saccharine–czennie

the cab is warm, toasty air circulating through the small space, mildly soothing the bite you feel stinging your toes and fingertips

your eyes trace the small droplets racing down the foggy windows, the drizzle outside casting the city overhead in hues of cold greys and greens. the street glistens through the perspiration, the glitter of neon lights dancing with life

your driver hums upon the feminine voice streaming through his speaker, fingers tapping rhythmically on the leather covering his steering wheel. "what's for dinner?"

the smile in his voice is unmistakable, giddy as he awaits his wife to relay their menu tonight to his eager self. you don't stifle your smile when she teases, "it's a surprise! just you make sure you get home safe!"

they exchange a few more sweet nothings and playful banter and your chest hollows. you will the sudden weight away. you wonder if anyone will ever smile at the sound of your voice the way he does hers

the car comes to a stop right in front of your apartment building, the man next to you still grinning from ear to ear

"you have yourself a good evening, dear!" he says in a singsong voice, flashing you an easy smile as you step out of the vehicle

"thank you, sir! take care!" you muse in return, getting out and opening up your umbrella, shutting the door before jogging to the gate, even quicker once you enter and reach the lobby doors

droplets cascade down your umbrella as you fold it shut once inside the building, exhaling as your shoulders and limbs finally relax. you make your way up to your apartment, opting for the stairs after maintenance announced several problems with the elevator this morning alone

the warmth inside your apartment greets you the second you step inside. the smell of clean linen and vanilla envelopes you as you set down your bags and prop your umbrella by the door. you take off your heeled boots, massaging your sore soles before moving further into the space. a tall, hooded figure emerges from the kitchen and you nearly jump out of your skin

"still get a fright after all this time?" he chuckles amused at your frazzled state, walking over and pulling you into a warm embrace

the bear hug beomgyu has you wrapped in is almost suffocating and you sigh contentedly as you melt in his arms. everything else seems to be forgotten when your mind finally quiets and you whine when he pulls back

he sees the fatigue tugging at your eyes and his warm hands cup your face, thumbs caressing gently over your cheeks

"go warm up. the shower's ready for you", he prompts quietly, comfort washing over you in delicate waves. he always seems to know exactly what you need before you do

you simply nod in his hold, reluctantly untangling yourself from his hold and making your way to the bathroom. you strip your clothes off, piece by piece, weight by weight, before stepping into the shower. the steam curls around your body, the steady stream washing away all burdens of the day – though only for a little while

"i don't think i can do this anymore, y/n"

the words flicker in your mind. a text message, that text message. after a year and then some of wooing your heart and making you believe he wanted more, he ended it all with a text message

"i'm just not ready for anything serious yet"

you should have known, you tell yourself. you should have listened to your heart, to your gut, your goddamn logic. deep down, you had always known it would come to this. you sigh heavy, willing away the ache in your heart and the faint sting of tears behind your eyes, numbing away at your soul

a melody flows from the living room. gyu

the thrum of his guitar, a familiar song – your favorite song, floats through the space, settling into your bones and your soul, bringing every thought to a halt

you finish your shower quickly, lathering yourself in your skincare and moisturizers before slipping into your cozy pajamas. following the trail of music, your feet carry you back to the living room and you simply stand in the hallway, watching him. his hair, soft and silky, falls over his eyes, gaze fixated on the guitar in his lap. his fingers dance over and pluck at the strings, effortless and hypnotic

his head lifts upon noticing your presence, a soft smile gracing his pretty features. it's unfair, really, just how breathtaking he is. "what's for dinner?" he asks, voice warm and boyish and suddenly you're transported back to the cab. this is why you couldn't wait to come home

you reciprocate his smile, making your way to the kitchen. "i didn't get us anything on the way back, sorry gyu. but i thought i'd make us ramen! i don't think we've run out just yet"

the tune comes to an end and you hear shuffling from behind you, tall figure leaning against the kitchen doorway. "that's okay, honestly. i've been craving your ramen all day anyway"

you allow for a chuckle to escape you while gathering all of your ingredients, setting up and getting dinner started

beomgyu watches you move around the kitchen in silence, eyes trailing after your busied frame. he's not blind. he's caught onto the fact that something's been bothering you the minute you stepped through that front door. he has always been unnervingly in tune with you. this is what you enjoy about living with beomgyu most. he knows when to remain quiet, knows how to read you. if anything, he seems to know what you need at all times

apparently, he knows all the right questions to ask, too

"long day?"

"yeah", you answer absentmindedly, stirring at the simmering pot. he steps closer, leaning against the counter right next to you

"tell me about it", he presses carefully and you sigh, that weight returning to your chest, tugging at your shoulders. beomgyu's arms fold and unfold, fingers curling around the edge of the counter, itching to reach out to you as you begin to open up

you fill him in on how things between you and your– god, he wasn't even your boyfriend. fling? situationship? lover? have been icky for the past month. that you started texting back and forth last night, because you got fed up with his no-shows to dates, his refusal to commit and then his random calls late at night, telling you how much he's missed you. you grew sick of his inconsistency, tired and fed up with being strung along and you finally asked when he was truly planning on making things official with you – which resulted in an argument and said text message

that was that

then at work: the printer jammed. again. the coffee machine broke down. again. as always, you received the blame, one of your coworkers patting you on the shoulder, whispering a thanks for taking one for the team after you were reprimanded by your supervisor to be more "mindful"

"kai's the only one who believed me. in fact, he felt so sorry for me, he bought me coffee on his break", you continue and beomgyu listens attentively through all of it

"and then earlier in the cab, with the driver. you know i usually take the backseat, but there was this massive bouquet taking over the entire space", you gesture with your hands. "a bouquet of flowers. i got sad over a bouquet of flowers the man had bought for his wife, beomgyu"

his eyes flit over your face, taking in the sadness that seeps through the mask of tough stoicism you've been wearing all day

"i don't know, it just felt like– something was taken away from me, something i never even had. and now i feel silly for feeling that way and that i allowed this to go on for so long"

you continue to stir at the pot, glancing up when his silence stretches on

"that's… a lot, y/n. fuck, i'm so sorry", he starts, voice thick with emotion and sympathy. "i know you spent so long pining for this guy, that you convinced yourself things were going somewhere. i didn't see this coming either. i just assumed he was like, really fucking slow to catch onto how much you liked him. of all the guys before, i really thought this one would be different. it sucks that you wanted different things"

the quiet baritone, paired with his understanding chips away at the walls you've built to keep the rest of the world out today. he retrieves two bowls from the shelf right next to his head – the shelf you usually have to stand on your tippy toes to reach

it's hard to miss the disappointment that clouds his expression. beomgyu has always rooted for your relationships, always wanting to see you happy. he loathes the thought of you silently begging for some guy's attention, especially when he's watched you give yourself away so easily, only to receive so little in return

he decides that reassurance is the best thing he can offer you right now

"second, those assholes at work have nothing better to do with their time. they don't know a thing about taking responsibility. it's not your fault the printer broke or the coffee machine failed", he huffs. "i'm glad i texted kai to check on you. you didn't even say goodbye to me this morning. honestly, you deserve a medal for how well you held up today"

of course he texted kai, you smile to yourself, dishing up the ramen. it's steaming hot and the aroma makes your tummy rumble

"thanks, gyu. i honestly don't know what i'd do without you"

you mean it. the statement comes with weight and your chest warms when he pats the top of your head. "and kai, of course", he quips

"yeah, sure, kai", you muse. he's surprisingly humble about it and you're mildly amused that he's willing to share his saviour spotlight

he now stands on the other side of the kitchen island, after collecting two pairs of chopsticks, handing yours to you. his palms rest on the counter as he looms over you – your elbows resting on the shared surface, looking up at him

"so, how do we fix today? what's your ideal friday night look like?"

your chin comes to rest in your palm and you hum, "this bowl of ramen. the couch. you, playing your guitar or just us watching our show until we get too sleepy and we have our little sleepover right in the living room", you finish, batting your lashes at him

he pretends to ponder over your proposal, before his eyes settle on yours once more. "stay in tomorrow morning and do it all over again on saturday evening?"

you sigh dreamily, "you get me"

his smile broadens at your approval. "sounds like a plan"

he grabs both of your bowls, gesturing for you to move to the living room where you settle cozy on the couch, opting to put on your show. your yapping doesn't stop. he tells you about his day, about the errands he had to run and how he now prefers work meetings online instead of the ones in person. you tell him about your day, at least now, only the parts that were good. you talk and laugh for hours until your tummies are full and your bowls are empty

you watch as he drapes the two of you in your fluffy lounge blanket. the lamp in the corner of the room casts an amber glow over the otherwise dim space and you scoot closer to him

the space between you shrinks, it always does. only now, you don't have to remind yourself to keep your distance. not that you ever had to, you were never a taken woman anyway. you allow yourself to melt into his warmth, stealing glances at him between scenes of your show

he's beautiful, you've always known it. you've never concealed it either, always making sure to let him know. the smug smile that'd grace his gorgeous features is worth it every single time

only, it really strikes you now. he's devastatingly handsome, painfully so

his head is tipped back against the backrest, eyes dark and low, focused on the screen. he tugs and worries at his bottom lip with his teeth, something evidently still weighing on his mind

that's only because he knows that it's still lingering on yours

"you're not silly for feeling the way you feel. you deserve someone who's certain about you. always have"

you blink out of your daze as his voice cuts through your thoughts. "huh?"

his head turns toward you, eyes flickering over your face, taking you in, reading you – always reading, always checking in. "you weren't silly for wanting more, y/n. he lead you on, knowing what you wanted. hell, he even introduced you to his parents as a friend", he scoffs, almost in disbelief. "you have every right to be upset. you're not wrong for expecting more"

"i should've known better. i should have walked out sooner", you counter and he shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing

"you couldn't have. he ticked all the boxes, said all the right things, did all the right things. how could you have known?" his hand brushes your hair away from your face, gently. "you deserve mutual effort, y/n. commitment. i've watched you put your heart on the line over and over again. and i know it only took you this long to walk away, because you had hope. you always do. and that's not a bad thing, never a bad thing"

he's word vomiting, but you don't mind, taking in everything he says like your life depends on it

"you're so strong for never giving up. for always taking the leap and giving it another shot at love, opening yourself up even when you've been hurt so many times before. you always carry on. that's what i admire most about you, y/n. and i'm so fucking sorry you never received any of that in return"

tears well in your waterline, eyes flitting between his. "gyu", you breathe – his words having struck somewhere deep, a space you've tucked away from the rest of the world. you can barely speak with the lump that's formed in your throat and you don't even realize that the tears have spilled over until he catches them with his thumb

it's the first time you're allowing yourself to cry about this. fuck, you didn't want to

you knew it was coming, you'd known for months and you were in denial. he wasted a year of your time. all of them wasted years of your time. you had wished and prayed that this time around it wouldn't just end up being another set of empty promises and heartbreak – and you find yourself thinking that if you didn't have beomgyu you'd be blaming it all on yourself, that you'd pick yourself apart and wonder what you did wrong

you hadn't said any of these things to him, he just knew

he can't bear watching you hurt, the lump in his own throat thickens as he reaches out to you

"c'mere"

you don't protest, you simply let him guide you, climbing into his lap, knees settling on either sides of his hips. he holds you while you cry into his shoulder, allowing you to break, to let it all out. the frustration from this one-sided relationship, the frustration from work. you sniffle and sob and he allows you to just feel – something you've always been able to do only around him

what no one sees in moments like these is when his hand cards through your hair, humming when you soften into his touch. "you're okay, y/n. i'm here. take all the time you need"

you cry until you can't anymore, letting his voice and his warmth soothe you before drawing back

your teary eyes are reddened, lashes soaked and glossy and a flush colours your cheeks as you continue to sniffle. your faces are mere inches apart and beomgyu finds the sight of you one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, torn between doting on you and wanting to take your pain away

large warm hands come up to cup your face, wiping the remainder of your tears away. "better?" he asks, tucking your hair behind your ears before smoothing over your hair. you shake your head no, shifting in his lap and he frowns in concern

"i'm not thinking about him anymore, but– i don't know why it still hurts. i just want it to go away. i didn't think it would hurt this much", you admit, glassy eyes finding his – pleading with him. "beomgyu, please"

everything goes still. only the sound of rain pitter-pattering against the window, your show barely audible in the background and his and yours steady breaths echo through the space

you don't know what you're pleading for, you just know that it's him that you need – something, anything to take away the ache that lingers

something shifts in beomgyu

"shh", he hushes you, thumb tracing along your bottom lip. "let me take care of you"

your heart's pounding in your chest, breath faltering as you avert your gaze. you cannot bear to look at him. the look in his eyes far too disarming to wrap your head around right now. "beomgyu, i–"

his hand catches your chin, bringing your gaze back to his. "i hate seeing you like this, y/n. let me make it better. let me help. tell me what you need." he needs to hear you say it. his eyes flicker between yours, searching – adams apple bobbing as he swallows when your eyes fall to his lips

"kiss me", you whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder, he'd come to his senses and change his mind – no

all he needed was your permission

you hear and watch him curse under his breath. his tongue licks along the backs of his bottom teeth, hesitating for just a second before his hand slides to your nape, drawing you in until your lips connect

you sigh against each other, eyes fluttering shut. your hands on his shoulders grip at the material of his hoodie. his lips are plump and tender against yours, soft smacks sounding between you. his arm hugs tighter around your waist, the other threading through your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. soft whimpers spill into his mouth and he swallows them all greedily

you're flush against him, you know it, but still your body compels you to move closer. the stirring only makes you shift on his lap and your breath hitches when you feel the outline of him beginning to harden beneath you

he grunts against your lips, brows knitting together. the sound makes your stomach flip, rough and strained with a growing desire. the hand in your hair relaxes, allowing you to pull back and you find that you're both panting. his eyes that were previously soft and full of concern now carry a brewing darkness, lips parted and swollen, drawing in labored breaths

another intoxicating kiss is placed on your lips and your eyes flutter shut. "let me", he almost begs as your lips chase his, "let me make it better", hand drifting between your bodies. his fingers curl around the waistband of your pajama pants, tugging gently. the graze of them against your tummy is ticklish as he teases up to your belly button again, repeating the motion

the band snaps back against your tummy and you gasp against his lips, giving in with a wordless nod

that's more than enough confirmation for beomgyu. his lips meet yours again, this time with more fervor. his tongue snakes out, teasing at your bottom lip before you offer him access – the hushed rhythm of lips and tongues against each other only becoming louder

good god, beomgyu is a good kisser. you find yourself wondering why you hadn't decided to do this sooner

the space between your thighs becomes sweltering hot, heat pooling low in your core. your hips seem to develop a mind of their own, rocking onto the growing hardness beneath you

the gravelly groan your actions pulls out of him makes you shiver. his hand, careful and confident, eases past the waistband of your pants slowly, palming intently over your panties

you whimper into his mouth again, hips chasing the slow pressure he applies to your cunt. you need this, need him to relieve the ache. he bites back another grunt when he realizes just how thoroughly you've soaked the material of your panties

"beomgyu, please" you beg again, breathless

his lips migrate to your jaw and then your neck, sucking gently on the skin of your throat, enough to form the faintest bruise. you sigh blissfully when his hand finally slips into your panties, fingers dragging languidly through the wetness gathered at your folds, feeling you out

"fuck, you're so wet", he rasps, low and disbelieving

a finger teases around your entrance, collecting more of your arousal and you tremble when he trails the digit up to your aching bundle of nerves – right to where you need him most

he circles and caresses the little bud in a manner that makes your breathing falter, melting into him. your hips roll deeper in his lap, more insistent along the prominent length of him. he drinks in every reaction, every furrow of your brows, every needy gasp and small sigh, the grip of your hands tightening on his hoodie

every coherent thought comes to a halt while he toys with your dripping cunt like this – thumb, index and middle fingers working to numb you with pleasure, leaving you lightheaded

you watch his eyes darken when he circles around your entrance again, pushing past the sopping opening and stretching you perfectly. he shifts lower on the couch, broadening his manspread as he slides in knuckle-deep, exhaling shakily when one of your hands migrates to his hair

"how long has it been, a year?" he drawls, voice dropped an octave, sending another shiver down your spine. your brain short-circuits at his change in tone, involuntarily tightening around his long fingers. "he never made you cum, did he? my poor baby", he huffs followed by a mocking chuckle, knowing smirk tugging at his lips

he works you open slowly and you can barely piece together a response, only able to gasp and paw at him

"couldn't even take care of you properly. none of them fucking could. tell me, baby, did any of them make you feel this good?"

beomgyu presses deeper, hooking, curling, searching for that one spongy spot and all you can do is manage a shake of your head

"no?" he scoffs, a possessiveness creeping into his voice. "none of them deserved you, angel. i'll make you forget all about them, make up for all the times you had to come home and finish yourself off alone"

the gasp his words rip from your throat is nothing short of scandalized, moaning out when he finds that spot at the front of your walls, hooking and stroking ruthlessly against it. you hadn't realized he'd heard every little sound, every time you— the grin he sports is self-satisfied and cocky, stretching across his face when your eyes meet his. your pussy sucks him in so needily, pulsing and fluttering pathetically

"g-gyu—" you whimper as he keeps at your sweet spot, his assault torturous and deep, thumb swiping deliciously over your clit, determined to draw more sweet sounds from you

his name has never sounded better, he decides. your walls clench helplessly around his fingers and it's with mortification that you realize he's bringing you to the edge embarrassingly fast

god, of course he's good with his hands. you watch him play guitar all the time. you cannot count the amount of times you've willed away thoughts of what it'd feel like if he were doing those things to your pussy instead, toying with you and strumming your cunt the way he does his strings

"you're so good at this", you breathe, whining when he speeds his relentless motions, suctioning squelches of your wetness making your cheeks burn, making him throb violently in his pants. "yeah? need more?" he teases, voice impossibly deep

you've heard his morning voice hundreds of times before, but it never sounded anything like this. when you'd have sleepovers in this very living room, you: tucked in on one couch, him: tucked in on the other. you'd stir awake and find sleepy brown eyes already staring back at you from the couch diagonal to yours. he'd chuckle at the little groans you'd let out while stretching, voice taunting you when you squint at the sunlight. "morning, sleepyhead", he'd rasp, resisting the urge to move over to where you're cuddled just to snuggle you to death

no, this time there's an unrestricted want to his low register, a hunger and a desperation that he can barely conceal. it's sexy and sultry and it has your sex weeping with more arousal for him, dripping down his palm and between his fingers

you finally manage another whimper, "yes, please" and he gives you what you need instantaneously, without hesitation or further delay

the squelches that sound from between your thighs become more lewd, your squirming and whining only egging him on. he's lethal with his motions – your eyes flutter shut, pretty whimpers and moans of his name tumbling from your lips uncontrollably

he grunts and hisses through his teeth as though your pleasure is his own and you can't think of anything else, orgasm catching up to you quick, grip flimsy around his arm

"angel, you're already so close", he says in that condescending lilt. "fuck– wanna see you fall apart for me"

you never imagined you'd be doing this with him

beomgyu – the man who sleeps in the bedroom across the hall, who you've grown so close to in the blink of three years, since you moved in

the same voice that would soothe your spiraling with words of affirmation, was now talking you through an orgasm. the same hands and fingers that would toy with his guitar, were now playing with you. the same man who you purposely avoided fantasizing about, was now filling your mind only with white hot pleasure

your body climbs and climbs and the band in your core tightens rapidly, almost too much pleasure to bear or handle

"beomgyu, wait– slow down– f-fuck-!"

your pathetic pleas only seem to encourage him, dead-set on making you cum. it's a determination you never saw from that man – and every other man before him – who had kept you waiting

he pumps and curls his merciless fingers right into your sweet spot with mouthwatering precision, doubling his efforts and his lazy rotations on your clit when he feels your walls spasm and clamp around him

"let go, baby. let me feel this pretty little pussy cum"

that does it. your body seizes as pleasure consumes you, bursting and flooding from your core in molten pools of ecstasy, pushing up your lungs until you have no choice but to cry out, hands holding onto him for dear life

you sound even better up close, he marvels to himself. so much better when it's all meant for him, because of him

he seems to feed off of your pleasure, sultry moans and drawn out hisses deepening every pulse and throb between your thighs, amplified with your hips rolling and twitching in his lap

you're shaking – you don't even realize you're shaking until he's slowing his fingers just the way you need, watching and drinking in your every reaction like a hawk, pupils dilated with devastating hunger. "so perfect, angel. that was so fucking hot"

you focus on gathering your breath, fucked out and dizzy when your lips find his. he meets you much more eagerly, reeling you into a consuming kiss. he carefully withdraws his glistening fingers

his hands on your thighs are large, warm and grounding and your arms snake around his neck

a deep whimper escapes him when you experimentally move your hips, dick throbbing painfully under your weight. his lips migrate down to your jaw and then your neck, tongue and teeth teasing and nipping at the flesh – sending tingles straight down to your center

"fuck baby, don't do that unless you want more", he murmurs against the skin there and you grind down again

"don't want to stop", you mumble wantonly. his grip on your thighs and waist tightens at that

"yeah? need me to make you do that again?"

"please", you beg, breath hitching when he flips you over effortlessly, his lips back on yours. the room fills with the sound of your heavy breathing, your lips and tongues colliding and the rustling of clothes

he tugs your pajama pants off, leaving you in only your shirt and he smirks at the sight of your lacy panties. you're drenched, the material darkened and soaked through. lithe fingers peel them off and pride swells in his chest when you part your thighs for him eagerly

beomgyu can't believe his eyes, the sight of you before him almost surreal

it dawns on him now: he's got his pretty roommate under him like this, begging for his touch – you look fucking breathtaking too, irresistible – cunt leaking with arousal, winking at him seductively. it's the prettiest thing beomgyu's ever seen and he wants to commit this to memory

"still dripping for me. pussy's so fucking pretty, baby"

his tongue traces the backs of his teeth again, like he's weighing something. "he ever eat you out?" he voices the thought after a beat, gaze locked on your sex

the question makes you stammer. "i, well– he never offered so i just never bothered to ask…" the last bit of your sentence is mumbled, embarrassed. you hear him tsk, a scowl forming on his face. hell, you probably haven't been fucked properly in over a year, he thinks. what a fucking loser

he lowers himself over you once more, lips back to ghosting over your nape

"gonna let me taste this pussy, make it all mine? gonna let me eat you out?" he asks gruff right against your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth. "hm?"

your core aches when his warm breath tickles the delicate skin

"y-yes", you cave, craving more, high on all of his undivided attention on you

"that's my baby. all ready and needy for me", he kisses you there before he moves lower, bunching up your shirt to reveal your tummy. starved kisses and swipes of his tongue paints a scorching little path down the skin, hands mapping along the curve of your waist

you part your thighs even wider, peering down at him and you catch him wetting his lips with his tongue as he stares at your cunt, more apparent when a hand brushes his hair out of his eyes

you're quite nervous. you haven't had someone this close down there in a long time – well, other than your gynecologist. you feel completely exposed under his hungry gaze, the intensity of the darkness lingering there making you want to shy away

and yet, you've never felt so carnally and primally desired before

greedy, eager hands trace possessively on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. the torture and anticipation is enough to drive you mad

"gyu", you whine which only makes him snicker smugly. his teasing finally shifts to your center, the backs of his lithe fingers circling over your folds. the little wet noises make him groan in his chest

unable to resist any longer, he places an indulgent kiss right on your clit. your hips push up, chasing his mouth. the filthy, shit eating grin that pulls at his mouth only makes the burn in your abdomen hotter, fanning the flame of your excruciating, growing need

he's panting, a dead giveaway that he's just as desperate for this as you are

he has half the mind to make you beg for it. no, he'll save that for later

his lips ghost over you, tongue snaking out to tease over your pulsing little bud before wrapping his lips around it, wasting no time to begin sucking and licking at it with a muffled groan

your mind instantly blanks, tummy tightening and releasing and your hands fly to his hair as he eats you out with fervor, purpose, urgency – sinful mouth drawing shaky moans and gasps from your lips. everything feels tingly and overwhelming, but soon you're craving more, drowned in his devotion

goddamn, no one's ever had you writhing on their tongue like this, with so much determination

beomgyu's on a mission – low grunts and moans vibrating through your cunt and it's enough to make you squeal – like he's getting his own fill, deriving pleasure from the act of tasting you alone

you look over his shoulders and catch sight of his hips bucking into the couch cushion, absentminded ruts to relieve the ache of his throbbing cock

holy shit, that's the hottest, most depraved thing you've ever seen in your life

your broken cries and sobs grow needier and more shameless when he cups his hands around your thighs and ass, lifting you off the couch and onto his mouth like a starved man given his first meal, burying his face deeper between your thighs

"beomgyu– slow down, you–"

you're stumbling over your words, head lulling back while he only continues to work his tongue and lips over you with insatiable demand. you don't even think he can breathe, effortlessly lifting you against his mouth like a ragdoll

you're close again, so, so close – and it dawns on you that beomgyu is about to make you cum on his tongue

you've never cum on a man's tongue before. the realization makes your pulse spike, nervous and hesitant all the like

his sexy, sultry grunts and moans into your pussy only become more obscene when your hands tug harder on his hair, borderline lewd and shameless. his fingertips dig into your skin, tongue working faster, hungrier, switching between speedy flicks and swirls at your clit and dipping into the warmth of your walls

you lower your gaze and your breath hitches. his gaze – it's so intense, pinning and ravenous and it makes you clench and pulse around nothing, cunt fluttering hopelessly against his skilled tongue

"g–gyu, i'm gonna–"

he doesn't let you finish the sentence, doubling down and your hand slams down and grips at the couch cushion, nails raking along the velvet fabric

your thighs quiver and you whimper, louder and wilder than you've ever been before, heat and pleasure bursting from your core – so powerful, your ears ring and your vision blurs

everything is hot, too hot and you claw at the blanket beneath you before beomgyu tosses it to the floor

slicky arousal and cum coats and drips down his chin while you arch, sobbing when he doesn't let up. he draws back, only to take a deep breath before diving in again

the gasp you let out is but a shrill little sound that only fuels the hungry man feasting on your pussy, devouring you – thighs closing around his head to which he only pries them back open, pinning you down onto the plush of your couch this time

you wail, desperately trying to squirm away from his mouth. "f-fuck, beomgyu–! wait, i–"

he only grunts in response, tongue stroking deeper, eyes shut blissfully, his jaw working with the motion as he makes out with your cunt

fucking hell, beomgyu is a lot stronger than you thought he was

of course, you've always handed him the jars that were too stubborn to open and asked for his help with lifting heavy furniture when you're deep cleaning. he always wordlessly takes heavy grocery bags out of your hands whenever you shop together for the apartment – but fuck, this is different. you're trapped and helpless under his grip, unable to break free from his gluttonous, ruinous torture

his tongue drags up through your folds, slurping at your entrance to drink down another mouthful your sweetness, juices dripping more obscenely down his chin. your pleas seem to fall on deaf ears, the man between your thighs positively pussy drunk – lapping and suctioning around your bud like it's his mouth's only purpose

it's too much, you chant to yourself, eyes squeezed shut

"gyu, i'm- wait", you yank hard on his hair, successfully pulling him up. his gaze finds yours, incredulous and blown out with predatory hunger while his sinful tongue swipes and cleans at his lips

you squeeze around nothing, pussy aching the longer you stare at his stupidly gorgeous face

he seems to still be consumed with lust and need, mouth latching onto the skin of your neck. "said i'd make you forget, make you feel good. why won't you let me?"

a hand finds your slicked clit, circling the little bundle of nerves with the pads of his fingers and your mouth drops open, hips lifting into his touch against your will. he has you bowing off the velvety surface, toes curling with just how painfully delicious it feels

"see, baby? you can take a little more"

beomgyu's high on the power trip he's getting off of your surrender. you just moan so pretty and pliant and his fingers speed up, caressing and gliding over you without mercy. his chest brims with dangerous, unspoken pride when your hand clutches around his wrist

"i already came, you– oh my god"

he grunts in disapproval and presses harder, faster – slipping down to your entrace to collect more of your cum to make the slide wetter, louder, more lewd

"won't you just take a little more for me? hm?"

fuck fuck fuck, he's licking, kissing, sucking at the skin of your neck, just like he did your pussy. it's enough to rob you of all coherent thought

his hand momentarily withdraws from you. you sigh with relief, chest heaving and cunt aching with a longing you're unfamiliar with

he tugs on the waistband of his sweats until his dick is freed and it slaps heavy against your lower tummy once out of its confines

you gasp – it's warm, heavy and hard and it leaks with copious beads of precum against your skin. he coats the length with your juices, the schlick sounds making you moan and clench around nothing

you're surprised your body hasn't had enough, that your core still longs for more – fucked out and easily trained into submission and pliance just for him

you don't have much time to ponder. he presses the meaty length right between your folds, sliding right up against your clit. the friction only registers as intoxicating to your hazy mind, overstimulation adding to your delirium

he uses his thumb to press the heavy weight of him further down, bulbous head gliding up and down your slit, resuming the same pace of his fingers as before. prominent veins pulse beneath the velvety skin, unable to help himself as he pushes up over and over again. his hips drive forward, pistoning like he's really inside of you, the couch beneath you shaking with vigor

depraved whimpers and grunts spill from both your mouths, too far gone to hold back

he kisses up to your ear, voice a low rasp right against it

"fuck, look at you. my pretty angel, fucked stupid on my cock and i haven't even fucked you properly yet" – he's rambling mindlessly again, beastly with his grip on one of your thighs. "you wish i was inside you, huh? filling you up, stretching this pretty little cunt like you deserve"

"g–gyu–!"

you're beyond function, all other thoughts falling flat at the filth coming from his mouth – putty in his big, beautiful hands

"you feel me, baby? yeah? feel what you've done to me?"

you do, every last throbbing inch of him – and you squeeze and pulse uncontrollably around nothing, hips bucking up to meet his powerful thrusts

your hot, soaked pussy makes beomgyu feel crazy – soft, slippery warmth continuously leaking slick onto his cock, the slide between your thighs wet, filthy and rough. god, he wants to push inside of you so bad, sink into your warm, sopping walls to feel your cunt struggle to take him. he wants to fuck you until you can no longer think of anyone but him, until you're trembling and begging him for more, until you're completely and utterly stupid and the only man you'll want after tonight is him

god, you wish he would – you'd let him. he'd fill you up so good, you muse to yourself, telling by the way the fat tip of his cock grazes dangerously close to your belly button with the occasional punishing slip of him past your mound

his long, thick length slides up your pussy, pushing the entirety of it up your slit until his balls smack heavy against your glistening hole and ass

every rock and grind is filthier, messier. you're left panting and gasping for air, stomach muscles clenching. you're close again, nails biting into his skin through his hoodie, moans and sobs wanton and desperate

"gonna cum for me again, baby?" he prompts in that deep taunt that licks up your spine. you nod frantically, biting down on your bottom lip. "fuck, i'm close too. let go for me, wanna feel you soak my cock"

his teeth bite down on your neck and that does it. you gasp and let go, clutching tight onto his hoodie like you might float away if you don't

he follows soon after, moaning gutturally against your pulse while hot spurts of his cum paint your belly – an abundance of it too

your bodies pulse and spill and squeeze for what feels like forever, hips settling into deep grinds. your thighs squeeze tight around his hips, keeping him close

you don't realize tears have spilled down your temples until beomgyu pulls away, eyes returning to your face

"y/n? hey, look at me" he coaxes, cupping your face and your eyes open. "was it too much? was i too rough?" he asks carefully, eyes puppy-like searching yours

"no, you– i just– i've never–" never cum so hard before. hell, you can barely talk

your thighs and lower half are still quaking in the aftermath, cunt jumping with the slightest movement of him against you. he seems to catch on pretty quickly, that self-satisfied smirk pulling at his lips, hand brushing your hair away from your face

"shh, you did so well for me", he praises softly, placing a chaste peck on your forehead. "you're perfect". you're both coming down from the high, basking in the aftershocks, catching your breath. he huffs a breathless chuckle in disbelief. "shit y/n, that was–"

"amazing", you finish for him, body still buzzing, unable to fight the smile that tugs at your face

"yeah? did i fulfill your ideal friday night wishlist?" he asks, smugness softening

"you did. more than i asked for", your eyes flick between his. he can tell something weighs on your mind, so he waits – hands soothing over your skin, shielding you from the cold

"beomgyu, what does this make us?"

there it is – the question he was waiting for. you shift under him, nervous while he takes in the vulnerability that rests so evidently behind your eyes. his thumbs trace over your cheeks, sighing contently while he looks at you. he's equally as nervous – he just does a better job at masking it

"sleepover on the couch, then we talk it out?"

your heart instantly warms as you fight another smile. "how about sleepover in your bed? the couch is a mess and the other one's too small to fit both of us"

he sighs in relief, laughing sheepishly. "yeah? i was hoping you'd say that"

"yeah", you concede – humming when he steals another kiss, your arms hugging around his neck. "i'd like to be cleaned up too"

he smiles against you, "yes ma'am, that can be arranged", before he resumes his breath-stealing kiss

your heart eases, knowing that it's finally in good hands – and that you'll be just fine

because home is where beomgyu is

scz note: i have no words 0‐0 i need roommate gyu so bad. it's cold & rainy where i live rn, so i hope you enjoyed this little work of mine! let me know what you think about this one! ><

taglist: @buntanteen @beomtle @bamgelically @chai-soobin

perm taglist: @yunverie @yystarz @jaylaxies @aribomb

honestly, i've taken a bit of time to sit and reflect and i concluded that i needed to recenter why i started writing again in the first place (or publicly writing, rather). it wasn't because i wanted feedback or engagement, but because i wanted to bring my ideas to life! i used to have a mutual on here that i'd send all of my ideas to and she'd constantly nudge me to get back into writing.

i've been a wattpad writer before (we don't talk about it bcs i was a minor and i had no business writing what i was writing at 17 years old >< i ended up deleting my account and my books, because well 🫠.) even on there, i was writing for shits & giggles and i was writing for my irls. i was writing for their entertainment and now i need to start doing the same on this platform too, only now, for the little audience i've built and my moots who motivate me behind the scenes ♥︎ (i also don't think i'm going back to wattpad anytime soon)

even back then, i never cared for engagement or feedback. similarly to when i first started writing on this platform, it was about the people behind the scenes that were excited to see and read my works. i wrote for them, because of them, not necessarily for myself. i got too caught up with numbers and engagement in the recent months that passed – and i am so insanely glad that i decided to voice what i was feeling, because you all have spoken some sense into me! 0‐0

what you said here is true! people have lives and things to do outside of tumblr and other reading platforms or they're just too shy. no one owes me feedback.

thank you so much for your kind words (and your reassurance). i'm glad you enjoyed my works! ^^ you all have helped me overcome this, honestly. i think i can finally get back to writing without caring or thinking about the engagement i'm going to get ♥︎

i just needed to get out of my head!