Part 2!
Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.
Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)
Agatha is over again.
You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.
A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.
Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.
“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.
You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.
“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.
She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.
“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”
People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.
“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.
Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”
You blink. Men…?
A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)
Ah. Those men.
“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”
It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.
“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”
You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.
“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.
“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”
Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.
“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”
That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.
“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”
You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.
Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.
“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”
You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.
“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”
She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.
Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.
It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.
Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.
“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”
And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.
And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.
Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.
Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.
“So… the cookies were good then?”
“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.
“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”
It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“
“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.
Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)
“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.
You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”
He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”
Well shit.
“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”
Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”
It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.
There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.
Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.
You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.
Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.
You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.
“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.
He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.
“What happened?” he asks.
You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.
“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”
You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.
“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.
Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.
“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”
When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.
“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”
With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.
You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.
“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.
He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”
You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”
“Nein,” he snorts.
Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.
There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.
“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”
“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”
You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?
It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.
“Are you guys military?”
“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.
You perk up. “Wait, really?”
He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”
You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”
He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.
“Yes,” he answers slowly.
“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”
His eyes narrow. “Questions?”
You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”
Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.
He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”
You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”
He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.
“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.
Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”
“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.
You beam. “Thank you!”
He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.
“What else needs doing?”
Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.
Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.
You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.
Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.
You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.
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FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE (p.sh)
Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.
៸៸៸ minors do not interact!
៸៸៸ PARING: park sunghoon x afab reader
៸៸៸WC: 9.3k
៸៸៸ TAGS: mentions of food (meat), strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, brat taming, mocking and making fun of each other, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky sunghoon, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed
៸៸៸ A/N: what’s that? you’ve read this before? that’s bc i wrote it! I’ve revised the original now to fit sunghoon because I am insatiable in my lust for him. (original title: the bore next door)
smut tags under cut::
SMUT TAGS: dom sunghoon, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy), face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, sunghoon tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th to 35th, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?
In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but you never truly settled on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable.
You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.
Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?
Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not happen any time soon. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.
23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement.
Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, the siding on his house stays clean, and apparently he seems quite lonely considering your mother appears to have watched him enough to know he doesn’t bring any girls home.
At least that she’s aware of.
She doesn’t mention what he looks like and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he dresses well, is handsome, and has dark hair.
For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas.
What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street.
A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything.
Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet her daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.
“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”
You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.
“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate.
“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely is. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.
The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.
“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”
“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Sunghoon, by the way.”
You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.
“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Sunghoon says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.”
Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single. Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Sunghoon right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something.
“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”
“Oh?” Sunghoon quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?”
You shrug.
“Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”
“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”
“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over.
Sunghoon watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.
“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes when the waitress walks away. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”
You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.
“Okay then, Sunghoon—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”
In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time.
“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do.
Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Sunghoon must make good money.
“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort.
“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week.
Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade english teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way too.
Sunghoon smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite.
“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.
“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Sunghoon, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.
He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Sunghoon doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.
“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”
Ah. He’s one of those guys.
“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck.
“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”
“God, you are such a bore.”
Sunghoon realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.
“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you.
“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”
Sunghoon looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters. “Why does that matter?”
“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?”
He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him.
“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.”
He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before.
It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.
“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?”
“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head.
“Admitting I’m interested in you?” He says it with so much confidence that you’re a little bit surprised, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Sunghoon.
“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.”
Sunghoon prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.
“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just treat it like a tinder date?”
You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises.
“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read.
“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”
Sunghoon pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.
“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.
It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer.
“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”
He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”
“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”
Sunghoon kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of, your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”
“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”
Sunghoon waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”
“Sunghoon—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”
His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.”
“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.”
Offense taken.
And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle.
“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”
“No, no,” Sunghoon assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.”
He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupidly expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.
When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Sunghoon’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date.
You opt to park a block away, walking to Sunghoon’s house and feeling a bit silly for hiding.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely boring.
“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.
“Very monotonous, very you.”
Sunghoon sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.
“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”
You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.
“I am a comfortable mess, Sunghoon, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”
He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.
“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”
Oh, okay.
“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”
Sunghoon watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.
“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”
You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer, socks on, lights off.
“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s already allowing himself to get aroused so, naturally, his confidence is also bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.
“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.”
You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.
“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a complete stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps.
“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.”
You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.
He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something.
It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him.
“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.”
You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second.
“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you.
“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.
Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie.
“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit.
You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts.
“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”
You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything.
Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.
“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over.
“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him.
You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it.
“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.
Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house.
When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.
“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other before this very instant.
You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now.
Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy and don’t let you down this time around.
Sunghoon watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight.
“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”
You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.
So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own.
He hums out at the feeling of your inner cheeks hugging against his length, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag.
Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt.
“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?”
The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story.
He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.
He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him.
Sunghoon snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him.
“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “You can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”
That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you?
Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night.
You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep. Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay.
This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.
“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did.
You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.
Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.
“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”
Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth.
You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all night.
“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.
Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly.
“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go as he presses you back against his floor. “Do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”
He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?”
You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.
“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”
He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.
His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face.
“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me, darling.”
You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your slit, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman.
Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked.
You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.
This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside to taste your plush and wet walls.
God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip from your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.
And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own.
“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.
You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps it’s because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you are a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex.
When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying.
“Open up,” he whispers against your lips, licking your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”
You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything.
“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your momma hear how good it feels, babe, go on.”
Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.
“Sunghoon,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”
He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.
“Soak my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.
He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–
You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly.
“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “Think you can take it?”
You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against.
Fuck, he can feel your cunt gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.
“Yeah, that’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.
You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.
“Let it go for me,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”
Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head.
Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor.
“Messy, messy girl.” He says with a chuckle. “Dirtying up my living room like this? Come on, get up.”
This is the first time Sunghoon has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image. So badly does he want to see those shaking legs try to stand for him, so badly, does he want to see you fucking buckle.
“Come on,” he says again, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and pressing your toward the couch.
He watches how you wobble over, shuffling your feet with your knees turned inward with each step. He can’t help but lick his lips, seeing how your arousal drips down both of your legs in a shameless show of how much his fingers alone could do for you.
“Sorry,” You rasp out as you make your way over, brain fogged from the orgasm and unable to feel much at all outside of the pulsing inside of you. “I’ve never–”
“Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length, staring at you.
Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.
He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand.
“Gonna keep that promise?” he asks, still smoothing his hands over your legs and looking up at you. “Gonna take my cock better than you did my fingers?”
You nod, feeling a pulse of electricity inside of you. Willing you to take more, wanting to be stretched further.
Besides, you know that once you’re seated with his length fucking impaling you, you’ll at least have his broad shoulders to hold onto if you need to stay steady.
And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch. Feeling the searing stretch offer a bit of pain despite the sheer amount of wet you have collected between your legs.
He can feel you clench around him in the attempt to adjust, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly.
“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”
You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man.
He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. Loving the way each inhaled chuckle forces your body to squeeze his cock delightfully tight.
God, You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type.
“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.
“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone.
He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your cunt hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass, and guiding you even closer to his chest.
You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise too.
His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spread you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. Stretching you open and loosening you up, the pleasure of it hitting him right in the throat each time with small grunts against your nipple when you bounce at the movement.
You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now.
You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again out of sensitivity.
He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace.
“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk.
You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to.
Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.
The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.
Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.
“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more.
You knew you’d have him just as desperate as you by the end of the night. Now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm.
Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you again, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.
You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.
“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”
She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you several times already.
“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”
His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you.
“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”
Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you.
“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.
“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.
“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and if she knew that cum was on the menu, perhaps you both would be slapped shitless.
“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”
Sunghoon looks at you curiously, and you look back at him.
“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”
She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen.
It’s silent between you and Sunghoon for a few moments before he speaks up.
“I wouldn’t be against it.”
“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow.
“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”
You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused.
“I find myself agreeing with that statement,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “But for some reason, agreeing with you pisses me off more.”
Sunghoon nods, smiling through the pain of the bruise forming on his shin.
“Good thing I know how to fix that, huh?” He finishes the conversation, fully aware that he knows how to shut you up and make you love it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
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HI I saw your fic abt izuku being really nervy with touch but now can you do one where his girl “bsf” (us) is rlly touchy and they always do couple stuff so casually and everyone is like “y’all are literally dating” and he insists “nahhh this is what bsf do” and we are like “he doesn’t know he’s my bf yet” kinda vibe? Idk if this is coherent at all but yk I’m just a girl
Oh I like the way you think.
This is what friends do.
They snuggle up close to each other, bodies flush against one another. Izuku 10% believes, that this is indeed what best friends do. He holds you close, ketting you scoot back into him, your ass right up against his pelvis. He shudders resisting the urge to let his hips buck up against your ass.
But this is what friends do, they cuddle close and look into each other's eyes longingly. The dark room consumes the both of you whole, his hand finds itself way to your cheek gently rubbing it while you whisper something to him. Everything you say unfortunately goes unheard, he's too busy trying his hardest to get a good look at you underneath the moonlights glow.
It's all okay. This is what friends do. They kiss each other on the cheek, or on the foreheads, or even sometimes the nose. They kiss each other in these places to make their friends know they're loved. It's even okay for them to occasionally kiss the corner of the others lips.
Izuku was nervous, your touch was warm literally burning his skin. It's like in whatever place you touch it vibrated and turned pink, he didn't know what to do. His face was hearing up, your face was so close to his he just didn't know how to react. He felt your breath on his face, you were so close to him it made him shiver. Finally you stop just an inch away from your lips touching, he gulped audibly and tried his hardest not to freak out.
“ goodnight zu.”
You say in a whispered tone, gently kissing the very corner of his lips making him gasp while you did so. You give him a small smile before snuggling close and lying your head on his chest. His breath was shaky and his whole face was beet red, luckily it was too dark for you to notice. He sighed and laid his chin atop of your head closing his eyes and getting ready for bed.
Although if you asked izuku he would be quick to say "you're just best friends!" He'll admit there are some things that make him question your relationship. One time you both were out with friends at the movies, he bought you a ticket and some snacks for the both of you to share, plus you were wearing matching onesies. Everyone was quick to comment on it and how cute you both were but he was quick to shut it down.
“ oh c'mon, we're just friends! right y/n?”
“ yeah guys, we're seriously just besties at best. He just doesn't know he's actually my husband yet.”
Izukus eyes were blown wide as you walked past him slurping a slushie, mina follower you giggling you both had started whispering and huddling together talking about something. Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't want to know. Some of the guys were so quick to tease him asking him questions like "when you two got married" and "if you'd let him hit yet".
While sitting down and watching the movie you sat next to mina mostly just talking rather than watching, izuku sat next to bakugou and denki with kirishima sero and todoroki behind them. Izuku was just above you, yet you were so good at whispering he couldn't exactly make out what you were saying, but trust his nosy ass wanted to know.
“ so you're telling me you've NEVER thought about fucking y/n? like not even once?!”
Denki questioned midoriya with a box of Pocky in his hands, izuku was chewing on some twizzlers and nearly choked at the absurd question.
“ w- what?! no! of course not! we're seriously just friends okay?”
He was quick to shut it down. Huffing as he leaned onto his best friend slightly, the blond looked down to the green haired boy who's eyes were trained on you and what you were showing mina on your phone. Katsuki scoffed which involuntarily caught everyone's attention.
“ if yer’ gonna pretend like you don't want ‘er at least stop staring at her like you wanna fuck ‘er.”
It made all the boys laugh, and tease izuku he was so red and just didn't know how to react. Now his best friend was teasing him? It'll never end. With an annoyed sigh izuku stood and excused himself from the rather noisy group. He walked past you and mina grabbing your attention, mina pointed at him and pushed you to follow him. You did exactly that.
Following behind him you see him walking to the boys bathroom and just before he could go in you yell out "boo!" Making him let out a high pitched noise, causing people to look in your direction. He was so embarrassed he covered his face with his hood and grabbed you by your arm and pulled you inside and closing the door behind you. Luckily you were also wearing your hood so no one could exactly tell you weren't a guy.
“ I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't expect you to get scared like that hahaha!!”
You say to him with faux apologies, he was red and embarrassed, that adorable little pout forming back on his face. He was so prone to doing it all the time it's like it was just a default setting for him.
“ y/n!!”
The way he whined your name was just too cute. You were dying of laughter, holding onto him while he buried his face in your neck huffing and breathing into it. Once he smelled your perfume he calmed down a bit, your scent was just so soothing to him. Your laughter began to cease as you swayed in his arms. His eyes closed as he just held you there, he moved slightly shifting his nose to bury itself deeper into the crook of your neck, sighing heavily creating a warmth there.
You hum and scratch his scalp lightly, his hoodie falling off as you did so. He was just too cute for this world sometimes. Being a pouty little shit. You pull back a bit making him groan lowly while staring daggers into your eyes, he was annoyed. Not necessarily with you but with how everyone kept saying you two should "just get together". Or how you're "literally together". It didn't help that you played along with them and called him your husband.
The only thing running through his mind is what if he had actually liked you. What if he didn't know if he liked you. What if he hated the way you make him feel, how you'd touch all over him leaving your scent all over his clothes or his sheets like you'd just had sex or something..
“ zuku, what's the matter?”
He didn't answer. Too busy looking deep into your eyes, they way they looked up into his. That little sparkle in your eyes, it drove him crazy. The things the guys were saying earlier were replaying in his head as he took a good look at you and how you looked in this baggy onesie. Without a thought in mind he grabbed you by your neck and slammed you against the wall, pinning you to it and pressing his rough lips against yours.
You were surprised but welcomed it completely, his other free hand had roamed your body moving to your zipper to unzip it. Once he got it done he slipped his hand past the fabric and underneath the tank top you were wearing below the onesie, he felt your bare boob and squeezed it, moaning into your rough kiss.
It was sloppy and heated. Your teeth had accidentally clashed against each others, he was just so eager and angry he didn't know how to feel or act. The kiss began to get rather spit filled, saliva seeping through your lips and spilling at the corner of your mouths. He groaned into it as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. He was aggressive with the squeezing, never letting up.
Your hands soon wrap around his neck pulling him even closer into you. He breaks the kiss momentarily to catch his breath, his eyes still closed as he does so. He finally removed the hand that was groping your boobs to hoist your thigh up, he gave it a quick squeeze before gripping your neck tighter and craning your neck to the side, he had access to your neck and attacked it. Leaving heavily pigmented marks, he moved fast and claimed every spot he could with his mouth.
He groaned against your skin and breathed in your scent, absolutely getting drunk off of the taste of you. He was in between your thighs and took it as a sign to grind against you, he pushed you more against the wall while he roughly humped you. He groaned into your ear making your eyes roll. The friction felt nice but it wasn't enough for you.
You pushed him away making him scoff in annoyance, he was so sexually frustrated he just wanted to use you to get off. You clouded his thoughts more than hed like to admit and people were always telling him to fuck you so when he was finally trying to you push him away?
You unzip your onesie more revealing your shorts that were beneath, you reach back for him and pull him into you. Izuku was surprised but quickly understood, he grabbed you by your thighs and picked you up holding onto you tightly and he smashed his lips back with yours.
You both moaned into it and let your tongues swirl together swapping each others spit, izuku was so needy he had sat your body down on the sink and pulled you closer so you could wrap your legs around his waist. After you did so he was quick to grind into you again, he rubbed his hard cock against your clothed cunt as roughly as possible.
You could feel him much closer to your heart now, little mewls escaping you. His fingers hooked at the side of your shorts and tugged them down, the second he got them off he moved his kisses down and began kissing your thighs. It made you gasp at the sudden attention, he was staring right up at you through his lashes, moving inward towards your inner thighs licking and sucking all across them.
No words were needed, he knew you wanted him just as bad as he needed you. With nothing needed to be said he began kissing your clothed cunt, eyes rolling at the smell of you. He started sucking the cloth into his mouth trying to get as much of your essence into his mouth before he fully devoured you. He moved you now soaked panties to the side and finally stuck his face into your heat.
Izuku licked sloppily into you, not going into it with much thought just messily eating you. He licked and slurped all that he could, letting his fingers also get some action. He pulled his mouth away to let his fingers tease your slit making you whimper, he loved the noises you made for him. The sounds of your cunt squelching as he shoved his fingers into you, letting them bully their way inside of you. and the little mewls you let out, your hand trying to cover your mouth to not make any nose to catch any attention.
He lifted your leg and placed it over his shoulder and buried his tongue back inside of you, his fingers were still going to work as he made sure to give as much attention to your clit as possible, kitten licking it to tease you. He knew what he was doing and it showed. How did izuku know this much about eating pussy and how to make it feel nice?
Hes only had one other girlfriend that you've known of. You tried to piece together whatever you could but it's like he was trying to get you to lose your mind. He curled his fingers just right making you feel the familiar cook in your stomach turn, everything was coordinating correctly you could feel your high approaching. Izuku knew you were close and wanted you to cum, he wanted to taste your cum so badly. He wanted to be the reason you came.
“ c'mon baby, cum f’me.. get it all over me..”
His speech was slurred, his eyes were slightly rolling backwards as he slurped as much of you up as he could. You came hard on his tongue and fingers yanking and tugging into his hair making him groan into your cunt while licking your clit, he kept eating you despite you cumming the extra stimulation had you shaking and throwing your head back. The moan you let out was too loud you both knew it was, izuku couldn't care though. He finally had you where he knew he wanted you, he had wanted you for so long and hated when people would ask questions about his feelings for you.
Of course he wanted you, of course he wanted to fuck you. He loved you so much and not just as a friend. Not as a 'best friend', more than that. He wanted you to be his and he hated the thought of anyone else having you. he wanted to be so possessive over you. He wanted you to want him.
Izuku took one last lick before coming up, he crawled back up to you and gave you a sweet kiss. His lips and tongue were contaminated with your flavour, you could taste yourself on his lips and didn't know how to feel about it.
You both left the bathroom and hurried back to the group only to find that the movie had long ended, they all looked at the both of you and just snickered and laughed. you two hadn't noticed that you looked a damn mess, izukus hair was messy and your onesie was halfway zipped, you both were out if breath and izuku was extremely red.
“ what?”
“ what...?”
You both questioned in union, everyone just bursted out laughing as you all walked out of the movies. You two hadn't realized how fucked up you both looked so you were just confused. Izuku still couldn't shake what just happened however, he no longer cared about what everyone was snickering about. He'd just eaten you out and you were acting like everything was normal.
Your scent was most likely still lingering on his breath, and you were just acting like everything was normal. Izuku left out a shaky sigh, he had no idea where this would lead but he was glad he got to taste you. He wouldn't mind doing it again either.
Is this what friends do?
AN: this was kinda rushed but I js wanted to get something out
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