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nnight-dances · 2 months

Text

BABYDOLL

PAIRING: choi seungcheol x afab!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, suggestive (nothing explicit)

TROPES: gym trainer!cheol, office worker!reader, you have INFJ syndrome until you start thirsting for cheol, mutual pining and perversion, wonwoo and lisa besties to lover side plot

LISTEN TO: babydoll by dominic fike

NOTE: unfortunately yes this is based on a brainrot ive been harboring for a real man but since cheol > all other men so here is my way of coping with it! i hope u like it and lmk what u think <3

You liked to think of yourself as a sane person. If anything, you had always had a reputation of having a good head on your shoulders, as the eldest daughter and the ideal student in class. You lived a life of discipline even out of college, waking up early to clean your apartment before you headed out to work and coming back late to a fridge full of meal-prepped tupperwares.

You're sane. So why is it that you can't bring yourself to behave like it around him?

For some context, you had decided your daily 15-minute walk to your apartment from the subway wasn't cutting it anymore. More than anything, you feel like you needed something more intense for the sake of your stiff body. You'd come home feeling creaky as floorboards and without a concrete plan to keep you in shape, you would end up doing some lousy stretching before hitting the sack.

But today that was going to change. You had enrolled as a member in the nearby gym, a solid place from the looks of it. It was your first time in a gym this fancy, equipped with the best of any machine you could imagine but also an ambient changing room where you looked forward to showering in.

You had come in fully prepared, clad in a workout set that was your favorite shade of green. When you'd pulled it out of your closet after all this time, you felt like the inanimate fabric might actually be thanking you for remembering its existence. You had an adequately sized water bottle that you had set to the side when you'd started your cardio for the day, waiting for the personal trainer the lady at the reception had told you would come meet you in 15.

At exactly the 15 minute mark on your treadmill, you'd felt a presence next to you and to your surprise, it was a man wearing the black shirt everyone working in the gym wore with a little crest on the chest. But this man was particularly… built. You didn't like to be indecent about another person when he had yet to introduce himself but the man before you was right out of your dreams– his shoulders wide, that his shirt did little to hide, and his buff arms that he politely crossed waiting for you to notice him.

You pop the earbud in your left ear out, rushing to turn the treadmill off as you turn to greet him. "Oh, I'm sorry– I didn't see you there– Wait, how did this thing stop–"

"Let me get that for you," the man – the dangerously attractive man – leaned over to press a red button that you should've spotted sooner than you did. The treadmill comes to a stop gradually and you try to think of the different ways you could vanish into thin air.

But then the trainer smiles at your panic-sriken experession revealing his dimples and you think you might faint before you'd had a chance to exercise. "Hi, I'm Seungcheol," he holds out his hand to you when you manage to step off the machine in one piece. "But you can call me Cheol." He points to the name-tag on his shirt– another detail you had missed when you were far too busy being a pervert over the general amazing-ness of his build. The name-tag says cheol in lowercase with a few hand-drawn cherries next to it.

"I'm Y/N," you say quietly, shaking his hand. "Sorry about that, by the way. I promise I'm not usually such a klutz. It's just my first time here so I'm kinda nervous."

Cheol simply blinks at you, "Nothing wrong with being a klutz. That's why I'm here. And as for being nervous…" He looks around at the rows of people on treadmills and various other cardio machines and shrugs. "You'll get a hang of it. Just follow me."

You don't have time to stand around gaping at Cheol's words so you do as he says, especially because you would rather die than have him think you're clumsy. But despite your effort to look put-together, you find your control slipping on the first machine he brings you to. It looks like it should be simple enough, a seat with handles for back-rows. Yet, when you sit on it, you can't seem to find the right position to start and when you do, it all feels wrong.

Then, Cheol comes up behind, a hand on your lower back pushing your spine up straight. His voice is gentle in your ear and you meet his eye in the mirror in front of you. "Hold still for me. Throw your shoulders back and focus on pulling with your back."

You do as he says and he gives you a nod of approval. "Remember to breathe," he says, his fingers now on your shoulders, pulling them back to keep them in the right posture. When you're done with the first set, you feel like you've forgotten how to breathe.

"You must be an office-worker," Cheol comments as he lets you take a minute to breathe.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," you frown.

"It's not the best thing for a person's spine. Makes for a stiff spine and whatnot."

You grimace when his words seem to describe you. "You're right. I can't sit with my spine straight for the life of me. Those back-rows almost sucked the life out of me."

"Then I hope you're ready for two more sets," Cheol chuckles, politely grabbing your precious water bottle out of your hands. "Two more sets," you repeat after him, praying that he actually meant no more sets and said the wrong thing. But he stares at you in the mirror, arms crossed, waiting for you to take your position.

By the time, you're done for the day, you think you might have seen God, with the way Cheol pushes you through the workout, throwing sets of shoulder presses and plank holds at you. He must hate you, you think, wiping the sweat off your neck with a hand towel as you watch him write something down on a notepad you only just noticed. You've been really out of it today, huh?

Still, Cheol's disdain for you aside, you couldn't help but marvel at him. His body was so lithe, lifting weights off the floor for you without a huff and demonstrating the exercises you had to do while narrating the movements like it was nothing. What's more, he had this amazing air of authority about him, not letting you give up on an exercise just because you felt like you couldn't do it. If the last set got physically impossible for you, he'd give you a hand but he didn't let you do anything half-earnestly. In short, he's really fucking cool.

You come to your senses when Cheol says, "All right, that's all for today. Thanks for the hard work." You nod, "Thanks, Cheol." You don't have it in you to say anything about the workout, mainly because you're embarrased at how weak you are so you simply smile an awkward smile and leave the room.

God knows you were the worst version of yourself in there, the complete opposite of the composed woman you were on the outside. It was mortifying, honestly, to be that helpless and in front of a man you were attracted – that might have been your greatest nightmare realized into reality.

Which is why you find yourself at the gym a day later, taking a deep breath before greeting the lady. "Hey, I'm here for my PT session," you start and then clearing your throat, you add, "With trainer Cheol?"

The lady looks surprised when she sees you for a split second but then she grins. "Of course, miss L/N. You're just on time." She types rapidly for another second before nodding at you, "Okay, you can start your 15 minutes of cardio and the trainer will meet you there."

You thank her before heading in, finding it a little strange that she looked surprised to see you but shrugging it off when you're welcomed by the lavender-scented changing room. You note to yourself to start buying more scented candles for your house as you place your bag and hoodie in a locker, taking just your bottle out.

You're a minute from finishing your cardio for the day when you hear your name being called. You turn to find Cheol staring at you with an indecipherable glint in his eyes. His arms are crossed, almost like a signature pose on a game character, muscles glistening under the bright gym lights. You stop the treadmill successfully this time as you wave at him, "Hey!"

"...You're back?"

You frown when you hear the question in his voice, "Yeah? Is that not what I'm supposed to do?"

"I mean…"

"I didn't come in yesterday because I woke up feeling like someone beat me up," you add with a pointed look, "But I think you'll forgive me if your customer retention is that low."

Cheol blinks with a smile gradually consuming his expression. "It's not that– I just didn't expect you to come back because you looked mad when you left last time. And well, office-workers are usually inconsistent so I definitely didn't think I'd see you twice in the same week…"

You cross your arms to match his pose, "I wasn't mad, I was a breath away from dropping dead."

"Right, that makes sense," Cheol agrees proudly and you shake your head, "And you must have a grudge against office-workers."

"I don't. All my friends are office-workers. I've just watched the job suck out all the life out of them so I'm not a fan."

"I think you may have defined the word grudge just now," you point out with a poorly disguised laugh.

Cheol pauses before looking you up and down with a cocked brow. "Someone's in a feisty mood today. I like that, it means you're ready for leg day."

You were not ready for leg day. You used to think that your legs would be strong enough since you'd done your share of squatting and running in your lifetime but faced with Cheol's insane workout set-up, you should've seen this coming. It starts off fine– a normal cycle of squats and lunges. But then he adds weights to the equation, increasing it after each set. Then, he takes you to the machines and makes sure you do each rep right. You have a hard time even walking over to the bench where he wants you to hip thrusts.

For a moment, Cheol's eyes betray softness. "You good? We can stop here if you want."

But for all your groaning and heaving, you weren't quite ready to give up yet, the adrenaline doing wonders to your head. "I can stop when I'm dead. Just tell me what to do next."

Cheol perks up at your challenge, "Okay, soldier, calm your horses. We'll do some hip thrusts now but let's start slow."

"You don't have to take it easy on me," you add, taking the barbell from his hands. He smiles, "Don't worry about that, I'm just getting started." You swallow the viscerality of the reaction that rises at his words and force yourself to get into the right position. Cheol must know what he's doing, towering over you with that nefarious smirk, monitoring your movements strictly while instructing you how exactly to maintain your form.

With your eyes fixed on him, you can't help but feel your mind wander, far beyond your control. You can't blame yourself– this angle is sinful. He looks so delectable with his arms crossed across his chest as usual and legs steadily placed close to yours on the ground in case he had to help you out. You wonder what he's like under the trackpants he sports, about his thighs and what they'd feel like under your palm. You wonder what he'd sound like–

You slip mid-rep with your grip on the barbell going loose and you yelp out as the weight bounces dangerously. Cheol's arm flash before you sight, swiftly grabbing the barbell before it hit your shin, throwing it aside with a loud clank. A few people working out near you give you concerned glances but all you can do is heave out a breathe at the sight of Cheol crouched so close to you.

He hauls you with one brawny arm behind your back, holding you close to his face so he could inspect you. "Are you okay?" he asks you gravely, eyes scanning your torso and then going down your legs.

You must be truly sick because even in this situation, you're thrilled. Absolutely thrilled. Because you're so close to Cheol you can feel his breath against your hot neck and you finally have an excuse to paw against his chest, and feel the sinewy warmth under his shirt.

"I'm fine," you muster, mouth unbelievably dry and Cheol takes the wideness of your gaze to be fear. He rests your body back against the bench and you mourn the loss of his touch silently. But then he presses the back of his hand against your cheek and then pats your head.

"You're fine," he repeats your words but with more conviction, a reassurance. "You scared the shit out of me." You breathe out a chuckle, "Sorry. You'd get into trouble if I got injured under your watch right?"

Cheol stares at you. "That's what you're worried about? Not that you almost lost a leg and a half just now?"

You look away with a flushed face. "No, I was never worried about that. I knew you'd catch it before anything happened."

"You should be more worried, then," he responds with a shake of his head, "I'm not perfect. I won't make it every single time."

"Sorry," you sigh, "I'll be more careful." You're quick to give in, especially because you could not stand the reason behind this mess.

You leave after that with Cheol firmly refusing to go on, with something about not taking more chances. You sense something akin to disappointment in his words and feel a pit in your stomach as you head home. You'd started to bond with him finally, with your determination to show up, but this felt like it put you back to square one. Cheol, as reliable as he was, seemed reluctant to open up to you and where he'd finally started to warm up to you, your slip-up today probably reminded you that you were a customer who he needed to train.

Your sleep is fitful that night because you can't stop thinking about your accident. Can't stop thinking what might have happened if you didn't mess up. And then you picture Cheol and his watchful gaze over you the whole time you're there. God, you feel crazy.

–

"What's crazy is that I got a whole box of them for 20 bucks on sale!" Lisa exclaims. You nod at her anecdote about scoring extremely cheap protein powder that slightly concerned you about the quality of the product your co-worker was consuming. Lisa had caught you that afternoon in the lunch room, awkwardly stretching out your legs. When she grilled you about it, you'd revealed your recent gym membership and the consequent soreness.

"I've heard drinking lemon coffee before workouts is really helpful," she adds with an excited grin. Lisa, as it turns out, was a huge gym rat. "And oh, don't ever go to the gym if you haven't slept at least a good 8 hours."

"What?"

"Yeah, lack of sleep combined with exertion is a nightmare for your body."

You tap your nail on the table nervously, worried that would mean you couldn't go to the gym today. Just then, Wonwoo enters the break room with a knowing chuckle. "What bullshit is Lisa feeding you this time, Y/N?"

"Hey!" Lisa protests, "I'm just sharing my years of advice with her since she just started the gym." Your glares at Lisa go unnoticed as she goes ahead and reveals your newest hobby to the man.

You groan, "You make it sound like such a big deal. It's not, I'm just finding ways to keep myself occupied."

"You must be getting old," Wonwoo says as he slides into a chair next to you. "But if I know anything about the gym, it's that it'll keep you young. Especially with the guys that you'll see there."

You stare at Wonwoo, "What the fuck is wrong with you guys? I can't have one normal conversation around here." The man simply elbows you with a chesire grin, "Oh, come on, Y/N. You're always so proper and put-together, it makes me think you're not even living your life."

You go silent, ears redenning at his words. "Wonwoo, that's a little rude," Lisa accuses him, "Y/N's the coolest member of our team, how could disrespect–"

"I'm not, I just mean that you've achieved most of your goals now," he shrugs, "But you probably have a side that you always keep in check. Maybe you should let go a little?"

–

For all your attempts at ignoring Wonwoo's unsolicited advice, you end up thinking about it the whole day. And the next, when you make your way back to the gym. You're a little reluctant to, given you were still embarrassed about your incident last time. But stupid Wonwoo and his way with words.

You found yourself overthinking your outfit for the day, ending up wearing a baby blue sports bra with a strappy back and black sweatpants. You had to admit that it was quite flattering on your figure, with your back tattoo on display, one that said babydoll in a cursive font, a reference to one of your favorite songs and just generally, a cheeky nudge to whoever was reading in the direction of your preferences.

Today, you spot Cheol across the cardio room but with another client, a tall blonde woman who was jogging leisurely at a speed that would have you gasping for breath. She looked like she was in great shape, a flat stomach revealed by her cropped bra and an ass for days that her shorts accentuated. Cheol looked so different than when he was with you, eyes smiling as he continuously hyped the girl up, a proud beam on his face. You don't think you'd even seen all his teeth on display before.

You force yourself to take a treadmill where you can't see him, turning the music on your earbuds all the way up to get your head straight. But every song you listen to reminds you of him. You ignore it anyway, increasing the speed on your treadmill when you catch a glimpse of him escorting the lady out. He really looked like he was enjoying himself, laughing loudly at something she says in a soft voice. She was in a league of her own. Heck, so was Cheol.

The reminder is unpleasant and you have a hard time putting on a smile when Cheol comes to stand at your side with an expectant grin. But in comparison to before, this grin seems dull and his eyes look like they're calculating something, not delighted. You had a feeling this was going to be another difficult session for you.

"That's a nice outfit," he comments when you turn around to him, covered in sweat from your jealousy-driven run. You don't respond to his compliment, feeling like it was empty and honestly, losing your will to please him after what you'd witnessed. You get off the treadmill with a sigh and roll your shoulders back, "What am I doing today?"

Cheol hesitates for a split second at your curtness but moves on quickly, guiding you to the dumbbells. "Arms and back for the lady today," he announces grandly, handing you two dumbbells labelled 10 lbs. You raise your brows at him, wondering if his decision had anything to do with your exceptionally bare back. Reigning in your curiosity, you do as he says.

The first few sets of various basic exercises go by well, so much so that you catch Cheol mumbling a good job in your ear when you pass him the dumbbells. The compliment goes straight to your head – and well, elsewhere – but you control your thoughts, not when you were finally feeling like yourself and not like a perverted idiot lusting over your hot hym trainer.

But then you're at the back-row machine and you lose your drive, glancing uneasily at Cheol. He simply gestures for you to get started. "You know the drill" are his brief words of explanation.

The first set goes by okay with you struggling to finish the last rep but by the time you're in the middle of the second set, you feel a numbing strain in your back, making it a Herculean task to even tug at the handles. You spot Cheol walking over behind you and the pads of his fingers press into your back, somehow landing exactly where the fabric of your bra left you exposed.

Your eyes jump to his in the mirror, the contact sending a wave of heat to all kinds of places and feeling incredibly inappropriate for some reason. Cheol's eyes remain unyielding when you meet them though, his grip extending to your shoulder to pull them back. "Come on," his words splay out like breath on your neck, "Keep going."

You manage the last few reps with his help, groaning in pain when he finally lets you go. He pulls away as soon as you're done, sqaushing any hopes that you had of him sharing the vibe that you had felt. He even takes a large step away to give you air before the next round. You pout as you closely observe him in the mirror, wondering why he was so cold to you. He had seemed warmer a few days ago when you'd shown up to contradict his expectation, maybe even warmer than he had been with that lady earlier. So how come he's back to being distant now?

"Something on your mind?" Cheol asks, coming to your side, "You've been glaring at me for the past minute."

"Nothing."

"Really? You've been weird this whole time you know," he presses. "It's my duty to make sure you're satisfied as my client. So if I'm doing anything wrong…"

You sigh at his words. Satisfied, huh? If Cheol had even the slightest hint to your thoughts every time you were close to him– God, he'd probably drop you as a client altogether. "I'm fine," you say quietly, looking down at your hands instead of at him. You were doing so well at keeping it together and you didn't want to lose your progress to some whim. "Just tired from work."

"Have you been sleeping okay?"

"As okay as I can."

"Have you considered asking for a day off?"

You scoff, "I'm not on my death bed. A few hours of lost sleep won't kill me."

"It will in the long run," Cheol retorts, lips set in a thin line, "And that's the second time you've talked about dying before giving up with me."

You're starting to wish he would stop with his questions. "I'm not suicidal, Cheol," you start, "And I'm not losing sleep because of work anyway."

"Oh, really? What is then? A guy?"

You scowl at his words, "I'd rather not talk about this anymore. It's not funny."

"Didn't say it was," he mumbles but returns to his stance behind you. You feel his palm on your back again, "Let's go for the last set, then."

You pull hard, getting in a few good reps before your back muscles start to give up again. Cheol's in action, forcing your muscles to stay engaged as you continue pulling him. "Breathe for me, doll, you're doing so well. Just five more reps." Forget the fact that you'd done your required 20 reps of the back rows, when you hear Cheol's praise you feel your energy spike up, somehow pulling off 5 more reps.

He lets go with a chuckle, "I knew you had it in you." You slump over, dropping your head in your hands, reeling. Did you hear him right? Doll? Your stomach turns with butterflies, the thought of him using your tattoo exactly in the way you'd intended – fuck, you think you could give the man the best head of his life right now if he let you.

But instead you pretend to be wiped out as you stand up without making any eye contact with him, crouching over your water bottle and taking a few sips. You realized that Cheol was being himself with you, now that you think about it, his sarcastic jabs and his cynical questioning. He was worried about you but didn't want to burden you with it. But to think that you'd managed to get him to praise you despite his aloofness, it made you want to do unthinkable things.

"All right, let's do some shoulder presses next," Cheol says, deciding you'd had enough of a break. You silently nod, following him to the bench. Surprisingly enough, you make it through the rest of the workout without a hitch, even earning yourself an approving hoot from Cheol along the way.

"You're on fire today, aren't you?" he beams and you want to imprint the sight in your mind. "Come on, I'll have do some good stretching today so you won't wake up feeling like someone beat you up again."

You chuckle at the reference to your earlier comment and gladly follow him to the mats where he guides you through some stretches. Then he perches himself in front of you, holding out his hands. "Give me your hands."

You look at him questioningly and he simply waits. Slowly, you put your hands in his, noticing the way his wrap around yours completely. He's big compared to you, easily pulling you toward him while keeping his feet planted above your knees so you could stretch your spine out. You let out a moan at the feeling in your spine, "That feels good."

His hand wrap around your wrist next, resting them on his shoulders– and you swear to God, he's got to be doing this to you on purpose. All you can think about is his skin under your palms, the hard shoulders that you didn't imagine you'd be touching. He continues to mess with you; his hands are on your shins, massaging their way up your legs– your calves, your knees, your thighs.

You pull away with abruptly and his hands dance back down your legs. Cheol's looking up at you with hooded eyes, as if he can read every thought that's running through your head. "Good?" he asks and the vague nature of the question does nothing to help your situation.

You clear your throat, "Yes. Am I done for the day?"

Cheol makes you suffer through some more stretches, ones where he finds an excuse to get his hands on you– an arm stretch with him pulling you from one side or a back stretch where he crossed your arms down firmly. Your head was all but spinning when you're finally done.

"Okay, you're done. Thanks for the session," he exclaims and as you turn to leave, he stops you with a hand on your elbow. "Oh and– Listen, I don't know what's on your mind but don't worry so much. You're doing great, at least in the gym. Sleep well tonight, doll."

–

The only explanation for Cheol's behavior was that he hated you. Because why else would he enjoy torturing you like this? You had never thought you showing up mad to a session would lead to him doing all that– calling you doll of all things. You had all sorts of thoughts in your head right now and none of them you could voice out loud without embarrassing yourself.

That night, you do sleep well, a little too well even. You have sweet dreams after all, dreaming of Cheol in your bed, climbing up your relaxed figure while his hands trailed up your legs, not stopping at your thighs. They make it all the way and the sound that leaves you is undignified but Cheol meets your mouth like he predicted your reaction. His touch burns you and his tongue leaves you feeling like you were starving. You sweat in his arms, his words sending you over the edge in no time.

You wake up the next morning to a mess in your panties, the sight leaving you truly dumbfounded. If you had thought you had come close to regaining your sanity in the last few days, you might just have lost any such hope. You rush to shower, making it cold on purpose so you could cleanse any dirty thoughts away with the remains of last night.

But Cheol's hold on you is strong, even when he isn't forcing you to go through the last few reps of an exercise. You enter the office in a daze that day, going about your daily tasks without a real thought behind your eyes.

It's only when you overhear a conversation in the break room that you come to your senses.

"I'm thinking of changing my hair," Kazuha tells Katie with a thoughtful hum, "But I don't know what to do." You gaze at the younger girls in front of you. Kazuha had long hair the shade of mocha and Katie sported a short blonde bob that bounced when she peeked over her friend's shoulder to look at her phone.

"Oh, you know what you would suit? Blonde streaks!"

"Really?" Kazuha sounds dubious, "I don't know. I'm more of a dark hair girl."

"I know, that's why I said streaks, stupid," Katie pulls out her phone and scrolls through something that looks like an album of hair pictures. "Something like this– Just your bangs, or the ends of your hair."

Intrigued by the conversation, you approach the pair. "Hey, guys," you let yourself known and the two nod quickly when they see you.

"Oh, hi, Y/N!"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I… I had a question."

Katie looks excited, leaning forward with a sneaky grin. "Sure! What is it? Are you seeing someone?"

"What? No, that's not it," you protest, uneasily playing with your mug. "Um, actually, I was… this is a completely hypothetical question, okay?" The two nod eagerly. "If I was to know a guy who was a gym rat of sorts… What kinds of things would you say might interest him?"

"Interest him?" Kazuha says, "Aren't gym rats only into other gym rats?"

"Yeah, I think so, too," Katie echoes, "When you live for the gym, you'd only want a partner who understands the lifestyle. But I did have this friend…"

She trails off and you prod, "A friend?"

"Well, she had a crush on this guy at her gym so she tried to get his number and he–" she cuts herself off with a light laugh, "He said she was too plain. God, he was an asshole. My friend had the latest hairstyle and everything. She cried over him for a week. I told her not to spend so much money on the membership if she was just going there for a guy…"

You nod, "Right… That sounds awful." Eventually, Kazuha and Katie go back to discussing something on their phones and you excuse yourself.

–

You don't go to the gym for the rest of that week, mainly because you're afraid to see Cheol, still not over the wet dream you'd had of him. Thankfully, there hadn't been any more but just the one occurence had you feeling like you'd committed a crime so you stayed away to keep your conscience clean.

A week later, you finally force yourself out of your guilty spiral and head to the gym. At the reception, you pause before heading in for cardio. "Hey, Seol," you call out and she looks up from the computer. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"No, please, ask away."

"Is… Does Cheol have a lot of clients?"

Seol looks amused at your question and takes her time riling you up before saying, "Yes, ma'am. He's one of the top trainers in our gym. Sometimes, we have clients asking to switch over to be trained by him because they see him training other people."

"Ah, I see," you say, keeping your tone as flat as possible, "And can I ask how I ended up with him?"

"Oh, well, it was just good timing," Seol says with a polite smile, "He had a client leave after she got promoted at work so you joining worked perfectly."

You nod at her response, thanking her as you head in. So it was just luck.

You don't know what you had expected– Of course, Cheol was popular. You weren't the only one with eyes around here and looks aside, he was genuinely great at his job. You didn't take that for granted but it didn't help the pit in your stomach, when you realized you were just a replacement client on his roster.

Great. You've been in the gym for less than 10 minutes and the crazies have already started.

To make things even worse, you see Cheol next to another woman yet again. This time she's short, a petite figure with long wavy hair and you almost laugh out loud at the situation. Someone must be playing a sick joke on you because how else was every single one of his clients so much prettier than you?

You have to restrain your thoughts before they dig you any deeper in a hole of self-depreciation so you pick out a treadmill away from them.

"Evening, doll," Cheol pipes up next to you, voice cheery as he pats your arm. You contain yourself as you stop your jog and get off. "Do you have to call me that?" you throw, giving him your best icy stare.

He simply grins, "What? Doll? But it's a cute name."

"I already have a name," you cut in, "And someone might get the wrong idea if they heard you."

Cheol regards you with a glint in his eye. What you would do to hear his thoughts. "There's nothing to get wrong," he finally says, "So don't worry."

If anything, his words are a harsh slap of reality. It brings you back to earth effectively so maybe you ought to thank him for it. You make it through that workout without an indecent though– well, okay, there might have been a few but nothing that was enough to put you in a life-threatening position. In fact, you make it through a whole week's worth of sessions with those words.

It's Friday when it all goes down the drain– your hard work at regaining normality with Cheol and your sanity. You're done for the day and in the middle of packing up, when you see Cheol being approached by a woman. Looking up, you realize it's the tall blonde from a few weeks ago. She speaks quickly and quietly but you hear the words drinks on me tonight.

Your stomach churns and you look away without thinking, hoping to run away before you had to hear any more. But Cheol's voice is clear when he responds, "Sorry, I can't. I'm busy tonight."

You hate the way you're relieved at his rejection, the lack of any remorse in his tone and the way he quickly turns back to you. The blonde woman looks dejected and blinks at his back a few times before leaving.

"Wow," you comment when she's gone, "That was cold."

"You think so?" he asks as if it wasn't clear as day. "I was just making myself clear."

"So you have a no-client dating policy?"

"Nah, not really," Cheol shrugs as he rolls up the mat you had used a few minutes ago. "Plus, she's not even my client anymore."

"Oh," you breathe and then feel a sudden burst of courage run through your veins. "So if I was to ask you out…"

Cheol tilts his head, lips lilting, "What about you asking me out?"

Asshole, of course he's making you spell it out for him. You bite back a smile, "Nothing. Just a thought." With that, you leave him hanging, exiting the gym as if you hadn't proposed to take him out on a date without any real conclusion.

It was complicated, you explain to yourself later. For one, you didn't even think he was into you like that. Sure, he could be touchy and flirty around you when he wanted you, and yeah, maybe he didn't call you anything other than doll, but in real terms, those actions had no meaning behind them. They were just that.

And you didn't enjoy putting yourself out like that– asking someone else out. It had always been the other way around, the guys asking you out after days of you charming them. And where you'd always been anything but yourself with Cheol, you weren't ready to let go of your reputation just yet.

–

Maintaining your reputation takes on a questionable turn that weekend when you pass a hair salon on your way home from shopping for some much-needed home supplies. You stop because the sign outside catches your eye. In flashy bubble letters, it reads GYU'S SALON: come by if you want to rediscover your wild side. You find yourself smiling, hand on the door before you have a second to debate it.

Someone at the counter welcomes you and asks you to wait for a moment while they grab a stylist. You take a seat on the couch and look inside the salon. It's not too packed but there's a few customers, most of them women. You see that most of them are young and the observation comforts you. In particular, you notice a girl taking selfies with her new styled hair– a short layered look with blue ends. It looked cool but too bright for you to pull off.

A kind-looking lady with hair the color of plum approaches you. "Hello, are you here for a hair styling session?"

You stand up, "Ah, yeah, I am. Sorry, I don't have an appointment."

"That's fine, I'm free now," she says with a smile, "You must've seen the sign." You don't how she knows but you simply smile back at her. She nods, "Okay, come with me."

The lady's named April, you find out, and she's the funniest person you've met in a while. She's also an expert in hair, it seems, because she can tell the last time you cut your hair was neary two years ago and even points out that you wash your hair every other day. Eventually, you tell her you want to do something different with your hair but nothing too crazy.

"Define crazy."

"Well, this is my first time dying my hair. But I don't want anything too light and please don't cut my hair too short."

"Gosh, you sure have a lot of demands." Then after a moment of running her hands through your hair, playing with its strands, she comes to a decision. "All right, missy, I have something in mind for you."

Two hours later, you have red hair but not too red. It was the exact shade of wine under the salon lights but when you stepped out of the salon, it was more a dark brown. You'd thanked and tipped April generously for her work because she had come through on her word. In the mirror back at home, you admired your hair. April had trimmed off the ends but made sure your hair retained its length. You didn't regret your decision when you had a whole night to overthink it, thrilled whenever you caught sight of your head in a reflective surface. April might have been God's sweet gift to you.

–

That week you're showered in compliments at work with a coworker stopping at your desk every time they realized it was you sitting there typing away in red hair. You'd been somewhat worried that the change wasn't drastic enough for many to notice but you're proven wrong. Kazuha is the first one you run into that day, meeting her in the elevator and it takes her a glance to notice the new hair.

"Y/N? Your hair is so pretty!" she's spinning you around so she can get a better look, "Oh my God, where'd you get it done? It's amazing." You thank her and vaguely describe the salon you'd found by chance.

Later that evening, you walk unusually slow to the gym, taking your time to dwell on the response you might get from Cheol. You're close to the entrance when you see a familiar figure a few feet away. Before you can confirm your suspicion, you also spot an unmissable head of blonde hair.

It's her again. You feel your heart lurch in your chest as you unwittingly stop in your tracks. She's talking to Cheol, her back to you. If it wasn't for the expression on Cheol's face being a clear one of panic, you might have walked your way without a worry (other than the ones that would've spurred out of jealousy). You aproach them cautiously, wanting to get a better understanding of the situation before interfering.

"...is just mean. You led me on! You told me I was–"

"I'm sorry, Haein, if you feel that way but that's just part of my job," Cheol's voice is strained with suppressed emotions and you speed up, "I need you to stop cornering me–"

"Cheol!" you call out loudly, causing both of them to turn towards you. The blonde, Haein apparently, looks annoyed to find you there and you quietly walk over to Cheol's side. He's quiet when you poke him with your elbow. "What're you doing out here? You're gonna be late to my session!"

"Excuse me, miss, but I was in the middle of–"

"I'm sorry but I pay this guy an unbelievable amount of money to train me," you say in your most obsequious voice, "and I work really hard for the money I make. So unless you're about to pay me more than I pay him just to talk to him, why don't we call it a day here?"

When Haein storms off with a few unintelligible curses your way, you let out a laugh of disbelief. Cheol releases a chuckle from beside you, sighing in relief. "That was–" he starts, "Thanks, Y/N. You saved my ass."

"No worries," you reply, "but I wasn't entirely kidding about what I said. You start showing up late to our sessions and I'll start cutting the paycheck."

"You realize that's not how it works, right? You have to pay the same amount of–"

"I don't care how it works, Cheol," you interrupt him.

"For what it's worth," you hear him say as the two you finally enter the gym through its glass doors. "You were pretty cool back there. I felt so safe and protected with you throwing so many big words at her."

You turn to him with a frown, "Big words? I just talked really fast so she couldn't afford to call my bluff."

Cheol laughs at your confession, "It worked. She looked spooked when she finally ran off."

"So she's been bothering you even after you rejected her?"

"Yeah, looks like she thought we had a thing," he mumbles, "but all I did was my job and there's no nicer way to put it."

You grimace, waving at Seol who perks up at the sight of you arriving with Cheol. "That's tough. You should do something about it. I won't always be around to save the day, you know?"

"You're right," Cheol teases, "I need to become independent."

You pause in front of the changing room, "Okay, I'll go put my things away–"

Cheol breaks you off when he takes a step too close to you, voice dropping to a whisper. "Your hair's cute, doll. I'm a lucky man to have a pretty girl like you worry about me."

And then, he's gone with a flash of his smirk. As if he hadn't just left your veins blazing with the rush his words had caused. You drop to your knees inside the changing room, legs weaker than a day of working them out under Cheol's supervision. There's just no way he isn't messing with you on purpose, right?

But then you recall his words from earlier– all I did was my job and there's no nicer way to put it – and you're not so sure anymore. On the one hand, it was objectively not part of his job to call you doll or to have his hands wander your body or to constantly pester you with questions when you seemed out of it or to call you pretty. But at the same time, you couldn't say it was just him being nice to you, making sure you didn't feel unseen.

Your worries find an answer later that day when you're leaving the changing room after another training session. Cheol intercepts you with a look that you've never seen before– uncertainty.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Yeah, sure, what's up?" you let him pull you aside to a more secluded area behind the reception.

"I know you're too humble to take it seriously but I really do owe you one for earlier," Cheol rubs the back of his neck, a boyish grin on his face, "If you hadn't sepped in, I might have had to agree to go out with her."

"Cheol," you sigh, "I just did that because you looked uncomfortable. You don't have to thank–"

"Thanking you isn't enough," he stresses, "I want to repay you."

You cross your arms, the phrasing of his request piquing your curiosity. "And how exactly do you want to repay me?"

"Let me take you out for dinner."

You hate the way your eyes betray surprise at his words, his pleased smile only doing wonders to the adrenaline rush that slapped you. "What?"

"I know a good place near here but it'll be packed today," Cheol pulls out his phone out of his pants, "But if I make a reservation, we'll be able to get in this week."

"I…"

"Is that a yes?" his eyes are focused on yours, waiting for an answer.

"Sure, but is it okay for us to…?" you find yourself unable to complete your question. "Why wouldn't it be?" Cheol tilts his head, "We're both adults and it's consensual."

"I guess you're right," you admit. Cheol places his phone in front of you, "Your number, doll."

–

If you had thought you were insane a few weeks ago, now you were convinced that you were. Ever since you'd exchanged numbers with Cheol, all you could do was stare at his contact. You'd gone simple, just saving him as Cheol, not before you considered adding a cherry emoji next to his name. It was too much, you decided, settling for the plain name instead.

"Whose murder is she planning this time?"

Wonwoo's question brings you out of your daze and you glare at him. "Yours if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Woah," Wonwoo holds up his hands in surrender, glancing at Lisa, "You sure she isn't up to something?"

"She's got a date tonight," Lisa reveals without a hint of hestitation in her voice. You kick the girl under the table, "Lisa! You're just gonna sell me out like that?"

"Sorry, Y/N, but I have a 100% honesty policy with Woo," she sighs, looking at Wonwoo dreamily. Right, you had almost forgotten. After months of pining for each other, the two had finally confessed to each other, becoming the office's newest couple. It was very sweet and also very inconvenient when you wanted to confide in your best friend.

"Remind me to get a new and single best friend," you murmur to yourself. Wonwoo drags a chair across from you, "So who's the lucky guy?"

"There is no guy. Just a funeral. For you."

"You're so funny today, Y/N," Wonwoo has the audacity to laugh, "Is it someone from your gym? No wonder you've been looking leaner these days. A little extra motivation to hit the gym can go a long way."

"I don't know why I bother hiding things anymore," you cave, "and for the record, it's not because of any guy that I'm getting fitter."

You find yourself doubting your own words that night when you're sitting across from the man, keeling over in laughter at something he said about the menu in this place. It's a unique restaurant with moody lighting and square tables for two scattered across the wooden floors. Most of the tables were already filled with couples, peering over a menu together and sharing a glass of wine.

It's unnervingly romantic, you realize as you sit, tucking the tail of your dress under you. Cheol's eyes never leave you, weighing your reactions to the place. "It's so quiet here," you whisper, still surveying your surroundings, feeling hot under his undivided attention. You hadn't been prepared to be this close. Sure, you had been closer to him in the gym but this was your first time with him in a place outside of the gym, where you couldn't pretend your feelings for him were part of an alter ego you'd made up.

Cheol is real right now, his knees brushing against your bares ones under the table. He looks different tonight, clad in a nice navy shirt whose buttons were unsuprisingly strained against his chest. It was unfair how attractive he looked in a plain outfit.

"You like wine?"

You look at him with a start and nod quickly, "Yeah, I do."

"And what about me?" Cheol sneaks the question in, teeth baring as he grins at your panicked expression. "I'm just kidding. Sorry, I can't help it. You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"And you're just as much of an asshole when you're not in the gym."

He shrug, defined collarbone peeking out at you at the movement. "I'm always myself," he tells you.

The night progresses slowly with Cheol taking his time getting to know you, raining you in question after question about your life– when did you start working? Did you have siblings? Why did you move to the city so young? How many exes did you have? What was your favorite kind of coffee?

"You have a dog?" you exclaim when he shows you a photo of a white Maltese with a doting smile on his face. You hit his arm across the table, "Why wasn't that the first thing you told me?"

Cheol laughs with his head thrown back, "Really? That's what gets you? My dog? I'd take you to meet her but she's living with my brother because I got too busy."

"She's so cute, Cheol! I didn't think you of all people would have a dog."

"What do you mean, me of all people?"

You pause before thinking over your words. "You seem… distant. I thought you would like living alone so nobody bothers you."

Cheol sighs at your words, "What have I done for you to have such an impression of me?"

"I don't know, something about the way you're always cynical? Or your general condescending tone? Or that one time when you told me you hated your friends for being office-workers?"

"Okay, so you clearly like exaggerating things," he protests, "I love my friends, I just wish they lived more. And I'm not cynical, just…"

"Realistic?" you finish his sentence, "Trust me, that's what I tell people, too. But it's all a lie."

"You have a lot to say for someone who actually lives all by herself," Cheol accuses you with a sip of his wine, eyes narrowing, "And I feel like you're way colder than I am. It took me a week to get you to start calling me by my name and not just wait for me to look at you when you needed something."

You groan, "Can you not bring that up? I'm still embarrassed about that."

"Cute," he chirps, "But seriously, you're kinda scary when you're in your head. I get the chills when I imagine what you must be like at work."

"You imagine what I'm like at work?" you tease him, leaning back in your chair.

"You're the one who's telling me you're not like this at work," he points out, "Whatever that means."

"It means I'm cool as a cucumber," you finally say, "I'm a little scary but only to people who deserve it. But I'm mostly just cool. Or at least I was."

Cheol waits for you to go on and you scrape at your empty plate with a fork, missing the pasta you had just devoured just so you could distract yourself. "I was cool before I… met you, I guess."

"Really?" Cheol does nothing to hide the glad grin that breaks out on his face, "What did I do?"

"Pushed me to my limit," you roll your eyes, "You forced me out of my comfort zone."

"So in other words, I bring out your wild side?"

You flush at his choice of words, "Well, I don't know if I'd say that but… maybe."

–

Your date with Cheol is a dream; he pays for the meal, walks you out with a hand on your waist. He even kisses you goodnight, a kiss that's on your mind for the longest time. His lips are beyond your dreams, plump and demanding on yours. It's too bad neither of you make another move because the night ends at a kiss.

You can't wait to see him again, but as it turns out the following week means hell for you at work. You're absolutely swamped in your new assignments, with it being the middle of the month. There's increased visits from superiors and your boss insists you attend every meeting, a gesture that promised you that a promotion was in sight.

It's that hope that keeps you going. You pull a few all-nighters to draft various proposals now that you're your boss' direct right-hand, working earnestly to improve the stellar performance that you were finally getting recognition for. It's on Friday evening that your boss finally notices the bags under your eyes, scolding you for pushing yourself hard. She rushes you out of the office, ordering you to take the day off or she'd force you to.

You reluctantly do as she says, feeling hollow when you step outside in the fresh air. Your eyes feel heavy and you can't say you feel like doing much. Then, you remember Cheol's touch on your skin and with rejuvenated enthusiasm, you take your phone out.

You consider texting him but then settle on calling him since he'd be too busy to check his messages. But as it turns out, he's too busy to pick up too. After some thinking, you decide you'd pay him a visit in the gym anyway, ignoring the lightheaded feeling that threatened to consume you.

Seol greets you at the counter, "Y/N! We missed you this week! Are you okay?"

You sigh, "Yeah, sorry. Work stuff. Is Cheol in?" She nods, much to your relief. "Yeah, he's just finishing up with a client. He should be free for a session in 10."

You thank her as you head in. You knew it wasn't the best idea to work out in this state, but all you could suddenly think about was how Cheol might've taken your absence for the week to be your response to the date. And you hated the thought of that, so you rush to the changing room.

You're 5 minutes into walking on the treadmill when Cheol's familiar presence makes itself known. "Y/N?"

"Cheol, hey," you say, slowing down, "Sorry I wasn't in this whole week, I've been really busy with work."

"That's fine, I figured it'd be something like that." You're surprised he takes it so well, even offering you a small smile. Then, he notices the way you look, eyebags and all. "Hey, doll, are you okay? You look tired."

"Oh, I'm fine, just a little out of it."

"Okay, why don't you take a rest?" He stops the machine before you have a say, his arm firmly pulling you off. His hand then comes to rest against your cheek and you smile against his touch. "You're warm, doll. I don't think you should be working out today."

"But–"

"I don't want to hear it," he's pulling you out of the cardio room without hearing you out. "Come with me. Is there a friend you can call to pick you up?"

"Um, sure, but I can just go home on my own–"

"Just do as I say if you want to live to see another day– And I swear to god, if you make another joke about death, I'll hurt you myself."

"Ooh," you coo at him as he enters the elevator with you, hitting the 5th floor. "Threatening me now? Is that how you treat a pretty girl?"

Cheol's breath is shaky when he lets out a sigh, averting his gaze. "What about when the pretty girl ghosts me for a whole week?"

"I told you, Cheol, I was busy–"

"I know, I know. I'm just teasing. I was just scared I did something wrong for a second." He doesn't let you say anything when the elevator opens, continuing, "Anyway, you can rest in my office while your friend comes to get you."

"You have an office?"

Cheol laughs at your shocked question, "Yeah, that's what I get for bringing in the most clients here. Anyway, go in and take a seat. I'll get you something to drink." You walk into his office, bewildered by the room. He had a nicer desk than you did and little polaroids decorated the board next to his window. It was a cozier place than you would expected to find in a gym. You sit in a chair, giggling at a photo of Kkuma on the wall, wearing a bow the same shade of pink as her tongue.

"So adorable," you say under your breath.

"I know I am," Cheol startles you, coming up next you with a bottle of water.

You elbow him away, starting to feel unusually hot out of the blue. "Sorry, I know it's kinda hot," he apologizes, "I asked them to turn the air up but it takes a while for it to actually work."

You don't say anything, focused on getting your vision to stop losing focus and the man takes a seat across from, concern painting his face when he catches your dazed look. "Hey, look at me. Take a deep breath for me. What's wrong?"

"Hot," you mumble, pressing a hand against your sweaty forehead. It felt like the short five minute walk was catching up to you all at once, your heart starting to hammer wildly in your chest. You press against it in pain.

"Doll," Cheol's voice mellows out, his hand taking yours in his. "Drink some water for me." You do as he says, but the water is lukewarm, doing nothing to help. You swallow hard against the dryness in your throat.

"Okay, that's not going to work," he lets out. And then, his hands are your waist, grabbing the fabric of your shirt, "Y/N, I'm going to take your top off, 'kay?"

Even in your queasy state, you manage to jump at his touch on your bare stomach. "Cheol, I…"

"Trust me, doll," he leans down to meet your eyes. "It'll help." With an obedient hum, you let Cheol take control, him peeling the layer of fabric off your skin. You feel much better almost instantly, the warm air hitting your bare skin. You sigh out as you rest your head in your hands.

"Thanks," you breathe, "I feel like shit."

"That's okay." You look up at him when you catch the hitch in his voice. Through the fuzziness in your vision, you see Cheol avoiding your gaze. You reach for his bicep in your confusion, "Cheol."

He turns to you, eyes wavering as they trail down your neck. You feel heat shoot to your neck at his gaze and he coughs awkwardly. "Sorry," his voice is hoarse, "I'm not looking."

"You can," you state boldly, turning to him. You were wearing an old bra, a plain black thing that had kept you company for decades now, the lace in the back unravelling with wear. But the way Cheol looked at you right now, you could've been wearing the fanciest lingerie in season.

"Y/N," he warns you.

You're feeling better by the moment, vision clearing as your body tempertaure returns to normal. But instead of overheating, you find yourself losing focus for a different reason. You shift closer to Cheol, "If you're embarrassed, do something about it."

Your words stun him, his eyes wide as he stares back to make sure you were the one saying them. But all he finds is unbridled lust in your gaze, hand clawing at his knee, begging him to do something, anything that could help your state.

In a flash, Cheol's shirt is off and you drink in the sight before you hungrily. The sight you'd only ever imagined and dreamed about is finally yours to enjoy and you're going to make every moment worth it. When Cheol hears the desperate mewl you let out, he's pulling you close, hands encompassing your waist. You're on his lap before you know, knees hitting the valley of his pelvis.

"Fuck, you're hotter than I imagined," you groan out, hands roaming his bare back. He bites back an undignified sound at your comment, "Doll, you're making this really hard for me."

You feel his body burning up under yours and you're not sure which one of you is out of breath, but you're panting into his mouth the next thing you know. "This is crazy," he mumbles into you and you can't help but chuckle. "I know," you shoot, thumbs on his cheeks, tracing the skin around his lips. "But I think I went crazy the day I set my eyes on you."

Your shameless admission has Cheol groaning into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck. You feel him bury his face in your hair, inhaling deeply before he finds your face again. "You don't know the kinds of thoughts I've had about you," he laughs, eyes hooded, "I can't even think about you without losing it."

You're about to reveal a part of your suffering when your phone starts ringing. When you see Wonwoo's name on the screen, you jump up with a curse. "Shit, it's Wonwoo."

"Who?"

"He's here to pick you up."

"Why?"

You glare at Cheol, "Because you asked me to ask a friend."

"Right," he says slowly, running a hand through his hair. Even now, all you can think is about the way his stomach contracts with the sharpness of his breath. God, you want him so bad.

"I'm gonna ask him to come up here but we should probably get dressed–"

"I don't want to."

You stare at Cheol with a dumbfounded expression. "Cheol, we have to." After much convincing, you manage to get Cheol's shirt back on, just in time for the knock that comes on his door.

"Wonwoo?" you open the door and smile at your friend. Wonwoo looks worried, not returning your greeting. "Y/N, what the fuck is wrong with you? You didn't get the day off so you could come here and–"

Wonwoo's reprimand is cut short when he catches sight of the other man in the room, mouth hanging open. "Oh, this is–" you turn to introduce Cheol but he's already at your side, holding his hand out for Wonwoo. "Seungcheol," his voice has dropped a magical two octaves, eyes cold.

"I'm Wonwoo, Y/N's friend," Wonwoo says back, shaking his hand uneasily. "Anyway, let's get you out of here–" Wonwoo's hand is on yours to guide you out when Cheol's breaking between you, sticking his arm out in front of you with a frown.

"Cheol, what're you–"

"Sorry, you don't have to bother. I'll take her home."

You gape at his declaration, attempting to shake some sense into him with a harsh Cheol under your breath. But he remains unyielding, staring at Wonwoo to back off. Your friend looks puzzled and you sigh, "Wonwoo, I'll come with–"

But Wonwoo's taking a step back, a playful glint in his eye, "Oh, wait, I just remembered I have a thing to pick up for the boss before I go home. Sorry, Y/N, you'll be fine, right?" He doesn't even bother waiting to hear you confirm your safety before he's rushing down the stairs, not even bothering with the elevator.

When he's gone, you stare at Cheol's back. "What the fuck was that?"

He turns to you, "We're not done here."

"Really? That's your excuse? I can't believe you made me call Wonwoo all the way out here–"

"That was before you got me all worked up, doll," he snaps, "And to top it all off, you expected me to watch you get escorted out of here by another man? I'm a nice guy but I can't just let him get his hands all over you."

You can't help the laugh that leaves you, "Cheol, are you jealous right now? Wonwoo's a friend and he's–" Before you can tell him that Wonwoo's already dating Lisa, Cheol's lips are on you, shutting you up for good. He pulls away when you're too weak to say anything back. "I'll drive you home, doll, so stop worrying. I'll apologize to your friend if I have to, but let me take care of you tonight."

Cheol's true to his word, watching your every move as he walks you to his car. You wonder for a second if he came from money, to be able to afford such a nice car on a gym trainer's salary and then, lose your train of thought when he leans forward to strap your seatbelt in. Catching the flush on your cheeks, he chuckles softly, "You're too nervous, doll. I'm not going to kill you and bury your body so why don't you relax for me?"

He turns on the music, soft jazz hitting your ears and easing your nerves. You quietly ask, "Are we going to your place?"

"Since I don't know where you live," he says, "My place it is."

Cheol's a good driver, not to your surprise, with you falling asleep in the passenger seat on the drive to his home. He stirs you awake 20 minutes later, smiling, "We're here."

Your suspicions about Cheol's wealth are confirmed when you set foot in his place, convinced he was sitting on a crazy inheritance to afford the huge apartment where he lived. "My parents divorced when I was young," he explains when he understands your inquisitory looks, "And my mom felt bad about leaving my life so this is her way of saying sorry. Showering me with luxury. It's burdening but I love her too much to say no at this point."

"Plus," he adds, coming to cup your hand in his, "I get to impress girls with it."

You laugh at his comment, pushing him away, "I'm sure you've have lots of girls over."

"You're the only one that matters," he insists, "At least the only sick one I've brought home just so I can nurse back to health."

He sits you down on his couch, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'll make you something to eat, okay? Food's the best medicine."

–

In the following weeks, you come to fall even harder for Cheol because outside the gym, he's a man full of love. He meets you after work every day, leading you to his car so you don't have to take the subway, not paying any mind to your protests. He even holds your hand the whole drive back to either of your places, more often his than yours, because he likes to cook you dinner in his kitchen before he makes love to you in his bed.

It's dizzying, being this in love with a man you've lusted after for so long. The sex is mind-blowing, somehow even better than your dreams. You explore his body every second that you can, lips finding their place on his when you're not busy talking. You kiss his back tattoo and tell how much you love it, tracing the lines of the olive tree until you could draw it in your sleep. He shivers under your touch, his tongue on your own tattoo every time you leave your back exposed around him.

"I tried so hard to keep my hands off you the first time you showed up in that backless bra," he admits one evening, circling your tattoo. "Seeing your tattoo made me feel crazy. I could barely think straight that whole day. All I wanted was to feel every inch of your body."

You bury your head in the pillows beneath you, "I knew it! You did that shit on purpose!"

"Of course I did," his large hands roll you off your stomach and onto your back so you're making eye contact with him. "You think I call every pretty client of mine doll? You think I feel all of them up and down?"

"I hoped you didn't," you sigh into his mouth when it inevitably descends on yours.

"You must think I'm a slut if you doubted it for a second," he laughs. You shrug, "You were too hot to not be one."

It's too late to take your words back when Cheol sits up with a pout, "Wow… That's what I get for being into you? You know what–"

"I'm kidding! Cheol, stop, don't go! I was kidding! Hey, come back!"

–

606 notes · View notes

luveline · 5 months

Note

Babe congrats on quitting!!!

I live coworker!James sm he is so lovely and i cant heló bit asking for more

R having a bad day and James doent know until he teeases her and she just like opens up to James a bit more?

thank you!!

You can’t escape Remus’ sweet questions of concern, though he’s tactful. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus asks, James a haunting somewhere near the customer complaints desk.

“I’m fine.”

“You really don’t wanna come to dinner with me?”

It’s a nice offer, but Remus is part of a package deal, and he’s the only one of the three who isn’t exhausting; Remus’ boyfriend Sirius is well meaning but so beautiful and so alarmingly aware of it, while James is all those things too, but much less subtle about it. “I’m too tired for the walking, thank you. I’m just gonna stay here and eat my sandwich in slow bites.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck. He doesn’t tuck it under his coat. Sirius will do that for him. It’s heartbreaking to see every day, a reminder of real love in the world that will seemingly never touch you, but it’s cute too.

James rockets back to his desk. He’s always in a hurry. Half-frantic, he pulls his rucksack from under his desk and unzips the main body. To your horror, he unveils a large Tupperware of white rice, asparagus, and what looks to be chicken thighs. Next comes his portable knife fork.

He notices your watching. “It’s just rice and chicken,” he says defensively.

“No, I’m not–” You shake your head. “Not about what you’re eating. Eat what you want, James.”

“Don’t I always?” he asks. “Not about what I’m eating. Your general look of disgust and disdain is to do with something else, then. Did you accidentally look in the ladies bathroom mirror again?”

“It’s nothing.”

James tucks his chair in, face paused, hands hesitating at the sides of his dinner and then flat to the desk. “Hey, is something wrong?”

Maybe his comment before struck a nerve. Maybe you’re having a terrible day, and everything’s piling up, and you can’t be expected to keep in your feelings forever. Or maybe you’re dumb. “Guess I did look too long in the mirror,” you say.

“You’re upset?” he asks, startled.

You shake your head vehemently. Slow. “I’m just having a bad day.”

“What happened?”

You stare at him for a moment, take in the concerned twitch of his brows as they pull down and in, the set of his nice mouth, remarking to yourself on how the snarky sarcasm erases itself from his expression so quickly, leaving behind a boy with a very sweet face.

His hand curls into a loose fist. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I don’t know if you ever get this, but sometimes I,” —your face goes white hot suddenly, an acknowledgment of the powers over you you’re giving him in needing reassurance— “look at myself and I feel a bit off. And I thought if I had lunch by myself I’d have time to not be looked at? Um. Which is why I was unhappy. Not because of you.” You frown at him. “You do make me unhappy, though.”

He pretends to laugh at your weak insult, which is generous. “So you actually did get upset looking in the mirror? Shortcake, I was kidding about that, it's not like it makes any sense.”

You frown at one another. “Why not?”

“Because you’re nothing worth being upset over?” James suggests. “You’re pretty. You know you’re pretty.” He points at you with his fork. “You do know?”

“No,” you mumble.

“I’m not telling you again,” he says, looking strangely as though he’d quite like to tell you again.

“I’m consistently below average.”

“Where? Do you have an address? I must go to this place where you’re the standard.”

Something weird and queasy summons to life in your chest, before levelling into a surprising pleasure. That was definitely a compliment, and from James, though annoying he might be, it means a lot. He’s outrageously good looking, after all, and especially when he smiles, which is nearly constant. He’s smiling now with the fondness of someone who knows you better than he actually does.

He ruins it rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Which I’ve come to expect!” he says, sliding a thumb under the clasp of his Tupperware. “Why would you think you’re not lovely? To look at, that is. You’re a huge pain otherwise.”

“That’s uncharacteristically mean, even for you.”

“I’m balancing it out. Want some asparagus?”

You excuse yourself for a quick trip to the bathroom, where you mouth questions at your reflection of the puzzled variety. Has James been replaced by a body snatcher? Or are you finally seeing the version of him everybody else in the office seems to know?

When you get back to your desk, your figurines have been upended by a ‘freak earthquake’. He’s back to normal.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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supernovafics · 5 months

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eddie has a crush on you

wc: 683

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

eddie has a crush on you, and it’s become blatantly obvious to everyone except you.

only days after he met you at the hideout when robin introduced you both, he made you a mixtape. you had half-mentioned that you wanted to get into new music and eddie ran with that information, putting the tape together in just one night and then giving it to robin to give to you since she saw you more often.

the next time you saw him at some group hangout at steve’s house, you told him that you really liked the songs he put on the mixtape and his heart nearly exploded out of his chest. he happily smiled and rambled on and on about some of the specific songs you said you liked, recommending you more songs from the artist and promising that he’d bring you their full album or just make you another mixtape altogether.

that was when everyone saw it, how much he obviously liked you. but, you didn’t.

you saw everything he did for you as just a simple friendly gesture, which was great in your eyes because you wanted more friends in this small town that you moved to only a few months ago.

when he was the only one that would come with you to see some new horror movie at the theater, or when he showed up during your quiet shifts at the bookstore and stayed for a few hours just to keep you company, you simply felt lucky to have him as a friend.

robin was the only one to tell you differently, though.

“oh, come on. he’s looked like a little puppy pining after you these past few weeks. i can’t believe you don’t see it.”

you laughed at her words. “you’re insane.”

“no, i’m right,” she said and you only shook your head in response, another laugh falling from your lips because you still couldn’t really believe it.

that changed only a week later, when you got sick and robin told eddie, and then he showed up to your place armed with chicken noodle soup, cough syrup, and a few movies that you had mentioned to him one time that you really liked.

“you made this yourself?” you asked as you poured the soup out of its tupperware and into a bowl.

he smiled sheepishly at you as he nodded. “yeah… it actually wasn’t that hard, though. this lady at the grocery store helped me get the ingredients and then basically wrote down the instructions for me too.”

you gave him a small smile. “thank you.”

you looked down at the bowl of soup. him making it was probably the nicest thing someone had ever done for you, and that was when you finally knew. it was also when you realized how you felt too.

you both settled on your couch after you ate the soup. one of the movies eddie brought over was playing in front of you and your head was against his shoulder because the cough syrup was making you a little sleepy.

“eddie,” you said with a sniffle maybe halfway through the movie and turned your head to look at him. there was something about the drowsiness of the medicine that made you feel a little bold in that moment. “do you like me? like, more than just as a friend?”

how red his cheeks got at your questions told you everything you needed to know, but he still gave you a flustered response. “oh, um, yeah. yeah, i do… but, i completely understand if you don’t and—”

you cut him off with a quick shake of your head and you gave him a small smile. “no, it’s okay. i like you too.”

the immediate elated grin that broke out on his face at your words made you want to kiss him, but you refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to make him sick too; you were also too tired.

“oh. nice. cool,” he said, trying to act normal about it all but was still smiling widely.

you laughed a bit. “cool.”

#this has been sitting in my drafts for 5ever at this point so i’m finally setting her free<33 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n

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pretty-little-fools · 11 months

Text

#tupperware #70's #vintage #tupperware lady #late 70's #1979

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pshaven · 11 months

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ᥫ᭡ shotgun!

pairing! bsf!sunghoon x fem!reader x bsf!jake

wc! 5.6k+

cw! getting high, weed, shotgunning, oral (f & m receiving), face/throatfucking, p in v, if u squint there’s some plot, jake calls reader pretty/pretty girl, SWITCH SUNGHOOOONNN, softdom!jake to hard(?)dom! jake, WHINY SUNGHOON, kinda jealous n possessive jake nuanced, i think thats all lmk if i missed anything pls!

synopsis! when your best friend jake tells you about your cute new neighbor, sunghoon, you begin to take a liking to him and invite him to hang out. as the three of you begin to become closer, you make a realization that sunghoon is much more modest than you thought.

The first time you meet Sunghoon was through Jake. It was only a mere pass by when Jake saw Sunghoon moving into the apartment room next to yours while visiting and he had just caught a glance of him before entering your apartment unannounced. “Yo, new guy moving in next to you.” Your ears perk up at his words.

“What? The old lady finally moved out? Thank god, if I was going to get one more noise complaint from her I was about to get kicked out. How old is the new guy? Did you get a good look at him?” you bombard Jake with your curious questions as he gives you a mere shrug.

“About our age, I guess. He looks pretty young, but I dunno. Looks are deceiving. Like, you, for example,” he jokes with you, but you furrow your brows in confusion. Jake notices the confusion on your face, rolling his eyes. “I'm saying, the way you act doesn’t match the way you look.”

The next day, curiosity gets the best of you and you want to know what the new neighbor of yours looks like. Purposefully leaving some leftovers from last night’s takeout with Jake, you knock on the door with the tupperware in your hands. He takes a while to open the door, and you think that maybe he wasn’t home and prepare yourself to leave in humiliation but the door suddenly swings open, and your mouth feels dry.

“Hi?” Sunghoon says in a questioningly manner, head tilted to the side as you stare at him dumbfoundedly. He’s much cuter than you expected, and you curse Jake in your head for not telling you ahead of time that this guy is definitely your type. Jake, of all people, knows what your type is, and you assume he chose to not tell you on purpose so that you’d make a fool out of yourself.

You blink, slowly extending the tupperware of leftovers towards him. “I, um, I’m your neighbor, live right across from you. I had these leftovers, and thought I’d introduce myself to you, but I didn’t have anything else to give you and I can’t come empty handed.” You thought he’d give you a weird look, because why in the world would you give him your leftovers? Not even some homemade cookies or something?, but instead he takes the tupperware out of your hands and gives you a slight bow to show his gratitude.

“Cool, now I have something to eat for dinner other than instant ramen,” he says with a cheeky grin, and you think you might die; he’s so cute. The next thing you don’t expect is that he invites you in so that he could repay the favor, to which you insist that he really doesn’t have to, but who are you to deny a cute boy who wants you over at his place!

It’s 2:53am when you get back to your own apartment, and you immediately dial Jake to tell you about your time with the new guy, to which you have learned that his name is Sunghoon. Of course, when you call, Jake answers, so within two rings, despite it being in the middle of the night, he answers with a groggy “what’s up?”

You're high on adrenaline because of your newly developed crush on your neighbor and spending, basically, half of the night with him talking. “Oh my gosh, you won’t believe what just happened!” Before Jake can even guess or say anything, you’re already explaining your night with Sunghoon and the conversations that you two had. Jake’s half listening, still blinking his eyes open from the deep sleep that was interrupted and also because he can’t ignore this bad feeling in his gut, he feels like he might be sick as you continue to laugh and giggle to yourself over something stupid Sunghoon said. But the sick feeling easily goes away because your voice soothes him, and he feels himself snooze back to sleep.

“Jake? Hello?” You check your volume on your phone to make sure that it was up, but then a soft snore ensures that your volume is up. You smile to yourself, laying down on your bed as you set your phone beside your pillow. “G’night Jake,” you say in a soft murmur, leaving the call to run until morning.

You’re convinced that Jake and Sunghoon would make great friends, but for some reason Jake is reluctant over meeting him, which you considered odd since Jake loves meeting new people.

“But why not? I’ll come up with some excuse as to why we have to leave if you don’t like him! But I think that’s highly unlikely…” You try your best to egg him on, but he scrunches up his nose as if he was grimacing. You sigh, slipping off the couch and getting onto your knees, perfectly in between his manspread thighs as you plead with your hands interlaced together.

Jake’s eyes widen, suddenly squirmish as he bursts out a “O-Okay Okay! I will meet Sunghoon, jeez.” Why are you so adamant on him meeting Sunghoon?

You make a realization after Jake and Sunghoon’s first meeting– Jake’s a liar.

“He’s alright,” Jake says with a mere shrug, acting all unbothered as if he didn’t just spend the last two hours laughing his ass off at Sunghoon’s silly dad jokes. “You only like him because you’re bored, you’re looking for entertainment.” You feign a hurt gasp, hand over your chest with exaggeration.

“What? Nuh-uh!” You shove his chest, and he only grins at you. “You won’t leave me for him, right?” Jake asks with a sad pout, but you both know he’s just joking and totally not from his insecurities of losing you to your new neighbor.

Despite Jake’s words, the three of you find yourselves constantly hanging out with each other, mostly in your apartment and then going out for some late dinner at a place that opens late. Jake has no real bite, all bark since he’s asking when’s the next time Sunghoon can come over and hang. You think he’s got the bad case of a friend crush.

“Look what I have~” Jake hums, holding up a ziploc baggie of greens, and you sigh as you shake your head. “You know we’re hanging out with Sunghoon tonight, right? We can’t.” You inform him, to which he responds with a pout as he sets the baggie down on your kitchen counter before flopping onto the couch with you, head on your lap as he sulks.

“Stop being a big baby. We can tomorrow, if you want. Just not in front of Sunghoon,” you say, running a hand through his hair as you scroll mindlessly through Instagram reels.

“What not in front of me?” A second voice comes in, followed by your front door being shut. Both yours and Jake’s heads pop up from the sudden intrusion. Sunghoon has a raised brow, setting down his coat on your island, next to Jake’s baggie. “What’s this?” He refers to the green, to which you grimace and Jake lets out a sheepish chuckle.

“Nothin’, man! Come on, what are you craving for dinner? McDonalds?” Jake replies, standing up from the couch as he makes his way towards Sunghoon, reaching for the baggie before Sunghoon could question it any more.

“We just had McDonalds yesterday. Plus, it’s Y/n’s turn to choose, anyway. What do ya want?” Sunghoon furrows his brows at Jake’s suspicious actions as he quickly swipes away the baggie and slips it into his back pocket. So much for subtlety.

You straighten out your clothes as you stand up, shrugging your shoulders as you join the two boys. “Mmm…kinda craving some pho. You two okay with that?” And of course they’re okay with that, they’ll agree to anything you say or want, because, it’s you.

“I call shotgun!” Jake shouts as you open your front door while Sunghoon grabs his keys from his pocket. You playfully pout, “No fair… you always get shotgun.”

“So, are you guys gonna tell me what you guys can’t do around me?” Sunghoon suddenly asks, setting his ice cream sundae from McDonald's aside (as if the three of you didn’t get McDonalds yesterday already). Both you and Jake give each other a quick glance, and you sigh because you feel bad leaving Sunghoon out of something as the three of you have gotten so close over the last few weeks.

You reach over to the front passenger seat where Jake is sitting, digging your hand in his back pocket to find his baggie, to which he yelps in surprise at your hand coming in contact with his ass. “Hey! At least take me out to dinner first,” Jake frowns, and you roll your eyes. “We just had dinner, stupid,” you retort.

You hold the baggie of greens up to show Sunghoon, “It’s weed,” to put it simply. He slowly nods, as if he’s understanding a math problem but his furrowed brows and curious eyes tell you that he has more questions.

“I’ve never seen it in real life before,” he muses, more to himself than to either you or Jake, but you and Jake give each other another glance of silent communication. You open up the bag, interrupting Sunghoon’s little trance. “You wanna try?” You ask.

Sunghoon has his suspicions, but he can’t deny that he’s insanely curious and wants to know what it feels like. And, well, if you do it, he’ll do it. “I’ll take it with you,” You reassure him, and Jake is quick to add on a “me too!”

He slowly nods, shuffling in his driver's seat as he turns more to look at you in the backseat. “C-can, um, you guys do it first?” He’s stumbling over his words because he’s nervous, he’s never done anything like this before and has only seen weed on the news. You nod, handing over the bag to Jake to let him prep (because you’re lazy and you’re also his princess).

Jake glides his tongue on the edge of the wrap before sealing it, handing it over to you first. You take it with gratitude, putting the tip of it in your mouth and Jake brings a lighter up to the blunt, hand covering the light to ensure that it stays lit up. He pats your cheek lightly before you take a deep inhale, blowing it in Jake’s direction that is followed by a laugh.

“Wow, I roll and light it up for you and this is how you treat me? I’m offended, really.” Jake’s voice laced with sarcasm before snatching it out of your hands and taking an inhale himself. After he’s finished, blowing the smoke towards the dashboard as he’s trying to avoid directly blowing it towards Sunghoon, who has his nose scrunched up.

“It smells really strong,” He mumbles with a slight frown, and you grin at him. “We can roll down the windows, if you want…” You hum, leaning closer towards his seat, “But it feels better with the windows up,” you lower your voice, popping the ‘P’ at the end. His frown turns into confusion at your words, but he chooses not to question you.

“Do you guys feel it already?” He asks, eyes staring at the blunt in Jake’s hand. You both shake your head. “Nah, only one hit won’t do it for us. But for you, it will,” Jake informs, and Sunghoon hums in thought. “Then, can you guys keep going until you feel it? I don’t really wanna be the first one to be…um, high…”

You both nod, you and Jake taking multiple turns with the blunt before you start to feel it hitting. You lean your head against Sunghoon’s seat, staring at Jake as he takes a hit, his eyes starting to get a little red as he stares at you back. Sunghoon clears his throat, is he interrupting something?, “Are…are you guys feeling it now? Are you guys okay?” He asks, only concerned for his two friends.

You both nod slowly, silly grins on your features as Jake gestures to Sunghoon the blunt. “You still wanna take it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” He says, reassuring but his voice is dropped down an octave from the weed. Sunghoon gives a firm nod, he wants to, and plus, not like anything bad will happen.

Sunghoon takes the blunt out of Jake’s hand, holding it up towards his lips but you reach for his hand before he could do anything else. “Noo! Other side, Hoonie,” you help him flip the blunt around, and he nods and puts it between his lips. He looks at both you and Jake for reassurance, and you both give him a lazy smile and a thumbs up. He takes a deep breath in, trying to hold it in for as long as you did the first time, before letting out a few coughs in vain. You frown, rubbing his back in comfort as he recovers. “You okay, Hoonie?” You ask, and he nods, eyes still examining the blunt in his hands before he decides to put it between his lips again to take another hit. You and Jake exchange yet another glance, but Jake has a fair share of taking care of high people while being high himself, so what’s another?

Taking in a shorter inhale, he successfully blows it out before handing it to you. Jake giggles a bit at Sunghoon’s expression, seeing him already a bit dazed out as he leans his head against the headrest. “You like it?” Jake asks, in which Sunghoon responds with a lazy nod and a thumbs up. The three of you go into a fit of laughter over nothing, sharing the blunt between the three of you until it’s finished.

“O-M-G, Y/n and Jake, you guys basically kissed. ‘Cuz you two shared the same blunt!” Sunghoon exclaims in realization, fingers pointing at the two of you. You give him a raised brow and a small laugh, “Well, then that means we kissed too, Sunghoon. We also shared the blunt.” Jake interrupts with a gasp, then a fake gag, “Eww! That means Sunghoon and I kissed too! Bro, no offense, but gross.”

Sunghoon pouts at Jake before turning his attention back on you, hands reaching for your sweater and tugging on the sleeve, “Y/n. Which one of us is the better kisser? Me or Jake? You hafta be honest!” Jake scoffs at this before reaching for your other sleeve, also tugging on it with more force so that you’ll pay more attention to him. “Obviously, me. I real kissed her!” He announces proudly.

You cringe as Sunghoon’s face twists into confusion. “Huh? What do you mean, ‘real’ kissed her?” He asks while looking at you, a cute, pouty frown appearing on his features. You sigh, “It was just a weird, ‘heat of the moment’ thing… It was so long ago, really! And we swore to not speak of it again,” your last sentence laced with venom as you give Jake a look, where he only gave a sheepish shrug in reply.

“Fine, then. Guess I’ll have to make it even myself.” Sunghoon says quickly, giving you no time to react before you feel his unfamiliar lips on yours, but within seconds it starts to feel natural and the two of you mold together and exchange lazy and wet kisses.

Sunghoon has a different way of kissing than what you’re normally used to; he’s more deliberate– his kisses are with purpose and he likes to add sharp bites (all thanks to his fangs that you like to fantasize about in your free time) to your bottom lip. You make a muffled noise, a mix between a moan and a whine and both boys can feel both of their pants tighten.

Jake is quick to recline his seat all the way back, fondling with the bottom hem of your sweater, his other hand palming himself through his sweats. “Not fair, you’re hogging her!” He complains, grabbing the bottom of your chin, interrupting your kiss with Sunghoon as he guides you to meet his lips, your head dipping down.

“Looks like you’re getting my sloppy seconds,” Sunghoon teases while his hands are discovering your thighs, roaming every part until he gets to your shorts– flimsy and of thin cloth material that makes Sunghoon grin from ear to ear.

Jake’s too busy eating your face off to retort back, guiding your hand to palm over his pants, leading to him moaning into your mouth. “Lucky me, I like getting a little messy,” Jake replies when you both part to catch your breath. You whine impatiently at Sunghoon’s teasing fingers that are so close to where you need him. “Pretty girl…” Jake hums as he cups your cheek in such a loving manner that makes you think you’ve done it with him before (maybe you did, maybe you didn’t), “Use your words for him,” he says, nuzzling your cheek as he begins to pepper kisses.

You pout, eyes darting over to Sunghoon who’s already looking at you with hooded eyes, “Need you to tell me where you want me.” You immediately feel yourself break at his tone of voice; it’s so needy, you think he might start begging if you don’t say or do anything in the next minute. You nod quickly, “Here, want you here,” you gasp, grabbing his hand and guiding it over your clothed cunt, and you hear a swift curse leave Sunghoon’s lips.

But he pauses for a moment, and you try to buck your hips in a weak attempt for any friction possible and Jake notices. He chuckles a bit, still leaving wet kisses along your neck, “What? Don’t know what to do? ‘S okay, Hoon. I’ll teach you.” Sunghoon seems to frown a bit at Jake’s cocky words, but if he’s upset he doesn’t say anything and instead retracts his hand to give Jake’s hand room in between your legs.

Jake pulls away from your neck to intently look at your facial expressions as his index finger rubs light circles on your clothed cunt as if experimenting. “Jakeee,” you whine, lower lip pouting exaggeratedly and he plays with your hair with his other hand. “I know you missed me down here, pretty thing. I got ya,” Jake muses, hand suddenly dipping past your panties and finding your clit immediately which causes you to squeal in surprise, hand shooting to grab at his forearm.

“Heyyy~” Jake chuckles, “You’re the one who asked so nicely, why’re you declining now?” He jokes teasingly as his fingers prod at your hole, index finger slowly inserting inside you. You gasp, eyes shutting close as you feel the high start to wear off, suddenly getting a bit embarrassed. “Nuh-uh, eyes open. Look at Sunghoon, make sure he’s looking and learning,” Jake says as he pats your cheek softly and your eyes open in response, glossed eyes looking over at Sunghoon whose own eyes are darting between your face and where Jake’s hand is in between your legs.

“Take it off,” Sunghoon suddenly says in an impatient manner, and both you and Jake look at him in a bit of shock. “I can’t see,” he says like a baby who can’t see the fireworks on the fourth of July, but you obey anyway as you quickly kick off your flimsy shorts and panties onto the seat next to you. “So pretty,” is the next thing Sunghoon says as if he’s in a trance, and Jake only worsens it by spreading your pussy lips, and you swear you can see your wetness shine in the reflection of Sunghoon’s rearview mirror.

“It is, isn’t it? Wanna taste?” Jake promptly asks, and Sunghoon is quick to nod like he’s stuck on autopilot. You almost want to giggle, he’s like a lost puppy who wants to experience everything. Jake nods, and he pats your thigh before patting his own, motioning for you to lay on his lap. You climb your way to the front, and once you reach Jake’s lap, he’s quick to manhandle you to lay sideways on his lap so that your cunt is on full display for Sunghoon. You yelp in surprise, taken aback by the sudden four hands that latch onto your body– Sunghoon’s on your thighs and Jake’s going up your stomach to fondle with your breasts.

“Don’t be shy, Y/nnie. You know how to guide him, like you did for me before, right?” Jake taunts you, and your facial expression turns meek as you nod slightly, hands reaching for Sunghoon’s hair and slowly guiding his head down to meet with your pussy. “Just–” You start, but Jake interrupts you with a pinch of your nipples, “Just pretend like you’re making out with me, but it’s my cunt instead…” Your breath staggers a bit as Jake begins to play more rough, but you manage to give Sunghoon a small, reassuring smile before he dips down.

You soon realize that Sunghoon’s definition of “making out with your cunt” is different from Jake’s. The boy between your legs presses a soft kiss to your clit, then a little kitten lick, and what catches you off guard is how his tongue is suddenly in between your slit, lapping as if he’s searching for something. You immediately gasp, your hand originally resting on his head now turning into a fist. “Sh-shit!”

Jake’s always been more messy, with no technique or tactic but it’s so sloppy it still feels amazing, but Sunghoon goes in like he has an objective— to make you cum. His tongue does wonders in your entrance, and your pussy definitely responds back to him as your wetness continuously leaks down your thighs. “Taste good, Hoon?” Jake asks, but Sunghoon can’t even respond with words, he just nods against your cunt like an eager puppy.

“F-fuck—!” Your moans getting interrupted by none other than Jake, his lips meeting yours but you don’t expect the cloud of smoke to enter your mouth. Your eyes blink up at him, seeing a freshly rolled blunt in his free hand. When did he even roll that?! But you’re not one to complain, the effects of the smoke only heightening your pleasure.

You whine and beg, for both Sunghoon to not stop and for Jake to keep shotgunning for you, to which he complies because it’s just another excuse to keep kissing you without looking too selfish. You moan into Jake’s mouth for the nth time, Jake pulling away as he uses his other hand to reach down, finding your clit.

“Time to make you cum, pretty,” Jake hums, his index and middle finger rubbing deliberate circles as Sunghoon’s tongue works inside of you, drinking in all of your juices. You think Sunghoon might be enjoying this more than you, with him moaning and groaning into your entrance nonstop.

With the sudden intrusion of Sunghoon’s fingers replacing his tongue, you whine and gasp, free hand reaching down between your legs to grip on Sunghoon’s wrist tightly as if trying to pull him away but he’s a lot more resilient, fingers only speeding up. You look at him, seeing your wetness glistening on his face as he looks at you with such determination and admiration in his eyes, and you break.

“Oh my—Fuck! I’m cum—nng!” You moan aloud, legs beginning to shake as both Jake and Sunghoon help you ride out your high, eyes shutting as you try to catch your breath. Jake is first to caress your sides soothingly, thumb rubbing tenderly on your stomach. “You alright?” He asks, and you nod with a dopey smile on your face.

“More than alright… gimme another hit,” you mumble, referring to the blunt in Jake’s hand. He hands it to you as you begin to sit up on Jake’s lap, him stifling back a moan as you shift around on his hard on. You inhale from the lit up stick, glancing at Sunghoon who seems to be a bit dazed out, honestly probably already pussy drunk. You reach for his face, both hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him in for a shotgun.

His surprised whine is muffled by your tongue slipping in, and he’s quick to reciprocate the deep kiss while Jake decides to travel his hands down the small of your back. “Can I…” Jake trails off, but you already know he’s gesturing to your wet cunt. You shake your head against Sunghoon before pulling away, “So selfish. You get my mouth, you’ve already had my pussy before.”

Jake can’t even get a whine of complaint out before you’re pulling down at his pants, laying sideways across the console. A bit uncomfortable, but you’re sure you’ll be far too distracted to consider comfort as your first worry. He lifts his hips up to help you, hard cock leaking pre on his boxers. You grin up at him as you lean close, giving a quick lick at the wet spot to which he shudders, hand finding its way into your hair. “Suck or I’ll make it difficult for you to breathe,” Jake grumbles impatiently, slipping his boxers halfway down his thighs as his free hand takes hold of his cock to smother the tip all over your lips.

Sunghoon is also quick at work with you, shifting his seat a bit more back so that he has more room. He grabs hold of your thighs like before when he was eating you out, quickly undoing his own bottoms. He takes his cock out, tip nudging at your entrance but he’s unintentionally teasing you– his tip prodding at your hole that’s begging to be filled and to your clit that is throbbing with need.

You groan, swatting Jake’s hand away from the base of his cock to replace it with your own, “Please, inside, now! Need it!” You beg, playfully lifting your ass up a bit before Jake’s cock enters your hot mouth. He gasps in surprise, the hand in your hair tightening as he grabs clumps of hair at your scalp. “Shit–” He moans, head thrown back on the carseat, “Put it in, Hoon. What’re ya waitin’ for?” He mutters, but it doesn’t go unheard by the boy as you feel him start to enter your wet cunt, causing you to suck harder on Jake’s dick as a reward for encouraging Sunghoon.

“Oh…Oh my–Fuck!” Sunghoon swears, the grip on your hips and ass is tight enough to leave bruises until the next morning, as he’s bottoming out on you. You moan around Jake’s cock at the stretch, shaking your ass a bit to tease Sunghoon but the fingernails digging at your hips are telling you it’s a bit too much for him. “S-stop… shit. I think…” He sighs, breath heavy as he’s panting, “I need a moment…”

You giggle a bit at him but let him recollect himself, enjoying the warmth of his length inside of you. But the sudden thrust of Jake’s cock in your mouth catches back your attention. “Don’t lose focus on me, now, pretty. Didn’t I say suck? Or do you just not want to breathe?” His brow raises in question, but you think Jake wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you so you disobey, your mouth and tongue staying still with his cock still resting inside.

“So cute,” he mumbles, and your eyes crinkle a bit in a smile but it’s soon replaced with wide eyes of shock when his hand tightens his grip on your hair, cock now repeatedly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your gasps and whines are muffled, spit now drooling at the corner of your mouths and down onto his dick that only makes Jake’s cock twitch at the sloppiness. “Fuck, you really are so cute, aren’t you?”

You begin to feel shallow thrusts of Sunghoon’s cock inside; it's slow and short like he’s testing the waters. He pulls out until his tip only remains, seeing your juices glisten on the veins of his cock. He swears underneath his breath before bottoming out in one swift thrust, causing you to lurch forward and choke on Jake.

“My god—“ Jake hisses, eyes darting over to Sunghoon for a moment, “Do that again.” And like the obedient puppy he is, Sunghoon complies and pulls out all the way til his tip before going back in particularly hard, your mouth going deeper on Jake’s when you swear you can feel Sunghoon in your stomach.

“Feels so—so good,” Sunghoon moans out, feeling the way you clench around him at his whiney words. His thrusts become more quick but he still manages to feel so deep inside of you. You moan wantonly around Jake, hips becoming impatient as you begin to thrust back onto Sunghoon to chase your orgasm.

Jake’s hips don’t stop either from thrusting in and out of your mouth, his lap now all messy from your spit and drool. “You’re so pretty, just for us, yeah? Shit—“ Jake groans when he feels your throat contract around him, “Can’t hold back, g’na cum—hnng!” He holds your head steadily around his cock, thumb rubbing your cheek soothingly as he moans out your name.

He finally releases you, his hand still cupping your chin as he forces your jaw open to see his cum pooling inside your mouth. “Shit, so hot,” he mumbles before closing your mouth, patting the side of your cheek to signal you to swallow. You do so, your throat hurts a bit from the facefuck but you feel already more than satisfied.

You paw at Jake’s chest, and he understands when he pulls you into a sweet kiss, swallowing each and every moan that Sunghoon elicits out of you from behind, a bit too possessively, you would think if you weren’t fucked out of your mind.

“H-hoon…” You whine when Jake gives you time to breathe from your kiss. Sunghoon is already holding back from cumming so soon, his thrusts already getting a bit sloppy and his fingernails digging deep into your sides. “Ye—“ He gets cut off by his own shivers, “Yeah?”

“You- you can c-cum,” You try to tell him, voice going broken at the force of his thrusts, like he’s on a mission but you can tell he’s holding back. He gasps at your words, as if you had just given him permission to enter the gates of heaven. “Wh-what about you?” He asks, but his thrusts are already speeding up and going harder despite his concern for you.

“I’ll cum with you,” You say, looking up at Jake to silently ask for his help to make you cum, and he’s quick to respond as his hand snakes its way down your stomach to play with your clit while Sunghoon pounds needily into you. Your moans get louder with both the stimulation from Jake’s fingers playing with you and being filled by Sunghoon.

“Y/n.. I’m sorry—Ca-can’t take it, need to cum n-now—“ Sunghoon gasps in a loud whine, his hips now glued to your ass as he comes inside, his body losing control as he slumps over yours, his moans fanning your neck that gives you shivers. “F-fuck! Oh my godddd, shit, Jake!” You squeal, Jake’s fingers unrelenting on your clit as he rubs faster and even gives a few slaps to your pussy that catch you off guard.

“W-wait!” Sunghoon exclaims breathlessly, your pussy contracting around his cock as your orgasm approaches you quickly, your hips starting to buck against Jake’s hand but unintentionally stimulating Sunghoon’s already overstimulated cock inside of you.

You lift your head up a bit to look at Sunghoon, his sweaty forehead and furrowed brows are too cute and too hot to resist kissing him. Your hands grip onto Jake’s arm as you cum hard all over Sunghoon’s cock, moaning into his mouth through your kiss that he can barely reciprocate from being too exhausted.

Sunghoon eventually pulls away from you, out of breath as his chest heaves up and down when he leans back against the car window. You think you hear Jake growl from behind you, but you’re quickly distracted when he pulls you into another kiss with him, hand wrapping gently around your throat as he makes out with you sloppily.

You pull away when you feel Sunghoon shift a bit inside you, his dick beginning to soften. “Um, you can pull out, now…” You tell him softly like he’ll be hurt by it but he nods, a tense look on his face that makes you question what’s wrong. “Well, I w-would but, I feel too sensitive…” Sunghoon mumbles shyly, eyes trained on your entrance where his dick is still trapped inside.

You giggle, and despite your whole body feeling wobbly, you manage to sit up and let his cock slide out of you with ease, his cum now drooling out of your entrance, causing Sunghoon to hiss. “Was it too much?” You ask him, and Sunghoon’s attention from his overly sensitive dick is now on you from your question. “Wh-what? No, not at all… it was really good…” he answers you, eyes determined to portray his reassurance that he’s alright.

“Good! Then next time, you two can switch,” You grin, to which the boys both exchange confused glances before looking back at you. “Switch… switch what?” Jake asks you, a brow raised as his hand absentmindedly rubs up and down your arm.

“Don’t think you’re so subtle with your jealousy, Jaeyun~” Your tone laced in a hum, hand reaching up to ruffle up his hair. His jaw goes agape for a second, before his mouth is running with excuses for his previous actions. Sunghoon snickers at Jake, “Aw, didn’t know you were jealous of me, Jakey-poo.”

Jake gives him a death stare, which could probably last the whole car ride back home if you didn’t do something about it. “You are both so cute,” you pout as you admire the both of them, and they turn their heads to you like puppies, “Now why don’t you both just kiss and makeup, hm?”

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon x reader #sim jake #sim jaeyun #jake smut #jaeyun smut #jake x reader #jaeyun x reader #smut #kpop smut

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on-a-lucky-tide · 19 days

Text

Nik and Price get in the ring after the sergeants tire of them heckling from the ropes. Bravo Six learns something new about himself.

CW: blatant sexual tension; mention of choking out in an MMA context; desire for forced submission (and being very into it but also bloody terrified by that desire).

"MacTavish, stop droppin' your hands! KorTac'd walk an entire detachment through that guard," Price called from Soap's left just as Gaz locked his arm, twisted and threw him over his shoulder, "fuck, Christ."

Price rubbed his eyes and glanced over at Nik through the eventual gaps in his fingers. Nik had been clapping and whooping enthusiastically every time Gaz had landed a blow, drowning out the thump-thump of the sergeants' preferred playlist, and now he was beaming from ear to ear. "Kharoshaya rabota, well done!" Nik called, thick forearms slanting across the rope as Gaz bound Soap's chest and arm up into an arm bar.

Nik was looking frustratingly good that evening, the drop tank he'd thrown on to lift weights with Ghost hanging low under his arms, giving Price far too good a view of the heavy set physique beneath. He'd been worried about getting caught staring at the dumbbell rack while Nik had counted through the reps of a single arm row, every line and tendon in his shoulder and tricep pressing through sweat-sheened skin, so he had spent a bit longer on squats, hoping the burn in his thighs overcame the burn somewhere else.

Price figured it was the easy confidence with which Nik carried himself that had always drawn his eye. Open chested, spread arms, hips first. Not afraid to be looked at and proud of what he had to display. And what's worse? Price was pretty fucking sure Nik knew he was looking. Played up to it, in fact. Funny for him, miserable for Price. Bastard.

Gaz rolled away as Soap tapped out, panting from the exertion of keeping Soap subdued, hands on his knees, but grinning right back at Nik. "Ochin mela, spasiba bolshoya.*

"Ahh, and your Russian is coming on well, my brother. Soon you will be wooing all the ladies, eh? Heh heh."

"Learned from the best, mate," Gaz said as he bounded over to take Nik's hand and bump their shoulders together.

Price eyeballed Soap as he clambered to his feet with a groan. "What the fuck was that? I've seen better footwork on crows fresh out of selection."

"Aye, well," Soap flexed backwards, his hands at the base of his spine, "nae my fault Gaz's b'in trainin' with daddy KGB over there."

Price grabbed Soap by the jaw. "Should send you on a yomp at 0400 tomorrow for that kinda talk. Stop makin' excuses." Soap grimaced and Price saw the sting of his words pass through his eyes before they drifted across to Gaz. Price squinted. "You broken?"

"Naw, sir."

"Then get the fuck back over there and wipe the floor with him. Stop taking the bait he's layin' out for you." Price shoved Soap's jaw away from him and slumped back against the ropes.

The sergeant bashed his fists together in front of his chest and turned back into the ring with a look of determination, bumping gloves with Gaz before pulling back to start the next round. He didn't allow himself to be led by the nose this time, circling with nifty footwork, swaying away from a mean right hook that narrowly missed his jaw.

"That's it, don't let him dictate the fight," Price said.

"Eh, sir, you playin' favourites?" Gaz called, his smile never fading as he teased Soap into another right hook, dancing deftly out of range.

"Neither of you qualify. Simon's my favourite."

Said Lieutenant was currently sitting by the speaker with a battered Terry Pratchett novel, his tupperware of steak and garlic potatoes balanced on his knee so that he could eat and read simultaneously. He might have smirked, but the overloaded fork of protein and carbs he shovelled into his mouth hid it from view.

"Och, didn't even hesitate. Cold," Soap said.

"Fuckin' baltic, mate - oop! Nearly, Tav." Gaz dodged out of Soaps attempted clinch, light on his feet, and bounced back round.

The playlist flicked over to yet another generic anthem dredged from the seedy club scene and Price glanced over his shoulder. "Turn that shit down, Simon."

The lieutenant obliged without looking up, if only by a few notches, before his hand returned to his fork.

"Easy, Gaz, you must watch his right leg," Nik said.

"Cheat," Price grunted.

"Poshel tuy, what's good for Soap is good for Gaz." Nik damn near pouted, arms folding across his broad chest as he quirked an eyebrow in challenge.

"Come over here and tell me to fuck myself in my own gym," Price growled back, bristling. Nik only smiled at him toothily, a glint in his eye and a tilt of the head that said 'I'd love to' in a way that made heat lick down Price's spine. It drove him crazy, how Nik could have that effect without even touching him. It was a distraction though; Price looked back to the fight only to spot Soap's demise a second later. "Soap, d--"

An overstep. A throw. An attempted grapple on the floor, followed by a deep sprawl that allowed Gaz to force Soap into the mat. Soap tried to flip onto his back, but within moments Gaz was sitting on his chest and raining punches down on the backs of his gloves as he shielded his head.

Price let Soap take a reasonable beating as punishment for his poor focus before barking from the ropes. "Callin' it, Garrick, get off his sorry arse."

Gaz rolled onto his feet and Soap grunted as he sat up. "Ah need tae get a few sessions in with Nik..."

"Nah, ya need t' get your head in the fight," Price replied. "Maybe turn your drum and bass shite down so you can focus."

"It's not drum and bass, s--"

"Can it, Garrick."

"Sir."

Soap jutted his lower lip, grabbing the lower rope for support as he stood. "Ah think ye should come show me how it's done," Soap murmured, pulling out his gum shield to flex his jaw. "Get in here n' kick th' shit outta him, rather n' gripin' from the sidelines."

"Oh ho ho, no way, he's not sandbaggin' me," Gaz lifted his gloves in immediate surrender. "He can pick on someone his own size. You're up, Nik."

Nik's face lit up with the most feral fucking grin Price had ever seen on a man. "I am ready if you are, captain."

Price could feel the fire under his skin; a burning desire to knock that silly grin off Nik's face and put him back in his place. Or, that's what he told himself. Because his eyes weren't exactly on Nik's face; they were tracing the broad shelf of his shoulders and the thick curves of his biceps, imagining them subdued in a grapple, and the sounds Nik would make as he tried to fight his way out. That same heat curled in his gut and he figured the only way he was going to extinguish it was with fists. "Fine, fuck it, sergeants, out."

"Ooh, shit," Gaz cackled, ducking under the ropes to stand on the edge of the mat, followed closely by Soap.

Price ditched his shirt and snagged his grappling gloves before stepping into the ring. As he wrapped his wrists, Price's gaze wandered to the slope of Nik's back, the curves of his arse and thighs testing the generous cut of his shorts, and had to breathe deeply through his nose to get his bloody pulse rate under control. It was adrenalin before a fight against a worthy opponent, he told himself.

The damn front wasn't any easier to look at once that drop tank had been removed, especially when Nik bounced from foot to foot and his chest moved with the momentum. He threw his arms in a few test punches at the air and rolled his head from side to side, relaxed and limber. Price chewed on the inside of his cheek and finished securing his gloves. The music was doing his nut in. "Turn that shit off," Price growled in Soap's general direction.

Soap removed his mouth guard and rolled his jaw before calling across to Simon. "Ay, L.T., put on somethin' more their vibe."

This time, Simon deigned to look up from his novel to pick a song. As Benny Andersson's fingers slid down the keys of his clavinet and Abba's 1976 Hit single 'Dancing Queen' droned from the raspy gym speaker, Price decided Simon was no longer his favourite.

Nik seemed content with the choice, however; extending his arm with the other held in front of him like he was dancing with an invisible partner, crooning along to "you can dance, you can ji-i-ive" like he was at a seventies disco. Soap and Gaz guffawed and whooped loudly on the sidelines.

"Bloody muppets," Price grumbled. "Oi, today, Nikolai. London rules." He lifted his fists and moved forward.

Nik knocked his knuckles to Price's and then stepped out of range in time to dodge a cheeky swipe. "Nu vot, Price. Not Queensbury? I thought you were a gentleman." The grin on Nik's face said he'd thought no such thing.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Salt of the earth country boy, no?"

"Hmm."

Nik was bigger, slower, which meant Price could stay out of his way and wear him down with well targeted hits. He knew there was an injury in Nik's back to take advantage of too. If it came to it, Price wasn't above fighting dirty to win. Hit and run was the way to go with big fighters like Nik.

Nimble and quick, Price landed a few punches to Nik's chest and a leg kick or two within the first few minutes, but Nik absorbed them, batting away another aimed for his head and retaliating with a hard right book that Price barely dodged in time.

"Watch it, cap!"

"He's landin' easy ones, Nik. C'mon!"

Price watched Nik carefully over his gloves, darting in only when he saw an opening and then dodging back again before those huge arms could engage a clinch.

Nik's first real hit came from nowhere; Price left a gap as he switched stances and the resulting body shot left him momentarily winded. Enough to lose ground. Price looked for a gap to evade but Nik pursued relentlessly, lashing out only to make Price dodge into the space he wanted him in, controlling him like a marionette on fucking strings.

Out of the corner of his eye, Price could see Simon step up to the rope next to the two sergeants, his meal finished and his novel forgotten, the fight too interesting to ignore. That didn't stop him dabbling in his second favourite sport. "Hey Johnny, Want to know how you make any salad into a caesar salad?"

"L.T. no--"

"Stab it twenty-three times."

Gaz snorted into his fist and Soap pinched the bridge of his nose and then winced when Price took another hard body blow that staggered him against the ropes.

Nik kept coming, wearing Price down with a slow, deliberate pursuit around the ring that made him dance and skip to land shots where he could. It was like hitting padded concrete, the red marks on Nik's skin nothing but surface damage. His body was fucking magnificent, bloody superhuman, and each time Price laid a hit he felt excitement surge through him like lightning. They bound up a few times, but Price always managed to escape the attempted grapple, his heart in his mouth, or Nik broke the clinch.

It couldn't last.

Price felt his energy waning, his footwork slowing, the sweat stinging the corner of his eyes. Nik hadn't pushed his advantage yet and he didn't need to. Not until the opportune moment, which he seized when Price was cornered again against the ropes after another prowl around the ring. Strong arms bound his torso in a clinch and Nik performed a flawless uchi mata that earned a surprised hum from Simon. They grappled on the ground, Price sprawling his legs wide to prevent Nik from levering him over.

"C'mon, sir! Break out!" Soap leaned over the ropes, gripping them intently.

Nik slipped around Price's back and wrapped his legs around his hips, drawing his neck into a rear-naked choke that felt like being crushed in a steel vice. Price thrashed, trying to drive his elbow back but only scoring glancing blows. He refused to tap out in his own fucking gym on his own fucking mat--

"Captain," Nik grunted, struggling to keep Price constrained, "please... do not think... our friendship will prevent me from... putting you to sleep. Submit."

Submit.

Something tight and hot twisted in Price's gut as Nik growled the command so close to his ear, voice rumbling from deep inside the barrelled chest pressed to Price's back. Price's toes curled against the mat and he became intimately aware of every inch of Nik's skin against his, slick with sweat and a mirrored heat, every muscle as hard and as unyielding as steel. He had been completely overpowered, taunted and teased into a trap, and now Nik had absolute control. There was... there was nothing Price could do.

Price's vision edged in grey, his nails biting into Nik's forearm, and his palm finally pounded the mat.

Nik released him immediately, rolling to his knees and moving to take Price's face carefully in his hands. "Breathe, John."

Price didn't know why he was gasping like that, his heart hammering a neat little samba against the cage of his chest. He could smell the sweat and leather of Nik's gloves, but all he wanted to do was tear them off and feel Nik's fingers in his hair. No, no too fucking much, too fu--

"'M... Fine. Gerroff." He pushed Nik's hands away and the big Russian at least had the good grace to stand and give him some space. Price closed his eyes and took a moment to steady himself, breathing in through his nose and out through lips that definitely weren't shaking. It was just a bloody fight. He'd had his arse handed to him a fair amount in his time. This was no different.

But as he opened his eyes again, Price knew something had clicked in his head that had been teetering on the brink all this time. He looked up at Nik, gaze dragging up his muscular thighs and the dark hair of his belly and chest, and felt the tightness of arousal in his gut. The realisation that he liked kneeling here at Nik's feet, subdued, conquered, settled into his chest like a shard of ice. He wanted Nik's hands on him; his wrists, his neck, his throat, holding him down. He wanted Nik to push his knees and thighs apart to claim every inch of him as a prize. He wanted the control torn from him, to hear the word submit snarled in his ear as he had no choice. It was terrifying.

Nik offered a hand down and Price took it mechanically, letting Nik drag him up until their bodies were pressed together again. Dark brown eyes studied him closely, a gloved hand resting at his hip. "Molodech, captain. You fought well."

"And you fought better," Price croaked, stiffening his back so that his body didn't shake in Nik's hands.

"This time." Nik's voice lowered significantly in volume, his hand squeezing meaningfully at Price's hip. Fuck, fuck, he'd seen. He'd bloody seen those wide, desperate eyes after feeling Price's body against his, and worked it out, hadn't he? Price swallowed hard.

"Fuckin' hell, mate. I'm glad you're on our side," Gaz called, and Soap agreed with a quiet murmur. Price was thankful they were none the wiser.

Well, the sergeants weren't. Simon was studying him closely as he ducked under the ropes. "Somethin' on your mind, Simon?"

"No, sir." He glanced at Nik and then back at Price. "He fought well. But not that well."

"Thanks for the feedback."

Simon hummed. "Perhaps you should do some one on one with Daddy KGB. Iron out the uh... kinks."

"Fuck you, lieutenant," Price growled quietly. "And don't." He cut the observant bastard off before he could start that innuendo, and headed towards the locker rooms.

"Ahh, don't worry," Gaz said, slapping Nik on the shoulder. "He'll lick his wounds and be back out here tomorrow."

Nik rubbed his chin thoughtfully, watching Price's retreating back. "Perhaps..."

Simon cleared his throat. "You should go help," he paused, "with the wounds."

"Da," Nik responded, leaving the ring to follow in Price's wake. He had opened an untouched vault of riches and he was keen to explore them, and so was Price, if those big blue eyes were anything to go by.

(Kinda want them to fuck in the shower, with Nik's hand around Price's throat, fingers so big they nestle in the hinge of his jaw, pinning him but Price relaxed and in heaven; yeah, a friend got that image in my head and I'm feral for it.)

#nikprice #captain john price #cod nikolai #call of duty #cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick

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cumikering · 2 months

Text

F1 John Price x reader 3

2.8k | fluff, suggestive John Price was not jealous of a lap dog (part 1) (part 4)

“So let me get this straight,” you said, plating the sliced loaf on the counter. “You love berries.”

John hummed as he stepped closer, turning you to him by the hips.

“You love to nap and you’re crazy about salmon.”

Crazy about you too.

You scratched his bearded jaw. “You’re a bear, aren’t you?”

He laughed as he leaned in. You smiled against his lips.

The both of you made breakfast. You thanked him again for the loaf, saying it paired wonderfully with tea. In the sunlight, you gazed at him with those pretty eyes, smile sweet, that his heart skipped a beat.

There was something about you, or your place, or the quiet morning that was like a warm embrace to him. Safe. Serene. It was easy to be with you, like there was nothing that could go wrong when you were with him.

You looked out the window and he revelled in the way the diffused light caressed your skin. The sun had grown warmer.

“Need to go to the shops later today,” you muttered.

“I can take you.”

You turned to him, beaming. “There’s a small park I like nearby.”

When he pulled up, it was then he realised he’d forgotten his cap at your place. He reached for the pocket behind your seat, lucky to have kept a spare team cap there.

“Orange looks good on you.” Your fingers curled over the crook of his arm.

He turned to you smiling up at him. I think it would look even better on you. “Yeah? We call it papaya at McLaren.”

You let out a small laugh. “That’s adorable.”

You took a short stroll at the quiet park, his strong hand engulfed yours, and headed to the shops before it got too cold. He hauled the shopping to and from his car, and he swore he fully intended to get out of your hair after he helped you put away your shopping, but when you pulled out two mugs for tea… Well, maybe you didn’t mind if he tarried a little.

At the end of the night, John gathered his toiletries and zipped his luggage up.

“You always come to me, John. Let me return the favour,” you said at the door.

“My place is a bit far.”

“All the more reason why I should, no?”

“I really don’t mind.” He brought your hand to his lips. “Maybe next time when we're in the area?”

You gave him a quick kiss and he pulled his cap on before walking away. He hoped you didn’t mind that he left the orange one on your dining table. You’d look better in it.

January days crawled into a pattern. John picked you up from work for dinner two, three times a week, staying over on the weekends. Seeing you, no matter how short always made him smile.

John, you don’t have to pick me up. I’m closing today. Sophie’s ill so I sent her home. See you tomorrow?

No. See you later

You poor thing. You’d be too tired to cook dinner. He could buy you something instead, guaranteed to taste good – you deserved it after a long day, but he wanted to show his appreciation too. You’d taught him how to cook upon his request, and it was his time to show you what he’d learnt (hopefully). But as he was swinging by the shops for your favourite protein, an idea struck.

When he pushed the door of your shop open, you were wiping down the counters. He pulled his mask down and greeted you with a kiss. His beard had grown full, and he found himself addicted to the way you nails scratched his jaw when your lips met.

He insisted on helping you with the washing – it was the least he could do for his favourite lady, but not before cornering you against the counter, lifting you by the waist onto it and savouring your glossy lips a little longer. You tasted even better when you giggled, your fingers digging into his biceps, making him hum.

In the car, he pulled out the Tupperware of sub sandwiches from his backseat. “Eat up, love. I’m taking you somewhere.”

“You made these?”

He nodded, glancing at you. “I hope you like it.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The streets had simmered down and the drive to the other side of town was shorter than expected. The doorman greeted you warmly, swinging the door open to a vast lobby with a classic grand chandelier, accentuating the lustrous marble floors. He picked up a small bag from the concierge and pulled out an access card.

“Oh, it’s such a nice place, John,” you said as you stepped into the lift.

He pressed the button to the top floor and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side. “My manager lives here. I like the view.”

John had called her earlier as he drove to you.

“Kate, do you mind if I borrow your spotting scope tonight?”

“Let me guess.” She let out an amused chuckle. “You’re at the coffee shop and you need me to deliver it in half an hour?”

Kate had started teasing John ever since the GTI favour. Always self-sufficient, he wasn’t one to bother anyone unless it was necessary. Someone had to make him act that way, for him to go out of his way to ask for favours, especially something so trivial.

It might be off season and they didn’t have to talk about work nearly as often, but they’d always meet for a meal once or twice a month with Kate’s wife. Not this time though. She didn’t miss the way he only responded during working hours. Kate didn’t press, but it was a slip of the tongue when he said he’d made plans with you when she suggested dinner one weekend.

“I’d like to go to your rooftop actually.”

“Your balcony has a far better view.”

“Well, your building is quieter.”

“You can’t hear anything from the 30th floor.”

A beat. “Can I borrow the scope, please, Kate?”

“Yeah, alright, sure. What time are you swinging by? We’re going out for dinner.”

“Yeah, no worries. Could you leave it at the concierge for John Sloane?”

She chuckled. “Sloane? Like your mum’s maiden name? They know who-“ There was a pause. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

John could imagine Kate’s pitying look. They’d been working closely for years, even before he got into F1. A karting champion in her younger days, she was his mentor before becoming his manager. Naturally, she was privy to his relationships, especially the one which was flaunted all over the media.

She had encouraged him to play along, stomach it. You can’t run from this if you’re in the business, she’d said, and she was right. It was evidently favourable for his career, until it wasn’t for his feelings anymore.

Perhaps Kate had been callous to his discomfort, something she had apologised for numerous times. She had since said nothing about his personal relationships, not like there was much to say though. He couldn’t be too cautious of who to let in.

He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s none of my business, John, but that doesn’t sound right.”

“I know, I know. I’m just… Taking it slow. I’m telling her before the season starts.”

John pulled the beanbag chairs from under the canopy. He plopped down, tugging on your wrist to sit between his thighs. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you lose to his chest before you looked through the scope.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Someone came in in a McLaren polo today, said he was getting cookies for his boss. It was my first time seeing someone with a mohawk in real life, but he definitely pulled it off.”

He laughed. “Wait, let me guess. He’s Scottish?”

“Yes! You know him?”

“His name is John too, but we call him Johnny or Soap.”

“Soap? Like a bar of soap?”

“Yeah. One time, someone got a box of decorative soaps – I think it was macaron? He mistakenly took a bite out of it.”

You laughed and lowered the scope, turning to him. “Are you serious?”

“To be fair they did look hyper-realistic and smelled wonderful. But I like to think I wouldn’t have been fooled.”

You held the scope back up, the smile still on your lips. “I didn’t think you’d know him. I said a friend works there.”

“A friend, huh.” He kissed the top of your head. “I hope I’ll be more than that one day.”

“You are.”

He heard the tease in your voice. “You are to me too. I like you a lot.” Too much.

It had only been two months since the day you made him his double-shot Americano, but it felt much longer. Seeing you the past weeks had been the highlight of his time off, allowing him a glimpse of your everyday life.

Despite disliking driving outside the track, with London’s dreadful traffic at that, he didn’t mind at all dropping you off work and picking you up again. It was rude how soon he daydreamed about being a part of your life, but kissing you at your door at the end of the night was the best part of his day.

“John, you live around here, right? Should we just go to yours?”

“Not tonight, love. Place is a mess.”

“I don’t mind. You said we’d go when we’re in the area.”

Shit, he’d forgotten. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a guest. Next time?”

You hummed, pulling his arms tighter around yourself.

John, once more, breathed a sigh of relief. But he’d meant it – he would tell you soon. He just needed some more time.

You started wearing his papaya cap on rainy days, and on that gloomy Friday, John decided on kebab for dinner. You were supposed to sit at the park, but the cloudy sky didn’t look promising. Instead, you ate in the car before heading home.

Before he exited his car, he placed the cap over your head, making you smile. The colour really looked wonderful on you.

Near the building entrance, you stopped in your tracks.

“John, do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Like a puppy whining- There!”

The noise was faint but he heard it then. You followed it to the SUV at the end of the lot with John trailing. Under the bonnet, a small dog was curled up, soaked and trembling in the cold.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said, stooping down and inching your hand out. “You must be lost.”

The brown pooch whined louder and made the slightest hint of a scoot towards you amidst the shivers of its body. It was all it took for you to scoop it into your arms.

“I’ll get you warm-” You inspected the glinting tag on his collar, flipping it over. “Holden,” you muttered. “John, could you help me call his owner while I dry him?”

“Of course.”

You rushed to the bathroom to dry the pup off. Later, with the collar and his phone in hand, John cracked open the door.

“They’re not picking up, but I sent a text. Hopefully I’ll get a reply soon.”

Holden stood on the toilet lid as you knelt down to blow dry him. John sat next to you, watching how gentle you were to the strange dog as you fluffed him up, muttering reassuring words at him. He stopped shaking.

You switched off the hairdryer.

“Wow, it’s like he put on a few pounds.” John stroked his now blond-grey fur. He looked up at him with doe eyes and licked his hand. “What breed is he?”

You laughed, rising to your feet and scooping him into your arms. You scratched the back of his ear and his tail swayed at the attention. “Yorkshire Terrier. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Just like you are. He followed you out to the living room. “I’ll get him water.”

You and John lounged on the couch, Holden napping on your chest, finally warm and cosy wrapped up in one of your old towels. You caressed him mindlessly as you watched the telly.

John Price was not jealous of a fluffy lap dog. It was silly to think so far, but he thought he’d love a pet with you, something to take care of together. Your tenderness made him fuzzy.

It was then his phone rang on the coffee table. It was the owner.

You headed to the address given, just a few minutes away from your place. As you walked up to the door, Holden’s tail went wild. You cooed at him and a woman answered the door.

A little girl rushed past and gave your midriff a big hug. “You found him! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stroked her hair and stooped to hand the pup to her.

“Thanks so much for bringing him back, love,” the woman said to you before nodding at John. “It was my fault, I left the door open and he slipped away yesterday. We were worried sick.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I found him. He must have been so scared.”

“Here, please accept this.” She took your hand and clasped it over a wad of bills.

“Oh- No, no, I can’t accept that. It was my pleasure. I’m just happy he’s alright now.”

The woman smiled. “Thank you so much, love, really.”

“You be good now, Holden.” You patted his head, and he let out an excited bark before you turned.

At the end of the night, John climbed in bed with you, pressing his chest against your back.

He planted a few kisses on your neck as he mumbled, “I got you this.” He reached over, presenting you a small, custom bear plush wearing an orange cap.

You turned to him, beaming. “Is that supposed to be you?” You ran a finger over the cookie on the bear’s paw.

“Maybe.” He smiled.

“I love it.” You gave him a peck. “What should I call him?

“What about JP?” He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“I never got to ask what that stands for,” you whispered against his lips.

“Jean Pierre. You got it right the first time.” He laughed. “My mates call me that sometimes.”

“Have you all got nicknames?”

“Some of us, yes. There’s Gaz, Ghost, and you already know Soap. My manager gets called Watcher.”

“They all sound so fun. Would love to meet them one day.”

“They are. They’re good people.” They’d love you.

Seeing his teammate’s recent obsession with cookies, Kyle didn’t take long to connect the dots. While John was initially reluctant to show your photos to Kyle and the others, he couldn’t hide his grin when Johnny said you looked even better in real life.

“She gave me a free coffee, said she’s got a mate who works at McLaren. So it was you, Cap. How modest of her to say,” he’d said.

They asked when they’d get to meet you, the mystery cookie lady John Price couldn’t stop talking about. Except Kate, the only one who knew why you hadn’t met his closest people yet.

A pause. Your warm breath tickled his skin in the silence.

“Thanks for JP. Now I’ll have you with me every night.”

“You can always ask,” he grunted.

“What if I never want you to leave?”

“Then I won’t, love.”

“You promise?” you murmured.

“I promise.”

It was stupid, really, to let himself feel so much, so fast. But he couldn’t help but want more and more. He felt enough with you, for you, like he didn’t have to be anybody else but some bloke from Liverpool.

He couldn’t keep doing this to you, someone so special to him.

You pulled him close, the small puffs of breath he knocked out of you warm against his shoulder, nails raking deliciously down his back. Just like in his daydreams, the beautiful sounds you let out made his skin tingle and sear. Was he the one making you feel this way?

He dipped his head, breath hot and heavy, grunting into your ear. You made his head spin. He’d never get tired of the way his name slipped past your soft lips, the way you caressed his face, or the way you planted wet kisses on his neck.

He knew it right then. You wouldn’t break his heart.

John sighed, the thin layer of sweat almost gone from his skin. On his bare chest, you slept soundly in his shirt and the smile wouldn’t leave his lips as he buried his nose in your hair. He wanted this with you, always.

He’d tell you in the morning. But tonight, with lungs full of your sweet scent, he’d sleep in peace knowing nothing would change tomorrow.

Masterlist Ex bf John Price

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @kyletogaz @ohtobehappy @yikes077

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @juicyjujuuu @alleycc @lahniu @hungrycrazy

@nocturnalreader106 @oceantornadoo @strong-bronze-or-regal-black @dahlia-reads @shinymriver

@sadcowboyhours @the-darling-fishy @rowanyaboats @two-autumns @princessdaniiiii

@eve-lie @hope69world @asbestos-n-asbesties

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thisiswhereikeepdcthings · 11 months

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Little old ladies love Red Hood. They think he's just such a polite young man, so respectable, he even has a bachelor's degree! He's hired all the delinquents and thugs and given them stable employment and he always makes time for the soup kitchens. Yes he did a little murder, but this is Gotham, they probably killed their ex-husbands back in the day. Besides he's so good with children, what a fine young man, an upstanding individual, you don't see that these days in men.

He'll offer to carry their groceries and they'll call him Dear and Sugar and send him home with a homecooked meal in a tupperware container. They keep trying to set him up with their granddaughters and he always has to decline very gently but they never take it seriously. He makes sure to visit them around the holidays and make sure they're doing okay, and the first time Auntie Arlene gave him a quilt he actually burst into tears.

Let Red Hood have an army of grannies, is what I'm saying.

Yes please

#jason todd #red hood

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strang3lov3 · 11 days

Text

Midnight Snack

Roman’s the only one who can get you off. (3.2k)

Tags - stepdad!roman, dom!roman, stepcest, dubcon/noncon, manhandling (i can't believe he has it in him either), manipulation, coercion, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unsafe piv, creampie, dom/sub, roman's icky as usual. sorry. Also daddy kink. Sorry. Fic help - @noxturnalpascal, @beefrobeefcal, and @endlessthxxghts tysm for all that you do! ♡ A/N - he’s baaaaaaack!! It’s gonna get worse before it gets better. Hope you’re all sluts for ickiness like me. I have so many plans for daddy romey, I might have another fic coming out this week. Peer pressure works on me jsyk. Also might do a new sleazy gynecologist Roman au. We’ll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at least a one shot. Thots? Feelings?

Follows Boundaries but can be read as a standalone 🩷

Stepdad!Roman Masterlist

You don’t know it, but Roman can hear you. Roman’s been listening to the ceiling above him - your floor - creak for hours. Sometimes vigorously, sometimes gently. On and off, all night. Your bed creaks too. Soft springs groaning and squeaking as you hump your pillow, the pillow Roman laid his head on as you rode his cock. Can you smell him in your blankets? Have you washed his stains off your sheets yet? And through the air vents, he can hear your frustrated whimpers, your strangled, broken moans. Poor thing. You can’t come, can you?

The bed creaks loudly, louder than those rhythmic noises it made before. And then there’s muffled footsteps, the sound becoming clear as you open your door and walk down the hall, down the stairs. Shifting a bit on the couch, Roman looks over his shoulder and watches as you open a cabinet and grab yourself a glass. You fill it with crushed ice and water from the fridge, then drink it all over the sink. The TV’s on in the living room, volume barely audible, bluish-white light flickers like lightning.

Roman’s footsteps startle you as he stands up from the couch, you whip around to see him stretching his back and his shoulders as he yawns. “You’re up way past your bedtime, young lady. It’s…” Roman squints and checks the time on the oven, “Late.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Roman says, walking into the kitchen as he scratches the back of his neck. “You’d be surprised at what you could hear through the walls. Very thin, very, very thin.” He brushes against you as he opens a cabinet. His soft, white t-shirt rides up and exposes his soft tummy and the dark hairs spattered down it as he pulls out a ceramic bowl. You step to the side, uncomfortable with his touch but Roman continues to invade your space; he puts his cold hand on your hip to nudge you out of the way so he can open the silverware drawer. He paces around the kitchen some more, opening other cabinets until he finds his Tupperware container of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, then opens the fridge for his carton of almond milk. He makes himself a large bowl of cereal. “Want some?”

“No.” You bring your glass to your lips and chew on the leftover ice, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Roman watches you, eyes scrolling up and down your body slowly. You’re fidgeting, you’re uncomfortable. It’s written all over your face, evident in your body language. Shoulders curled inward, arms crossed over your chest, you’re keeping your distance from him. So defensive. You have to be, of course. Roman will exploit any and all vulnerability in you that he can find. He smirks as he eats a spoonful of the sugary cereal, a bit of milk dribbling down his bottom lip.

It wasn’t really news to him, your feelings. He found it unsurprising when he read your diary and learned the ins and outs of your feelings for him. Sickly-sweet fantasies about him making love to you, detailed and romantic descriptions of his handsomeness. Puppy love. It seems that’s all gone now, and it’s funny how quickly it happened, replaced with nothing but disgust. Disgust at Roman himself, maybe. He thinks that more than likely, you’re disgusted by yourself. Being confronted with your feelings in such an intimate, vulnerable, shameful way did a number on you, huh? It almost makes Roman sad, and he wonders if that puppy love is still inside you somewhere, buried deep beneath the guilt and humiliation.

“You toss and turn a lot, you know that? You’re a restless sleeper, just like your mother.”

“Fuck off.”

“Jesus. I can’t make conversation with you? You’ve had such an attitude with me recently, and I don’t - I don’t appreciate it. I thought that maybe we could chill and watch TV like we used to, but sure - I’ll just fuck off, thanks.”

Roman kind of misses those nights with you. He wasn’t lying or making another comparison of you to your mother just to get under your skin, though he knows how well that works on you. He has a hard time sleeping in the same bed with your mother, can’t quite drown out the snoring or tolerate the tossing and turning. He spends a lot of nights on the couch in the living room. You used to join him there when you couldn’t sleep either, when your sheets and your pillows felt too hot and suffocating. You and Roman would watch shitty horror movies and Saturday Night Live together until you fell asleep, and then you’d share quiet, dark mornings alone together until your mom woke up. Your head on Roman’s lap, him gently stroking your hair. You used to feel safe around him.

You need to remove yourself from this situation. You dump the ice out in the sink, then place your glass on the countertop. It all sounds so loud in the quiet kitchen. You shove past Roman, causing him to spill some of his cereal onto the floor. He lets out a breathless laugh, irritated. He slams the bowl of cereal down on the dining room table then follows you, you’re already three steps up the stairs. Roman grabs your arm and yanks you down the steps, causing you to stumble and yelp. He catches you, clutches you against his chest. You’re reminded that he’s stronger than he looks.

“You, sweetheart-” Roman drags you by the arm back into the dining room, his nails digging into your skin, “-Need to remember who’s in authority here. Who’s living in whose home, huh? You don’t get to fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” Roman backs you against a wall, his hot breath fanning over your neck. Your jaw is clenched, your body so rigid and hard like glass, on the verge of breaking into a million pieces. You’re just defensive, that’s all this is and good for you for having that fight in you. Roman knows you’re delicate underneath it all. He’s seen it, seen how small he can make you.

All it takes is a knee between your thighs, Roman pressing himself against your center, and then you gasp, melt a little. All of your fire snuffed out with a simple, dull touch. He knows you. You’re his stepdaughter for fuck’s sake, and so easy to read he could find you in a book. All bark, no bite, and easier than you think you are. Roman’s eyes dart across your face as he breathes heavily, a smile curling on his lips.

“You know what I think?”

“Shut up, Rom–”

“No, you shut up. I think you’re in a mood because you can’t make yourself come. And you’re taking it out on your stepfather. Kinda fucked up, don’t you think?” It makes Roman’s cock swell when your pupils widen and your jaw goes slack at his words, your bottom lip wobbling slightly. He’s vulgar on purpose; intentionally lacking any nuance or subtlety when he speaks. He needs to get under your skin, make you squirm for him. “Ohhh. There it is. You’re busted, young lady.”

You twist your arm in an attempt to wriggle yourself out of Roman’s grip, but he holds you tighter, pressing his knee harder against your cunt. You’re beginning to soak through your shorts, through his plaid pajama pants. You’d thank god he can’t feel it yet, but does it matter? One way or another, he’s gonna find you soaked for him. Your tummy flutters when Roman’s long, deft fingers push your hoodie up your body so he can find the drawstring of your pajama shorts, tugging the knot undone.

“I heard you, you know,” Roman growls against your ear. “You sounded so frustrated, kiddo. Your fingers just aren’t - aren’t quite doing the trick anymore, huh?”

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please what? Be specific, sweetheart. Please make you come? Do you need daddy to make you come? You miss how daddy fucked you?” Roman smiles at how he taunts you, how uncomfortable his words make you as you writhe under him, wriggling your hips away from his knee. “Is that it? Do you miss me, is that what this is?”

You use the hand that’s not gripping Roman’s wrist to shove his chest, knocking him away from you only slightly. Kudos to you, getting a shot in, making your daddy proud. The fight only serves to excite him.

Roman pouts with feigned displeasure. “Ouch,” he says, “I’m hurt, sweetheart, so hurt. Maybe I miss you. Not miss you, miss you. But…you know.” Roman tilts his head to the side, cautiously letting go of your arm to bring his palm to your face. You flinch as you await his touch, a gentle caress across your jaw. He uses his thumb to tug on your bottom lip, then releases it.

“Look at us, here like this. I know you’re hot, too.”

You shake your head, No, but your body betrays you. Deep, trembling breaths, pupils widened with lust. Roman knows when he dips his slender fingers into your cunt, you’ll soak him, slick running down his digits and into his palm. Maybe he’ll make you lick it up.

“I could make you come. I could do that easily, actually. You know that. Remember?”

He shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, and it feels cold and unwelcome, but familiar all the same. He glides his fingertips through your folds, relishing in the mess he caused you to make. It makes you feel sick, giving him this satisfaction. You tug and tug on his forearm, trying to force him away from you. This can’t happen again. “Roman,” you beg.

“Shh - just quit…fuckin’...” You’re scratching him, leaving little marks on his skin that’ll burn when he showers later. You’re making things much more difficult for him, more difficult for yourself. Don’t you know how much better you’ll feel when he makes you come? You poor, stupid thing. All out of sorts until daddy calms you down. “Rela - hey, relax. Don’t fight it. Quit fighting me.”

Roman drops his knee to allow himself space to touch you the way he wants to. He circles your clit with just one finger, patiently rounding the sensitive bud. You’re still all tense, full of combativeness, of aggression. While massaging your clit, Roman waits patiently for you to soften. “This is what you want,” he whispers. His eyes are glazed and lidded, silky strands of hair cascading over his face. “I know you need this.”

You fall apart for him. It’s palpable, your reaction. Guard lowered, you tilt your head back, your shoulders drop slightly, you unclench your jaw. “Roman,” you sigh softly, the relief evident in your voice. He’s successfully molded you into compliance.

“Yeah, that’s it. Over here, come over here.” Roman pulls his fingers from your core and you whine in frustration, he shushes you with an I know, I know. Roman spins you around and backs you against the dining room table, then sets you down. He pushes chairs out of the way and cringes at the loud sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood floor, then drops to his knees. He wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to his face, causing the bowl of cereal on the table to slosh slightly. He hooks his thumb under the fabric of your Halloween print pajama shorts, utterly soaked with your arousal, and pulls them to the side. You’re glad he doesn’t say anything about it.

Before Roman tastes you, he looks up and gazes upon your body - your soft tummy heaves up and down with heavy, anticipatory breaths, your thighs are twitching and spread wide, your fingers gripping the edge of the table so hard you could make the wood splinter. And your face, desperation painting your features as you stare down at your stepfather. Oh, how he likes you like this.

Roman spits on your cunt before he licks it, causing you to gasp. He watches the bead of saliva roll down your folds as you grip his hair, fingers tingling as you tug those sleek, graying strands of his impatiently. You shouldn’t be pulling him closer. It’s wrong, it’s all so wrong. Roman’s on his knees for you and really, he should feel vulnerable right now. It’s a submissive position in and of itself, being on one’s knees for another. Theoretically, if you found the strength within yourself, you could snap his neck. Easily. But you won’t do so much as push him away right now, and Roman knows this. Not while he’s using his mouth to part you open and explore your cunt, tongue drawing up and down your soft, slick folds. “You fucking need this, don’t you?” he murmurs, slowly slipping two fingers inside your wet heat. “Tell me you need me.”

“I need you, Roman,” you whimper, pushing his head closer to your center. Roman rewards the admission by curling his fingers, stroking that sensitive space inside of you. All you can do is hold yourself up and take it.

Roman’s tongue is hot as it laps against your clit. You’re still tugging on his hair, holding him close to you, whimpering his name in broken syllables. As Roman finds a rhythm with his tongue, you rub your thumb along his forehead, his temples. You’re soaking his face completely as he eats you, his tongue pumping in and out of your tight, dripping hole as he noses your clit. He digs his fingertips harshly into the flesh of your thighs, bruising your sensitive skin. You can take the pain, you little slut.

There’s a gnawing thought in Roman’s mind to pull away and leave you like this, teach you a lesson for that fucking shoulder check and the shove. But he finds himself addicted to the taste of your pleasure and needs to know the feeling of you coming on his tongue.

But not tonight. Roman pulls away and wipes his face against the soft skin of your inner thighs, causing you to whine in frustration. Good. Roman groans as he stands up, knees cracking. Fuck, he’ll be sore tomorrow. He already is.

Roman pushes the elastic waistband of his pajamas down his hips, freeing his cock from the confines. Even under the lack of light, you can see how red and angry Roman’s cock is. He’s throbbing, aching to be inside you once more.

Roman spits in his fist and grips his aching member, a low groan escapes his throat. He smears that pearly bead of precome at his slit right over your sensitive clit and you moan at the contact, watching as he drags the head through your folds, just barely notching it inside of you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whimper urgently, reaching for his cock. You try to stop him from going further, but god - how you missed the warmth and the weight of his shaft in your hand.

Roman pulls your hand away and continues to tease you, dragging the tip up and down, pushing himself in and out of you. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s wrong.”

“It’s wrong,” you nod, panting while tilting your hips as he runs the thick head of his cock back and forth over your clit.

“That’s why we like it.”

With that, Roman fills you with a slow, steady slide inside your cunt that has him moaning. He holds the back of your neck, pointer finger at your skull to tilt your head down and make you watch as it happens, his cock disappearing into your body. “Ohh, fuck,” he groans, pulling out of you about halfway before pushing in again.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and clutch the worn fabric of his white t-shirt as he draws in and out of you, his scruffy cheek right against yours. He rolls his hips at a punishing pace and looks at you, wrapping your legs tighter around him. You’re so pathetic.

“Rome - fuck - Roman,” you whisper, then bite into his neck to quiet your cries.

You’re drooling, spit dripping down onto his collarbones. It makes Roman smile. “Listen to you,” he murmurs. “Trying so hard to be quiet, aren’t you?”

You nod against him as he fucks you, the mahogany wood table groaning and creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman pulls back, a string of saliva that connects from your lips to his throat breaks. He shoves the two fingers that were inside your pussy into your mouth, “Suck,” he commands.

You suck his fingers, humming at the tanginess of your own arousal. From this position, you can see his face clearly. His hazel eyes are black with lust, hooded and glazed over. There’s something both human and robotic about the way he looks at you as he pumps his cock in and out of you, like he’s a slave to his own biological needs. He moves into a deep and hard rhythm, now wriggling his free hand between your writhing bodies. He paints those same steady circles against your clit with his thumb, just like he did before. “You gonna come for me? You gonna - fuck - you gonna come on daddy’s cock?”

You nod, Roman’s fingers still jammed down your throat so that tears are beginning to spring up in the corners of your eyes. He watches your face contort as the pleasure begins to build, almost exponentially. Your eyes squeeze shut and your brows knit tightly together, you’re biting on Roman’s fingers and there it is - your orgasm washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each roll of Roman’s hips. “Yeah, you fuckin’ needed that,” he breathes. “Fuckin’ needed me.”

Your own climax coaxes Roman’s along, and he pulls his fingers from your mouth. Your pulsing cunt, the slick noises you make together - it all goes straight to his stomach, directly to his balls. His cock is throbbing as he empties himself into you with a deep and guttural groan, filling you with his come. He fucks you through his high until his his thrusts slow to a standstill, then pulls his softening member out of your body.

Roman takes satisfaction in the fact he has to ease your trembling legs onto the floor, your hips too sore to move on your own. He rubs his thumbs soothingly over your hip bones, and it makes him feel needed in a more gratifying way than by getting you off.

Roman reaches for his bowl of cereal, little white splashes of milk decorate the table around it. Oops. He wipes that up with a paper towel, along with his spend that leaked from your body. He then takes a bite of his cereal. “That actually worked out perfectly,” he mumbles, mouth full. “My Cinnamon Toast Crunch is nice and soggy, so yeah - thanks for the uh…I don’t know. You know.”

Roman walks back into the living room with his cereal, and you’re still by the table, standing awkwardly. The floor under your bare feet is still warm with Roman’s body heat. You pick at your fingernails anxiously.

“What are you doing in there, kiddo?” Roman calls from the couch.

“I don’t know. I’m not tired.”

Roman loudly pats the couch cushion next to him, inviting you to join him. You’re not sure what compels you to do it but you do, sitting on the sectional with your knees tucked under your chin. Roman watches you, tense all over again. Your thighs are covered in goosebumps. He takes the edge of his plush, oversized blanket and tosses it over your legs, then turns up the volume of the TV.

If you enjoyed, please let me know 💜 your kind words keep me motivated to write. Comment, send an ask, and/or reblog with your thoughts 💭 💖

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