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hongism · 2 years

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heartbreak hotel. (k.sw, 18+)

» k.sunwoo x fem!reader » pretty much just smut + filth 👍 » language, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, semi-enemies to lovers » summary; you’re keen on playing the game with the expectation of winning against a man like kim sunwoo - someone rich and equally arrogant, who expects to have everything handed to him on a silver platter - but you both underestimated how well he plays and overestimated your ability to withstand what he throws your way. » wc; 11.6k

a/n; standing man emoji. that’s all. in honor of my queen melty sometimes i still hear her voice (affectionately screaming yelling and threatening me) also this was only one third of the original outline so im not saying more to come but... act surprised if more does come...

Tempo up and down like that, becoming honest This fading line between us, let’s tear it down Just acknowledge our feelings and take a step forward

» smut warnings; semi-public sex, protected piv, oral sex: m & f receiving, manual stimulation, grinding, edging, dirty talk, some degradation, petnames: doll, kitten, slut, big dick kink (almost), (slight) hair pulling, car sex (please always wear a seatbelt don’t do this...)

“Hey, mind grabbing that customer for me?”

All it takes is one glance down the line of the bar to understand why your coworker is requesting such a thing, but you can’t find yourself too enthused to take her up on the offer. A young man — probably early twenties and younger than you by at least a couple years — dressed to the nines in what you consider to be a rather run-down and dirty dive of a bar given his neatly crimped suit and pressed tie. Even the way he wears his hair with too much gel and carefully styled to only exposed half of his forehead seems to scream the phrase ‘I’m a douche, do not approach me!’, but alas you care for your coworker far too much for your own good and won’t turn her down even if the guy is a raging prick.

“Yeah, pop this drink over to Jerry for me, please?” You leave the drink in question beside her at the other side of the bar before wiping your palms down over your ratty apron and stepping over to the newcomer. “What can I get you?”

Instead of a response, or even a basic human acknowledgment, the kid lifts his hand and shows off the unmarred skin of his palm while typing away at his phone with his other one. It takes every bit of your willpower to not roll your eyes and snap right then and there, frankly, but the promise of tips and money far outweighs the desire to be an ass in return. You do bite into the inside of your cheek, however, in the hopes that it will keep your expression from showing too much annoyance when the man finally sets his phone down and glances up at you.

“Scotch on the rocks, top shelf stuff if you can manage it. I have a friend on the way too, get him a Mai Tai if you would, doll.” His gaze flits down to your shirt, scanning the little metal tag that has your name etched into it for a few seconds, but he’s looking back at your face moments later without any intention to address you by your proper name. “You can go now, that’s all.”

“Gonna need to see a license first.”

“I don’t have a license.”

“Then you can’t drink alcohol.” We have a kids’ menu crosses your mind too but you don’t dare say such a thing with other customers in close quarters.

“I have my identification card in my wallet, don’t be so huffy,” he huffs out as he twists at the waist to fish around in his suit pockets. He flashes the little card in your face to your dismay, and the birthdate does indeed confirm that he’s perfectly legal so you relent with a little sigh.

“Coming right out, sir.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t make me wait too long.”

His looks are also a bit deceiving, it seems, because according to said card, he’s not nearly as young as you predicted him to be — twenty-three and turning twenty-four within the next few weeks — and it’s only disheartening because you can’t pin his attitude and demeanor on being an immature rich teen. You’ve dealt with enough of that type to at least know how to throw some harmless quips in their faces when they get a little too arrogant and dick-headed, but this one just seems to be the run-of-the-mill rich ass who thinks he’s got plenty of better things to do than be kind to the people serving him. Setting the pair of drinks down before him on the counter doesn’t even earn you a thank you, let alone any sort of attention in the slightest even as you inform him that the brand of scotch you’ve given him is the best of the best and ready to put a proper dent in any average man’s wallet. He barely blinks at the information.

“How bad is he?” Your coworker asks as you move back to wipe down your hands.

“Not nearly as bad as I imagined. Just the rich kind of asshole.”

Yuna shakes her head ever so slightly, letting brown hair fall from her bun to frame her pretty face. She’s still new to both the area and the job, especially compared to the several years you have under your belt being here, but she has managed to go above and beyond all your other coworkers (even the ones you’ve got on with for years). You don’t doubt that she could easily handle some tougher customers and still manage to get a pretty tip out of them but you’d feel a bit awful throwing her to the wolves when she directly asks you for help the way she did.

“Those are the worst ones, aren’t they?”

You hum your approval and glance back over your shoulder. The seat next to the man is now occupied by another body, someone of similar build and age to him it seems but you’re still required to do your job even if you have an inkling that he’s of age. Pushing yourself back to that edge of the bar, you plaster a little grin on your lips before speaking to either man.

“May I see your ID before you drink, sir?”

“Oh! Of course, yeah, just one second!” At least this one is far friendlier than the first, despite wearing a similar suit and tie. He flashes a license in your direction, and your eyes gravitate to the birth year and nothing else as usual.

“Perfect, thank you.”

He returns your grin with one of his own. You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you turn around to glance over the rest of the bar. Either your standards have dipped considerably low or you were simply that put off by his less than stellar companion to a point where you find the other’s kindness that palatable.

The next few hours pass in a flash as the bulk of your clientele come through for happy hour, and you don’t have time to catch your breath so thinking about a rich prick and his hot friend is out of the question entirely. That is until the end of the rush when you have to go back over to that area of the bar when one of them waves you down.

“Refill and a water, if you would.” His tone is nothing short of demanding, and even his friend has the decency to offer you a sympathetic glance in the face of his friend’s shortness.

“I’ll take a water as well, please,” he enunciates his gratitude that way despite the way the man at his side promptly ignores you before you’ve even stepped away. You return his smile with one of your own as though to say that it’s entirely fine and nothing out of the ordinary for a job such as this one. Still, the little bits of kindness you do receive throughout long and grueling shifts like this one are few and far between so it’s nice to have some of that, especially from a handsome face. A job’s a job at the end of the day, a way to make a living and get money, and while you don’t have the most groundbreaking paychecks to bring home to you and your pet betta fish Earl, it’s a living nonetheless. The work can be unforgiving at times, sure, yet you still keep coming back because you do enjoy it. Maybe one day you’ll have to move off to a different job, a different place, but for now, you get to enjoy how things are. It makes having to deal with that one rude customer for the rest of the night much easier when you think about it like that, at least.

That and the fact that when he slams his black card down on the bar counter at the end of the night for both him and his friendly companion, you get to take it back to the register and feel unadulterated glee when the payment refuses to process. Three attempts on the chip reader and two backup swipes to check that it isn’t just a faulty reader later, you’re walking back to the pair at the end of the bar with a bitten-back grin.

“Sorry sir, but your payment’s been declined. Do you have a different card you can use to pay?”

“Declined?” He sounds positively scandalized, which you’re sure is utterly humiliating for a man like him. “For fuck’s sake…”

“Did he cut you off again? Jesus man, that’s the third time this mon—”

“Yeah, I fucking know, Juyeon!”

“Here, I’ve got it covered. You’ll just owe me next time, Kim.” The man — Juyeon, as he appears to be called — pulls his own wallet back out and slides a more modest and normal-looking credit card across the counter to you. The apologetic smile paints his lips yet again, his companion snatching back his precious yet defunct black card from your fingers. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“No worries. I’ll be right back.”

True to your word, you only disappear for a minute this time around as there are no further issues with Juyeon’s card.

“Is it alright if we hang around a bit and nurse our waters?” he inquires when you return his card to his possession.

“Sure, go on ahead! If you decide you want anything else to drink, just flag down a worker!”

“Ah, if I—” he chokes on nothing but saliva a second later before the words can get out, and you pass a worried glance over at him from where you were trying to make a speedy getaway. “Um… sorry, if I want to have you wait on us again, who — who should I ask for?”

“Oh?” You blink at his wide brown eyes for a moment without really processing the request. “Oh! Oh, um, okay — uh, just ask for Y/n. But I’ll be on break for the next thirty minutes or so…” His companion releases a snort, and you’re certain that if you glanced over at him now you’d find the man rolling his eyes back into his head.

“Y/n? Perfect, will do.” He passes a smile your way that shows the pretty expanse of his white grin, and you find yourself a little too flustered to do anything other than nod awkwardly and step away from the bar counter.

“Yuna, I’m gonna take my break now,” you say through a sigh, hands already reaching around your back to tug at your apron. As lovely as it is to be propositioned by hot customers, you typically don’t find it in good taste to engage in that sort of behavior back when you’re on the clock. Maybe, however, you’re a bit hopeful that said man will see you stepping away from the counter for a bit and find an opportunity there for him to take advantage of. If not, then c'est la vie and so be it.

It’s a great pleasure though when stepping into the hallway where the single-stall bathrooms reside has you greeting said man the moment you come back from dropping your apron in the back. He’s leaned up against the wall with arms crossed over his chest, and he’s abandoned the black suit jacket he had been wearing at the bar minutes ago to leave him in a simple form-fitting dress shirt alongside his slacks.

“Maybe I’m being a bit presumptuous but…?” Slowly, he pulls his arms down and offers a cheeky shrug coupled with a half-grin. You hum and smile back, not giving him the pleasure of seeing anything more than a thin-lipped smirk as you reach to grab him by the silk tie hanging about his neck.

“I’ll give you twenty minutes.”

“Perfect.”

You hook him into the ladies’ room solely because you noticed few women in the bar tonight, and you ought to manage to go undisturbed for a bit if you’re really lucky. He’s smothering you the moment you get the door closed behind you, hands on your body and lips seeking yours as you flip the lock and secure it into place. The touch is messy at best — clashing teeth and a quick press of his tongue against yours without any preamble — and while you understand his rush, you think he’s doing a shit job at getting you riled up with how he’s nearly biting through your tongue instead of simple teasing. You’re the one who tries to guide the pace back down to something more manageable and enjoyable for the both of you, but Juyeon inches his body closes to yours and nudges the bulge in his slacks against your inner thigh with no intention of slowing down.

“I’d love to have that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, Y/n. Care to spoil me a little?”

You nearly scoff. It’s a wonder you thought he was that much better than his friend, but it seems as though all rich kids like them think the same. Still, you have no qualms with what he’s asking for even though you know it means he won’t be making any effort to get you off with how little time you have together.

Your fingers hook into his dress shirt, and you spin with enough momentum to get his back to slam into the door in a flip of your positions that has you pressing him up against the surface now.

“Fuck.”

A little hum slips free of your lips in response, one that’s accompanied by fluttering lashes and a coy gleam in your eyes as you sink down to your knees against the cool tiled floor. A few strands of gelled hair fall in front of his eyes when he tilts his chin down to gaze upon you in your new position.

“Just like that, pretty girl, pull my cock out, yeah?” He brings a large, veiny hand around the side of your head to tangle in your hair. You preoccupy yourself with tugging his belt free and once that’s out of the way, you go a bit above and beyond with the seduction factor by taking his zipper between your teeth and pulling it down, nose brushing into where his length sits trapped behind black underwear. “Come on, lemme fuck your mouth.” Crude, but you aren’t sure why you expected anything else. He seems entirely uninterested in your ideas of foreplay, however, do you decide to go on and forgo them by doing what he’s asking you to instead.

Slipping his member free of both pants and underwear, you waste no time in taking the tip between your lips, letting your tongue rest along the underside for only a few seconds before taking him deeper. It earns you a soft groan and matching thud as he seems to let his head fall back against the door in light pleasure. You wouldn’t say you’re known for your mind-blowing oral skills or being terribly enthusiastic without ample buildup, but the hasty noises of his pleasure give you enough of a confidence boost to get you dragging your tongue over his length as you sink deep enough to have his cockhead pressing into your throat. Swallowing there, you pull him all the way into your mouth, nose pressing into the neatly trimmed hairs around his base, before starting to find a steady rhythm to your bobs. Despite his hand being firmly placed in your hair, he makes no effort to guide your movements or fuck your face, which you’re a tad grateful for because you have to go back to work after this and don’t want to look like you’ve had your throat fucked raw the rest of the night.

Not the kind of fun you were hoping for, all in all, especially not as you pull off his cock less than three minutes later because he’s nearing his high. You lean to the side to grab a paper towel before he can blow his load all over your face — or worse, your clothes — and the moment you cover his member, he cums into the towel with a bitten back groan and hand still threaded through your hair to the point where it’s leaving a painful sting. The perk to him cumming so early, you suppose, means that there’s still time left for him to return the favor. At least, that’s what you thought just before turning around after throwing out the soiled paper towel to find Juyeon pulling his pants up and resituating his belt and clothes without so much as glancing in your direction.

“Thanks, pretty girl. You’re not half bad.” He winks but the gesture is more sleazy than actually attractive. You can do nothing but blink back at him as though too stunned to even speak. When he reaches for the lock, you finally do scoff and find it in you to speak.

“What? Not gonna return the favor?”

He shifts enough to glance at you over his shoulder. His bewildered expression shows that that’s a thought that never even crossed his mind.

“Why should I?”

And with that, he’s flipping the lock and stepping out of the bathroom without saying anything further.

“All the fucking same,” you mutter to yourself, kicking at the edge of the door with your foot until it snaps shut again.

There’s a headache beginning to form in your temple, one that persists even after your break ends and you get back to your shift once more. Neither Juyeon nor his prick of a companion is at the bar when you return, and your only solace is that you most likely won’t have to see either one of them for the rest of your life if you’re really lucky. That fact alone nearly makes you tell Yuna all about it on the spot but you decide it’s best to preserve what’s left of your dignity by pushing the thought of both men into the back of your mind for the rest of the night.

« ✦ »

To your credit, you don’t see Juyeon again after that night.

The more unfortunate issue is that his friend has started becoming something of a regular in the bar, and he always manages to come whenever your shifts are going. Twice a week, eight o’clock on the dot, usually Tuesdays and Fridays. The situation would likely be entirely fine if not for the fact that he always sits on your side of the bar and asks to have you wait on him every time he’s there.

You maintain a semi-friendly front to the best of your ability, and while some of that is genuine (you’re at least grateful he never asks about Juyeon even though he most definitely knows about your rendezvous with his friend in the bathroom), the majority of it is the customer-service worker in you that wants to avoid issue.

It’s one of those said nights — a Friday this time — that he comes in dressed in his usual suit and tie regalia, only this time he has a woman on his arm. She’s dressed equally as fancy as he is, wearing a slinky black dress that leaves little to the imagination. You wait over by his end of the bar with a smile already plastered across your lips before the pair even sits down.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted your usual, but it seems you’ve mixed things up for once.” Upon closer inspection, he’s simply wearing a silk vest under his blazer, a silver chain hanging down where his tie would normally be, and the outfit seems to almost intentionally match his companion’s.

“Ah, no, I’ll still have a scotch on the rocks. To—”

“Top shelf stuff, yup. We just got a new batch I can break open for you. And for you, ma’am?”

“Hm, just a martini.” He doesn’t have the decency to pull a stool out for her, but luckily she doesn’t make to sit down right away either. Instead, she sets her little black bag down atop the cushion and lingers behind the stool. “Is it alright if I run to the restroom first?”

“Go on ahead.” His gaze lingers for no more than two seconds when he sends her off; in fact, the way he pulls his gaze back down to the bar counter is almost hasty. Your curious stare must linger a little longer than necessary because he snaps his chin up to connect sharp eye contact that has you spinning on your own heel and heading back to start their drinks. It’s none of your business, honestly and truly, but one of the perks to this line of work is the subtle allowance for being nosy, and you find yourself curious nonetheless.

As it turns out, you get the pair’s drinks done and ready before the woman returns from her trip to the bathroom, and her companion — whose name you have yet to learn even after several weeks of serving him — barely bats an eye when you set the drinks down before him on the bar. His gaze is instead glued to the glowing screen of his phone, thumb pressed against the side of the screen as he seemingly scrolls without thought. You don’t bother making any sort of snide comment despite the urge to; you doubt he would even make an effort to look up from his phone if you did. It’s a slow night for once, however, which means that you spend more time lingering around the counter on your own rather than serving customer after customer. Even with some of your regulars pulling you into conversations here and there, you have fairly little to keep you occupied beyond people watching (ie watching this new regular and his date barely interact or speak for the next forty-five minutes).

He waves you down right as the clock hits nine o’clock, almost like he was counting the seconds until the hour came around. You take the black card he extends in your direction without thought and pass a slightly sympathetic smile to his date when she glances up with a rather defeated expression painting her pretty features.

It’s only poetic that you have the same issue that you had the very first time he came to this bar. Two attempts at the chip reader leave you helpless and with a declined card yet again, and you give one desperate swipe in the hopes that a miracle will strike but it’s to no avail.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you catch sight of the girl’s downcast eyes and her companion’s flat, unreadable face. You could easily return to him and humiliate him by passing the card back and telling him it’s been declined again. You would have no issue doing that if it were just him present, but your heart goes out to his date because the humiliation would bleed to her shoulders too. When she’s already having such a god-awful night as it is, you think you would much rather avoid that sort of issue altogether. So, against better judgment, you clear the register and pen yourself a reminder to fulfill the bill on your own card at the end of your shift. He only bought two drinks tonight, and although one of them had a heftier price tag, you have enough of a cushion in your bank account to spot the payment just this once. When you walk back to where the two are sitting, you swallow involuntarily to keep the lump in your throat down.

“Receipt?” You ask out of pure instinct despite knowing the answer.

“Not needed.” He takes the card out of your hands before you can even extend it in his general direction.

“Of course. Have a nice night.” Your words are moreso directed at the girl, but he doesn’t need to know the difference.

You are in the middle of reaching for their empty glasses when she clears her throat out of the blue, whipping her chin up and looking to her side with none of the earlier warmth that she entered with in her gaze.

“I’ll head out first. Thanks for the drink.”

That’s all the effort she spares on him, tone so icy that even you feel awkward just standing close enough to hear it, but you can’t find it in you to blame her for being so cold when he treated her with equal distaste. It’s only when she steps out of the bar that you decide to say something.

“You could’ve at least spoken to the poor girl.”

“Why? I hardly wanted to bring her along.”

Your frown turns into a deep scowl, but the man doesn’t look at you long enough to see your expression shift.

“Ah, right. Forgot how you rich folk work. Did daddy dearest set you up to close out a business deal or something else that’s equally ridiculous? In my eyes, she gets the short end of the stick being treated more like a bargaining chip than a human being.”

“Did you also consider the possibility that I am the bargaining chip rather than her?”

Given her nerves at the beginning of the night, you find yourself doubting such a thing.

“Shouldn’t I get a say in what I want too?” he continues, leaning forward on his elbows against the bar counter. There’s a certain edge to his tone that sharply contrasts the little glint in his eyes that shows he’s taking this exchange with a grain of salt.

“Okay then, what is it you want?” you fire back, hoping that your response is enough to make him flatline and wave you off. It’s just your luck when that isn’t how he reacts in the slightest. No, instead, he leans further across the counter in such a way that makes the deep vee of his satin vest fall lower and tease the tanned skin underneath. The silver pendant hanging around his neck dangles to the point of distraction, making your gaze drop to follow the movement only to get caught staring directly into that exposed skin. Full lips grin wide at you.

“Isn’t it only natural that I crave you more than anything else?”

“Right, and I want a million dollars. But I work in a bar instead. Can’t we be realistic?”

“Send me the bank details and I’ll have it deposited by morning.”

“With what? Your fancy little black card? By the way, daddy cut you off again and that dumb thing declined a second time. You’re lucky I had enough pity on your date to not humiliate her by announcing that her rich date couldn’t pay for one measly drink.” In hindsight, you wish you had led with that because it has him both stunned into silence and a bit flustered on top of that. He sucks in a sharp breath that almost hurts to listen to before reaching down into his pocket and pulling the same wallet as before out.

“I have cash on me, how much was it?”

“Fifty-eight. Your date was a lot cheaper than you.”

He forks over the money with an ease that isn’t all too surprising given how well off he is and how willing he is to drop fifty bucks on a drink multiple times a week. Still, you double-check the bills with a furrowed brow.

“This is… way too much money.”

“Well, it includes a tip.” He waves his hand at the wad of cash sitting in your palm like it’s nothing, but even so, he has never been so generous in his tips before tonight. A thought hits you as he blinks up at you with wide, expectant eyes.

“You can keep your money if you think I’m gonna sleep with you for a nice tip.” You pull the extra bills out, lip curling as disgust creeps up your spine, and toss them onto the counter without sparing him a glance.

“How much would it take for you to give me a chance then?”

“I’m not some — that’s not the kind of job I work. It’s not some pay-to-win game where the prize is a night in bed with me. I don’t even know your name.”

“You carded me.” The man says that like it’s supposed to change the fact and like he can’t possibly believe you wouldn’t have remembered his name from such a quick glance over his id.

“I don’t typically look at names; only birthdays. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Sunwoo. Kim Sunwoo, that is.” The belated introduction comes with a half grin that looks more uncomfortable than natural.

“Lovely to put a name to a regular’s face, thanks, but I’m still not keen on accepting that money from you.”

“Didn’t my companion tip you well after you snuck off to the bathroom with him the first time I was here?”

Your expression goes from shocked to horrified in a record-breaking amount of time, mostly because rather than wearing a stupid smirk or having a teasing lilt to his tone, Kim Sunwoo seems genuinely curious about the matter.

“He left me high and dry and without any sort of tip, so no. Your friend did nothing of the sort,” you spit back, perhaps a little too passionately in retrospect. “But I expect nothing less from the likes of you. Rich pricks with nothing better to do than take advantage of people poorer and less well off than you for some form of sick enjoyment, I suppose? I looked an idiot thinking he’d have some decency. I’m shocked he didn’t run back to you and tell you all about his spoils and fun.”

“He’s hardly someone I’d call a friend so no, we don’t exactly exchange stories like that.”

There’s a little lull in your conversation then, one that lets you pull away from the conversation almost naturally, and you find a decent excuse to not return to Sunwoo’s side of the bar by tending to a customer on the other end. It’s nearing the end of your shift anyway, so you won’t need to bother with entertaining the guy for much longer. You half-expect him to disappear and leave while you have your back turned; however, every time you turn around, your gaze flits over to where he sits and finds him still seated in the exact same spot. His dark eyes find yours each time, and your embarrassment amplifies more and more as it continues to happen. You hate to give anyone the pleasure of digging their way under your skin, yet all it took for Sunwoo to do it was a well-placed jab and a reminder of the shameful situation you’ve been trying to put out of your mind for the past several weeks.

You consider it a small win when Yuna finally comes to relieve you and you step out from behind the counter without speaking to the man again. It’s a short-lived victory, unfortunately, because rounding the corner to head to the break room where all the belongings that you brought with you to work leads you to find Sunwoo leaned up against the wall rather than at his seat at the bar.

“I’m off the clock now so customer service is out the window.”

“I don’t intend on asking you for a drink back here.”

“Then what exactly is it you want from me? I already said I’m not interested.”

“I’m not used to not getting what I want, I’ll be honest.”

“Oh, that much is glaringly apparent.” You nudge your way past him to reach the door to the back, but Sunwoo leans forward a little to block your path.

“What if I said I could do better than the last guy?”

“Then I’d call you a fool again.”

“You never know unless you try.”

“And risk getting humiliated and playing right into your hand? I know what game you’re playing, Mr. Kim. I’m afraid I don’t want to let you win it either. Maybe you should have given your date a better chance.”

“Could I at least have your phone number? You can block me at any time if you don’t wanna play anymore. I won’t even get a new number to try to contact you if you do!”

You spin on your heel partially out of sheer disbelief but also because you really want to see the expression on this guy’s face when he’s saying something so antagonistic. To no one’s surprise, he’s smiling back at you like a cheeky bastard. Backing down now would be the easier, simpler option. You’re well aware of that. But the more stubborn part of you would really love to play into what he wants if only to come out on top, the part of you that wants to prove a point — you’re dumb enough to believe that you can hold out against a serial player and beat him at his own game.

“Fine. But if I want out then that’s it.”

« ✦ »

rich prick: ur working tonight right?

me: why are you asking exactly?

rich prick: need to know whether i wear my sexy black shirt or just go with a vest for you to look down again :p

me: …two seconds from blocking you

rich prick: ohh should i dress casual? how about a crop top? you wouldn’t be able to see very well with the bar in the way but i wouldn’t want to distract you during work hours anyway ^^

Three weeks later, you’re certain that you have made a grave and irreversible mistake that there is no coming back from. Because as incessant as Kim Sunwoo can be at the bar, you have learned that he likes to be even more insufferable over text. He always texts for meaningless conversations that you know are just attempts to get under your skin, but your already-short patience can’t tolerate his teasing for more than a few minutes at a time. Mostly because you have already made peace with the fact that you are fighting an uphill battle that you’re losing dramatically.

You don’t have an edge on the guy — nothing to put you over him or win you any points. Because, without fail, each time you try to throw the cards back in his face, he manages to flip it around on you.

Make a comment about his dick probably being small? He pins you down with the oh so you’ve been thinking about it already?

Tell him too much confidence isn’t that appealing? He hits you with a and you have yet to block me.

You even went so far as to tell him that he needs a girl to put him in his place, and his response was to insinuate that you could dominate him any day of the week if that’s what it took to please you.

In all of your (misplaced) wisdom, you imagined it would be quick and easy to disarm a guy like him, but here you are weeks later glaring at the door you know he’s about to step through waiting to lose another game to him. it is entirely unfortunate that he looks right at you upon stepping into the building, and you’re caught spinning around to not look so expectant.

“Is it a slow night or do I suspect that you were waiting on me, doll?” His voice reaches your ears moments later, and you huff out an unamused little laugh before deciding to face him for real. Thankfully, he decided not to be entirely insane and wear a crop top or something equally ridiculous (read: distracting) — just a simple suit with a proper shirt underneath. He resituates the collar upon sitting down at the bar counter, popping two buttons free and letting a bit of skin shine through. If you didn’t know better, you would assume it’s simply hot outside and he’s doing it to cool off, but you’ve found yourself far too acquainted with his games these days and that means you know the exact reason behind his actions. Rather than giving him the pleasure of seeing you sweat, you push a glass down in front of him, one with a sphere of ice in the center, and showcase the bottle in your hand.

“Someone just had me crack this open. Will you be having it tonight by chance?” Not entirely the truth because that customer left nearly forty minutes ago and you were keeping an eye on the clock to gauge when Sunwoo would be coming in, but he doesn’t need to know any of that.

“Of course, you know my order by now, don’t you?”

It is a rather slow night, mostly because it’s a Tuesday and that’s far from your busiest day of the week. That’s the sole reason why you’re allowing Sunwoo to have even this much of your attention, along with the extra insurance of having a coworker on the other end of the counter chatting up some other customers.

Sunwoo levels you with a stare as you pour his drink. You try to ignore it to the best of your ability, but the heat of his gaze lingers even when you turn to put the bottle back on the shelf behind you.

“Did you get all dolled up just for me?”

You hesitate where you’re stretched up on your tiptoes to cast a glance back at the man over your shoulder.

“Do you think you’re really worth that effort?”

“That all depends on whether you want me to have you or not.”

You neglect to respond until you have the liquor firmly placed back safely on the shelf — it’s probably worth more than you are and you don’t want that put on a damages tab of any sort — then smooth down the front of your apron. You didn’t put any special effort into what you’re wearing, even if Sunwoo thinks otherwise. There’s a limited selection of clothes you can wear to work, and because you are dramatically lazy during the weekend, you neglected to wash the jeans you typically wear on Tuesdays. The only other option you had was the pleated black skirt that hugs your waist now, and while it’s not riding up your ass and showing anything unprofessional, Sunwoo has a way of seeing exactly what he wants to see. So of course, he would flatter himself with the thought that you chose the outfit specifically for him.

“Are you drinking alone tonight, or can I expect another failed date to come through?”

“Ha ha,” Sunwoo accentuates the forced laugh with a small roll of his eyes. You take innate pleasure in irking him even a tiny bit. “I’m free for the night for once. When does your shift end?”

“I get off early tonight because my manager is bringing in someone new to train. He like doing all the training himself so I get to leave in thirty minutes rather than in four hours.”

Sunwoo nods, fingers tracing the rim of his glass as he purses his lips. No words leave his mouth, however, and you’re left to piece together what his expression means in lieu of hearing another teasing remark. You don’t need to think too deeply about it if you’re being perfectly honest because the implication is there — the inquiry about whether he’ll have a guest, him asking about your shift, the subtle yet very obvious pokes around the same bush that leave you wondering how the night might end. You think he knows as well as you do that you’re fighting a losing battle, so truly it’s only a matter of time and whether he moves the right pieces into place. Rather than speaking just yet, however, he passes a little grin your way before lifting his glass to his full lips.

“Don’t let me get in your way for those last thirty minutes then,” he says, tone something low and borderline sinful. “I can gladly wait my turn.”

You suck your lower lip into your mouth to keep from smiling back.

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur of soap and water solely because you finish out your shift by cleaning the dishes thanks to the lack of customers. It keeps you busy and away from Sunwoo, leaving the man to Yuna while you carry out your work duties with no distractions from said man. Without you needing to return to the counter, you fully expect the night to end without another word from him.

It’s a slight disappointment when you leave through the side door after your shift officially ends without even a text from the man. It feels a bit like a repeat of what happened with his friend that first day you met him, albeit with a few key differences. It would be quite the blow to your ego if these weeks of playing into his hand ended without any sort of physical gratification, and if you were to lose so spectacularly here and now, you imagine Sunwoo would be more than happy to lord that over you.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?”

You glance up from your phone in search of the offending voice, and your glare settles on the exact man you were just thinking of moments prior.

“What I supposed to be waiting for you?” you ask in return, prompting him to peel himself away from the sleek black luxury car he’s leaned against to stand at his full height.

“I believe we had something of a mutual understanding in there but…” he trails off in favor of smiling over at you. With one hand, he gestures over his shoulder and tilts his chin a bit in question. “You could always prove me wrong and head home on your own.” You regard both the man and the car behind him with as little interest as you can feign at the moment, but you imagine that your fate is already perfectly sealed with no mystery about whether you’ll take him up on his offer or not. “I didn’t magically get my license either, but the backseat does have a lovely partition that offers quite a bit of privacy.”

“It sounds to me like you’re making quite a few presumptions, Sunwoo.”

His grin extends as he pops the door to the backseat open.

“After you, doll.”

You take the bait for precisely what it is and without a further fight, stepping into his space and laying a hand atop the edge of the door. As you lower yourself into the vehicle, your fingers brush past where his linger. It’s the first contact of the night, as well as the first bit of physical teasing you’ve managed to pull off with him. It’s awfully difficult to ‘accidentally’ brush hands or nudge into his personal space with your job and the distance between your end of the bar counter and his, so getting to ease into it now adds a layer of excitement to the already overflowing cup of anticipation in your gut. He shuts the door once you’re safely seated inside, leaving you to glance forward at the clear partition separating the front seat from the back where you now sit. There’s a dainty black curtain covering half the transparent material, and it in turn shrouds your view of the driver in the front seat.

“Doesn’t your driver need to know where he’s going before he takes off anywhere?” you inquire when the door opposite yours pulls open.

“Someone seems to be in quite the rush.”

“You forget that I’m the one at your mercy right now, Sunwoo.”

“Oh hardly, kitten. If I wanted you at my mercy, our positions would be much different.” He settles into the leather seat and snaps the car door shut with a little huff of laughter. Seconds later, he’s leaning forward and shifting the curtain to expose the driver to your eyes, knocking on the surface until the man in the front rolls the partition down enough to hear better. “Please escort us to this fair lady’s residence.” Sunwoo shifts to glance back at you, gaze almost expectant as he nods towards the driver. You recite your address without much thought. Against what is likely better judgment, you find yourself trusting your companion enough to not behave out of turn; if he really did have nefarious intentions with you, you imagine he would’ve acted on those desires a long while ago and not stuck around to play this game with you for as long as he has.

When the partition rolls back up, Sunwoo tugs the curtain back into place and once again shrouds the front end of the car from view. Soft music is filtering through the speakers but it acts as nothing more than white noise once Sunwoo settles his gaze on you.

“You can almost taste the tension, can’t you?” he remarks through a grin. His gaze is nearly lidded thanks to the purely sinful way he’s staring over at you, and you find yourself feeding right into his palm without much effort.

“If you’re gonna fuck me, then do it and get it over with.” You hardly feel a thing when the car begins to move, although all your focus and attention has shifted towards the man on your left who now leans across the middle seat to press closer to your body.

“Ah, that’s how you imagined this going?” A laugh leaves him, but this time it’s full-bodied and swamped with mirth. “That’s not at all how I intended to have you, doll.”

“Are you trying to prove a point? Is that it? Make me think you’re any different than the next rich prick who wants to bang me?” You twist at the waist to better look at him.

“I doubt I have to make you think one way or another. If I’m going to have you, Y/n, I simply wish to make certain you are left satisfied and feel the full extent of pleasure with me. Is that such a crime?” He leans further into your space until he’s close enough to cascade hot breath over your neck and down the front of your shirt. And almost like a woman possessed, you find yourself shifting to accommodate his weight against your body, drawing a leg up onto the seat and all but granting him passage between your legs as he brushes his nose into the underside of your jaw. “I hardly wish to simply fuck you and get it over with, but if you wish to believe that of me, I’ll take it as a challenge to prove you wrong.”

“And if I said I wanted it hard and fast?”

“Oh, I can be a little mean, a little rough, if that’s what you like. But only if that’s what you like, doll. Tell me what kind of slut you are, and I’ll pace myself according to your desires. I get off to seeing a pretty girl falling apart over me, so it’s a win-win situation for me.” He’s inches away from your lips now, each word pushing more of his heated breath into your parted lips in a way that feels far too lascivious for the lack of privacy you two have. Just past the partition sits a man who is essentially a total stranger, and all that separates you is a partition wall and a tiny black curtain to shroud your activities from view. He must notice the way you glance from his face to said wall a few times as your thoughts go back and forth because he leans back just enough to look over in the same direction. “You can stay quiet, can’t you, kitten?”

Your close proximity leaves no room to hide from his sharp gaze. Ducking your chin to the side only acts as a dead giveaway when he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Ah, unless you want to be a bit naughty? I can accommodate that as well if you wish.”

With a little surge of confidence (and perhaps a tiny dabble of audacity to match), you reach out and snatch Sunwoo, fingers pressing into his cheeks and digging against the sharp curve of his jawline.

“If you wish to do something here and now, then I suggest you hurry because my apartment isn’t more than fifteen minutes from the bar by bus.”

His eyes flick over your features before the realization settles in, and you end up having to be the one to close the gap between your mouths regardless because of that moment of hesitation. Finally feeling his lips atop yours provides almost paramount gratification for all these weeks of intense teasing — keeping each other at arm’s length just enough to make you go mad with desire despite the simplicity of your game — and your only saving grace is that he seems just as desperate to have more once he gets that first taste.

He presses up against your body with almost blind fervor, hands securing on your hips as his tongue breaches your lips and dives deeper for more. You allow him that much and push him back to find a better position for the both of you. He drags a hand around to your back then and coaxes your legs to part around his hips until you’re straddled across his lap. With the leverage comes a bit of power too as you can better push him into the seat and drive the kiss with your tongue fighting back against his now. He maintains his hold on your back but his other hand draws forward and lower, slipping down beneath the line of your skirt to seek something else. You expect that touch to come almost immediately but he stalls just enough to catch you off-guard. All it takes is two fingers and a touch so faint that it sends shivers down your spine to have you curling up against his body. It also elicits a quiet gasp from your lips that he swallows as the control falls back into his hands.

You have nowhere to ground yourself but his shoulders. Blunt nails dig into the fabric of his suit jacket, and when that fails to give you the satisfaction you’re after, you slip your hands under both jacket and shirt to settle against his heated skin as he dares to dig into your folds a bit more. He doesn’t breach your underwear yet, keeping himself restrained to just nudging at your cunt through the fabric. The pleasure you derive from the simple touch is borderline humiliating, only deterred by the sloppiness of your tongue against his.

More, you think but he keeps you from voicing that thought with the way his mouth keeps seeking yours when you try to pull back for breath. His persistence leaves you a little dazed, a little dizzy, and when he finally does let you gasp for air, it’s the same moment that he decides to push you down against the line of seats with his body draped heavily over yours. The angle is awkward at best with one of his arms still pressed between the two of you, and you have to let one leg fall over the edge of the seats just to accommodate the position, but it also lets you feel the rather prominent bulge at the front of his pants against the inside of your knee. In a move that’s more subconscious than an entirely purposeful one, you press into the bulge of his half-hard cock just to get a reaction out of the man. He rewards you kindly with a moan that’s barely bitten back at the last second, but then he’s dipping his fingers past the hem of your panties and finally dragging through your wet folds with more direct purpose. You curl your leg in with the first brush against your clit, and Sunwoo seizes it as an opportunity to push down hard atop your thigh, grinding his clothed erection into it. He draws a moan from his own mouth with the action, one that you swallow down with another kiss. The thought of where you are almost escapes you, along with the fact that you aren’t entirely alone, so as much as you wish to fully lose yourself in the feeling of his finger pushing into your pussy, you don’t let your sounds go beyond his lips.

“God, I wanna fuck you,” Sunwoo hisses against your mouth. He digs a second digit alongside the first and stretches your walls open a bit wider.

“N-Not without protection,” you reply, albeit through stuttered breaths and gritted teeth.

“Mm, what? Don’t want me to soil your pretty little cunt with my cock? Spoil you for anyone else who wants to fuck you?” Your head tips back at the next sensation to course through your body, and Sunwoo takes advantage of that moment of weakness to dip his mouth down to your neck. You truly do forget where you are in that split second, when he sucks your flesh between his lips and drags his teeth across your skin, and the next sound to leave your lips is anything but quiet. “See now when you make noises like that, how am I supposed to not want to ruin you for everyone else? Makes me wanna pump you full of my cum and plug you up nice and good. Could make you sloppy seconds for anyone else who wants to have you.”

You reach around the back of Sunwoo’s head, tangling your fingers through his hair just to ground yourself as he curls his fingers deep inside your cunt. He drags the tip of his thumb over your clit with the same monotonous rhythm that builds in pace as he grows almost insistent, and the jerks of his hips follow along almost as though he’s imagining the feeling of truly fucking you with the lewd movements. You sink your teeth into your lower lip as a whimper threatens to slip out. Just having one hand on him isn’t enough to quell your desires, not until you have your other arm braced around his shoulders and holding his body against yours.

“Let me have a taste,” he growls against your neck, and the low gravelly tone of his voice sends a little surge of vibrations through you. It sinks the anchor of desire further in your stomach. You guide him lower between your legs with a sort of urgency that’s nearly humiliating, yet given how he stares up at your face from where he’s now eye level with the skirt that’s ridden up your thighs, you imagine he’s in the same state himself.

Cold air brushes over your cunt for only but a moment before Sunwoo is panting hot breath over your folds. His fingers linger inside you as he takes his first sweet taste of you — a long and purposeful lick that moves from where his hand sits up to your clit then back down to your hole, and your thighs tremble with the gentle teasing.

“You look so pretty and needy for me, kitten. How could anyone not want to see you writhing in pleasure under them?” The little jab at his ‘friend’ doesn’t slip past your notice, but you don’t make any effort to swing for the ball he’s just thrown your way. Now that you have him, you want to have him in his entirety. Should the chance fall into your lap again, maybe then you’ll want to play around a bit more, but now isn’t the time for that. All you can do to make that known to him is push down with the hand you still have wrapped up in his hair. The slope of his nose meets your clit, and he dips his tongue between your walls, more than eager to listen to your silent demands. Your thighs draw up to close around his head as the stimulation reaches a mounting pleasure. Yet just as you feel yourself right at the edge of an orgasm, the feeling evaporates entirely, and your walls squeeze tight around his fingers. A quiet chuckle follows, and he draws his face up to meet your heated gaze, letting the orgasm fall away before you can delight in it.

“You sick bastard,” comes your choked-out jab that sounds almost like a sob given the way you’re gasping for breath.

“Wanna feel how tight your pussy gets when you’re cumming on my cock, princess. Don’t hold it against me.” Sunwoo pushes up on the seat until he’s on his knees, hands quickly moving down to mess with the button of his slacks.

You would move to help him if he hadn’t just ripped such a sweet orgasm out from under you, but it also gives you the chance to sit back and enjoy the view as he nudges his pants and underwear down just enough to pull his rather sizable length out. Just the first glance almost has you abandoning your ploy to crawl forward and take him into your mouth because he’s more than a little gifted with a pretty face and equally pretty dick. Long, not overly thick but enough to make you salivate, and fully erect to the point of showing off — you push yourself up onto your elbows and blink from his cock to his smug little expression that all but announces your interest in every bit of him.

“Wish I could fuck you now but,” Sunwoo hesitates and exhales slowly, hands moving around your legs to grip your thighs where they meet your hips, “I think I can rile you up just fine by mimicking the real thing.”

You tilt your chin, not quite understanding what exactly he means by that until he presses the length of his cock against your wet pussy. With one hand to push your folds together over his dick, Sunwoo thrusts forward directly over the sensitive bud of your clit, merely a testing little thrust to help him find the optimal position to pseudofuck you in, and he slips into an easy rhythm. Your cunt provides enough wetness to make the glide more pleasurable, but even with that to assist, there’s a little burn of roughness with each thrust that drags his length over you. It’s nothing overtly painful, nothing you aren’t deriving pleasure from, and you certainly aren’t complaining about the sensation even when Sunwoo smirks down at you as the whimpers start to fall more freely from your lips. You must look awfully pathetic in his eyes — either that or an absolute vision with the way you have the back of your hand pressed over your mouth to conceal the noises. The corners of your eyes are a tad wet as well, little pinpricks of tears that threaten to fall down your temples and into your hair.

Reality comes down with full force when knuckles rap hard against the partition wall and interrupt your moment of passion and fervor with Sunwoo. You flip your hand around swiftly, clapping your palm down hard over your mouth as your eyes go wide with shock. Your partner, on the other hand, hardly looks surprised at all, merely pulling back to push his dick back into his underwear like it’s nothing but a minor nuisance. You rush to pull yourself into a more decent position while pulling your clothes into their original places in an effort to hide any evidence of what you and Sunwoo were just doing. The damage is likely already done, and the driver more than likely knows to act ignorant out of respect, although you still feel a bit grateful when he doesn’t so much as look in your direction when Sunwoo guides you out of the car.

“My apartment is this way,” you say, fiddling with your purse in search of your keys. Sunwoo shoves his hands deep into his pockets and clears his throat. You would almost put his attitude off as nonchalant at best, if not for the clear bulge of his erection still poking at the front of his pants and the borderline obvious way he tries to adjust his dick into a more comfortable position through the pockets. You feel utterly debauched yourself, so that likely reflects itself on your appearance, although you have the saving grace of it being late. No one obstructs your path on the staircase up to your floor, and even the hallway outside your door is void of life aside from the moth that’s made a home of your wall lamp. Despite the stillness between you and Sunwoo while just outside the door, that facade is suddenly shattered as you fumble to get your keys in the lock.

Sunwoo hisses through his teeth, then hands are gripping hard at your hips and spinning you around until your back hits the door with a shocking amount of force. It knocks the breath nearly out of your lungs but you don’t get the opportunity to recover as Sunwoo’s lips are back on yours within the blink of an eye. His touch turns gentle as he wraps a hand around yours that still cling to the keys. You let him take them from your grasp without a fight.

“Smallest one, next to the keychain,” you murmur into his mouth before taking that same hand to wrap around the back of his neck and deepen the kiss. The taste of you lingers on his tongue, and that fills you with a filthy sort of debauched arrogance.

He finally manages to get the right key in place after what feels like an agonizing minute, twisting the key in place and letting the lock spring loose. It flips a switch in your urgency as well, as you rush to drag the man inside so quickly that you almost forget to retrieve your keys before the door snaps shut behind the two of you. Neither of you bothers with any light switches or whatever else would be proper upon welcoming someone into your home: it’s basically a race to see who can get their clothes off the fastest as you push him closer and closer to the bedroom. When you cross the threshold into the room, you pause to flip the lights on then, taking in the near intoxicating sight of a shirtless Sunwoo before you with lean muscles and a tapered waist stripped down to nothing but a pair of black socks. You’re not in a better state yourself, nothing but underwear clinging to your form, and with light finally bearing down on the two of you, you seem to be hit by reality at the same time.

You both are overtaken by a bout of laughter that pushes through the haze of desire, falling into each other in a way that feels starkly intimate compared to the intensity of your play in the car. Sunwoo drags his warm hands over your skin as he pulls you towards the foot of the bed. You’re still laughing when he twists you around, and the smile painting your lips persists after that when you tug him down to the mattress with you pressed under his body.

“Condom in the nightstand.” You laugh into the cheeky kiss he leaves you with, making quick work of your underwear while he’s retrieving the foiled packet. His eagerness makes itself known once more when you blink over at him with the packet locked between his teeth seconds before he tears it open.

“You sure it’s big enough for me?”

A scoff answers his question, but you do glance down as he’s rolling the condom over his cock just to be certain that it’s not his ego speaking.

“Do the socks stay on during sex?”

It’s his turn to answer with an indignant huff, and you laugh as he nudges you down to lie flat against the comforter.

“Doubt that’s gonna make you any less wet when my cock is involved, but—” Sunwoo shrugs “—you can turn over and let me fuck you into the mattress if it’s gonna bother you that much.”

He likely knows you weren’t being serious and it hardly bothers you one bit but you still shift to let him have you from behind just for the simple joy of catching him off-guard. The exhaled string of swears that follows is almost better than seeing his expression with your own eyes. You press your chest down to the mattress, folding your hands under the side of your face as you look back at Sunwoo over the curves of your body if only to catch his expression in the aftermath.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost call you a good girl, kitten.”

“I can do whatever you ask of me,” you hum through a sigh of pleasure as Sunwoo lets his cock rest against your entrance. “Provided the incentive is good enough.”

“Be a doll and take my big cock well, and maybe I’ll let you have me raw next time.”

You don’t get the chance to roll your eyes at his comment because he penetrates your hole as he’s still speaking, and your eyes flutter shut thanks to the stretch of your walls around his length. He says something else, something that you don’t really process because you’re too busy drinking in the sensation of his cock digging deep into your cunt.

“Don’t waste any more time,” you say over your shoulder, not bothering to ask for clarification over whatever he said to you moments earlier. Clearly, it’s nothing that is wildly important to him either considering how he takes you up on your words and gives a shallow thrust that knocks his hips against your ass. There isn’t any more waiting, which you’re grateful for, but it also means that his pace starts rough and remains a little mean to the point where you’re clinging to the pillow above your head just to keep from being knocked flat on your stomach. It’s exactly the kind of debased pleasure you were after — all these weeks of dancing around each other so coquettishly building up to such a glorified show of lust and desire in its purest form — and the feeling of his cock rolling in and out of your sopping cunt only amplifies the pleasure in your veins as Sunwoo fucks you. In hindsight, had you known he wasn’t simply talking a big game to get into your pants, you would have fucked him long ago. But perhaps playing into his game made it all the more enticing, and in turn, makes the payoff taste that much better.

You snake a hand down to rest over your mound, flicking your fingers against your clit in time with the rhythm of Sunwoo’s thrusts. That coil of pleasure that was wound so tight not once but twice in the car springs tight again now, but this time your partner does nothing to stop the orgasm from crashing over you. You surely could have dragged things out a bit longer, although something about Sunwoo’s unforgiving pace tells you that you have many more orgasms and rounds to come tonight alone. So, you take the loss for what it is — a blinding white pleasure that washes over you and makes your walls squeeze so tight around his cock that his thrusts stutter and fail in their steadiness.

“Fuck, fuck,” he hisses out as you cum around him, clenching his length and pulling him deeper into your cunt, and it’s then that you feel him tremble behind you. The condom gets in the way of that blissful feeling of being pumped full of cum; the fleeting thought of asking him to take it off later so you can revel in that sensation passes through your mind as you’re coming down from your high. Sunwoo braces his hands on either side of your head. One of his hands is just inside your line of vision, and you lazily trace your gaze over the harsh curves of his fingers as he digs them into the flesh of the mattress. He’s still muttering curses over and over, only breaking off when a prolonged moan interrupts him, then finally his hips come to rest flush against your ass. There’s no warning of any sort when he pulls you down onto the bed and curls his torso over your back, hand resting atop your hip. Both of you fight to catch breath that comes in staggered gasps as the intensity of your fucking rushes to catch up with you.

“Can you manage to get that thing back up for more, or are you just a one-hit wonder?” It’s a miracle you even have it in you to still be snippy with him, but all the more surprising is the way his dick twitches in its softening state inside you.

“I’m hardly done with you, princess. Gonna have to try a little harder than that to get rid of me.”

this work belongs to calypso / hongism (2022). do not copy, repost, or steal in any way.

#the boyz smut #tbz smut #sunwoo smut #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader #sunwoo x reader #tbz fic #the boyz fic #sunwoo fic #sunwoo x you #sunwoo oneshot #tbz oneshot #the boyz oneshot #caly.writes

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dirtychocolatechai · 2 years

Text

murphy’s law | p.p

🍵pairing | peter parker x f!reader

🍵wc | 4.8k

🍵warning(s) | 18+, smut; sex pollen, mild dub con cuz pollen, dirty talk, handjob, frottage, needy/desperate Peter, slight sub Peter, age gap (reader is a few years older), loss of virginity

🍵request | sex pollen peter but instead of him staying sweet it makes him dirty

🍵notes | this took me like 3 years to write, no joke 🙃 Anyway, hope it was worth the wait, babes! Sorry for anyone who saw this already, there was an issue with the tags hoping they’re fixed now 👍 Peter is always 18+

🍵tag list: open | requests: open | masterlist

(gif credit @/tomhollandbr)

It’s been 16 grueling hours since everything that could go wrong did.

Avengers be damned, you’ll ghost their asses if you have to suffer through another 16. You're not an expert, but they should have come up with something by now.

Seriously, what’s taking so long?

Not only has Parker suffered enough mortification to last a lifetime, it’s dumb luck he’s still breathing, albeit on borrowed time. A high stakes race against the clock. The eleventh hour is nigh. There’s no overtime, and it’s not just Parker’s dignity on the line this time.

Soon, there won’t be any other choice.

He’s already wound tighter than an old rubber band. His self control is impressive, but even their Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man has his limits.

No doubt, he’s going to snap once the pollen reaches its zenith. All the sticky fever dreams, all the sweat and regret - it’s going to be a cakewalk compared to the hunger that’ll raze through his system like liquid fire, leave him desperate and dripping for a release that’ll never come.

The tension between you mounts with every sneaky touch, each stolen caress bolder than the last. It’s so obvious how badly he aches to reach out, to touch, anticipation hiding in the hunch of his shoulders and the shift of his legs.

Stomach swooping at the sound of his low groan, you beat back the urge to glance up and frown down at the magazine in your lap. “Parker?”

“...”

“... Parker?”

“H-nm?... Oh, uh - what’s, uh, what’s up?”

“Are you --”

You scoff, tucking your elbows into your sides and hunching your shoulders. “My eyes are up here, you little perv.”

Parker jolts, his head turning to face the wall with a sputter. “I - I’m… sorry, I just…” He trails off, the silence dragging on as he gets lost in his head. “Oh my god, why is it so - it’s really hot in here, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s just you, Parker.”

“Huh?” The eyes of his mask click with every slow blink as he sways on the spot. “Really…”

“Yes,” you say. “Really.”

Frustration throbs in your temple, a sharp pain lancing through your skull with every beat of your heart and your jaw worked into a painful knot.

Your nails nearly rip through the glossy page with how forcefully you turn it, the article staring up at you nothing but blurred letters.

“Who knows,” you shrug, “Maybe if you wouldn’t sit so close to me…”

You let the words hang in the air, gauging his reaction.

Only it’s as if he’s woken from a fever dream, his voice slow to come and fraught with heat when he asks, “Can I — please, let me touch you?”

The unexpected request knocks you for a loop; echoes in your ears until you can’t make sense of the words, thoughts thick as mud.

“What?”

Heart thudding in your chest, you peek at his profile from beneath your lashes. It’s harder to breathe, the air sucker punched from your lungs in a shaky exhale. Heat settles into the apples of your cheeks.

“I- no…”

His expression is inscrutable - hidden behind a sea of scarlet fabric. You’re stuck tracking the subtle twitch of his shoulder, the twiddle of his thumbs, as he processes your response.

You wish - not for the first time - Parker wasn’t wearing his mask.

“Please,” he says. “It’s so hot.”

Instead of waiting for you to reject him again, Parker squirms closer and tugs the mask up over his chin. The fabric exposes the lower half of his face, bunching under his nose.

Your eyes follow the line of his jaw to the tender curve of his mouth. And then your attention snags and refuses to budge, your mind conjuring up many scenarios wherein you bite his lips red and raw yourself.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.

Honestly, this entire situation is cruel - to the both of you. Parker, for obvious reasons, and you - well… You haven’t felt this wound up since you were a teenager, your restraint stretched bow string taut.

“I won’t do anything weird, I just — can’t take it anymore. Need to touch you.” Parker draws in a shuddered breath, a hand scrubbing over the nape of his neck. His voice cracks, low and desperate, “Please, it’ll help… I think…”

Any response you had turns to ash on your tongue at the flash of his tongue whetting his lips. Curling through your mind is a far-off dream better left between the sheets; the image of his head buried in your thighs - his curls tickling your skin and his mouth sugar-sweet on your cunt.

Almost as if he hears your thoughts, his wide jaw flexes and his nostrils flare. A thrum of molten heat bubbles to life deep in your belly, bolts of arousal hooking behind your navel and tugging at your edges until you almost crack like fine china.

Thighs clenched, you choke on a sigh of appreciation when your gaze wanders to the erection stretching out the front of his suit. You rip your eyes away as quickly as they settle, but any hope that Parker didn’t notice where your attention strayed goes out the window when he clears his throat and covers himself with a hand.

Before you can apologize in some awkward, roundabout way, a wide palm wraps around your wrist. He traces shapes into your skin, fabric catching on your pulse point with every pass of his thumb.

“Please don’t make me stop.”

“... Parker…”

Huffing, his hand cups your shoulder, his fingers tense as it seems to do little more than frustrate him.

“--It’s not working. Off, off!” he hisses. “Hn - need’ta get this stupid,” he yanks off his mask and tugs at the torso of the suit, “thing off.”

After a quick smack of the spider emblem affixed, his suit pools around his hips in a puddle of red and blue. The firm planes of his chest glow gold in the dimmed light, the glitter of sweat enhancing the cut of his torso.

Shoulders, broad and capped with thick muscles, melt into a trim waist. Goosebumps burst across his forearms as everything rushes in all at once with nothing to filter the excess stimuli.

Parker flexes his hands, your attention dragged to the constellation of freckles dotting his abs, and oh...

Shit. Lids half-mast, you suck your teeth and pinch your thigh. Remember, no touching.

…Even if you want to map that pattern out with your lips, carve their paths with your tongue. It’s like you’re noticing him for the first time, your head spinning with the realization that as much as you poke fun, he’s not much younger than you.

You’ve always thought of him as a little brother, attractive in that charming boy next door way - all strawberries and cream. And now the urge to nibble on the jut of his hip makes your mouth water, your teeth ache.

It’s as you’re reaching out to see for yourself if his skin is as soft as it looks when he breathes your name. A breathy, awe-filled exaltation that shatters the trance, his eyes wide and eager.

Freezing, you swallow rough and exhale slow. Bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep you grounded. And when your hands don’t stop shaking, you sit on them. That was way too close for comfort.

“What’d you think you’re doing, Parker?” you ask.

Only it’s more like sharing breath, your voice hushed and far too intimate - an open wound that exposes all your raw nerve endings. You’re too afraid to break the strange tension electrifying the distance between you.

Shuffling closer until his knees dig into your thigh, Parker tucks his ankles under himself and reaches out. His eyes beg for relief, pupils blown wide. “Just let me…”

Bridging the gap, his palm settles on you without a barrier for the first time. A deep groan punches out of his chest, his fingertips digging into the meat of your upper arm. His eyes slam shut, his mouth dropping into a slack o.

Awareness sizzles at the points of contact, his hand sliding back over the curve of your shoulder. Even through your shirt his palm is unnaturally warm and clammy. Shivers branch through your limbs when his knuckles stroke over your fluttering pulse.

“Parker -- Peter.”

Your calls for attention go unheeded, the web slinger pushing until you find yourself sprawled across the couch with him on top of you. Torso plastered to yours, his body is a too warm weight as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck.

His next exhale shudders from him.

Parker sighs. “Mm, you smell really good.”

Content for the moment, he traces the line of your throat and ends behind your ear. Puffs of moist breath tickle your skin as he breathes you in; your scent a cooling balm that tames the blood boiling in his veins, albeit temporarily.

“Like really, really good,” Parker slurs, low and punch drunk. “D’ya know that?”

Patting the back of his head with a chuckle, your own falls back in defeat. This is so not how you expected to spend your day off, swallowing down all the inappropriate feelings welling up in the face of Parker’s inability to keep his greedy hands to himself.

“Thanks, kid.”

You throw out the nickname in an attempt to pump the brakes, give yourself time to muster up some semblance of self control. He’s already got a crush on you the size of the moon - there’s no reason to give him false hope.

His face is burrowed in the side of your neck so you can’t see his expression but when he responds, there’s no mistaking the petulance threaded through his words, “Don’ call me that.”

You hate how endearing that is.

“‘m not a kid…”

“Yeah, uh-huh. You’re not a kid.”

“‘m not.”

You leave him to his sulking, pleased this is helping even if it’s awkward. It’s going to be weird after this, but you’re sure things will return to normal. The dynamic will repair itself and you can go back to pretending you don’t know how Parker feels about you.

You fall into a rhythm, occupying yourself by running your fingers down the back of his neck. Smothering a smile at the hum rumbling from his chest into yours, you drag your nails along the pink skin.

Parker shudders in your arms. Lips glide over the sweep of your jaw.

Mouth opening, you start to protest when he ducks down to skim his lips over yours, the kiss petal soft.

His chest heaves where it’s pressed to yours, his hips flexing against your thigh in little aborted thrusts. A damp patch blooms on the crotch of his suit, Parker whining low and wounded as he works himself up.

The downright sinful grunts and breathy groans stoking the embers of your desire, a rush of heat stealing across the bridge of your nose. Your voice cracks, "Parker, stop!”

“God, ‘m so sorry.” Hands shackle your wrists to the cushion. “I wish I could, I really do, but - I can’t, you smell so good and I…”

Your wrists twist in his grip, and press for his attention, “Peter, let go.”

A hot tongue drags over your pulse. Then a flash of teeth and gentle suction as the web slinger draws your skin into his mouth. He releases with a wet pop, pressing a tiny kiss to the abused spot.

“Let me - just a little, I promise.”

His plea gives you pause long enough for him to seize his opportunity with both hands before it floats away. The musky scent of arousal is thick in the air, saturated with a scorched spice that burns your nose but compels you all the same.

Parker’s lips tremble inches away from your own. “Can I - can I kiss you?”

The effort is sweet, but you both know he can’t do much else but submit to his whims. In fact, you encourage him to kiss you harder with a tug of his curls. He’s like a man starved of touch, all consuming as his hands stroke the curves of your body, drawing you into the breadth of his torso.

“Oh my god, ‘m so sorry I just - shit, you feel…”

It’s like being doused in gasoline; once he’s tasted you, he can’t stop.

Only pulling away long enough to get a few words out at a time. He’s hungry and searching, his tongue soft and curious where it licks along the tender inside of your lip. You moan. The obscene glide is just the right amount of filthy to get your toes curling.

“Shit, Parker.” Catching his lip on the release, you give it a teasing nip. ”Never would’ve guessed.”

“Oh, that’s...”

Never finishing the wayward thought, Parker surges forward with a new found voracity. Every kiss is different. Some are so long and deep you’re left gasping for breath. Others are nothing more than sharing space.

Any lack of finesse is more than made up for with how eager he is. It doesn’t take much for him to pick up on which way he needs to flick his tongue to get your hands in his hair or how to get those honeyed moans to tumble from your lips.

Enthusiasm gets the better of him, his hips finding a home between your thighs. And then he’s lining up with your core and rutting forward into the cradle of your body. The angle’s perfect.

The fat head of his cock nudges your clit through two layers of clothing, a rush of heat trickling down your spine like water from the muted stimulation. Sparks burst behind your eyelids, every measured grind making you aware of how messy your pussy is, panties sticking to your swollen folds.

You jerk, breath rushing from you in a low hiss.

“Did I - are you - ohh, my ghaaah…” Panting, Parker flicks his sweaty curls out of the way and white knuckles the cushion by your ribs. “You okay? Was that too much?”

His hips are slow to stop, but once he does a plaintive whine escapes at the lack of friction. His eyes are hazy and brimming with tears, shaking apart on top of you with the effort it takes to stop his mindless rutting.

It’s difficult replying through the whimper trapped at the back of your throat but you manage somehow. “No, no I’m - fine, it’s fine. Just - you can keep going.”

A livewire of raw nerves, it’s not long before Parker gets frantic again. This time he’s throwing his whole body into every thrust, his arms a cage that keeps every available inch of your body pressed to him.

He can’t decide where to settle his hands, palms hovering over your tits before dropping to the dip of your waist. They grope at your thigh and then inch up to dig into your hips. His cock throbs in time with his heartbeat, a swollen line that spreads you open with every pulse, every twitch.

The friction’s too much. Not enough. Prolongs the inevitable. Drives him higher and higher and higher - and hangs him there. One wave of burning arousal flows into another until he’s sick with the instinct to touch, suck, fuck it out of his system.

The pollen accounts for most of it but it’d be a lie to say it’s not filthy-dirty-hot how wrecked he is above you… And he’s not even buried deep inside you - yet. But god, you wish he was.

It would be a mutually beneficial resolution...

“Can - oh fuck - can smell how wet you are right now.”

The words break him, his back rippling with hitched little breaths. Finally shoved past the breaking point. You’re surprised he’s held out this long. Desperate little kisses pepper the length of your neck.

Your heart lodges somewhere in your throat, unsure of what to do. You’ve always hated seeing him upset but what the hell are you supposed to do now? Should you even do anything? He’s in so much pain but surely someone will walk through that door any minute with the antidote.

“Parker?” you ask. “What can I do?”

Cupping his face, you unstick him from your neck and search for the answer in the depths of his eyes. His skin is burning up, flushed and dewy with sweat. His curls stick to his cheeks, a wild halo scattered in all directions. His gaze is dark - full of intent. Self-control ripped to shreds, trapped in the throes of insatiable lust.

“Please, I can’t - I can’t,” Parker sobs. “...s’not enough. It still hurts.”

Damnit.

How can you say no to those pathetic eyes filled to the brim with tears. Everyone hoped it wouldn’t come to this but… Circumstances being what they are, you have to re-evaluate. He’s already suffered enough, hasn’t he?

“Have you even seen a pair of boobs in person before?”

A furrow develops between his brows and he chews on his lip, his throat bobbing. His fingers twist in the fabric of your shirt. The little shake of his head is so quick and short that you’d have missed it if you weren’t watching for it.

“Man, this is so embarrassing…”

He refuses to look at you, glaring at a spot on the couch somewhere around your shoulder and that just won’t do. Especially if you’re about to be the one to pop his top. You’d like to still have a relationship with him after all’s said and done. Can’t do that if he won’t even be able to look you in the eye.

Losing his virginity because he’s forced to is already horrible. No need to give him a complex. A split second decision has you shushing him, stroking the sweep of his cheekbone and wicking away the tears.

“It’s okay, Peter,” you say. His first name tastes far too sweet, fizzling like champagne on your tongue. “Pinky promise.”

His eyes squeeze shut, his body sagging into you, and he slurs a litany of thank you’s into your neck before preoccupying himself with nipping at your collarbone. Working a hand between the press of your bellies, you slip into the bottom half of the suit and take hold of him for the first time.

Velvet soft, he throbs in your palm and whines at the foreign touch.

“O-Ohh, haah, my - fffuhh.”

Pre-cum drools from the slit, your hand soaked after a few sloppy warm up strokes. The wet schlick of his cock sliding through your fingers gets your heart pounding and your pussy throbbing. The scent of sex teasing your senses, heavy in the air and daring you to push him over the edge he’s been straddling.

“You good?” you ask, swiping your thumb along the ridge of his cockhead. “It’s not too rough?”

He chokes on his inhale, arching back so far he’s sure to pull something.

Taking his reaction as confirmation, your nails drag through the neat thatch of hair curled around the base of his shaft. It’s a little cramped but with a little maneuvering you get your fingers around the thickness of him and gently squeeze the filled out shaft.

He jerks in your grip, hips twitching. “Shit, fuck, oh my god--”

“Mm, that’s it, Peter.” You encourage him to fuck up into the circle of your fist, playing with his weeping slit. Your strokes are languid, sure. "Use my hand, let me help you feel better.”

Who knows, maybe this’ll be enough.

“I - I want…” He breaks off with a full body shudder, curling in on himself. “--Please!”

“What is it?” Working your wrist, you jack him off faster and alternate the strength of your hold to hear him whimper. “What do you want, Peter?”

“I need,” he gasps, jaw clenching hard as he bites out, “you.”

Or not… Well, it’s no contest by this point.

“Okay.”

The suit and his boxers get tossed off to the side with little fanfare, a bundle of red, blue and plaid that’s quickly joined by yours. Seeing him naked for the first time takes away your breath, the etch of his body fucking devastating. He’s far from the mouthy teenager you met years ago.

“Oh, wow, you look…”

There’s a dopey smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes a physical caress as it roves over the exposed length of your body. They track every dip and curve, focusing on your tits and how your nipples tighten under his gaze before dipping to the apex of your thighs.

With a smirk, you shift back on the couch and stretch out, resting your heels on the overstuffed cushion. Your hands drag down the slope of your thighs, your knees falling open. Parker chokes, his eyes wide and disbelieving as he gets his first look at your pussy - your silken folds and aching clit on full display.

“You can do more than look, Peter.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he presses down on the backs of your knees. Slotting himself into the open space, he stares down at where his cock rests over your belly.

“Can’t believe I’ll fit inside you - you look so - fuck, so good.”

You hum, reaching down to give his shaft a few more strokes before arching your hips and working the swollen head between your folds. When it catches on the rim of your entrance, you let Parker take over.

“You feel so, so soft and wet.” His voice is full of wonder, his expression borderline pained at how hot your pussy is against his oversensitive cock. He groans, throaty and ragged. “H-Holy shit.”

The first few tentative thrusts rub him along the length of your slit but then his hips flex just right and he’s sinking forward into you cautiously. You whine softly at the slow glide, your gummy walls relaxing with every inch he gives.

It’s a tight fight and somehow that’s even hotter. Who’d have guessed unassuming Peter Benjamin Parker is so hung every inch of your pussy is stuffed full of his cock.

Cussing, he anchors himself on the backs of your thighs. When he bottoms out, its like being wrapped in liquid silk. A shaky sigh of relief follows his bitten off whimper, his expression heated and his cheeks rosy with fever.

Then, you fully relax and your gummy walls give under the pressure. Your cunt sucks him deeper, the spongy cockhead kissing your cervix with a wet squelch. Completely blissed out, he fixates on the sight of you stretching wide around the girth of his shaft.

“Ohhh my fuck-ing god.” Hovering over you, the normally sweet young man falls apart. “You’re taking my dick so well,” Parker breathes. “I…”

Abs clenching, his hips surge forward before he catches himself, his arms bunching with the effort of holding himself in check. Jaw working furiously, he fights through the feverish haze long enough for clarity to return, his eyes tortured and heavy but oh so very hungry.

“‘m sorry, that’s so rude to say, I just - I can’t - shit.

“Oh, Peter.”

You sigh, arching into his touch. Nevermind the tender sparks of pain you’ll be feeling for days, his hands a little too rough, too rude. Tiny sparks of black amid an ocean of pleasure.

He’s so deep every minute shift nudges the tip against your cervix, the veins dragging over your walls and hitting all your sensitive spots in a single stroke.

“Please, help me. Wanna make you feel good,” he barely breathes, one sentence running into the other without pause, “Wanna make you cum too but I...please.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

A frantic nod.

“Now why don’t you start moving, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah - I, okay, I can do that…”

Wrapping your legs around his, you use your feet to start him on a slow rhythm and use your hips as an example to show him how to move. Before long, he’s rocking down into you with long, heavy strokes.

“Feelin’ good, baby?”

“So good. Never thought - hhnng - never thought I’d get to do this with you.”

“Good, that’s good. Want you to feel good.”

“Tell me,” he says, sweaty forehead resting against yours so he can stare into your eyes. “Tell me what to do.”

“Faster,” you reply, “and try to grind up if you can.”

Shocks of pleasure settle between your thighs, one hand threading into the curls at the nape of his neck. He whines when you yank, tugging him down to press a sloppy kiss to his lips. The wood of the couch creaked with every rocking movement, the legs scraping across the floor with how hard he’s fucking into you.

“Wanted to do this for so long.” Parker’s slurring into the crook of your neck, sucking on the tender skin. “Thought about it every time I saw you.”

His body cages you in, surrounds you and fills every sense with nothing but him. Sharp hip bones smack into the backs of your thighs, his ass flexing beneath your feet as he stuffs you full of cock over and over again.

His breathing is erratic, fast and heavy with effort. After a few more thrusts, his shaft starts to throb with every sloppy roll of his hips. Clutching you closer, his face slips down to your chest where he burrows between your breasts.”I’m - I’m…”

“Peter, I swear I’ll make you regret it if you cum inside.”

“Shit - you can’t just say stuff like that.” He chokes on your name, his hands flexing on your thighs. “‘m not gonna last much longer.”

When he pulls back to look down at you, you notice how much his arms tremble. When your gazes lock, the wordless plea hidden in the depths of his eyes makes your breath rush from you in a low throated groan. Your walls ripple at the sound, slick gushing over his lap when you clench down around his shaft.

Immediately, his arms buckle.

“Fuck! You - you can’t just do that.”

Catching himself at the last second, he ruts forward desperately amid the distant sound of ripping fabric and the wet slap of his cock driving balls deep into your needy cunt.

“Not yet, Peter,” you pant into his ear, hips twisting to the side so when he slides in, the head slams into your g-spot full on. “Just a little longer, please, baby. I’m almost there too...”

The tremor starts in your limbs, your hands numb and knees weak. Every shift feels like it scrapes down your spine, your nerves hyperaware and oversensitive. It might’ve taken you a second to establish a rhythm that works for the both of you but it’s so worth it.

A yawning need takes root in your core, you reach down to brush over your clit - the swollen bundle of nerves jumping beneath the pads of your fingers. Toying with your clit, tracing your slit and feeling where he stretches you open brings you right to the edge.

The pressure builds in the base of your spine, the pool of warmth in your belly threatening to wash over you like a tidal wave. Tingles of sensation zip down your spine and through your nerves, your body locking up and your pussy clenching from the dual sensation of a cock stuffing you full and your clit pinned beneath your finger.

“Peter, right there - oh fuck - right there! I’m gonna - gonna…!”

Everything flashes black, every muscle in your body pulled taut. Your hands anchor themselves onto his shoulders, your nails scratching at his skin as you cum harder than you have in a long time. It’s a wet, messy orgasm that leaves you rung out and twitching, your pussy pulsing with every beat of your heart.

Tears slide down your cheeks and you whine, too high on euphoria to care whether or not he cums inside. After all, if he did, you could always make him clean it up with his tongue…

Hips stuttering against your ass, Parker’s mouth drops open in a soundless shout. Buried deep inside you feel his cock throb once, twice, three times before he’s ripping himself away at the last possible second.

Milky slick follows his exit, oozing out of your tender pussy and dripping down your ass to darken the fabric of the couch. Pleasure drunk, you’re almost tempted to have him pump you full but then he’s coming - finally - his shaft bobbing with every thick spurt he shoots over the top of your mound.

His sigh of relief makes you smile, half dazed while he watches his cum drip down over your abused slit. His thumbs slide over your puffy folds, spreading them to see how fucked open you are while massassing his load into your tender clit.

“So pretty ‘n it’s all because of me,” he murmurs, enchanted while you twitch with aftershocks. Between his thighs, his erection remains unflagging. “Can we keep going?”

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