𑣲Characters: ̊bf!Sungchan x gf!reader
ᯓ.ᐟwarnings/tags: vaginal Sex, unprotected sex, no plot, rough and possessive sex, creampie, established relationship, aftercare, Dom/sub undertones, fingering
❤︎ Wrote this based of the song 'Comfort me' by Malcolm Todd ❤︎
The city lights blur past the window of your apartment, but you're not looking at them. You're looking at him, Sungchan, standing in your doorway with that familiar edge in his jaw, that restless energy crackling off his skin like static. He doesn't knock. He never does anymore. He just shows up, phone in his pocket, keys in his hand, and that look in his eyes that says I couldn't wait another second.
"Take my electric feel," he says, voice low, almost a whisper, stepping inside without waiting for permission. The door clicks shut behind him.
You know what that means. The world outside,managers, schedules, fans, friends none of them get this. This thing between you that burns too bright for daylight. You've never needed to explain it. He just takes you by the wrist, pulls you into his chest, and the hum of his body against yours says everything.
His lips find your temple first, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth teasing, tasting, like he's been starving for hours and you're the only meal that matters, he murmurs against your skin, "I need you bad. I need you, baby."
Your breath hitches. You can feel the urgency in his hands as they slide down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. His cock is already hard, pressing into your stomach through his jeans, and he lets out a low groan when you rock into him.
Randomly he says: "I don't give a fuck about your friends," he continues, voice rough, desperate. "I don't care who wanted your time. You're mine tonight. You're always mine."
He backs you toward the couch, but you shake your head, tugging his shirt collar instead. "Bedroom," you manage, voice breathy.
He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carries you to the bedroom anyway. Your back hits the mattress seconds later, and he's on top of you, knees bracketing your thighs, hands already working at the buttons of your shirt. He's impatient, fingers fumbling, and you laugh a soft, breathless sound which only makes him growl.
"Shut up," he says, but there's no bite. Just hunger. "I've been alone all day, thinking about this. Thinking about you."
The shirt comes undone, and his mouth descends on your collarbone, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. You arch into him, gasping, your fingers tangling in his hair. He moves lower, kissing down your sternum, over your ribs, until his mouth finds your nipple and he sucks hard enough to make you cry out.
"Yeah," he breathes against your skin. "That's what I wanted to hear."
His hand slides down your stomach, past your waistband, fingers dipping into the wet heat between your legs. He groans when he feels how ready you are. "Fuck. You've been waiting for me, haven't you?"
You nod, barely able to speak. His fingers circle your clit, slow and deliberate, and your hips buck against his hand. He loves this watching you fall apart under his touch. He presses a finger inside you, then two, curling them just right, and your vision whites out for a second.
"Please," you gasp. "Sungchan, please—"
"Please what?" He's teasing now, though his voice is strained. "Please fuck you? That what you want?"
He pulls his hand away, and you whimper at the loss. But then he's standing, unbuckling his belt, shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, precum glistening at the tip. He strokes himself once, twice, eyes locked on yours.
He lines himself up at your entrance, and the tip pushes in just barely just enough to make you both groan. He holds there, hovering, letting you feel the stretch, the anticipation, the promise.
Then he sinks in, all the way, in one smooth, devastating thrust. Your back arches off the mattress, a broken moan tearing from your throat. He fills you completely, perfectly, and for a moment neither of you moves just breathes, just feels the connection that crackles between you like live wires.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You feel—fuck."
He starts to move. Slow at first, deep and grinding, letting every inch of him drag against your walls. His forehead presses against yours, eyes closed, lips parted. He's lost in it. Lost in you.
The pace picks up. Harder. Faster. The bed creaks beneath you, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving red crescents. He doesn't care. He fucks you like he's trying to prove something like he's trying to brand himself into your bones.
"You like that", he asks groaning into your neck
Your answer is a choked cry as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. The pleasure builds, coils hot and tight in your belly, and you feel yourself clenching around him.
"I like your nails," he says, glancing down at where your hand grips his bicep. "Are they new?"
You laugh a breathless, desperate sound and he laughs too, even as he keeps fucking you.
"Oh my god," you manage. "You like them?"
"I mean—" He thrusts deeper, harder, "—we're just so in tune."
His rhythm stutters. He's close. You can feel it in the way his breath hitches, the way his grip tightens on your hips, the way his cock pulses inside you.
"Come with me," he begs. "Please. Let go. I need to feel you."
And you do. The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, pulling you under, and you scream his name as your walls clamp down around him. That's all it takes he follows, burying his face in your neck, groaning long and low as he spills inside you, hot and deep.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. His weight presses you into the mattress, comforting and grounding. His breath is warm against your throat. You card your fingers through his damp hair, and he nuzzles closer.
He lifts his head, meets your eyes. There's something raw there, vulnerable. "Okay, you know I love you more than anything"
You pull him back down, wrap your arms around him, and let the electric feel of his body against yours say the rest. Outside, the world keeps spinning. In here, there's only this. Only him. Only the quiet hum of two people who don't need to tell anyone a thing.
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