Teach Me VI
Final
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6
Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader
Genre: smut, humor, college au
Warnings: angst, pining, crying, alcohol consumption, jealous pouty DK, meddling Seungkwan and Hoshi, eventual smut, dry humping, making out, face fucking, munch DK as always, unprotected sex, cream pie, they're simps for each and its disgusting!, DK wearing a chain that dangles in readers face bc im sick and twisted, kinda choking but not really?
Length: ~7.4k
Note: SURPRISE!! ITS HERE!!!! this series started in OCTOBER which is wild to think about. two months of these two plaguing my day to day and so many amazing readers interacting with the story honestly makes a little emotional for it to end. this is the first series i've ever done and now it's over so soon but there are bigger and better things on the horizon! (goes and cries in the corner) If you notice any errors or typos pls ignore.
This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!
read more here
[MONDAY 11:23 AM]
YOU: Home
Mr. Boo: Thank you! Love you!
Mr. Boo: We can have a bff night when I get back
[MONDAY 4:48 PM]
DOKYEOM: Hope you got home safe
DOKYEOM: I’m sorry, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.
DOKYEOM: Can we talk this week?
Dokyeom doesn’t leave his room the rest of the weekend. A combination of fear of Seungkwan beating the crap out of him and absolute heartbreak keep him wrapped in the covers. Not even Soonyoung can elicit more than a half-hearted grunt when checking if his roommate is still alive.
The drive back to campus is no different. Staring longingly out the window, Dokyeom stares at his unanswered messages. When he goes to your Instagram he finds your account missing with the sinking realization you blocked him.
Seventy two of the best and subsequent worse hours of his life crumbled your fragile relationship. He thought you returned his feelings.
After Soonyoung blabled a drunken confession on Dokyeom’s behalf, he worried you’d drive off in the night; swiftly rejecting him. But you wrapped your arms around him and held him as you slept. Kissed him awake in the early morning sun, nothing but a soft smile and presses of lips across his face. It was better than anything Dokyeom hoped for. He thought it meant you liked him back even if you didn’t say it yet.
But then you interrogated him and the hot tub and it all came crashing down. You were trying to let him down easy, buttering him up before giving him a reality check. It’d hurt of course. The tsunami of shame at thinking he had a chance and then adding insult to injury when you called him childish.
Dokyeom knows he was wrong for his reaction but embarrassment sent him spiraling and he needed to get as far away from you as possible.
And now that he’d succeed, he doesn't think he can find a way back.
—
Monday and Tuesday are spent suffocating under a mound of blankets, munching on a carton of ice cream, and crying till your head hurts and your throat is sore. The string of texts from Dokyeom remains thoroughly ignored; but each buzz of your phone raises your heart rate to unhealthy levels until you read the notification from some store offering a discount.
You ignore the string of messages from Dokyeom, tempted more and more to block him as they come through; but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Just like you can’t bring yourself to delete the pictures of you two together peppered throughout your camera roll, or the most recent video that does nothing but make you sick to your stomach.
Tuesday night your roommate returns to campus, cheery and well rested from a weekend with her boyfriend back home. You hide from her friendly questions about your weekend in the bathroom, shrouded in steam and bubbles.
Looking at yourself in the mirror after you're sufficiently pruned and chilled from freeze drops, you notice the traces of Dokyeom still on your skin.
A tiny maroon bruise is fading to a sick green right under your collar bone. Prodding it with the tip of your finger, you wince at the tenderness of the flesh.
You hate it.
Hate how somehow your eyes are thick with a gloss of tears at the sight of a hickey, they way you can’t catch your breath when you realize the shirt you brought in with you is another one of his you lifted over the months.
Dokyeom hadn’t been your boyfriend. You two hadn’t even been casually dating. Over and over again you remind yourself you were just friends who had sex, and you shouldn’t be this torn up over a guy. Dokyeom didn’t like you and that wasn’t something to hold against him.
But the facts do nothing to stop the knot permanently lodged in your throat.
—
The first time you see Dokyeom post-not-breakup, he’s sitting in one of the rolling chairs at the mahogany table you two claimed for your usual study sessions.
Blood frozen, heart clenching unbearably, you turn and walk right back out the revolving glass doors, hoping he didn’t see you.
But the echo of quick footsteps behind you say otherwise.
“Hey! Y/N!”
Faltering for a moment, you keep walking as if you hadn’t heard anything. And because the universe has a sick sense of humor, the crossing light turns red just as you approach, leaving you stranded with the one person you didn’t want to see.
You whip around at tap against your arm with such ferocity you nearly stumble.
Dokyeom has the gall to smile at you sheepishly before opening his mouth, “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You weren’t in lab yesterday.”
“Nope.” You respond monotonously, glancing behind you at the still red crossing light.
“Did you need notes or—”
“No, I got them already.”
“Oh, well—”
The light turns green, allowing you to race across the road before Dokyeom can finish his thought. The heat of his gaze doesn't leave your back until you turn down the next road leading you home.
—
Your second interaction with Dokyeom is in the same sterile lab your friendship started. You slip inside just before class starts, narrowly avoiding getting locked out by your grumpy instructor.
Sliding into an open seat near the door, you stare straight ahead as he delves into the topic for this afternoon, pointedly ignoring the pair of eyes watching you from the familiar station at the back of the room.
“Finals are almost upon us people so I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that the lab is not open after hours. Meaning, you should prioritize your time in this room. Now let’s get started.”
The guy you’ve been partnered with is nice enough, willing to follow your lead as you read off the necessary equipment. He even manages to crack a few jokes, though not funny you’re thankful for the distraction.
You learn his name is San, he’s an underclassman and he doesn’t understand anything about the class despite attending every lecture and office hour available.
When he leans over to copy the results you’ve scratched into your notebook, you hear a crack and shatter behind you. A dozen heads twist towards the source of commotion, finding a red faced Dokyeom staring at you.
“Mr. Lee! May I remind you our lab equipment isn’t cheap!”
“Sorry,” he mutters, shuffling towards the broom hanging on the wall.
You focus on ignoring him the rest of class, which is surprisingly easy with your new partner pestering you with inane questions.
A lull hits, waiting for the digital scale to spit out a final reading. You managed to pull well ahead of schedule, calling over your instructor to verify your results before collecting your things.
“So,” San starts, stuffing his own notebook in his bag. “Would you be down to tutor me sometime?”
“Oh, I uh—”
“No pressure! I just saw some of the old quizzes in your folder and thought maybe you could help me out.”
“Sure,” you smile, taking his phone to enter his number.
Voices from the different stations echo off the blank walls, drowning your conversation out.
“Awesome! My boyfriend took this class last year but did about as well as I’m doing.”
Returning his phone back, you start walking to the door. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, he told me to take geology instead but I didn’t listen.” He laughs, stepping forward to hold the heavy wooden door open for you to pass.
You miss the sound of a second beaker breaking as you walk down the hall with your new friend.
—
“Dude, you have got to calm down.” Soonyoung pleads, head hanging off the couch as his legs extend into the air. He swears the increased blood flow makes him smarter.
Dokyeom nearly wears a rut into the carpet from his pacing across the length of their tiny living room. He’s been in a mood since that afternoon, watching his not-girlfriend-possibly-no-longer-friend giggle with some dude that wasn’t him. And then give her number to said dude. In front of him. All while she completely ignored his existence.
“He probably just asked her to study together.”
Jealousy isn’t Dokyeom’s thing. Sure he may whine and pout if he isn’t getting enough attention, but he’s never got the blood boil urge scream like he has right now. And about a girl that won’t even look at him.
Tangling both fists in his hair, Dokyeom tries to calm down. Soonyoung was probably right. You’re a genius at chemistry, you’re slated to officially tutor through the library next semester pending final grades, and the guy Dokyeom swears he’s never seen in class most likely asked you for help. It’s not his place to be jealous.
“Hate to be that guy but you need to get a grip”
It's easier said than done. There's four more weeks of class plus a four hour final and your Seungkwan’s friend. You’re not going to disappear after the semester ends and Dokyeom’s feelings surely aren’t going anywhere given he’s got a constant reminder that you’re the woman he lost his virginity to.
If he knew inviting you to that party at the beginning of the semester would end up like this, he'd have sat somewhere else the first day of lab.
Soonyoung chokes on his own saliva when Dokyeom collapses on the floor with a reluctant, “You’re right.”
“I am?” Eyes bugging so hard they nearly pop from his head.
“I just have to move on.”
They both silently agree to pretend Dokyeom is capable of that.
—
San and his boyfriend, Jay, turn out to be horrible study partners. You are hardly able to focus from the way your abs hurt from laughter; Jay has a talent for self-deprecating humor.
“You didn’t!” You gasp, ignoring the daggers being glared into you back by other library goers.
Typically you’d respect the needs of others, but they chose to sit on the first floor; if they needed real quiet they should have sat upstairs where it’s enforced by a graduate librarian with nothing better to do.
Jay nods solemnly, “I threw up on him during our first date. But he,” flinging an accusatory finger at his boyfriend, “insisted we go to some weird food truck so it’s his own fault.”
“You said you liked to try new things!” San defends.
“Not food poisoning!”
Descending into giggles, you feel sorry Seungkwan is missing out on two people he’d get along with. But he canceled at the last minute, leaving you at the large oak table all by your lonesome until you’d run into your classmate, looking for a seat.
From the corner of your eye, you see a familiar someone approaching. White blonde hair and trademark grin, Soonyoung stops at the edge of the table.
“Hey, Y/N” he grins.
Sending him a tightlipped smile you return the greeting.
Soonyoung introduces himself to your tablemates, both just as friendly as he. Thick palpable tension descends into the warm atmosphere and you’re about to rise and get another coffee just to escape it when Soonyoung turns back to you.
“Could I take a look at your results from the last lab? We didn’t get to finish in time.”
The unspoken half of ‘we’ is Dokyeom.
You hate the flare of curiosity flashing in your head. When you partnered with Dokyeom you always finished on time if not early, even with his joking.
“Ugh, sure.” You agree, digging into your bag for your notebook.
Not waiting for an invitation, Soonyoung slides into the chair next to you, pulling out his own notebook to copy down your answers quickly. But even after collecting the necessary info, he lingers.
“So you’re in lab with us too, right?” He asks San.
“Yeah, but I’m probably taking it again next year even with Y/N’s help.” San smiles.
“And you?” Soonyoung asks Jay.
“No, I took it last year.”
“Glad to see someone can make it out alive! Do you guys mind if I hang out until my friend arrives?”
The friend is definitely Dokyeom but you don’t want to look like a bitch in front of your new acquaintances nor have to explain the mess of your love life to either of them.
Soonyoung’s self satisfied grin when you flash a tight lipped smile and nod nearly tempts you into strangling him. Why is he choosing to torture you? It’s Dokyeom’s fault no matter how you look at the situation. He tricked you; had you falling for the saccharine persona and ambiguous confessions. Dokyeom rejected you at the cabin for everyone to see, humiliated you, and then had the nerve to act upset when you wouldn’t speak to him.
You try to focus on the worksheet in front of you, a proactive effort to prepare for the final exam still far away. Drowning in extra credit had been an exhaustive effort to get your mind off of your issues but Soonyoung had to ruin it. And now he’s laughing with San and Jay like best friends and it’s all too much.
Shooting up from your seat, they all stop to stare as shaky hands pack up your materials. “Sorry, I forgot I had a thing. Somewhere else. Bye!”
Halfway to the door before anyone thinks to question your eagerness to leave, you walk right into another person.
“Shit sorry!” The faceless stranger exclaims as your books and papers go flying.
“No, I should have been watching wher–”
And when you look up, Dokyeom is staring back.
“Sorry, let me help you.”
“It's fine!” You snap, scrambling to shove everything into your bag.
You will not cry in the library: not over Dokyeom, not in front of Dokyeom. But once the concrete steps out front greet you the first tear falls and they don’t stop until you fall asleep curled up in your bed.
—
Later that week, in the sanctuary of your dorm, you indulge in contraband alcohol and the hype of your best friend.
“You need to just rip the bandaid off.” Seungkwan announces, arms thrown wide to punctuate his point.
“And how do I do that? I still have class with him!”
“Okay but how much of his stuff is still here?”
“Only like a few things.” you shrug, glancing around the room.
“Oh, really?” Seungkwan asks, throwing himself from his perch on your bed, crossing to the basket full of laundry in front of your closet. “Because this is a hoodie from his high school, this is the shirt I got him for his birthday a few years ago,” he shuffles around the collection of socks and pants to pull more of Dokyeom’s belongings out. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t wear boxers.”
Seungkwan launched the wad of clothing your way, disappearing into the bathroom in search of more evidence of your ex-friend with benefits.
“You let him keep a toothbrush here?” Seungkwan yells, head popping out with the neon green piece of plastic dangling between his fingers.
It's tossed into the growing pile at the foot of your bed, your rage-fueled focus on the smattering of objects on your desk.
More cheap wine and outrageous laughter has Seungkwan encouraging you to race across campus and return everything as soon as possible.
Red faced, he steadies you by your arms, “Listen, the sooner you get rid of this stuff the better. You’re like subconsciously holding on to him or whatever.”
Mooney eyed, you nod at your friend’s wisdom, scrambling for a bag.
The tote of Dokyeom’s belongings you’ve accumulated over the months sits heavy on your shoulders; bulging with the assortment of clothes, a spare phone charger, and a book that was severely overdue at the library you’d found under your bed.
Each click of your shoe against the tile floor echoes in the eerie silence as you walk down the hall towards the door of his apartment. The sterile lighting and gray walls are familiar yet alien under the new circumstances you're visiting.
You won’t be greeted with the smile you’ve grown to miss or the puppy-like excitement that once made you feel special. Both things of the past you hope to forget. No one had your heart fluttering or twisting in knots the way Dokyeom had. But those happy memories are just memories. And the sooner you cut him out, the sooner you can forget them.
Your fiery determination to get over him ignited in the walls of your bedroom had begun to smolder as the chilly wind and movement sobered you up.
A large part of you hopes it’ll be Soonyoung answering the door, Dokyeom absent for whatever convenient reason as you dumped his belongings and walked away for the last time. Worse case scenario, neither are home and you're left feeling like an idiot, lugging the ridiculously heavy bag back across campus in the freezing wind and rain.
Worse-er case scenario, Dokyeom is home.
The door to the boys’ apartment is like all the others, but the hot pink “please don’t do coke in our bathroom” doormat stands out. A gift from Jeonghan, if you remember correctly.
A quick rap of knocks announces your presence before you can lose your nerve, stepping back as you wait for it to crack open.
As luck would have it, Dokyeom answers the door.
“Um–” he starts, clearly confused by what he’s seeing.
Shoulders square, back pin straight, you thrust the bag at him. “Here’s your stuff.”
“Oh.” Dokyeom exclaims, still confused, but cradling the tote into his stomach.
“Well, bye.” You turn to leave but stop when he calls you back.
“I can grab your stuff real quick. Since you’re already here.”
It is a horrible idea. Alone with Dokyeom, in his apartment, where the only person to hold you accountable is yourself. But you can be done with this entire mess once you have the hodge podge of items you’ve no doubt accumulated here.
Nodding once, you follow as Dokyeom turns to head towards his bedroom.
Suffocating tension, thick as tar, fills the air. Dokyeom doesn't attempt to replace it with ill timed jokes as he digs in the black dresser in the corner of his room. The bottom left drawer had been long cleaned out of his own clothes, making room for the odds and ends left behind following your rendezvous.
A sizable pile of clothes lands on his unmade bed, followed by some toiletries you forgot at the cabin in your haste to flee.
Your ears are ringing from the quiet at this point, unable to look at Dokyeom swapping his belongings from the canvas tote with your own. Focusing on your phone, you scroll mindlessly, as Dokyeom works slowly to prolong the torture. He unfolds and refolds all the shirts, lost pairs of pants and shorts, before cramming them into the bag. If you took a second to look at him, you’d see longing glances in your direction with each item he packs away. But you don’t chance it until he approaches you when he’s finished.
“Here,” he says, eyes downcast as he hands you back the full bag.
Lifting it from his hands, you move back to the living room, bee lining for the front door and the sobering cold air outside.
“Wait.”
The smooth metal doorknob is cold against the wrinkles of your palm. All you need to do is twist and it's over. Unlatch the lock, step outside and your relationship with Dokyeom, whatever it may have been, is done. No more crying, no more wondering. Only four more classes and you can leave the mess of the past semester behind you forever.
But you can’t do it. The smallest part of your heart, buried under the weight of anger and sadness, pleads for you to stay. To give Dokyeom one last chance.
You wait for him to say something else, not moving a muscle as you take shallow breaths. Body tense in preparation, you’re afraid you might shake out of your skin. Being alone with Dokyeom was a stupid idea.
Realizing you're not going to leave, you hear him shuffle closer.
You jump when he speaks again, voice right over your shoulder. “Can we please talk?”
“What’s there to talk about?” You frown.
At his responding silence, you chance a glance over your shoulder, met with sad brown eyes.
“I just—,” he shakes his head, chin tipping towards the floor to examine his socks.
Prompting him again, “What do you want, Dokyeom?”
“You asked me if I liked you… and I do.”
You squash the seed of hope rooting in your chest, afraid that if he tramples it again you’ll never recover. Turning to face him, you cross your arms pensively. His confession should send your heart racing and your cheeks flushing. But why does he sound so sad about it?
Dokyeom scrubs a hand down his face in frustration. “I should have told you sooner but I— I kept waiting for the right time and then that night happened and I thought I messed everything up. But then we started fooling around so I thought ‘there’s no way she likes me.’ You know?
From where you’re standing, Dokyeom is exactly the kind of guy anyone would go for. Warm as a ray of sunshine, contagious laughter, thoughtful. Excited by life, and brimming with affection for anyone lucky enough to be considered his friend.
It’s a shame he can’t see himself the way you see him.
“I know all you wanted was to hook up and I was fine with that until you came to the cabin. Soonyoung had to run his mouth, and I thought you were trying to let me down easy in the hot tub so I got embarrassed.”
Biting your lip to stop the rebuttal simmering on the tip of your tongue, you feel the scowl melt off your face, morphing into a questioning gaze.
“You’re like, the coolest person I know. You’re funny and you’re smart and pretty, god you’re so pretty.” he breaths, finally looking at you. “And I feel like every time I get to see you I can’t breathe. And us hooking up made it worse because I’ve liked you since the first day of class when you sat down next to me and smiled at me. I thought I was gonna throw up.” Dokyeom raises his hands in defense as you scoff, quickly clarifying, “In a good way! You just— you make me nervous and stupid and now you hate me.”
He finishes the last part in a whisper, face vulnerable, looking at you helplessly.
“I don’t hate you.” You warble, launching yourself into his arms, tangling your limbs around him to squeeze as close as possible. It’s ungraceful, your head knocking into his chin, his feet scrambling to balance the unexpected shift of weight. But Dokyeom barely hesitates before pulling you into his chest, face buried in your neck while trying to force you into his skin by his arms around your waist.
Two puzzle pieces, carved to fit perfectly together.
“You don’t?”
Squeezing him tighter, you calm in the thud of his heart and the pine scent of his cologne. You both simply bask in the presence of one another. At a week and a half, this is the longest you’ve gone without the other since you started your arrangement.
Dokyeom presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, sweet as sugar. His lips ghost against your hairline as he starts to speak again. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have freaked out on you.”
“I shouldn’t have called you childish.” You apologize, tipping your head back to meet his gaze.
“I mean you were right. I was being a dick.”
“But I wasn’t in any shape to call you out when I was doing the same thing.”
“The same…” Dokyeom echoes, confused.
“If we weren’t so dumb we could have been dating for weeks by now.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” You smile.
“We really are dumb.”
Pure unadulterated joy takes flight on his face. Dokyeom cups your face in his hands, forehead meeting your own as you smile at him, his own dazzling in return.
“Yeah, but at least we have each other.”
The bark of awkward laughter and shaky words are unstoppable as you cower in his arms.
“So you’re okay with me calling you my girlfriend?”
“You can call me whatever you want.” You sigh, biting your lip at the idea.
“Even my shmoopie poopie?”
Nose scrunching as you laugh at his ridiculousness, you shake your head vigorously in objection. “You can call me whatever you want besides that.”
“Baby cakes?” He asks, peppering a kiss on your cheek.
“No!”
“Honeybuns?”
Another kiss on the tip of your nose.
“No.”
“What about–”
A firm press to his mouth silences Dokyeom as you hum.
—
Soonyoung returns to his apartment after another failed date, eager to shoot the shit with his roommate over a few beers and some video games. But when he opens the door to his home, he finds a trail of clothes flung haphazardly across the furniture, leading straight to said roommate's room.
No fucking way. Soonyoung thinks.
Then he hears a thud from behind the door, followed by a familiar laugh he hasn’t heard in the apartment in well over two weeks.
No FUCKING way! He huffs, reaching for his phone.
—
Down the street, Seungkwan smirks as the expected ding of a new Venmo notification shrills through the silence of your dorm:
“Kwon Soonyoung paid you $50.00. – HOW DID YOU KNOW? – Your Venmo balance is now $135.00.”
Epilogue:
Finals season rushes forward rapidly. Two days before you’re set to fly back home for winter break, Chem grades are released.
Another pair of matching As to be celebrated in typical fashion but this time you’re Dokyeom’s girlfriend and he’s sweating like it’s his first time all over again. The night you both confessed had been you last night together. Dokyeom insisted you take things slow, his fear of messing up again forcing him to take caution.
It's sweet. How he wants to take you out, wine and dine you as if a certain video didn’t still exist on both your phones. And you’d enjoyed the full experience too; walks around campus with interlaced fingers, shy glances in class, and girlish giggles as he offered his jacket on a cold night. The innocent good night kisses dropped on your lips in front of your door that have Dokyeom insisting “just one more” for an hour before he finally lets you slip inside your room.
It’d been everything you dreamed of and more.
But you're both tired of make outs that lead nowhere. Of sitting in Dokyeom’s lap at parties and not letting your hands wonder like you’re both dying too. Waking up in his bed and pretending you don’t feel him nudging the curve of your ass as before he hides in the bathroom to take care of his boner; leaving you to stare at the ceiling, fighting the urge to follow him into the shower and lend a helping hand.
Tonight, you’ve reached the boiling point and it’s spilling over.
“‘s okay?” He asks into the curve of your neck, palms gliding up your stomach underneath the soft cream sweater you’d worn to dinner.
Humming as your head lulls against the interior of his front door, the warmth of his mouth and hands making your brain fuzzy. Tonight, everything feels like more. Your nipples peak at the smallest brush of his tongue, back bowing under the swipes of his thumb against your ribs; even when he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your intertwined fingers on the walk to his apartment ripped the air from your lungs.
Dokyeom feels the nerves of that first night, but you’re acting like the desperate virgin he’d been. Drooling to touch and be touched. For your boyfriend to string you out one last time before you both return home for a few weeks of winter break only to pick right back up in the new year.
Snaking a hand down his front, you palm the half hard length with a firm pressure that pulls his hips forward like a magnet. A strained grunts sings in your ear as Dokyeom rocks firmly in your grip, pressing you into the wall under his torturous grind.
Turning to nudge your nose into his cheek softly, hot kisses dropping across his jaw as you bid him to take off his pants; pushing them down clumsily. You don’t bother with the brass button or rough zipper, blinded by desperation and simply clawing the stiff material downwards in an effort to get beneath.
You manage to trickle to your knees, slipping through Dokyeom’s hold like water. The hard floor biting into your skin as you kneel before him to mouth at the thin fabric of his boxer. Dokyeom’s elbows land against the wall, caging you in as he watches from above; entranced by the shallow dip of your lips over the covered head of his cock and the lash of your tongue where you taste him through the fabric.
Tonight isn’t the night for teasing, so you have his boxers landing atop his jeans around his ankles in a blink. Tongue following the vein bulging on the underside of his cock as your hand returns to allow your thumb to dig into his slit.
Dokyeom whimpers a pathetic “fuck,” as you play with him, eagerly lapping up his shaft before sucking him into your mouth; hand dropping to cup his balls, the other rest on his stomach to hold his own shirt out of the way.
You missed how responsive he is to your touch, melting in the palm of your hand as he chases the warmth of your mouth with his hips. Anyone who walks by the door would undoubtedly hear what’s happening on the other side, the choked whimpers from you and guttural moans from Dokyeom combining into a lewd symphony.
Head hitting the wall behind you with a dull thud, you let Dokyeom take over; humming as each press forward leaves the taste of his cock on your tongue. There’s something degrading in letting him fuck your mouth like this, sandwiched between his hips and the wall as he uses you to get off.
You gasp for breath when he pulls away, tongue sticking out to bid him back but his slender fingers cupping your chin distract you straight into his lips.
Pulling you to your feet, Dokyeom dips his tongue between your lips as he leads you blindly to the couch. His mouth is nothing but taking; stealing your breath away, your sanity. Things you’d happily let him have if it meant he wouldn’t stop. But Dokyeom was a giver too. A slide of his tongue lit a fire under your skin, fanning the desperation bordering on depravity.
“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding your aching cunt against his thigh.
Dokyeom responds by pressing into you harder, teeth tearing into your bottom lip as his cock drools against your thigh, staining your jeans.
You're so turned on it hurts, pussy painfully empty and panties drenched from heavy petting. If Dokyeom doesn’t do something soon, you have half a mind to get yourself off without him.
Dokyeom is trying, fighting to not to blow his load on your leg as you whine and arch beneath him. For him. But when you manage to close your fist around his length, giving a firm tug with the twist around the head you know he goes crazy for, it’s all over. Dokyeom’s core tightens as he spills on your sweater, streaks of his cum ruining the fabric as he pants into your mouth. Your tight grip doesn’t falter as you work him through it, teeth bruising his jaw as he paints you with his seed.
When Dokyeom gains sentience again, he winces in shame.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t— I wouldn’t,” he tries to apologize, but stops when you part your lips to lap at your stained fingers; eyes trained on the pink of your tongue dipping out to swipe against the tips for taste.
Mouth wide as he stares, Dokyeom thinks he might come again without any help as you suck your fingers. His own dip into the pool of cum dimpling across your stomach, lifting to your mouth to replace yours. Dokyeom groans as your eyes never leave his, heated and heavy lidded as lick them clean and swallow his cum.
Dropping his hand to the back of your neck, he angles your head so his tongue can delve into your mouth. It’s messy and disgusting but you like it and that’s all Dokyeom cares about as he works to free you both of your clothes. He’s stark naked easily, shirt gone over the back of the couch in no time. But your clothes require more focus than either of you are capable of when Dokyeom is on top of you.
His feet hit the ground before he rises to stand, dragging you up to roughly undress you. You don’t seem to mind if the way you fist your jeans down is an inclination. Outer layers gone, Dokyeom finally gets a peek at the early Christmas present you’d been hoping to surprise him with.
Lacy maroon panties and a match bra hug your figure, accentuating your shape in the most mouthwater ways. Eyebrows raised to his hairline, Dokyeom heaves at the masterpiece you present him with.
Drops of your flesh peek through the holes in the lace, teasing him with what’s underneath. The high cut sides of your thong dig into your hips, making your legs look impossibly long and highlighting the sway of your thighs. Straining to pull his eyes up further, Dokyeom finds the bottom hem of your bra. Tongue rolling out of his mouth as the cups push your breasts up and together, teasing Dokyeom with ideas of fucking his cock between them as you lick at the tip.
You look like a goddess and Dokyeom is happy to get on his knees to worship every inch.
Dokyeom catches you smirking at his obvious reaction when he finally looks at your face. Stepping into his space, your fingers find purchase in the short hairs at the base of his head. A cold sweat breaks on his brow as you smile like the cat who got the canary.
“Do you like my outfit, Kyeomie?” You ask, tone deceptively sweet.
If he was capable of any thought beyond cataloging the swaths of naked skin and curves, maybe he’d answer more eloquently than grunting like a caveman.
“I picked it for you.”
Dokyeom lets his hands find your hips, squeezing the plush flesh in his palms as you continue to toy with him. His fingers pluck the thin elastic while his mind wanders down the extensive list of things he’s dying to do to you.
“Do you wanna see the whole thing?”
“There’s more?”
Falling to the floor, you dig into the pocket of your jeans for whatever the last piece of your outfit, if you could call it that. Rising again you present him with a thin piece of ribbon and a silver chain, both causing Dokyeom’s face to twist in confusion.
You prompt him to take the scarlet ribbon, a perfect match to the set you’ve donned, allowing Dokyeom to spot the clasp at the ends and the small silver charm dangling in the middle.
A sun is embossed on the front of the circular piece of silver. And engraved on the back is his name.
Having his name around your throat while he fucked you isn’t a kink he knew existed. But now Dokyeom is pretty sure he’ll be haunted by the idea for the rest of his life. The silver chain still in your hands has a similar charm but with a moon. Dokyeom’s vision goes fuzzy and his brain clouds at the assumption your name is on the back to match.
“Will you help me put it on?” You ask innocently, turn around so Dokyeom can slip what he can only describe as a mock collar around your neck.
Dokyeom latches the clasp with shaky hands, the strip of silk pulled taunt around your neck with each breath. When you face him once again, the charm sits in the hollow of your throat, silver winking at him seductively.
The icy metal of the chain bites into his skin erotically as you raise to clasp it around his neck. Your nose nudges against his jaw, a ghosting open mouth kiss landing on his jugular as the charm teases the muscles of his chest where it dangles.
You land on the couch with a squeak, taken aback by Dokyeom shredding the delicate fabric of your panties with clumsy hands as he struggles to get them off you. Bullying his way between your legs, he apologizes with a heavenly strip of his tongue through your slit.
He eats you like a man starved, nails leaving crescents in the tops of your thighs as he spreads you so wide the muscles in your hips scream in objection. Dokyeom’s tongue dips into your hole, collecting your essence on his tongue before spitting it back on your clit and digging in. The swollen nub slips against the flat of his wet muscle, and when his lips gently close around it he sucks just the way you taught him to you he’s rewarded with a wanton sob.
Whines fly from between your lips at the torturous pleasure, thrashing as Dokyeom uses all his strength to pin you and place. Spots dance along your vision, expanding as two fingers push past your folds to stretch you out. Dokyeom knows your pussy like the back of his hand and he stuffs you just right with his fingers.
All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hold on tightly as you fly over the edge. Racing forward under the heat of Dokyeom’s mouth and harsh thrusts of his fingers till you weep pitifully. You’re floating through space under his attention; mouth open over silent begs not to stop, eyes clenched shut. Every beat of your frantic heart carries satisfaction through tense muscles till you are pliant and boneless.
“Too much,” you whimper, thighs forcing close around his head.
Dokyeom takes it in stride. The combination of your essence and his saliva soaking chin, leaving a damp trail across your body as he kisses his way to your mouth.
His thumb finds the ribbon taunt around your throat, focusing on the piece of metal resting against your skin as you taste yourself on his tongue.
Panting into his mouth, you mewl something vaguely sounding like “want you.”
Luckily, Dokyeom is more than happy to give you whatever you want.
Nodding like a bobble head, he pulls you down into his lap as he kneels on the floor. The head of his cock proddes against your entrance, slipping in just enough for you to take the rest with ease.
The stretch is nothing short of bliss; so deep you can taste him in the back of your throat. Dokyeom fills you perfectly, the small nip of pain from not taking him in the past month only multiplying the satisfaction you feel at finally having him inside you again.
With herculean effort, you rise to allow only a few inches to exit before dropping back down. Hands searching for leverage, you balance on the cushions behind you as you grind into his lap.
Dokyeom doesn’t know where to look, overwhelmed by his options; your face twisted around gasping breaths; or your chest, still clad in your bra, tits bouncing with each movement; or where his cock disappears inside you.
But the silver heart around your throat seems to snag his focus easily.
Dokyeom isn’t possessive but the way it not so subtly declares you as his makes his cock throb. He’s the only one that gets to have you like this, and you him. The twin pendants remind him you’re his girlfriend and everything beyond slips away as he watches it jerk around with every movement.
Before long, your legs burn from effort, ruining your already unstable motions into nothing more than stuttered ruts. Dokyeom’s hands palming your ass assist in lifting you to the couch, limbs awkwardly sprawled off the edges but he doesn’t slow while your nails scratch deep lines into his shoulders.
“Oh, don’t stop! Fuck, please don’t stop.” You beg, head thrown back into the cushions.
Stopping sounds like the worst idea he’s ever heard. Dokyeom needs this. Gloved snuggly in your heat after so long is the only cure for the constant plague of memories of pestering him day and night. He knows they won’t go away but at least he won’t feel like ripping his skin off every time you're within a fifteen foot radius.
The wet clap of your bodies grows to a crescendo, your orgasm on the horizon and tightening your muscles into a deathgrip on his length. Spots float in Dokyeom’s vision at the squeeze and he drops his mouth to yours to lap up all your high pitched whines.
When he rises again to gasp against his own pleasure, the chain you gifted him dangles right above your lips and a nuclear bomb detonates.
You cum again with Dokyeom’s thumb under the ribbon encircling your neck, a tease of choked breath as he rubs the charm like a lifeline. Voice cracking, earth shatter, mind numb pleasure from the tip of your nose to your pinky toe.
Dokyeom is babbling over you. Rhythm abandoned as he subjected to the tight squeeze of your worn cunt until that punch to his gut hits. Each rope of cum makes his cock throb as he plows you with a deep thrust, stilling to empty himself inside you.
You're fully crushed into the itchy upholstery as his arms buckle.
“Wow,” you gasp, catching your breath.
What else can you say? A month of no touching culminating into the best sex of your life with your devastating boyfriend while he wears a chain with your name on it.
Dokyeom cackles into your collarbone, chest tickling against yours until he leans back to look at you.
His hair resembles an electrocuted poodle, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat glosses his skin in the low light. But Dokyeom is glowing with life and happiness and all the things that make the world good.
“I love you.”
Dokyeom responds with a girlish shriek at your impromptu confession.
“Damn, okay.” You laugh, staring at his bare ass as he runs a lap around the living room stark naked.
“You can’t just— I wanted to say it first!” He pouts before flopping down on top of you.
“Are you serious?” Breathless from his weight, you fail to push him off you as he flails like a fish. “Is that what you’re focusing on?”
“Yes,” Dokyeom grouches into your cheek. “You’re the first girl I’ve felt this way about and I wanted to…”
He trails off, suddenly embarrassed. Your entire relationship was many of Dokyeom’s firsts. The first person he had sex with, first college girlfriend he told his mom and sister about, and now the first girl to make him truly understand loving another person. It wasn’t something you held over his head, and some of it he didn’t even tell you about but it all tallies up in his mind how unprepared he is for it all.
“Minnie, look at me.”
You don’t speak again until he finally meets your gaze.
“I don’t even remember what we were talking about.” You sigh.
Dokyeom doesn’t catch hint, “We were talking about–”
“Nope, can’t seem to recall.”
Finally, he catches the playful pout and the way your eyes cut back his as you look around the room feigning ignorance. And because he’s Dokyeom and you’re a sucker for anything he does, you can’t stop the smile mirroring his own when softly traces the apple of your cheek with his thumb.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
---
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
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Don’t really wanna be Elevator Buddies
(Sephiroth x Reader)
A/N: Part 1 here. im suffering sufficiently at my current job that im leaving that i think i can write something because i need an outlet and i also want sephiroth to make it better. also, i am so much older than when i wrote the first part; as such, my writing probably reads a lot more different - better, worse or same is up to you. to those who have requested a part 2 and have waited literal years (its been 4!!!!!), i love you, i'm so sorry its so late.
★★★★★
Staring at the message in your work inbox, you suddenly couldn’t summon the effort to care. Your mood instantly dropped and you needed to leave your desk. You kept your headset on as you wandered towards the small staff kitchen under the guise that you were still connected to a meeting and listening in, when really you just want to block people out. You didn’t want to be perceived.
You just wanted out.
ShinRa Inc wasn’t known as the best place to work, but the pay was good and it was better than any other options you had.
The coffee machine rumbled as you waited for it to process your order. You didn’t even want to drink the cheap, watered down stuff, you just didn’t want to be at your desk looking at that stupid fucking request. There wasn’t much that could get your out of these kinds of emotional troughs bar one thing that seemed to always work.
You felt the vibration of a notification from your phone in your pocket. Knowing what and who it was probably from, you eagerly checked the new message that had come through. It was just a photo of blue sky with some clouds—the tops of greenery you didn’t recognise lined the bottom. It was very abstract and out of context, but you were used to it now.
Putting aside your misery for the moment, you typed out a short response.
I can’t beat that. This is my view.
You took a photo of the ceiling above you. Stark, stale and claustrophobic in comparison to the natural sky you were given. You sent it off and only a few seconds later, received a thumbs up in response. It made you laugh.
Sephiroth was a terrible at texting sometimes, but it was endearing in way.
When you had first traded contact details a little after The Elevator Incident, it had taken a while before anything was sent from either of you. You were too scared of bothering him and he was more than likely too busy or just didn’t know what to send. It also felt like trading personal IDs was crossing into an entirely different friend territory that wasn’t as nonchalant as impromptu elevator conversations.
The messaging ice was broken when, one day, you got a single image of chocobo out in the wild with no context. If you didn’t have Sephiroth’s ID saved, you would have wondered if someone had messaged the wrong person. Your response was a quick ‘I love chocobos, they’re so cute!’, and your reward several hours later was a picture of a sweetly sleeping chocobo in a stable.
Sephiroth was a man of very few words, but he still found ways to communicate with you and that honestly made you feel… Well, you weren’t sure you wanted to admit what you were feeling too much. You knew you had feelings for the man, that you were attracted to him, but those feelings had no where to go. You couldn’t tell him.
For many reasons, you just couldn’t ever tell him about your ever growing affection for him.
You just couldn’t.
You wandered back to your desk, completely forgetting about the coffee you had made in the kitchen. The message from the 1st Class Soldier perked you up way more than the caffeine would have anyway. You scrolled through your requests again and sighed. It was probably going to be another late night in the office. Maybe you’d just call in sick tomorrow.
You worked a few more hours, eyeing your phone and hoping for more messages, but none came. Sephiroth was often the one to initiate conversation as you still felt like you would bother him if you sent something first. Still… You kind of really wanted to talk to someone—to him, specifically. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to send one message?
Picking up your phone you opened up your chat and tried to think of something to say. You typed out several things, but kept deleting them. ‘Hello’ felt too formal, ‘Hi!’ seemed too chipper.
Is something wrong?
The message popped up before you could send something yourself.
!!! No! I was just about to message you. How are you?
There was a pause—and then a short voice message.
▶• ıll— “Are you sure you’re alright? Was there something else you wanted to say to me?”
You could hear the smile in his words and you flushed upon the realisation that he must have seen your stupid three dots pop up and disappear constantly in the chat. You playfully hissed your own voice note back,
▶• ıll— “Ohhh shut up, I just didn’t want to bother you!”
Putting your phone down, you peeked over your divider and looked around to see if anyone else could hear you. It was fairly late in the office, way past usual business hours, so you could see some screens still lit up around the space, but there wasn’t anyone near you.
Your phone pinged a few times, indicating new messages. Some more photos, but this time of more a familiar sight—the Midgar cityscape.
I’m back.
It had been awhile since he had left on his last mission. You were glad he was back safe, not that you’d tell him that now. You sent off a quick, mildly motion blurred snap of your desk and sent it off.
?
A question mark? A question mark to what? The photo wasn’t that blurry.
It’s my desk.
Are you still working? It’s late.
Ohhhh… You cringed; it was late. Honestly if you didn’t procrastinate with absolute loathing and low morale earlier in the day you probably could have been home already, but you couldn’t push through the negativity.
Yeah, its been a rough day.
You waited for a response, but none came. Sephiroth went inactive spontaneously during your conversations, so it wasn’t surprising. Instead you put your phone down and continued on a project that was behind on its deadlines. Technically all of them were behind, but this one you at least had the energy to push through for now.
An hour later your phone pinged a couple times. A photo of the elevator you used everyday to get to up to your floor and:
Time to leave.
You stared at the message, biting your lip. Even if you wanted to leave, there was still things to be done and—
Do I have to drag you out?
▶• ıll— “Okay! Alright! I’m packing up, hold your damn chocobos. I’m leaving now.”
Who knew Sephiroth could be so pushy? During the long elevator ride down to the lobby, you wondered if maybe he only showed this side of himself to people he trusted or cared about. The thought made your stomach flip.
It could also have been that people never really gave Sephiroth the opportunity to be himself. It was an upsetting thought. He was the 1st Class Soldier, a warrior that couldn’t be toppled, a man way above the norm. Untouchable. Distant. You knew what his public image was like, but still somehow you couldn’t fathom how people couldn’t consider that there was another side to him.
The side of him that you always got to see.
The same Sephiroth that you saw was waiting for you as the elevator doors opened. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He stood by the empty reception desk with his arms crossed, looking out the front entrance. When he heard your footsteps he turned to face you almost immediately. The man’s expression would have seemed stoic to others, but you recognised the warmth in his mako-infused gaze.
What if you were the only person he looked at that way? You held your smile steady even as your heart argued with your head to accept that maybe that’s what you really wanted.
It felt like Sephiroth’s gaze only intensified as you approached him. “...You look awful.” His voice was low, quiet, but still teasing. There was a chuckle in there too, somewhere in his deep tone. Sure you had heard it recently in the voice message, but it wasn’t the same as hearing him speak to you in person.
“That’s so mean, Seph. Not even a proper greeting for me? Wow.” Even though you were exhausted, you automatically matched his manner. “You look…” Oh, you couldn’t tell him how you really felt about how he looked. There were so many adoring and affectionate words, yet somehow still not enough. “...Like you?” You finally sputtered out after filtering all the other things that your mouth wanted to say.
The 1st Class Soldier gifted you with a short laugh and you struggled to hold back the burst of emotions that bloomed in your chest. “You are so mean to me.” This interaction wasn’t like the others. This didn’t feel like the light playful chats in the elevator. When did these interactions change? When did all the same words that you used to use before suddenly mean something different?
Sephiroth suddenly leaned closer towards you, a small smirk crossing his lips. “I am nice to you.” The way he spoke was next to a purr, “Did you want me to be mean?” It felt like the mako glow in his eyes brightened for a moment; he was close enough that you could see specks of the otherworldly green in his irises.
You wanted to die on the spot. He was not flirting with you, no matter how much it felt like it. No way. However, before you could stop yourself, you replied quietly. “...I like it when you’re nice to me.” The look on Sephiroth’s face melted into something else—something just as warm, just as intense, but something so much more genuine and it immediately scared you. Before he could say anything more you let out dismissive laugh. “Phew, I am a lot more exhausted than I thought. I-I should probably get home.”
Maybe the fear was reflected in your expression. Sephiroth fell back into his usual cool and stoic demeanor and you wanted to apologise—it was hard not to feel as though you had just ruined something important. Casual conversation you could navigate. This? What was this?
Of course you’d find a way to make a bad day worse. Of course you’d ruin a good thing. Of course you’d—
A large hand pressed into your lower back and guided you forwards, interrupting your downward spiraling thoughts. When you looked up at Sephiroth beside you, he simply watched and waited for you to take the lead. Nothing in how he looked at you had changed from when you had first exited the elevator. “There’s a car waiting for you outside.” That voice you so adored, was steady and warm and sure. Still the same.
Quietly you stepped outside with Sephiroth in tow. He opened the car door for you, nodding to the driver who did the same in return. You sat in the back seat, with the soldier leaning outside on the vehicle, looking in to make sure you were comfortable.
“...Bye Seph.” You really did sound tired.
Sephiroth didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t as heavy as the one inside the lobby. He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Goodnight.” You knew there was something else he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. There was another pause before he shut the door for you.
You leaned back in your seat and let the butterflies run rampant in your belly, let the buzz run through your veins, let it hum through your body. You covered your hands with your face. It felt like there was still something left to say, a conversation left unfinished.
From outside the ShinRa building, Sephiroth watched as you were driven away out of sight. He stood there, holding what he really wanted to say to you in his throat.
It was frustrating for him to know he could physically conquer any fight, any conflict, except for whatever he could see going on in your eyes. Did you know that he could see you becoming more and more tired with each interaction you had? It frustrated him to no end knowing that people took advantage of you and your time and your efforts. Idiots. Fools.
How could he put into words how you made him feel? Sephiroth was no good at words. He just wanted to keep you safe. He just wanted you not to be tired. He just wanted you to always smile when you saw him—a smile that said you were genuinely happy to see him. Not the 1st Class Soldier, but happy to see Sephiroth himself.
The man snapped out of his reverie as his phone pinged with a message. A voice note from you.
▶• ıll— “...I missed you, Sephiroth. Welcome home.”
Sephiroth stared at the screen of his phone.
And then he replayed the message, just to hear your voice again.
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