s-coupcherry

It’s not that people don’t like your boyfriend. It’s just that… most of them are terrified of him.

And honestly? You kind of get it.

Choi Seungcheol looks like a man pulled straight out of a biker gang movie. Tattoo on his back dedicated to his biker gang. Hands always wrapped in black gloves or leather. Permanent scowl. Voice so deep you feel it before you hear it. He doesn’t talk unless he needs to. Doesn’t smile unless it’s for you.

The first time you brought him to your campus café, the barista actually dropped a muffin when he walked in. The poor guy tried to charge Seungcheol full price even though you had a coupon, because “uhh… sorry, sir, I just—uh—uh…” and Seungcheol just leaned over, raised a brow, and said nothing. Didn’t have to. The muffin ended up being free. With two extra cookies on the side.

You wanted to be mad.

But then he looked at you—eyes soft, like melted syrup—and whispered, “Want one now or should I feed it to you later?”

Yeah. You weren’t mad anymore.

What no one knew—what only you knew—is that the same man who once shoved a guy’s face into a car window for grabbing your wrist… is the same man who kisses your knees. Who saves every handwritten note you give him in his wallet. Who panics when you have cramps. Who once sewed your ripped tote bag and tried to hide it so you wouldn’t feel bad.

And tonight—he’s the man sitting on the couch in his garage, leather jacket open, rings still on, watching you slowly crawl into his lap like you own it.

You do.

“Missed you,” you mumble against his jaw, arms around his neck, your thighs straddling his hips. You’re not even sure how the two of you ended up like this, but at this point, it’s muscle memory. You sit. He catches you. You kiss. He melts.

His big hands slide up your thighs like instinct, thumbs brushing your bare thighs, damn those shorts.

“Didn’t even leave for that long,” he says, but he’s already leaning in for another kiss, like it physically hurts to go without it. “Couple hours.”

You pout. “Too long.”

Seungcheol huffs a soft laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “You’re a brat.”

You nod shamelessly. “Sure.”

His eyes flash.

It’s subtle—most people wouldn’t even notice. But you know exactly what that look means. It’s the same look he gave you the first time he kissed you in his garage. The same look he gave when you wore his gang jacket and sat on his bike like it was made for you.

The same look that says: “Oh shit, I’m gone.”

“You really wanna start something right here?” he mutters, voice low and scratchy as his fingers trace your bare thighs. “On the couch? In the garage?”

You lean in, lips brushing his, and whisper:

“Save a horse ride the cowboy, baby”

That’s all it takes.

One second you’re teasing him. The next you’re flat on your back, jacket still on, shorts pushed down to your ankles, and Seungcheol’s face buried between your thighs like he’s starving.

“Cheol—fuck—” You cry out, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as his tongue circles your clit with slow, deliberate strokes. “Holy shit—don’t stop—”

His hands hold your thighs open, firm but gentle, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. He groans against you, and the vibration sends a jolt of heat straight to your spine.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he mumbles, licking into you like he’s making up for lost time. “Missed this. Missed you.”

You arch, body trembling, and you can’t even think—can’t even breathe—because when Seungcheol eats pussy, it’s like he’s praying with his mouth. Worshipping. Every suck, every swirl of his tongue is pure devotion.

And when he slides two thick fingers inside you?

You lose it.

You clamp around him so tight he groans again, pumping his fingers slow, curling them just right.

 “That’s it. Come on, baby, let go for me.” he murmurs

You do.

Your orgasm hits like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs, thighs trembling as your head falls back with a breathy moan of his name. He works you through it, doesn’t stop until you’re panting and twitching, until you're trying to push his hand away—but he’s not done.

He kisses up your stomach, then your chest, one hand cradling the back of your head as he finally kisses your mouth again, slow and messy.

“You still gonna let me pick the movie?” he murmurs against your lips.

You laugh, eyes half-lidded. “That depends…”

“On?”

“Do I get to ride you next?”

The smirk that curls across his face is pure sin.

“Garage door’s locked,” he says. “Bike can wait.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was grabbing your hips again, flipping you with a roughness that never felt unsafe. Just hot. Hot and raw and his. His rings dug into the sides of your thighs as he dragged you back onto his lap, chest rising under you like he’d just ran a fucking marathon.

You felt it—fuck, you felt everything. How hard he was underneath you. How warm his hands were even through the chill of the garage air. How his eyes kept dragging down your body like he was starving for it, like he didn’t just make you cum five minutes ago.

You grind against him—slow, teasing. He groans. Tilts his head back, and you swear his jaw clenched like he was begging God for mercy.

“You think you’re cute?” he mutters, low and sharp, hands tightening. “Riding me like that?”

You lean in, lips brushing his, voice syrupy sweet.

“I know I’m cute.”

He growls—actually growls—and before you can laugh, he’s bucking his hips up hard, cock pressing right up into the heat between your legs even through both layers. You gasp, hands on his shoulders, and he smirks—cocky, smug, tongue running over his bottom lip like a fucking menace.

“You’re soaked,” he whispers, rubbing you through your panties. “Dripping for it. You gonna ride me just like this, baby?”

You nod. Eyes half-lidded. Fingers dragging up his chest until you’re tugging at the collar of his jacket.

“You gonna let me?” you murmur.

He lifts his hips again, cock straining against his jeans, and his voice drops even lower.

“I’m gonna let you do whatever you want to me.”

You don’t waste time.

You slide your panties to the side. He fumbles with his zipper, cock springing free—and fuck, you never get used to the size of him. Always thick. Always heavy. Always perfect. Your hand wraps around him, and he twitches, jaw clenched, throat bobbing as you stroke him once, twice—just to watch him fall apart.

“Fuck—ride me. Please.”

It’s the please that does it.

You sink down onto him in one slow, slick, aching stretch. His breath leaves him in a hiss. His hands fly to your waist. And when you're fully seated—when he's buried inside you, full and throbbing and so fucking deep—you both just sit there for a second, staring at each other like you can’t believe how good it feels.

“Holy shit,” he mutters. “Every time. You ruin me every fucking time.”

You move.

Slow at first—rolling your hips, grinding down just to hear him groan. Your hands find his shoulders again, digging into leather as you start to fuck yourself on him, building rhythm like it’s nothing. Like you own him. Because you do.

“Baby,” he moans, head falling back, grip bruising your waist now. “Shit—you look so good on me. Feel so good. Don’t stop, yeah?”

You don’t.

You ride him like you were born for it—hips snapping, thighs trembling, moans tumbling out your throat in little broken gasps. He’s a fucking wreck under you, muttering curses, his hands gripping so hard he might leave fingerprints. And he loves it. Loves how you take him. How you grind down and clench around him just right. How you keep moaning his name like it’s the only word you know.

“You close?” he pants, sweat beading at his temple. “Fuck, baby, tell me—”

“Cheol—‘m gonna cum—fuck—so close—”

He sits up. One hand to your lower back, the other sliding down to your clit again, rubbing fast, tight circles while he fucks up into you hard and deep.

“Cum on my cock, baby. Come on. Let me feel you.”

You do.

You fucking shatter.

Your orgasm rips through you like a wave of heat, moans caught in your throat as you cling to him, thighs clenching, body shaking. You don’t even realize you’re crying out his name until he’s whispering, “I got you, I got you, baby, I got you—fuck—”

Then he’s spilling inside you, groaning into your neck, hips stuttering as he cums deep, hot, full. You feel it—feel him. And it only makes you whimper again, still so full, still trembling from the high.

The two of you stay like that—foreheads pressed together, hearts racing.

Silence.

Just breathing.

Sweat. Soft skin. Cooling air.

He kisses you.

It’s not greedy this time. Just slow. Like thanks.

You pull back, dazed. “We’re disgusting.”

Seungcheol chuckles—softly. Like he’s actually relaxed for the first time all day.

“You love it,” he says.

You grin. “I really do.”

A second passes before Seungcheol speaks up again. “And don't ever call my baby a ‘cow’ again”

“THE BIKE ISN’T YOUR BABY!”

Once he pushes the door open, you watch as his shoulders completely sag now, relaxing at the sight of you sitting on your side of the bed all cozy and inviting, a book in your hands and looking ready to sleep. You look up, giving him that soft smile you only have for him, while he lets himself fall backwards into bed, his head next to your thigh, and lets out a loud groan because he has to be a little dramatic. That earns him a small laugh from you, and that finally gets him to smile, eyes closing as he relishes in the sound.

You can't bring yourself to scold him about the fact that he's still on his work clothes, so you let it slide this one time. "Hi."

"Hi, baby."

You put your book down on top of your bedside table, then reach over to brush a hand through the soft strands of his hair, smiling again as a sound akin to a purr comes from his throat when you scratch his scalp lovingly. He loves when you do that, he could fall asleep right there with you playing with his hair. "How was work?"

"Terrible." he doesn't miss a beat to answer flatly and you laugh. When you ask him why, he's answering, "You weren't there." making your heart do that treacherous leap it always does from his words.

"Did you have anything to eat? I can heat up dinner for you."

"It's okay baby," He begins while you watch him begin to undo the collar of his shirt, fingers curling around the fabric of his tie and pulling to loosen it, "I grabbed something already. Thank you." Then follows the clink of his belt buckle, opening the clasp before he unbuttons his pants, unzips them and raises his hips slightly so they slide down a little, sighing in relief after spending all day in them.

You know he's not even trying to, but to you he's just effortlessly attractive. The small actions have you unconsciously squirming again. Thankfully, he can't see you from his position.

"Tired?" you're smiling again, only for the fact of him being with you, still brushing your hand through his hair and watching his relaxed features, his long eyelashes fluttering every time you go to repeat the motion. He hums.

Then, without thinking things through, you're asking again with a voice too high pitched, tentative, "Too tired?" because now there's no way you're getting out of it.

One of his eyebrows quirks up, questioning, before he's squinting his eyes open. "Why'd you ask?"

"Nothing." It's too late to backtrack and you should know better already.

As if on cue, there come Seungcheol's next words as he sits up. "Baby, you know I hate it when you're not talking to me." They're dangerous, and they affect you every time, dark eyes seizing you up with calm authority.

"Cheol, you said it. You're tired." you say, further shying away.

Seungcheol catches the way you're squirming. He thinks back to how you sounded on the phone when he told you something at work had came up last minute and he'd have to stay until later, again, after he'd told you he'd be home early today. It's his fault, really. He's biting on his lip, noticing how your body reacts to him despite yourself. But you're making it difficult for no reason because you're not speaking up. If you did, he'd give you what you want.

He grabs your chin, firm, so you have no choice but to face him. Your gaze is still downcast before you gather the courage to meet his eyes, and then he can feel the way your face grow hot as a blush creeps up to your cheeks. "You know I'm never tired for you. Speak to me, baby. What is it?"

You're convinced now that you are pathetic when a whine almost escapes you. There's something about him, that forceful yet gentle way of his that gets you right where he wants you. "I thought we could- I was thinking you'd like it."

Seungcheol keeps his undivided attention on you, patiently waiting for you to finish. "Remember that conversation we had?… About trying something new? In bed?"

"Yeah. You told me you'd think about it." He nods, encouraging you to keep going.

"I'm ready to do it. I wanted- I wanted to surprise you."

It takes a moment for Seungcheol to process your words because you're sitting here in front of him all shy telling him you're ready for him to take you like that. His cock twitches, beginning to stir in his boxers briefs.

"Fuck." He breathes out, "You sure?"

You nod, but you're quick to correct yourself and speak up, "Yes."

"I don't want you to do it just to please me." He checks up one last time, "I want you to want it."

"I want to. Want to make you feel good."

And that's all he needs,

"Get on your hands and knees, baby."

He takes his time, humming appreciatively as you move to follow his command while he stands up, shrugs his suit jacket off, unclasping his watch from his wrist next before placing it on the nightstand. He opens one the drawers and closes it once he finds what he needs.

You feel the bed dip under his weight once he settles on his knees behind you and you squirm, pushing your hips back to his front. It's a slip up on your part, showing your impatience, but he lets you get away with it. And he's the one rolling his hips against your behind, just the feeling of his hard on through your clothes making you bite down on your lip in a failed attempt to hold back a whine. He keeps up with his tantalizing movements, enjoying the way they undo you, and you're already so lost in them you do whine now once he stops to push those flimsy sleeping shorts of yours down. There's a damp spot already in them from your ruined panties. "You know how much I love these. Put them on for me?"

"Yes." your answer comes followed by a whimper when he starts brushing his thick fingers over your clothed core.

"And what? You weren't going to say anything and go to bed all needy like this?" He tuts disapprovingly. You're not sure if he means it for you or for himself because of what he says next, "What would that say about me?" He can't have you or anyone else for that matter believing he doesn't take care of you.

He's pulling your panties down too, watches as they stick to your cunt before they're out of the way, "Made my baby wait when she needed me." pressing his knees to the side of yours for you to spread your legs open further.

Then Seungcheol's cursing as he stares, eyes blown wide. He knows that next time they ask him to stay back he'd tell everyone to fuck off. There snug between your asscheeks rests the jeweled base of a cute little plug stretching your little tight hole. Your puffy lips are shiny, sticking together with your slick and when you clench around nothing, he watches as the plug bobs slightly. "Look at you." your face burns, feeling so exposed while his big hands spread your cheeks further, eyeing you so intensely. "I'm here now, baby. I'll make it feel good."

One of his hands then moves to brush over your back, pressing down slightly making you arch for him so you're face down, ass up. There's some movement behind you as he reaches for something he placed by your side on the bed, the cap of a bottle popping open, before you feel the cool liquid hit your skin, sliding down between your asscheeks.

He begins to pull on the little plug slowly before slipping it back in. The lube causes it to make a filthy, squelching noise every time he repeats the motion, and you become acutely aware of how empty your pussy feels, slick oozing from your weeping hole just from the stimulation in your asshole and dripping onto the bedsheets. "So pretty" Seungcheol says, entranced by how it tries to suck it back in every time he tries to pull it out. "How was it, baby?"

You can barely answer him, high pitched whines are coming non stop from your mouth, a line of drool spilling down from the corner of your lips onto the bed.

Honestly, you'd been surprised the first time he brought the topic up. You didn't take him to be into it. Of course you'd listened to him. He's your partner, and him being comfortable with you to voice the things he liked and wanted to try with you made you so happy. However, you weren't so sure about this one. You trusted him, felt safe with him, so instead of shutting him down completely you'd told him you'd think about it. Evidently now, you decided to give it a try in the end.

Earlier during the evening while you got ready, you felt this mix of nerves and excitement. Naturally, at first it had felt weird, the foreign sensation it brought to have something going into your tight hole. But the more you relaxed, the more you thought about his cock stretching you open instead, you could feel yourself growing wetter.

A stinging feeling on your skin brought you out of your thoughts. Seungcheol's palm came down hard to strike your ass, reminding you that he was speaking to you. You whimpered as he kneaded the reddening flesh soothingly afterwards. "Felt so good. Mm! Feels so much better now that it's you."

"Yeah? You like it? Like it when I play with your little tight hole?"

The next slap makes contact with your pussy making you yelp at the unexpected action. "Hear how wet you're getting just from me playing with your ass?"

You can in fact hear it when he brings his hand back down, easing the sting when he moves his hand from side to side to spread around the wet mess your pussy's making. "Filthy girl."

You whine in protest once he stops, but his hands on your inner thighs keep you in place for him to lean down. He's spitting on your drooling cunt before he licks a long, languid stripe up your slit. "Oh my God!" you scream his name when he begins to eat you out from the back.

Your thighs shake, and you can't bring yourself to feel mortified about the loud, slurping sounds he's making while he keeps mouthing sloppily at your cunt covering it in his spit. Instead, you're pushing back onto his face so he stays buried there. Seungcheol doesn't seem to mind, muffled moans vibrating against you. He's always known how to work you up to satiate your needs, but if you knew how he'd be like by you agreeing to this you would've done so much more sooner. It's like something in him snapped. Like he means to ruin you completely tonight.

Seungcheol pulls away, going back to tease your tight hole with the plug after getting a taste. He watches as your greedy cunt clenches pitifully around nothing but he waits; he knows it won't take long until you're begging for it. He snakes a hand around your front, starting to draw rough circles on your clit. "Think you can cum just like this?"

You all but sob. It feels like too much but not enough at the same time. You shake your head, "Need you inside me. Please fuck me, Cheollie."

He smiles, pleased and a little taunting once he notices you squirming again at the rustle of fabric while he pushes his pants and underwear down. His cock springs free, heavy and leaking, and he groans when he closes his hand around it giving it a few wet strokes. He catches you looking back at him from over your shoulder, whining at the sight of him touching himself with his lip caught between his teeth and half lidded eyes. You wiggle your ass at him, trying to urge him on to give you what you want but he ignores you; it's on his timing, not yours.

Finally, when the flushed, blunt tip is pressing into your entrance all thought leaves your mind. Your mouth opens, tongue lolling out and eyes crossing in a lewd expression. He stares between your face and where he feels his cock starting to stretch you open, how your tight pussy spasms trying to suck him in. It drags deliciously against your walls, hitting all the right spots. Usually, he takes his time to prep you for him, for his size, but right now you're both too desperate to go through it properly. Still, you're so wet he pushes in in one smooth thrust. He curses, "You're drenching me."

Because you're cumming, mouth open in a silent moan as your body shudders. He realizes what's happening, screwing his eyes shut at how your pussy squeezes him, fluttering rhythmically. "Fuck, you were that desperate to cum? Is this what you needed? Needed to be full of a hard cock?"

And he doesn't fight it once he's cumming too, letting out a throaty, drawn out groan from the way you're milking him, hips moving in a slow grind against your ass, not wanting to leave your warmth as he empties his heavy balls releasing a big, hot load of his cum inside you. He sighs, satisfied. "Really needed that, baby."

You don't answer, or can't, a pleasant buzz humming lowly through your limbs from your release. You whimper once he pulls out so soon again. Thick globs of his hot cum follow his cock dribbling out of your hole and down to your panties that are still pushed down your legs, onto the bed, dripping down your thighs.

But he doesn't leave you empty for long. He's still hard, twitching for the attention your pussy's going to give him. Without warning, he's guiding his cock back inside you. Once the tip nudges your entrance, he watches the sloppy ring of his cum that begins to form around him, seeping out from your already used cunt to make room for him. He slides all the way in, then he's pulling back out completely before doing so again, harder this time. Your surprised gasp turns into moans as he repeats the motion one more time before he starts giving you the fucking you deserve.

"You wanted my cock, right? So now you take it." He says between breaths. Big hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back to meet each of his hard thrusts.

"Yes!" you keen, "Want you. Want my pussy full of your big cock, want your cum." Your voice comes out airy, sentences clipped as your body jostles with the force of his cock plunging into you. You've got his dick wet, shiny with the excess of your slick and his cum leaking around him before it disappears back into you, some of it spraying down into the sheets. The squelching sounds are purely obscene filling the room along the smacking of his hips against your asscheeks.

"This was more for you, wasn't it? Wanted me to use all your holes, hm?" And his fingers come to push down on the plug keeping your ass open.

You can feel your orgasm building so fast you fear you might pass out. You wouldn't be able to stay upright anymore if it wasn't for Seungcheol's bruising grip, hands pressing down on your stomach. Your thighs are trembling, long since your arms gave up, now having your face mushed into the pillows. However, you're still trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock because you can't get enough. His hands are feeling you up everywhere when he leans over your body, mapping your waist, sneaking under your tee shirt to cup your tits.

Then his thrusts become more desperate at the telltale signs of you cumming, picking up their pace before his hips stutter, movements rigid as he slams into you a couple more times with force, and stilling deep inside as he stuffs you full of his cum for the second time. "Fuck. Love this pretty pussy so much."

His chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't make it to move right away, hands massaging your sides tenderly.

"So messy." Is what he says once he does, strings of your slick connecting from his cock to your abused cunt. You both turned into a needy, desperate, sweaty mess. You didn't even finish undressing, the bottom of his white button up shirt damp with your release, sticking to his skin, as well as the upper half of his work pants that are still hugging his thighs, the black fabric having turned even darker. Droplets of sweat roll from his hairline down his temple, his face feels sticky with remnants of you slick from when he'd buried his face between your thighs, his lips swollen from biting down on them.

And you? You're completely satiated now, eyes closed while tiny hums and whimpers break the silence, with a slight twitch of your body as you feel more of his warm cum dribbling from your spasming pussy, coating your puffy lips. Messy. Just how he likes it.

"We can stop for tonight, baby." Seungcheol speaks up after a moment, hands still tracing your body with soft caresses before he guides you to lie down in bed, pulling your soiled underwear the rest of the way down your legs. He doesn't want to make you go through too much at once.

You shake your head, teeth gnawing at your lip as you look up at him, "I want to do it." you repeat your words from before. "If you want to. I can take it."

Do you even know what you're doing to him? Of course he wants to. "You're really sure?"

"Yeah." You move up to kneel on the bed and nudge him softly so he sits at the edge of it, then smile at him. "But I should clean you up first."

You're climbing off the bed to kneel in front of him, being a little clumsy as you do since your legs still feel like jelly. Seungcheol speaks up, telling you to be careful as he stares down at you affectionately; you're the same, staring up at him like he holds the entire world for you, hands on your thighs. "Such a good girl for me." One of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing your plump lips. You revel in his praise taking his finger into your mouth and sucking. He groans.

"Don't tease." You release his finger from your mouth with a pop and smile but you obey, letting him guide your face towards his cock.

He keeps his hand on your head, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail while you rest your hands on his thighs. Mouth open wide, you take his cock, sitting heavy on your tongue. Your pretty lips stretch to the limit around his girth as he slowly pushes in until he hits the back of your throat,your face nuzzled against his pelvis. Your lashes begin to dampen as tears gather in your eyes. He gives you a moment before he starts guiding your movements pushing his cock in and out of your mouth.

You can't help but think of the picture you're painting: Seungcheol with his head thrown back letting out those deep groans with your hair gathered in his hand, using it to pull your mouth up and down his cock. Meanwhile you're kneeling between this thick thighs, his cock hanging out of his pants as he fucks your face. The fact that you're wearing only one of his tee shirts, and with the way you're leaning forwards it rides up the curve of your ass. The sticky mess he left between your legs peeking from below it. You're his and he's making sure to claim you once again.

You moan around his length as he keeps bullying it down your throat, he's gotten so lost in it he's taken a rougher pace. When he catches himself, he slows to a stop, cursing while looking down at your pretty face streaked with tears. "Fuck, baby. I'm sorry. You okay?" he wipes them away, then at your spit covered lips.

You nod taking the moment to catch your breath before you let out a raspy, "I'm okay." sending him a smile and brushing your hands over his clothed thighs soothingly to reassure him that you really are.

You wrap one of your hands around his cock as best as you can; the tips of your fingers don't touch. He hisses as you begin to tug at it, your movements just how he likes it, steady and with a slight twist of your wrist as it comes up, thumb brushing the angry, leaking tip. That's before you let the spit you've gathered in your mouth drip down onto it and you take it back into your mouth. Well, it's not sure if you mean to clean him up or make a further mess out of him. "Fucking hell." he groans through his teeth, trying not to lose himself again to the feeling of it and buck his hips up. "You're so good at this. That pretty mouth of yours was made to suck my cock, hm?"

Your answer comes as another moan, in the way you rub your thighs together. Taking him down your throat and swallowing, when you come up again to breathe, you tell him, "Want you to cum in my mouth, Cheollie." sticking your tongue out, tapping the tip of his cock against it while your hand keeps working around him.

"Yeah? That's what you want?" He pants, smirking down at you, eyes half lidded, "You'll be a good girl and swallow it?"

"I'm your good girl." you nod.

"That's right. Open up, baby" You do as he says, hand continuing to stroke him. He puckers his lips, his spit falling into your awaiting mouth. He groans, watching you, "Now I'm going to cum down your throat."

You let him guide you again, holding you in place as he thrusts a few more times into your mouth before he stills, his cock throbbing and moans falling from his lips as he cums, your bruised throat working around him to swallow every last drop.

He praises and hums in approval when you pull away and open your mouth to show him. Staying there, your head now resting on his thigh, his hand carding through your hair while you both catch your breaths.

"You ready baby?"

You nod, feeling your nerves return just slightly because you're really doing this now. "Yes."

Seungcheol smiles at you softly, offering his hands for you to take and helps you climb back into bed. You position yourself on your knees and bending down on your forearms, arching prettily for him again.

"You're comfortable like this?" He makes sure to ask again even as he comes to stand behind you, big hands kneading the supple skin. Truly, this is how he pictured it; taking you from the back, your round ass bouncing with his every thrust, but he wants you to enjoy it too. So he doesn't make a move until you voice that you are.

You gasp when you feel him pull on the plug to take it off, or so you think because he thrusts it back in, teasing you again like he couldn't help himself, stopping when you whine his name.

"Try to relax for me, okay?" It's his way to let you know. He grabs the bottle of lube again, squirts a generous amount and spreads it around you puckered hole, before covering his already spit covered cock in some. Then he starts to push in, slowly.

Immediately, you feel the burning stretch that can only come from taking him, what the plug wasn't able to do. Seungcheol's jaw goes slack, eyes screwed shut, "Fuck, fu- It's so tight."

You're fisting the sheets in your hands so tightly, and he can only think of describing the sounds you're making like exactly what's happening, like you're letting him fuck your ass. His eyes roll back into his skull.

"It hurts." you whine, tears pricking in your eyes, squeezing them shut.

"Fuck," he pants, stilling, his breaths already picking up "Okay baby, we're stopping-"

"No!" you whimper, "It feels-" It feels weird and it hurts but that's not all of it. "You're so big- I don't think it fits."

"You don't have to take all of it." He soothes, beginning to pull out, thrusting slowly, shallowly, just a little more than his tip for you to get used to it. "Just like that, yeah?" He keeps going, your smalls sobs subsiding and being replaced by your sighs and moans, "Feels better?"

You can't see it, but you can hear it in his voice, feel it in the way his fingertips are digging into your hips, the skin around them turning white like he's holding on for his life. He's wrecked. Because you're squeezing his cock so tight he can barely breathe but it feels so good, and the sounds you're making are driving him crazy. It had taken him all of his efforts just to not cum the moment he was inside.

You get lost in the feeling as pain dissolves into pleasure, beginning to push back to meet his thrusts eagerly and Seungcheol's so out of it he fails to stop you before you're taking all of his cock into your little tight hole.

A sound like a choked moan comes from Seungcheol's throat, his abs tensing. He's inadvertently leaning forward and pressing his body into yours. But the moan you let out he was sure it belonged to an adult tape. At this point he's somehow holding both you and himself upright, your upper body slumping further into the mattress. "Good God- It's okay, baby. Fuck," he heaves out only to clench his teeth with another groan, "See? It fits."

"You're doing so good." He keeps praising, telling you reassuring words. He watches the way you're squeezing his girth as he begins to pull out, almost all the way out before he slowly thrusts back in deep, a sticky sound following the action. You cry out, the sound muffled by the sheets, "You're taking all of it."

He keeps going at a slow pace, the room filled with the filthy noises of him filling you up, his hips smacking against your asscheeks, the warmth emanating from his body pressed to the back of your legs, and eventually, your needy moans as you get used to the feeling of him stretching your tight little ass.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise and so it catches Seungcheol when you're gushing into the sheets. "Did you just-? Fuck!" Your sopping pussy pulsates, pathetically empty, while your tight hole squeezes Seungcheol's cock. He lets out another of those pretty moans, loud, before he looses any bit of restraint he has left, replaced by a sense of urgency, "I need to move, baby- I need-" It's the warning you get then he's snapping his hips roughly, fucking into you harder. Your moans turn louder, clipped before you lose the ability to make any noise. "I'm going to cum. Fuck, gonna cum-"

With one deep, final thrust, Seungcheol's orgasm crashes down hard on him, stilling as his cock throbs and you milk him dry.

He's still catching his breath when he pulls out, leaving your tight hole gaping with his cum bubbling out of it and dripping down. You both collapse into bed.

Seungcheol's chuckles fill the air, sounding a little delirious after the intensity of it all. Then he's reaching for you, gently wrapping his arms around you and leaving kisses at the top of your head. "How are you feeling, baby?"

Your breaths are still coming a little quick, and you're spent, eyelids drooping but you still lean back enough to see him , "Sore." you complain, "But I… I liked it. Was it like you thought about?" you add shyly.

A tired smile makes way on his face, still adorned with a blush, "Better. You were perfect." He leaves another kiss on your temple. "Thank you for tonight." He's happy that you trusted him, that you also got pleasure from wanting to make him feel good.

Now, you're in dire need of cleaning up. Seungcheol makes it to move both of you to get up. You let out a pained whine, making him immediately still and look down at you with concern, "Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah just," you hiss as you move slowly and he's there ready to help you. "I don't think I'd be able to sit or walk straight for a few days."

"Oh." Then, because he can't help himself, he's saying with a bashful smile, "Yeah, you're probably going to walk like you had something up your ass."

You smack his chest while he laughs, dodging another smack and pressing a quick kiss to your lips instead, before he leaves to get the shower running so he can come back for you and help you clean up. Later he can cuddle with you until you both fall asleep after all the work you got done.

Getting off work early, especially on a beautiful summer afternoon, is a rarity with your busy schedule, but this Friday afternoon, the stars have aligned. No evening meetings, all reports finished early, your presentation for the middle of next week already complete. You thank the universe as you clock out at 2PM, a whopping 3 hours earlier than you usually would, and find your way to the city streets to venture back to your apartment for the weekend. 

When you enter your apartment, you’re met with nothing but quiet. You hang your work bag on the hook by the door, and drop your keys into the catch-all on your recently thrifted accent table in your entryway. You smile to yourself thinking about your roommate cursing at you when you asked him to carry it up all two flights of stairs when you brought it home. 

“Cheol?” You call out, wondering if your best friend is still working, or if he’s stepped out for an errand. 

You find your shared kitchen and living room to be empty, so you push past, down the hallway toward your roommate's bedroom, where his work-from-home office setup resides. He’s probably still clocked in, so you’ll say a quick hello before you get settled for the evening. 

Your pace slows slightly as you approach his cracked bedroom door, your ears straining to make out what exactly you’re hearing. As you inch closer, you hear soft grunts and shallow breaths. 

Stopping dead in your tracks, you immediately wonder if you should turn around before you see something you shouldn’t. Warmth creeps up your spine at the sounds he’s making, and you take a hesitant step forward. Would you find him sprawled out across his bed, propped up on his pillows, taking advantage of being home alone? God knows you do it when he’s gone. You wonder if he’s ever thought about finding you in the same state, if he’s thought about interrupting you, replacing your fingers with his own–

The clanking of weights feels like a bucket of cold water dumped over your head, bringing you back to the present moment. Of course he’s just working out, y/n, get your head out of the gutter.   

You peek through the crack in the door, carefully and quietly. He’s facing away from you, sitting on his weight bench. He’s adding another weight to his already stacked dumbbell, his precious noise cancelling headphones covering his ears. His sweat-slicked hair peeks out over his nape from his favorite baseball hat. The muscles of his bare shoulders dance beneath his taught skin as he adjusts his weights. Warmth spreads across your cheeks, travelling deep to your core at the sight of his strong back. He sits up straight, rolling his shoulders before lifting his dumbbell up over his head to start another set. 

You hate seeing him working out. Not because you actually hate it, but because you hate seeing him sweaty, breathing heavy, shirtless… You find yourself regularly reciting “he’s your best friend, he’s your roommate, cut it out,” into your bathroom mirror. Thankfully his workouts are typically confined to his bedroom, so you only catch a glimpse when you walk by his open bedroom door at just the right moment. 

You tiptoe backwards, padding back toward the front door. You open it again, closing it harder this time, jiggling your keys loudly in the catch-all. 

“Cheol, I’m home!” You call out, making sure your voice is louder than last time. A startled sound comes from down the hallway, and you hear his dumbbell clank onto the floor. 

“In here!” He sounds out of breath as he calls to you, “you’re home early, easy day?” 

“Yeah,” you reply as you walk back down the hallway, mentally preparing yourself to see him again, “finished everything by lunch and was over my hours for the week, so I figured I’d just come home and start my weekend early.” 

“Me too,” he says a little softer, sensing you’re almost to his room. You suck in one last deep breath before composing yourself, pushing through his bedroom door. 

He fully comes into view, headphones discarded on his bed, black tank top being pulled over his torso. You catch one last look at his muscular back before his skin disappears beneath the fabric, and he turns around to face you. “I don’t have any plans this weekend other than lunch with Hannie tomorrow, do you wanna order in and start another re-watch of Business Proposal tonight?” He takes his hat off to card his fingers through his damp locks, tossing it on his bed next to his headphones.

Your eyes snap to his, doing your best to pretend you weren’t just ogling at his body. His hair is slick, his cheeks slightly flushed, his bottom lip red from his biting on it – a habit you noticed the first time you saw him lifting weights. 

“That sounds incredible, yes, please,” you take a few steps over to his bed to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I just need to shower and call Yunji to double check what time our plans are tomorrow, then I’m all yours.” Your other best friend will kill you if you miss your coffee date tomorrow morning. 

“Perfect,” Seungcheol flashes you a devastating  dimpled grin before turning his attention back to his weights, preparing to put everything away for his next workout. 

“Gimme,” you gesture to the dumbbell in his hand. He has multiple weights stacked on either side, but he’s holding it like it’s nothing. 

“This?” His eyebrows raise and the corner of his mouth quirks up. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you try to lift it,” he sets it on the floor next to his bench. 

“I’m not an idiot, Cheol,” you stand up, walking over to the bench, throwing one leg over before sitting down. “I just wanna try,” reaching down, you wrap your fingers around the warmed metal. You try to lift it, you really do, but you get it maybe three inches off of the ground before dropping it back down on the floor. 

“Oh my god, ow,” you laugh, and he laughs right along with you. 

“What did I tell you?” He picks it up again effortlessly, bringing it to the rack in his closet where he stores all of his weights. 

“How can you just lift that like it’s nothing?” You shake out your arm, feeling slightly embarrassed for thinking you might actually be able to pick it up like he does.

“I bench, like, 4 times that, y/n, it’s just what I’m used to,” he pats your head as he walks past you, missing the way you stick your tongue out at him. Looking at the dumbbell sitting on his closet floor, you do the math in your head… 

“That’s more than I weigh, Cheol, there’s no way.” 

“Are you suggesting I can’t lift you?” He spins around to face you, planting his hands on his hips, looking at you in disbelief, his thick eyebrows shot up his forehead. 

“Is that such an outrageous thing to suggest? I’m not exactly skinny.” You fold your arms over your stomach, always hating when attention is brought to your body, even though you did it to yourself this time. 

He huffs out a laugh, taking a few steps closer to where you’re sitting on his bed. “Get up,” his voice drops lower with his command, making your ears turn red. 

“W-Why?” You tilt your head at him, suspicion and a hint of anticipation lacing your tone. He has to be joking. 

“So I can prove you wrong.” The sureness in his voice makes you dizzy. He holds out a hand for you and you hesitantly take it, letting him help you up. Okay, not joking. 

“There’s no way I’m wrong, be serious.” You try to reason with him but any thoughts are drowned out by the sound of your heart pounding in your chest. You’ve had plenty of physical contact with him over your many years of living together, but he’s never had complete control over your body like he’s suggesting he could. Just the thought of it causes your breathing to stagger. 

“Oh, shut up and come here,” he closes the distance between you, and you rest your hands on his shoulders as he dips down to wrap his strong arms around your hips. You gasp as he easily lifts you, snaking your arms around his neck to brace yourself, his fingers splaying wide under your ass to support you. Your legs instinctively spread to wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back. 

So many points of contact between your body and his, and each one is searing. Once you’re settled in his grasp, you make the mistake of looking down at him. His grip tightens under you as your eyes meet, your shared heaving breaths filling the silence in his bedroom. You swear you catch his eyes darting to your lips for a moment. Heat courses through your veins, and you wonder if he feels it too. You’re suddenly too aware of the way your clothed center is resting against his strong stomach.

“Okay, you made your point,” your voice sounds unfamiliar, breathless and deep. You have to get out of here before you do something friendship-ruining. 

“Right,” he whispers back, his tone just as foreign as your own. Despite his agreeing with you, his hold on your body doesn’t falter. Neither do your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips are so close to yours, you find yourself wondering what they taste like. A car horn blaring outside his window shatters the moment. 

“I have to call Yunji,” 

“I have to call Hannie,” 

Almost in unison, you both snap yourselves out of it, Seungcheol gently setting you back on the floor, both of you stepping back to put some space between you. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on the exposed bit of your belly before you adjust your shirt, not even realizing it had slipped up when he picked you up.

“Text me what you want for dinner–” you try to speak,

“Let me know what I should order–” he does too. 

You speak over each other, both trying to change the subject. A beat of silence.

“We could get Thai from the place down the street–” you start,

“I hear they have really good drunken noodles,” he interrupts.

You snap your mouth shut, the air in his room suddenly feeling suffocating. 

“Let’s do Thai. Let me know what you want and I’ll order after I talk to Jeonghan.” His voice comes out impossibly soft– if he’s feeling any of whatever the hell you’re feeling, he’s doing a damn good job at hiding it. Embarrassment suddenly creeps up, and you need to get out of this room. 

“Yeah, for sure, I will,” you practically run out of his bedroom before you finish your sentence, leaving him standing all alone, trying to collect his thoughts about what the hell just happened. 

Your phone call with Yunji is brief, your best friend picking up on your energy, but you can’t get into it with Seungcheol down the hallway. You promise to give her all the details in the morning, saying a quick goodbye and taking a very cold shower before texting your roommate, asking him to order you the drunken noodles. 

You spend the rest of your evening watching your favorite drama in a slightly uncomfortable silence with Seungcheol, avoiding eye contact with him and keeping conversation to a minimum. Your avoidance makes you miss the softness in his eyes while he watches you eat your noodles, cutely wrapped in a blanket on the couch. 

“Are they as good as I heard they are?” He comments after the first episode ends. You finally look at him, taking in his bare face and relaxed state. Something flutters deep in your stomach.

“Mhm,” you smirk at him, your mouth full. You swallow, clearing your throat before trying to speak again. “So good, thanks for the recommendation, Cheolie.” His ears turn the slightest bit red, his dimples making an appearance as he grins back at you.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Yunji is rubbing her temples across the table from you at your go-to cafe. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “He just… said he could lift you? And you let him? And now it’s weird?” 

You let out an exasperated sigh at her retelling of the events, realizing how silly it sounds. “Yeah? I guess I kind of started it. He said what he benches, I said it was more than what I weigh and that there’s no way, and he said I was suggesting he couldn’t lift me. So he told me to get up, and he just… did it.” Your mind flashes back to his deep command, and your stomach does a backflip.

“Oh you absolutely started it, babe, what did you think was gonna happen? You know how that boy is with his pride,” she picks up her latte, taking a small sip before continuing. “So, what? Last night was awkward?” 

“I don’t know, kind of?” You ponder for a moment, picking at the pastry flaking off of your croissant. “He ordered us dinner and we watched Business Proposal for a few hours like we always do. It just felt different. It was awkward, but it wasn’t? I don’t know.” 

“Well… How did he pick you up?” She smirks at you the moment she catches your cheeks starting to blush. “Oh my god, it was hot, wasn’t it?” 

“Don’t tease me!” You put your face in your hands, trying to cool your warming skin. 

“It was, wasn’t it?! Oh my god, spill. Now.” She props her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her fists, giving you all of her attention. 

“Okay, okay, um,” you start, already stuttering over your nerves. “He kind of… picked me up with his hands on my ass, and I … wrapped my legs around him?” You slap your hand over your mouth the second the words come out. 

“No wonder it’s awkward, babe, he wants to fuck you!” Yunji giggles as you throw a crumpled up napkin at her, shushing her as a server walks by, trying to keep her vulgarity quiet. 

“He does not! Don’t be ridiculous,” you whisper.

“Well, do you want to fuck him?” She questions you, a little quieter this time, putting you on the spot. 

“I don’t know! It was just. I don’t know, I felt something, yanno? But he’s my best friend, and I just –”

“And you’ve lived together for years now with no romantic interests on either side, doesn’t that tell you anything?” She interrupts you abruptly, crossing her arms at you. “You’ve had dates, but nothing’s stuck. Do you know why?” 

You shake your head at her, not wanting to hear what she’s about to say. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t stop her. 

“You want him. And he wants you. Anyone outside of your relationship can see that. Why aren’t you letting yourself try something that could make you both really happy?” She lets her words hang in the silence between you for a moment before tilting her head to exaggerate her question. 

“You don’t know that,” you shake your head again, “that he wants me. Why would he?” 

“How much time do you have?” A smile cracks through her concerned features. “You’ve been best friends since high school, you’ve lived together since college, he does anything and everything for you!” You must not be hiding the doubt in your expression, because she continues. “Y/n, he thinks you hung the moon in the sky. You’re hot, he’s hot,” you raise your eyebrows at her and she giggles. “Sorry! I’m just saying, you two would be really special together.” She reaches for your hand across the table, rubbing her thumb back and forth across your knuckles. The charm on her thumb nail sparkles under the warm cafe lights.

“He’s out of my league, Yunji,” you squeeze her hand. “If he didn’t think so, he’d have made a move by now,” 

“Hey, he absolutely is not out of your league,” she interrupts you. “And who knows what’s holding him back? Maybe he thinks the same about you,” she squeezes your hand before releasing it to grab her drink. You mimic her, taking a long sip of your latte while you think. 

“I don’t know, I guess it’s possible.” You wonder if her (loving) ramblings have any truth to them. You think back to a movie night months ago, you and Seungcheol sat right next to each other on the couch after sharing a bowl of popcorn. You had fallen asleep toward the end of the movie, slumped back in the cushions. You could’ve sworn, after he gently covered you with a blanket, he whispered, “beautiful,” before disappearing to his bedroom for the night. The following morning you’d thought it might’ve been a dream, but now you aren’t so sure.

“What’re you thinking about, babe?” Yunji’s soft voice brings you back to the present moment. 

“Just–” you hesitate to share your memory with her, feeling too embarrassed to say it out loud. “Just trying to figure out where to go from here,” you recover. 

“I think you should just talk to him, y/n,” your friend encourages you. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know, I ruin our friendship?” You laugh as you throw a hand up, your mind always going to the worst case scenario even when it isn’t likely. You know if he doesn’t feel the same he’ll let you down easily, you’ll get past it, and your friendship will be fine. 

“Yeah, by turning it into a relationship,” she teases. “Sounds perfect, ruin it.” You laugh.

“I’ll think about it. He was gone when I left this morning so maybe I’ll try to read the vibes when I see him later.” Your stomach flips at the thought of seeing him, and the feeling only worsens when you try to formulate a single thing to say to him. 

“You got this. I’ll be waiting with bated breath for updates.” She winks.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You make it to Thursday without seeing Seungcheol. At this point you’re convinced he’s flat out avoiding you, staying in his room until you leave for work, and going out before you get home, not returning until you’ve turned in for the night. You almost crossed paths Monday morning when you heard him rustling around in the kitchen, but he rushed back into his room as soon as you opened your bedroom door. You decide you’ve had enough, especially after a particularly awful day at work, and text your best friend. It’s almost the weekend, it’s summer, and you need to go out. 

y/n: i need a drink. asap. 

yunji: still haven’t seen him?

y/n: drink now, questions later. 

yunji: yes ma’am, on my way

You throw on your favorite sage green sun dress, ignoring the nagging in your brain telling you to wear something that covers your body a little more. After some light makeup and half assed styling of your hair, twenty minutes later, you and Yunji are sitting in your favorite booth at Lotus, your go-to bar that happens to be just down the block from your apartment. The music is loud, and the purple and red lights are dancing across the bar goers and servers, their chatter creating a hum of lively noise. Yunji cracks open your bottle of soju, pouring a glass for the both of you. You fill her in on your lack of interaction with Seungcheol this week, and she does her best to talk you off the ledge. 

“I just don’t understand,” you finish the last of your first bottle of soju as Yunji opens a second. “He’s never just… not spoken to me for this long, even when we’ve been in an argument.” She nods in understanding, topping off your glasses again. “I feel like he’s avoiding me.” 

“Maybe he just needed time to think,” she assures you. Her eyes catch on something behind her, her brows raising, then lowering into an angry crease. “We might’ve just figured out where he’s been going every night, though.” 

You whirl around without any concern for being subtle, and see Seungcheol standing in the entryway, dressed in dark wash jeans and a form-fitting black t-shirt, the sleeves hugging his biceps, a thin gold chain hanging around his neck. His hair looks freshly washed, styled to expose his forehead, his rosy cheeks even more red under the dancing lights of the bar. His eyes lock on yours, your breath catching as an unreadable emotion washes over his face. His mouth parts like he’s about to speak, but Jeonghan grabs his wrist and pulls him straight to the bar. Your best friend does a double take, somewhat of an apologetic expression taking over as his friend drags him away from you. You feel pathetic watching him go. 

“Go talk to him,” Yunji’s voice draws you back. 

“Absolutely not,” you down your drink, slamming the little glass down on the table. “He can come to me, since he’s the one who’s been avoiding me all week.” The alcohol burns your throat. Just the alcohol, not the tears you’re fighting.

“Y/n…” Yunji tries to reason with you, but you stop her. 

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore, can we just– enjoy our night please?” Your voice nearly cracks on your last word as you will away the burning sensation creeping across the bridge of your nose. 

Yunji’s eyes soften. “Of course we can, babe.” She clears her throat. “You will never believe what happened at work today…” She dives into a story about her coworker whom she can’t stand, and you’re grateful for the distraction. 

It’s devastatingly short-lived though, when Jeonghan pulls Seungcheol to a booth directly in your line of sight twenty minutes later. He sits down facing you, of fucking course, laughing at something Jeonghan said. At least he’s having fun. He takes a sip of his beer, his tongue darting out to lick the liquid from his bottom lip as he sets down the bottle. 

His eyes meet yours, and he lets them linger briefly before looking away. 

Ouch.

This is your bar. You come here together all the time. Why does it suddenly feel like he’s so far away from you when he’s right here in the same room? Why does it feel like laughing together in this same booth is a memory that is years behind you? And why can’t he look at you without anything but sorrow and apology in his eyes? 

“Earth to y/n?” Yunji pries. 

“Sorry,” you clear your throat. You realize she’s been speaking to you while you stare at Cheol, lost in your own thoughts. She turns to look, eyes rolling as she turns back to you. “Do you want me to go kick him?” 

“No,” you sigh, finally looking away from him. “If he doesn’t approach me by the end of the night, I’ll do that myself.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, and Yunji notices.

“Maybe he has a good reason.” 

“Hopefully,” you shrug, forcing the corner of your mouth up into a smirk. “I’ll get it out of him eventually.” 

“Before or after you have hot make up sex?” She bites her lip and wiggles her shoulders at you. 

“Oh my god, stop it!” You laugh, tapping your glass against the table. Yunji slides the bottle over to you. “We will not be doing that anytime soon, if ever.” 

“I’m just teasing,” she winks, laughing along with you. 

You avoid looking at your roommate for the next hour, though his presence is begging for you to acknowledge it. You feel so drawn to him, especially after sharing two bottles of soju with Yunji. Warmth swims through you every time you think about him, but you force your attention to remain on your friend across the table. 

A beautiful woman draws you from your conversation, her thin frame blowing by your table, leaving a floral scent in the air behind her. Her hips sway as she walks, directly over to… Seungcheol’s table. She’s absolutely breathtaking. Fuck.

Your heart stops in your chest as she rests a hand on his shoulder, her slender fingers brushing over the collar of his shirt. He looks up at her with a bright smile, one that you haven’t seen in a week, as this mystery woman talks to Jeonghan.

Heat creeps up your neck, and your hearing goes a bit fuzzy. Is this why he’s been avoiding you? To come hang out with some girl at your bar? Your ears are burning, and the alcohol sitting in your stomach turns sour. You can’t sit here and watch this. 

“I’m sorry girl, I don’t feel good, I think I’m gonna head home,” you avoid Yunji’s eyes as you grab your purse, throwing a few bills on the table to cover your half of the drinks. You haul your purse over your shoulder, the music suddenly feeling too loud and the air too thick. “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” 

Yunji doesn’t question your sudden decision to leave. “Do you want me to walk you home?” She asks, concern lacing her tone. 

“It’s just down the street, don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I get home,” you assure her, refusing to look in Seungcheol’s direction. 

“Okay, I’ll close our tab. Love you, be safe,” she calls after you as you head toward the door. 

“Love you, thank you,” you choke out your words as your throat tightens. You hardly make it out the door before tears well in your eyes, dripping down your cheeks. The cool evening air slaps you in the face, sending shivers through your body. It’s a warm night, but the heat of the bar must’ve been sweltering. Cars fly by, bar goers weaving around you to get inside.

“Fuck,” you mutter, shaking your hands out at your sides, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress and trying to regulate your breathing as you turn toward your apartment. 

She’s hot, he’s hot, of course it makes sense. Why wouldn’t he find someone to date? Your little moment at home must’ve made him feel so guilty that he hasn’t been able to speak to you since. You almost ruined his relationship, for fuck’s sake. 

You jump slightly at the sound of the bar door slamming open, but keep walking. You just want to get home and wallow in your self pity in peace. 

“Y/n, wait!” His voice nearly stops you in your tracks. You force out a shaky sigh and keep moving, quickening your pace. 

“Please, talk to me, I’m sorry,” he calls after you. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you reply, still not turning to face him. You hear his footfalls on the sidewalk, quickly coming up behind you. 

“Of course I do, please, talk to me,” he’s right on your heels. You’re so close to home. 

You ignore him.

He respects your space, trailing in your wake up to your apartment steps. 

“There’s nothing for us to talk about,” your voice wavers, more tears threatening to fall. You trudge up the stairs to your front door.

“Are you crying? Fuck, y/n, I’m sorry, I–” 

“You what, Cheol?” You flip around right in front of your apartment. Your shared apartment. “You what? Hm?”

“I…” He pauses at the rage and sorrow swimming in your eyes. “I just haven’t known what to say, I–”

“You could start with ‘I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,’ maybe?” You propose quietly. He winces. 

“I wasn’t avoiding you, y/n,” his voice comes out just as soft as yours, and he looks into your eyes, really looks at you, for the first time in days. You can’t have him looking at you like this right now. Looking at you with so much unspoken emotion in his eyes.

“It really seems like you were,” you turn around and enter the code into your front door, pushing it open when the lock clicks. He follows behind you, quietly closing and locking the door behind you. You kick off your shoes, heading to the kitchen. He does the same, watching you in silence as you pour yourself a glass of water. 

You take a sip, shakily setting the glass down before facing him. 

He sighs, looking you up and down, and you wonder if he’s relieved to finally be having this conversation like you are. A soft blush creeps across his cheeks. 

“Okay, I was a little bit.” 

Fuck.

You swear the cracking of your heart is audible. Of course he was, he must’ve been trying to figure out how to let you down easy. His expression is entirely unreadable, but he refuses to look away from you. You need to get out of here. 

“Oh,” you breathe, “I’m sorry.” Your voice trembles before you can steady it. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry I interrupted your night, I–” you sniffle, “I’m just gonna go to bed I think.” You wipe a tear that escaped down your cheek. 

“Y/n, wait,” he steps toward you, but you take a step back. 

“I get it, Cheol, she’s gorgeous, I don’t blame you, really–” 

“Who?” His brow furrows in confusion. 

“I saw her with you at the bar, it’s okay, really.” You turn away from him, desperate to be safely behind your closed bedroom door. You’re so fucking humiliated, and your apartment suddenly feels impossibly small. 

“Y/n, please, you misunderstood,” he follows behind you.

“I know I did, it’s okay, I should’ve gotten the hint, that’s my mistake,” you head down the hallway toward your bedroom. 

“Please, just listen to me for a second,” 

“Really Cheol, it’s okay, I understand, I’ll just—“ 

You feel a strong hand firmly wrap around the back of your neck, and suddenly the room spins, and you’re facing your roommate. He holds you in place, bringing his other hand up to cradle your face in his hands. You feel your cheeks heating at the way he so easily maneuvered your body… again. Your hands rest hesitantly on his hips. 

“Look at me,” he commands. You do.

A silent moment passes. 

“She’s seeing Jeonghan.” His voice is firm, no room for misinterpretation. A small gasp leaves your lips, opening your mouth to speak but he continues. 

“I met her for the first time tonight. She was just introducing herself to me before you left the bar. I tried to stand up and be a little more formal about it, but she pushed me right back down and said there was no need, since she felt like she knew me already after everything Jeonghan had told her.” He swipes a tear from your cheek, his thumb sliding across your skin. 

“So you… you aren’t dating her? Or… anyone?” You sniffle, trying to process everything he’s just told you. All of your anger and jealousy tonight was so misguided and unnecessary, but you’ve never been able to stop your mind from going to the worst case scenario. 

“No, I’m not,” a bit of a smug grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, his cheeks dimpling and blushing slightly. 

Okay, fine. But he still has some explaining to do. 

“Then why have you been avoiding me, Choi Seungcheol?” You poke at his side and he flinches, chuckling as his fingers tighten around your face, sliding up into your hair. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, waiting for him to answer. It feels so good to be in his proximity again. It feels right.

He takes a deep breath, his warm brown eyes finding yours, their color deepening as his gaze shifts to your mouth and back. 

“I’ve been avoiding you because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that holding you in my arms that night felt like the most natural thing in the world.” Another deep breath, from both of you this time. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that that night stoked the fire I have been trying to put out for years, because I never thought in a million years that you could feel the same way about me as I do about you.” He brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead, and the motion feels so natural from him. “I never thought I’d get to touch you like that, or that you’d ever look at me the way you did… or the way you’re looking at me right now.” 

He swipes a thumb across your cheek, wiping away another stray tear. You stare up at him, at a loss for words. 

He continues, “I’ve been avoiding you because I’m fucking terrified,” his voice lowers to a whisper on his last word. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you, and the thought of losing you because you don’t feel the same scares me to the point that I thought I could just keep it to myself, but– I don’t think I can anymore,”

”Cheol, I—“ 

“I’m not done yet.” 

You nod, letting him continue. Your mind is racing a mile a minute.

“I thought I overstepped, that I got carried away, and that I was gonna scare you off. But when I saw the way you looked at me, I thought, maybe…” he trails off. 

“That I could love you too?” You whisper, finishing for him.

”Yeah,” his tone matches yours. “That you could love me, too.” 

A heated silence follows, both of you searching each other’s faces for what this means for you. He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, and you bury your face in his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, holding you gently. It feels so right to be in his arms again. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” the pet name warms your cheeks. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to talk to you about it, I just–” 

“I do,” you interrupt, murmuring against his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. 

“Hm?” His arms go a bit stiff around you, and you feel his heart thudding faster, harder. Your heartbeat almost exactly mirrors his.

You look up at him, eyes shining with a new round of tears, but these ones are from a place of joy. Relief. 

“I do love you, Cheol.” His eyes soften at your admission. “I love you, too,” your voice breaks, the fresh tears falling down your cheeks. They slip into the corners of your mouth as they tug up into a smile. It feels so good to say it out loud.

A devastating smile takes over his face, and your heart skips a beat. You stare at each other for long moments, holding each other tightly. 

“Those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard out of that pretty mouth,” he slides a hand into your hair, guiding your face closer to his. Your arms tighten around his waist at his comment.

“I love you,” you whisper, the tip of your nose nudging his.

He sighs, and you share in the relief you’re sure he’s feeling. 

“I love you,” he whispers back. 

You sit in silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, noses nuzzling and breaths mingling. His breath smells like his favorite beer and peppermint, and it makes you dizzy. 

You never in a million years thought this was how your night would end. Confessing your love for your best friend, and having it be felt in return. Every little moment you felt with him over the years, that you cast to the back of your mind, told yourself was all in your head… they were real. What you felt was real, what you feel is real. 

“Can I kiss you?” He sounds hesitant, and the idea that you could possibly be the one making him nervous makes you giddy. 

“Please,” you push closer to his mouth, his soft lips brushing against yours. The contact sends a shiver through your body. 

A low groan escapes his throat before he finally connects his lips to yours. He’s slow at first, allowing you both to relish in the feeling of your lips finally touching. God knows how many times either of you has pictured this exact moment. 

The savoring is short-lived, and his tongue slips between your lips. You welcome him in with needy fervor, and his hand tightens in your hair as his tongue begins to dance with yours. He kisses you thoroughly and sweetly, drawing the desire from deep within your core with each stroke of his tongue. 

He pulls away to comment, “you taste like cherries.” His breath heaves in the space between you. “I always knew you’d taste sweet,” 

His words darken the energy between you, and your lips reconnect. You’ll ask him how often he’s thought about the way you taste later– right now you need to be closer to him. 

“Cheol,” you whine, 

“Yes, sweetheart?” That word again. Your cunt squeezes around nothing at how much dirtier it sounds in that tone. 

“I need you,” you kiss the corner of his mouth as his head lolls back, knocking against the wall. You trail kisses up his jaw, behind his ear. 

“I lied,” he pants, “I think those are the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard out of that pretty little mouth.” 

Just like he did almost a week ago, he dips down to wrap his strong arms around your hips and lifts you in the air. You, again, instinctively spread your legs to wrap around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back. His grip on your ass is stronger and more familiar than last time. Your forearms rest on his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his dark strands. 

He spins you around so your upper body is pinned against the hallway wall, pressing a bruising kiss to your mouth. You can’t help but moan against his lips, becoming hyper aware of how close your throbbing core is to where you need it most. You absentmindedly roll your hips against him, eliciting another delicious groan.

“Your room or mine?” He grins, tilting his head back to get a good look at you. His lips are glossed over with your shared saliva, reddened from how thoroughly he’s already kissed you. He looks beautiful.

“Mine,” you kiss the tip of his nose. “You know my bed is more comfortable than yours,” you tease, and he squeezes your ass even harder in response. You squeal.

“Fine, my room next time then,” he compromises. Your head spins at the thought of a next time. 

“Deal,” you reconnect your lips with his and he turns you both to walk toward your bedroom. The way that he carries you so easily has your stomach doing backflips.  

He kicks the door open without separating from your mouth, and walks straight to your bed. He gently lays you down on the mattress, hovering over you, his lips traveling down your neck, his tongue exploring every inch of your exposed skin. 

Your sundress pools around your hips, nearly exposing the most intimate part of you to your best friend. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

He stands up straight, peeling his shirt off over his head before tossing it onto your floor. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, his broad chest glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his hair mussed from your grip, his gold chain dangling over his collarbones. His eyes darken as he drinks you in, lingering over your hiked up dress.

“You have no idea what this dress does to me,” he plants both hands on your knees, gliding up your thighs to slide under your dress, landing on your hips, strong fingers digging into your flesh. As he moves forward, he settles with his hips slotted perfectly between your legs, your cunt resting dangerously close to his clothed cock. “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” he thinks out loud. 

“Neither can I,” you confess. You gasp at his firm grip, reminded of just how strong he is, and what he’s capable of doing to your body. 

“You can tell me to stop at any time, baby, understand?” His grip falters as he waits for a reply, and you already miss the way his fingers feel dug into your skin. 

“I understand…” you start, “but I don’t want you to stop,” your voice doesn't sound like your own, coming out breathy and needy. This is what he does to you, and you already know he loves it. His brows raise at the sound, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want you to touch me, Cheol, please.” He already has you begging and all he’s done is kiss you. 

He nods and heaves a shuddering sigh, leaning over your body to press a kiss to your swollen lips. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs against your mouth, his grip tightening on your hips briefly before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties. He kisses you deeply and unhurried as he slides your panties down your legs, only separating to get a look at the black cotton fabric littered with little white cats. “Cute,” he teases, tossing them to join his shirt on the floor. “Lay down,” he orders you. 

Your cheeks heat, and a giggle escapes, but he doesn’t give you time to be embarrassed. You lay back onto your soft bedding, sighing when his hands find your skin again, and he lifts your dress up to rest on your stomach, fully exposing your sensitive core. He groans at the sight of you spread out for him. 

“So beautiful,” he coos, dropping to his knees and settling between your legs. He threads his strong arms under your thighs, and he easily lifts you, dragging you down until your hips are perfectly lined up on the edge of the bed. You already know you will never get used to the control he can have over your body. 

He wastes no time bringing his mouth to your core, pushing your thighs wide open as his tongue glides through your heat, licking you from your leaking entrance to your swollen clit. You throw your head back, your back arching at the sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, instinctively rolling your hips against his mouth. 

“Mm,” he moans against you, his skillful mouth finding a steady rhythm against you, lips sucking and tongue swirling around your clit. He grips your hip with one hand, the other wrapping around your leg to settle on your soft belly. His fingers grip your tender flesh, and he groans again. 

A searing heat begins to pool deep inside of you, becoming more and more intense with every stroke of his tongue. The hand on your hip drifts, his fingers ghosting up the inside of your thigh. He pulls away, and you prop yourself up on your elbows again to see what he’s doing. 

Your eyes meet his and your cunt throbs. Your arousal glistens on his chin, his plump lips shining under the low lighting of your bedroom. His fingers meet your core, sliding through your wetness, and your jaw hangs open, panting breaths escaping you. 

“I told you, I always knew you’d taste sweet,” he teases you, before plunging two fingers deep inside of you. 

You throw your head back as the pads of his fingers easily find your G-spot, and a dark chuckle flits through the air, tickling your ears. 

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he coos, “I want to look in your eyes while you come on my fingers.” 

Holy fuck. 

“O-okay,” you choke the word out between mewls, his pace slow, deep, and steady. 

He smirks up at you through his dark lashes before bringing his mouth to your clit again, easily matching the pace of his tongue to the pumps of his fingers. 

“Oh my god, Cheol,” you roll your hips in time with the thrusts of his fingers, and they hit impossibly deep inside you as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. 

“Mhm,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice only adding to the heat rapidly building low in your belly. You can’t help but roll your hips even harder. 

“That’s it,” he praises you, replacing his tongue with the rough pad of his thumb. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby, take what you need,” 

God, this man and his mouth. 

You do as you’re told, planting your hands on the mattress under you to give you more leverage. With you sitting up a bit more, Seungcheol takes the opportunity to catch your mouth with his. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck while the other continues its skillful ministrations between your legs. 

The taste of yourself on his tongue is almost enough to send you over the edge as you welcome his tongue into your mouth again. You’re so close, you can feel your orgasm building and building, you know it’ll take over any moment. 

He presses his forehead to yours when he says, “let me feel you come around my fingers, sweetheart.” He quickens his pace slightly on his last word. 

“Ah, oh my–” your legs stiffen, your climax beginning to wash over you. “God, I’m gonna come, Cheol, fuck,” 

“Let go, baby, let me hear you,” he encourages you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Such a soft, intimate gesture in contrast to what he’s doing between your legs. He kisses your cheek softly, peppering your skin with them. 

The intimacy of the moment is what pushes you over the edge, your body trembling from the intensity as your orgasm rips through your body. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Seungcheol whispers as he buries his face in your neck, his gentle fingers coaxing you through the aftershocks of your release. 

You use all your strength to wrap a hand around the back of his head, fingers lacing through his hair, holding his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, his breath on your skill giving you goosebumps. 

“I love you,” you breathe, turning to press a kiss to his temple. His hand leaves your center, guiding you to lay down, hovering over you to litter your chest with featherlight kisses. 

“I want you to do something for me, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your ear. 

You’re floating, your head feeling lighter, and your body sated. 

“What is it?” You play with the hair dangling over his forehead as he lifts himself up to look into your eyes. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” his voice drops into a low timbre that has your cunt throbbing again. 

“Really?” You tilt your head at him, already feeling a bit nervous. “I-I don’t want to suffocate you,” you offer. 

“First of all,” he laughs, “you won’t,” Seungcheol reassures you. “Second of all, if you did,” he dips down to capture your lips in a hot kiss, “I’d die a happy man, baby.” 

“Okay,” you laugh, trying to muster up a little more confidence. 

Seungcheol stands, rounding your bed to move up by the headboard. On his way, he shucks off his jeans, leaving him in a snug pair of black boxer briefs. You roll over to look at him, pushing up onto your knees and inching closer to him as he lays down. His hungry eyes take their time raking over every inch of your body. The way he’s drinking you in gives you that last push of confidence to take your sundress off. 

You pull the fabric up slowly, making a dramatic show of your breasts dropping from the confines of the dress. He grins at that. You finally pull it up over your head, dropping it to the floor, fully bare for your roommate. 

“God,” he lets out a restrained groan, eyes dancing across every inch of your delectable body. “I want to trace every single curve on that body with my fingers and my tongue,” he nearly growls, beckoning you toward him, “and I plan to.” Before you get settled, you take a moment to commit to memory the sight of Sengcheol laying in his underwear, looking beautifully fucked out, cock straining against the fabric, in your bed. 

You sidle up next to his face, hesitating slightly before throwing a leg over his body, knees settling on either side of his head and shoulders. You brace a hand on the headboard at the feeling of his hot breath blowing against your cunt. 

“Tap my shoulder to tap out, okay baby?” He grins before wrapping his hands around your hips and pulling you straight down onto his mouth. 

“Ah!” You cry out as he spears you on his tongue, the hot, wet muscle sliding into your greedy cunt. He laps at you before pulling his tongue out, gliding it through your wet heat, once again finding your swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” you whine, rolling your hips over his tongue. 

He nods underneath you, a deep moan rumbling through you. As if to say, just like that. 

You take his subtle encouragement, taking what you need, writhing against his mouth over and over. You lean back, planting a hand on his strong stomach, so you can look down at him. His eyes are glazed over with deep desire, his brow furrowed as he works you. 

You slide your hand down his hot, taut skin, until your fingers reach the band of his underwear. His eyes go wide for a moment before giving you an encouraging nod. You slowly side your fingers under the waistband until they reach the rock solid, hot-to-the-touch base of his cock. He feels much thicker than you could’ve ever imagined him being, and the thrill of the thought of him inside you makes you grind your hips harder against his willing mouth.

He groans as you wrap your fingers around the length of him, giving him a firm stroke, working him the best you can in your position. His tongue flattens against you and you writhe, that familiar heat creeping up your tail bone. 

His cock feels so deliciously heavy in your hand, you feel overwhelmed with the need to have it inside of you. 

“Wanna ride you, Cheolie,” you whine, slowing your hips slightly to gauge his reaction. His eyes shoot wide open, rolling back slightly when you stroke him again. You lift off of his mouth, both of you whining softly at the loss of contact. 

“Every time I think I can’t hear more beautiful words come out of your mouth, you prove me wrong,” he beams up at you, playfully nibbling at the inside of your thigh. 

You scoot down his body, and he shimmies himself out of his boxer briefs by the time your hips are hovering over his. 

When you lean down to capture his lips in a kiss, you can’t stop yourself from rolling your hips over his solid length, his cock sliding between your lips. 

The sound he makes only encourages your teasing more. You give him one more lasting kiss before sitting up, gripping Seungcheol’s cock in your hand as you center yourself above him. 

“Should we… use a condom?” His chest heaves, waiting for your reply. 

“I’m on the pill, I’m clean, you?” He nods at your rush of words, smiling at your excitement. “I want to feel you, please,” you beg. 

“Anything you want, baby,” he breathes, and that’s all you need. He watches you in awe as you guide the leaking tip of his cock to your swollen entrance. You lower yourself onto his length, just an inch or two. 

All of the years of loving each other in secret have led to this moment. You pull back slightly, hovering, barely holding him inside of you. 

“Tell me you love me, Seungcheol,” you gaze down at him through hooded lids. 

The stars twinkle in his dark eyes as he chuckles, and replies, “I love you, always,” his voice full of love and desire. 

You both cry out as you slam your hips down, taking him all the way home. He shudders under you at the sudden sensation, and you feel your abdominal muscles quiver, your need to come sweeping back in with a vengeance. You roll your hips slowly and steadily, drawing him in and out of you each time. He throws his head back in the pillows, letting you have your way with him. 

You gasp as you grind against his pubic bone, the friction licking a flame up your center. His eyes find yours, the sounds you’re making only intensifying his gaze.

“You look so fucking beautiful riding me like this,” he runs his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, palming your breasts, fingers running over your curves, hands gripping your full hips. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about how perfectly your hips would fill my hands?” He squeezes them in his fingers to emphasize his pleasure. “You were made for me, y/n, I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, fuck,” 

“Me too, ah– m-made for you,” you agree, full sentences suddenly becoming difficult to formulate. “Feels s-so good, Cheol, f-fuck,” your start to bounce on him, desperate to get him as deep inside you as possible. “Need more,” 

He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you down to kiss him, growling into your mouth. 

“I’ll give you more, baby,” he promises. He wraps an arm around your waist, and in one swift motion, overpowers your body, rolling you onto your back and slotting his hips between your legs, never pulling out of you in the slightest, spreading your knees wide with his own. 

You hardly have time to process the way he handled you, his cock immediately buried impossibly fucking deep inside your cunt.

“Mhm,” you mumble, “fuck, right there,” you dig your nails into his ass, and he hisses with pleasure, fucking into you with strength and fervor, arms braced on either side of your head. He brushes the sweat slicked hairs from your forehead, kissing you softly as he fucks you. 

“Fuck, you fuck me so good, g-gonna feel you for days,” you let string after string of needy words fly from your lips, each one encouraging your lover to fuck you deeper, harder, sweeter, the tension building rapidly inside of you. 

“I want you to come with me, baby, can you do that for me?” Sengcheol asks, and just his words have you realizing how close you are to your second orgasm of the night. It’s been dancing in the edges of your vision, finally coming into focus in your lust-hazed brain. 

“Mm, yes, touch me, please,” you whine, trying to meet his thrusts the best you can. He slides his hand between your slick bodies, fingers easily finding your clit. 

You writhe underneath him as he swirls his fingers around the swollen bud, burying his face in your neck as he fucks into you in earnest. “G-getting close,” he warns you, his hips beginning to stutter, but his thrusts remain deep and strong. He hits your G-spot and you cry out, a flame licking up your belly. 

“Me too, ah,” you feel all of him, every part of him, everywhere, and it feels so right. 

“Come with me, sweetheart, come on,” he coaxes you, his ministrations the perfect rhythm to knock the wind out of you as your orgasm washes over you. 

“Ah!” A moan rips out of your throat as you come, your body shuddering under the weight of your lover, wave after wave rocking through you. 

Seungcheol rolls his hips twice more before stilling, burying himself deep as he spills into you, pulsing with each release. 

“My god,” he presses his lips to your neck, his body relaxing over yours. You feel like a puddle on your mattress, waiting to soak into the blankets beneath you and disappear. 

There’s no way that really just happened. 

“Are your hips okay?” Seungcheol’s soft voice brings you back, slightly muffled by the pounding in your ears. 

“I think so,” you sigh as he kisses your forehead, brushing more hair out of your face. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. 

“You think so?” Your words bring his eyes to yours, and your heart swells. You’ve seen him look at you like this a million times, but this particular look, this moment, will hold a special place in your heart. 

“Of course, baby,” he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Hmm,” you hum beneath him as he softens inside of you, slowly pulling out and easing your legs into a more comfortable resting position before laying next to you. He kneads your closest hip to him with a firm hand. 

“Wanna go get cleaned up in the shower?” He peppers your skin with soft kisses as he massages each sore part of your body. How he knows what is feeling sore, you’re not sure. 

“In a little, let me bask,” you tease. 

“Oh, we’re basking, are we?” He teases right back. 

“I’ve been in love with my best friend for years and he just gave me the hottest sex of my life, forgive me if I want to bask in it a little longer,” you poke at his side, earning you a firm squeeze on your thigh. 

“Let’s go bask in the shower, I want to help you wash up so I have an excuse to cover your delectable body in my soap,” 

“Ah, the true motive is revealed!” You laugh as Seungcheol rolls on top of you, nestling between your legs again, having had enough of your teasing. His half hard cock brushes against your still sensitive core, and you shudder. 

“If you let me help you shower, I will make you come so hard that you’ll see stars,” his voice deepens on his last few words. “I promise.” He winks. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Choi Seungcheol.” It feels so good to settle into your usual banter, no matter how different things are now. 

“I will do anything my beautiful girlfriend asks of me,” he whispers, and you smile back at him. 

“Girlfriend, huh? I think I like the sound of that.” You beam.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A hot shower and multiple orgasms and fulfilled promises later, your roommate is helping you into your pajamas and getting you into bed before joining you.

“How many days off do you have left for the quarter?” Cheol asks once you’re snuggled up in your bed, legs and arms tangled with one another.  

“Why are you asking me about something work related after giving me the best orgasm of my life?” You question him, giggling at the inquiry. 

“I’m just trying to figure out if we can take the day off together tomorrow so I can make that the second best orgasm of your life,” he winks, drawing another laugh from you. “And so I can take my beautiful new girlfriend on a proper first date.” He threads his fingers between yours. “If she’ll let me, of course.” 

“Of course I’ll let you, my new boyfriend,” your heart swells at the word, and his smile grows. 

You spend the rest of the night indulging to each other all of the moments throughout your friendship that made your love for one another grow. 

Hours later, Seungcheol snores softly behind you, an arm thrown over your waist. You thank your lucky stars that this gets to be your new normal, and you drift off to sleep in your lover’s arms. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

i hope you enjoyed !!  let me know if you'd be interested in more writing about seventeen members ˙ᵕ˙

READ CHEOL'S POV HERE !!! his pov is just from the scene where he picks reader up for the first time, please let me know if anyone is interested in a full version of his pov !

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.

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