It’s a lazy evening. You’re laying back against the sofa arm, book in hand, feet resting on Seungcheol’s thighs as he scrolls aimlessly through his phone. The sun is starting to set just enough that you reach back to turn the lamp on, filling the room with warm light.

As you come out of your comfortable haze, you realize that you’re hungry. Seungcheol must realize the same thing, because he proclaims, “I’m going to cook us dinner.”

You lower your book to give him an uneasy look. “I was thinking I’d just make us something simple tonight.”

But he’s got that determined look on his face that you know you won’t win against. All you can do is go along with it and hope things turn out okay.

“What’s for dinner?” you ask lightly, hoping your voice doesn’t betray your anxiety. Seungcheol doesn’t often cook but when he does, it never turns out quite right. Meat cooked a bit too long, soups a little overseasoned. His heart is in the right place, but he lacks the technique to see his creations through.

You’ve tried to teach him over the years, but he’s stubborn. He’s convinced he has the “chef instinct” and it’s just a matter of unlocking it.

“Sundubu jjigae!” he announces cheerfully. He lifts your ankles before setting them back onto the cushion, and heads into the kitchen.

Sighing, you slip your bookmark between the pages and slide your book under a throw pillow. Overseasoned soft tofu stew it is. At least there’s instant rice. He can’t ruin rice.

That’s not true, you realize. He’s microwaved it almost to burning before. Maybe you should offer to handle the rice.

Seungcheol is already pulling things out of the fridge. You can hear him humming as he painstakingly chops the vegetables. No matter how many times you’ve tried to show him how to properly chop, he always brushes you off and continues doing things his way.

Which is why you can’t bear to go in there and watch what he’s doing. You take your time fluffing the sofa pillows, refolding the blanket that Joshua lovingly crocheted the two of you as an anniversary gift. It’s a bit itchy and sometimes your toes get caught in the gaps, but it’s a sweet gift so you keep it on the sofa anyway.

Seungcheol often remarks that he’s glad Joshua gave up that particular hobby before it got more out of hand; secretly, so are you. Similarly, you wish Seungcheol would give up his desire to cook. Your cookware wishes the same thing.

“Ow!”

Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, you head into the kitchen. There’s a mess of half-chopped vegetables on the counter and a cutting board overflowing with uneven ingredients. Seungcheol is rummaging in the fridge.

“Are you sure this is right?” You hover near the pot, which is close to boiling over. 

Seungcheol nudges you out of the way to check. His hair is pushed up on one side where he keeps touching it while he checks his phone. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s supposed to look like that.”

“But is it supposed to smell like that?” you press, fighting the urge to turn down the stove. When Seungcheol insisted on making dinner tonight, you were wary. Now, seeing him in action, you’re downright stressed.

“Seungcheol–”

“Have some faith in me, will you? I read the recipe this time, and I–oh!”

The bubbling pot really has boiled over now; reflexively, he grabs for it before you can stop him, getting hot liquid over his fingers. 

His pained whine hurts your heart. Clicking off the stove, you drag him over to the sink and thrust his hand under the cold water. The two of you stand there for a minute, letting the water rush over his reddened fingers.

When you finally shut off the water to check the extent of his injury, he sighs. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know. I definitely know.”

The burn isn’t too bad. Using a clean towel, you dry off his hand before turning towards the stove. Maybe you can at least salvage dinner.

Except, looking at the remains of the soup, you’re not sure you want to. It doesn’t look edible.

“I give up,” he says, tossing the towel onto the counter. “I can’t cook.”

“Darn,” you tease him, hugging him from behind and resting your cheek against his broad back. “No house husband for me.”

“I can do other things,” he protests. “I can clean stuff. Laundry…take out the trash. Stuff like that.”

“Mm. Looks like we’ll just have to split the responsibilities. I can get behind that.”

“What about dinner?”

“Spam egg rice sound good?”

While Seungcheol gingerly cleans up the mess he’s made, you fry off some cubes of spam and scramble some eggs with green onion. Sliding the fluffy eggs over some steaming instant rice, you add a little drizzle of kewpie mayo and some more green onion and sesame seeds for decoration before presenting him with a bowl.

“Nothing fancy, but how’s that for a quick dinner?”

He takes the bowl, looking morose all the while. “Just once I’d like to be the one making you something delicious. I don’t know why I have a kitchen curse.”

“No. Hansol has a kitchen curse,” you correct. “You just don’t listen very well.”

“I try.”

“You don’t. You’re stubborn and ridiculous about it no matter how many times I try to tell you what to do.” Seeing the pout spreading across his handsome face, you pinch his cheek. “And I love you so much anyway.”

He gives you a sulky look that makes your heart fond. “How much?”

“So, so much.”

“How much is so, so much?”

“Enough that I’m willing to put up with you destroying my pans.”

He glances at the stove before ducking his head. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Yes, you will. Now let’s go eat before it gets cold.”

Loved dressing you up in the morning, each piece of delicate clothing carefully selected and put on you. Loved pinning your curls back with dainty hair clips, making you look even more doll-like. Loved scooping you up and carrying you around in his arms whenever he moved from one room to another. Loved gently setting you down among the many plushies that littered your bed after a long day. Loved crawling in with you. Loved pressing you to him until you both fell asleep. Loved waking you up the next morning with his cock pushing into you, his lovely doll so small and beautiful, whimpering half asleep in his arms. Loved doing it all over again.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t love it either. In fact, it was you, late one night, who suggested the idea to him shyly, reddened face buried in his wide shoulder. Asked him to use you, make you his, in every way possible, from the way you dress to when you speak. When he was silent for a moment too long, your heart sank to your stomach. Too far, you'd pushed too far, this was the end, you ruined it all again, he’s going to leave, you lost another person too early — 

Between the panic and the chasm cracking open in your chest, you didn’t register the way he cradled your frozen body closer, aligning you with him. Not until Wonwoo’s hips rolled up into yours, letting you know exactly how he felt about it. That night, he took you over and over again, held close to his broad chest, held with warmth and safety and care. Held close like a beloved doll.

However, a beloved doll never meant a fully passive one. Wonwoo likes to tie you up, not because you struggle (though he finds it adorable), but because it’s easier for him to do as he pleases with you. Which found you perched on his lap while he wrote lyrics, his other hand between your thighs, stroking your clit mindlessly. Your own hands were bound in front of you with the same meticulousness he performed every action with, then looped to the ring on your pretty collar. You squirmed against him, thoughts melting into oblivion with every gentle pass of fingers. 

The scratch of pen against paper pauses briefly, and he hauls you back to better lean against him, the warmth of his chest seeping into your back.

“Where are you going, hm?”

You were trapped between his chest and the palm of his hand flush against your bare cunt. The soft sound that escaped you was almost pitiful. Wonwoo huffed a laugh against the soft skin where your shoulder met your neck, pressing a tender kiss there. His fingers speed up, work long forgotten, until you were trying to squirm away from the relentless pleasure. The arm curled around your ribs doesn’t let you get far. He unravels you like this, nosing at the plush of your cheek, as you moan and writhe, legs shaking on either side of his, unable to close. 

You wordlessly turn your head in search of his lips, missing them twice in your desperation. Wonwoo smiles, catching your mouth in a deep kiss, hand still working you through your climax. Oversensitivity kicks in, and you whine against his mouth. Tears prick against your eyes when his fingers refuse to slow down, before they pull away without warning. You whine again, whether out of frustration or relief, you couldn’t tell. 

He breaks the kiss, still with that same gentle smile that you fell in love with, so long ago. Adjusting you on his lap, he silently encourages you to lean back against his shoulder. Your eyes drift shut. The scratch of pen on paper starts again, and Wonwoo’s warm hand finds its place back between your thighs, fingers tracing through the mess. 

Your eyes snap open. “Wonwoo-”

“Hush, baby.” You reluctantly quiet down, still shivering in his lap, still without use of your hands or legs, restrained as they are. Dolls shouldn’t speak, anyway. Wonwoo rewards you by dipping two fingers past your pliant lips, pressing down on your tongue until you couldn’t focus on anything but the taste of his skin, covered in you. 

Of course, work wasn’t the only time he held you close and played with you.

Wonwoo sprawls across the couch, long legs spread wide. You sat straddling his thigh, nose buried in the warm skin above his clavicle.  His large, pale hand spidered across your spine, gently caressing you, looking the very picture of relaxation as he lazily flicks through a book with the other.

The same couldn’t be said of you. For the past half-hour, you’ve been grinding desperately against the strong thigh pressed against your cunt, trying to get yourself off to no avail. It didn’t help that your hands were cuffed behind your back this time— Wonwoo’s arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing keeping you steady. 

You briefly wonder about the image the two of you made: his tall stature folded elegantly on the couch, regal features set in unruffled neutrality, princely even in a shirt and sweatpants, and you, naked, golden skin covered in a sheen of sweat, face flushed and crumpled with pleasure as you writhed helplessly on his leg. The master and his pretty doll. The thought sent heat straight to the pit of your stomach, forcing a whimper from you. 

It was at that noise the warmth of Wonwoo’s hand disappeared from your back and resurfaced on your chest, guiding you back carefully. Still, you barely caught yourself on his thigh. The change in position forced pressure off your clit—too much.

Indignation won over embarrassment,, only for it to turn to a soft moan when his thumb languidly brushed over your nipple. The touch was so light it could’ve been an accident. What was not an accident was the sharp pinch that followed, pulling a strangled wail from you. He soothed it with a firm swipe of his finger, before grabbing your whole tit. Hard. His sharp eyes didn't leave the pages once, even when he groped your chest. Something simply to keep his hands busy. 

Wonwoo bounced his leg the same time he turned a page. The jolt of pleasure it sent through you— after so long denied— made you fall forward back into the crook of his shoulder with a small cry, pushing your breast into his palm.

Any semblance of shame was long cast aside, if your whimpers were anything to go by. He keeps you like that, hand palming the soft swells of your chest, bouncing his leg periodically, almost absentmindedly– just to hear your punched out whines against his skin. An adorable little doll that squeaked when he touched it.

To Wonwoo, there was no activity that could be done if it wasn’t with you. Gaming (the single player kind. He’d be damned if he allowed anyone else to see you this way.) was no exception. Some days you curl up on his lap like a cat, basking in his warmth while you snuggle deeper into his shoulder. Wonwoo pets the closest part of you he can reach during the lulls. Long afternoons stretch and wind like taffy, Wonwoo rocking the two of you back and forth until you drowse in his arms.

On others, like this one, you kneel between his legs, hands tied to the chair around his waist. He makes sure your head is comfortable resting on his lap, his cock half hard and heavy in your mouth. His long calves are firm against your back, caging you in. Safe. It was so, so easy to fall asleep like this, drooling around him, messy and ruined and loved. Wonwoo pets the soft top of your head, a proud owner with a devoted pet.

Surrounded completely by him, you doze, woken up every now and then by his hips bucking into your mouth– gently, gently because he would never hurt his lovely doll, who looked up at him with glossy, lovesick eyes. Lovesick eyes which mirrored his own. His perfect darling who looked the picture of debauchery, pretty dress rucked up around your thighs, knees splayed out on the pillow he specifically bought for this, arms around him in the mimicry of a hug, round mouth stuffed full with him. 

Wonwoo’s heart shatters with the affection he feels for you then. Enough to pull you off him by the hair—gently, always gently— and lean down into a deep kiss you could barely reciprocate, breathless. He slides two fingers into your mouth, the other hand stroking your hair, your face, peppering your face with little kisses. Smiles into every one of them. Pecks the tip of your nose, and oh, your lips are right there, soft and wet and tight around his fingers as you sucked. Pushing down on your tongue, he licks into your open mouth, around his fingers, kissing the slick arch of your mouth and then between the vee of his fingers, eating up every soft noise you make, because it’s all for him, because of him.

Two fingers, as big as they were, weren’t enough to soothe the ache that had formed in your jaw, settled deep in your mind. You whine. Loudly. Wonwoo pulls back, smiling fondly, stroking the side of your head.

“You want daddy’s cock, babydoll? Yeah?” he coos at you. “My darling girl wants to be with me forever, right? Does she want me to take care of her everyday like this? ”

You nod quickly, eyes glistening, wanting him in your mouth, around you. Forget wanting, you needed him like air. More, sometimes. He obliges like he could read your mind, understand that porcelain heart of yours, legs pressing against your back, guiding your head back to him. One hand pushes your head down, until you feel him nudging the back of your throat.

Long hours spent training away your gag reflex (A mission taken on solely by you. Wonwoo spent most of it alarmed, concerned for your well-being and painfully hard) made it ridiculously easy to do fun little tricks like taking him in fully and staring up at him with dark, wet eyes. 

Fun little tricks for you, that is. Wonwoo was actively losing it. You silently will him to look at you, but he pays no heed to your telepathic urging (how dare he), instead throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut against the overwhelming heat of your mouth. You lick over his head, taking him even deeper. The groan he lets slip between the harsh breaths is enough to have you moan against him, the vibration making his hips buck up, his body becoming yours.

You bob your head once, twice, and let your teeth graze ever so slightly, and that was enough for him to come undone. You swallow every drop, admiring his lovely face in the throes of pleasure. His cheekbones shone like the moon lived under his skin, and his long neck gleamed with sweat.

Wonwoo knew there was something wrong when you stared at your breakfast glassily, and when you barely spoke to him through it, and refused to touch him after it. He knew it when he saw you gazing at the mirror with the kind of hunger only the eternally starving could have, the hunger of someone who could not eat. And he knew it when you shied away from the hands he placed on your shoulders, but he didn't budge, and you reluctantly let him.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"I'm fine." An answer too curt to be anything but fine.

He stayed silent, and it enveloped you like everything about him. The silence seeped into your skin and throat, swept into your head with the surety of a tsunami, sank into the orifices of your chest (you sometimes wondered if there was anything in there at all— it felt so hollow), reached the depths of your stomach.

The words left from your stomach too. Retching them out was really the right word, the way it came up, and out of your mouth in convulsions, the horrible things you harboured within you like a spider and it's eggs.

The truth was: you were a freak of nature. An anomalous result, a product of your circumstances like any other, the last connection you seemed to have with what it meant to be human. That's where it all stemmed from and now you've made him part of it, subjected him to you, the oddity, you, the less-than-human-more-than -doll sick in the head for all the things you were willing to do to be accepted, to win in relationships (there are 2 losers), to be home in her own skin. There were places his hands couldn't reach, couldn't cleanse and that made you angrier.

By the end of your tirade, shaking and crying and close to collapse, his silence remained. But so did his hands, moving from your shoulders to your back, keeping you up, you realised, from collapsing. Your legs felt numb. Truly a doll, you thought deliriously. All that was left was the two of you and his silence, now coating the sharp shards of glass you called a heart. The silence wasn't there to stay, because he'd leave soon, understand you were beyond help, save himself while he could. You wanted him happy. You wanted him all to yourself and that sent you into a fresh wave of tears, because it was all gone now, you've cut the final threads, cleaned it up like a seam in life. B.W, A.W. Before Wonwoo, after Wonwoo. The thought made you giggle, and you were sure he found you repulsive and frankly ill, and that sobered you up again.

His arms still haven't left their place around you. A croak of your name had you turning around to look at him, and your heart shattered at the tear tracks that mirrored your own. He shouldn't cry, people like him never deserved to know desperation or grief or sadness, you caused it—

As if sensing your thoughts, he scooped you up, interrupting them, and carried you to the bed, setting you on his lap comfortably. And his tears never stopped rolling, not when he buried his face in your shoulder and clung to you like he was afraid you'd be the one walking away. Maybe he recognized the sharp knife trying to glide through yet another relationship.

"Wonwoo?" You tried, placing a gentle hand onto his shoulder. He shook his head, still hidden in the crook of your shoulder.

"Don't leave me." The single sentence shattered you further, and you carded a hand through his dark hair, trying to envelope him like he always did you. You could always become better. For him, you'd force yourself to.

The door opened angrily. You could swear up and down the door could tell you what the person who opened it was feeling at the moment, and today it was frustration and ire.

You felt him before he entered the kitchen, all long legs and broad shoulders. His mouth was set in a tight line, and you could see the stress around his eyes, half hooded behind his glasses. Wonwoo crossed the distance between you in two strides, grabbing your face with one hand and tilting your head up before he caught your lips in a kiss that felt like he was trying to devour you. You whined into the kiss, out of breath.

"Wonwoo, the stove—” you gasped.

He chased your mouth again, one arm reaching past you to turn the stove off (insurance wasn't worth it). The kiss only seemed to get more desperate as he poured the frustration of his day into it, until it felt like your lips would bruise. You wouldn't mind that, you thought, you wanted his marks to be raw and aching and permanent.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid an arm under your ass, lifting you effortlessly. The walk to the bedroom was the longest 10 seconds of his life (not entirely true. There was that one time the two of you didn't make it to the bed), and he tossed you on it like you weighed nothing, hunger written all over his face. Wonwoo moved with the quick grace of a predator, sliding between your thighs and flipping your skirt up. Of course you weren't wearing anything underneath, his perfect doll.

The first lick had you crumbling, and he had you on the edge in minutes. A single devastating suck threw you over it almost violently, his tounge working you through it. You sighed, boneless on the mattress, tugging at his hair to pull him up and over you, but he simply pinned your hands to your stomach.

"Hands, baby." It wasn't often he got like this, so you lifted them up obediently. Wonwoo stroked over your clit, rubbing little hearts into it until you came again, dumb with pleasure. And again. And again. After the fifth or sixth orgasm, you couldn't take it anymore, pushing at his shoulders and pulling his hair, trying to close your legs, but Wonwoo was a monolith between your thighs. And determined to make you come over and over until overstimulation could barely describe what you felt, tears of pleasure edged with sweet pain rolling into your hair. You knew if you fought back more, he'd simply tie your hands up and away from you, and tie your knees apart, and give you one more just as punishment for misbehaving. Your pleasure belonged to him. You belonged to him. He'd care of you if you passed out anyway, why are you crying?

Seungcheol is forty-seven minutes deep into this video call and he has absorbed precisely none of it. His manager's voice comes through the headset like a monotone hum. He can swear this woman's voice is designed to sandpaper the edges of his sanity. On screen, a grid of eight faces, all feigning attention, and his own small rectangle in the corner shows a man who hasn't blinked in thirty seconds because he's too busy tracking a silhouette moving past the doorway.

That's you. Just a flicker of movement—bare legs, the hem of an oversized t-shirt he knows is his, the soft grey one you stole three months ago and never gave back—and his concentration detonates. His cock twitches against his thigh, a slow, traitorous swell that has nothing to do with whatever the hell his manager is droning on about.

Seungcheol leans back in his chair, the springs groaning under his weight, and tilts his head just enough to catch a sliver of the kitchen through the gap in the doorframe. You're at the counter now, back to him, reaching to open the microwave. The t-shirt stretches, outlining the curve of your butt. Suddenly, the fabric rides up as you tiptoe to grab something from the cupboard above and the very bottom of your ass peeks out, bare and soft-looking, and he has to swallow a sound that would get him fired.

"—and moving forward, I think we need to restructure our code reviews which are taking two days on average," his manager drones, and Seungcheol wants to scream. Fuck them code reviews. He's going to lose his mind. He's going to combust in this ergonomic chair and they'll find him as nothing but a pile of ash and a half-hard dick.

His fingers drum against the armrest. He risks another glance. You're bent over now, rummaging in the fridge, and the t-shirt has ridden up so high he can see the crease where your thigh meets your ass. Seungcheol knows exactly how that crease tastes. He knows the sound you make when he presses his tongue flat against it and drags upward. He knows the way you shudder, the way your hand fists in his hair, the way you always whisper his name in a mix of a curse and a prayer.

Fuck. His cock is fully hard now, a rigid line trapped in his sweatpants and boxer briefs in a way that's becoming painful. He shifts in his seat, trying to find relief, and accidentally knocks his knee against the underside of his desk with a dull thud that makes his microphone—that he forgot to mute—spike.

"You okay there, Seungcheol?" His manager's voice cuts through, and for one horrifying second his heart stops. But he quickly realises that it's just the noise that drew her attention. Just the thud.

"Yeah, fine," he says, and his voice comes out strained, a little too tight. "Just—hit my knee on the table."

He mutes himself. Lets out a breath that shakes. Rubs his palm over his face and tries to think about spreadsheets. Deadlines. Anything except you currently being in the kitchen or the way you looked this morning when you rolled out of bed, hair a disaster, his t-shirt swallowing you, and kissed him on the forehead before padding to the bathroom. Domestic shit. Soft, sweet, married-couple shit that still makes his chest ache even now, months in, even after everything.

It's worse now. That's the thing. He thought it would level out—the insatiable, clawing need that's been devouring him since that first drunk night on the couch. He thought once the novelty wore off, once you'd had each other in every conceivable position on every conceivable surface, the fever would break and you'd settle into something manageable. Normal.

It didn't.

It got so much worse.

Last Friday, for instance. You both worked from home. By his generous estimate, you managed three hours of actual productivity between you. The rest of the day dissolved into a blur of skin and sweat and the obscene, wet sound of his cock sliding into you over and over. He bent you over your desk during what was supposed to be a fifteen-minute coffee break and didn't pull out for forty-five. You sucked him off under his desk during a monthly team call on Google Meet, his teeth sinking into his fist and leaving marks just to keep from moaning into an unmuted mic, his eyes watering with restraint of not rolling back into his skull. Seungcheol fucked you against the hallway wall on the way to the bathroom, one hand clamped over your mouth, your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails carving trenches into his shoulders through his shirt. By the end of the day you couldn't walk straight. Neither could he. You ordered pizza and ate it cross-legged on the floor of your living room, half-naked, feeding each other slices and communicating with humms and grunts because forming full thoughts and voicing them felt like mission impossible. And then he got hard again just from watching you lick grease off your thumb, and you let him lay you back on the soft carpet and fill you up again, until you were both too wrecked to move.

So yeah. It didn't level out. It metastasised.

And now it's Tuesday, and he's been on this call for almost an hour, and you are a room away, in the kitchen, heating up leftovers, and his entire body is humming with want. He can smell you from here. He swears he can—that faint, familiar scent of your body wash and underneath it, the warm scent of your skin that makes his mouth water and his brain go syrupy and stupid.

"—so if everyone could have their reports in by Thursday," his manager is saying, finally, mercifully, "that would be great. Any questions? No? Great. Thanks, everyone."

The call ends. Seungcheol doesn't even say goodbye. He yanks the headset off, tosses it onto his desk, and is out of the bedroom before his chair stops spinning.

You hear him coming. He's not particularly secretive about his arrival—the heavy, purposeful tread of a man who spends too much time at the gym and hasn't learned to move quietly in a shared apartment. But you don't turn around. You're standing at the counter, reaching for the microwave handle, when his arms wrap around you from behind and his body folds over yours like a collapsing star.

He's so big. That's the first thing you register, the same thing you register every time—the sheer, enveloping mass of him. His chest presses against your back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of your—his—t-shirt. His arms circle your waist, thick and possessive, and his face buries into the crook of your neck with a sound that can only be described as a whimper.

"You're done?" you ask, not bothering to hide the amusement in your voice.

"Finally," he mumbles against your skin. His lips move as he speaks, brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you have to suppress a shiver. "Thought she was never going to shut up. I was losing my mind."

"Yeah, I could hear her from here. That voice is something else. Like a sadistic lullaby."

Seungcheol huffs a laugh, his breath warm and damp against your throat. "It's not funny. I was suffering."

"Poor baby." You tilt your head, giving him more access without thinking, your body responding to his proximity the way it always does—on instinct, on autopilot, like your nerve endings have been rewired to recognise him as a primary need. Purely Pavlovian response. "My heart bleeds for you and your very important corporate meeting."

"Don't be mean." He pouts. You can't see his face but you know he's pouting—you can hear it in the way his voice goes soft and petulant, the way his lower lip juts out. "I missed you."

"I was literally a wall away."

"That's a wall too far."

The microwave beeps. You reach for it again, but Seungcheol's hand catches yours first. His fingers slide between yours, locking them together, and he pulls your hand back down, pressing it flat against the counter top. His other hand slips under the hem of your shirt and settles on your lower belly, palm warm and broad and possessive.

"Food can wait," he murmurs.

You open your mouth to argue, to tease him about being a needy, insufferable menace, but then his palm presses down. Just a little. Just enough to apply pressure, to make you aware of the heat pooling low in your abdomen, of the way your body responds to him on a level that has nothing to do with conscious thought. An involuntary sound escapes your throat—small, breathy, embarrassing—and you feel your pussy clench around nothing.

"That's what I thought," he says, and there's a smile in his voice now, satisfied and soft and infuriating.

His lips find the junction of your neck and shoulder. He kisses you there, slow and open-mouthed, and then his teeth graze your skin and you stop breathing for a second.

"Cheol."

"Mm?"

"You're doing that thing."

"What thing?" He does it again—a gentle scrape of teeth, followed by the wet, soothing press of his tongue—and your knees go weak.

"That thing where you—where you turn me into—" You can't finish the sentence. His lips have found a new spot, just above your collarbone, and he's sucking a bruise into existence with the kind of focused intensity he usually reserves for boss fights in Elden Ring. Your brain fills with static. Your hands grip the edge of the counter. "—into a—fuck."

"Into a what?" He pulls back just long enough to speak, his voice low and rough and dripping with false innocence. "Use your words, baby."

"I hate you."

"No you don't." Kiss. Bite. Suck. "You love it. You love when I make you all dumb and shaky. When I take my time and turn you into a little mess before I've even touched you properly." Another kiss, this one pressed to the shell of your ear. "I know you're clenching even without touching you, baby. You think I'm not aware? Oh, I am. I know your body better than I know my own at this point."

You think of saying something sharp, to cut through the haze and reassert some semblance of control. But Seungcheol is right. He does know your body. He's spent months mapping every inch of it with his hands and his mouth and his cock, learning every spot that makes you gasp, every rhythm that makes you fall apart. And right now, with his palm still pressing on your lower belly and his lips trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, the only thing your brain can produce is a stream of increasingly pathetic sounds.

You think, distantly, about the irony of it. Months ago you called him a loser to your friend. You rolled your eyes at his compression shirts and his anime figures and his inability to talk to women. And now here you are, melting into a puddle of need because he's kissing your neck and breathing on you. Your friends have noticed, of course. Because you can't exactly hide it. You walk into every brunch, every cafe meetup, wearing the unmistakable glow of a woman who's getting thoroughly, regularly, devastatingly fucked. Loud and proud as they say.

Seungcheol's fingers have trailed lower while you were lost in thought. They're resting on the waistband of your underwear now, tracing the elastic edge with a maddening lightness that makes your hips twitch.

"Mmm, bet you're so wet already," he murmurs, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice, the smug, reverent delight. "I haven't even done anything and you're soaking through your panties, aren't you? What am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know," you manage, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathy. "Maybe actually fuck me instead of just talking about it?"

"Impatient." He nips at your earlobe. "I like it."

His fingers dip lower, pressing against you through the damp cotton of your underwear and finding his theory to be true. The pressure is light, teasing, nowhere near enough, and you can feel your pussy clenching and throbbing again, desperate for more, desperate for anything. Behind you, pressed against the curve of your ass, his cock is a hard, insistent weight. He's been half-hard since the call started—you could guess from the way he was squirming in his chair, the way his eyes kept cutting toward the kitchen—but now he's fully erect, thick and hot even through the layers of his sweatpants and your t-shirt that barely covers your ass anymore. He rocks against you, a slow, deliberate grind, and the friction makes you both groan.

"Thought about this the whole call," he says, his voice dropping into that lower register that makes your stomach flip. "Thought about bending you over this counter. Thought about pulling these little panties to the side and sliding into you while you're still trying to heat up your stupid breakfast leftovers. Thought about filling you up so full you'd be leaking me all afternoon while you sit in your meetings pretending to be a professional."

"That's—" You swallow, hard. "That's what you were thinking about? During a work call?"

"Every second." Seungcheol grinds against you again, and this time you can feel the full length of him, the girth that still makes your mouth water even after all these months. "Couldn't focus. Couldn't think about anything except your tight little cunt and how bad I need to be inside it. How bad I need to use it."

He says that and lets out a shameful pathetic mewl.

The word "use" and the desperate sound that escapes him land in your chest and detonate. You know what he's doing—he's working you up, talking filth the way he knows you like, the way that makes you weak and pliant and ready to let him do anything. And normally you would let him. Normally you would let him spin you around, bend you over, and fuck you stupid right here against the kitchen counter, and you would come apart on his cock and thank him for it afterwards.

But thanks to his little pathetic display you're feeling something else. Something sharper. Seungcheol spent an hour squirming in his chair thinking about using you? Fine. But you spent that same hour catching glimpses of him in his stupid soft flannel shirt, his hair messy, his brows furrowed, his plush lips wrapped around his water bottle, and you've been simmering with your own kind of want. And maybe it's the oncoming ovulation hormones, or maybe it's the way he whimpered when he first wrapped his arms around you and mewled just now, but something in you decides that today, you're not going to be the one who gets reduced to a mindless, begging mess.

Today, that's going to be him.

His fingers have slipped under the waistband of your panties now, tracing through your slick folds with a slow, exploratory pressure that makes your breath hitch. He's about to push inside—you can feel the tension in his wrist, the way his breathing has gone ragged against your neck—when you reach around with your free hand and squeeze his cock through his sweatpants.

Hard.

Seungcheol makes a sound you've never heard before. A choked, strangled yelp that's half surprise and half something else entirely. His whole body jerks against you, his hips bucking into your grip, and his fingers freeze where they are.

"What—" he starts, but you squeeze again, and the word dissolves into a whimper.

"Here's what's going to happen, baby," you say, and your voice comes out breathless but somewhat steady. "You're going to take your hand out of my panties. You're going to get on your knees. And you're going to do exactly what I tell you. Got it, hmm?"

Seungcheol doesn't answer immediately. His chest is heaving against your back, his cock throbbing in your grip, and you can feel the war happening inside him—the instinct to take over, to reclaim control, wrestling with the part of him that loves this, the part that goes soft and eager and desperate when you turn the tables.

"Got it?" you repeat, and you twist your wrist just enough to make him gasp.

"Yeah," he breathes, voice going a little higher than usual. "Yeah, okay. Got it."

"Good boy."

The words hit him like a physical blow. You feel the full-body shudder that runs through him, the way his cock kicks against your palm, the way his breathing goes even more ragged and uneven. He pulls his hand out of your panties slowly, reluctantly, and you release your grip on him just long enough for him to step back.

"Strip," you say as soon as you turn around to see him.

He does. He pulls his t-shirt over his head first, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the thick shoulders and defined pecs, the trail of dark hair that runs down his stomach and disappears into the waistband of his sweats. Then his pants go, pushed down over his hips, and his boxers with them, until he's standing naked in the middle of the kitchen with his cock jutting up toward his belly, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking.

You take a moment to look at Seungcheol. It never gets old—the sheer size of him, the thickness, the way his cock curves just slightly, so pretty. The way it twitches under your gaze like it's begging for attention—and you bet it is. The way his balls hang heavy and full, a reminder that he hasn't come since yesterday morning, which in his case means he's already backed up and desperate and so, so easy to break.

"You're so pretty," you murmur, and you mean it. "Look at you. Standing there dripping for me. Such a desperate pathetic mess already and I haven't even touched you."

His cock gives you an eager reaction, twitching and bobbing up and down at your words, and you smile at how it throbs, almost like it's whining and jumping for you to touch it. Seungcheol's ears go red. That very deep, mortified flush that you've been watching since the very first night, except now it makes your chest ache with something tender and possessive instead of irritated. "Baby—"

"On your knees," you order softly, lips stretched in the sweetest of smiles.

He drops so fast you hear his knees hit the tile. You wince, breaking character just for a moment, worried, but Seungcheol doesn't seem to care at all, he is looking up at you with those big brown eyes, pupils blown wide, lips parted, and he is so fucking wreckable in this very moment that it makes your pussy clench and you don't even notice as you slip back into the little play the two of you are orchestrating.

"Please," he whispers, and he doesn't even know what he's asking for. He just knows he needs something, anything, as long as it is from you.

"Please what?" you hum, watching his eyes turn even shinier than before. He's so pretty like this it is unfair. Not for the first time he's giving you aggression urges.

"Please let me taste you. Need to put my mouth on you. I've been thinking about it all morning—thinking about how you taste, how soft and warm you feel on my tongue—please, baby? I need it—"

"Shh." You step forward, close enough that he can smell you again—his nostrils visibly flare when he silently inhales you—and you can feel his exhale ghost against your thighs. "I know. I know you've been a desperate little puppy all morning, couldn't even pay attention to your stupid meeting because you were too busy thinking about my pussy. Isn't that right?"

He nods, frantic, his hands twitching at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from grabbing you. You wouldn't mind if he did, to be fair. "Yes. Yes, that's right. Couldn't—couldn't think about anything else. Just you. Just your sweet pussy. Just how bad I wanted to be inside it." He whimpers and squirms on his knees, and his cock twitches again at the image growing vivid in his head.

"And instead you're on your knees." You reach down, thread your fingers through his hair, and tug—not hard enough to hurt, only to tilt his head back and make him look at you. "Because you're not in charge right now. I am. And I decide when you get to touch me. I decide when you get to cum. Understood?"

"Understood." His voice is wrecked already, and you haven't even started.

"Good." You release his hair and hop up onto the edge of the counter, spreading your legs. "Now be a good boy and get to work."

You pat your thigh and Seungcheol doesn't need to be told twice. His hands find your thighs, tugging your underwear off with urgent impatience before spreading you wider to make room, and then his mouth is on you and the world dissolves into sensation for both of you.

Seungcheol eats pussy like he's been starving for years and you're the first meal he's been served. His tongue is broad and wet and relentless, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit with a pressure that makes your hips immediately buck against his face. He genuinely moans when he tastes you, like the flavour of your arousal is the best thing he's ever experienced—and the vibration against your clit sends a shockwave up your spine, makes your soles tingle and toes curl.

"Fuck," you breathe, one hand bracing against the counter, the other fisting in his hair. "That's it. That's—right there—"

He stays there. His tongue circles your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, and then his lips close around it and he sucks, and your vision whites out for a second, an involuntary squeal leaving your mouth.

"Oh my god—" you pant, voice getting strained and high-pitched with pleasure.

He hums against you, pleased, and the vibration makes you jolt again. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks, holding you open for him, and his tongue keeps working you in a rhythm that's devastatingly precise. He knows exactly what you like. Of course he does. He's spent months learning your body like a language, and now he's fluent.

But you're not going to let him make you come just yet. You tug on his hair, pulling him back, and he looks up at you with his face slick and shining, his lips swollen and wet, his eyes hazy and half-lidded with want.

"Why'd you stop me?" he whines. "I wasn't done. You taste so good, baby, please let me finish—"

"Because I want to sit on your face."

His eyes go wide. Then darken. His cock, which has been bobbing neglected against his stomach, twitches and throbs visibly, a fresh bead of precum welling at the tip.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I want that. Please."

"Get on the floor then."

He lies down on the kitchen tiles without a shred of dignity, his cock standing up like a flagpole, his chest heaving. You slide off the counter and stand over him for a moment, looking down at the picture he makes—this big, muscular man, sprawled on the cold floor, looking up at you like you're the sun and the moon and every star in the sky, his cock leaking all over his own stomach.

"You're so pathetic," you tell him, and you mean it as the highest compliment.

"I know," he breathes. "I'm your pathetic little puppy. Now please—please sit on my face. I need your cunt on my tongue. Need you to smother me with your sweet pussy, baby."

Gosh, you both are so fucking nasty for each other, you chuckle and lower yourself down, kneeling carefully over his head. The first contact of his tongue against your pussy makes you both groan—him from the taste, you from the sensation of his mouth working you open while you settle your full weight onto him. Your thighs bracket his head, and his hands come up to grip your ass, guiding you, pulling you down harder, to sit your entire weight on him.

You let Seungcheol work for a while. Let his tongue fuck into you, let his lips close around your clit, let him moan and whimper against your flesh while you rock your hips in slow, lazy circles. But you have other plans for him, so you twist just enough to reach back, your hand finding his cock where it's standing rigid and neglected.

The sound he makes when you wrap your fingers around him is muffled by your pussy, and you feel the desperate, broken groan that vibrates through your entire body. You stroke him slowly, from base to tip, your thumb swiping over the slick, swollen head to collect the precum that's been pooling there just to massage his frenulum and make the man twitch and jerk his hips uncontrollably, losing all pace of his oral ministrations.

"Look at you," you murmur, looking down at him. "So hard for me. So wet. You're dripping all over yourself. Such a pretty mess, hmm."

He can't answer. His mouth is full of your cunt, his tongue buried inside you, and all he can do is whine and buck his hips into your grip, either encouraging or just sensitive.

"Is this what you wanted? When you were sitting in your meeting with your cock all hard and aching? You wanted to be on your back on the kitchen floor, being used like a toy?"

Seungcheol nods frantically, his nose bumping against your clit, and the sensation makes you gasp.

"That's what I thought. You're nothing but a dumb mutt when I get my hands on you. What a sight, huh? A big, strong man reduced to a whimpering mess on the floor. Your friends have no idea, do they? Do they think you're this alpha male now? That you're the cool guy of the group after you bagged me, hmm?” You apply more weight onto his face and Seungcheol groans against you, soft tongue licking deeper into your heat, coaxing a moan out of you. "Should we let them know that you actually love getting on your knees for me? Love being a good puppy for me?"

You twist your wrist on the upstroke, and his hips stutter, his cock pulsing in your grip. He's close. You can feel it in the way his thighs are tensing, the way his breathing has gone ragged and uneven, and the way his tongue has lost its rhythm against your pussy because he can't concentrate on anything except the pleasure you're wringing out of him.

"Are you going to come?" You ask sweetly. "Are you going to spill all over yourself and make a mess like a good little slut?"

He tries to nod again, but you're already pulling your hand away.

"Too bad," you say, and his desperate, wounded keen is the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "You don't get to cum until I say so. And I haven't said so."

"Please," he gasps, his mouth finally free of your pussy because you've lifted your hips just enough to look down at him. His face is a mess—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, chin slick with your arousal. "Please, baby, I need to cum. I've been thinking about it all day. I can't—"

"Oh, but you can." You climb off him, and he whines at the loss of contact, his hands reaching for you instinctively. "Get up. Bend me over the counter."

Seungcheol scrambles to his feet so fast he nearly slips and you snicker, telling him to be careful. His cock is an angry red, throbbing visibly, a steady stream of precum dripping from the tip on every twitch. He looks ruined already, and you haven't even let him inside you yet.

You turn around and brace yourself against the counter, arching your back, presenting yourself to him. You're soaked—your thighs are glistening, your pussy is swollen and dripping with a mix of your juices and his spit, and you know exactly what he's seeing right now.

"Now you can fuck me," you tell him. "Slow. Exactly the way I want it. And you're not going to come. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he breathes, steps closer behind you. "Yes, I understand. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you."

He lines himself up. You feel the blunt, thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and even though you're wet and open and ready, the stretch is still overwhelming. Seungcheol pushes in slowly, inch by inch, spreading your walls, filing the empty space that begged to be filled, and you both groan in unison as he fills you.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're always so tight. How are you still so tight?"

"Shut up and move."

He pulls out almost all the way, making you feel the way his veined shaft drags against your sensitive walls, and then pushes back in. Seungcheol fucks you exactly the way you told him to—slow, deep, each thrust deliberate and measured. His hands are gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and you can hear the effort it's taking him to hold back, the way his breathing is coming in ragged gasps, the way he's trembling against you.

"You feel so good," he babbles again. "You feel so fucking good, baby, I can't—I don't know how much longer I can—"

"You can last as long as I tell you to last." But your voice is shaking now too. The angle is perfect, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every slow, grinding thrust, and you're getting close yourself. "Don't you dare cum without permission. Don't you fucking dare."

"I won't. I won't, I promise, just—please, can I go faster? Please?"

"No. Keep it slow. I want to feel every inch of you."

He whimpers, but he does what he's told. His thrusts stay slow and deep, his cock dragging against your walls, and you can feel the orgasm building in your core, coiling tighter and tighter—

Your phone rings.

Your intuition immediately screams at you that it must be someone from work.

"Fuck," you hiss in half frustration, half panic. "Fuck, Cheol, stop, I have—have to take this—"

You try to pull away, but his grip on your hips tightens. "No," he whines. "No, baby, please, I'm so close, don't stop me—"

Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel bad for the man, he sounds so ruined.

"I'm not asking." You pull yourself off his cock with a wet, obscene sound, and Seungcheol makes a noise like you've stabbed him. His cock bobs in the air, angry and neglected, throbbing and jumping with denied orgasm. A thick strand of your combined fluids connects him to your pussy for a brief moment before it snaps. He whines out a sob.

"You ruined it," Seungcheol breathes, and he sounds genuinely devastated. "You ruined my orgasm. Baby, why? I was right there—"

"Stay here," you order, already grabbing your phone from the kitchen table where it was resting forgotten all this time. "Don't move."

You answer the call as you walk toward your room, your voice switching to a semblance of something professional and pleasant even though your thighs are still wet and your pussy is still aching and empty. "Hey, yeah, sorry, just give me one second—"

You don't get your one second. Because Seungcheol, your sweet, pathetic, desperate boyfriend, has followed you despite what you told him to do.

You feel him before you see him—his body pressing up behind you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock sliding between your thighs, still slick with your arousal. You're standing in front of your desk, phone pressed to your ear, and he's already bending you forward, already lining himself up.

"No," you mouth silently, turning your head to glare at him. "Don't you dare."

Seungcheol meets your eyes. His are dark and wild and desperate, and there's something almost feral in his expression. He doesn't stop. He pushes inside you in one smooth, harsh thrust that jolts your entire body, and the sensation of intrusion is so sudden and overwhelming that you have to bite down on your own hand to keep from crying out. This leaves you with no support, which means you pretty much topple over, suddenly pressed into your desk with Seungcheol's hand that was applying pressure between your shoulder blades. 

"—and so I was wondering if you could take a look at this document before the meeting this afternoon," your team lead is saying in your ear, her voice cheerful and oblivious. "I know it's last minute, but I think there might be an error on page five."

"Of course," you manage, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady considering the fact that your boyfriend is currently buried balls-deep inside you, his hips already starting to move. "I can—I can do that. No problem."

Seungcheol fucks into you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, can feel how close he still is from before, how desperate. One of his hands slides up and down your back, pressing you down onto the desk before you can even think of lifting your upper body into an upright position, and the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you in place.

"Great, thanks," your team lead says. "Also, I wanted to ask about the client presentation next week. Have you had a chance to—"

He chooses that moment to thrust particularly deep, his cock hitting your cervix, and a tiny, strangled sound escapes your throat before you can stop it.

"You okay?" your team lead asks.

"Yes," you say, and your voice is definitely too high. "Yes, sorry, I just—stubbed my toe. On the desk. It's fine."

Seungcheol leans down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing your free ear. "Little liar," he whispers, so quiet only you can hear. "What will your boss do if she finds out you're getting fucked during your working hours?” He can't help a chuckle that escapes him when he comes up with his next question. "Hmm, does it make you a slut for fucking me and getting paid while doing so? Technically…" he trails off and your pussy clenches traitorously as soon as your brain registers what he just said.

You want to kill him. You want to kill him and then marry him and then kill him again.

"—and if you could send me the updated slides by end of day, that would be perfect," your team lead is saying.

"End of day," you repeat, barely processing the words. Seungcheol has picked up his pace, just slightly, and the sound of his cock sliding into your wet, messy pussy is so loud in the quiet room that you're sure your team lead can hear it if the line stays silent for a moment too long. "Yes. Slides. I'll—I'll send them."

"Are you sure you're okay? You sound a little off."

"I'm fine. I'm great. Just—writing it down."

Seungcheol muffles a laugh against your shoulder. His hand leaves your hip and snakes around to your front, finding your clit with devastating accuracy. Your whole body jolts.

"That's the spot, isn't it?" he breathes in your ear. "That's the spot that makes you stupid. You're going to come on my cock while you're on the phone, aren't you? You're going to soak me and she's going to hear it."

You shake your head frantically, but you can't speak. Your team lead is still talking, something about deadlines and team meetings, and you're nodding along and making vague sounds of agreement while your boyfriend rubs circles on your clit and fucks into you with deep, punishing strokes. You're trying so hard not to start panting or moaning, and your brainpower continues to slip from your grasp.

"I'm going to fill you up," he whispers. "I'm going to pump you so full of cum it'll be dripping out of you for the rest of the day. And you're going to sit in your meetings and feel it leaking into your panties, and you're going to think about me. About this. About how I ruined you while you were trying to be professional."

"Okay," you say into the phone, and you have no idea what you're agreeing to. "Okay, sounds good. I have to—I have to go now, I'll send those slides."

"No rush," your team lead says. "Talk later!"

You hang up with confused fingers, missing the red button on the screen a couple of taps before you finally manage to end the call. The phone clatters onto the desk.

And then you let yourself fall apart.

"Cheol—" It comes out as a loud sob, half fury and half desperate, overwhelming need. "You—you fucking—I can't believe you—"

"You loved it." He's not even trying to hide the smugness in his voice, but it's undercut by the way his hips are stuttering, the way his rhythm is falling apart. "You loved every second of it. I could feel you getting wetter and clenching around me when she asked if you were okay."

"I'm going to kill you—after—after I come—"

"Yeah?" He presses harder on your clit, circles it with the perfect pressure that he knows you enjoy, and the orgasm that's been building since the kitchen finally, finally explodes. "Then come for me. Now, baby. Let me feel it."

You shatter with a mewl. It rips through you like a thunderclap, your whole body seizing up, your pussy clamping down on his cock in rhythmic, pulsing waves. You scream—you can't help it, the sound tears out of you raw and unguarded after long minutes of trying to suppress it all—and Seungcheol groans and buries himself to the hilt, spilling inside you in hot, copious pulses.

He keeps thrusting through it, fucking his cum deeper into you, and you can feel it flooding you, filling you, leaking out around his cock in a white obscene ring and dripping down your thighs. He doesn't stop until he's completely spent, and then he collapses over you, his weight pressing you into the desk, his breath hot and ragged against the back of your neck.

For a long moment the room is silent. The only sounds are your mingled breathing and the faint, distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

Then: "You're a menace," you whisper, swallowing thickly and heaving a sigh.

He laughs, breathless and giddy and a little bit wrecked. "Yeah. But you're the same. And you love me."

You don't argue. You can't. Not when his cock is still inside you, still half-hard, still plugging you full of his cum. Not when you can already feel it starting to drip out despite his best efforts. Not when your legs are shaking so badly you're not sure you can stand if you try.

"Next time," you manage, "I'm locking you to a piece of furniture before I take a work call."

"Hmm, I think next time," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade, "you'll let me do it again. Because you're just as depraved as I am."

You hate that he's right. You hate it even more that you don't hate it at all.

*.(๓•͙ ˕ •͙๓).* Please like + reblog + comment if you enjoyed your time reading this! This means a lot and motivates me to continue posting.

His smile only widens when you whack him with a sofa cushion, you’re getting your way one way or another and if violence is the answer, then so be it.

“I don’t understand why you’re so against it!”

“Because it’s not natural!”

“A man’s g-spot wouldn’t be in his ass if it weren’t meant to happen. I’ll be gentle!”

“A man’s g-spot is not in his ass,” he scoffs, “you’re doing this to make me suffer because of the whole blow job under the desk thing. I already said you proved your point. I have nothing to prove here.”

“All you’re proving is that you’re an old wuss. Let me claim you as mine!” You whine.

And if you were paying attention to him (rather than throwing a fit) you’d see that something flickers in his eyes when you say you want to claim him as yours.

He thought all this was about you wanting to prove a point and make him do something out of his comfort zone. But now you’ve said that, maybe it is something more. And he does like it when you're all territorial over him.

To be honest he’s not convinced but if it makes you happy, he supposes he could give it a try. Just the once. Just to make you happy. He knows he won’t enjoy it. Definitely not.

“I’ll think about it.”

You freeze mid tantrum, eyes on stalks as you turn to your boyfriend. Surely you heard him wrong, he’s just trying to appease you then you’ll shut up about it.

“Seriously?!”

“I know I won’t enjoy it,” he shrugs, “but I’ll think about it. That’s all I can offer.”

“I LOVE YOU!” You throw yourself at him, his back hitting the sofa and you on top of him.

“Yeah?” he smirks, “Prove it.”

And you do. You prove it to him for most of the afternoon.

“We don’t normally get deliveries this early.” Seungcheol frowns as he takes a sip of coffee, watching on fondly as you more or less skip to the kitchen table.

“I paid extra for delivery before 8am then I knew we’d be in, I didn’t want to miss this delivery.”

You rush round the kitchen, more eager to open this parcel than you ever have been to open anything. You grab the scissors, put your breakfast things in the sink and throw your ass in the chair so quickly you nearly throw yourself off the other side of it.

“What is it?” He hums, still grading a couple of papers but wanting to know what’s got you so excited.

“You’ll see.” You smirk.

This makes Seungcheol put his pen down, watching you intently and starting to feel a little on edge, though he’s no idea why.

It turns out taking a sip of his coffee as you finally get into the parcel was a mistake because the second he sees you taking out what you’ve bought, his coffee goes straight up his nose and lands all over his shirt and the final paper he was marking. He’s coughing and spluttering away whilst you happily take out everything from the box, just how much have your ordered and what the hell were you planning?!

“W-what the f-fuck,” he coughs, thumping his chest to clear it, “we eat off this table!”

You narrow your eyes at him, a tube of lube in your hand.

“You literally bent me over this very table four days ago and bruised my ass for being a brat.”

“You told me to keep slapping your ass!!” he defends himself.

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.” You turn your attention back to your haul.

“I only said I’d think about it, what the fuck is all this stuff?”

“Well,” you glance between the three different straps you’ve bought and the leather harness, “I didn’t know what size to get, and I didn’t know when you’d say yes or no and if it’s a yes, I didn’t want to be unprepared.”

Seungcheol stares at the array of sex toys in front of him, you’ve even bought two different types of lube and now he feels a little bad. Because he wasn’t actually going to agree to it. Yes, he had a moment of weakness where he thought maybe he might, but in the two weeks since, he’d decided he wasn’t going to. He was certain it wasn’t for him. But him saying he’d think about it had made you shut the fuck up about it for the first time in about two months and so he hadn’t told you his decision.

And now you’re sitting excitedly telling him about everything you’ve bought and he feels like a complete dickhead.

“So. I got three sizes because I didn’t know what to get, I’ve never even thought about this until I met you,” another crack to Seungcheol’s heart, “And I got the clear, glittery ones because I thought they looked pretty and I thought if I got ones that looked more real, it might freak us out more. And then,” you reach for the leather harness, “I got the natural leather because it’s sort of skin tone coloured? I didn’t want anything that would stand out too much, I just want it to look normal, you know?” Your eyes are bright as you glance at him. “What?”

You lower the harness you had in your hand, the look on your boyfriend’s face making any excitement you had, evaporate.

“I didn’t say yes, baby.” He says quietly, eyeing everything you’ve spread across the table.

“But you said you’d think about it.” You frown, you definitely heard him say he’d think about it.

“That’s not yes _____.”

Your heart drops, you feel like a fucking idiot. Of course he was never going to say yes, this is Seungcheol you’re talking  about, the big macho Professor Choi. Of course he was never going to let you do this. What hurts is that whenever he’s suggested doing something new, or out of your comfort zone, you’ve trusted and loved him enough to do it. But he couldn’t just be honest, he had to lie and just shrug you off with an excuse like you would with a five year old.  

“You could’ve just said you didn’t trust me to do it.” You throw everything back in the box and stand up, “You didn’t have to be such a fucking asshole about it and treat me like a child!”

“_____ wait! Please!”

But you don’t, you grab your shoes and bag and slam the apartment door shut behind you, your array of strap ons under your arm. You’ll put them in the car and try to remember to return them. You always take the bus and Seungcheol uses your shared car because nobody can know you’re together at university. He never goes in the trunk, so he won’t see them. You’ve wasted enough time researching what materials, sizes, even which lube to use to make everything as enjoyable as possible for him. You’ll be damned if you waste money on that ass hole too. Literally.

You would have to have an argument about pegging on a day where you’re in Seungcheol’s class. It couldn’t happen on one of the three days where you don’t. No. Because the universe and Seungcheol both hate you.

Yes, you know he doesn’t actually hate you, you’re just more embarrassed than anything. You feel like a complete and utter idiot for happily ordering all that stuff when he had no intention of doing it. And you’ve been physically cringing all through your morning classes when you remember how you unpacked it all excitedly in front of him, the look of disgust on his face even appearing in your text books because of how often you were playing it back.  

On normal days you might try and get to class a little early, which isn’t always easy because Jihoo was still on her mission to bag the hot professor and so would get to class as early as she could.

And it turns out that today is no different, several members of your class are already sitting at their desks when the lecture hall door closes behind you and you feel like screaming when you glance at Seungcheol’s desk and she is already fawning over him.

She’s even pulled up a chair, probably to discuss the dowry her sainted mother could provide if he decided to fulfil her dreams and marry her.

He peers round her somewhat frantically, like he’s been watching every person coming through the door and waiting for you to arrive. But you ignore the almost hopeful look on his face, cock your brow at the back of Jihoo’s head and head to the desk at the back. You don’t normally sit here, these seats are usually empty owing to the boy in your class who has yet to discover deodorant, but you’d take sitting behind him over being any nearer to Seungcheol than you have to be.

You know he keeps glancing at you, but you take out your laptop, notebook and pen and stare into space until he decides to start his lesson. Perhaps if he spent less time humouring Jihoo, he might be able to start this lesson on time. No doubt he’d let her peg him.

“Miss _____, could I have word outside please?”

Your head whips to him, the whole class staring at you open mouthed and Jihoo looking like she’s just been punched in the gut. He hardly ever talks to you during classes, he’s always worried one of you will give something away and so you keep each other at arm’s length.

You were hell bent on ignoring him for this whole lesson and everything in you just wants to tell your boyfriend to fuck off. But your brain reminds you that you can’t really tell your professor to fuck off, no matter how much you want to.

But you are still pissed off with him so you slam your pen down on the desk and scrape your chair back quickly, making the poor sweaty boy in front of you jump, and march out of the room. Not sparing your classmates or your professor a single glance.

“I’ve put a few examples on the board of investigative journalists who have been nominated for their work in war zones, if you could all go through them and after I’ve had a quick chat with _____, tell me what makes them such good examples.” He nods to them and rushes out after you.

“What is it professor?” You don’t even look at him, just lean against the wall outside his lecture hall with your arms folded.

“Why are you sitting at the back?” 

“You’ve embarrassed me for a second time today, just to ask me that?”

Why does he look so confused?! He can’t have forgotten how he looked when you were joyfully showing him the straps and he can’t not see that being singled out by your professor, is embarrassing.

“How have I embarrassed you?!”

It won’t matter about pegging. Not when you’ve killed him for being fucking annoying.

“You were always going to say no!” you whisper shout at him, there may be nobody around but you don’t really want people hearing you arguing about pegging the professor, “And I sat there so excited! It’s fucking embarrassing Cheol! I feel so fucking stupid. I genuinely thought you’d trust me enough to at least try it. I got ahead of myself and now I’m mortified. You just think I’m a child you need to throw a bone to and she’ll stop pestering you!”

“It isn’t that I don’t trust you!”

“Oh don’t bullshit me. What else would it be about. I let you do it to me! I let you do everything you want because I trust you! And I know you’ll have only suggested it because you’re thinking about me! I haven’t just randomly mentioned this you know, I have researched it, it isn’t me that gets the pleasure from it!”

“Why is this so important to you?!”

“Because it’s the one thing you haven’t done! It’s the one way I can experience something with you for the first time! You’ve already lived your life, you’ve done everything! I’ve had so many firsts with you! Sure I wasn’t a virgin, but you still had so many of my firsts! Fuck I hadn’t even been abroad until I met you! I just wanted us to do something together, that yes, I want to do to you more than anything, that you’ve never done! And yeah. If I’m being honest, I really like the idea of for once being the one in control!”

“You don’t like me being in control?”

“That’s not what I said! I love it! I love it so much and I love it because I trust you! It doesn’t matter, just forget I ever mentioned it,” you try to walk past him back into class, but he stops you, “move. We’re fine. Let’s just forget this morning ever happened and be done with it.”

“Why didn’t you say this is why you wanted to do it?”

“I could say you’ll become a billionaire if we do it and you’d still say no.”

He’s standing so close to you that you can smell his cologne, if someone comes out of your class, you’re fucked.

“Why are there so many sex toys in the car?”

Shit. You didn’t think he’d go in the trunk. He probably had a little heart attack when he saw them.

“Because I wasted enough of my time trying to make it nice for you. I’m not losing money too. I’ll take them to the post office at the weekend.”

“I’ve put them back in the apartment.”

“Oh what, you’re too disgusted to even drive round with them in the car?”

“No. I saw how much thought and effort you put into it and I felt like shit. Sure, I’m not overly comfortable with it yet but I could be. I think.” He sighs, his fingers twitching like he needs to hold you to soothe him, “I think it’s that whole thing of being told it’s not for straight men....”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know it is! But it’s that whole toxic masculinity thing I guess, it’s hammered into people and it’s the connotations of it I suppose. Even if I don’t think anything like that, it’s like it’s subliminally engrained that it makes you less of a man.”

“You’re not toxic,” you frown, “if anything you’re the biggest baby girl I’ve ever met! Your skincare routine is twice the size of mine and I’ve seen you ogling Woozi’s sweaty chest when you’ve both come back from the gym.”

“I’ll ignore that, only because I know I’ve upset you. But I guess it’s just getting round the idea of it being an everyday thing. But it isn’t because I don’t trust you and it isn’t that I think you’re a child. Just give me a little bit of time. I promise.”

“You’re not just saying this so we’re good again and then you’ll say no?”

“I’ve already put them back in the apartment. I wouldn’t say it or do it just to appease you. You know that.”

“You are very stubborn.” You roll your eyes though can’t fight the smirk on your face.

“You’re lucky I can’t touch you right now.” He edges a little closer regardless.

“What did she want?”

“She got a C. She’s spiralling. NO!” he points his finger at you, already knowing where your mind is going.

“What?! I was just wondering what I’ve got!”

“No you weren’t, you looked like I just told you we’d won the lottery,” he snickers, “and you’d know if you’d collected your assignment off me. Instead of stomping off to the back desk.”

“What did I get?” You ignore his little dig.

“B”

You spent hours on that assignment!

“A b?!”

“You missed your quotes for the final part.”

“That’s because you were being sulky about your pizza order being wrong!” you poke him.

“Oh. Maybe I should change the grade? That is sort of my fault.”

“Just leave it,” you sigh, wanting to hug him but knowing you can’t, “we’d better get back in there.”

“Just one more thing.”

You hope he’s going to risk a kiss but instead you get another earful.

“I’m 35!! You saying ‘I’ve lived my life’ makes it sound like I’m off to the retirement home! Stop making out like I’m like 40 years older than you!”

“Oh whatever Grandad.” You rush past him, giggling when he realises what you’ve said.

A sharp slap lands on your ass, you both freezing from how loud it was.

“Not my fault,” he holds his hands up and rushes for the class room door, “your ass shouldn’t be so loud!”

“Yeah, well your ass had better be ready.” You smirk when he falters going through the door and head back to your seat, sending Jihoo a broad smile as you go.

Three weeks have passed since the arrival of all your sex toys. It’s been two days since Seungcheol told you that he was ready to do it. And so you find yourself walking towards his lecture hall, his being the last lesson of your busy Friday, with a weird mixture of nerves and excitement swimming round your mind.

The idea of doing it is one thing. Actually doing it is another. You did wonder about skipping his class and going home to meditate or something to calm yourself down. Because now you’re worrying about the tiniest of things and wondering whether it’s even worth it.

What if the strap looks funny? Sure you don’t find your boyfriend’s dick particularly funny but you’ve never seen yourself with something down there. What if you instinctively start laughing and it starts wobbling around and then Seungcheol can never look at you the same way again? Is it worth ruining a relationship just because you insisted on claiming your boyfriend’s ass as your own?

What if you just can’t do it. Yes, you’ve ridden him hundreds of times but you’ve seen the state of Seungcheol after he’s fucked you into the mattress. And he goes to the gym five times a week. Your exercise consists of walking to the convenience store to buy snacks. If he’s a sweaty, puffing mess, what the hell is going to happen to you. You don’t need an ambulance turning up because you’ve passed out from exhaustion with your strap still on. He’d never let you live it down. He’d probably take a photo and put it on the fridge.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t realise you’ve made it to his classroom until you’re already through the door and confronted with the very thing you’ve been worrying about.

Seungcheol’s ass.

What the fuck is he thinking?! And why is he bent over the desk like that?!

He left before you this morning, he had a faculty meeting before classes started. If you had seen him, you certainly wouldn’t have let him leave the house like that. He’s got his usual smart suit pants on, he always looks smart for work, but these ones are different. It’s like he’s bought them a size too small because the way they’re hugging his ass is sinful. It doesn’t help that professor bubble butt currently has his sleeves rolled up and he’s leaning over the front of someone’s desk, arms flexing and his ass swaying a little as he gestures to whoever he’s talking to.

It’s like he’s presenting himself to you and knowing that when you get home, you’re (hopefully) going to have the balls (almost literally) to take that exact ass makes you lose all concept of where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s only when someone comes in the room behind you and bumps into your back, that you’re drawn out of just staring at the professor’s ass.

And from the smug look on Seungcheol’s face as he glances at you and struts back to his desk, you know damn well that he planned that. That he planned to more or less be presenting himself in those sinful pants, just waiting for you to come through the door.

Your annoyance only grows when you see who’s desk he was leaning over and who he was talking to.

Jihoo.

Who looks very smug that the hot professor has been uncharacteristically forward in going over to help her. He normally just ignores her or waits for her to go to him with her barrage of pointless questions.

If this is how he wants to play it. So be it. He’ll be the one crying later, not you.

“Hi Soonyoung.” You smile to one of your classmates as you walk to your seat. Soonyoung just happening to be the class mate that Seungcheol seems to think has a crush on you.

“O-oh! Hi _____!” he beams up at you and you can feel Seungcheol’s eyes boring into the back of your head.

You just smile and walk to your seat knowing that one tiny interaction will have had the desired effect on Seungcheol.

He starts the class, his back turned to you all as he writes on the board. You’ve no idea what it is and neither do you care, all you can do is sit and watch his ass. Where the hell did he even get those pants?! And what the hell does he think he’s doing wearing them to work?!

You glance around the class, noting that at least ten of your classmates are also enjoying the view and a fire burns inside you. How dare they stare at his ass. How dare they not listen to the lesson that he’s spent hours preparing. Yes, you’re not listening but you can just ask him about it at home. They can’t. How fucking selfish. And what perverts to just blatantly stare at his ass. Disgusting.

“Today we’re going to talk about nut grafs.”

You’re not listening. You’re sending daggers to Jihoo who was one the perverts looking at your boyfriend’s ass. You’ll pull that pretty little ponytail one day and then she won’t be so smug.

“_____, care to explain what they are?”

Shit.

“Sorry ba..... Professor!” you curse yourself for almost slipping up, “what was the question?”

“Nut grafs,”

“What?”

“Explain them to me.” He hums, perching himself on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, his chest looking scrumptious as he does so.

“Er.....well.....” you will your brain to work, “nutting I MEAN NUT GRAFS, er......well.” fuck all you can think about is his ass and nutting and fuck you need to snap out of this because everyone is watching you, “it’s a paragraph.” You nod.

“That’s it?”

“Well. No..... It’s a par....” he doesn’t let you finish.

“Jihoo! Please help _____ with nut grafs.”

You hate him. And you hate her. You know what a damn nut graf is and he knows you do.

“It’s a paragraph after the headline which summarises the story,” little miss perfect says cheerfully, “so you could say it gives you an overview of the story in a nutshell.”

You’re going to end her.

“Exactly, brilliant Jihoo!” he grins at her, mischievous eyes only sparkling more when he sees the look on your face.

“_____ perhaps you need to probe these things more.”

Oh you’ll probe something. And he’s not going to know what’s hit him when you do.

“And what about folds? Anyone?”

Has he just planned this whole lesson around dreadful innuendos?!

“That’s probably about something being above the fold Professor.”

“You should raise your hand!” You more or less bark. 

Shit. You didn’t mean to say that out loud. Fuck. He just keeps talking about probing and folds and nutting and then Jihoo is ogling your boyfriend’s perfect bubble butt and now you’ve more or less told her to shut up in front of the whole class.

Seungcheol is desperately trying not to laugh as the rest of the class look a little taken aback by your outburst. Jihoo on the other hand looks like she’s ready to cry her perfect crocodile tears that she rolls out whenever she doesn’t get the perfect grade or she doesn’t get her own way.

“I was only answering the question,” she pouts, most of the class rolling their eyes, even if they are shocked at you shouting at her, “it isn’t my fault I’m the professor’s favourite.”

The professor’s what now?! She’d better say goodbye to that laptop of hers because you’re about to smash right on her perfect head.

Seungcheol senses his mischief might be about to backfire on him and quickly steps in to stop whatever violence he presumes you’re planning.

“I don’t have favourites here Jihoo, this isn’t high school. You’re masters students and _____ is right, you should raise your hand.”

You revel in her shocked face and make a mental note to ask who his favourite actually is sometime later. Because you’re fairly certain it’s not you. It’s probably Chan, he brings him coffee every class and Seungcheol always says he places Chan’s assignments in the middle of his marking pile because he loves his writing so much. It cheers him up in between all the garbage. It’s quite sickening really.

The rest of the lesson goes without a hitch, though you do find yourself following his ass around the room. Something you know he knows. And something that you know he’s actively encouraging because he normally just sits at his desk. Whereas today, he seems to be feeling the need to wander around the room. Particularly where his ass in those tight pants might be in your eye line.

Any nerves you might’ve had earlier in the day are gone by the time you get home from university. All you’ve got ruining your thoughts is Jihoo and the others, occasionally side tracked by a stray image of your boyfriend’s ass in those damn pants of his. The way they were all staring at him, like he was a piece of meat just makes your blood boil. You might look at him like that, but he’s yours. And you’re determined to show him that.

You usually get home a little earlier than Seungcheol, he tries to do a bit of prep for the next day before he leaves and because its Friday, he tries to get all the marking he has to do out of the way, before the weekend. You’d done something similar with any homework and research you’d had to do too. You’d managed to get everything done in the library during your lunch break so that tonight, the only thing on your mind is him.

Once you’re showered, you’re confronted with actually figuring out how to go about this whole thing. You’d chosen out some of his favourite lingerie though he won’t be able to see a lot of the panties, but it’s the thought that counts. Do you go braless? Or start with a bra and then take it off? You don’t suppose it really matters although, in the brief conversation you’d had about it, you had presumed that you’d be taking him from behind.

But Seungcheol had different ideas, he said that if you were doing it, he wanted to see everything and he wanted to see all of you whilst it was happening. So, missionary it was. Sure, you won’t get the perfect view of his ass shaking as you do it, but the fact he’s letting you do this at all is an achievement, so you’re going to do this whichever way makes him the most comfortable.

Once you’ve got your underwear and the harness on, you put one of his hoodies on over the top. You did toy with the idea of just waiting for him on the bed with the strap fully on, but you don’t want to startle him. And so, you thought if you’re casual, it won’t be as out of the ordinary.

Just putting the strap on though had your body covered in goosebumps, this whole thing feeling real finally. You’re not even sure why you crave doing it so much. Yes, you love the idea of being in control and you weren’t lying when you said that a lot of it was about wanting to try something neither of you had done before, which is rare with Seungcheol.

But there was something more to it, you just wanted to know what it felt like to be inside him, even with a strap on. To have that power to bring him pleasure just like he does for you. It was almost primal your need to do this with him.

You just hope you don’t chicken out, although Jihoo, and Seungcheol’s antics today, have made sure you’re hell bent on ruining him.

The door opens and closes and you start to wonder should you be doing something other than just sitting on the sofa? You’ve already put everything on your bed side table then it’s ready and so you haven’t got much else to do. But you feel a little like you’re waiting to see a doctor or something.

“Hey baby,” He rushes over to you, leaning over the back of the sofa to kiss your cheek, “I thought you’d be in the bedroom palming your dick or something.”

You won’t rise to his nonsense, he’s hell bent on being a shit and you won’t give him to satisfaction.

Instead, you just stand up and take his hoodie off, his eyes turning dark when he sees his favourite bra of yours hugging your tits just right.

“Not so cocky now, are you?”

He doesn’t answer, he’s too busy narrowing his eyes at the harness.

“Turn around.” He says lowly.

You do, though you’ve no idea why he wants you turn around.

“Fuck. That harness makes your ass look insane.”

“Really?!” You try to look at your ass properly, “they had a harness that looked like panties, but I liked this one because the actual straps were thin and the reviews said leather was the most comfortable.”

You jump when his hands are on your waist when you turn back round, you being too busy trying to see how good your ass looks.

“I love how much thought you put into this, and I can’t promise I’ll love it, but I’m pleased I get to try it with you.” he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Damn him for being sweet when you’re still trying to stay mad at him.

“Thank you for saying yes, I know I wouldn’t shut up about it. I just…..I just want to make you feel good and know how you feel when I’m inside you. I want you to feel as great as you make me feel.”

“Fuck.” He stares at you, his mouth parted. “You put it like that, and I think I sort of get it.”

You would accuse him of just humouring you. But you swear you feel his dick hardening against you and his hold on your waist just got that bit firmer.

“You need to…..you know……clean out.” You nod your head towards the bathroom.

“Oh.” It’s like you’ve broken him out of a horny trance. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be as quick as I can!”

He runs off to the bathroom, his tie coming off as he’s running and something starts to burn in your stomach at how his mood has changed towards this whole thing.

“Hey.” Seungcheol awkwardly stands in the doorway of the bedroom with nothing but a towel around his hips.

In the years you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so nervous. Even when he met your parents, he wasn’t as nervous as this. And he was convinced they were going to hate him so by the time you made it to the front door he was a nervous wreck.

“Are you not coming in?”

Your voice is soft, you just want him to enjoy this, to make sure he’s comfortable enough to let you make him feel good.

“Y-yeah. Erm, should I get on the bed? Or? I don’t know. Fuck my heart is pounding.” He chuckles, nervously scratching his shoulder.

“You could get comfy and then we can figure out which size?”

“Should I take my towel off?” 

The way he’s being so meek and mild just makes you love him even more. You love that he’s so trusting of you that he’s happy to show you this vulnerable side of him. It isn’t that he doesn’t show you that generally, but in the bedroom, other than whining during a blow job, he’s completely in control. So for him to be like this now and brave enough to show you how nervous he is, means the world.

“Keep it on for now if you want,” you send him a reassuring smile, him just nodding a little and moving silently towards the bed.

He settles against the headboard, you sitting sort of between him and bedside table then you can grab everything you need. But you notice he’s already eyeing everything warily.

“Cheol,” you take his hand, his eyes snapping to yours, “we don’t have to do this you know. We can forget it if you want and never mention it again.”

His eyes close slightly when you run your other hand through his hair, your lips touching his just for a second in a gentle kiss, just to make sure he knows you don’t mean that with any malice.

“I’m really nervous. But I want to do this. Everything you’ve said about it, saying you want to feel what I do, I get it now I think. I fucking love being the person that makes you feel good, even if you’re just using me to get off when you ride my dick like a mad woman,” he jokes to break the seriousness a bit, “I get it, I think. Just…..go easy on me.”

“Of course, baby,” you kiss his plush lips again, this time a little firmer to show him you mean everything you say. “Do you want to see which one you want to use?”

“I mean sure but I think the smallest. I’m not about to stick something huge up there.”

“I was nearly really mean to you and was going to find one the size of your monstrosity under your towel.”

For the first time since he came in the bedroom you get a genuine laugh, no sign of nervousness in it and that really settles your nerves, as well as his.

“I got three but the smaller one they only had with a slight curve, which I guess would be good because it’s meant to be like up and round.......”

“I’m sorry, have you done a full fucking anatomy class on men’s assholes or something?!”

“I wanted to make sure I got it right! I’ve been on some very strange subreddits to be honest.”

He looks like he wants to know a little more about what exactly you’ve been researching but if he’s honest with himself, the nerves are starting to feel a little more like excitement.

“Curved sounds good. You’re not just going to like, stick it in there are you?”

Does this man know nothing of the etiquette of pegging?! Perhaps you should’ve sent him the links to all those subreddits.

“No,” you run your fingers across his stomach, enjoying how he shivers underneath you, “I’m going to finger you until you’re stretched enough and then if you’re happy, then I’ll use this.” You hold up the clear glittery silicone dick.

“Hm,” he hums in a daze as he watches you stand up to attach the strap to the harness.

“Do you want some help?” he chuckles when your shaky fingers can’t seem to do it properly.

“No I got it,” you stare down wide eyed once it’s attached, the temptation to sway your hips to waggle it about is pretty strong, but you resist. This is serious business after all.

You glance up at Seungcheol, his eyes equally as wide as yours and yet your eyes are drawn to something under his towel straight away. You don’t point it out, you’ve no intention of taking the piss out of him for being turned on, if anything you’re wanting to pounce on him and fuck him silly. But this about making him comfortable and so you dampen your hornier urges.

You’ve no idea what to say before you peg a man for the first time. Perhaps there’s another Reddit page you should’ve read but right now you suppose that actions probably speak louder than words.

You pick up one of the bottles of lube off the bedside table, Seungcheol watching you like a hawk, his blown out pupils following your movements intently. You kneel between his legs, him having spread them for you and place the lube next to you on the bed.

“Are you sure about this?” Your lips are grazing against his and you can already feel how ragged his breathing is.

“I’m sure, I want you,”

Fuck. You expected a lot of things out of tonight but one thing you didn’t is how his eyes have changed. All you see is trust and a hunger for you to start, you know he’s being serious when he says he wants you. His rock hard length is a testament to it. Fuck you want to treat him so well but absolutely destroy him at the same time.

Your lips crash into his, you steal his breath away just like his last sentence stole yours and revel in how his soft lips send a thrill through you like it was your first kiss with him all over again. They move like it’s second nature, both of you just enjoying the familiar taste of each other as his hands hold your waist gently.

You know you’re meant to be doing something but fuck his lips feel so good against yours and when you start placing wet kisses down his neck, his moans only make you want to spend even more time savouring the taste of his freshly washed skin rather than moving any quicker.

But it turns out Seungcheol has other ideas.

“Please baby,” he reaches down and undoes the towel around his waist, your eyes following his movements eagerly.

He throbbing, his tip leaking and red. Your breath hitches at how badly he needs you, that even before you’ve started he’s already begging a little.

“Fuck,” you shuffle backwards a little, though he holds your hand to make sure you’re not going far, “you’re ready?”

“Just do something _____!”

“Don’t be a brat! If I did that you’d spank my ass!”

“Because you are a brat. Just,” he shuffles down the bed so he’s lying flat and throws a pillow at you, “make me feel good.”

You’re speechless. And he has the nerve to call you a brat. But you brush it off because his eagerness is making you drip.

“Lift your ass,” you try not to chuckle at how eagerly he lifts his ass for you to put the pillow under him.

Right. It’s time to brave. Don’t show fear. Fuck why are you behaving like he’s some sort of rapid dog? It’s just fingering. You’ve done it to yourself loads of times. Sure you’ve never done it to your ass but how different can it be?

You shuffle between his legs, the sight of his ass propped up with the pillow making you salivate. God, does he have a great ass, he doesn’t even realise how lucky he is to have such a backside.

He watches closely as you take the lube and put a decent sized blob of it on your index finger, smearing it a little bit with your other hand and then wiping it on the duvet.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes not leaving your finger.

You hold his thigh, your thumb rubbing soothing circles and move your finger so it rests against his hole. He flinches slightly when the tip just grazes him, his dick leaking a little on his stomach. You realise you’re both holding your breath and so as you slowly breath out, your push the tip of your index finger so it just breaches his puckered hole, his body twitching a little at the oddity of it.

You watch him opened mouthed, it’s tight around your finger, warm and eager and it takes everything in you to not move a little quicker. You glance up at Seungcheol, he looks like he’s caught between confusion and pleasure but that confusion disappears when you move your finger a little further into his ass.  

“Does that feel good baby?” you ask softly as you start to move your finger in and out of his hole.

“Er....” he swallows, “yeah..” he nods, “quicker. Please.”

Fucking hell.

“Yeah?” you start to move your index finger in and out of him quicker, his hole almost pulling you back in whenever he thinks you’re daring to leave him, “tell me when you want another baby.”

His hand comes back down to hold your free one. He wants you close to him, he’s aware you currently have a finger in his ass but he just needs to hold some part of you to know you’re there. He’s never felt anything like it and it’s only one finger. It’s weird, like it shouldn’t feel good and yet he feels himself already needing more from you, it’s like having the hardest dick in the world but needing it to get even harder before he can start to feel the real pleasure of it.

“Another. Please baby.” He mumbles, squeezing your hand.

This is better than anything you could’ve imagined, your perfect buff boyfriend begging you to add another finger into his ass. If you die tomorrow. At least you’ll die happy.

“Of course baby,” you lean down to kiss his hip, “fuck you look so good taking my finger.”

He clenches round your finger. He actually clenches. This man will be the death of you. Your head spins because he’s loving this so much and from how his body is reacting to it.

You’ve got enough lube on your index finger and around his rim that you don’t need to add more yet, and so you slow your finger a little bit and slowly line up your middle and index finger with his eager ass hole.

“Cheol?” his eyes find yours as you slip your two fingers into his puckered hole, his eyebrows knitting together and a small whine slipping from his lips. Fuck, your pussy might be clenching almost as much as his hole.

You can feel him stretching around you, your fingers moving slowly until he gets used to it. But if his ass is anything to go by, he’s loving it, you can feel your fingers being pulled back in whenever you’re close to leaving.  

“Oh my god!” he throws his head back when you start to move them a little quicker, the slight sound of the lube squelching as you fuck his puckered hole with your fingers only making you both hornier.

You’re watching him intently, his bottom lip his caught between his teeth, his eyes a shut and you can tell he’s absolutely loving this. You knew he’d enjoy it, your research told you that much, but you didn’t think he’d be in this much ecstasy without you even touching his dick.

With Reddit playing in your mind, you risk changing the angle a little bit, hoping to add to the pleasure he’s currently got coursing through his veins.  With your palm facing upwards, you curl your fingers a little, hoping that somehow your fingers might reach that spot that you’re hoping to find.

“FUCK ME!” his whole body jolts when you fuck your two curled fingers into his ass hole.

Ah. So it is true what they say about men’s g-spots.

You look at him completely awe struck, your fingers speeding up even more and now really fingering him. He’s a whining mess, his tip is leaking all over his stomach and he’s just moaning and groaning whilst your fingers slam in and out of him. You’re not even bothered that your wrist is aching a little, you’re too engrosses in watching your fingers disappear inside Seungcheol’s ass and loving the little moan he lets out whenever you hit the right spot inside him.

Your pussy is a fucking mess. You just wish you’d invested a little more in the toys and bought one that pleasured you too because fuck the sight of this big, head strong man babbling beneath you whilst you finger fuck his ass hole is making you so fucking wet that you’re certain to could cum untouched.

But this isn’t about you, it’s about making him feel good and judging by how much he’s leaking everywhere, you’re certainly doing that.

“Put those back now!!!” you freeze, eyes wide in shock, your fingers out of his ass momentarily just to put some more lube on them.

“I need more lube! Don’t you want another finger?!”

He’s pouting like you on your worst days and you’re caught between wanting to kiss his pout away and wishing he was on his stomach then you could spank his bratty ass.

“Hurry up.” 

“I won’t put them back if you don’t remember your manners.”

This is ridiculous. You’re holding three fingers up in the air, them dripping in lube as the big muscly baby in front of you decides if it’s even worth carrying on this argument.

“Please _____, I need your fingers. Please.”

You don’t know what takes hold of you, he’s just too fucking cute. You lean over him, quickly smush his cheeks harshly in your none lubey hand and crash your lips into his in the biggest, smushiest kiss you’ve ever given him.

“I fucking love you Choi Seungcheol,” you say through gritted teeth.

“I love you too,” he smiles happily up at you but eyes moving hungrily to your fingers.

“I’m gonna treat you so fucking well baby.”

His begging has flicked a switch in you. You need to have this man in every way you possibly can. You’re determined to ruin him for anyone else. Not that any has a chance, this perfect man is yours and always will be.

You kneel back between his spread legs, mouth watering when you see that he’s gaping just a little from your two fingers. Would rimming be a step too far? It took you long enough to get here. No. You’ll broach rimming another time.

Seungcheol holds his breath slightly when he feels your fingers against his puckered hole again. You use two again to start off with, not wanting to move too fast now you’d fully removed them from him.

He sighs when you finally enter him again, your fingers beginning to curl up into him again making him moan and throw his head back onto the pillow. Even his legs are thrashing a little bit from how good he feels.

You add a third finger, stretching his hole and only slowing your pace a little. Now you know how much he’s loving it, you feel a little braver to add the third finger a little quicker.

“Shit!!!! Oh my god that feels s-so fucking good!!”

You’re leaking all over your panties. You know you are.

You curl your three fingers into him, trying to hit even deeper than you did before and revelling in the way he’s sort of fucking himself down onto your fingers. Because that’s how much he’s loving how well you’re fingering him.

“You’re taking them so well baby, fuck you’re going to look so pretty when you take my dick.”

“Fuck,” he clenches around your fingers, his dick even twitching as he leaks so much all over his stomach that you’re surprised he hasn’t cum yet.

“Do you like that idea Cheol? You like the idea of me fucking your tight little ass with my strap? Fuck you’re gonna make such a mess, look at you already just from my fingers? You’re leaking everywhere.”

You’ve no idea where this dirty talk has come from but you’re loving the reaction it’s having on your boyfriend. He’s whining and nodding, his hands fisting the sheets from how incredible your fingers feel inside him.

“You’re taking my fingers so well baby, your ass looks so fucking amazing stuffed full of my fingers.”

“F-feels ama-amazing, so amazing. I l-love you _____, s-so much,” his last word is cut off with a moan when your fingers slip a little further into his ass.

You need to reign yourself back in, the sight of your fingers being swallowed by his greedy hole is making you want to make him cum just from your fingers. But the whole point of this was that you wanted to fuck his perfect fat ass with your strap. And you’re obviously no expert but you’re fairly certain he’s probably ready, the tip of the strap isn’t that much bigger than your three fingers combined and his ass is stretched deliciously around them, you’re certain he could take you.

“You ready for my strap baby?”

His head whips up, somewhat wobbly but he still manages it. And if the sight of him isn’t one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen your life. His pupils are blown, his cheeks are tear stained and his lip is bright red from how much he’s been digging his teeth into it.

“Already?” he whispers, his body twitching a little when your, now slower, fingers hit a juicy spot inside him.

“I think you’re ready for it and I’m so fucking ready to do it.”

He thinks about it for a few seconds but it really doesn’t take long. He knows what he wants. What he needs.

“I’m ready.”

Your stomach lurches in excitement, your pussy tingling uncontrollably as you drip even more. You can feel your wetness on your leg as you sit with your legs tucked under you.

Shakey hands reach for the lube, his eyes hungrily watching you squeeze a healthy amount along your strap. You close the cap and throw it to the side of you before you kneel between his legs and spread the lube all over your dick. The act of more or less fisting your own dick, or strap in this case, making you want to moan.

It does make Seungcheol moan and that only makes you want to scream in pleasure.

You spread his legs a little further apart so you’re comfortably between them and rest one of your hands on his hip, whilst you line your tip up with his gaping hole.

His breath hitches as your breathing stops completely. This is it. You’re finally going to do what you’ve wanted to for months, you’re going to be the only person to have ever done this to him. To have ever given him pleasure like this.

“Take a deep breath in for me baby,” he nods, his eyes never leaving your lube covered strap as it rests just against his puckered hole, “when I say to breath out, do it. Ok?”

“Ok.” He whispers, almost squirming in anticipation.

Just as you’re about to push forward, you tell him to breath out, his body relaxing just a little and allowing your tip to just push into his ass.

“Oh my fucking god! Fuck fuck fuck,” he throws his head back.

“Good or bad?”

“It’s a lot, it feels like so f-fucking much,” he whines, his fists balled.

“Do you need me to pull out?” 

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Your eyes are wide as you freeze with just your tip inside him.

“Sorry,” he looks at you like he’s a naughty schoolboy, “I just don’t know what I’m feeling. I..... I think I need you to move? Please? Sorry baby, I didn’t mean to shout.”

He’s completely misjudged your wide eyes, because you weren’t looking at him like that because you were upset. You’re just stunned with how much he’s loving this.

You lean forward, your strap nudging just a little further into him as you do, so that you’re hovering over him, his hands instinctively holding your waist.

You kiss his pecks, his fingers digging in more to your waist as your lips travel up over his collar bones and onto his neck.

“Don’t say sorry,” you say softly when you reach his face, your eyes finding his worried ones, “I wasn’t upset. Do you want me to move?”

He nods shyly, his fingers gripping your waist.

“Use your words baby, do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please, I want your strap so much.” He whispers.

“Fuck,” you rest your forehead against his, your hips just starting to rock a little so you’re pushing further and further into him slowly.

His grip is tight on you, like he’s using you to make sure he’s safe, as you fuck further into his tight hole. Your hips are slow, the feeling completely foreign to you but one that you know you’re already going to be obsessed with. He’s so helpless beneath you, he’s solely relying on you to bring him pleasure and it’s making you even more hungry for everything that’s happening.

“F-fuck oh my god!”

“Does it feel good? Does my dick stretching your little hole make you feel good Seungcheol?”

“S-so good,” he moans as you keep thrusting lightly into him.

You glance down, noting you’re almost fully bottomed out inside of him, the sight of it and his swollen dick making you clench around nothing.

“I’m nearly fully in baby, you’re taking me so fucking well, you’re being so good for me,” he sucks a mark on your neck as you finish speaking, he just needs to do something from how fucking good it feels, the thrill it sends through you making you thrust a little harder into him and bottom out before you intended to.

“FUCKKKK!!!”

He’s panting beneath you, head thrown back and hands frantically trying to hold onto you from how incredible you feel now you’re fully nestled in his ass. He should’ve listened to you, he should’ve said yes to this fucking weeks ago. The number of times he’s scoffed at you for saying about male g spots and now your strap is sitting right against a spot that’s never even thought about before.

You’re so deep inside him that you’ve hit his prostate and his whole world feels like it’s falling down around him, and the feeling of your strap resting against the little nob inside him is the only thing rebuilding it.

“Can I move?”

“Yes, yes fuck please move,”

You place one last kiss on his lips, not that he reciprocates it, he’s too busy flailing around from how many emotions he has whirling around his brain, and sit back on your knees.

That’s when you see it. Your whole strap being swallowed by his greedy ass hole and you lose all your senses. He wants you to move. And so, you do.

You rest your hands on either his thighs, drag your strap against the walls of his ass so that just the tip is resting inside him and crash your dick back into him.

Seungcheol wails beneath you, tears coursing down his cheeks and hands now fisting the pillow beneath his head as he whimpers and moans away in his own little world.

You knew it’d be good, but you didn’t think it’d be this good. You fuck your dick into his eager hole at a frantic pace, you know you’re hitting where you wanted to just by his reactions. You’ve never seen him react like this to anything and it’s you that’s doing it. It’s not him fucking you and saying how good you feel for him, not his dick in your mouth making him whine, it’s only you doing this. Your strap fucking his ass hole is causing him to react like this and it’s driving you fucking crazy.

Your clit is begging for some relief and thankfully every time you fuck your boyfriend’s ass you do feel a little bit of pressure against you that makes your knees weak.

But you haven’t got time for weak knees. Your perfect, muscly, beefy boyfriend is begging you to fuck him harder and you can’t ignore that. Your fingers dimple his thighs as you speed up even more, you can feel your heartbeat all over your body, you’re basically shaking from how much effort you’re putting in to fucking him. But the pretty noises he’s making and the sound of wet skin slapping as you abuse his puckered hole drives you on.

“You’re taking me so fucking well baby, fuck you look fucking stunning taking my big dick like this,”

He cries, he actually sobs as he clenches around your strap, your whole body alight in need from every desperate reaction he’s giving you.

“I n-need to cum. C-can I………can I cum? Please?”

Why is he telling you?!

Wait………Seuncheol, your Seungcheol is actually begging you to cum? Fuck this power might go to your head. Once this is done you’re going to need a very stern word with yourself to get your massive head to go down. Because your ego is currently the size of a bus.

“You need to cum baby? Are you going to cum on my strap? I’m fucking you so good that you’re already begging to cum?”

You’re aware he’s not actually going to cum on your strap like you would his dick when he’s in your pussy, but it is technically your strap making him cum. You can be excused semantics when you’re crashing your strap into your boyfriend’s prostate, and his big dick is leaking all over his stomach.

But that reminds you of something.

His perfect dick is missing out on all the fun.

And yes, it’s clear that he’s going to cum even if you don’t touch his dick. But you want him to have the full effect. If he only ever lets you do this once, you want him to have the best orgasm of his fucking life.

You let go of one of his thighs, your hips still crashing into him and the loud squelching of you claiming Seungcheol’s ass hole ringing around the room. Your shaky, exhausted fingers reach for his dick and as soon as your fingers wrap around his hot, oozing length, the effect is instantaneous.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST FUCK ME FUCK”

He likes that then you suppose.

Something wicked takes over you. You said you were going to wreck him and wreck him you will.

With a smirk on your lips and one last look at your boyfriend, who’s so lost in pleasure you’re certain he’s no idea what his own name is anymore, you go to town.

Your hand fists his length, the pressure just how it likes it (as best you can) and you fuck him relentlessly, his whole body quaking beneath you as he takes your big dick.

“I don’t k-know” you haven’t even asked him anything, what the fuck is blabbering about? “…..fuck…..I n-need…..baby PLEASE,”

Your hand is covered in precum, he’s sobbing his little heart out and his poor abused hole just keeps pulling your strap back in like it’s his life source.

“Fucking take it Seungcheol, you’re fucking mine. All that bullshit earlier today, you’ll fucking take it until I say you can cum.” You spit through gritted teeth.

Well. Your own filthy mouth has got you perilously close to the edge.

“Please,” he cries, “I love you………I love cum…..n-no….i love y-you…..I. N-need cum.”

“I.” You smash your strap into him, “Don’t care. Wait till I say.”

You want to cum with him and you’re so fucking close.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease” he keeps saying, his whole body covered in sweat and knuckles white as clings to the pillow beneath his head.

Just….one…..more…..thrust.

“Cum for me Seungcheol, cum around my dick, fucking take it and cum around my thick strap.”

He sobs a cry of absolute euphoria as he shoots more cum than you’ve ever seen, his back arching off the bed as his ass hole clenches so hard around your strap that it makes you cum right along with him.

You ram your strap deep inside him, your body vibrating from the warmth spreading through you, meaning you move enough to keep nudging against his prostate and that lets him ride out his orgasm as though you’re still purposefully still fucking into him.

Your fist doesn’t stop on his dick as more and more cum pours out of him. His face is wet and nose sniffly as he fucks himself both up into your hand and down onto your strap, and he keeps riding out the most incredible high of his life. The sight of it is something you never want to forget, it’s messy, it’s sticky and it’s everything you wanted. He’s yours. You made him this snivelling mess and nobody, other than you, will ever make him feel that way again.

The last few dribbles of cum splutter out of him and his body goes limp on the bed. Both of you can barely catch your breath and your whole body is aching, but fuck do you feel incredible as you look down at your completely wrecked boyfriend.

“Are,” you swallow, wheezing a little “are you ok baby?”

He just groans and you feel a little panicked. Have you actually broken him?!

“Seungcheol! Look at me baby,” you lean forward a little and he flinches in pain.

Shit. You forgot you’re still buried in him.

“I need to take it out baby, it might hurt a bit. Just take some deep breaths okay?”

He doesn’t answer verbally but reaches for your hand and nods as best he can whilst his eyes are still closed and he’s trying to catch his breath.

“Deep breaths baby, in and out,” you say softly, your thumbing soothing his hand as your start to pull out slowly.

“Argh,” he complains softly, hand squeezing yours.

“I know baby, I’m sorry. It’s almost out. One deep breath for me.”

He breaths in shakily and as he exhales, you pull out the last bit of your strap, looking down in awe at how red and gaping his hole is. Thank fuck you bought the cream that one dude suggested on reddit, you’ll force him to put some on once you’ve had a bath.

You quickly take your harness off, your strap landing on the floor with a thud and you quickly move to Seungcheol’s side. Him rolling into you straight away, his face buried in your chest and sort of gently licking and kissing the skin to soothe himself.

“Are you ok?” you whisper to him, fingers combing through his sweaty hair as he nuzzles even closer to you.

“I’m fine,” he manages to croak out.

“You need to catch your breath and then when you’re ready, we can have a bath. I’ll get you cleaned up.” You stroke his hair, occasionally kissing his head.

You must lie there for about ten minutes, just holding each other and soothing each other as you come down from something neither of you have ever experienced.

After a while his puffy eyes find yours when he lists his head to look at you.

“That might be the most incredible thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Your tummy tingles from his honesty and knowing that you did that. You made him feel that way.

“I wasn’t too much?”

“It was perfect but,” he leans forward to peck your lips, “I think it might be a once in a blue moon sort of thing. Maybe special occasions like Christmas or when we beat Woozi at Mario Kart.” You both snicker at that.

“You want to do it again? Really?”

“Absolutely. I’m not too stubborn to admit that I fucking loved it. I just wish you could cum too.”

“I did.”

“What?” He frowns at you.

“I don’t know how I did it, I think it was the pressure on my clit, but it was just all so hot, I came when you did.”

“Fuck.” He stares at you with sparkling eyes.

“You can get different straps that pleasure me when it pleasures you.”

“Maybe we should order…..”

“Baby,” you stop him, “let’s look at it some other time, lets just get clean and changed.”

“Ok,” another kiss, “and we need to order food, I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why?!”

“What do you mean why?! I didn’t want any accidents!” He groans as he goes to stand up.

“Wait,” you pause him. Something had been playing on your mind the whole time you had him in yours arms as he was calming down, “you know today. The pants and everything in class. Did you do all that because you wanted to distract me? To stop me being nervous?”

His sheepish smile tells you everything you need to know. Fuck he is so perfect its actually pretty annoying.

“I knew you’d be worrying about it, I wanted you to enjoy it and not be in your head about the whole thing. Sorry if I upset you.”

“You didn’t. I love you Cheol.”

“I love you too baby.”

“Fucking hell.” You waddle towards Seungcheol with the cereal, him lowering himself into the chair with a loud groan.

“I go to the gym five times a week and one round with you and I’m broken man!” He winces as his muscles ache when he reaches for the milk for his cereal.

You land in the chair, your muscles in your legs screaming at you.

“Yeah, maybe next time we train for a few weeks before hand.”

You nod to each other as you try to eat your cereal without your aches and pains affecting you.

You may be in agony with sore muscles. But fuck was it worth it.

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