MILF

"’Ya think?" he sneered back, his New York accent thickening with annoyance.

You yelped and closed your eyes in fear when he swung a sharp left. A moment later you exhaled a sigh of relief when you felt his feet connecting with the ground.

You opened your eyes to take in the familiar sight of your apartment building's rooftop, quickly detaching yourself from the masked hero to plant your own feet on the ground beside him.

"Thank god. I seriously don't think I will ever get used to that,” you muttered out, doubling over with your hands on your knees to try and force the nausea spell away. 

“Yeah, well I hope you won't have to.”

You glanced up at him with a raised brow at his annoyance, slowly rising to stand straight, your hands settling on your hips. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“That means,” he began, chuckling without an ounce of humor in his voice. “You can't keep putting yourself in danger like this.”

“Look spider-boy, danger finds me,” you said defensively, ignoring his weak “It’s Spiderman.” “And I never asked you to keep saving me.”

“If I don't you’ll get hurt. You almost got killed back there! Don't you get it?” 

“Oh, are you starting to care about me, Spiderman. What happened to hating me?” you cooed with a flirty tilt of your head.

“I-I never hated you…” he paused, his breath hitching when you stepped close enough for him to reach a hand out and touch you. You leered at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he was really thinking.

“...I only disliked you. Mildly.”

“There it is!”

“Well what would you do if someone wrote a smear campaign against you?” He retorted, leaning in to try and intimidate you, his plan failing when you met him head on.

“You’re still on that? I already apologized to you and took back my article,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest protectively.

Yes, it was true that you did write an article detailing how you didn't think Spiderman should be praised for “saving the city,” when he contestantly left it in a state of destruction, leaving regular civilians to pay the price for his damages. 

Yes, it did garner enough public attention to have a lot of New Yorker’s turn their backs on him, but after he saved you the first time (and all but practically forced you to listen to his defenses), you were able to admit that you were speaking from a place of rage fueled bias, since your apartment was destroyed when he flung a car into it. 

But you apologized. So all should’ve been well.

He backed down from your stare off, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch the top of his head. “You’re right I’m sorry…”

“Look,” you started, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry you have to keep saving me, but if it's so much of a hassle you can stop… It's fine.”

“Wha—no!” he blurted, rushing to grab your arm to stop you from turning away. “No! It’s not that I just… What if I’m not there one day and you—”

“Get killed?” You cut him off sharply. “So be it then.”

Peter froze in place, his grip on your arm loosening slightly as your words settled uncomfortably in the air between you. His hand slowly slipped off until it hovered awkwardly, his eyes boring into yours through the suit. 

“Kidding!” you interjected before the moment could grow too serious, despite meaning your words. 

“Gosh, Spidey. Lighten up. I’m alive, you’re alive. All is well in the world,” you quipped sarcastically while making your way to the stairwell. 

You turned around when you didn't hear his footsteps following, waving your hand to urge him forward. “Come on, so I can thank you properly. You must be hungry.” 

He hesitated, debating the idea in his head. It had been almost a year since he first saved you on one of your investigative journaling missions, and this was the first time you ever actually invited him down to your apartment instead of parting ways with him on the roof like usual. 

He was fully intending to reject your offer, seeing no point in spending any extra time with you than necessary, but then the sight of his bleak apartment rushed through his mind, along with another lonely night of testing his tech and wallowing in his misery. 

Or maybe it was the faint look of hope he saw in your eyes that convinced him, your hand resting on the door handle, waiting for his reply. 

The response fell from his lips unconsciously.

“Sure.”

Sat at your small round kitchen dining table, he stared down at the plate in front of him, the sad slice of pizza steaming from where you’d heated it up in the microwave.

The eyes of his suit narrowed, glancing from the plate up to where you were already halfway finished with your own.

“This is my thanks?”

“Mhm,” you hummed through your chewing, jerking your head up at him. “You don’t like leftover pizza?”

This situation was so absurd, he couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. He lifted the mask above his lips, carefully trying to obscure as much of his exposed face as he could, and took a bite of the pizza, lowering the mask back down to chew.

You watched him with a bewildered stare, your chuckles escaping you in short bursts before you let the laugh fully escape free. You raised a hand to your mouth to try and conceal the sound, but the sight was just too ridiculous for you to do so.

“W-What? What’s so funny?”

His confusion only made it worse, your laugh transforming to a full body giggled as you struggled to breathe. 

He stared at you like you were crazy, your laughs eventually dying down enough for you to speak. “Do you seriously eat like that?”

That’s what you were giggling about?

“What? No, no I—obviously when I eat at home I don’t wear the mask.”

“I mean in public.”

“I don’t usually eat out as Spiderman… You know, too busy saving lives, fighting crime.”

You nodded at him, the last of your chuckles dying down as you considered his words. It was easy to forget that there was a person beneath it all. Your curiosity brewed as you tried to imagine who it was behind the mask, who the city’s masked vigilante really was. 

You didn’t realize you were staring until he cleared his throat. You tore your eyes away, taking another bite of your soggy pizza.

You finished your food in a silence that was surprisingly comfortable despite your histories, and when he finished swallowing his final bite, an unexpected pit settled in your stomach. 

Peter pushed his plate forward, slowly standing from his chair. “Well, uh, thank you for the food. I should go now, don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

You picked at your cuticles without looking up at him, contemplating why the thought of him leaving made you feel so disappointed. It was the same feeling you had on the roof when you thought he was going to reject your invitation.

You would never admit it out loud, but something about his presence was comforting. You weren’t sure if it was because he was always saving you from harm’s way, or if it was because he was the only sense of consistency in your life, the only person you’d formed a relationship with—albeit it being dysfunctional—within the past year. 

Whatever it was, it had you saying, “Stay.”

His suit eyes widened in surprise, your picking halting when you realized what you just said.

The comfortable silence was replaced by a thick tension as you glanced up at him. “Stay,” you repeated.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Why not? It’s not like you have anywhere else to be.”

Peter’s brows furrowed beneath the suit, trying to gauge what you were playing at. “How would you know that?”

“Am I wrong,” you shrugged, giving him space to correct you, then continuing when he didn’t. ”You don’t seem like you have any friends, maybe a girlfriend? I don’t think so. You just seem pretty… lonely.”

He gripped the top of his chair, the memories of MJ and Ned painfully resurfacing after he’d successfully blocked them out for the last few hours while caught in the whirlwind of saving you. 

“How would you know? You don’t know anything about me,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a low, careful tone.

“Because you remind me of me,” you murmured, rising from your chair, rounding the table to stand in front of him. “And I’m pretty lonely, Spiderman.”

His grip on the chair tightened as he breathed in a shaky breath at your proximity. “I-I’m sorry to hear that. It sounds tough.”

“You understand how it feels? Don’t you?” You take a step forward as he takes one back, then another, until his back is pressed against the wall. “I can only imagine how it must feel, having to keep this secret. Being the world's hero, admired by millions, then having no one to share that burden with.” 

His chest rose and fell with frantic breaths. You were right, you read him like an open book. He should have denied it, denied you, but he couldn’t. 

“What do you want?” he whispered, the words coming out strained.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you whispered back, your voice a soft counterpoint to his.

He tried to force the words out, but he was never a good liar. Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the fabric of the suit beneath your fingertips, and the wild beat of his heart. You moved it up, testing the waters, feeling the sculpted muscle until your fingers found the base of his neck.

“We don’t have to be lonely,” you mumbled, your thumb stroking below his jaw. “At least… not tonight.”

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, shaking his head. “I-I can’t. I’m sorry.”

A flicker of hurt flashed over your eyes that you tried to mask by looking down. “Why? Is there someone else? Or… do you just not want me to know who you are?”

“I-I…” his voice trailed off as the guilt flooded his stomach like an expanding black hole. MJ. MJ. MJ. Her name lived like a ghost in his brain, a phantom pain in his chest. To do this—reveal himself to you—somehow felt like letting her go in a way, the final cut across the already frayed thread holding him to her. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to do that.

“I can keep a secret,” you said with a bitter chuckle. “I have no one to tell.”

He stood with your words, trying to make sense of them when he realized, that’s why. That’s why on the roof you were so casual about the prospect of death reaching you. You had no one in your life to mourn you. It was startling, how you reflected him like a mirror. 

His heart hammered harder against his sternum when your hands slid to cup his cheeks through the mask. 

“Is this okay?”

Words were beyond him. He could only give a singular nod so subtle, you almost missed it.

You smiled, so tender and full of care and unlike the rough around the edges journalist he was so used to encountering in the streets of New York. You gave him every chance to pull away as you slowly leaned in.

He stood frozen, letting you carry out your experiment, his eyes slipping shut when you placed your lips over where his would be on the fabric. 

The kiss was chaste and over within a second. You opened your eyes, searching the white lenses of his mask before kissing him again, a little firmer, a little longer.

Your warmth managed to seep into the thick layer of fabric, reaching and flooding his body. Loneliness reached for loneliness, desperation seeking solace, he didn’t stop you when your fingers found the bottom of his mask. 

With a careful tug, you pulled it up just enough to reveal his pale skin, his lips pink and shiny from where he’d ran his tongue over them. Without wasting another moment, you leaned in again, pressing your mouth to his.

The kiss was hesitant at first, your lips simply touching, until his parted with a sharp inhale, his body jumping back to life under your touch. He kissed you back, a little clumsy and hungry, the urgency fueled by a year’s worth of banter and his craving for human connection. You tugged him harder against you, his hands finally leaving the wall to settle on your hips.

Drunk on the sensation, you nudged the fabric higher, intending to pull it fully off when his hands shot up to encase yours, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his breath brushing your cheek. “I… I just can’t.”

Your blood ran cold, the disappointment returning, though you understood. Of course you did. You were a journalist and only within recent months were you cordial with each other. Of course he couldn’t trust you. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You nodded, your hands going limp in his grip. 

The guilt laced through him again at the resignation in your eyes. A part of him begged himself to let go, just let go, but the better part had already decided that he wasn’t ready. Even after four years. 

He began to pull the mask back down, his movements signaling an ending you weren’t ready for. “I should—”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, cutting him off. Your hand gripped his wrist, tugging gently. “Follow me.”

He let you guide him, the yearning part of his soul willingly going along, until you were both standing in your bedroom. You released his hand to rummage in your closet, emerging with a sleek black tie you pulled from one of your suits.

You stood before him, smoothing the fabric in your hands as he watched, unsure of what was about to happen.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, his voice raspier than it was in the kitchen.

You answered him by raising it to eye level, securely tying it around your head, engulfing your vision in darkness. “This way,” you reassured, “I won’t be able to see you. Your secret’s safe.”

A breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped him. Just like that, the panic in his stomach began to dissipate, replaced by a heat, simmering low and insistent in his belly.

“You’re serious?” he asked, still slightly in disbelief by the display.

You nodded, lacing your fingers behind your back, offering yourself wholly to him. “You can leave now and we can forget this ever happened. Or…”

“...We can not be lonely for the night?” Peter finished.

You nodded, and waited.

The silence stretched as your pulse roared in your ears. You waited with a bated breath as the dread began creeping in. You were convinced he’d left and were seconds away from tugging the makeshift blindfold off when you felt the air shift in front of you. 

His hands brushed your cheeks. You held your breath when he cupped your face, his palms holding you steady to connect your lips once more.

You sighed into the kiss, an exhale of pure relief and surrender as you let him take the lead, his mouth learning yours with a newfound confidence. He tilted your head, slipping his tongue in to deepen the kiss. 

You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands releasing their grip to hold him at his waist.

You tugged at the textured fabric, allowing your hands to roam, sliding over his shoulders, down his back in search of a zipper, or anything to release him.

Your lips, in their distracted state, stilled on his. He broke the kiss, breathless. “What’s wrong?”

“How do you take this damn thing off?”

You missed the fond smile that touched his lips at your frustration. He kissed you again, a quick, hard press, before you heard a distinctive whoosh of air followed by the sound of the fabric falling to the floor.

You cautiously placed your hands back on his chest, your fingers meeting warm, soft skin.

You spread your palms over the muscle, mapping the planes of his chest while trying to visualize him in your head. You moved up over the column of his neck, holding his jawline in your grasp. You traced his features—his lips, still damp from your kisses, over the bridge of his nose, his brows.

He struggled to hold back his moan as you explored him with your touch, something about the careful caress feeling even more intimate than being seen.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the curls as you carded them down to gently fist the strands at the base of his neck, giving a tentative tug.

He whimpered as goosebumps brushed up his arms, any remaining restraint shattering. 

He dove back in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, all tongue and heat and desperation while you tried to keep up. He explored your body freely, his hands landing on your waist to pull you flush against him, erasing every last inch of lonely space between you.

You pushed him back, hoping you were on track for your bed. When you felt him fall down to the mattress, you sank to your knees on the floor between his parted legs. You bit your lip at his needy little pants while you ran your hands along his thighs, trailing higher until you felt the elastic of his underwear.

You hooked your finger beneath it, tugging to pull them down when he stopped you, panicked and fidgety. His hand in yours was fever-hot.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing I just…” he stammered.

Your lips curved into a sly smile. “Has no one done this for you before?”

“What? Haha, no, of course I just—”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He was glad you couldn't see the hot flush that painted his chest, rising up his neck. His hands fell away from yours, surrendering, almost regretting it when he saw your smug expression.

“Lift your hips for me.”

His heart did a little flip as he obeyed your order, his lips falling open when you freed his aching cock from the tight restraint. 

He held his breath as you reached out, his cock pulsing at the agonizing wait until finally, your fingers wrapped around his tip.

A broken whimper escaped him, unrestrained and full of need, his hips bucking involuntarily up into the tight ring you created. 

“O-Oh f-fuck…” he gasped, fisting the sheets on either side of him until his knuckles turned white. You began stroking, small little movements that explored lower and lower, feeling him twitch in your grip. 

“Spiderman—” you cut yourself off with a chuckle, not being able to take the name serious in a moment like this. “Sorry, it’s funny calling you that right now.”

Peter could barely hear you over his distracted state, all of his senses zeroed in on your soft hand gripping his cock so perfectly. 

“Hey,” you called to get his attention. “I can't see you. The only way I can tell you’re feeling good is by hearing you. Okay?”

He nodded, forgetting that you couldn't see him, letting out a choked mix of a hum and whine. You smiled, satisfied with his response, and leaned forward till your breath brushed over his tip. 

“Let me hear you, then.” You parted your lips and took him into your mouth.

You wished you could have preserved the sound he made, a loud, punched out whimper that had you pressing your thighs tighter together, trying to give attention to your throbbing, neglected clit.

His back arched when you circled your tongue around his slit, tasting the thick beads of salty precum. You sucked gently, drawing out a litany of oh god, oh fuck from him.

Struggling to accommodate his thickness, you hallowed your cheeks, pushing further down his length until he was poking the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex.

“Fuuuuck—” he cried, his hand shooting to rest on your head, his fingers tangling in the strands. 

You pulled off with a soft pop, heaving in a deep breath. His hips thrusted to chase the warmth of your mouth, his eyes scrunching shut at the sudden absence of pressure.

They shot back open when you placed a delicate, open-mouth kiss over the tip. “I can tell you’re holding back.” Another kiss, his fingers gripped your hair tighter. “It’s okay… you can fuck my throat if you want…”

His face scrunched in pleasure, a high, wanton whine leaving him at the sound of your offer alone. 

You wrapped your lips back around him, taking him all the way in, relaxing your throat around his size. 

Forgetting his own strength, he pressed you down to take his cock deeper, forcing his length down your throat, his eyes rolling back when it contracted around the intrusion. 

Below the blindfold your eyes watered as you coughed, but you fought through it, determined to take everything he gave you.

“Oh my fucking—mngh!” he choked out.

You focused on relaxing your muscles as he began bobbing you on his cock, setting a frantic, desperate rhythm.

He took a deep breath, taking in the smell of your intoxicating arousal with his heightened senses, the strain of your throat, the sloppy sounds, overwhelming in the best way.

He steadied a hand behind him on the bed, bracing himself to snap his hips up into your mouth with shallow thrusts.

“‘S so good,” he chanted, “God your mouth—o-oh fuu-ah!”

His moan tapered off into a silent shriek, his stomach clenching as the pressure built, threatening to snap.

With a pained groan he pulled you off. You sputtered out a series of coughs as you sat back on your heels, saliva coating your chin. His eyes widened as you brought a hand to rub over your throat.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I don't know what—”

“Why’d you pull me off?” You interjected. 

“W-Why? Um, I uh… ‘Cause I was gonna come….” he said shyly, his bravado disappearing.

“Okay…” you started with a small smile spreading on your lips. “That’s the point.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yeah, well I didn't want to before… you…” he trailed off, cringing, unable to finish the sentence.

“Wow, even during sex you’re annoyingly sweet.”

He tilted his head back with a groan. “Shut up.” But he was smiling too now, bright and bashful.

He watched you rise to your feet, unbutton your jeans, and pull them down. Next you tugged off your shirt, carefully pulling it over your head to not move the blindfold. 

The small, mindful act sent a jolt of tenderness to his heart amidst the lust. His eyes widened at the sight of you in nothing but your undergarments as you held a hand out for him, silently asking to lead you to him.

He took your hand in his, his grip firm as he pulled you forward until your legs were bumping his. You pushed him further back on the bed, following along to straddle his waist and settle back on his cock, pressing him against the damp fabric over your heat. 

You sighed at the contact, his hands gripping your thighs, fingers digging deep into the flesh as his eyes screwed shut from the pressure on his cock.

You leaned down to kiss him, while subtly grinding down, making him moan through the kiss. You reached back to unclip your bra, separating from him to let it fall away.

He stared, mesmerized, at the newly exposed skin as you sat back, looking down at him with a challenging look, the same one you’d used on him countless times before.

Maybe he hadn’t misread the tension between you?

He sat up urgently, gripping your body to pull it back against his, kissing you messily while he flipped you over. He laid you down gently beneath him, kissing down your neck to your collarbone, until he reached your chest. 

He glanced up to make eye contact with you, his expression falling when he forgot you couldn't see him. He shook his head, pushing the thought to the back of his mind, and kissed over the swell of each breast, his tongue darting out to lick one of your nipples to a stiff peak before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Mmm, fuck…” you moaned, arching into him as he flicked and sucked, releasing it with a wet sound to give attention to the other. “You’re good at this,” you breathed, your fingers curling into his hair.

He smiled against your skin, delighted by the praise.

“Thank you,” he said gently.

A smile bloomed on your lips at how adorable he was, thank you with a proud earnestness that made your heart swell with affection.

He trailed a hand down your stomach, settling it over your clothed mound, reaching lower to rub a single finger over your soaked slit. He took a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling your scent as he slipped his hand into your panties, his finger dipping into your arousal. He parted your folds, slipping through them to collect your slick only to rub it over your swollen clit, tracing it with soft circles.

“Shit—Spider—,” you cut yourself off with another breathless laugh.

He hesitated for a second, whispering, “Peter,” before he could think twice.

Your surprise was interrupted when he pressed a finger into your entrance, curling his fingers to draw a moan out. “P-Peter?” you gasped.

His fingers stilled in you when he realized what he let slip. He’d given his name to you, willingly. He swallowed down the nerves clawing up his throat, reassuring himself that there were hundreds of Peters in the city. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He kissed you to convince himself that it was okay, mumbling “Peter” against your lips again as he slipped in another finger.

“P-Peter!” you cried out, the melody of your voice calling his name an angelic symphony to his ears. He whimpered in response, pumping his fingers deeper into your tight entrance.

“Sound so pretty, feel so… mnghh—” Peter whined, his forehead dropping to yours when your cunt gripped his fingers.

“F-Feels so good, Peter.” A shudder ran through you as the pressure in your stomach built, your clit aching to be touched. The second his thumb ran across it, you were grabbing his wrist, pulling his fingers out and away from your dripping cunt.

“Look who’s stopping who now,” he said cockily with a teasing smirk.

You scoffed and shoved him off. He laughed, free and unbothered, the sound sending your heart soaring with joy as he fell back against the bed. You tugged your underwear off and sat back over him, taking his wrists and pinning them above his head. His cock twitched against your thigh at the dominating display.

You slid your pussy over his cock, nestling him between your folds, rolling your hips and shuddering as the head nudged your sensitive clit with each pass. He cursed, his head thrashing side to side as your silky skin hugged his length. 

“P-Please… can’t… I n-need more—”

You crossed his wrists, holding them with one hand. The other fell to his throat, holding him there and cutting off his train of thought. Your fingers curled, holding him tighter, his eyes fluttering shut with a helpless whimper. 

“Yeah, you like that?” You smiled.

His skin burned hotter. He pushed against your hand at his wrist, a weak attempt at a warning despite both of you knowing he could overpower you in a second. But he didn’t, and the thought made a warm, fuzzy feeling expand in your chest.

You released his wrists to grip his cock, rising on your knees to position him at your entrance. You sank down slowly, your pained moans coming in tandem when the head of his cock slipped in. You paused there, trying to adjust to the uncomfortable stretch.

“Just give me a second,” you panted, lowering yourself slowly. You could feel how much he was holding back, his hands returning to grip at your thighs. “Fuck, Peter, you’re so big.”

He whined, his hands shifting to your hips, squeezing hard as he ignored every instinct to fuck you dumb.

You grinned at his obvious restraint. “Good boy,” you cooed.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he gasped, his head digging into the mattress when you took him halfway.

“You think so, Spiderman?” you taunted. He bit his lip at the way you said the name like an endearment, his cock twitching insistently inside you. You sank all the way down, taking him fully in your cunt. His hand reached to rest over yours braced on his stomach, needing the comfort to keep him grounded to earth as he felt himself slipping away, his brain going fuzzy. 

“I knew you’d be this big,” you murmured, “The suit really does you justice.”

“H-Huh—”

Before he could question you, you were pulling out until only the tip remained inside, then sinking back down in one slide.

A choked string of whimpers left him as his eyes glazed over. You steadied both hands on his abs, using him as leverage to ride his cock, rocking your hips earnestly to feel every inch of him press into your velvety walls. You looked like a vision above him, your breasts bouncing with every thrust, your mouth hanging open in pleasure.

“Yes,” he gasped, guiding you harder over his cock. “Just like that, o-oh fuck—you feel incredible.”

His eyes threatened to close when your walls fluttered around him, but he forced them open, determined to watch you come undone. Your nails dug into his muscle, leaving red angry scratches on his skin, the slight pain combining perfectly with the pleasure.

He could feel the pressure building, faster and deeper in his gut than the first time. “P-Please, please—” 

God, he needed more. He flipped you over once more, slipping between your legs the second your back hit the mattress. He started thrusting into you with a pace you couldn’t fathom, raw and primal, each drive of his hips reaching a new depth as pure need took over.

You gripped his shoulders, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the head of his cock slammed repeatedly into that spongy spot inside over and over again. Your world and thoughts narrowed down to him and the dizzying, coiling pressure dangling over the precipice.

“You’re c-cunt—fucking perfect,” he whimpered a desperate little cry into your ear, driving in harder with his enhanced strength, pushing you off the edge.

Your orgasm exploded with a violent, blinding force. You bowed off the bed, a fucked-out scream tearing from your chest as your cunt spasmed around him, the final trigger for his own release.

“Gonna come—f-fuck ‘m so close—I—”

He buried himself to the hilt, his whole body tightening as his release cut through him. “Coming! I-I’m coming!’

Thick ropes of cum shot deep inside your cunt, your releases mixing as your body shook with aftershocks of pleasure, his cock prolonging your orgasm. 

His hips bucked lazily into you to milk out every drop of cum from his cock until there was nothing remaining. 

He collapsed on top of you, panting with exhaustion, his weight barely braced on his forearm by your head. He looked down at your swollen lips, your blindfold still in place, and kissed you again without another thought, soft and languid.

Right as he moved to pull out, you stopped him with a hand on the small of his back. “Wait,’ you whispered, your voice spent and hoarse. “‘S-Stay?”

His eyes softened as he looked down at you, sensing your vulnerability in the question. You tried to find the words to explain, but you didn’t have to. He understood without explanation; you weren’t ready to let go of the temporary bliss of being this close to another person, and neither was he.

He moved gently with a pained moan, his over sensitive cock twitching inside you, still half hard. 

He turned you onto your side to slide in behind you, tugging you back snug into his chest. When your breaths finally settled, he carefully tugged the knot of the blindfold free, pushing it off. You were facing away from him, anyway, he told himself.

Your eyes widened at the loss of the barrier, but he just pulled you in closer, burying his face into your hair, his arm secured around your waist, silencing any lingering thoughts. 

Your mind was already drifting to the next morning when you’d wake up and inevitably find him gone. The hero would have slipped back into the night, leaving only the warm bed and his scent in your sheets as a reminder.

You closed your eyes anyway, deciding to pretend all was well for a little while longer.

Comment or message to be added to the spiderman taglist <3

you grin. “hi there."

you drop your stuff on the counter with far more noise than necessary, tearing open the ramen packet. euijoo keeps sneaking curious, nervous glances. you pretend not to notice... for approximately five seconds.

“so,” you say, leaning back against the counter, watching him openly now, “what's your name again? and how do you know mine...?"

he looks mildly startled, like this interaction has taken an unexpected turn. “e-euijoo, and uhm, we met before...”

"euijoo,” you echo, testing it out. “cute. i'll remember it this time”

his entire body seems to short-circuit at the compliment. it’s incredible. euijoo looks at you like you’ve just descended from heaven.

“so, euijoo,” you continue casually, like this is normal, like you’re not slightly drunk and far too entertained, “quiet night in?"

he glances at the kettle, then back at you, "uh yeah. just making tea."

“i see that,” you say, fascinated. “it’s kind of late for tea, isn’t it?”

he shifts slightly. "it helps me study."

“at two in the morning?”

“..yeah.”

you stare at him for a beat. then grin.

“wow,” you repeat, drifting a little closer to him, “you’re actually real?"

"real? what do you mean?"

“like,” you gesture vaguely, “one of those people who actually does all their assignments and drinks tea and has their life together.”

his expression flickers somewhere between confusion and mild panic. he smiles, shrugs, and avoids all eye contact as he says, "i mean, i don’t really have my life together...”

you laugh. “please. you’re making tea to study on a saturday night, euijoo. i'm just getting home from drinking myself into oblivion. you're already leagues ahead of me.”

your microwave hums behind you. the kettle clicks softly as his water finishes boiling. the tiny kitchen is filled with warmth that feels weirdly intimate. you lean back against the counter again, studying him shamelessly.

“so,” you say, voice lighter, curiosity slipping easily into mischief, “what bars do you usually go to?”

he blinks so hard his glasses shift slightly. “…bars?”

you laugh. it’s almost comical how long it takes him to process the question. “yes, euijoo. bars. those magical places with alcohol and edm music.”

“i don’t really go to bars.”

you tilt your head. “oh? more of a house party guy?”

he shifts his weight awkwardly, forcing a half-smile. "not really.”

of course not.

“no parties?” you ask, mock horror dripping from every syllable. “wow.”

no response. he looked nervous like he was holding his breath.

“wow,” you repeat, then giggle, “you’re actually such a dork.”

“…yeah,” he says quietly, almost like an apology. his ears turn pink. and for some deeply confusing reason, that doesn’t turn you off. it only makes you more curious.

“so what do you do in your free time?” you ask. this was gonna be good.

euijoo wore his anxiety in the tight line of his shoulders. he hesitates like it’s a trick question. “…study. mostly.”

you snort. “pathetic.”

“…and i read sometimes.”

“oh my god,” you grin. “it gets worse.”

and he laughs softly, surprisingly. that made your core flex. you couldn't figure out why.

you watch the way his long fingers curl tightly around his mug and the way he still can’t quite hold eye contact with you for more than a second at a time.

and it’s ridiculous. actually ridiculous. because this painfully shy, tea-drinking, absolutely-not-your-type boy should not be doing anything for you. and yet, there’s something about it. something about the shyness and the softness and the way he looks like he’d cum in his pants if you stepped even an inch closer.

you squint and scan your eyes over every inch of him. why do i find this dork so hot? it makes no sense. you hookup with frat boys, athletes, guys with zero emotional depth. definitely not mr. right's, but you have a brand.

and euijoo... euijoo is standing here blushing because you’re breathing in his general direction. looking at you like you’re something far more interesting than you actually are. and for some deeply irritating reason, it’s working.

you found yourself wanting to know how many layers were hiding underneath all that anxiety. for reasons you couldn't explain, you wanted to be the one to peel them back first.

“god,” you murmur, half to yourself, half to him, “this is so weird.”

he looks alarmed. "what is?”

“nothing,” you say, smiling crookedly. even though it is very much something.

“um, so... rough night?” he asks suddenly.

you raise an eyebrow. “wow. are you making conversation with me, euijoo?”

he looks embarrassed. "sorry.”

“no, don't be sorry.” you say through a laugh. “ but uh, yeah, rough night. went out to the bars just to come home alone at two am.”

you step closer just enough. he smells clean, like laundry detergent and jasmine.

“god,” you murmur, leaning slightly into his space, “you’re so cute. i just wanna—”

you don’t finish the sentence. instead, your hand glides forward and grabs the collar of his hoodie. he freezes.

and there it is. that look. that wide-eyed, slightly dazed expression. you’ve seen that expression before, usually right before things get interesting.

you step even closer. his entire body goes stiff, of course.

“why do you look so nervous, euijoo?” you murmur, barely pretending.

he shakes his head too fast. “i’m not.”

you lean in slightly, close enough now to whisper, breath grazing his ear. he stops breathing.

“you’re very nervous.”

he swallows again like that’s the only motor function he has left.

“...i’m not,” he repeats, voice softer now. a terrible lie.

“no?” you murmur. and instead of pulling away, you stay there. hovering. close. too close. your free hand lifts slowly, coming up to rest on his waist, fingers slowly curling against his hoodie.

“euijoo,” you whisper again, softer this time, almost curious, “is this your first time being this close to a girl like me?”

“…no.” but his voice wavers just a little. and it’s adorable.

your fingers begin to drift lazily from his sleeve… down his arm… slowly, like you’re exploring something that already belongs to you. he visibly tenses, every inch of him hyperaware now.

without breaking eye contact, your hand keeps moving. lower. his breath catches because he knows. because there’s no way he doesn’t know. because your fingers are trailing lower. lower. lower. until they hover right at the waistband of his pants. it's agonizing.

you tilt your head slightly and stare at him. wide eyes, flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted. completely ruined by nothing more than proximity.

“…euijoo,” you murmur softly, fingers barely grazing the fabric, “you’re really bad at lying.”

he doesn’t respond. doesn’t speak. doesn’t move. he just stands there breathing uneven.

you study his face for a second. the panic. the anticipation. the way his gaze keeps flickering helplessly to your lips.

“look at you,” you whisper, almost amused.

still nothing. so you step even closer until there’s barely space left between your bodies. your voice drops, “do you want to kiss me?”

his breath catches audibly, his brain absolutely scrambling for survival, “…i—”

he can’t even finish a sentence, but he’s nodding. you smile softly. “that’s what i thought.”

and then, without dragging it out another second, you kiss him. and euijoo — poor, doomed, completely unprepared euijoo — melts. his body is still stiff as a board, but he's squeezing his eyes shut like this is something unreal happening to him.

it’s almost embarrassing how easily he gives in. how quickly all that nervous tension turns soft beneath your mouth.

you reach and grab his arms to wrap them around your waist. you pull back just slightly, enough to watch him struggle to recover. he looks completely dazed, lips parted, eyes still half-lidded, like you’ve just sent him into shock.

cute. god, it’s so cute.

you reach forward, hands sliding up his arms, then up his chest and up to hook a finger beneath the bridge of his glasses and slide them off slowly. he squints almost immediately, eyes softer now without the lenses between you.

you tilt your head, studying him. somehow, without the glasses, he looked even prettier. his lashes were longer than you expected, framing warm round eyes that kept darting everywhere except your face. he tenses instantly as you stare. of course he does.

“hey. relax,” you murmur softly, "god, don't tell me that was your first kiss."

he looked away, so nervous you wondered if his heart was beating loud enough for you to hear. "no, i-i kissed a girl in middle school. it was actually a dare but-"

"just shut up," you said. you guide his arms until his hands settle awkwardly at your waist. he hesitates like he’s unsure what to do, so you press closer.

“there,” you whisper, "you can touch me as much as you want. i won't bite unless you want me to."

and this time when you kiss him again, he kisses back. hesitant at first. nervous. like something in him has finally started to let go. you kiss him harder with no hesitation now. his fingers tighten at your waist. that makes you smile against his mouth. so he does have something in him.

your bodies press closer, his breathing already uneven, already wrecked. and then your hand slides downward, brushing warm skin, moving lower. lower. until they hook lightly into his waistband. his breath catches so sharply it almost sounds painful.

you pause. just for a second. your fingers press slightly, not moving yet, just waiting.

“is this okay?” you ask.

without hesitation, without even pretending to think, he answers. “yes.”

too fast. too breathless. too honest. then, quieter, almost desperate,

“yes… please, just, a-anything."”

you feel heat build up between your thighs at that. dear god, you wanted to badly to finally make him whimper under your touch. to make him forget how to breathe because you made him feel so good. to ruin him so that all he could think about was you.

but then, of course, reality sneaks back in.

“…but,” he adds quickly, “what if someone walks in?”

you grin and lean in close, lips brushing lightly against his ear again.

“don’t worry.” your fingers slip just slightly past the waistband. “that’s what makes it fun.”

maybe its your words or maybe its the way you said it, but something in euijoo breaks. his shaky hands fumble at the waistband of his sweatpants desperately, untying the strings like they were suffocating him. you pull back just enough to watch, a slow smile spreading across your lips as he struggles with the fabric.

his hard cock springs out of his sweatpants, pink, throbbing, and already dripping in precum. its perfectly long and pretty. he glances up at you, eyes wide like he's seeking your approval.

"pretty," you whisper. that earns you a small smile from him, like he was relieved.

with slow movements just to tease him, you kneel down in front of him. you take his full length in your mouth, staring up at him the whole time. he's staring down at you too, mouth widening slowly as he inhales.

"oh my god—" he reaches back to grip the counter behind him, biting his lip to suppress the moans trying to escape his mouth. he chants under his breath, "oh my god. oh my god. oh my god."

cock still stuffed in your mouth, you giggle, and the vibration seems to set him off even more. his legs wobble and he throws his head back. you quicken your pace.

"jesus, you look so pretty." he whines, then instinctively grabs a fistful of your hair to try and stop you. you lean back, strings of spit clinging from his dick to your mouth.

"hm? gonna cum already?"

his cheeks turn redder than before. "well... yeah. sorry."

you stand up, giggling again. so fucking cute.

"no. i like it." you tell him, "you're so sensitive. makes me want to touch you more. see just how good i can make you feel."

euijoo looks completely undone, panting. without breaking eye contact, your fingers slide to the hem of your shirt. you peel the fabric away slowly, deliberately, fully aware of what you’re doing to him. there’s something almost intoxicating about the way he watches like the simple act of you undressing is far more overwhelming than anything that’s happened so far.

"s-should i,” he asks quietly, voice rough, uncertain, “lock the door?”

you pause, jeans halfway off. “what, you scared someone might see?”

his expression tightens instantly. because yes. obviously yes. but he still glances toward the door. still torn between panic and you.

“no one’s coming in here at this hour.” you lean in, close enough that his attention snaps right back where you want it. you pull your jeans off completely. “and even if they were…”

you step closer, brushing lightly against him. euijoo doesn’t look away. he can’t. his eyes track every motion with a kind of helpless intensity, breath already uneven before the fabric even begins to fall.

then your panties hit the floor. the silence that follows is almost deafening. euijoo shudders.

“i don’t think you’d stop me.”

his hands twitch at his sides. “…i—”

but whatever thought he was trying to form disappears the second you touch him again. you grab his broad shoulders and mumble, "stand behind me."

you turn around and position yourself at the counter, hands planted on the cold marble. you lift the back of your shirt so that he can easily access you. he gently rests his hands on your bare ass, hesitating.

"are you sure?" he asks, "i... i've never done this before."

"i'm sure as long as you're sure," you say as you look over your shoulder at him, "i don't care that you're a virgin, euijoo."

he nods, "i really want to. you're b-beautiful. i just don't want to disappoint you. i don't know what i'm doing..."

there’s something painfully sincere in the way he says it.

“disappoint me?” you repeat softly, turning around fully now to face him again. he has no choice but to look at you.

your fingers lift, resting lightly against his jaw. his skin is soft and glowy, not a blemish in sight.

“the fact that you’re this nervous?” your thumb brushes slowly against his skin. “is already getting me off.”

his eyes widen. “…really?”

“mhm. i don't care if you're good at this. you just have to want me.”

“…i do. badly.”

you smile softly against his lips. “then you’re not disappointing me. not even close.”

and then you kiss him again, slow this time, but infinitely more dangerous. without breaking apart, you gently lead him to the table and push him into a chair. you're straddling him, your dripping pussy dangerously close to his cock now.

"just follow my lead, okay?" you say. he nods quickly.

you shift your hips forward slowly, letting your hands rest against his warm chest. his breath shakes the second you settle onto his cock, his entire body tensing beneath you. you settle down onto him inch by inch.

every small shift seems to send another visible wave of sensation through him. he lets out the faintest whimper, his grip tightening on your waist. his eyes flutter shut for a second before snapping back open, like he can’t decide whether this is too much or not enough.

"that feels so good," he groans.

"yeah?" you can feel your tight walls squeezing around him. "you want me to go all the way down, don't you?"

"yes... yes, please," his head leans back when you do. then, you bounce, and god, the face he makes, totally giving into you, only makes you wetter.

you go faster, the sensation rolling through your entire body and stealing the air from your lungs in quiet, uneven breaths.

his fingers are digging into you now, "oh my god, i don't think i can last much longer, but..."

your rhythm falters for a second, "but what?"

"but i don't wanna stop yet." he says honestly.

pure, unfiltered want.

a small smile curves across your lips, touched with something that almost feels like affection.

“yeah?” you murmur quietly.

“yeah,” he breathes.

your pulse spikes instantly.

“good,” you whisper. “because neither do i.”

"can you... go back to the counter? the way you were before? i want to try that." he asks sweetly, licking his lips. that earns a smile from you. he was warming up to you. you wish he'd tell you every dirty thought he had, every burning fantasy he'd been dreaming about trying. you oblige, standing and leaning on the counter again.

he comes behind you, positioning himself, holding onto your hips as a guide. you hear him take a deep breath.

and then... he slides into you. you gasp immediately. it feels even better, the angle hitting you deeper. he stalls for a moment, getting used to the sensation.

then, he ruts himself into you. its desperate and a little uneven, but that's what makes it so much better. maybe he doesn't have a clue what he's doing, but all he knows is he wants you so bad.

"yeah, just like that," you coo.

he goes faster. the delicious sounds of your skin slapping begins to fill the room over both of your moans. it sounds like he's trying to say something, but it all comes out as breathy, strained grunts.

he presses his chest flat to your back and wraps his arms completely around your torso. the sudden closeness sends warmth flooding through you as he clings onto you. euijoo buries his face against your shoulder, breathing you in like he can’t quite get enough of you.

"fuck, euijoo, you're gonna make me cum," you say, oddly proud.

"really? do i keep going?" he asks like he's genuinely surprised.

"yes. god, yes, keep going." your back arched further with each strained word. that makes his pace quicken even more. he's pounding into you with a certain hunger that you didn't know he had in him.

"just a little— ahh," your words dissolve into moans, your back arching as the sensation peaks without warning. every nerve in your body lights up with a sharp, pulsing intensity that feels almost impossible to contain. euijoo’s name falls from your lips in a broken whisper.

just after you reached your climax, he pulls out frantically, whimpering loudly as his cum spilled out onto the floor between your legs. for a moment, he breathes hard while he's resting against your back and takes it all in.

then, euijoo slowly opens his eyes, like he’s afraid it was all just a dream. his arms are still wrapped tightly around you. his chest rises and falls unevenly against your back, fingers still slightly tense.

“…holy shit,” he whispers softly like his brain is still catching up to reality. “that was…” he trails off, clearly unable to find a word big enough.

“…good?” you murmur softly.

euijoo nods instantly. he breathes out, “good. really good. did... did you like it?"

you couldn't help but laugh, "was my orgasm not proof enough? yes, euijoo, you did amazing."

you slither around to face him, then melt into his chest. his embrace is warm and strong and sweeter than you expected.

"just want to make sure" his arms tighten around you again like he has absolutely no intention of letting go anytime soon.

you glance up at him, amused.

“you know this isn’t a one-time thing, right?”

he blinks. “…you’d really want that?”

you smile softly. “don’t make me repeat myself.”

assuming both of your roommates were either taking a nap or out of the house (though you don’t remember either of them saying they were leaving), you put the groceries away as quietly as you could and walked to your room at the end of the hall, passing by both of their rooms when you think you hear noises coming from intak’s room.

you press your ear to the door, wondering if you were just hearing things, but you hear a whimper of your name on the other side of the barrier, followed by… wet noises?

oh.

feeling a blush creep up your neck, you decide to leave him to it when you hear your other roommate taeyang’s voice, low and taunting.

“what was that? you have me right here and you’re still thinking about her?”

oh.

the heat you were feeling on your neck now makes its way down to your belly and pools there, and you go to leave them alone when the same voice speaks again.

“maybe you’d be better for me if she were to join us?”

intak whines, followed by a higher whine as you hear the wet noises slow significantly, and what you hear next makes your blood freeze over.

“why don’t you come in instead of just standing at the door?”

.☘︎ ݁˖

release date: as soon as i can y’all bear with me

You never understood how people could fail tests. In your brain, it wasn’t that hard to study nor was it to apply oneself. But kids your age were so focused on dating and sports and whatever other bullshit. To be completely honest, you were a proud and confident nerd.

The bell rung loudly throughout the school, signaling the end of third period. Silently, you shoved your books and pencils into your bag as everyone else rushed out of the room. As you were packing up your belongings, you couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between your teacher and fellow classmate.

“Clay, this is the fourth time you’ve failed a quiz in my class. I’m sorry, but if you bomb another I’ll be forced to fail you for the semester.” Mrs. Robinson warned the boy.

Clay Barton was the epitome of jock. Lacrosse was huge at your school, so obviously he was the captain. Girls flocked over him like he was some sort of celebrity. Every single guy wanted to be friends with him, or actually be him. You didn’t see the appeal.

Nevertheless—you were quite shocked hearing that he was failing so miserably. Clay didn’t strike you for the dumb type, not at all. He’d have to have some sort of intelligence to lead an entire team, so how could he be so academically challenged?

But then you remembered how others treated him. People talked to him like he was the rarest gem on earth—which typically leads to the growth of a huge ego. You could imagine that Clay thought he didn’t have to work hard for anything—that’d it just be handed to him.

Then it’s about time someone humbled him.

You scoffed lightly and threw your bag over your shoulder, tuning out of the world around you. Just as you were walking out of the classroom, your teacher stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/n, can you come here for a second, please?” The older woman asked, waving you over with her wrinkly fingers.

“What’s up Mrs. Robinson?” You huffed, adjusting your backpack strap.

“I’m sure you heard some of that..” She rolled her eyes in a perfect circle, referring to her exchange with Clay. You nodded, prompting her to go on. “I’ve assigned him a tutor, and…it’s you.”

Your jaw almost detached from your face. There was no way that you could tutor the Clay Barton. If he didn’t pay attention in Mrs. Robinson’s class that was beyond easy, why would he even give you the time of day?

“I don’t think that’s a good idea..” You said anxiously, face twisting in irritation.

“Look, I know he’s…well..himself. But you’re one of the only student helpers signed up for our tutoring program. He really needs this, you’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Mrs. Robinson reassured, a soft smile gracing her thin lips.

It’s true, you were a smart girl. But there were a million other things you’d rather utilize your smarts for. Tutoring Clay would be like climbing Mount Everest. Based off of the few interactions you’ve shared, he was such a prick.

Mr. Barton put gum in your hair in 3rd grade. In middle school he threw a basketball at your head in gym class. And in 9th grade he bumped into you, making your lunch spill all over the cafeteria floor. You already weren’t popular—so that was just the icing on the cake.

Despite this, you knew nobody else would be willing to tutor him. The kind hearted part of you would hate to see his downfall, it’d be pathetic. Thus, you swallowed your ego painfully and agreed.

💻....

The day of your first tutoring session came fast, faster than you would’ve liked. Your shoes pattered against the tiles of the library, all else quiet. You were not excited for this at all. He probably wouldn’t even be here, then you’d just look like an idiot.

Astonishingly, he was there. Clay Barton actually showed. For some reason, you felt a little spark when you turned the corner and saw him. It was odd, you felt…excitement. No, no, annoyance is what you felt.

Clay sat comfortably in the plush library seat, eyes averted down to his phone. A grey, cotton t shirt hugged his muscular frame, and black sweatpants pooled at his waist. You couldn’t help but gag at how effortlessly good he looked.

Eventually he noticed you staring at him and raised a brow suspiciously. Great, now he probably thinks you’re a pervert. Quickly, you collected yourself and walked over to him, looking his figure up and down when you got close enough.

“Sup, gum girl.” Clay greeted, looking up at you from where he sat. Gum girl—the name he’d gifted you in 3rd grade when he smeared that sticky pink bubblegum in your gorgeous hair.

“Hi Clay, I see you’re still immature as always.” You shot back, giving him a fake smile.

“What? You don’t like your nickname?” He teased. Clay clearly enjoyed messing with you, that much was clear and had been your entire lives. It was unclear why you’d thought he’d change since the two of you were older now.

“As much as I’d love to sit here and listen to your stupid jokes, we have work to do. Well, you specifically have work to do.” You reminded while grabbing your English textbook out of your bag. You noticed his smirk seemed to drop at the mention of work. Weird.

“Yeah, yeah.” He acknowledged, getting his supplies out as well.

“What exactly is it that you don’t get with this? Mrs. Robinson’s class is so easy.” You questioned, your tone judgmental.

Clay squinted his eyes at you. Why was it that you always had to act so cocky? Even when asking such a simple question like that. He knew he was one to talk about arrogance—but you were on a whole different level.

You carried yourself with this quiet confidence that was seemingly unshakable. Yet—you had no friends and absolutely no social status yet you had the audacity to judge him? Yeah, no.

Clay adjusted the silver ring on his finger, staring into your eyes that seemed distant and guarded. You always looked that way. Whenever he glanced at you in the hallways, or at lunch, or during class. There was some type of wall that restricted you from being…normal and open—from being liked even.

You were just so….nitpicky.

“Everything…you’re gonna have to explain it to me. Nice and slow.” He spoke calmly, shifting his body so that he could face you more.

“Seriously? God…ok fine. So we’ll have to start with chapter one…” You groaned, beginning to explain the material.

The library seemed still. Whilst you were explaining the numerous articles from your textbook, Clay couldn’t stop thinking about how much you ticked him off.

Ever since the two of you were kids, it was always just something about you that rubbed him the wrong way. But it wasn’t just your arrogance or the fact you thought you were Albert Einstein. It was something else he felt. Clay pretended he’d sneak looks at you because you were weird—because you were so peculiar that he just had to look. He hated to admit that maybe he was looking because you peaked his interest in other ways.

It was so frustrating how soft your lips looked as you spoke, how your delicate fingers glided across the old book pages—how, every now and then, you’d look up at him with those stupidly pretty eyes. You were just so vexing.

“Do you got that first bit?” You interrupted his thoughts. God…you were so serious, he’d have to get you to lighten up a bit.

“Yeah, keep going.” Clay nodded, running a hand through his thick black hair.

You went on and on, explaining the various things he needed explained, ‘nice and slow’. You were so focused in on the work, barely engaging with the boy directly. Therefore when you did, you were aggravated to see that his mind seemed to be elsewhere. He was literally staring into the distance.

“Hey!” You snapped, causing him to shoot his gaze to you. “Pay attention, or you’ll never get this.” You said as you shoved your finger in his face.

“Who says I’m not paying attention?” Clay snickered, flicking your finger away. You shook your head, leaning back in your chair.

“I’m serious, Clay. Failing 4 tests? Really? You can’t be the star player of lacrosse if you aren’t passing English.” You pointed out.

He knew you were right. Lacrosse was everything to him and if he kept up this behavior he could kiss it all goodbye. That couldn’t happen, not now, not ever.

“Whatever..” he mumbled, motioning for you to go on with his hand.

Hours upon hours passed of you breaking down everything to Clay. He hated to say it, but by the end of it he’d actually learned a few things. Who would’ve thought?

You yawned sleepily as you began to toss your things back in your bag, not particularly caring about organization. You wasted no time getting up from your seat and readying yourself to say goodbye.

“Hold up-do you got a ride?” Clay asked, standing up after you.

“Nope, I walked. My place isn’t far from here.” You explained, running a hand over your face.

Clay glanced outside, it was completely dark. As much as he wanted to get away from you, it didn’t feel right leaving you to walk alone at night.

“I’ll give you a ride.” He decided, beginning to walk before you could say anything.

“What, no! It’s fine, it’s like a 5 minute walk.” You argued, quickly catching up to him. He didn’t even look at you before replying.

“Nope, you’re not gonna walk alone at night. It’s not safe.”

“Since when do you care?” You grumbled.

Was it so hard to just accept a ride from him? Who in their right mind seriously would prefer walking completely unaccompanied at 10 pm? You were just hard headed.

“Since I realized if you were to get murdered out there I’d be the last person to have seen you. Therefore I’d be a suspect. I think I’m good off that.” He reasoned.

Though what he said was a possibility, it wasn’t really the real reason he wanted to take you home. Somewhere inside of him—he cared. He wanted you to get home safely. But the infamous Clay Barton would never accept that truth.

“Oh..so you’re doing it for you own benefit. Why am I not surprised?” You mumbled the last part to yourself as you followed him out of the library.

Clay didn’t respond to your comment, opting to not entertain your foolishness. The two of you continued walking until you arrived at his vehicle—if that’s what you could even call it.

“uhh, there’s no way I’m getting on that thing.” you were practically revolted by the sight of his motorcycle. Of course he’d ride one of those things.

“Y/n…just get on the bike.” He sighed, moving to hand you a helmet.

“Ok, I know you have this whole bad boy scenario going on but there is no way on gods green earth that I am risking my li-“ You tried to speak but before you knew it he was picking you up.

You were stunned. Did Clay Barton just pick you up? Like it was nothing at that? Clay plopped you down on the the seat, hands firmly holding your waist.

“Just shut up for once, alright?” He squeezed your flesh to further his point, shoving the helmet down on your head.

And thank the lord he did. Your face flushed in embarrassment, teeth sinking down onto your bottom lip. You hated how he just manhandled you like that—though you hated how good it felt more.

“Hold onto me.” Clay ordered as he saddled the motorcycle, throwing his helmet on. At that point, you were so defeated that you just listened to him.

Your arms slipped around his mid section, holding tightly. You could feel the pattern of his breathing, and the warmth that radiated off of his body. Your eyes squeezed shut—you tried your best to zone out of the moment, and pretend you weren’t feeling the things you were.

Clay couldn’t understand why his heart was all of a sudden beating so fast. The adrenaline from riding the bike was long gone, so it couldn’t have been that. It definitely wasn’t because you were so close to him. It certainly wasn’t because he could feel your chest pressed against his back. He was just…annoyed that he was forced to take you home.

The ride was silent and long—somehow 3 minutes felt like 3 hours. All you wanted to do was go to your room and wash off all of this tom foolery. You swiftly removed the helmet from your head, dropping it into his hands like it was some sort of disease.

“Thanks for the ride..” you cleared your throat, nodding to him. Truthfully, it was really nice of him to give you a lift.

“No problem..just didn’t wanna be wrongfully accused.” Clay joked, his brown eyes burning into your own. You blinked before turning around and walking to your front door, not daring to say another word. “See you tomorrow!” He called out while reving that stupid engine.

You waved curtly as you fumbled with your house keys. As soon as you were in the comfort of your home you leaned against the front door, face in your hands.

This was NOT going to be easy.

💭(・・?).. 📓 ‧₊˚ ➢ .

It starts with an off-handed comment or two, with your old friend Suni greeting you at the bar with a bright grin and generous hands, with her whispering to you her congrats on getting yourself a cute boyfriend, with Jiung’s eyes lingering a second too long on her walking away, with your eyes drinking her in from afar, appreciating just how much she’s grown into herself in the past few years. It was like your old crush on her was reawakening in real time at the sight of her familiar tall frame, her long, dark hair, her sharp features and unfairly pretty smile. 

It ends with the three of you in the backseat of an Uber (which happens to be a Porsche because Suni’s rich now) to Suni’s apartment, her lips on yours and Jiung’s on your neck. 

“And he’s generous,” Suni whispers playfully into lips. “What a catch.”

“I don’t think it was entirely selfless,”  you giggle, turning your head to peck Jiung’s lips. “Isn’t that right baby?”

Jiung doesn’t answer, can’t rather, too flustered and too unsure of what the right answer would be. But it doesn’t matter because Suni reaches over your lap to kiss him and he sees from his peripherals the way your eyes twinkle as you watch them, so he lets himself indulge for you.

He wasn’t so sure about the prospect when you’d brought it up to him earlier that night. How was he supposed to just watch someone else make you feel good and not kill them?

He’s still not entirely sure, but his brain gets a little too derailed to think too much about it. 

“Does he always get this dumb from just a little kissing?” Suni asks as she practically manhandles you and Jiung in through her door. 

You lift from where you’re glued to her side and latched to her jawline to look over at Jiung. He looks starry eyed and is completely wordless as he lets himself be pushed up against the door. 

You grin at the deep flush on his cheeks, the quick rise and fall of his chest, his blown eyes as he watches you and Suni close in on him, almost like he’s cornered prey. 

“Usually,” you hum, your eyes falling to the thick bulge straining against his jeans. “Go light on him, he scares easy.”

Jiung opens his mouth to protest but his words immediately die when Suni drops to her knees in front of him. His eyes go wide and frantic as he looks back up at you. 

But all you do is grin, dropping to join Suni on your knees. 

The look on his face is priceless—completely awestruck and completely lost on what to do. And when Suni pulls his cock free, hard and flushed at the tip and already leaking so much, you think he might nearly break into tears. 

“Fuck he’s so pretty,” Suni says breathlessly, giving his cock a slow, appreciating stroke from base to tip. It gets Jiung writhing, a wrecked little moan parting from his lips as she thumbs at his tip.

“Isn’t he?” You wrap your hand around his base, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He tastes even better.”

Suni leans in, letting her tongue flick against the pearly bead of precum at his tip, then hums in appreciation before wrapping her lips fully around him. 

Jiung gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his palms against the door. 

“So sensitive,” you coo before leaning in to drag your tongue up his hard, velvety length before meeting Suni’s lips over the head. 

She turns to kiss you, pushing the precum she’s gathered on her tongue against yours. You hum as you share his taste, before turning to take him into your mouth, swallowing him halfway. 

You both work him just like that, alternating with each other to suck him off until he’s a writhing, whining mess and close to breaking. 

Jiung is pretty sure he might actually collapse, and you and Suni must see that because soon enough, you’re both pushing and tugging him to Suni’s bed as a small show of mercy. He’s not sure he’ll be getting much of that tonight.

You’re eager as you pull off his clothes and strip him free after your own, and Suni’s eager as she immediately latches onto his cock again, swallowing him down to the hilt before she starts bobbing her head as she takes as she pleases. 

You stay at his side, smoothing down his hair and cooing at him as he writhes on the bed completely under her mercy, overstimulated even though he hasn’t come yet. 

“You okay, baby?” You ask him almost condescendingly, kissing his ear and running a hand through his damp hair, the other caressing down his heaving chest. 

His hands dig into the sheets, his entire body trembling from the warm heat of Suni’s mouth working him so, so well. It almost feels wrong. 

“I-It’s… mm—d-different,” he gasps, his body jerking when Suni gives his tip a harsh suck before going down again. His hand flies to grip onto your leg, teary eyes looking up to see your eyes locked onto where Suni’s mouthing him. 

“Look at her,” you whisper to him, pressing a soothing kiss against his jaw. “Got her drunk on your cock already.”

Jiung doesn’t know what to say to that. He lets out a little sob instead, his hips bucking up almost involuntarily into Suni’s mouth. 

He’s close, he’s so close, but his body won’t let him cum. Not like this. He doesn’t quite understand it. 

“Wanna cum,” he begs, looking pleadingly up at you as if you’ll understand for him. “C-Can’t…”

“Yeah?” You ask. “Wanna cum inside her, s’that it? You can fuck her, that’s fi—“

“N-no,” he interjects, letting out a frustrated grunt. 

He shudders when Suni pulls off of him with a pop, peering up at you both with a sly smile on her lips. 

“I think he wants you,” she says, giving his tip a little kiss before lifting off of him completely. 

Understanding dawns on you. And it fills you with a violent burst of adoration and an urge to fuck him silly. 

“Can I at least ride your face?” Suni asks him, and it takes a second for the words to register through his fucked mind. He flushes deeper somehow, but nods anyway. 

Without wasting another second, you seat yourself on his cock while Suni seats herself on Jiung’s tongue. 

She lets out a shuddered sigh, her face completely euphoric as she rocks her hips down on him. “Fuck,” she whispers, opening her eyes to look at you with a hazy, drunk little smile. “You get this all to yourself huh?”

You giggle, rolling your hips down, your walls clamping down on his pulsing length. He’s so hard inside you, brushing the deepest parts of you as you settle yourself down to the base. 

“Every night if I’m lucky,” you say, gasping when Jiung’s hips buck up into you, jerky and impatient. “Pushy,” you chide lightly, giving his waist a squeeze. 

Then you lift yourself up and start fucking yourself down on him at a steady pace, one that has him whimpering against Suni’s cunt as he struggles to keep up with fucking her with his tongue. 

But Suni doesn’t seem to mind, bracing her hands on his stomach and rocking herself down in tandem with your pace. 

Still, Jiung doesn’t touch her, his hands dutifully dug into the sheets at his sides. 

You consider making a comment on it but then Suni’s pulling you into a kiss, her tongue slipping easily into her mouth. You hum at Jiung’s taste on her, your pace faltering as you get sucked into her head spinning kiss, her hand cupping your breast and squeezing appreciatively and effectively honing all your senses in on her. 

You get sucked into her, her touch, her scent, her lips—hypnotizing you in the same way all those years ago but entirely different. 

You don’t realize how much you get distracted, nearly forgetting the task at hand, until Jiung starts squirming under you, trying to fuck up into you and pull back your attention. 

You pull from the kiss, if a little hesitant, but your heart tugs when Jiung’s hand wraps around your knee and tugs at it, begging you with his touch since his mouth is otherwise occupied. 

Suni’s eyes twinkle, a knowing little grin on her lips as she lets go of you and opts to languidly rock herself down on Jiung’s pliant tongue. 

“He’s so needy,” she says, feathering her fingers over the butterfly tattoos on Jiung’s stomach, making him flinch under her touch. 

“He is,” you say, lifting up until the head of his cock catches against your hole. “But I like him needy.”

All it takes is for you to slam back down and seat his cock deep inside of you, clenching down, to milk his orgasm out of him. 

He spills inside you with a choked cry, his body bowing up the bed as the tension in his body finally snaps, thick strands of his release painting your walls as he shudders and cries and writhes through his orgasm. 

Jiung barely gets to ride through the waves of his release before Suni’s pulling you off of him and pushing you onto your back in the space beside his wrecked body. 

He watches, panting, as she climbs wet kisses down your body and settles between your legs. He watches, helpless, as she starts to lap you up, getting you moaning on her tongue. 

Your hand twists into her inky hair, your hips bucking up to ride her tongue as it drags through your folds and drinks up his cum. 

It makes his gut burn with something more than just arousal. 

But you seem to be in pure bliss. So he swallows his pride and simply watches. 

“Suni,” you moan, tightening your hand in her hair as she starts to fuck her tongue in you. 

She pulls back to suck harshly on your clit, digging two fingers in your gummy walls instead. “Been wanting to do this since first year,” she says breathlessly, chuckling when you start rocking yourself down, fucking yourself on her fingers. “You’re needy too, aren’t you?”

You pout a little, whining when she pulls her fingers out. “I don’t like being teased.”

“I know baby,” she coos, rising to her knees. 

She hooks a hand under your knee, raising your leg, practically folding it to your chest as she eyes your glistening cunt appreciatively. 

“You’re pretty all over,” she mumbles, then slots her legs over yours to grind her cunt right down on yours. 

Your mouth falls open in a soundless moan, your eyes rolling back when her clit brushes directly over yours, sending bright heat through your body. 

“Fucker better be treating you right,” she mutters, then starts to grind her pussy down on yours. 

Your hands grasp down on her thighs, that heat blazing through your body each time her clit passes over yours. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, your body rocking with each of her frantic grinds. “F-Feels good…”

“Yeah?” She asks, a grin in her voice as her hand crawls up your body to wrap around your throat. She holds you down, grinding down harder. “Fuck, should give you my strap. Could fuck you so good,” she says, almost as breathless as you are. 

Your eyes roll back as the pressure starts to tighten in your gut. “Fuck, yes, please fuck me,” you start to babble, completely mindless to anything but the heat of Suni’s cunt against yours. 

Until the heat is suddenly gone. 

Your eyes snap open, the sudden cold jerking your body back to reality. 

Jiung has Suni pulled to his chest with an arm around her shoulders and a dark look in his eye as he grits into her ear, “Careful,” he starts slowly, his other hand sliding down from her stomach to her pussy. Suni grabs onto his forearm, her mouth falling open with a pained whine when he pinches her clit between his middle and ring fingers. “You’re forgetting what’s not yours.”

Then he’s pushing her down onto your chest, bending her over, and pressing his hardening cock into her drenched cunt. 

Suni takes him with a guttural moan, her mouth falling and eyes rolling back as he seats himself deep inside her. 

But you’re too focused on Jiung, on the blown, almost manic look in his eye as he watches you over her, on the way his brows furrow as he reaches down to hold Suni’s head to your chest. 

He barely lets her get used to his size before he pulls out just to slam back into her and punch out a cried moan, before he starts to fuck her with intent, rocking her body over yours with each of his hard thrusts, the rough slaps of skin on skin filling the air. 

Suni quickly becomes a mess, hands clawing onto you as she’s fucked into oblivion, not an intelligible word leaving her lips as she’s reduced to babbled moans and needy whines. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, laughing when all she can do is drool into your shoulder. “Talked a big game earlier. Nothing to say now?”

Suni just whines, her body seizing up as Jiung fucks her closer and closer to the edge. But just before she can tip off, he slows down to deep grinds that leave her sobbing. 

“Please,” she babbles, trying to grind her hips back but Jiung easily overpowers her, holding her tightly by the hip as he lifts her and arches her back, reaching deeper with the new angle. “Ah fuck, please!”

He stops moving entirely. “Please what?”

You nearly come from the demanding sound of his voice alone. 

Suni whimpers, burying her face into your shoulder. Jiung’s eyes meet yours, a smug glint in them as he pulls back until he’s fucking her shallowly with just his tip. 

“What do you think?” He asks, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s asking you. 

You bite your lip, wrapping an arm around Suni’s trembling body, smoothing a hand down her spine. “I think she’s learned her lesson.” You turn to brush your lips against her ear, her damp tresses tickling you. “Haven’t you, love?”

She nods quickly, her hands digging into your waist. “Y-Yes… you’re his… now please, please just let me cum…”

Your gaze lifts to Jiung’s again, meeting his tiny smirk with a grin of your own. 

You reach down to press your finger against her clit just as Jiung slams back into her, before he fucks her roughly through her jerky orgasm, chasing his own as she writhes and flutters around his cock. 

But he pulls out just before he reaches it, shifting down to push into your waiting cunt so he can spill inside you, groaning with relief, head tossed back as he shudders through his second orgasm. 

And you lay there holding Suni’s trembling body as Jiung’s thumb circles your clit, easing you through your own high. It’s nothing as intense, but it’s enough to get you blissfully creaming around his cock. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way. And he knows it too, with the way he mirrors your smile over Suni’s shoulder. 

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in this day and age of hook-up culture, of getting lucky with nothing but a few swipes on your phone, it’s far too easy to just deceive your way into scoring some.

men are liars, and they all claim the same thing these days: they’re a munch, they can go until the sunrise, you’ll feel it in your kidney, they’re a feminist, etc… of course, it’s not until those men slide in dry after rubbing straight flap then cumming in three strokes before those poor women realise: a man will claim anything under the sun if it means you’ll fuck him.

although mingyu can relate to the desperation to get laid, he’s not so shameless that he’d just bullshit his way into someone’s pants. at that point you don’t even deserve it. he’ll stick by his true character even if he’s on the brink of insanity from lack of action. in saying that, what makes mingyu superior to thy neighbour is not just the fact that he only ever speaks the truth — but also in regards to the absurd cock size he’s been blessed with. 

through google searches of the average length not just in his country but the whole globe, triple takes from other men in public bathhouses, dick pics sent to talking stages and unsolicited dick pics sent to him — mingyu’s come to the conclusion that he’s bigger than average. to put it humbly, really.

at soft, he can make a few head turns at the least. at half-hard he’s got the size that most men lie about having. and when he’s fully erect, he should probably register his cock as a weapon. 

mingyu’s been told that his body’s sculpted like a greek god, complete with zeus’ lightning rod in his pants. he’s got the cock that the top gets in yaoi with ridiculously drawn proportions, the cock that gets spray-painted as graffiti on a cheating ex’s car. mingyu’s big to the point where it’s like okay, can we be serious, like this is doing too much. 

he’s been told by men and women alike that he could make a living off of his size. ah, what a dream that’d be. taking dick pics (maybe some feet in there too) to pay the bills. having fame and money and pussy for doing nothing but exist with a completely natural, albeit monstrously sized cock. 

he can forget about that ever happening though. it sounds like a dream because it is. nevermind being god’s favourite — mingyu’s starting to believe he must’ve signed a contract with the devil in his past life, because what good is a big dick if you’ve only got yourself to fuck? 

it’s a bad joke, really. all these inches and a pretty face but nowhere to use it. he’s only gotten laid enough times to count on one hand without lifting a thumb, and all instances had punctuated years worth of drought. 

size doesn’t matter, and he knows that firsthand. when he lost his virginity, he came the instant he slid into his girlfriend, who just said “that’s it?” then broke up with him. he’s had next to no luck landing any girls since that pitiful first, let alone getting one to stay. 

he knows he’s not exactly fucking like a pornstar, but his same absurd size is actually what’s holding him back. there’s been times when his cock getting hard for a girl has him on verge of fainting, just from all the fucking blood the monster in his pants needs to get up. then after some mediocre stroke game, the force of orgasming has him seeing literal glimpses of heaven.

despite the physical toll, in some pitiful moments of doubt he even began to question if he’s been lied to his entire life about his size — if it’s not earning him a text back because it’s actually pretty average. that is, until his best friend literally readjusted his glasses in shock the first time he saw mingyu naked. 

mingyu might be getting less action than an actual virgin. he’s since long forgotten how a pussy feels since becoming besties with his imagination and left hand — and it’s gotten to the point that the feel of his same old, boring palm can barely spark any pleasure. he may as well be rubbing off his ankle. 

the porn on page 1 to page 847 has no difference in how utterly useless it is when he needs help getting off. switching to his non-dominant hand, humping the mattress, buying a pocket pussy, watching fetish content on places he wouldn’t even go with a gun — all of it, useless. futile. 

he needs the real thing, warm and tight and living. he needs to get laid before he does something drastic and his face is plastered on every news channel … okay maybe not that far but he fears it really is that serious. all these extra inches means he’s got an extra intense libido to match, and nothing but extra extra bad luck when it comes to finding means of relieving it. 

one sunny day he rants about all of this to his roommate and best friend wonwoo, who nods over a steaming bowl of shin ramyun.

“i see.” wonwoo hums. “you’re not asking to fuck me, are you?”

“bro. fuck off.” mingyu groans, dropping his head to the table with a thunk. “you know what? yeah, i might if i don’t get laid soon.”

“well, i’m not a bottom, so unless you want to take it up the ass.” wonwoo shrugs, slurping down a mouthful of noodles without even chewing. (seriously, why does he do that?)

“don’t you have single friends? discord kittens? can’t you hook up a brother in desperate need? i’m losing vision in one eye with how pussy-deprived i am.”

wonwoo readjusts his glasses. “i do know some girls but.. you’d be okay with having my sloppy seconds?”

“forget i even asked man.” mingyu rolls his eyes, kicking his chair out from the table with a loud scrape on the floorboards. “i’m having a shower. need to jerk off before i hit something. or you.”

after a pitiful, rage-induced wank sesh under the hot stream of water (also a few stray tears shed), mingyu was pulling his boxers on when the door swung open.

“are you still on any dating sites?” wonwoo asked casually, ignoring how half of his best friend’s ass was still hanging out as he barged in. 

“no, i deleted my tinder after that one girl who set my nudes as her profile picture.”

“okay cool. try this one out.” wonwoo handed his phone over, open on the browser.

www.dtf.com

mingyu scrunched his face. “down to fuck dot com?”

ah, so a matchmaking site that doesn’t pretend to be about any ‘finding your soulmate’ bullshit and is unapologetically straight to the point: we’re all single and here to fuck. 

“can’t imagine you look for anything serious on here.” he snickers. 

“well no, it’s in the name. are you?” 

mingyu scratched his neck. truthfully, a girlfriend would be ideal but… beggars can’t be choosers. 

he shrugged. “whatever happens.” 

inspecting the rest of the site, he clicked to view wonwoo’s profile — then whistled at the suggestive set of photos displayed on his best friend’s page. 

Wonwoo A giver, most of the time. AGE: 25 HEIGHT: 6 ft SIZE: 8 in. LOOKING FOR: Female, Submissive INTERESTED IN: BDSM, Brat Taming, Humiliation, Degradation, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Impact Play, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink, Pet Play, Toys, Anal… [Show More] 

“you like being called ‘daddy’?” mingyu snickered. 

“yeah bro. e-girls flock to me like birds, that’s how i get so many over.” wonwoo replies with a smart-ass smirk. “they grip your dick like you’re gonna leave them.”

“….that’s just not what i asked, man.” 

safe to say, mingyu was sold. he promptly had his own account set up, then took close to an hour meticulously choosing the thirst trap images for his profile.

Mingyu Hey (with the intention of begging on my knees) AGE: 24 HEIGHT: 6’2  SIZE: 12 in. LOOKING FOR: Female INTERESTED IN: Vanilla, Missionary

when mingyu showed wonwoo the final product with a satisfied smile, his best friend burst out laughing. 

“are these the default options or something?” wonwoo asked, pointing to mingyu’s barren interests section. 

“bro, i’m just looking to get laid. doesn’t need to be any more complex than that.” mingyu pouted. “unlike you, i don’t need a girl to wear a cat tail butt plug and meow for me to get off.” 

“that sounds hot.” 

it does. “freak ass..” 

after leaving his best friend with the middle finger and then setting his profile to public for matchmaking, within mere minutes women were indeed flocking to him, much like birds. 

mingyu spent all night marvelling at his phone like a kid in a candy store — giggling as he sifted through profiles, kicking his feet as he chatted with women basically throwing themselves at him. 

despite wonwoo making fun of him, it seemed that his only interests being ‘vanilla’ had actually worked in his favour, since he had countless women from all different shades of kinks asking if he was open-minded. the one thing they all had in common though, from the bratty subs to the dominatrixes, was one burning question: is it really that big? 

and oh, he’s been more than happy to prove it; snapping a quick, shaky photo of the visible bulge in his calvin kleins and watching as all the phone numbers and addresses and nudes roll in like waves.

he hasn’t taken anyone up on their offers to meet up, not just yet. call him an attention whore, but he’s had years worth of yearning for this, dreaming about this, even crying in the shower after jerking off over this. these days it’s hard enough trying to reach an orgasm even with every tool in his arsenal — and yet he’s been laying here, chatting away with a lifetime’s supply worth of women, while being so turned on he’s basically blue-ballsing himself. 

ah, he could get used to this. this could even prove to be a little too dangerous. maybe he really was destined to be a pornstar, and him having no luck climbing out of bitchless purgatory was just the universe’s way of restoring natural balance. no one man should have all this power. 

the attention goes straight to his head, leaves him feeling high off of it. leaves him on cloud nine with a painfully hard cock.

ding.

leaves him with a harsh comedown that hits like a kick in the balls.

when he clicks to open the uncalled-for dm, mingyu can feel his boner go a quarter of the way back down just from the shock. what the hell does that mean? do you think he’s a bot, clickbaiting? but he put so much effort and care into choosing the right photos for his profile…

….is it really so unbelievable that he’s only looking for vanilla sex?

oh. okay. so everyone he’s chatted with so far may as well have been shy, considering how forward you are straight off the bat. not even a hello, how are you, my name is… just “i call bullshit, show me that dick.”

alright then. he can play ball.

mingyu tugs his boxers down his thighs, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach, even at only somewhat hard. he’ll need to get it all the way back it up if he’s going to prove it to you.

he has a full-body shiver when his hand grazes the tip, just from how on edge he’s been; smearing precum across his palm before his fingers curl around in a loose grip.

he’ll need something to jerk off to, and well, since your profile is there….

shit. it’s more than enough. you’re like, really fucking pretty. hot, gorgeous, panty-dropping and cock-raising. so pretty he actually feels a little guilty as his hand starts to stroke his cock, but hey, you’ll get him fully hard in no time.

mingyu swipes through the array of photos on your page, each one more revealing than the last, fist steadily pumping his length. it jumps between his fingers when he settles on a photo of you in white lingerie: the lace hugging your curves perfectly, plush lip bitten between your teeth, hands cupping the underside of your breasts and lifting them on full display.

it’s not until a fresh spurt of precum leaks over his knuckles that mingyu remembers he’s supposed to be taking a picture of his boner as proof, and not just… jerking off for the sake of it.

he has to literally rip his hand away, lower belly already coiled dangerously tight. he can’t remember the last time a girl in real life got him this hard and this fast.

shuffling closer to the mirror, he sits on the edge of the bed and holds his cock upright with one hand, the other holding his phone right next to it — as comparison, of course.

he holds his breath as he sends it through.

well, his stomach sank for a moment there, but he quickly recovers. mingyu lays back on the bed, running his palm up and over his length, just absentmindedly playing with himself as his jelly fingers type out a reply.

he’s quick to navigate back to your profile, cock reacting with a pulse as his eyes land on your face again like it missed you already.

he doesn’t even think about it this time: just gets completely lost in the sight before him, in the feel of his fist fucking him. until a ding cuts through the tunnel vision, your chat notification lighting up the top of his screen. the only thing that could tear his attention away from the softcore porn on your profile.

damn. guilty.

he feels his cheeks heating up a little. the fuck? you’ve got his grown ass blushing through the phone. either you’re a seasoned pro at turning men to putty, or mingyu’s just that out of the element.

his mind’s turning to complete mush at this point; tuned in solely to your pretty face and body, to your vulgar mouth. imagination drifting to the feel of your skin under the pads of his fingers, of your lips stretched over the head of his—

shit, he almost came.

mingyu nearly drops his phone as he fumbles to the camera app, shakily filming himself in the mirror as his hand goes to fucking town on his cock. his mouth’s even fouler than yours with all the whiney huffs and puffs pouring from his throat.

he’s not sure if the footage is long enough or even good enough but he also doesn’t care; sending it straight through to you while not missing a beat in jerking himself off.

he throws his head back on the bed with a tortured groan, back arching off the bed as his hips chase the circle of his fist with a mind of their own. he can’t recall the last time masturbating felt this fucking good, the last time it took such a short span of time for him to reach an orgasm.

the last time he was able to forget that the hand around his cock is his own — nothing but your face, that body, those curves behind his lids when he screws his eyes shut.

and just the mere thought that you could be touching yourself too? to the videos of mingyu touching himself, oh fuck…

mingyu winces as his grip tightens until it hurts, fist strangling the fucking life out of his cock. he squeezes until he literally feels the tidal wave of his orgasm receding, the hot pressure under his abs fading into sharp, demanding pulses of his cock.

why did he even say that shit? man, talk about being pussy drunk. he can just manage to feel the weight of shame pressing into his chest over the ache throbbing between his thighs.

if he really did fumble a chance as good as this, a girl as hot as you, he doesn’t even deserve to cum. maybe he should just start embracing the involuntarily celibate life..

to his surprise, another ding from you interrupts his pitiful — while still fully erect — wallowing.

much like a well-trained dog, you don’t have to tell him twice.

mingyu puts on a whole ass show for you. sits upright in bed, films his entire upper body to ensure no twitch or contraction of his sweat-slick abs was left out of frame.

he’s sure the speed of his hand gives away just how long he’s gone without getting laid, but mingyu can’t find it in himself to feel much shame at all now that you’ve offered a chance to remedy that up on a silver platter.

he cums obnoxiously: throwing his head back, adam’s apple bobbing with each shameless moan falling from his mouth; grinding his hips up into his ruthless fist like he’s fucking into someone; a hefty load spurting all over his pretty toned torso, your name slipping from his lips.

before the post-nut clarity can settle in, he sends the raw footage straight through to his patiently waiting audience.

mingyu was so ecstatic that he didn’t even bother to clean up properly, just quickly wiped himself with a tissue before skipping into wonwoo’s room and dapping his best friend up in celebration.

(his reaction being “bro you smell like cum.”)

after leaving dtf.com behind in a matter of hours and moving over to messages, a date was promptly established. being, a date as in the day, because there wasn’t going to be any conversing over dinner or fondling during a movie.

it’s becoming increasingly clear to mingyu that he really struck a pot of gold in you, since you were both on the same page about this: fuck first, talk later.

if you were to go on a date prior, mingyu knows good and damn well that he’d just be sporting a massive pitch in his pants throughout the entire thing; way too excited for his own good over the knowledge that he’s finally getting laid after.

the stars aligned to both of your schedules being open just two days from now. while the anticipation is sure to strangle him alive, he’s able to give wonwoo notice that he’s kicking him out for the day, and to prepare.

in the limited sexual encounters under his belt, mingyu can’t say for certain that he’s actually made a girl cum. unlike men, there isn’t exactly a visual indicator. his size alone could’ve been enough to get them off, sure. but when it comes to you, he doesn’t want to repeat that flustered fumbling; rubbing what he assumes is the clit based off of what he also assumes is genuine moans. his mouth hasn’t even graced a pussy before, isn’t that crazy?

those girls didn’t want anything other than to feel his cock in them, though — letting him touch for a few seconds before insisting that was enough foreplay. hence why he’s never learned.

you, however, like to play with your food. over texts you’ve been teasing the hell out of him, intent on finding out the limits of his desperation — and pleased to find there is none. he will genuinely do anything just to get a sliver of that pussy, and you only want him more because of it.

mingyu knows your expectations aren’t exactly high, but he doesn’t want to risk disappointing you so badly that you won’t sleep with him again. and if he can exceed your expectations, maybe you’d be open to being something more exclusive….

he’s a romantic at heart, okay?

of course, he had to seek out his most trusted elders for advice.

two torturously long days later, mingyu receives your “on the way” text and is pushing wonwoo out the door within the next second. 

“don’t be back until tonight, just in case.” 

“eh, you won’t last that long.” wonwoo shrugged. mingyu rolls his eyes, and wonwoo just slaps him on the back, pulling him into one of those side-hugs men do. “condoms are in my bedside table.” 

with that, wonwoo takes his leave; off to a girl’s place, no doubt. mingyu doesn’t really care to know. his mind’s pretty occupied with a girl of his own. 

mingyu rushes into his best friend’s bedroom, kicking his bulky ass gamer chair out of the way and pulling out the top drawer of his bedside table. mingyu physically recoils at the pile of dildos and vibrators he finds instead, which wonwoo so graciously neglected to mention. slamming that one shut, he finds what he’s looking for in the second drawer. condoms. 

….why are there so many? textured, warming, cooling, flavoured; how is he supposed to know which one you’d prefer?

after tossing the options over in his head (frantically panicking), mingyu settles on the box of strawberry flavoured condoms, grabbing out more than enough and stuffing them in his pocket. 

he then stops by wonwoo’s mirror, giving himself a once over. he went commando for obvious reasons, and his grey sweats already have a visible tent from how he’s half-hard just thinking about you. he already shaved everything in the shower, but he turns his head this way and that to make sure he didn’t miss any spots. pulls his pants down to check the same for his crotch. he smells his breath, his armpits. decides to spritz on more cologne and chew on some gum. 

then the doorbell rings. 

like some dog waiting for its owner, mingyu bounds over and hastily unlocks the door. 

there you are, in all your beauty — smiling sweetly in a little sundress (they always make men go crazy, for whatever reason). 

mingyu stammers like an idiot as he attempts to greet you, blocking the doorway as his eyes flick up and down and all around your body, damn nearly drooling until you clear your throat. 

“hey mingyu.” you coo, saccharine voice like honey and melting over his thoughts. “it’s nice to finally meet.” 

“yes, yes, of course.” he bumbles, finally stepping out of the way and letting you walk inside. he locks the door, gulping as he watches you inspect the place. how is he supposed to begin this? “did you, uh.. want any water or—”

that sentence is lost on the tip of his tongue when your lips smother it. you catch mingyu completely off guard when you step into a kiss with him, leaving no room for questions when your tongue slips into his mouth. you back him into the closest surface, being his kitchen counter, without breaking your mouth from his. 

mingyu’s quite good at kissing, since he’s got a lot of experience with that alone, but then not much for the after. 

mingyu knows how to lick his tongue against yours and tilt his head for deeper access. knows where to put his hands, how to hold just tight enough to leave your skin buzzing. he knows to pull you in and press your chest flush against his, and he’s mindful enough to keep his pelvis angled away from you. how cute and polite of him. it’s almost like you’re not here for the sole reason of getting in those pants. 

despite his best attempts, you rock your hips forward to meet his crotch, delighting at the solid rock you find there. mingyu muffles a noise into your mouth that you’re determined to hear out loud later. you roll your body into his again, brushing your front right up and gauging the outline of his cock. 

he’s already proven that he’s not lying about his size but man, fuck… feeling it in real life just brings the shock right back. to think, he’s somehow also desperate as if this thing couldn’t get him laid with ease? 

it’s flattering, really — that he chose you amongst all the girls throwing themselves at him, when all you did was doubt and make fun of him. 

mingyu finally succumbs to your ministrations and starts rocking his hips right back — tongue tasting every inch of your mouth as he grinds his length forward, nothing but the fabric of his pants and your dress to offer him friction. he’s so worked up that honestly, it could be enough to get him off. he can already feel his dick leaking into his sweats like he’s some virgin experiencing his first kiss. 

before he can actually just cum his pants, you part with him — a line of spit connecting your mouths that you wipe off. mingyu’s already huffing, waiting for your next move. you smirk, turning on your heel and walking further into the place. 

“which one’s your room?” you call after him. he takes that as a hint to run up and show you to it. 

mingyu can just barely hear your oohs and ahhs over the blood pumping like bass in his ears as he pushes his bedroom door open.

your fingers run along his shelves, eyes scanning his posters and the gym equipment scattered around the place. the picture of a dude’s room. 

“where’s your roommate?” you ask, perching on his bed. 

mingyu swallows, willing his voice to come, a little speechless just at the sight of you sitting where he sleeps. “wonwoo? uh, he’s out.” 

you hum, nodding. “so we don’t have to worry about your volume, then.” 

oh. you offer mingyu a grin and he just blanches. not yours, his volume. you’re not wrong though.. you’ll probably have him hooting and hollering from just thumbing his tip. 

you clear your throat, commanding his attention. 

“are you gonna fuck me from there or..?” 

mingyu can feel his knees bending a little, on instinct from being flustered and wanting to shrink. you pat on the bed, just to gently guide him, and mingyu follows like a dog. 

he chooses to sit beside you which makes you giggle. with a hand on the neck, thumb sitting above his thrumming pulse, you pull him in for a kiss. it’s startlingly tender, at least it begins so. 

it’s not long at all until your impatience wins over and you’re licking into his mouth again, enticing little hums from mingyu’s throat. you swings your thighs over his as you climb into his lap, feeling his whole body tense as you sit right on the massive tent in his pants. 

mingyu knows he’s fully hard, has been since you put your tongue in his mouth — but now you know it too. there’s a bit of an astonished look in your eye, as if finally confirming some theory. yes, it really is that big. boners give him headaches and he wouldn’t doubt that some of his back pain comes from lugging this big thing around all day. 

even now, he can feel his head swimming from all the blood leaving to his lower half. you may leave him with a killer migraine from how hard he’s sure to cum, but it’ll be more than worth it. and you can always make it up to him, maybe….

you grind down on him a few times, the wet patch on his sweats growing even worse; mingyu throwing his head back and just letting you. 

a rough hand gripping the scruff of his hair gets his eyes to fly open, staring at you with wide eyes like he’s in trouble. under his watch, you roll your hips deliberately slow, letting mingyu feel every ridge down there, all the wetness dripping from your— 

shit, you’re not wearing underwear. you giggle at his recognition, and mingyu’s hands fly out to grip your thighs. to slow you down or get you to speed up, he doesn’t know. as long as you don’t stop. 

you make a show with your hand: cupping a breast through your dress, trailing your fingers down your torso before they find the hem of your skirt. you snicker at mingyu’s eyes following every little move, then raise the dress to reveal your bare pussy rutting against his cock — nothing but the thin fabric of his sweats separating you, soiled sticky with your shared arousal. 

mingyu whines at the sight, his cock pulsing under you in tandem. you even look a bit startled at how much of it moved, practically halfway in you at this point. 

to his dismay you shift back, sitting on his thighs and leaving his poor crotch empty. he doesn’t get to pout for long though, since your hand leaves the dress to brush your knuckles against his length. mingyu shivers, a desperate noise leaving his mouth as your fingers dance over his cock. it throbs and jumps in response, and you giggle, continuing to just play with it. he can barely feel the warmth of your fingers through the fabric, and his hips cant upwards in chase of it. 

“you’re real pretty like this, mingyu.” you murmur, fingers softly making a plucking motion over his tip and watching him try to thrust up into it. 

as a big ass dude, he’s never heard himself be called ‘pretty’ before, even by his mother but… the way his body reacts to that speaks for itself. 

he can’t even get out a ‘thanks’, nothing but embarrassing whines leaving his mouth, even over the faintest stimulation you’re offering him. 

“you’ll need to work to fit inside.” you tell him, and he nods, even though he doesn’t even fully register what that means. “mingyu?” 

“yeah?” he huffs out, glossy eyes finding yours. you swoon over how much he looks like a puppy, especially with his open-mouth panting, and the fact that he won’t move unless you tell him to. 

softness swells inside you and your fingers splay through his hair, combing through it gently. a contrast to your blunt words: “eat me out.” 

“oh,” he just says, mind lagging behind as the words sink in. “oh. yes, yeah. i can do that.” 

you huff in amusement, pushing off his lap and positioning yourself at the edge of the bed. “i would hope so..” 

mingyu follows your lead, sliding off the edge himself and sitting on the floor in front of you. you giggle at his commitment, spreading your legs and pulling the skirt up so your pussy is on full display for him. 

saliva gathers in his mouth just looking at it, and he mentally runs through all of the advice jeonghan and joshua gave him. 

leaning forward, mingyu starts out slow; leaving soft pecks on the skin of your thigh, listening to your breathing as he inches closer. he works up the courage to look up, holding your gaze as he gives a tentative lick. 

you hum appreciatively, fingers finding his hair again, his lashes fluttering over how much he likes the feel of your hand there. mingyu dives in again, just licking for the sake of it — running his tongue through your folds and familiarising himself with your taste. he pulls a steady stream of hums from you, punctuated with a gasp when his tongue presses just right in a particular spot. 

the clit, mingyu realises. he latches on so he doesn’t lose it — lips closing around the bud and sucking. your back arches, fingers twisting in mingyu’s hair and causing a groan to rumble on your pussy. 

while mingyu kinda knows what to do, he also kinda doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, so he follows the noises above him as direction. he builds a rhythm, switching between quick flicks of his tongue and sucking your clit into his mouth. then, he gets curious: licking down to your hole, juices gushing onto his tongue as he buries it into you. you squeak, thighs clamping around his head, and mingyu uses both of his hands to pry them back open. 

he fucks you on his tongue, trying his best to keep his eyes on you through how much they’re rolling back into his head. he thinks he’s got the hang of this now — and so he drags his mouth back to your clit, replacing his tongue with two fingers. mingyu pistons them in and out, curls them up, and goes light-headed at all the gorgeous noises he’s pulling from your mouth. 

you’re tight, such a tight fit it might hurt him when he goes in — so he can only imagine how much it’ll hurt you. 

on that thought, mingyu scissors his fingers, spreading you open and brushing against your g-spot as he does. his cock jumps in his sweats as you drag out a moan, fist close to ripping out his hair. mingyu adds a third finger, fucks you on them for a bit and listens to your moans in response before easing in a fourth. even all his fingers won’t compare to his entire size, but it’s all he has to prepare you enough. 

for the first time maybe ever, mingyu’s certain that you’re close. your body’s practically vibrating: thighs tensing around his ears, pussy throbbing in his mouth and around his fingers. 

mingyu locks in, keeping his hand and tongue steady to fuck and lick you through it — that is, until you just tear his face away. 

he blinks, registering what just happened as you pull his hand out yourself. he blinks again, and suddenly you’re pulling him up by the shirt collar until he’s sat back on the bed. 

you shove him, and mingyu falls on his back. one more blink and mingyu’s met with the image of you lowering your pussy onto his mouth. 

you straddle mingyu’s face, grabbing hold of his hair as an anchor before you start to rocklike crazy. your dress covers his eyes, but he’s undeterred as his hands find your ass and push you further down, gladly presenting his tongue for you to use. 

mingyu can hardly breathe, but he’d die happily if the last thing he hears is your moans as you ride your orgasm out on his face. 

his scalp burns when your fingers twist impossibly tight, hips grinding onto him so hard that even his teeth ache — but then a fresh wave of slick is gushing onto his tongue, and mingyu knows that you’re cumming. 

it’s all too much for him and his painfully erect cock, and before he can even register what’s happening — mingyu’s stomach is lurching, cock spilling a hot load into his sweats. 

you climb off him, looking unkempt and yet every bit still gorgeous. you tug mingyu by his neck into a kiss, feral and sloppy. teeth gnashing and tongues twisting. your chin sliding against his chin, covered in your cum and his own spit. 

mingyu’s the one who breaks it off this time — as much as it pains him, he probably would’ve suffocated on your tongue there with just how breathless he’s been since you unsaddled from him. 

you notice, allowing him a moment to actually get some air back into his lungs as you kiss along his jaw and above his adam’s apple. it bobs as you leave a peck there. 

turning your attention to the rest of his body, you tug on his shirt, and mingyu lifts his arms to let you pull it off. chest bare, you begin to ravage him, leaving your mark as you suck hickeys and nip bites at his honey skin. your tongue runs through the valley of his pecs and the ridges of his abs, stopped only by the band of his sweats. you pull back, eyes landing on the large stain in his pants, and your lips curl into a smirk. 

“aw,” you pout. “i’m flattered.” 

you peel his waistband back, and mingyu takes the hint to raise his hips and let you pull these godforsaken sweats all the way down. he winces when his cock slaps against his stomach, sensitive and yet still fully hard. 

you take a moment to just admire it, and mingyu gets progressively shy, pre beading at his tip like there isn’t actual cum still covering his length. 

you wrap gentle fingers around the base, smiling at how it jumps in your hand. what mingyu doesn’t expect is for you to lean down, and press your lips against the head of his cock. 

mingyu groans, so sensitive and yet so fucking good. you don’t go too hard as you mouth at his tip, then darting your tongue out and running it down his length — licking up all the cum dripping down to his balls. you even leave a kiss on his sack, and he shivers, almost shutting his legs on instinct. 

he giggles. “sorry, no one’s ever—”

“i could spend all day down here,” you tell him, eyes alight and smile beaming. you really do mean that and you want him to know it. “you’ve got more than enough for a girl to be grateful for.” 

mingyu shivers again as you leave an open-mouthed kiss on his cock, running your lips over his length, though he’s not sure if it’s because of that or because of your words. 

“almost didn’t believe a man that looks like you could be so desperate, but now..” you press your thumb to his frenulum, revelling in the moan that rips from his chest. “what a lucky girl i am, huh?” 

“ffu—shit, you mean i’m the lucky one,” mingyu manages to grit out. “haven’t been laid in forever.”

“see now, i just can’t believe that. well, i do, now that i’m actually touching you—” you squeeze his tip as if to make a point, and mingyu nearly thrashes from how much that just built his next orgasm. “guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, hm?” 

mingyu nods feverishly. you smile, so entirely endeared with him. 

with how much of a package mingyu is (in more ways than one), you probably would’ve still fucked him even if you found out he was lying about being pathetically bitchless. now, his good looks are just a bonus. you’re going to fuck him because you’re starting to feel quite fond of him. 

“where’s your condoms?” you ask him, granting his poor cock some mercy and instead choosing to run your hands over his sweat-slick abs. 

“er..” his mind blanks for a moment, too caught up on the fact that you’re really about to fuck him. “pants pocket.” 

you stand from the bed, kneeling down to reach into where you threw his pants on the floor. you arch a brow at mingyu, no doubt realising how he’s got an entire stash of condoms in there, but you don’t mention it. 

back on your feet, you shrug your dress off, revealing nothing but a bare, beautifully sculpted body beneath. 

“wah..” mingyu unintentionally says out loud, just admiring you. 

you roll your eyes, ripping the condom packet open with your teeth. “don’t cum before i even put it in.” 

“better hurry then..” he smiles, flashing his sharp canines. 

it’s all fast movement from there: you slip the condom on mingyu, snickering a comment about how it took forever until it reached the base, and then you position yourself right above him. 

mingyu holds his breath, expecting you to ease onto him — totally unprepared for you to just drop down.

mingyu body curls upwards like you’ve just winded him, cursing like a sailor over your heat wrapped around him. he already knew it’d be like this, even with all the prep, but you’re so fucking tight. you’re just sitting there, not even moving, and yet your pussy is strangling the fucking life out of his cock. 

he’s so caught up in trying not to cum prematurely that he forgets about your own discomfort. mingyu recollects himself, pressing a gentle palm to your back as he schools his shaky breathing. 

“you okay?” he wheezes out, eyes screwing shut at the pulse your pussy gives. 

“mm.” you hum, offering no sign to fuss over, but that doesn’t stop mingyu. holding your waist, he attempts to lift you off of him, but you cut that shit out immediately when you grind yourself forward on his cock. he keels over, head buried into your shoulder. 

“‘s a lot to take, but i’m fine, mingyu.” you reassure him, fingers playing with his hair since you’ve realised how much he seems to like it. “are you okay?” 

he groans out, intending for that to be a yes. you giggle. “i’m going to move now, alright?” he repeats the groan noise in reply. 

you plant both feet on either side of mingyu, balancing yourself with your hands holding his hair, and then you start to bounce. just slowly to start off, letting your pussy adjust to the massive ass cock spearing you open. you know that if you were to have inched down, your pussy would’ve tried to push it out, so making mingyu fit meant just taking it all at once. 

he currently looks like he’s the one that has to adjust to you, though. 

mingyu lets out a stream of whimpers into your ear where his head is lolled onto your shoulder, just pliantly taking what you’re giving him. all of his brainpower is channelled into holding his cum back right now. 

his effort is almost in vain when you speed up, bouncing so hard that his balls smack into your ass with each thrust onto him. 

he’s moaning so loud he didn’t even realise the desperate cries coming from your mouth too — dick twitching so violently he didn’t even realise how much you’re pulsing around him. 

mingyu pulls back, knowing he’ll regret it if he spent the entire duration of sex with his face stuffed in your shoulder — his eyes captivated on where your bodies connect. 

he can’t find the strength in him to offer anything more than his hips stuttering up, attempting to meet each of your bounces on him. in and out, in and out, in and— 

“fuuuuucck,” mingyu drawls, eyes rolling so far back he catches a glimpse of his own brain. 

you don’t mention it as you quickly wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth, then gasp as you feel his cock spasm like a snapped rubber band. “shit, mingyu, are you—”

you don’t get to ask and he doesn’t get to answer before his orgasm slams into him like a bag of bricks. mingyu’s head lolls back, knuckles turning white where they’re holding onto your waist for dear life, sure to leave bruises in their wake. 

you fuck mingyu until you’re certain the condom must be flooded, and then you fuck yourself on him some more. 

mingyu’s unintelligible at this point, hoarse voice almost unrecognisable as he can do nothing but moan through the sensitivity. it’s raw and god it hurts but you don’t stop fucking him. he doesn’t want you to either. 

your bounces shift into rocking your hips on him, his spent cock rubbing deep and perfectly into your g-spot. your clit grinds on the skin of his groin with each movement, and before long you’re riding out a second orgasm on him. 

mingyu takes it, long past his limit but loving every second of you just using him like a toy. he even tries his best to fuck up as you’re cumming, the sweet thing. 

after the last wave of your orgasm gushes around his cock, you just lay boneless on mingyu — his body keeping you both propped upright as you catch your breaths and your trains of thought. 

his large hand comes to caress your back. he winces when you pulse around him once more, his cock softening inside the spent condom. 

“you should probably take the condom off.” you mumble into his collarbone. 

he hums, finger mindlessly drawing shapes onto your back. 

“and put a new one on.” you add, leaving a peck on his jaw like what you said was nothing out of the ordinary. 

“wait, what?” 

“what?” you eye him like he’s the one who said something crazy. “did you think that’s all i came for?” you continue, smile stretching across your face. 

“uh…” well, yeah. every other girl he’s been with was halfway out the door before he could even tie the condom up. 

you kiss him, sweetly this time. a stark contrast to the sloppy, tongue filled make-outs you were having just minutes ago. 

“unless you don’t want this as much as you’ve led me to believe..” you tease. 

“fuck, i do, i do.” he confirms quickly. “just… give me five minutes.” as if on command, his temple throbs with pain. “and some ibuprofen.” 

you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

god, you’re going to wring all 12 inches of him dry. 

...is this enough to ask if you’d like to go out sometime?

(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) perm taglist: @simplyangelixa @jongseoul-main @x-odid @boptak @tylerdurdenlover911 @donutswjam @kkzldk @brownie0panda @fairystrength @theosflower @sfiakamo @seobattack @wwoonniiee @luv7uan @oned4eva @lucidity-on-earth @eiirazz @prettypinkyposts @strawbryy11 @stealthyutopiaabyss @wonipilled @shaycobain @mimleno @dukipukin @calicalan @raven-xoxo @literallyhakushota @marikit4labb @teasuree @huntdowwn @about2tnt @sofsdwaek @kamxstar @sweetasiandessert @nataliasdiary @lorena4piwon @hwrtoni @hardbeingcasual @yangiejungiewonie @keeh0 @nxyhdemc @saranghoeforanton @elmo9qpw @seobstars @stxrxyyz @vinniesslutt @nota10butadefinite8 @jiungsswife @tylerdurdenlover911

smau taglist at the reblog! ^_^

{y/n's pov}

I laugh a little to myself as I read kiah's stupid texts, putting my phone down and sitting up on the kitchen counter while I eat my sandwich.

I hear faint shuffling from the hallway, figuring my roommate's probably awake now. I avoid looking at him, staring straight at my sandwich as if it were the most interesting thing in the world right now.

When he steps into the kitchen area, it's almost difficult not to look at him as he rubs his eyes and yawns, looking oddly cuter than you'd think a grown man should.

I find myself staring, ‹ he's kinda pretty... he's like really pretty... > I think mindlessly to myself.

{3rd person}

Siyun feels your eyes on him as he shakily grabs a glass of water, making him feel nervous. Siyun hesitantly glances over at you. He not only notices your stare, but accidentally looks a little too far down, noticing the lack of a certain garment...

Siyun's cheeks and neck grow warm and red, his eyes darting around anywhere but you.

{y/n pov}

I snap back in from zoning out, blinking, then noticing his overly flustered state. I now feel hyper aware of the fact that I forgot to put a bra on before leaving my bedroom.

I hop off the counter and practically sprint back to my room.