, baby.” His voice is muffled. Your heart stutters at the pet name. “What happened to saying hello?”

“Not today.” You mumble into his mouth, bunching his sweatshirt up so you can run your hands over his bare torso. He tenses under the touch and moans a bit, fingertips digging into your sides before his hands are reaching forward, undoing the buttons on your blouse.

“Missed me that much?” He teases, pulling off your lips with one last, wet smooch before he is burying his face into your neck, kissing and biting the skin there. You close your eyes, relishing in the feeling. You want to reply that you did, you missed him and his touch and the way he overwhelmed your every sense until you forgot all your problems. But you don’t.

Instead, you focus on pushing his sweatshirt up more, so he has no choice but to reach back and tug it off. Your eyes trace the porcelain skin, fingertips following the path of your hungry gaze. He opens your blouse, finally, pushing it off your shoulders. His hands trace over the newly exposed skin and you feel goosebumps rise on it. He digs his fingers into the small of your back so he can pull you back with him, both of you shuffling between hungry kisses until he’s laying you on his couch, your legs spreading automatically to make room for his hips.

“You’re so tense.” He comments, running his hands over your thighs, pushing your tight, pencil skirt up until it’s gathering at the apex. “Work been that bad?”

Your answer is somewhere between a hum and a moan as Seungcheol’s fingertips prod over your already soaked panties. He doesn’t comment on them, and maybe it’s because you can also feel how painfully hard he is. Maybe he missed you just as much, though you doubt it. He pushes the soiled cloth to the side before sliding between the wet mess in your slit, and your head drops back with a sigh.

He pulls off your neck to look down at you, and it’s the first time your eyes meet his since you stepped foot into his apartment. He thumbs over your clit and you whine, bucking your hips up.

“No games.” You gasp out. “Need you. Now.”

“It’s been three weeks.” He comments. “I need to prep you.”

You shake your head, wrapping your legs around his waist so you can tug him forward. His erection digs hard into the meat of your thigh, and he hisses.

“Need to feel it.”

You can see his lips tick up in a smirk, and he grinds into you one more time. “You sure?”

You’re already nodding. “Yes.”

So he does exactly that. It’s the best thing about Seungcheol. He knows you so well. That’s expected, considering you were with him for nearly four years. He knew every nook and cranny, every crevice of your body, even more than you knew it. That’s why you had come here, and not gone home to settle with your own fingers inside you. This is exactly what you needed to feel, his weight holding you down as he pounds you into the cushion of his couch. It sinks so much under and around you that you feel like you will become one with it, crying and moaning at the feeling of him so deep, the drag of his cock over your walls burning so deliciously. This was Seungcheol’s biggest talent: he knew how to fuck you to the point of oblivion.

“You just can’t resist.” He goads you, the sound of skin slapping so obscenely loud that you are almost sure the neighbors can hear it. “Your greedy little pussy can’t live without my cock.”

You sob when he hooks his hands under your knees and pushes them into your chest, bending you in half and holding you down so hard that you can only take short, labored breaths. Your head spins, adding to your pleasure. You clench desperately around him, and in your breathless state, you can barely say anything.

“Seung-” You can’t get it out, not when he hits your most sensitive spot just right, just so that stars burst in your vision. You can feel the tears run down the sides of your face and disappear into your hairline. Seungcheol bites his lips as he watches you descend further into depravity.

“Good little slut.” He grits out. His voice is octaves lower, a clear indicator that he is as gone as you feel. His hair sticks to his forehead, his breath is ragged and grip bruising, but there’s still so much control in his thrusts, so much purpose in the way his cock drives into you, rough but deliberate, making sure he fills you to the brim with every single slap of his skin against you.

You don’t have the time or enough brain power in you to warn him before you are seizing up and cumming hard around him, wailing and back arching, twitching and jerking so hard that he has to push down on you even more, keeping you in place. His cock doesn’t slip out no matter how desperately you squeeze around him, and he moans at the feeling.

“You’ve been really pent up, haven’t you, princess?” He asks, and you can see his smirk despite your teary, blurred vision, just now clearing as your high dissipates.

“Yes.” You manage to whimper out, blinking up at him. “Missed your cock so much. Needed to be fucked so bad.”

He curses at your words, speeding up again, sloppier this time. You catch the flush high on his cheeks, the thin rim of brown in his eyes around his dilated pupils. His lips are a deep pink because of how hard he has been biting them, sweat rolling down his face by now. The tips of his ears are an angry red, and his breaths are staggered. He needs one last push, and you’re about to give it to him.

“Fill me up, Cheol.” You coo, batting your wet eyelashes at him. “I know you want to. You miss cumming in me, right? So do it.”

“Fuck.” His eyes squeeze shut and he buries his head into your neck, thrusting a few more times before his entire body shudders, grinding hard and sinking himself into you up to the base. You feel your insides warm as he shoots ropes of white into you, and you deliberately clench around him. He curses softly into your skin, sighing as his body relaxes.

You lay there for a bit, trying to catch your breaths, before Seungcheol finally gets up. You groan when his weight leaves you, feeling stiff and sore. You straighten your legs as you watch him get up, reaching for his clothes.

“I’m gonna have to shower again.” He comments, stretching a bit. “Eat something before you leave, okay?”

With that, he trudges to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Seconds later, the shower starts running. You sigh, closing your eyes briefly as the familiar, painful squeezing around your heart appears. Three weeks. You made it three weeks without this feeling. And now it is back.

You feel numb as you gather your clothes and put them on, shaking your hair out. It’s still sweaty at the roots but you ignore it, slipping your heels on before you slip through the door, closing it gently behind you.

Walk of shame.

You can’t blame Seungcheol for leaving you on the couch like that. You can’t call him a jerk for treating you badly. This behavior is a result of a long time of anger, resentment, fights and tears. Seungcheol and you had been together for four years. You had moved in together, you had discussed marriage, you had even looked at rings and told him what kind you would like.

But the last year of it….

You began working more after a new boss was hired by the company. Your direct supervisor, and the most hellish person alive. Office hours became a formality on paper, because you no longer left at 5. Sometimes, you wouldn’t be home until 8 or 9. Seungcheol would wait. He would always wait. He would wait until dinner was cold and nearly inedible. He would wait until he could no longer hold his head up, falling asleep sprawled over the counter. He would jerk awake when he heard the keys jiggling in the door, and the second you walked in, you knew a fight was brewing.

On your end, you were getting constantly chewed out by a boss who hated you for some reason, was never satisfied with your work, and had no problem humiliating you in front of the entire team. HR was useless, despite many employees complaining. You would come home with the emotional capacity of a peanut, because every ounce of life was sucked out of you before you even set foot through the door.

“I can’t do this today, Cheol.” You would say, toeing off your shoes at the door, barely inside the house, but Seungcheol blocks your path.

“You said that yesterday. And the day before.” His voice is pleading. “I’m tired, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and you felt anger, unwarranted, misplaced anger, bubble up inside you.

“You’re tired? You? And what do you think I’ve been doing all day? Just having a drink beside the pool?”

It’s harsh. It’s cutting words. It’s meant to hurt. Because you were hurt the whole day, and you wanted to do some hurting as well. It was just Seungcheol’s bad luck that he was on the receiving end. That’s how it always went.

“You can quit.” He had gritted out one evening when you were lying in bed. He whispered it into the pitch black of the night, hoping the dark meant that you would actually consider his proposition. “You don’t have to do this job. No one is forcing you. I’ll take care of you. You can just quit.”

And you could. Technically, you could. But you were up for a promotion, a job title you had been working towards since college. It was so close, you could feel it on your fingertips.

“Just hang in there for me, Cheol.” You had whispered back. “Just a few more months. I’m so close. Please.”

Silence. And then one whispered sentence.

“I don’t think I can.”

If you had to pinpoint the exact moment you two fell apart, you would point to that night. Laying there, next to him, not touching but close enough to feel the heat of his body, you knew your relationship wouldn’t survive.

The breakup was anticlimactic. By the time you two got there, a weak acceptance had already settled on you like a blanket. You moved out, claiming he deserved to have the space, and you got a place closer to work. The same work that caused all this.

You’re sure god started punishing you the second you set foot outside that apartment. You’re certain of it. Your boss remained a jerk, and that promotion? Still in the works, apparently. You heard promises from the regional manager all the time. They were moving personnel around, they were looking over the finances again, they were consulting corporate. It was always something.

One month after you moved out, you showed up at Seungcheol’s door, battered from your constant battle at work, and in need of no one but him.

You still don’t know why Seungcheol agreed to this…… arrangement. Why he was so willing to respond every time you called or texted, letting you walk into the same apartment you two had built together, fucking you into oblivion on the couch, or on the floor, or against the wall. Never the bed you shared with him. Never.

Your own little apartment in comparison feels like a hollow cage as you enter it and drop your bag on the floor. You sigh at how barebones it is. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the tables. You love decorating. Everything in your and Seungcheol’s apartment, you had carefully picked yourself. You had color themes for every room, and Seungcheol had indulged you, saying the space was all yours to do whatever you wanted with it. You look around now, and you never would guess in a million years that you would live in a place like this.

You miss him.

Not just the sex. Him. You miss his laugh, choppy and high pitched, the perfect sound to your ears. You miss his bear hugs and his silly jokes. You miss how he pouted and whined when you wouldn’t give him enough attention. In hindsight, you should’ve known. People like Seungcheol demand to be loved wholly and truly. And you had suffocated this relationship by taking away the one thing you should’ve given him the most. Attention.

You regret it every day. You want to go back, grovel if you must. Beg and plead for him to take you back. But you can’t. Not after seeing the way Seungcheol discards you after sex. He has checked out completely. You know this. You can never have him the way you once did. The way you want so badly.

That Seungcheol is no longer alive. No matter how badly you want to resuscitate him. And you want to. So badly. This…. thing. Whatever it is. You can’t do it anymore.

The only thing that numbs the sting in your heart is alcohol. It’s very easy to find you at a local bar on a Friday evening, drowning your sorrows under the weight and burn of whiskey while you blabber on to your friend about how much you miss your ex-boyfriend. Which is what you are doing when the next weekend rolls around. To Soonyoung’s credit, he always listens. He never tells you to shut up, or move on, because it’s not easy to move on from someone you love so much, someone you are still actively hooking up with.

What you say today though, has him sitting up straight in the booth, eyes widening as he gapes at you.

“You’re serious?”

You nod, swirling your glass. “I am.”

“Do you have another offer?”

“Nope.”

That makes concern flash across his face. “Savings?”

“A little.”

“Are you sure you’ve thought about this?”

You laugh a little bitterly. “I want him back, Soonyoung. I can’t even begin to try unless I’m away from this job.”

“But your promotion…..”

“I don’t care. I lost the best thing in my life for this damn job.”

Soonyoung is silent for a second, sipping his drink. “Why now all of a sudden? After eight months?”

You don’t think you can answer him. Unlike when your relationship fell apart, you can’t pinpoint the exact moment you wanted to make it come back together again. It’s a feeling that has lingered since the day you left that apartment, and it had never gone away. It had just taken very long for you to give in to it. To put your ego aside for the love of your life.

You give him a bitter smile. “I always wanted to. I was just too much of a coward to act on it.”

…………………………….

Weekday nights are quiet in Seungcheol’s apartment. They didn’t used to be, but they are now.

Up until eight months ago, weekday nights were standard times when he fought with you. It almost always ended with you crying and him leaving the apartment to cool down. Nowadays, he spends the time whipping up an easy meal, sinking down on the couch and eating it while it is still hot, sometimes straight out of the pan, while watching whatever auto garbage plays on the TV screen.

A deep, fucked up part of him almost misses the fights.

He knows it’s not actually the fights he misses. It’s really you. He misses seeing you walk in the door, even when you had bags under your eyes darkening day by day, even when your shoulders sagged. Because at least you were there. No matter how draining your job was, at least you always made your way back home to him.

He glances at his phone screen, still blank, and lets his mind wander. Last time, you hadn’t contacted him for three weeks in between your rendezvous. How long will the drought last this time? Three weeks apart from you had nearly killed him. This time, only one week in, he could already feel his fingers tingle with the yearning of feeling your skin.

He wonders, for the millionth time, if he should have just held on when you asked him to. But he felt like a war wounded soldier at the time, bruised and broken, and he really didn’t have it in him to spend even one more night screaming across the room. He is still human.

But he is a weak human. He is weak when it comes to you, so he lets you enter his life over and over, just to touch you, to feel you, to make you tremble for him, to inhale all your sighs and feel your breath become one with his. The one aspect of your life that he still had any say over. He got to dictate your pleasure, he got to control what made you fall apart at the seams. And he still has it, the ability to make you moan, to reduce you into a mess with his lips, his fingers, his cock.

He feels himself twitch and holds back a groan. How long will the drought be this time?

When the doorbell rings, Seungcheol nearly jumps out of his skin. He curses and turns the volume of the TV down, walking to the kitchen to place his now empty pan in the sink. The doorbell sounds again and he rolls his eyes. Patience really isn’t a virtue anymore.

You are the last person he expects to be at his door. He freezes at the sight of you. Your hair looks tumbled, blown away from your face. Your chest heaves from exertion, you’re sweaty, and your breaths come hard and fast. Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow.

“Did you run here?”

You nod, trying to take deeper breaths to calm down. Immediately, his eyes fly down to your office heels and he curses, grabbing your arm to tug you in.

“You ran in heels?” He wonders how badly your feet are bruised. How far had you run?

You don’t toe off your shoes when you step inside. You don’t pull him closer, or mouth at his neck, or paw at his clothes. You don't look horny at all, which has become a staple for whenever you show up here. Seungcheol is confused.

“I quit my job.”

He stares at you, eyes wide, unblinking. You shift on your feet, and he can see you hold back a wince, but he remains unmoving. Something bitter rises in him, like bile in his throat.

“Why?”

“I-” You struggle with your words. “I want to try. With us.”

He can feel his hands clenching into fists, and there’s anger in him. Months, almost a year, of anger. And a familiar hurt that is almost exclusive to you by now.

“Please leave.”

He knows his words shock you, with the way your mouth opens and closes. “Seungcheol-”

“Get out.”

Your tears, springing fresh into your eyes, almost have him faltering. He almost gives in, almost wraps his arms around you to kiss them away, to comfort you in his embrace after so long of being starved. But his anger stops him. His resentment grips his heart like a vice, and he stays frozen in place as you shuffle back. Your tears don’t roll down your cheeks. Instead, you blink them away, and there is tired resignation in your expression. It makes him hesitate again.

“You’re right to do this.” You say, hand on the doorknob. “But I will still try. I will still try, Seungcheol. No matter what it takes. You might be stubborn, but you know I’m worse. I lost you once, I’m not letting you slip away again. I will move mountains if I have to.”

You leave, the door shutting softly behind you, and Seungcheol is left reeling under the weight of it all. Reeling, doubtful, but with the slightest twinges of hope curling in his chest.

…………………………

“I cannot believe you told her to get out.”

Seungcheol heaves as he lifts the weight into place, turning to glare at Mingyu when he’s done. “What did you want me to do? Forgive her for all of it?”

“No, but you should’ve agreed with her to try.”

Seungcheol gestures to his friend to help him, and Mingyu silently complies. The gym is relatively empty, since it’s early hours. The morning members had finished up, and he knows the next rush will come in the afternoon after people clock out of their jobs. This is the ideal time to move some things around or back into their places.

“I can’t put myself through all of that again.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “But you two can fuck every couple of weeks. Got it.”

Seungcheol ignores the sarcasm in his friend's voice, focusing on the task at hand. He knows Mingyu means well. He is one of Seungcheol’s closest friends. Seungcheol would trust Mingyu with his life. That’s why he was happy to open a gym with him. Mingyu was as great a business partner as he was a friend.

“I just don’t know how serious she is about trying.” Seungcheol continues. “How do I know it won’t go back to how it was before?”

“She quit her job, though.”

Seungcheol sighs. “I just can’t, man. She broke me.”

Mingyu’s face finally softens, and he nods. If anyone can sympathize with him, he knows it’s Mingyu. The man had been there to see Seungcheol fall apart, and had picked up the pieces afterward. Mingyu’s eyes wander past Seungcheol to look over his shoulder, and he winces.

“You’re gonna hate me for this, then.”

Seungcheol frowns in confusion before turning around to follow his line of sight, freezing when he sees you standing there. He eyes the familiar bag on your shoulder, and the large thermos in your left hand. You give him a sheepish smile.

“Hi.”

Seungcheol doesn’t walk closer to where you’re standing, staring at you from the distance, feet glued to the ground. “Why are you here?”

You shift a bit, and he knows you too well to know you feel a little embarrassed. “Mingyu said you forgot some stuff at home so I came to drop it off. And I brought you sustenance.”

You shake the thermos.

Seungcheol turns to glare at Mingyu, who has the decency to look regretful, before turning back to you.

“I don’t need it.” He lies.

He does, actually. His workout belt, shoes, and some account papers are in there. He had assumed the bag was in his trunk and didn’t bother to check this morning. He only realised when he got here that he didn’t have them. He had intended to go home and grab them sometime around lunch. Turns out, Mingyu is a snitch who likes involving himself in Seungcheol’s business, and you conveniently still have a key to his apartment.

“I’m just gonna leave it at reception.” You say, unfazed by his harsh words. He doesn’t know how you can stand them, but you have always been very strong willed. He loved that side of you when you were together. Unfortunately, that was also something that contributed to you two falling apart.

“Nice seeing you again, Gyu.”

Mingyu smiles and waves at you as you leave, and Seungcheol sighs loudly once you’re gone. He levels Mingyu with a death stare, and the man just scoffs.

“Just let her do this, man. Let her try, at least.”

Seungcheol doesn’t reply, focusing on what he was doing before you interrupted him. But his thoughts are all over the place now, plagued by the hope in your eyes when he had looked at you.

……………………….

You know Seungcheol is a bit taken aback by you. But this is a normal reaction considering you are everywhere suddenly.

You know it’s strange, you trying to woo him. Showing up at his gym, texting him ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’. But this isn’t completely out of the ordinary either. Earlier in your relationship, when you two were still in your honeymoon phase, you spoiled Seungcheol just as much as he spoiled you. He loves physical affection and attention. He is a princess at heart, the baby of his family, and you loved giving him more love than he knew what to do with.

Your favorite activity by a long shot would be to lay on the couch, him on top of you, head on your chest and arms tight around your waist, torso framed by your legs. You would run your hands through his hair and he would hum, lightly dozing in your embrace as you read a book, warm and cozy under him. Seungcheol liked the little things, like remembering his exact coffee order, and making his favorite breakfast for the weekends. He liked when you thought of him while shopping, buying him a baseball cap, or a nice t-shirt with a graphic he might appreciate. When his headphones stopped working, you lent him yours without hesitation until he found a good model to upgrade to. You were the master of organization, and you would know even better than him where he kept all his things. You had once gifted him a glass display case for all his prized watches. To this day, it sat on his dressing table.

He doted on you as much as you doted on him, unashamed even in your circle of mutual friends. Jeonghan, Seungcheol’s long term best friend, always teased you two for the PDA, but you know there was no one who rooted for you two the way Jeonghan did. So now, in your time of need, you knew Jeonghan was the best person to go to.

You haven’t seen Jeonghan since the breakup, even though you were close before. You know, deep inside, he is angry with you. Soonyoung had told you as much. Your mutual friend circle was big, but tight knit. You have retained all your friendships, except Jeonghan. You were too scared to text him, and he never reached out. Until two days ago, when you texted him and asked if you could talk. He had replied, to your great surprise and relief, asking you to call him when you clocked out of work. When you told him you weren’t at work, he called you immediately.

“So you finally quit.” He muses over the speaker. “We will thank the heavens then. That job was killing you.”

You sigh, staring up at your bedroom ceiling. You have put your phone on speaker and placed it on the pillow next to you. It almost feels like Jeonghan is there. It reminds you of before. Just like with Seungcheol, Jeonghan became your closest confidant very quickly.

“I wish you had said that to me before all this.”

He hummed. “You didn’t listen to Seungcheol. What would make you listen to me?”

You feel it again, that pang of regret. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one who needs an apology, angel.”

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “Apologising won’t do shit. Seungcheol is an action guy. I need to prove to him that I’m in this for the long run.”

“That, you are right about. Smart girl.”

You crack a smile. “So, can you help me?”

Another hum, this one more contemplative. You can hear shuffling on his end.

“I’m hosting a dinner at my place this weekend. Nothing fancy, just the usual gang and barbecue.”

You perk up in interest. “Everyone will be there?”

“They sure will. We all miss you, you know? It’s not the same without you and Cheol slobbering all over each other in front of our food.”

You laugh, for the first time in a while, remembering all the times Jihoon had put his fork down to chastise the two of you for ruining dinner. Your heart squeezes again, and you sigh.

“Well, there will be no slobbering this time.”

You can hear Jeonghan scoff. “I wouldn’t be so sure. That man can’t resist you even if he physically restrains himself.”

You smile and feel your face flush, but it falters immediately.

“I miss him, Hannie.”

Jeonghan is quiet for a few seconds. “I know he is being a hardass right now, but trust me angel, he misses you too.”

When you finally hang up the phone, you feel lonelier than you have in months. A hollow feeling, in the very depths of your chest, making your breath catch. You hear Seungcheol’s laugh in your head, and tears gather quickly in your eyes before streaming down your face. You can’t help it, you open your phone to text him.

[me]: goodnight my cheolie. i’ll wait for you

He doesn’t reply.

…………………………….

“Hey- I saw that! Put it back.” Seungkwan has the cutest pout on his face, and you can’t help but bat your eyelashes at him innocently, hoping he buys the act. You know he won’t. Unfortunately, when you’ve tried to trick people enough times during card games, they become immune to your charms.

“Don’t play coy.” Seungkwan swipes your desired card and places it at the bottom of the deck. “That may work on Seungcheol, but not on me.”

Soonyoung, who is gathered around the table with you, Seungkwan and Chan, snorts at the comment. On the couch at the other side of the room, Seungcheol glares at Seungkwan but doesn’t say anything. He has been uncharacteristically silent throughout dinner, even now when everyone is playing games or doing karaoke. Seungcheol loves karaoke, you know this. But you also know that a part of him doesn’t want you here.

He had been shocked when Jeonghan opened the door and you were standing on the other side, holding a large dish of beef sliders. Mingyu loves them, and it was what you brought to every hangout when you and Seungcheol were still together. The boys had ransacked the dish like a pack of wolves, thanking you and the gods that you were back. Seungcheol hadn’t said anything, but he had eaten one as well. Small victories.

This is why you keep pushing, keep coming around, keep texting him. Seungcheol hasn’t stopped you once, hasn’t told you to back off or go away. He hasn’t blocked your number, he hasn’t banned you from the gym. In fact, the receptionist would always greet you warmly, saying she had missed you. Had he said, even once, that he seriously wanted you out of his life, you would've respected his wishes and backed off. Even now, at Jeonghan’s barbecue, Seungcheol didn’t say a word in complaint. Granted, he didn’t say a word period, but he didn’t tell you to fuck off either, and that gave you a small kindling of hope that maybe, just maybe, he would forgive you one day.

“Okay, I’m out.” You announce to a chorus of groans and boos from the people at the table, standing up to walk to the kitchen. You’re thirsty, and beer isn’t doing it anymore. You need a fresh, cold glass of water. You don’t realise someone has followed you until you turn around and nearly scream at the sight of Seungcheol behind you. You jerk back and grip your chest tightly.

“Jeez.” You laugh breathlessly. “You scared me.”

He doesn’t reply, putting ice into a glass and getting water for himself too. You raise an eyebrow.

“You aren’t drinking?”

He shakes his head. “I had one. I have to drive home.”

You hum, watching his back move under his button up shirt. He looks good. Considering he is almost always in gym clothes, it’s nice to see him dressed up a bit. You voice this thought, and he jerks his head in a stiff nod, leaving with his glass. You sigh. It hurts your heart when he barely responds, almost like he’s talking to a flimsy fog lingering in the room and not an actual person.

Back in the living room, the smell of smoked meat has started drifting in from the half open sliding glass door that leads into the patio. It seems like Mingyu has begun serving the first batch, and Seungcheol has started grilling the next batch while Mingyu serves. You wait for the crowd of your friends to thin out from around the large man, taking a seat on the couch and watching Seungcheol grill instead. The smoke has already made a thin sheen of sweat build up on the sides of his face and down his neck. The gold chain he loves so much, a gift from you on your fourth anniversary, gleams against his pale skin. Some minutes pass before he looks up, and his eyes meet yours through the glass. You give him a smile.

You can see, even from the distance, how the tips of his ears turn pink, and you bite your lip to tamp down your amusement. He is usually such a confident man, but his ability to get shy under attention is still so cute.

You’re so in love with him, it makes you a little crazy.

Jeonghan offers you some pork neck off his plate but you shake your head, finally standing up to grab a plate. When you step onto the patio, you go to peer at the tray in Mingyu’s hand for what’s left.

“Wait.” Seungcheol pipes up. “Get a fresh piece.”

That’s the most words he has said to you all evening. It catches you off guard, but you beeline to him anyway, a feeling bubbling in your chest that you haven’t felt in years. Like the times when Seungcheol was only just a crush, and the littlest interaction with him would kick your heart into overdrive. That kind of exciting, puppy love.

You watch him grill for a bit, patiently waiting, just happy to be so close to him. Seungcheol is laser focused on the meat. You can smell his cologne, and you relax into it. You miss him, even just the feeling of him close to you, which you never had to live without, considering you two were still hooking up even after you left. Finally, he gestures for the plate, and you hold it forward so he can drop some sizzling pieces on it.

“It looks great.” You compliment, biting down on the ‘so do you’ that you would usually add, making him grin and give you a wink. The tiniest of habits and quirks that you two had formed over the years. There’s so much you miss, so much you have lost.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” You stab the meat with a fork, and Seungcheol shakes his head.

“I’m almost done.” He mumbles.

“Here.” You hold the fork out on instinct, and you are reminded of how you would feed him while he cooked for his friends. You falter a bit when you realise what you’ve done, and you almost pull your hand back, but Seungcheol leans forward to bite the meat off your fork, throwing his head back to take it into his mouth. Both of you freeze for a second, and you see realization cross his face.

“Sorry.” You let out a laugh. “Force of habit.”

He shakes his head, and you can pinpoint the exact moment his eyes soften as he looks at you. “It’s okay.”

It’s okay. Your heart soars, and hesitantly, you stab another piece of meat, blowing on it and then holding it out. Seungcheol eats it.

“Eat it yourself too.” He mumbles, flipping the pieces on the grill and you nod, biting into your first piece. You hum when it nearly melts in your mouth.

“Good?” Seungcheol sounds amused.

“You already know it’s great.” You counter, playfully rolling your eyes. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

He laughs. An honest to god, deep belly laugh. You can’t help but close your eyes, unable to take the weight of the sound, basking in how it reverberates in your very nerves, settling a dull, thrumming anxiety that has resided in you since the moment you two broke up. It feels like finally untangling an overwhelming amount of wires. A feeling of accomplishment.

You stand there with him, eating the meat and feeding it to him as well. At one point, you pour some sauce on it, knowing Seungcheol likes the spicy stuff. He hums when he tastes it on the next piece, nodding in satisfaction. The boys filter in and out of the living room. When the next batch is up, you help Seungcheol and Mingyu serve the meat, and Seungcheol feeds you a hot piece straight off the grill. Jeonghan winks at you when you put food on his plate, and you give him a grateful smile.

After dinner, everyone pitches in to clean up, the conversation getting rowdier as Seokmin decides to open a bottle of whiskey. You refuse, sticking to beer, and so does Seungcheol, who has to go home after this. Most of everyone else doesn’t hold back, since they are crashing at Jeonghan’s. You laugh yourself hoarse over jokes and games, and for a second, it feels like the last eight months never happened.

When it starts getting very late, you sigh and stand up finally, announcing your departure. You are met with a series of disappointed groans, but you stick to your word, opening your phone to order an Uber. This is when Jeonghan stops you.

“That’s ridiculous. Cheol is leaving too. He can drop you off.”

This cheeky little shit. Even when tipsy, you can see the scheming gleam in his eyes, and Seungcheol looks like he is caught off guard as well. You hesitate.

“It’s fine.” You wave your hand as if to swat away the suggestion. “I came here on an Uber. I can just call one to take me back.”

Seungcheol sighs and shakes his head. “No, he’s right. I’ll drop you off.”

“It’s really okay-”

“Get in the car.”

Jeonghan snorts and you give him a nasty look, but comply. There’s no point arguing with Seungcheol. He’s stubborn as a mule when he wants to be.

“I would’ve been fine.” You mumble anyway, determined to get the last word. You see Seungcheol roll his eyes as he slips his jacket on, but there’s a tug on the corners of his lips, and you try to bite down on your own smile.

The ride is silent save for the low sound of the radio playing. You stare out of the passenger seat window, replaying the evening in your head. It had gone way better than you expected. You had imagined an evening of stilted conversation, or worse case scenario, Seungcheol would’ve left the second you arrived. Instead, after the first rough hour, it was almost like nothing had changed. Like you and Seungcheol had never called it quits. Like he still loved you with the same intensity as before, when he wanted to marry you and be with you for the rest of your lives.

You breathe deep, holding it in your chest until your lungs protested, before letting it out in a loud whoosh.

“You okay?” Seungcheol finally chimes in. You turn your head to look at him, admiring his side profile. The strong bridge of his nose, the firm set of his jaw. Before, when you would lay with him at nighttime, you would thumb at the shell of his ear. A small but intimate gesture, and he would tell you that it would make him feel tingly all over. You would replace your fingers with your lips then, and Seungcheol’s shoulders would bunch up, laughing at the feeling.

You clench your hands so you don’t touch him.

“I’m great.” You say instead, smiling at him. He nods and gives you the tiniest smile back. For a brief second, his cheek indents in a dimple.

When you stop in front of your apartment building, Seungcheol turns the car off and silence descends in the absence of the hum of the engine. You stare at each other, searching his eyes for anything. For that same warmth that he always held for you.

“I miss you.” You can’t help it. You had been good all night. A woman can only have so much restraint.

“You’re drunk.”

“I only had one beer.”

A disbelieving look. “You had at least two.”

“So you were watching me?”

There’s mirth in your tone. You’re teasing him. But there is none in his when he replies, soft, barely heard if the car wasn’t so silent.

“I’m always watching you.”

Your breath stills. Your eyes don’t break from his. They can’t, like he’s holding them hostage. You don’t know who moves first, who closes the distance, but it doesn’t matter. Because his lips are finally, finally on yours, and it feels nothing like any kiss in the last eight months. You pour every bleeding emotion into it, gripping his collar hard as his hands cup the sides of your head, weaving into your hair and tilting your head so he can kiss you harder, deeper, and you moan into him. Half relief, half pleasure.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” His voice is lower, garbled into your mouth between the mess of tongues and teeth.

“Okay.”

“This is just-” He tugs on your arm with one hand, the other pulling on the lever next to his seat so that it slides back. “This is just sex.”

“Okay.”

You straddle his hips, lips not leaving his for a single moment. He fumbles with your pants, and you nearly curse as you twist your body in ten different ways, trying to shimmy them off in your uncomfortable position. But you don’t separate from him, not for one second, biting his top lip and making him groan. Your hands fumble with the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them.

It takes record time, the quickest yet, for you to finally sink down on his cock, sighing into his mouth at the feeling of his head carving forward into you, brushing just over your cervix, and you almost cum there and then at how good he feels, how bad you had missed him, even though you had been apart for maybe two weeks. It wasn’t even your longest streak yet, but it felt charged in a way that nothing else had felt so far.

“Christ.” Seungcheol groans, deep in his throat, and you feel the vibration from where your hand rests on his chest. You’re already breathing hard, eyes struggling to stay open, because you would rather die than miss the sight under you. Seungcheol’s head thrown back, the strain on the thick cords of his neck, shifting under his sweaty skin.

He’s a vision.

“Don’t-” His jaw ticks, fingers digging into your bare hips. “Start moving or I’m gonna cum right here.”

You let out a breathless laugh, rolling your hips slightly to test your legs. His lips part, and you can’t resist the urge to lean forward and kiss him again, finally setting a slow rhythm that allows him to hit deep inside you with every drop of your hips.

The windows fog up quickly as your ministrations continue, moving back and forth, up and down over him. His tongue moves languidly with yours, guiding your hips with his hands. You can feel his abs clench under the material of his shirt, and you dig teasingly into the muscle periodically. You grind in a way that makes your clit brush over his pelvis deliciously, sending sparks shooting up from your core. Seungcheol groans into your mouth occasionally, and by now, spit is running down your chin, but you don’t part for a single second, unable to bear even the slightest distance between the two of you.

“Cheolie.” You whine into him when you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, and he hums.

“Close, baby?” His words make you clench, and his hips buck up at the feeling. You nod.

His hands leave your hips in favor of wrapping his arms tight around your waist to immobilize you, and he spreads his legs so he can plant his feet more firmly on the car floor. Then, he starts pistoning up, ramming his cock hard into you, and the tranquility of the moment breaks, replaced by something more electric, more primal, more desperate. He is chasing your high as well as his own, one hand reaching up to cup the back of your head, pressing your forehead tight to his so you can look at nothing but his eyes.

“You’re gonna cum all over me?” He grits out, and you whine, nodding as much as you can under his dominating grip.

“Please….” You don’t know what you’re begging for. You just are. For him, for this moment, for your impending high.

“I’m here, my love.” You almost weep. “Come on. Be a good girl and soak me. Cum on my cock.”

And you do, body tightening as your orgasm crashes into you with the force of a twenty ton truck, making you twitch and jerk in Seungcheol’s merciless hold. You cry and shake through it, going pliant in his hold, letting him do whatever he wants to you as you come down from the feeling, your vision tilting and spinning.

Seungcheol keeps moving, breaths ragged and broken. You mouth at his jaw, clenching around him deliberately. He groans again.

“Gimme.” You slur. “Want it, Cheolie. Gimme your cum.”

“Fuck.” He pushes deep into you, making your eyes squeeze shut. Warmth washes over your insides and Seungcheol trembles under you, voice deep, reverberating against your chest, his face buried in your hair, arms tight around you. They finally loosen a minute or so later as he relaxes into the seat, head thrown back to gasp and catch his breath.

You lift yourself up on shaky arms, enough to peer down at him. He eyes you, gaze still a little foggy, reaching up to brush your sweaty hair off your forehead.

“I really can’t stay away from you, can I?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you smile anyway.

“I hope not.”

He hums, hands running soothingly over your naked thighs. His eyelids fall shut and he sighs deeply, basking in the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, eyes still closed. “You’ve apologized enough, Y/N.”

“Not nearly enough.” You trace over his chest with your fingertips. “I could never apologize enough. I hurt you. I broke you-”

“Stop.”

“I promise, I will never stop making it up to you. I will do anything, anything-”

“But you won’t shut up, will you?”

You pout and frown at Seungcheol, who opens one eye to look at you, face breaking into an amused smile.

“This isn’t funny.”

He purses his lips. “It’s a little funny.”

“How?” You roll your eyes.

“Well,” he shifts a little under you, and you try not to think about the mess between your legs, “my dick is still inside you, and you’re confessing your love to me.”

You gape at him. “Okay, first of all-”

He laughs loudly, the same, deep belly laugh from before. You smile briefly, your argument dying in your throat at the sound. You watch him, his slightly flushed cheeks, the mess of brown hair on his head, sprawled around him like a pillow. You lean down, resting your head on his chest. You feel his arms come up to wrap around you, and you bask in the warmth of his embrace.

You know there’s still a long way to go. But this, this feels right, like a part of the universe previously disrupted is finally falling back into place. That hollow feeling inside you has all but filled, and you are back where you belong. The silence around you is the most peaceful you have felt in almost a year, and you close your eyes, listening to the beat of Seungcheol’s heart, before he finally speaks up.

“We should probably get out of this car.”

🏷️: @picheolin-17

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